Part IV

Skye remained laying down a bit after Jemma had gone, suffering through the next couple of contractions resting on her side, her knees pulled up, while Grant massaged her lower back, trying to lessen the tenseness in the muscles. By then, her contractions came every five minutes, and lasted a good sixty seconds.

Then around half past three, she became restless again, unable to find a position comfortable enough. Firsts she pushed herself to all fours on the bed, groaning through a contraction or two with her head resting on the pillows. Then, with a little help, she climbed out of the bed and tried to walk around a bit, which worked well during the brief breaks between contractions, but when the pain hit, she needed something – preferably him – to lean on. Then by four a.m. she was on the birthing ball once again, rocking gently and breathing evenly in and out.

By then, he could definitely see her tiring; no matter how strong she wanted to seem (and she was strong), he saw her strength weaning – or at least it seemed so. No matter how strongly she gripped his hand during every contraction, he saw the light sheen of sweat on her skin, and how it took her more and more time to open her eyes after one, and how strained her breathing was. She had also barely spoken since Jemma left, and he was getting scared.

Because what if in the end it didn't go as seamlessly as Jemma was suggesting? What if Skye just ran out energy, and didn't have the strength to push the baby out? Or what if baby's heartrate dropped suddenly? Or if she got stuck? And if any of these things happened, were they prepared to solve the problem? Did they have the right equipment for a C-section, for example? (Knowing Jemma, they did, but he was still worried.) Surely, they couldn't do the procedure here… They'd have to move Skye to an operating room, and then they'd lose precious minutes… (Maybe they should go there right now?) And anyway, shouldn't she have had an epidural, after all? Because if something did go wrong, they could open her up right away, and then they wouldn't lose time, and in a situation like this every second mattered. Maybe he should bring up the topic once again, he thought, and try to convince Skye to ask for an epidural, and–

"You're think too loud," Skye's voice interrupted his train of thought, sounding clear and strong.

"Sorry?" he shook his head, trying to get his bearings.

"I said you are thinking to loud," Skye repeated. She reached for his hand, indicating that she wanted to stand up; he helped her to get on her feet. "Your thoughts are like…" she winced, "all over the place, echoing. It's maddening. Could you stop, please?" she asked, stranding up on her own, one hand on the small of her back, the other the lower part of her belly, eyes half-closed. "If you overworry, then I'm going to overworry, and that's not good for anybody."

He quite idiotically shook his head.

"No, you should stay calm," he said.

"Exactly," she nodded, then, with legs a little shaky, she walked over to the bed. He helped her to sit down on the edge. "Are you really this scared?" she asked softly, her legs dangling from the bed, supporting herself with one hand, the other caressing her belly.

"Terrified," he answered honestly – which was no small feast, because he hated to be seen vulnerable –, and Skye smiled.

"You are cute. But try to stay po – oh, oh…" Her sentence was cut short as the pain took over again, making her unable to do anything, but focusing on the contraction, riding the wave. He grabbed her hand, letting her to squeeze his, while murmuring to her ear, reminding her to breathe.

"Do you need something?" he asked when the contraction was over, desperate to do something useful. "Can I do something for you?"

Skye nodded weakly, eyes still closed.

"It's a bit stupid, but…" she paused for a moment, swallowing, then leaning forward a bit to rest her forehead on Grant's shoulder. "Could you go up to Coulson's office?"

He blinked at that, but nodded right away.

"Sure. Why?"

"Bring down the record player for me?" she asked. "And that album, it's… ah, it's on the self, it's green and has those blue letters… I can't remember the title…"

"It's okay," he assured her, pressing a kiss against the crown of her head. Coulson had yet to arrive back to the base as far as he knew, so asking for permission to relocate the record player was out of the question, but Grant was confident that he wouldn't mind anyway. It was Skye asking for it, after all. "I'll bring it down right away. You try and rest for a bit until I'm back, okay?" he told her, pushing her back a bit, and kissing her forehead this time. Eyes still closed, Skye made a little, agreeing sound.

He helped her settle back against the pillows, more like sitting than lying, then, after another stolen kiss, he left the room quickly, not wanting to leave her alone longer than absolutely necessary.

He half-expected the lounge to be empty by then, but no – Fitz was still there, sitting in the dim room, this time not even having anything in his hands – so maybe he really was a nervous wreck (even more so than Grant) over Skye's labor. But he raised his head as soon as he heard Grant's approaching footsteps.

"Is everything okay? Do you need Jemma?" he asked, talking fast, already standing up, and gesturing towards the door leading towards the hangar. "She has just gone to the entrance, waiting for the doc and the guys there – they should be here any minute now."

Grant just waved in dismissal, then nodded towards the stairs leading to Coulson's office.

"I was just going to take Coulson's record player," he explained. "Skye's asking for it."

"I can do that," Fitz perked up, walking up to him. "I can bring it down; can even put it together. You just go, go back, I'll do it," he said firmly; Grant had a feeling that he was just as eager to finally be able to do something to help as he was.

"Thanks, Fitz," he clapped the younger man on the shoulder, then turned to go back to the delivery room. But after three steps, he stopped in his tracks. "Oh, and Skye wants some album with a green cover," he added, turning back, and seeing Fitz nod uncertainly, then start for the stairs. Grant was half sure that had he not mentioned the album directly, Fitz would have showed up with the machine, but with no music – a thought that finally made him smile.

When he got back to the room, Skye was lying on her side in the bed, lightly dozing between contractions – but awake enough to raise her head slightly when he closed the door.

"Grant?" she said softly.

"I'm here, babe," he answered, walking to her side and sitting down on the edge of the bed. "Fitz'll bring down the record player in a bit," he said softly, caressing her hair; it had mostly come out of the braid, and was messy, damp with sweat. "And he says the doc should be here any minute now."

Skye nodded weakly, her eyes still closed, but she didn't say a word for a while.

"I'm so doing it in water next time," she said then abruptly. Grant laughed in spite of himself. "But really," she continued, "I should have thought of it sooner – we could have totally put up one of those inflatable pools here."

Grant let out a soft chuckle.

"This one hasn't even been born yet, and you are already thinking about a next baby?" he asked smiling.

"Well, yeah – I'm not about to have her to be an only child," she said confidently, eyes still closed, wincing a little as she turned slightly around. "I want a big family."

He looked down fondly.

"Alright," he said, leaning down and placing a kiss on her forehead. "Next time we have a baby, let's get you a pool."

Before Skye could have answered with anything than a faint smile, there was a tentative knock on the door.

"Can I come in?" Fitz asked, opening the door slightly. "Is she decent?"

Grant almost chuckled at that; like either of them still cared even a bit what Skye was wearing. As a matter of fact, she had been down to a sports bra for some time, not even bothering to put her pants back on after Jemma's first exam when they had moved to the delivery room, and had lost the oversized plaid shirt she had been wearing over it around two in the morning. But right then, lying in the bed, she had a thin blanket pulled over her, covered enough not to offend Fitz's virtue and make the engineer red like a tomato.

"Come in," he called to Fitz. The door opened with a soft creak, and the younger man walked in, clutching the record player and the album awkwardly under his arm.

"Hey, Fitz," Skye called softly, raising her head a bit. "How are you holding up?"

Grant let out a strangled little chuckle – yeah, give it to her to ask Fitz how he was while in labor.

Fitz blinked at her a couple of times as he set down the record player on the chest of drawers by the wall, fumbling with the power cord, then shrugged.

"Pretty well. And you?"

"I'm – oh…" she squeezed her eyes shut and bit into the blanket, trying not to groan out loud as the pain from the next contraction hit her in waves. Still, she couldn't keep completely silent, moaning as her womb contracted, a single tear leaking from her closed eyes.

By then Grant had known what to expect, and what to do to help; he pressed down at her lower back as they'd been doing for most of the night, and murmured soothing things into her ear. But the intensity of the contraction startled Fitz, who stood there, frozen still, for a moment, not sure what to do – should he go there to them, could he even help somehow? –, but then mentally shook himself, and turned back to setting up the record player.

By the time the contraction passed and Skye slightly relaxed again, pleasant, vivid jazz music filled the room. Not exactly the calming sounds of the ocean, but to be honest, Grant would have felt a little disappointed if she had wanted something like that as background music.

"This is what you wanted?" Fitz still asked a little uncertainly. "Did I bring the right album?" he continued, picking up the cover to study it.

"Yeah, this is it," Skye assured him, nodding slightly. "Thanks, Uncle Fitzy."

Fitz grinned wildly at that.

"You're welcome. I'm um… I'm going to go now," he gestured towards the door. "See if the doc has arrived, and if she needs any help. But… call me if you need anything, okay?"

Both Skye and Grant nodded, although it seemed like the former was slightly dozing again, gathering strength for what was to come.

"Thanks, Fitz," Grant answered for her, caressing her hair. "See you soon?"

"Yeah," he nodded, "when, er… when the baby is born. Um… all the best, guys. Good luck, really." And with that he left, bumping into the door on his way out.

As soon as the door closed behind him, Skye chuckled softly.

"I can't wait to see him hold the baby for the first time," she told Grant, mumbling her words into the pillow. "He's going to be so awkward. And then he's going to cry."

Grant grinned, not being able to disagree with this prediction.