A/N: Sorry - real life got in the way a bit, there! Now that everyone's on course for happy times. Here's another chapter to tide you over while I go off to Belgium for a week. Enjoy!

Chapter Thirty Three

New Life

Ninette examines the ring on Yseult's finger with almost minute attention, "It's beautiful, Max. Your fiancé chose very well - 'e 'as a good eye for colour." She looks up, "are you alright?"

Yseult nods, her eyes full of tears, "Yes, Ninette - I'm fine. It's a bit silly really - if I look at the ring for long enough, I start to cry. It's because I'm stupidly happy. Don't worry - I'm not regretting accepting Malcolm's proposal. Not for a single second. It's particularly embarrassing at home - I keep on grabbing hold of him and bursting into tears."

"That is no surprise. You and 'e nearly lost one another several times this year. When you fell in the river we all thought this would never 'appen - we were all so scared. When Pete pulled you from the water, we were all crying - you scared us so much."

"I would've preferred another way to get proof from you all how much you like me." Yseult smiles, then looks a little sad, "Poor Pam - this must be awful for her; she's lost Geoff, while I survived - and now I'm all overexcited and happy because Malcolm and I are going to get married."

"No." Ninette says, gently, "She grieves, yes - but she is 'appy as well for you because she wouldn't 'ave wanted you to die, too. I think, in some ways, it 'elps 'er to know that you still go on. She is a very, very brave woman."

"Braver than me, I think. If Geoff had been Malcolm, then I think I'd be on the floor and I wouldn't have got up even now." She sighs, "Did you know that Malcolm actually did think I was dead for a while? He only heard that I'd drowned - he wandered off in shock before the news came through that Pete got me back. For half an hour, he genuinely believed that he'd lost me. Jim Shannon actually found him at the gate: he was going to walk out and find something to kill him because he couldn't stand to be alive if I wasn't. After everything he'd been through, losing me was the last straw for him, I think."

"Thank God Jim found 'im." Ninette thinks for a moment, as though hesitating, then goes for it, "And what about Niall?"

"What about him?"

"'Ave you talked about 'im? 'E was the cause of your argument, was 'e not?"

"That's something that we can work on. I think Malcolm's realised that he's the one who was letting Niall get in the way of our relationship, not me. He knows how close we were - and I think sometimes he's afraid of that: that he can't measure up to Niall in some way or other. I think I've managed to convince him that he doesn't need to. I was happy with Niall, yes - of course I was. But he died, and now I have Malcolm, and he makes me happy, too. I only have to see the way he looks at me to know that I make him happy - have you ever seen what he looks like when he smiles: a real, unguarded smile? God, it makes my heart practically melt to see it."

"And 'e lets you put your 'and on 'is leg." Ninette grins at her.

Yseult nods, "Niall didn't like me to do that in public. He wasn't a particularly tactile person and he never got used to it - finding that Malcolm didn't mind in the slightest was a bit of a surprise, to be honest. He never came across as someone who wouldn't be bothered by a fiancée who can't keep her hands off him."

The pair look up as the door opens, "Are you two sobbing over that ring again?" Pete asks, with mock annoyance, "Honestly - am I the only person who works around here these days?"

"'Fraid so." Yseult smiles, as he hugs her, "It's only going to get worse once we start organising." She waves at Ninette as she leaves, "What time do you want us to come over tonight?"

"Whenever you want, really." Pete says, "Louis is nervous as hell - he's never hosted a festive dinner before. Hope you don't mind, but he's going to stick to something he knows and scale it up. I think he's planning on baking a xiph loin."

"That's the best way. I wouldn't even consider trying a recipe for the first time when cooking for guests. Always do what you know."

Pete nods, sagely, "I'll be glad to see the back of this year. It might be ending on a high, but it looked like going to hell for a bit, there."

"I know." Yseult agrees, "In some ways, this has been the best of my life - but in others, the worst. I'll be glad to leave the 'worst' stuff behind and concentrate on taking the 'best' with me." She goes silent for a while, "I think, Pete, that next year I'll move the forge. I thought it wouldn't matter - but it's still a bit of a struggle - there are times when I still see Mike trying to force Malcolm onto the furnace. Did you know he left a pair of tongs to heat on it? I think he might've been planning to threaten me with them to make me agree to accept him - but it didn't pan out that way. I fought back and he lost his temper with me instead - but he was going to use them on Malcolm until I threatened to brain him with the hammer."

Pete regards her, solemnly. She's put aside most of what happened that afternoon; but some of it's still lingering. It's only to be expected - no one recovers from something like that overnight, after all. Both she and Malcolm are still nursing wounds from their bad experiences, and he's seen how they are with each other enough to know that they'll work through it all together. But it's obvious to him that Mike's shadow still looms large over Yseult - though, oddly, it's now more over his cruelty to the man she loves than what he did to her.

"Do you blame yourself for what Mike tried to do to Malcolm?" he asks, eventually.

"I'm not sure." She admits, "I had no idea that he'd fixated on me - from what he was saying, I think it was something that started before we even came here. He kept his hatred of Niall hidden because we were married and he didn't want to make me dislike him, I suppose. I have no idea what he was thinking - whether he wanted an actual relationship with me or just sex - but, even now I still can't think of anything that I could've seen as a sign that he was obsessed with me. I assumed his rancour over Malcolm was down to his not being a craftsman or one of us. Or something."

"And?" Pete prompts, quietly.

"I've pretty much dealt with what he tried to do to me, Pete - yes; but…Mike tried to kill Malcolm - breaking into the labs to smash the catch on the scorpion's vivarium. I know it's impossible - but I can't stop thinking that he might've been behind Niall's death, too. It's stupid - he had nothing to do with that work party, or where they were at the time. They'd taken all the precautions that they could - and there's no one in this colony who goes OTG without accepting the inherent risks of doing so - but Mike wanted me, and given that he was prepared to harm Malcolm to get me makes me wonder if he tried to do the same to Niall."

"I don't think so, Max. If he'd done something to Niall, I think he would've admitted it when he was telling you what he did to Malcolm. I reckon it was only when the two of you got together that he really started to slip his gears. He thought he was in with a chance with you - and then you started seeing someone else."

Yseult nods, "It was horrible, Pete. Mike was so strong, and neither of us could fight him. If I hadn't threatened him with the hammer, he would've made me watch him torture Malcolm. I would've done anything to prevent that - and I did." She shudders, "Even hitting him with that bloody hammer wasn't enough. It was like the legends surrounding the murder of Rasputin."

"And that's what you can't let go, isn't it?"

She stares at the floor, "When I hit Mike with that hammer, I meant to kill him, Pete: I hit him as hard as I could. I may not be as strong as he is, but I'm a metalworker, so I'm not exactly lacking in strength myself. When he went down, I thought that I had killed him. That was bad enough - but when he got up again…"

"You did what you did to save Malcolm, Max; don't forget that. The alternative doesn't bear thinking about; he would've killed Malcolm without a second thought, and God alone knows what he would've done to you - do you think he would've accepted the fact that the pair of you turned on him? Believe me - it's better this way. Besides, it was Taylor that finally brought it to an end, wasn't it? There's not a single thing that you did that wasn't justified as being self defence. Even if he had survived, I have no doubt that Taylor would've exiled him - he would've been too dangerous to keep under house arrest. The two of you would've been on constant alert in case he escaped and came after you - and he would've loved that."

Yseult sighs, "I know. You're right, Pete. It's just hard to get that out of my conscious, rational mind into my unconscious, emotional one. Perhaps the move into the new year might help. We can draw a line under this and start again in a couple of days after the holiday. Preferably by moving the forge."

"Top of the list." Pete grins, giving her another hug, "Now, you go home and find something tarty to wear. I'll see you and the soon-to-be-Mr Maxwell tonight."


Maddy sits at her kitchen counter, nibbling at a slice of toast while Mark makes her a cup of tea. It's only now that she's realising just what a long process pregnancy actually is. Nine months doesn't sound like a long period until one actually makes note of the passage of time. She's been showing properly now since January, and the final trimester gradually trundling along, leaving her feeling like the side of a house. With the prospect of maternity leave ahead, she's been obliged to put her plans for a Doctoral level research project on hold, so someone else is going to have to work on the yeasts, as that can't wait. Malcolm has, however, promised to find her a suitable alternative once she's back at work again - and, to her surprise given his own work ethic, he's made it very clear to her that he's going to find something that will suit a combination of working at home as much as at the labs. She is not, however, sure whether that was his idea or someone else's. Possibly Mom's.

Being the daughter of a doctor, and having witnessed Zoe's arrival, she is rather more aware of the processes of pregnancy than her nervous, youngest son husband. Setting the mug of tea down alongside her plate, Mark sits down beside her, "How are you feeling this morning?"

"I'm fine, Mark. The baby's been moving around a bit overnight, so I'm a little tired. I want to finish working up the newest analgesic compound this morning, so the sooner I get that done, the better. Then I can sit down and try to avoid my ankles swelling."

"I don't go on shift until ten. I'll walk you over to the labs."

"You don't have to." She smiles at him.

"I want to," he returns her smile, "I'm enjoying being a proud dad-to-be. And I like seeing the looks on people's faces now that you're showing."

"I'm not sure who's looking forward to our baby being born more - us or the rest of the Colony." She agrees, "Though the way my back feels, I can't say I'm not awaiting it with bated breath. Mom warned me about that, but I get the feeling it's something that descriptions don't prepare you for." She frowns slightly, "Or, for that matter, the endless rounds of diapers, dribble and sleepless nights."

"Is it too late to change our minds?" Mark jokes.

"I think it is." Maddy laughs, leaning up for a kiss.

"So." Jim says, leaning on the balcony rail, "When's the big day?"

Malcolm leans alongside, the pair waiting for Commander Taylor to return from meeting with a stallholder over some stupid dispute about their pitch, "The fourteenth of June, so we can catch the good weather before it gets too hot - and Max has her heart set on the orchard. Maddy's wedding there has turned it into something of a favoured spot: I think ours will be the third wedding in that clearing now that Jules and Patrick have used it."

It's odd. Now that he no longer views Malcolm as a threat - redundant or otherwise - to his marriage, Jim has found the man to be altogether more tolerable. That said, given that he has been obliged to rescue him from deadly situations twice, thereby seeing him in a highly vulnerable state, he's realising that there's a lot more to Malcolm Wallace than a mildly obnoxious personality and a history with his wife. Besides, the way that he looks at Yseult, that utter openness that she inspires in him; how much of that former stiffness was guardedness on his own part, and how much of it imposed upon him by an almost instinctive dislike of a rival? But then, until that incident in the labs during the occupation, where Malcolm advised him that he was working on the terminus to keep people alive - and then came up with the concussion ruse to deceive Weaver and Lucas, he hadn't believed the man was capable of an unprompted noble act. He was wrong, of course - but it's far easier to dislike someone if you can build a framework upon which to pin it. He had certainly never thought it could be possible that he might even manage to establish a friendship with him - though that's still very much at the 'lets see how it goes' stage.

He spots Elisabeth approaching from the infirmary, and then Yseult trots over to join her. He turns his head slightly to see how Malcolm reacts to the sight of his fiancée, and is not disappointed. God, he really adores her - just look at him; he can't take his eyes off her. That won't last forever, of course, but the obvious closeness they share when they're together suggests that the friendship that backs up love is as present with Malcolm and Yseult as it is with himself and Elisabeth. It was that combination that got him through the horrors of Golad, that inspired him to fight to join them as they embarked on the pilgrimage - and which rebuilt their relationship after two years of enforced separation.

"Hey." He greets his wife, who smiles and accepts his embrace, "Is it me, or are senior staff meetings more like a family gathering these days?"

"Are you suggesting that we adopt Commander Taylor?" Elisabeth jokes, "I really don't need a fifth child."

"Fifth?"

"Yes - Zoe, Maddy, Josh and you." She looks around him to Yseult, "You need to bear that in mind, Max. One day, you'll have two children - Malcolm and your first baby." She catches a slight frown on Yseult's face, "You will, Max. There's nothing wrong with you - it's just a case of waiting for things to settle."

"And in the meantime," Malcolm adds, his arms tight about her, "You've got Schmidt."

"God, look at the four of you." Taylor calls up, finally back from his dispute resolution exercise, "I take it you're going to concentrate on the briefing rather than each other?"

"That depends on how interesting it is." Jim grins at him.


The readings over the bio-bed look excellent, and Elisabeth smiles, pleased, "You're doing very well, Maddy. I think it won't be long now - the little one's head is down and engaged. Have you been noticing any Braxton Hicks contractions?"

Maddy nods, "I have, now and again."

Mark looks nervous, "How can you tell the difference between that and real labour?"

"She'll have been having them for months, Mark - but the pain they generate is so minor that most women don't notice it until the birth is imminent. Believe me, there's a difference between Braxton Hicks and the real thing. I've had three children, and I'm a doctor so I know the difference - but most first time mothers don't. It's not until the real thing starts that you'll realise it." She smiles at him, "Don't worry Mark - she's doing fine. I'll go and fetch Sue in a minute so she can carry on with your ante-natal checks."

"But you'll be with me?" Maddy asks, at once.

"Of course." She smiles, "I don't expect you to need a surgeon, but I'm happy to be on standby as your mum. Besides, Mark might faint." She adds with a slightly wicked glint in her eye.

"Don't tempt me." He says, nervously.

Leaving them in the hands of her capable Floridian Midwife, Elisabeth returns to her office to transmit the results of the scan to Maddy's records, only to be disturbed by her beeper. Looking at it, she frowns; the address is not one she has visited - and she can't remember who lives there.

Guzman is waiting for her at the door when she hurries across with a medkit, "I don't think you'll need that, Doctor Shannon. He's dead."

"Who is?"

"Andrew Fickett."

Now she remembers, "Any sign of foul play?"

Guzman shakes his head, "No. Looks like natural causes - Carter didn't hear anything from him this morning and went in to check on him. Died in the night by the look of it."

Entering the house, she looks about with mild distaste. She has always felt guilty over her failure to take any notice of Maddy's concerns about the man when she first developed suspicions over who he claimed to be. Far from being a personal hero of hers, he had turned out to be a disgruntled failure who had stolen the acclaim of the man for whom he worked, and killed him in the process. But for Jim's insistence that his children have a means of surreptitiously calling for help, Maddy would've been found dead in the fields from a venomous spider bite, and no one would've been any the wiser. She can't keep the hostile expression from her face as she enters the bedroom.

From the doorway, Fickett looks as though he's merely sleeping, but for a small trickle of blood that has emerged from his nose. There's no indication that he woke, or that he struggled. It seems that Guzman's assessment may be right. His colouration suggests that he's been dead for several hours, but it'll take a post mortem to truly determine the cause of death, "Search the house, Deputy - he may have used something to finish it. Given what he knew of the local wildlife, there may be something in the disposal that he used. Be careful in case he did. I suspect it's going to be natural causes - but it's worth checking."

Maddy's left by the time she returns to the infirmary with a selection of blood samples for testing, though she'll undertake the full autopsy over in the research labs. As she sets the samples down, she wonders how Malcolm will react. He never liked Fickett, who had played up to his pretence of being the great Doctor Ken Horton to the point that he had completely disregarded Malcolm's status as Chief Science Officer - and happily insulted him, ignored his requests and treated him as a bumbling assistant. His admission that he helped Maddy to run a DNA scan was a rather guilty one, as it caused him to feel rather responsible for what followed - though he never capitalised on it by claiming that he had seen through the man's ruse. Jim might well have punched him if he had.

Looking at her schedule, she sighs. Nothing to deal with immediately - best to just get it over with, then.

She is not surprised when Malcolm comes over as she starts work. For all his virtues, or faults, he is - and admits to it - terribly nosy, "Andrew Fickett?"

Elisabeth nods, "He was found dead this morning. I'm just verifying the cause - we think it was natural causes, though I couldn't say anything for his mental state."

Malcolm shuffles slightly, "I'm not sure what he was thinking, to be honest. He's been messaging me on and off ever since he was put under house arrest - if sending demanding notes courtesy of his security detail counts as messages. He expected to be given research work to do at home. It's as though his determination to keep up the pretence turned into a compulsion after Maddy exposed him."

"Did you ignore the notes?"

He shakes his head, "No - it seemed rude to do that. I would just send back messages reminding him that he was no longer a member of my science team. If he wanted to work independently, then that was his prerogative as a private citizen. His more recent messages tended to be demands for me to send equipment to his house to research samples from the plants he was growing in his back garden. He never really stopped treating me like some sort of lackey-cum-research assistant. His notes generally referred to me as 'Marcus', even though he knew damn well that wasn't my name."

He sits back and lets her work, and it doesn't take her long to determine the cause of death, "There it is - a cerebral haemorrhage. He died of a stroke - probably in his sleep."

"That's an irony and a half." Malcolm observes, "He had to pretend to have a limp because of Horton's stroke. Now he's had one himself." He pauses, "Are you going to tell Maddy?"

Elisabeth nods, "She should know. I'm not aware that she's ever really thought about him again - but that's probably more because she's kept it to herself if she has. Being a mother doesn't make me able to know what my children think."

"I'll bear that in mind." He smiles.


As he always does when a Colonist has no relatives to stand at the graveside, Taylor stands alongside the Chaplain. He is not that surprised to see Malcolm present, though he can't think of any worthwhile reason for him to be there other than perhaps a sense of relief that the man is now gone. What does surprise him, however, is Maddy standing alongside her boss, her expression sad even as she strokes her hand gently over her swollen abdomen.

The burial is simple, and there is no eulogy - what, after all, could anyone say about the man in the grave other than that he was a selfish fraud who was willing to kill to maintain his pretence? With nothing to say, both the Chaplain and Taylor withdraw as soon as the limited ceremony is over, leaving the burial party, Malcolm and Maddy.

"Are you alright?" he asks, after a few minutes of silence.

She nods, "Yes - I'm not here for any particular reason. I suppose it's because I wanted to honour the real Doctor Horton. He said such horrible things about him, and I began to doubt whether I was right to believe that the real man was the hero I'd turned him into."

"I never met Ken Horton." Malcolm admits, "He was still in the field when I was at Trinity, so our paths never crossed. From what I was told about him, though, he was more like the man you thought him to be than the man Fickett did. I worked with a few of his other research assistants, and they never had anything but praise for him as an academic and a mentor. I suppose Fickett wasn't as capable as they were, and Horton knew it. I should've seen it from the results of his work, I suppose - but I didn't. I assumed that it had deteriorated because of his stroke - and I was as in awe of the real Horton as anyone else, so I was completely taken in."

Maddy nods, "I suppose we all were, at first…" then she pauses, and pulls a face.

"What?"

"I think I might go back to see Mom." Her hand is on her abdomen again, and the meaning could not be more clear.

"Oh, bloody hell," Malcolm realises what's happening, "Come on. Let's go."


Elisabeth is, naturally, far calmer than either of her arrivals when she looks up to see Maddy and Malcolm in her office, "Does it feel different from the Braxton Hicks?" she asks.

Maddy nods.

"Have you been timing the contractions?"

Maddy shakes her head.

"I'll go and find Mark," Malcolm offers nervously, and bolts.

"I hope he's not like that when Yseult has her first child." Elisabeth smiles at her daughter, "Don't worry - there's plenty of time. Have your waters broken yet?"

"I don't know." She admits.

"Which means they haven't." Elisabeth's calm is in direct inverse proportion to her daughter's nerves, "Come on. Let's go and join Sue - we've had the maternity suite available for several days - you're our only expectant mother who's due."

"You won't go, will you Mom?" Maddy asks.

"Not unless you ask me to." She smiles, I've already got colleagues on call so they can take over while I'm with you. Do you really think I'd miss this?"

Thumping footsteps behind them indicate the hasty arrival of the now-equally-nervous father, and Elisabeth turns to see that Mark has gone a most remarkable colour - pale, and yet flushed by running, "You can't come in wearing those fatigues. Go and have a word with Nurse Ogawa, she'll get you some scrubs to change into. This isn't going to happen in the next few minutes, so you've got plenty of time."

"Where's Dad?" Maddy suddenly asks, her face creasing again at the pain of another contraction.

"Malcolm's gone to find him." Mark reports, before hastening off to find suitable clothing for the maternity suite.

"Come on, Maddy." Elisabeth smiles, "Let's get this little one into the world, shall we?"

The news has spread around the Colony at remarkable speed - as such things do amongst a limited population. Even those who have no connection to the Shannons are on tenterhooks, but for those who do, the wait seems interminable. God alone knows what it must be like for those who are actually present. Josh, needless to say, is pacing back and forth, while Skye does what she can to keep Zoe occupied. Being a little too young yet to be present for the birth, while Josh is far too squeamish, Zoe is full of questions, and inevitably resents the fact that she is being kept away.

"If you were there, Zo," Josh advises, "You'd wish you weren't."

Skye smiles at him, "Would you be this squeamish if it was me?"

He has the grace to go a bright cherry red, "I'd probably have thrown up or fainted by now." He admits.

She laughs, "I think you'd be surprised."

"If I hadn't, then I definitely would be."

"That's gross." Zoe objects, though not entirely seriously.

"Part of being a woman, I'm afraid, Zoe." Skye commiserates.


Standing on his balcony outside the Command centre, Taylor watches as the sky darkens into night. Another baby on the way - another new Colonist. Life goes on for some, while for others it ends. And thus the cycle is maintained, "Shannon will become a grandfather tonight - or tomorrow." He addresses the empty air, "I guess it's too late for me - but then, everyone sees me as the universal grandfather, and maybe Skye will do the honours, eh?"

There's no answer. There never is.

He sighs, and continues his vigil.


Yseult looks at her watch, "How long is it now?"

"About eight hours." Malcolm confirms, having been present when it began, "I don't know how long it's likely to last. I left before Elisabeth got technical - though I'm not sure if that was down to feeling that it wasn't my place to be there, or just sheer squeamishness. I've never been present at a birth."

She leans closer to him, her eyes sad, "I'm beginning to wonder if you ever will."

"What?"

"How long has it been now? Nearly a year? I'm starting to think that it's never going to happen - no matter what Elisabeth says." Then she sighs, "In some ways, Maddy being in labour makes it all worse - she's achieving where I've failed."

Rather than patronise her with pointless words that are meant to be 'comforting', Malcolm tightens his arms about her, "I love you, Max. Plain and simple. Whatever happens, that will never change, I promise."

"It might." She whispers, nearly in tears, "I'm starting to watch the calendar now - trying to monitor my cycle to find out when I'm at my most fertile. It's almost all I can think of, and I'm terrified it's going to dominate every aspect of my life before long. I want to have your children - and I can't."

Gently, he guides her shoulders so that she's facing him, but says nothing; looking into her eyes, then leaning down to kiss her. He has no idea how to relieve her of the burden she's imposed upon herself. Yes, he'd love to have children with her - but, if not, he wants her. To be forced to go back to the crushing sterility of his life before he met her is such a ghastly thought that he would give anything to help her believe that conceiving is not a requirement of their coming marriage; but telling her that isn't going to help. It something she needs to learn and accept by herself.

She accepts his kiss without hesitation. She knows he loves her, after all; and her hands come up to his face to hold him. Such is their passion for one another that it doesn't take much more than that to arouse her, or him, for that matter, and she is soon lifting her top and fumbling with her bra to remove it, before reaching for the buttons of his shirt.

On a shelf, above their heads, a small antique clock strikes the hour - but such is their focus upon one another that its chimes go unheard.

Zoe is fast asleep. Despite her assertion that she would see it through - just to prove to Josh that she is old enough to deserve to be present in the infirmary - she dropped off just after eleven. Sitting together on the couch, Josh and Skye have run out of things to say to one another, and sit quietly, almost willing the plex to chime with a message alert. How long now? It's probably getting close to dawn out there - and still nothing.

"D'you think something's gone wrong?" Josh asks, nervously.

Skye shakes her head, sleepily, "No. Apparently it took me nearly a day to make my appearance. I think it's been around thirteen hours or so - but there's no telling when your nephew or niece is going to arrive. Labours are different every time. I imagine your mom would tell you that. If there was a problem, your mom would let you know."

"I'm beginning to wish I'd gone there now."

"Why? It won't make the baby come any faster, and it's better that Zoe's got family at home with her. I think it'd freak you out a bit, to be honest - labour's not exactly painless."

He nods, sighs, and slips his arm about her shoulders. He is not surprised as the weight of her head increases. She's fallen asleep.

Mark has been astonishing - he has neither thrown up, nor fainted. Nor has he fled from the room in panic or burst into tears - all of which Elisabeth has personally witnessed in her time. Instead, he has sat beside Maddy, held her hand, poured out water if she's wanted a drink, supported her if she's wanted to walk around and even endured the several occasions when she's screamed abuse at him during the pain of a contraction. Jim has been in and out several times, though he is struggling rather to see his baby going through such an experience, despite knowing full well that it's perfectly natural, and everything is progressing as it should. While Sue is offering pain relief, Maddy seems quite determined to rely upon as little medication as possible - though as the latter stages are under way, she seems to be revising that position.

Groaning as another contraction wanes, she looks about, and clutches at Mark's hand. She's just roundly insulted him again, for the apparently heinous sin of dabbing at her forehead with a cool cloth, but he seems to know that it's not out of genuine ire, and is taking it with stoic aplomb. Besides, her grasping of his hand is proof to him that all is well on that front.

"You're fully dilated, Maddy." Sue reports, "If you feel the need to push, then now's the time. Okay?"

"Believe me," Maddy blurts, breathlessly, "I feel it!"

Sitting outside, Jim tenses as his daughter's voice rises again in pain, and effort now, accompanied by that time honoured exhortation to push, and then the magic words 'I can see the head!'. It's nearly over, then. Cross with himself for his squeamishness, he waits for a moment of quiet and sneaks back inside again.

Sue is at the business end, while Mark is to Maddy's left, and Elisabeth is to her right. Hastily, he joins his wife, who looks at him with a tearful, excited smile, and clasps his hand. Not much longer, and he will be greeting his first grandchild.

The chime of his plex yanks Josh from a light doze, Skye still fast asleep on his shoulder. The sudden movement brings her to wakefulness, too, and she looks at him, as he stares nervously at the device in case it might be bad news. Finally, he curses himself for his nerves, and leans forward.

"Well?" Skye asks him, nervously.

He is silent for a moment, but then turns to look at her with relief and real joy, "It's a girl."