Oh Noes.
This is unnecessary. John and I had a litle trouble getting our mark. We're perfectly fine, a few bumps and bruises aside. My pain threshold has always been somewhat high. You knock me down, and I'll get right back up and make sure that you never do the same. I've lost feeling in a few places, but I don't need it to begin with. If you ask me, I
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I asked for a reason, baby, a valid one. Excuses don't fall into the same category as logic. We've taken chances in the past, but that was a much different situation. We took them because our lives were at risk. There wasn't any other choice but to fight. And when it was all over we couldn't exactly go back to the people we'd killed and ask for a promotion, could we? We also couldn't run from any of it, which is why we decided to rebuild the house. What else would we have done?
We wanted to piss them off.
And even if John is right he's not looking at the bigger picture. We made short term choices in the moment that ended up working for us. That's nothing like having a baby. A baby would be a decision we'd have to live with for at least eighteen years. We'd have plenty of time to fuck it all up for the three of us and regret ever daring to take on the challenge.
Not to mention our obvious lack of skills and qualifications. What the hell does John think he knows about being a father? I'd wager a guess that he'd be slightly more reliable than I would be as a mother, but that still says very little. Anyone would be a more fit parent than I would.
I got out and followed John into the house, stopping by the closet to hang up my jacket before I went after John and found him in the kitchen.
Look at that, he's going for the alcohol. Some father he'd be, drinking in front of--John's putting it down. He looks worried, too.
I moved away from the doorway and walked in, taking a bottle of a water.
This isn't the way we usually act after a job. I wonder if it would always be like this.
"So?"
I sat on the counter close to where John was standing and opened my bottle, taking a sip immediately to avoid having to do anything else. He knows how I feel about this. What i think we'd be like. And he wants to try anyway.
John wants it to be like this, doesn't he?
"I'm scared."
I'm never admitting that ever again. I swear, I'll break him if he makes light of it.
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I'm not, but I don't doubt that I will be.
A few weeks, I'll be petrified. There's a million things that can happen between now and what's left of the nine months, but I'm willing to get through them.
But it'd be harder for Jane than it would be for me. There'd be things she'd have to do eventually. We'd keep it going as long as we could, but there's only so much that can be done if we want the baby to stay alive.
Or, if I want the baby to stay alive. And if Jane eventually gets attached to the idea of having one, and decides that it'd be better if it didn't die, just because she put the time in to begin with and doesn't want it to all be for nothing.
Something like that.
So it all comes back to her. No matter what I say, and no matter what I do, it all goes straight back to Jane.
"It's alright to be." I'm not going to joke around with her, she won't take it well. "It's not like we've ever done something like this before."
But we could. For all we've faced, and for all we're going to face, we could do this. I know it, even if Jane doesn't.
"I've got faith in what we could do with this baby, but like I said, the choice is more yours than mine." She's got my vote ten times over.
I'm not going to say much more. I'm repeating myself, and I'm tired of it. Mostly, I'm just tired. I think this will be one of the few things in my life that doesn't go my way, and between that, and having my ass handed to me tonight by my pregnant wife, I'm tired.
I sighed and drank down some of my water, then put the bottle back in the fridge, before I turned back to Jane. "Whatever you want to do, I'm with you." I walked over, and kissed her gently, before pulling away. "I love you."
Then I walked out of the kitchen, and headed upstairs to go to bed.
Enough for today. Whatever she decides, and I'm pretty sure I know what that'll be, I'll live with it.
For now, I just want to go to bed.
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