I don't own anything. I only have one goal in the fanfic business and that's diversity. Make sure that ideas can be found and to put characters out there that barely get out there...
"Don't fail me, Dagon. Not again."
Lucifer only cared about Kelly Kline as much as she was a "container" for his spawn. He never deigned to use her name. He never inquired after her more than necessary.
He didn't watch her restlessly sleep. He didn't watch her ravenously eat steak on top of her salads, slurp down smoothies, or scarf down pastries. He was not involved in the care and feeding of Kelly Kline.
Dagon assured Lucifer that she was taking care of Kelly Kline. How could she not? The woman depended on her for everything. From the moment that Dagon rescued Kelly from the angels, Kelly had been obedient, compliant.
To call her a mere container was an insult.
Kelly had been having pains in her stomach all morning. Since her pregnancy wasn't exactly normal, she was consulting Dr. Google, which helpfully informed her that it was either round ligament pain or Braxton Hicks contractions. This did not reassure her. The pains felt too sharp, too immediate, not like the cramping or aches that WebMD described.
When Kelly imagined being pregnant, she imagined having an obstetrician, a loving husband, and enough ultrasounds to quell her anxieties. It was true that Dagon could psychically commune with the baby, but it wasn't enough. Kelly wanted to see the little fingers and toes for herself.
The miracle of life was happening inside her, but sometimes it felt like she was left out of it. It made sense that she was obsessed with the baby, but sometimes she wished that someone would think about her.
"I think I need to see a doctor," she told Dagon. "I think something's wrong."
Dagon was carrying a glass of orange juice for Kelly. "I'm sure everything's fine."
Kelly retorted something snarky and flip before she begged to see a doctor again. "Please," she said. "Just for the reassurance. To put my mind at ease."
Incredulously, Dagon said, "Do you think a nephilim would allow his mother to die in childbirth? This child is unborn yet he hums with a fierce devotion to you. You're allowing your worry to infect him. Relax. Drink some juice."
Another sharp pain had Kelly doubled over. "Please," she begged again. There were tears in her eyes. "Please. This is what would relax me. To know he is all right. To know that everything is fine."
Dagon's eyes flashed. "Fine. We'll get you checked out, and then we'll move to the next safe house." Then she softened, slightly, and gripped Kelly's hand. "What you're doing is important. This baby is important. We'll put your mind at ease."
Nodding, Kelly got ready to leave.
The doctor's office was reassuringly normal. There were pregnant people in the waiting room, some with partners and some alone.
Dagon had taken Kelly's hand, but Kelly was pretty sure it was possessive rather than reassuring. As though Dagon was concerned that someone might not realize that Kelly was already being cared for.
It seemed odd that the ultrasound was being performed by the doctor until she realized that Dagon had worked some psychic mojo to hurry their appointment. They wouldn't have to wait for an ultrasound technician to take photographs that a doctor would then interpret. Instead, the doctor could do it as he went.
A male obstetrician was never what Kelly had in her fantasies, but she could be flexible.
Dr. Turner said that Kelly's vitals looked good, before turning to Dagon. "And you're the birth coach?"
"No," Dagon said, affronted.
"Oh, you're her partner," Dr. Turner said.
Dagon looked amused. "Sure," she said. "We'll go with that."
Kelly was eager to get the appointment moving. "So what are the pains?"
Dr. Kelly was looking back over the paperwork. "Probably just round ligament pain. A little early for contractions, but not unheard of. It says here that you're unsure of your last menstrual date because you had bleeding early in the pregnancy?"
Kelly answered in the affirmative. That was the story that Kelly told to the nurse who took her vitals. The truth is that the pregnancy with an archangel nephilim was accelerated and even Dagon did not know what to expect.
"Why don't we just take a peek today, get some measurements, make sure the little guy or gal in there is growing like they should?"
Nodding gratefully, Kelly hopped up on the table.
"Is that really necessary?" Dagon asked.
"Of course it is," Kelly said. She gripped Dagon's arm. She knew the Prince of Hell was eager to leave, eager to move them to the next safe house, but Kelly wasn't ready. She could see her boy, make sure everything was all right, then leave.
While the doctor busied himself with the ultrasound machine and lube for the wand. Dagon captured Kelly's hand again, staking her claim.
This was the most normal part of the pregnancy so far, Kelly realized, and she wanted to savor it. To treasure it. This was something that she had imagined: visiting a doctor's office, seeing the baby, having a doctor check her out and declare her in shipshape condition.
Kelly wasn't in shipshape condition. She could tell by Dr. Turner's frown, the way he went quiet.
The silence seemed to stretch for an eternity.
She sat up. "What? What's wrong?"
"The important thing to do right now," the doctor said, slowly, "is to not panic."
"Okay," said Kelly. Her voice sounded high to her own ears. "I'm not panicking. What's wrong?"
"What I think you should do is head over to labor and delivery at the local hospital," Dr. Turner said. He busied himself printing stills of the ultrasound. "Your fluid is low, and there's an issue with the placenta. The good news is, the baby is far enough along that after a short NICU stay, he should be fine. But, my guess is that it's very possible you'll be having this baby today."
"Today?!" squeaked Kelly. There was so much she hadn't done.
"We can't have the baby today," Dagon said. "We have other plans."
Doctor Turner chuckled, but the mirth didn't reach his eyes. He scribbled some notes and handed them to Kelly along with the ultrasound stills. "Unfortunately, babies are excellent at ruining the best of plans. Give this to the labor and delivery staff, they'll take it from there."
Later, Kelly wasn't sure how they made it to the hospital. It was like she wasn't fully present in her body. Every time she tried to imagine the baby being born now, her mind rebelled against the idea. He was safe inside her. Surely it would be worse to bring him out now. She had time.
"Lucifer is going to kill me," Dagon growled when they were in triage. "If something happens to the baby—"
"Dr. Turner said that Jack would be fine," Kelly said. "This isn't how I imagined this going either."
It turned out when you were the subject of a medical emergency, you got relatively little time alone to discuss logistics with your demonic caretaker. They only had enough time to whisper that before Dagon's hand gripped Kelly's again, staking her claim.
Kelly signed a consent form for the surgery with her other hand rather than have Dagon let go of her hand.
"Just to clarify," Dagon said, after a doctor explained the reason for an emergency cesarean section. "The life in danger is Kelly's, not the baby's."
The doctor's gaze flickered over to Dagon. "Yes, but the baby gestating longer than he is now would only wind up putting them both in danger."
Dagon's eyes flashed yellow. "You misunderstand me. I think you should be moving even faster to save her life."
Kelly was pretty sure that Dagon put some sort of psychic mojo into the hospital staff to cut through the bureaucracy and make the surgery happen faster.
None of this was what Kelly had imagined birth would be like. She had imagined timing contractions, pushing, going through unimaginable pain and then the reward: a baby.
Instead, she had an epidural, and was wheeled into an operating room where eight people plus Dagon were there, to slice her stomach open and deliver Jack into the world. The NICU staff was waiting, ready to clean him up and provide oxygen as soon as he was born. Kelly wouldn't see Jack until he was snug in the NICU. She couldn't feel her body being sliced into, but it did feel like someone was washing dishes in her abdomen.
Jack cried as soon as he was pulled from her womb. Dagon peeked over the curtain, still gripping Kelly's hand. "He's strong," she whispered. "I am not an expert on infants but from what I understand, the annoying tenor of his cries is a good sign."
There were tears streaming from Kelly's eyes into her ears. Jack was okay.
Kelly's body was all fucked up. She was wearing compression devices on her legs to prevent blood clots, and every half hour a nurse came by to massage her uterus to prevent hemorrhage. It was more like torture. She felt so nauseous that she couldn't imagine eating ever again.
Dagon visited Jack in the NICU and reported back. Jack was fine, better than the scans had predicted. "They weren't expecting a nephilim — it seems like he aged himself to normal newborn size before birth and they're just keeping him there as a precaution. They are fascinated by the fact that the ultrasound measurements seemed to be so wrong."
Kelly was only allowed to drink clear liquids, but even that seemed like too much. She suffered through a sip of apple juice before saying, "So he's perfect."
Rolling her eyes, Dagon said, "Yes. Nephilim frequently are. We'll figure out our next move as soon as you're ready to leave the hospital. Your only job right now is to heal up."
Kelly leaned back into the bed and closed her eyes.
Everything would be all right.
Lucifer hadn't contacted Dagon again since he had warned her not to fail him.
Dagon sat by Jack Kline's bassinet in the NICU.
Technically, "the container" had fulfilled its purpose: the baby had been safely delivered into the world. Dagon had expected that Lucifer could feel the birth of his son into the world and would immediately contact her.
As long as he didn't, Dagon could do her best to keep Jack and Kelly off his radar. For now, the child was better off being cared for by his mother.