Finkle

The next few months went by without incident. At least, without any serious baby-related incidents. I kept doing my job with Cynara and dutifully kept track of the acceleration of her pregnancy. It didn't seem to be doing her any harm, but I wanted to be sure and documented everything.

It was hard to tell what factors were strictly related to the hybrid Human/Jotunn issue and which were due to the kidnapping, but from what I could see, Occam's razor seemed to apply, so I went with it. No point in worrying about the actual birth until it was time.

Cynara's hubby started delivering runestones to her, and it was a tad alarming to discover new boulders outside the outpost. Worse, when she started to translate them it became pretty apparent that most of them were granite resumes/tombstones/graffiti. She submitted reports on them and I got an earful from Fury when he texted me.

We do not NEED ancient tagging in front of my base.

So tell Cynara; I'm a doctor, not a landscaper.

I'm authorizing you to tell her and her husband to stop with the rocks.

And what makes you think he'll listen to me?

Because you're the only one I listen to.

I miss you too, babe.

The thought kept crossing my mind that once 'Nara delivered her baby, I'd be out of a job. I knew enough about pediatrics to handle the basics, at least for a while but it wasn't my primary field, so I sent Fury a list of candidates to consider and began creating a casefile to help whoever got chosen get up to speed.

It was tough to think about the end of it all, though. I'd gotten fond of S.H.I.E.L.D. despite it all—Phil, Maria and Chief Agrino had become my friends, along with 'Nara and Thor. I won't say I was completely comfortable with being part of a military organization, but getting out of my comfort zone had been good for me in a lot of ways.

And there was Nick. Infuriating, gorgeous, darling Nicholas Fury. I realized I'd been kidding myself about keeping things simple, and the honest-to-God problem was that I adored the man. It hurt to understand that our time together was coming to an end soon, so I tried not to think about it. Generally I could avoid the issue, but the quicker 'Nara's pregnancy accelerated, the more it preyed on my mind.

Phil kept an eye on all of us. I'd gotten used to him doing that, but now it was a bit more obvious once the baby had dropped, and it amused me to think he was genuinely excited about the impending birth. Thor was by turns jolly and worried, and a few of the agents assigned to the outpost were looking forward to it too—definitely a break in the routine, as it were. It felt good to know the general atmosphere was supportive, and so when I was approached by a young agent about family planning advice, I gave back.

That seemed to break the ice somehow and I started getting other agents stopping by to see me, or email me, and not just for birth control. They wanted to know about fertility problems and genetic testing and in-vitro procedures—all those concerns that didn't normally seem compatible with S.H.I.E.L.D. When I mentioned it to Phil—in a roundabout way, to protect confidentiality—he gave that little smile of his. "We're a huge organization, and only a fraction of our agents work full-time in the field, Josie. You've met most of the specialists, but the others, the vast majority out there have families, or want to have families. Your services are needed."

"Seriously?" I couldn't seem to grasp it, even though the evidence kept coming through my office door.

Phil gave that little grin of his. "Word gets out."

"Huh," was all I could say, although I had a good idea that 'word' was being helped along by certain people in the know.

Then came the day. THE day. 'Nara and I were out at one of the stones—one of the ones farther out from the compound. She was translating, and I was supposedly helping her, though what I really was doing involved keeping an eye on her and getting out in the fresh air. Spring felt pretty good, and even though it kills me to admit it, parts of the prairie are actually gorgeous this time of year. I saw genuine real baby bunnies, and more species of birds that I ever did back in the tri-state area, that's for sure. Oh I still missed being able to step out for a Latte, and it sucked to be stuck with Netflix as primary entertainment, but this was nice.

All the way up until 'Nara went into labor, that is. Both of us were taken by surprise, but I got her back to the compound safely, fully prepared to check her vitals and see what was going on. She complained about being cold—not a good sign—and when I did the scans it was pretty clear that the fetus was hypothermic. Hypothermic and perfectly happy to be that way. Unfortunately 'Nara, being a red-blooded mammal needed to keep her core temperature above ninety-five degrees, so I had a serious medical dilemma on my hands.

There were options, including a medically-induced coma, but I did NOT want to go to those if I could help it. This was already a dangerous, difficult pregnancy and I had no reassurance that any particular course of action would be the best one. That's the truly shitty part about being a doctor, by the way—knowing when something's wrong and not knowing what is the best thing to do about it. It goes for all of us in the medical profession and I've never met a doctor who didn't hit that moral dilemma at least once in their careers.

And let's face it—when it's a 'save the mother or save the baby' impasse, it's thousands of times worse.

Luck held out again though, because 'Nara's hubby showed up and held her hand. Don't ask me exactly how that link worked—magic, science, as Thor would say, they're one and the same with those Asgardians. Whatever the case, his touch seemed to stabilize both 'Nara and the baby to a happy balance between them. Once that happened, things moved along a course I was familiar with, and Baby Lókisdottir AKA Nira Matilda was finally born at six thirteen on Saturday, May twenty-fifth.

Like 'Nara, I'd been up all that time too, so once mama and baby were stable and under the watchful eye of my S.H.I.E.L.D. medical assistants I toddled off up to my room, showered and dropped off to sleep, curling up under the covers and hoping nobody needed me for a while. I thought it would take me a while to sleep; usually I'm on an adrenaline charge after a birth, but I was out like the proverbial light this time, and woke up in time for dinner.

Phil had cooked; spaghetti by the wonderful smell of it. I tried to pry the recipe from him but he told me he'd sworn to his Las Vegas cop friend that he wouldn't give it out unless I'd promise to use the exact ingredients the first time I made it. I wasn't sure I could, so Phil and I were at a stalemate on it, but I was more than willing to eat his cooking, that's for sure.

"S.H.I.E.L.D. is a little like the Mafia; you have to be prepared to feed the troops at any point," he told me. There really isn't anything cuter than Phil Coulson in a cook's apron over his suit, unless it's Nick in a cook's apron with nothing on underneath. (And yes, I have seen that, so I know what I'm talking about.)

"Good to know you have domestic skills," I told him and took the plate he handed me. "So has 'Nara had anything to eat?"

"Yep, I made sure she did," Phil assured me. "And Loki. The director will be here in a few hours, so I've made enough for him as well."

I worked hard on my poker face. "Yeah? Well there may not be any left if Thor's around; this is great, Phil."

He managed that little smile of his and flipped a kitchen towel over his shoulder. "Thanks. I doubled the recipe to be on the safe side."

I finished it and went to go check on my patients, feeling energized by the food and rest, wondering if I should bring up the future or not with the colonel. Part of me wanted to and the other part wasn't so sure.

Fury

When the news came about the baby I'll admit I unclenched a bit. Coulson gave me the details and I tried to keep a disinterested expression but I won't lie that there was a sense of relief as well. I know women have been having babies since the dawn of time, and Special Technician Sigyn-Laufeyson was in the best hands I could think of, but that doesn't mean things couldn't have gone wrong. Especially with a baby with half of Loki's genetics in the mix.

Still it was good news in the general scheme of things and having the kid in the care of my best people meant I could focus on other matters. Unfortunately, global politics had turned up the heat, and as a result S.H.I.E.L.D. had been given the dubious honor of putting out several fires that the general public never heard about. Hill alerted me to a few tricky situations with media exposure—now that the entire planet was on-line it was getting harder to stay out of the limelight—and the council was demanding to know more details about our alien/human hybrid.

I'm telling you the shit never ends. Still, it was enough of an excuse to head to Canada. Plans were already in the works when Coulson called me and started in on some wild-assed intel about the runestones being inter-dimensional portals. Coming from anybody else I'd have blown it off, but this was Coulson, the agent who'd been brought back from the dead, so I gave it due consideration.

Fuckin' pissed me off, too. Oh I understood Loki's strategy just fine, and yeah, containment made sense compared to diffusion, but having ten potential hot spots in the front yard where Josie was stationed did NOT sit the fuck well with me. Not. At. All. Maybe that son of a bitch thought he and his brother could handle whatever might decide to step through, but in my lexicon, that ain't good enough.

Safe to say I wasn't in the happiest of moods when I touched down in Canada. The lawn looked like some damned graveyard, and Coulson had reinforced containment fencing and razor wire around the place as well. Fucking pain in the ass.

Saw the kid. I'm not one to make an issue about color, but the first time I saw her she was screaming her head off and looked about the same shade as a Boysenberry. Not just the face but all over, like a red-purple mini-Hulk in a diaper. Thor had her on his shoulder and he kept pacing, trying to quiet her down but she wasn't having a damned bit of it, wailing like a siren.

Took her, sat down and laid her face-down along my thigh, and then just held her there, rubbing her back. Thor knelt down; baby had her cheek against my knee, and right when he got close she let out a hell of a belch and a dribble of goo that managed to miss my pant leg, but not the floor.

"Well-done, little one!" Thor told her. "And you," he added to me as he wiped up the spit on the floor.

I picked the kid up and looked at her. She looked at me, fading into a sort of light purple now, with this jacked-up tuft of black hair on the top of her head. I'm not really comfortable with babies. Tend to scare the crap out of them, along with dogs, grandmothers, people on the street and fast-food workers. But she wasn't crying; didn't even seem too interested in the eyepatch, which is usually the draw. Instead she yawned and just kept looking at me.

So I looked back. Green eyes, like her parents, Loki's hair I guess, although I couldn't picture him with a Norfin troll 'do the way the kid had. Other than the lavender, she looked normal to me. I handed her off to Thor, who looked thrilled to take her. "Anything I should know about her?" I asked.

"Yes. My niece has a mighty grip and a strong voice for one so young," Thor started up proudly, like he was giving a briefing. "Today she has heavily soiled three diapers and slept through most of the morning."

"Good to see she's got goals. I meant was there anything unusual about her I should know?" Sometimes I forget the man's not from around here. I tried not to make it obvious I was looking for someone else.

"Unusual?" Thor got confused. I noticed he didn't mention the kid's resemblance to Mildred Huxtetter. We were saved from further exchanges when Special Technician Sigyn-Laufeyson came in and took the baby from Thor.

"Colonel," she acknowledged.

"Special Technician Sigyn-Laufeyson. Congratulations." She looked a hell of a lot better than I expected her to, which I took as a good sign. Birth is still one of those last mysteries that I don't intend to dig into anytime soon, even if I am dating someone who's generally elbows-deep in the process.

"Thank you. She's pretty great."

Thor slipped out and I studied at Sigyn-Laufeyson a little more closely, thinking there was something a little different about her eyes. Before I could verify it though, Finkle came in, and I got distracted.

In my defense it was mostly because she was wearing a fancy sheer blouse and jeans, which are not only not S.H.I.E.L.D. attire, but also showcased parts of her like a Macy's window display.

"Colonel," she said, all professional-like.

"Doc-tor," I shot back at her, keeping it cool. "Congratulations on a successful delivery."

She held up her hands and gave a little throwaway grin. "'Nara did the work; I just facilitated. Sir," she added, in an afterthought that made me sure as hell want to give her something to salute.

"I couldn't have done it without you and you know it," Sigyn-Laufeyson pointed out. "You and Loki."

This was getting too sentimental for me, so I spoke up. "Speaking of Loki, I think it's time he and I had a little talk."

"Agreed," Sigyn-Laufeyson nodded. "He's due back tonight; he and Thor were escorting his mother home."

Having seen the goddess in question I didn't think too many enemies would try taking a shot at her, even without two bodyguard sons.

"In the meantime, there's spaghetti," Finkle told me. "If you're hungry, that is."

"You two go on; Nira needs a bath."

I couldn't tell if it was a lucky break or if the fine hand of Agent Coulson was as work, but either way I wasn't going to argue. Waited until the two of them were gone before giving Finkle a Look.

She smiled. "I'm glad to see you."

"We," I told her as I got up, "need to talk. Since I'd like a closer look at these stones, I think you'd better go with me."

So we ended up outside in the twilight, moving around a haphazard collection of rocks surrounded by chain link and razor wire—about as far from romantic as possible, and yet not a surprise either. S.H.I.E.L.D. isn't your usual nine to five job, and I've long since realized every damned day brings something new in a very real sense.

"Jo-se-phine," I started, moving close and backing her up against one of the bigger stones. "Missed you."

She slipped her arms around me, gave me a hard hug and let me tell you the press of those curves did a lot for my morale.

A lot for my courage.

A lot for my libido.

"Missed you too, sweetheart," she told me. "And I can't even tell you how glad I am things went smoothly for the birth given the circumstances. I've got reams of data for your teams to sort and analyze."

"Later," I said, and braced a hand on the stone by her head while I laid a good one on her. When we came up for air, I added, "This is probably going to be the only time we're alone in the next few days and I'm not going to spend it on natal hybrid data, woman. Truth is, I'm not ready to let you go, Josie Finkle."

She was gonna say something but I never found out what, because at that precise damned moment, we fell through the portal that had just opened up behind her back.