Author's note

My contribution to the Rock the AU with Babies S/T challenge!

How did I get my name, Da?

Tom Branson was unlacing his shoes when his son came to stand in front of him, looking very serious as he put his hand on his father's knee. "How did I get my name, Da? At school today, Mrs Flanagan was asking us all how we got our names, and I didn't know the answer. How did you and Ma know what I was called?"

Tom looked up and met Sybil's eyes - silently sharing memories of that very eventful day in their lives. Sybil came to sit on the arm of Tom's chair and put her arm around his shoulder, and Tom reached up to pull her face down to his for a kiss. Oh yes, they remembered….

"Have you heard?" The news made its way from house to house that summer afternoon in Dublin. Mrs O'Connor came upstairs and knocked on the door of the Bransons' flat to tell them and found Sybil making her daughter a snack after her nap.

"Ah Mrs Branson – I wanted to let you know – I just heard, Michael Collins has been killed down in Cork. I know your husband is politically inclined so I thought you would be interested."

Sybil sat down and thought about what this would mean for the country she called home now. She felt sad for the loss of such a young, passionate man who loved his country so much he had lost his life trying to help her win freedom. She could still remember the electricity in the crowd when she and Tom had gone to hear him speak a couple of years before, just after the events of Bloody Sunday.

Suddenly, she felt a shafting pain through her back and realised that she was going into labour. How could this happen today - she wasn't due for another couple of weeks at least? And where was Tom? Her daughter toddled over to her and started to cry when she saw the look of pain on her mother's face. Sybil picked her up, along with a small bag, and headed downstairs - "Mrs O'Connor? Can you take Aislín - I need to get to the hospital?"

Tom Branson came out of his office to find the streets crowded with people. He asked a passerby - "What's happening?" The man looked at him in amazement - "You haven't heard? They killed the Big Fella, down in Cork. Word just came in a couple of hours ago. They finally caught 'the man they couldn't catch'- what a tragedy he was caught by one of his own."

Tom couldn't believe it. Michael Collins was a similar age to himself, and Tom really admired him for what he had done for Ireland. His brother Finbarr, a hard line Republican, had turned against Collins after the signing of the Anglo Irish Treaty the previous year, claiming it did not go far enough. Tom however was more of a realist and recognised that while the treaty didn't give Ireland all of what she wanted, it had started the process towards full self government for his homeland at last. He realised Collins had been right when he said that in signing the treaty he had signed his own death warrant.

He only knew one thing - he had to get home to Sybil and tell her about this - anything important in his life wasn't quite real to him any more until he and his wife had talked about it. He pushed his way through the rapidly growing crowds to their building, and ran up the stairs shouting her name. Mrs O'Connor came out on the landing - "There you are, young man. If you are looking for your wife, it's too late - I took her to the hospital myself, about an hour ago - I've got your daughter here with me. Where have you been?"

Tom was already out the door - "Oh God, please let her be all right, Oh God, I will do anything as long as she and the baby are all right…" were the only thoughts in his mind as he ran. Luckily, the hospital was only a few blocks away, and he slammed through the door and ran up to the admissions desk - "Maternity?"

"Push, push now Mrs Branson - you are almost there! One more big push - should be easy now!"

Sybil grimaced and focused all her strength, one last time. She couldn't help thinking - "If it's so fecking easy, why don't you try doing it?" The baby's head finally came out and the rest followed quickly - she had done it!

"Well done Mrs Branson, a beautiful baby boy! We'll just take him to wash him and wrap him up - won't be long." Sybil lay back, exhausted, as the midwife helped her get more comfortable and covered her with a fresh blanket. All she wanted now was to see her husband and feel his arms around her. Where was he?

The nurse came back in, holding a white-wrapped bundle - "Here he is, Mrs Branson. Mr Branson is outside too - shall I let him in?" "YES!" Sybil almost screamed as she took the baby, and the nurse looked at her disapprovingly as she opened the door behind her. Tom came bursting in - "Oh Sybil, love - are you all right? Is the baby all right?" He ran over to her and took her hand, almost sobbing in relief to see that they were both fine.

Sybil put her hand to her husband's cheek - "Look, Tom - we have a son!" Tom looked down at the baby in his wife's arms and then looked back at her with an expression of wonder in his eyes as he leaned in to kiss her. "What shall we call him?" They answered the question in unison - "Michael" - and nodded, realising that they had both already heard that day's sad news.

"That's a lovely choice for the baby - naming him after the archangel," fussed the nurse - "Mr Branson - you are not allowed to get onto the bed! Please sit down in the chair!" Tom ignored her - holding his beloved wife and baby in his arms, he pressed a kiss into Sybil's hair, whispering, "Oh my darling, I do love you so much."

A/N -

Sorry (not sorry) for stealing that last line - I love it so much!