Chapter 23: Echoes of the Past Part 3
Flashback continued…
An hour later a sleeping Helen became aware there was someone else in the room with her. Exhaling deeply, she stretched her long arms and slowly opened her eyes. It took several seconds for her mind to reconcile her location and then focus on the large form seated in a chair on the right side of her bed. "You look like hell," she drowsily commented as she struggled to sit up against the metal headboard.
"Matches my mood," he returned gruffly and said nothing else as he watched her reach for a pitcher of water on the nightstand next to her bed and pour herself a glass of water. They stared at one another in a game of cat and mouse as she finished drinking her water and then set down the empty cup onto the metal table.
Thirst quenched, she cleared her throat and sighed. "I owe you an explanation… about what I said earlier."
"You owe me a name," he countered with a calmness that she knew to be false judging by the way his jaw was clenched so tight that she could see a vein raised along his throat.
"And what would you do with that name should I chose to give it to you?" she hesitantly asked.
"Been debating about that. Throttling seems to be winning out… after a few other unpleasant actions," he answered with a flash of his large, white teeth. Her sudden burst of laughter at his threats startled him and caused him to stand up out of his seat. "You think I'm joking?" he snarled.
"No," she pressed a hand to her mouth in an attempt to get her giggling under control. "I know you're completely serious. It's just the vision of you doing the deed that's hilarious. How exactly do you plan on throttling yourself? Would you use both hands?" She started giggling again.
His mouth dropped open, he blinked, and tried twice to say something before he was actually able to get the words "What?" out of his mouth.
Shoving a pillow behind her back to get more comfortable, Helen stared up at the big oaf before her that was the father of her unborn child. He had worked himself up into such a state of anger that he was having a difficult time switch gears to the truth of the situation. "You were asking for the name of my baby's father, correct?"
"I was," he growled and took a menacing step toward her though it was evident by the look on his face that he was confused by what was going on.
"His name is Montague John Druitt, otherwise known as my former jackass of a fiancé," she replied and tried not to laugh again as his eyes widened and his tense shoulders slumped down in surprise.
"I'm the baby's father," he repeated with a raised brow.
God, the man was slow. "Valentine's night. Ashley's bedroom. You do remember that night, don't you?" she asked sarcastically when he continued to just stare at her. "If you say no I swear as God is my witness I'll climb out of this bed and stab you myself," she threatened in a flash of annoyance.
"Vividly," he answered with a start and dropped back into his vacated seat. "Are you telling me I got you pregnant that night? How is that even possible? We're far past the age of being able to conceive I should think."
"You think?" she snarked back. "Imagine my surprise when what I thought was a week-long stomach bug turned out to be something else all together. I had to take the pregnancy test three times before I believed it myself."
"You're pregnant… with my baby," he said softly to himself.
"I think we've just established that," she confirmed and waited for his real reaction to kick in. Would he be happy or completely freak out.
"You're pregnant… with my baby," he repeated louder and stood up again, this time placing his hands on his hips in indignation. "And when were you planning on telling me? Or were you planning to hide our child away from me like the first one?" he hotly accused.
"First of all," she growled back, "the first trimester is always best handled cautiously as it is the most dangerous. The last thing I needed was additional stress to cause a miscarriage. No one my age should be able to conceive let alone carry a child to term."
"You were less than thirty years younger when you had Ashley," he retorted with a wave of his hand.
"And second of all," she exclaimed in a raised voice, "it's your own damn fault I had to keep Ashley hidden away for more than a century!"
The monitoring device Helen was still connected to begun beeping loudly and the door suddenly swung open as Helen's old friend stomped into the room. "I told you she needed to keep her blood pressure low!" the Sasquatch barked at the other man and pushed him aside to get to the tower of medical equipment. He peered at the monitor readings and then turned back to the bickering couple. "Either calm down and talk like civilized people or get out," he ordered and addressed the last part to Druitt. The glare the beast aimed Druitt's way made it clear he wasn't afraid of taking the other man on.
John blew out a deep breath and gave a low nod to show that he would comply with the overprotective beast's demand. Helen gave her old friend a small, tight smile and nodded as well.
"Good," the Sasquatch growled. "Don't make me come back in here again!" he commanded as if he were dealing with unruly children. He stalked grumpily out of the room and closed the door behind him. With his sensitive hearing he could recline near the door and still keep tabs on Helen. If Druitt got violent he had a gun tucked into his pants ready to make the ex-psycho behave appropriately.
"He's rather bossy," John finally said to break the tension in the room. "Are you sure he's up to date on his rabies shot?"
"The only one acting like a mad dog in this room is you," she criticized in defense of her close friend and crossed her arms over her chest as she glared at him.
"How am I supposed to act!" he cried in frustration. "You've known you were carrying my child for months now and never said a word! Not a word! You know I wanted nothing more than to have a family with you."
"Is that still true?" she asked in a small voice, her first visible crack of vulnerability. "Do you still want to have a family with me?"
There was a long pause before he admitted, "You know I do. How could you doubt that?"
"You haven't come round since that the day following the night we spent together."
"I wasn't sure you wanted me around. You didn't try to stop me from leaving nor did you call… until today that is."
"I was so overwhelmed when I found out that I wasn't sure what to do," she admitted as her tried to run a hand through her tangled hair and frowned. She desperately needed a nice bath to wash away the film of dried mud on her person. "And then I thought it would be better to wait until the danger of the first trimester was over before I said anything. And then…" she trailed off and looked down at her hands, "I wasn't sure how to break the news to you."
"Well, this," he said throwing his arms out, "wasn't the way to break it to a man that he was going to be a father."
"I know," she said before clamping her hand over her mouth. Her face paled visibly and she clamped her eyes shut as a wave of nausea hit her.
Feeling remorse that he had made her want to cry, he reached for her only to have his hand shoved away. "I'm going to be sick," she warned and swallowed hard. He jumped back as she demanded the trash bin. He'd barely placed it into her lap before she wrapped her fingers around the edges and threw up several times. His nose crinkled up at the smell and he took two steps back.
The door flew open again and Helen's hairy friend hurried into the room. The Sasquatch waiting until she'd finished being sick to hand her a damp washcloth to wipe her mouth with before he removed the offending trash bin from the room. He returned two minutes later with it rinsed clean. "You're dehydrated," he declared with a grunt. "You need to rest and drink some Pedialyte."
"I need a bath!" she whined and flopped back onto her pillow. At John's comment of "You certainly do" she aimed a glare of death his way. "This is all your fault!" she complained and pointed at her stomach.
"So it is," he agreed with a lopsided grin. She was pregnant with their second child and it was entirely his fault he thought gleefully.
"I hate you," she grumbled seeing the stupid grin on his broad face.
"You can continue to hate him as you drink this," her old friend ordered and forced a cup of liquid into her hand.
She groaned. "I hate this stuff. Don't we have anything else? Gatorade? I know we have some grape Gatorade in the refridgerator somewhere."
"No," he retorted gruffly. "Now drink!"
"Only if I get to go have a bath and sleep in my own bed," she negotiated with a pout. Her hair was starting to itch and she was pretty sure there was some residual mud in her bellybutton.
John was impressed with the eye roll the Sasquatch gave her. "You pout like Henry does when he's forced to take medication. Drink the Pedialyte and if your blood pressure goes back to normal I'll let you go to your bedroom. If it doesn't you're here for the night, no argument." John's opinion of the beast rose another notch after witnessing him put Helen in her place. Few got away with ordering her around like her manservant just did.
"Henry!" she cried and sat up quickly. "Oh my God. I completely forgot about Henry and Declan and the others. John, you have to…"
"They're fine," her old friend said with a dismissive wave of his big furry hand. "Henry called shortly after you got here to ask if Druitt had returned you home safely. I told him you were fine. They're on their way home now. Declan thinks it was a trap, that there never was any such abnormal." He paused and gave her a worried look. "Henry said Declan thinks it was a trap meant specifically for you."
Helen exchanged a worried look with John. "So do we."
"Do you have any idea who or what we're dealing with here?" her friend asked with a low growl. He was always protective of the woman who had taken him in and made him a part of her life's work. The fact that she was unexpectedly with child only made him more protective. His thoughts turned to the Cabal but he refrained from bringing them up given Helen's current condition.
She shook her head no and lifted the offensive drink up to her mouth. "I'm going to my room," she declared her intention as she began chugging down the liquid with a grimace. Both men smirked when she stuck her tongue out of the side of her mouth in distaste in between gulps.
"We need to practice diligence," the hairy man warned and didn't bother arguing with her about going to her room. She'd do it anyway as stubborn as she was. "Until we know what's really going on you are off the mission list and will remain within safe bounds where we can keep an eye on you."
"Agreed," John interjected. "And if anyone or anything tries to harm you or our child again they'll have to deal with me," he promised with a flash of anger in his eyes. It dawned on him that if Helen hadn't called him at the last moment for help she and, by extension, their child, would probably be dead right now. The thought infuriated him. No one touched what belonged to him and lived.
Helen recognized the turbulent emotions flashing in his eyes and groaned. "Dear Lord. You're going to go all cave man on me, aren't you?"
"You say that like it's a bad thing," he drawled with a smirk at the corner of his mouth.
"I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself," she pointed out and placed the empty cup by her bed. Sighing, she rested back against the pillow and closed her eyes as she waited for her blood pressure to reach a safe level before she left the room.
"I know you are," he said and reached for her hand. "Consider me your own personal attack dog if needed. My bite is definitely worse than my bark."
She laughed as he kissed her hand and opened her eyes to look up at him with her beautiful sapphire orbs. "Great, now I'm picturing you with a studded leather collar," she laughed again.
He laughed back. "Not in front of the children," he playfully chided with a nod at the Sasquatch. "We wouldn't want to give him any ideas."
"I think nightmares is more like it," the hairy fellow muttered under his breath as he left the room.
An hour later a refreshed John lie sprawled out on top of Helen's bed with his arms tucked behind his head. She had refused to allow him to join her in the bath so he had to bath alone in his own bathroom down the hall before returning to her room. He ignored the fact that she hadn't actually invited him into her bedroom. Now that he knew she was carrying his offspring he was determined not to be kept away from her or their child. As he waited for her his mind turned to thoughts of their youth. They had had such dreams of wedded bliss and of having a happy family… all of which had gone wrong thanks to the energy elemental. Once again he was being offered a chance at recapturing his dreams. First he had finally escaped the long and deadly grasp of "Jack" the energy elemental. And now he was being presented with the opportunity at being a real father to his child. A wave of determination surged in his chest. He was going to have his family no matter what the cost.
"Lost your way?" Helen said as she padded barefoot into the room wearing a heathered, gray tank top and long pajama pants. "Your bedroom is at the other end of the hall," she reminded him as she came up beside the bed and frowned down at him. He looked entirely too comfortable.
"Why would I want to be sleep down the hall when you're here?" he genially argued and smiled at her. He could tell that she was annoyed he was in her bed uninvited. He could also tell she was exhausted and not up for a fight.
"John," she whined, "I'm exhausted. I just want to go to sleep."
"That makes two of us," he answered wearily. "I haven't had the best of days either in case you've forgotten." He pointed at his bruised face and stitches.
"No," she agreed and bit her bottom lip. He looked as bad as she felt. It was her fault he'd gotten injured. And if he hadn't answered her call she and their baby might not be alive right now. "Alright. You can stay," she caved, "but there will be no hanky panky. Only sleeping."
He gave a low rumble of laughter. "Hanky panky? I haven't had anything remotely like hanky panky since we were starred eyed youngsters. Now if you are talking about sex…"
"There will be no sex," she firmly declared with a scowl.
"Good," he snorted. "I'm not up for it. My head is pounding and I can barely keep my left eye open."
She immediately sat down next to him and gently grabbed his head for a closer inspection. "The swelling around your eye looks awful. I'll get some ice and something for your headache."
He grabbed her wrist. "Don't bother yourself. You need to rest. I'll be okay."
She pulled free. "I'm fine. There's ice down the hall in the small lounge. Go fill one of the small ice buckets and I'll get you some medication. Grab a can of juice for me too, okay?"
He smiled and sat up. "Sure. Any particular flavor?"
"Apple or cran-grape," she decided and headed for the bathroom to root around in the cabinet.
Minutes later they were settled under the covers of her bed. He had a plaid covered ice pack resting above his left eye and had downed the pills with a can of orange juice. She settled herself against his shoulder and sleepily looked up at him. "Leave the pack on no more than five minutes. Don't move too much or it'll keep fall off."
He turned to kiss the side of her head and pushed the ice pack back in place. "Don't worry. I have no intention of moving from this spot."
She gave a yawn and snuggled closer to him. "You need to shave," she complained.
"As soon as I can see well enough with both eyes," he consented with a yawn. His right arm circled her shoulder and his large palm came to rest over her midriff. He brushed his fingertips over the little paunch of her stomach. His child rested in there he thought happily as he rubbed back and forth. After a minute he heard her mumble, "Keep that up and I'll throw up on you." He smiled and ceased his movement though he kept his hand resting on her stomach. His left hand pulled the ice pack off and dropped it on the floor. It then draped over his waist to rest his hand on top of his other one, essentially holding her in his embrace. He could tell by her steady, deep breathing that she had fallen into slumber. His last coherent thought as he followed her into dream land was a possessive "mine" in regards to her and their child.
