THIRTY-SIX: Change

Once Elizabeth had finished nursing the baby, talking softly to little William, she wrapped him up warm and cradled him to her chest, pulling her dress back up, fixing her underclothes, the baby held tightly. William began to whimper as she clutched him tightly, and she quickly loosened her grip, panic-stricken – and nearly dropped him. William gave another whimper, and frustration began to fill her up, a sense of hopelessness. She even felt close to tears. This was normal, especially when your partner wasn't around to help... but it struck Elizabeth very quickly, and she didn't know that it was normal...

She suddenly – very suddenly – felt that she was a terrible mother. This was going to be too hard for her – too much to bear. She knew she could never allow any harm to come to this baby, and if she carried on messing up like this... what would she do? Her breasts were sore from the feeding, and William had taken a long time to latch on.

Holding the tiny baby carefully, she stood up and walked around the room, supporting William's floppy little body carefully, deathly scared that she would drop him – kill him. She walked to the door, pushed it open, and walked into the cold air outside. William made a soft sound, but then calmed, seeming to get used to the air. She glanced up, and saw Beckett; he was sitting on a small rocky outcrop, facing the horizon, side-on to her... the steep climb they had gone up when they'd gone to see if there was any civilization on the island, he was on the top of the first bit.

"Beckett," She called out, though not too loudly. He looked down, acknowledging her, but did not respond apart from that. He regarded her warily for a moment, but made no move to come down. "Beckett? Are you alright?"

He muttered something that was too quiet for her to hear, and then jumped down the few feet of rock he had been up, turning to look at her. She noticed how tired he looked – realizing that he must have been up all night. He walked up to her and looked to her expectantly, as if waiting for her to speak.

"I... I can't hold the baby right," She said, turning the baby over in her arms. There was an almost desperate look in her eyes. "I'm terrible at being a mother... I can't... I can't do it..."

"You can call me Cutler," He suddenly said, abruptly flickering into life again. He stepped forwards and looked at little William in her arms. "He seems alright. What's the problem?" He asked her.

"I just... it doesn't look right..." She whimpered. Beckett raised an eyebrow at her, then looked down to the baby.

"You're fine, aren't you, Junior?" he said, poking the baby in the stomach. Elizabeth stepped away from him, shooting him a scandalized look, but the baby simply gave a small yip, seeming happy enough, and she looked downwards, shocked. She wasn't sure what to say.

"His name's not Junior, it's William," She said dumbly.

"Yes. William Junior," Beckett said. He smiled at the baby, tapping it's forehead. The baby seemed contented, and just blinked at him.

"Why are you so natural with him?" Elizabeth suddenly asked him, "Have you had a baby before or something?" She stared at him, hopeless, and Beckett seemed confused. He shook his head.

"You don't have to worry so, Elizabeth," He said gently, "Poking the baby isn't going to kill it. In fact, Junior here seems to like it."

It's not fair, she thought, looking down at William. She loved her baby so much – so much is hurt. As for Beckett... well, he couldn't possibly care for her child in the same way she did.

"Your baby loves you, Elizabeth," Beckett said in a soft voice, as if reading her mind. "Give it time."

Elizabeth looked downwards, trying not to let a tear spill from her eyes. Her emotions were in even more turmoil, even now that the baby was born. She realized that Beckett could – well, probably would – be seen as a father figure to the baby... and as she looked at him, she just wondered about him. What he'd done had been – well... like what a true friend would do.

And she'd never thought of Beckett like that before.

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A baby changes everything.

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Later on that day, they had paid a visit to Mrs Dawson's home – rowing there had been painstaking for Elizabeth, clutching her baby to her, making sure Will III had no chance of falling overboard, or out of her arms. And as they'd walked through the market, Beckett had started his usual searching, and Elizabeth had grabbed his arm and dragged him off, telling him that there was no time for Carrot Girl now.

They arrived at the midwife's home, and she took one look at Beckett, Elizabeth and the baby, and said, "The baby came early, didn't it?" She'd praised them on the good job they did on birthing the baby, and she'd given William a quick examination, which came up with one healthy baby, good to go.

And now, after reluctantly handing the baby over to Beckett, Elizabeth was sitting across the table from Mrs Dawson, who was talking to her kindly, with her compassionate smile – and she explained everything, the emotions, and how everything was going to be alright. And then she had looked over to Beckett, at the other side of the room, rocking the baby in his arms.

"Maybe you'll grow up to be a soldier, or a sailor," Beckett said, holding one of the baby's minute hands in his own, "But never become a pirate. They are the stinking scourge of the world, Junior," He said wisely. William appeared to be asleep.

"I noticed that the baby's hair is dark," Mrs Dawson said, looking away from Beckett. Elizabeth found herself flushing, realizing where this was leading. Beckett was blonde. She was blonde. And the baby had dark hair...

"Alright, me and him... we aren't together," Elizabeth admitted, looking down at the table, "But... we're very good friends. I don't think I could have done this without him..." She didn't want Beckett hearing, so was talking very quietly now, "I just know that it's seen as improper for a man and woman to travel together, if they're not... you know... married," She sighed and looked downwards. "My husband's away, at sea..."

"Does he know you're pregnant?" Mrs Dawson asked.

"No," Elizabeth sighed, "Not for sure." Mrs Dawson smiled comfortingly, patting her hand.

"It'll be alright. And I can just tell that that young man will make a very good father, some day..." She said, looking back towards Beckett. Elizabeth nearly choked on her tea.

"Him? A good father? You have got to be kidding!" She exclaimed. Beckett looked at her then – he shot her a really hurt look. Elizabeth looked down at the floor again, her blush getting even worse. Her and her big mouth...

"Hmm! Well, we don't need her, do we, Junior?" Beckett said snootily to the baby, "Us boys have got to stick together!"

Elizabeth looked up, into forgiving eyes – and smiled weakly. She never would have associated 'forgiving eyes' with Cutler Beckett at another time, but that seemed so long ago now... a million years ago, a lifetime ago.

NB: Gasp! The friendliness! But, of course, something has to ruin it, as always. You'll see. Oh, and anonymous reviewer whose name I forget (I think it began with a 'c' and had a 'z' in it, heh), don't worry about your review. It was honest, and birth can be like that, and I'm not offended or anything..

Also, damnit, the hints below--talk about giving a lot away! Don't worry, it'll leave you hanging... xD

Next update contains stress, mess, perhaps a death? (oops, I just dropped a massive hint) Fast-possibly-fatal, fierce fever leaves our fiesty female fearing for future, following out family faith... (Whatever he'd caught, it wasn't good. It took a turn for the worse in a matter of days...)