Eighteen Hours Prior to Return

"Mort?"

It wasn't the first time she'd woken him and it probably wouldn't be the last. But exhaustion dictated a halt in his usual accommodating nature when being woken in the middle of the night was concerned. Turning over to distance himself as much from the disturbance as possible, Mort delved into the opposite pillow. Nalesse, however, was relentless.

"Mort?!"

"Fucks sake; what, Less...?"

"My waters broke." Either too deep in slumber to grasp the gravity of the situation or just generally ignorant of the terminology, Mort didn't move.

"I'll fix 'em t'morrow."

"No, Mort! My waters broke!"

"And I said I'd fix 'em t'morrow! Go to bed!"

"MORT!" The sudden bark riled him to jump and while she had been considerate before with her volume, the time for consideration was over; no escape now. When he finally did sit up and open his eyes, Mort was faced with a very pregnant thunder. "GET UP AND GET THE FUCKIN' MIDWIFE! THE BABY IS COMIN'! GET YOUR FINGER OUTTA YOUR ASS AND MOVE!"

With that lightning bolt to the behind, Mort had never moved so fast in his life.

"Holy fuck….!"

"Motherfucker!"

"Fuckin'…. AGHHHHHH!"

The next time Mort tried to convince her that getting kicked in the balls is more painful than childbirth, she was going kick him in the appropriate part until he managed to eject a child.

And they just stood there. Watching. Like it was a fucking spectator sport.

"Does it hurt?" If looks could kill, poor Mort would be dead ten times over in the last three seconds. One lavender eye twitched and Balor and Draven swiped each other a look; as if trying to silently decide between them what they were going to do with the blonde's body.

"Mort…." Panting, seething, between utter physical trauma and fury; the only thing stopping Nalesse beating him to death herself was the bump that had been hindering her for the last few months. "I'm about to push another human bein' out of my fuckin' vagina. DON'T ASK ME IF IT FUCKIN' HURTS!" Another contraction squeezed her and the urge to punch someone to share her pain was almost too strong but Mort was too far away. "Oh my fuckin' God. Seriously. Fuck this."

"Too late now, Less."

"SHUT THE FUCK UP, BALOR! I KNOW IT'S TOO FUCKIN' LATE! WHERE THE FUCK IS MY FUCKIN' HUSBAND?!" On her feet but too crippled with agony to do anything or go anywhere, Nalesse stood, bent over her bedside table and gripped it for support. The other hand cradled the bump and, despite her own disquiet, tried to comfort the bombarding pushes to her ribcage; Smallie was getting distressed. "I know, sweetheart, I know…. I'm doin' my best."

Trying to breathe but everything hurting, Nalesse's brain function didn't quite extend to why her family loitered in her bedroom while the midwife prepped her equipment. Thankfully, said midwife had the foresight (from years of experience) to break up the gathering.

"You." The Rodian (who had introduced herself as Yara) directed flawlessly at Draven. "Clean towels; off you go. You." She rounded on Balor. "Hot water, please." Mort, fearing the same ejection, jumped in before Yara could assign him a duty.

"D'you want anythin', Less?!" Mort offered hurriedly as Balor and Draven trailed out to do their bit. "Somethin' to eat?! Cuppa?!"

"Can I have a cuppa?!"Nalesse bawled at the midwife, doubled over but lifting her head enough to almost plead with the only other present female. Yara looked up from her bag, bewildered. "Cuppa tea?!" She clarified before the Rodian could ask.

"Do you think you could stomach one?" Nalesse didn't answer; her watering eyes had trained on Mort.

"CUPPA!"

Cue scarpered exit: Mort.

Balor and Draven had (as attentively as their hulking forms would allow) hoisted Nalesse and eased her cautiously onto the bed. The more comfortable position, however, made no difference to the howling from said bed.

"FUUUUUUUUUCK!"

"'Member that time she got stabbed?" Mort reminisced, drained, after four hours, thirty-seven minutes and eleven seconds of screaming; clearly not a patch on how his sister was feeling. "I don't think she screamed like this…."

"I don't think you can really compare them, Mort." Balor replied, just as expended, when Nalesse's roars had become background noise. "She's being ripped open from the bottom up so I don't think it's the same thing."

"Fuck…. Yeah, forgot 'bout that." Balor thought better of asking just how Mort could forget something of that magnitude; or at least he would have if his daughter's chest-wracking sobs didn't distract him first.

"It hurts, Bal…!"

"I know, love." The bed sagged as the concerned father sank a knee onto the mattress beside his little one; his helplessness deepened at the tears welling in their lavender hosts. "But think about why you're doing it. You've been talking about this since you found out…." The cyclops paused before conceding to accuracy. "When you were awake anyway."

Another reverberating snarl terminated that part of the conversation.

"It's nearly time, so if I can just have the father present, please." There was a look of outraged confusion shared by the non-humans as they were hounded towards the door and Mort was herded towards the bed.

"He's fucking not-!"

"Yeah, I fuckin' am!" Mort shot a look to silence the scandalized Devaronian and closed the rest of the distance by himself. "That's my wife! That's my baby, dammit!" Nalesse said nothing; she probably hadn't even heard him over her own tormented shrieks.

"You a'right, Less?" He asked, hushed, when he arrived at her side. Automatically, he took it upon himself to gingerly stroke the sodden strands of ebony from a sweat-soaked brow. Face red, eyes clamped shut and breathing in rhythm with how she'd been taught; Nalesse was a state.

"Where is he, Mort?" The powerless whimper cut through him, particularly the contortion of agony in her features when Yara told her to push again. "He said he'd be here, where is he?"

"Baby's early, Less." Mort reasoned, at a loss for another explanation over the pitying sound of yet another sob. "He doesn't know. If he knew, he'd be here." He took on the duty of a father-to-be and coiled his hand around his sister's clammier one. "But I'm here. He'd want me t'be so you're not on your own."

"Am I gonna die? Feels like I'm gonna die." She might not have looked her best but Mort knew one thing: Nalesse was not going to die.

"Bitch." Hopefully the humour would be infectious. "How many times've you looked death in the face and skipped off without a scratch, huh?" Thank the Maker for that strained pull of a grateful grimace, no matter how brief; if he could take her mind off the crippling pain for even a second, it would be one second less. "You're not 'bout to get taken out by your own sprog, you can do this."

"Remember your breathing." Yara interrupted firmly from between Less' open and bent legs. "Baby is about to crown, one more push." Nalesse gave it everything with the symphony of struggling growls.

"Baby is crowning." Yara announced a moment or so later with a small smile; one of the parts of the job she loved before looking to Mort. "Would you like to see?" The blonde whitened then greened; the idea of looking into his half-sister's birth canal not appealing in the slightest.

"Uhh... Yeah, no, I'm good, thanks."

"Almost... A few more pushes now, you're doing fine."

"OhmyGod, OhmyGod, OhmyGod..." Yet another holler of absolute torture; then another, and another, and another. Until Yara leaned forward, her face twisted with confusion and concern. Nalesse sensed the foreboding first.

"What's wrong...?" Weak, spent and completely exhausted but edging into panic, the captain forced herself up as much as she could while Mort looked between the two, baffled. Nalesse stared, petrified when Yara hadn't budged from between her legs. Dread flooded her and the lack of response certainly didn't help; she descended into terror at the noiselessness of the bedroom. "Why isn't there cryin', what's goin' on?!"

Yara didn't answer. Instead, she leaned in and busied herself in the post-birth procedure of cutting the umbilical cord; something she would usually have reserved for the father but urgency dictated. Especially when the new mother got (understandably) more hysterical by the second.

"What's wrong?! Tell me what's wrong?! Is my baby okay?!"

Into a nearby towel, the tiny body was bundled and Yara surveyed it with a professional eye. A little boy; much smaller than expected with his little arms curled around his face. He was still but when the midwife looked a little bit closer, she swept him to the waiting basin of warm water; this needed to be rectified.

"I've been in this business a long time." She began without turning back to the crumbling mother and the "father" who was in the process of comforting her while trying to keep himself contained as well. With her back to them, there was no way of seeing the relieved disbelief. "But I have never seen this. Heard of it, never seen it."

"Seen what?!" Mort chanced, on the verge of frantic tears from Nalesse's side. His sister had already disintegrated into muffled, distraught wails into the pillow; resigned to the loss of the baby she'd done her utmost to protect and already loved dearly. Lack of information and a breezy midwife combined to borderline incensement for Mort; a usually docile being, but not when his sister's breathing faltered for weeping. "Wanna tell us what's goin' on insteada bein' all fuckin' cryptic?!"

"Look." One simple instruction but it was enough to have Mort on his feet. He witnessed the ever-so-gentle lowering of the baby; still purple, wet and covered in patches of blood, into the water. Mort watched, apprehensive, but it turned to pure, baffled relief when the baby started to squirm and whine.

"What...?"

"Little one slept right through the birth." She surmised with the closest thing he'd seen her exhibit to amusement in the hours he'd been in her company. "That's rare. A story to tell in years to come. Did the water wake you, sweetheart?" She cooed as she began to wash away the fluids and Mort scurried back to Nalesse. "I'm sorry but you need to be clean before your mother meets you. You've had her very worried, you know."

"Smallie's okay!" The fresh uncle hissed with an abundance of excitement, having reappeared at the bedside; much to Nalesse's worn out incredulity. "Slept though the birth! Right through it!" Then he took off; to tell the others, she assumed.

Mort didn't tell the others. Not yet. He was gone a little over a minute when he came trundling back with something very familiar in hand. And just in time before the baby was wrapped in a non-descript, non-sentimental white blanket.

"Nononononononono..." He loosened the blanket in his arms; the one of black gaberwool that had gone missing from the bundle, the one sent by the baby's real father some months previous. "This one. Gotta be this one." The dark-haired beauty in the bed followed Mort's movements as he produced the blanket, the one that had mysteriously absconded from the collection; stupefied.

"Where'd you get that...? I thought I lost it..."

"Took it while you were sleepin' las' week." He replied, grinning at the look of sheer dishevelled wonderment; a very Mort thing to do. "Got it cleaned; nice'n'professional, like. Just thought it'd be cosier, y'know?"

"Girl or boy…?"

"Ah now." The roguish boyishness would annoy her; even more so when she was still glowing with pain and hadn't met her own baby yet. "You said you wanted a su'prise."

"Mort." Baby wrapped and placed into his 'father's' arms, Mort stared for a little while; endeared especially by the thick crown of dark hair. Perhaps the danger in his sister's toiled voice hadn't registered yet, not when he couldn't tear his eyes from his brand-new nephew. "Girl. Or. Fucking. Boy."Wary of exerting the matriarch after a difficult birth and already aware of her extreme temperament, Yara felt it prudent to minimize the distress. To that end, she eased the child from Mort before he could antagonize her further.

"Somebody kicked their way out early to meet you. Then got tired and needed a nap." Yara soothed both mother and child simultaneously; the result instant when Nalesse was reunited with her baby, externally this time. The minute pressure of the tiny form pressing on her torso set off something else; a level of devotion that (even during her pregnancy) she never thought possible. The subtle, comfort-seeking writhe and the low whinge as the infant settled against his first and fiercest guardian's chest plucked at her and the waterworks started to give way. But there was still one vital piece of information; one thing she had nearly forgotten about in the midst of the birth, the perceived complications and actually seeing the contents of her bump for the first time. "You have a beautiful baby boy."

The combination of hearing those glorious words and resting her watering, lavender gaze on her son sent her lip trembling and her emotions scattering. He was absolutely perfect. Already drenched in blood (from the waist down, at least), sweat and tears, Nalesse's eyes refilled but for a completely different reason. The look was mutual: purple on crystal blue and the air of curiosity, positively enchanting; only a few minutes old and already, he set her heart aflutter. The exhale of lungs drained by shrieks, howls and sobs was slow; steadying in a bid to keep some bit of control over herself. She knew, however, that venture was futile.

"Don't scare me like that….!" She wept, holding him as close and as tight as she could without discomforting either of them. "You can't scare mammy like that, it's not on!" Smallie had gravitated to relaxation; a relief for Nalesse, as she had fret on if he would accept her or not. He clearly had. He basked in familiarity; from the heartbeat drumming beneath him to the gruff if besotted voice all around him to the body heat radiating to match his own.

"And he's a'right, yeah? There's…. There's nothin' wrong? He was jus' asleep?" New mothers asked these questions all the time, usually flustered like Nalesse was then so Yara answered as she went about the rest of her "tidy-up".

"He's positively perfect." She assured while she dug through her bag for something else; Nalesse was too wrapped up in the little noises her son made to question it. "He's somewhat smaller than he should be but other than that, he's wonderfully healthy." His size didn't concern the pirate queen but something else did.

"Uhh…." The smuggler's space was invaded once more; the space between her legs specifically and even doting on her son couldn't distract her from it. "Fuck you doin'?"

"You need to be stitched back up." Oh yes…. The stiches that she'd mentioned to Armitage and Mort, how could she have forgotten? Again, the midwife was patient and Nalesse wasn't as aggressive as she could have been. "Wouldn't want you bleeding out now, would we?" Fair enough.

"No, good point."

Yara conceded with a nod and went about her work. Mort re-joined her, on a high, as he parked his arse on the very corner of the bed.

"Fuckin' hell, Mort..." Nalesse started with a saturated sigh and tears still flowing. "Can you believe it?" Mort, as he had a habit of doing, got his wires crossed and puzzlement prevailed.

"I know it's another fella to leave the toilet seat up 'round here but y'don't have to cry 'bout it, like-"

"I'm happy, you dolt."

"Look at that, you're watchin' your language a'ready!" Thankfully, the stitching didn't take long and when the Rodian straightened with the deed done, she addressed another issue. Before Nalesse could formulate a creative way of assaulting her brother without disturbing the baby, incidentally.

"He's going to need sustenance soon." She began conversationally, cleaning her equipment with a strong-smelling disinfectant in a compact bottle. "Have you-?"

"There's a Biscuit Baron jus' down the road." Mort chimed in, thinking he was helping; looking between the two females, but unable to understand why they weren't more receptive. "I'll get 'im a Jolly Meal…. What d'those cost these days?" Yara, assuming Mort was joking, paid no heed, while Nalesse cringed internally.

"Have you decided on how you're going to do that?"

"Yeah, I'm gonna breast feed him." Nalesse replied with blatant certainty, stoic in giving her small-fella unrivalled nutrition "I want him to have the best."

"A good start." Yara agreed kindly but hovering, bag packed, and waiting to be dismissed. One nod from the head honcho and Mort was on his feet to release the door.

"Find the Abyssin." Nalesse instructed, without lifting her smitten gaze from the glass-like form she'd been entrusted with. "He'll pay you." It would be the only time she dipped into the money Armitage had sent her without him. Left alone with only blood relatives, Smallie revelled in outright bliss; an object of fascination without even realizing it.

"What're ya gonna call 'im?" Nalesse hummed her ambiguity, though Mort noticed the pull at the very corner of her mouth; a tell-tale sign if ever there was one.

"I had Shan in my head." She confessed softly, enamoured by every micro-movement and dream-deep twitch. "Shan for a boy."

"Tha's a Tatooine name." Mort recognized it, having heard it before but couldn't recall where; perhaps Nalesse herself. "Good name. Strong name." The blonde ogled a little longer, utterly captivated and enthralled until… "When's he gonna open his eyes?"

The ridiculous question prompted a heightening of perplexed sight; as if she wasn't quite sure she'd heard him correctly.

"What?"

"His eyes. When's he gonna open 'em?"

"When he wakes up?"

"But…." No, that couldn't be right. That's not what he'd heard. "I thought he was gonna be blind for a while? Two weeks or somethin'?"

"That's cats an' dogs, jackass."

"No, babies too."

"Baby cats an' dogs, ya gowl."

Agree to disagree, the silent consensus was there. Normally, they would have argued the point but with the latest addition, they found themselves too infatuated to pursue it.

"Arm's gonna be fuckin' weak for 'im."

"Watch your fuckin' language."