A/N: and the happy keeps on coming! Thanks again for another lovely review, Leona - I really appreciate it.


Chapter Thirty Five

New Arrival

Maddy sighs to herself as she closes the door and heads to the labs. She's not going to be gone long, as she has found Malcolm's impending fatherhood has made him far more sympathetic to her wish not to have to leave little Elisabeth. Mark is off duty, and doing the parenting for the morning that she's in work, but nonetheless she feels that sharp wish that she could stay with her child. Even though it's a half day rather than a full one, and the primary reason for going is so that she can sit down and work out exactly how many hours she needs to be in the labs, and how many working at home, that insistent pull is still present. Mom never mentioned that; what on earth must it have been like to have to do that back in Chicago? She doesn't even like to think about it.

In the four or so months since their marriage, and the discovery of his wife's pregnancy, everyone seems to comment how much less uptight Malcolm seems to be; it seems that his contentment is seeping out of his home life and into his work one. She can understand that, too - the knowledge that life is so incredibly good - to live a simple life in a clean world with a loved one at one's side and a growing family; it would never have occurred to her that she could be so lucky. But then, she has Mark. Would it have been different had she had him back in their old world? At least she'll never have to find out.

Malcolm is working at his desk when she arrives, and waves her into his office with a welcoming smile, "Good to see you. How's Elisabeth?"

"She's doing really well. Mom's very pleased with her progress - though it's still a bit on the early side for her to be starting an internship." She adds, with a slightly sly smile.

"I could make some godawful, trite comment about her taking after her mother, but I imagine you're sick to death of hearing that so I won't."

The discussion over her new working hours is surprisingly short and easy. While maternity leave in the Colony can't be as long as it would have been back in Chicago - as they simply don't have enough people to cover it - Malcolm is very keen to grant her as much of a favourable work-life balance as he can.

"I suppose I do sound like the progressive boss from hell, Maddy," He admits, "But I've got an ulterior motive - if you're able to work from home as much as this, then I'm setting a precedent, so I can do the same."

"Sneaky." She grins at him.

One thing that she is still getting used to is people whom she considered to be 'the grownups' speaking to her on fully equal terms; Malcolm has gone from being a rather remote figure to her immediate manager, and even a friend. Maybe it's not just her - maybe everyone goes through that. Not that it matters - the one thing that had been bothering her was how generous he would be with allowing her time with her baby; but it seems that he is not only generous with it, but profligate.

Their discussions complete, he sits back in his chair, and looks a little awkward, "I hope you don't mind me asking this but - you're a new mother, and Max will be in five months time. I don't want to be a rubbish dad - so I was wondering if you had any suggestions as to how I could be helpful without being a pain in the neck?"

Maddy looks a little startled; this is something that she finds quite unnerving - her teacher asking her for tips on good parenting? There is, however, an earnestness in his expression that suggests he is desperate not to let Yseult down by being useless, or overbearing. People might joke about how close they are - particularly with the business of her having her hand on his leg in staff briefings - but, given that no one thought him capable of such open emotions, to see just how much he cares about the woman he married is astonishing. She swallows, a little uncertainly. It couldn't be more obvious to her that he's nervous as hell, and she doesn't really want to freak him out.

"I think my perspective might be a bit too raw, Malcolm." She admits, "It's all new to me - you'd probably be better off talking to Mom and Dad about it - they've done it three times so they've had lots of experience." She pauses, "Have you actually asked Dad?"

Malcolm shakes his head, reddening a little, "No. I think he might make fun of me."

"Not about this, Malcolm. Even if he tried, Mom wouldn't let him - she knows how important Max is to you, and so does Dad. Ask them - they're the best people to give you an idea - if nothing else, Mom knows what it's like to have kids while Dad was around, and while he wasn't. That's a perspective I don't have."

He nods, "Thanks, Maddy. I really appreciate that - I suppose I'm worse than other people would be because I'm older. I think I would've been far more arrogant about it if I'd been in my twenties. Walking into it with my eyes wide shut." Then he smiles, "I think that's it for today - I'll need you to drop in tomorrow so we can discuss your doctorate project, but other than that, go home and enjoy the rest of the day with Elisabeth. I'll have a word with the technicians about setting up a workstation for you at home - but we can do that once we've gone through what you'll need in terms of software and equipment. I don't want to dictate this to you; it's your project, after all."

She smiles, happily, "Thanks Malcolm."

"No problem. Now, go home to your little one so that I can use that excuse when I've got one."


Yseult's expression is one of discontent, but Pete is quite convinced she's pretending, "Come on, Max - it's not going to do you any harm to have lifts, is it? Besides, being trapped in a Rover for ten minutes with your hubby sounds like hideous torture, so I intend to inflict it on you every day if possible. Rain or shine."

"Why is everyone convinced that the merest thing is going to hurt me?" She complains, "Riding my bike is not going to cause any problems - I checked that out with Elisabeth before I did it. Hiding my bike is ridiculous!"

"Tough. You get the Wallace Taxi service for the next five months - believe me, once you're the size of a house, you'll be glad of it."

"I really needed to be reminded of that, Pete. Thanks." She grumps.

"You're welcome, darling." He quips cheerfully, "Besides, I see no ships - but there's a massively overloaded rover hoving into view as we speak."

"Nit."

"Temper, temper." He grins, waving as Malcolm pulls up, "She's hating the idea."

"Thought she would - but you did insist."

"So it wasn't your idea?" Yseult asks.

"No - but I agreed with it, so I suppose that makes me partially culpable." Malcolm admits.

Both of them know that her sulking is largely for show as he drives her home, as she appreciates the thought. Being into her second trimester, her energy levels have risen, however, and the wish to carry on cycling stems to some degree from that. The frustration of not being allowed to do any heavy work is also bubbling away; add to that the inevitable mood swings thanks to her hormones, it's been a potent combination that has required very careful navigation on Malcolm's part.

The hormones are, however, finally settling down, and she is starting to show, much to the excitement of those around her. It has, however, led to one unexpected phenomenon that she wholly despises; another reason she is glad to be enclosed in the rover.

"If anyone else demands to feel my belly, then I'm going to kick them." She says, as they pull up outside their house, "I had someone else do it this morning - a complete stranger for God's sake. I wasn't aware that people consider pregnancy bumps to be public property."

"I hope the veto on touching doesn't extend to me."

"God, no. Everyone's banned from my bump except you." She smiles, then pulls a face, "Ooh…"

"What?" immediately, he is worried.

"It moved." Yseult's expression changes to a look of sheer wonder, "I just felt the baby move. It's like it's woken up, or something - but, I've never felt it before."

"Really?" now he is fascinated.

"Here." She grabs his left hand and sets it on her belly, "Maybe it'll move again."

They remain like that for nearly five minutes, and then he almost snatches his hand away, startled at the sensation of movement inside his wife's abdomen, "Oh, my God…"

"Don't you dare say 'it's alive', Or I may just have to kill you." Yseult looks at him, though her eyes are almost teary with joy. Probably the hormones again.

Once inside, Yseult sits down while Malcolm makes her a cup of tea. As she had hoped, the sickness subsided as the first trimester drew to an end, and she no longer endures the discomfort of nausea, or the unpleasantness of having to flee the room at inappropriate moments. If it weren't for the tiresome occasions when people seem to take it upon themselves to start prodding at her emerging bump - even though it's still relatively small - then everything would be just wonderful.

"What would you like for dinner?" she asks, as he sets the mugs down and sits beside her so she can lean on him.

"I'd settle for 'something edible', but that would be an impossibility if you let me loose in the kitchen. I can go up to the market place and see what Sal's got?"

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

"I know - but it's nice to give you a night off from fulfilling that horrible chauvinistic thing about being pregnant and in the kitchen. I'd take over the cooking duties if it wasn't a positive health hazard to all three of us."

Malcolm shifts to reach for his plex as it chimes to announce the arrival of a message, "Actually, hold that thought. Elisabeth's just invited us round to theirs; apparently Zoe's gone to a friend's house tonight, so she's taking advantage of the opportunity to stare enviously at your bump."

"As long as she doesn't expect to prod it." Yseult says, darkly.


In deference to the cooler air of September, Elisabeth has prepared a casserole of root vegetables and gallusaur, with fresh spelt bread to mop up the gravy, "I know just how terrible you are in the kitchen, Malcolm," she smiles at him, "given how much of this there is, I thought you'd both appreciate a break from cooking and washing up."

"I know I do." Yseult admits, "We tried the 'okay, you do it' approach to his preparing dinner. Once was enough."

"That bad?"

"You have no idea." Malcolm sighs, "I wasn't even doing it on purpose. You'd think I'd be better at it, given that I'm a chemist - but apparently not. My ability to mix things together successfully extends to the lab door, and no further."

"You never used to be so self deprecating." Elisabeth regards him quietly.

"No. I used to be an obnoxious idiot with an inflated sense of my own importance. I like to hope that I've grown out of that. Or, at least, mostly grown out of it."

The front door opens as Jim arrives home from his shift, "Oh God, who let you two in?"

Discussions over dinner are convivial, something that Jim still finds quite remarkable given the wholly unpromising nature of his first encounter with Malcolm. The discovery that he could not only cast aside his first impressions, but also find a way to befriend the man who once dated his wife is still quite astonishing to him. He would never have believed, in those first days after they met, that he would not only be perfectly happy to host him for dinner, but actually be the best man at his wedding. Though he has been finding it extremely bizarre to have to deal with regular questioning about being a dad.

"How's Mira these days?" Yseult asks, knocking him from his reverie.

"Er…fine, I think. It's never easy to tell with her - she keeps her cards very close to her chest."

"It can't be easy to be here, knowing that her daughter's beyond her reach. I couldn't imagine how painful that must be for her."

"She's a tough woman." Jim says, sagely.

"Perhaps - but nonetheless, it must be horrible for her." As she speaks, Yseult's hand is on her newly emerging bump, "I suppose I've never thought about it before; but now - I can't imagine what she must be going through. I almost feel guilty when I see her. No matter how much you feel she's to blame for her situation, her daughter isn't."

"I wish it were possible to reunite them." Jim admits, "She doesn't show it much - but there are times when I catch her off guard, and I can see how sad she is. She must be one of the strongest people I know to live with that and not show it. I guess she deals with it by going home and smashing the hell out of her crockery or something."

Yseult is about to reply, then shifts slightly, "Sorry, I'm not used to this."

"What?" Jim asks, bemused.

"The baby's started moving - I felt it for the first time today."

"May I?" Elisabeth asks, "Purely for medical purposes, you understand."

Yseult nods, "Just this once - and because you asked. Most people don't - they just plonk their hand on my belly."

"That can't be pleasant." Jim observes.

"It isn't. The last person to grab at me without permission was Mike. What it must be like for people who haven't got that over their heads, I don't know - but I've nearly lashed out at a few people recently because of that."

Malcolm quietly slips his arm across her shoulders, and Elisabeth shakes her head, "It's okay. I was being a bit presumptuous, wasn't I? I'm sorry - I'll restrain myself until you come in for your next scan."

"It's okay - you asked, and you're my doctor, so I don't mind. It's when someone I hardly know, or someone I've never even met comes up to me, notices the bump, and just reaches out. No one warned me that my bump would belong to everyone - but I get the feeling people will be offended if I object."

"Most people aren't that rude." Elisabeth admits, "I know it's because they're pleased for you - but it's dreadfully intrusive. I suppose it's worse here because we're such a small community, so people are friendlier, and they forget that there are still some boundaries to people's personal space. Don't feel bad about objecting, Max - if people complain, then we'll make it clear that they haven't got a leg to stand on."

"I'll bear that in mind."

Strolling home in the late evening darkness, they move with that almost studied closeness together that has become a hallmark of their joint presence in public, "I didn't realise you associated people reaching for your bump with what Mike did to you, Max." Malcolm murmurs, his arm tight about her shoulders.

"It's not so much that - just the sense of expectation that they can do it, and that I have no right to object. I don't want anyone else to touch my bump; just you, and Elisabeth when she examines me. This little one is half yours, after all."

"I know. Poor thing." He smiles at her.


Elisabeth examines the charts, her eyes intent, "These are looking fine, Max - though I'd like to keep monitoring your blood pressure. It's a little higher than usual. Nothing to worry about, but given that you're at the older end of your childbearing years, it's something I'd prefer to keep watching."

Yseult nods, "Is there anything else I should be thinking about?"

"Not at the moment. You're just where I'd expect you to be at this stage. How are things going with Sue?"

"Very well. She seems amenable to my having the baby at home. Would you object to that? It's something that was a bit of a tradition in our family, and I'd like to maintain it."

"Given that you're not that far away from the Infirmary, I would have less of an objection to it than I might've done if we were back in Chicago. Yours wouldn't be the first home birth in the Colony - though only one of those was actually planned. If you're discussing this with Sue, she can help you put together a birth plan so that we're ready to help you if you need it, or to back the hell off if you don't."

"I'd like to do that if possible."

Elisabeth sits back and regards her, "How are you feeling? In yourself, I mean. You've only got a couple more months to go now, after all. I imagine you must be quite relieved that the end's in sight."

Yseult laughs, "I have to admit that I'll be glad to get this little one out - but otherwise I'm okay. I'm going a bit crazy at work because Pete won't let me do anything practical. I've had to make do with administrative stuff - I've never been so up to date on my paperwork before. Did you see the baby blanket he and Louis gave us for Solstice?"

"I did. I think they're almost as excited about this little one as you and Malcolm are. How's he doing?"

"Nervous as hell, I think. But then, so am I, so I can't blame him. I think he's terrified he's going to do something that'll cause me to go into labour prematurely. Hard to believe he knows less about pregnancy than I do - I would've thought he studied pregnancy and reproduction as part of his zoology Masters."

"By 'do something', I take it you mean sexual activity?" Elisabeth asks, rather bluntly.

"I suspect so. I suppose, given all the things that've happened to us over the last couple of years or so, he's still frightened that fate will yank the rug out from under him, or something. After our wedding, and my getting pregnant, everything's being going really well - and he's scared that it'll balance out with something nasty."

"Even though this could be balancing out the bad things that happened before you two married - assuming that you believe in such things?"

Yseult nods, "It's a new experience for both of us. It'll settle down once we have the baby, I'm sure of that."

Elisabeth laughs, "I can guarantee the pair of you will be too tired to think about things like that."

"Is that supposed to be reassuring?"

Sitting at her desk, Yseult shifts and lets out a small grunt of pain. Pete looks up, nervously, "You alright?"

"It's okay - the baby just got me in the stomach." She says, "I'm glad I haven't eaten yet."

"Just don't start having contractions, alright? I'm about as much use as a midwife as a slasher."

"What is it about men and encroaching childbirth? I just have to move, and you all go into panic mode. It's not like I'm going to go 'ouch' and suddenly have a baby in my lap."

"Be careful what you wish for, madam." He grins at her.

She stares at her plex and sighs. It's been months since she's been allowed to work at their newly sited forge, and Ben has been working with someone else on their continued development of the blast furnace. All she can do is watch, make comments and file paperwork. Pete won't let her do anything else - and Elisabeth backed him up when she complained to the doctor that she wanted to do at least something more practical than tap at a plex.

Slowly, she strokes her hand over her now-much-larger bump. Despite his own curiosity, Malcolm has been surprisingly supportive of her decision to leave it until the baby is born to find out what they're going to have - to the point of promising that he won't ask Elisabeth on the sly. As he made that promise in front of the doctor, he's rather trapped by it now, so he's had no choice but to keep quiet about it. While she doesn't mind having that bump, the nearness of her due date has left her having to deal with Pete's refusal to leave her on her own in case she goes into labour while at the wrong end of the compound. Given that she will be going on maternity leave in barely three weeks' time, the chances of that happening are minimal at best, but he frets because he cares about her, and she appreciates it.

"God; if I'm going crazy now, Pete - what on earth will I be like when I'm at home?" she asks, suddenly, "I'm not used to not having practical work to do."

"I wouldn't see it like that." He grins at her, "See it as a three week respite before you stop having time to yourself for the next eighteen years."

"Thanks. I think."

"You're welcome, darling."


Malcolm comes in from work to see Yseult standing at the counter, arching her back slightly and breathing out through her mouth, "Max?"

"It's okay. Just another spot of Braxton Hicks, I think. It's not too bad - but I think it probably won't be much longer now."

He comes over to stand beside her and rubs her back, "What about the backache?"

"About the same as the swollen ankles. Sue's dropping by later to go through the birth plan. I think that'll be the last time before it goes into action."

After a week and a half of her maternity leave, Yseult is, as she predicted, starting to get extremely bored. She has prepared all that she can, and now waits for the moment when everything will start. Her last scan showed that everything was going very well - that the baby had turned, and is ready to be born. It's now just a waiting game.

"Sal's made me a large box of salad which should do us for dinner." Malcolm advises, setting the carton on the counter, "She's already offered to keep us in meals for the time being. My culinary reputation appears to be spreading."

Yseult straightens again, "There. It's stopped again. Braxton Hicks. Give me about half an hour and I'll probably be hungry."

"No problem. This can wait in the fridge easily enough."

"How's Maddy doing?" she asks, as he sits down on the couch, and she lies back, her head on his lap and her ankles elevated on a cushion.

"Not too bad at all." Malcolm reports, tousling her hair gently, "She's very diligent - and disciplined. It's amazing what she's been able to do at home - though she has to do the practical work at the lab; I couldn't set that up for her to do at home."

She laughs, then frowns, before grimacing in pain, "Oh…this is different."

"What?" Malcolm stares at her, nervously, "What?"

"I think you might want to call Sue."

"I…er…" suddenly he is dithering.

"She's probably on her way. Don't worry. I'll run myself a bath - you let her in when she gets here."

"How can you be so calm?"

"What's the point in panicking? Sue's talked me through this - if you let her know, she can check it's for real, and we can get ready."

Sue, the Colony's midwife, is at the door when a plaintive call comes through from the bathroom, "I think it's for real."

"Why's that?" Malcolm calls back.

"My waters have broken."

"Oh, my God…"

Sue rests a hand on Malcolm's arm, "Don't worry - I'll call the infirmary and ask them to send through the things I've set aside. We've been ready for this for a week or more. You go through and keep Max company. Make sure she's warm and as comfortable as she can be in the circumstances."

He nods, pulling himself together, and heads through to the bathroom to find Yseult undressed and sitting in a bath of warm water, looking rather frightened, "Sue warned me it would hurt - but I didn't think it would be this bad." Her face creases again, and she groans aloud, the volume rising with the discomfort of the contraction.

"She's put in a call for the equipment she organised, Max. She'll be here in a few minutes."

"Stay with me, Malcolm."

"I'm not going anywhere." He grasps her hands as she leans over the side of the bath, breathing fast, "Come on - remember what Sue told you about breathing. Let's do it together." Putting his own nerves aside, he forces himself to put on a calm front, helping her to remember the breathing exercises she's been learning ready for this moment. Then her hands are clutching his with a painfully tight grip as another contraction hits.

"Sue?" He calls through, wondering where she's gone.

"It's okay - I'm coming!" she calls back, her voice getting louder as she approaches, "No, don't get up. Stay there for now. Max, do you want any pain relief?"

"God, yes…whatever you've got."

Sue laughs, kindly, "I'll hold off giving you something that'll stop you feeling everything. Best to have some sensation so you know when to push. We'll try gas and air first - that should take the edge off it for you. Do you want me to prep the bed?"

"Not now, I want to stay here for the time being. It helps." Yseult shakes her head.

"Okay. I'll need to examine you - it'll be a bit awkward in the water, but I shouldn't have a problem."

Yseult nods, then groans again, gripping painfully at Malcolm's hands.

Sue completes her examination, "You're not fully dilated, Max. I'm afraid it'll be a few hours yet."

The first light of dawn is staining the sky by the time Elisabeth arrives. There's no clinical need for her to be present - but she is keen to offer some support, and the sound of a painful cry as she arrives proves to her that Yseult requires that support. She's been in labour for nearly fourteen hours.

"Elisabeth?" Malcolm looks up at her, worriedly, "Is something wrong?"

"Not at all." She smiles, "From what Sue's told me, everything's coming on fine. I just wanted to offer some moral support."

"Coming on fine?" Yseult demands, leaning back on a heap of pillows that have been set on the bed, "Is that what you call this? It bloody hurts like hell!"

"She's doing much better than she thinks," Sue advises, calmly ignoring the angry words, "She's not quite fully dilated yet, but it shouldn't be too much longer till she can start pushing."

Yseult groans again, "Oh God - I want to push, Sue."

"Not yet. I'll let you know when you can."

Her face creased in a sharp grimace, Yseult lets out a sudden stream of invective that startles Elisabeth. Even though most of it was in German, she can guess that most of it consists of very bad language indeed. She's used to this, of course, mothers screaming out all sorts of things - often insulting everyone around them; but despite everything, she won't allow Malcolm to let go of her, and not a single word of that furious language seems to be addressed to him. Even now, she needs to keep him close.

After another half hour, Sue nods, "We're a go. You're fully dilated, Max. If you need to push, you can push. Okay?"

Standing alongside Yseult's left side, a hand on her shoulder, Elisabeth regards Malcolm, who has endured watching his wife suffering intense pain, along with the gore, mess, and reek of parturition, without demur. He's never been squeamish; she knows that, but this is different. It's always different when the one in pain is someone you love. Rather than freak out - which was what she would have expected - he has held Yseult's hands, applied cold compresses to her forehead, dabbed with a damp cloth at her face and neck, offered her sips of water between contractions to compensate for the dryness caused by the gas and air and put up with the most astonishing explosions of foul language into the bargain.

Regardless of Sue's exhortation to push, another hour passes before she finally announces that she can see the head, "Nearly there, Max. You can do it!"

"Oh God!" Yseult's voice rises as she forces herself to bear down again, her effort accompanied by a scream that is half pain, half fury at her body's refusal to finish the job as quickly as she wants it to. Surely it's been long enough, hasn't it, dammit?

"One more, Max!" Sue calls, "Just one more push and we'll have this baby born."

Shrieking with the effort, Yseult complies, and there is a flurry of activity at the other end of the bed, "You've done it, Max!" Sue calls delightedly, "Give me a moment, and I'll introduce you."

In an instant, the anger, the tiredness seems forgotten. Moving slowly and awkwardly, Yseult tries to sit more upright, and Malcolm does what he can to help given that they are both looking at the blotchy, smeared bundle in Sue's arms as she carries out a few quick checks to clear the baby's airway.

"I'll cut the cord in a minute, Max. I think you want to meet your little one, don't you?"

"What is it?" she calls, tiredly.

"A little girl, Max. You have a daughter." Gently, Sue rests the baby in Yseult's arms, and pulls back to allow the new parents to stare in wonderment at their child.

"Oh, my God…" Malcolm whispers, a catch in his voice.

"Look what we did, Malcolm," Yseult says, tearfully, looking up at him, "look what we did." Carefully, gently, she cuddles the girl close, "Hello beautiful." If there's an instinctive bond between mother and child, she knows she's feeling it.

Fighting with himself not to cry, Malcolm hugs his arms around Yseult and looks closely at his daughter, "She's wonderful - and so are you. Well done, Max. I love you - so much." Then he gives up fighting, and sobs into her shoulder.

"It's not quite over yet, Max." Elisabeth says, once Malcolm has recovered his composure, "I imagine you're already feeling the contractions to get the placenta out. While that's happening, can we borrow your little one? Just to cut the cord, do a few checks and then clean her up a bit for you. Okay? It won't be long, and then she'll be all yours."

She smiles. From the look on her face, Yseult can't wait for the interlopers to be gone, and leave her new family in peace.


The bed has been remade with clean sheets, and Yseult has been asleep for most of the day, leaving Malcolm to cradle his new daughter. Until he discovered the existence of Terra Nova, and made it his mission to get here, the concept of having children had seemed monumentally irresponsible. Why bring new life into a dying world? But this world is young and new - and now he has everything he thought he didn't need; reality stepping in and proving his assessment to be utterly wrong.

The little girl is asleep, her trust in his embrace absolute. He has no idea if there is an instinctive formation of a bond between father and child, but if there is, he knows it's forming, "You're gorgeous." He tells her, very softly, "I can't believe how lucky I am to have you, and your mother. I never thought I'd ever know what this was like." He lifts her very carefully so he can look into her face, "I promise you," he whispers, "I will protect you, and love you. I'll be there for you, all the way. You and your mother - she was the most precious thing in my life. Now she's the most precious thing in my life, and so are you. Do you think you can share?"

She moves slightly, and gurgles a little in her sleep. With infinite care, he kisses her on the forehead.

"That is possibly one of the most beautiful things I've ever seen."

He turns to see Yseult has woken, and is watching them, her eyes glistening. Carefully, gently, he transfers the sleeping girl to her mother, "Here you are. I've had her to myself for long enough. Your turn to go all gooey over how lovely she is." He settles down alongside her, his arm about her shoulders.

"Are we agreed about her name?" Yseult asks, quietly.

"Definitely."

He looks up at the sound of the door chime, "Hold that thought." Bemused, he heads out to the living room and opens the front door.

"Commander." He stares, surprised to see Taylor outside.

"Can I come in?"

"Er - yes, please do. Sorry about the mess - we didn't really have much time to tidy up after everything kicked off." Malcolm looks about at the small degree of scattered items that, to his eyes at least, constitute 'mess'.

He pops his head around the bedroom door, "It's Commander Taylor."

"Nathaniel - please. I'm not on duty right now."

Yseult smiles, "Of course, come in Nathaniel."

Taylor stands at the foot of the bed as Malcolm returns to sit with his wife, "Congratulations to you both. I'd normally do this nonsense at some form of ceremony or other, but as there isn't one until June, I thought I'd come and visit our newest Colonist instead. I won't stay long."

He regards them with fondness. Yseult has always been someone for whom he's had a lot of time - though it took him a few years to become accustomed to Malcolm's altogether more abrasive personality. To see them together, and parents, is something he never imagined when he first invited Yseult to join the senior staff.

"Of course." Yseult says, "It wouldn't feel right not to introduce you. You are, after all, her unofficial granddad."

He chuckles, a soft snort of laughter, "I'm finding that to be the case. What have you decided to call her?"

"We didn't know what we were going to have, so we decided that we'd name a boy after our fathers, and a girl after our mothers." Malcolm supplies, but leaves it to his wife to do the honours.

"We've decided to call her Erin. Erin Leyna Wallace."

Taylor smiles, "That's a beautiful name."

"We thought so." Yseult smiles.

Coming round to the side of the bed, Taylor looks more closely at the little girl, who is awake, and seems almost to be regarding him with solemn eyes, though she can't really see much at barely a day old.

"Welcome Erin." He says, softly, "Welcome to Terra Nova."