A/N: Good news guys, I managed to push myself to finish this series, including the bonus chapter to wrap things up!

Little Accidents

Chapter 1

Home

It is absolutely perfect. That's all it is.

Their daughter is born on the landing between the sixth and seventh floors. Cameron wraps her up in his dusty BDU jacket, still dirty from three days into a seven-day mission, filthy from attacking the Apple Planet in order to protect her, and the rest of the SGC, but since she was the one who ate the forbidden fruit it's really just her.

He is her hero.

He is over the moon, laughing to hide the tears in his eyes, red-faced with the pressure and relief, cradling their daughter and dropping kisses onto the tuft of dark hair on her head. "It's a girl," tells her again because she didn't react much during his first three passes of the same sentence. His firstborn, her third. "I knew it was going to be a girl."

"Were you hoping for a daughter?" She questions, leaning into the corner, her body stirring from the sudden rush of pain, the sudden dismissal of it. "Mr. Air Force Manly Man."

"A son would've been great, but I don't know, I just knew it was a girl from the beginning and I worked myself up towards it." Sets their daughter against her chest, little arms and legs stiff and contained. "She's perfect."

"Yes," she sighs, and revels in the weight and warmth the baby, the tiny huffs of breath against her chest. "But you're going to have to keep the boys away from her."

"Oh I'm sure I'll be purchasing a shotgun before she turns sixteen." He caresses their daughter's head and then turns his attention to her. "How are you feeling? Doing okay?"

"Very tired, and cold." His hand masks her forehead once again. "I don't have a fever this time, Cameron."

"I think we should get you two to Dr. Lam."

"And how do you propose we do that."

He shrugs his shoulders and scoops his arms underneath her legs and back. "You carry her, I'll carry you."

"Cam—Cameron." She jostles as he lifts her, and he smells like dirt and dust and sweat. His cheek is still leaking a bit of gooey blood and there's grit dried in behind his ear. "Do not drop me."

"Don't drop her," he grunts climbing the stairs back up to floor six. Perhaps the elevators are in service again.

"Do not drop me."

"I got you, Princess." He does, his arms unwavering, his breathing steady as he kicks open the doorway to floor six. "I got you."

She spends her allotted time in the medical bay, in the same horrid blue medical scrubs that they force her to wear during each of her admittances. Cameron is supposed to leave for mission debriefing, but he never does. Sits in an armchair he drags in from one of the nearby offices and holds their daughter while blurting out names, seeing which she responds to, which of course doesn't as she's only a few hours old and unlike her older half sister, is aging in an appropriate measure.

Everyone visits, mostly out of curiosity, a little out of duty, a little from boredom and when he finally does leave to go take a shower, Dr. Lam trailing him and expressing how he needs to keep the water out of his wound, she misses him and tries to explain it away with the surge of hormones, with the unease of breast feeding, how everyone just keeps tumbling into this room like she doesn't have a tiny human latched to her chest.

He returns just as she plucks their daughter away from her chest and readjusts her scrubs, holding the baby sort of sideways against her deflated but very tender stomach and he holds out his hands. "Pass her here, I'll burp her."

"You've just had a shower, she'll probably spit up all over you, she's a fast eater."

"Princess, I'm going to end up with baby puke on me at some point, it might as well be now." She relinquishes their daughter and watches as his large hand buries her back in gentle pats. A tiny burp gurgles up and he grins, "there you go Cupcake."

"Cupcake?"

"Well." Cradles the baby back in the crook of his arm, luckily her baby shower last week provided them with most of the material they needed in immediacy, like the soft onesie that Sam bought covered in little woodland creatures, shrouding their napping infant. The way he coos, the way he bounces her a bit in his lap and draws his expression into ridiculous faces even though she can barely see seems right, feel right. "She probably has the theme to Cupcake Battles ingrained into her DNA now."

She says something before the feeling fleets, shifting her back up more onto the pillows and sitting up fully despite the small pain that flares up. "I want to leave."

He nods understanding but not fully, his eyes still on their daughter. "I'll talk to Lam and see if you can go back to your room. Unless the base is attacked again I don't see—"

"I want to go home."

"You want to go home? Like—like back to your home world?" The panic in his voice is palpable and visual in the various fluctuations of his eyes. Can tell he's trying to bypass her suggestion without upsetting her, which is not what she meant at all. "I don't know if that's the best idea right now. I mean, do they have the same medical care on—on—where are you from?"

She slips her hand into his, feels the warmth of him, the warmth of their daughter and sighs again, "Take me home, Cameron."

They slowly fall into a routine. Their daughter's room is right next door to his bedroom, the one all decorated in yellows and frogs and ducks and everything the Tau'ri make for their infants have the sweetest faces and are made from the softest materials. The baby room barely gets used because she frets about not having their daughter easily accessible, and in less than an hour he returns with a bassinet. They barely put her in it, but it's a nice backup.

When she wakes to do midnight feedings, he pulls himself up from bed, wipes the fatigue from his eyes and sits waiting to receive their daughter for burping duty. Sometimes his hand plants on her back and holds her steady as she feeds because she's so tired she topples over. Sometimes he retrieves their daughter from her and covers her because she's too exhausted to care.

She walks slowly down the hallway to the bathroom, or in the opposite direction to the kitchen and he'll playfully burst by her, less achy, just as tired, but he'll try and race her, and she can't just let him win. So she jumps on his back and drags him to the ground as he shouts out in surprise. They laugh, he rolls, and she has to remind him of the timeline Dr. Lam delivered to them.

Six weeks is a long time, and they try to distract themselves.

One day when their daughter is almost four weeks old he returns from a morning check-in at the SGC with a coffee for him, a tea for her, and some pastries, as she sits breastfeeding on the couch watching Cupcake Battles. He makes her tea and settles on the couch beside her, his arm wrapping her shoulders.

"How did it go?" Asks during the commercial break, exchanging their daughter for her tea.

"Well—" Adjusts the baby over the cloth he's lain over his shoulder, coos into her ear and kisses her hair which is lightening in color. "They want us to name her."

"Name her what?"

"Anything." Their daughter burps and he bunches her into the crook of his arm again, her little head resting against his bicep.

"I need more time." Shifts her vision back to the television and gulps at her tea so she doesn't have to answer him.

"I know why you don't want to name her—"

"It's not that I don't want to name her, it's the idea of imbuing someone with something so permanent—"

"She's permanent, Vala." Their daughters head lies slanted on his arm as she tumbles deeper into sleep, limbs going lax. "She's not going anywhere."

"I just—" and all the emotions from Adria, from not being able to touch her child, from not being able to influence, or teach or love or hug her child and what if the Apple Planet people come and demand retribution? What if—

"Hey." His hand cups her cheek, turning her head up when her eyes begin to drop again. "Nothing is going to happen to her. I promise."

"Cameron, you can't promise—"

"No. You don't understand." The pause is intense, his eyes never straying, his voice never wavering. "I won't allow anything to happen to her."

She rolls her eyes at his attempt to soothe, his attempt to once again take the chaotic situations fate has lined up for them and trying to organize them. Tries to shake her head free from his touch, but it remains, and his stare intensifies. "No one is going to touch this kid."

They name her Beatrice. Decide to do so while reclining on the same park bench where they sat just a few months before. He holds both their ice cream cones, while Beatrice is slung to her chest, comfy in privacy and away from the sun. Every few minutes she leans forward and gobbles down some of her cone which is dripping down his arm. She leaves it for a bit, more entertained by causing a mess than the idea of eating ice cream.

Children run around in a flurry, diving into the fountain, playing rough games and pushing each other to the gravel, screaming at birds, and throwing rocks. Parents run and scream after them, some sit on the benches and pay more attention to their phones.

Her knee raises keeping her balance as she leans against the back of the bench. He wipes the melted food from his arm and tosses it into the garbage to his left, then wraps the same arm around her knee. "I can't wait to play with her. To watch her run and laugh and scream."

He doesn't pressure her for a name, it's been another week and only one more before he has to return to work, and she worries because she won't be there, she'll be on the couch trying to figure out how to work the pre-sets on his satellite television, or maybe she'll take a risk and walk their daughter around the block. She's still on house arrest because her half Tau'ri child has more rights then her. Landry agrees in the absurdity and he and Daniel are fighting for the IOA to ease up on their protocols.

Fingers run through his hair and he glances back at her, eyes not visible through the sun glasses but she knows the expression he's giving, knows what he's thinking. "Beatrice."

"Beatrice?"

"It's strong. I want our daughter to be strong."

"Beatrice," speaks it again and nods as the words fall of his tongue. "Bea."