Classically Eccentric

(The second tab of the file includes a sample reverse outline for nonfiction, with examples from a book of advice on editing that I'm writing at the moment and which this post may become a chapter in. Exactly what columns you’ll want in a nonfiction reverse outline will depend on your overall structure. Narrative nonfiction and memoir use similar techniques as fiction and could benefit from the standard reverse outline.)

Column A: Chapter number and title, scene

Some writers make their reverse outlines chapter-by-chapter, but since each chapter can include multiple scenes, and each scene deserves TLC, let’s give each scene a row.

(My reverse outline sample is for one of my short story collections, so I've given the title of the short story instead of a chapter number. Again, the template is adaptable!)

Among other benefits, filling out this column shows if you've acquired two Chapter 20s by accident. Or if you've given some chapters too-similar titles. Or if one chapter has way more scenes, or way fewer, than any other—which isn’t necessarily a problem, just something to observe right now.

While I’m giving advice: using the “Heading” style to mark your chapter titles/numbers makes it easier to find things your manuscript. Headings get their own space in the Navigation toolbar that comes up when you hit “Control + F” in Microsoft Word or click the “Document Tabs” option in Google Drive.

Column B: Action summary

Write about what happens in the scene. How much detail to include depends on your personal taste and memory. You don’t want to crowd the box with information or take a very long time at this. But it can be useful to spell out not just what happens, but some of why it happens and what results. This helps you follow the chain of logic and spot where links might be weak or missing.

A quick example of how an action summary can include cause and effect: “Overhearing Jason’s phone call, Miranda begins to suspect he was involved in the murder. She confronts him, he denies everything, and he leaves the house and doesn’t come back that night.” If you feel comfortable with shorter action summaries, you might just write this as “Miranda confronts Jason about the murder. He leaves.”

If you're going to write a synopsis to query this novel to literary agents or publishers, the reverse outline can help you get started. (I made my first reverse outlines for synopsis-writing purposes, before adapting them for other uses as both a writer and a freelance editor.) It accomplishes the major step of turning a novel into a few pages. You’ll still need to edit those few pages into something shorter and smoother, and I'd write the actual synopsis after you've given the book a structural edit, since elements of the plot may change in the process!

Speaking of summary, if the action in the story draft is told in narrative summary rather than shown as it happens, it’s often helpful to make a note of this. Summary has its uses: it can convey a lot to the reader quickly and it adds variety to pacing. Whether you have too much narrative summary or too little is something to consider once you have the outline filled out.

Column C: Scene wordcount

Use words, not number of pages, because the same amount of words can fit on more or fewer pages with different formatting. In publishing and professional editing, there’s still the convention that 1 page = 250 words, but in my experience, 12-point Times New Roman font that’s double spaced often fits 300+ words onto a page.

Column D: Cumulative wordcount

I’ve entered a formula here to sum up column C to the current row. This gives you a sense of when each scene takes place on the scale of the story, and also how your pacing is. (You can click the corner of a cell and drag it down to extend the formula as you add more scenes.)

That's the simplest version.

If you just want to fill in the first three columns and let the formula fill out the fourth for you, that gives you a one-sheet "map" of your story that can make the full manuscript easier to navigate, and it can be sufficient to get started on evaluating your story. But you’re missing half the fun.

Column E: POV character

To avoid both reader and writer confusion, I recommend sticking to one POV per scene. Some editors and publishers insist on it. But if you want to risk omniscient POV, that can go here too.

This column reveals when POV changes and whose perspective we spend the most time in. In one story I’m working on, I've added notes in this column about alternative POVs I could narrate the scene from, if I decide to change things up in the second draft. You don’t need to divide POV equally among all your characters, even if you have multiple protagonists. However, if one POV evaporates from the story partway through, or one takes over a long stretch of chapters, it’s good to spot this. And readers may be distracted if you have one or two scenes that make atypical POV choices without clear reason.

Columns F and G: Location; Date and time

These may help you catch continuity errors, like if a character returns home from the same trip twice, a minor character is in two places at once, or a particular evening in August winds up way too busy.

Column G is especially helpful for stories that span a long time—or a very short time. Even if you don’t have exact dates, a note such as “three days after the previous scene” can help avoid logistical tangles. (When timeline is especially important to a story, some writers fill out a virtual or physical calendar with their story events. You can often get print calendars for the previous year cheaply at an office supply or stationary store in January/February.)

If your story takes place in a single location or timeline is not a big concern, you don’t need to use these columns—this reverse outline is always customizable!

Column H: Plot and subplots advanced

There’s a lot going on in a story, and often a lot going on at the same time. This column lets you track where and when different plotlines are developed. You may find it useful to label your plots and subplots with categories like “External” (dealing with the world around the protagonist), “Internal" (psychological change that drives character arcs), or “Interpersonal” (rivalry, romance, and more).

Column I: Conflict of the scene and character desires

Conflict doesn’t have to be violent or flashy. But stories generally include a goal and some friction that prevents the goal from being met. In this way, desire and conflict are often closely connected.

If nobody wanted things to change, there wouldn’t be much to write a story about. If everyone immediately got the change they desire, the story would be very short. Adding friction will make events feel more realistic and engaging to readers. Conflict creates suspense: if there are opposing forces, we can’t predict who will win (or how they’ll manage to win, even if we trust the story will end well for a character). Conflict also lets you explore multiple sides of a situation or theme.

Depending on how you fill out the action summary in Column B, you might cover much of this information there. But I suggest filling out Column I for at least a few scenes to get the hang of evaluating conflict and motivation. If these are missing, a scene can feel directionless and emotionally flat.

Splitting information across multiple columns can also prevent any one part of the outline from getting too swollen. Especially if you write long or action-packed scenes, you may find yourself writing a lot in each cell. A few solutions: one, you may prioritize only the most significant developments of each scene. You can always come back and add more information later. Two, you may realize a scene would work better as two shorter or simpler scenes. (Though don't do this just because it's busy in the outline: consider how the scene itself reads in the story.) Three, you may adapt the outline to give each scene multiple rows evaluating different elements. Just put the wordcount in column C as 0 for the added rows, and it won’t mess up the cumulative wordcount formula (I've given an example in the template).

If the protagonist does get what they want, you’ve either reached the happy ending of the story (or at least a subplot) or you need to give them something else to want, another itch to satisfy. Maybe solving one problem makes them realize there’s an additional problem. Or it’s a question of short-term vs long-term goals: Frodo has made it to Rivendell, but then he takes on the new goal of reaching Mordor.

Column J: Reader emotional response

One reason we write stories is because we want to make people feel things. Here’s where you can talk about what you want the reader to feel. This gives you ideas for what to punch up and enhance in revisions. If you want them to be sad, what is the line they’ll start crying on?If you want them to be hopeful, what should they hope for and why will they feel hope that it will happen?

You may update this column after getting beta reader feedback on an early draft (but not a first draft—the first draft is for you): where and how did your beta react? Was it the way you hoped for, or were there surprises? You could even ask your beta reader to fill out a version of this chart.

Column K: Questions raised or intensified

A powerful emotion to draw readers in is curiosity. And every story will involve some exposition and explanation as we learn about the characters, the setting, and the plotline. Some writers use the term Dramatic Question or Narrative Question to refer to the single biggest and most crucial question that keeps the story going. Once that single question is answered, the story wraps up. Others use the term Story Questions for the various mysteries on different scales that keep readers turning pages—and not just in mystery novels. Whatever you call them, you can track in this column the questions you expect readers to ask with each scene.

In general, when a question is answered, a new, larger or more intense one should take its place. Or the answer to a still-lingering question becomes more urgent. By the end of the story, the majority of questions are answered. You may include a sequel hook, and writers often leave some small, tantalizing details open-ended to make a story feel more realistic, more vivid, or more haunting—or because we don’t have space to chase down every loose end. But if your biggest questions aren’t resolved, the story doesn’t feel over.

I find story questions hugely exciting because curiosity is what most often sucks me in as a reader. But a story isn’t just an intellectual exercise. It’s fatal if a reader ever decides, “I don’t care about learning the answer to this question.” Make sure your other columns are providing reasons for readers to care (especially column J).

You don't want this column to be empty. But you may not want it to get too full, either. It’s possible to draw out a question for too long, leaving readers confused or frustrated. It’s also possible to raise too many questions to easily keep track of. If they’re asking too much and learning too little, some readers might give up on ever finding answers. So be sure to consider both new questions and the weight of the questions already hanging over the readers' (and characters') heads.

As for where to track the answers, it’s dealer’s choice—you could put them in this column, or the answers might be described as part of the action summary or another column. Use this outline in a way that matches how you think, since it's organizing your story.

This is another column it can be useful to ask your beta readers to fill out (or "What questions do you have at the end of this chapter?" could be something to ask them in another format.) You may be surprised by what piques your readers' curiosity!

To reiterate, the mysteries that draw a reader to the next page or chapter—or sentence—don't have to be big. Jack Hart’s guide to narrative nonfiction, Storycraft, provides two excellent examples of opening lines with tiny mysteries that hook you. Joan Didion begins a piece with “Imagine Banyan Street first, because Banyan Street is where it happened.” Right away we wonder: what is “it”? And where is Banyan Street? The second example was written by Spencer Heinz in the Oregonian: “Pat Yost was in bed when she heard the sound.” Most readers will give Heinz’s next few sentences their attention to learn what the sound was, and Yost’s vulnerability makes the question feel urgent. You can get a bit too obviously manipulative with tiny questions (so that the reader asks “For crying out loud, what is it now?”), but it’s a useful technique to keep in mind.

The other beauty of these questions is that they can make the need for exposition work for you. Rather than being bored to tears by an infodump, the reader is intrigued by hints and glimpses, then satisfied to receive more context and explanation.

Column L: New characters and concepts introduced

This column can help you pace your exposition and introductions. (It overlaps with the previous column, but different writers find different angles helpful for analyzing a story, so I’ve included both. You may not fill out this column for every chapter, especially shorter chapters or chapters later in the story.) Tracking this can prevent you from introducing the same person in two different scenes. It also reveals opportunities to energize any doldrums in the middle of your story by adding a new idea.

Column M: Notes (and whatever else you desire)

I use this column to make revision suggestions to myself. You can also use it to track elements you find important but which don’t fit in other columns. Again, please feel free to add more columns and delete ones that aren’t a priority for this story or your process!

Mystery writers may want a column to keep track of where clues or red herrings appear. Romance novelists may want to track beats. A kinky romance novelist may want to keep track of which toys the characters use in which sex scene. Other writers may want to track what Robert McKee calls the “value charge,” measuring how much closer to or farther from their goal a character has moved.

Using the Outline

You don't have to fill out the entire spreadsheet in one sitting. You might do a few chapters/scenes at a time. You might get one or two columns completely filled out in one go (I do columns A and C together) but take time to do the rest. Some columns may never get entirely filled out. My tip is to try every column to start with, because you never know what will make something click for you. It’s better to fill out half the columns than none.

Some authors create reverse outlines as they write the first draft. After completing each chapter, they end their writing session by filling out a row with a summary of what they’ve just written. This has the benefit of your memory being fresher, and if it sounds like it’d work for you, please try it! It may help you spot issues early and course correct. However, some authors find too much analysis paralyzing in the first draft stage. Personally, I find it easier and fun to do my outline at the end, in a sugar rush of triumphant celebration at finishing a story. I write it up, stand back dusting my hands, and go “Well, what do we have here?”

And what do we have here?

Things a reverse outline can reveal:

Where does your climax—the peak of suspense, intensity, and emotion—happen in the story? How close to the end? How do you build up to it and climb back down? Are there mini-climaxes earlier in the story to keep readers engaged? Your main plot will have a climax, and so will your subplots and your character arcs. These may be located in different places, or they may all climax together. (Stop snickering, you in the back!)

What’s left unresolved at the end of the book? (For traditional publication, you’ll have the best luck if your first book is a “standalone,” though it may have opportunities for a sequel if it sells well. You might think self-publishing is more forgiving, but in fact, readers may greet a cliffhanger ending with bad reviews if they feel you’re trying to trap them into buying more books for unclear payoff. They may even return the book and demand a refund. However, in both traditional and self-publishing, books later in a series may end in cliffhangers once the author has won readers’ trust by finishing earlier stories in a satisfying way.)

How do the character arcs develop? Anything important enough to write a story about will probably change a person—how are each character’s actions and desires different at the end of the story than they were at the beginning?

How long are questions left unanswered or conflicts left unresolved? You generally want these to last for at least a few chapters to let suspense grow and keep the story flowing. (The author Benjamin Percy, in Thrill Me, speaks of his failed early novels: “I treated chapters like short stories, introducing and resolving trouble in fifteen pages. The containment, the stand-aloneness of my chapters, gave my books a stop-start quality that destroyed any sense of momentum.”) At the same time, each scene should make a little progress, whether positive or negative. It will end with the character a little better off or worse off (or better in some ways, worse in others) than they were before.

Friction, tension, conflict, and struggle make a story richer and more vivid. Even for small and simple goals, let the readers and characters yearn just a bit before you give them what they want. Make sure your payoffs each have setup.

Do you have scenes without action? Or where the action is all internal rather than external: does your protagonist sit around thinking until they change their mind about something? This isn’t fatal—I’ve done it myself on occasion. But try not to make these static scenes too frequent (and internal action is better than no action at all: beware scenes that are pure exposition).

Do you have scenes that are overgrown transitions, moving characters from Point A to Point B? In particular, you have an overgrown transition rather than a proper scene when there aren’t enough questions, conflict, stakes, urgency, or emotional engagement. Make your story more vivid by fleshing out these transitions or removing them (a transition can often become a paragraph or sentence at the beginning of the next scene).

Do any significant events happen off-page or between scenes? Would it be clearer or more impactful for readers if they happen on-page?

Do you spend a lot of wordcount introducing a particular character, setting, or detail that doesn’t go on to play a significant role in the story? Be wary of one-offs: characters, POVs, locations, and apparent subplots that only appear once may be a sign you should develop them further—or take them out entirely. Not always! But make sure it’s clear to readers why you break your story’s pattern. Sometimes, an author will give a character one flashback scene to share backstory. However interesting the backstory, be sure the events of that flashback are relevant to their present-day storyline!

How does each scene fit into to the larger story? How do the subplots connect to each other? If something doesn’t connect, does it belong? Can you flesh it out and connect it more? (Whether you connect it more tightly or delete it often depends on if your story is longer or shorter than you want it to be—see next section.)

You can color-code rows by subplot if that makes things easier for you. The reverse outline can become a very visual document, helping you see things it’s harder to find in a manuscript of text.

Look at scenes that only advance a single plot or subplot, and see how strong they are in the other columns. One way to punch up a sagging scene is to combine it with a second scene and do two things at once. Maybe the scene in which Miranda overhears Jason’s suspicious phone call is also the scene where she reels from the revelation that she’s about to be fired from her dream job (which she learned in the previous chapter). As our friend writing at the Cincinnati Enquirer in February 1947 said, “Life is just one damn thing after another, is a gross understatement. The damn things overlap.”

Do tensions and stakes rise over the course of the story? This is often phrased as “things have to get worse and worse for your characters,” but that isn’t the only option. Giving your characters an occasional “break” provides hope, which, for you literary sadists, gives characters more to lose when things get worse again. Hope raises the stakes. And building a character up lets you continue a story for longer because it gives them farther to fall. The occasional achievement can give your character new abilities and resources to make future scenes exciting. Also, alternating hope with loss or disappointment creates a variety in tone and texture; most readers find variety welcome. (This also means you should beware of too many scenes of unmitigated success, even if your story's tone is one of cozy wish fulfillment.) In some genres, both your character and your audience may need occasional injections of hope to be motivated to see the story through. There are exceptions—a short horror novel may be nothing but things getting worse—but overall, don’t worry that you’re failing at suspenseful storytelling if your characters are sometimes happy! But there still should be something missing, an unanswered question, an unachieved goal, or an unresolved risk that keeps the story going. And generally, these risks, goals, questions, and unfulfilled desires should get bigger as the story goes on.

How's the length of your story?

Some writers end up with first drafts way longer than they want. Some wind up with first drafts that are too short. For some authors, each story causes them wordcount-related stress in a different way. And in every manuscript, whatever its overall length, some scenes will go on a bit longer than they need to, while several character details and plot threads will tantalize with their ability to be developed further.

Too long/too short is also a question of the audience you’re writing for. Young adult novels tend to be shorter than adult historical epics. If you’re writing fiction to publish in magazines paying pro rates, you'll often have a better short with a 4,000-word short story than a 9,000-word novelette. And if you don’t intend to write a novella (I love them, but they can be tricky to sell), then a 40,000-word “novel” probably needs more development.

If your story or scene is too long, either:

Too much is happening

You’re giving too many details about what’s happening

(It may be both at once, of course.)

You’ll want to make changes in that order: first, decide what needs to happen in the story. As I advised earlier, making some of it happen simultaneously can reduce the number of scenes and make each scene more intense. But upon consideration, and with the help of your reverse outline, you may find one or two excess subplots. Save them for a different story.

Once you’ve reduced your number of scenes, if you’re still longer than you want, look at each scene and tighten paragraphs and lines. But that fine-tuning is something to work on later, in the line-editing rather than organization or structural edit (what I'm calling the second draft in this post, and which we editors also call developmental editing).

If your story is too short, either:

Not enough is happening

You’re not giving enough details about what is happening

Should you add a subplot, or draw out a subplot you currently have? Do the characters’ problems get resolved too quickly? Have you raised enough narrative questions? Given enough answers? Is the conflict strong enough and are the stakes high enough? Have you shown how high the stakes are? Look at where you’ve used narrative summary. Would any of this be more interesting or dramatic as a scene? Are there sentences you could expand to paragraphs, or paragraphs into chapters? Don’t pad the story, but flesh it out.

You may want to do more research, especially if you put research aside to complete your first draft (which you've done—congratulations!) Learning about your characters’ jobs, the world they inhabit, and processes within it can open up lots of avenues, many of which you wouldn’t have predicted.

Or you may write short because you know so much about the story. You’ve been developing this magic system since you were in high school, so you don’t realize how weird and wondrous it is to your readers and how much they’d enjoy a (vivid, active, non-lecture) tour of it. Now’s the time to add some more scenes of your protagonist learning to use magic! Or, switching genres, a mystery writer may have meticulously planned the crime—but they need to add enough description that the reader can follow the logistics.

The emotions of revision

Personally, I think adding more scenes and details is great fun. You get to write fanfiction of your first draft—and publish it! However, expanding a story can take time and requires you to keep track of what you’re doing. The record in the reverse outline will help with that.

Cutting scenes, plot threads, characters, and even favorite sentences can be melancholy. I encourage writers to save what they cut in case it can fit in a future story—even if it doesn’t, this feels less like a final execution. However, sometimes cutting something is a relief. You’ve had a feeling that element wasn’t working out, and now you can let it go.

Some writers may get a little too eager to cut. It might seem like the easy way out, but if you delete everything that causes you trouble, the story will get smaller and smaller, and it might wind up less interesting as a result. You’re also depriving yourself of the chance to stretch your creativity and try new things. (Mary Oliver in A Poetry Handbook warns that “deletion teaches nothing.”) It’s a judgment call: does this troublesome bit have enough potential that it’s worth rescuing through revision? Try sleeping on it in case your subconscious offers a new solution you hadn’t expected. If that doesn’t pan out, you can always save the idea to try again in a different story. As Matthew Salesses says in Craft in the Real World, “Some encouragement (hopefully)! The bulk of successful writing is in the fact that you have an endless number of tries. Persistence is key.”

To wrap up, a few more uses of reverse outlining:

Reread your story in light of the outline. Going between the outline and each scene, consider this question: does your outline describe what’s actually on the page or what you intended to write? If your outline is more wishful than actual, that's still progress: it's helped you express your intentions, which is a step that brings them closer to reality. Now the reverse outline has become a planning outline for your next draft.

Similarly, some authors find it tricky to revise existing scenes. Instead, they write the second draft more or less from scratch in a new file. They trust their memory to give them back the best parts of the stroy and to drop or rework what wasn’t succeeding. If you want to use this approach but still need some guidance, the reverse outline can be made into a new outline.

You can reverse outline other people’s books! It's fun and insightful to examine how a favorite author works on a scene-by-scene level. Heck, it can also give insight into how an author you can’t stand, but who is undeservedly successful, works on a scene-by-scene level. Maybe you can learn from their success after all.

--- --- ----

The next morning you woke up to the sound of Jacks voice on the phone. 

You blinked your eyes open and watched him pacing by the window, his free hand running through his already messy hair.

“I thought it was just normal morning sickness but I’d bet my license on hyperemesis gravidarum. And it’s escalating fast. She can’t keep anything solid down.” 

He listened, his jaw tight. 

“Look, Anya, I know the protocol. But I need her admitted today.” 

He paced away from the window, his back to you. 

“You know I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t bad.” 

He stopped. 

“Yeah. Yeah, okay. Thank you. We’ll be there in an hours, tops. Thank you. I owe you!”

He ended the call and stood there for a moment, the phone still in his hand, his shoulders slumping slightly. Then he turned and walked back to the bed. 

When he saw you awake he froze.

“Oh. Good morning honey.” He sat down next to you. “You heard?”

You nodded. “Hypersomething…?”

He took your hands in his. “Hyperemesis gravidarum. Severe morning sickness. It’s not just ‘feeling a bit under the weather’. I think that’s what you’ve got. We need to get you hydrated and on something to stop the vomiting.”

He leaned forward and gave you a kiss. “We have an appointment in an hour. With an old friend of mine at PTMC - Anya Sharma. She’s going to take good care of you.”

“Jack…” you started, but didn’t know how to put the gratitude you felt into words.

He leaned forward again and kissed your forehead, his lips lingering. “Don’t worry about it. Just focus on getting up and into some sweatpants. Can you do that for me?”

You nodded.

“Good.” He stood up, his energy already shifting to the next tast. “I’m going to pack you a bag. I don’t want you to worry but there’s a good chance you’ll need to stay in the hospital for a few days.”

You swallowed and nodded weakly. You didn’t like the sound of it but you trusted Jack. If he thought it was necessary - then it was.

He moved around the apartment with a purpose that was both comforting and incredibly hot. He pulled your duffel bag from the closet and started filling it - cosmetics, underwear, socks.

He was talking, a low steady stream of instructions and reassurances meant to calm you.

“... I’ll pack your charger. Don’t want your phone to die. And some sweatpants. Maybe a pyjama set…”

You watched him in awe. 

You knew you should get up and get ready, but all you could do was stare at him. He was a calm, confident presence, organizing everything. Making everything right. 

Your chest ached.

You stood up and wobbled toward him. He froze with a pair of your gray sweatpants in his hand and turned, his brow furrowing with concern. You wrapped your arms around him and hugged him tightly.

He needed a moment, then his arms came around you. He pressed a soft kiss to the crown of your head while you inhaled his familiar scent. “You okay?”

You nodded.

He held you tighter, rocking you gently. 

Then he said quietly “Okay, lets get you ready. Dr. Sharma is a brilliant physician, but she does not like to be kept waiting.”

The drive to PTMC was a blur. 

You didn’t speak but it wasn’t a heavy silence. It was quiet and focused. 

Jack drove with one hand on the wheel, the other resting on your thigh, his thumb stroking a steady reassuring rhythm. 

You felt weak and kept a bag in your lap - just in case. 

You had thrown on leggins and a sweatshirt, your hair carelessly tied into a ponytail. You hadn’t bothered with makeup.

He parked the car and navigated the labyrinthine corridors of the hospital with an easy confidence, nodding to nurses who greeted him. 

You were no longer just his girlfriend. You were his patient and he was moving you through his world with an air of protective authority.

There was no need for you to go through the emergency department - Dr. Sharma wanted you directly on the ward, as he explained.

Being admitted was a blur of paperwork and questions. You were placed into a wheelchair and led into an examination room on the maternity floor. It was quiet, sterile and smelled faintly of antiseptic.

After giving a urine sample to one of the nurses and stepping onto a scale - your weight lower than you expected -, Jack helped you change into a flimsy hospital gown with an open back and then onto the examination chair. 

That’s when Dr. Sharma came in.

She was exactly as he’d described: sharp, efficient and with a no-nonsense demeanor that was somehow incredibly comforting.

Her eyes assessed you with a quick, clinical glance.

“So, you are Jacks mystery patient.” A faint smile played on her lips as she pulled on a pair of gloves. “Let’s see what all the fuss is about.”

The exam was quick and thorough. 

You half expected her to squeeze gel onto your stomach for a regular ultrasound, but when she rolled a condomlike cover over something that looked suspiciously like a sex toy your eyes widened. 

You glanced at Jack.

He tried to hide his smile. “It’s too early for a regular ultrasound, so it’ll be transvaginal one.”

You blinked. 

Dr. Sharma smiled. “Feet in the rests, love. And come a little closer to the edge. It’ll be over before you know it.”

You did as you were told. You blushed when she inserted the ultrasound probe, but you were almost instantly distracted by something else.

A fast, frantic, gallopic sound that filled the room. 

Whoossh-whump-whoosh-whump.

“There’s your little speed racer” Dr. Sharma said, pointing to a tiny flickering grain of rice on the screen. “Heart rate ist 168. Strong and steady. Looks right on track for nine plus five weeks.”

Your mouth fell open. Tears pricked your eyes - but this time there was no anger or frustration. Just overwhelming relief. 

You blinked rapidly, then looked up at Jack. 

The expression on his face was one you would never forget.

He was utterly transfixed. His usual guarded composure completely shattered as he stared at the screen, at that tiny pulsing flicker, his jaw slack with wonder.

When he noticed you looking at him he squeezed your shoulder. 

“Okay” he breathed, the word full of awe. “Okay. Okay. Wow.”

“Alright” Dr. Sharma said as she measured a few things and printed images. “The bean looks perfect.”

She let you look for another moment.

Jack cleared his throat. “Just to be sure… there’s only one baby, right?”

Dr. Sharma gave him a look and checked the screen again. “Yes. I’m quite sure. You can interpret an ultrasound too, Jack. There’s only one little bean in there. Why would you ask?”

He frowned. “Hyperemesis gravidarum is more common with twins.”

Dr. Sharma couldn’t quite hide her smile. “There is only one baby, Jack. I promise. No need to panic. One baby for starters is more than enough.”

You chuckled softly.

Dr. Sharma finished the ultrasound and removed the probe, disposing of the cover and her gloves before turning back to you. 

“So - congratulation you two.” Her smile was warm. “Officially Mom and Dad.”

You closed your eyes for a moment. 

The exhaustion and nausea faded briefly as relief washed over you. Jack kissed your temple, speechless for once.

“What we’re going to do now” she continued. “is draw some blood and start an IV with lactated Ringers and a Zofran pump. We’ll see what your blood tests show and adjust from there. I want you NPO for 48 hours, so we’ll give you everything you need through the IV. A nurse will take you to a room after this. We’ll monitor your vitals closely and keep an eye on the baby as well. Okay?” 

You nodded, slightly overwhelmed.

She patted your knee gently. “We’ll get you back on track. Your baby is fine and you will be too. And you’ve got the best doctor in the hospital taking care of you.”

Jack grinned, scratching the back of his neck. “Anya, you flatter me.”

She raised an eyebrow. “I was talking about me, Abbot.”

She winked at you.

“I’ll come by your room later with the blood results.”

She nodded at Jack and left the room. Jack was still smiling.

He sat down beside you and took your hand. “Did you hear?” He squeezed your fingers. “The bean is fine.”

“You let out a deep breath. “Yes.” You looked at him and smiled. “And we will be too.”

It was a very nice room they had put you in. It was still a hospital room, but with soft light, nice curtains, extra pillows and a beautiful view over Pittsburgh. 

You were sitting in bed, wearing the pyjamas Jack had packed in the bag, attached to a pump that delivered a continuous slow drip of anti-nausea medication and fluids into your veins. 

Jack had stepped out for a moment to use the restroom and to make some calls and you closed your eyes. 

You already felt better - this time for real - but there was one nagging thought sitting in the back of your mind. 

The first thing your body was supposed to do was to protect and nurture this child. And it was rebelling. It was trying to reject the very thing it was meant to sustain. A failure as a mother before you had even had the chance to begin.

You didn’t cry but you were close. 

Jack came back and sat down in the chair beside your bed. He didn’t say anything at first. He just watched you. Then he reached out and took your hand.

“Don’t.” he said, his voice low and rough.

You opened your eyes and turned to look at him. “Don’t what?”

“Don’t do that” he said. “Don’t you dare think what you’re thinking.”

“You don’t know what I’m thinking” you whispered.

“Yes, I think I do” he replied. “You’re in here and you feel like you’ve failed. That this is your fault.”

You lowered your eyes and stared at the blanket.

“You are not failing.” His grip on your hand tightening. “Your body is working hard right now. It’s building a whole new person. A heart, a brain, hopefully ten fingers and ten toes.”

He paused.

”It’s a twenty-four-hour construction project happening in your uterus and it’s exhausting. There’s no union stepping in, no breaks, no safety instructor. Sometimes the system just gets overwhelmed.” 

He squeezed your hand. “It’s not a failure. It’s a medical problem and we’re fixing it.”

Another pause.

“And we have an entire team of people right outside that door who are going to help us.”

You hesitated.

Then you let out a long breathe. “Okay. I’ll try to think that way. I promise.” 

You looked at him. “You’re very good in this.”

“Motivational speeches, you mean?” 

You shrugged. “Yeah. And everything else. I don’t know how you do it. You seem so calm. So unfazed. I’m kind of in awe.”

Now it was his turn to shrug. “I’ve seen a thing or two in my time as a doctor, sweetheart. You learn how to help people when they’re in distress.” He gave you a small smile. “And it’s easier when it’s not you in distress. Trust me.”

He leaned over and kissed you. “And for the rest - we’ll figure it out. The Bean has nothing to worry about.”

You chuckled. “We need another nickname for it.”

Jack laughed. “Okay, we’ll think of one. But until then its The Bean, I’m afraid.”

Over the next couple of days you began to feel human again. Color returned to your cheeks. The heavy tiredness lifted. And after two days without eating (like Dr. Sharma had instructed) you even got some of your appetite back. 

The nurses made sure to give you only small portions of easy-to-digest food and you were more than happy when you could eat a couple of saltines without throwing up.

Jack only left your side to go to therapy or to work. And with the emergency department being in the same building it was easy for him to slip upstairs for a quick break to check on you.

During the day he slept on a fold-out bed next to you.

“Reminds me of my time in Afghanistan, just a bit nicer” he joked, pulling a blanket over his head to block the light.

You were beyond grateful for everything he had done for you.

One afternoon he woke up from a deep sleep to find you curled up on your side, watching him. He blinked, rubbed a hand over his face, then through his already messy hair before sitting up with a yawn.

“How you feeling?” 

He grabbed a bottle of water from the nightstand and drank it in one go, while scanning your face.

You smiled. “I’m good.” Then you reached for his hand. “How are you?”

He tilted his head slightly. “I’m fine honey.”

You squeezed his hand. “You sure? How’s your leg?” A pause. “I never really asked about it when you mentioned the phantom pain.”

You swallowed hard as a wave of guilt washed over you.

He looked confused. “It’s better. Physical therapy is really helping.” he said slowly. “I even decreased my Lyrica dose again and it’s kind of okay, I guess.”

You smiled. “That sounds great. I’m glad you’re feeling better. I really am. I’m sorry I didn’t ask sooner.”

He hesitated. “Where does this come from?”

You took a deep breathe. “It seems like you got a lot of for self-reflection when you’re stuck in a hospital and not busy puking your guts out.” you said, trying to joke.

He watched you carefully and said nothing. His thumb brushed slowly over your knuckles.

You scooted over to make room and pulled back the covers. “You want to cuddle?”

He finally smiled and crawled into bed beside you. “Always.”

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A/N: Praise the Lord - the puking arc is finally over! Next chapter I’m trying something a little different: a fun little break that’s completely focused on Jack. Hope you’ll enjoy it!

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You wanna keep reading? - Interlude: Tell me about it (The Jack Sessions - Part 1)

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