Truly Needed

by lindencovenant

Sequel to Who is Needed, indirectly. Emma makes a discovery that necessitates her leaving Steed, but are they done?

Truly Needed

All characters except Nanny belong to the BBC. This is tied to and in the same world as Who is Needed. Thanks to Mary for being an excellent supporter and beta.

"It appears, Mrs. Peel, that you suffered no ill effects from being miniaturized and then… re-sized," the MI-6 physician stated as he peered across the desk at Emma following a routine physical. Well, it was as much so as such an exam could be when the subject was prone to being shrunk, electrocuted, having to fake her own death, and so forth. Of course, for this department, that was rather normative.

A pleased smile, perhaps tinged with relief, flickered across her face. Yet, never losing her cool, Mrs. Peel nodded. "I suspected as much." Her tone indicated that her health would not dare be otherwise.

"However…"

One brow lifted as she turned the classic "Peel" look onto the doctor. Now, he understood why that expression could make strong men quiver. Without being threatening, she either put one under the microscope or cut you down to size, possibly removing an inch or two in the process.

"Ah, yes. You should be happy to know that the… baby is likewise in excellent health. I do wonder why your condition has not already been noted on your official records; Mother and Father do need to know this sort of thing. It could affect you viability as an agent, after all."

Now, the doctor witnessed a sight rarely seen; Emma Peel taken aback. Blinking, she stared at him mutely. "What baby? Was there a baby on this mission?" She stopped, mentally backtracking. "And, what do you mean, my condition? You said my health is just fine."

"It is, but you are… that is, you did know, did you not, that you are two months pregnant?"

With the words now out there in the open, Emma had to deal with what had only been implied moments before that. "I am afraid I did not." She paused and then met his gaze. "Doctor, tell me, how is this possible? I always assumed it took some sort of physical interaction of a rather intimate nature to acquire this condition. I can assure you, unless a baby can lie dormant, in the not quite gestating stage for several years, I have not been exposed."

"Ah, no, my dear, that is not possible. I do not think it is; then again, we never covered shrinking people in medical school." The medical practitioner frowned. "Hmm. I have not heard of that happening. Therefore, I believe it would be best to assume you achieved this… blessed event… In a normal fashion; unless you could have been forced?"

Emma searched her mind, but no time a rape could have taken place was in her memory. She had heard of losing memories due to trauma, but surely she was made of stern enough stuff to not fall prey to that weak response. "I cannot recall any possible time, Doctor."

Rising, she extended a hand. "It seems I have some decisions to make and people to inform, so I had best be on my way."

Startled by the sudden change in her demeanor and the unusual response, the physician shoved the horn-rimmed glasses back on his nose before taking the proffered hand. "Yes, well, you will need to schedule some prenatal visits and so forth with your regular OB-GYN, Mrs. Peel. I have written you a prescription for vitamins, but this is not exactly my field of specialty. In fact, I do not think I've ever treated a pregnant woman."

"Glad to be the first, then," she remarked dryly.

XXX

When she was away from the clinic, Emma stopped her car by the roadside to rest her forehead on the wheel. How had this happened? Who was the father? What would she do now?

What would Steed… John - say? For a variety of reasons, they had not pursued what she knew was between them, but might he see this as a betrayal; no matter that however it had taken place, she had reaped no enjoyment from the event.

Their partnership would have to end. Amid the fears, worries, and other roiling emotions crashing through Emma Peel's normally cool, calm soul, the sorrow that realization brought was the clearest.

Despite that regret and dread, she made two calls the moment she arrived at her flat. The first was to her OB-GYN. Protocol aside, this child would have to be her priority. Then, she dialed her "parents."

XXX

Two hours later, Emma found herself seated opposite the wheelchair-bound, overweight man known to her only as "Mother" and his counterpart, the serene, yet somewhat eerie, blind woman, "Father."

Sightless or not, Father had always seemed to be able to discern far more than a person with twenty-twenty vision, in Emma's estimation.

"Now, what seems to be the trouble, Mrs. Peel?" Mother huffed. "You called it a medical matter; since Steed was shrunken for a more extended period than you, should we have summoned him to this meeting?"

Emma shook her head. "No, this has nothing to do with side effects from a mission; at least, I do not think it does. However, if it is, my condition is nothing Steed would need to be concerned about having happen to him."

Turning blind eyes that still seemed to pierce clear through to Emma's soul, Father asked very calmly, "Are congratulations in order? Or, do we need to consider, shall we say, emergency measures? It could be arranged, Mrs. Peel."

Instantly comprehending what the woman meant, Emma shook her head. "No, I do not believe in doing that, unless it absolutely has to be."

Father nodded.

"What the devil are you two talking in code about?" Mother fumed.

"Mrs. Peel is pregnant, about two months along, and with twins, unless I miss my guess. Her step has altered in the exact same way my cousin's daughter did when she was carrying twins."

Mother, unsuccessfully, attempted to suppress a shudder over her perceptions. "Is it true?" he stared at Emma as he spoke.

Emma nodded. "I do not know if I am with twins, but, yes." She hesitated and then plunged ahead. "I have no idea how or who the father is."

"Not Steed?" Mother blinked.

"Steed is far too professional to act upon any feelings he has for Mrs. Peel," Father reproved the man sternly. "It has not been noted on any reports that you were violated, my dear, but you hardly seem the sort to engage in the behaviors that lead to being in such a condition and not knowing who is responsible."

"I'm not. Have any unusual drugs shown up in my system?" Emma asked. "Perhaps I was slipped a Mickey." One hand instinctively moved to cover her womb in a protective gesture. No matter the circumstances, she hated the idea that somehow her work might have poisoned a child, her child. It was a pure miracle that she had not miscarried, given all she had been through in the course of her work. These babies were determined to live, apparently.

"No," Mother frowned. "You've had bruises and so forth, but you are remarkably resilient, Mrs. Peel."

"We could schedule a psychological evaluation," Father mused. "See if there's been a hypnotic mental block imposed. Just off-hand, my dear, what is your strongest memory of two months ago?"

Without thinking, Emma responded, "Being caged in that bottle-blonde's body while she ran around in mine, and no one here believing she was in it or that Steed and I were not… ourselves…" She trailed off, turning pale. That case haunted her nightmares. "Lola and Basil…"

Father nodded. It had been only after Mrs. Peel and Steed had been interviewed by her that anyone had believed their story. She had proclaimed their words to be true. "Apparently, the pair of them had no professional compunctions about intimacy." Her sharp, albeit sightless, gaze fixed on the talented amateur agent again. "Knowing that in one sense, the children are not yours; do your feelings remain the same?"

Emma considered and then nodded. "Yes. They are mine in another, and they are part of Steed as well. Surely some of his nobility and mental acuity would be passed on, since his body provided the DNA."

"It will be interesting to see," Father remarked. "Do you intend to tell him?"

"No." There was no hesitation. "He's far too noble to not feel obligated, even though it could be said truthfully that he is not responsible for these children."

Father nodded. "The cover story for your exit will have to be a very good one; airtight, in fact. You and Steed work so well together that it will also need to be sufficiently shocking and abrupt so as to not allow him to detect a lie or to be concerned about your welfare. He would not believe you simply engaged in a casual one night stand that resulted in this, and would know if you were in a true relationship."

Mrs. Peel nodded, but her mind wandered slightly. Her children would live under a stigma as things stood, being "illegitimate." She could hardly protest the truth. It was rather insane. However, it would be most convenient if her Missus title could be more than something allowed a widow. Even though Peter was not the ideal mate, his name would add respectability that she wanted for their sakes. Unfortunately, his death was too far in the past to provide that sham.

As if reading her mind, Father mused aloud, "Your husband's body was never officially recovered, I believe. However, when you became active in our service, we felt it best to investigate and see if he was alive and if not, under what circumstances he died. He IS dead. Nearly as can be determined, he died immediately after his plane crashed."

Anger flared in Emma's eyes. How dare they know this and never tell her!

"I quite understand your feelings," Father coolly went on, "but it seemed best at the time. One never knows what cards one will require in the future. Had we told you, I could not propose this solution. A story will appear saying Peter has been "rescued" and will be returning to his wife. Naturally, Steed would expect that you go with him, and would not worry about your future. That is, unless there was some unhappiness between you two that you disclosed to Steed?"

Emma shook her head and then aloud added, "No. We were not on easy terms when he left, but I never have told anyone."

"Excellent. We can recruit a new agent to appear to collect you and you can seem to ride off into the figurative sunset with him. I believe Knight Industries is still your company, so if you like, you may continue to work there. Of course, the agency will provide a stipend. You came into this situation via your association with us, after all. We take care of our own. You will not have to work, if you do not choose to. Furthermore, you can quietly 'divorce' your husband, at some point, so that it will not be unusual that you are a single mother."

"The timing, though," Emma protested. "I'm two months along and this plan will take time to execute."

"You must not contact Steed or advertise the children's ages. People will believe what is convenient to believe, and a few months should not make a difference in what people expect to see as the children grow up," Father firmly told her.

"Yes, of course," Emma nodded, hating the idea of what had to be; losing all contact with her best friend as well as the man she now admitted to herself that she loved.

"As to the time, well, it will need to be soon, before your condition is noticed."

Accepting the inevitable, Emma Peel nodded briefly. She would do what she must, as she always did.

That her heart was torn out did not matter.

XXX

Steed was on her doorstep when she returned home.

"Let me guess, we are needed," she sighed, unexpectedly irritated to see him. Well, mood swings were expected when one was… expecting.

"You are, yes," he beamed. "Nothing world-shaking, though. I just need to know, what do twelve year old girls like? You were one, once."

"Sixteen year old boys," she quipped.

His brows shot up. "I hardly think that would be a proper gift for my goddaughter, Charlotte, and hate to think what her dad would say. Then, there'd be kidnapping charges, if I could find one good enough for her. Do you have an alternate suggestion?"

"Twelve? She's past dolls, so jewelry is always good. I'd suggest a charm bracelet or a locket."

"To put a picture of the mythical young man in?" Steed shook his head and then tipped his hat. "I would stay and chat, but her birthday party is in two hours, so I should have just enough time to find the right gold or silver thing." He grinned. "Thank you, Mrs. Peel. I can always trust you to know what to do." He pecked her cheek and then took his leave.

Emma essayed a feeble smile at his retreating back. Perhaps she was wrong about him being a "dreadful daddy." He did seem to genuinely care for this goddaughter and had almost appeared as concerned as a father might over one's little girl growing up too rapidly. But, no; she did not think marrying for the sake of a child was a good footing on which to start things. She could only hope that Father's plan would be execute quickly. Yet, at the same time, she did not want her association with Steed or her work, which she truly enjoyed, to end.

XXX

All too soon, however, the time came for that to take place, though for a brief period, it seemed that Emma might be shot as a traitor; if she could be found, rather than spirited away to a different life. When she recovered from her amnesia and returned to headquarters, once everything was explained and reported in triplicate, she and the children had to have yet another medical exam. Fortunately, the memory lapse had not affected the twins; the doctor confirmed that there were two heartbeats, just as Father had suspected.

This incident also made it clear that Mrs. Peel needed to go into retirement, or on permanent maternity leave. Yes, she had avoided harming the infants, but there was no reason to continue risking their or her health.

Thus, she began rehearsing her exit from Steed's life. When the "news" came out, she bravely fielded a host of congratulatory calls and notes, and thanked God that Peter had been an only child and an orphan. Cousin Wilton had almost seemed to suspect she was lying when he phoned, but the Transatlantic static had been of great assistance as she spoke to the American black sheep of the Knight flock.

There was no help for it. Emma knew it was now time to say goodbye to Steed. Grimly, she exited her flat and climbed into her "husband's" car. She did not know his name; Mother and Father felt it best for her to only know his assumed name. All she knew was he looked more like Steed than he did Peter; a choice made with the thought of reassuring Steed, and he was not from MI-6, but from U.N.I.T. There was less risk of Steed knowing who he was, or finding out if he did not work for them.

The professionalism that had marked their relationship served as an efficient mask for both Steed and Mrs. Peel only just barely concealed at this necessary parting. After a too brief kiss, she walked out of his life and into her future. As she passed Tara King, Emma paused to offer a bit of advice, more for HIS sake than to indicate she was handing him over to the chit. That bit of fluff did not look as if she could cut it as an agent, much less as their top man's assistant.

Yet, Emma could not think about that. Despite all her resolve, she had to look back one last time as the car pulled away. It did not truly surprise her to see John watching her. She allowed their eyes to meet, hoping as she did so that none of the truth was in them. It was so hard to lie to Steed. But, it was for his own good and for the children's. Being the offspring of the President of Knight Limited was by far safer than having spies for parents.

XXX

The next six months were long, but flew at the same time. Getting back into the corporate swing of things and dealing with a pregnancy was exhausting, but Mrs. Peel needed the distractions both provided.

In all this, she could have easily overworked herself, but fortunately, the executives at Knight were efficient and more than capable of dealing with the most stressful aspects of the job, she merely had to supervise; though from time to time, Emma felt the need to put in her two pence or contribute an idea.

Back at home, an Agency-approved housekeeper and gardener handled the domestic chores. However, they both deferred to Mrs. Knight-Peel, as she had taken to calling herself in preparation for the "divorce." Designing the nursery, which was to be located in the second bedroom in her suite, occupied much of her time. The faux Peter Peel bunked in an apartment over the garage and was ostensibly enrolled in a rigorous rehabilitation program of physical and occupational therapies, thus explaining why he was not getting back into his flying or something. Since the staff consisted of retired MI-6 agents, there was no need to pretend he and Emma were married, once they were behind closed doors. The two had a civil relationship. He was pleasant company and after a few weeks confided that he was on leave from U.N.I.T. after sustaining an injury; so the PT and OT were real, just not quite the same protocols as the real Peter Peel might need, were he alive. Though this "Peter," or Pete, as Emma had decided to call him to give him some identity of his own, was affable, she found him rather boring. The divorce could not come soon enough, though it would not be final until a few weeks after the birth. That way, the children would have veneer of legitimacy.

Through it all, Emma tried not to think about their biological father, but every time she poured a cup of tea, saw a bowler hat, or needed an umbrella, she thought about Steed.

When "Labor Day" came, she was sure she did not need drugs. After all, she had endured terrible tortures during her stint as an agent. An hour into the ordeal, for once, Emma Peel had cause to regret her decision. Yet, when her new daughter and son were placed in her arms, regrets became a thing of the past.

She only wished Steed could share the moment.

For that matter, it was truly a pity that while she had been the one to endure the rigors of pregnancy and this latest ordeal, it had been that bottled-blonde Lola who had the fun of creating the two little darlings. That was among the greatest of all injustices she had ever heard of.

So, the next stage in Emma Knight-Peel's life began; that of motherhood. Over the next few months, she gradually adjusted to being at the beck and call of two little tyrants. Although she did have a nanny to help out; again, one chosen with the assistance of British Intelligence, Emma did not want her children growing up feeling closer to someone employed to care for them than they did her. Therefore, she played with them, bathed, fed, rocked, and even changed them without complaint. Their birth was not announced until the twins were nearly three months old. Not long after that, a small blurb near the back of the paper took note of the fact that despite his miraculous return from the grave and their new children, Peter Peel's marriage to Emma had been dissolved.

The house did feel larger and emptier without its most recent guest, but childcare did not allow for much time to dwell on that or much of anything else. Between juggling them and her work at Knight Industries, Emma simply lacked a spare moment to ponder if or what might have been. She was even too tired to dream, or if she did dream, the memory of it did not endure until morning.

Given all that, she could not have been more surprised when her secretary allowed a call from Father to come into her office. The cordial smile she had automatically pasted on faded as she listened to the woman's words. It seemed Steed had managed to launch himself and that young twit into outer space. Before the knot of panic that began instantly in her stomach could choke her, Father went on to tell Ms. Knight that Steed was on his way home; apparently some chap associated with U.N.I.T. had pulled off a rescue. As improbable as it sounded, they were due to land, in Steed's back yard, within the hour. If Emma wished, and the tone of Father's voice indicated it would be a good idea, she could be there to greet him. After adding congratulations on the splendid achievement of birth, Father hung up.

It did not take any thought on Emma's part to decide to do as she had been advised. First, she rang home to let Nanny Butler know that she might be late and why, then got into her car and pointed it onto the familiar road she had not taken for far too long.

XXX

Emma watched her former partner disembark from the strange, blue box, followed closely by a rather pale young woman who looked as if she just wanted to get somewhere to have a drink or lie down and moan. Mentally, Emma shook her head. A wimp had replaced her.

Mother looked utterly disconcerted and even Emma was rather amazed at this whole turn of affairs. The notion of Steed launching a rocket from his back yard, then coming home in a police public call box that simply vanished within moments of delivering him, was quite enough to make one do a quadruple take; much like the one Steed was mentally doing as she confirmed her single status.

However, they could not pursue this or any other line of thought immediately. Steed and Tara had to be de-briefed and undergo routine medical exams.

The next few hours were among the longest of Emma's life, rivaled only by the hours of labor. Finally, Steed was released. Upon seeing Emma still waiting for him, he could not hide his pleasure and surprise.

"Mrs. Peel, I had no idea you would remain here," he started to beam.

With one of her infamous looks, she cut him off, "Steed, it's not Peel. I can forgive you forgetting, considering what you have been through, but how do you feel about calling me Emma?"

"I rather like it, but only if you will call me John."

"It's a deal."

"Could I interest you in coming home with me for a drink?" Now, his full charm was turned on. "I'd offer to take you to dinner so we could catch up, but, truthfully, I'm knackered."

"Why not come home with me and I'll feed you?" she countered automatically. Then, it was too late to politely retract. "I think there's Scotch somewhere in the house, but you will have to drink alone. I've given it up."

Steed's brows shot up. "Why do I get the feeling there is more to this than you are saying?" It was his turn to adopt an expression that demanded something of her.

"There is, but here is not the time or place."

"In that case, I'd be delighted to go home with you, Emma."

The ride to her house was largely silent. Idle chit-chat would have been out of place. Not until Steed broke the silence with a low whistle followed by the comment, "Your home is most impressive, my dear. Quite a bit larger than your old flat, I must say."

"Necessity is the mother of real estate investment," she quipped as she led the way inside. During the entire trip, she had contemplated what, if anything to say, but the matter was settled when a baby's cry split the air moments after they entered.

Nanny Butler was hurrying towards the nursery, but stopped as she saw her employer come inside. Apparently, she did not see their guest initially.

"Oh, Miss Knight, you're home. You'll want to feed the twins, then." Relief spread across the older woman's face. "They take to you doing it so much better than me giving them a bottle."

Her face coloring only slightly, Emma nodded. "Of course; will you take my friend to the parlor and pour him a drink? We will want a light supper soon, as well."

"Certainly, Miss."

"I would not mind meeting the twins," Steed interjected. "If you would not mind, that is?"

"Of course not, that would be fine," Emma smiled tensely. "Right this way." Glancing at Nanny, she added, "We will still want that supper."

"I'll see to it."

Steed was quiet while he watched her soothe the two infants. "John, I can't very well feed them with you here," she reproved.

"Oh, I… take your meaning," he flushed. "Emma, you said you were no longer married, but I can't believe you would ever marry a bounder cowardly enough to sire two children and then promptly run out on you."

For a few seconds, she was at a loss for words. Finally, Emma took a deep breath and replied, "But, I did not. They are… your children, Steed, courtesy of Basil and Lola being rather casual in their use of our bodies last year." Her eyes averted. "I had not wanted to break it to you like this, but when I heard you had been lost in space, I had to see you. Then, the situation got away from me. Let me assure you, though. I am managing just fine, and Peter did not run out on us. It's a long story, but I am a widow, still. Please, just have your drink, and I'll explain once they have had theirs."

"I think I'll make it a double," John commented as he backed out of the room.

XXX

The rest of the evening melted away as Emma explained everything to her former partner. Amazement, but not disbelief filled his countenance for most of that time. If Nanny had not glared them into eating, the light supper she had prepared might have gone to waste, so absorbing was the conversation. As the talk drew to a logical close, Emma could see Steed was about to say something he might later regret and so would she and the children.

"Steed, no," she cut him off. "I will not have you doing the honorable thing simply for the sake of it, or to gain the right to see your offspring. To be honest, if I did not love them so much, I would question that they are ours. Biologically, they are, but don't souls figure into it?" Shaking her head, she added, "Never mind. It's all moot. I would not let that enemy… witch near them with a ten-foot broomstick, if she had a maternal bone in her body."

"Or ever gets out of jail," Steed pointed out.

"That, too. In any event, I would not deprive you of visitation rights. You may be as involved or uninvolved as you choose, just be consistent about it. If you want to be a Daddy to them, do so. But, don't come and go or let them get to know you and then just drop out of their lives."

"I would not dream of it," Steed's lips pursed. "Very well, all marital discussions are tabled, for now. But, I maintain the right to bring it up again when I can convince you of my sincerity."

Emma considered this and then nodded. "I can agree to that. Would you like to help me tuck them in?"

"It would be a pleasure and an honor, Mrs. Pe…er… Miss Knight, oh, hang it all, Emma."

With an enigmatic smile, she led him to the nursery.

XXX

Over the next few weeks, John Steed was a regular caller at the Knight home. In fact, Nanny became accustomed to setting an extra place at dinner for him.

Though little could shock Emma Knight, she did have to admit to something approaching being stunned to see how well he handled parenting types of duty and how much he clearly adored Philip and Pamela.

Thus, when less than three months after the revelation Steed simply told her he needed her as his wife, she gladly replied that it was a good thing; she needed him as her husband, also.

They wasted no time in planning an elaborate ceremony, opting to have a simple one with just their most trusted friends and family present. Changing the twins' last name to Steed was no problem, since his name was on their birth certificates.

The Steed family did live happily ever after, but naturally, it was a far more interesting ever after than what one might find in a fairy tale sunset.