He took one last, deep breath through his nose and then blew out through his mouth, running a green-tinged hand through his hair. He could do this. He had to. And with that, he rang the doorbell.

Almost immediately, Richard made a move for the door. Raven glanced over at him from where she was playing with Caden and Bonnie on the ground, considering that maybe she should be the one to face Gar first, but quickly gave up on the matter. Richard was too close to stop by now, anyway.

As the wooden barrier between the two men was diverted, they simply stared at each other, both expressionless before Gar finally asked, "Can I come in?"

Richard paused, glancing back into the room behind him where everyone had suddenly gone very quiet except for the two children. "Can we - talk first? The three of us?"

Gar winced. That was promising to be the most awkward exchange in history. He stared over Richard's shoulder, perhaps seeking Raven's opinion on the matter, and his stomach jerked when he saw her kneeling on the ground, building some sort of Lego contraption. The blunt alarm that registered on his face sent Richard's own heart racing and he immediately whipped around, searching for whatever Gar found so dangerous, but found nothing.

"What?" he demanded, turning back around anxiously. "What is it?" It crossed his mind that perhaps it was just the shock of seeing his ex lover, but that didn't fit his old friend's personality - he used jokes to get out of situations like this.

"What is she doing?" Gar retorted, accusing eyes flickering back to Richard. "Why is she on the ground? Are you trying to-"

Svelte as ever, Raven rose and approached them. "Why don't we go outside?" she suggested, but gave them no time to respond before she pushed them back from the doorway and shut it behind her.

"You look sick," Gar said, sounding sick himself.

"She is sick," Richard replied, grimacing.

Awkward silence followed before Richard finally broke it, calmer now. "What were you saying? About her being on the ground?"

Gar pinned a confused, almost angry look on the subject of their conversation. "You didn't tell him?"

"Telling him wouldn't have done anything but made him paranoid. Like you," she added.

"Tell me what?" Richard demanded, hating himself for the traces of jealousy that burned at his chest over the prospect of them sharing some sort of secret.

"Nothing," Raven soothed. "Don't worry about it."

"'Don't worry about it?'" Gar demanded incredulously. "Why shouldn't he worry about it? It's his fault-"

"Would one of you just fucking tell me already?" Richard snarled, now both jealous and frightened. "Spit it out! What don't I have to worry about? What's the matter?"

"Don't," Raven warned, but the green-haired changeling ignored her.

"The scarring, didn't she tell you about the scarring?"

Richard's brows drew together in confusion. "Yes, she told me there was scarring. That it would make it - difficult to carry the child to term."

Gar pinched the bridge of his nose, a vain attempt to block out the stress. "Tell him, Raven," he finally said, tired of the situation already. "Just tell him."

She leaned back against the door, staring at him for a long, considering for a moment before looking back at Richard. "There's a spot at the top of my uterus - the scarring there has made it very rough, and it's likely that the placenta can't attach itself."

Richard stared, uncomprehending, and in his frustration Gar decided to fill in the blanks.

"Any upward or downward motion puts stress on it," he snapped. "If it detaches any more than it already is, it'll be ripping connected flesh and-"

"She'll bleed," Richard interrupted, his eyes closing. The instinct he'd been fighting for five months to stick her in a bed and tie her there was suddenly roaring in his ears, his heart thumping painfully. And as he digested this new information, every single time he'd seen her kneel or lean down or bend over was swimming through his mind. "That's why you're sick," he finally said, his voice void of emotion. He opened his eyes, staring harshly at her. "Is that why you're sick?" he demanded when she gave no response.

"Yeah," she murmured. "That's why. The fetus is big enough now that my body correctly registers the unattached section as a problem, and it's trying to heal it."

"But it can't," Richard said flatly. "Because it's not attached to begin with. So it's just - draining you."

All three remained silent, and he fought himself, hard. He fought not to just scream, he fought not to break something, and most of all, he fought not to absolutely and perhaps irrationally hate her.

"And even knowing this," he said, his voice under steely control, "even knowing this, you still bent down to pick up things you'd dropped, or knelt to pet Guard, or played with Caden on the ground."

"I know you're angry," she began slowly, "but on that matter, you both really are just paranoid. Truly," she interrupted both of their objections. "In another month, maybe not, but right now the baby weighs less than two pounds. It's not putting any significant stress on anything even when I do lean down."

"So you were planning on telling me in another month?" Richard snapped. "Or were you planning on figuring it out the hard way?"

"I didn't even expect to make it this far," Raven retorted, mouth drawn in anger. "So if you're angry because I didn't let you in on it, fine, continue to be. I stand by my decision. There's nothing you could have done and you'd simply have had a heart attack every time I lifted my foot to go up the stairs."

Gar stood there, motionless and saying nothing through their exchange, until finally he decided it was time to exit. "I'm going to go inside," he told them, and when both glanced at him in a mixture of shock and warning, he chuckled humorlessly. "I know. The reason you wanted the three of us to talk was about Caden. We can all tell him together tomorrow," he said, exhausted by now. "It's too late tonight and we're all too stressed." With that, he opened the door and took his leave, leaving the two lovebirds in silence.

"You still should have told me," Richard said quietly, calmer now that one issue was out of the way. He moved to stand in front of her, one hand sliding slowly over her abdomen where the child in question rested. He slowly lowered his forehead to her shoulder and she rubbed his back, staying that way for several silent minutes.

"I'm sorry," she finally sighed, a rarity in and of itself. "I don't regret not telling you, but you're right. I should have."

He lifted his head and removed his hand, wrapping both arms around her and pulling her to his chest. "Is it safe yet? If it was born now, would it - survive?"

She pressed her lips to his chest and then shook her head. "No," she murmured. "He wouldn't."

It took Richard a moment to get over the pain of the implication before he gasped at what else she'd said, pulling back to look at her face. "He? It's a he? Are you sure?"

"Yeah, I'm sure," she said, a small smile slowly spreading across her face. "It's been about a week since I figured it out. Do you want to... see him?"

His brows shot up. "What? See him? I can't, he's still..." he trailed off as he felt her touch his mind, their long-unused bond repairing itself almost instantly. A bit rusty, he at first followed her guide hesitantly, but before long it was second nature - he allowed her to bring his own consciousness into hers, following whatever path she took him on until he saw him. To his surprise, it did look like a actual baby - at least for the most part. His skin was perhaps a little more wrinkly, but had fully defined - beautiful - features, even tiny, dark hairs. However, it was only a moment before he noticed the inevitable. His "eye" was drawn to the place on the placenta that was obviously not attached, as it caved in very, very slightly and glowed with the faint dark magic he knew to be Raven's body automatically and futilely attempting to heal it. He looked away, not wanting to see it any more, but now that he was looking for imperfections, he found more of them. The baby was tiny, much smaller, it seemed, than it should have been. Had she said less than two pounds? He looked less than one. And, finally, the elephant in the room that he had missed until he was looking for it: the baby was breech.

The shock severed their bond immediately, and he found himself stumbling back into his own mind, gasping for breath as he fought the urge to vomit.

"Richard," Raven said sternly, placing her hands on his shoulders. "Richard, calm down. He's only at 25 weeks, babies are still moving around a lot at that point. He can still turn."

He took a step back, running a hand through his hair and then down his face. "Oh, my God."

"Richard!" Her voice was slightly snappish now. "Calm down. Most don't turn until 28 to 32 weeks. And he might be able to turn even later, he's so small-"

"You're small," he countered. He was going to be sick. "You're small, too, and you're different. Caden turned at 21 weeks and didn't move after that."

"That was extremely early, and he was a very, very large baby," Raven reminded him, trying to remain calm; at least one of them had to be. "This one could probably keep turning back and forth for months. Don't you remember? We read about this in all of those baby books. Some babies don't turn until hours before they're born, even."

"We don't have that long. We don't have months. We might not even have weeks. You can't deliver breech, your pelvis-"

"Is still larger than our son is at the moment," she assured him frankly. "You saw how little he is. There's no danger of him not fitting. The problem is if he doesn't grow."

Richard shuddered, the panic mostly passed but the anxiety still very much present. "How much longer can you carry him?"

This, she hesitated over. "I don't know," she admitted. "I expected the placenta to break away on its own, but it's perfectly attached except for that one spot. However long it can stay that way, I guess - and then however long my body can sustain him."

"Which is how long?"

"Well - there's no sign of anything ripping. And he's small, so it doesn't take much to keep him going."

"It's the scarring," he muttered, making the connection. "That's what's using up the energy. And that's probably why he's so small."

She nodded once.

"You need to start steroids," he told her. "The faster he develops, the better. We'll ask Vic about it tomorrow." He kissed the top of her head, calm now. "And you need to sleep."

"What? No, Kori's still not here."

"You can see her in the morning," he said, his voice lowering to plead with her. "Sleep. Please."

She sighed and nodded once, and he opened the door to let them both inside, bypassing the sight of Gar playing with Caden to escort her to bed.