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“Deke?” Jemma called into the pantry, knowing full well that her best chance of finding him was with the food supplies (he was related to Fitz after all). She leaned against the doorframe, inhaling slowly through her nose and out through rounded lips, the pain of her latest contraction slowly subsiding. “Deke!” she yelled a little louder, a hint of impatience in her tone.
His head poked into view, the all-too-familiar boyish grin as well as what appeared to be a beard of powdered sugar adorning his face. He lifted his hand, holding up a half-eaten powdered-sugar donut, his eyes sparkling in awe. “Have you tried one of these?”
Even close to a year after he’d travelled to the past, he still often seemed like a little boy discovering the world for the first time, every discovery a new exciting adventure.
A smile flashed across Jemma’s face, but it didn’t reach her eyes, the discomfort of her tensing stomach muscles more important than her grandson’s newest culinary revelation. “Yes, I have,” she grunted a bit breathlessly, “and one of these days I will give you the same lecture on too much sugar consumption that I gave Fitz when we first met and that he’s ignored ever since, but right now, I need you to help me with something, Deke.”
Deke shoved the rest of the donut into his mouth, stepping out from behind the shelves. He wiped his hands off his trousers, clearly struggling to chew the huge chunk of food. “Sure, what do you need?” he asked, spitting little bits of crumbs out as he spoke.
Jemma forced a smile, inhaling a breath of determination. “Well, I had hoped to avoid this situation, but I’ve gone into labor. Contractions are about 5 minutes apart. The rest of the team is halfway around the globe on mission, and even though Fitz assured me they’d be breaking some kind of record to get back here, chances are they won’t make it in time, which means you will have to help me deliver this baby.”
Deke stopped dead in his tracks, his eyes wide and panicked. “What?” he muttered, barely above a whisper.
Jemma sighed. “You have to help me deliver this baby,” she repeated, trying to keep her tone calm and reassuring.
Deke raised one trembling finger in the air. “No. No, no, no, no, no. No.”
Jemma squinted, the onset of another contraction forcing her to refocus on her breathing. She gripped the doorframe more tightly, breathing slowly until the pain subsided. When she opened her eyes again, Deke was still standing in the same spot, his eyes still wide like plates.
“Yes, Deke,” Jemma replied calmly. “You have to.”
Deke gestured towards Jemma’s stomach, taking a hesitant step toward her. His voice croaked in a high-pitched squeak that reminded Jemma very much of Fitz when he got nervous. “But, but, but. You’re about to… you’re about to—” He paused, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed. “That’s my mom! And you’re about to… you’re about to push her out of… out of—”
“—my vagina,” Jemma remarked matter-of-factly, her patience slowly dwindling. “Yes, Deke, I’m about to push your mother out of my vagina.”
Deke shook his head vehemently, raising his hands defensively in front of his chest. “No. No, no, no. I can’t. You just have to hold her in.”
“That’s not how it works, Deke,” Jemma barked, pointing at him. “So, listen to me. You can. And you will. Because there is nobody else here. I need you, Deke. Your mother and grandmother need you.”
Deke grimaced, furrowing his brow and scrunching his nose. He slumped his shoulders. “You just made it like five times weirder!”
“Deke!” Jemma yelled through gritted teeth. “I realize that helping your grandmother give birth to your mother defies all logic, and believe me, when I imagined giving birth to my firstborn, I did not exactly imagine doing it with the help of my grandson, but here we are. You’re a FitzSimmons, and apparently defying logic is part of that, so get used to it. Consider it a rite of passage.”
“A rite of passage into what?” Deke gestured at Jemma’s crotch. “A rite of passage into... I don’t want to passage into that rite, I—”
“Deke,” Jemma’s voice broke as she lost her battle against the onset of tears. “I’m about to give birth in a secret underground bunker. My husband is hours away. I’m scared!”
Deke’s expression softened. He nodded, exhaling sharply, before taking a determined step forward. “Okay. Okay. I’m here. Defy logic. FitzSimmons rite of passage.”
Jemma’s chin quivered, torn between smiling and crying. “Thank you,” she whispered quietly.
Deke stopped in front of her, shrugging slightly. “So, where do we start?”
“Taking me to med bay.”
Deke raised two thumbs in the air. “Great. Awesome. I can do that!”
“Alright, okay.” Deke turned nervously in half circles in the med bay, rubbing his hands together. “So, what’s next?”
“Well.” Jemma inhaled slowly, stopping in the doorframe as if to block Deke’s escape route. Something about her smile told Deke that he was about to hear something he most definitely did not want to hear. “You will thoroughly wash your hands and put on surgical gloves, while I change into a medical gown, undress from the waist down, and lie down. And then you will check how far I’m dilated.”
Deke felt the acid taste of bile at the back of his throat as he stared in disgusted shock at the pregnant woman in front of him. He swallowed, shaking his head in silence, until he found his voice again. “No, no, no, no, no, no, no.”
Jemma exhaled an exasperated breath, looking sternly back at him, both hands placed on her hips. “Yes, Deke.”
His head seemed to speed up its side-to-side movement intuitively. He raised one hand in defense. “No, no, no. That’s disgusting. And gross. And disgusting. And—”
Jemma’s index finger angrily darted in Deke’s direction. “Deke Shaw!” she yelled, her eyes fiery. “Now I realize that you seem to have inherited a lot of Fitz’s traits, and your squeamishness definitely falls into that category, but you are also related to me, which means you can do this, because I need you to do this because—”
Her face distorted as one hand reached for her stomach while the other grabbed the doorframe. She seemed to be holding her breath before releasing a stuttering exhale through rounded lips. A quiet gasp escaped her and her eyes shot open, before wandering to her stomach. “Well, my water just broke.”
Deke stared in disbelief at the wet spot growing on Jemma’s trousers. “Guess, I’m gonna put on some surgical gloves and wash my hands now,” he muttered quietly, forcing a half-smile of encouragement.
The corners of Jemma’s mouth quirked up into a weak smile as well. “Wash your hands first. Then surgical gloves,” she clarified, letting go of the doorframe and waddling slowly into the room.
“Right, right, yes.” Deke did a double-take, trying to orientate himself, but the room seemed to be spinning around him.
“The sink is to your left,” Jemma’s calm voice broke through his fogged mind. “Choose a size large for the gloves.”
Deke looked in the direction Jemma’s voice had come from, watching her pull out a medical gown from a dresser. She smiled at him warmly. “You’ll do just fine, Deke. Thank you.”
Deke nodded in silence, before turning around, heading for the sink.
Deke gently rested his hands on Jemma’s knees, staring at his grandmother’s netherregions. Sometime after Jemma’s fourth reprimand, the sight had stopped causing him nausea. At this point, so much adrenaline was pumping through his veins that neither blood, nor poop, nor other bodily fluids seemed to faze him. “You’re doing great. You’re doing fine. You’re doing great. You’re doing—”
“Shut up and just tell me if you see or feel anything,” Jemma growled through gritted teeth, her chin pressed against her chest as she tried to push harder.
“Umm. Umm.” Deke leaned closer. “Don’t see anything.” Carefully, he inserted two fingers, his eyes widening when, unlike the previous time, he felt something unfamiliar. He pulled his hand back, standing up and grinning excitedly at Jemma. “Hair. I felt hair.”
Jemma let her head fall back against the raised backrest of the bed, her hair clinging to her sweaty forehead. She was panting, trying to catch her breath. “Oh thank god. Progress.”
“Ready for the next push?” Deke asked, smiling encouragingly.
Jemma rolled her eyes. “No, but I don’t think I have a—”
She drew in a sharp breath, reaching for her knees and pulling her chin back against her chest, groaning deeply.
Deke bent forward again, gasping in surprise. “I can see the head. I can see the head. You can do this. You can do this. Keep going. Keep going. You can do this.”
Deke shot up straight when he noticed the deep rumbling echoing through the corridors that signaled the Zephyr was landing. He stared straight into Jemma’s wide-open eyes. She seemed to be holding her breath, trying to stall the contraction.
“Fitz is here. He’s here. Fitz is here,” Deke exclaimed, smiling widely.
But his smile faded when Jemma’s face contorted, her head dropping forward, her eyes shut tight as she growled in pain.
“Okay, okay,” Deke carefully covered Jemma’s hands where they were resting on her knees. “He’ll be here any minute now, and until then we’ll just keep going, keep pushing.”
Jemma’s head fell back against the pillow, her breathing coming fast and shallow, and Deke noticed tears in her eyes. “Again,” she panted, her knuckles clutching her knees turning white.
“Jemma?”
Deke’s ears picked up Fitz’s muffled and panicked voice, but he was fully focused on Jemma, who also only briefly glanced at the door before her eyes shut tight again as she growled through another contraction, pushing her baby into this world.
Deke watched his mother’s head emerge further from the birth canal, his hands intuitively reaching forward to catch the baby.
The door flung open and through the corner of his eyes, Deke saw Fitz rush to Jemma’s side, his chest heaving, as he covered one of Jemma’s hands with his, while placing the other on her back.
“I’m here, Jemma. I’m here,” he reassured his wife.
Deke glanced up, noticing Jemma’s lips pulling into a pained but relieved smile, while her eyes remained closed. She paused to take another breath, her body once again curling forward as she pushed through another contraction.
Deke gasped in sync with Jemma when the baby suddenly slipped out of the birth canal. He carefully cradled the baby’s head and body, staring down at the blood-smeared little human in his hands.
“Baby,” he mumbled, in a mix of disbelief and awe. “I’m holding a baby. A baby. I’m… I’m holding my mom.”
He looked up in confusion when a blanket seemed to appear out of nowhere, wrapping around the infant and lifting it out of Deke’s hand.
“Here we go,” May said quietly, laying the baby on Jemma’s chest, who cradled her daughter, tears of joy streaming down hers and Fitz’s cheeks while their newborn cried and stirred.
A smile flashed across May’s face. “Great job.”
Deke grinned widely. “Thank you. I mean, I didn’t exactly expect to be helping my mom being born, but—”
“Wasn’t talking about you,” May remarked matter-of-factly, not even bothering to look at Deke.
Deke nodded in embarrassed understanding. “Right, right.”
“I can’t believe she’s here,” Daisy’s voice piped up, causing everyone to look in her direction, Fitz and Jemma smiling with pride.
Daisy slapped Deke’s back. “Grandson helps grandmother give birth to own mother. Talk about a circle of life.”
“What now?” Deke asked in confusion.
Daisy squinted slightly. “Story for another time. I think you’ll like it. Hakuna Matata and all that.”
Deke furrowed his brow, but before he could reply, May’s stern tone interrupted his thoughts.
“Everybody out!”
“But May,” Daisy tried to interject. “Fitzsimmons’ offspring!”
“—will still be here later. Give them some privacy,” May countered.
One corner of Daisy’s lips pulled into a warm smile. “Alright, congrats, guys. Calling dibs on godmother, I hope you know that.”
FitzSimmons chuckled quietly, nodding in unison and watching Daisy and the rest of the team who’d been peeking in through the open door leave.
An understanding and yet somewhat disappointed smile flashed across Deke’s face.
“Congrats,” he whispered quietly and turned around, pulling off his medical gloves and tossing them in a trash can.
“Deke,” Jemma called after him.
He turned around. “Yeah?”
“Please, stay.”
Deke couldn’t stop his lips from pulling into a wide smile. “Really?”
Jemma nodded in silence, and even May’s eyes seemed to look a bit friendlier.
Deke stepped to the head of the bed, nervously glancing at the baby in Jemma’s arms, who had settled somewhat, although her tiny hands and feet were still moving around.
“Would you like to cut the umbilical cord?” Jemma asked, watching May as she clamped off the cord.
Deke’s eyes widened in surprise. “Me?” He gestured at himself, before pointing at Fitz. “Shouldn’t he—?”
Jemma laughed quietly. “Oh, please, Fitz is far too squeamish. Am I not right, Fitz?”
“I could do without,” Fitz replied, smiling one-sidedly.
“You, on the other hand, have clearly proven that you have inherited my hardiness,” Jemma told Deke, her eyes sparkling with a hint of mischief.
Deke proudly puffed out his chest, grinning widely. “Alright. I’ll do it.”
“Well, then,” May said dryly, handing Deke a pair of scissors.
Deke cut the cord, his eyes becoming misty as his body filled with emotions he couldn’t quite place.
“Alright, I’ll give you a few minutes,” May broke the silence. “Call if you need me.”
“Thank you, Agent May,” Fitz replied quietly, his glance only briefly wandering in May’s direction before darting straight back to his newborn daughter.
“What do you think, Deke?” Jemma asked quietly.
As if a gravitational pull existed between them, Deke’s hand was drawn to the little baby in Jemma’s arms. He stuck out his pinky, gently placing it into the infant’s hand and his heart began thumping when the tiny fingers curled around his.
“It’s really weird,” he whispered, looking briefly at Jemma and Fitz. “Do you think that has ever happened before? A grandson helping his grandma give birth to his mom?”
Jemma chuckled quietly. “I find it rather unlikely.”
Deke furrowed his brow in sudden realization. “Except she’s not,” he said thoughtfully.
“What do you mean?” Fitz asked.
“My mom was born after Earth’s destruction,” Deke recounted, still staring at the tiny hand holding on to his finger. “You guys prevented that, so she… she’ll have a different life; probably never meet my dad, so I’ll never be born.”
More tears filled Deke’s eyes, confusion clouding his mind. “You know, I was really glad when I didn’t just disappear when you saved the world. Yay alternate timelines and all that. But now, looking at her and realizing that—I feel like maybe I disappeared anyways.”
The little infant turned blurry in front of him. He blinked, feeling a tear jump off his lashes and snake down his cheek. His eyes refocused, startled by the touch of Jemma’s palm against his cheek.
Her gaze was soft, her irises shimmering behind a curtain of tears. “You didn’t disappear, Deke. And you won’t.” She looked at the baby in her arms, smiling lovingly at her daughter. “She may not give birth to you in this timeline, but because of what you did in another, following your mother’s legacy, our legacy, you’ve given her what your mother always wanted, don’t you think?”
“A better future,” Deke whispered.
“Exactly,” Jemma replied. “And you will be a part of that future. Your mother would be infinitely proud of you. And this baby, who genetically speaking is still your mother, will be infinitely proud of you, and we are infinitely proud of you.”
She looked back at the baby girl. “She may not become your mother in this world, Deke, but she is your family just the same, and we are your family just the same, and we won’t let you disappear.”
Deke’s lips quirked into a smile, not quite happy yet, but his mood certainly lightened. “Passed the FitzSimmons rite of passage, didn’t I? All trials and tribulations.”
Jemma let out a quiet laugh. “You sure—” She paused, grimacing and hunching forward. “Well, after you take care of my afterbirth, maybe,” she added, her tone noticeably strained.
Deke’s eyes shot open in panic. “Take care of your whatnow?”