Title: Bio-Fooled, Chapter 4 (If the Heart Be True)
Author: DianeB
Rating: PG-13 (K+)
Pairing: Martin/Louisa
Special Chapter 4 Summary: This chapter outlines my version of what happened immediately after "The Wrong Goodbye" ended, and so marks my first (and possibly my last) foray into anything remotely like between-series' speculative fiction about the new little family.
See Chapter 1 for Summary, Author's Notes, and Disclaimer, though I must again take a moment to proclaim my undying, everlasting, and otherwise enduring gratitude to Littleguinea for her help with editing and weeding out those pesky "Americanisms."
Martin again left the pub while Sarah, the paramedic whose name they'd finally learned, took care of the rest of the business of birth and cleaned Louisa up. The barman, who turned out not to be an "officious little oaf" but a kind and jolly man named Walker, had provided a basin of warm soapy water and pretty much every clean bar towel he had, so Louisa's wash-up was fairly thorough. The sofa, however, would never be the same.
"I know it's too soon to get you on your feet," Sarah said, "but how about we try to get you to the ambulance? We'll never get a stretcher in here, but we need to get you and the baby to hospital as soon as we can. I mean, everything looks good, but you both really need to be properly checked out."
Louisa was able to bring her legs over the edge of the sofa and plant her feet on the floor without much trouble. Standing and walking proved to be more of a challenge, as she was sore all over and weak as a kitten, but the sound of her son gurgling away over her shoulder eased all the discomfort. With Sarah's help, she made it to the ambulance without mishap.
Outside, Louisa heard Martin making grumbling noises about his car, clearly torn between wanting to drive his own car and wanting to ride with her in the ambulance. Louisa knew where she wanted him, but it wasn't until the paramedic spoke up that the decision was made.
"Doctor Ellingham," Sarah said, addressing him formally, "to be honest, I wasn't sure about you when I first got here, but I saw what you did for, uh, for Tommy and he's stable now, so I'm certain you can handle anything that might come up on the way to the hospital."
Martin cast her a puzzled look but didn't say anything, so Sarah went on. "What I'm saying is, I can see you want to ride with Louisa, so why don't you let me take your car to the hospital?"
Martin clearly hadn't been expecting this and he reacted accordingly. "No, uh, no, I don't—"
But Sarah, looking as if she'd known he'd refuse, said with a smile, "I drive an ambulance for a living, doctor, and Truro's not that far away. I'm sure I can get your car to the hospital in one piece. It may be bending the rules a bit, but I think it'll be all right in this case."
Standing there watching this interaction, Louisa could almost see the gears turning in Martin's head as he processed Sarah's offer, but it took another minute before he finally acquiesced. "Yes. Right," he said, and tossed his keys to the paramedic. Louisa didn't bother to hide her pleasure over the fact that Martin chose to accompany her, but she knew better than to risk Martin's changing his mind if she went on too much about it.
Sarah spent a moment getting Louisa and the baby settled in the ambulance and checking in with her partner at the wheel before heading off in Martin's car with the promise to meet them at the hospital's emergency entrance. After a brief glance at his departing car, Martin climbed into the ambulance and shut the door firmly behind him. A minute later, the vehicle began to move.
It was close quarters inside, what with Tommy in there, too. She and Martin were positioned similar to the way they had been when they rode with Peter Cronk, except that Louisa was the one on the stretcher, propped up with the baby in her arms, and Martin was on a squat metal stool by her side. Tommy was squeezed in on the opposite side, snoring softly, clearly dead to the world. The vodka had saved his life but it had also put him right out. Louisa was secretly relieved, as it gave her and Martin more private time, time she knew they would have little of once word got out about the birth and the fact that Martin wasn't going to London.
Little did she know, of course, that thanks to Martin's inability to work his mobile, the whole village already knew way more than any village had a right to. She would learn later that the mobile's battery died soon after they'd entered the ambulance. She would also learn that she had heard a distant chorus of "Awww…" when she and Martin kissed in the pub.
"Martin?"
"Yes, Louisa?" He reached out and stroked her arm, a gesture of intimacy he had not expressed since the night they'd created the baby. This had an immediate physical affect on her; she could feel moisture soaking through the front of her dress, knowing it was simply a hormonal response prompted by his touch and the fact that she had a newborn in her arms. She was not unhappy with her body's reaction, but was thankful Walker had donated all his bar towels, knowing the sight of her lactating would probably upset Martin. There would be plenty of time for him to become accustomed to that – and to everything else that caring for an infant would require.
"This is probably the only time we're going to have alone for a while."
"Right," he said, clearing his throat.
She freed one arm and stretched it out to him. He took her hand immediately and she asked the first question that came to her. "What shall we call him?"
He squeezed her hand and looked surprised, as if that was not what he was expecting her to say. "I-I hadn't thought about…well, no, that's not true…I have thought about it…er, I—"
"Martin? What are you trying to say? Have you thought of a name?"
"No, uh, yes, but it's one I'd rather we not use."
And suddenly she knew. "Christopher."
He cleared his throat again. "Yes."
Louisa considered it and decided she couldn't disagree. Certainly Christopher was a good, solid name. So, in fact, was Terrance, but she wouldn't want her son named after her father any more than Martin wanted him named after his. "Not Christopher, then. You know," she said, "I'm not sure why I asked, except it was the first thing that popped into my head. We don't have to decide right now, do we? We can wait a while, pick out the perfect name. Together."
He nodded, and in the confined space, she could almost taste his relief.
The baby began to squirm and cry again, and Louisa reclaimed her hand to shift her son to the other arm, smoothing a finger over his velvet cheek, smiling and cooing at him, patting his diminutive bottom, and then – as if she'd done it a hundred times before – placing the tip of her little finger into his mouth so he could suckle. More nutritionally-sound suckling would have to come when they got to the hospital, but for now, this satisfied him and he settled, making contented little mewling sounds.
She'd not realised that Martin had been intensely following her ministrations, but when she turned her attention back to him, she saw that his eyes were brimming and the tips of his ears were bright red, something she had never seen before. The effect was alarming. "Martin, what's wrong?" She could only stare as tears spilled freely down his face.
When he finally spoke, his voice was choked with emotion. "Louisa, you look so beautiful with him."
It was so unlike him to speak this way that she had no idea how to respond.
It turned out no words were necessary. He shifted as close as he could on the stool, taking her and the baby into his arms as much as he could, and at once Louisa recalled her vision in the doomed taxi: Martin under an umbrella in the rain, his arms wrapped protectively around her and the baby.
Essentially, this was that vision.
Louisa sighed and relaxed against Martin's sturdy shoulder. She wasn't fool enough to think their troubles were over – in fact, she knew some of them were just starting – but for now, for right now, with Martin's arms around her and the baby securely between them, trouble looked very far away indeed.
The Very End
oOo oOo oOo
And things can never go badly wrong
If the heart be true and the love be strong.
For the mist, if it comes, and the weeping rain
Will be changed by the love into sunshine again.
- From the poem "Sweet Peril," by George MacDonald