[for Ellen] baby time

[manwithoutfear]

The baby can happen any day, now. These past few weeks, I've been wary of leaving Ellen alone for any extended period of time. Neverland has been full of surprises, but a functioning cellular network hasn't been one of them. While I don't do particularly well with being cooped up, I have the good sense to keep my complaints to myself.

I'm not carrying something the size of a watermelon in my stomach, and if it weren't for me, she wouldn't be in this predicament. I have a strong enough sense of self-preservation to shut my mouth.

I step in from a few stolen moments spent outside, wandering towards the kitchen. It's getting close to dinner.

"I was thinking I could make fish tonight," I call out.

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[shewaswarned]

She's been feeling - slightly off, today. It's nothing completely out of the ordinary - she'd been warned against things like Braxton-Hicks contractions and other weird sensations as they get closer to her due date, but the knowledge that she could give birth any time is definitely in the back of her mind.

Zeus is hovering around her too, almost as if he senses something's about to happen - which doesn't really help her nerves.

"Fish sounds good," she calls back, and unceremoniously waddles out of the bathroom, exhaling softly.

[manwithoutfear]

There's something off in her voice. Granted, I've been increasingly paranoid the last couple of days, straining my senses to pick up anything unusual, but now-- Now, I just can't shake the feeling that something is wrong.

I've learned to trust that feeling.

I change directions, leaving the kitchen behind to wander towards her voice and the dog.

"Everything all right?"

[shewaswarned]

"Fine," she replies, rubbing a hand over her stomach. The baby's been unusually quiet today - when normally she's half-expecting a kick or two by now, but in its place are some all-too-familiar pangs a little lower.

She moves to try and shift her weight into a chair, but then the act of sitting causes her back to ache, so she remains standing, slowly pacing back and forth.

"Just - "

The sudden dampness between her thighs - but she's just come out of the bathroom, she thinks, she couldn't have - and then she glances down and back up at Matt slowly.

"... my water just broke."

[manwithoutfear]

"Your..."

The question dies in my throat. For a long second, all I can hear is my pulse pounding in my ears, the sharp intake of breath. There's an almost sweet smell in the air, like sweat. I find myself nodding, though hell if I know why. The metallic taste of adrenaline sticks in the back of my throat.

"Okay--"

I move to her side, looping my arm around her waist.

"Okay," I say again, trying to sound reassuring. We need to get her to the Clinic, but that's a couple miles at least. I don't know that she can walk that far, not like this, and I'd have to leave her to call that hoverambulance program. But maybe we don't need an ambulance to fly...

"Okay," I say once more, because third time is the charm. "Do you trust me?"

[shewaswarned]

"Wait, what?"

Everything is a blur; the dampness between her thighs, the weight of his arm sliding around her waist, and then there's a rush of blood in her own ears and she tries to remember to breathe evenly.

"Hold on. I haven't even really started having contractions yet. Right? We - we could wait a little?"

[manwithoutfear]

My rushing thoughts halt to a dead stop. Surprise steals my breath away and for a second, my mouth works wordlessly.

"...do you want to wait?"

[shewaswarned]

"I - "

She falters, looking down at her belly, and her hand runs over the swell in an attempt to soothe the baby inside as much as herself. There's so much uncertainty in this place, even now that everything's changed. She doesn't want to take any chances.

"No," she replies. "No, let's get my bag and - we can go."

[manwithoutfear]

"Okay."

If I know how to say more words, I've apparently forgotten. I take a few seconds to breathe, then ask, "Where is it? The bedroom?"

[shewaswarned]

"By the bed."

She nods once, realizing that she may or may not need to actually provide directions if muscle memory isn't going to be enough for him at this moment.

"Do I need to remind you how to breathe?"

[manwithoutfear]

"Maybe!" I admit, halfway to the bedroom. It takes me a minute to find her bag. Find, in fact, might be something of a misnomer. I bump into it and bend down, hoisting it over my shoulder as I stand up.

Christ, that's heavy.

"What's in here, bricks?"

[shewaswarned]

"Everything we may or may not need," she replies, sighing as she makes her way into the bedroom in an attempt to clean up. At the very least, she wants to put some dry clothes on before they head over.

There's an excitement, but with it comes the realization that this might take a while too.

[manwithoutfear]

"I love a woman who plans ahead."

I love her, period. It's probably in my best interests to remind her of this now before the pain kicks in and Matthew Michael Murdock becomes a dirty curse word.

[shewaswarned]

"That's what all the books said to do."

She's also planning on making a point of cleaning up after herself, even if it consists of using something to mop up the mess. There aren't any contractions yet but that doesn't mean they're not coming. She quickly moves to her wardrobe and strips off her clothes, changing into something more comfortable and dry.

[manwithoutfear]

I read every Braille parenting book the shelf would spit at me, but I'm having difficulty remembering much of anything now. Shouldering the bag back onto the bed, I wander towards her, picking up the wet clothes and dumping them into the hamper before Zeus comes sniffing around.

"You're being very calm," I say, impressed. She's probably had a cooler head about this from the very start. I should follow her example, but the nerves of being a first-time parent keep my pulse fluttering in my throat. I just want to get her to the Clinic, to a doctor. Someone who knows what they're doing in case something goes wrong. "Do you need help?"

[shewaswarned]

"Believe me, there'll be time later when I won't be this calm," she replies, bracing herself for a moment as that brief pinching sensation in her lower abdomen takes up again. It's dull, and brief - both of which are really nice right about now, but she knows that won't always be the case.

After a moment, she reaches out to take his hand in hers, giving it a gentle squeeze. "Ready to go?"

[manwithoutfear]

"Absolutely."

The sooner we get her to the Clinic, the sooner I can get my heart dislodged from my throat. The human body might be designed for childbirth, but that doesn't mean anything can't go wrong, and I want the best care available for the both of them.

"Do you think you can walk that far?"

[shewaswarned]

"I've only just gone into labor," she replies, shrugging both shoulders.

"Besides, isn't walking supposed to help with the contractions?" Her memory's a little fuzzy on that one. "Or maybe that's after they get worse..."

Trailing off, she lets her gaze fall on him again.

[manwithoutfear]

"Yeah. Yes."

I graduated from Columbia, and that's the best I've got right now. Murdock, pull it together.

"Yes, you are absolutely right," I continue, then wince. "But better safe than sorry." They're not too close together yet, the contractions. We have time. I just have to remind myself that we have time. "C'mon." I lean in to kiss her temple, squeezing her hand.

[shewaswarned]

She's a little fuzzy on the baby books right now, too. Funny how that seems to happen when they're actually in the middle of it all - or about to start the process.

"Okay. I'm ready," she promises, leaning into him for a moment, taking comfort in the closeness.

[manwithoutfear]

"Good. Okay."

I keep close as we step outside. The environment seems especially alien right now, my attention consumed by Ellen and the baby. My palms are sweating so much I nearly drop my cane.

"Nine months sure fly by, huh?"

[shewaswarned]

"You can say that again."

She closes the door behind them on a whining Zeus, who doesn't entirely seem to understand why he can't tag along on this particular walk. Judging by the way he's been hovering over her, she imagines he'll be equally protective once they have one new, tinier addition.

[manwithoutfear]

With the change of scenery, it suddenly occurs to me that the medical supplies might not be entirely up to snuff. It's a concern I keep to myself as we make our way towards the Clinic, ignoring the giggling of fairies as we cross underneath them. Hopefully we don't run into any Lost Boys.

"Keep an eye out for Peter Pan," I tell her, not even sure if the boy himself is around.