Week 22: Sixth month
"Darien, calm down. I swear to you there is no solution to this. You're just going to have to live with...."
"You're lyin'. They will too go away. They damn well *better* go away! Don't be tellin' me there's nothin' you can do, Claire. Make 'em go away!"
"I can't, sweetheart. There are a hundred creams on the market but none of them have ever been proven to work. The spider veins will go away about four to six weeks after you give birth, but...."
"Spider what?!"
"As the baby puts more and more stress on your body, the surface veins in your legs and face can become more prominent. Like I said, it's nothing to be concerned about; those will go away after the baby's born.... but I can't do anything for the stretch marks."
"Claire... I can't live with these for the rest of my life...."
"You have no choice. Stretch marks are a part of pregnancy just like heartburn, emotional cyclones, constipation and hemorrhoids...."
"Claire!"
"Hmm. You're the last person I would have ever thought a prude, Darien. If you aren't experiencing those symptoms yet, you will, so deal with it, darling. I said I wouldn't have this baby for you and that includes the less pleasant aspects of the process." Claire snickered, looking down to make a few notes in her pregnancy diary. As she opened the book, the cover knocked a metal instrument tray onto the floor with a ear- splitting clang. When she straightened from picking it up, Claire found Darien sitting ramrod straight in the admin chair, his eyes the diameter of frisbees. "Darien? What is it? Is something wrong?"
"Huh? Oh, no. It's okay.... I guess. When you dropped the tray.... she...."
"She what?"
"Moved. Jumped, more like it. It was.... she moved, Claire. I felt her move."
"You seem quite shocked. I take it you hadn't felt this before today?"
"Nah. I mean... little tiny flickers, yeah.... like she was tryin' to tickle me..... but nothin' like that.... Claire, that was...."
"Wonderful, amazing, wicked cool? Whatever else it may be, it's a very good sign, Darien. It means her development is just about on track. She'll be doing a lot more of that from here on in, so get used to it. She'll even respond to your voice or Bobby's specifically, but any loud sound that occurs close to you could make her react. You might start to think about doing more out loud talking and singing to her instead of keeping all the communication in pictograms delivered brain to brain the way it is now."
"Sing? No way, no how. You don't wanna hear me sing. I sound like a tone-deaf Siamese cat bein' attacked with a weedwhacker in the middle of a really bad performance of 'La Boheme'."
"Come on, sweetie. It can't be that awful." Claire chuckled, looking at him skeptically.
"Pray you never have to find out."
"Fine. I won't push the singing issue. Is the swelling in your hands and ankles any better?"
"It's about the same. I try to stay off my feet at home and keep 'em elevated like you said."
"I've noticed. Good man. We're about done for today I should think. Let's just check the tattoo before you go."
Obligingly, Darien produced his wrist for inspection. "Very good. Only two segments red. You start your week in the office today, right?"
"Yeah. I have so been looking forward to this. I can sit anytime I want, nap on the couch in Bobby's office whenever I feel really bushed. This week will be heaven."
"Don't try to fool me, Darien Fawkes. I was there when you and Bobby concocted this little scheme to find out what the Official and Eberts have up their sleeves. I know you're planning on doing a lot more in the next five days than lounging around."
"I thought you agreed with us that it has to be done, Claire. Those two are cookin' up somethin', an' I don't like the smell."
"Neither do I. I agree someone has to find out what's going on, and you are the most likely candidate. Just you remember the new rules."
"Never stay Quicksilvered longer than fifteen minutes, try not to go see-through more than twice a day and keep a sharp eye on the tattoo, making sure it doesn't get below three green segments."
"Excellently recited. You can go now. Try not to overdo, alright?" she admonished him gently as he rose and moved toward the door of the Keep.
"Do my best, Keepie. Oh yeah. I had a question to ask. Just a thought Hobbes an' I were kickin' around. If you don't wannna answer right now, I'll understand..."
"What is it?"
"Well.... ya know, doin' what we do isn't the safest job in the world an' between me buildin' an immunity to the counteragent and the general unpredictabilty of the gland.... We... Bobby an' me.... we wanted somebody we can trust to take her in if the worst case scenario drops on both of us. Somebody who'd hide her from Chrysalis.... or even from Eberts an' the Fish if it comes down to that."
"Darien.... are you seriously.... you can't be asking me...."
"Nothin's for sure, Claire. You told me that. Bobby an' I could live 'till we're a hundred.... or we could both get taken out tomorrow. I have to ask. Will you be the Godmother for our little girl?"
Taken aback, Claire was frozen in place for several seconds, Darien's words echoing in her mind.
{Bobby and Darien gone? Me hiding the baby? No.... it can't come to that. It won't. There's no reason why I shouldn't say yes. Darien's predictions are just supposition. I'll have the answer to QSM long before he or the baby might need it. I must have it. Godmother... me a Godmother. Who would ever have believed....}
Striding to her charge's side, Claire embraced him joyfully but carefully, ever mindful of his expanding belly.
"Of course I accept, Darien. I'm honored you chose me.... honored you trust me that deeply."
"You're all we have, Claire.... we trust you with my health, the baby's health.... we even trust you to fix whatever Bobby breaks next. We trust you with everything."
"Bobby has nothing left to break. I think I've already patched up, splinted or bandaged nearly every single part of his body at least once." Claire joked as she pulled away for the hug. "Thank you, Darien. I swear you won't regret bestowing this gift on me. I would never wish harm to either of you, you know that..... but should something unforeseen happen.....I will protect her with my life."
"I know. I gotta go. Paperwork waits for no man, pregnant or otherwise."
"Of course. Take it easy as much as you can. Don't forget to drink your water. You can't afford to let yourself get really dry. If you feel thirsty..."
".... you're already dehydrated. I know Mom, I know. Sheesh..."
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"Tell me again, Fawkes."
"You don't have time. Didn't you say an extraction team is waitin' on you somewhere?"
"I got, like, five minutes before Eberts sticks his weasel nose in here again. Tell me."
"Yeah and that'll be the third time. You know what he's like if you make him put out that much effort to shift your ass into drive. Go."
"I know better than I ever wanted to, so hurry up and say it will ya?"
Sighing, Darien repeated the events of the previous half hour.
"Claire said Bobbi can hear noises in the outside world now, if they happen close enough to me. She thinks we should talk to her more. She suggested singin' too, but I said if you want the kid to come out with any musical taste at all, I'll skip the songs."
"So I can...."
"I guess so. You've got a minute and half left. Give it a shot. Just don't be leanin' down over me. That's a stupid T.V. cliché and if Eberts walks in early an' sees us like that you'll get us both in hot water, no matter how innocent it is."
"I thought the hot water was for when you're actually havin' the baby."
"Fine. It's your time to waste on rotten jokes...."
"Okay, okay. Show me."
"Put your hand on my stomach. Here. That's right. Now say somethin' to her. If she hears you'll know it."
"Bobbi. Hey Roberta Claire. It's your old Dad. I can't wait to see you little girl. It won't be long now. You're more than halfway, kiddo. You'll be havin' a birthday soon....."
Darien felt the movement from Bobbi at the same moment Hobbes did, but their different reactions disturbed him. While he was filled with joy and astonishment, Bobby's expression was a strange mixture of fear and turmoil. Slowly, as if forcing himself to remain under control, the older man rose and backed away from his partner.
"Hobbes? You okay? You felt her move, right? You can try again if..."
"No. No... I felt it. It... it was pretty amazing. Look... I'm gonna go before Eberts comes to get me. I mean, he hands out the paychecks. No use gettin' him mad at me." Hobbes stuttered out, plastering a smile onto his face that he knew Darien would immediately see straight through. He knew and still couldn't have made it more sincere if he'd wanted to.
"Hobbes, hold up a minute. What's wrong?" Fawkes insisted, struggling off Bobby's office sofa and chasing his retreating partner, catching him a few steps down the hallway. "Hobbes, wait, damn it!"
"I can't, partner. You said yourself there's a team waitin' on me...."
"Fine." Darien growled low. "As long as you understand somethin'. I don't know exactly what happened in there.... but I know I didn't like it a whole lot an' I for *damn* sure don't understand it. When you get back tonight, we *will* have a discussion. I don't care how tired you are or how late it is... you come to the house an' wake me up. It's way past time you start really talkin' to me.... about the baby, about how you feel...."
"Yeah, good. I'll see you tonight." Hobbes told him, pulling away and escaping.
"No matter how late."
"I got it, Fawkes. I'll see you then, okay? I gotta go..."
Working to control his seething emotions, Darien silently watched his best friend hurry down the hall, turn a corner and vanish from sight. A fast, very light shock touched his face and traveled throughout his body.
"I hear you, baby. I won't lie. I'm really pi.... upset with your daddy, but I have reason this time, so no more of the finger-in-the-socket treatment, okay? Not even a little."
Bobbi sent him an image of Hobbes, folowed by an image of a man's face screwed into an expression of utter terror, followed by a picture of an infant and a question mark. "What? No, honey, Daddy's not scared of you." He soothed, one hand
immediately dropping to rest on his abdomen. "He loves you more than the whole world, Bobbi. No.... I think he scared himself, baby girl. I can't explain it. Your daddy's... I don't know what he is right now, but I'll find out tonight. Count on that."
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"Is this.... you couldn't mean that this is the number you wanted, sir. This is a rather tasteless joke..."
"When it comes to Fawkes I have no sense of humor anymore. They're only one of the interested parties, Eberts. I won't necessarily be giving them first chance. I haven't heard their offer yet, have I?"
"But, sir.... I know a little about this organization. They're nothing we want to deal with. They have a reputation for being ruthless, unconscionable and utterly amoral. In their hands...."
"Rumors are useless to me. I'm still in the process of checking out all of the bidders to verify their qualifications. In a day or two I'll know more about these organizations than they do themselves. Whoever I hand this child over to..."
"Speaking of unconscionable and amoral..." Eberts murmured under his breath.
"Excuse me? I didn't just hear you mumble what I *think* you mumbled. Did I?"
"No, sir."
"I didn't think so. Get out of here for a while. Go find the little mother something properly boring to busy himself with."
"Of course, sir." Eberts replied, turning and striding out of the office, closing the door quietly behind him.
In the hall, the man the Official thought he knew so well, the man Charlie Borden considered his stalwart, faithful right hand, leaned against a wall and quickly swiped tears from his eyes, his head already buzzing with ways to thwart his employer's plans.
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Though Darien stayed up past midnight, Bobby did not show up at the house, and Claire finally made her charge go to bed.
He lay in the dark, unable and unwilling to sleep, believing that Bobby had meant his promise, anticipating a presence that never made itself known. When dawn began to send its first rays of soft gray light through his window, he was still awake.
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TBC...... I know, things are beginning to look grim, but every story needs conflict. If everything was Brady Bunch/ Partridge Family schmaltz you wouldn't keep reading would you?
"Darien, calm down. I swear to you there is no solution to this. You're just going to have to live with...."
"You're lyin'. They will too go away. They damn well *better* go away! Don't be tellin' me there's nothin' you can do, Claire. Make 'em go away!"
"I can't, sweetheart. There are a hundred creams on the market but none of them have ever been proven to work. The spider veins will go away about four to six weeks after you give birth, but...."
"Spider what?!"
"As the baby puts more and more stress on your body, the surface veins in your legs and face can become more prominent. Like I said, it's nothing to be concerned about; those will go away after the baby's born.... but I can't do anything for the stretch marks."
"Claire... I can't live with these for the rest of my life...."
"You have no choice. Stretch marks are a part of pregnancy just like heartburn, emotional cyclones, constipation and hemorrhoids...."
"Claire!"
"Hmm. You're the last person I would have ever thought a prude, Darien. If you aren't experiencing those symptoms yet, you will, so deal with it, darling. I said I wouldn't have this baby for you and that includes the less pleasant aspects of the process." Claire snickered, looking down to make a few notes in her pregnancy diary. As she opened the book, the cover knocked a metal instrument tray onto the floor with a ear- splitting clang. When she straightened from picking it up, Claire found Darien sitting ramrod straight in the admin chair, his eyes the diameter of frisbees. "Darien? What is it? Is something wrong?"
"Huh? Oh, no. It's okay.... I guess. When you dropped the tray.... she...."
"She what?"
"Moved. Jumped, more like it. It was.... she moved, Claire. I felt her move."
"You seem quite shocked. I take it you hadn't felt this before today?"
"Nah. I mean... little tiny flickers, yeah.... like she was tryin' to tickle me..... but nothin' like that.... Claire, that was...."
"Wonderful, amazing, wicked cool? Whatever else it may be, it's a very good sign, Darien. It means her development is just about on track. She'll be doing a lot more of that from here on in, so get used to it. She'll even respond to your voice or Bobby's specifically, but any loud sound that occurs close to you could make her react. You might start to think about doing more out loud talking and singing to her instead of keeping all the communication in pictograms delivered brain to brain the way it is now."
"Sing? No way, no how. You don't wanna hear me sing. I sound like a tone-deaf Siamese cat bein' attacked with a weedwhacker in the middle of a really bad performance of 'La Boheme'."
"Come on, sweetie. It can't be that awful." Claire chuckled, looking at him skeptically.
"Pray you never have to find out."
"Fine. I won't push the singing issue. Is the swelling in your hands and ankles any better?"
"It's about the same. I try to stay off my feet at home and keep 'em elevated like you said."
"I've noticed. Good man. We're about done for today I should think. Let's just check the tattoo before you go."
Obligingly, Darien produced his wrist for inspection. "Very good. Only two segments red. You start your week in the office today, right?"
"Yeah. I have so been looking forward to this. I can sit anytime I want, nap on the couch in Bobby's office whenever I feel really bushed. This week will be heaven."
"Don't try to fool me, Darien Fawkes. I was there when you and Bobby concocted this little scheme to find out what the Official and Eberts have up their sleeves. I know you're planning on doing a lot more in the next five days than lounging around."
"I thought you agreed with us that it has to be done, Claire. Those two are cookin' up somethin', an' I don't like the smell."
"Neither do I. I agree someone has to find out what's going on, and you are the most likely candidate. Just you remember the new rules."
"Never stay Quicksilvered longer than fifteen minutes, try not to go see-through more than twice a day and keep a sharp eye on the tattoo, making sure it doesn't get below three green segments."
"Excellently recited. You can go now. Try not to overdo, alright?" she admonished him gently as he rose and moved toward the door of the Keep.
"Do my best, Keepie. Oh yeah. I had a question to ask. Just a thought Hobbes an' I were kickin' around. If you don't wannna answer right now, I'll understand..."
"What is it?"
"Well.... ya know, doin' what we do isn't the safest job in the world an' between me buildin' an immunity to the counteragent and the general unpredictabilty of the gland.... We... Bobby an' me.... we wanted somebody we can trust to take her in if the worst case scenario drops on both of us. Somebody who'd hide her from Chrysalis.... or even from Eberts an' the Fish if it comes down to that."
"Darien.... are you seriously.... you can't be asking me...."
"Nothin's for sure, Claire. You told me that. Bobby an' I could live 'till we're a hundred.... or we could both get taken out tomorrow. I have to ask. Will you be the Godmother for our little girl?"
Taken aback, Claire was frozen in place for several seconds, Darien's words echoing in her mind.
{Bobby and Darien gone? Me hiding the baby? No.... it can't come to that. It won't. There's no reason why I shouldn't say yes. Darien's predictions are just supposition. I'll have the answer to QSM long before he or the baby might need it. I must have it. Godmother... me a Godmother. Who would ever have believed....}
Striding to her charge's side, Claire embraced him joyfully but carefully, ever mindful of his expanding belly.
"Of course I accept, Darien. I'm honored you chose me.... honored you trust me that deeply."
"You're all we have, Claire.... we trust you with my health, the baby's health.... we even trust you to fix whatever Bobby breaks next. We trust you with everything."
"Bobby has nothing left to break. I think I've already patched up, splinted or bandaged nearly every single part of his body at least once." Claire joked as she pulled away for the hug. "Thank you, Darien. I swear you won't regret bestowing this gift on me. I would never wish harm to either of you, you know that..... but should something unforeseen happen.....I will protect her with my life."
"I know. I gotta go. Paperwork waits for no man, pregnant or otherwise."
"Of course. Take it easy as much as you can. Don't forget to drink your water. You can't afford to let yourself get really dry. If you feel thirsty..."
".... you're already dehydrated. I know Mom, I know. Sheesh..."
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"Tell me again, Fawkes."
"You don't have time. Didn't you say an extraction team is waitin' on you somewhere?"
"I got, like, five minutes before Eberts sticks his weasel nose in here again. Tell me."
"Yeah and that'll be the third time. You know what he's like if you make him put out that much effort to shift your ass into drive. Go."
"I know better than I ever wanted to, so hurry up and say it will ya?"
Sighing, Darien repeated the events of the previous half hour.
"Claire said Bobbi can hear noises in the outside world now, if they happen close enough to me. She thinks we should talk to her more. She suggested singin' too, but I said if you want the kid to come out with any musical taste at all, I'll skip the songs."
"So I can...."
"I guess so. You've got a minute and half left. Give it a shot. Just don't be leanin' down over me. That's a stupid T.V. cliché and if Eberts walks in early an' sees us like that you'll get us both in hot water, no matter how innocent it is."
"I thought the hot water was for when you're actually havin' the baby."
"Fine. It's your time to waste on rotten jokes...."
"Okay, okay. Show me."
"Put your hand on my stomach. Here. That's right. Now say somethin' to her. If she hears you'll know it."
"Bobbi. Hey Roberta Claire. It's your old Dad. I can't wait to see you little girl. It won't be long now. You're more than halfway, kiddo. You'll be havin' a birthday soon....."
Darien felt the movement from Bobbi at the same moment Hobbes did, but their different reactions disturbed him. While he was filled with joy and astonishment, Bobby's expression was a strange mixture of fear and turmoil. Slowly, as if forcing himself to remain under control, the older man rose and backed away from his partner.
"Hobbes? You okay? You felt her move, right? You can try again if..."
"No. No... I felt it. It... it was pretty amazing. Look... I'm gonna go before Eberts comes to get me. I mean, he hands out the paychecks. No use gettin' him mad at me." Hobbes stuttered out, plastering a smile onto his face that he knew Darien would immediately see straight through. He knew and still couldn't have made it more sincere if he'd wanted to.
"Hobbes, hold up a minute. What's wrong?" Fawkes insisted, struggling off Bobby's office sofa and chasing his retreating partner, catching him a few steps down the hallway. "Hobbes, wait, damn it!"
"I can't, partner. You said yourself there's a team waitin' on me...."
"Fine." Darien growled low. "As long as you understand somethin'. I don't know exactly what happened in there.... but I know I didn't like it a whole lot an' I for *damn* sure don't understand it. When you get back tonight, we *will* have a discussion. I don't care how tired you are or how late it is... you come to the house an' wake me up. It's way past time you start really talkin' to me.... about the baby, about how you feel...."
"Yeah, good. I'll see you tonight." Hobbes told him, pulling away and escaping.
"No matter how late."
"I got it, Fawkes. I'll see you then, okay? I gotta go..."
Working to control his seething emotions, Darien silently watched his best friend hurry down the hall, turn a corner and vanish from sight. A fast, very light shock touched his face and traveled throughout his body.
"I hear you, baby. I won't lie. I'm really pi.... upset with your daddy, but I have reason this time, so no more of the finger-in-the-socket treatment, okay? Not even a little."
Bobbi sent him an image of Hobbes, folowed by an image of a man's face screwed into an expression of utter terror, followed by a picture of an infant and a question mark. "What? No, honey, Daddy's not scared of you." He soothed, one hand
immediately dropping to rest on his abdomen. "He loves you more than the whole world, Bobbi. No.... I think he scared himself, baby girl. I can't explain it. Your daddy's... I don't know what he is right now, but I'll find out tonight. Count on that."
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"Is this.... you couldn't mean that this is the number you wanted, sir. This is a rather tasteless joke..."
"When it comes to Fawkes I have no sense of humor anymore. They're only one of the interested parties, Eberts. I won't necessarily be giving them first chance. I haven't heard their offer yet, have I?"
"But, sir.... I know a little about this organization. They're nothing we want to deal with. They have a reputation for being ruthless, unconscionable and utterly amoral. In their hands...."
"Rumors are useless to me. I'm still in the process of checking out all of the bidders to verify their qualifications. In a day or two I'll know more about these organizations than they do themselves. Whoever I hand this child over to..."
"Speaking of unconscionable and amoral..." Eberts murmured under his breath.
"Excuse me? I didn't just hear you mumble what I *think* you mumbled. Did I?"
"No, sir."
"I didn't think so. Get out of here for a while. Go find the little mother something properly boring to busy himself with."
"Of course, sir." Eberts replied, turning and striding out of the office, closing the door quietly behind him.
In the hall, the man the Official thought he knew so well, the man Charlie Borden considered his stalwart, faithful right hand, leaned against a wall and quickly swiped tears from his eyes, his head already buzzing with ways to thwart his employer's plans.
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
Though Darien stayed up past midnight, Bobby did not show up at the house, and Claire finally made her charge go to bed.
He lay in the dark, unable and unwilling to sleep, believing that Bobby had meant his promise, anticipating a presence that never made itself known. When dawn began to send its first rays of soft gray light through his window, he was still awake.
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TBC...... I know, things are beginning to look grim, but every story needs conflict. If everything was Brady Bunch/ Partridge Family schmaltz you wouldn't keep reading would you?
