TRIS-

It felt like something from a dream, staring through the glass at her tiny form.

"Hello, my darling," I whispered, as if the words were precious, and if heard by anyone other than her, they'd lose all meaning. "Hello."

I don't know if she can hear me, but the words are still her's and only her's.

This little bundle of innocence brought into this world through sin...

I'd give anything to hold her, to feel her weight in my arms; but she's too fragile, not prepared for this world. For now, the most I can do is gaze at her through the glass incubator. It's almost fitting - in a cruel and unforgiving way - a mother unfit to carry her child in the womb, births a child unfit to be graced by the touch of her undeserving mother.

Even at such a young age, I already knew she'd grow up to be beautiful, I could see it in her face. She was gorgeous. And that might just be the thoughts of a biased mother, but I knew she was. This young child had a beautiful soul; something you don't even have to see to know it's there.

The nurses kept wandering in and out of the room, checking various charts and machines strewn around the box of white. They'd talk quietly between themselves, occasionally sending glances my way. They didn't look at the other mothers like that though... The other mothers were accompanied by their child's fathers and the nurses spoke soft words to them. They could hold their babies...

Caleb, Cara and Will had gone home to shower, eat and get a change of clothes. It took a bit of coaxing from myself but they eventually agreed. All three of them looked shattered.

They didn't want to leave at first - Caleb especially. He said he wanted to stay and make sure I was alright but I told them the nurses would take care of me if anything happened - that was in fact their job after all.

"Hello, baby... Hello."

She wore tiny white mittens, and a hat that still was too large for her precious little head. She looked like a doll... Too tiny to be real yet so perfectly sculpted.

"Miss Prior," a nurse broke me from the daze. "Doctor Heathman is ready to see you now." I nodded in understanding and she wheeled me back to the hospital room.

It was a brisk walk through the hall, I'd already memorised the walls that surrounded me thanks to the countless trips up and down. On the left side were balloons painted in various colours of the rainbow and on the right was plain, sterile, white paint with occasional posters depicting healthy diets, how to check for breast cancer, what to do if you have a nosebleed, how to properly wash your hands and many other things.

She wheeled me into the room and left once I made a fuss when she tried to help me up onto the bed and I did it by myself. I didn't want to be treated like I was incapable of helping myself; because I wasn't.

It's funny, I could see her scowling slightly as she spoke quickly to Doctor Heathman as they traded places in the room. Not many of the nurses particularly liked me. Although their job was to take care of the patients, I don't think they could actually care less about them; or me to be more precise.

I think they just see me as another stupid teen...  Another teen pregnancy statistic. I'd be the story they tell their children in order to get them to 'use protection' and 'practice safe sex,' because otherwise, 'you'll throw your life away and end up pregnant with no one there to support you - a child can't raise a child.'

A child can't raise a child... Those were the words my mother told me.

I remember the first time I told her that I planned to lose my virginity; she was pleased that I felt comfortable enough to talk to her and be mature about it, but she disapproved of the act actually happening.

The lectures and groundings she'd give me in order to prevent the intimate ordeal as if it was deadly...

"Beatrice," the doctor greeted and wandered over to my bedside. She placed down the clipboard and flicked at the various hanging bags of fluids by my side, checking they were working. "I just need to check your stitches are doing fine and then there is a visitor waiting to see you, outside."

I lifted up my shirt - they'd manage to find me some other clothes so I was no longer in the open backed gown - and revealed the the fresh wound stretching across my abdomen. All she did was glance at it quickly and then proceed to apply a gauze over it to prevent any snagging on the flesh and stitches.

"You should be fine to walk about now, get them legs working again." She smiled slightly, messed with the various tubes again and then proceeded to leave. "I'll let your visitor in now, Tris," Doctor Heathman said, sticking a pen into the tightly pulled back, brunette bun and left, adjusting the thin-rimmed glasses on her tanned face.

I closed my eyes, resting my head back on the pathetic pillow as is heard the door swing open and closed once more. "Caleb I'm really tired can you just-"

"Tris?"

Oh fuck, I thought. That isn't Caleb...

"Uriah what the hell are you doing here?!"

I sat up awkwardly, resting on my elbows. He was just stood there, his feet shuffling at the door, his hands sinking deep in his pockets and his eyes darting at specks on the floor.

"Please don't be mad at me..."

"Why are you here?" I hissed, not meaning to sound as monstrous as I did.

"T- Tobias told me... He told me it's mine." He said, his voice shaking as if speaking were a sin. "Is it?" He looked up, his eyes locking with mine and I wish he hadn't - the young boy was in tears.

"Uriah," I sighed, sitting up and getting off the bed.

He was chewing on his lip, his chin quivering. Worry lines etched into his face and he looked emotionally drained.

As I waddled awkwardly over to him, I could see him much he was physically shaking.

"Come here," I said, wrapping my arms around his shoulders tightly and holding him close. It felt weird having to comfort Uriah... I was so used to seeing him lively and full of joy. "I told you, that day in the music room, that knowing was a burden. You have your own life to live, Uriah. Your own crazy, exciting life. You don't need a baby to weigh you down-"

"Is it mine?!" He halfway shouted, half choked on the words. His hand held right around my shoulders, lifting me slightly to tiptoes. "Is it mine?" he repeated; ever-so-slightly calmer this time.  He was still holding me though, those wild eyes only a few inches from my own, his grip numbing my arms. "Is it mine?!"

I nodded slightly, scared stiff by this wild side of him. He wasn't angry though - and that was probably the only thing that reminded me I was safe - no, not angry...he was desperate.

"Tell me," he said. "I need to hear you say it." The boy wasn't shouting anymore. In fact, I could barely hear the words he muttered.

"Yes," I said, "The baby's yours."

He nodded, releasing me to wipe at his tear-stained face before pulling me into his arms. And we just stood there, silently absorbing the other's presence for a short eternity. There was no shouting, or crying. No recordable form of communication exchanged at all. But we didn't need any; for there was nothing that could be said.

My eyes drifted closed, all I could hear was the faint hum of machines, drowned out by the two racing heartbeats and heavy breaths.

"I'm sorry," he said.

"Don't be... It takes two to make a baby."

He laughed softly and said, "true, and I hope this doesn't make me sound like an asshole but... I don't regret it, and I don't think I ever will."

The look in his eyes said it all; the was no way in hell he would walk out of this hospital without seeing his baby. There was also no way in hell he'd be cool with my plan then, I thought. So, forcing a smile, I said, "Do you want to see her?"

"It's a girl?"

"Yes."

He nodded, so I straightened out the hem of my shirt and made my way out the door, him following quickly behind me.  The walk was silent, weaving through the various hallways, seeing the faces of patients and visitors. I can see why Tobias hated hospitals... The constant echo of every emotion possible; it was overwhelming. Especially in a children's ward.

We entered the incubator room and there was a flurry of nurses rushing around and a chorus of medical terms being shouted out in all directions.

"What's happening?" Uriah whispered from where he stood beside me. I flinched as his hand found my own before settling again. A tight bundle of nerves jabbing it's way into my gut as the commotion continued.

"I don't know," I replied, shock setting in. One of the babies...

But then the commotion ended suddenly, a new feeling taking over the room. And then a cry erupted - a woman started sobbing, deteriorating into a complete mess.

I guess the incubator room isn't such a safe haven after all.

"Come one," I said, cocking my head to one side. "She's over here."

I led him over to the incubator and sat down in the lightly padded chair by her side. She was sleeping. All she's ever done is sleep whilst I'm here.

His breaths all but stopped, I couldn't see him but I could hear - or more to the point, not hear. Slowly, his hand pressed up against the glass and he gasped as her tiny, mittened hands moved up to her face. Her nose scrunched up and she let out a tiny, heartwarming, yawn before opening up a pair of beautiful, chocolate brown, eyes.

Uriah gasped, a grin plastering itself across his face. "She's beautiful," he said, his face moving closer and closer to the glass.

She looked at him and he gasps again, waving his hand slightly. "Hello," he said, "it's me - your daddy.

"Oh my god! I'm a dad... Oh my- Jesus fucking Christ, Tris! I'm a Dad. And- and- Whoah. We're parents... We have a baby." His head whipped around wildly, looking from her, to me, to her, to me before grinning like an idiot and wrapping his arms around my shoulders. "We have a baby," he repeated into the crook of my neck.

He pulled back and was still smiling, his eyes alight with joy. "What's her name?"

Oh.

"Tris?" he said. "What's her name?"

"I- I don't know."

"What do you mean you don't know?" Amusement filled his words. "Have you not picked a name, yet?"

"I- I was gonna..." I couldn't do it. I couldn't say.

"Can I help pick her name?"

"Uriah..." Deep breath in, deep breath out. "I have a couple lined up to... adopt her, and I said that they could pick the-"

"What?!"

"I said-""

"Adoption?!"

"Uriah..."

"No. Don't 'Uriah' me. You've put her up for adoption? Before even telling me she's mine?!" he shouted, but in that hushed way you do when you're supposed to be quite.

"I didn't think you'd find out, Uriah. You weren't gonna know wether the baby was even yours or not, no one was. You were supposed to move on and continue living your life normally..."

"She isn't gonna stop me from living, Tris. And I don't want to just cast her aside and pretend this didn't happen," he said - seriously; he sounded more serious than I'd ever heard before. "Please don't put her up for adoption... Please. I know it's unconventional but we could do it, I know we could. We could raise her, and take care of her. Please, Tris."

"Uriah we can't-"

"We can. Just let me prove it. And if you really do wanna put your own baby up for adoption then at least let me have her. I will not have someone else raise her, Tris. I'm serious. She's our child, not theirs. And I want type to put my name on the birth certificate, Tris, an official and legal document that says she's ours, Tris..." And then he started to cry, and it broke my heart. "She's ours," he sobbed, his head resting in my lap, my fingers matted in his short hair and stroked down his teary cheeks in a soothing motion. "What am I doing?" he mumbled. "What am I thinking?"

"Shush," I whispered, still holding his head in my lap. "Everything is going to be okay, Uriah. I promise. We have time to decide... Nothing needs to be rushed now. We have time.

"You can meet Ashley and Karen. They've already said they'd be open to doing an open adoption if uou'd like that?

"But we can't raise her, Uriah. It'd be unfair to her."

He nodded slightly and took my hand in one of his, pressing a kiss to my knuckles and saying, "Thank you."

I could hear my heartbeat, it was steady but loud, a heavy bass rhythm sounding through my body. It kept everything else in time to the same steady rhythm within me.

"Do you want to name her?" He nodded. "Do you have a name in mind?" He nodded again, playing softly with my fingers. "Care to tell me?"

"Delilah."