Into the Morning

Chapter 23

By JewWitch

A/N: I have actually seen a baby born with my own eyes (my sister), but I am going to err on the side of leaving out the most gruesome details of childbirth here. You'll still get a vivid picture, I hope, just not one that will give you nightmares.

Thanks again for reading, everybody, and thanks too for all your feedback. Look for my next story, titled "The Carlin Girls," coming soon!

Enjoy!

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"Are you serious? Now now?" Spencer reached out a hand to touch Ashley's stomach, as if the baby could give her a direct answer by Morse code. But she had barely lifted her arm when a white-hot bolt of pain shot through her shoulder, and she cried out, cradling her hurt arm as a rush of tears spilled unbidden down her cheeks.

"Whoa, baby. Don't move, okay?" Ashley was back in alpha-dog mode, pulling Spencer's blood-soaked pajama top away from her hurt shoulder to inspect the bandage again.

"I'm okay," Spencer panted, hastily wiping away the tears streaking her face with her good hand. "We need to get you to the hospital, Ash."

"Actually, you're not okay," Ashley frowned, holding up her fingers, coated in Spencer's blood. "You need to keep that arm still until we get you stitched up." She rustled around inside the still-open first aid kit, coming out with a large cloth triangle. "Here, just hold still a minute…" she leaned over and bound the makeshift-sling around Spencer's arm, tying the knot over her good shoulder. "There we go." They shared a weak smile, both of their faces thoroughly drained of color. Ashley gasped as another contraction gripped her body, and she reached out and squeezed Spencer's leg, hard, until it passed.

"Okay, we have to get to the hospital," Spencer said, pushing herself up on her good hand. "C'mon, kids, let's get our shoes…"

"Spence, get real. Neither one of us is in any shape to drive right now, and I'm betting all the ambulances are tied up already. Besides, they're sure to be totally overwhelmed with trauma cases—and I do not want to have this baby in some ER waiting room."

"So what do you want to do?" Spencer asked helplessly, a bewildered expression on her face as she reached out with her good arm and pressed a hand to Ashley's stomach.

"Call your parents. Get them here. Now." Spencer nodded, and ran for the phone, Jack trailing close behind her while Ella stayed beside Ashley. She tried the land line first, but it was dead.

"What's going to happen to Mommy?" Jackson asked, his voice quivering with barely suppressed panic as he watched Spencer toss the useless phone aside.

"Mommy's gonna be fine, sweetie," Spencer said distractedly, tearing through her purse for her cell phone. She couldn't search very well with only one hand, and after a minute, she just dumped the whole thing out on the floor. Her cell phone wasn't anywhere in the pile, and she screamed in frustration, kicking her empty purse across the room. Jackson started to cry.

"I'm sorry, baby," Spencer sighed, kneeling down in front of him and reaching out to stroke his face with her good hand. "We're all a little scared right now. But I promise, I'm not gonna let anything bad happen to Mommy." She knew even as the words left her lips that she had no way of making this guarantee; that her ability to protect Ashley, the kids, or even herself from further harm was slim to none. But she also knew that this was not the time to voice those doubts and fears, and certainly not to her little boy, whose terrified brown eyes were looking to her for reassurance that this was not, contrary to all appearances, the coming of the apocalypse.

"Can I help?" He asked, gulping back his tears as Spencer held his gaze with a stoic smile.

"Actually, yeah…" Spencer broke off and coughed, shaking some of the dust and grit loose from her hair. "Help me find my cell phone, okay? That's the most important thing right now." They both got down on their knees, rooting through the debris strewn across the room in search of a glint of anything small and metallic. Another shriek from overhead made them both look up. "You keep looking, okay baby? I'll be right back," Spencer promised, scrambling up as quickly as she could on one hand and racing back up the stairs toward the sound of Ashley's voice.

"What the hell is going on down there?" The brunette growled, having made her way back to their bed, where she now sat with a pile of pillows behind her back, Ella playing sedately with a few dusty stuffed animals beside her.

"The land line's dead. We're looking for my cell phone." Spencer sat on the edge of the bed, reaching out her good hand to squeeze Ashley's knee. "How far apart are the contractions?"

"I don't know…seven or eight minutes?"

"Okay, that's good. We've still got time. We just need to get my mom here…" Spencer broke off coughing again, kicking up more of the plaster dust that was settling around them. Ashley looked up at her with the same frightened expression that Jackson had worn when she kicked her purse across the room.

"Spencer. Before you do anything else, you need to go find your inhaler."

"Ash, please don't worry about me right now. You need to relax, okay? We want to keep you from going into active labor for as long as possible."

"If you want me to relax," Ashley growled, holding her stomach with both hands, "You'll go find your goddam inhaler. I'm not trying to coddle you, okay? We just had an earthquake, we're both completely freaked out, and you're breathing in, like, half a gallon of plaster dust. If you have an asthma attack right now, we are all fucked. So stop trying to be so fucking noble, Jesus!" At that moment, Jackson came racing into the room, with Spencer's cell phone brandished in his hand.

"I found it!" he cried, smiling hugely. "I called Grandma and Grandpa! They said to tell you they're coming as fast as they can. And I found this too," he added, holding out Spencer's inhaler in his other hand. "I heard you coughing a lot, Mama. I think you need it." He bounced up onto the bed beside them, pushing his prizes into Spencer's hand and blinking serenely.

"Who needs to be noble?" Spencer asked after a moment of silence, in which they both just started at their son with their mouths hanging open. "We've already got our hero right here."

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Three hours later, Ashley's contractions were barely a minute apart, and Paula and Arthur still hadn't arrived. Spencer had managed to get the kids settled down in the living room with crayons and color books, where she hoped the sound of Ashley's anguished screaming wouldn't carry.

"Where are your parents?" Ashley sobbed, gripping the sheets so hard her knuckles turned white as another bolt of pain seared through her, making her feel like she was being torn slowly in half from the inside out.

"They're coming, baby," Spencer soothed her, wiping the sweat from Ashley's forehead with a damp cloth. "You're doing great, just breathe…"

"Don't tell me to fucking breathe!" Ashley snarled, eyes narrowed. "This is all your fault, Spencer Anne Carlin-Davies!" Spencer froze with her hand in midair, unsure at that moment whether she was more afraid for Ashley, or of Ashley. "You're the one who talked me into this! And I swear to God, I am not gonna have this baby without a doctor in the room. So get your mom here, and I mean now!!" Spencer gulped, and fished her phone out of her pocket, hastily hitting the speed dial.

"Mom! It's been three hours, where the hell are you?" She demanded the second her mother's voice came through the receiver.

"We're doing the best we can, Spence, the roads are a mess. How far apart are the contractions?"

"About a minute," Spencer replied anxiously, trying to keep her voice and body language as calm as possible for Ashley's sake.

"Already?" Paula's surprise was impossible to mask, which did nothing for Spencer's failing attempts to stay calm. "Shit, we might not make it in time. You're going to have to get ready for the delivery on your own, Spence." Looking over at Ashley's flushed face, Spencer felt the bottom drop out of her stomach, like she'd just fallen through a trap door. "Spencer?" Paula's urgent voice snapped her back into herself. "Honey, you need to stay calm. I know this isn't how you planned it, but this baby is coming now, and he doesn't care about your plans. You've been through this twice before, so you know what to expect. You can do this, okay?"

"Okay," Spencer nodded, sitting up a little straighter, and giving Ashley the most reassuring smile she could summon. She clicked her phone off, and Ashley raised her eyebrows questioningly.

"Well?"

"Well…you said you wouldn't have this baby without a doctor in the room…" Spencer gave her a half-smile and a lopsided shrug. "And I know this wasn't what you meant, but…a PhD in adolescent psychology will have to do."

"Are you kidding me?" Ashley shrieked, her breath coming fast and shallow as her brown eyes widened in panic. "Spencer, we can't do this by ourselves. What if something goes wrong? You only have one working arm! What if—"

"Shh." Spencer scooted closer to Ashley on the bed, leaned down, and silenced her with a soft kiss. "I know you're scared, baby…I know you're in unbelievable pain right now, and I know this isn't how we planned this. But our baby is coming now, whether we're ready or not. And I promised you nine months ago that I was gonna take care of you all the way through this, no matter what. No fucking way I'm breaking that promise now." They held each other's eyes, neither of them speaking for a long minute. Finally, Ashley nodded, tears spilling down her cheeks.

"Just promise me one more thing, Spence?"

"Anything, baby."

"Promise me that if you deliver this baby…it's not going to ruin our sex life forever." Spencer laughed, leaned down, and covered Ashley's tearstained face with kisses.

"I promise."

They spent the next half hour going through every deep-breathing exercise they'd ever learned in Lamaze class, until finally Spencer told Ashley it was time to push.

"Are you sure?" Ashley panted, her voice hoarse from screaming.

"I can see the head, Ash! He's coming! Now push!" Ashley grabbed a handful of bedding, arched her back, and screamed, her entire body shaking with the effort of pushing as hard as she could.

"He's crowning!" Spencer cried, and Ashley could feel her wife's hand wiping something warm and wet off her thighs. "One more push, baby!"

"What is that? Is that blood?" Ashley asked weakly, still out of breath from the last push.

"It's okay, Ash, it's totally normal. You're doing so great, baby. Just one more push and we'll have our little boy, okay?"

"Are you just telling me it's okay so I won't freak out?" Ashley panted, trying to push herself up on her elbows to see how much blood was coming out of her.

"No Ash, I'm telling you it's okay because it actually is. It's just the bloody show, remember? The part right before the baby comes out? I promise, this is exactly what's supposed to happen. Now push!" Ashley closed her eyes, gritted her teeth, and screamed bloody murder. A moment later, a tiny cry filled the air.

"Is he out? Is he okay?" Ashley asked weakly, her voice completely spent from screaming.

"He's perfect," Spencer sobbed, pulling a towel from the pile beside her and gently wiping the blood and gunk from the squalling infant. Then she scooped up his tiny body in one hand and laid him on Ashley's chest, hastily covering him with another towel so he wouldn't be cold.

"Hey, little guy," Ashley whispered, tears streaming down her face as she cradled the tiny body against her own. "How was your trip?" Enormous brown eyes blinked silently back at her, an expression of pure bewilderment on the tiny pink face. "I know what you mean," Ashley murmured, yawning as she felt Spencer curl up beside her, kissing her sweat-slicked forehead. "But I promise, most days around here won't be this exciting. 'Kay?"

Ashley just stared into her baby's eyes for the next few minutes, while Spencer cut the umbilical cord and cleaned it up as best she could, using a sterile Bactine swab from the first aid kit (which Ashley would never again tease her for buying) and wrapping them both in a fresh, clean blanket from the hall closet. Finally, Spencer slipped from the room, tiptoeing downstairs to find Jack and Ella in the kitchen, eating ice cream straight from the carton. Seeing Spencer, they both froze, an incredibly guilty look on their chocolate-covered faces. But Spencer just grinned at them.

"Ready to meet your little brother?"

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Epilogue

"I caught one! Elly, look! Look, look, look!" The excited three-year-old shrieked, racing to show his sister the tiny blinking firefly in his jar. The blonde-haired five-year old inspected her little brother's prize closely, her smile mirroring his own enthusiasm, even though she already had about half a dozen softly pulsing lights flitting around her own jar.

"Yup, that's a nice one, Tristan." Having gotten his first round of approval, the little boy raced to show his treasure to the rest of his family. Ten-year-old Jackson was crouched down beside the shrubs where most of the glowing lights were concentrated, offering his beaming little brother only a slight nod to show that he had seen the single firefly in his jar, and was duly impressed. Finally, Tristan made his way back to the lounge chair where his parents were curled up together, whispering and giggling with their legs entwined.

"Mommy, Mama, lookit!" He squealed, crawling up and worming between them with his jar held proudly aloft.

"Wow-- that's awesome, baby." Spencer reached out and ran her fingers through his glossy brown curls, hanging down to his shoulders now as he refused to let it be cut. He beamed at her praise, showing off the nose-crinkling smile he had inherited from Ashley.

"I'm gonna call him Blinky," he whispered seriously, holding the jar up to his dark eyes with both hands, and staring deeply into it. "And I will keep him forever and ever."

"We can't keep him forever, hon," Ashley reminded him gently, shifting slightly against Spencer on the cushioned lounge chair, and patting her youngest child consolingly on the back. "He needs fresh air and food and water to live. We'll keep him for tonight, though. Then he can go back to his family."

"But what if I make it nice for him?" the little boy asked stubbornly, still staring adoringly at his firefly inside the jar.

"How are you gonna do that?" Ashley asked. In answer, Tristan wriggled out from between his moms, and raced back to the shrub, carefully picking off a little stem with a few leaves on it. Then he unscrewed the top of his jar, slowly and meticulously, opening it just enough so he could drop the branch inside.

"There," he smiled.

"You really think one little piece of a branch is the same as being free and living with his family?" Spencer asked gently, trying not to smile at the tragic-looking pout emerging on her son's angelic little face.

"But…I love him," he whimpered, clinging tightly to his jar, as if it was about to be sucked out of his arms by a tornado.

"I know, sweetie. But living things have to be free." The little boy looked back and forth between his moms for a moment; then the closed his eyes and wailed.

"What's wrong, Tristan?" Ella ran to them with her own jar clutched tight in her hands. "Do you want some of my fireflies to keep yours company?"

"He's just sad we can't keep them as pets, honey," Spencer explained, smiling at the concern her pigtailed five-year-old showed for her little brother.

"Don't cry, Baby Boo," Ella said gently, using the family nickname for their youngest, and putting her own jar down to hug him. "Aren't you excited for tomorrow? It's your first first day of school!" He stopped crying abruptly, and wiped his eyes.

"I want you and Jackie to walk me to my room," He sniffled. "And don't leave until I say."

"Promise," Ella nodded, beaming. "You'll like Preschool, Tristan, you get to play all day. And you'll have Mrs. Parker for your teacher, she's real nice." They both climbed back onto the oversized lounge chair with Spencer and Ashley, cuddling happily with their moms as they discussed all the exciting things that would happen the next day.

"I want to wear my new tutu for my first day of Kindergarten," Ella added, resting her face against Spencer's arm.

"Me too!" Tristan squealed.

"You can't wear a tutu to school, dummy," Jackson said, rolling his eyes as he clambered back toward them with his own, very full jar of fireflies.

"Can too!" the three-year-old shrieked indignantly.

"Don't call your brother a dummy," Spencer scolded, causing the ten-year-old to sigh in a world-weary way as he sat in the empty chair beside them.

"But people will think he's a girl!"

"I don't care," Tristan shrugged. Jackson slapped his hand over his eyes, and groaned dramatically.

"Look, Tristan, going to school isn't like playing dress-up at home. You have to get along with lots of other kids. Boys aren't 'spozed to wear tutus!"

"Boys can wear whatever they want, and so can girls," Ella said stubbornly, folding her arms and glaring at her older brother, the same determined expression in her blue eyes that they usually saw on Spencer's face when they tried to stay up past their bedtimes.

"Jack, I know you want to protect your brother from being teased," Spencer said gently, "but Ella's right. There's no rule that says boys can't wear tutus if they want to. If you really want to protect him, you should tell that to any kids who tease him for it."

"And since when do you care what everyone else thinks, anyway, mister rebel?" Ashley added, giving her oldest a knowing smirk. "You know when Mama and I were in high school, we got teased for being in love. Kids back then said that two girls or two boys weren't supposed to be in love, only a boy and a girl."

"Those kids were dummies," Tristan said firmly, looking to his big brother for some sign of validation. Jackson looked back at him, and rolled his eyes again, a reluctant smile spreading over his face.

"Okay, squirt. I'll walk you to class in your glittery pink tutu. But I am not introducing you to your teacher as Princess Tristan."

"Thank you Jackie!" the little boy squealed, jumping out of his seat to throw himself into his big brother's lap.

"Whatever," Jackson shrugged, his cheeks turning slightly pink in the dusky twilight.

"See, that's how a kid who's about to start fifth grade acts," Ashley said in mock-seriousness to Spencer, who nodded gravely back. "Are you stoked or what, dude? You finally made it—top of heap! At least until next year, when you'll be back at the bottom of the barrel in junior high."

"Get a grip, Mom." He rolled his eyes at her, and she rolled hers back.

"Okay, everybody inside. If you guys get your pj's on quick, we can watch iCarly before bed." All three children leapt from their seats as if they were spring-loaded, even Jackson, who forgot to act disinterested. Once they'd all run into the house, Spencer and Ashley smirked at each other, and curled up tighter in each other's arms, sharing a long, slow, deep kiss.

"Works like a charm, every time," Ashley purred, trailing her fingertips up Spencer's warm skin under her t-shirt.

"For now," Spencer agreed, a bittersweet smile on her face. "Did you see how many eye rolls Jack gave us tonight? I swear he's gonna blind himself within six months at this rate."

"Yeah, he's getting pretty broody," Ashley nodded wryly. "If it gets much worse, I vote we just tie him to a stake here in the yard till he graduates high school." Spencer smacker her shoulder, and suddenly they were caught in a vicious tickle-fight, both of them shrieking with laughter as they tried to worm out of each other's grip.

"Truce!" Spencer panted, gasping for breath through her laughter.

"No way, blondie. Surrender or death!"

"Mommy, Mama, c'mon! The show is starting!" Ella's voice floated out into the yard.

"Coming!" Spencer called back, still giggling, and rested her head on Ashley's shoulder as she caught her breath.

"Not yet," Ashley growled playfully, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively at her wife's blushing grin. "But you will be…once the kids are in bed."

"Little miss slick," Spencer smirked, leaning up on one elbow, and giving Ashley one last kiss before standing up, and offering the brunette her hand. "I do believe that's the best offer I've gotten all day." Hand in hand, they walked back inside, carefully setting the three jars of fireflies their kids had collected in a row by the patio door, where they'd be waiting to be released in the morning.

THE END