It feels the same it did when Gunther was in New York, CeCe thinks. The short little bursts of hot pain in her lower abdomen. At first it was just one or two, and she was decidedly ignoring them because she didn't want to go to the hospital fifteen times to be told "false alarm, stop worrying" again and again. But they're still there, now, and they hurt.
"Gunther," She says, whispering through the dark bedroom. He is curled next to her, an arm thrown over her chest kind of awkwardly—and yet comfortingly, how does that even work? "Gunther!" she says again, and pushes at his shoulder.
"Mwah?" He says, cracking his eyes open. "Wha—wha' you need?"
"I think we need to go to the hospital."
—
CeCe wakes up slowly. There's a blinking light next to her, hooked up to a machine, and she has to force her eyes open all the way in the semi-dark room. Hospital room, she thinks, hazily, and it's not actually dark, just—the curtains are drawn closed around her. She can hear people talking. "Six pounds, nine ounces," a voice says, and David thinks that sounds like—Tinka? "She's such a little girl."
She's such a little girl.
She jerks fully awake, and says, "Gunther—" before someone yells and there's movement and the curtains are pulled open.
She sees Gunther, first, and lets out a long breath when the man comes over and grabs her hand, grinning. "And sleeping beauty awakes," he says, happily. CeCe smiles back kind of simply, and closes her eyes for a minute. She's really—tired. She must still be out of it from the surgery, she thinks, and then jerks her eyes open again. "The—where is she?"
Gunther's smile gets bigger, and he says, "Sister Twin!"
Tinka comes closer, holding something small, and—and tiny, and—in a little, little pink blanket. She hands her carefully to Cook, who holds out his arms just as carefully, and CeCe can hear a short—that was a whimper, a little cry, from, from the baby, and—"Here, CeCe, look. You did it, she's beautiful."
He's bending down a little, and she sees a little wrinkled face, pink and—and squishy looking, somehow, with tufts of light hair on her head. Her eyes are closed, and she's—she's beautiful, Gunther is right, she's beautiful.
"Can I—please—" CeCe says, holding up an arm, and Gunther nods fast, moving to gently place the baby in her arms. She moves her elbow to support the baby's head, and then, just—she's so small, and warm, and—"You are awful small, hm?" she says, quietly, talking to the baby, seemingly sleeping. She smiles. "You're awful cute too." She adds, when she feels Gunther put a hand on her shoulder, rubbing it gently, "Kinda' like your dad."
Gunther lets out a surprised laugh, and the baby squirms. "I don't know," he says. "I think she looks like you, CeCe."
She smiles, still looking at the baby. "You think?"
He leans down and puts a hand on CeCe's cheek, turning her face upward so that he can kiss her.
"Alright you two," CeCe's mom says, suddenly, and she jerks away from Gunther, holding the baby a little tighter.
"Mom?" she asks. She hadn't even realized she was there. She looks around the room, and realizes that there are actually a lot of people other than Gunther and the baby in the room, including her mom and Flynn, and Tinka and Ty.
"Hey, baby," her mom says, coming up and brushing a hand through her hair, smiling. "What's the baby's name?"
"Oh," CeCe says, and looks at the baby, and then at Gunther. "We never—Gunther."
"I don't know," he says back, looking at the baby. "Never ended up deciding on a name, did you, CeCe?"
She looks at the baby for a few minutes, and lets a finger slip into the tiny little grip, really—strong, stronger than she'd expected. She's just, it doesn't matter, what the baby's name is, she's theirs, hers and Gunther's. "You pick," CeCe says, quietly. She looks up at him, "Please, Gunther."
Gunther looks at them both for a minute, and eventually says, "Isla? I know you were thinking about Ellie—"
"No," CeCe interrupts, and looks at the baby again. "I—I like Isla."