[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.

Comments

[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.