“No way,” Cora gasped, despite herself, fully aware of how unprofessionally she was behaving, but just for now incapable of anything else. (She at least had the foresight not to touch the doors — she’d probably keep her hands sterile even if Jesus himself came down to visit. Midwife instinct.)

“Audrina?”

The man by the bed looked up, a look of shock on his face.

“No-one’s called my wife by that name for years,” he said slowly, his sunken blue eyes narrowing. He was even taller than Ian, Cora noticed, a little worried — broader, too, the kind of man you wouldn’t want to pick a fight with. Frightening. But then Audrina groaned, teeth gritted as another contraction shook her. He looked down and squeezed her hand tight, and the look that crossed his face — of love, of concern, of care, a desperate bravery in the face of an unshakable terror of losing his wife — banished all of Cora’s worries. This was a good man, and he loved her Audrina with all his heart. That was what that look told her, all in less than a second.

“I’m the midwife,” she told him, crossing to the foot of the bed, trying to catch his eyes, show him with all the warmth and focus in her eyes and her heart that she was there to fix this, that everything would be okay. “I’m here to help.”

“Cora,” murmured the woman on the bed, struggling upright as the contraction eased. “N-no. Way.”

That is her. She’d know that voice anywhere — softened a little with something like a Scottish accent, but that San Francisco twang never quite left you. Wherever she was, wherever she’d been brought — drugged, kidnapped, brainwashed, whatever had happened — she’d been brought to Audrina’s side. Tears standing in her eyes, she reached out tentatively to brush an errant piece of red hair out of her best friend’s face and tuck it decisively behind her ear. Audrina was staring at her as though she was trying to figure out if she was a hallucination. Maybe she was! That would explain a lot — she was just someone else’s hallucination...

“Look,” Cora said dryly, “I’ve got a couple of questions...”

Audrina snorted laughter. The man by her side made a disbelieving sound, but a smile had lit up his eyes for a moment. That light was snuffed out, though, as Audrina’s hand tightened on his again — she grimaced as another contraction ripped through her body. “Cora, I’ve been —” she gasped, clenching her teeth as the pain grew too strong to speak through. Not long to go, then.

“Hush.” Cora switched to her Boss Voice — the voice that sent husbands scampering and well-meaning grandmothers-to-be to the kitchen to make cups of tea. “We’ve got a few things to do before we talk about all that. How far apart are your contractions?”

“N-not far at all,” she replied as the pain eased again. “A few seconds. It’s hard to count.”

“Can I see?”

Audrina nodded, gestured downwards. She was wearing some kind of gown — enormous, made of a rough cloth and thoroughly stained with blood. Cora made a quick examination, then stood back up, directing her comments to mother and father both.

“Well, the good news is we won’t be here too much longer. The bad news is, the hard part’s coming up.”

The man’s face crumpled a little. “The hard part?”

“The best part, I always say! A big old push and a lot of yelling! Then there’s the other best part.”

“And what’s that?”

“Meeting your new babies.” She smiled, eyes alight. This was a useful skill — you took in the blood and the horror, and no matter how dire things looked, you acted as though it was the most straightforward birth you’d ever seen and the rest was going to be a walk in the park. The psychological boost it gave was invaluable — but God, it took a toll, especially when things didn’t look so great. But Cora had enough experience to ignore the gnawing tendrils of worry that were chewing on her heart. Don’t think of her as Audy, she told herself firmly. Don’t think of the long nights you spent together drinking wine on the couch, don’t think about the way she laughed, don’t think about all your rushed cafeteria lunch dates and text message chains and inside jokes. She’s just another patient, just another mother.

“Now, I’m assuming you’re Daddy?”

The man looked extremely ruffled to be called this — and Cora didn’t miss the smirk that crept across Audrina’s exhausted face.

“Yes,” he said, with some dignity, “I am the father. Maeve’s husband. Laird of Castle MacClaran. Colin, of Clan MacClaran.”

“Nice to meet you, Colin. I’m Cora. I won’t shake hands, if that’s alright. Now, Colin, I need something very important from you.”

“Anything.” He drew himself upright and seemed to grow another three feet. This was the kind of man who rode into battle, Cora sensed. Who on Earth were these people?

“There’s a woman called Margaret who works here, right? She said she had some towels and some hot water. Could you go and check with her about that?”

“Absolutely.” He rose from the half-crouch he’d taken by the bed — god he was tall! — and kissed Audrina on the forehead. “I’ll not be long, my love.”

Cora watched him close the door behind him, then turned back to Audrina with her eyebrow raised. “Ah’ll noot be loooong,” she drawled solemnly — and just as she’d hoped, Audrina couldn’t stop herself from giggling. But it wasn’t long before the giggling was arrested by a short yelp of pain — Cora hastened back to her side as the contraction strengthened.

“Alright, now he’s gone we can talk properly. You’ve got a while longer to go before you can push. There’s more blood than I’m happy about, but not enough to worry just yet. The medical supplies are on their way, a gentleman is seeing to that. Oh, and it’s the middle of the night, we’re in a fucking medieval castle and everyone is Scottish, Audrina.”

“That’s because we’re in Scotland, you daft cow,” came the response once she’d caught her breath again, and Cora couldn’t help but laugh at the ridiculousness of that sentence.

“You abandoned me for two years to plan this extremely elaborate practical joke and that’s the story I’m going to stick with so I don’t lose my entire goddamn mind, Audrina.”

“Maeve.”

“Who’s Maeve?”

“Me. I’m Maeve, now.”

“Of course you are.” She took a deep breath. All a joke, all a joke, all a silly joke. Torn between laughing and crying, Cora opted to force down the maelstrom of emotion in her heart. That could be dealt with later. For now, there was a baby — two babies, if Ian was to be believed — to be brought into the world. And Mother Nature rarely had much time to wait for a midwife to get her silly thoughts in order — even if that midwife had just been dealt the single greatest curveball of all time.

Audrina — Maeve — cried out again. Cora stroked her hair.

“My love, my darling, my dearest,” she murmured. “We’ll talk about all this later. Right now, we’ve got some very important work to do.”