Title: The Event 1/2
Author: K.V. Wylie
Pairing: Giles/Cordelia
Rating: PG
Summary: Sequel to The Real Loneliness
Disclaimer: Permission to use these characters relating to BtVS & AtS, has not been given. Joss, Twentieth Century Fox, UPN, WB & Mutant Enemy own TM and copyrighted them. This is purely for fun, and no copyright infringement is intended
Spoilers: Very mild fourth season
Thank you, Nickle, for the name (and about a zillion other wonderful things.)

 Cordelia gazed out the window as she drank her tea. It was late-late, or early-early. The garbage trucks hadn't come around yet, but she could hear birds, and the sky was starting to lighten.

She'd seen a lot of sunsets this past month though not by her own choice. She'd rather be sleeping, but there was no position in bed she could find that would allow her, and nine months worth of pregnancy, to get comfortable.

As if in response to her mental griping, the baby kicked. Cordelia put down her cup and rubbed her swollen abdomen. "There is no way that you can't like tea," she whispered. "Not with the father you have."

The baby kicked again, less intensely. "Is it cramped in there?" she asked soothingly. "You ought to feel it from this side. You can come out any time you want, you know." As she struggled awkwardly to her feet, she added, "The sooner the better."

She took her cup to the kitchen, one hand bracing her back. A sweater lay on the table. Cordelia picked it up and caught a wisp of Giles' aftershave. "Your father doesn't hang anything up," she said to her stomach, but she was smiling as she spoke. "He leaves books all over and makes long, involved speeches when a simple one word answer will do. You'll have to put up with it, but I think you'll adore him. And he's sure looking forward to you."

Taking the sweater with her, she waddled up the stairs. She felt like a freighter. It hadn't been all that long ago when she would wake in the morning, slip on a dress, and run down the stairs. Now she moved like a big barge in low water levels. Her back hurt, her calves hurt, her stomach felt like she'd swallowed a beach ball full of cement, and she was, worst of all, beginning to make grunting noises every time she got up from a chair.

Cordelia paused as a hard spasm went across her lower back. Coincidentally, she was stopped outside the bedroom she and Giles had set up as a nursery. The crib and change table waited quietly in the dim. Several packages of diapers were on the floor in a corner, and beside them a playpen, not yet unpacked from its box. It was too dark to see the wallpaper Giles had grudgingly put up. Little Mermaid - Cordelia's choice.

"What if it's a boy?" he'd complained. But he'd put it up anyway, giving in to her on this little thing, as he had on the big things, this house being one of them, and a minivan out in the driveway another. His old apartment was not suited for children, especially as there'd been only the one bedroom (and no door to it). It hadn't been too difficult to get him to look at houses.

He saw no reason to replace the Citroen though. In fact, he *wouldn't*. This time he was putting his foot down. Firmly.

The result was the Citroen was relegated behind the garage, and a minivan in a colour she liked was now parked outside their door.

The biggest thing, bigger than the loss of his precious piece-of-junk car, was the wedding date. They'd been engaged since August, as Giles kept reminding her. She was pregnant, and there must have been some moral imprinting done on him in his youth, because he could not comprehend why she wouldn't want to get married right away. Cordelia had a notion to have the baby in the wedding pictures, however. While he fussed like a hundred worried chickens, she waited him out, and now, here it was, February twenty-ninth, one day before her official due date, and it looked as though she was going to get her way on this one too.

The problem was, this one was making her feel rather guilty. The house and car arguments were supported by some logic. Her problem with the wedding date was just stubbornness, and it really wasn't all that important, at the bottom of it. She loved him. As surprising as that knowledge still was to her, she loved him very much, that dry, tweedy ex-librarian. There was no issue that she wanted to marry him. In fact, she even wanted to change her last name to his (something she was sure an accountant would warn her about, if she had an accountant).

Cordelia looked down at the sweater in her hands, and sighed. 'Fine,' she thought. 'I'll wake him up and tell him.' Perhaps they could find a willing Justice of the Peace today. 'Though,' she grumbled, 'it would have been nice to hold the baby during the ceremony.'

The clock clicked to four-thirty as she entered their bedroom. Giles was sprawled across their bed, half out of the quilt, as if he'd been looking for her in his sleep. He looked tousled and warm.

Looking at him, she made a deal with herself. She wouldn't wake him up, but she would tell him before he went to work. She hung his sweater on a hook before untangling as much of the blankets as she could. Then she kissed him and tried to find some space on her side of the bed.

She had just settled when it hit.

Pain.

Not an ache, not a spasm, not a cramp. A sheer, lancing, harpoon-strike of pain, driven in by dozens of dancing gremlins.

Cordelia bolted upright and screamed.

They made it to the Sunnydale hospital in under an hour, surprising speed for Giles had jumped up so quickly at her scream that he smacked into the handle of the closet door and nearly took his eye out. He tried to dress while looking for his keys, while looking for the suitcase she'd packed, while trying to wake up, and while she was yelling at the top of her lungs.

When he took her hands to help her up from the bed, her water broke and gushed down over the carpet at their feet. They both looked at it in dismay before Cordelia managed, "Towels, Rupert." That was all she had time for before the next contraction hit. He raced for the linen closet while she doubled over, holding the headboard for support. Somehow, in the melee, he idiotically asked, "Didn't you feel it coming on?" and received a solid, pointed curse in return.

The rest of the trip was done in silence, from Giles' side. Cordelia's side wasn't silent, but it was fairly incoherent, and not something he had any clue how to respond to. At the front desk of the hospital, a nurse greeted them, and Giles gratefully handed over a squalling Cordelia. He backtracked to park the van in the lot, and returned to find both the nurse and Cordelia gone, and the front desk empty.

He peered over it, into the small office behind, but there wasn't anyone there either. He then looked down the long, vacant hallways to his left and right, and the row of elevators in front of him, and played eeny-meeny-miny-mo.

Which worked out to the right hallway. Unfortunately it ended, a long way off, in the locked doors of the radiology department. Five frantic minutes later, Giles discovered that the hall to the left led to the closed gift shop, the pharmacy, (also closed), and a nearly deserted coffee shop whose sole occupant was an intern asleep at a table.

Giles woke the man up, and not too gently. "Labour and delivery?"

The intern blinked. "Uh, no. I'm on-call neuro."

"Where *is* the labour and delivery ward?"

The intern pointed up. "Ninth floor. The public elevators….." he started, but Giles was gone, and the intern said to no one, "…..don't go on until seven a.m." A few minutes later he heard the stairwell door fly open. "Good, you found out," he mumbled before lowering his head back on the table.

Giles hung onto the doors at the ninth floor level for a moment, gasping. He didn't need to look at the number painted on the door window to know this was the right floor. He'd heard screaming from two flights down. With the door open, he could hear moaning, someone counting furiously, and, oddly, laughter.

A nurse pulling an I.V. unit went past him, and he found the breath to ask, "Chase?"

She stared at him. "Someone's chasing you, sir?"

"Cordelia Chase. She just came in."

The nurse pointed down the hall behind her. "Room 999."

"Thank you." Giles got his leaden legs working and went in the direction she'd indicated. He passed a series of doors, down one side and up the other, before running into the same nurse, this time without the I.V.

He opened his mouth, then blinked. "The screaming's stopped."

She smiled. "Epidural. Works every time. Did you find your wife?"

"The numbers ended at 998."

"Not again," she said. "This way." She took him to a room one away from the stairwell door.

Giles stared. "Room 666?"

"It's 999," the nurse said as she poked the sixes back upright. "Maintenance put the screws in the bottoms of the numbers and they keep falling over." Then she opened the door and Giles saw Cordelia.

"Thank heavens," he said. "How is it, Cor?"

But she didn't hear him, her attention focused on a resident who was calmly taking off his examination gloves. "You're three centimeters dilated and sixty percent effaced, Miss Chase." Cheerfully, he added, "It's going to be a while yet."

He'd been standing by a sink at a far wall when he'd said it. Somehow, from the bed, Cordelia reached him. After a movement too fast for Giles' eyes, the hapless resident was suddenly in a flailing, completely prone position against a bed rail, and Cordelia's knee was in his neck.

In a deathly seriously tone, she said, "I want this baby out NOW!"

"Cordelia!" It took all of Giles' strength to pry her off the resident.

The resident ran for the door, then held it open with one hand while rubbing his neck with the other. Without taking his eyes from her, and with one foot in the sanctuary of the hallway, he suggested warily, "Would you like something for the pain, Miss Chase?"

"Yes and now!"

"But, Cor," Giles said, "you took all of those natural childbirth classes. *We* took all of those classes. I breathed funny for weeks, and now you're saying--" His sentence cut off with a, "ga-ack!" as she grabbed him by the collar. Slowly and steadily, she brought Giles down to her eye level.

"Anything she wants," Giles said to the resident.

"You're a brave man," he said, in a tone usually reserved for those about-to-be-drawn and quartered. He disappeared into the hallway.

Cordelia's hold tightened. "You did this to me."

Giles tentatively took hold of her arms and rubbed gently. "While we're waiting for the doctor to come back, do you want to try some of those exercises we learned?"

 "Rupert," she seethed, "this HURTS!"

 "Well, we knew that it would--"

 "WE?" she retorted. "Where do you get the WE? I don't see Freddie Krueger trying to get out of YOUR stomach!"

 While Giles tried to work free of her astonishingly-strong grip, he mentally ran through the highlights of the classes she'd insisted they attend.

Remind her to relax. Look for signs of repressed tension.

 He sighed. From the moment he'd heard *that* one, he knew it wouldn't be a concern.

Ask her to change positions often.

 "Cor," he tried, "perhaps if you laid back….."

 "That's how I got INTO this mess, you big English jerk!"

 Giles drew a breath and continued down the list.

 Encourage her.

 "Honey, you're doing *very* well. And, at the end of it, we'll have--"

 "Rupert, do you want to die right now?"

'All right,' he thought. 'Enough of that.'

Maintain a peaceful room.

Giles sighed harder and concluded that the people who ran the natural childbirth classes didn't have a monkey's clue. The only thing he was left with was….."Ice chips?" he asked.

 "Only if they have morphine in them!"

 "I'll go see where the doctor is then, shall I?"

 He felt a twinge of guilt at leaving her, but she hardly seemed to notice. She was up on her knees, holding a bed rail at each side, and staring at a wall as if she possessed the mental ability to crumble it to dust.

 "I'll be right back, Cor." Giles careened into the hall and nearly knocked over a nurse. "Excuse me, I'm Rupert Giles, Miss Chase's fiancé, and--"

 "I'm her attending R.N., Theresa Jenkins. I'm just going in to see her now."

 Giles frowned. "I wouldn't go in alone. She's, uh, upset and--"

 The R.N. patted his arm. "I've worked in this ward for fourteen years."

 Giles watched her go into the room, the door swinging shut behind her. He waited for a bit, and when he didn't hear any sounds of bodies flying through the air, let go of the breath he'd been holding and looked for the ice machine.

It wasn't far away, just on the other side of the elevators by a nurse's station. Whoever had been counting before was still doing so. A woman in another room moaned periodically, the sound uncannily sounding more like passion than pain to Giles.

 When he got back to Cordelia's room, he belatedly noticed two pay phones on the wall. He set the cup of ice beside the telephone book and called Cordelia's parents.

 No answer, which he'd expected. He left a message on their answering machine, then dialed Willow's number. He'd originally intended to call her and Buffy after the birth, but he had come to the conclusion that neither he nor Cordelia were prepared for the labour. Of the women in the gang, Willow would be the most comfort.

 When he heard the bleary hello, he said, "Willow, it's Giles. Cordelia's gone into labour and we're at the hospital now--" He suddenly pulled the receiver away from his ear and winced. "Willow…..Willow…..Willow! She hasn't had the baby. It will be, um, hours. It seems rather difficult for her and I wonder if you could…..oh, wonderful! We're in room….." He glanced across the hall. "It's the room just to the right of the staircase, room six nine six at the moment, but it might have another number when you come. Thank you."

He returned to the room, but stalled just inside the doorway. Cordelia was in the same position as before, however there were six other people besides the R.N. in the room.

 Giles panicked for a second, thinking that something had gone wrong. Then he noticed the positions of the other people.

 They were backed against the wall, some seemingly frozen and some holding their stethoscopes before them like crosses.

 In a strange, low voice, Cordelia said, "Rupert, kill them."

 One of the people, a gray-haired man in a white examination coat, glanced sideways at Giles. "Are you the father of the baby?"

 "Yes. Why?" Giles swallowed over a lump in his throat.

 "I'm Dr. Sahoma. We're on rounds and we've tried to explain to Miss Chase that--"

 "Rupert, either you kill them or I'm going to. And then I'm leaving," Cordelia cut in. "I'll come back tomorrow and try again."

 "I-I don't think that's an option, honey," Giles sidled towards her, noticing that the group of six was taking the distraction as an opportunity to edge out of the room. "Is something wrong?"

 The R.N. shook her head. "Cordelia's progressing nicely. We're at four centimeters dilation now and the contractions are two and a half minutes apart."

In response to the R.N.'s words, Cordelia suddenly grabbed onto a bed rail and doubled over. Giles rubbed her shoulder. Barely. He had half an idea that this woman (whom he suddenly felt he didn't know whatsoever) might indeed be capable of taking someone's life, and he was the nearest to her.

 "I saw a nurse earlier with an epidural," Giles said.

 "She's still in early labour," one of the cowering medical students said before he sprinted out the door.

 Dr. Sahoma, the only one now left from the original group, said softly, "Dr. Mendez, who was in here earlier, ordered Demerol, but I think the epidural would be the better option, though we don't usually start it this early in. I'll have the anesthesiologist here in ten minutes."

After he left, the R.N. walked up to the bedside so casually that Giles almost made a move to jump in between her and Cordelia.

"That's ok, dear. I've had three. I know it hurts," the R.N. said softly.

Cordelia looked up at her words and, all at once, burst out crying.

"Call me Theresa," the R.N. said. "I'll be with you for the rest of this. I want you to lie back because you'll need to be hooked up to a monitor while the epidural is in."

 "A monitor?" Giles asked, astounded when Cordelia did exactly what Theresa wanted.

 "It keeps track of the baby's heartbeat, to make sure he or she's not in any distress." As she unwrapped what looked like a large belt, Theresa said, "Your fiancé kicked two of the interns, and nearly got a third."

"Right when it hurts the most, that's when they want to go burrowing with those big fingers of theirs," Cordelia snapped. "And Rupert, they didn't even introduce themselves. Oof!" She grabbed her stomach.

Giles put his hand over hers, and nearly leaped out of his skin when she abruptly latched onto him, nails down. When the contraction was over, she said vehemently, "You are *never* coming near me again."

Privately, Giles was thinking that would be a good idea. Then he wondered how his mother had made it through three births. Then he stood feeling entirely useless while Theresa seemingly did ten things at once, ending it all neatly with Cordelia lying quiescent, hooked to the monitor, and covered snugly with a blanket.

The anesthesiologist arrived, a rather small man with at least twenty years on Giles. As he began inserting the I.V. needle into the back of Cordelia's hand, Giles hovered anxiously nearby, worried about Cordelia and also worried that if she decided to kick this one, he'd fly a good mile. There was a *moment*, when the needle was going its length up a vein. Cordelia's eyes darkened in a manner reminiscent of the young girl's in the movie the Exorcist, and Giles took a step forward.

But Cordelia suddenly looked down at her stomach in amazement, then at the anesthesiologist. A smile went across her features. "I could kiss you," she said. "If you weren't so really old."

The anesthesiologist sighed. "I get that all the time."

"I'm sorry," Giles said sympathetically. He took a chair beside the bed and that's when he noticed he was still holding the cup of ice chips, now melted. "Cor, would you like a drink of water?"

"Uh uh," she murmured, rolling on her side and closing her eyes.

Theresa checked the monitor, then leaned towards Giles and said softly, "The baby's heart rate is steady. If the little one gets into any distress, the epidural will have to be turned down, or even pulled."

"How will we know?"

"There's an alarm," she said. "I'll be back in half an hour." She followed the anesthesiologist out, leaving Giles alone with Cordelia.

Cordelia was facing him, breathing in such soft swells that he thought she might be asleep. The monitor made quiet noises behind her as it flashed through a series of numbers, and from the hallway came the sound of people talking as they walked past.

Cordelia's cheeks were still wet from her tears. Giles touched them with his fingertips, stroking them from her skin, and she smiled vaguely.

"Cordelia, I love you," he said. The full realization was hitting him now. The child, *their* child, was being born.

'My child,' he thought, awed.

All at once, a million thoughts rushed into his head. He hadn't set up the playpen. No, that could wait, but the baby seat…..that was still in the living room. He'd have to get it in the van. Did they need formula? No, she was going to breast feed. He'd forgotten. But they probably should get some bottles, just in case.

Giles pressed his palms to his forehead and closed his eyes.

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