Prompt: Difficult
Rating: T

They drove home in silence and while it wasn't awkward, it wasn't exactly pleasant. Halfway home, Becker reached out and took Jess's hand in his. Her grip was just as firm as his, her smile watery but grateful all the same.

Without saying a word, they let themselves into the house that was their home, hung up their coats and left their shoes by the door. Jess went to the kitchen to make a pot of tea, a sure sign she was upset, and Becker followed, watching her from a small distance away.

Tea made, they retired to the conservatory, one of the most peaceful rooms in the house, and curled up together on the couch that afforded them a view of the garden in which they'd been married.

The garden in which their child would one day play.

"We should be excited," Jess said after a while, her head resting on his shoulder as she clasped his hand in her lap. "Our baby kicked. That's a good thing, isn't it?"

"It is." He kissed the top of her head and squeezed her fingers. "But it's a reminder, too."

A reminder of the life they had created and were going to bring into the world.

A reminder of the conversation neither wanted to have but both knew was necessary.

"You could have died today." Her voice was soft but he heard it as though she'd shouted it. "You could die any time you go out to an anomaly. Or there could be an incursion at the ARC and I could die –" His hand tightened over hers, his jaw clenching at the thought. "Or we could both die and our child or children would be left with no one."

"They'd have our families," Becker pointed out, referring to both the families they'd been born into and the family they'd created with their teammates.

Jess nodded a little but wasn't soothed by the knowledge; he didn't blame her, knowing it didn't make him feel any better, either. "I know we could just as easily get hit by a bus crossing the street or die in a car crash," the latter was said with a barely repressed shudder, her parents no doubt crossing her mind, "but by staying at the ARC, we're increasing the chance dramatically that one or both of us won't live to see our child grow up and that... that terrifies me, Hil. I've been there. I don't want our baby to go through it, too."

"I know." Neither did he. He hated the thought of their child growing up without he or Jess or both of them there to see it. He hated the thought of missing out on all of the firsts he was starting to get excited about – first step, first word, first tooth, first day at school... He wanted to be there, for their child and for his wife, and the realisation that it was a very real possibility that one day he wouldn't be able to was utterly terrifying. "So what do we do? Leave the ARC?"

She shifted against him, moving so she could see his face clearly and vice-versa. "Neither of us wants that, do we? We wouldn't just be leaving the ARC, we'd be leaving the team. And leaving wouldn't make knowing about the anomalies and creatures any easier."

"No, it wouldn't." He'd already tried that, before the new ARC had opened. Though he'd been reluctant to rejoin having lost so many good friends, he'd eventually decided that the alternative – knowing what was going on but being unable to do anything to help – would be worse.

But that was before.

Before Jess, before their baby.

His priorities had shifted; his wife and their child took precedence. Since he and Jess had begun their relationship, he'd been afraid that something would happen to him and he'd end up leaving her alone. Those fears had only doubled after they'd been married and tripled after they'd discovered they were expecting their first child.

He'd seen first-hand the effects of losing a loved one on those who were left behind. Whenever one of his soldiers died in the line of duty, he'd pay his respects to the families that had been left behind and made a concerted effort to keep in touch with them. He'd met dozens of devastated husbands and wives, some who never truly recovered from their loss and others who had no choice but to stay strong when there were children involved.

He hated the thought of Jess joining their numbers, of his son or daughter growing up without having their father in their lives.

But did he hate it enough to give up a job he loved, despite its risks?

"The way I see it, we've got a couple of options," Jess spoke after a long time of saying nothing. "Things can stay as they are, as much as possible after I'm back from maternity leave, anyway, and if that's the case, we'll need to start looking into childcare options."

"My Mum's said she'd be happy to look after the baby while we're at work," Becker reminded her quietly.

"I know." Jess sighed softly. "But I'm not sure that'd be fair, not all the time. She has precious little time for herself anyway; I'd feel horrible about taking that from her no matter how much she insists it'd be okay."

He nodded, understanding her concerns and sharing them. "You said there were options?"

"There are." She bit her lip as she looked at him gravely. "Option two is that we both leave the ARC and get safer jobs elsewhere. Option three is that one of us leaves and one of stays but to be honest, I'm not sure how much I like that option. I can't stand the thought of being at home or in another job and not knowing what's going on. The day Lester came to tell me you'd gone through an anomaly was the worst day of my life and it's not an experience I'm keen on repeating."

Remembering the time she spoke about all too well, Becker tightened his arm around her. Though he'd been on the other side of the anomaly at the time, he recalled all too clearly making it back through only to be told she'd been taken to hospital, suffering from pneumonia.

"Any other options?" He asked, not liking any of those currently available.

"None that I can think of right now," she admitted. "But we've still got some time to think about it. Lester said we have until I start maternity leave to make a decision so we've got time."

He tried to smile for her sake, but the attempt faded when she settled against him, her head resting against his shoulder.

Continued in 'Room'
Sorry! The fluff will resume soon!