A time like no other

by Warks1999

It was an ever changing world, but a world that would soon be at War, with consequences that would devastate families forever... their family included. A new adventure, setting the characters back in time to World War II. Enjoy :)

97. Complications

Chapter 97: Complications 27th March 1944

A lot of things had begun to irritate Erin the longer into the pregnancy that she got. The slightest movements out of the corner of her eye were always annoying, whether it was from James or anyone else. She'd spent a night having a go at him when he started to fix a dining chair just in her peripheral vision, banishing him from the master bedroom for the night, even when he agreed to fix the chair somewhere else in the house. Of course, he'd complied with the instruction willingly that night, only to find her waking him up at around midnight, snuggling in next to him in the spare room, whispering all sorts of apologies through her tears. Forgiveness was found quickly though, it always would with a man like him.

Her Mammy fared little better when he she performed an irritation of her own consistently. It wasn't that Erin didn't enjoy her Mammy coming to check up on her three or four times a week, but the constant questions about how she felt were an annoyance after a while. Understandably protective, which she was still appreciate of, it came to the stage of considering writing a diary to list every moment the wain made, just to satisfy her Ma. When she took her to task over it there was an almighty row, a stubborn Mary just as unwilling to back down, ending up leaving in a huff, complaining of how ungrateful that her daughter was. They made up when she'd calmed down, rationally remembering that there were times during her own pregnancies that she would berate Gerry for the most trivial of things. All was quickly forgotten.

Now though, it was her husband that was driving her up the wall, for two different reasons, though one of them was not his fault. When he'd first heard about the trip he was going on that day, he wanted to refuse but in doing so, he would have risked his job. It wasn't as if they couldn't survive without it, they would always be able to survive without it, it was more the principle that was the problem. He did not wish to be known to have been removed from his post over the refusal to travel to Belfast for a meeting. It was odd, not just because of the war, but because he'd never been asked nor was aware that the old bank manager, Feeney, was ever asked to go either. However, after being firmly told that it was his responsibility to attend, it left him with very little choice.

Their old friend sod's law just had to plan it so that it would coincide with the baby's expected arrival though. That was just how it was, perturbing him even more to leave her but knowing he had little choice. Living off the Crown for even a week would leave him retching, not when the money could be put to the better uses. Erin's initial reaction was far from positive too, but ultimately she understood the predicament that he was in. Unaware of their potential other source of income, one that she would never be aware of whilst she still lived if he could help it, she did not want to have financial worries hanging over the final days of the pregnancy. Without daring to say it, there was yet to be a hitch.

That part of her annoyance with him was out of his hands, but what was in his hands, was how much noise he was making at such a ridiculously early time in the morning. When her eyes first flickered open, it was very clearly still dark and though she shut them again, her ears seemed to be picking up on every single movement that he made. He wasn't exactly being quiet about getting ready for his meeting at such a time, infuriating his wife who still wanted to sleep. Erin kept feeling more and more tired, the effort of having to carry around a second person, albeit a little one, inside of her, sapping a lot of her energy. She'd been quite adamant before when noise discomforted her, yet the message hadn't seemed to get through.

To be able to make her complaint though, she needed to shuffle over, which was easier said than done. She tried as she might to do it quietly, but almost as soon as she began to move, the slight creaking of the bed gave her away. Cursing it, she looked up to find that he was suddenly alongside her, holding out an arm for her to grab onto as she turned.

"Are you alright, Erin?" A clearly concerned James enquired. "Has somethin-".

"Oh aye…". She replied, straining whilst completing the final part of the turn. "Somethin' has happened alright!"

"What!?"

"You! Makin' all that noise, wakin' me up!"

"Oh…".

Poor James thought he was quiet, but unfortunately, he was very much mistaken. His wife was once again proving that she seemed to have developed incredible senses since falling pregnant, able to hear the most minute of sounds where she previously could not. As much as he tried to keep noise to a minimum, sometimes it was very difficult for him to comply with such a request. He'd genuinely been quite upset the night she kicked him out into his own spare room, though not that he did not think it was their cottage. It was now, not just his, but that night the cottage might as well have been hers, the way she was acting. Above all though, as shown by his concern, he dreaded anything happening to them both.

"I am sorry. I thought I was quiet". He apologised sincerely, taking her head to press it to his lips. "Am I granted forgiveness?"

"Ach, I don't know, I reckon I need a second opinion".

Frowning, he hoped to the high heavens that she wasn't going to ask Michelle to cast judgement, as she would absolutely vote against him. He did not want to have the two of them ganging up on him when he was trying his absolute hardest not to wake her until it was time to go. In fact, just about anyone in the family would have sided with her if she asked them too, afraid of saying no to a heavily pregnant woman. Especially a heavily pregnant Erin. Full of surprises it appeared, Erin had another idea of what they would do, taking his hand into hers and allowing it to travel to her large stomach. When he understood what she was doing, the grin that he produced was almost immeasurable.

"What say you, little me". She affectionally dubbed the unborn child. "Do ye reckon that yer Daddy should be forgiven?"

The swift kick, perfectly placed underneath their hands, was the answer. For weeks they'd been able to marvel at every strike from inside her that the baby gave, some a little more violent than others in recent times. Apparently, Erin had discovered, the insides of her body were to be used as a beating bag until her child was born. There was the odd time that it really hurt her, to the point where she would almost be in tears when it continued for a minute or two. James was always there for her when it happened though, jokingly telling the baby off on her once, miraculously getting co-operation as the kicking ceased on the spot for at least a day or more. They'd experienced all those little moments together though, a fact that both were incredibly proud of. Their little family, that's what it was.

"It looks like Daddy's off the hook, so he is". She huffed, shuffling up the little that she could without his help. "The luck of these English fella's…".

"Your English fella". He corrected her, earning him a smile.

"My English fella… my favourite English fella…".

"Oh you know other Englishmen, do you?" Raising a brow, he pretended to be offended. "What are the names of these torrid scoundrels that try to rival me in your affections!?"

"Well now that would be cheatin'… yer still my favourite though".

"Always?"

She nodded at that. The fact he needed to even ask, despite the clear act that he was putting on for show, was quite ridiculous.

"Always".

Moving forward, he captured her lips with his, edging up a little closer on the bed so that they were back in the proximity they had been all night. A particular worry of hers was sleeping, but she was yet to have a properly bad night, other than the odd kicking incident here and there. Whenever she woke, he always seemed to wake with her, nursing her back into the slumber even at the expense of his own if necessary. There probably weren't too many men in the world who were willing to do that for their wives, though she could imagine that her Da did so for her Ma, but she'd not just married any other man. She'd married her beloved, one of the most honourable men to have ever stepped on planet Earth in her eyes. The secret royal, the affectionate protector and fierce leader that shared the bed next to her, was the love of her life.

The kiss continued on, and as much as she wanted it to last forever, eternity required the ability to be able to breathe, which was slowly but surely becoming harder when he would not shove off. In her heart she did not wish to push him away. Her head was stronger though, telling her the obvious that it was time to end the kissing, even if his brain wasn't quite on board.

A little shove given, it gave her the air and room she needed to address him.

"That's enough now, James". She laughed softly. "Ye do want me to be breathin', don't ye?"

Sighing loudly, he did want her breathing. And so much more. The meeting really aggravated the Englishman, to the point that he could not remember the last time he'd been so angry about anything. The head office in Belfast didn't appear to take the hint when he discussed his pregnant wife with the man who was organising proceedings, though neither did he attempt to force the issue when it became clear he would have to go. A long drive was ahead of him to make it for the eleven o'clock start, for a meeting that would only last until two, where he would then have to travel back again. By the time he would be home that night, potentially a little later than he normally was, it would be pitch black. When the baby, their baby, was so close to being born, he hated having to be away from them for so long.

"Is there anything I can do for you, my love?" Speaking breathily, the warm air tickled her nose.

"How much time do we have?"

Picking up on the insinuation, not least when she quirked her lips a little, the cheeky nature of the request radiating from her so blindingly, he could not help but be enticed. Already dressed for the meeting, he would have happily re-dressed himself a little while later to be able to tend to her needs as she wished. It wasn't the first sort of request of its kind, and after the fourth or fifth time it happened, he'd assumed that the McLaughlin's at the very least were working out why he kept rolling in a couple of minutes late to work each day. Neither of them nor Danny ever seemed to question him, nor did it form a resentment towards him either, when they could sympathise with him. Erin was demanding enough as a friend, let alone anything more…

"Not enough". He kissed her hand again, leaving his lips pressed for a moment longer than normal. "I wish that we did but alas, as they say, tempus fugit".

"Tempus fugit, my husband's an eejit!". She snorted, leaving James shaking his head but chuckling. "Never mind, ye can't help havin' to go to this wee meetin'".

"I do not want to go". Admitting honestly, he took her hand to affectionately press his lips to again. "I want to stay with you. To make you as comfortable as possible for when our child wishes to make his or her arrival".

"I know… I don't want ye to either but… ye have to go, James. And I'll be alright, so I will".

Although the likelihood was that she would be, he was withholding something from her, not wishing to worry her anymore. That night, she wasn't the one to have the bad dreams or the disrupted sleep; he was. It was a strange dream, not in the same vein of odd and disturbing as the ones with those that he'd killed, but that was not to say they hadn't featured. The memory of it was quite patchy, not least when he was subconsciously trying to forget most of it. Certain moments of it were unforgettable though, and it was those moments that the Englishman feared the most. Dreams shouldn't have affected him as much as they did, not when a lot of dreams were not accompanied by a later reality. This one had though. It would not vanish easily…

He was there at the meeting, listening into some drivel from a man that he could barely understand let alone care to listen too, when a secretary came running in to inform him that he needed to return home. Complications was the word he remembered, announced to him after the fact that his wife had gone into labour. He'd driven home, though that was where the memory started to blur, because once he was back in the familiar surroundings of Derry, he was on foot again, the car lost somewhere along the way. Bile was building in his throat during the dream, the worries for his wife and child amplifying. When he'd got to the hospital her family were nowhere to be seen; he distinctly remembered there being no one with her. However, trying to get into the room itself, he was stopped by a guard, a guard who looked suspiciously like Lieutenant Hans Hartmann. Only then did he look inside and see that there was no midwife holding his child, but a doctor. A doctor Kurt Van Der Heijden, Erin already lying dead beneath him as he prepared to kill his offspring. That, thankfully, was when the nightmare ended.

Kurt was dead, and Hans was… was wherever Hans was now, nowhere near Derry that was for sure. It was stupid to think that it might have become reality, but he could not help but be disturbed after what those men put him through. The wee English fella was not prepared to allow his wife and child to suffer even a tenth of a percent of what he did thanks to them.

"I have given the hospital the number of the Belfast B-".

"James!" She interrupted him, scolding him a little. "Ye've already told me this…".

"I know, I just… I just want to say it again, for my own sake. Please?"

The sadness in his eyes when he pleaded with her to allow him, could have forced her to tears if she wasn't careful. Erin would have only made him feel worse about himself if she did though, taking the blame for the action when it was not something that blame could be attributed to. She was more worried than he was about everything, so seeing him melting down a little when he could not say what he needed to, was most concerning. That was why she'd married him though, amongst other things, always knowing that he would protect her and care for her until his dying breath, should it be the case.

With a dip of her head and a squeeze of his hand, she allowed him to continue.

"The hospital has the telephone number. Whoever is with you, I want you to get them to call me if there is anything that is required. Significant or insignificant, I do not care. If my manager does not like it, then he can look for another man to manage the Derry branch or do it himself!"

"James, ye don't ha-".

"Yes, yes I do". He was forceful with an interruption of his own, coming to cup her cheeks with his hands. "I love you, Erin Josephine and I will move heaven and earth for you, if that is what is asked of me. You will not be alone. Not again".

This time she could not hold back the flood of tears, mesmerised by the sheer unbridled passion in his firm voice. He'd began to kiss her again, and she fell apart under his lips, hoping that he might just devour her there and then. She would have allowed him to. The fella didn't understand what a handsome, well-built but kind-heartened man could do to a woman, not least a heavily pregnant woman who was his wife.

"Erin, please do not cry…".

"James… I… I l-love you".

It might not have been the most pleasant of ways in which to admit one's love, but when their lips came together once more, it wasn't any less special. They loved each other so much, and their child together too, that it could not be said too often at all. About to spend the day away from each other, when all they wanted to do was be close, was agonising for them both, but that was the way fate often chose to swing. When night would settle again, they would be next to each other, returned to one another's grasp, but that was too far away for comfort. Comfort was her knowing that he was just minutes away if there was an emergency. Comfort was him being able to get to her in a timely fashion, should the need arise. Comfort would be a healthy child by the end of the week.

Staying in an embrace for another couple of minutes, it pained James to have to pull away from her when tears still fell from her eyes. If he was to wait any longer though, he would be at risk of running late and leaving a terrible first impression on a man he'd never met in person before was hardly ideal. Three hours of his life, along with the hours it would take to get there and back, were going to be utterly wasted he assumed. Unfortunately, that was his job to follow orders, just as it had been in the Fleet Air Arm. He would have rather spent the day away from her attacking the enemy fleet than listening to old, boring, stuffy-nosed men talk about figures that he was not interested in, though.

Feeling him to begin to slip out her arms, Erin sighed. The realisation came to her quite quickly that there was no point in attempting to get back to sleep in the state that she was in. She knew she wouldn't, so what was the point…

"Will ye help me up?" She asked him, shuffling over towards the edge of the bed. "This is gettin' a lot harder now, ye know".

"Of course".

It was a routine they'd practised before, hastily so when one night, she found herself almost unable to move off of the sofa. There was always going to be a time when she would have to be helped to complete such tasks, and that morning appeared to be one of those times. James didn't care how many times she requested assistance though, because he was going to be there each time without failure.

She held onto him tightly, pulling herself up as he applied gentle force to ease the burden on her as well. As soon as she was up as straight as she could be, their hands met on her stomach, looking into each other eyes, James trying to ascertain whether everything was alright. For a moment Erin seemed dazed, as if she was there but at the same time was not, his heart missing the odd beat when there was still no sort of flicker in her irises. He was about ready to shout himself when she came to, a hand slipping out of his to rest on her head. Her cheeks were a little red too, he noticed, not from his usual charm for a change.

"Erin, what is the matter? Is it the baby?"

Not quite intended to be delivered as they were, his words were frantic… panicked, to a degree. Certainly not like his usual smooth, calm tone.

"It's alright, James". She reassured, releasing a breath. "I just… I just felt a wee bit funny for a minute. We're grand so we are, don't ye worry".

"I do worry". Almost irritated at her suggesting him not to, he swallowed hard. "I do not think it is wise that I travel. You need me-".

"That's enough!"

Voice raised, Erin returned her hand to his that was resting on her head, gently offering him a squeeze of encouragement to break him out of his worried stupor. She knew he was a sensitive man beneath the gentlemanly armour, to her at least, but she did not want him to be chattering his teeth every time she came over a little flushed or had a headache. Being smothered was not what she wanted, nor she expected of him.

"Yer goin' to that meetin', James! I have the number for the hospital… I'll be just grand".

"Please try to st-".

"Stay near the phone, I know!" Exasperated, if it wasn't for the belly weighing her down, she would have hit him. "Now get yerself goin'! Ye'll be late".

Holding his hands up in surrender, he could not help but lock onto her and laugh. He did not need to be told twice that he was being far more overbearing that he normally was, or he ever needed to be, but he was not going to stop until he could satisfy his own conscience. Seeing how her eyes almost went dead for a moment, utterly terrified him until she was able to confirm that there was nothing amiss, just a little moment that quickly passed. It would trouble him on the drive to Belfast too, he was certain of it, though telling her that was not on the agenda when she would chastise him for overdoing it. That didn't mean she did not approve of his care though; Erin absolutely adored it, for her and the baby.

Moving the hands held above his head, back down to her face, he leant in to kiss her goodbye for the day, just as he did every single morning he went to work. He would never tire of pressing his lips against the golden surface that were hers. If the world around them was burning to a fiery death, he would have still been joined at the mouth with her, for as long as it was humanely possible.

"I love you". He mumbled against her.

At that moment he crouched down too, the lips he'd applied to hers, going to her stomach instead, to say farewell to their child for the next few hours.

"Be good for your mother". He spoke to her expanse. "She is a fabulous woman, who is doing a lot for you. Behave yourself, little one".

Just about fighting back the tears of joy that were waiting at the gates of her ducts, she watched him raise himself onto his feet, before offering his hand to her. They were going together all the way to the door he decided, eking out every last second of his time that he could with her. Another small, but utterly devoted gesture.

Still that bitter feeling of worry remained…

---

While one member of that family might have left the cottage that morning, another quickly took over in his place. James wasn't aware that his cousin had always intended to convince her work to let her have the day off, leaving poor Orla to manage alone, not that she minded too much. With Erin due any day, Michelle wanted to at least spend one day with her and when it was let slip that he would have to attend the meeting in Belfast, then she always wanted to be there to comfort Erin without him. As much as the thought of having to be spend the day with a probably stroppy friend, who needed just about everything doing for them, was off-putting, it was still quality time spent with one of her closest. That was more than enough to sway her in the end.

The two of them were quite the duo in a sense, a heavily pregnant narcissist and a loud-mouthed troublemaker, but Michelle was toning her usual routine down in order to be more helpful. As good as her English cousin was, he'd failed to make Erin breakfast and she wasn't about to let her friend make it herself. It was hardly much of a breakfast, especially not for a pregnant woman, but she quickly realised that James himself hadn't eaten either. Giving up his portion for his wife was just about the most loving act she could ever remember seeing. The pair of them might have still been eejits, but they were her eejits and Michelle would not swap them for any others. She still could not quite believe that once upon a time, she'd wanted to drive him away from them and out of their lives in Derry. Now, he was integral to the very foundations of the city.

Despite Erin's state, they still snickered away like they were teenagers again, making fun about everyone and anyone. James was often the butt of such jokes, unfairly of course, yet without any sort of malice. If they were to have been believed that morning, he was the most awful man that ever existed and not the gentlemanly hero that he was generally known to be. He wasn't the only one on the receiving end though; Charlene Kavanagh, Big Mandy, Father Peter… many an insult was speared in their directions as the two chatted away. There was almost a hint of nostalgia to the occasion, when it was not something that they got to do that often anymore. Best of friends though, that bond would last a lifetime.

"Have ye heard the latest about Tara Martin?" Michelle asked her friend, the gossip continuing.

"Ye don't tend to hear a lot out hear 'chelle". For the third time that morning, Erin rolled her eyes having repeated herself. "Unless it's the bird singin'".

"Alright… alright". Faking a surrender much the same as James had, Michelle quickly continued. "She's been ridin' rings round poor Chris, so she has".

"They have a wain, don't they?"

"Aye, ugly lookin' thing as well…".

Erin should have probably told her off for that comment, in fact absolutely should have, but there was little use. She wasn't exactly incorrect to a point yet was being very insensitive about it. After all, there was no guarantee that anyone would turn out good-looking; she was just graced with better natural beauty than most.

"But she's been sleepin' with some soldier fella from what I've heard. Whenever Chris is at work, the fella drops by".

"What? How's that possible, he's ye know… a soldier?"

"I'm just sayin' what I'm hearin'". Michelle tried to justify the comment. "I reckon by the sounds of it, the marriage is on the rocks".

"Yeah, but what can she do about it?"

That was part of the problem for Tara if it was true, Erin thought, as trying to get out of a marriage as a Catholic, was a hell of lot harder than trying to get in one. She didn't exactly have an option to just leave him, especially when her income from working at one of the shops in the city was hardly much. With the war too it made more sense for them to stay together, albeit on a personal level it must have been a nightmare for him. Neither Michelle nor Erin knew Chris too well themselves, yet they'd always thought the marriage was a strong one, with a child to prove it. It certainly wasn't anywhere the strength of Erin's own to James, it appeared…

"I never did think much of her". Shaking her head, Michelle did not hold back. "She was eyein' up James from what Orla told me…".

"W-what?"

Choking the words out, Erin was not in the sort of mood to find out that her fella was being eyed up by other women. Almost a reflex action now, her hands nervously rested on the expanse of her belly, as her wide, teary eyes, looked into Michelle's. Straight away, her dark-haired friend realised how she could have taken it, speaking up to correct herself.

"Ach shite, not like recently… ages ago!"

"Oh". Breathing a sigh of relief, Erin took her hands away again. "Ye had me worried…".

"As if, look at ye!" Michelle pointed to her friend's stomach. "Yer tellin' me he'd look at any other woman when he's got ye pregnant. Come on Erin, it's James!"

Worrying about him being stolen wasn't worth the stress, that much was clear. It didn't stop her though, not when she would always wonder why it was her that was the chosen one, the woman to capture his heart and have a family with. So many times, Erin thought over whether she was truly good enough for him, despite him always being faithful to her, even when she'd pushed him away. There was no lie told when it could be said that he just about had the pick of the city when it came to women, with so many more who would have fell at his feet for the lifestyle that she now had. He didn't love them like he did her though. He never would.

"What did Orla say then?" Now actually intrigued, Erin enquired.

"She'd had a wee bit of craic with Tara, so she did and Tara mentioned that it was sad that James was off fightin' in the war. Then somethin' about hopin' he was safe".

"But she was married then or… or at least nearly married, right!?"

"Aye but her eye's been wanderin' since day one, I reckon. Chris was always punchin', so he was, but he's better off without her".

"Sounds like it".

The extra-marital affairs of Tara Martin were really quite a good distraction for the day, as much as they were just rumours and nothing more. Michelle's record as a storyteller was patchy at best, sometimes being nailed on as a liar and other times being completely truthful even with a far-fetched story to begin with. Erin herself didn't really care for the conclusion of the story whenever it came, as by the time that it did, with any luck, she would be doting on a baby. They would be, her and James, proud parents if fate would allow them one slice of the most joyous nectar that was possible.

"Do ye want a cup of tea or anythin'?" Michelle offered, smiling back at the rather glowing Erin. "Christ but I'm parched, so I am. I didn't get back till quite late last night, ye know…".

Devilishly grinning, there was no sort of scrimping applied to the insinuation in her tone. Knowing that Michelle would have been out to visit Clint, the blonde's mind did not have to be analysed too far to work out what they'd done with that time. The physical aspect of their relationship might have taken a long time to get going, but ever since they'd first spent a proper night together, her friend rarely shut up about it. Sometimes the detail was a little too much… in fact, remembering one particular story above all, far too much.

"And how is Clint?" Trying to move the conversation back to a more civilised one, Erin asked another question.

"He's grand so he is". At first replying calmly, Erin knew what was coming when Michelle smirked again. "Probably a wee bit sore after last night. We were at it for hours!"

"I didn't need to know that, Michelle!"

"Catch yourself on, Erin, I bet you and Jamesie are always at it!"

Finding herself glowing a shade of red along with her seemingly normal glow now, Erin was mortified to have such a thought in the open air. The truth… well the truth wasn't for Michelle to hear, not when she was not only her friend but James' cousin too. Talking about their sex life to her would have been just as weird as it was morally wrong in her book. That wasn't to say that Michelle wasn't far off being wrong, mind, a thought that sent shivers down her spine.

"I am not talkin' about what me and James get up to it!" She finally did relent and criticise. "Now are ye gettin' me that cup of tea or not!?"

"Jesus, give me chance!"

Tutting, Michelle performed another swift turn of the eyes before she got up, heading towards the kitchen to make them both some tea. If one cousin didn't continue the house chores then the other would, which gave her a chance to take a look around in the open plan area, taking in all of the spaces that they'd filled together. For many a year since he'd first moved in, there were empty spaces as well as empty shelves, a lack of a true home being presented. Everything felt temporary, which was exactly what the Englishman's first spell was. Now though, it really did feel like a home. A home fit for a child to be brought up in by loving parents, a fit that was almost too perfect when it was explored thoroughly.

Allowing herself a moment's rest too, she stared out towards the back garden of the cottage. The Mallon's garden was practically non-existent, a slight tinge of jealousy being held towards them when they had such a fantastic place to live. Now that Clint was staying in the city, still yet to be actively called up to perform his duty and looking increasingly like he would not, Michelle's mind often became stuck around what they should do next. She could not live at home forever and wanting to marry him, she also wanted a life where it was just the two of them away from her parents and anyone else. Being able to experience with a front row seat, the blossoms of the relationship between James and Erin, she longed for her own taste of that life. Tying the knot with the American fella would not be the end of the animosity that he would face, more likely than not the animosity that they would face by being together. She was ready though, hoping for her life to move onto the next step. She just had to wait.

Unaware that she was tapping the spoon against the counter, her friend in the living room must have been, her name being called out to break her out of her haze.

"Michelle!"

"Sorry… sorry I know that must be annoyin' ye…".

Pregnant Erin was easily annoyed, as James knew, as his cousin also knew. There were far less times where she'd actually managed to annoy her than James did, but whenever she did and was then told why, the reasons were all trivial. Sensitivity was to be expected though when she was carrying a child, which therefore gave Erin a relatively free pass with Michelle when she would not argue back at what was pointed out as irritating.

"Michelle!"

Calling out again was odd though, because she'd stopped tapping the spoon whilst waiting for the water to boil. It must have been the wait for the tea that was annoying her this time, which arguably was quite annoying even to the non-pregnant young Mallon. She was probably more thirsty than Erin was if truth were to be told, after her rather rampant night out that she'd been denied getting into any further details with. That being said, it was a little ungrateful of her friend to be so impatient when the offer was made so kindly. Snapping her hand off about it was a bit unnecessary, though she kept those concerns to herself.

"MICHELLE!"

Now her back was really up. Erin was proper shouting about the tea, and this time a response was going to have to be made. Growling, clenching her first so tightly around the spoon that the metal could have been bent with any more force, she left the kitchen, thundering into the living room to give Erin a good talking to. She might have been pregnant but that gave her no right to start shouting about cups of tea that were caringly being made for her, when she could have been getting them herself. A part of her was already wishing she'd not bothered and spent the day at work with Orla instead, if she was going to be in for the same treatment all day. Insufferable at the best of times, the blonde was really pushing her luck.

"For feck's sake, Erin! Ye better have a fuckin' good reason for… OH SHIT!"

The reasoning was a very, very good one indeed. How she hadn't immediately registered why the shouts continued without reprieve, she did not know. Michelle walked into the living to find the scene of Erin on her feet, but leaning heavily onto the arm of the sofa, a frightened, rabbit in the headlights look of an expression on her face. She didn't even need to look down to find the other rather obvious, glaringly obvious sign, of why she was shouting continuously. Apart from when Orla had Marie, she didn't exactly have a lot of experience in witnessing the process of a baby being born, but she damn well knew what the starting salvo was. The reason why Erin was bent over forwards, in evident discomfort.

There wouldn't be a week's long wait for the child, that was for certain.

"Michelle!" More of a rasp than a shout, Erin showed her clear distress. "The baby… the baby's comin'… the baby's comin!"

"SHIT!"

Flying off the handle into a panic, suddenly the responsibility that should have been her cousin's, was now hers. The wee English fella was going to owe her a lot for this, though it wasn't the time to begin to think about the ways in which he could repay his debt to her. What she needed to be was calm, but that was hardly going to be possible in a situation she'd not properly prepared for. That wain already had some of the family cheek on it…

"C-call… someone…".

That was all that Erin could manage, tears beginning to start as she understandably was even more terrified. It wasn't that Michelle could not be trusted, it was more that in her own mind, the scenario where she went into labour began with either James or at least her Mammy by her side. Keeping a cool head under pressure wasn't something that Michelle always excelled at, nor did she have experience like her Mammy did.

"Right… right… aye… an ambulance!"

Running to the phone in the hallway, the wall nearly ended up with an imprint of her on it, only just stopping herself from flying into it at the speed that she was travelling. No time could be wasted though, she did realise that. The quicker the ambulance arrived then the sooner Erin would be in the care of a midwife, who knew what they were doing. Remembering the number, having been in their presence so many times listening to James fretting to try to keep it in his own head, it might have been the fastest dial in history, if such records existed. Any hint of a queue would bring about a biblical rage within her, which was in the interests of absolutely no one to release into the world.

"Hello, yer through to-".

"Aye I know, I know! I need ye to send an ambulance!"

The woman on the other end of the line wasn't someone she knew, not recognising the voice as anyone familiar. What she was though, was far too cheerful for Michelle's liking, not when the cries of a panicking Erin were filling her other ear.

"Are ye sure that ye need an ambulance, Miss?"

"No, I was actually callin' to check the availability of the Donegal under nine boy's marching band… OF COURSE I WANT A FUCKING AMBULANCE!"

"Can ye please calm dow-".

"CALM DOWN!? Wise up, my friend's fit to burst here and yer tellin' me to calm down. She needs an ambulance!"

"What exactly is the nature of yer friend's problem?"

The sing-song cheeriness was really starting to piss her off. It was easy to understand why they'd allow the woman to answer the phones when her voice to anyone else would have been calm and reassuring at their time of need. To Michelle Mallon though, it was a voice that if accompanied by a face within her reach, she would have quite liked to have punched.

"She's havin' a baby! She needs to be in hospital, so she does! Christ alive!"

"Alright then, she's goin' into labour. Can I have yer address please, and we'll send an ambulance as soon as we can".

"Ye'll send one right fuckin' now!" Michelle shouted again. "It's the wee English fella's cottage".

"Oh, Erin's havin' her baby is she!? How sweet…".

Just about everyone in Derry knew where he lived and who his wife was. Any hint of secrecy about the baby being born was very much lost from the moment she announced her pregnancy, to the tired sighs of many a jealous woman.

"It'll be a lot sweeter if ye get an ambulance here! You don't want to deal with me-".

"I'll get one sent up to ye right away".

"Cracker. Thank ye!"

Slamming the phone down, Michelle soon realised that it would have been smarter to stay on the line to ask for any advice that would help her keep Erin calm until the ambulance arrived. That window was gone though and instead, she would have to manage the best that she could on her own. Daunting as it was, the duty would not be ignored, not when her friend was very clearly suffering from some sort of panic attack already.

"The ambulance is on the way!" She raised her voice, rushing to her friend's side. "Come on Erin, let's sit ye down".

"Mi… Michelle… I… I can't do this…".

Hyperventilating between words, Erin was already beginning to fear the worst. Michelle might not have felt ready to be there by her side, but now she did not feel ready to have the baby either. The child that was growing inside her was asking to come out to meet the world, and their mother was not sure that she had the strength nor the courage to see it through. James was who she wanted, James who was driving to Belfast and was therefore unavailable. Luckily though, when he could not offer a guiding hand, there was another that could step up to the plate and try. No matter what the outcome was, they would never lack for friends and allies.

"Erin… look at me!" Commanding her, Michelle's instruction was complied with. "Ye can do this, so ye can. Yer goin' to be strong because that wain needs their Mammy! Yer never goin' to let anythin' happen to the wain, are ye?"

"NO!" The blonde roared back, seething as she did so. "But… but I am goin' to… to kill James… f-for doin' this to me!"

"I'm sure ye'll backtrack on that but he needs ye too, Erin! Yer so close… this is yer future! And ye have to stay calm, so sit down with me and I'll be here, I promise!"

"Ye have to be".

"I'm not goin' anywhere!"

A shout of defiance from Michelle did it for Erin, slowly but surely with the aid of her friend, returning to the sofa to await the medical attention that was already racing through the streets of the city, on its way to them.

So much for that cup of tea….

---

He'd made it. Without being quite sure of how it was possible when he must have crashed the car nearly twenty times, he was that distracted. The building wasn't too hard to find once he got to Belfast, though heading his cousin's advice, he kept his mouth mostly shut. Driving all the way to the city only to be berated for being English, wasn't exactly something that he wanted. There was only one want in his mind, the want to be with his wife in the final stages of her pregnancy, but James was being denied that right thanks to the stupidly timed meeting. A real one of a kind job that was just typical of his never-ending terrible luck with these things. She was always on his mind though, which was making concentration all the more difficult.

It became abundantly clear almost as soon as the meeting started, that he did not have to be there at all. Boring, that's what it was. Completely and utterly boring. The mingling beforehand wasn't too bad, meeting other men that worked at the Ulster Bank. There was the odd funny look when he first spoke, but a lot of them already were aware that he was English, giving them time to prepare to hear it. Most of the men were amicable enough at least, though after a good fifteen minutes it became clear that he was the only former serving member of the military amongst them. Some could have perhaps seen service in the previous war, yet somehow it was quite clear that none of them were fighters to him. They were all bankers.

He was both.

A conversation about standards at one of the banks was ongoing, and James was trying his best not to lose concentration. Fighting a losing battle he was though, when he could only think about what might be happening back at the cottage. His thoughts were with his wife, hoping that she was still safely going about her day without any sort of issues befalling her. To be so far away from her, hurt him considerably when he was not in a position to dote on her. Of course, there were others that could in his stead, but it was not the same as being there for her himself. She was his wife and no one else's, and it was his child, not the child of another. He should have been there for them. Instead, he was cooped up in a small room discussing budgets and standards with a bunch of mostly old, judgemental men who were in their element.

"Now then…". Lordan, one of the directors, moved away from what was being discussed, his eyes turning to the Englishman. "Mr Maguire, there is something that needs discussing about yer staff".

"My staff?" James, finally interested, queried immediately.

"Aye that's right. Now, I know ye have a young lad there, can't be more than sixteen or seventeen. Daniel, is it?"

"Danny, yes. I employed him myself".

The odd murmur fell from lips within the room, clearly wondering why he'd employed someone so young. He wasn't exactly an old man himself, twenty-four later on that year, but Danny was a very young man to be trusted with such responsibilities. He was almost James' second in-command, if truth were to be told, the McLaughlin's doing their bit without ever wanting to take on too much more work. That worked for the four of them though, operating well as a team where others were a little more disjointed, he assumed.

"How is he performing?" Asking further, Lordan was clearly getting at something. "The fella's taken on a lot for a teenager".

"Too much…". One of the other men muttered, not near quietly enough.

"Danny is an integral part of my staff. His work is consistently above average, and he is a valuable asset to us. I understand the concerns you may have with his age, but in the year or more than he has been with us, he has shown the maturity of men three or four times that".

A clear message to the old fellas in the room that did not trust Danny nor his judgement, James did not shirk from glancing to those that he truly meant the message for. As much as it was more interesting than the drivel that was being previously spouted, he was not expecting to be taken to task when there'd been no issue at the time raised when the young man was employed. Taking a chance on a lad when there were other men that would have given anything for the job did seem strange, but when he could see himself in the fella, the same drive that he had when he first started to work, then the decision was an obvious one. The bygone era men that were in the room with him, clearly could not understand that line of thought.

"Are ye sure ye shouldn't ease back on his responsibilities. He seems to have a fair few dealings with some of yer more… major clients".

"I would not delegate any responsibility to him that I did not think he could manage. If you wish to review my managerial performance, then I am more than willing to discuss it".

"That's not the purp-".

Lordan was interrupted, the door to the room flying open, his secretary coming bounding through. All of the men in the room turned round and glared at her, the director included, when she was told not to interrupt unless it was an absolute necessity, or the Germans were invading. The lack of gunshots made the second option a lot less feasible, making the first the most likely. All bar one of the men in the men in the room were glaring, that was. One man appeared to already know that it was a necessity; his mouth was hanging open.

James. James was that man.

"Miss Watson, I told ye-".

"I'm sorry, so I am, Mr Lordan, but it is an emergency!"

Dipping his head to allow her to speak, the heart belonging to the Englishman sank when her eyes stopped on him. A voice of hope, though not one that brought better news, suggested that it could have been one of the other members of the family taken ill or even Smithers calling in, though whether he'd blow his cover to phone through to Belfast was another matter. No, there could only be one reason for why she'd rushed in.

"It's yer wife, Mr Maguire". The secretary addressed him. "There's been… complications. Ye-ye need to come to the phone".

It could not be. The dream, the nightmare, it could not be real. Perhaps, he rapidly thought, he was actually still asleep yet to wake to the new day. In a couple of seconds, Erin would roll into him and he would remember where he was, that was surely it. How he was wrong though, far too hopeful when he should have known how life so often treated the two of them. It was not dream nor nightmare at all…

As James faltered for a moment, Lordan turned his attention to the youngest man in the room. James was practically see-through he was that white, a chalky colour of fear that did not belong in a meeting between bankers and even friends. Already aware that Erin was due any day, when the young man reminded him the moment that he arrived in the building that morning, he was not going to be stern with him at all about remembering himself. The life of a mother and child were far more important than the detailed performance review of a teenage employee.

"Get yerself goin', son". Calmly and informally, he addressed James. "We can always talk about young Daniel another time".

"Are you… a-are you…".

"James". Calling him by his first name, something unheard of for such a formal man like himself, Lordan was sincere. "Ye have other duties to attend to. We can carry on this wee meetin' without ye and in a few weeks, I can come to Derry and we can talk then. Not now though. You go".

Unsure of what he was supposed to say or do in such a situation, James held out a hand for the man to shake. Considering it was the same man that made it very clear that his attendance was paramount, he was all the more surprised to discover that he could just leave to be by his Erin's side. That gratitude would have to be paid back at a later date, though that was all very much dependent on the outcome.

"Thank you, Mr Lordan".

"That's alright. Now go on, get shiftin'!"

Even the old stuffy bastards occupying the room with him seemed to have turned a shade sympathetic, every single one of them offering him a small smile. Gathering his belongings, throwing his papers into the briefcase he retrieved from beside him without a thought for his filing system, James was out of the room a few seconds later, following behind Miss Watson towards the phone that was sat on her desk. Not a word was said between the two of them, but when she looked over her shoulder with a tear in her eye, his fears were only amplifying. He could not have lost them… not after all they'd been through, not when they'd truly started to believe that they would have the family life that both of them so craved.

Practically snatching the receiver into his right hand, the Englishman's heart thundered, his chest straining for the organ beating so heavily against it. At the back of his throat were nothing but prickles, weeding up nastily from a dry base where the air's moisture came to die an ungodly death. He very well could have been seconds away from having his life changed forever, the final act of an unforgiving fate that gave so little, but took away so, so much.

"Hello".

"JAMES!"

Michelle. Michelle who was frantic, Michelle who never sounded frantic unless it was deadly serious. He was glad that it was her there though. At least if it was the worst possible news, they were not alone.

"Michelle!" He shouted back down the phone. "What is going on!? Where are you? Is Erin…".

"We're at the hospital!"

Hardly devout, James found himself thanking a Lord that he was not sure that he even believed in. They were at the hospital, and seemingly alive, if the implication he made from her words was the correct one to make. As long as they were at the hospital, then they would have a fighting chance of survival, if the complications that the secretary mentioned were severe.

"But what is wrong?" He enquired again, his own voice frantic.

"She's… she's in labour, James but… but it's… difficult…". Trying to explain, she could not help but let a sniffle escape her. She'd seen that sort of difficult with her own eyes. "I… had to come away and call ye because… because…".

"Because what, Michelle!"

"Th-they… they think…". She was tearing up; he could hear the anguish in her voice but could do nothing to stop it. It pained him. "They think she won't… she won't make it".

The fears were all coming true, the life that had been so kind to them from the moment they were reunited over a year earlier, was all coming crashing down. Having already lost one child, Erin was nervous from day one about whether her body would be able to handle birth, even when he tried to reassure her that she was strong enough. That strength did not seem to have carried through though, not when he was being told that there were complications. If those who were clinically trained to understand whether or not a woman would survive childbirth, held the opinion that she was unlikely to survive, then the future they wanted together, looked set to not come to fruition.

"She…".

He could hardly speak, choking under the weight of the thought of her losing her. Of perhaps losing them both, if the child was not healthily born either. It would kill him.

"She's in a lot of pain, James and… and they don't know why…". Gingerly, crying, Michelle explained. "I've… I've tried to hold her hand and… and her Ma's here but… but she's… she's in agony".

The banker didn't quite know how he was still standing, as he could have so easily collapsed when he heard those words. It was his responsibility to protect her from suffering pain, he who was supposed to stop harm coming to her. He'd failed her by going to Belfast to the meeting, as well as their child who would perhaps die too, without ever knowing that they had a mother and father who would adore them for as long as they lived. That was the problem; from what Michelle was saying, Erin's life might have been ebbing away.

He froze then. Not because of his own thoughts, but because of what he'd heard.

A bloodcurdling scream. A cry of agony and terror, not fit for the world.

"Michelle… was that…". He had to ask, immediately.

"No". She replied, sounding as calm as she could. "No that was some fella… he was… he was gettin' his arm chopped off or… or somethin'".

He loved her every so much, but his cousin was a poor liar. At the same time, she was a brilliant friend for not outright telling him what he already knew. The hospital would not have kept a phone so close to the bed that a mother was giving birth in, most likely the telephone being out in the hallway, away from the room. The fact that the scream sounded as if she was right there next to the bed, told him everything about the amount of pain that his wife was going through. His brave, beautiful Erin was losing her life to bring him the child that prophesised their love, a love that was seemingly showing that it was as dark as it was light. He'd always thought that he would die for her, but it looked as if it was going to be her that died for him.

He could stay in Belfast no longer.

"I am leaving Belfast now. I-I will be back as soon as I can".

"Be careful, James". Knowing he'd drive like a madman, she had to warn.

"Do not worry about me, Michelle. Go to Erin… please… t-tell her… tell her that I love her and… I will… I will be there…".

"I know… I love ye too James".

"Thank you… g-goodbye".

As much as he could have spoken at length, gushed about his love for Erin, he could not focus on anything but getting to her side. To do that, Michelle needed to be away from the phone, enabling him to be behind the wheel of the Morgan, to get himself back to Derry. All the while, sprinting out of the building towards where he'd parked his vehicle, the luscious red standing out in an otherwise grey horizon, he tried to ignore the parallels with the prior night's nightmare. The differences were what he clung onto, like the fact that he wasn't listening to absolute drivel when Miss Watson burst into the room. Michelle wasn't the one to tell him that Erin was in labour in that version of events either. The rest though…

Eerily familiar.

Whilst he began the journey back, tearing through the roads of Belfast out into the countryside, Michelle was fulfilling her own duties at his command. Taking orders from an Englishman as a Derry girl was something that would have not happened in any other guise, but accents and nationalities were not important at all. Erin needed her, as much as she needed her Mammy, who sat next to her trying to support her whilst she writhed in agony. Tears rolled down the blonde's face, mirrored by her mother, cheeks red with strain and effort that was proving to be too much. If death's smell could ever be bottled, then the hospital air would have provided the perfect ingredients.

Even when her body was fighting against her, doubling her over with pain, Erin could only think of one person. One man. Her husband, the man that she needed once again. Who was absent, just like he had been when she lost their first child. History was repeating itself, the wheels already churning in motion, towards the destination known as tragedy.

"JAMES!" She cried out. "J-JAMES!"

Another heart-wrenching scream escaped her, the midwives trying their best to keep her calm but failing. The look on the Doctor's face told another story, not one of calm but of worry for the patient in front of him who he believed to be in real danger. She shouldn't have been hurting as much as she was, for so little to show of the effort. He wasn't a man who lacked skill, not in the slightest. It would take every ounce of it, it was appearing, to save the lives of both mother and child.

"He's comin', Erin!" Returning to her side, nearly knocking over a midwife to get there, Michelle grabbed her by the hand. "He'll be here and he loves you, so he does".

"I… I…". Between breaths, her eyes were almost glazed when she stared at her friend and Mammy. "I… need… him…".

"Ye heard Michelle, Erin, love, he'll be here".

Mary tried to sound as calm and collected as possible, but underneath her outlook, she was a complete mess. Her daughter's soul-destroying cries were leaving her so very empty inside. She'd given birth twice herself, not experiencing anywhere near as much pain as Erin was seemingly in. Although her eldest might have been prone to exaggeration at times, it very clearly was not one of those times. The medical professionals in the room could confirm so too.

All they could do was comfort Erin, through every scream and grimace. And pray. Pray that the child would arrive safely, the mother of the baby alive and well too.

If God truly existed, Erin was now at his mercy.

---

War should never have been coveted, under any circumstances, the gentleman within him being burned alive at how decadent his thoughts on the matter were becoming. He was thankful though, for that meant there was not a soul on the road for him to become stuck behind, racing back across the country to be by her side. At every corner he was endangering himself recklessly, but his own life almost did not matter. The only concern in his mind was for his wife and child, who more than likely would no longer breathe life by the time that he returned to Derry. He had to give himself a chance though. If only there was an aircraft, James thought. He would have been home in mere minutes if he could have been in a cockpit, at controls he knew off by heart.

The Morgan had to do though, and the vehicle was being pushed to its limits on sometimes poorly conditioned roads out in the country. On many a corner, he could feel the rear end of the car slipping away as hammered on, somehow managing to rescue himself from crashing on a number of occasions. They were in his mind the whole way too, only this time the thoughts were not just distracting, but raw as well. The scream he'd heard towards the rear end of the telephone call with Michelle belonged to his wife, her life as well as their child's, in grave danger. Best friend, mother, allies, wife, son or daughter. James Maguire seemed to be a perpetually cursed man. Everyone who got too close to him was fated to die.

Up in the hills, somewhere in the middle of nowhere, the curse was going to continue. This time it was not a person but an object.

The car.

At the bottom of the sharp, few hundred metres long rise, he could feel a change, as if the Morgan was almost telling him that it would not peak over the top. On he went though, the car's worries not nearly shouting as loud enough to him as that of the screams of his wife. For the first hundred metres or more there was no more, but then came the inevitable cough and splutter of a machine that was weakening. In all the years of owning the vehicle, carefully looking after it to ensure that it would not fail him, it didn't seem to matter at all. The one time that he did require it to continue to charge on without letting him down, it had naturally decided that enough was enough. Too hard and too fast he'd been with it since leaving Belfast, throwing it around every bend as if there was no limit to the laws of time and science.

Just shy of the peak, painfully so, he realised that it could go on no further. Pulling into the side of the road, the Englishman's fury was unrepentant, slamming his fists onto the steering wheel, bellowing loudly to an audience of no one, not even a roving sheep or cow from the fields that marked the hillside. The love of his life already knew what it was like to lose a child without him, but now she was most probably going to go to her grave remembering him as the man who did not stand with her on either occasion, the second time at the cost of her life too. The deaths that'd he'd inflicted on others were always going to come with a toll, that he paid for psychologically almost every day, believing that to be his penance. Fate wanted a large fee though, costing his debt to be the price of everything left that he held dear, payment for the lives he'd taken away too soon.

Coincidence simply could not be too. During the haziest part of the nightmare he'd lived through during the night, at some point he was no longer in the car. Another sign that perhaps it was not a nightmare but a premonition. Too many similarities were coming to the surface, the vivid nature of it all striking his already delicate heart, that was probably beating somewhere in Canada, it had jumped out his chest so far. Unable to remember the exact manner in which the car was lost in the nightmare, it was most likely in the same way. Trying to work out what the problem was, where the mechanics fell apart, was not something he had time to do. What he would have given to have David with him, a man who would have been able to fix the vehicle in a second most likely when he was an engineer of sorts.

Tumbling out of the car almost, he leaned back in to retrieve the briefcase, the confidential nature of the contents not something that could be left out in the open country for a farmer to stumble upon. There was only going to be one thing for it, he knew. With no car or no aircraft, the only engine power left was in his legs. Having looked after his body for so many years, the wee English fella could at least rely on them to carry him home, though nowhere near as quickly as a car would. The call of a husband and a father rang in his ears, and whilst it was a setback, it was not the end of his journey to be back by their sides. Time might have been against him, the very fabric of the world lining up broadside after broadside. He was no ordinary man though; if anyone could outrun the very foundations of life then it was him.

Ripping his tie off from around his neck, it found a new home in the muddy siding that the car was also resting in. His suit jacket would have joined it, if the weather was not so cold and miserable, James shedding all of the unnecessary clothing and weight that he could.

As he was preparing himself to run, he found his conscience trying to doubt his intentions. If he did run all the way to Derry, which was some miles away when not even the outskirts were visible from the brow of the hill a few metres away, he was going to be confirming more of the nightmare. Staying put meant outrunning the prior night's demons, yet at the same time it was an awful risk. There was no guarantee that another soul would pass along the road that day, before the cold properly set in. He couldn't just stay up there all night, not without any warm clothing. Comprehensive failure it would be too, if they were to die without him doing everything that he could to get home that afternoon.

To confront the biggest fear in his life, to return to his family where he belonged, he would have to face the thoughts of the nightmare head on.

Kurt and Hans would not be there. They could not be there, the former deceased, the latter almost certainly following the same fate, by his own hand most likely.

So he began to run, clearing the peak in his first few strides, briefcase flapping at his side as the pace increased. He was running as hard as he could down that hill, knowing that there would be more to come over the many more miles that he would have to cover in order to see tops of the houses of Derry again. The home that an Englishman should have never considered to come to covet, every dream that he ever held, seemed to come back to the city. Now the nightmares were too though, a battle between all of the good and all of the darkness in his life, sparking off as he tried to keep up his gentlemanly mask. Amazingly, he'd managed to hold it together better whilst receiving five hundred lashes on New Year's Eve when Kurt tried to break him. Being unable to hold his wife's hand, comfort her and their child or even perhaps save her, was more torturous than anything that the Nazi's could have ever thrown at him. The Doctor knew who his biggest weakness was though. He was once again correct to point out that it was Erin.

Weakness was not to be found in his legs though, a relentless James pounding on in the direction of the city, only stopping to check road signs that were telling him how far there was for him to go. The light of a March day was beginning to fade by the time that he could see the outskirts, his eyes drawn to the bend in the Foyle, both banks full of buildings, including the one that contained his wife and perhaps now a child. Or their corpses. He could not think any more on that though, not without crying as he kept on running. In the fields to his left, he was even outrunning the rabbits that skipped along just inside the fences. He would not stop, not until he was at the hospital.

Most likely expecting him hours ago, Michelle and Mary were almost certainly worried for him as well as Erin and their child. As selfish as it might have been to think that way, he was aware of how the two women thought. His cousin even warned him before he left Belfast to be careful, which would no doubt have her wondering whether or not he'd listened to her advice. The Morgan might have been consigned to history in a sense, when it would probably be stolen or moved by the farmers overnight, but it was not lying overturned somewhere. Its driver was miles away from the hill it was abandoned on, entering the outskirts of the city, with lungs burning like the coal pit of a steam train.

James was going to get there. He was so close now, just a matter of streets away. There was bile building up at the back of his throat too, his thoughts betraying him once more about the safety of his loved ones. But of course, his conscience would attack him… the bile was another part of the nightmare.

The nightmare that just would not end.

On he had to go though, not when he was so close. Kurt and Hans could not be there, it would be completely illogical for them to be. Even if the latter was still alive, he would have no reason to be present in Derry when he was a German officer, who would be shot if he came anywhere near the city unless he was some sort of prisoner of war. Even then, he would be locked up in a camp miles away, far from causing them any sort of problem.

His laces were becoming looser, the chance of him tripping up increasing, not that it bothered him too greatly. If he walked into the hospital with blood pouring from his knees, then he would at least be in the right place to get treatment. His feet were aching, probably badly blistered when the shoes he was wearing, were hardly fit for running what felt like a marathon. He couldn't put a number on the miles he'd ran since the car first broke down, but it could have been near marathon distance. The pistons in his legs were still firing even as the hospital came into view, though they were becoming dangerously near empty. Water would soothe his dry lips if he could get some, but he needed to see his family first, alive or not, before he started to consider his own wellbeing.

It could have only been a few minutes before dark set in when he dashed through the front doors of the hospital, searching for anyone that he could find, that he knew. Michelle and Mary were the main points of contact, the only two members of the family that he knew were there, though he half-expected at least one other to be there too. Although it was normally not proper of a man to be present, Joe was just as likely a candidate as any, wishing to be there for his family. When Marie was born, frightening her mother and the rest of them when she did not cry for a few moments, he'd been there to hold them together despite falling apart somewhat himself. Should he know that Erin was struggling, then there was a chance he would be there again. Gerry too was a possibility, though whether he could get the time off work was another matter. James didn't care, he just wanted to find someone. Anyone.

Doctors, nurses and midwives all looked at him oddly, he noticed the stares even in his panicked state, which only made that panic worse. There was a slight look of sorrow, he detected, as if they were genuinely sorry for him but tempering the reaction in light of his accent. He did not like to think negatively yet at the same time it was hard not to when he could not be certain of his wife and child's survival. Eyes that once found themselves trained upon an enemy thousands of feet below were now peering around every corner to find friends, friends that would be able to tell him whether or not he'd lost everything. The whole hospital was eerily quiet too, another dark mark against his soul that was yelping out for release, bogged down by a heart that could not continue beating so hard for much longer, without exploding.

Dark hairs were on the horizon though, and when a young man on crutches hobbled out of his way, James could clearly see that they belonged to his cousin. A second later when she turned around, their stares meeting, he could see the dried makeup on her cheeks, the red streaks along the surface of the eyeball too, standing out so prominently against the otherwise bleary backdrop. Mary was there by her side as well, her own features divulging to him of the tears she'd allowed to escape, the ones shed for her eldest daughter that she'd brought into the world. No one else was present, it would seem, no Orla or Sarah who could have also been there to offer support. It was perhaps for the best that they were not though, not when his immediate conclusion was the worst of all.

He was too late. They'd not made it and he'd not been there for them. History repeating itself, only to take a larger payment than before.

"M-Michelle!" He shouted out as he closed, wild-eyed, sweat pouring from his brow. "Michelle, where is she!? Are they… are they still… has she…".

Swallowing ever so hard, he was suffocating against himself, breaths not flowing in and out of him as they should. The same man that showed no fear in facing a whole tank division in little more than a stringbag with wings, had never felt worry like it. He wanted to know. He had to know, without delay.

Michelle looked to Mary and Mary looked to Michelle, the former silently decreeing that the news would fall from her mouth.

"They're alive".

The gasp of pure life that immediately escaped him, so very nearly took James to the floor. As if the efforts of an afternoon spent running through the countryside and worrying for their lives as he did, simply all evaporated out of him at once, his cousin ended up having to hold him to make sure he remained on his feet. Openly, without caring what any man or woman watching might have thought of him, he wept into her shoulder, being held with ferocious love from Michelle, who did not expect to see such a break in his normal character. If there was any ever doubt of the love that he held for Erin, then it was more than gone with his reaction. They were alive though, that was the only message of importance in his life, allowing him to let go of such emotion so freely. Tears were in the eyes of Michelle and Mary again, the older woman especially, sobbing profusely from the joy of seeing how delighted he was. Her daughter, her daughter that still breathed when many thought she would no longer, married one of the best fellas to have ever walked the earth, let alone their tiny corner of it.

"James… yer… alright…". Michelle whispered words of encouragement into his ear. "They're alive… Erin and the baby… yer are Daddy now…".

"T-Thank y-you". He choked out his reply, squeezing her tighter. "You… you were there f-for… her… you… you…".

"I was always coverin' for ye". Chuckling a little through sniffles, Michelle pinched his cheek. "I knew ye were comin'! Never doubted it once".

That was most probably another lie, but the Englishman found himself unable to care to hunt down the truth. His wife and their child were safe and well, that was all that mattered. Michelle was lying, of course, having been scared stiff just as much for him even when they were still attending Erin and the baby. When the all clear from the Doctor and the midwives came, a little more than an hour earlier, he was then her primary concern. By the state of him, his suit very much out of its natural state, sweat pouring along with shoes that appeared to have experienced all of the seasons in an afternoon, something must have happened enroute, though not a car crash as he carried no signs of physical injury.

Slowly disentangling himself with her, retrieving the briefcase he hadn't even realised he'd dropped onto the floor, James was then pulled into Mary's arms too. The two of them embraced wordlessly for a couple of moments whilst he regained his composure, Mary watching him appear to become ever so happy, after being so close to devastation only a minute or so before. That was the realisation that he was now the father of a child washing over him; only a fool would not have been able to see it.

"The car broke down…". He explained once he was out of her arms, addressing Michelle as well. "I… I abandoned it and… ran".

"Ye ran!? How far!?" An alarmed Mary asked.

"I do not know, Mary… miles. I could not just wait around and do nothing. It was in my power to make my way here, so I… so I did so. I cannot… I cannot begin to…".

"We can only imagine how terrified ye were". Mary offered him a smile, Michelle too. "It was… it was horrible to… to wa-… I'm sorry…".

She couldn't do it, could not talk about the intense pain that she could remember across her eldest's face as she tried to birth her child. Ready to step up, as she had been all day though, Michelle charged into the breach, proving her solidity in a time of great stress once again.

"It was... tough, James. Real tough but Erin… Erin's she a fighter, so she is. We let her know ye were on the way and… and that… that made her stronger, so it did".

"I love her…". He could not stop the words from falling from his mouth. "She is… she is everything".

"Aye, the two of ye's are… I don't even think I need to continue". She laughed, getting a chuckle out him too. "Yer parents now, James".

Parents. With Erin, he was a parent, the highest calling for a man. The highest rank obtainable for a male was that of father, whether they were at the upper end of society or the lowest. To become a father was the culmination of a show of great love and affection, if the child was conceived properly, the evidence of what true love stood for. For him, there was now a child with their blood, their pact of love, now flowing through their tiny little veins. A child that he would add to the list of those that he would protect with his life, ascending to the highest office along with his wife, the only two to hold the most prestigious place in his heart.

"Is it… is it a boy or a girl?"

Flickering his gaze between the two of them, their lips were curving up when he asked. Neither he nor Erin were swayed too much towards boy or girl, but both Michelle and Mary made it clear which gender they wished for them to have. The majority of the family were also secretly quite hopeful of the outcome, though they did not yet know it.

The two women answered in unison.

"A boy".

A little baby boy. More water dribbled out from his cheeks, the pure elation of discovering that he was now the father to a son. A baby boy whose father was a hero of the war and his grandfather, the King of England. For anyone who knew the fully story, they would have to say how lucky that the boy was. He had a loving mother too, that would no doubt dote on him for as long as it was necessary, that would protect him just as fiercely as his father. The baby was all that the two ever wanted, and even though until the very end there was strife, they'd came away victorious, to lead a new life as a family of three.

"Can I see them?"

It was all that he wanted. As pleasant as the company of Michelle and Mary was, he only had one destination.

"Aye". Mary replied, pointing to the room behind them. "They're in there, so they are. But quietly, James. Erin needs her rest".

"I know". He nodded slowly. "I will not disturb her".

"Do ye have a name yet?"

Yes was the answer, but no it was to telling Michelle what they'd decided. It was not the right time, not until after he'd seen them would he reveal the name they'd decided on weeks ago if it were to be a boy.

"May I wait until after I have seen him?" Gentlemanly, reverting to type, he asked almost for forgiveness. "I would like to have laid eyes on him before I can properly announce him to the world".

"Aye of course, James". Answering before Michelle could, Mary dipped her to him. "Now go on. Go and see yer son".

Her grandson was about to meet his father for the very first time, and Mary could not have been happier. When the cries of her daughter were replaced by that of the baby, life seemed to fall back into place again, after being so badly disjointed during the torturous hours when Erin was in agony. She was a grandparent now, a grandparent to a beautiful, handsome boy.

Walking into the large room alone, which was empty other than his wife and son, James wanted to burst out into more sobs of joy but was far too respectful of her sleeping form to do so. The pain that she went through in order to deliver their pride and joy that now rested in bassinet beside the bed, must have taken almost all of the energy out of her. It would probably be days before the old Erin came back, the energetic love of his life that made every day brighter. He would be as patient as he needed to be though, because in birthing their son, she'd given him all that love could. Pride flowed through him just as much as adrenaline had done as he sprinted back towards Derry, breaking through barriers of physical fatigue that could not be rebuilt.

Beauty was in the eye of the beholder. His son was… was a ray of light of a different kind, one he thought not possible. Tears did fall then, not that anyone in their right mind would have criticised him for shedding them. His boy was lying there beneath him, a face so soft that he was scared to touch it, afraid it might melt underneath him. The little breaths escaping the boy's nose played a melody on the strings of his heart, beating out to his skeletal amphitheatre, announcing the immense love that he already held for a child he'd only viewed for a fleeting second. That was all that he needed when the boy was his son though, his creation allowed to be released into the world, to show anyone who needed to know, his love for his wife. They were the architects of their own life-changing glory.

The nightmare was now over. No Kurt, no Hans… no death.

Life prevailed.

"Hello…". He whispered, so quietly, so softly, but so sweetly. "Hello my… my son. I am your Daddy".

The baby's eyes flickered up at him when he said it, and he could have sworn he'd never felt breath so easily taken from him when he did. With green eyes that mirrored his own, his son's irises were an ocean that he could have swum in forever if he did not stop himself. That old word, that should not have applied to anyone, rolled around in the new father's mind.

Perfection.

In the bassinet and on the bed next to him, lay two examples of it.

Snoring softly herself, he looked down at his wife for a moment, wishing she could have been awake to see him spend the first few seconds with his son. She needed to sleep though, and as much as it did disappoint him a little, he knew it was for the best that he did not wake her nor did she wake up of her own volition.

Returning his attention to his boy, James started to speak softly again.

"I am going to be here for you… protect you and love you as is needed. You will never suffer because of me, that is my promise to you… my son".

Taking a deep breath, the Englishman finally knew that it was the time.

"You will want for nothing, David Albert Maguire".

David Albert. The first and middle names chosen for the child, that were symbolic in different ways. Only Orla knew of the first, as they'd both agreed weeks earlier to ask for her blessing, not wishing to upset her by having a son as a permanent reminder of the husband she lost. Their only concern should have been containing her excitement though, having to remind her that at that time, they didn't know whether it would be a boy or a girl. She wanted it to be a boy though, desperately, her wishes coming true when the child was finally free of his mother's womb. The choice of David was very much an easy one. To honour a man that died as an ardent protector of freedom, to remember all of the peace and glee that he brought upon their world. No other name was even considered as a first.

The middle name was a suggestion of James', Erin unable to make her mind up on any of the others she'd actually suggested. The King might have been George, but he was really Albert. When he put the name across to her, she'd frowned at him, the former pilot remembering how he'd come so very close to telling her everything about his lineage, until at the last second, he backed out again. He was honest still though, but without being too honest. Telling her that it was his father's name, she'd asked more about the man, without any success. It was no word of a lie to say that he did not know his father, other than his name. He'd never met the King, apart from when he was no older than little David was now, nor would he ever, most likely. If she'd have probed more then she may have realised who he meant. Thankfully, Erin never did.

What she had done though was woken, just as his eyes left her, and he spoke to their son. Too tired to wake herself fully, a lone tear of contentment trickled down her cheek when he spoke of his willingness to protect their child, their already beloved son. She'd gone through so much agony to be able to bring him into the world, but hearing the words of the child's father, her handsome, caring husband, Erin could not say it was not worth it. She stayed silent when James sat on the chair between the bed and the bassinet, taking her hand into his and kissing it, believing she still slept. Her brain still ticked though, and it told her what anyone else, James included, could have told her from the moment David's cries filled the air.

They were complete.