Azazel sat up in bed, another sleepless night becoming apparent. He turned to his wife, who thankfully was sleeping well. At this stage in her pregnancy, he knew from last time, Moira's sleep was fitful at best, nonexistent at worst. He worried greatly for her, as he had before. Knowing how hard the weeks leading up to Christine's birth made him incredibly nervous. The new child, if they had their timeline right, would be born in less than a month. The excitement was certainly growing – would it be a boy or girl? Would it look more like him or more like it's mother? He loved that his daughter took so much after his wife, as anyone should be so lucky to be so beautiful. But he also delighted in seeing a part of him in her, and he hoped at least the new baby would inherit a small part of him.

His wife adjusted herself with a sigh, and her belly now pointed slightly in his direction. A lump appeared on the side, and moved to the front before disappearing. He smiled and placed his hand gently on her stomach.

"Trying to get out?" he whispered to his unborn. "In time, moya zvyozdochka."

The baby reached out again, poking against him. He leaned close and kissed Moira's belly, rubbing again. It was unbelievable, still, to think they had made this being. That the two of them had collaborated on a human. Even though this was the second they'd made together, it still boggled his mind. Here he was going to become a father the third time over, and still he was as mind blown by the entire situation as he had in the beginning.

He knew his wife felt the same, though she had a far different experience than he did. She lived day to day with their child inside her, and he felt at times there wasn't enough he could do for her to thank her. The sacrifices she'd made for his children, from the moment she found Kurt and now to carrying their latest were unbelievable. He knew she didn't do them for him. She did them for their children, because she was their mother. It was a concept at times he still struggled with, but loved her for all the more.

His mother, when he took the time to think about her, was distant. He remembered very little about her. She'd been gone so long at this point. He loved her dearly, and yearned for her attention, but she gave little of it. She took care of him, there was no doubt about that. He was always well looked after. But she lacked the deep connection with him that Moira had with his children. He didn't like to think of his mother in relation to the mother of his children, it seemed like an unfair comparison. Yet there were some times the comparison drew itself. He remembered when Kurt was a few years younger and had scraped his knee. How Moira had consoled him as he cried, lovingly cleaning and placing a bandaid over the wound before placing a little kiss on it 'to make it better.' Then she'd sat with him on the couch, holding him in her arms. Protecting him, and letting him know that regardless of the hurt he'd feel, Mommy would always be there to make it feel better. He couldn't help but remember his own experience, his mother placing sterile gauze over a wound and ignoring his cries. Simply placing a hand on his shoulder when she was done, before turning away. He wiped his own tears and learned that his hurt was his own burden to bear.

His own feelings about his children furthered his confusion over his mother. Finding Kurt, he wanted nothing more than to spend every moment he could with the boy. He felt the need to be connected to him, and longed to be in his life. Seeing his daughter born unearthed emotions in him he had no idea he had. He wanted to protect her from every type of harm in the world, wrap her in bubble wrap and let nothing get in between. His feelings for his children were so strong they were almost overwhelming. He had no idea he could feel such strong feelings until he became a father.

Which made him all the sadder about his mother. He never had considered her a bad mother, until he had children of his own. He'd loved her with all his heart. But he didn't understand her anymore. He didn't understand how one could be so unfeeling to their own flesh. She'd carried him inside her, he was a part of her. How she could be so unfeeling toward him unnerved him. There was a part of him that was scared more was going on. He knew that he was part of this training program, but he hated to think his mother had much to do with it, short of agreeing to it. How could she? She didn't know she was having a mutant child until he was born, surely.

Azazel let out a sigh and laid back into bed. He turned to face his wife, and found her to be awake, watching him. He frowned. "Did I wake you?"

"No," she responded with a yawn. "Your son or daughter did." Moira placed her hand on her stomach. "My kidney got a nice swift kick. I think it's my kidney at least."

Azazel put his hand over hers. He could see a little ripple in her belly as the baby moved. His eye moved to Moira's again. "Thank you."

She lifted a brow. "For what?"

"For being my children's mother," he told her. "For carrying two of them and taking another in."

Moira leaned into him to give him a kiss. "Thank you for being their father." She shifted and pulled away from him, swinging her legs off the bed. "And thank you for leaning on my bladder." She addressed her stomach.

Azazel smiled as he watched his wife waddle to the bathroom. He turned in bed and stared at the ceiling. He loved how even their relationship was, and how appreciated each was by the other. As he stared ahead, he thought of his mother one last time, hoping that perhaps the man he was would make her proud. He also wondered why it mattered.

~&Q~

I hope you all are enjoying these little side stories from Azazel's point of view. I must say, I never expected when I started for this fic to become as big as it has, and creating smaller satellite fics for it.

Review if you like it!