Three Months Later

"Who's a little oozy-woozy? Who's my big boy? That's right, you are, my lad! Yes you is! Yes you is!"

The baby stared back up at the adult making the ridiculous noises, yawned, then closed his eyes and promptly fell asleep. Tyrel's face fell in disappointment.

"I wonder what your patients would think if they heard you talking like that."

Tyrel started guiltily at the sound of Tegan's voice, then began fussing with the blanket drawn over the small form in the cradle to cover his embarrassment. "Um, they would applaud me for my sensitivity, of course." He decided to go on the attack, always advisable where his wife's best friend was concerned. "Besides, I was trying to keep him awake until you got here."

Tegan snorted as she continued into the nursery. "Of course you were." But she was smiling, and so was Nyssa, who was patiently waiting her turn to coo over her godson. Tyrel, as usual, was hogging him. He backed reluctantly away as Tegan strode up to the cradle, sparing a smile and a wink for Nyssa, who was occupying the rocking chair. Tegan gave her son a critical glance, touched a gentle finger tip against his button of a nose, then sat on the edge of the day bed. "Well, he doesn't look too spoilt from his morning with you. Are we ready for lunch?"

They'd gotten into a routine round about a month ago; Tegan took a day off from baby care, and Tyrel and Nyssa took a day off from work to baby-sit. They met up for lunch, as much for Tegan to make sure her son was all right as for the company, then parted ways again until dinner. Tegan wasn't allowed to return to quarters until that time. "A day off means a day off," Nyssa had very firmly told her. Lunch was the only compromise short of illness or emergency she would allow, and she had very firm opinions on emergencies as well, both for Tegan and for the hospital staff.

Those firm opinions held for living quarters as well. Every time Tegan tried to talk about moving into a space of her own, she was loudly–and lovingly–overruled. "After all," Nyssa pointed out in that sensible way of hers, "this way you have help immediately if he becomes ill, or you do. And," she continued blithely, "the walls are certainly thick enough that you can't hear us when we feel like making love."

Nyssa's mixture of innocence and no-nonsense bluntness had always taken Tegan by surprise, and this time was no different. She had blushed furiously, and Tyrel had had the sense to steer the conversation in an entirely different direction.

He spoke up this time, not to distract but to get them back on target. "Where did you want to eat today?" They always left it to the last minute, and always left it up to Tegan, both as their guest and as a newcomer to the station.

Before she could answer, however, a buzzing sound filled the room, first from Tyrel's breast pocket, then from Nyssa's hip. Each automatically clapped a hand to the appropriate location, pulling out identical paging devices and examining them.

Tegan had started to her feet at the unexpected sounds, her eyes going to her sleeping son. Who, remarkably, remained sleeping.

"It's Borean, he says there's an emergency!" "I have to perform an emergency surgery!"

Nyssa and Tyrel spoke at the same time, in the same tones of urgent disbelief. Tyrel rushed out of the room, shouting a farewell to the others over his shoulder, the door slamming shut behind him with a bang. Nyssa lingered long enough to hug Tegan good-bye, then hurried after her husband, the door closing behind her with a much quieter bang.