"Eeeeaaaaaagh!"

Thud!

If you've ever wondered what a falling doctor hitting the ground sounds like—that was it.

Dusting off his hands, Mr Rikkard Ambrose turned back towards the room. His gaze swept over the assembled strangers, daring them to say something. Then it found me.

"Do you need any more fresh air, Mrs Ambrose?"

"Um...no. I don't think so."

"Adequate."

With a click, he closed the window, and then focused all of his attention on the remaining doctor in the room.

"Now you're in charge. Give her something!"

"Y-yes, Mr Ambrose, Sir! Right away, Mr Ambrose, Sir!" The doctor, who right now was clearly wishing he had chosen a less dangerous occupation—such as safari tour guide, or arctic explorer—rushed towards his bag. Moments later, he was back with various implements.

"H-here you go, Madam. The latest discovery in anaesthesia, guaranteed to work! Chloroform has been recommended by a renowned professor of midwifery from Edinburgh University."

"Chloroform?" I wheezed, sending my husband a grin. "Sh-shame on you, Mr Ambrose! Shame on you! You don't even use your own products? Where is my cocaine?"

"Far away from any pregnant women, I should hope," was the answer of my cruel, cruel husband. "Doctor? Get to it!"

"Yes, Sir!"

A moment later, something was lowered over my mouth and...oh....ahh...

That feels nice...!

Why had I been so scared of giving birth? Giving birth was fun! Giving birth was awesome! And look! The little yellow piggies had come to keep me company! Wasn't that nice?

"Ohhh..." I crooned, raising one hand to wave at them. "Hello there!"

Mr Ambrose cocked his head. "Hello?"

"Are you staying in a nice and comfy pigsty? I hope you've got plenty of straw."

Slowly, Mr Rikkard Ambrose turned towards the younger physician. "Doctor...are you sure you used the correct anaesthesia?"

"Y-yes, Mr Ambrose! Absolutely sure!"

"Little yellow piggies...pretty yellow piggies everywhere!"

Mr Rikkard Ambrose sent the assistant doctor an arctic look. For some reason, he seemed to be displeased with the young man. I wondered why? Everything was so nice and beautiful and happy! Especially happy! Beaming, I waved at the little yellow piggies in the corner, and in response, they waved back and started an impromptu dance performance of the Three Little Piggies.

Yay!

"Lock the door!" I ordered my dear husband. "Don't let the big, bad wolf get in!"

"Hm...all right. I shall have it seen to immediately. We wouldn't want the...wolf? The wolf to get in, after all. Doctor? Close the door!"

I beamed. Didn't I have a spiffing husband?

"And Doctor...we're going to have a little chat once this matter is concluded."

The doctor swallowed. "Y-yes, Mr Ambrose, Sir!"

Somewhere in the background, Nurse Selby gave a squeak and ducked down farther behind her shelf.

Hm...I wonder what that was all about?

Meh, not that it mattered. The little yellow piggies' performance was just about to reach the best part, where the little piggies go hunt down an arms dealer to buy guns and blow the wolf's brains out! Yippee!

To show my fighting spirit, I lifted my hands and started forming finger guns while making "bang bang" noises. Mr Ambrose looked like he was about to pull out a gun as well, although for some reason he seemed to want to aim at the doctor instead of the big, bad wolf.

Well...the difference wasn't really that important, right? How could I deny my hubby some fun?

I proceeded to snuggle into the comfy bed, ready to watch the rest of the amazing performance. Although...

As time went on, the performance seemed to become less and less fascinating. Especially since there seemed to be a dull ache growing in my back for some reason. I wondered why. The world should be perfect and colourful, and warm, and happy, and—

"Aagh!"

"Mrs Ambrose!" Mr Ambrose was at my side in a blink. "Mrs Ambrose, is everything all right?"

"D-don't know...feel strange..."

"Mrs Ambrose?"

"...little piggies are gone..."

"That is not of importance at this moment!"

"Aah!" This...this was not nice and happy anymore. The ache in my back suddenly flared into a burst of pain. "Aaagh!"

The pain stabbed straight through the fog covering my consciousness. Wha...? Where was I? What was happening?

Another burst of pain came from my lady parts.

Ah, that. Right.

"Gah!"

"Doctor!" Whirling towards the young physician, Mr Ambrose speared him with his gaze. "Is this normal?"

Dr Wilmut swallowed. "No. No, it's not normal at all. Let me see."

In a flash, the doctor was by my bedside, reaching for my belly.

His face grew pale.

Uh-oh...

"Doctor? What is it? Tell me now!"

Was it Mr Ambrose who uttered that demand? Or me? Or did we speak simultaneously? It didn't really matter. Wilmut's sombre answer remained the same.

"The baby is turned the wrong way."

"Then what are you waiting for?" The words escaping from between Mr Ambrose's clenched teeth were an enraged hiss. "You're a doctor! Do something!"

"I...I don't know what I could do. I'm just an assistant, I'm not very experienced, I—"

"Aagh!" I jerked, unable to resist the pain. Down on the bed, I saw a small, but undeniable stain of red. Through the haze that covered my vision, I was just able to make out Mr Rikkard Ambrose, holding the young doctor by the lapels.

"H-hey, now," I managed to get out, weakly. "That's the last one we have. Doctors aren't disposable tissues, you know."

"Debatable." Eyes narrowing infinitesimally, Mr Ambrose jabbed a finger at the window, through which groans and muffled curses were still audible. "What about him? Can he do it?"

"I d-don't b-believe so. I'm s-sorry to s-say, but matters like this almost always...almost always..."

"Spit. It. Out."

"...end fatally."

You could have heard an atom-sized pin drop. For a moment, utter silence pervaded the room. Then...

"Bah! Useless!"

With a growl, Mr Ambrose tossed the supposed expert aside. Scrambling to his feet, Wilmut raced from the room, not daring to linger a moment. The nurse gave another terrified squeak and retreated farther—but notably, did not leave the room.

Mr Ambrose didn't spare either of them a glance. He was already striding over to a basin in the corner and began to wash his hands.

"Mr Ambrose...?" I enquired, cautiously. "What are you doing?"

Although I already had an idea. I just hoped I was wrong.

"What do you think?" Grabbing a bottle of alcohol, Mr Ambrose dripped some on his hands and rubbed them. "The physicians aren't here anymore. Even if they were, they can't do anything. So someone else will have to."

Ah. Apparently, I hadn't been wrong.

Crap, crap, crap!

"You!" Stabbing a finger at his minion, Mr Ambrose speared him with an icy glare. "Go find her friends and family! Bring them here!"

In case she doesn't make it, I heard the words he didn't say.

He waited till his underling had whirled around and fled from the room. Then, without another word, he strode up to me and flexed his fingers. "Now...let's do this."

"Oy! Stop right there, Mister! I don't know what you are planning, but—"

That's about as far as I got before he pushed up my skirt and stuck his head between my legs.

"...eeeep! What the hell do you think you are doing?!"

"Observing."

"I can see that! What I want to know is why? And, more importantly, why I shouldn't give you a good kick in the head right now?"

"Because my head is between your legs where you cannot reach it."

"You...! That is not a frigging reasonable argument! Get out of there!"

"Calm down. It is not like I have not seen it before."

"That's not the bloody point, you darn...!" I opened and closed my mouth for a few moments—then decided there was no insult bad enough for him. "Just you wait, Mister! When I can move again, I will get you for this!"

"Unlikely. You are welcome to try."

"Merde! Bastardo!" Ah, so apparently there were suitable insults for him. I just had to go beyond the English language to find them. Luckily, I had quite a few more options available. "What on earth do you even want down there?"

That was when he pulled something out of his pocket.

"Hm...two inches..."

"Is that...Are you measuring with a ruler?"

"Naturally."

"I may dress like a man sometimes, but that doesn't mean I have anything down there worth measuring!"

"En contraire, Mrs Ambrose. Or are you planning to squeeze our child through a hole half its size? We have to wait till you are dilated enough before..."

Before what?

I really wanted to ask. But honestly...I was rather afraid to. The look on his face as he sat there, staring at that private part of me with an intense focus that contained no carnal interest whatsoever...

It sent a shiver down my spine. Mr Ambrose always concentrated on at least three things at once. Anything less would be an egregious waste of time. Unless, that is, something of utmost importance required his utter, unadulterated attention.

Which, right now, is apparently the case.

I felt my heartbeat speed up, and the contractions soon followed suit. More sweat started trickling down my forehead as the dull ache in my back became increasingly intense. My breath shortened, now coming in quick, shallow gasps.

"I think..." My voice failed me for a moment as I dragged in deep gulps of air. "I think s-something is h-happening."

"Agreed." Mr Rikkard Ambrose was as tense as a steel spring. If I'd thought his focus could not grow any more intense, I was very much mistaken. Even dizzy as I was, I could see him move his hands into place, tensed with anticipation. I could feel his fingers brushing against my skin, his touch heart-breakingly gentle.

"Four inches," his icy voice reached my ears. "Any moment now."

I swallowed—then gave myself a metaphorical kick in the arse and took the plunge. "What the heck do you mean? W-what are you going to do?"

No answer. Normally, that would not be a strange thing for Mr Rikkard Ambrose. But right now, when I couldn't disguise the hint of real, raw fear in my voice? When I was practically begging for an answer?

It didn't bode well.

"Mr Ambrose? Tell me! What are you going to do?"

For a moment, his only answer was silence. Then...

"Turn it."

"What?"

Lifting his gaze, he sent me a dark look from beneath equally dark lashes. "The baby. I am going to have to turn it."

"T-turn it?" I wheezed. "How?"

"Like this," he said.

And then he stuck his hand up my vagina.

------------------------------------------------------------

My dear Lords and Ladies,

Today, I have prepared a little lecture on 19th century medicine. So, anyone disinterested in this fascinating subject, please start sleeping now ;)

Ehem...

Here we go:

The use of chloroform for anaesthesia in the Victorian Age that was mentioned in the above chapter is actually well-attested. It was first introduced by James Young Simpson, Professor of Midwifery at Edinburgh University, after getting high on—ehem, I mean experimenting with various interesting drugs in his dining room. Finally, he found one that made him keel over and pass out. Once he woke up the following morning, he immediately proceeded to begin human testing on his own niece. And once that test was successful, he began using it in smaller doses during childbirth. Amazing, the kind of refined scientific research methods the people of the nineteenth century used, right?

The practice of washing hands before aiding in childbirth was also first introduced during this time. Dr Ignaz Philipp Semmelweis, a nineteenth-century Hungarian physician known as the "saviour of mothers", was the first to come up with the marvellous idea that washing your hands before medical procedures might reduce fatality rates. This managed to reduce the mortality rate in maternity hospitals from over eighteen percent to no more than six percent.

Yours Truly, and an early Merry Christmas,

Sir Rob