September 21, 2017
Rosa Moreno stares at the rusted door towering over her head, a difficult feat since she stands at 6' 1".
As if her "recruitment" by the mysterious Mrs. Frederic had not been strange enough, the NSA agent now finds herself in the middle of nowhere South Dakota, 95% convinced she is being punked. And she does not take kindly to practical jokes, especially the kind that waste US taxpayer money…
The door to the seemingly abandoned, warehouse-like structure bursts open, and Rosa's hand drops to her service weapon.
Two figures rush out, one a heavily pregnant white woman grabbing at her lower back, one a panicking white man following behind.
"You're early!" the man is yelling, and Rosa realizes he is not speaking to her. In fact, neither seems to have even noticed her at all.
"I'm aware, Pete," the woman grinds out.
"We had a plan!" Pete cries.
"And he has another plan," the woman says, winding.
"But the hospital is so far and-"
A car shimmers into view in the direction they are hurrying. Rosa gapes – what if she'd hit that!
The woman waits impatiently by the passenger door while the man fumbles with his keys.
"I called HG!" another voice calls from the door. Rosa reels and sees a breathless black man in the doorway. "They touch down in ten. She and Claud will meet you at the hospital!"
Pete looks visibly relieved. "I knew she shouldn't have gone."
"Pete! Drive!" the woman yells, exasperated.
"Right! Sorry, Mykes. Dre, we'll see you later!"
Pete finally manages to get into the driver's seat and peels out, dust flying behind them.
"Oh shit," Dre calls from the door. "New blood."
Rosa cannot even begin to process what just happened, frozen in place.
"Stand down, Agent Moreno," Dre soothes, hands held in front of him.
"Who are you? What the hell is this?" Rosa demands, but she does at least relinquish her hold on her gun.
"Well, New Guy, I am Agent Deandre Williams, late of the CIA," the man grins widely. "And this, Rosa Moreno, is your ticket to endless wonder. And boy, did you pick helluva day to start."
Claudia is pacing. Ironic, since she just sent Pete down to the cafeteria because she was so sick of his pacing. Apparently there must be one pacer at all times.
Myka has gone into labor eight days early. That is very normal, Dr. Vanessa had assured Claudia via Farnsworth. And it seems Baby Bering/Wells has his own time table, with a fair amount of hurry up and wait right now. Claudia checks her watch. 12:07AM. Meaning Baby Bering/Wells is actually Baby Wells-Bering. And shares a birthday with his more famous mother.
Dramatic as she is, it seems.
Technically, both Myka (obviously) and HG are supposed to be on the "no fly" duty for the last month of Myka's pregnancy. But the ping was for one of HG's white whales from her stint at Warehouse 12, and it had seemed early enough.
Oops.
But they made it in time! Mostly thanks to Claudia speeding a lot. A lot, a lot. And due to Mr. Wells-Bering's hurry up and wait approach to birth.
Pete has returned from the cafeteria with a piece of pie. As one does at midnight during a family members delivery. Dre and Steve stayed in Univille to help the new New Guy feel anything close to normal, and Artie stayed in Univille to fret, and Leena stayed in Univille to help Max feel anything close to normal. Plus, tomorrow (now today) is technically a school day, and it has been decided (by those who make those decisions) that Max will be going to school, since it is only Day 13 of kindergarten and he need to get in the groove, new family member or not.
"Did you want some?" Pete asks, mouth full.
Claudia shakes her head, queasy. She is already full up on hospital vending machine Funyuns and Skittles.
Pete shrugs, happy to eat it all.
Twenty more minutes pass.
"How much long-" Claudia starts to ask when the double doors burst open.
A beaming HG stands in the doorway and announces, simply:
"He's here."
Pete cries.
Of course he does.
Claudia is awkward and adorable. And Helena? Helena is just radiant.
Alexander Charles Wells-Bering (dammit) was born as 12:11am on Thursday, September 21, 2017. He is 6 lbs, 12 oz, 21 inches long, bright pink, and a bit alien-ish, if Myka must be honest.
He is also absolutely perfect, healthy as a horse, and so determined to share a birthday with his mother that he cam eight days early. Myka can't even be mad about that.
HG, in a great show of love and trust, passes Alexander off to Pete and Claudia in turn. There is cooing and yes, crying, but Myka sees it all through a blissful haze. The books all said that was the endorphins. Myka doesn't really care about the books right now.
For all the fear that came before, Helena was calm, cool, and astoundingly supportive during the entirety of Myka's labor. She charmed the nurses and doctors, murmured softly in Myka's ear and held her hand, cracking jokes about how much easier this seemed in the twenty-first century. Myka told her that if she called it easy again, she would bodily remove her from the room.
And at the end of it all, they laid Alexander on Myka's chest, and Helena couldn't stop telling her how much she loved her.
They've done it.
The hard part comes next, a whole lifetime of it, but right now, she'll bask in the love, grin at Pete and Claudia hamming it up for a newborn who can't even see them, and hold Helena's hand, with all this love coursing between them.
The other adults in the Warehouse make appearances throughout the day, in between baby weigh ins, breastfeeding tutorials, and weird newborn diapers. Steve and Dre give her the details (scarce as they may be) on their new recruit, Rosa Moreno, and Artie fumbles with the baby and delivers a tin of homemade cookies. Leena reports on Max's pure excitement about Baby Alexander this morning and expresses pity for Mr. Meyer, Max's kindergarten teacher. Mrs. Frederic mysteriously appears, congratulates, drops off a stuffed lion, and then disappears just as mysteriously. Vanessa checks in via Farnsworth, but she'll be within the week to give the baby his first Warehouse physical.
And then, the exact amount of minutes it takes to get from his elementary school to Myka's hospital room after school lets out, Macsen August Lattimer arrives to make the acquaintance of Alexander Charles Wells-Bering.
A momentous occasion.
"He looks like a raisin," a disappointed Max announces.
Pete bursts out a laugh. Myka grins. Helena looks at him, very seriously, and says:
"Yes. But he is my raisin. Although I think prune is more appropriate."
Now Myka laughs, and little Ally, as Helena has already taken to calling him, startles.
"Oh, he has eyes," Max says with palpable relief.
"Do you want to hold him, Max?" Myka asks.
A bit of nervousness returns to Max's face.
"Will I break him?"
"You have to be really careful," Pete says, practiced. "And only do it with grown ups watching. But if you do it like we do it with the dolls, you won't hurt him. Here, why don't you sit with me?" Pete sits in the recliner next to the hospital bed and pats his lap. "Then HG can bring him over?"
Max clambers up and takes position, holding his arms at the ready. They have practiced with dolls at home, but there is still a healthy amount of fear in his eyes.
Helena brings the sleepy bundle over and lays him gently in Max's arms, Pete mimicking Max's movements to make sure he's there should kindergarten strength fail.
"And remember, only when there are adults there," Pete reminds insistently.
Max nods solemnly. He looks into the splotchy red face of Myka's newborn son.
"Hi Alexander," he whispers. "I'm your brother."
Myka feels her heart melt. Not a single adult in the room moves to correct him. Which is good, because Myka would have to Tesla anyone who did. These boys might now share any parents, but they are definitely brothers.
"Oh, my name is Max!" Max remembers to say. "That has an X in it, too, like Alexander. But my whole name is Macsen, which doesn't have an X in it. I know. It's confusing. You have a lot of letters in your name! I know 'cause Mr. Meyer an' me wrote you a card. Oh! Dad! My card! Agey?"
Helena expertly scoops Alexander out of Max's arms, and the boy bounds over to his backpack.
"I guess we'll get a picture later," Myka says wryly.
"No, taken care of," Helena promises, bumping Myka's leg with her hip, referencing the cell phone in her pocket.
Huh, she'd missed that. Myka grabs the phone, sneaking a peek at her and Ally before checking out the adorable photos. Max brings over a hand-drawn, painstakingly lettered "WELCOME ALEXANDER" card, showing everyone, including the baby, every single detail.
Myka is already thinking about how best to frame it.
Like most things in this sometimes wondrous twenty-first century, modern disposable diapers are both terribly efficient and terribly wasteful.
(They had briefly discussed using modern cloth diapers, but Laundry Queen Leena mixed it. There are enough people in this house without adding diapers into the mix – there would literally not be enough time in the day.)
At least the turbo diaper genie still works.
Helena finishes up her son's diaper with a flourish and snaps up his soft cotton onesie. She scoops him up against her shoulder, and he makes a contented gargle, the only noise besides shrieking that he has mastered in his short three days in the world.
"There, isn't that much better, Ally?" she asks him.
No response, of course.
Helena had been equally involved in the naming of Alexander (after that lion of Warehouse history and his eponymous library of legend) Charles (after her dear, sweet, silly brother) Wells-Bering (because of a bet), but it is such a very big name for such a very small boy. So she has very naturally shortened it to "Ally".
Pete made a few tentative objections to the more feminine nature of the nickname, but was shouted down.
"There is no such thing as boy names and girl names," Max had informed his father, and, truly, nothing more need have been said.
Helena sits in the rockers and looks around at the zoo-themed nursery. In the crib that Ally will not occupy for a few months, Max has sneaked a small Piglet, "because Piglet is Pooh's best friend and Ally is mine."
"Okay then," Helena says to her son as her foot finds an easy rhythm. "It is time to tell you about your sister."
She tells him every detail she can remember. He takes it all in. And none of it, of course, but this is just the very first time she intends to tell him about the girl who would have loved him so much. And as she does so, she can practically feel her there beside them, practically hear her laugh when he kicks one socked foot out of the blanket Helena has wrapped him in. A little sentimental, perhaps, but very few things are truly impossible in this life of endless wonder.
As she finishes up, she feels eyes on her and looks up. Myka leans in the doorway, her endless wonder.
"I'd wondered where you two ran off to."
Helena grins at her softly.
"I guess I'll probably have to learn to get used to that," Myka continues.
"We'll work on leaving notes," Helena promises, becoming her over with her chin.
Myka comes over, still moving a bit gingerly, still adjusting to having Ally out in the world rather than growing inside her.
"It seems like he likes hearing about her," Myka ventures, leaning against the arm of the luxurious rocker.
"Mhm."
"How are you doing?"
"Utterly exhausted," Helena laughs, feeling Myka's fingers at the nape of her neck. "And I didn't even do the hard part! Perhaps we are too old for this…"
"Speak for yourself!" Myka objects, bumping her shoulder. "Oh, happy belated birthday, by the way."
Helena looks up from Ally's face into beautiful green eyes she hopes the boy will inherit.
"It was quite the surprise present," Helena notes.
"Yeah, he wanted to make an entrance."
"Good thing I'm not terribly attached to celebrating it: it's going to be overshadowed for at least the next eighteen years," Helena grins. "And of course, you never need to get me another present."
Myka laughs and kisses the top of Helena's head.
"Damn straight." Myka sighs. "I still can't believe he's here. I still can't believe he's ours."
Helena murmurs an assent, looking back into Ally's sweet face.
"Although…" she ventures. "Given how very upset he gets when he is hungry, he does bear a strong resemblance to you… What is it Claudia calls it? Hangry?"
Myka's laugh warms Helena to her toes and startles Ally from his dozing.
"You will pay for that."
"Oh, I know."
Downstairs, the full B&B hums with life and energy, their extended family creating a comfortable backdrop to this quiet moment of peace.
Helena has been through this before. So has Myka, in a different way. She knows it will not all be soft, peaceful moments like this one. She will be more tired than she thought possible, more afraid than it seems worth surviving, more frustrated by infant stubbornness than should be bearable.
But all this makes it worth it.
And she cannot wait to meet the person their son turns out to be.
fin