July. August. September. They all flew by in a blur. Every day, Adam seemed to grow a little bigger. Every day, Gordon's heart grew a little colder. On this particular October day, his heart was stone. He sat on the edge of John's bed as sunlight streamed in through the gleaming windows. He had plucked up the bedraggled bear that sat between John's two pillows and set it on his knee. There were two reasons why John had kept the toy on display and neither of those was an affinity for stuffed animals. The bear was dressed in a space suit and it had been bought for him by his younger brothers nearly two decades before.

Gordon pressed the bear's stomach, the shiny material crinkling under his touch. He remembered the day they had bought it. He and Alan had been on a trip to Cape Kennedy with their father and, as always, they just had to go visit the Space Centre. Neither of the boys were old enough to understand the displays but the one thing they knew for certain was that there was a giant mural and their dad was on it and that was so cool.

Tracing the outline of the World Space Organisation logo with one finger, Gordon smiled. John probably couldn't have given a crap about the bear and had probably been jealous that he hadn't been along for the trip. However, the fact that it had survived all those years and still took pride of place on his bed, in a room that was otherwise bereft of trinkets and clutter, spoke volumes.

"Hey."

Gordon turned to see Virgil standing in the doorway, his arms hanging loosely at his sides.

"You too?" Gordon asked as Virgil eased himself onto the bed.

"Yeah, me too," Virgil replied. His voice was quiet, lacking his usual confident baritone.

They sat for a while in quiet solemnitude. Eventually, Virgil flopped back onto the bed to stare at the ceiling. Gordon followed suit.

"It's his twenty-ninth birthday today," Virgil said. "He must be going nuts, wherever he is."

Gordon brought the bear up to his chest and laid it there, turning it so it too faced the wood panel ceiling.

"He's been gone nine months, Virgil. Nine months. How does stuff like this even happen?"

"I don't have an answer for you, Gords. We just have to keep on hoping. Dad's in England now. Who knows what he might unearth? We just don't know. Today could be our lucky day."

Gordon closed his eyes as memories of birthdays past came back to him. John receiving his first telescope; the time he tripped and landed face-first in the cake; the first year he celebrated in zero-gravity. Come home, Space Case, he thought. Just come home.

~oOo~

It had all happened so suddenly. I'll never watch a TV medical drama the same way again, John thought. This is the most extreme Halloween trick I've ever had!

One minute, Grace had been pottering about the house and the next, John was playing midwife on a pile of blankets in the middle of the kitchen floor. They had been there for six hours now, with Amelia banished to her room, and Grace showed no signs of wanting to go to the hospital.

"I really think we should call an ambulance, Grace," John said.

"No. No hospital. I can do this on my own. I don't want any help."

She screamed then, an agonised bellow that was more animal than human. Had any trick-or-treaters visited the house, they would have thought Grace had incredible Halloween sound effects. She was lying on her back, propped up on a mountain of pillows, and John was at the business end, trying desperately to remember his medical training. I never thought I would actually have to do this!

"Grace, please -"

"No! I -"

The rest of her sentence was cut off by another scream. Her face was swimming with perspiration and when the pain passed, she clenched her fists and breathed deeply.

"It's time to push," she said. "It's definitely time to push."

John tried not to gag as the birth progressed. Natural process or not, it wasn't one he wanted anything to do with. Not even this one. It's your child, John, he thought. But it didn't feel like it. He had had no conscious part in the conception and, if not for Grace's continued assaults, he would have thought it impossible. He felt some of the emotions that expectant fathers did; trepidation was the main culprit. But there was no accompanying excitement, no impending feeling of joy. What is there to feel joy about any more?

Grace breathed through another contraction, forcing air through her teeth as tears streamed for her eyes. Then something happened: the crown of the head appeared. John's breathing quickened and he leaned in a little closer.

"I can see the head!" he said. "Whatever you're doing, it's working!"

Within a few minutes, the whole head was delivered. His medical training kicking in from somewhere in the back of his mind, John reached out to clean the child's airways.

"Just take a rest for a minute," he said. "Just the shoulders and then it's all done."

Grace whimpered and writhed a little.

"Oh, God. Oh, God…"

John reached out to look at the face of his child, red and wrinkled, its eyes screwed shut. Then Grace began to bear down once more and within minutes, John had the wiggling little bundle in his arms. There was blood everywhere, soaking the towels and sheets and covering him from fingertip to elbow.

"What is it?" Grace asked, panting. "What is it?"

John knelt for a moment simply looking down at the child in his arms. Then he snapped back to life again and wrapped it in a blanket.

"It's a girl," he said, sitting back on his haunches. "It's…a girl."

The child started to wail and something inside John clicked. It was as though he had been underwater and had finally broken the surface, gulping sweet air into his lungs.

Holding the tiny bundle in his arms, he knew what he had to do.

~oOo~

"Take care of her," Grace had said once the placenta had been delivered and she lay in a heap on the floor, panting. "I'm in no shape to do it."

But I am, John thought as he clutched the screaming child to his chest, placenta and all – a lotus birth, or so I read, he thought. He soaked in her warmth and love and life. Feeling power for the first time in so long, John turned away, leaving Grace on the pile of gory blankets.

Trembling at the thought of what he was about to do, he kept his pace slow as he ascended to his room. When did I start thinking of this as my room? he thought. My room is on Tracy Island. He laid the infant on the bed, still red and swaddled with bloody towel, and started rummaging in the pile of baby things that Grace had been stockpiling. Everything had been shoved into this bedroom since, as Grace dictated, John would be the primary caregiver. And I'm going to do the best that I can, he thought.

He grabbed what he needed – reading all those baby books that Grace had given him hadn't been a waste after all – and unwrapped the child. She had stopped crying and was instead making little keening sounds, her arms reaching upwards, her little fists clenching and unclenching.

"I need to get you to a hospital, little one," he whispered.

Her skin was covered in a creamy substance – vernix; thank you '1-2-3: Baby and Me' – but regardless, he managed to diaper her (it wasn't neat, but who cared?) and then dressed her in a lilac all-in-one suit, keeping the afterbirth swaddled separately. I have no idea if this is a good idea or not, he thought. But it's what I'm doing… He bundled her up in blankets and started throwing things into a diaper bag. I'm going to have to convince Amelia to come with me. If I don't, I can't go.

At that, the teenager appeared in the doorway. Slowly, she approached the bed and stared down at her half-sister.

"Amelia," John said. "We have a chance. You mom is in no condition to come after us. We need to go and we need to go now."

The girl's head snapped around, her eyes cloaked in fear.

"We can't –"

"No, Amelia, we can. This is the perfect opportunity, and –" his voice caught as he looked at the little writhing figure on the bed. "I can't let her experience life in here. I need to get her out and I need to get you out, too."

Amelia began to tremble and clenched her fists at her sides.

"John, no. I'm scared. We can't – You know what she'll do!"

John stood up and grasped her forearms; he realised his own were still splattered with the detritus of birth.

"That's just it. She can't do anything right now. We can run." He lowered himself so that they were eye to eye and tried to convey everything with a look: hope, despair, need, possibility. "We can get out."

Tears were brimming in her eyes but she held his gaze.

"John…"

"Amelia, I will get you out. I will protect you. I promise. I've been waiting for the chance and now it's come. Everything will be all right. I just need you to trust me."

There was a pause that lasted an ice age. Eventually, Amelia nodded.

"Okay."

Her voice was barely more than a whisper. John squeezed her arms and nodded back.

"Good girl. Now, I need you to take the bag and the baby and go wait by the front door. I'll do the rest."

"But I've never even held a baby before," Amelia said, wiping her eyes.

"Up until an hour ago, I hadn't either. But it's not so bad. If I can do it, so can you."

The teenager nodded and John crossed to the bed. He lifted the baby, unconsciously starting to coo softly at her, and placed the bundle in Amelia's arms.

"Make sure you keep the head supported – that's it." He slung the bag over her skinny shoulders. "Now, quiet as you can, down the stairs and wait by the door. I'm going to get the car keys. Do you have a cell phone?"

She looked at him in confusion for a moment before realisation dawned.

"Oh, you mean a mobile? No, I don't have one. But there's an in-car phone in Mum's car."

"Good. I'll need to make a few calls."

Glancing around the room for what he hoped, begged, prayed would be the last time, his whole body began to shake. I'm getting out. At last, I'm getting out. I never want to see this place again.

Amelia was waiting for him in the doorway. He schooled himself and gave her a curt nod.

"Let's go."