.

3rd February 2000

It was a lot of hard work, having a baby, and though she'd read books and done research enough to disillusion her, the actual experience was still startlingly messy and humbling; she thought it more of an awkward, uncomfortable hassle than a miracle, and she wanted to burn each and every film that had ever made childbirth look glamorous or spotless – but that being said, labour and delivery aside -

She looked down at the baby nestled in the crook of her arm, running her hand over an unbelievably tiny, curled pink fist.

- it was worth it.

She was exhausted, and she felt exposed and a little anxious, but she wasn't tense; she thought she'd be more prone to irritation and snapping, after the ordeal, especially when it came to her husband's hovering – he had been a helicopter expectant father – but she was relaxed, more serene, in a nervous, content way, than she had been in quite some time.

She ran her hands lightly over the baby's knuckles again, and then puckered her lips delicately, making a soft, soothing noise. She was precious, sleeping so peacefully, but she had yet to open her eyes and look at her mother.

"What do we think?"

Earnestly, he asked, wringing his hands, grinning a mile wide, looking proudly from wife to baby.

Tobias Fornell leaned forward and kissed his newborn daughter's forehead. He sat back, sharing the side of Diane's bed, and cupped the baby's head in his hand protectively.

Diane lifted her shoulders, shrugging a little.

"It's not something to rush," she fretted. "But she needs a name."

"Hmm," snorted Fornell good-naturedly. "She'll get a half-assed name," he joked. "'S what she gets, for pretendin' to be a boy."

"Tricky little thing," Diane murmured, and then turned her nose up and swatted at Fornell. "Don't swear."

"Ah," he breathed out, waving his hand and rolling his eyes. "Look, look," he said, pointing quickly.

The baby squirmed, wriggling in Diane's arms, stretching out her hour-old arms. Her thin eyelashes twitched and twitched, and Diane caught her breath as she opened her eyes and stared straight up. The baby – peered at her silently, calmly, her mouth moving instinctively, and she fussed quietly, though her face hardly betrayed distress.

Diane's greeting caught in her throat, and she swallowed.

Oh, her eyes were so blue.

Her heart skipped a beat, and her mouth felt dry – and she was dizzy. For a moment, she closed her eyes, assaulted by a barrage of memories of her previous marriage – damn blue eyes – and then she was back, and she looked down at her daughter, swallowing again, and looked over – at Tobias, admiring the baby.

He whistled.

"Talk about some baby blues," he joked wryly, clearly proud of himself. He grinned, even prouder, and caught his wife's eye. "Emily?" he suggested, for the fifth time in an hour.

"Is it too common?" she muttered, distracted.

She bit her lip, while the little unnamed girl stared at her, watching her innocently, dependently. Diane looked back, trapped in the eyes – she felt a million things: she wished she wasn't so struck by blue eyes, and she was so happy to have this little girl, and yet somewhere, she felt bitter, that she was sitting here with Tobias –

It was on the tip of her tongue, spiteful – Let's call her Kelly – and then she was horrified, ashamed that she'd thought it, and guiltily vindictive about how much it would hurt – her ex-husband to hear she'd moved on, and Fornell made her happy, and she had her own Kelly to obsess over.

But she wasn't cruel, and it was a cruel, cruel thought, and she hated that it had happened, to mar this day.

She looked down at her baby, this little creature, and her heart nearly stopped, because she thought of how - her ex-husband must have felt when he held Kelly for the first time, and how he'd felt years later when he'd lost her, and she suddenly was nauseated over how she'd nagged him and harassed him and pushed him to - get over it. She had an inkling, maybe now, of why he couldn't.

"Emily's classic," Fornell was saying. "Short, cute, can't make fun of it," he pointed out. He looked at her pleadingly. "C'mon, Diane, it was my grandmother's name."

She smiled. She forced herself to think in the moment. She shouldn't be thinking of that bastard, anyway.

"It's sweet that you love your grandmother that much," she remarked slyly.

He tried to look manly, but came off as sheepish, and shrugged hastily.

"Emily," he said again, gruffly.

Diane looked down.

"Em-i-ly," she murmured absently, still mesmerized by the blue eyes. She smiled hesitantly, felt something tighten in her chest.

Her eyes were just so – blue.

Diane glanced at Tobias through her eyelashes – at his greyish, light hazel eyes – there was blue there, wasn't there? And maybe somewhere in her brown-green genes, there was blue?

"You can pick her middle name," coaxed Fornell hopefully.

Diane took a breath.

"Keep with the theme?" she asked, looking at him. "My grandmother was Margaret."

"Emily Margaret," Fornell grunted. He nodded. He laughed. "Hey, E.M. Either way, we can call 'er 'Em'!"

Diane smiled at his amusement.

Emily started twisting a little more aggressively, her face scrunching up as if she would cry. Diane lifted her knees, held the baby close, and shushed her softly. She bit her lip – Emily's blue eyes watered expressively, and Diane's stomach fluttered –

No, she told herself, impossibly stern: no.

Tobias whistled again.

"Those eyes, though," he admired proudly. "Bluest I ever seen."

They weren't the bluest Diane had seen.

She took a breath, and smiled, reaching for her hospital gown – Emily needed to be nursed.

"All babies' eyes are blue," she told him smartly, remembering a movie she'd once seen. "They'll change – to hazel, like yours."

"Nah, I hope she gets yours," Fornell flattered, and Diane grinned, distracted from herself.

But Emily Fornell's eyes stayed blue.

3 February 2000

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