A/N: I know I keep on telling you guys that I've been waiting for xyz moment to happen in the fic, but this is genuinely one of the big ones. Thanks for sticking around and humoring me regarding this fic–it'd be a much more difficult and lonely road without you all.

Forty-Two

The days passed and it was finally time for Martha to return to Mainframe Ed-Cal. She left behind all the experimental medical equipment she brought over and a promise to return with even more after there was a baby to hold. There was likely going to be plenty of waiting, she claimed, and she might as well spend it with her own husband and child while everything played out.

…and so they waited.

…and waited.

…and waited.

…and waited.

Some people within Mainframe UK were concentrated on celebrating the impending arrival of a royal spare, the idea of which captivated mostly Humans and future-thinking Silurians and Zygons who contemplated the influence the particular child might end up having on Tripartite life. Others were completely disinterested because they didn't care one way or the other—it was a baby. Then there were general debates (which, for the first time, had two Zygons up for national level elected positions, unbeknownst to the main Human populace), the lead up to another war anniversary, and even the series finale of a new Poldark adaptation… plenty of things kept chatter off of the large and miserably pregnant woman being hidden away inside the medbay. The more that kept attention away from Miss Oswald and her child, the better things were, the parties in the know decided.

…and then, it happened.

It was early in the morning after people began celebrating the royal spare, as a matter of fact. Malcolm, absolutely stone-tired at the amount of hours he had been putting in thanks to a couple election-related ministerial faux fucking pas that nearly put UNIT at risk, was woken up from a dead sleep by his mobile on the nightstand. There was no one else in the house, as Kate was working some night and midnight shifts in order to observe how well the nocturnal molemen were staying in line. He glared at it as he picked the device up and checked to see who it was: oh shit.

"Who do I have to fucking murder, love?" he growled into the receiver. "It's three in the morning, for fucking sake."

"I need you to come in soon as you can manage," she ordered. Malcolm blinked heavily and rubbed his face with his free hand.

"We're supposed to be on opposite shifts all this week—I can't."

"For this, I would think you can. I'd tell you over a text, but I need to know you got the message."

"Why's that?"

"Miss Oswald started glowing half an hour ago."

Malcolm sat straight up, the information shocking him into a state of alertness. "She's literally fucking glowing?! That has definitely not happened before."

"That's because she's never had contractions before this."

"Well fuck…" He paused for a moment and quickly gathered his thoughts. "I remember Marcia was in labor a couple days before going to the hospital to have Lex—should I pack some clothes so we can just sleep in our offices?"

"It's not a bad plan," she replied. "Use my purse and just stick that in your briefcase so no one gets the wrong idea; we don't want anyone alerted to the fact we're planning a sleepover."

"Gotcha." He knew precisely which purse she meant: the one with a dimension-defying interior that would allow for much more than a wallet and a handkerchief. "I'll shower and pack and should be out the door before sunrise."

"See you when you get here. I love you, Malcolm."

"…and I love you, Kate," he echoed.

He ended the call and sprang into action, showering and dressing himself in under ten minutes. Should he go for a more casual look, with a jumper over a shirt and no tie? Yes, he fucking should, he told himself, because at least he was going to be comfortable today. He found Kate's purse and threw in about four days' worth of clothes for them both, knowing there was still a couple changes for each of them still at the mainframe in case of an emergency. A stop was even made in the nursery, where he stared at the brand-new cot for what felt like ages before plucking out a stuffed toy and jamming it in the bag. He then put in enough stuff from his briefcase to allow for the purse's general concealment and indeed was out the door just as light was beginning to smear itself across the horizon.

Thankful for the earlier-than-normal commute being wonderfully light, Malcolm walked into Mainframe UK with two takeaway coffees and some pastries in-hand. The only sign that anything odd was going on happened to be the fact he was early for his shift, which spooked a couple people, but it was mostly brushed off when he was seen going up the lift to the Brigadier-Director's office, with food no less.

"Got the goods," he announced as he walked into Kate's realm. She was sitting on a couch and reading a spreadsheet intently, almost not noticing her husband's arrival.

"Thank God," she exhaled. Kate accepted the coffee and a kiss, taking note of the pastry box. "Your breakfast?"

"I don't know what the fuck it is—thought it'd be good to have around though," he admitted. "How's Oswald? She alright? The nip doing okay?"

"Clara was a little disoriented last I saw her, but she should be fine," she replied. "She's dilated at one."

"…is that good…?"

"It's the very first stages of labor." She took his hand in hers and squeezed gently. "We don't know when things will begin to escalate, but until now, her water broke and she has light contractions with a small dilation."

"Then I guess that means we're staying here until the wee thing finally breaks free," he nodded. "Sullivan with her?"

"Not at the moment—she's embarrassed from being emotional and wants to be left alone. Anything more strenuous and she knows Alessandra's right down the corridor."

Malcolm scowled into his coffee at that. "She's being left alone?"

"She wants to be for a little bit; I think it's her coming to grips with the fact she's about to finally give birth after all this time. A lot of women feel like they're pregnant for over a year, though she has been, and God knows what's going on in her brain regarding it." Kate stared just past where the box of pastries sat, sighing heavily. "I wonder what Dad would say if he were here."

"If your da had as long a history with the Doctor as we believe him to, then he would have already said plenty of things," he mentioned through a mouthful of pastry. "He would also probably think we were all fucking insane, Oswald most of all for using an Eldritch-fucking-space-horror as her boy-toy."

"Your descriptors never cease to amuse me," she chuckled weakly. She pecked her husband's cheek and dug in the box for a doughnut. "I'll take you to see her in just a little bit—she's really a sight."

"Well, yeah. You said she's glowing."

"Not just that; you'll see in a tic."

Malcolm didn't like the sound of that one fucking bit. He sipped his coffee and raised an eyebrow at his wife, knowing that whatever it was, it had to be important for him to see for himself if she didn't simply tell him outright.

After Kate was done with her coffee and doughnut, the pair went down to the medbay and slipped into Clara's room. Malcolm's jaw dropped at the sight: what he knew to be a perfectly Human woman certainly was glowing underneath her clothes, her skin taking on a soft, golden hue and her hair and sleeveless nightie moving as though she was in water. There was even an aura around her, the same gold as her skin swirling around her in a dusty shimmer. She appeared to be standing in the room, yet a second glance revealed that her feet were a couple centimeters from the ground—she wasn't just glowing, she was fucking floating.

"What the actual fuck is going on…?" Malcolm breathed. He stepped towards Clara with his hand outstretched, his expression a mixture of shock and confusion. Her face didn't change, however, as he approached and touched her shoulder, taking it back quickly when she pulsed with brightness.

"I don't know how to process this," Clara said, her voice distracted and distant. As she moved her head, the golden dust left an after-image before rejoining her properly. "That was supposed to hurt."

"Was that a…?" Malcolm couldn't even finish his sentence.

"Yes; I told you it was the first stages," Kate said. She then turned towards the younger woman and gently placed a hand on her shoulder. "Are you alright? You should rest while you can."

"I'm not tired," she claimed calmly. "I'm not tired or hungry or in pain or anything. I don't even look or feel like I was crying when you left earlier."

"You got all of three hours of sleep since yesterday morning—there's no way you're not tired."

"I think…" Clara touched a hand to her stomach as Malcolm took a blanket and draped it over her shoulders, dimming the light around most of her body somewhat before it too began to float and behave as though it was underwater. "I think this is because of the baby."

'No shit,' Malcolm thought. He attempted to not scowl as Oswald seemed completely and inhumanly disoriented; this was not the normal Clara and he could tell that right off. Fuck, a brain-dead MP who'd never even met her before could likely tell that this wasn't her normal self… after they stopped shitting their pants, that is. It was then that Sullivan came into the room, who appeared as though all of Oswald's tiredness and fatigue that should have occurred had been transferred to her, coffee in one hand and mobile in the other.

"Tucker, out of the room, now," she ordered. "Women only from this point on."

"I'm not here to get off at the sight of radioactive fanny, Alessandra," he scowled. "I'm gonna raise this wee tykebomb about to Alien itself all over the fucking place and it would be nice if I can tell it later that I was there from the very beginning."

"Don't care; get out; you are not a trained medical professional, nor are you related to Miss Oswald, nor are you able to contribute anything of use other than inventing some new cusswords for the situation," Sullivan said. She finished tapping on her mobile and put the device to her ear. "Yeah, Martha? Line finally secure? Good; catch the next flight over. Dilated at one and glowing. You heard me correctly. I don't care if you have to bring your son with you—we've got a Time Baby to deliver…"

"Just go—she might change her mind later," Kate said lowly. "I'll let you know when it's safe."

"Thanks," he said. Then, taking advantage of the last moments of Sullivan's distractedness, he took hold of Clara's shoulders and kissed her chastely upon the brow. "We've got your back."

"I appreciate it," Oswald said. She gave him a hug, which he awkwardly reciprocated, letting go just in time for Sullivan to finish her call with Jones. Malcolm was then forced out of the room, door nearly slamming behind him.

Well, fuck.

Hours crawled by and Martha arrived from Mainframe Ed-Cal, which prompted Alessandra to create shifts for all approved personnel to abide by when it came to watching over Clara and her child. Hours stretched into days, and days continued on, until a week passed and the contractions slowly became longer and closer together as Clara dilated further and her body crept closer towards being ready to give birth. She still did not eat or sleep, though other problems arose in their place. Kate, Martha, and Alessandra stayed in the room at all times, documenting with horror their findings as the glowing intensified, their patient began seizing up and convulsing for hours on end, and things began to look less and less like childbirth as they knew it and more like an extraterrestrial's terrifyingly uncomfortable mockery of it.

Not entirely far off, but it still did not quite properly describe anything about what was going on.

Then, early on a Thursday morning, it was finally over. Miss Oswald gave one final push and a glowing, featureless baby made its way into the world. It cried as the umbilical cord was cut and it was washed before being placed in its mother's arms. Both mother and child continued to emit a soft, golden, healing light until it began to suckle, the glow diminishing gradually as the baby settled into its appearance. Pale blue eyes, softly curling wisps of brown hair, and light pink skin appeared, the sight of which made Clara's eyes well up in tears.

"My son," she whispered hoarsely, simply knowing. She ran her finger along his cheek and was lost in the sight. "I can't believe I finally get to meet you."

"We can barely believe it ourselves," Martha nodded. She wiped her brow with her forearm, too concentrated on her granola bar and coffee to put either down. "Thank you for allowing us to witness this."

"…and the Doctor and I thank you for doing everything you have to keep our son and me safe," Clara replied. The baby at her breast fussed and she shifted it around so she could burp him against her shoulder. "He doesn't know it yet, but he shall, one day, and he shall be extremely thankful. I'll make sure of it."

"I'll take a case of not destroying the world as an example of being 'extremely grateful'," Martha scoffed. She turned towards Kate, who was simply sitting down on an arm of the couch, taking in the fact that everything was now quiet. "What do you think?"

"I think I'm getting too old to think about a career shift into midwifery," she joked weakly. She stood and stretched, bringing her arms up over her head before out to her sides. "Mind if I go to bed?"

"The afterbirth was quick, we don't need a guard when the baby cries because there's soundproofing, and at this point we're just observing—go ahead," Sullivan said. She was in the kitchenette putting together tea, as everyone in the room desperately needed it. "I'll call you in case of an emergency."

"Good."

At that, Kate hazily exited the room and made her way through Mainframe UK in an effort to go back to her office without being seen by any of the other staff. She felt dead-tired, as helping during medical procedures was a different sort of crisis than what she was used to dealing with, and knew she wasn't wearing it well. Finally making it into her office, she hit the panel that opened her panic room and only just remembered to set the functions to barracks before closing the door and half-collapsing on Malcolm as he laid in bed, jolting him awake.

"Fuck—! Love, you look like hell," he muttered as he figured out what was going on. He looked at her clothes and clicked his tongue disapprovingly. "You really look like someone dragged you through a fucking Hammer Horror set." He was able to sit her up and gently strip her blouse off—the worst offender of her look in general—and get the blanket around her before settling back down again.

"We have a son," she murmured as they finally got comfortable. Her eyes were closed and she was too comfortable to glance up and see the concerned look on her husband's face. "We'll visit later."

"Yeah."

It figured, he thought, that the dream he had once been trapped in was only that: a dream and not reality. A younger Lex, a smaller version of Fiona, he had been bracing himself for, but another him…? The Son of Tucker? He wasn't entirely certain he was ready, despite the time they'd had to prepare and that nagging feeling in the back of his mind saying that something was going to go not entirely according to plan. A snore reached his ears and he realized that Kate was already asleep, too tired to care about anything other than the fact they were horizontal and rather cozy in preparation for a decent lie-in. He settled his chin atop her head and exhaled heavily.

Malcolm Petair Alexander Tucker was fucking terrified.

It was almost lucky for them, Kate and Malcolm had decided, that they were on opposite shifts for a decent chunk of the month of May, as it presented them the perfect cover as to why they were constantly in Mainframe UK. They were seen in the canteen more, in the corridors more, appeared at all times of day and night, and seemed to cycle through the same five or six outfits with disturbing precision. That was why no one cared to notice that they were walking together in the Mainframe constantly, as otherwise they would never see one another, and why no one bothered to take note of the fact they were walking into the medbay almost every day, as when a pair wanted to have a chat, the medbay's winding corridors and sometimes darkened wards were perfect places to generally waste time short of actually going outside.

This morning, however, Director Stewart and Head of Public Relations and Communications Tucker seemed to walk with a different sort of air to them, which the molemen and other staff members tried to ignore. There was not a lift in their step, per say, but something else—something none of them could place. So, they went about their business, attempting to ignore their superiors in the ruse of privacy, and grumbled to themselves about how their husbands and wives and other loved ones weren't around—the price they paid for keeping home and work leagues more separate that Stewart and Tucker did.

Stepping into the medbay, the couple went into Clara's room to see that the young woman was now finally looking as tired as she should. She was sitting up in bed, simply staring at the baby in her arms, marveling at his very existence as he slept peacefully.

"Up for visitors?" Kate asked as they entered the room. Clara's attention was caught and her beaming expression turned towards them.

"Yes, please, come on in," she insisted. "I don't know how long Baby Lethbridge-Stewart here is going to keep behaving, so enjoy it while it lasts."

"As proud as Dad would have been to know I was raising the Doctor's kid, I don't think he should be a full-fledged Lethbridge-Stewart," Kate explained as she sat down on the edge of the mattress. "Malcolm and I were actually considering 'Tucker-Stewart' instead, since we had decided to leave our surnames alone when it came to marriage, meaning it makes the most sense to combine them for the child. I think the Lethbridges will understand."

"…as if they even care the lad exists," Malcolm snarked while making tea. "It's not like it'd matter, anyhow—Lethbridge-Stewart, Tucker-Stewart, it's all fucking posher than I ever thought I'd do for a kid."

"Well, he is the child of a Time Lord," Clara noted. She watched the baby open his eyes and lethargically close them again—he was just as tired as her. "I know we briefly touched on the topic a couple weeks ago, but are you sure that you want me to help name him?"

"He's still your son," Kate assured. She and Clara exchanged a look only two mothers could, acknowledging an understanding that went unspoken.

"So…?" Malcolm wondered from the kitchenette. "What's the rest of the nip's name?"

"I was thinking about suggesting Conall, if you'll let me," she replied, slowly nodding. She looked at the baby and nearly saw him smile. "I like the name, it's strong, but it doesn't sound like it would be odd for a child to have as well."

"Sounds like a fucking old man's name to me," Malcolm frowned. "Conall was a great-granddad for me, and I think there's another one hiding back in Kate's family too, yeah?"

"The name is not foreign to my family, this is correct," Kate said. "It sounds like it suits him. Did you think about a middle name too?"

"Yeah," Clara said, accepting the chamomile from Malcolm, "I want his middle name to be Basil—it's a name the Doctor has been giving lately while we're out and it suits him as well. It's impossible to give him his father's real name, so that's the closest thing I've got: Conall to honor his adoptive family and Basil for a tie to his father's legacy."

Malcolm nodded quietly at that as he perched himself on the arm of a nearby chair, tea in-hand and contemplating her words. "What about Conall David? Maybe Conall James? Conall Oswald? Your family's allowed to pass something along."

"No; Conall Basil." The newborn began to fuss and his mother exhaled heavily as she passed over her tea in order to feed him. "I can't give him his father's real name, so this is the closest I can get without things becoming too dangerous."

"Better than some names and reasons behind them, I guess," Malcolm shrugged. He watched as the baby was fed, burped, and laid back down in its mother's arms, its tiny stomach having filled quickly. "Conall Basil Tucker-Stewart… fuck, the lad's going to grow up hating us…"

"It's not that bad," Kate insisted as she passed Clara her tea back. "It's a good name."

"Thank you," she replied. "It's all still so surreal though—it's felt like ages since I first came down here, and now… just look at him." Tears welled in the corners of her eyes, alerting the other two in the room that she was not yet done with whatever fucking hormone it was that made her apt to crying.

"Good thing you popped out when you did, lad," Malcolm chuckled. "Dunno if any of us could've lasted much longer down here in this dungeon, Mam included." He went to Clara's side and placed his hand atop the baby's head, which caused it to look at him curiously. "Don't give me sass already; my heart can't take it."

"Would you like to hold him?" Clara asked. Malcolm nearly did a double-take as he put his tea down.

"I'm getting him for the rest of my life—you keep him for now. The lad's comfortable anyhow."

"Please; I want to see the two of you together. I want to see a father and son."

Wordlessly nodding, Malcolm accepted the child and allowed Clara to slide him into his arm. Conall grunted as he was handed off, irritated that his cozy spot was now gone. The baby shifted slightly and closed his eyes, ignoring the new person holding him.

"This feels different," he mused aloud. "Holding Lex as a wee babe didn't feel like this."

"How did she feel as a baby?" Clara wondered.

"Like I was going to help her get into the best possible trouble," he replied. "This... well... Conall feels like that too, but like something else as well... as though all that trouble his cousin got into will be too much and not enough at the same time."

"Sounds about right," she smirked. "He's going to be a handful, that's for certain. Oswald's bravery, Ravenwood's adventurousness, and an extraterrestrial's restlessness... you're in for a treat."

"Let's not forget the Lethbridge-Stewart sense of duty and the Tucker Temperament," Kate chuckled. "He will be a unique child, that is for certain."

"Can't wait until he shouting his fucking head off at me for reasons yet unknown though probably caused by puberty," Malcolm joked. "Good thing we live in a Home County and far from our neighbors... though, fuck, when will he reach puberty? When I'm fucking ninety?"

"We have good reason to believe that he will age at a normal Human rate until a random point in adulthood, at which his Gallifreyan biology will take over," Kate said. "We have records of a Time Lady ageing alongside Humans as part of a long game plot, so anything is possible, technically speaking." Conall then began to croak and fuss, waving around his tiny fists. "Give him here."

"Nah; I got him," Malcolm insisted. He shifted Conall so that they were chest-to-chest and paced around the room. Bouncing the boy as he went, he was able to get him to calm, impressing their audience greatly.

"Looks like someone has to eat their words about not being dad material," Kate chuckled. She allowed Malcolm to approach and give her a peck on the lips before he continued soothing the child. "A dab hand at this, aren't we?"

"Living in Marcia's basement when Lex was born meant that I had to pitch in when she was wailing loud enough to wake the fucking dead. Why do you think sharing a flat with Jamie and Cal seemed like a good idea at any point in my life? At least I could sleep around those shits."

"How old is she again?" Clara asked.

"My niece? Twenty-seven, and still one of the best people I've got in my life." He sat back down on a chair and allowed Conall to go to sleep against his chest. "Yeah, m'wee lad—you're going to have plenty of old people to give you attention. There aren't any other babes in the family right now, meaning we're all yours."

"I guess I made the right call by coming here, Mister Tucker," Clara said. She smiled at the two, sighing wistfully as she did. "My son is in better hands than mine can ever be."

"You're his mam—don't say that."

"It's true though," she said, shaking her head. "I carried him for over a year, I share genetics with him, but I cannot be his mum, just as the Doctor cannot be his dad. It has nothing to do with skill or competence, but everything to do with what we cannot control. Please promise me you'll take good care of him."

"I promise."

"Swear on your niece; please, can you?"

"Clara, you know this isn't necessary—" Kate began, but she was cut off by Malcolm raising his hand. He stood and crossed the room, putting Conall back in Clara's arms before resting one hand on the newborn's head and holding her free hand with the other.

"I promise, swearing on the relationship I have with my beloved niece Alexandra, to take care of this child in your stead. I don't know what a da's supposed to be or do other than bounce a babe in his arms, but I'll do my damnedest to figure it out." He waited as she stared at him, attempting to gauge his honesty before nodding.

"Thank you." Clara then passed Conall to Kate, allowing the other woman some time to hold him as well. "I don't know how to begin thinking about repaying you two."

"Experiencing raising a child together is going to be reward enough," Kate said. She kissed Conall on the forehead, then glanced at her husband. "Didn't you bring something?"

"Oh, yeah…" He went into her purse that had been set on a table and pulled out a stuffed toy penguin. Bringing it over towards Kate, he put the toy with the baby, noting how comically big it was compared to the child's current size. "This is yours, son. I hope you like it… in time, of course. You can grow into it if need be."

"Well would you look at that: the fearsome Malcolm Tucker sharing a tender moment with an innocent baby," a voice said. The adults looked towards the door to see Glenn walking in, tightly holding a shopping bag closed as he did so. "The depths to your character are terrifying."

"You're just jealous," Malcolm snarked as the other man made his way in. Glenn gave Clara a hug and a kiss to the cheek, which made the media man snort. "I guess we got off easy with her wanting to name the lad after his sperm donor and not you."

"Ha, ha, very funny," Glenn fired back. "Anyhow, Clara, I got you something for the baby, which I think will be just perfect for while the two of you are still here." He reached into his bag and pulled out an orange, tiny infant bodysuit with a crest printed across the front, the sight of which made Clara laugh.

"Blackpool F.C.!" she grinned. "Starting him off right!"

"Knew you'd think so," he nodded. Glenn then gave Malcolm a smug look, knowing that his present was well-received, whether it should have been or not.

Malcolm flipped Glenn a V and continued fussing over the stuffed penguin toy—fuck off.