A brief note: This is a scene I cut from my longer story, Leap of Faith. It didn't fit there, but it was too good to just toss. I'll probably add other one-shots to this as time goes by, so check back from time to time! I hope you don't mind a little bit of fluff. :D
It all started with a phone call.
Well, to be honest, it all started with a man and a woman who loved each other very much, and…Well. You know. First came love, suddenly and unexpectedly, one hot August day. Then came marriage, a quiet ceremony on Christmas Eve that had the press asking uncomfortable questions about the haste and the secrecy. And then, in June, came the phone call.
He'd been about to leave his office, and debated not answering the desk phone at all. But he picked it up anyway, on the off chance that it might be his wife.
"Buddy!"
"Duo."
"Cheerful as always, I see," the braided man quipped, grinning into the vidphone. "Guess what?"
"I don't have time for games," Heero said, though he had a pretty good idea why his friend was calling. Hilde was almost 41 weeks pregnant, and he privately thought she might explode if the God of Death's unholy watermelon-headed spawn—as she referred to it—took any longer to arrive. "What do you want?"
"I just called to tell you that Hilde's having the baby! We're on our way to the hospital now," Duo crowed. "I tried calling your house a minute ago, but Nina said you weren't there. Oh—and they've been trying to reach you all morning. Your cell's dead again, man."
Heero pulled his mobile phone out of his pocket and pressed the power button. Sure enough, the battery had discharged again. He threw the useless thing into the waste basket by his desk.
"I'll call home," he said, pushing back the impulse to worry. "Oh, and Duo?"
"Yeah?"
"Good luck."
"Yeah. Thanks." Heero ended the call and pushed 1 on his speed dial. Relena's voicemail picked up on the fourth ring. He told himself not to worry—she probably just hadn't dug it out of her purse in time—and left a message. And then, because he was worried anyway, he hit 2 on the speed dial. Nina, the housekeeper, picked up immediately. Clearly she'd been waiting by the phone.
"Mr. Heero, I hoped you'd call!" She was flushed and beads of sweat dotted her forehead. She seemed stressed. He frowned. Nina was an active, busy woman, but she was usually unflappable. He suspected that was what happened when one had as large a family as Nina's.
"What's going on?" he asked, deciding it might be time to be concerned.
"Miss Noin and Miss Relena are on the way to the hospital," she said. "Miss Relena wanted to wait for you, but..." Nina trailed off.
"It's fine," he said. "I'll meet them there. Is everything—okay?"
"Just hope they make it to the hospital in time." Nina grinned. "You really don't want that baby coming in your new car."
"Great," he muttered. "Later, Nina."
He rang off and bolted out of the office, not bothering to stop and lock the door. Duo would laugh when he heard. If Nina hadn't already told him.
He'd nearly missed it. Relena might have forgiven him—babies come when they will, after all—but he never would have forgiven himself.
"Stop that," Relena grumbled, her voice thin with exhaustion. "I didn't go through all this just for you to sit there and glower at the floor. Be happy, Heero."
He looked up at her. Her face was red, her eyes bloodshot. Sweat dampened her hair, and her hands trembled on the sheets of the hospital bed. She'd never been more beautiful.
"I should have been here sooner," he muttered, still angry with himself. "You shouldn't have had to go through this alone."
"I knew you'd be here," she replied loftily. "You always come when I need you most, so I wasn't worried at all."
He smiled in spite of himself—he'd never understand her faith in him—and brushed her soggy bangs away from her eyes. "I'm glad you're okay," he said, ignoring the nurse that approached. He wasn't sure he was ready for what was coming.
"All the tests came back normal," the nurse said, half-shouting to be heard over the wailing infant in her arms. "Seven pounds, nine ounces, good Apgar scores, and a head full of hair. And I mean thick hair." She grinned. "Who wants to hold the baby first?"
"He does," Relena said firmly, smiling, her eyes daring him to just try and argue. She did like to debate—and sometimes he even liked to let her win—but he supposed he couldn't drag things out much longer. He preferred to face his challenges.
"Okay," he said, turning to the nurse. "Hand him over."
It was awkward, taking such a delicate bundle into his arms. His hands felt too-large and clumsy, his grip uncertain. The nurse was helpful, though, and she passed the baby over with practiced grace.
"There you go," she said. "She's all set."
She? Sure enough, the kid was wearing a little pink cap. "The doctor said it was going to be a boy." Heero's voice sounded distant in his own ears. It was going to be hard enough raising a son, and he at least knew how a boy's mind worked. But a girl? He had no idea what to do with a girl.
But the nurse had walked away to give them some privacy, and he was stuck. Relena, at least, seemed calmer.
"It happens sometimes. Those ultrasound images can be kind of blurry; sometimes they mistake the umbilical cord for, well, you know," she said, leaning forward to get a better look at the baby. "Have you thought of a name?"
He frowned. "Not for a girl. Are you still going to make me do this?"
Like he needed to ask. The more reluctant he was to do something, the more she wanted him to do it. Sometimes he argued, just to feel like he still had some say. Usually it was easier just to give in. She had an annoying habit of being right most of the time anyway.
"It's just a name," she said. "It can't be any harder than tracking down criminals or tackling assassins. Just take your time."
He looked down at the baby. "Hi," he said, wondering if he should say anything. She stared back with wide blue eyes. He wondered if they'd stay blue, and if they would be pale like her mother's or dark like his. Outwardly, she didn't seem so special. All babies had blue eyes. She had that same wrinkled, red face that all newborn babies seem to have, too. But she wasn't fussing like most newborns. In fact, the whole room had gone quiet; he felt people staring.
Relena waved a nurse over and whispered something to her. The room emptied quickly after that. "Better?" she asked.
"Hn," he replied.
"You'll do fine," she said, leaning back against her pillow and closing her eyes. "I believe in you."
"You always say that," he murmured. It had been nearly five years since he'd left her on Peacemillion, and she'd never stopped believing. He wondered what he'd done to deserve such faith.
He prodded the baby gently, running one fingertip down her pudgy belly. She tensed, surprised, but didn't cry out.
"She's so—calm," he said. "I didn't think they were supposed to be this calm."
"Enjoy it while it lasts," his wife advised. He heard the smile in her voice, but he was too busy examining the baby to look at Relena. It was funny how something so small could be so fascinating. She had the smallest feet he'd ever seen, like a doll's feet. But they were perfect, all the way down to her tiny toenails. He looked at her hands next, wondering if she had little fingernails, too. He brushed her palm with his index finger; she grabbed it and held on. It was just a reflex—she was supposed to be able to do that—but it was still incredible.
"Look at that," he said, amazed at the strength in her grip. "She's got me."
"She sure does." Relena's voice was going thin again. She sounded tired. "Hurry up. I want to hold her, too."
Right. She needed a name. He hadn't considered girls' names—they'd known they were having a boy before Relena had decided to put him in charge of naming the baby. He didn't want to name her after anyone they knew, or after any dead relatives. She deserved her own name, but he wanted Relena to be a part of it somehow. He wanted their daughter to have her mother's courage. Her strength. She was the person who'd given him strength when he needed it. The person who'd always believed in him.
"Faith. We're going to call her Faith." Because you've always had so much faith in me. And all I can do is try not to let you down.
"I like that," Relena said. She was drowsing, no doubt exhausted from her day's work. "Can I hold her now?"
He was more than happy to hand Faith over to her mother. He'd had enough excitement for one day, and he knew that things were just beginning.
Because I know someone's going to ask: They realized they loved each other in August, but they didn't, uhm, you know, until late September/early October. The math is right, it just isn't clear here.