40. Game Day

MacCready POV

Over the Rainbow/What A Wonderful World by Israel Kamakawiwo'Ole

Four and a half weeks have passed since our fight. The baby's due pretty soon—and much to Beth's irritation—Curie told her to stay in bed as much as possible. But, Beth being all stubborn like she is, she finds it difficult to sit still for so long. I keep telling her to take it easy—that she's not going to be able to rest anytime soon with our new addition. But she still goes around the house—around the whole island—trying to find something to do. To be honest, it kind of cracks me up.

"Guess what I found," I say to her as she walks into the house from doing who-knows-what.

"What?" She notices the small booklet in my hand.

"Well, first of all, where did we find this?" I hold it out to her so she can see the title.

"Myth or Fact: Alexandria's Genesis." She glances up at me. "I don't have a clue. Is it something you picked up?" I shake my head. "Hm. No idea. Anyway, what about it?"

"It caught my eye earlier, so I started reading some of it—and I really don't know what to think." Her brows raise, telling me to go on. "Most people used to think Alexandria's Genesis was a fraud—no way it'd be real. But I'm not so sure now." We move into the living room and sit on the couch next to the liquor cabinet—something neither of us have used in ages.

"There's a full chapter here on symptoms," I say, flipping to the appropriate page. "Here: pale skin, no hair on the body except the head and face, superior immune system, purple eyes. And speaking of eyes—the eyelashes are longer than normal."

"I don't understand what you're getting at," she says, looking from the booklet to me.

"You have pale skin and practically no body hair. And radiation doesn't seem to affect you like it does the rest of us—you're almost immune."

"Yeah. I always have been one of the lucky ones—never had to shave my legs," she laughs. "And I am pale, but so were my parents. I don't know what's up about the whole radiation thing—maybe it's because I was underground for so long—but purple eyes? C'mon, Robert—be serious. You know mine are blue."

"Yeah," I agree. "Normally." She looks confused. "You're not able to see your eyes anymore," I tell her. "Mirrors are a thing of the past, I get that. So, you don't see them when you're angry."

"When I'm… angry? What are you talking about?"

"I've noticed when you get mad, or even irritated, your eyes take on a bit more of a violet tint. It's really beautiful, honestly."

She blinks a few times, hearing this for the first time. "Why haven't you told me before?"

"Never occurred to me to tell you," I say with honesty. "But those eyelashes." I stare down at them. "They're so long, it's criminal for you to use them to get your way like you do."

"Oh, I do not." She looks down, blushing violently—knowing all too well that she does exactly what I accused her of.

"But," I grab her attention again, "the thing that really made me think that this fits you…" I point to the paragraph.

She takes the booklet from my hands and reads it out loud. "'What marks women with Alexandria's Genesis the most would be this: the ability to bear children without the presence of regular menstrual cycles—and sometimes the lack of cycles completely.'" She looks up to me from the text. "I don't think so. It was just a coincidence, I'm sure."

I cock one brow up at her. "A coincidence, huh? Well, then it's a pretty big one, considering you have all these symptoms." I take the booklet back. "It's pretty weird if you ask me."

"Well, I didn't, so…" She gets up and goes into the kitchen.

Getting up to follow her, I notice how she's facing away from me, no matter where she goes or what she does. "Beth?"

She still faces the other way. "What?"

"Have you known about this?" I set the booklet down onto the kitchen island.

She scoffs, "No. Why would I know about that stupid syndrome?"

"Neither of us said anything about it being a syndrome," I tell her—although I'd read it, I didn't say it—and she didn't either. "So, how do you know?"

She pulls a Nuka-Cola from the fridge. "Lucky guess." She walks onto the back patio, taking a seat at the table as I continue to follow her.

"I don't think it is. I think you already knew about it." She looks out toward the Atom Cats' garage. "C'mon, Beth. You know I see right through you, just admit it."

She sighs. "Okay. Maybe I knew about it already. But I never thought I had it—I swear. It always tripped me out, so I don't like to think about it." She finally looks up at me. "Can we not talk about it anymore?"

"Sure. We don't have to. I just think it's cool."

"Robert, you're talking about it."

I nod. "Right. Sorry."

"When your mom comes in, don't forget to light the candle," I tell Shaun.

It's finally here. Beth's one-year anniversary of leaving the vault. To celebrate the occasion, the boys and I unboxed some Fancy Lads Snack Cakes and stacked them on top of each other—our best attempt at making a cake for her. Nobody, other than Beth, can even make a cake, so this is all we can do. As for the candle—we're reusing the single candle that was on all three of our cakes. The one simple chunk of wax used to light rooms. It's better than nothing.

I can hear her coming now, so I tell Shaun to light it. Then, all three of us hide under the island in the kitchen—our way of a surprise party.

"Surprise!" we all yell when she walks into the kitchen. She giggles at how we poke our faces out from under the island, like dogs sticking their heads out from their doghouses.

Once we come out, she wraps me in a hug, whispering, "You are the father of our children, yet you hide under the table along with them, like a kid yourself."

"Hey, I never claimed to have grown up." I kiss her on the cheek so she can hug Shaun and Duncan, too.

"How'd you guys know?" she asks us.

"That today was the day you left the vault?" I ask. "You told me a while back it was October 23rd, right?"

She laughs. "Yeah, that's right… I thought this was for something else there for a bit."

"What else would it be for?" Duncan asks her.

"Today's my birthday!" She bends down, as much as she can, and kisses the boy's head.

"What?!" I'm glad I didn't have anything in my mouth, or it would've came right back out. "I never knew that!"

"I never told anybody." She thinks for a moment. "Well, Piper beat it out of me once, so that's a lie."

"Happy Birthday, Mom!" Duncan and Shun ring out in sync, reaching around her to give her another hug.

"I never thought you'd be one to keep secrets from me," I accuse her with a grin.

"Didn't think I had to announce my becoming 237 years old, babe," she teases back.

All in all, the surprise party for Beth ended up surprising us. It was a good time, though. We just kept it in the family—mainly due to there not being enough "cake" for Danse and Curie—but also because Beth didn't want to share her extra "old" age with them.

A few days later, we all got a surprise.

"Special delivery!" we hear Danse call out near the door. Beth is the first to get there, and I hear her gasp. Wondering what it is, I rush to the door to see Danse standing near something big and blue.

"Shaun's crib?!" Beth manages to get out.

"Yep," Danse says. "Arrived this morning all the way from Sanctuary."

"Wha—? How?" She goes up to the Pre-War relic and touches the side rail.

"It's a present from someone going by the name 'Gravy Boat.'" He looks to me and says, "He told me to tell you he knows you call him that behind his back." I roll my eyes. "Anyway. He'd come to the island a couple times, asking Curie and I some questions about it—but he dropped it off this morning and said to give it to you with this." He hands Beth a note. "Well, I've gotta go now. Duncan and Shaun were wanting help with… something. So, see you two later." He starts heading toward the boys' treehouse.

Before he'd even left, Beth started reading the note, and now I see she's tearing up. "What is it?" I ask her, afraid it's not a nice note. She hands it to me, it reading:

I know you have a bundle of joy coming soon, and I really want to be there to meet them—but you know me. Can't stick around too long.

So, I helped your second-in-command back in Sanctuary fix up this here crib of yours. Gave it an extra coat of blue paint, salvaged some rockets for the mobile. And obviously had to fix those pesky broken rail… things. But thought you might as well keep it in the family, Bethany.

Anyway. Just wanted to say one more thing: ten caps on Robert that he's right. It's definitely a girl.

See you around. B)

-D

"Oh my gosh," I say, chuckling. "Of course, Deacon knows everything."

Beth nods. "He always does."

About another month has gone by without a hitch—other than Curie complaining that Beth is a horrible patient. She still remains active—constantly finding something to do. Whether it be cooking a meal, doing laundry, visiting Danse, playing with the boys—you name it, she's done it. Except leave the island. Neither of us have, and don't plan on doing so anytime soon.

According to Curie, she was thirty-six weeks today—so really, any time now. So, we now lie in bed, and as cliché as it sounds, we're just snuggling up and enjoying the time we have left of feeling our baby on the inside.

"You wanna hear some names I've been thinking of?" Beth asks me, gingerly running her fingertips over the child.

"Sure. What're some names you've been thinking of?"

"I was thinking maybe Aiden, meaning 'little and fiery'. Or Hubert—that way I could call you both at the same time and say 'Hubert Robert.' He was a good painter." I chuckle at her. "Um, let's see. John, meaning 'God has favoured'—and I'm sorry, but Thaddeus has always intrigued me."

"And what does Thaddeus mean, since you're so into name meanings?"

"It's Greek for 'wise.'" She smiles.

"How do you know so many name meanings anyway?" I ask.

"I have a book." She reaches—stretching long and hard—under her nightstand and picks it up, handing it to me. "You can use it, too, if you want. It's been a while since you've thrown a name out there, so I was kinda wondering if you've gotten name block or something," she chuckles.

I look to the book in my hand—easily two or three inches thick. "Where did you have this this whole time?" She shrugs, grinning smugly. "Ugh, fine." I crack it open and start looking at the table of contents. "These names are from everywhere: the Americas, the UK, Africa. Jeez." I close it, feeling a bit overwhelmed. "So many names."

She chuckles. "I know. It's just a thought, if you wanna use it. If you don't, that's fine."

"Oh, I'm pretty sure I will."

"So. Have you come up with any names?" Beth asks me about a week after she gave me her great big book of them.

"I have." I get out the piece of paper I've been keeping in my pocket—and she laughs at me. "What? You never know when I'll think of a new one." I know she's just laughing at my commitment though.

"Lemme see. Violet, meaning 'purple'—like after the flower. But if we're going to go with the whole 'purple' thing, Lavender or Iris would do. Um, Lilith if she's born at night—cause it means 'of the night.' And Addison. Just because I like the nickname Addie." I see she's smiling at me. "What?"

"Nothing. I'm just happy is all." She gives me a kiss before taking off to find something else to do.

A couple weeks later, Beth is bigger than ever—and I couldn't be more excited. I remember back to when I was nervous just at the idea of raising another kid, back when she assured me it wasn't even possible to get pregnant. I couldn't even stand the thought of having a baby, it'd been so long since Duncan was that small, and I didn't even know Shaun until recently. But now that it's happening—like, actually happening any minute now, it seems—I find I can't wipe the smile off my face.

"Hey, Mom!" I hear our eldest son yell as he and his little brother walk through the door of the house.

I move from the kitchen into the hallway where I can see them. "She's outside right now. What'd you guys need?"

"We're gonna give her something," Duncan says as he raises a cardboard box in his hands. "We wrapped it and everything!" He says this proudly as he holds the taped up box.

"That's great. Let me get her for you." I walk onto the back patio and peer out in front of me. Beth is sitting waist-deep in the water, just soaking in the sunlight. "Hon?" She turns my direction. "I think the boys want you."

"You can't help them?" This is her way of saying it's too hard to get up. Chuckling, I walk down to her and help her get to her feet.

"I'm pretty sure they want you. They made that abundantly clear."

Once we're inside, her feet still bare and soaking wet, Duncan hands her the box as they both say, "Surprise!"

"Oh." She takes the box, holding it with confusion. "What's this?" She looks to me.

"I don't know what it is," I tell her. "So, open it. I'm just as curious as you."

She grabs a knife from the kitchen and cuts the box open. Before either of us have the opportunity to see what's inside, Shaun gets excited and blurts it out.

"Danse helped us get it down. It's the blanket from our treehouse. For the baby!" Beth pulls the gift out of the box, and it's exactly what Shaun said it was—their fort's flag.

She lifts it to her face and smells it. "It's freshly washed?" Duncan nods and grins as Shaun giggles. "What's funny?"

"Danse also washed it," Shaun continues. "He said using the washing machine was harder than he thought it would be. 'I'd rather wear dirty clothes than use that thing again,' he said. It was so funny." Duncan joins in, laughing with him.

"I would have liked to have seen that," I tell her as she nods, agreeing.

"Thank you so much, boys! The baby will love it—I know, because I do." She hugs them both before heading toward the door. "Now I must go hear this story from the washing machine wrestler himself. It's gonna be great." She laughs as she leaves.

Game time. Or… baby time.

It's been exactly two weeks from the boys giving Beth the blanket, and according to Curie, exactly forty weeks from conception. And Beth can attest to this, as she went into labour a couple hours ago. Ever since then, she's been busy pacing in the bedroom, waiting for baby MacCready to decide whether or not to come out yet. I know with Lucy, our son came into the world within a couple hours. Beth said Shaun took his dear sweet time—twelve hours. So, with this one—who knows. I really don't know what to expect.

"Do you want me to go get Curie yet?" I ask her as I peel the comforter off the bed, preparing for a messy delivery. She'd hate it if this thing got dirty.

"No," she pants. "Ugh, here comes another one." She leans her hands against the wall as she bends over, trying to make the contraction more bearable.

"I'm sorry," I tell her for the tenth time. "If I could make it better, I would. Are you sure you don't want Med-X or something?"

She grunts out, "No. I'm doing this naturally." After the contraction passes, she stands straight up and resumes her pacing, like she has been doing for the past hour. "I don't want Curie here."

This is news to me. "What?" I turn from placing the comforter at the foot of the bed. "How are you supposed to do this then?" I stand from my kneeling position and move to the middle of her pacing track.

"You're going to?" I'm not sure why it sounds like a question, as her face is dead serious.

"Um. I don't know how to tell you this, Beth—but I'm not a doctor." How is she expecting me to do this?

"Neither is Curie. She's just a scientist."

"Yeah," I agree. "With medical knowledge. The most I know about this stuff is that I pick the gender. Like, that's it."

She braces against the wall—same spot—preparing for another round. I've learned this isn't the best time to speak, so I shut up until it's passed.

"Seriously, Beth. I can't."

"You don't know that," she says as she passes me on another lap of pacing. "You'd be surprised what you can do in a moment of stress." No telling what moment in time she's thinking of—there's been so many close calls. "Just try. Curie can be on call, but I really want you to help me with this." She stops her pacing right in front of me. "Please?"

I really don't want to, but how can I say no? Sighing, I nod my head. She gives me a side-hug—something she's been having to do recently—as a thank you. She then resumes her pacing.

"Oh my God!" She screams out. "I don't remember it being this bad!"

Beth's contractions are now mere minutes apart, and lasting longer each time—a telltale sign that it's soon. She finally decided to settle down and sit on the edge of the bed—which is lined with towels, at her request. Once this round is over, she lays her back on a pile of pillows to prop her up, relaxing while she still can.

"You have all the stuff?" she asks me.

"Yeah." I'd went to Curie a little while ago and brought back some of her science equipment—Beth had written down a list of what we needed. "Surgical tray, scissors, and tons of towels. You know, Curie's not going to be too happy with you if she doesn't get to deliver the baby."

"I don't care—she's not the father. Are you trying to get out of it?" She smiles weakly at me.

"No, dear, I'm not." I smile back at her. "I love you."

She closes her eyes, preparing for another wave. "Love you, too."

Not twenty minutes after she asked me about the supplies, she started to push, and everything went pretty smooth from there. Within ten minutes, we had our baby.

I cut the umbilical cord and hold my new child, wrapped in a couple old towels and crying like only newborns know how. "Oh, aren't you just the sweetest thing?" I look up to Beth, who is still catching her breath.

"Lemme see," she says. Handing her the baby, I can't help but to laugh. "What?" Completely forgetting about what she just asked me, she takes the newborn in her arms. "Oh! He's beautiful!" I laugh again. "What?" She lifts the towel up, only to replace it and stare at me. "He's a girl." She's so exhausted, the tone she uses only makes it better.

I bust out again. "I told you."

"Oh, shut up, Robert. Hope you have a name worked out." She holds her hand out to me, like she wants to shake hands. Taking it in my own, she does exactly this as she says, "Congrats, Dad. You win."

"No," I disagree, placing a hand on either of my two girls. "We both won." She grins at me.

A few hours after delivery—and it being less messy than I remembered my first time around—Beth and our new daughter lie in bed, resting after an eventful afternoon. Of course I'm next to them, staring as I figured I would be after she came into this world, my world.

"Robert?" I look from my daughter to my wife. "Does she feel cold to you?"

I put my hand on our baby's back. "Yeah. Why is that? Is something wrong?"

"I don't think so. But—" She looks around the room. "Can you get the blanket the boys gave her?" I get up and try to hand it to her. Instead she hands me our daughter as she takes her shirt off. "This is something I learned back when I had Shaun. It's called 'kangaroo care.' I think it may help warm her up." She lays back down and puts the baby on top of her bare chest, wrapping the blanket around both of them. "Skin-to-skin contact always helps newborn babies."

As I sit back down on the bed, I ask her, "So, she's forty-weeks. Isn't that supposed to be full term?" She nods. "Because, I was thinking: she's awful small. Maybe that has something to do with why she's cold." She shrugs.

"I think she's fine. She looks and acts healthy." She sniffs her head and chuckles. "Nothing like the scent of a newborn." This makes me chuckle along with her.

"Ready for the boys to meet their sister?"

She shakes her head. "I think she needs a name first. That way they can be formally introduced," she smiles. "So, what've you got, Mr. Daughter-Namer?"

"Well," I start, "back when we were in Concord and helped Preston and them—like, when we were in the Museum of Freedom—I saw that a lot of women's names back in the colonial days was Abigail. I kinda liked the sound of it, and haven't forgotten it. Since you gave me that name book, I looked up what it means…"

"And…?"

"It means 'father's joy.' And I am really happy, so I think that's a nice choice." I chuckle softly.

"So, her name is Abigail?" She glances down at her, as if to see if it fits her.

"Not exactly." She looks back up to me, her brows crinkled. "Her middle name is Abigail. I was thinking Victoria for her first, since it means 'victory.' She's definitely a victory child." I smile, thinking about the chances of her even being conceived. "But also," I continue, "like Queen Victoria of the UK way back when. Since you're Elizabeth, I thought it'd be cool to—don't give me that look, Beth!—you know, keep the whole queen thing going. Queen Elizabeth, Queen Victoria." I grin. "I like it—my own royal family."

She sighs. "Okay, it does make sense, but you know how I feel about my full name." I nod sarcastically, having heard it numerous times in the past.

"But… you'll never guess the cool part." I run and get the book, bringing it to her, and flipping to the dog eared page I'd saved. "I found a good nickname for her." I point to the name.

"'Vitya.'" She looks up at me. "Robert, I don't know if you know how to use these kinds of books, but they're categorized by country." I nod. "Victoria is Latin. And Vitya is Russian. A Russian name for boys." I nod again. "Are we naming our daughter after a Russian ice skater or something and you're not telling me?"

I shrug. "I don't know. But I do know it's the Russian version of Victor, and Victoria is the feminine of Victor, so… it kind of works."

"Wow, you've have been doing your research," she laughs. "Okay. …Victoria it is."

"Awesome." I smile. Rubbing my baby girl's back through the blanket, I say, "Hey there, Vitya."

Beth rolls her eyes. "It's gonna take a while to get used to that name," she chuckles.

An hour later, Beth said she was ready for the boys to come in. They saw their sister—and honestly—I couldn't remember the last time I've seen them that happy. Shaun, I could tell, would definitely be the big, older, and very protective brother. Duncan was just pleased to have a sister in the first place. They both got to hold her before Beth was tired again. So, they left, vowing to see her again soon.

Curie came in briefly—just to check in—and got to see her, too. Although I could tell she was a little upset that she wasn't present for the delivery, she was just pleased it went well and that both mother and baby were healthy.

Before Beth could even think about introducing Victoria to Danse, she passed out with her still on her chest. I didn't want either of them to get hurt, so I took Vitya from her—carefully, as to not wake either of them—and covered Beth's bare skin with the comforter before wrapping Vitya more securely in the blanket.

Even if I tried, I honestly couldn't fully describe how much I enjoyed holding my daughter as I watched both she and my wife sleep soundly.

Beth POV

Well, yesterday was exhausting. I forgot just how much giving birth depletes your energy. But, it's over now—and Robert and I happily brought our daughter, Victoria, into the world.

I'm not even sure if Danse knows that it happened yet, but he's about to, because our now not-so-modestly-sized family is on our way north to his house. Robert came up with a good idea, so that's how we're gonna do it.

I lead our party with the boys following me, and Robert trailing behind holding Tori—yes, Tori, because I refuse to call her Vitya.

I'm not sure if I'm giddy from the oxytocin in my system, but I can't stop giggling the whole way here. I knock on the door, and nearly lose it when I see Danse's face, all shocked.

Walking into his house, I open my arms out wide. "Ta da!" He glances down and smiles suddenly, finally understanding what I'm getting at with my exposed torso.

"Where is she?"

"Oh, so you were rooting for Robert, too, huh? You, Deacon, Robert. Jeez. Was I the only one who was thinking it was a boy?"

"Well, was it?"

"No." My feigned frown turns into a smile as Robert walks in, revealing the new addition.

I don't think I've ever seen Danse's face light up more. "Oh my," he coos. "Look at you!" Robert silently holds her out, offering her to Danse. He's shocked, but ultimately takes her. "What's her name?"

"Vitya," Robert says as I give him a look.

"He named her Victoria, but for some reason, he refuses to call her that. I told him Vitya was a little weird, so I think he's just calling her that to annoy me."

"Is it working?" he asks, a smug grin on his face. I just roll my eyes.

"Either way," Danse says, "I like it. Both of them."

"Well, that's nice of you to say," I tell him. "Because we've been talking—and we want you to be her godfather."

He snaps his head up and looks at me as if I have lobsters crawling out of my ears. "You're not serious…"

"No, we are," Robert chimes in. "You're important to our family, and you deserve it." He smiles at him.

For the first—and possibly last time ever—I see Danse tear up. "Thank you." He looks back down to Victoria, smiling like the proud godfather he is.

A/N: I looked for a name for Victoria, I kid you not, for a month straight. Had me in such a mental bind. I wanted to pay homage to my late mother somehow, so I ended up going with Victoria due to my mother's love for the name—it almost ended up being my name, so she really liked it.

And Vitya. Her full name and nickname do make sense together, I suppose. I just happened to hear the Russian name on a certain anime and connected the dots. It probably wasn't an anime about ice skating. Nope.

As for Alexandria's Genesis... It's always intrigued me. So, I installed it within the fic. Yup.