A/N: This is one of my stories that went stupidly out of hand. I started writing it maybe back in March, planning it to be a cute little one-short about Haylie's birth. Currently, it is 12K words, and I haven't finished it yet. But since I haven't updated that much lately, I thought it was time to start sharing it with the public – in smaller parts. So here is the first chapter now, and I'm bringing the next tomorrow. I hope you'll like it :)


Part I

Grant had imagined this happening numerous times, especially in the last couple of weeks – with the worst case scenarios happening while he was away on a mission, and then there was even a nasty nightmare when it happened right in the middle of a HYDRA attack –, but he had never envisioned this particular possibility.

"Guys, I don't want to alarm anybody, but I guess I'm going into labor."

Skye's announcement, happening on a Sunday evening, just after dinner, six days before her official due date, said in a completely calm voice, while sitting on the couch in the base's lounge, her tablet in her lap, looking like anything but a woman in labor, was almost surreal. But it sure made Grant's heartrate spike in a fraction of a second.

He was at her side right away, crouching in front of her on the floor, one hand on her belly.

"Are sure? What are you feeling? Are you in pain?"

Skye actually rolled her eyes.

"Please, Robot, don't look at me like that!" she said, touching his face. "I'm not about to break, I promise. But yes, I'm pretty sure."

"What makes you say that?" The question came from Jemma this time, who appeared at Skye's side almost as soon as Grant, sitting beside her on the couch.

"Well, I've been feeling this… tightening in my lower belly for some time, it started some time before dinner, I guess – and no, they don't really hurt, it's just kinda uncomfortable" she added, casting a glance at Grant. "They seemed to come pretty regularly, so I timed them, and yeah, they come every twenty minutes or so, so I don't think that they're Braxton-Hicks, but–"

"Contractions, yes, they sound like that," Jemma nodded, rubbing Skye's arm. "We should take a look at you, just to make sure it's not a false alarm."

Grant just nodded along. He was supposed to have a pretty good idea what was happening – he did his reading –, but at the moment everything seemed fractured and nothing was really registering in his brain, so he thought that following Jemma's lead was the soundest decision.

"Yes, of course," he said, standing up, but keeping Skye's hand in his own. "Can you walk? Do you want me to carry you?"

He could have sworn Skye rolled her eyes at him (once again).

"I'm perfectly capable to walk to the med bay, thank you. I told you, the contractions – even if they are real contractions – don't even hurt yet. And the last one just passed, anyway." She pulled her hand from his grip and tried to push herself up from the couch. It didn't really work. "But maybe you could help me stand up?"


About fifteen minutes later, after taking Skye's vitals, attaching some kind of small, wireless sensors to her belly – similar to the ones they used on him when he was under the Berserker Staff's influence –, and taking a look down there, Jemma confirmed what Skye had already suspected herself: she was in labor.

"See these spikes here?" Jemma said, holding up a tablet that displayed the readings recorded by the sensors on Skye. "This was a contraction. A weak one, yes, but a real one nonetheless. And you are almost completely effaced, and have started dilating – it's minimal, but it's there."

"What does it mean exactly?" Grant asked, standing beside Skye as she sat on the examination table, grasping her hand.

"It means that the process has started," Jemma explained, putting down the tablet, looking at Skye, "but you're still in the very, very early stages. I say the baby won't actually be born until morning, or dawn at the earliest. But it could be longer than that – first labors can go on for long, sometimes even for days," she added, looking at Grant, who acknowledged it with a curt nod.

"What a lovely prospect," he heard Skye mutter, and he squeezed her hand, not taking his eyes off of Jemma.

"And what should we do now?" he asked with a kind of determination he usually reserved for missions. Well, it was kind of like a mission.

Jemma's face softened.

"Just rest for now," she said, turning back to Skye. "Try to get some sleep while you can. You'll need your energy. You too, Grant," she added, knowing that he planned to stay with Skye all through her labor. "Meanwhile I'm going to contact Dr. Hartland, keep her posted. But as far as I can tell everything looks good, so I don't think she'll want to come right away."

It had been clear from the start that it would be the best if Skye gave birth at the base instead of in a hospital – in case she accidentally caused an earthquake during labor, or the doctors looked too deep into her bloodwork, found something strange, and started asking questions. But since S.H.I.E.L.D. didn't have an abundance of OB/GYNs, they contacted an old acquaintance of May's and asked her to observe the pregnancy and deliver the baby at the base when the time came. Although Jemma did most of the exams at the Playground and then forwarded the results to her, he and Skye had met the doctor a couple of times. He liked the woman – she was in her mid-fifties, and possessed a kind, but no-nonsense attitude.

"Alright," Skye nodded, absent-mindedly caressing her belly. "Can I go now?"

"Yes, sure," Jemma moved right away to help her off the table, prompting Grant as well to put his hand on her shoulder, guiding her. "Just keep the sensors on, okay? And keep it easy – but really, you can do anything that feels right. And try to stay relaxed – that helps. Oh, and tell me if you need anything."

"Thanks, Jemma," he said while Skye just gave her a little a little agreeing sound as she stood again. She looked a bit timid, maybe a little zoned out – she even let Grant lead her to the door, a certain level of coddling that otherwise annoyed her these days –, but still, she seemed remarkably calm – the exact opposite of what Grant was feeling.

It only half surprised him that half of the base – or at least their immediate team – seemed to be standing outside the med bay, with various levels of worry and anxiety written on their faces. Seeing her unofficially adopted family gathered all together for her made Skye smile.

"It seems like it is show time," she told them, her gaze moving from person to person. "But the doc says it's gonna be a while, so everybody can calm down for now and get some rest – at least that's what I'm going to do," she added with a nervous little laugh, her eyes still scanning the people around her. "Coulson?"

"Tried to call him, but he's turned off," May said, stepping forward. "He must be still at the meeting. But don't worry," she added, placing her hand on Skye's shoulder, "I'll keep calling him, and will let you know as soon as I can."

"Thank you," Skye replied (it wasn't even a secret that she regarded Coulson as a surrogate father – especially after technically having lost her own father –, and that she wanted to have him around for the birth of her baby), then took a half-step forward, and briefly embraced May. The older woman didn't hesitate a moment to reciprocate the gesture.

"Now, off you go," May said a second later, letting Skye go, her voice suspiciously hoarse. "Have some rest."

Skye nodded, somewhat misty-eyed, then reached back, searching for Grant's hand. Accompanied by a couple of encouraging – and sometimes awkward – back pats and brief hugs, they made their way towards their bunk.


Fifteen minutes and another contraction later, Skye was sitting on their bed in an old pair of PJs (in case her waters broke while she slept – she didn't want to ruin a perfectly good pair), calmly brushing her hair.

He just couldn't comprehend how she could have been this put together – as for him, he was a big ball of nerves, ready to combust and to have her under complete medical surveillance (as if the sensors still attached to her belly weren't enough). To be completely honest, he was more than dreading the coming hours, and if it were up to him, he would have fast-forwarded to the point where they have their daughter in their arms.

But of course, the world didn't go according to his whims.

Sitting down carefully next to her on the bed, he watched as she brushed a long lock, softly humming under her breath something he recognized as one of the lullabies she had learned in the last couple of weeks. He just stared at her mesmerized for a while, then needing to do something, he reached for the brush.

"Let me," he said softly, taking it from her hand. She let him do it, as she always did, and he finished the brushing gently, without a word. He was already partitioning her locks into three, getting ready to braid it, when he finally spoke.

"How can you be so calm?" he asked, and he wanted to go on, but she just shrugged.

"I don't know," she admitted. "It might be that it doesn't feel that real yet? I mean…" she sighed. "It doesn't exactly feel like labor yet – at least not what I imagined it would be. And it might be the hormones, too. Who knows?" She paused for a moment, then without seeing it, he felt her smile. "You know my mother started cleaning the house – while my father slept – when she went into labor with me? She told me when… it doesn't matter," she shook her head; her biological parents were still a sensitive issue. "What I'm trying to say is that maybe I'm genetically coded not to freak out about it. But instead of cleaning, I just want to rest."

Grant let out a low hum as he reached for a hair tie to secure her braid.

"It's for the best," he agreed, "because I'd sure as hell freak out if I woke up to find you dusting between contractions."

She let out a short laugh as she lay down.

"Believe it or not, that's exactly what my father did," she went on, lying on her side facing Grant, as he expertly placed a pillow between her knees and under her belly – a routine they'd come up with in the last couple of weeks, figuring out the most comfortable way for her to sleep. He pulled the light comforter over her, as she wiggled and sighed contently, closing her eyes.

"Though I have to admit, I'm just a bit excited to finally meet her," she, her lashes fluttering as she opened her eyes again, squinting at him as he lay down as well. "What about you?"

He let out a nervous little chuckle.

"I'm desperately grasping for control – something I absolutely cannot have in this situation," he told her, reaching for her hand. "And I'm a little afraid, I guess – of anything going wrong."

Skye gave him a sleepy smile.

"Nothing's gonna happen – well, expect for us having a baby," she said, curling her fingers around his wrist, and pulling his hand down to her belly; the skin was taut and round under his palm, but the baby was still – maybe she was sleeping as well, getting ready for her biggest journey yet. He couldn't stop himself from smiling.

"Yeah, that's pretty great," he agreed.