*Can't Always Get the Good Side of a Deal*
The doctor walked in dressed in all white as usual. Jack sat up straight, Riddick forever at her side. So loyal. Jack looked at the middle aged man named Dr. Henry Jenkins. She smiled.
"So Henry, I was thinking we could have a room set up for me at all times. I spend so much fucking time here I think I should have a room with all the comforts of home, what do ya say doc?"
Dr. Jenkins didn't try to hide the truth from his patients, Jack had always admired that, from the way it was looking. . .the news was going to be pretty bad. "I'll see what I can do Jacquelyn."
"All right, what's the diagnosis, doc? No bullshit."
The doctor shook his head, "No bullshit, as usual. Uh, well. . .the whole story or just what's wrong."
"I don't care just as long as I can get the scoop here, eh?"
"Well, the bullet blew a fucking hole straight through your stomach, Jack. That's some shit," so he wasn't exactly the most ethical doctor but he was the best in the profession. "I was surprised you even made it back to the base. You can thank Mr. Hultzer for that one. To put it simply we were able to regenerate everything, you're in perfect health again," a fake smile filled with sadness crossed the doctor's features.
"But?"
"Jack. . ." he sighed heavily. Shit, this wasn't looking good. "We, uh, we aren't sure you'll ever be able to reproduce." Dr. Jenkins let his head fall, waiting for Jack's reaction.
Jack sat there blankly for a moment, waiting for something. . .anything to hit but there was all of nothing. "That's it? I can't have kids?"
"We aren't certain Jack but from what we foresee that is correct."
"Who gives a fuck?! I don't like kids anyways. It doesn't matter." Jack was lying. It did matter. Even if there was no immediate thought of a family, that'd always been Jack's dream to someday have kids. Fuck, there went that dream. It didn't matter; she was operable. "So I can go home?"
The doctor looked up astonishment now gracing his face, "Yes, Jacquelyn. You may go home tomorrow."
"Good, I want the hell out of here." Her face still held nothing, completely blank.
"Good afternoon. . .Jack, Mr. Riddick." Dr. Jenkins turned on his heal and left the two to their thoughts.
No kids. She could deal with that. No big deal, now she could go home strengthen up and get back to her troops. Moran, war. Yes. . .fuck reproduction it didn't matter. It didn't matter.
Riddick joined Jack on the bed, "I'm sorry, Jack."
"No, no. I don't want fucking sympathy. It's bullshit. It doesn't matter." A unnoticed tear slid down Jack's cheek. "IT DOESN'T FUCKING MATTER!" Jack grabbed anything she could get a hold of and lobbed it at the wall.
Riddick pulled her to his body; he was such a comfort. Somehow over the course of her recovery he'd become her strength. But how? She'd been unconscious. Didn't matter, none of it mattered. No kids, big deal. There were more important things to be handled. Things that needed to be talked about, a life that Jack needed to get back to. A plan that had to be finished and carried out. No time for petty shit. No time.
Jack let the tears slide down her cheeks, had it finally hit her? Was this how she was supposed to react? She felt a void inside herself, a void that would never be filled. She now harbored a weakness. No weaknesses! It doesn't matter, it's nothing. Troops, war, Moran, Riddick, strength, dreams, it doesn't matter. Just a dream, a future ruined. Doesn't matter, live for the now. Now. . .war, training, death. It doesn't matter.
The doctor walked in dressed in all white as usual. Jack sat up straight, Riddick forever at her side. So loyal. Jack looked at the middle aged man named Dr. Henry Jenkins. She smiled.
"So Henry, I was thinking we could have a room set up for me at all times. I spend so much fucking time here I think I should have a room with all the comforts of home, what do ya say doc?"
Dr. Jenkins didn't try to hide the truth from his patients, Jack had always admired that, from the way it was looking. . .the news was going to be pretty bad. "I'll see what I can do Jacquelyn."
"All right, what's the diagnosis, doc? No bullshit."
The doctor shook his head, "No bullshit, as usual. Uh, well. . .the whole story or just what's wrong."
"I don't care just as long as I can get the scoop here, eh?"
"Well, the bullet blew a fucking hole straight through your stomach, Jack. That's some shit," so he wasn't exactly the most ethical doctor but he was the best in the profession. "I was surprised you even made it back to the base. You can thank Mr. Hultzer for that one. To put it simply we were able to regenerate everything, you're in perfect health again," a fake smile filled with sadness crossed the doctor's features.
"But?"
"Jack. . ." he sighed heavily. Shit, this wasn't looking good. "We, uh, we aren't sure you'll ever be able to reproduce." Dr. Jenkins let his head fall, waiting for Jack's reaction.
Jack sat there blankly for a moment, waiting for something. . .anything to hit but there was all of nothing. "That's it? I can't have kids?"
"We aren't certain Jack but from what we foresee that is correct."
"Who gives a fuck?! I don't like kids anyways. It doesn't matter." Jack was lying. It did matter. Even if there was no immediate thought of a family, that'd always been Jack's dream to someday have kids. Fuck, there went that dream. It didn't matter; she was operable. "So I can go home?"
The doctor looked up astonishment now gracing his face, "Yes, Jacquelyn. You may go home tomorrow."
"Good, I want the hell out of here." Her face still held nothing, completely blank.
"Good afternoon. . .Jack, Mr. Riddick." Dr. Jenkins turned on his heal and left the two to their thoughts.
No kids. She could deal with that. No big deal, now she could go home strengthen up and get back to her troops. Moran, war. Yes. . .fuck reproduction it didn't matter. It didn't matter.
Riddick joined Jack on the bed, "I'm sorry, Jack."
"No, no. I don't want fucking sympathy. It's bullshit. It doesn't matter." A unnoticed tear slid down Jack's cheek. "IT DOESN'T FUCKING MATTER!" Jack grabbed anything she could get a hold of and lobbed it at the wall.
Riddick pulled her to his body; he was such a comfort. Somehow over the course of her recovery he'd become her strength. But how? She'd been unconscious. Didn't matter, none of it mattered. No kids, big deal. There were more important things to be handled. Things that needed to be talked about, a life that Jack needed to get back to. A plan that had to be finished and carried out. No time for petty shit. No time.
Jack let the tears slide down her cheeks, had it finally hit her? Was this how she was supposed to react? She felt a void inside herself, a void that would never be filled. She now harbored a weakness. No weaknesses! It doesn't matter, it's nothing. Troops, war, Moran, Riddick, strength, dreams, it doesn't matter. Just a dream, a future ruined. Doesn't matter, live for the now. Now. . .war, training, death. It doesn't matter.