It has been almost 9 months, the normal time expectancy for most eggs of many species to hatch. But this was no normal egg, nor a normal child. Von Drake said that he expects for the child to grow as normally as any other young duck like it. Bradford could only hope so, for the baby's sake.
"Well Bradford, my boy," von Drake one day said to him with a lazy smile, a clipboard of papers in his hand. Bradford had been once again watching the glass carefully, almost in a meditation. "Looks like the test results are in for the child's gender."
Bradford's head shot up from his lull, his eyes huge in expectancy. He didn't know he'd find out so soon. "And?" he asked, his voice heavy with fear but also in desperation to know.
Von Drake chuckled. "Calm down, it's not like she just took her first road test or anything."
Bradford felt like his insides were suddenly clenched shut. Admittedly, it did surprise him at first. "'She'?"
"Well it's like I said, my boy, this child would be a whole new creation, not just an exact clone. And since she was made from a partial base of DNA and a new egg, she's more considered a child of Scrooge McDuck than a clean clone, as you very kindly instructed me to create. Although," he gave a curious chuckle, "life can be full of surprises, is it not?"
"A girl…" Bradford whispered in awe, tasting the word in his mouth as if he never spoke it before. He turned his attention back to the glass, a tender hand resting around the unborn child's cheeks. Despite himself, water started to blur his vision, but he swallowed his tears back in front of the disgraced Professor.
A girl…he always wanted a daughter to care for. It was as if he were looking upon the child with a fresh pair of eyes. His chest swelled with pride. A girl.
He seemed to be showing more than he thought since von Drake chuckled even more in a sardonic fashion.
"Oh yes, aren't you just a lucky father, Bradford," he said with an edge to his voice, returning to his computers. "I'm sure the child will be out soon and you two can be properly introduced then."
He then pointed to the glass column. "And don't worry about that. Once the child is out, we'll have a new chamber installed, as Heron requested, where she could rest and be 'calmed down' in. It'll be up to you and your partner in crime, however, if you'd like to use it. I would advise against it though, for the child's sake," he added worryingly.
Bradford barely heard a word as his eyes were still on the tiny, floating girl. What should he call her from the list of names he picked? What kind of toys should he get for her? Clothes? What sort of crib? The thousand thoughts he had been trying to avoid was now flooding into him like a barrage of arrows.
At the edge of his vision, he saw von Drake shake his head critically. "I sometimes wonder what your grandmother would've thought of you if she'd seen what you've become," he said grimly, then returned to his work.
Bradford stayed silent at the words, a faint pain welling in him then disappearing, overshadowed by a larger, fuzzier feeling.
If his grandmother were here, he'd so much as lock her far, far away from him and the child, to not have her tarnish his work by her mere presence and gaze.
But his words didn't matter, none of it did. He forced himself to concentrate more on the duckling, caressing the glass in a circular motion, trying to push the image of Finch from his mind. A new feeling burst inside him, even stronger than the emotion that came before.
Was it love? Happiness? Or something entirely new to him?
It didn't matter. If the child was happy, he was happy.