Once upon a time, when I began my Hellsing fic, I swore it would be my final work. But, upon rewatching Trigun, I really felt the need to write this. I'm also trying to figure out if it'll be a one-shot or not. You guys should help me decide. Much love.~

1:53 am.

Blurred and shuddering lines of red proclaimed the time to her tear-drained eyes, and her breath caught painfully. To catch the clock at this moment under these circumstances simply had to be Fate. And Fate…Fate was never really fair.

Milly Thompson clutched at the sheets covering her swollen, heaving belly and let out a raw-throated cry. She was sobbing, because it hurt. It hurt, having a baby.

It hurt, having a baby alone.

Her eyes flew open, meeting the shifty back-and-forth patrol of an old grandfather clock in a bit of a daze. Where was she? A habitual, lopsided smile tugged at the corners of her mouth; according to that silly old clock, it was seven minutes till the chime could have woken her. 1:53, she mused. What a horrible time to wake up. Why am I awake?

Faded curtains waved at the edge of her vision, and the draft of night-chilled air that prodded them raised prickles along her skin. Milly realized that the source of her sudden waking was the cold; tucking her bare feet further beneath the twisted quilts, she vowed that this was the last ever time she slept without socks on.

Her frigid toes froze with a pang of shock against the hot, supple flesh of her thighs—a shock that raced straight to her head as she sat up suddenly, drawing the covers around her naked shoulders. She—she wasn't wearing any clothes at all! Any hint of a smile died immediately, and she floundered around for one more moment, trying to grasp the situation. While many were of the opinion—quite probably an educated opinion, her big little brother had often stated—that Milly was absent-minded, she had never imagined she could forget something as essential as pajamas.

"I'm not even wearing panties," Milly murmured allowed. "O-oh!" A startled gasp this time; a shift of position at this closing thought had prompted a mild pang from that rather sensitive area. Concerned, she threw back the covers to find her bed sheets spotted with red.

The red was blood, and the blood was hers.

Everything came back to her in a flush of heat and a rather uncomfortable ache of decided emptiness. He had been here. His arms, trembling at first as they had closed around her waist in search of an anchor in his emotional turmoil, had been the warmth she woke up missing. And his eyes…those deep, deep sea-sky eyes, full of swirling smiles and sadness intermingled…had locked with hers as he held her tightly in the tangled covers. They had promised her without words, that his warmth would never leave.

The wind picked up again, and despite the constant warmth of a desert planet, Milly shivered in its wake. Her lover was gone, and she was alone.

It's…so cold.

Cold metal pressing lines into her palms dragged Milly to the present; the hospital bed was a far cry from the queen mattress and feathered pillows where this particular journey of hers had begun. Still, she was dimly grateful for what little comfort it could offer; her body was stretching and pulling in excruciating ways. A whimper escaped from between her clenched jaws; this contraction seemed to last forever. Despite the faded buzz of nurses advising her, she almost forgot to push. Finally, it passed, and she let her head drop, panting. Sweat lay slick on her skin, soaking through her light brown hair.

"You're doing great, honey." Shining spectacles dwarfed by a crisp surgical mask floated into view, but the nurse's eyes were kind enough. Milly wondered what her eyes looked like right now, drowning as they were in so many kinds of pain. She tried to smile; it must have been a really bad try, because the nurse squeezed her shoulder.

"I promise, you're almost through. Hang in there; don't you want to see your baby?"

Milly squeezed her eyes shut as a whole new level of pain rocked her entire body. Still, she remember to push this time; straining with all of her might in time with the powerful contractions, she was rewarded by an even greater and more persistent build of pressure against her pelvis. It hurt so much—she felt like she was splitting in two. Unable to keep her efforts up, she moaned and relaxed, her spread legs trembling with exertion.

"C'mon sweetie, you were so close!" The nurse appeared again, this time taking her hand. Slippery latex between her fingers made the gesture feel somehow—empty. Milly gripped the woman's hand anyway.

"It hurts," she whispered, tears flowing afresh from her azure eyes. "It hurts so much."

Bespectacled eyes softened in empathy, and rubber fingers squeezed hers. "I know, angel. I'm so sorry. And you're here by yourself…isn't there someone you want us to call?"

That was what hurt the most. Milly shook her head, no. But her lips formed a name, silently:

"Nicholas…"

"Nicholas? You want me to call you that?"

Despite the fact that her pulse was finally slowing, Milly still found it incredibly hard to breathe when he was this close to her. Their foreheads were practically bumping against each other; she blushed as he shifted a muscle-bound arm to run his fingers through her tangled hair. His eyes, gentler than she was used to seeing, were intently focused on her own.

"Yes, please."

"Will you call me Milly?"

A small smile appeared on his lips, sending thrills down her spine. "With your blessing, my lady."

"I've never called you 'Nicholas' before."

The smile widened. "You didn't seem to have any problems saying it ten minutes ago."

Her blush deepened into a sunset-crimson. "T-that was…d-different. We were…um…w-we had…"

Wolfwoof saved her the embarrassment by cutting her off with a kiss. Unlike…previous occasions, this kiss was tender and brief. Her lips curved upwards involuntarily, and she reached up to brush a stray hair from his forehead.

"You have the prettiest eyes…N-Nicholas."

Too long. This had been going on for too long. She didn't have the energy to try looking at the clock, but when she had last been able to, it read well past 1:53. Nurses had doubled in number, buzzing around her like a hive of bothered bees. She could catch phrases through the slurring hum like "labor complications", "mother", and "danger".

Every wave of straining discomfort that wracked her seemed pointless now; she couldn't even push with the contractions, and thought them futile. Pain was a state of being to her at this point. Even the idea of holding a new life in her arms had become jaded and distant…

Was it because she was afraid?

Please…I don't want to do this alone. Salt stung her cracked lips as a few more tears streaked her pale cheeks. She had thought she could...thought this mess was hers to clean up on her own. That's why she had run away, leaving even Meryl in the dark about her condition.

I was wrong. It was stupid of me, so please...

Tremblingly, her hand lifted from the bedside stretching out to some unseen world. Her fingers, starved for nine months for the feel of his, stretched to wrap around thin air.

But they didn't. His hand was there, warm and strong like those off-blue eyes that were once again boring into hers. There was no smile this time; his voice was low and urgent.

"Milly, you have to keep fighting."

He wasn't real. Of course the nurses didn't see him, scurrying and hurrying as they were for emergency measures and last-minute surgery. Her eyes slid closed. What good was a dream?

"Milly." Louder, now. And his palms, wrapped around her chilled, limp wrist, actually felt sweaty with fear. "The stakes are too high for you to quit on me now. Your baby needs you."

"I'm scared, Nicholas." Her eyelids were far too heavy; pain was beating them into her eyeballs. "Our baby needs you. I…I need you."

Gentle lips kissed warmth into her fingers. "I know, and I'm here. I'm here for now, sweetie. I'm right next to you."

Achingly, she twisted her wrist in his grasp to brush the stubble of his familiar face. Everything of this moment—this painful, brutal moment stained with blood and sweat—was precious to her now. Because she knew he would be gone in the blink of an eye. Nicholas was only here to see the life he'd helped create, before his own was cut short...but he was here.

Thank you.

The nurse's voice was clear again. "Honey, I need you to push now."

Milly's eyes flew open, and in the sudden flare of hospital lights, she lost sight of Nicholas' as she mustered every ounce of strength for one final shove. Pain shattered through her, but her own cries were drowned out by smaller ones—the squalling of her baby. Floundering through the cacophony of noise and movement that followed, she felt the pressure around her fingers dissipate. But Nicholas was still there, standing over her with a smile that shone from his heart to his eyes to his mouth—a smile so fresh and vibrant that it shook the memories of darker days he had suffered under. A smile so contagious that she was returning it, even before her precious child was placed tenderly in her arms.

As she held her newborn son tightly, Milly smiled for the first time in the nine months she had been alone. Familiar eyes peered blearily up at her…depthless eyes the color of the sky and the sea. Oh, they were so beautiful and familiar to her broken heart.

"You have the prettiest eyes," she whispered, kissing her baby's damp forehead. "Nicholas."

So, I literally am finishing this at 1:53 in the morning. Creepy.

Anyway, ta-da! I'm not usually into writing…er…birth-centered graphics like this, but I really wanted to go with it. Honestly, I'm dying to write more. You guys should leave feedback and give me one more reason to. I'm so in love with this pairing. Gods.

Also, if you feel this was too drawn out, or that I didn't put enough focus on their night together, pleeeeease let me know! I'm super nervous about such things. Thanks bunches, you lovely people, you! –flailing hugs for all-