Hey guys! This is the next story for the Swan-Mills 7+ Ducklings series. If you haven't read the first one, "Birds of a Feather," I recommend checking that out first. Anyway, this one will also be a few chapters...picks up shortly where we left off.

Also, I'm still looking for people interested in drawing a family portrait of these guys for the coverart. I have ideas, and I've sketched it a bit; I just don't have the skills to make it good. Message me if you're interested in helping me out.

Enjoy :)

Nearly a month had passed since they brought Daniel Neal Swan-Mills home from the hospital. They had to leave him in the intensive care unit for three weeks before he was healthy enough to be discharged. Regina, who was now fully recovered, had only stayed a week. But every day after, she and Emma took shifts staying at the hospital with their little boy. She would not miss out on these precious moments, she had said to Emma, who of course agreed.

It was a cold, mid-November night, and Regina was stirring yet again. She was unable to sleep, for fear that the night's chill air would steal her son away. He was still so small and weak and she was afraid he wouldn't be able to keep himself warm. As she sat up in the bed, ready to jump over to the crib, Emma groaned and reached out to her.

"If you keep waking him just to stare at him," she mumbled without opening her eyes, "he'll never get the idea that this is sleepy time."

Regina simply huffed back. "I just want to make sure he's warm enough."

"'Gina," Emma tried to reason, "he has three blankets. We turned up the heat before bed. It's so warm in here that I'm sweating."

Despite her wife's rationale, Regina scooted over to the crib. She leaned her arms against the crib and looked down at their little boy. He was fast asleep. She wasn't surprised—Danny had been an easy sleeper since they'd brought him home. He didn't fuss or keep them up. In fact, he napped quite often and only woke when one of them picked him up to give him a bottle.

"You must be tired from all that fighting we went through, my little one," she whispered as she brushed a lock of hair out of his face. She felt Emma's touch on her shoulder.

"I'm just worried," Regina said, as Emma kissed her neck. "He hasn't grown much. I'm worried he's not going to fare well in the cold."

"Regina," Emma laughed, "it's not the Enchanted Forrest. We have insolated houses, heated driveways and modern medicine."

"You laugh all you want now, Miss Swan," she scolded, "but you'll be the one up with him when he catches a cold."

Emma rubbed Regina's shoulders and pulled her back to bed. "Honey, you're forgetting one fact," she said, only to see her wife's confusion. "He's a Swan-Mills—he's a fighter. And if he's not, well, he'll need to be to make it in this family."

Regina allowed herself to fall back into the safety of her wife's arms. Emma soothed her the rest of the night, as she did each and every night that Regina couldn't find sleep. No matter how many texts she sent during the day about how she wouldn't do it again or how tired she was, Regina knew Emma would always be there to hold her and talk away her worries until their morning alarms said no more.

Regina awoke feeling the chill of her empty bed. She popped up to check on her little boy, only to see he was gone. Panicking for a moment, she looked back to the nightstand to see the note that Emma had scrawled earlier, indicating she was downstairs feeding Danny.

She slipped on her robe, feeling no rush to get ready for work. She was still on maternity leave through the holiday. Though, being mayor still required her to keep up with paperwork and have phone conferences instead of in person meetings. Regina enjoyed having this time to stay with the younger twins and her baby boy. She slid down the staircase only to hear the bickering of her children.

"She's been in there for nearly an hour, Ma!" Eve cried, as Regina came into the kitchen and observed her teenage daughter was still wearing her pajama pants and undershirt.

Emma nodded, as she held the baby in one arm while she fed him. Before she could speak, her children kept demanding she do something.

"Yeah," Davie added in, "yesterday, I was late to first period because 'Ms. Perfect' decided she wanted to straighten her hair." He groaned. "Why can't we just get another bathroom?!"

Emma laughed out loud, almost jerking Danny from his bottle. "That's funny, kid. Your sister knows she has to share," she said, just as Regina came to kiss her on the forehead. "I'm sure she'll be out soon."

"Nope," Eve said, before quickly moving to the dishwasher and turning it on, "I'm taking matters into my own hands." She looked at Davie. "You flush the toilets, I'll handle this part."

Regina looked puzzled as she and Emma watched their two teenagers scramble about the house. Emma chuckled in admiration, but Regina was simply lost.

"What are they doing?" she asked her wife. But before Emma could answer, they heard the screams echo from the upstairs bathroom. Emma laughed a bit more. Cora, after chewing a bite of cereal, answered.

"They're turning on the appliances that mess with the hot water," she said, matter-of-factly, as if it was a normal occurrence.

Regina glared at her two children as they returned, both of them with a huge grin on their face. "Snitch!" Davie scolded his younger sister. Eve just rolled her eyes at the girl. "Must've gotten that trait from Grandma," she scoffed.

Though Regina wished to display her enjoyment of her daughter's sass, she angrily looked from one to the other. "And who taught you that?"

"Ma—," Cora muffled out just before Emma clasped her free hand over the girl's face. But it was too late.

"Oh did she now?" Regina asked, her glare turning toward her wife. "Emma, dear, is that why my showers inexplicably get cold? Not a piping problem or whatever you said the last time?"

"Yeah," Cora let out, "she says you take way too long and obsess about your looks."

Emma huffed at her young daughter, who was fairly oblivious to the amount of trouble she had sunken her in. Rose came into the kitchen, wearing a huge sweater and a hat.

"Thanks to you, freaks," she said, looking at her teenage siblings, "I have to go to school looking like this," she said, pointing out her outfit.

Eve and Davie just looked at each other. They both instantaneously went up for the high five. "Double points!" Eve exclaimed.

"Mooommm!" Rose cried to Regina, "They're horrible!" she pouted. "Punish them!"

Regina, would normally resolve a squabble like this by reprimanding all involved. But this time, it involved her shower time as well. "You're grounded," she said to just Eve and Davie, and then turned to Emma, narrowing her gaze. "And you, too."

"Can't be grounded," Emma retorted, as she handed her the baby, "I'm working a double shift and that means the graveyard shift as well."

"Again?" Regina protested. "Why can't your father take it? It's not like he has a newborn."

"Well—," Emma said, but Regina continued, having remembered that he and Snow had mentioned trying for a baby.

"What about Neal?" she suggested. "He's a grown man and much better suited for night shifts."

"Are you saying I'm not capable of night shifts?" Emma asked.

Regina got a devilish glare in her eye as she began to kiss Emma. "I'm saying," she said, pausing for air between kisses, "you're needed much more at home—at night—with me."

Emma laughed. "Sorry, babe," she said, kissing Regina on the forehead. "I'll be home by dawn."

An hour or so after Emma had left with the kids to drop them off at school, Regina got out of a warm shower and began dressing for the day. She put on a pair of black slacks and a turtle neck, knowing from the frost on the window panes that it was cold.

"Hold still, Lila girl," Regina said, as she managed to pull her tiny hands through the pink fleece pullover. The twins were always especially fussy when separated, and Emma had taken Elliot with her for her hours before lunchtime, knowing that Regina would have a difficult time handling three babies at the doctor's office.

"There we go," she whispered to her daughter once she was finally dressed. She went over to the crib to scoop up Danny. She overdressed him in layers of onesies and put extra blankets in his carrier to compensate for the chill of the morning.

The hospital wasn't terribly crowded, which Regina saw as a relief. She didn't want any of the sick, diseased members of Storybrooke hacking and wheezing near her son. She had been nervous enough taking him out in this cold.

The nurse came out shortly after they arrived, calling their name. Regina scooped up both children and followed her into a room.

"Has he been sleeping and eating regularly," she asked, as she struggled to undo the bundle Regina had wrapped him in.

"Yes, surprisingly," Regina said. "He never wakes in the night—in fact, we haven't heard him cry at all," she said, mildly relieved that her eighth baby was relatively easy.

The nurse plopped him on the scale and scribbled down the number. "He's had trouble latching," Regina said, as she brushed her breast area. "So I've been pumping and Emma and I give him the bottle."

The nurse nodded, making a note of it. "Any problems with his bowels?"

"No," Regina shook her head. "Normal."

"Alright," the nurse said, as she laid Danny down on the cot, "Doctor Whale will be with you momentarily."

What were just a few short minutes seemed like hours. Regina didn't know why she was nervous. It was just a routine check-up. The nurse didn't seem alarmed by anything. But Regina had a bad feeling that just wouldn't go away.

"Regina," Dr. Whale said as he entered, extending his hand to hers. He swiftly moved to the baby. "And how is the littlest Swan-Mills?"

"Just fine," Regina said with a glow of pride. Doctor Whale reviewed the charts and then looked at the baby.

"Well, he hasn't gained much weight," he said, making Regina worry, "relax though—it's actually common for babies to lose some weight at first, given much of their early weight is water." He made a mark on the chart. "Still, I'd like to see him up to ten pounds by December."

Doctor Whale moved his hands to his stethoscope and listened to Danny's heartbeat. "How much does he sleep?"

"Most of the day, honestly," Regina said. "Sometimes we need to wake him to feed him."

"Hmm," Dr. Whale said as he wrote down more notes. "And what about his movements?"

"Movements?" Regina repeated. "Well, they're very subtle. He doesn't squirm much. He watches us though—he follows me with his eyes when I get his bottle."

"So his attention is good, yes?" Doctor Whale asked.

"Indeed," Regina said as she nodded. "He loves brightly colored objects."

Doctor Whale moved to gently lift the baby's head. He tested to see how stable it was on its own. But as soon as he removed his hold, Danny's head flopped down onto the pillow on the examining table.

"So I take it he hasn't lifted his head yet?" he asked, as he took a pencil and moved it to each side of Danny's head to see if he would turn.

"No," Regina said, a bit nervously, "but that's normal at one month, right?"

"Some babies do, some don't," he answered, "but most babies can turn their head when on a pillow." He pointed his pencil at Danny. "He seems to be struggling."

"What does that mean?!" Regina asked, startled by the news.

"Nothing yet," Doctor Whale said as he tried to calm her. "But we'll keep an eye on it. I'll want to see where he's at with other milestones as the months continue."

"Should I be worried?" Regina asked.

Doctor Whale shook his head. "Nothing to worry about," he calmed her, "don't forget—he's a premature baby. He's doing remarkably well all things considering."

But as Regina left the hospital, she only heard the bad news. And of course, she worked herself up into a frenzy.