Fiona snipped the thread and smoothed out the little jumpsuit atop her enormous stomach. She neatly folded and placed it with the other outfits on the side table, in piles sorted by color, season, and style - booties, shirts, long-sleeved, short-sleeved, onesies with feet, onesies without feet, snowsuits, bathing suits, mittens, and hats - with holes for ears, naturally.

Shrek turned from from the pot of soup he was stirring over the fire to Fiona, and blinked at the mountain of baby clothes next to her - the stacks nearly reached her head as she sat in the rocking chair.

"Ya know, there's only three of 'em, Fi," Shrek offered cheekily, thumbing through one of the stacks like a deck of cards.

"Yes," Fiona replied, placing her hand on her belly, "I am quite aware." She playfully smacked his hand away from her works. "Being prepared never hurt anyone, hm?"

Shrek looked at the stack of cloth diapers on the dresser - nearly Fiona's standing height, which considering they were each single sheets of muslin was impressive - and couldn't argue with her there.

He shrugged with feigned nonchalance, and turned back to stirring his soup. Out of the corner of his eye he observed the tiny garments again, in their organized piles - green, blue, orange, brown, plaid, gingham, paisley - but nothing pink. A pink outfit would be a waste if they had three boys, she'd once explained, and if they did have a girl, the colors would still be suitable. Shrek had almost asked her why the colors of their clothes mattered at all, they were babies, but even he knew better than to question his pregnant wife while there were scissors within reach.

He knew Fiona wanted a girl - she'd even picked a name - as she had told him her childhood fantasies months before, but had spoken less and less certainly about it as the weeks went by and the possibility of it not coming true sank in. And if Shrek were completely honest, he hoped they had at least one, as well. No doubt he wanted at least one son, someone to teach to hunt and fight, but a daughter… he couldn't put it into words, but he knew that he very much wanted a daughter. He wouldn't be disappointed, necessarily, with all boys, and certainly neither would Fiona, but…

"You can leave the fabric and everything out, I'll finish after dinner." She set down her tools and placed a hand on the chair arm, preparing for the feat of standing up, the other hand covering a long-overdue yawn.

Ye mean yer not DONE? was Shrek's initial thought, but he wisely suppressed himself. He held out a hand for her to take, and helped her onto the raised floor of their bedroom, already knowing she would be taking her pre-dinner nap.

"I'll come get ye when soup's on," Shrek said, lightly kissing her forehead as she lay down, and she smiled weakly, already slipping off to sleep.

Shrek stepped back down and closed the curtain. He waited a moment, and like clockwork heard her gentle snoring. He then went into the kitchen and opened the bottommost drawer under the sink, retrieving a small bundle of fabric, complete with its own needle and thread. He chose this particular drawer because he knew Fiona couldn't bend down to open it. This was his own little project.

Two black buttons had been secured to the pea-soup piece on top, with a smiling mouth stitched with red yarn. It had been cut into the shape of a head, complete with two ears sticking out, which continued into a round body with arms and legs. An identical piece, save for facial features, was secured to its backside, along with some permanent brown tartan overalls for decency. It was missing something though, besides stuffing, of course… a nose.

The soup needed to simmer for a spell longer, so he took the opportunity to look through the cut fabric scraps Fiona had discarded into her basket of sewing supplies. Soon he found a small grey piece he felt was perfect. He cut it into as even an oval as he could, and took his final piece over to the kitchen table.

Similar to Fiona, Shrek had collected a pile of scrap wood and other odds and ends in the front yard, which were currently in various states of carving and nailing and painting. He had in mind to make a rocking horse and swing set and stick-and-hoop and spinning tops and blocks and… whatever else he could think of. He hadn't actually finished anything yet - partially due to not having time, but more so because he realized they were such physical toys, they wouldn't be needed for quite a while. A doll, on the other hand, could be more immediately appreciated.

Thank Grimm the needle had already been threaded, or else he'd be sitting at the kitchen table well into dinnertime attempting to do so. He began to stitch the nose in place, centered between the doll's eyes and mouth, and his tongue began to emerge from his lips in his concentration. He then went back to the drawer for a handful of down feathers, taken out of his own pillow. He stuffed them into the floppy figure until it was finally three-dimensional, just firm enough to have shape but squishy enough to be good for babies. Or at least what he assumed would be good for babies; he'd never actually seen an ogre baby in the flesh, only having pictures in books as reference points.

Shrek again took the needle to sew up the opening, when he suddenly remembered the most important part. He went back to the drawer once more and got a fisheye-sized rubber ball - a remnant of one of Fiona's ridiculous white dog's toys - and pushed it through the feathers to sit just at the doll's stomach. He then quickly sewed the opening closed and bit the thread off. He set it down on the table and got up to stir the pot again, then returned to admire his creation for a moment. It just fit in his great palm, and the old fabric already felt used, in a good way. He wanted to squeeze it, to make sure the squeaker worked, but feared it may wake Fiona, so he did not.

Looking at the toy in his hand smiling back up at him, he couldn't help but imagine holding one of their actual children. From what he understood from the books, as well as his own rough estimations of Fiona's ever-increasing size, a newborn ogre would be barely bigger than his entire hand; he realized with amusement that the doll would be almost as big as the babies themselves at first. He held both hands out next to each other, fingers comfortably spread, and imagined three little ogres lying in them, plus a little overflow onto his arms. They would be here very soon - any day now - sooner than he was sure he'd be ready for, but come they would. He felt the air escape from his lungs and his heart rate increase. He was terrified, no doubt about that, but he couldn't deny the overwhelming excitement as well, as the curling corners of his mouth revealed. He brought the doll up to him and kissed its forehead - something he would've died laughing at just months before, but in this moment it felt right.

Shrek took a deep breath, and noticed the sun beginning to fall behind the tall trees surrounding their home. The soup would be a few more minutes, so he needn't wake Fiona yet. He thought to put the doll back in the drawer, but now that it was complete, it didn't feel right to shut it away. He thought of where he could put it, when it hit him. He softly approached the bedroom curtain, and entered as stealthily as possible. He tiptoed over to the triple-wide crib next to Fiona's side. He knelt down, quickly looking up his wife to make sure she still slept, then placed the doll in the corner of the crib. He then retreated as silently as he'd approached, and went back to the kettle.

As Shrek went about putting out bowls and utensils, he heard the mattress creak, and a soft sigh from his wife. By the time she situated herself, he thought, the soup would be ready to serve, which worked out quite nicely. The mattress creaked again, which was then followed by another moment of silence, longer than he expected.

"Honey…" Fiona said softly, still behind the curtain. Shrek quickly turned his head, worried something was wrong.

"Yeah, Fi?" He set the cups down on the table and advanced to the curtain. "Is ev'rythin' a'right?" He whisked the curtain aside to find Fiona standing in front of the crib.

She nodded calmly, still looking down at what she held. "Is this… did you make this?" She finally looked up at him, for once at eye level from standing on the raised level.

Shrek down looked at the doll in her open palm, and sighed in relief. "Oh, yeah, that," he breathed, trying to appear more relaxed than he was, and scratched the back of his neck. "Oh aye. I mean, ye had all this scrap fabric, 'n I thought, ya know-"

"It's so- it's perfect." She looked back down at it, her fingers tracing its features.

A little embarrassed at her words, Shrek playfully scoffed, "Oh c'mon now, Fiona, really, it was noth-" Shrek paused as Fiona raised her head again, her eyes shining with welling tears. Hormones, he mentally noted, but nevertheless he was moved by her reaction.

He finally sighed, which turned into a light chuckle, and wrapped his arms around her middle as best he could. "Ye'v made all this," he gestured first to the clothes, then looked down at her stomach and placed his hand atop it, "that I thought I'd make a little somethin' m'self." Fiona placed her own hand on his and squeezed it, letting a tear fall down her face.

She looked at Shrek's gift again, then sniffed and wiped her eyes. "But what if we don't have a girl?" She looked up at him with a playful smirk, but Shrek could see a touch of genuine apprehension in her eyes.

"I thought a'that," he admitted, and took the doll into his own hand. He squeezed its stomach, producing a short squeak, and watched Fiona's face alight with surprise. He set the doll on her stomach and took her hands in his.

"In the chance we don't have a girl," he continued, "I'm sure our boys would enjoy havin' a fair maiden to rescue from, oh I d'know, the highest shelf, in the tallest cupboard, surrounded by a lake a'blankets, and guarded by a fire-breathing cockroach. I know I would." He raised his eyebrows as a playful grin formed on his face.

Fiona cocked a brow at him and tried her best to maintain a sassy smirk, but couldn't help but dissolve into giggles, resting her forehead against her husband's. He laughed along with her at his own silliness, and she kissed him.

Fiona took the doll again and gave it one more admiring look, then stepped down into the living room and laid it gently atop the pile of baby clothes. She then inhaled deeply, taking in the scent of fresh soup, and sighed indulgently.

"Well then, I am starved. Let's eat!"


A/N: The scene in Shrek Forever After when Shrek finds Felicia's doll in his pocket is honestly one of the saddest moments in an animated/children's film I've seen, and there's not even any dialogue. And then when he gives it back to Felicia at the end… the way they use such a small symbol as a doll is just really great. It's apparent that Shrek has more investment in the doll than if it were just another toy, so I decided to explore that possibility. Sir Squeakles is the actual official name of the doll, btw. ;)

I had originally intended to leave this as a one-shot, but I got to thinking… two-shot? What do you think?

Credit to hanny spoon and Gadfly for constant inspiration. Please R&R, and thanks for reading!