Work Text:
1.
To say the positive pregnancy test was a surprise would be awfully close to the understatement of the century. Maybe all the centuries. Combined.
Or maybe, like Fitz said, that’s just an exaggeration, Jemma, really. All the centuries? What about the time when-
To say that Grant takes it better than she did would also be an understatement. He immediately goes up to Coulson’s office to discuss with their leader what the options are, what kind of protocols there are, all kinds of logical and important things.
She locks herself in their pod for almost twelve hours straight.
The months tick by and they do pretty well with taking turns to panic. She worries about him getting himself killed twice as often, leaving her to raise a child alone. He worries about failing to protect her, losing both the love of his life and their child in one fell swoop.
The rest of their team does their best to be reassuring, comforting (some do better than others). They purchase all kinds of baby necessities, boxes piling up in the lab and the cargo bay and supply closets.
She spends a day curled in the back of the SUV, worrying about working, retirement, and how the hell they’re going to raise a baby on the Bus. Fitz rubs her back to try and curb a panic attack, and the next morning he moves into Jemma’s old pod on the other side of Skye’s so they can use the one across the hall as a tiny little nursery.
They make adjustments. Coulson accepts plenty of cases and assignments, though with a touch more caution. Grant somehow meets his job description just like he always had and yet still manages to come back with far fewer injuries. Skye seems to start a nesting phase so that they don’t have to, and Fitz hovers around Jemma like an anxious mother hen.
Her belly gets bigger, and she works as much as she can manage without knocking things over or failing to reach them (or walking into the ever-present Fitz at her heels).
On a day of particularly excruciating back aches, Skye makes an unwise crack about Jemma’s slim hips and Grant’s enormous stature. After numerous apologies, Skye is sent to run laps and Grant forces Jemma to sit for awhile while he works some of the kinks from the muscles in her back.
Two days after her due date, while the Bus is parked at the Hub, Jemma’s trying to assemble (and keep Fitz from adding things to) the mobile that will hang over the crib when her water breaks.
It takes just over six hours for the baby to be born, Coulson, May, Fitz and Skye waiting anxiously in the hall until Grant finally appears and beckons them into the room.
Grace is eight pounds, three ounces, and twenty-one inches long. A little tuft of light brown hair lays against her head, cheeks pink and eyes bright.
When May very quietly says the baby is the most beautiful thing she thinks she’s ever seen, everyone agrees instantly.
2.
The night of Gracie’s third birthday party (after putting her to bed and making an attempt at cleaning up) they lay in bed together in the dark, and ponder a second baby.
Mostly, they recount the first year of their daughter, the ups and downs of a baby on the Bus. After her birthday, when they decided they couldn’t live that way for the rest of their lives, no matter how much they’d miss it. Five months later, when they’d both taken new jobs at the Academy, Jemma teaching both biology and chemistry classes, and Grant working in the Ops division with new recruits.
Getting married, buying a small house in a cozy neighborhood, a few weeks after the rest of their team decided to stay grounded. (Fitz and Skye both taking positions at the Academy too, and Coulson and May developing new operations for all kinds of teams.)
They’re far more stable now, but some of the old anxieties return where a new baby is concerned. Jemma wonders aloud if they’ve just been entranced by Skye’s slowly growing belly. Grant shrugs. Maybe.
A few months after their discussion-that-didn’t-really-lead-anywhere, Fitz and Skye’s twins are born right on time. While they sit in the room with their very best friends, Fitz hands Grant his brand new daughter, and Jemma his brand new son.
Jemma stares at the tiny little face for at least five minutes, rocking gently and stroking a finger along the softness of his cheek. When she finally looks up, she sees Grant doing the same with the little girl in his arms before he meets her eyes. Yes. Another baby.
They try for a few months, and just before she starts to worry about fertility tests, they get a little plus sign (and positive results on the next three blood tests she runs herself).
This pregnancy feels far smoother to both of them, though they can pretty much attribute that to a house on solid ground, less life-or-death situations, stable jobs and incomes, and a thrilled three-year old who’s more excited about a sibling than she was about the bouncy castle Uncle Fitz and Aunt Skye brought to her birthday party.
When she was carrying Grace, Jemma had been so anxious about every little thing, that they’d found out what they were having as soon as possible just so it would be less question she had to ponder. After discussing a few times, they decide to let this one be a surprise.
This time around, her morning sickness lasts at least twice as long. She’d never really been prone to throwing up, not even as a child. Now she spends a good chunk of her day sitting (or lying) on the floor of the bathroom. The only upside as that usually Grant will sit or lay with her.
Grace colors so many pictures of herself, Mommy, Daddy, and the new baby, that they run out of room on the fridge. They start to put them up in the new nursery.
Fitz and Skye are adjusting to their twins, managing two at once better than Jemma thinks she could. When they come over to play with Gracie, Jemma and Grant snag Eli and Emery and carry them around, getting back into the swing and trying to remember anything they have to do that might’ve slipped their minds before their new addition comes.
When he does come, it’s two and a half weeks before his due date.
Simon weighs six pounds and five ounces, healthy despite his slightly smaller size, and nineteen inches long. His hair, thicker than his sister’s had been at birth, is also far darker. Jemma can see Grant all over their son’s face, and she could cry with how happy that makes her. (Are you crying again? I’d probably cry too if my kid came out looking like the T-1000- what, I’m kidding!)
3.
The night Simon is born, after everyone’s adored him all the way up until visiting hours are over, Grant and Jemma have him to themselves. Grace has gone back to the house, Uncle Phil and Aunt May staying the night to look after her.
One of the nurses has come in to check on Simon, handing him back to his father before moving to fill out the chart. Both Jemma and the nurse freeze completely when Grant’s voice breaks the quiet. The older woman slides the chart back into place and backs out of the room slowly while Jemma tries to process what her husband has just said to her hardly three hours after she’s given birth to their son.
(Are we going to have another one?)
She stares at him, eyes narrowed in exhaustion, confusion, irritation, more exhaustion. Simon coos softly, a noise Jemma chooses to believe is in solidarity of her bewilderment with his father. She can’t find the right words to respond with (aside from whatwhatexcuseyouwhat) so she just keeps looking at him.
He notices, chewing at his bottom lip for a few moments before he shrugs and returns his gaze to the baby’s slowly closing eyes. His next words suck the rebuttal right out of her, will stay with her long after their children are grown.
(I was just wondering if this is the last time I’m going to be able to hold a brand new baby. Our brand new baby.)
It’s calm and gentle, not really asking for another one or asking for no more, just wondering which he would get.
This time they don’t wait three years, just one. When they start trying, they’ve both acknowledged that this will be their last baby. Which is maybe why it doesn’t take her long to be concerned over their lack of results.
Grant starts to worry over the stress this is putting on the both of them, but Jemma in particular. Grace is almost six, in kindergarten, and Simon isn’t quite two. Jemma’s still teaching classes and Grant tries to tell her they don’t have to have another baby.
But they’ve been trying too long, waiting so patiently, and she’s grown attached to a child that doesn’t exist yet.
It takes less than a month after their last discussion, and the test is finally positive. They’re overjoyed, just like their children and their former team.
They stay joyful, but it’s not too long after they find out about the baby to notice that this pregnancy is very different than either of the other two.
Jemma becomes so sick so constantly that the Academy sends her on early maternity leave. Grant takes time off of work as often as he can, and Gracie and Simon are commonly found spending time at Uncle Fitz and Aunt Skye’s or going on day-trips with Uncle Phil or Aunt May.
By the time she’s made it to four months, she’s on bed rest, an IV replacing fluids that she keeps throwing up. She’s in a constant state of nausea, achy muscles, exhaustion. She can’t pick Simon up anymore, and Grace is afraid to touch her too often. She tries not to cry when her children creep slowly in and out of the room, moving around her like she’s glass.
She’s a little more stable by the fifth month, no longer in need of the IV but still confined to bed for most of the day.
She wakes up from a nap one afternoon to find Grant kneeling beside the bed in the dark of their room. His hands clasp one of hers and his cheek is pressed to the mattress so that the top of his head barely brushes against her hip. I’m so sorry, he keeps whispering, voice thick with tears she hasn’t seen during the whole pregnancy. I’m so sorry.
(It takes almost an hour to get him to tell her that he’s sorry he pushed for another baby, he’s sorry it’s been hard on her, he’s sorry something that should be so wonderful is causing her pain. She scolds him for taking blame for something they both wanted and tried for, and for keeping it bottled inside for so long. She kisses him and calms him, kisses him some more. He climbs into the bed beside her and circles his arms around her waist, forehead and lips pressed gently to her belly.)
Their daughter is born seven weeks early, and taken immediately to the NICU. Jemma cries in fear and panic, and then Grant cries in relief when the doctor assures them that the little girl is the healthiest preemie they’ve seen, aside from her low weight and a minor infection in her ears.
She weighs just a touch less than four pounds, hair a mop of dark curls. They name her Hadley. (Hadley Richardson was Ernest Hemingway’s first wife, you know, and John Hadley created the octant, and eventually become the vice-president of the Royal Society, Grant. The Royal Society.)
After awhile, they’re permitted to take her home, and Gracie and Simon couldn’t be more excited. Of course, five nights in, when Jemma gets up to feed the baby for the second time, Grace calmly requests they take Hadley back to the hospital.
They’re done, and they know it. Three is a good number, one son and two daughters.
Of course, Jemma couldn’t imagine her life without them, especially early on Saturday mornings when she gets up to change Hadley, check the news, find the paper, start the coffee maker, and eventually makes it back to their room to find the bed fuller than when she left.
Grant keeps Hadley curled on his chest, his chin brushing against her hair and one hand pressed over her back. Grace is completely asleep in the middle of the bed, her back against her father’s side, head resting against his bicep. Simon sits patiently near Jemma’s pillow, hands holding onto his feet as he waits for her to return. She scoops him up into her arms and lies down, feeling him settle against her chest.
She’s almost asleep again herself when she feels Grant’s lips pressing to her forehead softly. She doesn’t have to open her eyes to know the right way to tilt her head to meet him in a kiss. “I love you.”
“I love you too.”