Chapter XXII: The Greatest Gift of All
The next few weeks passed in a steady stream of golden days and silver nights. They read together, sung together, laughed and talked, steadily re-discovering their trust in each other with every small gesture of love. Satine woke every morning to find sunlight dappling the foot of their bed and Christian lying beside her, sometimes still sleeping, sometimes watching her. One such morning, she slowly blinked her eyes open and smiled into Christian's face. He kissed her lightly.

Good morning, he whispered, propping his head up on his hand.

Satine replied, stretching her arms out towards and sighing a little. She settled back down, mimicking his position and looking into his eyes. What day is today? Christian fell back down next to her and shrugged.



No, I mean the date, love.

Christian said. June 15 or 16th, I think. Why? Satine frowned a little. Something was tugging at the corner of her memory.

I'm supposed to do something, I think. I keep feeling like I've forgotten . . . something.

Christian looked up at the ceiling for a moment and then shrugged again. Satine sighed and settled herself down in his arms. Christian traced her chin with his finger and smiled at her. Satine creased her brow.

What is it? Christian asked softly. Satine bit her lip and searched the recesses of her mind.

I know I'm supposed to remember something.

I'm sure you'll think of it, Christian said patiently as she rolled out of bed and into her satin mules and kimono. He had hit his head on the bar that held the lace canopy up. Can we please fix that? Satine snorted into her skirt.

I still don't understand how you can get your head at that angle to hit it.

Yes, well, I'm all right. No bleeding on this side. Satine froze in the midst of bringing her dress out.

What did you say? she asked casually, tightly gripping the fabric. Christian looked up at her, puzzled.

I'm not bleeding. . . Satine, what is it? Satine had gone white.

Where's my journal?

In the nightstand drawer, I think. Why? In response, Satine dropped her dress on the floor and flipped her journal open, hastily leafing through the pages to find the dates she wanted. When she had discovered them, she glanced back and forth, counting.

Satine looked up at him, her lips trembling.

Check them.

Check what?

The-- oh, the dates! I'm late!

For what? an exasperated Christian asked, flipping through the book. He glanced down at her careful markings and he paused as he realized the import of them. he whispered.

Nearly three weeks, she whispered. She covered her face and laughed slightly hysterically. Christian dropped the journal on the floor and went to her.

What do you think?

I don't know! I'll have to see the doctor and see what he thinks. . . but, oh, Christian. . .I can't hope. I just can't. I'm too afraid. Christian held her tightly.

Three weeks, though. . . that puts it at. . . his voice trailed off.

When I came back from Paris, she finished, looking up into his face. That would make sense . . .

It would also be a little ironic, Christian said dryly, pulling out a chair for her.

Just a bit, Satine responded, unconsciously stroking her stomach.

We'll see the doctor today, Christian promised, rubbing her shoulders. It will be all right, Satine. Satine smiled at him and took his hand.

she agreed while she took a deep breath to steady her nerves. It will.

You have to wait outside, sir, the doctor insisted, practically pushing a nervous Christian out the door.

But my wife-- Christian began to protest, looking back at a nervous Satine.

Will be fine, the doctor said, leading Christian over to a chair. Now, sir, please, please just wait for a while. It won't even take that long.

Hate to see him around delivery, the doctor muttered, coming back to Satine. Now. Madam. Satine inhaled slowly and steadily, carefully controlling her hope that this would finally be coming true.

You're sure? she asked half an hour later. Absolutely sure? The doctor nodded and wiped his hands on a nearby washcloth.

In a little more than eight months, yes. That should put the due date around. . . January 30. Now, why don't you go tell your husband before he wears a path in my wife's new carpet? the doctor asked with a conscious smile. Satine didn't need any encouragement. She ran out to Christian, who nervously caught her in his arms.

he asked. Satine smiled and nodded joyously.

January 30.

January 30, Christian repeated as he held her close. It seems so far away. . .

It seems like forever until then, Satine grumbled around December 14th. She rose and paced restlessly around the room, leaving the christening dress on the table. Christian watched her sympathetically.

I'm sorry, darling. Would you like another cup of tea?

I would like my figure back, Satine announced, sitting down next to him on the chaise. She winced in pain and he ran his hand over her hair.

he murmured, kissing her softly. It'll be all right. Just a little over a month. Satine straightened up.

We need to decide on names.

We have a list, Christian reminded her, gesturing towards the typewritten pages that rested on the desk.

I am not naming the baby Orpheus, Satine grumbled.

I was joking about that, Christian said soothingly, tucking his arm around her.

I know. But we still don't have anything we really like.

If it's a girl, we could name her Satine, Christian suggested. Satine shook her head and wrinkled her nose.



All right, dearest.

No, then how would you tell us apart? Satine 1 and Satine 2? You'd have to start calling me Mother' and I have a holy fear of that.

I would never call you that, Christian said, looking slightly horrified at the notion. That's one of the least romantic things I could ever think of.

But what are we going to name the baby? Satine asked, frustrated. English or French? Oh, and Margaret wants to come visit after the baby is born.

Did she say so?

No, of course not. But I know she wants to. She loves children.

We could name the baby after her, Christian said doubtfully. Satine shook her head.

I love your sister, Christian, but not that much.

It would help if we knew whether it was a boy or a girl, Christian reflected.

Yes, of course it would. Satine sighed and drew her knees up to her chest.

Why don't we worry about it when it comes? Christian said after a moment of silence. And if we can't decide, there's always Orpheus.

And Eurydice? Christian Everett-- She caught sight of his grin.

That's not funny, she accused him playfully.

I thought it was.

You, my dearest husband, would. Christian tried to frown, but his smile kept getting in the way.

Satine whispered after they kissed.

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Author's Note: Christian and Satine belong to Baz. ::pout:: A HUGE thank you to everyone's who's reviewed. I owe you all a ton.