This is what happens when I go watch TV shows about babies and midwives after watching a bit too much Sanctuary... A little rough in places but so is childbirth (or so I've heard). I do apologise if my descriptions aren't the best but I've never had kids and all my knowledge comes from friends and such as well as the aforementioned show.

Don't own it, not yet anyways *MWAHAHAHAHA*

Enjoy

xx

"Push Helen, push, you're doing brilliantly," the midwife urged as Helen screamed. "Just one more, I can see the head!"

DAMN HIM! DAMN HIM TO HELL! Helen thought as she panted. She was exhausted and angry and far too close to tears for her liking. As thankful as she was she was doing this in a modern hospital, she was cursing her decision to bring another life into the world, into her world. It was no safer than the one this child was conceived in.

She could hear the women around her telling her to breathe, that she was doing fantastically, that pretty soon she'd be holding her child in her arms but all she could think of was John.

Every second of the past 17 hours she'd been half expecting him to teleport into the room, cruel smirk in place. The pain had built slowly, starting with a dull ache in her lower back, giving her the chance to think about what she was doing in far too much detail. Even as the pain built, he'd never been far from her mind, always taunting her and, by the time she was screaming, face turning puce with the effort, his presence was threatening to say the least.

"No, please," she cried softly, eyes scrunched shut. He was going to come and take her baby, she was sure of that. He was going to hurt both of them, make her pay for even thinking about introducing a child into her dangerous life. "No," she whimpered once more before another contraction overtook her.

Then she was screaming, tears rolling down her face as she began to lament everything her baby would never have. This tiny baby (that didn't feel so bloody tiny) would never have a real father, not in the way Helen had, never know what a loving home felt like. Sure James had promised to be there for her but it wasn't the same. Throwing her head back as she squeezed the poor midwife's hand for all she was worth, Helen knew her child would never have a normal life. Nor would it ever see its mother age or have siblings of any sort. What kind of human being was she to bring a child into the world knowing the life it would have? Tears began to fall again but this time it had nothing to do with the pain.

"Oh God," she choked out, her entire body tensing as she focus all that terrible tension on her bludging stomach. "No, no, no, no, no," she whispered, eyes flying open as another scream tore from her throat. "NO! HE CAN'T!" she cried. It wasn't right, it wasn't right, it wasn't right, she thought as her body fell back against the bed, limp and drained. Sweat was pouring off her body as she drew laboured breaths through chapped lips.

"It's O.K honey, you're almost there," the rather disturbed looking midwife said encouragingly. "Are you sure there isn't anyone we could call? Perhaps that gentleman who came in with you?"

Helen shook her head as vigorously as she could. "Just me," she managed to breath before another contraction took over her body. A guttural cry flew from her mouth as she arched her back, pushing for all she was worth.

"That's it Helen!" one of the other nurses cried happily. "We can see the head!" Gritting her teeth, Helen ignored the woman and the niggling voice in her head that told her to stop, groaning and throwing her head back as she pushed and pushed and pushed.

Everyone in the room was cheering her on, telling her how fantastic she was, how close she was and, when finally, with a dark, rumbling growl she felt that tiny body leave her own, they all let out exclamations of congratulations. However, their words fell on deaf ears. As she fell back to the bed, wanting nothing more than to sink into the mattress and sleep for eternity, all she could hear was the pounding of blood in her ears. Tears still flowing, Helen muttered a small prayer.

Just as her mind started to go numb, a startling cry dragged her out of her stupor. Something about it, so insistent, so demanding, called to her, made her heart ache. Something was wrong and she knew it. Instantly she fought the gentle arms of the midwives, struggling to sit up. Then a small, wailing, flailing bundle was thrust into her arms and nothing mattered. Not John, not the pain, not the future, not anything.

Staring down at the small child in her arms, the small girl she corrected to herself, the rest of the world became nothing more than background noise.

"Hi," Helen whispered as new tears began to fall down her face but these were not tears of fear, they were tears of pure joy.

"Did you want me to get your friend in here?" the midwife asked again, drawing Helen's attention away from the girl in her arms. "Or perhaps there is someone you want to call? A father maybe?"

Helen smiled brilliantly at the woman through her tears before she returned her attention back to her daughter.

"No, no one. Not yet anyway," she choked out with a small laugh.

"She's mine."