Word Count: 8,963 (Total: 70,721)

Rating: T for language and some light sexual situations (all clothing stays on, but those who are squeamish about age gaps beware)

Date Submitted: 2/23/18

Chapter 8 – The World's Worst Proposal

Jazmine is livid, red-faced with fury, and Herc doesn't blame her in the slightest. He's appalled and equally angry, and he isn't going to bother glancing back to find out what Raleigh's feeling because Chuck's drift phantom is so enraged that Herc doesn't want to give it the encouragement of another young man's aggression.

And it's all because of what the DHA prosecutor said.

"There's still the matter of her unborn child."

Jazmine again breaks, one-handed, a court pen. Her mouth is drawn and her eyes are definitely proving the phrase 'if looks could kill.'

"Of course, it's our belief," the official continues, "that siblings should be kept together whenever possible. For that reason, we want to suggest that Miss Lapierre remain in Australia until her second child is born, and then that child will also be taken into the custody of the Commonwealth."

There's a handful of gasps and murmurs from the audience, but nothing of significance. Herc doesn't know exactly how he or Raleigh, let alone Jazmine, can manage to stay silent in the face of so ridiculous a proposal, unless it's just shocked disbelief.

Chuck's drift phantom wants to suggest that Herc kill the son of a bitch standing at the front of the court.

Instead, Herc pokes Darryl, who looks at him and makes an urgent staying gesture with both hands before looking past him at Evelyn.

When the court recesses for lunch, Jazmine points a trembling finger at Raleigh.

"Already texted Tendo," Raleigh answers.

Herc has no idea what they're talking about, but he isn't really concerned by it at the moment. To Darryl and Evelyn, he says, "What the bloody fuck was that about?"

Both frown. Darryl says, "He's trying to set up a plea deal, but it's too outrageous to work."

Evelyn offers more detail. "He wants us to be panicked enough that we're willing to trade the children—accept giving up Jason to keep the baby and eliminate the threat of Jazmine's imprisonment."

"Like fuck," Herc replies.

"I'll kill my children before I'll let someone take them away from me," Jazmine snarls.

"It won't happen," Raleigh tells her. "Try to calm down, Mimi."

"It won't work," Darryl promises. "His proposal requires that Jazmine be held against her will for no good reason and give birth while imprisoned. That's completely inhumane—immigration infringements are by no means the sort of violent crimes that would so much as suggest that as an unfortunate necessity."

The problem is that Herc is to the point where he isn't sure he trusts anyone in power to actually say that, let alone reject the idea.

It gets no better after they're back in the courtroom. The immigration official attempts to justify what he's said by pointing out that Australia's population has been decimated by the kaiju, so it's necessary to keep Australian children within the borders to preserve the country's heritage.

"They aren't even purebred," Herc mutters. If they were, it would still be a ridiculous and unacceptable proposition, but at least it'd make a little more sense. "And who gives a fuck about heritage?"

Just prior to the kaiju, a fifth of Australia's population was born overseas or had a parent born overseas. It's probably a full quarter now, between the people killed and the people with limited finances who have immigrated to try to get far away from the Breach but still live in a first-world country. So Australian children are in many cases children of the world, which Herc has always believed is a good thing, and Australian-American children are by no means novel creatures. There's no reason for Australia to want or need them.

Finally—finally—it's Jazmine's turn to get the floor and plead her case, though not right away; once the immigration official is done, the judge adjourns early so that she can finish putting together her defense.

Herc looks at Darryl. "So what happens now?"

"Now Evelyn finishes her work and presents it. I continue to sit on my arse and look professional."

"You aren't doing anything?"

"I'm here because you asked me to be," Darryl replies. "Since Jazmine has Evelyn, who knows her better and therefore is the better choice to defend her, I rather lack purpose other than cleaning up after you if you make some dumbarse comment that would get her in trouble. For that reason I've been charging you only half my usual hourly, so if you want me to do more I'm going to charge you more."

Herc, who apparently missed that part of the conversation at the time, considers dismissing Darryl unless and until Evelyn is struck with the bubonic plague or the like. A few seconds later he changes his mind and decides he does need someone to babysit him, so that Evelyn and Jazmine don't have to. Just in case Chuck's drift phantom thinks it's a great idea to assert itself and make him blurt something that would harm Jazmine's case.

"You shouldn't be spending your money like this," Jazmine says.

"Well thank God it is my money," Herc tells her, "so I don't have to listen to you. And speaking of money, how are you paying for this when your assets are frozen?"

"Evelyn and I have an agreement," is Jazmine's answer.

Herc wants to believe that. Jazmine obviously knows Evelyn Callaghan better than he does, and Chuck's drift phantom doesn't seem to have a problem with her. But this is his family at risk, and Herc doesn't want to leave them in the hands of someone who's strange to him.

Jazmine, however, is entirely self-sufficient and wanders out of the courtroom, in discussion with Evelyn. Raleigh follows behind, hands in pockets.

"You look like you're going to vomit," Darryl says.

"Thanks."

"Need a hug? I can call her back."

Herc doesn't need a hug, technically, but Chuck's drift phantom wants to hold her. The strength of the urge is practically overpowering; Herc's saving grace is nothing more grand than a fierce self-control honed by years and years of strict military discipline. "No. Belt up."

"I think you're taking this harder than she is," Darryl notes. "You should get your blood pressure checked. And if you won't hug her then for fuck's sake, hug your grandson."

Hugging Jason is the best idea Herc's heard all day.

In the end, Herc is willing to give the judge credit for at least trying to remain objective, but the man is still grilling Evelyn and Jazmine much harder than he ever did the prosecutor. Both women are graceful in their every word and have clearly expected to be treated as less desirable entities, because they—especially Evelyn, for whom Herc is developing more respect as each minute passes—seem to be prepared for every curveball.

Herc, however, is only getting angrier and angrier the longer he sits there. Angrier at everyone. Days have passed and it's clear that Evelyn and Jazmine's defense is winding down, yet no one has called on him yet. No one appears to give a damn about what he wants. Or, more importantly, what Chuck obviously, obviously wanted.

Finally, the frustration spills over. While Evelyn is speaking, the prosecutor snorts and harrumphs—not so loudly that he can really be called on it, but just loudly enough to be heard by everyone. Evelyn classily ignores him; Jazmine props her chin in one hand and stares him down, blinking with a disturbing lack of frequency. Chuck's drift phantom—and Herc too, really—has had enough of it all, and after one unusually brazen snort from the prosecutor Herc stands up and snarls, "I don't appreciate the way you're treating my wife!"

Silence, stunned and disbelieving, falls in the courtroom.

Chuck's drift phantom shrinks back to the far reaches of Herc's awareness, as close to nervous as anything without actual consciousness can be.

A glance over at Evelyn and Jazmine returns entirely placid expressions, which Herc might have called a good thing except that Raleigh leans forward and whispers, "Respectfully, sir, you're fucked."

"Your wife, Mister Hansen?" the judge asks. "We have no record of your marriage to Miss Lapierre."

Herc makes the snap decision to run with it. If he retracts it, he'll have to either come up with a stellar lie—which he isn't sure he can do on the fly—or tell the truth. If he tells the truth, Jason might well never be returned because Herc would be deemed 'unstable.' Never mind that of all the people on the planet, Jason is quite literally the last person Chuck's drift phantom would cause him to harm, accidentally or otherwise; comparatively, even Jazmine isn't safe. "Because there isn't one yet. We aren't married at the moment—I just tend to think of her that way."

"And why would you choose to marry Miss Lapierre?"

The wording of the question gives Chuck's drift phantom a case of the grumbles; he can marry anyone he chooses who's female, according to Australian law, and there's nothing about Jazmine that gives anyone the right to act so dismissive when speaking her name. Herc feels a similar annoyance, but Darryl rises suddenly beside him, startling him into silence.

"Your Honour, I don't believe that's any concern of the court's. To my knowledge, none of the exceptions Australia has in place apply to them."

"Counsel," the judge replies patiently, "part of the court's effort is to determine why the defendant has been here illegally for so long and whether there is a reason to excuse it, and some would say that marrying an Australian citizen in an attempt to evade the law would fall under that category. However, as relationships are not currently the matter being addressed, the court withdraws the question pending further review."

Darryl nods, then turns to Herc and hisses, "Sit down, you numpty, before you ruin everything."

As soon as they get home, Herc is driven by Chuck's drift phantom straight into the spare bedroom in his unit, where he's storing the many boxes that contain his previous lives. He pulls them down, checks the labels, and sets them aside until he finds the ones with Chuck's name on them. Since he has no idea what he's looking for, he turns over command of his hands and eyes and just waits for the outcome.

Chuck's drift phantom is feverish as Herc looks through every box. It knows that Herc packed everything important because it watched while he did it, so . . .

"Anything I can help with?"

Herc looks to the doorway, from where Raleigh is surveying his mess. "'Fraid not, mate. I don't even know what I'm looking for."

It's a tribute to their joint experience with everything Jaeger that Raleigh doesn't so much as look puzzled. "Okay. Just try to keep it down—it's Jason's naptime."

"Will do."

It's not an idle promise. Chuck's drift phantom does calm a bit and search more quietly, careful to rein in its growing frustration as box after box turns up nothing.

Then Herc's hand closes around something slightly velvety, with harmless rounded angles. There's a burst of excitement from the drift phantom. Herc pulls it out and looks at the black jewelry case. It's small and square, so it's designed for a ring. He cracks it open and takes a look at the contents, only to be simultaneously nostalgic and disappointed by what he finds.

Over a decade ago, his wife gained a bit of extra weight courtesy of their daughter's presence inside her. Since Herc had been a little too accurate in his sizing of her engagement and wedding rings it wasn't long before the bands were too tight, so after playfully asking Herc's permission and promising she wouldn't forget she was married without them to remind her, she removed both and left them at home for safekeeping. Then Scissure came. Although he gave away or donated many of his wife's things afterward, two of the items he kept were those rings.

The wedding band he squirreled away for himself, and it still sleeps in one of the boxes that holds Herc's items that have no place in the new house, in a cheap plastic display case on the same chain as his RAAF dog tags. The engagement ring he gave to Chuck, primarily as a memento but also for Chuck to give to any woman he found worthy; while Herc had always advised strongly against children, he'd been far less adamant about a wife. It seemed that Chuck, however, had chosen to not give it to Jazmine—something that Herc hadn't noticed but isn't entirely surprised to discover, knowing how mercurial his son could be.

Chuck's drift phantom is politely dismissive of the ring. It's a valued and wanted treasure, but not what's being sought at the moment. So Herc takes a final look at it, nurses an aching heart, then closes the tiny box and sets it gently aside before going back into the bigger cardboard one. But what's being sought isn't there.

Four boxes later, Herc's hand closes around another small, velvety box. He pulls it out and finds it's also of the sort used to protect a ring. When he opens it, a thin, folded piece of paper greets him. He removes and glances at it, determining from its fragility and the numbers that are almost bleeding through that it's a receipt. With it out of the way, he finds two notches in the insert. One is empty. The other holds a plain silver band. Herc can't recall off the top of his head what metal Jazmine's engagement ring is made of, plus it's vanishingly rare for a wedding band to not be gold, so despite Chuck's drift phantom's excitement he unfolds the receipt to check. Sure enough, it's a set.

Well, whatever the color, he knows what to do with it.

He sets the ring box aside and repacks the cardboard box it'd come out of. He then puts everything back in the places they'd been upon his entry into the room. With all that done, he grabs the ring box and goes looking for Jazmine, whom he finds at the dining table, snacking on sliced fruit.

"Marry me," Herc blurts as he drops into a chair.

Jazmine looks at him, startled, cheeks puffed slightly with food. She takes a moment to swallow, clears her throat, then says, "Sorry, I think I missed that . . .?"

He knows that she heard him fine, so he sets the little box in front of her and explains, "You were engaged to Chuck. He bought the wedding band at the same time he bought the engagement ring. I found the receipt, so the date shows intent. It won't automatically make you an Australian citizen if we get married, but you'll be able to apply for a partner visa. I think."

Jazmine blinks and stays silent. She's obviously overwhelmed. Finally, she asks, ". . . Can that be done?"

"Why not?"

She shrugs. "I dunno, just . . . Would age be a thing? Would it be a problem that I was engaged to your son but then marry you?"

Herc shakes his head. "There're a few requirements for a valid marriage in Australia, but none apply. Well, maybe the one about being married to someone else," he amends, "but my wife's been gone for over a decade, and if I'd've been allowed to remarry a woman under 'normal' circumstances then I don't see why I wouldn't be allowed to marry you in these circumstances. There may be a few people who'll look sideways at us—it may be considered a social taboo of some sort—but in a legal sense, since my wife and Chuck are both gone, we're both relieved of any obligations that would otherwise come with our connections to them."

"I see." She doesn't seem terribly enthused.

Herc adds quickly, "It's not forever, I promise—it's just so you can stay with Jason until you get things straightened out. Then we can get an annulment or the like."

Jazmine shakes her head. "That's not . . . It doesn't matter. I just . . ." She makes several faces, and he understands why when a tear falls to the tabletop. ". . . It was . . . supposed to be him."

Herc's heart aches. "I'm sorry."

She shakes her head again. "When I was four or five years old, I thought I'd fall in love and get married when I was twenty or so. When I was eight, my father withdrew from me; he still hugged and kissed my mother and brothers, but never me. When I was thirteen, I gave up on him and on men in general; he still barely even looked in my direction, and the kids at school had been picking on me for years because at the time I had a French accent. The girls would taunt me a little for lacking their interests and then ignore me, but the boys would corner me and shove me or punch me until I fought back. I could beat the shit out of them, so behind my back I was 'Xena' or 'Warrior Princess' or 'the Amazon.' After my mother's funeral, my father completely abandoned my brothers and me. The three of us joined the Jaeger Program. We all got to the point of being instated as Rangers, but then I was kicked from the program because we were the only ones who could stand being copilots with each other, and my brothers ended up having a stronger drift with each other than what either had with me. So they went off to the Icebox and I was set loose. After Yancy was killed, Raleigh vanished like my father had."

She bites down a little on the tip of her tongue and her nostrils flare briefly. It looks funny, but Herc has no interest in laughing. Jazmine is truly crying now, and just trying to keep herself from sobbing. He waits, and after a minute or so she gets control of herself.

"For the first nineteen years of my life, I had two experiences with males. They were either intimidated by me or they picked on me for not being girly enough. Even my brothers picked on me—they just didn't do it with the cruelty that the other boys did. Their bullying was always infinitely preferable to anyone else's, and Yancy, at least, would help me right away if I needed it.

"I've never really felt like I belonged anywhere," she adds. "It seems as though I've just been living in the homes of people who feel sorry for me, and then something happens to force me away. Thanks to Salamander, that was exactly how I ended up trapped here. And so I lived on the streets and avoided the gangs of men who wanted to keep me as a sex slave or sell me as one. Fucking men. Again.

"Then there was Chuck," she says softly, "and he made all of that not matter anymore. I'd given up on ever getting married when I was twelve or thirteen—there was just no indication that any man would see me as more than a child or a conquest, and my experiences every year after that only solidified that belief. No man who wasn't my brothers would ever even care about me, forget love me enough to want to marry me. But Chuck did, and after a while I knew him well enough to know that he meant it—that it wasn't any pity for me or guilt for Jason. For a little while, I let myself believe that everything would finally work out. And then . . . it didn't. Even marriage can't be a normal part of my life."

"Just your first marriage," Herc soothes. "There are plenty of couples who divorce within a year of their marriage—that's what's normal these days."

She sighs. "I don't think I'd marry twice. It's not worth it. I'm . . . tired. Of all of it."

Herc feels a profound empathy and decides to let the matter rest. "I know how that is," he says, and means it. He had loved—still loves—his wife, and all of Chuck's life he'd questioned whether he could ever find another woman with whom he could feel at all the way he'd felt with her; after twenty-two years of casual exploration, he'd given up. Jazmine is younger than he'd been at the time but not that much younger, plus she has two very young children to raise and a lifetime of being put down and trampled on to contend with. Herc can understand that at least for the time being, she doesn't have the heart or energy to try to find someone else. Perhaps in the future things will change for her, but he isn't going to push—it's her life to live.

"We might as well stay married," she observes, "unless it would cause legal complications in the future."

Herc almost does laugh then, at just how ridiculous the situation is. It's surely the world's most unromantic, most depressing marriage proposal. "So you'll marry me, then?"

"Yeah."

He feels a teeny curl of excitement in his gut that isn't his—Chuck's drift phantom is thrilled by the news. Jazmine accepting Herc's proposal means that she cares enough about the children to want to raise them herself, and that she cared enough about Chuck that she wants to stay in Australia to be close to his father.

"No," Evelyn says.

Herc's heart drops.

Darryl is shaking his head. "I already looked into that ages ago—I figured you might be open to the idea at least for a brief duration. Australia's immigration requirements are very strict. Even if all of this weren't happening and she'd just come from Alaska to stay because of Chip, she'd still have to live here on a valid visa for four years first. Partner visas are the same. Four years."

Herc sighs through his nose, annoyed. He turns to glance at Jazmine and says, "Marry me anyway."

"There are potential benefits, absolutely," Evelyn says. "It's just that a partner visa isn't one of them."

"Well," Herc mutters, "fuck me."

It's nice, at least, that no one who matters—not Raleigh or Mako or Tendo or Derrek or Darryl or Evelyn—seems to think Herc's doing anything strange or abhorrent by marrying his son's fiancée. However they've justified it to themselves—as either a necessity for Jason's sake or by connecting it to Herc's melodramatic, Chuck's-drift-phantom-inspired little self-exile in the PPDC office—they've all apparently accepted it without reservation.

The public, however, is another matter. Exactly who's the victim in this new wrinkle depends entirely on which so-called 'expert' or rights group is being consulted, and armchair judges pass their rulings accordingly.

"Obviously, she's threatened him. Like all women, she expected a certain sort of life, so she had sex with a famous jaeger pilot to get his money—possibly even specifically chose him because he was likely to be killed and she'd get the money without strings attached. When he died before she'd managed to get what she wanted, it was most convenient to go after his father at least for child support instead of, say, getting a job and being a properly independent woman. This is the true face of feminism."

"This is the proof and fault of the patriarchy. It makes society believe that women have to be married, that they aren't able to raise a son alone. Let me be clear that I don't necessarily blame him specifically, just a society that permits and even encourages men and women to think of women as property that has to be owned by a man for one reason or another."

"It's just disgusting, it really is. There's near as makes no difference to twenty years between them. He's easily old enough to be her father. And this clearly isn't good for the boy, who simply won't be able to understand why his grandfather is suddenly his stepfather. It's all very poorly thought out and selfish."

This is one situation where Herc finds the short, simple responses Jazmine chooses to be perfect.

"I don't care what anyone's much-vaunted credentials are," is all she says when confronted by journalists. "You all know nothing about me and you're nothing to me. Your opinion is irrelevant."

And Herc understands, again, why Chuck chose her.

Since the law requires that a celebrant be notified a minimum of a month in advance, they aren't married on the day, two weeks later, that they're sitting in court and Raleigh reaches over the rail separating the front and rear of the courtroom to poke Herc in the back. Herc turns to look at him, and Raleigh shifts his attention to Herc's left. Herc looks the other way and focuses on Jazmine.

She has her head bowed and her eyes closed. After a moment, her brows draw in and her forehead creases; her jaw tightens and the tendons in her neck stand out. After another moment, everything eases. Herc thinks she's experiencing stomach cramps or something. A few minutes later, she silently repeats the behaviors. It takes Herc—who hadn't been with his wife when she'd gone into labor with Chuck—a while longer to realize what's happening. Once he does, however, alarm sets in the same as it had when he'd been pulled from duty, told that his wife needed him, and sent to the hospital.

"Jazmine?" he murmurs.

"Shut up," she snarls, quiet and calm. Her eyes don't open.

Herc turns to Darryl, who's looking at him, quizzical. "She's in labour."

Darryl, who isn't married and has no children of his own, displays an absolute but silent panic. Still, he's cognizant enough to get to his feet and announce firmly over the prosecutor's statements, "Your Honour, I request an emergency suspension of proceedings."

"No . . ." Jazmine utters. Nearly pleads.

"For what reason?" the judge replies.

"Because my client is poised to give birth on your courtroom floor," is the response Evelyn gives from her seat on Jazmine's other side. Herc hadn't noticed before, but she's holding Jazmine's hand. "Are you interested in witnessing the miracle of life?"

"The invitation is appreciated, Counsel, but I've already had the good fortune of doing so on five previous occasions. Proceedings are hereby suspended with respect to the defendant's medical condition, and will continue at a date and time that will be determined within a fortnight. This court is adjourned."

A great deal of attention centers on Jazmine at that point, and she shrinks some from the scrutiny even as she glares defiantly.

"Come along, love," Evelyn urges as she gets to her feet. She tugs gently at Jazmine's hand and adds, "Off to hospital with you."

Jazmine stands, but shakes her head. "I have to go home."

"Absolutely not."

"I have to go home," Jazmine says again, her voice clear and unwavering.

Her head is down, but Herc can see her giving the audience the side eye. Some have left but many have not, and most of those remaining are watching her; in some there is undisguised irritation and inaudible whispering to neighbors. He positions himself firmly between her and them and openly stares down her silent accusers. Most grow uncomfortable with his attention and move on. Of those who don't, a blatantly predatory gesture Raleigh makes with his head convinces them to move along.

Herc is then able to focus completely on Jazmine. "You need to go to hospital."

"No," she snaps. "They'll take my baby the way they took my son. I'm going home."

"No one is going to take your baby," Raleigh tells her, his voice loud enough that the heads of those who are still in the courtroom turn. Jazmine looks up at him, and he repeats calmly, "No one."

They have some sort of silent conversation with their gazes. Whatever passes between them, Jazmine at last shows some deference to her elder brother; she averts her gaze first and nods. Raleigh glances over to Herc and nods as well, then precedes them as they leave. His head is high and his shoulders seem to broaden as he gets closer to the people who insist on standing and staring. The gawkers part in silence.

"I'll drive," Raleigh offers as they get outside. "Keys?"

Herc isn't sure which—if either—of them should be driving under the circumstances, but he really can't think at the moment. So he finds his truck keys, unlocks the doors, and places everything in Raleigh's hands. If nothing else, he's sure Raleigh won't do anything to threaten Jazmine's safety. He opens the rear passenger door and lifts Jazmine into the back, then climbs in after her.

"All right?" he asks as he settles.

"Water?"

Herc wants to punch himself for not grabbing the water bottles they'd been provided in the courtroom. The girl's in labor—it should have occurred to him that she'd want at least water.

"I have some," Raleigh says. He pulls a courtroom-provided water from inside his jacket while he's getting the truck started and hands it over his shoulder.

Herc accepts it and finds it almost completely untouched. He twists the cap off and hands it to Jazmine, who takes two big gulps.

"Hey, easy," Raleigh, who's apparently supervising through the rearview mirror, chides.

"I'm starving," she snaps. "I never had breakfast."

"Okay," comes the concession from the front.

"Should we stop for food?" Herc asks.

Jazmine shakes her head. "My digestive system is going to shut down eventually and won't start up again until after all this is over. No point in throwing up what doesn't get ground up in time."

"She might be a little faint later," Raleigh suggests. "Just let the nurses know."

Both Beckets are relatively calm during the trip, treating each other more or less like the quintessential 'old married couple.' Half of their communications are done in silence, with mere glances, and while Herc knows they drifted before, Jazmine had made it clear that they hadn't drifted often enough as to have so open a connection that they shared a ghost-drift. It's strange.

When they get to the hospital, Herc helps Jazmine out of the truck.

"I'd rather have the baby in the truck," she announces.

"No," Raleigh counters. "Go inside."

"Fuck you, Becket," she snarls, spitting the surname like an epithet, but obeys.

Raleigh grabs Herc's wrist to hold him back and watches Jazmine step into the main lobby. Once sure she's out of earshot, he says to Herc, "I know Jazmine is normally extremely independent, but this is a different situation. She's going to be really bitchy with you and everyone else, but you can't take it to heart—it's just a cover. She's in pain and she's scared, and she'll never admit it but she wants us to take control of things so she can focus on the baby. She'll let you boss her around as long as you keep the hospital staff away from her."

"Away?"

"Animal husbandry was something our father made us learn," is the explanation, "and Jazmine's already had one child. In theory, this time should be much easier for her. I actually wouldn't have even brought her here if I had a better idea of her medical condition. She's the one giving birth, so she's the only one who truly knows what she needs, and unless she hemorrhages she'll be aware enough to let you know if something's wrong. She doesn't need hospital staff hovering and stalling her labor. Keep them away. Out of the room entirely, if you can manage it. Don't let them tell you they have to be there, because they don't. As long as nothing goes wrong, she'll be able to give birth without any help from the staff, and probably with less pain. Just remember that the more aggressive she gets, the more frightened she is."

The lobby doors open and Jazmine steps out. "Hey, assholes!" she shouts from her spot in the doorway. "What the fuck is taking so long?"

Raleigh lets Herc go and gets back into the truck. Herc is thus abandoned to a role he definitely isn't ready to take on. His wife's combativeness had not been as strong as Jazmine's, so he isn't sure how much further he can go when it comes to arguing back; he doesn't know how to avoid being another source of stress to her. Still, there's nothing else he can do until Raleigh finds somewhere to park the truck and rejoins them.

It isn't too long before Herc realizes Raleigh's right—Jazmine is very, very scared but trying desperately to hide it. Fortunately, she succeeds in intimidating most of the people they encounter. At the same time, her hand finds Herc's and she clasps it tightly. He lets her, focusing instead on being the good cop to her bad cop, speaking with the hospital staff and getting arranged the things that should have been arranged months ago but hadn't been because of the government's little tantrum. Jazmine stays close to him until they're shown to a room, at which point she finally separates from him and becomes almost bestial in her aggression.

"Get out!" she barks at the staff. "All of you!" She storms over to the light switch and turns it off, leaving the room mostly in shadow. When there's no immediate compliance with her command, she goes to the nearest man, grabs him by the scrubs he's wearing, and heaves him through the doorway with a visible lack of effort. Considering how much larger than her he is, the sight is impressive. She then turns on the rest of the staff and advances on each of them until they get alarmed enough to vacate the room on their own.

All except the midwife. "Now now, Miss Lapierre—"

"OUT," Jazmine snarls, voice low, eyes intense.

The midwife looks like she's going to keep arguing. Herc decides it's a good time to step in, and does so quite literally. "You need to leave," he tells her firmly. He can feel Jazmine's forehead press into his higher thoracic vertebrae, but she doesn't speak or attack.

The midwife isn't terribly impressed by him, either. "Mister Hansen, please step aside. The girl is in labour. I don't expect you to understand why she needs to be examined—"

Jazmine lunges around Herc's right side, startling both him and the midwife, and roars at the other woman in a voice tinged by a French accent, "Don't you condescend to him, you self-important BITCH! GET OUT!"

Without waiting for another refusal, Jazmine hauls her arms back until her hands are resting even with her shoulders, then slams her palms forward into the midwife's shoulders. The unprepared woman staggers back several steps and might have fallen had the other staff waiting in the doorway not caught her. Jazmine paces that side of the room, never taking her eyes from the hospital staff who are clearly overwhelmed and baffled by her aggression.

Herc's mobile phone vibrates in his pocket. Raleigh has texted him.

How is she?

Herc is happy to fill him in. Attacking the staff. Wont stand for exam.

After what seems like a small eternity, there's a response. Needs to hide. Hug.

Herc isn't sure Raleigh really comprehends how violent Jazmine has become, but he honestly has no better idea. Plus, Chuck's drift phantom is giving him an encouraging prod to say something to her. So he tucks the phone away and commands, "Jazmine, come here."

"No."

"Yes," he insists. And, miracle of miracles, she obeys. Immediately, even. Once she's within arm's reach he extends his arm to pull her against him and hugs her. She resists for a second or two, then leans in and presses her face into his shoulder. "It's going to be all right," he tells her. "I'm staying right here. Let them look."

"No. They'll take my baby."

"Your baby's still inside you. Not much they can do about that."

"No."

Herc almost gives her another command, but that's when Raleigh arrives and pushes through the loitering staff with polite requests to be excused his rudeness. They try to stop him, but Jazmine lets out an unintelligible roar.

The hospital staff recoil.

Raleigh is disapproving. "Mimi. Enough."

"No!" she snarls. "I don't want to be here! I want—"

"I know what you want," he replies calmly. "You can't have it. Now take off your shirt and straighten up so I can see where the baby is."

Jazmine hisses and growls like an angry cat, but obediently yanks off her shirt. Raleigh directs her to stand beneath one of the ever-glowing emergency lights and begins feeling around her abdomen. He speaks to her in French, voice low and calm and soothing; Herc can't understand most of it, but he does hear Raleigh say something about "l'enfant," which is so similar to English that it has to be a reference to the baby. In any case, it doesn't take long before Jazmine forces herself to relax and closes her eyes.

After a moment, Raleigh straightens. He reports, "It's turned, so take it easy for a while. Let Herc and me do the fighting."

Jazmine sighs, but her expression has eased and her anger has bled away. She retreats to the back of the room and paces silently.

Raleigh approaches the hospital staff and says, "I appreciate your patience. You're welcome to observe, but until further notice none of you—or anyone she doesn't want here—will be allowed in this room. If you try, I can't promise I can protect you if she gets to you first. It'll be better for her and the baby if you stay out."

They attempt to protest the ruling, and the obstetrician in particular tries to assert some authority and make threats, but Raleigh's only answer is, "Go ahead. It won't do any good. Unless, that is, you're intending to brutalize a woman who's in the process of delivering a child and whose only request is for privacy in which to do so. I'm sure that'll go over wonderfully with whoever's in charge of oversight here." Stonewalled, the frustrated staff retreat into the corridor to mutter at each other.

Raleigh turns to Herc, who's been completely lost and splitting his attention between the Becket siblings. "Give her a wide berth from now on, okay? The longer this goes on the more she'll sort of zone out, and if you get too close she could strike out in self-defense. So stay out of her way. If she wants to be close to you she'll address you directly, or if you want to calm her with physical contact you have to insist that she come to you."

"My wife didn't do this," Herc tells him, almost accusing. "Why the bloody hell am I even here when I've no fucking clue what's going on?"

"I needed you to cover for me for her sake," is the response, "so she'd feel secure while she's in labor. You can leave now if you really want to, but from here on you don't have to do anything else—I'll take care of it. I can safely say, though," Raleigh adds, "that she'd be happy to have you here, even if you just stand in the corner.

"This is your grandchild," he continues. "You couldn't be there when Jason was born, but I know Jazmine would consider you being here now an acceptable alternative since Chuck can't. I won't lie—it'll be trying, so it's up to you whether you can stand to be around her while she's like this."

Herc doesn't know. He's overwhelmed by his own feelings as well as those of Chuck's drift phantom. He wants to be there, but he doesn't know how to deal with an emotional, unpredictable woman who's on a higher alert than ever because she's about to give birth in a country that has already taken one child from her merely because she happens to be in the country illegally.

Chuck's drift phantom quiets from its agitated state. Offers encouragement. All Jazmine needs to know is that someone she trusts is there with her, and she can do the rest herself.

Herc hopes that's true.

So Herc stays, and he and Raleigh become gatekeepers, settling in chairs positioned so that anyone who might want to enter the room has to pass between them and be challenged. Once the staff in the maternity ward seem to understand that Jazmine isn't to be addressed directly—that any and all questions must be asked of one of the two men guarding her labor—Raleigh moves farther into the room, closer to the unoccupied bed sitting against one wall. He gestures for Herc to join him and Herc, still feeling lost, does so.

"You look out of your depth."

Herc snorts. "Is it that obvious?"

"Incredibly. I guess you've never done any animal husbandry?"

Herc determines that question to be one hundred percent stupid. "I can't imagine why anyone who doesn't live on a livestock farm would need to know it."

"Dad was something of a doomsday prepper," Raleigh explains. "There was a farm just outside Anchorage and he made all of us help out with various animals."

Herc shrugs. It's really none of his business. Whatever doomsday preparation the Becket patriarch had seen fit to bestow upon his three children, the only harm it seems to have done is make the Becket siblings completely weird to the average person.

"As you know, humans are animals as well, so a lot of what applies to them can be applied to us. Labor and delivery is one of those things. It is painful, but it doesn't have to be agony." Raleigh suddenly pauses and looks at Jazmine, who's been standing silently in the near corner for several minutes. "Mimi," he says gently, voice barely raised, "do you think you can sleep?"

She doesn't answer.

Raleigh speaks again, but in French that time. Jazmine twitches, hesitates, then responds in French. After a moment, she crosses the room to the bed, climbs into it, and eases herself down as though lying on a bed of eggs. Her head is the last thing she puts down, and when she does she closes her eyes and sighs loudly. Raleigh slowly runs his fingers through a section of her hair over and over.

"Laboring animals will often go into a sort of trance," Raleigh continues, his voice still low. "They're so focused on the labor and keeping up with the contractions that they become more unresponsive the closer they get to the birth. But for women, there are distractions everywhere—people asking questions, telling them what to do before they even ask for advice, all that stuff. The problem is that humans still haven't learned to balance intelligence with instinct—we assume intelligence will always trump instinct and disregard instinct as some useless, vestigial thing. But instinct saves people from crimes, and it could help with birth if we'd let it.

"That's why you or I have to be in this room with her at all times. Because of everything that's been going on, she doesn't feel safe in Australia, and that's distracting to her. That's why she wants to go home—it's familiar territory, and she feels in control there. The labor would have gone easier. But like I said earlier, I don't know her condition or how her first labor went, so I'm erring on the side of caution now. The thing is, though, if we can't make her feel safe, the labor will stall and she'll experience more pain. If she resists too long, it can hurt the baby. She trusts us to put her before her status as an illegal alien, so we need to keep everyone away."

"What if someone asks a question we can't answer?" Herc counters. "What if she needs help?"

"If her condition deteriorates, her life will matter more than her comfort," Raleigh says. "And while I doubt it, if the baby is taken, we'll worry about that when the time comes. As a citizen and blood relation, you should have some pull as to where the baby goes."

"Didn't do much good with Jason."

"Different dynamic. Jason may be dependent on adults, but he's not specifically dependent on his mother. The baby will be. If maternity groups anywhere in the world find out the Australian government ripped a newborn away from its perfectly capable mother, it won't matter what her immigration status is—there'll be hell to pay.

"As for any questions the hospital staff may want to ask of her, most of them we can answer in her place. She's in labor, so of course she'll want a cool, wet cloth; she'll doubtless want cool water or ice chips, too; she'll probably want an electric fan, even . . . all that stuff. And if it's been a few hours, have them bring a fresh supply of anything perishable even if she hasn't used the last batch."

Herc looks at Jazmine. He doesn't know how it's possible, but she seems to have fallen asleep. Every so often she'll show discomfort in response to a contraction, but she doesn't wake. "And if something happens inside?"

"The examinations they want to give her right now aren't going to find anything that might kill her," is the response. "They'd only check on the baby's position and Jazmine's dilation, and the former is something that I can do while the latter doesn't really matter unless she's trying to bear down."

Raleigh shakes his head. "For the average woman, hospitals are really shitty places to give birth; barring high-risk pregnancies, which understandably require expert supervision, women don't tend to need anyone filching around in their vaginas telling them what they already know. That's why there are birthing centers—because most births don't need the interference of medical personnel. The ultimate fact is that regardless of where we are, Jazmine is the one best suited to determine her actual condition at any given moment. If she thinks something is wrong, she'll tell us, and if she suddenly starts writhing and screaming then it doesn't matter if she says anything—we'll know we need to get the staff in here."

"I thought writhing and screaming is what women normally do."

"That's usually only in a hospital, where they're prevented from doing what instinct tells them to do." Raleigh smiles. "If all goes well, sir, you're going to learn something new."

Herc hasn't exactly been an attendee of that many births, but Jazmine's labor is night to his wife's day. It's certainly less stressful, he has to admit—Jazmine's failure to show significant pain, and her calm coherence on the occasions her brother addresses her, is a magical salve on his nerves. It's still upsetting to see her wince with some of the contractions, though; it triggers some protective aspect of fatherhood or masculinity that he has to fight down because there's no way to stop what's hurting her. But it doesn't have nearly the strength it did when his wife had been in labor, whether it's because she's not his wife or not his daughter, and that reduced stress makes it more entertaining to hear Raleigh sing lullabies in French to his sister.

That said, her anxiety and restlessness increase as day becomes night. Her attention to the door is invariably hawk-like, and she bristles whenever the hospital staff peek in to check on them or even just walk past the doorway. Raleigh's patience is eternal—he croons and soothes and reminds her that he's there and he'll take the baby and run should anyone suspicious make a move.

"Herc's here, too," Raleigh adds at one point, well into the wee hours of the morning. Until this point he's been careful to not speak for Herc, but now seems to believe it necessary. "I'm sure you already know that even under the worst circumstances, he'd still have strong words for anyone who tried to take either of his grandchildren away from him."

Jazmine looks from her brother to Herc, and he sees in her the same veiled vulnerability Chuck had often shown at the times he'd been the least confident and most mouthy—that expression that said, "Are you buying this? Because I'm sure as hell not."

Given the situation, Herc finds the unvoiced question insulting. At the same time, however, he has to admit that his support since arriving at the hospital has been minimal; Raleigh has been doing literally all of the calming and fetching. So he says, "I've been going to court with you for months. I'm letting you stay in my home rent-free. I voluntarily participated in a paternity test and set myself up to take on the financial burden of children. All to keep you and the carpet-munchers here in Australia. Aren't actions supposed to speak louder than words?"

Jazmine looks slightly abashed at that and relaxes—at least for a little while. On the other side of the bed, Raleigh lifts a hand into Herc's range of view and gives him a thumbs-up.

Jazmine eventually sleeps again, for longer than before even though her contractions are coming stronger and more often. Raleigh occasionally runs his hands over her body in massaging motions that ultimately center on the baby. When Herc asks, he explains that while he's certain the baby has turned, there are methods to manually turn a baby that isn't in the proper position; he doesn't exactly know any of them, but his goal is simply to both keep the baby stimulated and in its current position by mimicking the pressure of contractions as well as to keep Jazmine asleep by letting her know with touch that he's there.

"This isn't something I'd do with non-humans," Raleigh tells him. "They lead simpler lives, and even the social animals like dogs and horses generally prefer to be alone when they give birth; they have to worry about their babies being stolen by other females or harmed by males, so they don't appreciate a human presence either. Well," he adds, "in retrospect I probably wouldn't do this with any female who wasn't my sister or my wife or someone else I knew very well unless she asked me to. Otherwise, my presence would probably just be stressful to her."

"You think my presence isn't stressful to Jazmine? We barely know each other."

"You saw how she treated the hospital staff," Raleigh offers. "Jazmine doesn't discriminate—grandfather or not, she would have chased you out just like she did them if your presence upset her."

And she had, in the end, actually defended his presence, Herc recalls, when she attacked the midwife on his behalf. If it were just a matter of insecurity, she could have sent him out when Raleigh arrived, or had Raleigh send him out for her. But she hadn't, and Raleigh had invited him to stay and she never protested that.

"Your presence isn't stressful to Jazmine," Raleigh concludes. "But if it's stressful to you, you don't have to stay. Staying when you don't want to will make things harder on her."

Chuck's drift phantom looms large and angry in the back of Herc's mind. He's not to leave—he's to suck it up like a man and hide the stress. He did it before when Chuck was too little to understand why the world had turned upside-down, so surely he can do it again for a happier occasion.

Herc waves it away, annoyed, and mutters without thinking, "Not as happy as it could be, though, eh?"

Raleigh, who's focused on massaging Jazmine, glances at him, but only in the way one would do to ensure that he isn't the one being spoken to. When he determines he isn't, his face doesn't change and he says nothing. And Herc's glad for that, really. While Herc's total years of jaeger piloting are double his junior's, Raleigh drifted with his brother longer and more closely than Herc drifted with his own brother, and about as long as Herc drifted with Chuck. It's a subtle relief to be acquainted with someone who knows what it's like to have a drift phantom in your head and isn't going to question your sanity based merely on the fact that you apparently talk to yourself.

"Don't let him guilt you into anything," Raleigh finally says. "You should do what's best for Jazmine. I can tell you that she's comfortable with you being here, but if you let yourself stress out, it'll upset her and make things more difficult for her. On the other hand, if you want to be here and can stand to sit through this without upsetting her, you absolutely should. It's the last chance you'll ever have."

That's painful, but true. Herc yawns and checks his watch. It's practically dawn.

"It's going to be more than twenty-four hours of labor in total," Raleigh speculates. "Her contractions are slowing down a little."

"That's not good," Herc says. In fact, it sounds quite bad. He has no idea if that's normal.

Raleigh shrugs. "She's stressed because we're in a hospital—I'm not surprised it's causing her to delay her labor. I'll let it happen once, but if it happens again I'll ask someone to give her an injection to hurry things along. In the meantime, you should take advantage of this yourself and get some sleep. I'll keep an eye on her."

"I'm not tired," Herc tells him, certain the yawn was just a one-off revealing his boredom. But his eyes do feel a bit dry and gritty, so he folds his arms on the bed and closes his eyes.

To Be Continued in . . . Chapter 9 – The New One

The woman isn't impressed, which Herc can understand, but makes the mistake of being a little too careless with her following words: "Your son should have chosen a bit more carefully, Mister Hansen."

The insult is fourfold, targeting Jazmine in general, Chuck's ability to make decisions, and Herc and his wife for not being good teachers. And while Herc isn't certain he was a good teacher and Chuck had made some questionable decisions, Herc is still happy to give him full credit for not letting his fame go to his dick. Chuck had dated many women, but those dates had mostly ended up stopping at 'dinner date' because he'd noticed something about each of them that had given him pause; in retrospect, the ones he'd dated for extended periods had been toned-down versions of Jazmine, so he'd known what he wanted for years—even if not consciously—and been careful in his search for her.

That's why Herc looks the woman in the eyes and says, "I'm not sure about that. She seems to have pinned you well enough," before turning to make his exit.

Answers To Questions You Didn't Even Know You Wanted To Ask:

"I appreciate your patience. … It'll be better for her and the baby if you stay out."

To be clear, parents-to-be who have concerns or are dealing with a high-risk pregnancy are better off going to a hospital and being assisted by an obstetrician. That's simply all there is to it.

However, if a pregnancy is considered low-risk and regular visits to an obstetrician have shown no reason to be concerned, couples usually have the option of choosing to not give birth in a hospital if that's what they'd prefer. They may choose an at-home birth supervised by a qualified midwife, or they may go to a birthing center staffed by midwives. There are also alternative methods for labor and delivery, some of which include paying respect to the typical preferences of laboring animals. Darkening the delivery room, adjusting the climate, and altering other forms of ambience to whatever is comfortable for the laboring mother are intended to ease labor pains and simultaneously speed the labor process.

Proponents of these alternate options often have multiple children born in different locations under different circumstances and either claim to have felt more comfortable and less pressured than in a hospital or were satisfied with the hospital as well as any alternative option chosen for previous or subsequent births. Obviously, this is largely or entirely anecdotal information. Still, it was interesting to read about given that education about these other places and ways to give birth is essentially unheard of (at least in the U.S.).

—

If you find this fic to be somewhat fine, please take the time to drop me a line!

~RN (LS)