the_lioness | (no subject)

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It was quite a nice hospital, thought Mr. and Mrs. Young. Dr. Lord, who had been only too happy to show them around, agreed. The facility was well funded, and the equipment top-notch. She had promised their health and safety.

Adam had nodded and smiled, stating that as long as the Chattering Order of Saint Beryl had nothing to do with the place, he was content.

It was then that Alanna had an unexplained coughing fit.

-- -- --

Alanna always thought that the time between first labor pain and delivery would be unbearable in its length. In actuality, it happened surprisingly fast.

No sooner had they stepped outside the bar than they were filling out paperwork, and Alanna gave Adam a suspicious look that he studiously avoided. Would you rather have taken a taxi, his silence seemed to ask. Alanna shrugged and watched Lucy sip a much needed cup of tea.

Raven's hand was still clutched firmly in hers, and although he had not asked for it back, it was impossible not to notice that one of the babies in a nearby poster was now sporting a mustache.

Paperwork and surgery preparation complete, Dr. Lord delivered bumbling reassurances that did the job simply because they were heartfelt. All business in the operating room, she explained each step until Alanna asked her not to, choosing instead to keep her eyes on Adam and pretend he didn't look a little green around the edges.

"It's a boy!" The baby's cry seemed a little timid, a little angry at being moved, and Alanna announced, "Thom."

Next, a baby girl. She gave a token protest, as if declaring her presence to the world, then settled down. Neither mother nor father noticed the tears streaming down their faces.

"He's not breathing," a nurse murmured beyond the drapery. Biting her lip until it bled, Alanna let loose a creative curse and demanded to know what was going on. Adam winced at her grip.

Dr. Lord called out numbers and a series of complicated words, working too quickly for explanations. Alanna's eyes met Adam's, and although not a word was spoken, a great deal was said. "He's very small," the doctor finally gritted out.

Eventually, an eternity later, a plaintive wail echoed off multiple stainless steel surfaces. "Now he's breathing," Adam whispered, forcing the words past the relief clogging his throat.

But really, it all happened so fast. Alanna sobbed with a reckless smile that made her look like she could take on the world. Adam rather thought she could, and grinning, bent to kiss her forehead. The whole room was lighter somehow, and while Dr. Lord was busy stitching, the nurse lowered the drapery so the new parents could get a look at their second son.

Alanna didn't see much beyond the blood and needles. She fainted.

-- -- --

"Mr. Young? Shouldn't we wait for your wife to awaken before you select names and sign the birth certificates?"

"...No, that's okay. We've discussed them."

"Very well. Thom Alan, Grace Thea and James Brian, was it?"

"Yes."

"Well done. Those are lovely names. You wouldn't believe what some people come up with."

"Oh, trust me when I say I might have an idea."

-- -- --

At the edges of consciousness, Alanna hears a slow, steady beep. Beyond that, voices and laughter, and footsteps echoing down a corridor. She opens her eyes slowly, licking her lips, and smiles.

She can see her feet at the end of the bed without leaning sideways.

"Oh good," she says in a pleased sort of voice, "I'm still alive."

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There's a laugh, low and rough, from next to her, and while his words are, "Did you really think I'd allow anything else?" there's a sense of relief that fills them.

"Never," and although it is easy to say now, she speaks the truth.

Alanna takes stock of her surroundings -- a comfortable room, with a window looking out at the city beyond -- before focusing on Adam.

He looks tired.

Gaze softening, she holds out her hand. And then,

"...What happened?"

"They're green and have tentacles."

He manages to keep a mostly straight face, right up until she looks like she'se going to smack him.

"I'm kidding! They're perfect."

Really, avoiding the talk of knives and blood is best for EVERYBODY involved.

"Of course they're perfect," she says loftily. "They're ours."

It's possible she's a touch biased.

"And Jamie?" she asks softly. "They said he was small."

Just before she...

She didn't faint. ANY talk of fainting is also taboo.

Adam knows better than that.

Probably.

"He is. He's-"

Adam smiles and squeezes her hand.

"They took him to the NICU, but just to watch over him, they said. He should be fine."

Eventually.

"NICU?"

Instantly more alert, she frowns and experiments with lifting her head a little. She wants them here, where they should be.

"Should be fine," she repeats flatly. "Dr. Lord said that?"

"WILL be fine."

Adam nods resolutely. Should is actually what she said, but it's will. Definitely will.

He raises a hand to brush away the hair on her forehead.

His touch keeps her from trying to launch herself out of bed, which is undoubtedly a good thing, as she seems to be hooked up to the beeping machine.

Alanna swallows.

"Will be." She looks at him, eyes tracing familiar features, and adds, "I feel strange."

"That's likely the sedatives."

It's not like Adam could scream in the middle of an operating room that they didn't need to give her drugs, he could numb her no problem.

"The effects will wear off soon."

No need to mention the pain that'll replace them yet.

"You'll be able to see all of them soon, though."

That pain is already starting to make itself known, and her free hand pokes at her stomach.

"I suppose it would be bad form to use my Gift on the cut at the moment, but it's tempting." She smiles, ignoring her own watery eyes. "And how are you doing?"

"At the very least, wait until we're home."

He grins, a little wobbly.

"I'm..."

Exhausted. Ecstatic. Other words that start with "e".

"I'm good."

"You're wonderful," she croons, and surely it's only the drugs that make her smile goofy.

"I hope they like me. I hope I figure out what to do."

He winks and squeezes her hand again.

"They have to hate you. You're their mother. It's required by law. Though I think you're exempt until the teenage years."

Alanna laughs.

"Well, if we can survive the next few weeks, I suppose that will be fine." She pauses. "Mother. That's..."

She waves a hand weakly in the air.

"I know."

It's quiet and he leans in to kiss her, and his smile says "we're responsible for LIFE now" and it's not scared, not one bit.

"When you feel up to it, we can go see them."

Alanna grins, and there's something calculating about the way she eyes the door.

"I don't suppose they could bring them to us?"

They are tiny. How hard can they be to move?

"Thom and Grace." Adam nods. "Though you wouldn't be walking" he's quick to add.

"I may have lost some weight in a hurry, but I still don't think you could carry me," she says with a sidelong glance, even though she knows perfectly well he's talking about a wheelchair.

She bites her lip.

"Thom and Grace. Do you think they would?"

He smiles at her, and gives her another kiss before nodding.

"I think so. Do you want to go see James first?"

Thinking about this, she kisses the corner of his mouth and just looks at him for a moment.

"Okay." Beat. "Did you already fill out the birth certificates?"

"I hope you don't mind..."

Her eyes narrow.

"No, not at all." She picks restlessly at the sheet. "We had already decided."

"Uh huh..."

"Well, we did."

She sniffs.

"It's probably best. I'm not exactly clearheaded at the moment. Goddess knows what I would have selected."

Right. Because the drugs would have been to blame.

"Do I just pull this thing out, or...?" she asks, gesturing to the machine and pulling at the surgical tape on her hand.

"Moonlight, perhaps?"

It's possible Adam looks repentant.

"You don't pull that thing out at all. It rolls with us."

"I wouldn't name one of our sons after a horse."

Really, Adam. That is so RIDICULOUS!

"I remain fond of Sunbeam, however."

Her lips twitch. The IV gets a skeptical look, but she decides to bow to his greater knowledge of this place. Shrugging, she pushes back the covers.

He pulls them aside and helps her down to the wheel chair, showing her how the pole has wheels to move with them.

"Well, then I think you'll be pleased with my final decisions of Daisy, Sunwillow and Bob."

Her fingers tighten around the pole, and not because of the unexpected pulling sensation along her stomach.

"...Bob?"

As Adam starts to push, she leans her head back to eye him.

"It had a certain... french thing."

Alanna's head starts to feel extremely light, and so she is forced to look up and straight ahead. It occurs to her that she should probably tell the old man on the rolling bed she's not scowling at him, but by the time she makes up her mind to do so, they have already turned a corner.

Suspiciously, "You're pulling my leg, aren't you?"

"Certainly not. Your leg's all the way down there."

But he can't help himself, he starts laughing, and leans down to deliver a kiss to the top of her head. They round the corner, and there's a wall of glass, full of babies and beds and scales and equipment.

"That's more than three," she breathes, violet eyes wide and amazed.

He pushes her close enough to touch the glass, and Alanna leans forward, lip caught between her teeth, looking every which way for three babies that feel like they belong to her.

"Where?"

With a smirk in his voice, "They're not all ours."

But then his hand lifts up and points over to two matching beds off in a corner, one labeled "Tom" and one labeled "Grace."

"Good to know that hospital efficiency is good as ever. It's right on the birth certificate. I made sure."

Thunk.

Alanna's head hits the glass as she struggles to get a better look. Thom and Grace aren't nearly close enough for her, and in the end, she uses the IV pole to push herself up to a standing position.

There's a brief moment of panic, as she looks at her children and isn't sure what she's feeling. She swallows. But then Thom moves his head a little, and the small cap shifts slightly to the side. It might be her imagination, or it might not, but Alanna thinks she sees a tiny piece of red hair.

And she smiles ear to ear, instantly in love.

"Mithros, Adam." Her voice breaks. "They're beautiful. And you thought they would look like Winston Churchill."

"All babies look like Winston Churchill!" Defensive, he huffs. But it's only a second before he's grinning again, and wrapping his arm around her waist.

"They're ours."

She leans on him, uncharacteristically accepting her own weakness, and runs her hand down the glass like she can touch them through it.

"Ours," she repeats, dazed. A moment later, determination settles across her features. "I want to hold them. But where's James?"

Adam points further down the hall where, behind smaller glass windows, is a room with significantly fewer beds, and significantly more machines.

Swallowing hard, Alanna gingerly returns to the wheelchair and gestures for Adam to push her over. He does, silently, and points to James with one hand on her shoulder.

It's not easy to see.

He's significantly smaller than the other two, though not as tiny as the baby next to him. His bed has a plastic covering that makes it look a bit like a cage, and an adjacent machine keeps track of his vitals.

Many emotions cross Alanna's face: fear, anger, disbelief. But through it all, that determination stays.

"He'll be well soon," she insists, more for her own benefit than anyone else's.

"He will."

It's almost whispered, and they're lucky, really, that only one of them had to go to the NICU. Lucky, really, that all three weren't so underweight and small.

Some might call it luck, anyway.

In the meantime, Adam simply nods, and pushes the door open, whispering something to the nurses on duty. They help him maneuver Alanna's chair into the room, and pick up James -- hardly bigger than Adam's hand -- and place him carefully in Alanna's arms.

Before she has time to ask whether or not it's safe, he's there, tiny and in her arms and completely dependent on them.

It's terrifying. She stiffens, worrying about dropping him until she remembers to breathe.

She takes a breath, and then so does James.

"Jamie," she whispers, forgetting to be nervous or stiff. One hand lifts and touches his small nose, searches for tiny fingers. "Adam..."

Looking up, she blinks rapidly.

"I'm not crying."

Of course not.

But he kisses the tears away from her cheeks anyway and kneels down to her height, leaning over and placing a kiss on Jamie's head.

"It's okay to be small," she tells Jamie, hardly aware of what she's saying. "I was small, and people underestimated me, but that just makes it so much more satisfying when you prove them wrong."

She smiles at Adam through the tears.

"I love you," and it's said to both of them.

Adam smiles back, and he responds in kind, but at a moment like this, there's not too much else to be said.

That and

"Welcome."

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