Elsbeth barged into Charlemagne's office unannounced.

"Where is Meaghan?" he demanded a bit peevishly. She could have at least told him his wife was on her way.

"She had to step away for a moment," Elsbeth informed him with a grin.

"Again?" Charlemagne was feeling a bit moody and didn't want to understand.

"I'd like to see how you'd react to someone wiggling around on top of your bladder," his wife said calmly enough, but her eyes were starting to show the gleam of battle.

"Was it something important?" he bit off tersely.

"I wanted you to see this." Elsbeth handed him something.

Charlemagne glanced at it dismissively. "A gene chart? Whose?"

"Meaghan's," she answered. "And really look at it this time, Charlemagne."

He did, at first to placate Elsbeth and out of curiosity, but the more he looked.., "This can't be right," he muttered.

"That's the third one," his wife said. "I couldn't believe it either."

"No congenital defects, no reinforced dangerous recessives, it's.., it's..,"

"Perfect," Elsbeth finished for him. "I've seen Nietzscheans whose gene charts weren't as good."

"It's amazing," Charlemagne agreed. "But what may I ask are you doing with it?"

"I've been better informed on Meaghan's pregnancy than she is," Elsbeth stated. "All she ever wants to know is if the baby is healthy. I wanted details."

"Absolutely incredible." He was still studying the chart, futilely searching for some small imperfection.

"It makes you wonder, doesn't it?" his wife asked him.

"About what, dear?" he muttered absently.

"Whether or not the baby's father was.., worthy of such good genes," Elsbeth said mysteriously, then glided out of the room.

He gave Elsbeth a few minutes to leave, and likewise for Meaghan to return before he paged her into his office.

"You needed something, your grace?" Meaghan asked formally. She did everything formally now, and Charlemagne would have given a great deal just to be able to hear her say his name again.

"Take a look at this, Meg." He was so absorbed in his study that he forgot and used the abbreviated form of her name, something he didn't do anymore, either.

"What is it?" She didn't even sound particularly interested.

"Your gene chart," he informed her. "Can you read one?"

"Of course not, your grace," she said a bit tiredly. "When have I had time to learn?"

He caught the overtones of fatigue in her tone. "Sit down, Meaghan, this may take a little explaining."

She carefully lowered herself into a chair. "I'm listening. But I can't see what's so earth-shaking about a gene chart."

"It proves something I'd only guessed at." Charlemagne smiled warmly at her. "You're perfect, Meg."

"Meaghan, if you please, your grace," she corrected him quietly.

"It does not please me," he snapped. "And you're missing the entire point."

"Someone probably made a mistake taking the readings," she said dismissively. "There is no such thing as a perfect person."

"You are," he stated simply. "Meg, Elsbeth showed me that chart herself, and she had it redone twice. She knows how superior your genes are, she likes you, why don't we tell her?"

"And let her know we've been keeping it from her for months?" Meaghan queried softly. "I don't think Elsbeth will appreciate that. Why can't you just accept that what happened between us can never be again?"

Charlemagne's face was set in stubborn lines. "I can't accept it, and I won't, Meg. Make no mistake, one way or another we will take up where we left off, and finish this dance between us, you and I."

Meaghan closed her eyes for a moment. Then, struggling her way out of the chair, she inquired coolly, "Did you require anything else, your grace?"

He glared at her for a moment, and she glared back, a battle between sapphire blue eyes and emerald green ones. Finally, Charlemagne relented, out of respect for the fact that this woman would soon give birth to his son.

"Just one thing." Since she wanted to be businesslike, so be it. "I have that inspection tour in the outer provinces tomorrow. You're staying here."

"But..," she started to protest.

"That will be all, Meaghan."

&&&&&&&

Charlemagne left early the next day on the inspection tour. By mid-morning Meaghan had done everything she could do insofar as her official capacity went. Rising from her desk with a sigh, she went to seek out Elsbeth, and found her strolling through the garden.

"You look a little disgruntled today," Elsbeth observed. "Still sulking because Charlemagne wouldn't take you with him?"

"I'm not sulking," Meaghan snapped. "Just because.., oh dear." Her tones changed abruptly, and suddenly the hem of her skirt was soaked.

Elsbeth took her arm and started leading her to her rooms. "It looks like this baby is in a hurry, he's two months early."

"Early?" Meaghan muttered to herself. "I thought it was seven months."

&&&&&&&

Once Elsbeth had seen Meaghan to her bed, and called in the physician, she went to make another call.

When Charlemagne saw who it was, he became a bit irritable. "What is it now, Elsbeth?" He had been a bit testy the last two months.

"You need to return home immediately," his wife informed him. Then she added a bit maliciously. "That is if you want to be here for the birth of your son."

"What are you babbling about, Elsbeth?" he snapped. "You're not pregnant, and I haven't..," Then realization dawned, and his jaw dropped open.

"Meaghan is in labor," Elsbeth said, slowly and deliberately. "She needs you." Then she switched off the connection, sure that she had gotten her point across and that her husband would make all speed to get home. Then, she returned to Meaghan.