Chaos Theory in Vortex Orbits in Relative Dimensions in Time and Space (5/27)
Title - Chaos Theory in Vortex Orbits in Relative Dimensions in Time and Space (5/27)
Author --
earlgreytea68
Rating - Teen
Characters -- Ten, Rose, Jackie, OC
Spoilers: Through the end of S2.
Disclaimer: I don't own them and I don't make money off of them, but I don't like to dwell on that, so let's move on.
Summary - And then there came a day when Rose said she was having a baby. Hijinks ensue from there.
Author’s Notes - In which a CGB is born.
The icon was created by
punkinart , commissioned by
aibhinn , who graciously offered it to me for my use.
jlrpuck is absolutely, positively NOT a super-secret spy. But she is an extraordinary beta. Also thanks to Kristin-who-won't-get-an-LJ, who brainstormed this fic with me endlessly, and
bouncy_castle79 , who gave it the first major outside-eyes read-through.
Ch.1 - Ch. 2 - Ch. 3 - Ch. 4
Chapter Five
She spent the first six months barely pregnant. But by the time she hit the nine month point, she looked like a woman who was nine months pregnant. She was enormous, looked ready to give birth at any time…except the Doctor said there was at least another three months ahead of her. He was monitoring the status of the CGB’s development, and said the lungs were nowhere near fully formed, and the skull was still not complete, but he was able to say, proudly, “It’s a boy.” Which at least limited somewhat the universe of names they could fight over.
“Jack,” she suggested, from the captain’s chair, where she barely fit anymore.
He shook his head before disappearing under the console. “Nothing so human, Rose. I told you.”
She sighed. “I’m not giving him a title. I’m not going around calling my own baby the Taxi Driver or something.”
“Be serious, Rose.”
“What about Jefferson? Or Jamie?” She flipped through her baby name book, frowning in concentration.
“No and no,” he pronounced.
“What about…Richard?”
The Doctor emerged and frowned at the book in her hand. “What’s that you’re reading?”
She held it up so he could see the cover.
“Ten Thousand and One Names for Baby?” he read, horrified. “Good Lord, no. Where’d you get that?”
“The library.”
“The library here? On the TARDIS?” His voice was an indignant squeak. He glared at the central console, thinking traitorous thoughts. “Rose, we can’t give him a name like Richard.” He walked over to her, leaned down and spoke directly to her stomach. “What do you think, CGB? Do you like the name Richard?” He cocked his head, as if listening. “Oh, our special Time Lord connection tells me he hates the name Richard.” She smiled at him as he planted a kiss on the enormous swell of her abdomen. Then he winked at her and disappeared back under the console.
The next day, he thrust a book on advanced physics into her hands.
“What’s this?” she asked, staring at it.
“Baby names. I’m not going to pretend that we’ll call him something Gallifreyan, so let’s compromise.”
She lifted her stare to him. “By calling him what? Electron?”
“Well. Something better than that, I’d hope. See what you can come up with.”
Rose continued to stare at him. “What?”
“Well, you wanted to pick his name out of a book! There you are!”
She rolled her eyes.
But the truth was she was hardly able to move anymore, and if he was only going to give her a physics book she was stuck with it. She tried to move, but it was awkward; she could do nothing more than waddle, and that very slowly. He’d stopped letting her off the TARDIS for fear they’d encounter something that would require running and she wouldn’t be able to get away quickly enough. And, inside the TARDIS, she could barely move. The baby was heavy, and she was increasingly exhausted and uncomfortable. The discomfort added to the exhaustion. She could seldom find a position that allowed her to sleep for more than snatches. Which the Doctor knew was bad for any human but especially bad for one who was trying to carry an extremely complex baby to term. He managed to track down an alien sleeping draught that he assured her would bring no harm to the CGB, which made things a bit easier on her.
He thought part of the reason for Looming was because a Gallifreyan baby was so complicated to make the normal, biological way. But he thought most of the reason for Looming was because having a baby the normal, biological way was, well, emotional. He could think of no other word for it. But it was astonishing how much he loved the baby. Every time he listened to its double heartbeat, he fell more in love with it. He had never imagined he could love anything so much. Looming was impersonal and effortless; it happened and you barely noticed. But this-this struggle for life-it changed you, undeniably, in a million different ways.
And, despite how strongly he felt for the CGB-the only other Gallifreyan in existence-he knew it was nothing compared to how Rose felt for the baby inside of her. Just how little she complained evidenced that. In any other circumstances she’d be a wee bit upset at being basically confined to bed, but this she bore with something like cheerfulness. And, to be honest, he found he rather liked it, drifting through the Vortex with her, while he read aloud to the baby from the classics: The Cat in the Hat and Green Eggs and Ham. “Brilliant man,” he told Rose, when she expressed surprise that those were the books he’d chosen when she’d asked him to read to them.
“I thought you’d read, well, Gallifreyan.”
“Rose, he’s a little baby. He wants to hear about Sam-I-Am.”
“And yet you want me to name him after string theory?”
The Doctor cleared his throat and read, firmly, “I am Sam.”
By the time she had hit the ten-month point, he was secretly worried but trying not to show it. The baby was growing stronger by leaps and bounds, but he was sapping Rose’s strength. He monitored her blood pressure fearfully, grew concerned as she began napping more and more often, as the CGB began to claim as his own more and more of her nutrients.
He finally suggested, “Would you like to go home?”
“What’s that?” she asked in surprise.
“I think we’re getting close. I thought you might want your mother near.” He was also worried Rose would not be in tip-top shape after the baby was born, and he was doubtful of his ability to take care of both of them on his own.
“We’re getting close?” Rose’s eyes were wide, as she laid her hands over her enormous stomach. “Did you hear that, CGB? Your dad says it’s almost time for you to come out of there.”
“Yes, but let’s not rush it now, he could use a few more weeks.” Nevertheless he moved them out of the Vortex and into Jackie’s parlour. The prospect, however, of walking as far as she would need to in order to get out of the TARDIS and into her Earth bed was daunting, and she finally sent the Doctor out to her waiting mother.
“Well?” Jackie demanded. “Where is she? Is there a baby?”
“There is one, just not breathing on his own yet,” said the Doctor.
“And where’s Rose?”
“She’s a bit…bed-ridden.” The Doctor shifted uncomfortably. “She sent me out here to ask if you could move onto the TARDIS until the baby’s born.”
Yes, mothers loved their children an unreasonable amount, he thought, because Jackie said, “Of course,” and marched past him to see Rose, and then exclaimed, “My God, you’re enormous. How many babies are you having?”
“The Doctor says just one,” Rose said, with a tired smile.
The Doctor was trying to get them through the homestretch, and he was actually relieved to have Jackie around. She was helpful. She was alarmed when he set up an IV, dripping some special alien mixture into Rose to keep up her energy--but she also bit her tongue and didn’t bother him as he explained the situation to Rose.
Rose, however, was quickly being drained of energy. He was now concerned she’d not be able to make it through a labour, was examining the mound of her stomach and trying to figure out if he thought he could safely perform a C-section.
“When can we have the baby?” she asked, wearily.
He looked at her in surprise, not having realized she was awake. “I was just trying to figure that out. I don’t know how much longer I want you to carry him,” he admitted.
“Won’t he jus’ come out when he’s ready?” asked Jackie, surprised.
“When he’s ready, Rose might not be,” said the Doctor, trying not to sound grim about it.
“But I think he’s ready,” moaned Rose.
The Doctor was momentarily amused. “I’m sure you do.”
“No, Doctor, I think he’s…”
Jackie caught on. “Are you having contractions?”
“No. I don’t think so. The baby’s just…turning somersaults or something.”
Oh, how stupid of him, he thought. The baby probably was ready to get out. But Rose’s body, confused by a longer-than-usual pregnancy, wasn’t helping him, and he hadn’t any idea what to do.
He laughed in delight, ignoring Jackie’s glare. “Oh, Rose, you know what?”
“What?” she asked.
“We’re having a baby.” His grin widened. “Now.”
“Now?” repeated Rose.
“Now. Hang on.” He dashed out of the room. Long ago, the TARDIS had connected the infirmary directly to their bedroom, preparing for precisely this event. He returned a second later, arms piled high with a variety of medical devices, a few vials, a book, and a sheet.
He handed the sheet to a gobsmacked Jackie and pushed her into place, adjusting her hold on it so it blocked Rose’s view of her belly. “Hold it just like that, so Rose can’t see.”
“What are you doing?” demanded Jackie.
“C-section,” he said, briskly, brushing an alien liquid over Rose’s stomach.
“C-section?” shrieked Jackie.
“Got to. Time for the baby to come out, but Rose’s body is confused about it. This CGB. Her body’s got no idea what to do here. So we’re going to help it along. Can you feel this?” The Doctor poked hard at Rose’s belly.
“No,” said Rose.
“Excellent,” said the Doctor, pleased, donning his specs, opening the book to a diagram of the human female anatomy, and studying it.
Jackie gaped at him. “You need a book to do this?”
The Doctor looked up at her. “Would you rather I did it without the book?”
Jackie blinked, then looked at Rose. “Let me take you to a hospital.”
“I’m having a baby with two hearts, Mum-”
“Rose-”
“No.” Rose’s voice was flat and firm. “Trust him. Doctor, get the baby out.”
The Doctor had already made the incision while they’d been arguing. “Working on it.”
Jackie looked over, uttered a meep of surprise at the sight of her daughter’s blood, and almost dropped the sheet.
“Jackie,” he said, warningly, glancing up at her over his glasses. “Keep it steady.” He reached out, switched on one of his devices. The room was suddenly flooded with beeps.
“What’s that, then?” asked Jackie.
“Heartbeats,” he answered, tersely. “The baby’s and Rose’s. So far, perfect.”
Rose laid back on their bed and stared up at the familiar ceiling of the TARDIS. She couldn’t feel anything that the Doctor was doing, and it was a strange experience. Not at all how she’d envisioned giving birth to be.
It was a bit boring, really.
She sighed and tried not to fidget. “How are we doing?” she asked.
“Almost there,” he said.
She looked at her mother, who was staring at whatever he was doing with a mixture of horror and fascination.
“Okay, Jackie, in a second I’m going to need you to cut the umbilical cord and then take the baby to clean him up,” said the Doctor, very matter-of-factly. “You’re going to need to drop the sheet to do it. Rose, I want you to close your eyes, do you understand me?”
“I want to see-”
“You’ll close your eyes,” he said, looking at her over the top of the sheet.
She frowned, but snapped, “Fine. Yes.”
After a second, her mother gasped.
Rose struggled to sit up in alarm. “What? What’s wrong?”
“Oh, Rose,” she breathed. “He’s beautiful.”
She scrambled a bit.
“Stay still,” snapped the Doctor.
“I want to see him. Why isn’t he crying?”
“Give him a second to catch his breath. He’s a bit, well, frantic at the moment.” The baby let out a loud wail on cue. “Ah. There you go. Jackie, the scissors are just there.”
“Can I see him?” begged Rose.
“In a second,” said the Doctor. “Your mother’s going to clean him, and I’ve got to clean you.”
“I’m fine. I want to see him.” She glared at her mother, who scurried away, cooing to the small, screaming baby that was apparently her son. Since when did she obey the Doctor?
“You don’t have your eyes closed,” said the Doctor, running some instrument that sounded like the sonic screwdriver.
“Are you sonic screwdrivering my abdomen closed?” she demanded.
“Easier than stitches, Rose,” he assured her, then stepped back, looking pleased with himself. “Well?” he said, clearly hoping for praise. “Not bad, huh? Really nothing to it. We should have another.”
She sighed and rolled her eyes, leaning her head back and listening to the baby scream in the other room. And then, abruptly, she smiled. “That’s our son,” she said, amazed.
He smiled back at her, leaned over her on the bed. “You,” he said, and his grin widened, “did a beautiful job.”
“As good a job as you?”
“Better,” he said. “And we both know I never say that.” He leaned down and kissed her.
She pushed him away after a second. “He’s okay, though? He’s not…hurt, or anything?”
“He’s perfect.”
“Can’t you…let him know it’s okay? To stop him crying?”
“I could. But he wants you.”
“Does he?”
“He’s missing your heartbeat. Can you think how abrupt it must be to suddenly be without your mother’s heartbeat? You get used to it, of course. But those first moments without it? They must be terrifying.”
Rose’s eyes widened. Did he think that was making her feel better? “Mum?” she called. “Let me see the baby.”
“He’ll be fine, Rose.”
“You just told me he’s terrified.”
“Oh, wellllll, I just meant-”
But he didn’t finish what he meant, because Jackie came back with the baby, wrapped in one of the blue blankets that the TARDIS kept supplying. “He’s strong,” she remarked, as she walked over. “I think he’s already got quite the left hook.”
Rose winced a bit as she sat up-the numbness, whatever the Doctor had used, must be wearing off-but she reached for the baby eagerly. He was a large baby for a newborn, but still ridiculously small. His skin was red with the exertion of his energetic sobs, and the features of his tiny face were scrunched up with his displeasure. She took him and snuggled him against her in delight, and, as she rested him against her heart, the baby quieted, his cries subsiding. His face relaxed into features, a pursed, thoughtful mouth, and a button of a nose, and a pair of wide eyes that gazed up at her and were…dark.
“He doesn’t have blue eyes,” she said, in surprise.
“Well, why should he?” asked the Doctor. “Neither one of us does. Currently,” he added, as an afterthought.
“Yeah, but…most babies have blue eyes.” Her baby’s eyes were a very, very deep brown. They were his father’s eyes, no doubt about it. And they already looked like he knew more than she did.
“Most human babies,” he said, impatiently. “He isn’t human. He’s a CGB, remember?”
“What are you going to call him?” asked Jackie. “You can’t go on calling him that.”
“We’re going to call him Brem,” said Rose, looking down at her baby adoringly.
Jackie wrinkled her nose. “Brem? That some sort of alien name?”
“No, we’re not calling him Brem,” corrected the Doctor. “His name is Bremsstrahlung. And it’s English. It’s a type of electro-magnetic radiation.”
“You’re naming my grandson after radiation?” Jackie demanded.
“Bremsstrahlung Jack Tyler,” said Rose. She’d fought for the Jack, and she’d finally won. “But we’re calling him Brem.”
“Bremsstrahlung,” said the Doctor.
Rose ran her hand over the baby’s hair. It was dark brown, thick, and already so long it could do with a trim. She looked at the Doctor, nose wrinkling with delight. “You’re going to need to share your gel.”
“Cheeky,” he said, but he kissed her temple as he perched on the bed next to her, looking more content than Jackie had ever seen him. The two of them looked so caught up in each other-in what was very clearly their family now-that she didn’t even bother to tell them she was leaving before she slipped out of the room.
“He looks just like you,” said Rose. “You may as well have cloned yourself.”
“Welllll, he has your…You’re right. He looks just like me.”
The Doctor had leaned over to study the baby’s features. Brem caught sight of him and shifted his attention to him. Father and son regarded each other with the same curious expression, as if they didn’t quite know how to comprehend the situation in which they suddenly found themselves. Rose wondered how much Time Lord communication was going on under the surface.
The Doctor reached out, finally, tentatively, and traced a finger over the baby’s small hand. Brem latched onto the finger firmly. The Doctor looked astonished, the way he had looked when they had stood directly below the black hole on the impossible planet. Rose thought she might cry for him.
“D’you want to hold him?”
He shook his head. “No. He’s hungry. See?” Brem squirmed against her breast, sensing that food lay there. “Feed him.”
“Can I? Seeing as he’s a CGB?”
“It won’t bother him. We’ll have to supplement his diet, but it won’t cause him any trouble.”
Rose shifted, unbuttoning her shirt and pushing aside her bra to give Brem access. He got the hang of it quickly, suckling energetically.
“A ton of energy, this son of yours,” she said, once again brushing at the baby’s impossibly profuse hair.
“He’s yours, too, you know. Look.” The Doctor picked up the pendant from her neck, showed it to her.
It was bright yellow.
She looked up from the nursing baby to the Doctor. “Are you happy?”
“I am. But that’s not me. That’s him.”
She looked back down at Brem, still suckling and still regarding his parents, fighting the droop to his eyelids now. “He’s that happy?”
“Of course he is. He’s the most beloved little boy in the universe.”
It was the first time he’d ever said anything about loving anything, and her heart stopped for a second, as he leaned over and placed the most delicate kiss on the top of Brem’s head.
She swallowed, trying to get her emotions in check and not turn into a blubbering idiot. “D’you hear that, Brem?” she asked. “You’re the most special little boy in the universe. In several universes. What do you think about that?”
“Do you know what you call the mother of the most special little boy in several universes?”
“What?”
“The most amazing creature in creation,” he said.
Next Chapter
Author --
earlgreytea68
Rating - Teen
Characters -- Ten, Rose, Jackie, OC
Spoilers: Through the end of S2.
Disclaimer: I don't own them and I don't make money off of them, but I don't like to dwell on that, so let's move on.
Summary - And then there came a day when Rose said she was having a baby. Hijinks ensue from there.
Author’s Notes - In which a CGB is born.
The icon was created by
punkinart , commissioned by
aibhinn , who graciously offered it to me for my use.
jlrpuck is absolutely, positively NOT a super-secret spy. But she is an extraordinary beta. Also thanks to Kristin-who-won't-get-an-LJ, who brainstormed this fic with me endlessly, and
bouncy_castle79 , who gave it the first major outside-eyes read-through.
Ch.1 - Ch. 2 - Ch. 3 - Ch. 4
Chapter Five
She spent the first six months barely pregnant. But by the time she hit the nine month point, she looked like a woman who was nine months pregnant. She was enormous, looked ready to give birth at any time…except the Doctor said there was at least another three months ahead of her. He was monitoring the status of the CGB’s development, and said the lungs were nowhere near fully formed, and the skull was still not complete, but he was able to say, proudly, “It’s a boy.” Which at least limited somewhat the universe of names they could fight over.
“Jack,” she suggested, from the captain’s chair, where she barely fit anymore.
He shook his head before disappearing under the console. “Nothing so human, Rose. I told you.”
She sighed. “I’m not giving him a title. I’m not going around calling my own baby the Taxi Driver or something.”
“Be serious, Rose.”
“What about Jefferson? Or Jamie?” She flipped through her baby name book, frowning in concentration.
“No and no,” he pronounced.
“What about…Richard?”
The Doctor emerged and frowned at the book in her hand. “What’s that you’re reading?”
She held it up so he could see the cover.
“Ten Thousand and One Names for Baby?” he read, horrified. “Good Lord, no. Where’d you get that?”
“The library.”
“The library here? On the TARDIS?” His voice was an indignant squeak. He glared at the central console, thinking traitorous thoughts. “Rose, we can’t give him a name like Richard.” He walked over to her, leaned down and spoke directly to her stomach. “What do you think, CGB? Do you like the name Richard?” He cocked his head, as if listening. “Oh, our special Time Lord connection tells me he hates the name Richard.” She smiled at him as he planted a kiss on the enormous swell of her abdomen. Then he winked at her and disappeared back under the console.
The next day, he thrust a book on advanced physics into her hands.
“What’s this?” she asked, staring at it.
“Baby names. I’m not going to pretend that we’ll call him something Gallifreyan, so let’s compromise.”
She lifted her stare to him. “By calling him what? Electron?”
“Well. Something better than that, I’d hope. See what you can come up with.”
Rose continued to stare at him. “What?”
“Well, you wanted to pick his name out of a book! There you are!”
She rolled her eyes.
But the truth was she was hardly able to move anymore, and if he was only going to give her a physics book she was stuck with it. She tried to move, but it was awkward; she could do nothing more than waddle, and that very slowly. He’d stopped letting her off the TARDIS for fear they’d encounter something that would require running and she wouldn’t be able to get away quickly enough. And, inside the TARDIS, she could barely move. The baby was heavy, and she was increasingly exhausted and uncomfortable. The discomfort added to the exhaustion. She could seldom find a position that allowed her to sleep for more than snatches. Which the Doctor knew was bad for any human but especially bad for one who was trying to carry an extremely complex baby to term. He managed to track down an alien sleeping draught that he assured her would bring no harm to the CGB, which made things a bit easier on her.
He thought part of the reason for Looming was because a Gallifreyan baby was so complicated to make the normal, biological way. But he thought most of the reason for Looming was because having a baby the normal, biological way was, well, emotional. He could think of no other word for it. But it was astonishing how much he loved the baby. Every time he listened to its double heartbeat, he fell more in love with it. He had never imagined he could love anything so much. Looming was impersonal and effortless; it happened and you barely noticed. But this-this struggle for life-it changed you, undeniably, in a million different ways.
And, despite how strongly he felt for the CGB-the only other Gallifreyan in existence-he knew it was nothing compared to how Rose felt for the baby inside of her. Just how little she complained evidenced that. In any other circumstances she’d be a wee bit upset at being basically confined to bed, but this she bore with something like cheerfulness. And, to be honest, he found he rather liked it, drifting through the Vortex with her, while he read aloud to the baby from the classics: The Cat in the Hat and Green Eggs and Ham. “Brilliant man,” he told Rose, when she expressed surprise that those were the books he’d chosen when she’d asked him to read to them.
“I thought you’d read, well, Gallifreyan.”
“Rose, he’s a little baby. He wants to hear about Sam-I-Am.”
“And yet you want me to name him after string theory?”
The Doctor cleared his throat and read, firmly, “I am Sam.”
By the time she had hit the ten-month point, he was secretly worried but trying not to show it. The baby was growing stronger by leaps and bounds, but he was sapping Rose’s strength. He monitored her blood pressure fearfully, grew concerned as she began napping more and more often, as the CGB began to claim as his own more and more of her nutrients.
He finally suggested, “Would you like to go home?”
“What’s that?” she asked in surprise.
“I think we’re getting close. I thought you might want your mother near.” He was also worried Rose would not be in tip-top shape after the baby was born, and he was doubtful of his ability to take care of both of them on his own.
“We’re getting close?” Rose’s eyes were wide, as she laid her hands over her enormous stomach. “Did you hear that, CGB? Your dad says it’s almost time for you to come out of there.”
“Yes, but let’s not rush it now, he could use a few more weeks.” Nevertheless he moved them out of the Vortex and into Jackie’s parlour. The prospect, however, of walking as far as she would need to in order to get out of the TARDIS and into her Earth bed was daunting, and she finally sent the Doctor out to her waiting mother.
“Well?” Jackie demanded. “Where is she? Is there a baby?”
“There is one, just not breathing on his own yet,” said the Doctor.
“And where’s Rose?”
“She’s a bit…bed-ridden.” The Doctor shifted uncomfortably. “She sent me out here to ask if you could move onto the TARDIS until the baby’s born.”
Yes, mothers loved their children an unreasonable amount, he thought, because Jackie said, “Of course,” and marched past him to see Rose, and then exclaimed, “My God, you’re enormous. How many babies are you having?”
“The Doctor says just one,” Rose said, with a tired smile.
The Doctor was trying to get them through the homestretch, and he was actually relieved to have Jackie around. She was helpful. She was alarmed when he set up an IV, dripping some special alien mixture into Rose to keep up her energy--but she also bit her tongue and didn’t bother him as he explained the situation to Rose.
Rose, however, was quickly being drained of energy. He was now concerned she’d not be able to make it through a labour, was examining the mound of her stomach and trying to figure out if he thought he could safely perform a C-section.
“When can we have the baby?” she asked, wearily.
He looked at her in surprise, not having realized she was awake. “I was just trying to figure that out. I don’t know how much longer I want you to carry him,” he admitted.
“Won’t he jus’ come out when he’s ready?” asked Jackie, surprised.
“When he’s ready, Rose might not be,” said the Doctor, trying not to sound grim about it.
“But I think he’s ready,” moaned Rose.
The Doctor was momentarily amused. “I’m sure you do.”
“No, Doctor, I think he’s…”
Jackie caught on. “Are you having contractions?”
“No. I don’t think so. The baby’s just…turning somersaults or something.”
Oh, how stupid of him, he thought. The baby probably was ready to get out. But Rose’s body, confused by a longer-than-usual pregnancy, wasn’t helping him, and he hadn’t any idea what to do.
He laughed in delight, ignoring Jackie’s glare. “Oh, Rose, you know what?”
“What?” she asked.
“We’re having a baby.” His grin widened. “Now.”
“Now?” repeated Rose.
“Now. Hang on.” He dashed out of the room. Long ago, the TARDIS had connected the infirmary directly to their bedroom, preparing for precisely this event. He returned a second later, arms piled high with a variety of medical devices, a few vials, a book, and a sheet.
He handed the sheet to a gobsmacked Jackie and pushed her into place, adjusting her hold on it so it blocked Rose’s view of her belly. “Hold it just like that, so Rose can’t see.”
“What are you doing?” demanded Jackie.
“C-section,” he said, briskly, brushing an alien liquid over Rose’s stomach.
“C-section?” shrieked Jackie.
“Got to. Time for the baby to come out, but Rose’s body is confused about it. This CGB. Her body’s got no idea what to do here. So we’re going to help it along. Can you feel this?” The Doctor poked hard at Rose’s belly.
“No,” said Rose.
“Excellent,” said the Doctor, pleased, donning his specs, opening the book to a diagram of the human female anatomy, and studying it.
Jackie gaped at him. “You need a book to do this?”
The Doctor looked up at her. “Would you rather I did it without the book?”
Jackie blinked, then looked at Rose. “Let me take you to a hospital.”
“I’m having a baby with two hearts, Mum-”
“Rose-”
“No.” Rose’s voice was flat and firm. “Trust him. Doctor, get the baby out.”
The Doctor had already made the incision while they’d been arguing. “Working on it.”
Jackie looked over, uttered a meep of surprise at the sight of her daughter’s blood, and almost dropped the sheet.
“Jackie,” he said, warningly, glancing up at her over his glasses. “Keep it steady.” He reached out, switched on one of his devices. The room was suddenly flooded with beeps.
“What’s that, then?” asked Jackie.
“Heartbeats,” he answered, tersely. “The baby’s and Rose’s. So far, perfect.”
Rose laid back on their bed and stared up at the familiar ceiling of the TARDIS. She couldn’t feel anything that the Doctor was doing, and it was a strange experience. Not at all how she’d envisioned giving birth to be.
It was a bit boring, really.
She sighed and tried not to fidget. “How are we doing?” she asked.
“Almost there,” he said.
She looked at her mother, who was staring at whatever he was doing with a mixture of horror and fascination.
“Okay, Jackie, in a second I’m going to need you to cut the umbilical cord and then take the baby to clean him up,” said the Doctor, very matter-of-factly. “You’re going to need to drop the sheet to do it. Rose, I want you to close your eyes, do you understand me?”
“I want to see-”
“You’ll close your eyes,” he said, looking at her over the top of the sheet.
She frowned, but snapped, “Fine. Yes.”
After a second, her mother gasped.
Rose struggled to sit up in alarm. “What? What’s wrong?”
“Oh, Rose,” she breathed. “He’s beautiful.”
She scrambled a bit.
“Stay still,” snapped the Doctor.
“I want to see him. Why isn’t he crying?”
“Give him a second to catch his breath. He’s a bit, well, frantic at the moment.” The baby let out a loud wail on cue. “Ah. There you go. Jackie, the scissors are just there.”
“Can I see him?” begged Rose.
“In a second,” said the Doctor. “Your mother’s going to clean him, and I’ve got to clean you.”
“I’m fine. I want to see him.” She glared at her mother, who scurried away, cooing to the small, screaming baby that was apparently her son. Since when did she obey the Doctor?
“You don’t have your eyes closed,” said the Doctor, running some instrument that sounded like the sonic screwdriver.
“Are you sonic screwdrivering my abdomen closed?” she demanded.
“Easier than stitches, Rose,” he assured her, then stepped back, looking pleased with himself. “Well?” he said, clearly hoping for praise. “Not bad, huh? Really nothing to it. We should have another.”
She sighed and rolled her eyes, leaning her head back and listening to the baby scream in the other room. And then, abruptly, she smiled. “That’s our son,” she said, amazed.
He smiled back at her, leaned over her on the bed. “You,” he said, and his grin widened, “did a beautiful job.”
“As good a job as you?”
“Better,” he said. “And we both know I never say that.” He leaned down and kissed her.
She pushed him away after a second. “He’s okay, though? He’s not…hurt, or anything?”
“He’s perfect.”
“Can’t you…let him know it’s okay? To stop him crying?”
“I could. But he wants you.”
“Does he?”
“He’s missing your heartbeat. Can you think how abrupt it must be to suddenly be without your mother’s heartbeat? You get used to it, of course. But those first moments without it? They must be terrifying.”
Rose’s eyes widened. Did he think that was making her feel better? “Mum?” she called. “Let me see the baby.”
“He’ll be fine, Rose.”
“You just told me he’s terrified.”
“Oh, wellllll, I just meant-”
But he didn’t finish what he meant, because Jackie came back with the baby, wrapped in one of the blue blankets that the TARDIS kept supplying. “He’s strong,” she remarked, as she walked over. “I think he’s already got quite the left hook.”
Rose winced a bit as she sat up-the numbness, whatever the Doctor had used, must be wearing off-but she reached for the baby eagerly. He was a large baby for a newborn, but still ridiculously small. His skin was red with the exertion of his energetic sobs, and the features of his tiny face were scrunched up with his displeasure. She took him and snuggled him against her in delight, and, as she rested him against her heart, the baby quieted, his cries subsiding. His face relaxed into features, a pursed, thoughtful mouth, and a button of a nose, and a pair of wide eyes that gazed up at her and were…dark.
“He doesn’t have blue eyes,” she said, in surprise.
“Well, why should he?” asked the Doctor. “Neither one of us does. Currently,” he added, as an afterthought.
“Yeah, but…most babies have blue eyes.” Her baby’s eyes were a very, very deep brown. They were his father’s eyes, no doubt about it. And they already looked like he knew more than she did.
“Most human babies,” he said, impatiently. “He isn’t human. He’s a CGB, remember?”
“What are you going to call him?” asked Jackie. “You can’t go on calling him that.”
“We’re going to call him Brem,” said Rose, looking down at her baby adoringly.
Jackie wrinkled her nose. “Brem? That some sort of alien name?”
“No, we’re not calling him Brem,” corrected the Doctor. “His name is Bremsstrahlung. And it’s English. It’s a type of electro-magnetic radiation.”
“You’re naming my grandson after radiation?” Jackie demanded.
“Bremsstrahlung Jack Tyler,” said Rose. She’d fought for the Jack, and she’d finally won. “But we’re calling him Brem.”
“Bremsstrahlung,” said the Doctor.
Rose ran her hand over the baby’s hair. It was dark brown, thick, and already so long it could do with a trim. She looked at the Doctor, nose wrinkling with delight. “You’re going to need to share your gel.”
“Cheeky,” he said, but he kissed her temple as he perched on the bed next to her, looking more content than Jackie had ever seen him. The two of them looked so caught up in each other-in what was very clearly their family now-that she didn’t even bother to tell them she was leaving before she slipped out of the room.
“He looks just like you,” said Rose. “You may as well have cloned yourself.”
“Welllll, he has your…You’re right. He looks just like me.”
The Doctor had leaned over to study the baby’s features. Brem caught sight of him and shifted his attention to him. Father and son regarded each other with the same curious expression, as if they didn’t quite know how to comprehend the situation in which they suddenly found themselves. Rose wondered how much Time Lord communication was going on under the surface.
The Doctor reached out, finally, tentatively, and traced a finger over the baby’s small hand. Brem latched onto the finger firmly. The Doctor looked astonished, the way he had looked when they had stood directly below the black hole on the impossible planet. Rose thought she might cry for him.
“D’you want to hold him?”
He shook his head. “No. He’s hungry. See?” Brem squirmed against her breast, sensing that food lay there. “Feed him.”
“Can I? Seeing as he’s a CGB?”
“It won’t bother him. We’ll have to supplement his diet, but it won’t cause him any trouble.”
Rose shifted, unbuttoning her shirt and pushing aside her bra to give Brem access. He got the hang of it quickly, suckling energetically.
“A ton of energy, this son of yours,” she said, once again brushing at the baby’s impossibly profuse hair.
“He’s yours, too, you know. Look.” The Doctor picked up the pendant from her neck, showed it to her.
It was bright yellow.
She looked up from the nursing baby to the Doctor. “Are you happy?”
“I am. But that’s not me. That’s him.”
She looked back down at Brem, still suckling and still regarding his parents, fighting the droop to his eyelids now. “He’s that happy?”
“Of course he is. He’s the most beloved little boy in the universe.”
It was the first time he’d ever said anything about loving anything, and her heart stopped for a second, as he leaned over and placed the most delicate kiss on the top of Brem’s head.
She swallowed, trying to get her emotions in check and not turn into a blubbering idiot. “D’you hear that, Brem?” she asked. “You’re the most special little boy in the universe. In several universes. What do you think about that?”
“Do you know what you call the mother of the most special little boy in several universes?”
“What?”
“The most amazing creature in creation,” he said.
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