far AWAY;; drake

[mystic pearl adier]

I'd withstand all of hell
To hold your hand

» This, Mystic decided, was getting ridiculous. Even though she was normally the most patient, even-tempered person you could ever hope to meet, she was now starting to get a little grumpy. Not overly angry, because there was next to nothing that could actually piss her off that much, but just grumpy. She was tired, in pain, and just fed up with laying here and not really being allowed to do anything. She supposed she ought to be excited or something, since she had waited so long and been through so much to get here, and she was but damn it hurt. And it wasn't like she felt as though being in the hospital was doing her any good. Couldn't she just go back home for a while? Seriously, she felt like they were doing nothing here, since she hadn't been allowed any pain medicine or anything yet. But then again, she knew she couldn't. She had been told almost since the very beginning that she was high-risk, because of her size and because she was having twins. She knew damn well that she couldn't leave, because they needed to be monitored. If she was at home, she would have no way of knowing if something was wrong; and besides that, here they could hurry up and fix any problem. So she didn't complain as much as she'd wanted to.

» She'd been here for... well, a glance at the clock told her it had been nearly a full day. It had to be lying. Hadn't it? No, she finally relented. It was correct. Too correct. It was yesterday that, finally giving up and admitting that she needed Drake to come home. She was hesitant to do so, because it was so early in the morning- around nine-ish at the time- and he was probably in the middle of teaching his students, or some other really important activity. But she needed him, and knew that he wouldn't want to miss anything. Thankfully, his cell had been on when she called.

» She supposed she should be grateful to even have made it this far. Judging by her small frame, nobody expected her to make it to thirty-six weeks like she has. It was actually pretty excellent. At this point, while the babies might have a little bit of problems breathing at first, statistics were strongly on their side; there was very little chance that anything would go horribly wrong, and almost every chance they they would both end up healthy. That didn't stop her from being scared. Hell, she worked in the NICU, and had seen too many times when babies that were healthy at first took a turn for the worse. She could only hope hers would be fine. Prepare for the worst, hope for the best. Which brings me to my next point: she still had no clue what she was having. She'd always sad she didn't care as long as they were healthy, though secretly she kind of hoped it would be one of each one boy and one girl; that would be insanely adorable. She, of course, had no control over it.

» The nurses were coming in to check on her at regular intervals, and each time they came and left Mystic seemed to get a little more discouraged. She was making very little progress, over a very long time. Soon enough either she was going to wear out or one or both of the babies would stress out. She didn't want anything to go wrong, but at this point she was holding out very little hope for little or no problems. Still, she tried to look brave, for Drake's sake. She tried to look like she was perfectly comfortable, though she suspected her efforts had failed long ago.

» Because things were going so slow, Mystic insisted that Drake go ahead and go to school today. She would be fine, she assured him. Honestly, what could happen? She loved him to death and wished he could just stay by her side until they could all go home, but it made her feel a little bad, and, as she put it, she felt like the students in his classes needed him more than she did right now. And besides, if anything went wrong or by some miracle things started moving more quickly, she or a nurse or someone could call him; it wasn't that long of a drive between the school and the hospital, she supposed, so the chances of him missing anything or not being there when he was needed were slim. And, of course, he could always come back as soon as his last class was done. However, she did make him promise not to speed and to wear his seat belt, no matter what. She was a little paranoid about him dying now, and wanted to do everything she could to keep him around.

» Now, he was going to be interrupted at work again. Mystic felt incredibly bad- not only because it was the second time she had had to have him interrupted on her account, but because it was her fault he was even there in the first place, instead of with her. She asked a nurse to call Drake, and the nurse- a guy, and one she would have thought was absolutely drool-worthy if she weren't so attached to Drake- ran off quickly to do so. He was a little unsure what to say to Drake at first, but forced himself to bumble through it to get his message across, including, "...So yeah, she's headed to the OR, but has asked me to inform you that it's standard procedure for twins, and doesn't at all indicate that she's in any danger." then, before hanging up, he added, "And she also wants me to make sure you remember to wear your seat belt. And don't speed." He supposed he should warn Drake about the temperamental nurse in the scrub-in room he would have to go to- if Drake didn't wash his hands exactly right, he would have to repeat it several times over, until the bitchy old lady was satisfied. Nah, he decided, he would let Drake figure that out for himself.

[drake fitzgerald minor III]

A thousand times I've seen you standing
Gravity like a lunar landing
You make me want to run till I find you
I shut the world away from here
I drift to you, you're all I hear
As everything we know fades to black…

As Drake went over a somewhat dumbed-down version of the definition of a republic, one question was circling through his mind, drowning out all his other thoughts and making it very hard for him to teach - What the hell was he even doing here? Not here as in teaching, he loved his job, and couldn’t really imagine doing anything else outside of the army, who had made it clear they didn’t want him any more. But he shouldn’t be here. Mystic was having babies for goodness’ sakes. He should be with her. He’d been feeling this way ever since she’d been on bed rest, and now that she was in the hospital, it certainly wasn’t getting any better. And why in the hell was he trying to explain the difference between differing governmental models to a pack of second-graders? They seemed to be wondering the same thing; they were staring at him as if he’d lost his mind. Maybe he had. He sighed, and looked at the clock. He still had fifteen minutes left to ramble. ”Who wants to play a game?” he asked, and was, thankfully, greeted by happy nods.

”All right, well, we’re going to…” His phone rang. Drake nearly dropped it, trying to open the flip phone, and pushed the green button to answer. ”He-hello?” he answered. The call was exactly what he’d thought it’d be about, and he gulped, swallowing hard. “I’m on my way. I’ll be there in five minutes.” That was an estimate on the low side; if he drove safely, it would take him at least ten, but he had no intention of driving safely. There were some situations in which a little risk was justified, and he was willing to take a few risks in order to be certain that he was there when Mystic needed him. ”Okay, you guys, I need you to just sit here until the bell rings, all right? I’m going to have to go a little early today.”

“But you said we were gonna play a game.” Whimpered one little girl. Drake sighed, stuffing things into his messenger bag, and stooped to her eye level.

”I know, Olivia, I did, and I’m sorry, but Mr. Minor is having babies today.”

The little girl and a few others, too, stared, apparently wondering how their male teacher could be having babies.

”That is…um, well, Mystic is having babies. We’re having them…uh, together.” Drake knew what that was asking for, it was asking for questions he didn’t want to answer, and, inevitably, they came.

“Do babies come from the hospital always?”

”Er, well…no, sometimes, the mommies can’t get to the hospitals in time, and babies are born somewhere else.”

“Like where?”

”Like…uh, I don’t know. On porches, or something…Hey, listen, I’ll tell you all about the babies tomorrow, okay?” he promised. That seemed to mollify the children, and he managed to make it out of the room and into his car, wrapping his scarf around his neck once and shoving his bag into the passenger seat as he climbed in. The drive to the hospital was as short as he’d thought it would be, and he rushed inside. Mystic might have told him not to speed, but Mystic’s safety came before Mystic’s orders, and he’d made it there as quickly as he could.

I never thought that I
Had anymore to give
You're pushing me so far...
So much more to say
So much to be done...

”Where is she?” he demanded, impatiently, of the tall, rather well-endowed blond woman behind the counter.

“Where is who, sir?” she asked, her tone calm.

”Mystic.” he said, as if she ought to already know. This girl must be new; he was under the impression that there wasn’t really anyone in this part of the hospital who didn’t know Mystic.

“Last name?” she requested, perfectly manicured fingers flying over the keys of a rather outdated computer on the desk in front of her.

”Minor.” He said, drumming his fingers on the countertop.

She searched quickly, then shook her head. “I don’t have a record of anyone here by that name.”

”Shit…er, sorry, I mean, no, her name is Adier.”

“Yes, I do have a Mystic Adier, but she’s in the OR, and you can’t…Sir, please come back here, you really can’t…” She trailed off, trying to come around the desk after him, but it was obvious that she couldn’t stop him; after all, he was taller than she was and probably a lot stronger. Instead, she called security.

Drake was down the hall and frantically trying to figure out where the OR was. He was stopped by a tall, frowning doctor who informed him that he really shouldn’t be here.

”I know, I know…” Drake said, a little frantically. God, this was embarrassing. He was so certain, or had been, that he was going to handle this with all the strength Mystic would need him to, but now that it came down to it, now that it was time and he wasn’t with her, he was just shy of freaking out. ”But…I need to see her. Mystic. My…er, my Mystic. She’s having twins, they told me she’s in the OR…please, is there some way…”

Drink to all that we have lost
Mistakes we have made
Everything will change
But love remains the same

[mystic pearl adier]

» She tried not to show it, but undoubtedly, it came across. Every time she had heard a nurse walk into her room, every time she saw a male form starting to cross the doorway, she seemed to get her hopes up, and the second she realized it wasn’t Flannery, or reminded herself that him being there was impossible, the disappointment was written all over her face. But then she would look at Drake and force a painful smile. She didn’t want him thinking anything was wrong. After he left, she finally allowed herself a couple of tears- nothing as bad as she was the first couple of weeks after his death, but tears nonetheless- but quickly stopped, brushing them away. She just had to move on, concentrate on more pressing matters. It was just really hard to be here, without seeing him.

» It was then she vowed never, ever again to complain about anything hurting. She could be stabbed through the larynx, and have her eyes ripped out, and even though she didn’t have the most active of imaginations, she couldn’t see how anything could hurt worse than this. Oh, what an excellent time for an ADHD moment. The last thing she needed to be thinking about was being brutally murdered. That, in turn, set off an entirely different train of thought, which set off a different one and so on and so forth, until it was like she was in a different universe altogether. She brought back to Earth, however, when she was given an order, which, at first, she didn’t understand- hello, this wasn’t the military, and she wasn’t a recruit- but then it clicked, in her head, and despite lack of experience, obeyed.

» The doctor sighed, and looked over his shoulder. If he made an exception for one man, it would be a slippery slope that had him making exceptions for everyone. Every man- or the good majority of them- absolutely had to be with their significant other, when the reality was, they couldn’t all do it. There were too many risks. The OR had to be sterile, and unless supervised the overexcited visitors might make a fatal error in washing their hands, or just skip it entirely, or forget to put on the gown. He looked back at Drake. ”Are you sick at all? TB, flu, anything? Common cold? Trust me,” he began, starting to concede, ”you won’t be doing anybody any favors by lying.” He went on to tell him that it would be better for everyone if he just sat out and waited if he was even the slightest bit sick, rather than risk going in thinking a small cold was nothing, and end up giving everyone bad infections.

» She was told Drake had been called. Where was he? Despite herself, she kept glancing at the doors, as if by looking more often she could will him there faster, but instead he still wasn’t, and Mystic would be met with a gentle, yet peeved semi-glare from a nurse. The babies weren’t going to wait, and she had no say in the matter. Still, she wanted him there- needed him. He’d told her before she was strong, but she was convinced she couldn’t do this on her own. Maybe she could; she just didn’t want to do it alone.

» ”Alright,” the doctor finally told Drake. ”Nurse!” he called, roping a nurse that was passing by into coming over. He put a hand on his shoulder and gestured at Drake, telling the nurse to take him to scrub in and make sure he did it right; told him which OR and that they should move quickly.

[drake fitzgerald minor III]

Was he sick? He didn’t think so. He was all but certain that he wasn’t. He was nervous as hell, but he thought he was feeling all right. Shaking his head, he hoped that he wasn’t carrying something one of the kids had had. He didn’t want anything to happen to Mystic, or the babies, but his own desire to be in there with her was somewhat overpowering, and he was having a hard time thinking clearly. ”I think I’m good.” he replied, honestly. He didn’t speak as they took him in and showed him how to clean his hands, arms, and other various exposed skin, and he wasn’t really paying any attention as they got him dolled up in various articles of blandly colored clothing. He kept trying to peer around the corner, see Mystic, where she was, how she was doing. Finally, they let him go, with many warnings as to how he ought to behave in the OR, things he could or couldn’t do.

But he was at Mystic’s side, and he took her hand in his, smiling at her, so relieved to see her that it didn’t even matter that he couldn’t really feel her skin against his through the gloves they’d made him wear. ”Hey…” he breathed, wanting to kiss her, knowing that probably wasn’t sanitary, and settling for stroking her hand instead. ”How’re you doing, sweet?” Drake had always felt awkward with nicknames. It might have had something to do with the fact that he’d never really been seriously close to any girl but Mystic, and she had such a unique and, in his opinion, beautiful name anyway that he didn’t see any reason to use another name. Sometimes, though, he wanted to communicate affection a little more clearly, and he hoped it didn’t sound too incredibly lame.

It occurred to Drake that he had no idea who these children were going to be. Obviously, he would get to know them eventually, but he and Mystic hadn’t really decided on any names. Actually, Drake himself had wanted to let the sex of the babies remain unknown, to himself at least. He didn’t know if they’d told Mystic yet; whether the doctors had said anything at let it slip while they were bustling about in the OR getting her ready for the procedure, but it only added to the anticipation he was experiencing to not know whether he was going to be raising girls, boys, or both. His father, of course, would expect at least one male child to be named Drake Fitzgerald Minor the fourth, but Drake wasn’t at all sure he wanted to slap that moniker on a helpless child. He’d never had any horrible experiences with his own name, but still…besides, he’d need to consult with Mystic on that, and she didn’t seem to be quite in the mood to discuss the matter right now. She looked like she was in a lot of pain, actually.

”I wish I could help.” he said, brushing a strand of hair out of her eyes. “We can get you through this. I’m right here. If you need me to get you anything, do anything, just let me know. I’m not leaving, I promise.” And that, as far as Drake knew, was the truth….

[/blockquote]

[mystic pearl adier]

» She had always known she didn't want to know the genders, but if it weren't for Drake not wanting to know, she would probably have changed her mind just so she could start thinking of names. She knew that if she knew, she would probably be unable to stop from blabbing it to Drake, and that would make her feel bad. She didn't know his reasons for not wanting to know, but never questioned it. Heck, she didn't know her own reasons, besides him, so it didn't matter. And not knowing the genders made her not want to think of names because she didn't want to get attached to a gender-specific name and then not be able to use it because neither one was that gender.

» Mystic was infinitely relieved to have Drake there. The nurse that had been holding her hand before let go and stepped away so he could come in, and she was glad; for some reason, his hand was a lot more comforting than the nurse's. There was more feeling behind it, more love than the impersonal nurse that Mystic didn't even know before. She gave his hand a squeeze and looked up at him with a small smile. "You made it..." She was kind of scared that he might not make it in time, which would suck because A; it was her fault he wasn't there anyway, and B; she knew he wanted to be there. If it wasn't traffic that got him, then the various nurses and stuff outside might have given him a hard time... there were just so many things working against him, it seemed, and she was just happy he'd made it past them.

”How’re you doing, sweet?”

» Oh, how to answer the question without ripping his head off. She had never considered such a thing, but still, she didn't want to be angry with him. "Fine," she said with a groan. "Just a little sore." She paused for a second, then grinned. "Still no drugs... I'm so hardcore." It wasn't by choice. She'd wanted drugs- badly- but first it was because it was too soon, and then it was because it was too late. Oh, her luck. She didn't complain, though, because it was out of their hands, and out of her own. Didn't mean it didn't suck.

”I wish I could help.”

» There was really nothing he could do. Even if he was a doctor or something, there was nothing he could do that would help her more than just hold her hand. She smiled a little, knowing he wasn't going to leave. Why had he gotten there so quickly, or come at all, if he just planned on walking away anyway? "No, just... don't go anywhere." Maybe she was being a little clingy. But she needed him now more than she had pretty much any time before. "Ahhhh," she groaned, squeezing his hand tighter. She tried to speak again, but couldn't.

» Either her ADHD was so incredibly bad now that she was in another world entirely, or she was in some sort of state of hyperconcentration. She couldn't tell which. Maybe she just blocked out several minutes of memory, like the guy from The Number 23; because the next thing she knew, she heard someone say the word "boy", and then there was a baby on her chest. She was stunned at first, and kind of stared at it for a second, as if she had no clue what to do. But then she snapped back, and placed her free hand on the little guy's back to make sure he didn't fall off with all his squirming around and crying. "Hi there," she said with a bright smile. A little boy... He was tiny, but sounded healthy to her. Hopefully the other one would be too.

» A nurse put two clamps on the cord a short distance apart, then reached over and grabbed a pair of scissors. She offered them to Drake, and asked if he wanted to cut, and indicated where he would do so, between the clamps.

[drake fitzgerald minor III]

Drake decided right then that Mystic was the bravest person he'd ever known. He had been to other countries, been shot, been shot at, been nearly blown up, had his memory desert him for months, and had seen the love of his life married to another man, but there was no amount of money in the world that could ever have made him want to give birth to a child. She might not have been the most outwardly courageous person, she might be small and he might feel like he needed to protect her, but she was doing this, she was dealing with the pain and getting through this with nothing but his hand to help her. That, in Drake's mind, was one of the bravest things he'd seen. Ever, even in the military. Time passed incredibly slowly, he felt. It seemed like an age passed between the time she asked him not to leave and the time their son was placed on Mystic's chest. Drake looked down at the little boy, and a sense of overwhelming awe came over him. This was a new life, someone who would, with any luck, grow up and have his own life, and someday, his own children, have a personality. Drake had known for some time that there were babies inside of Mystic, little people they'd be responsible for raising. But now, to see him, squirming and crying in protest at having been removed from his safe, warm, floating existence...it made it so much more real.

The nurse was handing him some scissors, and Drake was dimly aware (being still quite distracted by his newborn child) of the fact that he was supposed to cut the cord. He took the scissors, and cut it, noting with some curiosity that it was crunchy. He didn’t have time to contemplate that fact, though, because they were all talking again, telling Mystic she had to push. Mystic looked like she might be a little out of it, and he wondered if she’d found some mental, detached place she could retreat to in times like this. That was a trick he and a lot of his comrades in the military had tried to perfect, but few of them ever really did. You could “put yourself in another place” all you wanted, but when your body was in real, intense, agonizing pain, it was hard to imagine yourself anywhere but the place you actually were…

…oh, God, pain, burning, searing pain…Drake was aware of nothing else. He couldn’t focus, couldn’t open his eyes, couldn’t even speak, all he knew was that it felt like someone was clawing at his internal organs from the inside, trying to get out. He wanted to speak, wanted to scream, but there was something sharp and unyielding down his throat. Strangely, it was merely uncomfortable, and wasn’t actually choking him. There was a cool flow of air through it, filling his lungs, which he found comforting. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew that he wouldn’t be able to breathe on his own…after all, he couldn’t move, and he was glad something was providing him with oxygen. At the same time, though, he desperately wished he could just pass out. He was firmly anchored in consciousness, though, and couldn’t seem to escape from it…

[/i]

“It’s another boy.” The doctor announced, thrusting a second child at Drake, since Mystic was already holding the other one. Drake gaped, and realized that he was holding a baby.

”Oh…” he breathed. A million thoughts were cascading through Drake’s mind at the moment. What would they call the babies? Were they identical? Would he and Mystic be able to tell them apart? Would they go to his school, end up in his class? Would the kids at school tease them for being the teacher’s pets? He and Mystic had discussed names, of course, but at the moment, he couldn’t think of a single one of them, couldn’t think of anything except how beautiful these babies (and Mystic) were, how much he loved them, and how he couldn’t imagine spending the rest of his life with anyone else but them. ”Mystic.” he said, unable to think of anything else he would possibly say at that moment than what he knew he had to ask her next. ”Marry me. Please.” He wanted to say something romantic, something touching, but all he could think about was that his life would never be anywhere near complete if he wasn’t spending it with her and their children.
[/blockquote][/size]

[mystic pearl adier]

» It was then she decided never again. No more kids, ever. She and Flannery had thought, maybe, three, but that was before this. Maybe she was a strong person, but that could only last so long- her body was a lot weaker than her soul. She would probably change her mind once she could move comfortably, but for now her mind was made up, and she didn't care what Drake's opinion in the matter was. It would probably be a while before they even talked about it, and by then she will have forgotten how she felt now. Hopefully. She'd been told that this was the most easily forgotten pain in the world, but goddamn it was pretty epically painful, and she couldn't say that for a lot of things.

» Noticing some slight hesitation before Drake actually cut, she smiled a little, as if trying to reassure him. "It won't hurt him," she said, a little edge to her voice as she fought off more pain. At least, that's what she had always been told, that cutting the cord didn't cause the baby any pain. How could anyone be sure? Had they ever done a CAT scan to measure brain activity in the pain center of the newborn's brain whilst its cord was cut? And besides, half the time they were already crying, so who's to say that it wasn't prolonged because of pain? Did the doctors claiming this remember what it felt like when their own was cut? They may never know the truth, but Mystic would like to believe it was painless (though a little payback would be nice.)

» Mystic wasn't even aware the second baby was out until she heard, vaguely Drake say her name. She kind of looked up at him, though by now she was out of it, felt half drunk (though she wouldn't know what being drunk felt like.) She had, indeed, forced herself mentally into another place- otherwise the slightest, normal heart rate fluctuation would scare her half to death. But now she was having a hard time coming back. It didn't really scare her at first, considering the situation was probably the most tiring thing she would do in her life, so she didn't mention anything, and left Drake to assume she was just having another ADHD attack. But now was so not the right time for that, in any sense. She was holding a baby, for God's sake! A fragile one, that she would never forgive herself for accidentally dropping.

» Because of being so out of it, she didn't answer his question- demand?- right away, though she definitely heard it. She kind of looked at him for a second, as if completely confused at first, and was just about to answer when she was interrupted by a nurse. The hospital staff knew better than to interrupt a "moment". They tried to respect the patients' moments enough to where they could put off non-urgent things for a couple seconds to give them some time. They had seen plenty of times when they needed this, and most of the time were able to allow said time. But this was different. As much as they would like to allow Mystic that time so she could answer- as they were her friends, they were struggling now now to start squealing with happiness- her health was more important. Mystic seemed as though she suspected something was off, because rather than deny anything was wrong she turned toward the nearest nurse and mouthed take him, indicating the baby that was in her arms. The nurse, trying not to seem alarmed, obeyed quickly, taking the tiny baby- which she was going to soon anyway, to clean him up and all that other fun stuff.

» Also trying not to look alarmed was the doctor at the end of the table, who looked up and nodded toward Drake, while saying to a nurse "Get him out of here." One nurse, very carefully, took the baby out of Drake's arms, while the other started ushering him toward the door, assuring him that everything would be okay, but if he stayed he would be getting in the way, and they needed space to work. Mystic managed to get with it just enough to turn just a little so she could get one last look at him. "Yes...!" she called to him, just before the doors swung shut.

» Mystic lost a lot of blood. They hadn't expected that much but, luckily, they had enough units of blood with them to give her enough of a transfusion to keep her from bleeding out. Between that and the medications they started giving her, they got her bleeding under control, and half an hour after kicking everyone who wasn't necessary to life-saving procedures out of the OR, Mystic was wheeled into recovery and then back to her room, where she drifted somewhere between half-asleep and completely unconscious for around an hour. She was fine, just really incredibly tired. They were considering giving her another unit of blood as well, if she didn't improve soon.

» Mystic groaned quietly, tried to move, but it didn't quite happen- or, rather, if she felt like dealing with more pain, she could have moved, but she didn't so she didn't. Call her lazy- whatever. She started to open her eyes, but only got halfway before A- realizing the lights were too bright and deciding that was painful too, and B- also realizing that she couldn't actually see anything but a bunch of fuzziness. They must have taken her contacts out, and as far as she knew, her glasses were at home. "How are they?" she asked, barely audible. She didn't have to check to see if anyone was actually there- she was all but sure Drake hadn't left her side.

[drake fitzgerald minor III]

Drake wasn’t thinking that they’d never have children after this; he couldn’t know what was going through Mystic’s head. Actually, he wasn’t thinking anything about more children at all, he was too focused on the two that had just come out of her. She assured him that he wasn’t going to hurt the baby, and he was glad, particularly in that moment, that she had experience with babies. At least one of them would be a suitable parent immediately. He had a feeling it was going to take him some time to adjust, not because he didn’t wasn’t to be a father, simply because he had a few problems of his own to work out, and trying to teach other tinier people how to live their lives when he hadn’t even got his own figured out seemed somewhat daunting. Somewhere in the back of his mind, though, he knew that things would come out right. If he hadn’t been meant to have children, he wouldn’t be standing here holding this little boy, his son, whether by blood or not, this little person he was determined to raise with as much love and diligence as his own parents had given to him.

He was pulled away from Mystic and the babies abruptly, leaving his arms feeling surprisingly empty, as if something he’d had all his life had suddenly been snatched away. That was a ridiculous feeling, seeing as he’d only been holding the baby for roughly thirty seconds before they took him, but he couldn’t shake it, and looked after the person carrying the child away in an almost reproachful manner. He tried not to panic. He could tell that something was wrong, at least mildly so, but he forced himself to remain rational, and did as the doctors said as they hurried him out of the room, still somewhat dumbfounded by the question he’d impulsively asked, and the answer she had so hurriedly given.

He wasn’t quite sure what to do with himself after he left the room. They got him cleaned up (he’d been holding a slimy baby, after all) and sent him out, and he wandered through the hospital until he got back to Mystic’s room. It wasn’t until he got there that he realized how incredibly tired he was. He had only slept about two hours the night before, and had gotten up early enough to get to the school, teach part of a class, and head over here, where, upon arriving, he’d gone through the emotionally strenuous ordeal of watching the birth of not only one, but two children. Yes, he was decidedly tired. He sat down beside the empty bed on one side of the room, and rested his head on the knit blanket on top of the bed, letting out a sigh…

He was awakened by the opening of the door and the sound of them wheeling Mystic in. He jerked his head up, surprised, but realized quickly enough what was going on, and watched intently, trying to determine Mystic’s condition just by looking at her. She looked a little pale, and she didn’t seem to be conscious, but he could see the rise and fall of her chest as she breathed, and that was good. The nurses had only just left when Mystic groaned slightly, and Drake was at her side immediately, taking her hand in his. ”Hey!” he breathed, enthusiastically but (hopefully) not too loudly. He didn’t want to be noisy and annoying just when she was coming out of…whatever she was coming out of, so he tried to keep his voice at a tolerable level. ”They’re fine.” he told her, smiling. At least, the babies had been fine when the doctors had made him leave, and it had seemed that they were far more concerned about Mystic than the babies, so he assumed they were healthy. ”Tiny.” he added, ”But fine. I think they look like you already.” he teased. Of course they didn’t look like her, they looked like little red puffy aliens with shriveled fingers, but they were beautiful, and Mystic was beautiful, so it was an accurate comparison in his book.

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[mystic pearl adier]

» Mystic was not a complainer. She didn't whine a whole lot, whether it be about being too cold, too hot, sick or in pain. Now, too, she wouldn't whine, even though she was still in a monumental amount of pain all over, and so tired she just wanted to sleep for a week. There was no point to whining, she decided. It wouldn't make her feel better, and the only real purpose it would serve was that of an irritant to everyone, which she was just way too nice to do.

» Good- she was epically glad that her babies were okay. Granted, she wouldn't be able to relax for real until she saw them for herself, but just being told that they were was comforting. She didn't think Drake would knowingly lie about something so serious. As much as she wanted to go see them now with her own eyes- just get up, run down the hall and see them- she knew that the best thing for her to do for her babies now was rest and try to heal, so that she could at least stay awake long enough to make her first visit worth the effort. She couldn't trick herself into thinking it would be totally painless, but just staying awake would be good enough for her. Besides, they weren't that terribly early, and would likely have very little, if any, problems breathing. If anything, they would just have orders to gain more weight. She didn't get a good look at the second baby, but since non of the ultrasounds showed a huge difference in size, she assumed he was also tiny, based on what she saw and felt with the first.

» Mystic smiled and gave Drake's hand a small squeeze. But then paused for a second, as if thinking, before sighing a little. "Go see them," she half-whispered, assuming he would want to. He must be torn, she assumed- she would be too. But, really, even though she did need him there, she wanted him to go see the two newborns, then come back. She wanted to know exactly how they were both doing. "One of the nurses should have a Polaroid..." She, personally, had used the Polaroid many times before, to take pictures of babies whose mothers couldn't quite come see them yet, but still wanted to see how they were doing. But that was the NICU- she didn't know where exactly her own babies were right now, whether there, Special Care or in the regular nursery- and she wasn't sure if the other nurseries did the same thing. Either way, someone ought to find the camera. She wanted to see them!

» But then, a conflicting order- Drake should have gotten a few of those before in his life, right? Keep in mind that Mystic was just waking up after the day's ordeals, and still a bit out of it, disoriented. Poor thing was small, and still without the full blood supply she had just a few hours ago. So forgive her, if you can, for sounding a little whacko. "You must be exhausted... Lay down?" They must both be tired, but if anyone should be totally exhausted, it should be her- for obvious reasons. But, of course, as per the usual, she was more concerned with his tiredness.

[drake fitzgerald minor III]

Drake took a deep breath, still slightly overcome by the turning point this day signified in his life. It was one of those life-changing things, those incidents he could count on one hand, along with the day he met Mystic, the day he found her again after having been away from her for so long, the day he remembered who he was, and today, the day in which he realized exactly how lucky he was to be who he was. He had not only been given a second chance at loving her, he'd been given a second chance at everything - this whole life that his decisions had put at risk before. He couldn't, of course, see the future, but the way things looked right now, it seemed as if he was going to be not only a father but a husband, something he'd been ready to be since he was eighteen.

That sounded strange, he realized. A lot of guys that age couldn't keep a girlfriend for more than two weeks, but Drake's temperament and his chosen occupation at the time had left him with a sense of both urgency and certainty that all he wanted in the world was to be with Mystic, and as long as he could have that, everything else would work itself out. Unfortunately, when he'd figured that out, he'd already sold his soul to the United States Army, and his plans had been put on hold...then seemingly ended forever. But fate, if it existed, seemed to have plans for the two of them, and Drake, who was a firm believer in destiny, knew that there had been a plan behind it all along. He still hadn't figured out why Flannery had been brought into the whole thing, but from where he stood, Flannery had taken care of Mystic when Drake couldn't, and Drake could never hate him for that.

"I'll ask one of them, then." Drake assured her, hearing her suggestion. He felt a little guilty, knowing that Mystic probably wanted to see her babies even more than he did. "You know," he said, biting his lip thoughtfully. "My dad always expected me to name my firstborn son Drake Fitzgerald Minor the fourth, but for starters, there are two of them, and I don't want to make one of them think he's not worthy of the family name or something, and plus, I know I had it, or almost, but that's a really big name big name to give such a tiny baby. I mean, if you like it, that's fine, but that's just my take." He realized that she might not be thinking about names at the moment at all, but he'd wanted to get that out there, just in case she was curious. He didn't want her to think that she was compelled to name her child something for his sake, when after all, they might not even biologically be his babies. That wasn't going to stop him from raising them with her, and there wasn't a doubt in his mind that, blood or not, he was going to be their father, but he wasn't going to boss her around and make her name them things she didn't want to, either.

She asked him if he wanted to lie down, but he knew that if he did, he was likely to fall asleep and not get back up and go take pictures of the babies, which was what he really wanted to do. "If I do, you might not get pictures of your babies for another few hours." he said, grinning. He settled for an in-between spot, folding his arms on the bed beside her and resting his head on them. In a moment, he'd make himself get up and go find a camera, but right now, he just wanted to be with her, to be glad that he had her, that she loved him, and that she and the babies were healthy.

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[mystic pearl adier]

» If they did talk about names before, Mystic could not remember what they were, but then again she wasn't remembering a whole lot of anything. Either way, she probably was only half-heartedly in the conversation, when or if it actually took place. She had been scared then, and still was though very much less so, that something would go wrong. They would go home with, maybe, one baby, if any at all. Part of her truly believed that it would have been easier to get over the baby she lost if she and Flannery hadn't talked about names before.

» But, back to the present. She was only half-listening to him- like usual, though she tried to hide that most of the time- just enough to get the gist of what he was saying without the useless fillers. It's not like she wanted to ignore 75% of everything he said, it was just kind of hard, no matter how much she loved him, to pay attention enough to hear everything. "They'll grow," she half-whispered, in her own vague way approving the name. Honestly, it didn't matter to her what they were named. She just wanted to bring home two healthy babies- even if their names got their asses kicked every day at school. Extreme things, like foreign names nobody could pronounce, she would object to, but something like this? No. Plus, she felt like she kind of owed it to Drake. He was stepping up, more than anyone else she knew would in the same situation. He had no proof that the babies were his, and even Mystic would admit she wasn't one-hundred-percent sure whose they were. But she knew he loved them already. He would stick around... right?

» Mystic frowned a little when Drake didn't crawl into bed, though she figured he either wanted to follow her first order, or was afraid of hurting her. Either way, she wanted him up there. "I can wait," she said, lightly "petting" his arm. "Nobody's going to punch you in the face this time. I promise-" Just as she was assuring him that he wouldn't get punched again, Mystic heard the door opening, and turned to see who was there. The doctor, maybe? She could pretend to be asleep and he would go away, hopefully. But it wasn't the doctor, it was her father- and he looked kind of pissed, actually. He said nothing, but glared at Drake, pointed at him, and, without doing or saying anything else, stepped back out of the room, and waited for the younger man. "He might," Mystic whispered, seriously worried about Drake's safety now.

» No doubt Drake had seen that look before. The first time she brought him home, her father had done the exact same thing, sort of, and dragged him out onto the porch, grilling him for nearly an hour. What were his intentions with Mystic? Had he tried to do anything? Would he? The questioning must have been endless, but Mystic had known better than to try to pry her father away. He was only trying to protect her, after all. He was then, and, well, he was now. Mystic didn't try to sway Drake either way- it was his choice to go, but she suspected they both knew what would happen if he didn't.

[drake fitzgerald minor III]

He had been about to climb up onto the bed as she requested, figuring that what really mattered the most in this particular situation was to make Mystic happy. But the door had opened, and that plan, along with whatever else he'd been thinking of, went right out of his mind, replaced by the sudden rush of nervousness that ran the length of his spine. That wasn't a look Drake felt terribly confident about. Oh, God. Drake thought, this is it. Everything he'd done, everything he thought the powers that be had overlooked in the interest of preserving the perfect destiny that was he and Mystic being together, had finally caught up with him.

Drake's future father in law had the ability to strike terror into the young man's heart in a way no one else could. It sounded ridiculous in concept; after all, he'd been in open combat, with people coming after him with bullets and explosives, but there, he'd been just another American soldier. It wasn't personal. But wish Mystic's father, things were very, very personal, and if Drake disappeared or managed to hide, some other "soldier" certainly wouldn't do in his stead. Not that Drake would have tried to make a comrade take his place in any conflict, but still, it was the idea. And perhaps what made it so disconcerting for Drake was that he understood it completely. Mystic's father loved her. Drake loved her, too, and if anyone tried to hurt her, killing wasn't completely marked out on his list of options. He could only imagine that her father, who'd raised her, watched her grow from a baby as small (if not smaller than) the babies she herself had just given birth to, into the woman she was now, would have an even stronger protective instinct.

"He's going to kill me." Drake said, matter-of-factly, surprised at the calm nature of his own voice when stating that fact. Frankly, he couldn't imagine what her father wanted to say to him, and that look. Drake had been through a lot of questions at his hands before, and had managed to survive them, but that was before he'd been living with Mystic while they were still unmarried, while she carried babies that might or might not be his, after her husband had died following an argument with Drake. Yes, Drake supposed he had a lot to answer to. "I think he deserves some answers. And if not, well, I think maybe he deserves to punch me in the face, or maybe I deserve to be punched in the face." He gave her a reassuring smile, trying to quiet the trepidation in his own heart, and leaned over, dropping a quick kiss on her forehead. "Don't worry. I've been through worse. Or at least, if he gets to militant terrorist level violence, I'm sure someone will step in."

He was relatively confident that while Mystic's father might be incredibly protective of her, he probably, hopefully, also wanted her to be happy, and hopefully, he could also see that if he killed Drake in the middle of the hospital, that would make Mystic decidedly unhappy. Maybe he'd settle for just a punch or two, until he got it out of his system. Maybe he'd just be happy if Drake was unconscious. Drake could deal with being unconscious, he'd done that before. Anyway, one thing was for certain; he couldn't go punching Mystic's father in the face, even if the other man took the first blow. For starters, that just wasn't the kind of thing you did, and secondly, if he thought that punching Drake would satisfy some sort of justice, Drake figured that a punch back would probably put him in the hole again. It was time to stop stalling, though, and get out there. "I'll be right back." he told Mystic, then gave her hand a squeeze and went to the door.

He shut it quietly behind him, trying to remember all his army training about standing up straight and, to quote his CO in basic, "not looking like a whiney little bitch who's so afraid of getting his ass kicked that he'd crawl up inside his own asshole to hide." He thought he ought to say something, but he couldn't think what in the hell to even start with. Jack Locke wasn't the kind of person you just blurted things out around, or at least that was the vibe Drake got from him. The man was a Navy SEAL, after all, and Drake was pretty sure that trumped his brief and somewhat unsuccessful stint in the military. "Here we are again, then." Drake said, quietly, feeling an overwhelming sense of deja vu. "..sir." he added, even more cautiously.

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[mystic pearl adier]

» "Oh no he won't," Mystic said, resisting the urge to giggle at him. Her father might be pissed, but was he really stupid enough to attempt murder when the place was swarming with doctors and security just around the corner? Besides, Drake was much younger, more agile. "He's like, ninety. I think you can take him." Mystic had always joked that her father was ancient, a withering old man. But, really, he was actually only in his mid-50's. Not that old, and really, he looked good for his age, save for the grey hair. He was still pretty much in shape, and if he really wanted to, he could probably snap Drake in half before he had the chance to protest. But Mystic didn't want to think about that. She wanted to believe they would both come back safe, unbleeding and unbruised, even though she was figuring on one of them having a bloody nose. She fell asleep shortly after being left alone.

» Jack said nothing right away, but did acknowledge the fact that Drake had shut the door. Good- he didn't want his daughter seeing what he was about to do. Still saying nothing, he just stared at the younger man in that intimidating old way of his, as if by doing just that he could break Drake and not even have to get any more blood on his hands. Never had he imagined they would ever have another one of these confrontations. The first one was good enough for him, and, really, he'd always liked the young man. After grilling him the first time, he'd taken a liking to him. Only once after that had he ever- besides now- considered killing him, and even then, it ended up that the circumstances leading to his anger weren't real anyway. (It was the day Mystic got the letter- she told her father Drake broke up with her, and when Jack started yelling about how he would murder Drake once he got home, she finally told the truth, and subsequently got grounded for the first and only time in her life.)

» On the flip side, it had taken Jack much longer to warm up to Flannery. There was no interrogation of him, though, since by that time Mystic was way older than before. It was the concept of a male nurse that weirded him out. Being a nurse wasn't exactly a manly job, as far as he was concerned, and that was a little off-putting. But eventually, he did warm up- once he saw all the love they had for each other. It didn't matter anymore that the man was a nurse, he loved Mystic, and that was more important for Jack to know.

» After a couple of seconds of staring he growled lightly and grabbed Drake by the shoulders, slamming him into the wall. Had there been any hospital staff there, they would have called security, but, as if by some miracle, they all happened to be busy, and out of earshot. But instead of slamming the younger man again, or punching him or, even worse, snapping him in half and finding a window through which to throw him, he let go, took a step back, then stepped forward again and gave Drake a very big- and pretty eerie- hug.

[drake fitzgerald minor III]

Drake had never actually looked down the barrel of a gun, at least not one held by another person. He'd been shot at, and he'd held plenty of guns himself, but as far as actually having a gun put to his head, knowing it could go off at any minute...and knowing that if it did, there was more than just a good chance he wouldn't even have time to realize it...that he'd never experienced. But now, standing here, doing his damnedest to look Mystic's father in the eyes, he could only imagine that the feeling must be somewhat similar to what he was feeling right now. It was a different kind of nervousness altogether.

Drake's memory of some things before his amnesia was vague on some details, but he remembered that being in combat was something unique, something incomparable to anything else. When he'd thought about it, before actually experiencing it, he'd wondered if he would be scared, knowing how incredibly vulnerable he was to gunfire, explosions, things of that sort. But when it had actually happened, there was a sense of clarity that came over him, a calm that came with his belief that his own survival was something that had been predetermined, and that all he could do was his duty, what he'd sworn to do when he enlisted.

There was no such calm here. Drake's heart was, if not faster, considerably louder than he was used to it being, and it seemed the blood was pounding in his ears so noisily that he didn't think he could have heard what Jack said if the older man had decided to talk. It was a moment of excruciating silence, tension, and uncertainty, and Drake thought it would last forever. But then, in a sudden movement, much faster than most people would expect possible from someone of his age, Jack shoved him up against the wall. Drake saw stars as the back of his head impacted the hard, unyielding surface of the hallway behind him, and he wondered dimly if Mystic could hear the thud of his body slamming into the wall from inside the room. He hoped she wouldn't worry. Bracing himself, he prepared for another impact, or maybe a fist to his face, making a conscious effort to keep his teeth together but not locked, readying himself to move with a punch or another push. Maybe he couldn't just start hitting his fiancé's father in revenge, but that didn't mean he had to make it any more painful for himself than it had to be.

But just when he thought Jack was ready to haul off and land a cold one across his jaw, Drake found himself instead wrapped in a hug. It caught him completely off-guard, and for a few seconds, he just stood there, not sure what to do. After the initial shock wore off, though, he realized that it would probably be a good idea to return the hug, if not out of overwhelming affection, at least out of gratitude that the man wasn't kicking his ass. As Drake engaged in what might have been the strangest hug in history, his mind decided that figuring out what the hell was going on was just too great a task, and quit trying. Oh, God, this was weird. What did he even say to that? Thank you? Nice to see you? No one prepared him for this sort of thing when he was growing up.

[mystic pearl adier]

» There were so many things Jack could do right now. He could kick Drake's ass- just open up a can of whoop ass right there and probably escape before anyone alerted security. But that probably wasn't the greatest thing to do- not only would Drake be able to identify him, but it would probably upset Mystic, and it was generally not how two intelligent adults solved problems most of the time. He could yell at the "kid", tell him how badly he'd hurt Mystic, how broken she was when he "died". But then again, Jack suspected he already knew, and telling him again would do no good. So he settled for a hug. Just a simple hug, though for him it was a pretty big gesture. He wasn't offended by the lack of instantaneous reaction. It was probably shocking, considering he'd looked like he was about to kill something just seconds ago. So he waited, and was glad to have his hug returned, albeit with an air of awkwardness. Of course, he couldn't hold it long- after a certain point it stopped being a friendly gesture and started being gay, and Jack would never allow himself to cross that line.

» Jack took a step and crossed his arms. He could waste time asking how his daughter was, or he could say nothing and just walk in. He didn't want to be rude, but she was the reason he'd come in the first place, not to play nice with some random asshat. Only, this wasn't some random asshat. This was the boy- man?- that his Mystic had once loved so much, and he was sure still did. She'd attempted to explain to him the situation, but he hadn't completely understood between her quiet voice and the crappy service his cell phone got while she was talking to him. She promised to explain it to him again some time soon. Hopefully it would make more sense in person.

» Sighing, he realized that the younger man must be tired. "You can go home and sleep for a while if you want," he said in a low voice. His voice was naturally quite loud- in sharp contrast to Mystic's- and he didn't want to wake up any patients who might be sleeping. He didn't realize until just then that Drake probably wouldn't want to leave, even if he was as tired as Jack suspected. "I'll tell her I made you. You can tell her I threatened to kill you." Maybe it wouldn't work. But whatever. At any rate, he could refuse to give the younger man time to answer, so before a reply could be given- or, maybe he just didn't hear it, seeing as his hearing wasn't what it used to be- he ducked into the room, closing the door behind him. But, just seconds later, his face reappeared in the hallway. "Call a nurse," he grumbled, before ducking back inside (leaving the door open this time.) He would have yelled for one himself, but with his grumpy "old man" voice, it would probably sound more like a threat than someone genuinely calling for help. Besides, someone needed to stay there by Mystic's side, and, well, he was already in the room...

» Then, just moments later: "Damn it, boy, hurry up!" He sounded kind of like a put bull- if one of them could talk. Growl-y, as if the very notion of having to speak to someone pissed him off- or the fact that Drake, though no doubt doing whatever he was doing as fast as his mind could process, wasn't moving as fast as Jack wanted- namely, he obviously couldn't run down the hall and fetch as nurse at the speed of light. "Tell them to get their asses down here now, and bring blood!" For a second, he wasn't a father panicked concerned about the apparently sudden and quite massive amount of blood on the blanket lying atop Mystic, he was back in 'Nam, ordering around a Private, demanding that he get a Corpsman for a wounded buddy. He shook his head, willing the flashback away. Now was not the time for a PTSD flare.