Another drabble requested on tumblr; one of Isobel and Matthew, just after he is born.

After they had both been cleaned up, she asked for a moment alone with her son before they let Reginald in to see them. The nurse looked at her a little surprised.

"But, Dr. Crawley-..."

"He won't mind," she told her swiftly, "Please, just give him to me."

There was something in the attempt to be stern in her voice- her tired, happy voice- which conveyed to the nurse immediately that all she needed was a moment with her little boy, and then everything would be alright. Without another word, the nurse fetched the small bundle from the cradle in the corner of the room and brought him over to Isobel's bed.

"Thank you," she told her quietly. She did not look at the baby for a second, she wanted to wait until they were alone and she could just look at him completely.

"I'll talk to Dr. Crawley for a few minutes," the nurse told her, "That should give you a little while."

"Thank you," she told her again, "I appreciate it."

The door shut behind her and they were alone, for the first time. She looked at her baby's crumpled little face; the spatter of blonde on the top of his head that matched her and, when he opened his eyes, the blue there that matched his father's. He was so small, and he fit perfectly in her arms, resting against her knees.

Slowly, she bent forwards, rested her lips as softly as she could on his forehead. His eyes followed her as she straightened back up. He gave a quiet, almost contemplative gurgle.

"Hello, my darling," she told him, "I've waited so long for you. I'm your mother."

Another gurgle, slightly louder.

"I'm the one you come to whenever anything is wrong," she told him, quite seriously, "And I will always be there. Because I love you. There is nothing more to it than that." Her arms tightened just a touch around him, "Any questions?"

Silence. And then another gurgle. A little hand lifted up out of the blanket, reached up for her. Carefully, she offered him her little finger, and he clasped his fist around it. She bit her lip.

"Yes," she told him, "That's right. My little boy. You're perfect. Do let anyone tell you you're not."

She wanted to cry. She knew it was only that she was tired after the birth, but she badly wanted to cry. She was so happy.

"We're going to be alright, you and I," she told him, "Just you watch."

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