A/N: Hey all. Welcome to the first instalment of Song for Abigail. The first chapter or two of the story will be something of a prologue, preceding the main goodness. Ha, hope you enjoy. R&R

Disclaimer: Despite the rumours I'm sure you've been hearing, (pfft) I don't own Beyblade. My charcters and plot however, are highly precious figments of my imagination, so I'd rather they not be tampered with. Cheers.

Chapter 1 Settled Symphony

Sun streamed in through the open front door as a woman balanced on the tips of her toes to reach the lips of her husband. They both leaned over her rotund pregnant belly to kiss each other goodbye. As their mouths met, her husband placed an affectionate hand on her pregnancy, his face plastered with a proud smile. Without looking she placed her hand over his. Reluctantly he broke away and allowed his wife to straighten his tie before he made his way down the front steps.

'Have a good day at work, Iakov,' murmured his wife, shielding her eyes from the sun with her hand.

Iakov gave a short wave and was gone.

Iakov's wife closed the door and wandered into the kitchen to clear up the breakfast clutter. Iakov's absence during the day provided a tantalizing time for her to muse alone. Yes, daytime hours were made up of special, treasured moments between her and the tiny body inside of her. She would hum to it, talk to it, play to it, and at midday heave into the toilet basin because of it. The sickness she didn't mind so much, it was bearable, but the anticipation of a new voice in the house was not. Every waking hour her mind was filled of scenes with her child, cherished moments she heard parents talking about, choosing to focus on those rather than the other nightmare stories she heard about children. No, she couldn't wait for this child, but somehow, she did, each day patiently content to stroke her belly and imagine the future they would share.

Turning the tap off, Iakov's wife finished with the dishes and moved onto the laundry work, sorting through the colours and whites, filling the washing machine and collecting dried clothes. When the phone rang, it was a welcome distraction from her mundane work.

'Hello?'

'Julia!'

'Anya! How are you?'

'I'm feeling great! Amazing actually. You?'

'Yeah, really good.'

'Julia, do you mind if I come around at lunchtime? Just to catch up.'

'You didn't have to call to ask, but of course. Don't eat lunch either; I've got something in the fridge.'

'Ok, see you then, bye!'

'Bye.'

Julia placed the phone back in its cradle and returned to the kitchen. In the fridge was a big pot of pumpkin and sweet potato soup left over from last night's dinner. As Julia placed the heavy pot onto the stoved she felt something soft slide past her ankles and yelped, barely managing to keep from dropping the huge pot. Steadying the soup pot and herself, Julia turned to face the family cat, Sim, who sat on the kitchen floor, slyly flicking his tail.

'Stupid cat! Get out, Sim, out!' she growled, prodding the offending feline with her foot until it fled the house through its cat flap. Julia continued to grumble as she turned to light the gas stove and reheat the cold soup.

Returning to her previous laundry work, Julia pondered over Anya. They'd been friends since Anya and her husband Alexei Hiwatari moved into the neighbourhood, just down the road in fact, about three years ago. Julia and Anya had quickly gelled and were as thick as thieves now, sharing every intimate thought and moment with each other. Their closeness escalated to new heights when they both became pregnant one month apart last year. Now they could share and compare each detail of pregnancy with each other, as they likely would this afternoon.

The grandfather clock in the living room sounded, announcing the arrival of 11 o'clock. Julia hung the last item of clothing on the drying horse just as she felt a familiar stirring her belly, and not the good kind. Sighing at her daily nausea attacks, Julia made her way to the bathroom and waited for the waves of vomit to end. When the sickness finally ceased, she rose from her kneeling position in front of the toilet and flushed away her breakfast, or what remained of it. Quickly she washed her face and brushed her teeth before checking on the soup in the kitchen.

The soup was bubbling away merrily and smelt divine, but to Julia it looked too much like her spew to seem appealing. She turned the stove off and put some bread for dipping into the toaster just as there was a knock on the door.

Anya swept into the house before Julia could get to the door and flashed a winning smile at her friend. They embraced, awkwardly because of their protruding girths, but warmly nonetheless. Julia never failed to be astounded by her friend's beauty, quietly admiring her soft slate hair and sparkling grey eyes, as well as the delightful flush pregnancy gave her cheeks, whereas Julia's were pale from having just been sick.

'Soup!' cried Anya happily, ushering herself into the kitchen to waft the smell of Julia's cooking into her nose further. The toast popped and they were both at the table in moments, Anya enjoying her soup with relish, Julia stirring it around, pretending to eat. Her friend's loss of appetite was not lost on Anya's part.

'Still with the morning sickness?'

Julia shrugged. 'Yeah, just ten minutes ago. I'm so jealous of you; you barely got it, even at the start!'

Anya, not one to rub anything in anyone's face, nodded and, ignoring Julia's last statement asked, 'Have you talked to your doctor about it? I mean, you're five months in and I thought morning sickness only lasts the first trimester?'

Julia pushed her bowl away and leaned back into her chair. 'He said I'm one of the unlucky ones, I have it in my second term, but some poor women still have it in their third term, can you imagine?'

Anya slurped her soup and waved a finger at her. 'Don't speak too soon, Julia, you could be one of those "poor women".'

Julia stroked her belly absent-mindedly. 'Well, maybe. Is he still kicking?' she asked, pointing to Anya's six-month pregnancy.

Anya rolled her eyes and seemed to glare at her unborn child. 'ALL the time! He's one active baby and it drives me crazy at night when I'm trying to sleep. I think he just wants out.'

Julia laughed and stood to clear their plates. Her baby didn't kick nearly as much as Anya's, but when it did, her heart fluttered and her smile grew immensely. It made her dream of motherhood.

Back at the table the two of them chatted endlessly about pregnancy, their husbands, new home ideas, recent recipes, ridiculous tax prices, and Julia's favourite subject, their futures as mothers. Halfway through a discussion about wether or not tyre swings were safe, the home phone rang again.

Answering, Julia was surprised to hear Alexei, Anya's husband on the phone.

'You're looking for Anya? Yes, she's right here. Anya, it's your husband.'

Anya pushed her chair back and walked purposefully to the phone. 'Alexei? Today? I thought it was on Monday. Okay, okay, I'll be there soon. Love you too. Bye.'

Hanging up the phone, Anya shrugged her shoulders at her friend before beginning to collect her bag and keys. 'Sorry, Julia, apparently I have an ultrasound appointment today, and my husband never misses them. Thanks for the soup, it was superb! Why don't you come round next week? I want to ask you about colours for the nursery, which should be finished by now if it weren't for my darn husband!' she exclaimed, only half serious.

Julia smiled and unconsciously wrung her hands. 'Ok, sure. Bye, Anya,' she said, letting her friend out.

When she was gone, the house was empty and quiet again. Too quiet after the thunderous Anya had swept through. So, to quell the silence, Julia seated herself before the modest upright piano in the living room. She was no pianist, but the few songs she could play were merry and often made the baby inside stir with delight.

Julia set her fingers to the keys and began with a fiesty toccata, followed by a funny Irish jig and a swirling gypsy waltz. Before she knew it, Julia was pulling out old, almost forgotten music and playing that too, stretching the musical session to over a few hours. She didn't even notice when her husband came home in the middle of an easy Czerny prelude.

Iakov waited till his wife had finished before clearing his throat. She jumped up, clearly startled, but sighed when it was just Iakov. 'You're home early!'

He checked his wristwatch. 'Not really, it's 5:30.'

Julia balked. 'Time flew by today! Anya came over for lunch and- oh! I forgot to cook dinner!'

Iakov smiled. 'It's ok, we'll order some pizza. You haven't played in quite a while,' he said sidling over to wrap his arms about her.

She breathed in his scent. 'Mm, it felt good though, my fingers had been aching for it.'

He kissed her and reached for the phone, truthfully his stomach was grumbling.

Later that night they were both watching TV on the couch, pizza boxes splayed on the coffee table. Slowly they both fell into a light slumber. As they lay curled up, innocently snoring, neither Julia nor Iakov could've predicted the disaster that lay ahead which would sculpt the path of their lives forever.


A/N: First chapter down. More familiar characters introduced in the next couple of chapters, thankfully. Reviews including constructive crit. welcomed.