“Yes,” Jemma nodded, understanding. It was interesting how many trivial things would be a great comfort in these moments now. Things as simple as a jumper or a plushie. Jemma had thought about it often– Fitz’ old zip-up hoodie. It was old and well-worn. He had it since their Academy days, and whenever Jemma was feeling down, she found it wrapped around her, providing her comfort. Logically it didn’t make sense. It was just a piece of cotton. There were hundreds of them to be found around here, but none of them worked like Fitz’ did.
“Yes, well I’d have to agree with them,” Jemma responded. “You’re already doing so much. Even without growing a baby, I don’t know how you manage to stay on top of so many things.”
“I reeingineered my own DNA to be able to stay on top of things,” Bobbi punctuated the statement with a finger gun and a click of her tongue. “But I do get it. Precious cargo. My job right now is as much growing a baby as it is to develop a vaccine and manage the hospital with invaluable help from Paul who I would die on a battlefield for.”
Now that the hospital in Hopewood was in use, the distance between the labs and the primary medical facility made it inconvenient to rely on Pepper. She wondered how realistic the whole speed tube proposal was, but Paul was excellent for his own reasons.
There was no judgement coming from Bobbi, which given her current state, Elizabeth was especially grateful for.
“I never wanted children… But I’ve spent more than half my life fighting to ensure Mutants don’t become extinct…” this baby was most definitely a mutant. She was, her brother was, Dayle was… It could become an incredibly powerful mutant…
She followed Bobbi into the scan room. It was a mental battle to force herself to go through with this. Before the scan, this could all just be a mistake… But once the scan was done, they’d know for sure. There’d have to be a decision made. A decision Betsy would do almost anything not to have to make.
Betsy turned back to Bobbi, purposely not allowing her gaze to drop to the other woman’s stomach as she took a seat on the exam table. This was the first time in an incredibly long time that Elizabeth was scared.
Bobbi nodded, there were any number of reasons she knew women felt pressure to reproduce. “The important thing is what you want. Some of us don’t know what we want until the bun is already in the oven, so to speak. Others have very clear ideas, and they either keep firm, or they find that their plans change. Some people want to give birth to the future in a bad situation, others don’t want their kids to inherit the endtimes.” She took a breath, pausing for just a moment, “Creating life is a big deal, and you get to decide what to do with the hand you get dealt.”
She gestured for Betsy to lie down. “You’ll have to slide your pants down a little,” she said with an easy tone. She was a little more emotive when she added, “Whatever you decide, I’ll be with you all the way through.” No matter the outcome, Betsy needed care and compassion.
That certainly would explain the actions of the people in the lab from before. They treated all the experiments as objects, property. Not actual people.
“Why would skin color make one superior to another? That has no link to intellect or ability.” Isaac didn’t quantify talent because that was simply honing an action into skill. Some had a natural ability to do things but talent due to work and repetition. “Their logic is flawed.”
Bobbi wasn’t sure how equipped she was to explain racism and colourism to a veritable alien, but she also realised that she had sort of taken on the duty of teaching Isaac about the world.
“Have you read about the British Empire at all?” That seemed like the most expedient place to begin. “They decided they could take whatever countries they wanted because they saw themselves as superior -- because of architecture, technology, religion, and because they decided that pale skin was a sign of better breeding.” The face she made was intended to fully indicate that this was nonsense, “People don’t behave logically. And people find excuses to behave badly -- religion probably should have been higher on my list because that was always a big excuse. People used religion to justify atrocities all the time.”
“She better,” Kate laughed. “She has no one to tease without me around.”
“Yeah, it makes me really wish I paid more attention to that whole zombie apocalypse pop culture movement,” she joked.
Kate laughed at Bobbi’s joke. She had missed Bobbi and all of her friends. She missed the small moments like these in between the disasters. It was a reminder of what the fight was for. And she just missed having people to talk to. A cross-country trip in solitude was not for everyone.
Kate scrunched her eyebrows at the off-handed comment until she followed Bobbi’s motion. Her eyes sprang into alarm, she wasn’t particularly comfortable with babies and the such. But this was also the first time she’d get to bond with her nephew or niece, so she’d take advantage of it.
“Yeah, okay,” Kate said, scooching closer.
“You know, I haven’t told anyone this, but I used to really enjoy them. They were dumb unwind movies. Implausible, you know?” She smiled with irony. “But I’ve gotta say, some people definitely survived with ideas from zombie flicks. On admissions rotation I have seen people smothered in zombie guts as camouflage, on a less gross note, I’ve also seen people with copies of Cosmo and Men’s Health taped around their arms. Although I’ve also seen some failures of movie tricks. They were a little catastrophic.” She winced.
Bobbi took Kate gently by the wrist and guided her hand to the spot where the baby’s kicks were causing a slight bulge on impact.
Jessica shrugged, “He seems to have the hang of wall crawling. He’s never fallen… And he hasn’t blasted anyone since we got to Haven, not since those the arsehole who stabbed me…” she stroked a hand gently over his soft hair. “I just don’t know how strongly he’d be able to use his blasts. I don’t think he’d ever use them intentionally unless needed, but I worry about if he gets scared, or surprised… Other kids can be mean” Jess would do anything to protect her little boy. He was gentle, kindhearted and caring… She knew he wouldn’t hurt anyone intentionally, but deadly powers in the hands of a child were never to be underestimated.
She pressed a gently kiss to his forehead as the sleeping child turned his head on her shoulder. “I know… I need to talk to Storm. I just wish he could have more of a childhood without having to worry”
Bobbi nodded, “I get that. Maybe we need to start with introducing him to some chill kids. May has some really good kids that he could learn to socialise with.” Jess’ anxiety was real but so was the fact that he would have to deal with people all his life, and early childhood was the time to practice.
Bobbi smiled sadly, rubbing her hand over her belly, “I get that. I keep thinking of all the stuff I grew up with that this one won’t get. And they’ll be in the same boat if my serum affects them,” she sighed.
Betsy drank the glass of water in her hand and placed the empty glass down. The quicker they could get this over with, the better…
Bobbi left and Elizabeth dropped her head. She felt stupid… So incredibly stupid. No amount of sex was worth this… She had always be so careful. But who would have thought that even now, when she often went days without food or sleep, that her body could even support a pregnancy… Betsy was angry with herself too, she had no one to blame but herself.
Betsy allowed Bobbi to remove the ECG leads from her chest before moving to back to her feet, thankful for the clothes Storm had brought for her in place of the hospital gown. She nodded and followed Bobbi through the hospital corridors, carefully monitoring the minds of those nearby to ensure there was no one who knew her well.
“You had this situation before?..” Betsy asked, if only to make small talk and stop her mind skimming the thoughts off the surface of the other womans mind.
Bobbi didn’t have to be psychic to feel guilt radiating off of Betsy. She had a feeling she knew the brand of guilt it was: the kind that comes with feeling you know better.
So when the question came, Bobbi ran her hand over the bulge of her stomach, “I thought I was doing everything right but the condoms were expired. And then I had to tell my ex husband and then-hookup-now-boyfriend that I didn’t know whose kid I was having.” Perhaps it was an overshare, but it was an overshare of solidarity. She was watching Betsy for signs of faintness, ready to catch her if she was doing too much too quickly. “I’m working on a vaccine against the infection, so it was a very inconvenient time to become pregnant. But kids were always something I wanted and I thought I had missed my chance before.”
She didn’t place any morality on the choice, she didn’t see one. She pushed open the door of the ultrasound room, which was dimly lit and prepared for their needs. She had made sure that they remembered to put the gel in the warmer.
Tommy cringed at the thought of holding a glass eye, pretty noticeably too. “Huh, I mean, sure! Glass eyes, though? Like, of course you don’t have to tell me, but why? I can try and find like a place that did them and track about,” he confirmed, rubbing the back of his neck. Confusion still set in his mind.
“So. Some South American monkeys and a pair of glass green eyes. Definitely the weirdest commission I’ve been asked for,” he said with a chuckle, “but I can get it done. Hopefully, I will see you tonight, or tomorrow morning depending on how long it takes me to get the monkeys!”
She laughed a little, trying to dispel the discomfort. “It’s a personal request for a friend. Just get whatever shades of green you find and we can take it from there.” She smiled encouragingly. She wanted to get a good match for Natasha’s eye colour.
“I’ll have the monkey boxes delivered to the front gate,” she replied gratefully. It was wonderful to have one less thing to think about -- two things, really. “Let me know if I can do anything for you,” she said, her sandwich fully assembled now, she moved over to take a seat.
Jemma laughed. “Felix the Double Helix was made with you in mind, I’m sure of it!”
“So, how has preparing for the baby gone so far? Do you have everything ready to go? Are Clint and Steve building everything or have you been able to scavenge things? Do they me to look after their muscles as they work,” Jemma joked.
“I miss Felix. He’s back in the lab on the bus.” She sighed, long gone. One of those little things that didn’t really matter in the scheme of things, but did cause some heartache.
“It’s a combination of both. I wanted to be more hands-on myself but they wouldn’t let me, which I get, I guess. They don’t want me to do too much and cause problems.” The line between reasonably careful and overly cautious was a fine one.
“That part was easy. You are beautiful. Not sure I captured it completely but I gave it my best shot.” He put his heart there in the sketches and perhaps that had been part of why he hadn’t really drawn since the War. He didn’t feel heart-whole.
“You probably know I was color-blind before. So I always used pencil or charcoal. I may have to try my hand at some colors now.” Not a huge priority but it could be a good way to help really record things. Plus colors had been so expensive back them. Now money wasn’t really an issue. No one used it because no government to really back it. It was worthless in terms of survival.
She made a mental note to ask someone to look out for some artist’s colour pencils. “The irony of a colourblind artist does seem particularly cruel.” She reached for his hand and pressed a kiss to his palm. “But then I suppose you had more than one ironic passion to go with the hand nature dealt you.” Perhaps a book of colour theory, too. He might have had colour for over a decade now, but if he hadn’t played with it, he might need some pointers.
“I’m picturing you sitting on the floor with our baby when they’re not-so-baby, teaching them to put a body in between the head and the legs when they draw the family.” She had been down to the school, she had seen the kindergarteners’ colourful MODOKs assembled outside boxy houses.
Aw crap. One of the things he really didn’t want to discuss with Bobbi. His ministrations on her feet stilled for a breath before resuming. “I know that. My focus is just here right now. Not fair on someone else to try something if I’m not all in for it. I’m not interested in it.”
Clint knew his weaknesses. When he gave his heart, he gave all of it. Never holding back. Sure on occasion he wanted just a bit of fun. It might do him some good right now to just go out and get laid. But right now his head and heart all wrapped up in this family starting here.
Perhaps time for just a bit of a confession. “Once I love someone Bobbi, I don’t ever stop loving them.” Natasha, Jess, . . her. “Just, love isn’t always enough. I get that. I live with that, and move on the best I know how. That’s no one’s problem but mine. So don’t worry about it okay? I’m just in that place where I’m not ready to make that kind of leap. Gotta get this dynamic settled first with our family.”
Bobbi nodded, “Okay, as long as that’s what you want.” She allowed herself to relax a little more, sinking into the couch cushions. But then he continued to talk.
She listened, not moving to speak until she was sure he was done. The spirit of honesty had sprung up in the dim room, vulnerability felt safe. “You know, me being exactly the same kind of messy is how we’re in this situation. I’ve wished I could change how I am, but it’s no good. And now we get a second chance out of it,” she gasped at a particularly painful kick from the baby.
Easy enough to accept that Bobbi believed that. What Isaac needed was facts that could help him solidify that believe. Observational data. In the strictest of definition he fit the parameters of an intelligent individual person. Anything outside of that could be considered prejudiced. He still sorted through it a part of him wanting to just wait for things to be proven out. So he simply nodded in response.
“I do not understand why people would . . dehumanize other individuals. Unless it is some sort of attempt to justify their actions.”
Bobbi shrugged, “That’s the reason. They want to justify their actions, and validate themselves. People with no talent cling to hate to justify their own mediocrity.” Her eyebrows twitched in annoyance, “I’ve met a lot of scientists who weren’t worthy of the name who clung to the fact that they were men to feel superior to me. There are people who buy into the idea that white people are superior because they themselves have nothing valuable to contribute to the world.”
She sighed, “If you dehumanise people, you can do anything you like to them.”
Kate took a deep breath before schooling her face. “I guess it’s probably better if she’s off world and not stuck in this mess. Better safe and happy than here with me—us, right?”
Kate shrugged, “Who knows if I can even still play well. Haven’t really played since high school and don’t even have one to get play. And out there at least I feel like I’m making a difference.”
Kate laughed at Bobbi’s choice of wording. “He does have good taste in women though. They always turn out to be some of the best kind-of-mentors a girl could want,” she said, smiling.
“In any case, I bet she misses you as much as you miss her. This whole situation is a literal nightmare world we have to figure out how to make a good life in.” She twirled up some more noodles, “Not to put too fine a point on it.”
“I’m honoured to be a kind-of-mentor, an honour nearly as high as that of a not-mentor,” she set down her cutlery and made a small bow over prayer hands.
She drank some of the broth with her noodles, and paused with an odd expression. “Hey, wanna feel something weird?” The baby was moving, she put a hand on her stomach to make it clear what she meant.
“I’ll try… My telepathy isn’t working how it should anyway” Which might make it easier to ignore Bobbi’s thoughts, or it might make it harder.
“No, I don’t- I don’t want anyone to know until- Until I know what I’m going to do…” And even then, she might make a decision that would be hard for her friends to accept. This might be something she’d have to do alone.
She accepted the glass of water Bobbi poured for her but didn’t take a drink, mind wondering slightly. “Whenever you’re ready…” Elizabeth said with a small sigh as she looked back to the other woman.
Bobbi gave a nod, she knew this must be agony. She had performed her own pregnancy tests in secret in order to keep things to herself for as long as possible.
She picked the clipboard back up, and nodded at the glass in Betsy’s hand. “The more you drink, the easier it will be for me to see what’s going on in there.” She stepped out to make the arrangements.
When she returned a few minutes later, she removed Betsy’s heart monitor. When she gained consciousness they had removed the IV drip, if she was conscious she could drink for herself. “Let’s go.”
Clint nodded and followed Bobbi as she guided them to their destination. “Sure thing. I know how to scrub up.” While he could and did often tolerate less than ideal situations he also knew the importance of being clean when it mattered. Body odors could give one away on a mission after all. Or poor hygiene could lead to illness which he liked to avoid.
“Hey I’m here for you guys. So however I can be of most use I’m in.” Watch out for his best friend and for the woman carrying his child. Either way he’d do whatever needed without complaint. Not in this kind of situation. Clint saved the complaining for less serious things.
@survivingwidow
Natasha offered a small smile to Clint. A final thank you for everything he had done for her. He was there for her at the beginning, and he was here now, at what could be the end. <There’s some water and protein bars in my bag… Incase she needs them> Nat signed to Clint, nodding at Bobbi as they followed her down the hallway.
“You’ll be there? After?.. When I wake up?” Natasha asked Clint, carefully using the word ‘when’, and not ‘if’ for both his and Bobbi’s sake.
They reached the part of the corridor that split into the anaesthetic room and the scrub room.
@themockingbirdsings
When they reached the point where they would momentarily part ways Bobbi said, “I trust Paul completely, but if you’d rather be on your own he won’t be offended.” She glanced at Paul with a wink.
She stepped into the scrub room to wash and change, the scrubs looking somewhat comical on her pregnant body, or at least she thought so. She scrubbed to the elbows, let them air dry, and stepped into the surgical suite when that process was mostly complete. “Ready when you are, Nat.” She smiled, not for a moment letting the expression waver.
It was a mistake for Bobbi to take for granted that the odds of going into labour in the two hour window she had estimated Natasha’s procedure would take were astronomical. Of course with those stakes, her waters broke just after she removed the disease-eaten organ. She took a deep breath as fluid seeped down her inner thigh, soaking into her scrubs.
With the absolute calm befitting somebody performing eye surgery, Bobbi placed the useless eye in a receptacle that Paul was offering, and asked evenly, “Can you have them prepare the OB suite and get someone to find Steve?”
“Doctor?” Nurse Paul queried as he set down the eyeball.
Bobbi glanced over at Clint, “Babe, keep your reaction to like five percent until we’re done here, but I’ve just gone into labour.” In another situation, his deer in the headlights look would have been comical.
Things moved quickly after Natasha was prepared for recovery. Bobbi has never been so grateful to be so attuned to her body, she had a sense of when her contractions were going to come and could stop any delicate work to ride out the fleeting, intermittent, but increasing pain. Natasha was given a private recovery room to ride out the anaesthetic. Bobbi wasn’t entirely sure where Logan had come from but she was glad he was willing to sit in with Natasha, since Clint was going to struggle between being there for her and for the birth of their baby.
Bobbi had thoroughly frustrated her own staff by the time she was actually deposited in the delivery suite, not to mention past halfway dilated. “You know I wasn’t going to sit down for this part anyway, so I might as well have been useful.” She snarked as Paul took his leave. The nurse gave a nod to the fathers and Ellie, the nurse who had helped Bobbi deliver babies before, and would now deliver Bobbi’s own child into her arms, said, “Good luck,” and left looking like he was worried that Bobbi would throw something at him.
Instead she reached for Steve’s hand and squeezed it for the most intense contraction yet. She was still upright but sweating heavily. She was awash with adrenalin and oxytocin, which meant she was totally unaffected by how tired she knew she should be after Natasha’s surgery. At some point someone had braided her hair and she had no recollection of that. She honestly didn’t remember removing the bun her hair had been in under her surgical garb.
She had wanted to do this at home. They tended to do that these days, saving the hospital for when there were signs of distress, but seemed pointless to leave when they were already here. What had seemed like a smart decision was now something that she found herself questioning every five or so minutes, when she wasn’t thinking about how terrible this whole process was. What if this was actually a catastrophically wrong decision? Or worse, what if she actually needed to be here because there was a complication with this unnecessarily difficult ordeal?
“I’m going to go back and time,” she panted, “and find the first human to stand up,” another pant, “and kick her in the face.” She was a biologist. She knew fundamentally that her pelvis was too small for this nonsense.
“Bobbi, when the next contraction comes it’s time to push,” Ellie replied, as if all her patients threatened Homo Erectus, from her position crouched on the ground. In the throes of labour Bobbi had decided that the correct position was upright, holding onto Clint and Steve. Gravity felt like as essential a birth partner as any of the three people in the room.
She finally utilised the bed when it was all over, and her daughter was placed into her arms. Before she had been vaguely aware of the rest of the world around her in a bizarre, delirious kind of way; now she had lost track of everything except for a very small pink creature that was her entire universe in that moment. Wrinkly and miraculous. Tears rolled down Bobbi’s cheeks as she felt the tiny heart beating against her skin, falling into rhythm with her own.
Steve’s arms tightened around her for a moment. “I’m sorry that all happened to you. But I’m glad that Tony offered you a place. He’s a good guy that way.” Bobbi deserved whatever she needed to make this new place her home. He intended to make sure she got it. Nothing and no one would be able to take that away from her.
He didn’t interfere with her perusal of his sketchbook. Mostly images of her throughout her pregnancy. “Just practice sketches really. It’s been awhile since I’ve seriously done any art. Guess I finally had a good reason to pick it back up again.” There wasn’t time during the war and after . . Well that kept being one big adjustment after another. Always the next fight.
“Tony can be a real ass, but no one could accuse him of a lack of generosity,” she agreed. If anything, he had been known for a tendency towards throwing money at any problem he couldn’t blow up.
“You know, I got to see some of your old sketches a long time ago, before you were recovered. Dr Erskine had a few loose pages in amongst his notes, they found their way into the old SSR files with everything he had on your serum.” She turned another page, after feeling consistently unattractive over the past few months as her body changed, the different perspective felt incredible to her. “These are beautiful.”
“You can’t blame me for being a little protective.” Clint had a very good reason for wanting to err on the side of caution when it came to Bobbi. They both knew it. Of course not something he wanted to dwell on too much. “Besides you are doing all the real hard work. Least I can do is move a few things for you.”
In a sense it made him feel like a part of things. That this was his home too. Sometimes he felt a bit like an interloper. A weird combination of needing to be here but also like he was invading this family Steve and Bobbi were building. “But hey if I’m cramping your style just let me know.”
Clint kept up the steady soothing massage on Bobbi’s feet. Regardless of anything else, she needed to be looked out for.
“No, I can’t blame you for that.” Every time she had awoken too hot she had felt a rush of panic, there had been more than one chilly shower to make her feel safe again, cool and dry and reaffirmed in her impregnated status.
It was the sort of thing she hadn’t felt able to vocalise, because the words seemed like they would cause another calamity, or some new horror. Bobbi was far from prone to superstition, but it was still something she hadn’t been able to shake.
“To be honest, I’ve been more worried that you aren’t leaving yourself open to possibilities because of all this. You aren’t going to be pushed out of the nest if you try dating, you know?” She wondered how aware he was of what she suspected were unresolved feelings on the parts of both Jess and Natasha. She didn’t imagine either of them would take issue with the current arrangement. She wanted to let him know that he was free to do as he pleased.
