Levi's POV...

"Good afternoon, I'm Dr. Jefferies," The tall bald man wearing light green scrubs says and he reaches his hand out towards my girl.

She takes his hand and greets him, "Charlotte, nice to meet you."

The Dr. turns to me after, offering a handshake. I lean my crutch on my lap and place my twitching hand into his. "Levi," I grunt, mostly because the nerves running through my arm have decided to act up again.

I feel Charlotte's fingers gently squeeze my thigh, bringing my attention back to her. We are sitting side by side on chairs in a small room. There's an examination bed in one corner and small sink and counter space in the other corner.

I lace my fingers with hers, letting her know I'm here for her this time. All thoughts of her sitting in a room like this alone for months while she went through treatments for her tumor, consume me. The sudden urge I have to wrap her into my arms and hold her tight is overwhelming.

Dr. Jefferies interrupts my thoughts," I looked over your history and all of the treatments you've gone through for your brain tumor. You're one lucky lady and conceiving so quickly after is a blessing."

We both look up and smile at him. "I am going to have some blood drawn and thoroughly check your levels and do an ultrasound while you're here today."

We both nod simultaneously, while Charlotte squeezes my hand again.

"Hop up onto the table here and I'll have my assistant come in and draw your blood first. While we wait for the results, I'll perform the ultrasound."

"Thank you," Charlotte speaks. She stands up, dropping my hand onto my lap and sits herself up onto the exam bed.

The Dr. walks out of the room while the assistant walks in carrying a plastic tray containing empty blood vials and needles. I watch from my seat as the assistant fills four of the vials with Charlotte's blood, making me cringe slightly. Charlotte takes it all in stride; again reminding me that she's endured this many times before. Alone.

The Dr. enters the room again with an ultrasound machine and rolls it next to Charlotte.

Charlotte looks over to me and waves for me to be next to her. I slip my arms into my crutches and try to stand. This time , both of my legs and arms decide not to cooperate and it takes me longer than usual to force my body upright. This is certainly not the day to get rid of these crutches, considering my limbs are a shaking mess.

I manage to walk over to Charlotte's side without making a total fool out of myself. Charlotte only continues to look at me with her loving eyes.

I keep myself supported with my left crutch, and lean my right one on the wall behind me so I can hold Charlotte's hand.

"Are you two ready to meet your baby?" The Dr. asks. We look at each other with excitement and bob our heads up and down.

Charlotte lifts her shirt up to her bra and I stare at her small belly as the Dr. squeezes blue gel onto her skin. Charlotte shivers, " Ooh that's cold," and chuckles.

The Dr. then takes the ultrasound wand that's connected by a cord to the machine and places it into the gel, then moves the wand around Charlotte's belly.

My eyes are fixed on the little TV screen. I have no idea what I am looking at, but the Dr. keeps moving the wand around and jotting down notes. We hear a bunch of faint static sounds until the Dr. halts over one area. There is a tiny blob showing on the screen and what we hear changes to a sort of fast rhythmic swishing sound.

"Here is your baby," he points to the minuscule blob. "And we can hear a strong heartbeat, about 130 beats per minute," the Dr. states.

"Is that good?" I blurt out. I have no idea what any of this means, all I see is a speck of something with a heartbeat.

"Yes, very good," he assures us. "You appear to be just over 8 weeks along," he smiles. We then watch him clean the gel off of Charlotte with a towel and press a button on the machine which prints out a photo. "Here is your baby's first portrait," he hands Charlotte the picture and she then gives it to me. Wow, this is my baby. I lean over and kiss my girl.

"You both can sit back in the chairs while I fetch the results of your blood work," he motions towards the chairs before leaving the room.

I give the photo back to Charlotte so I can grab my other crutch. My body still not cooperating so I spend a minute taking a few deep breaths. I don't know what is happening to me lately, but I don't like it. Is this some sort of panic attack? It doesn't feel like the ones I used to have when I was confined to a bed, my body almost completely paralyzed.

Before I go to move, Charlotte is standing right in front of me. Her accepting gaze on mine as she reaches her hands up so she can cup my face. Her thumbs brush across my cheeks and I close my eyes, allowing her touch to comfort me.

She knows there is something wrong but doesn't ask or force me to confess anything. All she says is, "Every step of the way." Her hands then move down my body and she grips the sides of my waist. It's literally only five steps back to the chair, yet she keeps hold of me, and my body responds to her touch as she guides me back and we sit down.

"Look at our little blob, isn't she beautiful," she holds up the photo in front of us and I can't help but laugh with her.

"The next time we come here, she will look like a baby dinosaur with a tail, head, arms, and legs," she chuckles when I look at her funny. "Really?" I ask.

"I bought a book about all the stages. We can look at it together tonight, the different developmental phases are amazing!"

"We should have Jake and Krysta over for dinner tonight and share the good news," she adds.

"I'd like that," I kiss her temple.

As soon as Dr. Jefferies returns with the results, our moods instantly change.

"So everything looks good except your progesterone levels are lower than we want them to be at this stage."

"What do you mean? Is she alright? Is the baby alright?" I nervously ask. Charlotte places her hand on my arm forcing me to shut up and listen.

"I'm going to have you administer yourself progesterone injections, sub-Q, every evening and have you back for blood work every three days until your levels are normal," he instructs. Only Charlotte has a clue to what he's talking about.

"Here's your prescription and I'll see you in three days," he hands her a piece of paper.

I'm not sure what to say at this point. Charlotte's hand has moved to my back, slowly moving up and down my spine while she listens to the Dr.'s instructions. I'm fairly certain that I'm the one who should be rubbing her back to comfort her. What the fuck is happening.

"Thanks Doc," she easily accepts his requests.

She stands up, ready to get going after the Dr. leaves the room. I grab her wrist, making her acknowledge me.

"Please explain? I have no idea if you are ok, if our baby is ok," I admit to her.

She holds both of my hands in hers, I remain sitting and looking up at her for an explanation.

"This happens to some people... it has nothing to do with my radiation treatments, the hormone that helps me keep the baby growing inside me is low, but I'm going to take a shot every night and that will bring my levels back up to normal. Everything will be fine," she leans down and pecks my lips.

"Let's go home," she smiles as she assists me up onto my feet. I may be a mess but I need to be strong for her. I need to support her even though it's her hand on my back supporting me.

She drives us to the pharmacy first then drives us home. I make my way into our bedroom and sit on the bed while I listen to Charlotte rummage through the kitchen and call Jake on her cell.

"So Jake and Krysta will be over for dinner around seven," Charlotte says as she walks into the bathroom carrying the pharmacy bag.

I have a clear view of her by the bathroom sink. I watch intently as she lifts her shirt to expose some skin just above her waistline. She rips open a small alcohol wipe and rubs it over a spot of skin on her right abdomen. She then reaches for a pre-filled syringe and points the needle straight up and taps for any bubbles. With one hand, she squeezes her skin and with the other she injects the needle and pushes in the plunger. It's me that flinches when the needle punctures through, not her. I don't like that she has to do this to herself. On the outside I appear calm and supportive when she looks back towards me and smiles, but on the inside I'm vomiting. Watching her stick herself with a needle and knowing she will be enduring that type of discomfort every night dampens my sanity.

I should offer her my help, but when I get up to stand, the crippling back spasm returns and I'm rendered useless and in pain.

Charlotte notices my awkward painful position when she approaches me and all I can't think about is how much I'm failing her.

"Lay down," she demands and lifts my legs up onto the bed for me.

"I'm going to massage and stretch your back so these pesky spasms go away and you can help me by going to the store to pick up bread rolls while I start dinner."

She is cheeky, I'll give her that. Her way of helping me and showing me she needs me at the same time; never implying I am any less of a man when the effects of my spinal cord injury make me feel like I am.

I've got to do something. I told her I'm getting rid of the crutches and going back to work, so that is what I'm going to do.

So after Charlotte finished working her magic on me, I decided to take a detour up to the 7th floor before going to the store. I knock on door #701 because drastic times call for drastic measures.

When the door opens, I have no other option than to greet the man.

"Lance... I need more."