The sky was cloudy as always, with dull gray clouds that cast a sense of isolation and glooms over the barren wasteland. The cold wind blew carried a murky scent along with it, foreign and nauseating. There was no nature for miles, aside from the occasional dead tree, brittle and dark.

And the only human being you could find, if you could even call him that, was a man who currently sat upon the sandy ground in front of his worn down shack of a home.

The mutant held an old rusted spoon in his left hand, which consisted of three long, gangly fingers covered in worn out green skin. A pleasant smile sat on his deformed face as he dug up the sand with the utensil, placing the spoonfuls into his mouth and swallowing them.

"Hmm… The floor sugar is a tad moist today. Suppose it must have stormed last night," he mused after swallowing. "Oh well. We needed a little rain."

The sand set heavily in his stomach, though he appeared not to mind.

"Not wise to collect it when moist." He said, "Better to come back later."

The man stood up, stroking the spoon with one of his long fingers and letting out a quivering moan. Rust was such a wonderful feeling. One of life's many pleasures.

With a pleased smile, he turned to enter his home as the clouds grew darker. Pity, he thought. Perhaps he'd not be able to collect floor sugar after all tonight.

He approached the door, reaching for the handle when a throbbing pain pulsed throughout his abdomen.

It was small, not vastly noticeable, but he could still feel it. It was a dull ache, a warm cramp that beat like a small heart that was struggling to pump blood.

He frowned, placing a deformed hand over his stomach. This time in the afternoon was no time for a stomachache. Really, no time was alright for a stomachache, but that was beside the point.

The pain continued as he entered his home. It was as musty and dirty as the outdoors, but if the man was aware of this, he didn't show it. As he walked to the living room (at least, it may have been that), he gave his stomach a scolding glare, "Something such as this can ruin a perfectly good evening."

Running a hand over his belly, a small detail caught his attention. It may have slipped by most others, but given how thing he was, what he felt was rather striking.

His stomach bore a small bump. Slightly distended, nothing more than that, but present nonetheless. Underneath the skin was faint warmth that contracted with the usual chill of his body, brought on by the radiation that lingered faintly in the polluted air.

The mutant felt the same pulse from before, like a small thump against his disfigured hand, a miniature heartbeat.

"Oh…"

A serene smiled crossed his face, and tears began to blossom in his sunken in crimson eyes.

"The angels have blessed me with one of their own… Oh, you'll be beautiful…"

Taking a seat against the wall, he rested both hands upon his slightly protruding stomach, as his mind swam with thoughts of the child to come.

He awoke in the middle of the night to find himself hacking and retching. Something warm was making its way up his throat. It was thick and slimy, burning with the pain of a thousand suns as it climbed upward. His entire body felt as though it was on fire, the pain was so intense.

It felt like hours later, though it was only but a moment. With a final retch, the slime escaped from his mouth and on to the floor.

Wiping tears of exhaustion from his eyes and sweat from his green forehead, he eyed the black blob that sat upon the floor. Even in the darkness, he could see that it had a slight shine to it as it sat there, a substance akin to paint pooling around it.

After a moment, he smiled tiredly.

Resting a hand upon his stomach, which was protruding slightly more, he said, "Suppose you were feeling a bit ill. I do hope you were able to clean out your system. I'd hate to see you in pain, my girl…"

i"Somewhere over the rainbow…"/i

His bump was more noticeable now, small though it still undoubtedly was. The sun was out for once in a long while, months perhaps. The strange man watched it with a smile, his fingers gently stroking the pulsating bulge.

i"Way up high…"/i

The pulses and the beats were no different than they had been that afternoon months ago, but to him they had changed. To his poisoned mind, they were little jabs and pokes here and there, furthering his belief that in a few months time there would be a baby in his arms.

"Settle down, now," he chuckled, "Daddy shan't be able to sing to you if you continue moving so vigorously."

He ignored the cramp that followed this statement, instead humming quietly.

His subconscious had been telling him things, matters he refused to even entertain for a moment iYou're sick,/i, they'd say, iyou're dieing/i. He would not believe the lies his mind was feeding him. If he was dead, then his daughter would perish as well, for as of now they were one.

Over the months, the pain had grown worse. His skin had begun to pale, and he found himself more tired than usual. The child's doing, he'd thought affectionately. A child that would be both a mixture of he and his wife.

"I do wish you could see this sunset, dear," he told his stomach, "Faint, but beautiful. Like you."

A pulse responded to him.

"A mischievous girl, are you?" he grinned, "That could get you in trouble. But I'll allow it for now."

He allowed his mind to wander, the sunlight casting down upon him, "Soon, my darling. You'll be here soon…"

The slime was seeping from his stomach.

His drowsy eyes that had dulled to the color of an unappealing orange drooped slightly, a hand over the bump that had barely grown at all. You aren't dieing, he attempted to tell him, think of the baby…

"C…Come along, poppet," he rasped to his unborn child, "We must head off to bed…"

He barely walked two feet before the urge consumed him whole, like a beast devouring its prey, and he collapsed to the ground.

The mutant awoke with a strangled gasp.

His body was perspiring and his skin was cold and clammy, shivers running throughout him as his eyes darted around. Still in his home, safe from danger, alive…

It was only then did he remember his daughter.

His head whipped down to face his bulging abdomen, which he quickly placed both hands over as a small, grateful cry escaped his lips.

"You're alright…" he murmured, "I was afraid I might have lost you…" The man felt those same pulses he'd known for the last three months. Reassurance flooded his entire being. His baby was okay, she wasn't harmed…

Hopefully she would arrive soon. He wasn't quite so sure if his body would be a safe haven much longer…

He awoke with a start. The mutant wouldn't have been able to tell whether it was night or morning; his mind was far too clouded. Not even his daughter surfaced into his thoughts. "I feel… my day of reckoning," he rasped, "May be approaching…"

Illness was claiming him. He would be widowing his wife, leaving behind his siblings, his friends…

"I suppose I'd better alert the correspondence…"

Glancing over at the heater beside him, he began to tap in Morse code.

"Bring…"

itap/i

"Help…"

itap tap/i

"Briskly…"

He knew it was hopeless. There was no possible way for them to arrive in time to save him.

"M…Mother always said," He spoke, "The scarlet fever… Would be my final departure…"

His mind grew cloudy, the pain pulsating stomach dulling as his head drooped.

iTake me to the angels…/I he thought, iI'm ready…/I

It all happened in a blink.

His abdomen ruptured, a black mass shooting from it and landing to the floor with squelch that was drowned out by the man's cry of pain. One moment later and he was unconscious.

There was a sour taste in mouth, akin to curdled milk. A foul stench that resembled the murky scent of the polluted lake water filled his invisible nostrils as he slowly regained consciousness. There was a faint ache in his belly, but his numbed senses couldn't detect it just yet.

With a weak groan, he pushed himself upward, supporting his slightly trembling body with his arms. He managed to blink open his yellow eyes, his breathing shaky and cold. The same black fluid from before was seeping from a wound in his abdomen, dripping down his shirt and on to his trousers, but he paid it no mind.

He wasn't dead. The angels had spared his fragile life.

And as his eyes met the mass on the ground, it became apparent to him they'd spared a second one. A small gasp flowed from his mouth.

It truly was no more than a black growth, unsightly and large. It was the size and length of a newborn baby, dripping ebony fluid that gathered in the puddle beneath it.

But his eyes saw more.

It was a baby girl. She was crying softly, bearing a pair of striking blue eyes and a fluffy mop of black hair.

She was the most beautiful thing the mutant had ever laid eyes on.

"I've yearned for this day…" he said softly, his voice filled with awe.

The crying only he could hear ceased, and the baby only he saw in his mind looked up at him with a small sniffle from her button nose.

"I… I never thought she would arrive…"

His face was gentle as he spoke, "Bottles, nappies, smiles, and wee… To my heart, you've found the key…"

He brought the black blob to his chest, cradling it lovingly, "Baby…" he pondered a moment, "…iYvonne/i, is born today. The angels say she's hear to stay…"

His daughter, who didn't truly exist, cooed softly as her father lifted her up to get a better look.

A joyous smile crossed his face, "Oh…You've got your mother's eyes. And she was a fair maiden too. Make no mistake." He remarked, kissing the mass and gaining black slime upon his lips.

Holding close his delusion of a child, the mutant wept joyous, and for reasons unknown to even he, sorrowful tears.