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Noatak has a safe house because of course he does. He’s always thought of everything. He always has. It’s on an island close enough to Republic City that the speedboat will just about get them there- less a problem for two an accomplished Waterbenders, but that’s not the point- but far enough that they won’t be found for a while. He stares across the vast horizon, a hopeful smile on his face.
Tarrlok is tired. He looks from the electric gloves on the shelf to the boat’s motor. The idea is so tempting.
Noatak turns back to him. “Tarrlok… don’t.” His voice is gentle. No trace of fear or judgement, just a quiet admonishment like the big brother he is.
“Why not?” Tarrlok grumbles.
“You’re pregnant.” Noatak says simply.
Tarrlok jolts. That’s not possible. It’s not possible. He feels nauseous. He’s never been seasick before. “No.” he chokes out.
Noatak’s brows furrow in concern. “You didn’t know..?”
Tarrlok glares. He’s still tired but there’s an angry energy starting to bubble up in his chest. His whole body is tense, coiled, and ready to spring. “There’s nothing to know!” he snarls.
Noatak’s expression flickers with sadness. “I felt it. You’re pregnant, Tarrlok.”
Tarrlok slumps. He brings his knees to his chest and rests his head on them. “Oh…”
“Tarrlok, it’s going to be alright.”
Tarrlok just scowls. This is literally his worst nightmare. He doesn’t see how it will be ‘alright’.
Against every logic, Tarrlok doesn’t simply get rid of the problem. They’ve been at the safehouse for a month now. They still haven’t been found. At least Tarrlok can be thankful for that.
Noatak has been practically nursemaiding him. Though he tries to hide it, he’s elated about Tarrlok’s condition. Tarrlok very much isn’t. He’s never been fond of children, least of all his own. It feels too much like carrying on Yakone’s legacy. And then there’s the pregnancy itself. He despises it. Whenever their mother spoke about it, she was always positive about the experience. She was either lying, very lucky or Tarrlok is very unlucky. He doesn’t really care which it is anymore.
The first thing Noatak did when they arrived was restore Tarrlok’s bending. The first thing Tarrlok did when his bending returned was throw up. And he’s not stopped since. Logically, it’s probably not Noatak’s fault but Tarrlok blames him anyway. It’s incredibly easy when Noatak goes about everything with a smile- including holding Tarrlok’s hair back while he heaves.
“You need to eat.” Noatak says.
Tarrlok glares at him. He’s bundled under a blanket and curled on the sofa. He feels pathetic but he doesn’t have the energy to do anything about it. “Why bother? It’s just going to come back up.”
“Tarrlok, you can’t starve yourself.”
“I’m not. My body is.”
Noatak sighs. “I’ll make you some soup. But you have to eat something. I’m not letting you waste away after I’ve found you again.”
“Just don’t put any meat in it. I can’t cope with that right now.”
Noatak nods with a smile and vanishes into the kitchen. Tarrlok sighs and settles down to nap while he waits. When Noatak wakes him up, it’s with a steaming bowl of broth, as promised. The smile that spreads across his face when Tarrlok eats it is completely unproportionate, but he says nothing. He lets Noatak ply him with water and fuss with his blanket.
He doesn’t throw the soup back up. He’s grateful for that.
When Tarrlok starts showing, he breaks. He’s still not far along and he wasn’t expecting it to show itself so soon. He could ignore the softening of his middle, could pretend the morning sickness wasn’t what it was, could claim the tiredness was due to stress. But this- this he can’t ignore. He stands in his room, a mirror on the dresser, examining himself at every angle. There’s no mistaking the gentle rise of his stomach.
He gags. Nothing comes up and he breaks into sobs. He sinks to the ground, presses the heels of his hands to his eyes and curls up. His sobs are muffled into his knees and he bites them down as best he can.
There’s a knock on the door. Noatak appears at his side. His hands run over Tarrlok’s body, looking for any sign of injury. “What is it? What’s wrong?”
Tarrlok shakes his head. Shoulders shuddering, he bites his lip to silence himself.
“No, don’t do that. Let yourself cry. There’s no shame in it.” And isn’t that a startling contrast to the boy who left him in the snow.
“I can’t-” Tarrlok wheezes, “I can’t do this.”
Noatak’s hands are tentative when they settle on Tarrlok’s shoulders. He leans into the touch. He needs it. He craves his big brother. He’s tired of fighting it. Noatak pulls him into an embrace and Tarrlok cries quietly into his lap.
His instinct is to flee. He’s shown weakness. He has to get away before it’s exploited. But his head is pillowed on Noatak’s lap and the hard muscle is more comfortable than any cushion. Noatak’s hand strokes his hair and Tarrlok doesn’t want to move.
“Do you regret it?” Noatak asks, “Not ending it?”
“I… I don’t know,” Tarrlok says, “Yes and no. I never wanted children, but I- just thinking about getting rid of it made me feel sick. It didn’t ask to be born. This is supposed to be a fresh start. Deciding who lives and who dies…”
‘Is something Yakone would have done’ goes unsaid.
“Doesn’t seem like a fresh start.” Noatak finishes instead.
Tarrlok nods.
“Are you going to keep it once it’s born?”
“I don’t know.”
“You aren’t going to be like Yakone.”
“How do you know? I could end up worse than he was.”
“Because you know what it is to suffer. You’ve never been able to hurt anyone let alone your own child.”
Tarrlok snorts. “You clearly don’t know me very well anymore.”
Noatak hums, winding a strand of Tarrlok’s hair around his fingers. “I think you might be surprised.”
Two months later, they realise why Tarrlok’s pregnancy was so visible so quickly. He’s having twins. He shudders when Noatak tells him. He’d started to feel the fluttering movements inside him, and Noatak had pressed his hands to his belly to see if he could feel too. Noatak’s brows had furrowed. His hands moved slowly across Tarrlok’s belly. Tarrlok had watched him, fear starting to creep into his chest.
Then Noatak had dropped the bombshell on him.
He flees into the bedroom without a word. His head is spinning, and he doesn’t know what to think, how to feel. One was bad enough, but two is something else entirely. He crawls into the gap between the bed and the wall. He rests his back against the bedframe and brings his knees as close to his chest as he can. Which isn’t as close as he’d like.
Footsteps follow him. He doesn’t look up.
“Don’t laugh,” he says, “This is the only position that’s comfortable.”
“Is there room for one more?” Noatak asks.
Tarrlok nods. Noatak sits next to him. He opens his arm out, clearly not expecting Tarrlok to accept the invitation. When Tarrlok does lean into him, his arm wraps around his little brother’s shoulders tightly.
“You’re not alone.” Noatak says.
Tarrlok scoffs.
“I’m going to help you however I can. You can do this, Tarrlok.”
“I can’t.” Tarrlok whispers. He huddles further into Noatak’s side.
Noatak sighs but doesn’t try to argue. He rests his chin on Tarrlok’s head. The younger man’s eyes swim with tears but he doesn’t let them fall. He’s cried enough for this pitiful situation he’s gotten himself into. His hand cautiously cups his belly. His head- normally so full of dreams and plans- is empty.
Within a few weeks, Tarrlok’s belly has ballooned. Without being asked, Noatak goes into the nearby village and buys him some significantly bigger clothes. Tarrlok scowls at them but thanks his brother anyway.
Noatak’s mother-henning has drastically increased with the decrease in Tarrlok’s mobility. Tarrlok violently resists any notion of assistance; at least until one of his stubborn attempts to get up from the sofa by himself leads to him passing out like a swooning damsel. He wakes up in his brother’s lap, Noatak insistently tapping his face. Tarrlok rolls his eyes- which makes him dizzy- and grumbles that he’s fine. Then Noatak rolls his eyes and makes him sit on the floor for a good 15 minutes, sipping some water. When Noatak does let him get up, it’s with his help, so obnoxiously slowly that Tarrlok’s sure he’s doing it on purpose just to be annoying.
Still he doesn’t try to get up unassisted again. Noatak practically beams with protective older brother excitement. He jumps at any chance to baby his brother. Tarrlok wants to find the overcompensation unnecessary but it isn’t. Aside from the fact he doesn’t bend at the waist anymore, he weighs about the same as an elephant koi, which leads to raging back pain.
He’s thankful for his brother when he puts his chi blocking skills to use and kneads into all the sore spots. Professional massages aren’t something Tarrlok has engaged in, too conscious of the childhood scars that litter his body, but he’s sure Noatak can rival the best.
As he crawls past the 6 month mark, Tarrlok finds himself accepting the pregnancy a little more. There’s really nothing to do and he’s unused to all the free time. He finds his hands creeping onto his belly without him realising with increasing frequency. The thought of tomorrow no longer makes him sick with dread: thinking about the birth still fills him with terrified anticipation, but he’s fairly sure that’s normal.
Noatak, of course, never needed to come around to the idea of a niece or nephew. He spends his days learning all he can about pregnancy and delivery. It’s unspoken between them that Noatak will have to be the one to deliver the babies. The trust between them is still fragile but it’s more than Tarrlok has for anyone else. He’s almost sure that Noatak won’t take advantage of him while he’s vulnerable. The scared little boy in the snow in the back of his mind whispers that he’s done it before, but Tarrlok resolutely ignores it.
Noatak delivering also eliminates the threat of Tarrlok being recognised. Outside of Republic City, he’s not exactly well known but it’s not a risk either of them want to take. They’ve been in hiding for 4 months now. They’ve not been found but they still err on the side of caution.
After all, it’s not just their lives to consider anymore.
By 7 months Tarrlok’s more or less on bedrest. He’s more huge than he ever thought possible and unbelievably sore. The babies are restless, particularly at night. He shifts in bed, trying to find a comfortable position. Every time he moves, so do they. This leads to a very sleep deprived, very cranky Tarrlok. He doesn’t have the energy for most anything except lounging against the pillows and reading. He doesn’t think he can physically get up any more. His belly is just too heavy and his hips ache too much.
Noatak laughs at his plight, not unkindly. He pats Tarrlok’s belly and brings him food and more books. He watches with fascination as the babies kick and squirm; their movements visible through Tarrlok’s skin and clothes.
Noatak sits on the side of the bed when he delivers Tarrlok’s breakfast. The twins are excited. Tarrlok’s belly is riddled with lumps that appear and disappear rapidly. Tarrlok grimaces, running his hand over the swollen skin. Noatak grins and pokes the jut of Tarrlok’s belly. The tiny foot inside recedes for a moment before shooting back out more forcefully.
Tarrlok grunts and rubs his hand against the attacked spot. He scowls petulantly at his brother.
“Have you given any thought to how you want to birth?” Noatak asks.
Tarrlok freezes. “No.”
“Well, I was wondering if you wanted a water birth.”
Tarrlok clasps his hands to his belly. He manages to cross his legs underneath it.
It used to be his thinking pose when he was little. Noatak is struck by how much time has gone by. His baby brother is having babies of his own.
“I don’t think the bath tub is big enough.” Tarrlok says after a long while.
“I could build a pool if you wanted.” Noatak says.
“That’s how we were born wasn’t it?” Tarrlok asks quietly.
Noatak nods.
Tarrlok sighs heavily running his hand through his hair. “I don’t- I can’t do this if all I can think is that I’m just following in Yakone’s footsteps.”
“I was thinking it was more following in Mum’s.” Noatak says quietly.
Tarrlok agrees to the water birth. Noatak hugs him when he tells him. He launches into the project eagerly. There’s an empty room in the house that was intended for storage, but Noatak now seems set on converting it into a proper birthing room.
Being stuck in bed, Tarrlok doesn’t see much of the process, except when Noatak gets him up to get an opinion on something. He’s honestly rather surprised about how skilled Noatak is with building. Since there’s really nothing else to do, the pool is completed in what must be record time. Noatak also goes a little mad with stocking up on supplies for the birth; the room is filled to the brim with blankets and little clothes and toys, and he’d even found a crib.
Tarrlok doesn’t go into what he calls the pool room- and Noatak calls the birthing room- very often. He just- it’s intimidating. Seeing just how much two babies need make him feel woefully unready. Still, he has Noatak place the crib in his room, at the foot of his bed.
He doesn’t know when he decided he was going to keep them. He doesn’t know why he decided to keep them. All he knows is every time he thinks about giving them up, they move inside him and all he thinks about is keeping them safe.
He thinks he loves them.
Tarrlok leans wearily against the kitchen counter. He holds his shoulders uncomfortably high, but it takes some of the pressure off of his hips and that’s his primary concern at the moment.
“Are you sure you don’t want to sit down?” Noatak frets.
Tarrlok glares at him. “Yes.”
“Do you think they’ll be Waterbenders?” Noatak muses.
Tarrlok grumbles at how insistent his brother is about making conversation. “I don’t know. They could be Earthbenders.”
Noatak raises an eyebrow. “I can’t tell if that was sarcasm or not.”
“It wasn’t,” Tarrlok sighs, “It was one of the Metalbenders on the police.”
“That hardly seems your type.”
“You haven’t known me since I was 12. You don’t know what my ‘type’ is.”
Noatak just fixes him with a look.
Tarrlok sighs again. “I was lonely, I went to a bar, he was there, we spent the night together. There’s nothing else to say.”
“How would you feel if they were Waterbenders?”
“I don’t know.”
Tarrlok wakes up slowly. His head is fuzzy, and his mouth is dry. Slowly, he pulls himself up as much as he can and reaches for the glass of water on his bedside table.
Noatak opens the door. He looks worried. “Good. You’re awake. You’ve been asleep all day.”
A glance at the window tells Tarrlok it’s early evening, so he really has been sleeping all day. That reminds him of waking up that morning. His body had been pulsing with a dull aching pain. Though he had nothing to compare it to, he instinctively knew he was in labour and decided the best plan was to just go back to sleep. So he did.
Before he can debate whether or not to tell Noatak any of this, he’s struck with another pain- this one stronger that the others. Slumping onto his side, he clenches his jaw and fists his hands tightly in the bed covers. A low grunt escapes him.
Noatak is immediately on high alert. “What’s wrong?”
Tarrlok breathes out a slow breath as the tension loosens. “Nothing. I’m fine, I’m just…”
“In labour.” Noatak finishes with a gleam in his eye.
With a sigh Tarrlok nods.
“What do you want to do?” Noatak asks.
Tarrlok shrugs. “I don’t know. I don’t think anything’s going to happen for a while, but hopefully I killed some time sleeping.”
Noatak nods. He moves to the other side of the bed and sits at Tarrlok’s back. From the bedside table, he picks up Tarrlok’s hair brush and starts gently tugging it through Tarrlok’s long locks. Tarrlok huffs, relaxing into his brother’s ministrations. His hands settle on his belly.
The skin is hard and tender. He isn’t quite sure what to make of it; beyond knowing it’s incredibly uncomfortable and wanting it to be over.
Half an hour later, he’s nearly falling back asleep. Then his belly clenches like a fist and he smothers a moan into his pillow. Noatak’s hands falter in his hair.
“It’s alright, Tarrlok, just breathe.” He murmurs.
Tarrlok just groans.
“I’ll fill up the pool. Do you want to come or stay here?”
After a pause, in a voice that doesn’t sound like his, Tarrlok replies. “Go.”
Noatak nods. Taking a deep breath, Tarrlok places one hand on either side of his belly and manually rolls it over so he can shift onto his back. Then Noatak helps him sit up and swing his legs over the side of the bed. Noatak has to practically lift him so he can stand. As they make their way slowly to the pool room, Noatak takes most of Tarrlok’s weight.
Tarrlok has never felt more grateful for his brother’s presence.
A groan forces itself out between Tarrlok’s teeth as he bows his head into the pillow beneath him. Noatak kneads his lower back quietly. The pool sits filled beside them. Tarrlok had been about to get in when the contraction struck him. Now he’s on his hands and knees on the makeshift nest of furs Noatak had set up for this very purpose.
“I’m never having sex again.” Tarrlok growls. His belly brushes the blankets below as he shifts.
Noatak wisely says nothing to that. “Are you ready to get in yet?”
Tarrlok nods. Noatak helps him up and out of his clothes. He changes into an obnoxiously large white tunic to try and preserve as much of his dignity as possible.
Then he’s sliding into the water.
It’s warm and washes into the aches and pains of his body. He moans with relief. Noatak chuckles. “Aren’t you glad I suggested this?”
Like the mature former council member he is, Tarrlok flips him off.
Noatak snorts with laughter.
“I’m too old for this.” Tarrlok complains in voice coated with weariness.
Noatak brushes stray strands of hair from his brother’s face. Tarrlok hadn’t even noticed it was there. “Tarrlok, you’re 37. Not even 40. I hardly think that’s old.”
“It is to have a baby. Over 35 is old to give birth. Surely you should know this, with all of your reading?”
“Don’t be a brat.” Noatak teases.
Tarrlok pouts. “I’m about to push two humans out of me. If I want to be a brat, I will be a brat.”
Before Noatak can reply, Tarrlok is moaning. He curls onto his side, his hands scrabbling desperately. Noatak takes his hands and Tarrlok squeezes. His breaths come in ragged pants through the vice like cramp rocketing through his body.
“Breathe Tarrlok.”
Through the pain, Tarrlok glares. “Asshole.” He snaps once the pain passes.
Noatak nods the insult away. He knows better than to argue with someone in labour.
Noatak strokes Tarrlok’s hair as his brother rides out another wave of pain- bordering on agony now. Tarrlok’s hands are a bloodless white as they clutch the sides of the pool. The water swirls with his uneven breaths.
“You’re doing well.” Noatak murmurs.
Tarrlok just lets out a long groan. “I don’t- I don’t like this.” He gasps out.
“I don’t think you’re supposed to like it.” Noatak says.
Tarrlok just leans his head back against the edge of the pool. It’s been 5 hours since he woke up and it’s getting bad. His hair is sticking to his forehead. Noatak keeps brushing it away. Tarrlok thinks he should thank him; having his hair like that is uncomfortable and annoying but he can’t find the energy to do anything about it.
As if reading his mind, Noatak dabs at Tarrlok’s forehead with a damp cloth. Tarrlok nods to him, too tired to speak. He’s sure Noatak understands.
Noatak taps his knee. “I need to check your progress.”
Tarrlok muzzily remembers that means he needs to part his legs. He does so slowly. His whole body aches. Distantly, he thinks he should be embarrassed about this, but he really doesn’t care. He hurts too much. It’s not as though Noatak is bothered either. He’s been strictly professional about the whole process. It’s not like he hasn’t seen Tarrlok naked before, though it’s been an age since they bathed together as small children.
“6 centimetres.” Noatak reports.
Tarrlok wants to cry. It’s not enough and he doesn’t know how much more he can endure.
Noatak sighs heavily. He moves around the pool and pulls Tarrlok into a hug. Tarrlok gratefully nuzzles into his brother’s chest.
“I know it doesn’t feel like it, but you’re doing beautifully.” Noatak says.
Tarrlok shakes his head.
“I know I wouldn’t be able to cope as well as you are.”
Tarrlok raises his head with a grin. “Probably not. You’re too old anyway.”
“I’m 40.”
“Too old.”
“Brat.”
The only way to describe Tarrlok is sulky. He’s pouting, arms crossed, and tea cup balanced on his belly. Noatak bites his lip to keep from laughing, knowing that would not be appreciated.
“Why haven’t my waters broken yet?” Tarrlok complains, “I need them to break.”
“Give it time.” Noatak says.
“If I could reach you,” Tarrlok says slowly, “I would punch you.”
“Duly noted.”
Tarrlok sips slowly at his tea. Noatak nods approvingly. Tarrlok’s not eaten since dinner the night before and he hadn’t realised how ravenous he is.
“I don’t suppose you’d let me eat something?” he asks wearily.
“If you’re hungry.” Noatak says.
“Please.”
“Alright. Call if you need me and stay here.”
Tarrlok snorts as Noatak leaves the room. “Where am I going to go?” he grouses, “And how?”
He feels the slow creeping sensation of the contraction for just a moment before it hits him; sharp and pulsing. He growls his way through it and gasps as the babies squirm inside their cramped quarters.
Noatak appears in the doorway, a plate of plain bread in hand. “How’re you doing?”
“How do you think?” Tarrlok mutters irritably.
Noatak nods passively. He hands Tarrlok a towel to dry his hands before passing him the plate. Tarrlok places it on the rise of his belly sticking out above the water. He nibbles at the bread and sighs with relief.
“Thank you.”
“Of course.”
“Do you something strange? I almost don’t want this to be over.”
“Really? After all that complaining?”
Tarrlok looks down at his mountain of a belly. “I certainly don’t want to be pregnant anymore, but I’ll miss having them here where I can feel them.”
As if on cue, one kicks, and the plate jumps on his belly. It’s only Noatak’s quick reflexes that save his bread. He sighs morosely.
“They hate me already.”
Noatak just barely holds in his laughter.
Tarrlok shrieks. He struggles onto his side and then onto his hands and knees. He sucks in great gulps of air through tightly clenched teeth. “Oh shit, shit, shit, shit!” he wheezes. It hurts. This is too much.
Noatak’s hands press against his back, but they burn, sending prickles through his body.
“Don’t touch me! Don’t fucking touch me!” he cries.
Noatak yanks his hands away. He says something but Tarrlok doesn’t register it at all. The pain is roaring in his ears now and there’s no stopping the wail that escapes him. Something bursts inside him and there’s a splash.
This time he hears Noatak’s excited exclamation, “Your waters have broken!”
Nausea shoots up his throat. He just barely has time to lurch over the edge of the pool before he’s gagging. Noatak holds his hair back and tears brim in his eyes when he sees the mess. He closes his eyes and doesn’t look at Noatak.
“Sorry.” He whimpers.
“It’s fine.” Noatak assures, Waterbending the mess away. He helps Tarrlok settle back into the pool, ready for what’s ahead.
The contractions are intense. Tarrlok keens shrilly through the pain. Noatak is kneeling in the pool between Tarrlok’s legs. “You’re so close now. Just a little more.”
Tarrlok just moans lowly. The pain spikes and he throws his head back with a yell.
“You’re fully dilated now. You’re the nearly there.”
“I’m so tired…” Tarrlok whispers.
It’s been 13 hours since the first contraction. It feels like a lifetime ago.
“I know, I know.”
Tarrlok gulps. “Bowl- now.”
Noatak passes it into Tarrlok’s hands. He thrusts his head over it and heaves, but all that comes up is bile. When he’s done, Noatak pries it from his shaky grasp.
“I feel like I’m dying.” Tarrlok gasps.
“You’re not dying.” Noatak says, squeezing Tarrlok’s hand. Despite his clear exhaustion, his little brother still has one hell of a grip.
“I think- I think I need to push.”
“Alright. Whenever you’re ready.”
Tarrlok draws in a long breath to steel himself before he bears down.
“Good, good. Keep it going.”
Tarrlok shakes his head as he loses the contraction. He takes deep measured breaths and forces himself to relax before the pain rears again. His next push is more effective. He can feel the first baby slide through him. He bellows; forcing his body to keep going.
“Well done, well done.”
The next half hour passes in the same pattern. Push, breathe, push, breathe. The second wind Tarrlok found is rapidly waning. He’s so tired. His lower body is on fire and he screams.
“Tarrlok, I can see the head! You’re so close! Big push for me now.”
Tarrlok does his best. He doesn’t feel it’s enough. The head slides part way out of him, stretching him wide, but doesn’t move further.
“I can’t do this! I can’t do this!” he sobs. It hurts too much. He’s not ready to be parent. He’s terrified.
“The head’s hanging out of you,” Noatak says, “There’s nothing you can do but keep pushing. So get on with it.”
Tarrlok snarls wordlessly but launches into the next push out of sheer spite. The rest of the head slides out of him. Beneath the ringing of his ears he can hear Noatak laughing. He pushes again on autopilot and the shoulders are free and the body follows.
“He’s out, Tarrlok, he’s out!”
“He?” Tarrlok breathes, trying to see over his belly.
Noatak lifts him out of the water and sets him on Tarrlok’s chest. Of their own accord, his hands come up to cradle the tiny body. He’s actually rather ugly; wrinkled, red and squaling, but to Tarrlok he’s the most beautiful thing in the world. He’s so enraptured by the baby he doesn’t notice his body expelling the afterbirth.
Noatak deftly cuts the cord and sits back to let everyone just breathe before the next one arrives.
Tarrlok gets 10 minutes of respite before the vice like feeling grips his body again. He doesn’t have the strength to cry out, just sobs.
“You can do this, Tarrlok. Come on, push.”
Tarrlok gives a half-hearted, aborted push. He shakes his head. “I can’t, Noa, I’m too tired.”
Noatak sighs determinedly. He reaches for the baby and takes him from Tarrlok’s exhausted arms. He wraps the baby up and sets him down on the nest to wait for his sibling.
Then he starts pulling Tarrlok up. “Come on then. Gravity’s going to have to do some of the work for us.”
“No,” Tarrlok whimpers, “I can’t, I can’t move.”
“Yes you can Tarr.”
Tarrlok cries but doesn’t offer any resistance as Noatak helps him into a squatting position. He feels the shift as the baby descends. He gasps and pushes with the feeling.
Noatak grins. “That’s it! Well done!”
Heavy pants fill the room as Tarrlok bears down again. And again. And again. And again. Before he’s even realising it, the baby is sliding into Noatak’s waiting hands.
“Another boy!”
Tarrlok feels his face stretch into a smile as his brother places his second son into his arms. The little one is smaller than his brother, but with a louder set of lungs. Tarrlok knows he’ll be alright.
Noatak undoes Tarrlok’s shirt buttons and help guide the baby onto his bare skin. He disappears from Tarrlok’s view for a moment before he returns: placing the first baby alongside his brother. They snuffle at each other and quiet.
“They’re beautiful…” Tarrlok whispers.
That’s the last thing he remembers.
When he comes to again, he’s in bed. His body radiates with aches- but the dull remnants of the pain that was. His eyelids are heavy and don’t want to open. The soft whimpers at his side force them open.
The crib is to his left. Both babies are there, awake and twitching their tiny limbs. Tarrlok’s body doesn’t want to cooperate but he reaches out all the same. His fingers skate over the crib bars. A smile tugs his tired features. They’re here. His sons are here. He can hardly believe he’s actually done something good in his life.
The door opens quietly and Noatak peers inside. He beams when he meets Tarrlok’s eyes. “Good. You’re awake.” He strides into the room and picks up the bigger baby. Tarrlok undoes his shirt and takes the baby. Noatak passes him the second and it takes him a moment to figure out how to balance them both comfortably. Now that they’re clean and his head’s clear, he can really take in what they look like. They have his skin tone, but their hair is distinctly darker, like their father’s. Both their eyes are blue.
Noatak sits on the edge of the bed. He looks at his baby brother with pride filled eyes. This is it. This is the future they’ve been working for.
“Do they have names?” he asks.
Tarrlok nods to the smaller baby. “This one is Nuka.”
Little brother.
“I was hoping you’d name his brother.”
Noatak is taken aback but the expression on his brother’s face isn’t one to argue with. He thinks for a moment. “How about Dakota?”
Friend.
Tarrlok nods. “Nuka and Dakota. And they’ll be good. They won’t suffer. Not like we did. I don’t ever want them to even hear the word bloodbending.”
“They won’t.” Noatak promises. “I’m so proud of you little brother.”
“Thank you for coming back for me.”
Nuka and Dakota.
Little brother and friend.
They are special. They will be different.