August 8, 1974
Carly cried out, gasping for breath. Hank wrapped his hand around hers, feeling that it was slick with sweat. Her hair was plastered to the pillow, her expression tense and her lips dry. Every cry tore at his heart, sending up a wordless prayer from his mind that everything would be alright.
"You're doing great Mrs. McCoy," the doctor said, "She's coming along nicely. Should be any minute now."
Carly took another ragged breath. She'd gone into labor several hours ago, although to Hank it felt like it was an eternity. He knew that the rest of their friends were waiting outside, hoping to hear the good news. Hank had, thankfully, been allowed into the delivery room with her. He'd remembered the fight Charles had with the doctors when Moira was giving birth. Her furious demands that he be with her, and a sympathetic doctor, had finally allowed him in.
Things had gone smoother for Hank, and he was glad. He didn't know if he would have been able to stop himself from snarling out his anger if they didn't let him be with his wife. Having her cry out like that was exacerbating his fears even when she was in the room with him. He couldn't imagine what it would be like to be out in the hall.
Carly swallowed, pain etched across her face.
"It's okay," Hank said, his voice soothing.
She turned towards him, her breath erratic.
"I know," she said, her voice trembling.
Hank managed a smile
"You're doing well Carly," he said.
He racked his brains, trying to think of something that he could say that would help.
"When we get back home," he said, "we can put her in the nursery. It's all ready."
Carly nodded. She'd gone to great pains to make sure it was so.
"We can put her in one of those onesies we got for your baby shower," he said, "And Paul got her that book with those pictures. Penny's going to love her."
His wife nodded again, her eyes still tired. Hank tried to think of other things to say.
"We're finally going to be able to wrap our daughter up in that pink blanket your father got her," he said.
Carly smiled. Hank knew how happy she was that she had reconciled with her father. He knew that Daniel wasn't happy about his daughter's choice of husband, but he had buried it in an attempt to stay in his daughter's life. Hank hadn't minded: he'd just wanted Carly to be happy, and he buried his own mixed feelings about his father-in-law.
Daniel had been thrilled about the idea of a grandchild. As soon as he'd heard it would be a girl he'd sent down a pink blanket with roses on it. Carly had put it in their nursery. Her father would be coming down soon to see the child, and she'd told Hank that he'd be touched that his gift was being put to good use.
In those moments Hank had tried hard not to think about his own worries. He knew that Moira had been right. It amazed him that she could take time out of her own life to worry about the boys who had come as teenagers to Westchester years ago, how her observation skills were still doing her credit.
Knowing something and believing it were different things though. He gripped Carly's hand tighter, willing everything to be fine.
"Mrs. McCoy?" the doctor said, "I'm going to need you to push again, alright?"
Carly closed her eyes and nodded. She dug her fingers into Hanks' palm and he wrapped his other hand around hers.
"It's okay," he said.
He hoped that he sounded more believable to her than he did to himself. She continued to take in gasping breaths, her face contorted with the strain.
"One more should do it."
Hank sent up another wordless prayer that they would be fine. Carly had brought light into his world, reminded him what it was to fight for something, told him not to be ashamed any more. Then, as though that wasn't enough, she was giving birth to his child. He'd thought he would never be a father after he had taken the serum, but once again she had proven him wrong. He couldn't have come as far as he had to lose them now.
His ears pricked as a cry filled the room. Carly collapsed on her pillow, exhausted. Everything in him screamed for him to turn around, but he couldn't. Fear paralyzed him.
"Once more for the afterbirth, okay?"
Carly's face contorted in pain once more.
"Alright then, you're finished," the doctor said, "Great job Mrs. McCoy. Great job."
"Where…?" she said weakly.
"They're cleaning her up right now," the doctor said.
Carly turned her head to Hank. He smiled, his heart feeling lighter than it had in a long time. She was fine. Everything was almost perfect.
"Dr. and Mrs. McCoy? I think there's someone here who wants to meet you," a nurse said.
Hank looked up. A small bundle was placed into Carly's waiting arms. Hank stared at the small child, her face still scrunched up and her eyes closed with wailing. Carly smiled and touched her forehead.
"She's beautiful," Carly breathed.
She looked up at Hank. Words failed him for a moment, the image of his wife holding his daughter burned into his eyes. After what seemed like hours he found his voice.
"What a piece of work is man," Hank whispered, "How noble in reason, how infinite in faculty. In form and moving how express and admirable, in action how like an angel."
He gently extended one of his hands and touched his daughter's face, careful not to hurt her with his claw. She continued to cry, her voice a new one in a strange world.
"Sharon," Carly said.
She looked up at Hank.
"That's still the preferred name, right?" she asked.
Hank nodded.
"Sharon," he said.
Sharon opened her eyes, as if reacting to her name, although she didn't stop crying. Her slitted, leonine pupils took in her parents. Carly smiled and kissed her forehead even as Sharon closed her eyes again. Hank wrapped his arm around his wife, staring at his daughter with adoration. She was perfect.
"Sharon McCoy," he said.
"Would you look at that," Sean said.
They small group moved into the room, trying to give the new family their space while trying to peer at the child.
"Congratulations you guys," Sean said.
Hank beamed and Carly held their child closer. Moira placed a vase of roses on the window sill, smiling at the couple. Terry walked up, her gaze inquisitive.
"She's so small," Terry said.
Carly smiled and shifted her daughter. Moira could see that she was streaked with exhaustion, and rightly so. She had just accomplished what Moira knew to be the most difficult few hours of her life, and the most painful as well. Still, she was safe and healthy, as was her daughter. Moira had told Hank that there was nothing to worry about.
Terry looked from Sharon to her father.
"Was I that small?"
Sean smiled, although Moira knew that the expression cost him. He'd never seen Terry as a baby, never had the moment that Hank was having with his wife and daughter.
"Everyone was at one point," Sean said.
Alex walked into the room, his hands in his pockets.
"Just told the gang back at Westchester," he said, "They still don't know where the champagne is, so I don't think they'll get too rowdy."
He held a bottle aloft.
"Me though," he said, "I know exactly where it is."
A ripple of laughter spread through the group as Alex took out a few glasses and started passing them around.
"Your first glass of champagne in nine months," Alex said, passing Carly a glass, "I don't know what Hank was thinking, saying you couldn't have any."
"Just you wait," Hank said, "They'll find out it's harmful."
"You're the smart one, not me," Alex shrugged.
He handed Hank a glass before getting back to the bottle. David peered at Sharon and frowned. He looked back at Charles, who was right behind him. At least he'd been here for this.
"Small," he said.
"That's right," Charles said.
David pointed at Terry.
"Small too?" he asked.
"Not now," Terry said.
"At one point, yes," Charles laughed.
David's frown deepened.
"Me too?" he asked, "Small?"
Charles smiled and ruffled his son's hair.
"Yes," Charles said.
David frowned and looked back at Sharon. He cocked his head, as though he were trying to figure something out.
"Can I has one?" he asked, "Just small one?"
Moira frowned.
"What do you mean?" she asked.
"Brudder," he said.
Her heart stopped. Moira forced herself to pretend that this was no more than what it appeared, that her heart wasn't breaking.
"It doesn't work that way David," Moira said.
David pouted. Alex coughed.
"He's certainly assertive," he said.
Alex turned back to Hank.
"Weird thinking of you as a father," Alex said, his voice light, "You're always gonna be the guy who can't talk to girls to me."
"And what am I?" Carly laughed.
"A godsend," Alex said.
Moira felt a wave of gratitude towards Alex. She wondered if he knew the pain she was feeling at the moment, but she wasn't about to let it intrude on the happy moment that Hank was sharing with his family, a moment that he had earned. So she forced herself not to look away from the scene, remembering when she had given birth to David.
It had been painful, a difficult delivery that had gone on for hours and hours. Moira had known that it would be long, but she had never felt more frightened or more alone. They hadn't let Charles in for the first half, but they had finally managed to convince them to let him in when the delivery had become increasingly difficult.
He'd stayed by her, his gentle words and touches a sea of calm in an ocean of pain and confusion. Then David had come and Moira had burst into tears. She had finally been able to have the child that she had always wanted, the child that the doctors had said would never be possible as long as she stayed with her husband.
It hadn't even mattered when the doctors had told her that he would be the only one. The delivery had damaged her internally. Moira would never be able to have children again. Still, she knew that she was lucky to have even had one. Charles and her were seriously discussing adopting when she found out that she was pregnant.
Having David ask for a brother was painful though. Moira had often wondered if Charles and she should adopt a second child. It would be easy enough to find a child in need of a home. However, Moira knew that they couldn't. Not with things how they were. She wasn't going to bring another child into a mess that had still to be sorted out.
It was one of the reasons why she knew she had to continue to be strong. David needed them to figure everything out. Moira felt like she was out of things to try though. Her husband was drifting away from her and she wasn't sure if she could stop him. She wasn't even sure that he wanted her to, and that thought scared her.
Moira could still remember his soft words of love when she gave birth to their son in that very hospital. How had things changed so much? It had only been around four years ago. Moira wished that they could wind the clock back, but she had yet to find anyone with that mutation. It was too late for such things in any case.
She walked over to her husband and son. David still looked shocked at the revelation that he had been small, and a little put-out that he wasn't getting a brother. Charles was smiling and Moira put her hand on his shoulder. He turned to her, looking surprised, before looking back at the group. Moira took a deep breath. At least, for the moment, she could hold him with her.