Word Count: 833

It began the night of October 2nd.

Paris and Chris were out celebrating Momma Gallo's birthday when they received the call.

“It's time,” Olivia said over the line, so chipper Paris found it difficult to believe her.

“Wait, really?”

Olivia laughed. “Jacoby and I are on our way to the hospital. Meet you there?”

They left their dinner half eaten. On their way out of the restaurant, Paris heard Momma gushing about how perfect it was that she might be able to share her birthday with her grandchildren. Paris's heart began to pound away in her chest, rapid with anticipation.

They stopped by the house long enough to change into more comfortable clothing and grab the hospital bag Paris had packed weeks ago. They were silent for most of the journey, each lost to their own thoughts. Eventually, as they pulled into Destiny City Medical Center's maternity ward, Chris grabbed Paris's hand and gave it a squeeze.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

Paris didn't know how to answer, so she nodded her head and left it at that.

Olivia and Jacoby had already arrived by the time Paris and Chris got there. Both of them were surprisingly calm. Paris supposed their relaxed mood came from having had a child of their own before; they knew better what to expect by this point. Paris, on the other hand, was a nervous wreck. She paced around the hospital room while Olivia sat comfortably in the bed. Chris tried to stop her; he took her into his his arms, kissed her forehead, whispered reassurances into her ear, but Paris felt anxious and on edge. Nothing anyone said to her calmed her down.

The waiting was the hardest part. Hours passed with little change. Olivia sat in the bed, she walked the halls, she gripped their hands through the contractions. Paris felt like apologizing. How could she put someone else through so much pain? But the words never came. Instead, she remained quiet and pensive.

By the time midnight rolled around, Paris fell asleep on the couch. She slept fitfully, and dreamt of monsters and the slow, cold burn of a starseed low in her gut. She awoke four hours later to Chris's hand gently stroking through her hair.

“I'm sorry,” she apologized when she pushed herself up and saw Olivia still in the bed.

Olivia simply smiled at her and told her it was okay.

Finally, as the sun began to rise on the morning of October 3rd, it was time for Olivia to push. The activity in the room then was in stark contrast to the relaxed atmosphere that had dominated the scene until then. The room grew crowded, with Jacoby, Paris, and Chris huddled around Olivia, and nurses flitting about preparing for the birth. The doctor spoke in a low, calm voice. Olivia's expression grew strained but determined. She held a crushing grip on Paris's hand.

Henry Miles Gallo came into the world screaming at 6:32 that morning. He was followed by his sister Abigail Olivia at 6:43.

Paris was sobbing.

“Thank you,” was all she could say. “Thank you, thank you.”

Olivia squeezed her hand again. Chris pressed a series of kisses to Paris's face.

They stood by as the nurses did their work. Paris was so lost to the moment, she forgot to take pictures. She stood close by Chris and looked down and their children, at their little scrunched up faces and their skinny, flailing limbs.

When she looked at Chris's face, she saw that it was wet with tears.

“Why are you crying?” she asked.

He looked at her and showed her a small smile. “Why are you crying?” he said.

It wasn't the same and Paris knew it, but she kept her thoughts to herself. She cried for joy; she didn't think she'd ever felt so happy in her entire life. Chris cried for grief, for all the things he and Paris refused to speak of. He looked down at their children and was forced to face his own mortality, and he worried that he would not live long enough for the twins to remember who he was.

Paris took his hand and squeezed. Her thoughts suddenly turned to a cold, dark future in which she was alone. Her joy gave way to sorrow and her tears fell heavily. Chris took her into his arms and shushed her. They didn't speak a word of it otherwise.

Finally, after thirty-eight long weeks, Henry was placed into Paris's arms, and Abigail into Chris's. They stared at their children, in awe that something so perfect could actually exist. The love that had been welling up inside of Paris since the first positive pregnancy test exploded.

Once, she hadn't thought she had the capacity to love anyone else with the strength with which she loved Chris. Now, she knew that to be untrue.

She looked down into the gray-blue of Henry's eyes and she finally felt complete.