Chapter 10: Delivered
"So what do you think of Merlin's theory?" Arthur said to Gwen, pushing the power button on the tv remote. They'd been watching a Sunday-night special about the pilot of the Denver-Dulles flight, who – along with an equally bemused copilot – had been given the credit for inexplicably saving the lives of all his passengers. "The connection between Merlin's lady, the lake of Avalon, and this Artorius Blade that Halbyon owns."
"They say," Gwen said, struggling, and he stood to pull her up from the recliner, "that legends often have a basis in fact. I'm willing to take Merlin's word for it."
"You believe it is my sword, then?" Arthur said, surprised, gathering their drink glasses and ice cream bowls awkwardly off the coffee table, tucking the bowls into the crook of his left arm and pinching the rims of the glasses together. "But you didn't even see the picture of it from the guidebook."
"Oh, leave that, I can get it in the morning," Gwen protested.
"I've got it," Arthur said. "You go start getting ready for bed."
Gwen paused at the door of their bedroom. "Merlin – knows things," she said. "He knew a lot more than anyone gave him credit for, before, and even now – you know you trust his instincts as well as your own."
"Almost," Arthur muttered to himself, carrying the dishes to the kitchen sink. "I guess I'll be talking to him about it tomorrow, though." He raised his voice so it would carry to her in the bedroom. "He said he wanted to have a look at the exhibit at the Smithsonian. I have no idea how it's going to affect our relations with Halbyon. Merlin seems to think it imperative that we –" He entered the bedroom to find Gwen lying on the floor.
She was on her back, knees drawn up and arms out to the sides. She gave him a sheepish grin. "It's my back," she said. "My lower back, just like it always is. It just – aches so, I can't get comfortable."
"You've been on the couch and in the chair all day," Arthur said, crouching down beside her. "With the heating pad."
She squirmed, reaching to pull her knees up a little with her hands. "I know," she said, her voice carrying both apology and warning.
"Right," he said, slapping his knees and standing. "Where are your shoes?"
"Why?" She didn't move.
"Let's go to the ER." She scoffed and he added, "At least they can give you pain meds better than over-the-counter Tylenol. Come on."
…..*….. …..*….. …..*….. …..*….. …..*…..
Monday. 9:33 am. Arthur sat in a plastic chair in the hallway of Inova Alexandria Hospital, elbow on his knee, head in his hand. His stomach growled; he hadn't eaten anything for breakfast.
The plastic creaked as someone dropped into the chair next to him. "How is she?" Merlin said.
Arthur shrugged without opening his eyes. "Fine, considering," he said. "Brought her in last night to get a prescription for a stronger pain med – her back, remember. They sent us right up here – evidently, after thirty-five weeks you get automatically referred to L and D. They asked about contractions – she told them about those practice ones she's been having for almost two months now. So they wanted to keep her overnight. For observation."
"And this morning?" Merlin asked.
"This morning, during a routine check, her water broke."
Merlin hummed sympathetically. "So the baby is on its way."
"Three weeks early," Arthur reminded him.
"That's not even considered premature, is it?" Merlin said. "Come on, don't worry. The nursery is ready, right? Everything's ready."
"I'm not," Arthur mumbled into his hand. "We were just saying yesterday, how my hand should be healed in time to hold the baby…"
"You want me to help?" Merlin asked.
Arthur lifted his head to look at his friend. Merlin was dressed in a jeans and faded gray t-shirt with an obscure blue logo on the left shoulder. His hair was slightly more unkempt than normal, the bruising spreading out from beneath it, down his cheek, across his forehead, circling his right eye. "How's your head?" Arthur said.
Merlin understood what Arthur was really asking. "In the last sixty hours, I've slept fifty," he said. "Gaius told me, it was like pulling a muscle."
"Rest, ice, and heat?" Arthur said ironically. "How does that work with magic?"
"Rest, yes," Merlin protested with a small private smile, "but I can still use it – I mean, within reason. And carefully. It shouldn't be too long before I'm at full strength again." Arthur looked at him, slender and lanky as ever, and shook his head. Full strength. "I can probably heal your hand if you want me to."
It was throbbing. He hadn't brought his medication with him – probably he should return home for that sometime today. And Gwen had been bathing and re-bandaging it for him every day, too, he'd have to do that himself, now, somehow. It was a temptation to give his hand to his friend and ask for healing magic, except for the memory of Merlin staggering between passengers seated on the dirt and leaves, white-faced and blank-eyed, half-killing himself to heal those injured in the crash he hadn't been able to completely prevent.
"No," he said. "I'm fine." There was also the consideration, the worry that had eased somewhat at Merlin's arrival – childbirth. Gwen in childbirth. His own mother had died twice that way. If anything was to go wrong, he wanted Merlin's magic for that, not for his own discomfort. "How many days did you take off, anyway?" he said.
"Just two, today and tomorrow," Merlin said. "Leon's got the whole week, and more if he needs it. Percival's in Maine with Ray and Jason, so Gwaine's the center of attention in Camelot."
"Bet he's loving that," Arthur muttered.
"Better him than me," Merlin said, and shuddered theatrically. "He can tell the story to every single person for all I care, as long as no one asks me."
But, Arthur thought, there was one organization who definitely would. He had to admit, he was a little relieved that he could push Halbyon to the back burner for another week.
9:45 am. "Arthur?" A gentle older man with shoulders stooped under his white doctor's coat emerged from the room. Arthur was on his feet in an instant, Merlin just after him. "She's doing fine, baby's fine. Contractions coming at four minutes, and she hasn't started to dilate yet, but it's early. You can go in."
Arthur didn't even wait for the doctor to finish his sentence. They'd moved his chair, and he grabbed the back of it to drag it again to the side of the bed. Gwen smiled at him, then her eyes turned to the door.
"Oh, Merlin," she said. "You can come in." She pulled the sheet up to cover more of the hospital gown, her belly making a huge mound in the white material. "I'm sorry, I look a wreck."
"I bet I look worse," Merlin said with an impish grin that made Gwen smile.
"You two do look like you're in the wrong ward," she teased. "ER waiting room, more like."
"How are you feeling?" Merlin said, shoving his hands in his pockets and standing at the foot of the bed.
"I'm fine," she said. "Just tired."
"Guess you didn't get much sleep last night?" he said, and Arthur rolled his eyes at the understatement.
"It's going to be the story of my life for a while," Gwen said cheerfully. "Months and months and – Arthur, did I tell you I'm bringing this bed home with me? It's great, Merlin – look, you can raise and lower the area for your knees, and there's even a button to change the pressure behind your back – you can have it really firm, or soft if you want."
"This one's the call button for the nurse?" Merlin said. "Will that be Arthur, then?"
Gwen laughed. "I'll have to bring one of them home with me, too."
Arthur growled, "I'll rig it so that it rings to your phone, Merlin."
"Oh, stop," Gwen said, chuckling. "Turn that knob there, and listen."
Arthur had already heard it, and enjoyed the look of surprise and wonder on Merlin's face at the fast thumpthumpthump of the baby's heartbeat. It made him look like the kid he'd been, in the first Camelot, wide-eyed and naïve.
The sound was muffled briefly, then stopped altogether. Merlin's hand hovered over the dials of the machine, "Did I mess something up?" he asked.
"No, it wasn't you." Gwen shifted her weight in the raised bed, reached modestly under the sheet and her gown to adjust the small box strapped to her belly. "Maybe I can get it back. Wait…" Thump – thump – thump. "No, that's mine. They'll come back and fix it in a bit, I'm sure. He just keeps moving."
Merlin grinned at her, and Arthur took her hand – and then his mind caught up. "He?" he said.
Gwen blushed. "Now, Arthur, don't be mad…"
"I thought we weren't going to find out," Arthur scolded her gently. "You knew?"
"It was an accident," Merlin protested, giving him a look that was too innocent for the Merlin that Arthur knew.
"He knew?" Arthur said to Gwen. "He told you?" He gave Merlin a glare. "You told her?"
"It was an accident," Merlin repeated. "A slip of the tongue."
Gwen squeezed his hand and he squeezed back. He. And then he couldn't help grinning at his wife, and if it felt sappy on his face, he didn't care. "A boy?" he said to Gwen, "A son?" She nodded, radiant.
10:11 am. Gwaine texted, Howz it going? He responded, Slow.
10:42 am. Gwen woke up from a brief nap when the nurse came to check on her again, and the two men were promptly excused from the room.
"Has the airline said when we're getting our stuff back?" Merlin asked.
Arthur himself was a little glad that he didn't have his phone or his laptop; it was a great excuse - not that he needed one – of ignoring work completely to focus on his family. Gwen's phone was sufficient to keep in touch with all the important people. But Arthur knew it made Merlin feel edgy to have those things out of his possession. Even though he would not be near as susceptible to the sort of evil prank that had been played on him when he'd been separated from his laptop for a week at Fort Bragg. And of course, they'd probably need more than a week to hack Merlin's computer, anyway.
"Sometime this week," he answered.
10:57 am. The stooped-shouldered doctor emerged again from the room. "Four-minute contractions still steady. Dilation still at zero. Give it time."
Back inside the room, Merlin dragged a second chair to the bedside and stretched his forearms out on the bedrail, propping his chin on his hands. "What did Elyan say?" he asked Gwen.
"He said, why couldn't you wait?" Gwen laughed, and made a face. "Men, honestly!" Arthur made a token protest, but Merlin merely gave Gwen an angelic smile, as if he were somehow exempt from the classification. "He's on the next flight down from Maine," Gwen explained. "It's supposed to leave at quarter after noon, I think, which means he should be here around two o'clock? It'll take my parents longer, actually, they drove to Myrtle Beach for the week. But they'll be here around four or so, I guess." She sighed. "The consensus seems to be that I messed up everybody's plans."
"Not his," Merlin said, pointing in the general direction of her midsection with another small smile.
She leaned over toward Arthur, and he put his good arm around her shoulders, kissed her forehead. "At least you're here," she said, and her voice trembled.
Arthur held her a little more closely, knowing that she meant more than just the timing of his trip, more even than their survival of the wreck. Tears shone suddenly in Merlin's blue eyes, though the smile stayed in place.
12:04 pm. Gaius had come to spend his lunch hour at the hospital, and insisted on using supplies provided by the nurses to change the bandages on Arthur's hand. Gwen watched with interest, but at the first hint of blood on the gauze wrapping, Merlin had been ordered from the room by his grandfather.
"Your pacing has always made me nervous," Gaius told him. "You can't use your magic, and if you can't stand still and be quiet – out."
The old physician's hands were gentle as Gwen's in soaking the last layer of bandage off with a saline solution. To Arthur's eyes, the dark and swollen digits, the crawling lines of red and tiny black sutures were still horrific, but Gaius seemed pleased, as he carefully placed the sections of salve-infused bandage in place before wrapping fingers and hand with more gauze.
"How's Leon, then?" Gwen asked, as Gaius worked.
"He spent Friday night with his sister, after the surgery," Gaius said. "But it went very well, and they don't expect to have to do any further work. He'll be on crutches for a few weeks, and might possibly face a few sessions of rehabilitation after that, depending on the healing process."
12:26 pm. "You have a long wait ahead of you, sire," the old physician told Arthur. "Three and a half-minute contractions and no dilation means nothing will be happening soon."
"I can't eat anything anyway," Gwen told Arthur. "Clear liquid diet. You," her brown eyes sparkled at him, her natural energy only slightly dimmed by the long night and morning, "need your strength. I can't hold the hand of a man who's cranky because he's hungry."
"I don't get cranky when I'm hungry," Arthur protested.
Merlin let out a hard, "Ha!"
"I," Gwen declared, "am the only one allowed to be cranky today. Go get something to eat."
2:10 pm. "Oooh," Gwen said. "Give me a minute." Touching the side panel of the bed, she pressed a button to lower the top of the bed, her head pushed back into the pillow. Beside Merlin, the machine recording the contractions whirred and spat out pink tape six inches wide, ink scratched across the graph to show intensity and duration.
After a moment, she took a deep, deliberate breath and pushed the button to bring herself a little more upright. Arthur was sure her hand hadn't so much as left the control for the last hour. "You're supposed to breathe through it," he said. "Not hold your –" Her glare stopped him from finishing.
"Only two minutes that time," Merlin commented, his eyes on the paper. "And – lasted thirty seconds. A hard one, huh?" His tone was sympathetic, but Gwen took exception.
"I know that!" she snapped. "I'm the one it's happening to!"
A nurse entered the room in a swish of periwinkle scrubs. "How are we doing?" she said cheerfully.
Gwen didn't answer. Merlin stepped back, and Arthur said, "She's just had another –"
"Uh-huh," the nurse said, checking the pink paper unrolling as the jagged lines shrank, then rested her hand lightly and briefly on the top of Gwen's stomach. "Good job, darlin', is it hurting a lot yet?"
"Not really," Gwen said. "It's just a lot of pressure. I can feel the muscles tightening, but – no, not really much pain."
"Good, let's hope it stays that way," the nurse said. Arthur noticed a little self-satisfied smile flit across Merlin's face, behind the nurse's back, and opened his mouth – then changed his mind.
"How about another walk, darlin', do you feel up to that? It'll help speed things along, you know."
"It hasn't yet," Gwen grouched, but cooperated as the nurse arranged the bed, the sheet, the monitor wires and straps. Arthur adjusted the back overlap of the knee-length printed hospital gown for modesty's sake, and Merlin opened the door so they could go out to the hall.
"Gwen!" another male voice called down the hall. "Are you sure you should be up?" Elyan continued, approaching down the hall and giving his gown-clad sister a heartfelt if awkward hug. "Shouldn't you be – in bed or something?"
"I'm walking," Gwen informed him evenly. "It's supposed to speed things up. Walk with me, if you like." She shuffled down the hallway, one hand on the plastic bumper-rail that ran the length of the wall. Elyan trailed her, throwing a glance over his shoulder that was equal parts glad welcome and overwhelmed concern.
"You did magic on my wife?" Arthur said aside to Merlin.
"Yep." Merlin had the audacity to look pleased with himself. "Just a little, to take the edge off the pain."
They watched her pause and lean her back against the wall, one hand at the top of her stomach where the muscles pulled together. Elyan practically fluttered, a frantic look on his face, and Gwen laughed at him even in the middle of the contraction.
"Bless your heart, darlin'," the nurse said, pausing to make sure she was okay. "You are so brave."
"Do not ever tell her," Arthur ordered, sticking his finger in Merlin's face. "To her dying day, you let her believe that this was something she accomplished on her own."
"Do you know," Merlin murmured, looking at Gwen and not Arthur, "how incredibly ironic it is for you to say that to me?"
"She didn't even want your help with her flowerbed," Arthur said. "She'll be pissed if she knows you interfered in her giving birth if she hasn't asked you to."
With a twinkle of amusement, Merlin mimed closing his lips with a zipper.
3:21 pm. Gwen's phone rang on the side table, and Arthur reached for it.
"Is it Mom and Dad?" she asked, pushing the button to raise the bed slightly.
"No, it's…" He concentrated on recognizing the number; it wasn't in her phone's address book. "It's work."
"You can take the call," she said.
"I'll wait til Elyan and Merlin get back," he told her, smiling and smoothing her hair back from her face. Elyan had not eaten a noon meal before boarding the plane in Bangor, so Merlin had gone with him downstairs to the cafeteria.
"I'm sorry this is taking so long," she said.
"Don't say that," he chided her softly. "It takes as long as it takes, that's all."
The nurse in the periwinkle pushed through the door, followed by the stoop-shouldered older doctor. "Shall we check you again, darlin'?" the nurse said.
Arthur stood to leave, and bent to kiss his wife's forehead. "I love you," he told her, and her answering smile was grateful.
Once in the hallway, he looked blankly at the phone still in his hand, sighed, and pressed for the voicemail-retrieval option. The message was from Mary, his PA. "Good afternoon, Mr. Drake – and Gwen, of course. I hope things are going well at the hospital. I have a message for you from Halbyon, they wanted to confirm that you received it. Call me back at your convenience, sir."
Damn it. Not now. Arthur gritted his teeth, erased the voicemail, and keyed to return the call. "Hi, Patty," he said to the receptionist who answered. "This is Arthur Drake. No, we're still waiting on the baby. Gwen is fine. Can you put me through to Mary? Thanks."
"Mr. Drake!" Mary came on the line seconds later. "Patty said the baby hasn't come yet? How is Gwen?"
"She's fine," he said. "She's lovely. A little impatient, but not in a lot of pain. Just – waiting."
"You can't rush a baby," Mary sympathized.
"This message from Halbyon," Arthur said. "Was it from Wendy Doran?"
"Ah, no," Mary said. "From a man. Claude Summerall. I told him that you weren't available, and he asked if it was for medical reasons. Is he a friend of yours?"
"No," Arthur said. "Probably he heard about the accident last Thursday night. What did you tell him?"
"I told him I was not at liberty to say."
"Good, Mary, thank you," Arthur said. Only part of her worth to him and to the company was her discretion, but occasionally it was a very large part. "What was the message?"
"He said to tell you Congratulations," she answered. "That's quite an odd thing to say to someone who's survived an accident, isn't it? Congratulations, and welcome back – which isn't entirely accurate, since you weren't in today, but if he didn't know about Mrs. Drake –"
"Anything else?" Arthur said, glad also that Mary did not take personal offense when he was short with her.
"Yes, he said he was looking forward to you getting in touch with him, or else, he said, he'd have to be in touch with you. Again. That was the way he said it, Mr. Drake, with that pause there. But you said you didn't know him?"
Oh, hell. "I'll call you later," Arthur said. "Thanks, Mary."
He stood in the hallway as nurses hurried past, and two other pregnant women, one in a gown and one in street clothes. Phones rang.
Helldamnfire, as Merlin said. Congratulations on surviving the plane crash caused by the magical assassin – whatever the hell Shane had been – they'd sent against Arthur Drake and Marvin Caroban. Welcome back. So it wasn't only Wendy Doran who knew and believed their identity. It wasn't only a thriving business and an exceptionally-talented computer analyst, even a potential telekinetic they were after, but actually Arthur and Merlin.
"Your first?" someone said, and Arthur looked up into the dark eyes of a man with gray in the hair at his temples and a tired, knowing smile.
"Yes?" Arthur said.
The older man clapped his shoulder. "Good luck with that."
4:06 pm. They heard Elyan's and Merlin's voices at the door before the two entered. Merlin's eyes went to Arthur's face and Arthur knew his friend could tell he was still upset.
But before Merlin could voice his question, Elyan turned back to the doorway, exclaiming, "Mom! Dad!" and Gwen's parents entered the room.
And in the chaos of greetings – of hugs and hand-shakes – Arthur saw that Merlin had forgotten his moment of perceptive concern, ascribing Arthur's state of mind to the baby, hopefully.
5:10 pm. "Well, I had hoped to meet this baby today," the stoop-shouldered doctor said wistfully to Arthur and the three other men behind him. "We're still at two-minutes and one centimeter dilation. I'm going to order both a Pitocin drip to speed the labor, and go ahead with the epidural, to relax the lower muscles, even though she says she's not in much pain. And the physician that will be in charge of her this evening will take things from here." He shook Arthur's hand, nodded to the others, and walked away down the hall.
6:42 pm. Gaius and Gwaine both stopped to visit, Gaius to sit across from Mrs. Bell at the bedside, hold Gwen's hand and comfort them all with his placid nothing-to-worry-about physician's demeanor. Gwaine commiserated with Arthur in the hall, and leaned in the door – as far as he could be persuaded to go - to give Gwen a cheery wave and grin.
7:14 pm. The others returned from dinner in the cafeteria. Merlin brought a Styrofoam box of food for Arthur – barbecued ribs and an already-peeled orange. Arthur rolled his eyes at Merlin's idea of a dinner he could eat one-handed. Gwen's father brought a similar container for his wife. Gwen ate a cupful of ice chips.
There were no more walks, not after the epidural shot had numbed Gwen's body from the waist down – though she said it was more like, from the armpits down.
9:57 pm. The evening doctor, a tiny Asian woman in her mid-forties, met them at the doorway after performing another check on Gwen's status, and frowned.
"I don't like it," she said. "The contractions are coming hard and fast thanks to that Pitocin, but she's still only at one centimeter. The baby's heart-rate is elevated…" Her black eyes sharpened on Arthur's. "I'm going to have her prepped for surgery."
"Surgery," Arthur said numbly. He vaguely registered the exclamations of his brother- and father-in-law, the touch of Merlin's hand on his shoulder.
"Emergency Cesarean," the doctor said. "No, don't worry, emergency only means unscheduled. Your wife has been in labor for twenty-four hours, and we don't want to stress the baby any more. We'll be ready to perform the operation in about an hour."
"Should I –" Merlin whispered. Arthur nodded, but as his sorcerer made to enter the room, the night nurse blocked him.
"Sorry, no," the elderly, dark-skinned woman said firmly. "Immediate family, only, now."
Merlin looked back at Arthur, who might've laughed, otherwise. The only one there who might have been able to help the expectant mother and baby was also the only one who wasn't Gwen's immediate family.
"Leave it for now," he said to Merlin, not caring what the nurse might think. "If we need you, later, I will come get you."
Merlin nodded. "I'll be here."
11:36 pm. Arthur shivered on his padded stool. It was freezing in the operating room. He tightened his grip on Gwen's hand, the curtain dropped from the ceiling obscuring everything but her arms, which were stretched out to the side, and her neck and head, her hair tucked into a soft blue cap. Arthur was glad, himself, that he could see nothing of the surgery. It was hard enough to watch her lie still with her eyes shut, to wait, and listen to the sounds he couldn't block out, and shiver. He leaned forward to kiss her hand.
"It's a boy!" the Asian doctor declared, just before a thin angry wail rose, and several of the staff laughed softly.
Gwen's eyes opened, and the doctor held their son high enough for her to see him over the curtain. "A boy," she whispered to Arthur.
He found himself laughing as he nodded, and wiped away tears of his own.
Tuesday, 12:01 am. His little son was a tiny bundle, only his face visible, eyes scrunched shut, sleeping already. The blue-striped blanket they'd wrapped him in matched the little soft cap covering the coffee-colored fuzz on his head. Arthur held him in his good right hand, head cradled in Arthur's palm, the rest of his body supported on Arthur's forearm, just reaching his elbow.
It was amazing to Arthur that they let him carry the newborn out to the hallway to show off to the family. He thought for sure someone would run after him, declaring the mistake and demanding that he return the baby to the care of the nursing staff.
"We'll meet you down the hall in the nursery," he was told.
Gwen's mother actually squealed when the waiting group caught sight of him. The new grandpa and uncle smiled exactly the same unreserved, quietly happy smile. Arthur looked past them to meet Merlin's eyes, the wide grin of transcendent joy there fairly taking Arthur's breath away.
Then Merlin put his arm diagonally across his body, and bowed.
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Arthur yawned as he approached Gwen's hospital room. Hot water and hot food warred with the caffeine of the black coffee in the covered cup in his hand.
The return of the Bell family that morning - as promised when they left not long after midnight – meant that Arthur had been – encouraged, ordered, invited – sent home to take a shower and a nap and a meal. And the pain medication for his hand.
"There's your daddy," Gwen's mother said to the bundle in her arms as he entered the room, and he couldn't help smiling as his heart leaped. "You know, Arthur, it's too bad your father couldn't be here to welcome the son of his son."
"I spoke with him this morning," Arthur said neutrally, aware of Gwen and Elyan's eyes on him. They'd known Uther Pendragon and Thomas Drake, both, better than the Bells had, even before the stroke. "We'll be visiting him another day, hopefully. When everyone is feeling up to it." He focused on Gwen and smiled more genuinely. "Did you sleep, too?" he asked. "I brought your things –" He held up two shopping bags, containing her favorite pair of sweats and other necessary garments, and every single article from their shower at home that was hers.
"Oh, good," Gwen said, pushing the buttons to rearrange the bed. "I've been up twice now, they said I could shower when I felt like it – you don't mind helping?"
Arthur blushed as his wife's brother, mother, and father all looked at him. "Of course not," he said gallantly, "as long as I can manage it one-handed."
As it turned out, she didn't need much help. There was a shower stall in the bathroom, complete with a tall stool and a hand-held detachable shower-head. Arthur merely handed her a towel when she was through, and steadied her as she dressed, listening to her chatter and feeling a little overwhelmed by the conflicting emotions of joy and dread, satisfaction and anxiety.
When they emerged from the bathroom, Gwen slouched over, one hand over her abdomen and the other clinging to his good arm, he was surprised to see Merlin and Freya, who had evidently just come in the room.
"Congratulations," Freya said, coming to give Gwen a careful hug, a pink paper shopping bag at her wrist. "I brought you a new-mom present. Pajamas." She held up the bag.
"Victoria's Secret?" Arthur said dubiously.
Freya made a face, and without looking at him, said to Gwen, "They're not that kind of pajamas. Wrists to ankles – silk, and completely comfy."
"Thank you," Gwen said, and shuffled slowly to the bed. "Come meet Andrew." As Gwen's mother gently passed the blanket-wrapped baby to Freya, Gwen sat on the edge of the bed, lifting one leg, then the other before sinking back onto the pillows. Tired, Arthur saw, but so happy.
The three women cooed over the baby, while the four men shuffled self-consciously. Merlin stepped closer to Arthur to murmur, "Did you ask her if she wants me to heal her?"
"She said no," Arthur returned in the same low tone. "She wants to have the whole experience of childbirth, good and bad. Said she'll heal at her own pace, barring any emergencies."
"What about your hand, then?" Merlin said.
"Not right now. Say, what happened with – Freya?" Arthur whispered the name. "I thought you weren't going to see her again?"
"Well, we kind of have an agreement," Merlin said. "Sort of a dead-"
Arthur glanced at his friend to see that Merlin had gone white as a sheet and completely still. He followed the sorcerer's gaze as Freya came toward them, carrying tiny Andrew in the crook of her arm and smiling – not at him, she probably still considered him at fault for Merlin's delusions – at Merlin.
"Run, Eliza, run?" Merlin suggested in kind of a strangled voice.
"What?" Freya said, as if she hadn't heard him, or hadn't really been paying attention. Merlin didn't move, even though she shifted the baby to pass to his arms. He just stared at her, fascinated, as if he expected her to suddenly whirl and flee.
"What?" Arthur echoed. Merlin did sometimes say the oddest things, but – his friend ignored him, too.
Beside the bed, Gwen's mother commented, "You know a girl is serious about her man when she starts thinking about how he looks with a baby in his arms."
Elyan snorted and Gwen hissed at him, "Oh, stop it."
Merlin glanced uncertainly at them, regaining color swiftly, then gave Freya a deep searching look, before accepting the sleeping infant into the cradle of his arms.
Attached to the bed by a long, extendable, positioning arm was a 12-inch tv screen, currently pushed all the way back to give as much room as possible to visitors. It snapped on to a children's cartoon in the middle of a song. From the day we arrive on the planet… and blinking… step into the sun…
"Gwen, dear, did you sit on the remote?" said her mother, trying to locate that object by its long cord, draped over the back of the bed.
It's the circle of life… and it moves us all… through despair and hope…
"It's got to be somewhere in here," Gwen agreed, shuffling through the blankets and sheets and extra pillows surrounding her. A tear shone briefly on her cheek, though she was smiling hugely.
Til we find our place… on the path unwinding…
Merlin didn't even seem to notice, his gaze transferring from Andrew's scrunched-up sleeping face to Arthur's. Arthur wanted to laugh at him, but the feeling of euphoric triumph – a son! he and Gwen had a son! – made it impossible. Instead he only gave Merlin a sardonic grin and cut his eyes toward the tv meaningfully. In the circle… the circle of life!
"Really, Merlin?" he said softly. "You're going to earn yourself another nickname, you know – and don't ever hold my son up over a cliff, if you please."
"Oh, right," Merlin said confusedly, and the tv blinked off. He gave his head a little shake as if to clear it, and jounced little Andrew gently. The baby squirmed slightly in his blanket-wrapped bundle, pushing one tiny fist free, then opened his eyes to blink at Merlin.
Ye gods, what a moment, Arthur thought. What a brilliantly blindingly glorious –
The tiny pursed mouth opened in a yawn, and then immediately again in a thin wail.
Arthur had seen the same thing happen to Elyan, and Gwen's father – it had even happened to him, once during the night – but the sound didn't seem to faze Merlin at all.
"Uh-huh," Merlin said to the newborn. "I see. Mama it is, then." He carried the bundled child back to Gwen's arms as the new grandma rummaged in a drawer of the rolling cupboard under the clear-plastic crib for a bottle of formula. Freya moved forward to seat herself at the foot of the bed, and as Merlin retreated, he cocked his head in a clear nonverbal invitation for Arthur to join him in the hallway.
"We won't stay long," Merlin said, and over Arthur's objections he went on, "Gwen's tired, you're tired, and the Bells are here – there'll be plenty of time for us another day." He reached to grasp Arthur's bandaged hand around the wrist, and his eyes gleamed golden, before the faint aching throb Arthur had almost grown used to faded.
"Thanks," Arthur said dryly. Merlin always did have a mind of his own, especially when it came to magic. "You're off today, do you - "
"I'm – off until further notice," Merlin said, and at Arthur's look he hastened to explain. "We received word from the airline that they'd have our luggage ready to be claimed tomorrow, so I'll get my laptop back and just work from wherever I am. And while I'm in D.C. I thought – I'd stop by the Smithsonian. I wondered… if you want to go with me, I'll wait for a few days, maybe one morning when Freya's off and can stay with Gwen…"
Oh, yeah, that. Arthur felt his face pull into a frown. Or else, he said, he'd have to be in touch with you. Again. A plane crash with himself and three friends on it was bad enough, but – did he have to worry about Halbyon targeting Gwen and Andrew, ever? "Merlin, we've already got to deal with Halbyon about Shane and the merger – and you. They don't know that we know about the sword yet, and if they did, it would give them a huge advantage. They would assume that we'd want it back, at any price."
"They'd assume right," Merlin said. "That sword shouldn't be in anyone's hands but yours –"
"If it even is mine," Arthur clarified.
"And it's not entirely illogical to suppose that if it is, it might help Freya to remember – at least some of her life, at least enough…"
Arthur understood. At least enough to accept Merlin as Merlin. To end the tension between the two and allow the relationship to proceed.
"If it's in a museum, it's not in anyone's hands," Arthur said diplomatically.
Merlin looked at him in startled disbelief. "You would leave it there?" he said.
Arthur considered, then said, "Yes. Look, Merlin – no listen, for a minute – will you listen, dammit! I don't need a sword anymore, I don't use a sword anymore. We do not need any more issues muddying the waters between us and Halbyon."
Merlin's arms were folded tightly across his chest. His jaw was set and his eyes were down.
Arthur relented a little. "Look, if it's in the Smithsonian, just take Freya there to see it – you should at least be able to tell if it will help her, right?"
"It belongs to you," Merlin said, intensely stubborn.
"Maybe not anymore," Arthur told him, and turned to re-enter the room.
A/N: I should probably let you know, scouts and softball are starting this week, and I'm expecting company next week through Easter, so for a couple of weeks the updates will probably come more slowly…