Desmond took a seat between Shaun and Rebecca at the long meeting table formed from birch planks.
"Okay, now we're all here, so what's this about, Bill?" Spencer sounded a bit irritated.
"The first order of business is him." The Mentor waved a hand toward his son. "By now you're all familiar with the situation." He paused a moment to see if anyone would disagree. They did not. "Today is May sixth: approximately thirty weeks into the gestation period. I'm advised by Ms. Russ that the usual length is forty weeks. That makes D-Day July seventeenth."
Desmond rolled his eyes at that. D-Day, geez, everything's gotta be all military, every single thing.
"Give or take a week or so," appended Stacey. "Even normal pregnancies are unpredictable."
"Desmond. Have you gone over the material I provided?" William asked.
"If you mean that stupid book, then no."
"Look, I gave you that so you can be prepared! Preparation is a fundamental step in any mission."
"Since when did this become a mission?"
"Just read the damn book, Desmond!" Shaun groaned. "I thought you liked reading now!"
"I don't want to read about this!" He gestured angrily at the belly.
"If you don't read it, it's your own loss," his father said, frowning. He then pointed to Spencer and Colin. "Mr. Vermaak and Mr. McCorquodale are in charge of constructing," here his cadence faltered; he seemed to have difficulty saying the next words, "constructing ...a crib."
Spencer looked sideways at Colin. He was clearly less than thrilled at the assignment.
"The kid'll need clothes and stuff too," Rebecca added.
"Yes, I've already sent out a notice to Tom." Since going out on shopping trips ran a high chance of exposing their location, Tom was the Assassins' point of contact anytime they needed supplies. Desmond knew very little about the man. He never came to the Compound himself, but somehow, crates of stuff they requested would arrive in prearranged dead drop locations throughout the Vermont forest. "And before you ask: no, I did not disclose to him who exactly was expecting."
"Now, on to other matters," William said, and looked to Shaun. "Mr. Hastings, you remember our discussion regarding Abstergo Entertainment? I've spoken to our people in Montreal and they agree it's feasible. You'll be going there in August."
"Wait, hold up, Shaun's going to infiltrate Abstergo?" Desmond asked. "If I recall, the last time you sent someone there, it didn't turn out so hot."
"This is different. I'm not going as a test subject. I'm going as an employee."
"Won't they recognize you from, you know, the time they kidnapped you?" Rebecca asked.
"That's what I said!" Spencer glared at William. "I'm telling you, this is a bad idea, Bill."
"And I told you, Entertainment is almost a completely separate entity; most of them don't even know who they're really working for. They won't recognize him."
"I've done undercover missions before, I know how to stay off the radar. But I'll dye my hair or something as a disguise if it'll make you lot worry less," Shaun said, rolling his eyes.
"At any rate," continued William, "embedding Shaun is only the first phase of the plan."
"What's the whole plan, then?"
"Word is the Order is onto some big things in that division. Things we need to know more about. Montreal has their eyes on a couple of insiders that might be willing to turn traitor. But we can't let them know too much too soon."
He's not answering the question... How can he talk so much while saying so little? Desmond zoned out, and didn't hear the rest of the spiel. His mind returned to his own situation. They're building a crib. They're getting baby clothes. It's really happening. I'm gonna have a kid. A kid that has to live with us... meaning we have to take care of it... for years and years and years... Overwhelmed by this prospect, he laid his head down on the table.
Rebecca poked him. "You okay there, bud?"
"Bluh."
"What's that supposed to mean?" she whispered.
"Can't deal with this."
"We have to deal with it. There's no other option."
"Bluuuh."
"Problem, Desmond? If you're feeling unwell, you can be excused," Stacey told him.
He wasn't feeling any worse than usual, aside from needing to pee, but he took the opportunity anyway and left.
Having nothing better to do after visiting the toilet, Desmond plopped himself on his bed and started on the assigned reading. The inside title page had a message scrawled in pen, which began
Janet and Bill: So you two are finally joining the Parenthood! Congrats!
Feeling grief creeping up again, he hastily flipped away from that page, to the introduction:
If you are reading this, chances are you're expecting a little bundle of joy! Congratulations! This
can be the most exhilarating time in a woman's life, but many mothers-to-be have questions or
worries about what lies ahead. We've designed this book to answer those questions and ease
those worries. No matter your situation, you'll find the information you need in Pregnancy 101!
"Like fuck I will. Pretty sure they don't have anything on my situation." He flipped to the index. Of course there was no entry on "male pregnancy". But there was one on "men", with a subentry "at birth". His curiosity piqued, Desmond went to the page indicated.
Not that long ago, fathers were barred from the delivery room altogether. The only man present
would be the doctor. But in these more enlightened times, things have changed. Many dads-to-be
are eager to be there for their wives during childbirth. Some even want to catch the baby themselves.
"Catch the baby"? The expression was unfamiliar. His mind conjured up the image of a screaming newborn in a catcher's mitt.
However, other men are uncomfortable seeing their loved one experiencing the pains of labor, even
if those pains are the culmination of their ultimate expression of love. Be sure to ask your hubby how
he feels about it, and well before your due date!
"Yeah sure I'll ask my 'hubby'," he said sarcastically. "Oh wait, I forgot, I don't have one! Derrr!" He flipped to another page at random.
Your cervix, which is tightly closed while baby develops, will begin to open as your womb contracts. Your doctor
will gauge the progress of your labor by measuring the size of this opening. This measurement is called
"dilation". When you are ten centimeters dilated, you are ready to push your little one out into the big world!
Desmond poked his head into the supply room. "Hey, Col?"
Colin looked up from Practical Furniture Design. "Hm?"
"Can I borrow a ruler? Or a tape measure?"
"Checking just exactly how big you've gotten, eh?" He opened a drawer and passed a tape measure to the pregnant man.
"Yeah, sure." No, not really. I'm sure as fuck not going to tell him about the cervix thing though.
"I think I'll go with a convertible crib."
"What?"
Colin held up the book and pointed to a diagram. "See? Converts into a kid bed once the little guy's outgrown the crib stage. Handy, right? Then we're not building a whole new bed from scratch down the line."
"Yeah... good thinking." Desmond sensed a long talk about crib specifications coming on, and he did not want to get drawn into that. "See you 'round."
"You're the one that's round."
Desmond actually smiled at that one as he walked away. He eyed the tape measure. Ten centimeters... four inches... that doesn't sound too bad, actually. He'd originally imagined it being closer to ten inches, which had freaked him out quite a bit.
"Hey, just who I was looking for." He looked up and saw Stacey. She looked down and saw him fingering the tape. "You been measuring yourself?"
"No. I was... just checking something, is all."
"Well, I need to check you, how's that for a coincidence? Come on." She gestured for him to follow her.
"Maybe I should just move into the infirmary permanently, save all the hassle," he joked, surprised that he didn't feel more annoyed at her request.
"You seem to be handling things a lot better these days."
"Yeah, I, uh..." He sat down on the familiar cot and removed his shirt as usual. "I guess I've got used to it by now. Like how I got used to all the Assassin stuff eventually..." Stacey was taking his blood pressure. "I mean, don't get me wrong, this is still super weird, and I still wish it wasn't happening! But the whole situation just feels ridiculously silly now, instead of feeling like some horrific nightmare."
"Well, if you need to talk or something, I'm always available, okay?" She donned a stethoscope and listened to his heart, his lungs, and finally... the uterus. "Have you been eating right? Plenty of fruit, vegetables, dairy?"
"Not particularly," Desmond had to admit.
"Well, you should try to. Raising this guy will be hard enough already without him having some nutritional deficiency... You're still feeling movements, right?"
"Yeah. It still creeps me out every time." "This guy"... there's actually a little dude in there, inside my guts. Insane. Fucking insane.
"They'll probably decrease as you get closer to term."
"How much bigger do you think it'll get?" Not very much, I hope. It's already like a basketball... a really heavy basketball.
"Can't really say. Every pregnancy is different, and of course this one is extra different." Stacey set aside the stethoscope and put on a pair of gloves. "Okay, I know you won't like this, but I need to do an internal exam."
He made a face of disgust. "Gaagh, do you really have to?" I'd almost forgotten I had... that.
"I've got to make sure the canal is in decent shape for the delivery. Don't want it to heal closed before then, right?"
"Can't you just ask me whether it's closed or not, and take my word for it?"
"Sorry. This is something else you'll have to get used to. Just lie back and think of England. Or Italy, if you prefer."