Dec. 5th, 2015

Labor is called, well, labor for a reason.

It involves work, which Kate can handle.

It involves pain, which Kate can handle.

But there's no enemy to focus on, nothing to defeat, and that--

That's what makes her scream, while she deals with the collar, with the migraine, with the fear.

She hears Piotr's voice, Hank's voice, Logan's voice--she thinks, she might be hallucinating--and she doesn't know what the hell to do.

Luckily, her body does.

Her name is Tatiana Mala Petravina Rasputina, and Kate is weary as the little girl with silver, metallic eyes. In that, she is most definitely her father's daughter.

She's kinda glad; in her opinion, the more their children take after Piotr, rather than her, the better. (And she doesn't realize she already is thinking about children, as in more than one child.)

(She and Piotr had spent days debating if they should choose to name her for Simon or Mal, as they both care for each man and both owe each man a great deal. But they agreed, finally, that Mala sounded better. And a name that means, "mighty in battle" is probably good for their daughter.)

But she has her daughter, and she has her maybe-will-be-husband, and she thinks it's going to turn out okay.

She should have known better. She never should have dared to even think that.

But for now, let's let her have indulge in her delusion. She just gave birth.

So if visions of outdoor weddings and blue wedding dress that's probably from the bridesmaid shelf, though she'd never admit to it, if images of her daughter going to preschool-kindergarten-college are dancing in her head, well--she is Dream's favorite niece. Let her dream, even during the day.

For today, let's let her believe it will be okay.


Kate Pryde | Shadowcat

July 2016


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