"A baby is God's opinion that life should go on." - Carl Sandburg (For <lj site="livejournal.com" us

[thepainted_lady]

Lydia was normally a very patient, serene sort of person. She didn't get frazzled easily, she dealt well with the foibles of her family and could soothe ruffled feathers and the more...volatile personalities that surrounded her with soft touches and gentle smiles. They depended on her for it, without knowing they did, she sometimes thought, and she played her role of steadier influence to the somewhat frenetic energy of the carnival as Joseph had before her without a murmur. It suited her, and let her bury any of her own turmoil away in soothing routines and find strength in familiarity to bolster an innate fragility she let very few see.

But for the moment, she was done, and for the last couple of weeks had been riding an edge she couldn't quite seem to balance upon. Everything hurt. She was as liable to burst into tears as smile. The first couple of months of her third trimester had been filled with a sense of well-being, for the most part, but while she could capture moments of that here and there, it seemed to have disappeared in a wave of impatience. Also, the frequent Braxton Hicks contractions and cramping had her sending for Sarah, the midwife, enough the past couple of weeks that the poor woman finally just had her trailer moved next to Lydia and Samuel's for the duration.

Of course, after that, Lydia managed to figure out what the fake ones felt like. What? She hadn't been pregnant in 16 years! Your mind made this part foggy, she was sure. Otherwise no one would go through it again and the human race would die out.

With a sigh, she sat back in the chair under the canopy and watched the family going about the day's work. She couldn't help. Couldn't really do anything. Couldn't do her act. Couldn't do chores--because she mostly did the gardening, and she couldn't get down on the ground and back up. She had been helping with dinner, still, but the last week Mrs. Comey had even shooed her away from that. Everyone was fussing, making a big deal, and while that was lovely in small doses, Lydia wasn't used to being, well, useless. But they all kept telling her to rest, so, even though she couldn't even sit comfortably, she was resting.

She'd been having vague cramping since she woke up, but since it had been coming and going for two weeks now, she just shifted and tried to ignore it. It didn't go away, though. In fact...they hadn't stopped all morning. Not too bad, not too close, but consistent. Reaching for her tea, she had to pause as one hit that made her catch her breath. None of them had done that again. It passed, and she started counting. At five minutes, another one hit, just as strong. She counted again. Five minutes, another.

There was a part of her that was almost afraid to move, to call out to any of the myriad family members passing by, either because she'd jinx it, or it would be another false alarm. When her water broke a half hour later, though, she couldn't stop the soft squeak of surprise. She needed to get up, needed to find someone, needed to call out and ask someone to get someone--Samuel, Sarah, someone.

Still looking down at her soaked skirts, she struggled to push out of the chair, then looked up in stunned surprise when a warm hand closed around her elbow to help her. Sylar was there with a wry smile on his lips, and she tried to hide the surprise that grew at the source of help.

"I heard you..." He trailed off, as if he didn't really want to accuse her of squeaking, or wasn't quite sure what to describe that sound as, but she nodded. "Is the baby coming?"

She nodded. "Would you get Samuel for me? And Sarah?"

"Yeah. Let's get you inside first."

She was glad of the help, not sure she could manage even the couple of steps back up into the trailer, especially as another contraction hit, and she bit her lip not to whimper. He waited patiently, then handed her up the steps and in the door.

"Thanks..."

His lips curved into something that was almost a smile, and he nodded, then moved off across the way. She made her way back to the bedroom, stripping it to put down the older sheets and blankets she'd set aside back on instead. That done, she moved back into the main room, determined to stay on her feet as long as she could. Moving helped a bit, plus she was too nervous to sit down, yet. She'd done this in a hospital with Amanda, drugged, and she couldn't help but remember Samuel's warnings about what his mother went through with his birth.

Nerves were only to be expected.

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[offering-hope.livejournal.com]

Samuel had seen Sylar coming.

For the last few weeks, his attention span had been spotty at best, his thoughts wandering away from more than one important conversation and shifting to Lydia and their unborn child. The family had gotten used to it, had even expected it maybe, and they had been patient with him, slipping into silence whenever they noticed his attention drifting and simply waiting for him to snap back to reality before continuing on with whatever it was they'd been talking about without missing a beat. Outsiders were a bit less forgiving initially, but he won them back with a candid smile and an apology, and eventually the conversation continued as if nothing had ever happened.

Regardless of how he managed to reel people back in when his mind wandered, however, it still did in spite of his best efforts, and they'd been drifting in Lydia's direction along with his eyes when he spotted him. He raised his eyebrows, glancing back at the carny who had cornered him to discuss getting new parts for one of the rides, and excused himself apologetically, moving to meet the former killer, half-expecting to have to diffuse one situation or another based solely on the way the other man was moving. To his surprise, he didn't have to wheel around to follow him, to talk him down as he passed. To his surprise, Sylar stopped for him.

Wetting his lips with his tongue, he hooked his thumbs in the belt loops of his jeans amicably and offered him a ghost of a smile. "Something the matter?"

"Lydia needs you," was all he said before moving away. It was all that really needed to be said, based on the look on his face and the fact that he went on to pick Sarah out of the swarm of people all going about their morning chores.

His stomach twisted, sudden nerves coiling there, and he took a deep breath to steady himself. It didn't particularly help, but it didn't matter, his feet carrying himself to his and Lydia's trailer of their own accord. He tried again when he reached it, half wishing he'd had time to find the Haitian man from the Company and feed him to Sylar before now, just in case, and breathed out a sigh as he let himself in.

He wasn't at all shocked to see Lydia hovering in the tiny living room, and as he closed the door behind him, he said, "You should be in bed."