Lewis laid on her bed in her room, her arm over her face, the lights off and the stereo playing softly. It was a mix tape of songs from the radio that Patch's little sister had sent to Heather. She felt like crap and her butt still hurt from dancing and walking around the summer-fest that Patch had found driving back. That was before last night, when she felt tough enough to go upstairs to the Fourth Floor and ended up getting body slammed onto the tile for her trouble.

In her defense, she did win when she'd kicked her opponent in the stomach with both feet hard enough to make him projectile vomit, then squirmed around in the mess to get him in a choke hold and choke him out.

It was Monday, and Lewis was still on sick leave. Her room-mates, on the other hand, had left at 4AM carrying all their gear. Heather had told Lewis not to wait up and waved as they went out the door.

A knock at the door made Lewis groan.

"Go. Away," Lewis called out.

The door opened, making Lewis sit up slightly, propping herself up on her elbows. She could have sworn the door was locked.

"I am tasked with bringing you lunch, Roberta Lewis, and thus bring you lunch I shall," A woman's voice said. Lewis frowned at the weird sing-song lilt in her voice.

"I'm not hungry," Lewis said, flopping back on her bed. "Go away," Lewis put her arm back over her eyes.

"My Aodan tasked me with ensuring that you eat," The voice said. "One such as you shall not bar me from completing tasks he has set."

"Who the hell is Aodan?" Lewis asked.

"You know him as Sergeant Anthony Stillwater, but he will always be my rosag, my little Aodan," The woman said.

"Crap," Lewis said. She moved her arm and looked up.

The woman was wearing pregnancy BDU's, the ones where the pants had the elastic front and the tops had no lower pockets and were designed to flare outward. Her belly stuck out almost accusingly, the food tray in her hands mostly eclipsed by her belly.

Lewis sat up to actually get a look at the other woman.

She was short, five foot at the most, petite looking, with a heart shaped face, wide expressive green eyes, and naturally curly red hair pulled back in bun. She was smiling, like she knew a secret about Lewis, as she looked down. Instead of sew-on nametags she was wearing her Class-A pin-on nametag, which read "Lane" on it.

"Weren't you at the mandatory fun day?" Lewis asked.

"Yes. I played with the children and amused them after I recovered those who were more lost than they knew," She said. She held out the tray and Lewis took it reflexively.

On the tray was a plate with fried chicken, mashed potatoes, green beans with bacon bits on them, and peaches. A can of cold root beer sat where the glass would normally go, and the silverware was wrapped in a napkin.

"May I sit?" The other woman asked.

"Sure," Lewis said. She hadn't realized how hungry she was until she smelled the food.

The other woman barely moved the bed as she sat down, then leaned back to rest on her elbows.

"The child is heavy and eager to be born. She is most active today," Lane said, sighing.

"Are you OK?" Lewis asked around a mouthful of mashed potatoes.

Lane smiled, revealing small teeth that made Lewis wonder if she just never grew adult teeth and got stuck with her baby teeth all her life.

"I am fine. This is my second child, I now know what to expect," She said. "The child is just active today."

"Mm-hmm," Lewis said around another mouth full of potatoes.

It was silent for a bit until Lane gave a hiss of pain, her hand moving to her belly. Lewis looked over and dropped her fork in shock.

She could see the baby moving. A slight bulge had shown up on the side of Lane's belly and as Lewis watched it slid a few inches then receded.

"I think she was standing on my spine or doing a handstand," Lane giggled. "She has been active today, and I keep cramping in response to her activities."

"Oh," Lewis shook her head, wondering if what she had seen was normal.

"Another week, and you will no longer be alone in this room," Lane said suddenly as Lewis was tearing into the chicken.

"Hmm?" Lewis looked over, chewing.

"Your leave ends next week, your light duty profile will not impeded you from performing duties out at Atlas. Aodan will most likely have you work with someone else on profile to do inventory of the munitions," Lane said softly. "I miss being out there," The last was said wistfully.

"Really?" Lewis set down the chicken bone. "Everyone says it's such a shithole, though."

Lane smiled at her, laying back and putting her hands on her belly. "It is. It is full of poisons and danger, but there is a fierce joy in belonging to those who dwell there. A short and brutal life full of fiery passion that very few now touch."

Lane's smile got wider. "In many ways, we experience, out there, just a touch of something that most of mankind has forgotten, and it makes me feel young."

Lewis frowned. Lane looked like she was sixteen and wearing her mother's stolen uniform.

Lane laughed. "I was born just before Aodan. We are the same age, he and I."

"Oh," Lewis said, frowning. If she was right, Patch was like twenty or something. Not very old at all.

"As his father, the War Patron Tiernan Stillwater is fond of saying, it is not the years, it's the miles," Lane smiled, her eyes sparkling in the dim light. "And the road Aodan has travelled since leaving the War Patron's house has been hard miles indeed."

What the hell is war patron? Lewis wondered. When Lane suddenly laughed Lewis looked at her, but Lane just shook her head, smiling.

Lewis finished eating, setting aside the plate and tray, then burped, smiling.

"You feel better now," Lane said.

"Yeah," Lewis smiled.

"Good," Lane heaved herself to her feet, wobbling for a second so badly for Lewis was afraid the tiny woman was going to fall. Once she was steady she turned and held her hand out to Lewis. "Come. My Aodan wishes you to walk around. To exercise those muscles so that your pelvic muscles and buttocks do not atrophy."

"I'm fine," Lewis said.

Lane laughed. "I like you. Your lies taste so sweet," She smiled down at Lewis. "Your pelvis still hurts from where Geoff Gardener spread open your thighs beneath that blanket so he could thrust deep inside of you. Do not seek to lie to me, Roberta Lewis."

Lewis flushed. How the hell does she know... oh those rotten bitches.

Again Lane laughed. "Neither that Celtic witch nor that Nebraskan Amazonian War Goddess told me of your sexual antics, Roberta Lewis," Lane smiled. "They would not betray you like that, as you are their battle sister as sure as they are mine. Come, walk with me."

Lewis sighed, taking the tiny hand in her own. Her eyebrows raised at the strength in Lane's grip when she heaved Lewis to her feet without even a change in expression or a shift in body position.

"Holy crap, you're strong," Lewis said.

"I simply an Aine," Lane smiled. "May I hold onto your arm? I need to walk. I have been cramping since before I went to get your sustenance."

Lewis frowned, holding out her arm and Lane rested one hand on her forearm like she was a Victorian maid and Lewis was her guardian.

"I need to walk at least to the Orderly Room, and I would appreciate your assistance on the stairs," Lane said. Lewis looked at the other woman, frowning. Her tone and body language had gone submissive and slightly pleading. "Walking will help ease the cramps and discomfort."

"Um, OK," Lewis said.

"Thank you," Lane said.

Lewis walked her out the door, pausing to lock the door behind her. Lane hummed softly to herself as Lewis led her down the stairs and into the short hallway at the bottom of the stairs. The mailboxes were on their right, the open arch to the Ready Room on their left. A glance showed Lewis that people were in the ready room inspecting seals on gear.

The older, bigger Stillwater waved at her and she smiled and waved back.

"Be careful with her, Berserker, she's precious to me," Stillwater called out.

"Ach, Liam," Lane said, waving her free hand dismissively and ducking her head. Lewis realized the tiny woman was blushing.

"Hey, Aine," A blonde woman called out, waving from where she was checking masks.

"Eilis," Lane smiled.

"It's Elizabeth, you Irish weirdo," The woman laughed.

Lewis stood next to Lane when she stopped next to a counter. She let go of Lewis's arm to grab onto the edge of the counter, squeezing tightly. The tendons in her neck stood out and Lewis heard the counter creak from the pressure the pregnant woman was putting on it.

"Are you OK?" Lewis asked, suddenly alarmed.

"Please rub my back, if you would be so kind," Aine panted.

"Um, how far along are you?" Lewis asked, rubbing the other woman's back.

"Apparently far enough," Aine gasped.

Lewis cried out in shock as water began trickling from Aine's BDU pants, then gushed out in several streams.

"Oh, oh dear," Aine said, breathing fast.

"UM! HELP!" Lewis yelled. "HELP! HELP!"

Aine was panting in a weird pattern as more water ran out of her pants.

Stillwater and Elizabeth bounced off each other as they both came through the archway at the same time. Lewis noticed out of the corner of her eye that the elder Stillwater had a knife in his hand and his face was more grim and determined than anything else. As soon as he saw the puddle of water between Aine's feet he slid to a stop.

"Oh, shit," He rumbled.

"MEDIC!" Elizabeth called out. "WE NEED A MEDIVAC!"

"HELP!" Lewis yelled.

"I... uh... gotta go..." The elder Stillwater said, his eyes almost bugging out. He spun in place, yanked open the stairwell door, and hoofed it through it.

"Coward!" Lewis yelled at his back.

"It has passed for the moment," Aine gasped. "She is ready to greet her father and I. She is most impatient and... oooooh..." The last was a long pain filled moan.

"What in the name of Satan's burning ballsack are you mouth breathing snail trails yelling about out here like a bunch of brain dead fucking... MEDIC!" A potbellied dark skinned man wearing Chief Warrant Officer Three rank yelled, coming around the corner from the Orderly Room.

"Why, Chief Henley, I did not know you cared," Aine gasped. She gave another low moan of pain and reached out, grabbing Lewis's forearm again.

"Shaft, get on the phone. Get those idiots at the Dispensary moving. Lane's having that kid right goddamn now and we don't want her squirting out whatever spawn that mumbling meat puppet Foster shot up into her guts onto the fucking floor or that jumped up moon cricket Henry will put it in a uniform and promote it to Major or some stupid shit," Henley snarled.

Lewis realized they were attracting a crowd when the CO, Lieutenant Colonel Henry asked: "Do we have her lay down?"

"I would prefer to stand," Aine gasped. "The Earth itself will help me by guiding her downward."

"Go in your office and try not to choke on your own fucking tongue, you delusions of grandeur addled jumped up bush-monkey," Henley snarled, shoving at her. "For fuck's sake, you goddamn retards, give the little menace some goddamn breathing room before she mistakes you for something good to fucking eat."

"I am getting hungry," Aine panted.

The crowd suddenly evaporated, leaving just the angry looking Chief Warrant Officer, Lewis, and Aine standing there alone. Another female soldier ran out of the Ready Room, an  aid bag bouncing against her hip. She had blankets and sheets in her arms, which she set on the counter.

"How many seconds apart are the contractions?" She asked.

Crazily, Lewis realized that she couldn't see her nametag.

"Um, I don't know," Lewis said.

"For fuck's sake. Sixty seconds on that last contraction with three minutes between," Henley snapped. "Since neither of you two vaginal life support systems can probably tell time I guess I better fucking stay and make sure that little fruit bat doesn't run off into the woods and squirt out her baby in the ferns or some backwoods hill billy bullshit."

"Thank you, Chief," The female soldier said. She looked at Lewis. "Rub her lower back with your other hand. Aine, honey, I'm going to pull down your pants and get a look at what's going on down there. How long was your last labor?"

"Two hours," Aine said, then gasped. "She is in position. I can feel her head."

To Lewis's surprise Aine started softly singing in a musical, lilting tongue.

"Oh great, just try not to turn us into frogs or something," Chief Henley snarled. He half turned. "GET BACK TO FUCKING WORK, YOU MORONS!"

Aine didn't let go of Lewis's arm the whole time. Not when the ambulance arrived. Not during the trip. Not when she gave birth. Aine didn't let go of Lewis's arm until they handed Aine the tiny goop covered baby that was looking around with wide eyes.

All in all, Lewis found the "miracle of birth" to be bloody, nasty, and in general, completely gross.