The air was cold, colder then it actually would be to anyone else walking outside during this time of night. But their situations and experiences weren't even close to Doc's. They hadn't gone through what he had been through, and they weren't about to have their future potential child stripped away from any realm of being. But they were outside, some people at least. It was late, and many of them were breaking curfew, but Doc was never one to follow the rules. Actually, he couldn't remember a single rule that he had followed. Except maybe laws, you know, like not killing people, although he frequently thought about it. He wasn't a bad person, he was just arrogant, and apparently incredibly selfish.
Truth be told, Doc had thought about children once or twice. Before he believed in love he didn't think children would be appropriate. He couldn't bring them into a world where love didn't exist, and hatred won. But now, with Mary, he sort of hoped for it. In the future of course, and he wouldn't sabotage her into it. He knew how she felt about kids and marriage, but his views were constantly changing. Really, he wouldn't quite have minded holding a little baby girl in his arms, Cara, Doc thought, that would have been the perfect name for a girl. It was the first part of his name, but it was girly enough! But she would have been beautiful. He probably would have to keep her locked up so no bloke in the future would take away her innocence. He knew how blokes acted, especially blokes that just wanted one thing.
The thought made him shiver, and then Doc realized that it was pointless to even think about it. Mary didn't want a baby, wouldn't have a baby. Even if he pleaded, which he most certainly would not do, she couldn't do it. He knew, and he understood, but it still hurt. There would be no Cara. There would be no cuddling. No waking up at god awful times in the morning. No bedtime stories. No kisses. No hugs. No nothing.
A tear managed to slip out of his right eye, and he hastily wiped it away. Maybe he did just want a family for selfish reasons. He hadn't had a family for a while. They had all been lost to the hatred of the world, and he was left with nothing but their gravestones. Wasn't it natural to want to replace them? To want to move on, and fix old wounds? But it was selfish, incredibly selfish. He could never let Mary go through with it if she didn't want the baby as much as him, and maybe he'd just have to accept, but he didn't necessarily have to like it.
Doc got up from his shadowed place by the Beech tree. The lake was glimmering in the moonlight, and there was no longer a trace of any humans being present. He was alone. So he did what he always did when he felt this low. Doc grabbed a bottle of firewhiskey that he tucked under his jacket, popped open the lid, and drank. It was a heavenly burn, a familiar burn, an easy pain to deal with. Much easier than the world around him.