AN: And finally... a birth! There are a few more chapters to come after this, though. Enjoy!
31st August 2011 9.45 pm
There is no time to think about his eldest son, now, however, no matter how much Harry might wish to. He sprints into the hospital, and straight up to the maternity ward. Beth meets him the waiting area, relief evident in her face and voice. "Harry! Thank God you're here – what took so long?" Harry scowls at the memory of his latest quarrel with Graham and shakes his head. "Never mind that now!" he answers tersely. "Where's Ruth?" Beth points up the corridor, the look of anxiety returning to her face. "They've taken her straight through to delivery," she explains. Then, as Harry sets off in that direction, she calls, "I don't know if you'll be in time..."
Already breaking into a run again, Harry retorts, "I have to be!"
When he bursts into Ruth's room, she glances up at him and snaps, red-faced, "About bloody time!" Smiling in relief at the fact that she's still strong enough to yell at him, he hurries over to kiss her forehead. "I'm sorry, my darling. How do you feel?" Ruth raises a disbelieving eyebrow. Harry takes a seat next to her and picks up her hand, dancing his lips over her flushed and warm skin. "I know," he mumbles, forestalling her inevitable protests. "Stupid question. Do the doctors know how long it'll be?"
Ruth rests her head back on the pillows. "Not long..." she whispers. Then, she turns her head away from him, her dark locks spilling across the white linen of the pillowcase. "Harry," she admits in a very small voice, "I'm scared. I can't do this..." Harry clutches her hand tighter. Ruth never shows fear. Being the woman she is, she usually refuses to show this sort of weakness. She always has to be the cleverest, the most diligent, the calmest, and the least afraid. A smile of pride curves his mouth. Oh, my darling girl...
Firmly, Harry replies, "I don't think you've got much of a choice, sweetheart." Gently, he reaches out and turns her chin around to face him. "I know you can do this," he enunciates clearly. "You've survived exile, terrorists, kidnap, and Malcolm's knock-knock jokes – this is going to be easy in comparison." A breath of laughter hisses from between her slightly parted lips, and Harry grins in reply. But his smile fades to be replaced by a look of firm sincerity as he reassures her, "And I'm here. I promise you, I'm not going anywhere."
31st August 2011 11.00 pm
The midwife rises, frowning. "The baby's getting a bit tangled up, Ruth..." she explains loudly, wanting to make sure her already-exhausted patient fully understands what is being said to her. Turning to Harry, she utters the words that part of him has been dreading. In his seat next to Ruth, holding her hand tightly, he hears her say, as if from far away, "I think it would be best if we could have some space..."
Harry's mouth tightens angrily. "I'm not leaving her!" he states flatly. The midwife, clearly exasperated, puts her hands on her hips and advances on him. "Mr Pearce – " she begins, but Harry is no mood to argue. For the first time since receiving his knighthood, he snaps testily, "It's Sir Harry, actually!" Through her pain, Ruth smiles softly.
The midwife pauses for a moment, and Harry thinks briefly that he's won. He's wrong. The midwife renews her attack. "I don't care. I'm trying to deliver your child, and the sooner I do that, the better for everyone. Out, now!" Harry's face reddens, suddenly understanding the brief memory he has of his father's sulkiness on the night of his younger brother's birth. That had occurred at home, though, and James Pearce had been relegated downstairs to care for his elder son, all the while thinking about his wife upstairs, giving birth to his second child. He hesitates, wondering whether or not to stand his ground. Ruth squeezes his hand weakly. "It's alright, Harry," she breathes, gesturing towards the door with her other hand.
Harry frowns doubtfully, and then suddenly swoops down upon her, and plants a kiss on her lips. "I love you..." he tells her, wanting to imprint the idea on her brain before even considering the idea of leaving her. She nods, forcing a smile for his benefit, and then turns her attention back to the job at hand.
Harry wanders out of the room, and as he hears the door click shut behind him, he feels suddenly bereft. Beth is waiting for him, and, seeing the look on his face, she silently takes his arm and leads him to a seat.
1st September 2011 12.15 am
Harry is pacing. Beth watches helpless from her chair as her boss runs his hands through his hair for the fortieth time, making his sparse brown curls stick up on end. "Just what is taking so long?" he interrogates Beth, pausing for a moment in his pacing. Beth stands up and seizes the front of Harry's jacket in her two hands, preventing him from moving any more.
"Harry," she begins, as patiently as possible, "you need to rest. You'll be no use to Ruth and the baby if you're shattered! Come and sit down." He pulls away from her hands for a fraction of a second and then heaves a sigh. Turning brusquely away from her, Harry throws himself down into the uniform plastic chairs the hospital has provided. It's going to be a long night... Beth thinks, sitting down next to him.
1st September 2011 1.45 am
"Have you decided on any names yet?" asks Beth, passing Harry a cup of coffee. He accepts the polystyrene mug from her without question and takes a sip, grimacing at the drink's weakness. "Ah... Ben, if it's a boy," he informs her. Beth nods, smiling, pleased to see Harry trying to concentrate on something other than what is happening on the other side of that solid door.
"And if it's a girl?" she prompts, after a moment of silence. Harry swipes a hand across his tired eyes, trying to force himself to stay awake. Despite his fear and concern for Ruth, he can't help the exhaustion that is flooding his body. He answers Beth's question almost mechanically. "We haven't decided yet." Then, in the tone of a man speaking to a trusted confidante, he adds, "I like 'Ruth' for a girl. But you know she'd never allow it." Beth chuckles and shakes her head.
"Alec's running a book," she informs him. "When Ruth found out, she told Dimitri she liked the sound of 'Chrysanthe' for a girl. He put fifty quid on it!" Harry can't help himself. He bursts out laughing, a deep, rich sound. "Fifty quid?" he repeats, wondering how Dimitri, a former SBS officer, came to be so gullible. "He really believed I'd let her call our daughter 'Chrysanthe'?"
Beth shrugs. "It's Ruth. Anything could happen." The words have an unintentionally sobering effect on her boss. Beth is right. Anything could happen. That's what scares him.
1st September 2011 2.37 am
"No, Tariq, there's no news yet. Put Dimitri on... Hi, sweetheart. I'm still here with Harry... No, no, we're fine as we are. Just go home and get some rest. I'll call as soon as there's more news... I love you too. Bye."
Beth ends the call and slips her mobile back into her pocket. Harry looks up at her from his seat. "No crises on the Grid?" he confirms, watching her with bleary eyes. She shakes her head and returns her feet to their former position, stretched out across the two adjacent chairs. "It's a quiet night. The lads are manning the fort, and anyway, I think you've got more than enough to be worrying about without the safety of the country as well."
Harry nods. Then, deciding he has to tell someone at some point, he explains, "I've put in a request for early retirement, actually, Beth. I want to be a proper father, and our work doesn't exactly allow for that so – " His voice breaks off as Beth throws her arms around his neck. She squeezes him tight, and he laughs in surprise.
"Oh, Harry," Beth grins and releases him. "I'm so pleased for you. Sad that you're leaving, but... pleased. That's one lucky kid in there." Harry shrugs sheepishly. I'm sure that Graham would have something to say about that...
1st September 2011 3.46 am
Beth has drifted off to sleep with her head resting on Harry's shoulder. It reminds him of the time when Catherine had had her appendix out at the tender age of four. It had been one of the rare times when he'd taken time off work, having received a panicked phone call from Jane in the ambulance. He'd arrived at the hospital, and for the first time in months, Jane had wrapped herself into his arms and he'd felt needed and wanted. While Harry had sat awake, waiting for his little girl to come out of surgery, Jane, worn out with worry, had fallen asleep on him, and filled his nose with the scent of her sandalwood shampoo. Paradoxically, it is one of the few happy memories he has of his first marriage...
Sighing, he turns his mind back to the present. He wonders whether Graham's damning evaluation of him will still hold true this time. Of course, Harry has no qualms about Ruth's parenting abilities. She'll be a wonderful mother – the times they have spent with Wes have been enough to prove that. If she can manage a teenage boy, then a baby will be no problem. But him... he spent very little time with Catherine and Graham when they were babies, and despite Ruth's assurances that he'll be a natural, Harry is still nervous. Frowning deeply, he flicks his eyes towards the door. Perhaps he'd be reassured if the doors here weren't so soundproof...
1st September 2011 4:27 am
Harry is dozing but the quiet creak of the door jerks him awake. He jumps to his feet, waking Beth as he does so. The midwife walks towards him, and he waits anxiously and eagerly for her. "Sir Harry..." she begins, and he is extremely relieved to see that she is smiling.
"How are they?" he asks breathlessly. "Are they alright?" The midwife gestures him back into a seat. Clearly they've called an unspoken truce. "They're both fine," she reassures him gently.
Harry beams, and then lowers his voice to ask, "What...?" Has he got a son or a daughter? He doesn't need to finish his question – the midwife, perceptive as she is, understands what he wants to know immediately. She tells him.
Next to him, Beth leaps to her feet. "Oh, Harry, congratulations!" she squeals, and reaches in her pocket for her mobile, impatiently brushing strands of blonde hair out of her eyes as she quickly keys in Dimitri's number. Harry stands up and sways on his feet, drunk with happiness. "Thank you," he burbles dazedly, "thank you very much. Can I go and see them?"
The midwife holds the door open for him. "Of course." But he still hesitates on the threshold. Ruth is resting, eyes half-closed, but at the sound of his footsteps, she looks up and gives him a wan smile. Harry rests himself on the edge of the bed. "How are you?" he murmurs, kissing Ruth's hair. She settles her head underneath his chin, and wraps her arms around him before answering. "Exhausted. Ecstatic."
Harry nods and then confides quietly, "Me too." The midwife walks over, carrying a bundle wrapped in a pink blanket, which she passes gently to Ruth. As he had expected, his wife instinctively knows how to hold their daughter. Harry brushes the blanket aside a little to get a better view of their child's face. "Oh, Ruth..." he breathes proudly, "She's beautiful."
Ruth nods, a quiet smile forming on her face. "She's got your eyes," she points out, her voice filled with awe, as their child blinks sleepily up at them. Harry nods and brushes a tender forefinger over the fine down of dark hairs that grace their daughter's head. "And your hair..." he states. Then, anxiously, he asks, "Can I hold her?" Ruth passes the baby to Harry, and smiles as he automatically adjusts his arms to support her head in the crook of his elbow. He's out of practice, she notes sleepily, but by no means incompetent...
Harry is still looking down in wonder at the bundle in his arms when he announces, "Beth's outside. Shall I send her in?" Despite her exhaustion, Ruth smiles and nods. There's something that needs to be planned before she succumbs to the warmth of her bed and the heaviness of her eyelids. "Mmm. I want her to be godmother, Harry. And call Malcolm – "
He finishes her sentence, knowing her well enough to guess her request. "For godfather. Of course. I'll take care of it all, my darling." But he lingers for a few more minutes, unwilling to leave them, before placing their daughter gently in the cot next to Ruth's bed, kissing her forehead softly. Ruth receives the same treatment, and then he walks towards the door, glancing over his shoulder as he leaves to get one last glance at them. I am the luckiest man alive, he tells himself fervently.