An old collaboration from Sectumsempress and myself I thought I would edit (with correct names) and resubmit in time for Father's Day.

Sunday June 17th2001

Patrick Jane was terrified.

Normally not much could terrify him. But this day certainly had. This day and the tiny form in the crib across the room.

He wasn't sure what to do. The doctor had just left him here with the little person who made him feel terrified and vulnerable and paralysed. Certainly things he had never felt before.

He was going to be a terrible father – he just knew it. Just like his own father. He couldn't even hold his own daughter. He was her father, husband of her mother and yet he couldn't even walk a few steps over to the Tadpole. That's what they had called the baby when they found out about the little surprise since they still hadn't thought of a name.

Tadpole decided to come into the world a bit too early and frightened them all.

Patrick didn't fare as well as he would have liked in the delivery room. His wife sometimes allowed him to hold her hand and brush her hair from her forehead. Other times she banished him to the corner of the room for doing this to her and yelling that she was never sleeping with him ever, ever, ever again.
His wife was somewhere in the hospital now because there had haemorrhaging afterward. Patrick shuddered at how scary it was to see her eyes roll back into her head and she fell unconscious as their baby was delivered not making a sound.

It was terrifying, having her hand ripped away out of his as a doctor urged him to leave. He remembered how terrible those few hours had been when it had been touch and go with his two precious girls.

So he sat in the hospital waiting room, his face in his hands, positively traumatised and feeling helpless to his wife and child. The other occupants were quite alarmed by the young man's antagonized demeanour.

A midwife called 'Amber' who looked very much like Victoria Beckham sat down beside him. She was pretty but couldn't hold a candle to his wife, in his opinion.
This nurse began shamelessly flirting with him as soon as he arrived at the hospital, despite the fact he was here for his pregnant wife.

"What's on your mind, Mr…Jane?" Amber said glancing at her clipboard, as if she hadn't studied it.
"Honestly, my wife who is being kept from me," Patrick said.
Amber pursed her lips.

"Soon she'll be fine," Amber said as if this were a disappointment. "You know this isn't the best time for you to see her. Let's say that we did allow you to see her. You, being the compassionate lover that you probably are would not be able to handle seeing her like that. So, I need to get some basic questions about your wife."

Patrick sighed.
"Um, full name, please?"
"Angela Ruskin Jane."
"Blood type?"
"AB negative."
"Age?"
"25."
"Two years older than me!" Amber said brightly but in a conversational manner.
Could someone please slap this woman?

Luckily a doctor came over and told Patrick that his wife was doing well and his baby was small but perfectly healthy. A perfect baby girl. He smiled, even though she thought it would be a boy he had been secretly hoping for a girl. A tiny little Angela with wavy dark hair, translucent pale skin and rosy cheeks that he could spoil and protect from boyfriends.

But now he was frozen, staring warily at the pink blanket like a grenade was wrapped in it. She was cooing happily to herself, making little noises and experimenting waving her little arms about. Patrick remembered rolling his eyes at fathers when their child was brought to life - how ridiculous, how foolish they seemed to him. And yet here he was, nervous, scared and completely paralysed. He finally understood why this feeling was so powerful that it proved frightening. Patrick finally walked over to her and looked at her for the first time since she had been clean of all the blood.

She stared back fascinated by him. She already had Angela's lovely sapphire eyes and pale hair that resembled his. The poor girl was going to have some rather difficult hair days.
"Hello," he said nervously and felt ridiculous. This formal greeting was something he said to a stranger at the door.

She studied him curiously and raised her little arms and flailed them about, as if reaching for his face, before settling to grab a tiny fistful of his shirt.

He watched with amusement and fascination as his little girl clung at his shirt.
"You're so little," Patrick whispered in awe looking at her little fingers. His gaze moved to her face, and she stared back at him with curious, impatient eyes.
There were glistening trails of tears upon his daughters face and he gently brushing his thumb across her warm, crimson-tinged cheek.

"Hi Tadpole," he said brushing his hand lightly over her hair.
The baby was getting impatient, a frown gracing her features. She scrunched up her nose and Patrick could see tears forming in her little eyes.

"Don't cry," he said to her.
He couldn't help himself, he had been unable to stand watching those beautiful sapphire eyes tear up ever since he had been married. He tentatively picked her up awkwardly but with extreme care as if she were made of the finest glass and was amazed at how natural and instinctive it felt to hold her tiny body against his chest.

She stopped crying and her pretty eyes scanned the room curiously, fascinated by this new world. She looked back at him with a curious expression that probably matched his own. At least they had something in common. She was the most beautiful baby. He knew that's what all parents said about their baby but it was just true his was.

The baby curled her fingers around the collar of his shirt as she stretched her tiny body and her little mouth yawned forming a perfect 'O' as her light purple eyelids closed and she snuggled against his chest completely content and trusting.
She was such a little miracle. How could something so beautiful and wonderful come from him?

He laughed softly and the baby's eyes snapped open alarmed at the noise. A flicker of annoyance shot from her eyes and she looked more like her mother than ever. So much so he actually recoiled slightly from her annoyed glance at interrupting her sleep.

"Sorry baby," he said kissing her forehead lightly.

His daughter dozed off again soundly in his arms and he intently watched the little life him and his wife had made. They had made a family. Patrick's heart was filled with pride and love and a fierce desire to protect and cherish this form of beauty and purity and perfection forever.

Then Posh Spice came into the room and interrupted them.
"Quite the Father's Day present, huh?" she said tapping on her clipboard.
Patrick was so wrapped up by his love for his new little family that he couldn't even try to be angry at this woman anymore. The world was too beautiful now.
"Yes she is."