by Aiden Bates
Trent stepped toward him, hand out. "Mal, are you okay?"
Mal huffed out a little laugh. "I'm most definitely not okay. We, ah, we should talk. Up on the roof, maybe."
"Yeah. All right." Trent followed Mal up the stairs to the roof deck, but his mind was racing. What could have happened to put Mal into such a state? Was he sick? Had Trent somehow given him an STI? Was he leaving? The Navy wasn't finished with him yet, but Mal didn't answer to the Navy. If the Wolves needed him, Mal would be out with the tide.
Mal sat on one of the cheap patio chairs and gestured to Trent. "You'll want to sit down. Less likelihood of falling off the side."
"Well, that's ominous." Trent sat down. "What's going on here?"
Mal leaned forward, elbows on his knees. His heel beat out a rapid tattoo on the concrete floor. "There's no easy way to say this. Um, I'm pregnant."
The world dimmed. All Trent could hear was the word, pregnant. There was a baby in Mal's belly. A baby that was, presumably, theirs. A combination of Trent and Mal.
Something patted Trent's cheek, and he came back to himself. The "something" turned out to be Mal, glaring daggers at him. "You stopped breathing!" Mal accused.
"Sorry. I didn't mean to." Trent gripped the plastic arms of the chair he was in. "Are you sure about this?"
"Took the test this afternoon. Symptoms fit." Mal looked away and returned to his seat. "Yeah. I'm pregnant. And the kid is yours, before you go there."
Trent rolled his eyes. "I didn't think it wasn't. I know it had been a little while for you." He wiped a hand down his face. "A baby. Wow." The enormity hit him. "Well, fuck."
"Yeah. I'm kind of at a loss here. It's a bit of a disaster."
Trent frowned at Mal. "Why would our kid be a disaster? Sure, it's not something we planned for, but a baby coming into the world is always a good thing, Mal."
"Oh yeah?" Mal picked up his head and straightened his spine. "What exactly were you doing when you were four, Trent?"
"I don't know." Trent scratched his head. "I had a stuffed football I liked to cuddle. Why?"
"I built my first bomb. It wasn't much of a bomb, just a little pipe bomb, but it got the job done. I can't bring a child into the kind of life I have. I can't raise a child the way I grew up." He stood up and swept his hand across the open air. "I just can't do it. And that assumes I make it through the whole process, without a doctor or any of that."
Trent looked up at Mal. "Okay…that's kind of going from zero to sixty in no time at all, don't you think? I mean, first of all, why would you even think about raising a kid in your organization?" He stood up too, but he didn't approach.
"What, you thought I could just walk away? 'Oh, sorry guys, I seem to be in a bit of a family way, so I'll just be going now.' Sounds lovely, but that's not how it works. I'm the fourth generation of my family to be part of the Wolves, Trent." Trent had never seen such a bitter cast to Mal's face. "And I'm already taking shit from my Da for being here, working with you, instead of taking on another job. There's no part of him that's going to be okay with me getting pregnant, by an American Navy man to boot."
Trent bit down on the inside of his cheek. He could see Mal had worked himself up to a certain level of hysteria, and he couldn't exactly blame the guy. "Okay, Mal. Look. We don't have to figure out what to do today. The question is what do you want to do?"
Mal blinked at him. "Who cares? It doesn't matter. There are very few options on the table, and they all require the involvement of doctors." He sat down again. "The most sensible solution is to find a surgeon, get rid of it, and get the surgeon to sterilize me while he's in there. Going to a hospital is a risk, but I can't see any way around it."
Trent doubled over. Mal's words hit him like a punch to the stomach. "You would abort? You would abort our baby?"
Mal grabbed onto his hair and pulled. "What do you want me to do here, Trent? I can't exactly go out and fight terror with a baby strapped to my back!"
"You can stop going out and fighting!" Trent waved a hand at the sea.
"Oh, and get a regular job? Who's going to provide child care, hm? My entire family is either part of the Wolves or part of an IRA splinter group that shouldn't even be named they're so vile. And exactly what kind of a job do you think a man with no legal identity can get in modern Europe? I can't even go to a hospital. I can't access any kind of services, legally, because I don't have an identity of my own." Mal kept his voice down, barely above a hiss, but his face was so red he looked like he was shouting. "You want me to sit in a room somewhere and raise your child, while you flit off back to America and sit smug in the sure knowledge that you've somehow passed on your genes."
Trent's jaw dropped. "Well no, but you can't go out and fight with a baby, and you can't just get an abortion. It's dangerous, isn't it? Never mind that it's our freaking baby. It's dangerous for you!"
"So's birth, remember?" Mal stepped closer to Trent. "Do you have any idea what childbirth was like for omegas before we were able to come out and be open? When we had to give birth at home, unassisted, and just hope for the best? Try a seventy percent mortality rate! I just told you I can't go to a hospital."
"Everyone can go to a hospital, Mal. It's Europe." Trent squinted at Mal. He couldn't understand Mal's issues with this. Sure, pregnancy and childbirth were scary times for omegas, but Europe had state of the art medical equipment and universal healthcare. Mal would be fine.
"Not me. Not us." Mal closed his eyes and shook his head. "Never been in one in my life, except to steal supplies." He took a deep breath and grabbed the back of a chair. "If I can't get the abortion, I'll have to give the baby up for adoption. There's no other way."
"Of course there's another way." Trent scoffed. "You can stop doing all of this and settle down." He waved a hand. "Keep the apartment here. I know single parenting sucks, but it's better than just throwing your damn kid away!"
"It's better for the baby!" Mal threw his hands in the air. "Better to be raised in a loving home with two parents who can take care of it than by one parent that can't, and who's being hunted for leaving a vigilante organization for a selfish reason like going off to have a baby on his own. Or were you planning to stick your head in every once in awhile, if you happened to be in the area and not on a job?" Mal crossed his arms over his chest.
"That's the job." Trent stood up and adopted the same posture. "I'm sorry if you don't like it, but the SEAL life isn't exactly nine to five."
"So you expect me to drop everything to raise your child, but you're not willing to do anything?" Mal snorted. "Do you begin to see some of the problem here?"
Trent pursed his lips. "Okay, but I'm not talking about throwing our baby away. Besides, you're an omega. Aren't you supposed to just want family all the time?"
"Not so much, no." Mal raised his eyebrow. "Believe it or not, omegas can find all sorts of things fulfilling. Like, say, rescuing a group of women from a gang of sex traffickers. Single parenthood isn't on my list, I'm afraid." He closed his eyes again, and heaved another deep breath. "Look. Maybe in a different world, under vastly different circumstances, I might make a different decision. But you're expecting me to give up everything I know and risk my life to raise a child completely alone, in an absolute vacuum, and that's not very reasonable."
Trent deflated. "You're right. It's not reasonable. But Mal, there has to be a way. There has to be something we can do that will keep the baby in the family, somehow."
Mal stared at him for a moment, and then he sat down. "By which I assume you mean your family. I'm pretty sure we've already established that mine isn't suitable."
Trent chewed on the inside of his cheek. "Will you let me try to work something out?"
Mal turned his face away. "Do I really get a choice?"
Trent pulled back. "What do you mean, do you get a choice? Of course, you get a choice."
Mal fixed him with a murderous glare. "Right. Except you have all of the power here. All it takes is a word from you and I'l
l have the European police on my door. They'll shackle me to a bed until I give birth, and then they'll lock me away and throw away the key. Unless I give you what you want, which is apparently this baby."
Trent rubbed his eyes. "It's not like that, Mal. You have to know I'd never do something like that."
Mal turned back to him. "The temptation must be there, though. I mean your first thought was about how I can't give up the baby. You were horrified at the thought. Not about me bringing a child into the world alone, and not about me having to decide if I want to risk death now or later. No, it was all about a baby you never mentioned even wanting until you knew it was on the way. I didn't figure into it at all."
Trent opened his mouth. He closed it again. "Well, yeah. I love the baby. Is that a bad thing? I'm an alpha, Mal. It's kind of in my wiring. I want to start a family someday. The thought of losing out is making my skin crawl." Trent worked his jaw, trying to make the rest of the words come out.
"I should have had more to say to you. I should have made that effort, and I'm sorry. I made assumptions. I assumed that your priorities were like mine — child-centered. That was wrong of me. I guess I still don't get that." Trent blinked a few times. He didn't know if he was blinking back tears or mental cobwebs. Sure, Mal wasn't like most of the other omegas he'd been with, but he was still an omega. Shouldn't he be more nurturing than this?
"But yeah." Trent set his jaw. "That baby is part of my family. Yeah, you're the one assuming all of the risks here. And you didn't get a choice about it. We did everything we could to prevent it, but I absolutely refuse to be upset about it. And I'm going to do everything I can to find a way to bring it home and make sure it gets a healthy and happy upbringing. If you're not going to raise it, and be a father, then I'll make sure it gets raised in the States by people who love it and who will give it the values that at least one of its parents cherish."
Mal threw his hands up in the air. "I'm not going to put myself through all of this risk and misery to birth a child that's going to be a serial killer, wandering in and out of supermarkets with submachine guns slung over its back like some kind of horrid Mad Max reboot!"
Trent blinked at him. "Mal, that's…that's not what America's like."
"I've seen enough news reports. You've got people shooting up schools and movie theaters and whatnot. I'm not having a baby just to have it running around looking like a heavily-armed hedgehog!" Mal shuddered.
"Okay, but Virginia Beach is actually kind of nice." Trent scratched his head. What kind of nonsense were they filling European news reports with, anyway? "And weren't you, in fact, a kind of heavily-armed hedgehog?"
"Yes! Which is exactly why I don't want that for any child I bring into the world." Mal held up one finger in triumph. "No one in his right mind would want that for their child." He glared, and then he slumped. "I should be mad about the whole thing where you're basically accusing me of not being willing to do my job —"
"Well, you're not." Trent leaned back and crossed his arms.
"My job is to do what's best. And what's best is not to bring this child into the world, lugging it around, teaching it to kill, with every man's hand against it. I don't know why you think I should do that. And it's not to go through life knowing that neither of its parents could be bothered with it."
"Then be bothered with it!" Trent roared. He tried not to think about the implications of sending the baby to live with relatives. "Stop being so damn selfish and look after your own kid!"
"How about you retire from the Navy and look after the kid yourself." Mal's voice dripped ice. "Not so keen on that? Then why would you ask it of me? We've already been over why it's not feasible for me. I don't have anywhere to go, I don't have any help, it's not an option. And it sure as hell isn't like you're about to bring me back to America with you."
Trent choked on that. "Would you even want that?"
Mal closed his eyes. "For all that's…enticing, I suppose, about a long-term relationship, or the fantasy of building a family, I think we both know that's not feasible. The Navy would never let you bring me back."
"No." Trent looked down. "They think you're half a step up from being a terrorist yourself."
"Then that's not an option. You want to live on a completely separate continent, knowing there's a child out there somewhere with your genes, but never have to see it or take care of it. It doesn't work that way, Trent."
"Give me some time to find a solution. I have family, Mal. They raised me, they can raise my kid."
Mal waved a hand. "Whatever." He refused to look up when Trent left the roof and slunk out of the apartment.
Chapter Nine
Mal hid in his room for a couple of days. Morna brought him a jug of water, and that was pretty much all he needed. He didn't feel up to eating. He crept out to use the bathroom, but otherwise he didn't poke his nose out of the tiny space.
A voice in his head that sounded suspiciously like his father told him he was sulking, and he needed to get over it. Had he really and truly thought Trent was going to put him first? He knew better. He'd never met an alpha, or a beta, who would put someone else first once the possibility of children came into play. Expecting Trent to be different had been foolish. Expecting Trent to be different when Mal had known him for such a short time had been downright dangerous.
The job came first. It had to come first. If Mal could just get the job done, he could get off this damnable island and find someplace suitable to go to ground. If he survived the birth, he could surrender the child, and move on.
Like it had never even happened.
He focused on tracking down more of White Dawn's current operations. So far, no one in the organization seemed to have figured out they'd been busted through mobile signals, which worked out well for Mal. He was able to use data he pulled from their laptops to monitor their communications, and they didn't suspect the involvement of the US in any way.
Funny, that. Mal wasn't the States' biggest booster, but he had a healthy respect for their attitude toward Daesh. He'd have thought, given that White Dawn was here in Greece to work with Daesh, they'd be paranoid about the US getting involved, but none of their internal communication contained any worry whatsoever about interference from Washington. They had some concerns about NATO, but according to someone speaking for their leader, "NATO is still on Washington's leash, and we have nothing to fear from them."
Mal reported that one to Master Chief Boone and Lt. DeWitt. He made a copy and forwarded it to his dad, too. If things in the political landscape were changing, and the US wasn't going to take an active hand against Daesh, the Wolves might want to adjust their tactics as well. That didn't necessarily mean they were going to be backing off, but they might want to refocus their energy into more productive areas.
He sent emails, mostly involving information, but he didn't answer his phone. He wasn't up for it right now. Chief called, Da called, and Morna tried to push her way in after two days, but Mal ignored them all. He stayed in his bed and did his work, and he didn't open his mouth except to drink water.
He was being foolish, and he knew it. He figured he was entitled to be foolish, damn it.
Trent thought he was too selfish to do his job. Maybe in Trent's eyes, that was true. In Trent's eyes, an omega probably had no greater calling than pushing out babies. Trent should have been able to understand what it was to serve a greater calling than oneself. And he couldn't raise a child alone, not in a vacuum.
Alone in his room, in the relative quiet, Mal had time to think. What would he want, if he could have the perfect solution to his predicament? If the sky was the limit, what would be the best solution?
An image flashed before his eyes. It wasn't the first time, although he prayed it would be the last. He saw himself sitting on a patio behind a house somewhere in Australia. He held a red-haired baby on his lap while a laughing, happy toddler chased Trent around the garden. The whole picture had a fuzzy kind of look to it, and Mal could easily get lost in a dre
am like that.
He shook his head. Yeah, that was a nice idea. Without Trent there to make it work, there wouldn't be quite so many happy smiles. Babies were all well and good, but Mal knew it took more than one person to raise them in a healthy way. Parents needed support, and Mal wouldn't have any if he tried to raise the kid by himself. Whether he tried to go to ground in Europe, fled to Australia, or someplace similar, he'd be completely cut off.
Well, there was always Mum, who'd tried to sell out not only all of the Wolves but him and Morna too, just to save her own skin. That would be a fun conversation to have.
He'd never wanted someone to stay before. Not like this. Maybe it was the baby that made him feel this way. Maybe it was the guilt trip that Trent had laid on him. Either way, Mal couldn't deny he felt betrayed when Trent hadn't even pretended to want to raise the kid together.
He'd get over it. He didn't have time to mope around brokenhearted. Sure, he'd never let himself make that mistake again. He'd find a way to make sure he never got pregnant again. Maybe he'd be chasing that dream away for good, but stupid dreams like that were for civilians. Guys like him didn't have time to change diapers or soothe colic. They had to fight and creep around.
