Thanks again for your kind reviews and PMs. Moving into part 2 now ;)

I found a reason for me to change who I used to be, a reason to start over new. And the reason is you.

'Well, there's somebody who looks like he could use a strong coffee and the baby's not even left hospital yet.' Ash greeted Max with a slap on the shoulder and an amused grin. 'Get used to the sleepless nights, you'll be having them for at least the next eighteen years.'

Despite his exhaustion, Max was unable to resist smiling. 'I'll… bear that in mind.'

'Congratulations.'

'Thanks.'

'I won't say I'm not surprised. That was some secret you kept there.'

Max accepted the implied criticism. He had a feeling it wouldn't be the last time there were narrowed eyes and whispered conversations about what had happened between Francesca and him nine months ago. Gossip had never bothered him. Francesca would probably have much more to say about the situation, but for now, he was content. It was hard to feel any other way after yesterday.

'Hey!' Rita pulled him into a violent hug. 'Congratulations!'

'Thanks.'

'How heavy is she? Have you got a name yet? Who does she look like?'

He smiled at the barrage of questions. 'Erm, seven pounds three ounces. Not yet. I don't know.' Pulling his phone from his pocket, he called up a photo of her. 'What do you think?'

'Oh she's gorgeous!' Rita fell to gushing over the photo, leaving Max free to accept Charlie's congratulations.

'And how's Francesca doing?'

'Better.' Max nodded. 'She was awake last night. I'm going to head up and see her on my break today.'

'Send her our best,' Charlie instructed him. 'Tell her she's to rest up and look after that little girl of yours.'

'I think that's a bit of a contradiction in terms, Charlie,' Ash quipped, before collecting a file and heading into the thick of things in the department. Within a few more minutes, Rita and Charlie had been swept up into the organised chaos of the ED and Max was standing alone with his phone. He couldn't help thinking how changed everything was from yesterday, and yet how the same. He supposed not everybody had had their life turned upside down by somebody who couldn't find her own feet.

'Max?' Tess frowned. 'I didn't expect to see you today.'

'I'm down for a shift…'

She gave him a strangely motherly look. 'And you've got a brand new baby. I've fast-tracked the forms for your paternity leave.'

'You have?'

'I assumed you'd be taking some time?'

Max had given it no thought whatsoever. He hadn't thought about any of the logistics of the baby's existence on this planet. Yesterday had been too much of a headspin to get his head around anything more than having a vague understanding that he'd shifted up the family tree. Allowances and benefits and rights and simple plans were beyond him. Honestly, he expected they were very much more Francesca's territory, but he didn't know what was going on in her head. He should probably check.

'Francesca's going to need help,' Tess was saying now, and Max wondered if she was listening to herself: Francesca had never needed anybody's help. 'A new baby is hard work.'

'I know.'

'So at the end of this shift, you're off for two weeks.' It was said with the decisiveness Tess was known for. She nodded once before heading back to work, leaving Max standing, blinking, wondering at what point he was going to catch up with what everybody else seemed to have accepted unquestioningly.

He was especially disheartened to see Robyn's disappointment when he caught up with her. Before he'd even opened his mouth, she'd rolled her eyes and groaned.

'I haven't said anything!'

'You're freaking out again,' Robyn said matter-of-factly as she checked the supplies cupboard. 'Is this going to be a regular thing?'

He threw her a disgruntled look, trying hard to look as hurt as he felt. It was exhaustion that was making him so emotional, he knew, although he wondered if there was some kind of hormone only released on becoming a parent. People always talked about the mass of chemicals surging through a mother's body; he wasn't so sure that the intense visceral reaction he'd had upon seeing his daughter for the first time hadn't triggered something in him.

Robyn only relented when he turned away from her.

'I'm joking, I'm joking!' she said, grabbing his sleeve. 'When did you get so sensitive?' Then, more seriously, more like the big sister she could be when she had to be, she said, 'What's wrong?'

'Nothing.'

'Max!' She caught him by both shoulders. 'Don't be such a baby. You've got one of your own now.'

'Have I though?'

'What?'

Max rubbed at the place between his eyes that had been throbbing since he'd got up that morning after the most pointless night's sleep he'd ever had. 'Everybody's just assuming that this is it, she's here to stay.'

'You said Cal had said-'

'I know, but what does Cal know?' He leaned back against the desk. 'I'm just saying… Francesca doesn't tend to change her mind.'

'But you said she said-'

'I know! I just…' He tailed off before rubbing his eyes again, aware how insane he sounded. Less than half an hour ago, he'd been accepting congratulations, smiling, laughing even. Now he was on the verge of despair. Maybe he needed that time-off, even if it wasn't paternity leave.

'Did you get any sleep last night?' Robyn asked now, kindly, gently.

'Not a whole bunch. What if Francesca still wants to have her adopted?' It was the first time he'd said the A-word and it didn't taste any nicer in his mouth than it sounded in his head. Not when it applied to his daughter, anyway.

'Are you saying… are you saying you don't want her to be adopted?'

'Yes. No. I don't know.'

'I think that's something you really need to make your mind up on.'

'I know!' Max covered his face with his hands, exasperated and anxious. He felt like he had the one and only time he'd ever dabbled with illegal drugs, an experience which had left him jumping out of his own skin and vowing never to repeat the experiment. 'I know, I know.'

'You really need to sleep.'

'I know.'

'And you need to speak to Francesca.'

He lifted his head from his hands and threw his step-sister a look. 'What? You've barely even wanted me to look at her for the past nine months. Which was way too little too late, by the way, for future reference.'

Robyn rolled her eyes again. 'I'm just saying. You want to know what she's thinking. Ask her.'

'How simple.'

'Well, you seemed to get on with her yesterday!'

'She was in labour!'

'Exactly. She was scared and in pain and she still wasn't a complete bitch to you. That's progress.' Giving him an affectionate squeeze on the arm, she said, 'You need to know. Then you can make plans.'

'Plans?'

'If she does want to have her adopted…' Robyn paused. 'If she gives her away, are you going to take her?'

'Me?'

'You're her dad.' Robyn shrugged. 'And that's what you've got to decide.'

He let out a small groan. 'I'm rubbish at decisions.'

'Yeah, you are. But be honest, Max. Is there even a choice?' She raised her eyebrows, and he knew there wasn't. 'So go and ask her. Just… go easy on her. She's just given birth.'

Max stared at her in some kind of wonder. 'When did you get so wise?'

'When I had my idiot little brother move in, get a colleague pregnant and then somehow have the most beautiful little girl on the planet.' A third roll of the eyes was accompanied with a small laugh and a playful nudge. 'Go and see her.'

Whilst nothing could beat yesterday as a day of stress and fear, today was doing a pretty good job of competing with it. Far from it being a time to rest and take stock of what the past twenty-four hours had done to him and the people he loved, Ethan was now awaiting the final piece of the very messy puzzle. His father had called to say that they were leaving London an hour ago; they'd be with them this afternoon. Ethan wondered if everybody looked forward to parental visits with quite so much trepidation. Granted, these were unusual circumstances, but he couldn't remember a time when he'd ever been relaxed in his father's presence. This afternoon was going to be testing.

So now he was sitting outside in the Peace Garden, trying to practise the relaxation techniques he'd picked up from the half-hearted attempts he'd made at practising mindfulness. He was glad things had gone digital and there was no hard evidence of the podcasts he'd downloaded over the years: things with promising titles such as 'This Will Change Your Life!' and 'Healthy Mind, Healthy Life.' Cal would die laughing if he knew of their existence. Besides which, they'd never really worked. Now, Ethan managed barely three cycles of meditative breathing before he was interrupted by the very person who might make today even more trying.

'Hey.' Tiffany's presence would have disturbed even the most zen individual, which Ethan wasn't. His mind went into a spin as soon as she sat down beside him. 'How are you?'

Unsure how he was supposed to respond to that, he nodded.

'I heard about Francesca. Is she okay?'

Again he nodded, then, anxious not to appear entirely stupid, he said, 'She's doing well.'

'And the baby?'

'Yeah, she's fine.'

'That's good.' Tiffany nodded. Then, as if it had been bothering her for a while, 'Is… is it true that Max is…?'

Ethan had a feeling that this would be a recurring question for a while to come. 'Yes. He's the father.' Already it was starting to sound normal, something that had been true for a very long time, so much so that he was a little surprised that Tiffany didn't know; she was supposedly friends with Max after all. 'Didn't he tell you?'

'No.' In one word, she managed to convey what she thought of that, and Ethan found himself feeling sorry for her. How had that happened? Twenty-four hours ago he'd refused to even speak to her, and now he was sitting on a bench beside her, discussing his family's chaotic last few days. She didn't really deserve his sympathy after the way she'd behaved last week, and yet he couldn't help it. Max was her friend and he'd cut her out. That had to hurt.

'You look tired.'

He felt tired. The brief visit back to the flat had been enough for a shower and a change of clothes. Sleep had been an impossibility, apart from a short uncomfortable doze whilst waiting for Cal to be ready to come back again. Adrenalin was starting to run out and he was flagging.

But admitting defeat wasn't the Hardy way. Remembering how stoically Fran had borne the last few months, he said, 'I'm fine.'

Tiffany nodded. 'Yeah. Okay, I'll… leave you to it then…'

He almost let her go without another word. Less than a week ago, she'd lashed out in precisely the way she knew would wound him deepest. He hadn't even wanted to look at her. Letting her walk away was the logical thing.

Then he thought about the past twenty-four hours. How his sister had been through hell and back. How Max had helped her. They had more reason than most to not even want to breathe the same air as each other. Yet they were talking, Max was making noises like he was going to be involved in the baby's life. They were being grown-up about it all. In light of that, he wasn't sure he could keep this up.

'Tiffany?'

She hesitated, turned back to him. He took in the bambi eyes, the beseeching expression, the pouting lips. And he knew he couldn't be cross any longer.

'Thank you. For… asking after Fran. It was nice of you.'

Her smile was the energy boost he needed. 'That's alright. I… can be nice, sometimes.' Then, as if embarrassed by that very fact, she dropped her head. 'I'll… see you around.'

He nodded his reply and watched her go, suddenly feeling as though he could deal with whatever the next twenty-four hours could throw at him.

Fran came to with a start as there was a knock at the door. Falling asleep hadn't been part of the plan; now she ached all the way down her neck as well as just about everywhere else in her body. It was at moments like this that she thought that just maybe the doctors might be right and she did need to wait a little longer before getting out of bed. Then she pushed that aside; she was a doctor too and staying in bed much longer was not an option. It had already been twenty-four hours since she'd last seen her baby; another twenty-four hours was not going to happen.

She adjusted herself as much as she could, wincing as she felt every stitch pulling, before saying, 'Come in.'

To say she was surprised when Max's head appeared round the door was an understatement. Clearly it wasn't lost on him either, as the tentative smile he'd ventured slowly disappeared before he said, 'Is now a good time, cause I can come back… or, you know, go away…?'

'No. No, it's fine!' Finding her voice, Fran was instantly polite, before finding she actually did want him to stay; it beat staring at the four dreary walls around her anyway. 'Come in.'

He crossed the room and then awkwardly gestured towards the vase of flowers and the balloon next to her. 'I didn't bring anything like that. Sorry.'

'It's fine. That was Cal and Ethan.'

'They agreed on something?' Max faked shock and Fran laughed, before wincing visibly. 'Sorry! I'm probably not meant to make you laugh or something, right?' When she threw him an embarrassed questioning look, he made a vague typing gesture. 'Google. Some really not safe for work images.'

Trying to regain some dignity, she bit her tongue hard to distract herself from the pain. Given everything that had passed between them in the lift yesterday, she didn't know why she was still so easily embarrassed in front of him. And now there was this awkward silence where they were both clearly thinking about what exactly had happened in the lift yesterday and it didn't appear to be ending.

'So,' she said experimentally, wondering if actual words would follow on from that. Maybe staring at four walls would have been more attractive.

Max suddenly jerked himself into action. 'Oh right. Sorry, I did bring you something.' He fumbled in his pocket and produced his phone. 'I know you haven't been down to see her yet.'

'I haven't been allowed.' So defensive so quickly; Fran was embarrassed all over again. 'I've got to wait for a doctor and they keep saying I need to be careful and…'

'Hey, that's cool. Francesca, it's okay.' That soft gentle voice came into play again. 'I'm not judging. I just thought… well, I know you weren't going to but… I'm guessing you… might be keeping her? Cal might have mentioned something,' he added, almost apologetically, as though it wasn't any of his business and her brother might have been talking out of turn.

'Yeah.'

'Good. I mean… well, seeing as you can't go to her…' He tapped his phone screen a few times and then handed it over to Fran. 'I thought I could bring her to you. Or, you know, the next best thing.'

Fran was about to ask him what on earth he was babbling on about before she saw what was on the phone. And then she was overtaken by a choking hold in her chest that she simply wasn't prepared for. She thought she might have let out a small whimper which ordinarily would have left her mortified, but somehow wasn't even important on this occasion. Nothing was important compared with the photograph of perhaps the most perfect human being Fran had ever seen.

'If you swipe right, there's some more.'

There were: a lot more. Fran remembered how tedious she'd always found scrolling through wedding and baby pictures on her social media accounts. It was beyond her why people would believe every passing acquaintance they'd ever made would want to see the product of their loins; besides, every baby looked pretty much the same as any other in her experience. Her experience up until now, that was.

There were dozens of pictures on Max's phone, from every conceivable angle and of every conceivable part of the baby that anybody could want to see. Hands, and feet, and ears, and nose, and eyes, and full length shots, and shots of her face. It was a little overwhelming, but wonderful at the same time.

'This is…' She shook her head, unable to say anything, her mind and throat completely choked by what Max had done for her. 'Max, this is…' She found she could only come up with one word. 'Nice. It's really nice. You're really nice.'

'I do try.' He gave a cheesy wink. 'This one's my favourite I think. Look how tiny her hands are!'

Then she swiped right again and came across a picture of him holding the baby. His grin looked wide enough to split his face.

'Oh, Robyn took that one.' He jumped into action and reached for the phone. 'It's a bit cheesy. Sorry. Concentrate on the others.'

But Fran found she couldn't swipe past it. She didn't know why she'd never considered this before. Well, she had, of course she had, but not properly. All through the lonely long months when she was making solo decisions, pushing her brothers away, building a wall up around herself, there'd been Max. He had a stake in this just as much as she did and she'd never even given him a voice. She didn't want to think about what kind of monster that made her.

Given all of that, she had to wonder, 'Why would you do this for me?'

'What do you mean?' He seemed genuinely bemused by her question. 'I thought you'd like it.'

'I do. I love it! I just don't know how you knew.'

There was a long pause, before Max said surprisingly seriously, 'Because she's your daughter too.' He bit his lip before adding, in a rush, 'The thing is, Francesca, I know I've not been great up until now, and… well, it's not like we really know each other or anything, but… I want to be part of this. If she's staying…' With an awkward shrug, he trailed off, pulling a face. 'Sorry. Robyn said I shouldn't rush into this. I totally get it if you want me to shut up about now.'

'No! You're fine. It's… fine.'

'You mean…'

'I mean… I'd like you to be a part of it.'

'Really?'

She glanced down at the picture on her phone again. He looked so happy it hurt. 'Really.'

Her throat choked up again as he said, more sincerely than she'd ever heard him speak before, 'Thank you.'

'No, thank you. For… this and…' Blood rushed to her face. She wasn't sure exactly how she would be able to word everything she wanted to say.

'You're welcome.' He smiled. 'You can hang onto the phone for now. Until you can get down there yourself. Might help you think of a name for her. She can't be Baby Hardy forever.'

A name. God, Fran hadn't considered that yet. She hadn't allowed herself to even dwell on it during the pregnancy: given she wasn't going to keep the baby it seemed a waste of time to think up a name for her. Now here she was, a living, breathing person and with no identify of her own, which was so untrue, Fran realised as she looked at the photos Max had taken again. Far from looking like every other baby she'd ever seen, this baby, her daughter, already seemed unique and utterly different. She deserved more than just a token moniker.

'Rosie.' She had no idea where that name had been lurking. It wasn't one she remembered ever thinking about for more than about thirty seconds.

Max's lips twitched into a smile. 'Yeah?'

Flustered, Fran added, 'If you… like it.'

'I like it. It suits her. Rosie.' He nodded. 'Good choice.' He waved her goodbye as he left her alone in the room again. Alone, except for the photos of her daughter.

'So when they arrive we're just going to tell them the facts, right?' Ethan checked for about the tenth time that morning. 'We'll say we knew about the whole pregnancy thing but it was up to Fran to tell them, and… we thought she had told them?'

'You've already as good as admitted you knew it was a surprise,' Cal said from where he was chewing nicotine-replacement gum. He'd never know being a hospital visitor would afford fewer opportunities for a fag break than being an actual doctor. Desperate times definitely called for desperate measures. 'First rule of lying: remember what the lie is.'

'You'd know.' Ethan paced up the corridor again. 'Well, what are we going to say then?'

Cal raised an eyebrow. 'We? You're the one who called them.' And he's your dad, he silently added, knowing how badly that went down at the best of times.

'It's not like I had much choice! Anyway, you agreed!'

'Not exactly.' Admitting he'd agreed would be admitting that he'd been properly scared last night, and that wasn't Cal's way.

'You asked me when I was calling them!' Ethan looked on the verge of an apoplexy as he slumped down next to Cal and hung his head in his hands. 'What are we going to do?'

'You need to relax, Nibbles.' Then, knowing that his brother was immune to relaxation, he said, 'This is Fran's problem anyway. Let her deal with it.'

'Are you for real? You're actually throwing our hospitalised sister under a bus like that?' Ethan rolled his eyes. 'God, Cal.'

Put like that, Cal could see the problem. Fran in her normal healthy state found standing up to her father troubling. In the state she was in right now, there'd be no contest.

Still, it wouldn't do for both of them to have a meltdown, and Cal knew his role as well as anybody else. He was the positive one, the light-hearted, flippant, irreverent one. It wasn't very often that his particular skills set came in useful; it would be wise to utilise it now.

'Once they see the baby it'll be game over anyway.' He shrugged. 'Don't sweat it.'

'Rosie.'

'What?'

'Rosie,' Ethan repeated. 'We might as well get used to it.'

Cal wasn't sure he wanted to. Not that he'd ever given much thought to baby names, but if he had, Rosie wouldn't even have featured in his top ten. What was more, he was pretty certain that Fran had been planning baby names since she was about eight, and he had never once heard her mention Rosie as a contender. This was a kneejerk reaction, borne of the chaos of the past twenty-four hours and one conversation with Max Walker.

'She'll change her mind.'

Ethan apparently decided not to pick him up on that, falling back on his earlier consternation. 'Seriously, Cal, what are we going to do?'

Cal had no answers and that was just as well, because the door at the end of the corridor was opening and in blazed David Hardy followed closely by Claire. He could practically feel Ethan shrink beside him, and not for the first time, Cal wondered why both of his siblings were so in awe of their father. It looked as though this was being left to him.

Of course, he'd forgotten quite how overpowering his step-father could be.

'I'm really hoping one of you is going to explain what the hell is going on,' were his opening words, a face like thunder and a voice not far behind. 'First I want to see my daughter though. Where is she?'

Ethan glanced at Cal, apparently looking for a lifeline. It wasn't very often that Cal got to play the responsible big brother, fighting Ethan's battles for him. This was something of a novelty.

One he could live very well without.

'I'm… going to go and check on the baby,' he said, stepping out of David Hardy's way. 'I'll… catch you later.'

He felt more than saw Ethan's despair. The only comment his brother made was, 'Her name's Rosie,' before the door closed behind Cal and left the family he'd never really felt a part of behind.

Francesca didn't do crying. It never solved anything and it was exhausting. There was nothing crying could do which pulling yourself together and dealing with something wouldn't do better. Tears were a waste of time.

That didn't stop her eyes becoming wet when her parents came into the room. It had been so long since she'd seen them, and it had been the longest day and night. Never an affectionate person, all she suddenly wanted was a hug.

'What happened?' her father demanded as soon as he stepped inside the door.

'David,' Claire said warningly as she crossed over to Fran and sat down beside her. 'How are you?'

'I'm… alright…' Old habits died hard and Fran was always alright. Her mother's concern was too much right then, so she turned again to her father. 'Dad, I…'

'We get a call in the middle of the night saying you've had a baby and major surgery. That isn't alright.'

'David,' Claire said again. 'This can all wait.'

'Mum, it's okay,' Fran insisted, hating this kid-glove handling of the situation. 'I'm… alright. And… I'm sorry…'

'You don't need to be apologising to me,' David began, and thereafter followed a litany of the people she should be apologising to. The hospital, who'd taken her on and now had to find a replacement when she'd worked there such a short time: 'You should count yourself lucky they're not living by the letter of the law; I'm not even sure you're entitled to proper maternity pay.'

Then there were the wider hospital staff who'd had to put up with her refusal to follow her midwife's recommendations regarding her blood pressure. This required a rather detailed perusal of her medical notes, which were supposed to be private as far as Fran was aware, and yet her father was reading sections aloud like he was at a poetry recital. She found no sympathy coming from Ethan's corner right now, suggesting he too was fuming with her blithe ignoring of a medical professional's opinion.

Then there was Ethan himself: 'It's entirely unfair of you to have put your brother through this. Either of them.' The latter added hastily, as if Cal's absence in the room had momentarily made David forget his step-son's role in all of this. This time Fran didn't even look at her brother, knowing how very right her father was. The past nine months had been awful for her, but she doubted they'd been much better for Cal or Ethan, living this lie alongside her, and getting very little thanks for it. She'd been a pretty terrible sister. She expected that, if he hadn't already, their father would have some very choice words for Ethan about the levels of deception he had to exercise to help keep the whole charade under wraps. It all seemed so ridiculous now, the very idea of keeping Rosie a shameful secret not making sense now she'd held her and seen her face. Those were two apologies she definitely needed to make, at some point.

Her mum also needed an apology: 'She's barely slept a wink all night, worrying about you.' Fran's stomach lurched, even as Claire held her hand tightly, her typically stoical smile saying that it hadn't been all that bad. For the first time, Fran was certain that her mum wasn't telling the truth. Rosie had been in the world less than twenty-four hours, and Fran had spent most of that time, when she wasn't drugged out, worrying about her. For Claire to claim she hadn't been worrying either meant she was a terrible mother or she was lying. There was no contest.

And the final person Fran had to apologise to, 'Before you even think about apologising to me,' was, apparently, herself. 'You've worked so hard. This isn't going to help your career, Francesca.'

It was at this point that Claire stepped in with more force than usual. 'David. This really can wait.' Then, more kindly to Fran, 'Can we get you anything? Have they said when you can go home?'

She shook her head, answering both questions in one.

'They want to keep her in overnight again,' Ethan said, apparently having spoken to the doctors. 'Just to check she's alright after the surgery. They think she might be able to go home tomorrow.'

'Well, that's good news,' Claire concluded, smiling. 'And how about the baby? Rosie, is it? Is she okay?'

Fran nodded. 'I haven't seen her since she was born.'

'But she's not ill?'

'She's fine,' Ethan put in. 'In better shape than Fran. And… Max brought you some photos, didn't he?'

Fran's eyes flickered over towards her father again, wondering how long it would take for him to take that bait.

Not long.

'Who's Max? Is this the father?' In response to her nod, he added, 'And who is he?'

'We work with him,' Ethan said, in a way intended to shut the conversation down. 'Fran, show your mum the photos.'

The phone had been by her side all day since Max had brought it to her. She'd swiped through them so many times, she was surprised the battery hadn't failed. Now she did it again, half-watching her mum's reaction, hoping she'd seen what Fran did every time she looked at them.

'Oh David, look,' Claire exclaimed, beckoning her husband over. 'She's beautiful, Fran. Really beautiful.'

David fell silent for a few seconds as he took in the image of his first grandchild. There was a softening of his features; apparently even he wasn't immune to the sight of a baby linked to him via blood.

And then, 'What about this Max then? Had he been planning on having a baby?'

And so it went on, uncurbed, until Fran wondered whether she was making a very terrible mistake after all.

Babies weren't really Cal's thing, but being here, surrounded by the things, was marginally better than being along the corridor surrounded by Hardys. He supposed the bundle of trouble in front of him was, technically, a Hardy – unless Fran's friendship with Max had accelerated to the point where they really were going to co-parent her. Then he supposed she was a Walker, something that would take more than a straightforward statement on a birth certificate to get his head around.

'And that,' he muttered to Rosie, aware that this was madness as the baby was less than a day old and definitely didn't understand what he was saying, 'is the least of your problems right now. I hope you know how much trouble you've caused.'

Rosie merely kicked her legs and blinked.

A mass gathering of Hardys was always Cal's signal to escape, but having smoked three cigarettes, it was a choice between coming here and actually volunteering for an extra shift in the ED. That was something he'd never done before and he didn't think this was a big enough emergency to warrant it. Of course, if anybody asked he'd been dealing with important personal matters, rather than staring at Rosie and wondering how things had taken such a dramatic turn in such a short space of time.

Fran was a mother. An actual mother. His kid sister had taken on the responsibility of another human being and most days Cal could barely claim to take responsibility for himself. There was a whole other life opening up for Fran, one where she was taking on a whole new role, a new name even. Cal knew his sister and knew how she usually needed to plan her meals out for weeks at a time. He wondered if she'd been planning this all along because, if not, the painkillers were numbing more than just the physical pain.

'Because she is going to be totally freaking out right now, thanks to you,' Cal said out loud again, earning himself a gurgle seemingly in response. 'Yeah, so long as you know it.'

'Is she becoming a troublemaker already?'

Cal jumped and Max immediately apologised. 'Sorry, I didn't… I wasn't creeping up on you or anything, I was just stopping by…'

He'd been doing a lot of that today by all accounts. He'd been up to see Rosie at least twice, left his phone with Fran; given that he was almost as addicted to smoking as Cal himself was, it seemed unlikely that he'd spent much time actually working today. Cal might feel more hostile towards him if he didn't remember what he'd previously been considering about Fran: Max's life had just shifted irrevocably as well. That he wasn't sitting, rocking, in a darkened room was worthy of some respect in itself.

Still, being caught mumbling to a baby was the sort of embarrassing that Cal couldn't easily deal with, and he got to his feet uncomfortably. 'Fran wanted me to check on her,' he said by way of explanation.

'Has she still not seen her?' A frown crossed Max's face, something which looked like concern tinged with a hint of criticism. 'Is she alright?'

'She's fine.' Then, realising that it sounded as like Fran was jumping around, full of vigour and fitness, he added, 'The doctors don't want her getting out of bed until at least tomorrow though. Otherwise she'd be here.'

'Couldn't you take Rosie to her?'

Cal fought against his instincts to snap a response because of course he'd considered that option – he wasn't stupid. 'It's not quite that simple,' was his retort.

'Is something wrong with her?' And Cal felt himself momentarily soften towards Max as he took a step forward, offered the baby, his daughter his finger, stroked her brow, generally loved her.

Unable to agitate the other man for any length of time, Cal said, 'No. She's fine. She's more ready to go home than Fran is.'

'Then what's the problem?'

It was the most pathetic, the most NHS of excuses. 'They're waiting for a porter to take her.'

A pause. Then Cal realised what he'd said as he took in Max's maroon polo shirt and ID badge. He felt any sense of charity towards the other man fade away in the face of appearing a fool.

'Call off the search?' the porter suggested with a smile. 'Shall I take her now?'

It was on the tip of Cal's tongue to suggest that now mightn't be the best time: Cal had only left his sister an hour ago and David Hardy was likely barely started on one of his monologues. Interrupting him wouldn't score Max many brownie points with somebody he really needed to keep on side if this bizarre set-up was ever going to work. Later might be better.

Then he closed his mouth again and gave a nod.

There was a moment, around the one hour ten minute mark, when Ethan genuinely regretted lifting the phone last night and calling home. What had seemed like the sensible mature response to a situation of pure chaos now seemed like one of the worst decisions he could have made. Certainly it hadn't done Fran much good to co-exist in a room with their father when he was in such a mood.

David Hardy loved his children. Ethan knew that, and he suspected Fran was well aware. It was shown through his interest in their lives and the way he'd paved their paths for them so that they could be everything they wanted to be. It was also shown through how personally he took any deviation from that path, as if they'd deliberately set out to upset him. Ethan's choice to attend a different university from his father's preference had been a source of much debate at the time; Fran's choice to have a baby without even mentioning it was probably worthy of a similar style of soliloquy.

He hadn't reckoned on it being this long though. Cal had beat a hasty retreat long ago, never quite comfortable in his step-father's presence. That left Ethan and Claire as the referees in this battle, or would have done if Fran was even trying to fight back. Instead, she'd sat, listening to her father's comments on 'the situation', as if this was something she deserved. Ethan hated that.

David had covered a lot of ground in the past hour, from how disruptive all of this was to Fran's career (something Ethan was certain she was already concerned enough about with his input) to how dangerous her refusal to listen to the midwife had been (which, alright, Ethan at least agreed with). Her medical notes made for good reading, and their father had read them from cover to cover with no protest from Fran. An outsider might have assumed this couldn't last much longer. Ethan knew better.

When the door finally opened, Ethan was surprised again by his relief in seeing Cal. Something about his brother always made David Hardy think twice, as if aware that, even after all of these years, he needed to consider himself more carefully around his step-son. Ethan wished he'd afford such respect to his actual flesh and blood, especially the one lying in a hospital bed.

Still, Cal was here now and perhaps that would change things.

Then Max walked in behind him. That definitely changed things.

There was a moment when the porter faltered as he saw David and Claire, and Ethan could have sworn he saw his brother smirk. Clearly not warning Max of their arrival had been tactical, and Ethan was sort of impressed. It was the sort of cunning his older brother didn't usually manage.

Then Max recovered himself and delivered the message he'd come here to deliver. 'We brought a visitor.'

And Ethan took in the cot he was pushing and realised that, in all the ways that mattered, Max had just won this entire moment. Fran's face was something he could never have described, from the way she emerged from the gloom her father had brought upon her to the way her eyes fixed upon the bundle in the cot. The porter had done precisely what she needed, what nobody else had managed: he'd brought her their daughter.

Fran let out the tiniest of whimpers, her arms shooting out for Rosie in a way which was very unlike her. Ethan had never seen her so unashamedly desperate for something before and it felt altogether too intimate to really watch, a feeling only compounded once the baby was ensconced in her mother's arms. It was going to take something special to tear Rosie away from Fran again.

Only one person seemed able to break the silence that had fallen over the room upon his entrance.

'So does that mean I can have my phone back?'

A smile flashed across Fran's face, so quickly that Ethan thought he could have imagined it. Her attention belonged solely to her daughter now, as if nobody else in the room existed. Familiar as that was, given how his sister had been incommunicado in the US for a year, Ethan felt she could have chosen her moment better. Here they all were, stood around, silent, awkward, and she was the reason for it. The least she could do was make a few introductions rather than leaving it to him.

Clearing his throat, he wondered how he was supposed to refer to Max.

'Mr and Mrs Hardy?' Max crossed the room from Fran's bedside and held his hand out in a way that even David Hardy felt compelled to shake it. 'I'm Max Walker. I'm Rosie's dad.'

Ethan glanced at his brother and knew for certain that they weren't thinking the same thing. Cal looked at Max with disdain. In contrast, all Ethan could think was how utterly the porter had owned that moment, and how nobody else had flummoxed David Hardy in that way before.

Next time: Carry You Home

'Ethan, what if I can't do this?'

Fran felt rather than saw his surprise, proof that her unruffled exterior had successfully hidden the panic underneath. 'Do what?'

'What if I can't be her mum?' Now the words were coming she was finding it hard to stop them. 'What if I can't be the person she needs? I… I've never been that kind of person, I'm… selfish, I'm… impatient. What if I can't cope?' Horrified, she realised her hands were shaking. 'I've spent all this time wanting to get rid of her, pass the problem on. I'm not ready, I…' She broke off and tried to catch her breath, worried that if she let the tears come, she'd never stop them.

Ethan left a long pause after her final words. Then, calmly, patiently, kindly, he said, 'I think that's probably normal.'

Fran fiddled with her glasses and flew her fringe back from her sweaty forehead. 'Not for me,' she said in a small voice.

Lyrics/chapter title from 'The Reason' by Hoobastank