Je Suis Prest || Outlander

Chapter 21

"Fergus!" I groaned from the bed. The house was still dark. Where the Hell did he go? I reached for the bedside table, and pulled myself from the bed. "Fergus, where are ye?"

"Marsali? My love, what are you doing?" I let out a primal scream, letting him know exactly what I was doing. My waters had broken, two weeks earlier than expected, and now I was in labor. "Shh, shh I'm here. Tell me what to do."

"Ahhhh," I let out a sharp, long exhale. "Get the midwife, ye bleedin' eejit."

"Oui, oui. I will be back, stay in bed," he said, throwing the comforter over me.

"Where do ye think I'd be going in this state?" I angrily tossed the blanket back at him. I had no experience in the matter, but my body told me this baby was going to come fast. My body broke out into a sweat as I felt the pain of another contraction coming on. Fergus kissed my forehead and ran from the house.

What seemed like hours later, but could have only been moments, Fergus returned with the midwife who had agreed to see me through the birth. She whispered calming words and began to prepare for what I already suspected—the baby was coming, and coming soon. She urged Fergus to leave her to her work, but he refused to part from my side. With each wave of pain, I gripped his hand so tight I thought I might break it.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," I panted, seeing him grimace in pain.

"It's okay, ma cherie, you are doing so well. I only hurt to see you in pain." 

"It is almost time, dearie. Deep breaths," the midwife cooed. Deep breaths were easier said than done. I screamed again, causing Fergus to jump backwards nearly out of his seat. His eyes widened in fear as the midwife began instructing me through the birth. "I can see baby's head, you're nearly done, my girl! One more push." I looked at Fergus, and it gave me the strength I needed.

Baby Germain was born in the wee hours of a winter morning. He wailed with mighty lungs, and flexed his beautifully formed arms and legs. All ten fingers, and all ten toes, Fergus confirmed. He had a swirl of dark hair, just like his father, bright blue eyes, round and watchful, and a little upturned nose that had the same aristocratic look of his father's. I could see the little boy he would become, resembling so much my imaginings of Fergus as a young lad.

"You are beautiful, my love," Fergus whispered, smoothing my sweaty hair back from my forehead. "You have never been more beautiful."

"Yer such a liar, Fergus Fraser," although it did a world of comfort to hear him say that. I had worried all through the pregnancy that he would not think me beautiful, but he celebrated every inch my stomach grew, and every change my strange new body endured. Fergus stroked Germain's soft pink cheek. "He looks like ye."

"Aye. I wish he had looked like you."

"Maybe the next one will," I mused. Fergus grinned and kissed us both on the forehead. He hummed a song as he took Germain from my chest and rocked him by the window, allowing me to finally rest. Dawn was breaking before he came to our bed, and there we fell asleep with our son tucked safely in his father's arms.  

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