My baby will be fine.

Mantras are recommended. That's one of the things April remembers from the birthing books and pamphlets and classes. Different mantras were suggested, all meant to soothe an anxious mother to be. A set phrase to provide comfort in times of distress. And even before that, before the positive pregnancy test(s), (from both times, though she can't think about that right now), she herself had been a cheerful advocate for mantras.

Only you can keep you down.

You are the future of medicine.

You're not just a good doctor, you're a great doctor.

I am a soldier.

Me and you.

My baby will be fine.

"Everything's going to be fine– you can do this. Me and the baby, we'll be fine." And if it's a lie, she's pretty sure God wouldn't be mad at her for this one- My baby will be fine.

Ben knew that some people, Miranda included, thought he was arrogant. Even though he had been able to get OR time as an anesthesiologist, it still grated. Where one person (or some people) saw arrogance, he saw confidence. Furthermore, nearly every surgeon at Grey Sloan could be called arrogant. That was just the name of the game. And they- no, not they, Miranda thought he had gone too far.

But did she want him to walk into an OR scared? Surgeons can't be scared. They have to make tough calls, quick decisions, everyday to save lives. He'd spent enough time in an OR, even back before his residency when he was only an anesthesiologist, to be certain of that. But… he falters for a moment. They weren't in an OR. He and April were alone in a car on the side of the road, with only a few surgical instruments on hand. Gretchen McKay had been in a hallway. So maybe… maybe it was only natural that he was a little scared right now. They weren't in an OR. There were no other surgeons assisting him, no attendings. They didn't have the proper equipment. And it was his coworker, a friend that needed him. His best friend's pregnant wife- no, ex-wife, needed him. But doing a crash c-section… like this… in these conditions… even he had some reservations about it.

For better or for worse, April Kepner was stubborn. She had been since the day she was born, according to her father. He had always said that if anybody could make the sun rise in the west instead of the east, it'd be her. And so, if someone were to ask her, it was her stubbornness now that was going to get them through this. She was the one insisting that Warren get this baby out- demanding that he get this baby out. She looks at up Warren, trying to focus on his eyes, but the pain is making it hard for her to concentrate. "You can do this, right? Everything's going to be fine– you can do this. Me and the baby, we'll be fine." And if it's a lie, she's pretty sure God wouldn't be mad at her for this one- My baby will be fine.

She remembers Jackson telling her about Warren joining the new Plastics Posse. A gleam had appeared in his eyes as he talked about the resident joining the exclusive and oh-so-cool Plastics Posse. April knows how much Sloan's mentorship meant to Jackson, and how much he wanted to pass that on. Sometimes… sometimes she had caught him staring him off at nothing, and she knew, she just knew, that he had been thinking of Sloan. But Jackson didn't like talking about it.

Warren nods, quickly preparing the few instruments he has, before looking deep into her eyes, saying, "That's right, I can. You're going to be fine, everything's going to be alright." She knows, even through all the fights and the heartache and the divorce, that Jackson still cares about her. In some way. She had been his best friend. His favorite person. And this- this would hurt him. Furthermore, she once again knew, just knew, how much Jackson loves this baby. Jackson wants this baby. So Warren, as Jackson's friend, has something greater at stake here too. April wasn't sure if that made her feel better or worse.

My baby will be-

"But, if- if it comes to it– you have to save the baby. Save the baby. No matter what. Ok? Please. Don't worry about me. Just– save the baby… please. Promise me." She can hear how hysterical she sounds, and her mantra isn't working anymore.

"How about I save you both?" Warren replies, with a comforting hand on her forehead. Those words echo and ring throughout April's head before she nods. She remembers saying that exact thing to Elyse Cruse. But April couldn't save her. Through all the divergent paths their lives had taken, Elyse and her husband had found each other. They were "mint to be", April thinks with an overwrought chuckle before gasping at the pain. Ben's eyes darted to her and his hands moved just a bit faster. Elyse and her husband, they- they should've been together, forever. But a tanker exploded. And in life, tankers explode and crazy people shoot up hospitals and planes crash and bus crashes and… and people die. And Elyse's husband had been left alone to raise their daughter.

April takes a shuddering breath. Jackson is going to be a great father. He is a great father. He could- he could do it on his own. If he had to. My baby will be fine. If all she needed was sheer power of will and belief, it'd be true.

The pain is growing more intense now, and suddenly, vividly, she thinks about her and Jackson's conversation at Joe's. She wasn't lying when she said she wanted him in the room. He should be in the room, he should be here. Not just so he could witness the birth of his child but- but because he had been her best friend. Before the divorce, before Jordan, before- her mind stutters on the thought- before Samuel, before Lake Tahoe and San Francisco, he had been her best friend. Her favorite person. And right now, she was scared and in pain and just wanted her best friend. Warren takes a deep breath, drawing April's eyes to him. April knows she needs to focus. She has survived a shooting, getting fired (twice), failing her boards, faced a war zone and insurgents, and most devastatingly, the death of her son and the dissolution of her marriage. She only grits her teeth, knowing that no matter what happens, she will get her baby through this. My baby will be fine, she thinks.

And so she can't think about the last pregnant woman Warren operated on, Gretchen McKay and the desperation she and Arizona had felt, trying to save her. April can't think about the fact that the patient had bled out on their table, the fact that the baby didn't survive. She can't think about how bloody her pretty purple dress is. April can't think about butterflies or fortune cookies or Easter egg hunts. She can't think about how tightly Jackson's hand had clutched hers as they ran from the barn, as if he'd never let her go. She can't think about Samuel's finger curling around hers, before he did let go. She can't think of how she had stared at this baby on the ultrasound in utter awe or Jackson's eyes or-

She can only think my baby will be fine.

Our baby will be fine.