Vaughn's P. O.V:

More months passed. Chelsea's stomach was really big now; it was getting hard for her to actually get out of bed. Dr Trent checked up on her every two weeks to make sure everything was progressing normally, which apparently it was.

I was still nervous though. It wasn't because I was still worried that my kid would have a crappy childhood; Chelsea had reassured me it would be fine.

I was worried about Chelsea herself. My mother had died whilst giving birth to me and now I was afraid of that happening to Chelsea. I knew that Chelsea would be better looked after than my mother (who gave birth round the back of a Chinese takeaway shop) but it still hurt me to think about it. And I got more and more anxious as the days went by.

So you can probably imagine the heart attack I got when Chelsea roughly shook me awake in the middle of the night towards the end of spring.

"Vaughn." Her voice was strained. I sat up, my heart pounding.

"What's wrong?"

"I think I'm going into labour."

For one second I had absolutely no clue what to do. But then I remembered at least one important thing.

"OK. Hang in there, Chels. I'll call the doctor."

She nodded grimly. I quickly hopped out of bed and rushed to the phone where I hurriedly dialled the doctor's number. He seemed moody at first.

"Who is this? It's one in the morning!"

"It's me, Vaughn. Chelsea's gone into labour."

"Oh," Trent didn't seem moody anymore. "Alright, I'll come straight over. Keep calm."

The call ended. "Vaughn!" Chelsea groaned.

"I'm coming Chels!" I called up to her. Then I had an idea.

I dashed into the kitchen and took out a pint glass from the cupboard. Then I opened up the freezer, opened the tray of ice cubes and filled the glass with ice. Then I carefully took it back to the bedroom.

I put on the bedside table and then sat beside Chelsea and held her hand.

"What's with the glass of ice?" She asked me.

"You'll see," I told her. "Actually, do you want Mirabelle or Felicia over here?"

Chelsea nodded. "Get both."

Instead of leaving Chelsea to get to the landline, I switched on my mobile. I called Mirabelle first. Like the doctor she sounded annoyed but when I told her what was happening she promised to come straight over. Felicia said she was coming before I could even get the full sentence out of my mouth.

Chelsea moaned loudly, and gripped my hand hard. A light sweat was beginning to break out on her forehead. I took the glass of ice and gently pressed it to her face until she stopped moaning. Then she gave me a weak smile.

"Thanks."

At that moment their doorbell rang loudly.

"It's probably Mirabelle and Felicia," I said, kissing Chelsea's head. "I'll get it."

It was them. Felicia went straight to the bedroom. Mirabelle squeezed my hand and then said "By the way Vaughn, when a woman is in labour her tolerance levels will plummet." I wondered what she meant but I nodded and then we went back to the bedroom. I sat beside Chelsea and held her hand tightly. She gripped it hard.

When the doctor came about an hour later, instead of having me leave Chelsea again, Felicia answered the door. He came in the room looking all business-like, even though it was about two in the morning.

He'd even brought some kind of hospital gown for Chelsea to change into. When she was wearing it, she lay on the bed.

"Chelsea, because we're not at the hospital, I can't give you any pain relief," Trent told her, looking slightly anxious.

Chelsea swore loudly. "Oh, now you tell me," she growled. I suddenly realised what Mirabelle had meant earlier.

The contractions seemed to be coming more and more now. Chelsea was gripping my hand harder than ever.

After what felt like an eternity Trent looked up at us and told Chelsea to start pushing.

Chelsea screamed out as she pushed. She wouldn't let go of my hand. I didn't tell her to let go either, even though it was actually really beginning to hurt now. Every so often I would gently press the glass of ice (half of it now water) against her face. I held her hand against my forehead so my view to the doctor was blocked. I couldn't stand the sight of blood.

"Come on Chelsea, you can do it! One more push!" Trent encouraged her. My heart fluttered a little. It was nearly over.

Chelsea groaned and I could have sworn she was breaking my hand. Crikey, this woman was strong.

Then the cry of a newborn child filled the room, as clear as a bell.

"Congratulations! It's a girl!" Trent smiled. I think he held her up so we could see, but I still couldn't look. I had been doing well but I reckoned if I looked at a one second old baby I probably would throw up.

A weak smile spread across Chelsea's face and she finally loosened her death-like grip on my hand. I glanced at the clock on the bedside table. Wow, it was half past ten. I dared a quick glance in the doctor's direction. He had clamped the cord and was handing the baby to Mirabelle and Julia.

Whilst he waited or something called the placenta to come out, I gently wrapped my arm around Chelsea's shoulders and propped her up a little with pillows. Then I hugged her gently and kissed the top of her head.

"You did so well, sweetheart. I'm so proud of you," I whispered in her ear softly. She smiled. She didn't speak; she was completely out of breath to talk.

"Vaughn, do you want me to take a look at your hand?" Dr Trent asked me. He must have seen pain on my face.

Keeping my eyes only on him, I moved closer to the end of the bed and showed it to him, wincing as he moved his fingers along the bones.

"It's ok, it's just bruised," Trent told me and I slid back to Chelsea.

She looked anxious. "Vaughn, I'm so sorry," she said, looking up at me with her ice-blue eyes.

I put my arm round her and kissed her gently. "Don't worry about it Chels, you couldn't help it."

She smiled at me. Even though her face was red and covered in sweat, her hair was a mess and she was breathing heavily, I still thought she was the most beautiful girl in the world.

"OK Chelsea, you can sit up now," Trent said to her. I wrapped my arm around her shoulders and helped her into a sitting position.

Mirabelle came over to us and gently laid a bundle of blankets in Chelsea's arms. Chelsea gently moved the blankets away from the baby's face, smiling widely.

The very first thing I noticed was that her eyes were the exact same pale violet as mine.

She had stopped crying now and was gazing up at us. I stroked Chelsea's hair lovingly.

Trent took a pen and a folded piece of paper out of his pocket. "Have you picked out a name for her?" he asked.

"Esmé Gwen Davidson," Chelsea nodded.

"Nice name," Felicia complimented us. I smiled up at her and Mirabelle, who had a tear leaking out of the corner of her eye.

Trent unfolded the paper and leaned on the bedside table to write the name. When he was finished he packed up the rest of his medical equipment.

"Well, I should be off now," he said. "Congratulations again, guys."

"Same here," Felicia nodded, smiling widely.

"Yep," Mirabelle nodded, dabbing at her eye. "I'm so happy for you two!"

Acting on a whim, I stood up from the bed and gave Mirabelle a tight hug. She hugged me back. "Thanks," I whispered in her ear, though I wasn't entirely sure why I was thanking her.

"You're welcome," Mirabelle smiled and she kissed my cheek gently, before she left.

I sat on the bed again beside Chelsea. She was gently cuddling the baby in her arms. She rested her head on my shoulder and I put my arm around her.

"She's my baby too," I said after a while. "Don't I get to hold her?"

Chelsea giggled and then rested Esmé in my arms. I smiled as I took her.

She felt so tiny and fragile. I suddenly wondered how my father left me. I had hated him for leaving me less since I had dreamed of my mum when I got stabbed.

Even so, as Esmé rested in my arms, I realised that even if Chelsea had died, there was no way I could just kill myself and leave the baby alone with no parents. No way.

Not in this lifetime.