Lucien held his hands high as he stared down the barrel of the gun.

At several points in his life it would not have worried him much. He would have engaged the gunman in conversation, perhaps taunting or challenging him. But that was before Jean, before he had pledged his life to her and certainly before she had become pregnant with their baby. Now that she was due to deliver any day, he would do nothing to jeopardize their future together. How could he have known that merely walking into the Ballarat Bank would become a life-threatening experience?

He decided that his "caring country doctor" persona might be the best way to try to defuse the situation. After all, protecting life (everyone's, not just his own) had to be the top priority.

"Why don't we all take a breath?" he suggested. "No one needs to be hurt."

"Maybe somebody does need to get hurt," the masked gunman and would-be bank robber growled. He motioned with his shotgun for Lucien and the other patrons/hostages to move back against the wall.

Lucien decided he would wait to see how the situation played out. If the robber did not actively threaten lives, there was no reason for him to intervene.

From the corner of his eye he saw movement at the window. Dark blue movement with a flash of silver. It appeared the police were outside and aware of the situation. The smart move was to keep his head down and wait for help.

He had resigned himself to doing just that when suddenly the stakes changed. Agnes Clasby, indignant as only Agnes Clasby could be, emerged from the back room where the safety deposit vaults were kept.

"What's all this nonsense!" she demanded, walking right up to the gunman.

Thrown off-balance for a moment, nevertheless he pointed his gun directly at her. "Get over there with the others," he growled. "Go on or I'll blow your head off."

"You wouldn't dare, Walter Higham. What would your mother say, eh?" Agnes stood with her hands on her hips, facing him down.

The gun-toting Higham was furious that his identity had been exposed. He shoved the barrel of his shotgun against Agnes's collarbone and pushed forcefully, sending her stumbling backwards. She would have fallen had Lucien not leaped forward to catch her under her arms and set her upright. He flashed a look of disgust toward Mr. Higham then turned to make sure Agnes had not been injured.

Higham, fed up at not being taken seriously, swung his shotgun wildly. Its butt struck Lucien in the back of the skull, sending him to the floor, unconscious.


Despite being nearly nine months pregnant, Jean refused to give in to her condition. She insisted on cleaning her own home, preparing the meals and managing the surgery. Lucien had wanted to hire someone to come in to help her, but Jean argued that since it would be just as much work for her to train and supervise anyone to perform to the standards she required, she might as well just do it herself.

While dusting the parlor she glanced at the clock. Lucien had left for the bank to deposit the practice's income for the week, but that had been several hours ago, and surgery would be starting soon. She wondered if he had run into someone from the Police and gotten pulled into a case. Usually he would call to let her know of the change in plans, especially if it would impact surgery hours.

Just as she was thinking she might try calling the station or the morgue to track him down, the telephone rang.

"Blake residence," she announced into the receiver. It still made her proud that she now shared that name.

"Auntie Jean."

"Danny, have you seen Lucien?" she asked. "Surgery is due to start in forty-five minutes."

"That's why I'm calling," he said, stammering over his words.

Jean felt her blood run cold. "Tell me."

"Well, uh, there's kind of a bank robbery in progress," Danny began. "With at least a dozen hostages, and the doc, well..."

"He's one of the hostages?" Jean demanded. She loved her nephew but wished he would be more direct.

"Yeah. I'm sorry, Auntie Jean."

"Has he been hurt?"

"Um, well, you see..."

She interrupted him sharply. "Danny, is my husband all right?"

"Not really."

"Danny!"

"The nearest we can tell, he was struck in the head by the robber."

She took a deep breath, trying to contain her rising panic. "How bad is it?"

"We don't really know. We have someone looking in one of the windows when the suspect isn't watching. He says the doc is on the floor and there's some blood."

"I'm on my way," said Jean, her heart constricting and her hands beginning to tremble.

"In your condition maybe it would be better if you..."

Jean would not be dissuaded. "I'm on my way," she repeated. Her only thought was that Lucien needed her.

Scarcely aware of what she was doing, Jean put away her cleaning supplies, gathered her hat, handbag, and keys, then went outside. Just as she was locking the front door behind her, she heard a car pulling into the drive. Alice Harvey was at the wheel.

"I'm sorry, Alice, no time to talk."

"I know, Jean," replied her friend. "I just got the news. I'll drive you into town."

"I'm perfectly able to drive."

Alice reached out through the window to put a hand on Jean's forearm. "Lucien will never forgive me if I let you drive and anything happens to you."

Jean was about to argue further, but a twinge in her back stayed her words. Perhaps she wasn't in the best shape to drive after all. With an exaggerated sigh, she walked around to the passenger side and got into Alice's car.

"We'll go to the station first," Alice explained. "Get an update of the situation from Matthew."


Lucien came back to himself quickly, but the anxiety in the air made him cautious. He remained completely still as he took stock. The headache and the warm sticky wetness under his cheekbone that rested against the floor told him he had a head wound. Then he recalled where he was. The bank, a robbery in progress.

He cracked open an eyelid. He was facing the other hostages, who were all focused behind him where the gunman, Mr. Higham, must be. All of them except one.

Agnes was staring directly at him, a shocked and guilty look on her face. He opened his eyes a little wider and caught her gaze. He winked to let her know he was fine, then closed his eyes again. He was confident of her ability not to give the game away as he tried to formulate a plan to save them all. Now that he knew Higham was willing to harm them, waiting him out was no longer the best solution.


As Alice's car reached the station, Jean climbed out and rushed (or as she saw it, waddled) inside to Matthew's desk.

He stood quickly upon seeing her. "Jean, you shouldn't be here," he began.

She waved off his protest. "Danny said Lucien's been hurt."

"I'm afraid we don't know how badly just yet."

Matthew nodded to Danny, who moved a chair to just behind her so she could sit, but she shook her head and reached a hand to her lower back. What she really needed was Lucien and one of his lovely massages.

"What are you going to do?" she asked Matthew.

"We were considering just waiting until he tried to leave, but..."

"But with Lucien hurt and you don't know how badly, that's not an option," Jean finished for him. Her steely glare made Matthew look away.

"Right," he confirmed reluctantly. "Bill Hobart is the steadiest marksman I have. He's on the scene and will try to get the man through the window if there's a clear shot, but so far he hasn't had a chance that wouldn't risk hitting the hostages. I'm sorry, Jean."

She was about to give him a piece of her mind, insist he do something, when the dull pain in her back became much sharper. With a soft cry, she lowered herself into the provided chair.

Alice, who had just entered the room after parking the car, hurried over. "Jean, are you all right?" she queried. She leaned in closer and spoke softly. "Are you having labour pains?"

"They've just started," Jean admitted. "It will be quite a while yet."

"Nevertheless, we need to get you to hospital. You know what Lucien said about the risks."

"But Lucien needs me. He..."

"He needs you to take the best possible care of yourself and this baby," Alice reminded her. "Besides, as soon as this... this incident, is resolved, he'll be taken to hospital himself to be checked. You'll be there waiting, won't you?"

Matthew stepped closer. "Alice is right, Jean. There's nothing you can do for him here."

Jean still hesitated. It didn't feel right. It was like abandoning Lucien, but really how could she help him? Matthew loved Lucien like a brother and would surely do everything necessary to rescue him and the others.

With an assist from Matthew, she stood up and straightened her clothing. "Very well," she said. "Matthew, I'm depending on you to bring my husband out of there safely. Don't disappoint me."

With Alice supporting her on one side and Danny on the other, she made her way slowly toward Alice's car.


Jean and the baby were weighing heavily on Lucien's mind as he played possum on the floor of the bank. He realized she had probably heard about his predicament by now and must be beside herself with worrying about him. That kind of anxiety wasn't good for her or the child she carried. He needed to find a way to end it quickly and safely.

Agnes must have had similar concerns. She spoke to the gunman. "You see that, Walter Higham," she said, pointing down at Lucien's inert form. "Not only is he a respected physician but he works with the police. You know how they rally for one of their own. If he dies, they'll move heaven and earth to see that his killer is brought to justice."

"You shut your mouth and let me think," Higham growled.

"You'd better do your thinking quickly before he bleeds to death right in front of you. Do you see all that blood?"

Knowing how much even minor head wounds tend to bleed, Lucien imagined that he presented a rather grisly sight. Listening closely, he could hear Higham coming up closer behind him, presumably to examine the damage. But not being able to see him without giving the game away, Lucien didn't know how he could overpower the man or get the drop on him. He needed the man to be in front of him to have any chance.

Agnes, as shrewd as she was, recognized the problem. "Just look at your handiwork. Proud of yourself, are you?" she prodded him.

"I told you to shut your trap, old woman," he shouted. And he came toward her. Perhaps some small sense of chivalry would not allow him to shoot an elderly lady. In any case, he was brandishing the shotgun like a club as he threatened her.

As soon as he came around the doctor's prone body with his finger nowhere near the gun's trigger, Lucien lunged. He caught Higham around the knees, pulling him off balance. Higham attempted to club him with the shotgun, but the other hostages saw their chance and rushed him. Two men managed to wrestle the weapon out of his hands, while several others bore him to the floor. A moment later Bill Hobart and two other policemen came through the door and took charge.

Lucien struggled to his feet, a bit light-headed but more concerned with seeing that Agnes and the others were unhurt.

"Don't be silly," she told him in her non-nonsense manner. "You see to yourself, Lucien."

Bill also came over to register his concern as soon as Higham was being escorted out of the building. "Let's get you over to the hospital, Doc," he said.

"I'm fine, Bill," Lucien insisted. "Nothing a little plaster won't handle, but thank you."

Matthew Lawson suddenly appeared behind Bill. "I may not have a medical degree, but even I can tell that's going to need stitches," he said. "Come on, Lucien. Besides, Jean is already on her way to hospital anyway."

That stopped his protest short. "What happened?" he demanded. "Is Jean all right?"

Matthew stared at him. "I think you know exactly what happened to her. About nine months ago. Ring any bells?"

"Is she...?"

Grinning, Matthew nodded. "Alice went with her. Now come along and let them patch you up before you scare her any more than she already is."


As Matthew had suggested, the sister guarding the entrance to the maternity wing refused to let Lucien enter until he had been tended to and cleaned up. After three stitches, a thorough washing up, and a surgical gown to cover the blood on his clothing, he was finally allowed to see his wife.

For her part, Jean had been requesting updates on the bank situation every five minutes since she'd been admitted to hospital. The obstetrician on duty said he hoped her labour pains would soon be as frequent as her inquiries.

She was threatening to go find Lucien herself when Alice brought her the news she'd been waiting for. "He's here," the pathologist assured her friend. "Well, here in the building, at least. I'm sure he'll be in to see you as soon as they patch him up. Don't worry, Jean. He came in under his own power."

Alice felt a pair of strong hands rest on her shoulders from behind, and flinched until she recognized the voice they belonged with.

"Thank you, Alice, for taking good care of her." And Lucien stepped around her to greet his wife.

"I'm glad to see you, Lucien. Now if you'll both excuse me." Alice disappeared from the room posthaste.

Jean's eyes were alight at the sight of her husband, especially as he seemed none the worse for wear. He quickly reached for her hands and bent down to kiss her.

"How are we doing, my darling?"

Jean frowned at him. "Considerably better, now that I know our baby will have a father around." She winced as another contraction gripped her.

Lucien also winced in sympathy. "I'm so sorry, love. But this time it was out of my control. I promise you, I did extricate myself as soon as I could. And I thought about you and our little one the whole time."

"And how are you? Really."

"Just a bit of a headache, nothing compared to what you're facing."

She gripped his hands tightly as yet another contraction began.

"Getting close now, are they?" he asked.

"We were just waiting on you," said Jean, stifling a groan.

The obstetrician, Doctor Young, returned to the room. After he and Lucien acknowledged each other, he asked how they were doing.

"I'm ready, and so is this baby," Jean told him. She had decided she would rather Lucien not deliver for her. She knew how he would react to seeing her in such pain, and she would rather not have to worry about him, especially in light of what he'd just been through.

"Well, then, Dad, if you'll step outside, hopefully you can return shortly to meet your child."

Reluctantly deferring to his wife's wishes, Lucien kissed Jean, resting a hand around her cheek. "I love you, my beautiful wife," he whispered. "I'll see you soon."

She managed a smile for him despite her pain. "I love you, too. We'll be here when you come back."

He kissed her again on her forehead and with a last smile for her, he left the room.

"Now then," she told Doctor Young, "let's get this over, shall we?"


Lucien paced back and forth from the moment he left that room. He wanted to be with her, needed to be with her, but it wasn't about him, it was about Jean and what she needed. He had been a bloody selfish bastard for years after the war, he knew. Without Mei Lin and Li he had no one to care about except himself. But Jean had changed all that. With her in his life (and soon, their baby) he would do anything for his family. Including give Jean privacy, if that's what she requested. All he could hope, for both his and Jean's sakes, was that her labour would be swift and without incident. If there were complications he knew he would have to intervene.

He strode to the far end of the otherwise empty waiting room and suppressed the instinct to punch the wall. (There were times in his adult life when he regretted giving up boxing. It was an ideal way to release frustration.). As he turned swiftly to pace in the other direction, a wave of lightheadedness overcame him. He reached out blindly for a wall or chair - anything to keep him from keeling over. In a moment he felt a hand under his elbow and a body guiding him into a seat. He lowered his head as far as he could until the blood returned to his head properly.

He looked up to his benefactor. "Thank you, Alice."

Wearing a frown of concern, she said, "Lucien, are you sure you should be ambulatory? With a head wound like that, you must have lost a lot of blood, not to mention the risk of concussion."

"You, of all people, ought to know I have a hard head," he joked. "Seriously, Doctor Harvey, I've been through concussion protocol. No damage. You're right, though, I should probably be sitting down, but I feel like I'd be letting down the side, knowing what Jean is going through."

"Yes, well, I'm fairly certain Jean would prefer you take care of yourself. She'll need you more than ever once the little one is home."

Lucien couldn't help the smile that bloomed across his whole face. It was very real now. Shortly he would go in to see Jean with their baby! Their baby!

Alice was a little embarrassed at the depth of emotion he showed. She was used to men who were more... stoic. The only emotions they ever showed were anger or annoyance. She supposed that after the experiences he'd had in his past, Lucien probably appreciated the good in life more than most men. He and Jean deserved to be happy now.

He was still smiling when Doctor Young entered. The obstetrician nodded to Alice, but his attention was directed to Lucien who looked up anxiously. "Doctor?"

"As easy a birth as I've attended in a while. No complications whatsoever," he announced, reaching out a hand to congratulate the father. "The sister is just cleaning up the baby and Jean. Give them five minutes and you can go in."

"Thank you, Lewis, for taking care of them."

"No thanks needed. Jean did all the work. All I did was catch the baby and cut the cord," he chuckled. "Best wishes to you and your family."

Lucien would have begun pacing again, waiting for the five minutes to pass, if Alice hadn't literally restrained him with a hand on his shoulder. She wasn't good at small talk but tried her best.

"The doctor didn't say. Boy or girl, do you think?" she asked.

"I thought I'd quite like a girl, a miniature Jean, but she was certain it was a boy."

"A miniature you?" asked Alice. "Heaven help Jean with two of you to contend with."

"Indeed."

Before she had to come up with another conversational gambit, the sister appeared and motioned for Lucien. "Go on in," she said. "Your family is waiting."


Jean ran her fingers through her hair, trying to put it back into some semblance of normal despite the fact that it was still damp with perspiration.

"You look fine, Mrs. Blake," the nurse assured her, "especially considering you gave birth an hour ago. Now, are you ready for a cuddle with the little one?"

"Always," Jean smiled, reaching for her baby.

"And daddy is on his way in," the nurse said as she left the room.

Jean looked at the newborn, this beautiful child who was the product of the bond she and Lucien shared. Already her heart welled over with love for this tiny, perfect being.

She was gently rubbing her cheek against the downy head when she looked up to see the beloved face of her husband as he peeked around the door.

"May I come in?" he asked softly.

"Please do. We've been waiting for you, me and your son."

An enormous smile split has face even as tears rolled down his cheeks. She reached a hand out to him, and he took it between his own, kissing the palm before he leaned down to meet her lips.

"I love you, my dear, so much I sometimes think my heart will explode."

"I know the feeling well," she assured him.

"Hello, little man," he whispered, bending down to kiss the top of his tiny son's head.

The baby's eyes opened at the voice and seemed to stare, as if memorizing his father's face.

Lucien held out a finger for the him to grasp. "He's perfect, just like his mother. How are you feeling, my darling Jean?"

"I don't know if I've ever been happier," she admitted. She held the baby out to him, and when she saw his large hands cradling their tiny son, her own tears appeared. "Our miracle," she said, close to sobbing with the joy her family brought her.

"I am so proud of you," he told her in a shaky voice.

"Look at the pair of us," she said, mentally shaking herself. "If we keep this up our son will think all we do is weep."

"Right you are," said Lucien. "And that isn't us at all. Our son is going to have the happiest childhood any boy could want."

Jean nodded, knowing he was remembering the pain of his own childhood and vowing that their son's would be everything his was not.

"We can't keep calling him our baby or our son," she pointed out. "He needs a name."

"Anything come to mind?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact. I'd like to name him after the best man I know,"she said firmly.

"Oh? Well, yes, 'Matthew' is a good, solid name."

If she had had a cushion close at hand she would have thrown it at him. "Cheeky. Matthew Lawson is a fine man, but our boy will be Lucien Thomas Blake."

He winced. "No, Jean. Really. No boy should have to be constantly compared to his father. I know that all too well. And bearing the same name would only make it worse."

"Lucien, he will be compared to you in Ballarat no matter what. You are rather well known."

"Notorious, you mean," he corrected with a lopsided grin.

"Be that as it may, I really want this, Lucien. My Christopher was named for his father, and Jack is after my father. This one should be in honour of you and your father. Maybe we can settle on a nickname, to lessen the confusion and comparison."

"I was called 'Luke' by my friends at school," he said slowly. "They thought 'Lucien' a little too pretentious, if truth be told."

Jean reached for the baby, and Lucien placed him in her arms. She looked down at him as he looked up in the general direction of her face. "What do you think, little man? Lucien Thomas Blake, also known as Luke? I think it fits you perfectly, you and your lovely blue eyes." She nuzzled against him and he grunted.

"You see? He agrees," she said, smiling up at her husband. "A perfect name."

"For a perfect baby," said Lucien, leaning down to kiss her and whisper, "Thank you, my dear."