I'm awoken by Blake gently nudging my arm, signaling that a nurse is approaching us. Eliza yawns, stretching out her arms. Ashlen is still half asleep, leaning her small head against Blake's arm. 

The nurse approaches us, not looking as excited as I would hope. "You are the relatives of Mrs. Eaton, yes?" 

I nod, "Yeah, we are. What's the news?" 

She looks down, avoiding eye contact, "Your parents would like, only Natalie, to come in." 

I stand, stretching my tired muscles, "Alright, Blake, you stay here with the girls." 

The nurse leads me back to an elevator, where we go the the maternal wing. We walk silently, knowing there are sleeping babies and stressed mother's through this entire level. Finally, she turns into a room near the end of the hall, carefully pushing open the door. 

"Natalie? You're finally here?" Mom mumbles, seemingly out of it. 

"She's on a bit of pain medication, there was some lingering pain after delivery." The nurse explains, leading me in. 

I nod, sitting at the edge of her bed, "How are you feeling Mom? Where's my little brother?" 

She cowers back a little, leaning more into the bed, "I'm okay. We're okay." 

Dad takes my hand, "Natalie, he wasn't breathing when he was delivered." 

I take in a sharp breath, eyes already welling with moisture, "But, he'll be okay, right?" 

He looks down, "We don't know yet, sweetie. What's important is to stay strong, for your mother, and your little brother." 

I clench my fist, wanting to punch a hole in the wall. 

"Nat? When did you get here?" Mom cocks her head, staring at me. 

"Morphine," Dad tells me, "And Tris, honey, she's been here for a few minutes." 

"Oh, did you tell her..." Mom's voice trails off, and her gaze drifts to a corner.

"They gave her too much, she's a bit loopy." 

"I can tell." I mutter, fiddling my fingers. 

The next hour is quiet, mainly just the occasional check up on Mom, but I don't have the heart to say a word about the new  baby. Just knowing that we were all so excited for this, and for him not to be breathing, it's heartbreaking. Mom is finally coming too, after asking when I got here for thirty minutes straight. 

A nurse walks in to double check her vitals, before announcing, "He is stable. Your son is in the NICU, and Four, you may visit him. I'll get consent to see if we can wheel you over Mrs. Eaton." 

"What about me?" I ask, eager. 

She sighs, "I believe we just need parent consent for you to come in and see him." 

"Of course." Mom immediately answers. 

The nurse get's confirmation from the doctor, so Dad and I help Mom get into a wheel chair. The nurse wheel's Mom, with us following, to another wing. We pass by a few rooms, where monitors make faint noises and quiet whines pass by. 

"Right over here," The nurse instructs, scanning her badge to open the door, "You ought to be quiet, he is most likely sleeping."

We walk in, and I'm immediately met with a combination of joy and worry. His face is precious, Mom's nose, Dad's lips, and adorably chubby cheeks. His hair is a wispy dirty blonde. His poor little fingers and toes are blue, but the color is full in his rosy cheeks. 

"Hello baby." I whisper, placing a hand on the small case that hold his body. He shifts, trying to roll. 

"The umbilical cord was wrapped around his neck, so there as some issue with delivery. Right now, it's a matter of whether or not his lungs are able to pull through, there was a lot of trauma for a newborn." 

"You mean, there's a chance he couldn't make it through the night? I thought you said h-he was stable!" Mom exclaims, her voice cracking. 

The nurse purses her lips, "Well, yes, but that doesn't mean he will be able to ... make it through." 

Gentle tears trickle down my cheeks, and I'm powerless to stop them. Mom places her hand inside, and the baby gently wraps his hand around her index finger. 

"Would you like to name him yet?" She asks, watching Mom smile at him. 

She shakes her head, "We'll do that when he is in my arms, when I can hold him and know he isn't going anywhere else." 

My heart hurts at those words, knowing full well that that moment might not come. Still, I remain hopeful as well. Dad sits on his other side, gazing at the baby with caring eyes. 

I stand back, so they can have time. 

"I think I will go get Blake and the girls, and we will go home. You guys stay here." I insist, stepping back. 

"Are you sure Natalie? Don't you want to stay?" Dad asks, looking up at me. 

I nod, looking down, "The girls need some sleep, and you guys need some quality time with him." 

Mom and Dad both glance at me, looks of gratefulness. I head back to the waiting room, where Blake is sitting at the child's table, playing blocks with Eliza. Ashlen is sitting on the side opposite of them, making two wooden dolls dance together. Blake looks up at me, and smiles, "How is he? How long will your mom be here?" 

I clear my throat, "He's having some issues breathing. T-they don't know how he'll make it overnight." 

Blake stands, immediately pulling my small frame into his arms. I hold off crying, and just wrap my arms around him. 

"It'll be okay, no matter what happens." He whispers in my ear, sending a reassurance through my mind. 

I pull away, clapping my hands to catch the attention of Ellie and Ash. They look up from their little toys, smiling at me. 

"Wittle buver born?" Ashlen asks, smiling. 

I nod, putting on a smile, "Yes, but we will come back and see him tomorrow, okay?" 

They both nod, putting away the playthings. Once they finish, Blake and I take them out to Mom and Dad's car, since they won't be needing it. Blake can drive, and I know how, but have to take a driving test in real life, not in a coma. 

I strap the two in, while they begin to yawn and rub their eyes. Today has been incredibly eventful for two tiny kids, especially this close to their bedtime. I climb into the passenger seat, strapping in as Blake pulls out of the parking lot. 

It is a short drive, but the girls get more tired because of the dim sky. Eliza dozes off, while Ashlen fights sleep relentlessly. We pull into the driveway, then carefully get the twins out of their seats. 

Eliza sleeps soundly against my shoulder, so I get her dressed and in bed with no issues. Ashlen, on the other hand, tries to wake up as Blake is putting on her pajama shirt. 

"Bwake?" 

"Yes Ash?" He whispers, careful not to wake Ellie. 

"I wub my wittle buver." 

"We all do. Come on, put your arm in, it's time for bed." 

She yawns, rubbing her eyes, "But I not sleepy." 

Blake grins, pulls her arm through, "That's okay, but Mr. Bear wanted to lay down with you. Can you lay with him until he falls asleep?" 

Ashlen nods, taking her fluffy stuffed bear into her arms. I turn on their night light, Blake switches off the lights, and we walk to my room. Blake is grabbing some snacks for us from the kitchen, so I sit on the bed, my mind racing with thoughts. 

Something is hurting, maybe just the fact that I've been awake for two days, figure out Mom is pregnant with a boy, then the next day she has him, and now...he might not even be here to stay. It's all taking a toll on my mental strength, and I'm not sure how much I can handle. 

The door creaks open, Blake walking in with a few snacks. "Hey babe, are you okay?" He asks. 

That's when I completely break down. Loud sobs burst from my mouth and teardrops flood down my cheeks. He runs over, enveloping me in a tight hug. I can't do this, I don't want to be awake if this is was life is like again, I want to rest and forget about all of this stress and pain that two days awake has brought me. 

I cry for what feels like hours, until my body physically won't let me. There aren't any tears left to cry, I've used them all. At the moment, I'm not sure if it's just my brother being like this, it might be all of my memories pouring back in. That last year conscious everybody was trying to kill me, I was hunted and tested and had to live underground for fear of how many people were trying to destroy our lives. Now, waking back up, life just decided to punch me in the gut. 

"Why does life have to be so hurtful?" I ask Blake, turning to face him. 

"I really don't know, it just seems to be coming for you. But-as a quote from you three years ago-Why do I have to be so perfect?" He responds, trying to lighten the mood. 

I laugh, "I was thirteen, I said stupid, very untrue, things! Let it go!" 

We both lay down in bed, Blake laying close to me, an arm slung over my waist. I breath in deeply, getting a comforting scent. Despite saying it as a joke, he really is perfection. He's a calm in a storm, the oasis in my ferocious desert. Staying with me through all of this is something worth loving. 

So, slowly, with the faith of knowing I'll have this to wake up to, I drift off to a dreamless sleep.