Jason fetched hot water and a rag from the bathroom--the shower was simply too small to spread out Lex's wings for the rubdown they needed--and set to work on the boy as if cleaning dried blood from a Seraph's wings was something he did every day. It was actually rather odd how un-odd it felt, how easy it was to accept all of this now. He coaxed Lex to sit up, and washed the rivulets of blood from his back, not caring about the blanket on the floor; it would probably be thrown out anyway given how filthy it was now that they were done with it.
Finally, he helped Lex up into the bed, back among the hanging drapes where he would feel safe and warm. "I'm going to take a shower and I'll be right back."
Jason shoved the blanket and two towels into the laundry chute; the staff would decide their fate, most likely involving the incinerator. Then he sluiced himself off in the hot water spray, scrubbing over wounds that reopened briefly under the pressure, pushing energy into them to close them up. His shirt was a shambles, but his jeans were still wearable, so he folded them and hung them over the chair.
Then, he got on the intercom. "This is SA-7," he said. "I need a standard supply of blood stocked in here for the Seraph and also additional clothing and new towels. And I need a shirt."
"Yes, sir," was the answer, most likely from a scandalized R&D tech who would never be able to look him in the eye again.
He shrugged. Oh fucking well.
Lex was dozing when Jason slid into the bed with him, but woke enough to draw him close, still a little frightened at what had passed between them.
"There now," he murmured, letting the Seraph's head rest on his shoulder. "It's all right."
"I don't know what I am," Lex whispered. "I don’t think there has ever been a Seraph born from a vampire's body before. We've always been human. I don't know what I am."
Such fear, and such sadness. Jason held him, realizing the conflict that must be tearing Lex apart, the instincts and purpose of two separate races at war within him. Vampires were predators, not protectors; Lex was a 25 year old boy as well as a centuries-old immortal. This was all too new, and too overwhelming, to make sense of. So much transformation in only a few days, and aside from that, a mission he didn't fully understand to seek out someone he had never met and didn’t know how to find, all while dealing with the tumult of falling in love.
"I'm sorry, little one," Jason told him. "I'll try to do better by you from now on. I haven't been much of a sire to you, have I...but I'll do better. I promise."
Distantly, beyond the bed, he heard someone come in and leave the things he'd requested, but he was already drifting off, both of them warm and sated in each other's arms, able for a moment to let go of implications and repercussions and simply rest.
Part Eleven
Word traveled as fast as the stomach flu in the Agency base. By the next night, when Sara made her way to the cafeteria for something to eat before her meeting with the Powers that Be, she was already being stared at and whispered over. She felt small and strange and wished that she'd worn something more official than jeans and a t-shirt. She'd gone for comfort, since technically she was off-duty on medical leave until a determination was made about her condition, but she realized sitting alone with furtive eyes darting toward her as she tried to eat that she was no longer comfortable in civilian clothes in public.
Sara smiled to herself, bitterly. At last the change was complete. She was an Agent, all right. And probably a knocked-up Agent at that.
She choked down a bowl of vegetable soup and some Saltine crackers, then immediately went back to her quarters, threw up, and changed from her casual clothes into an SA uniform.
She pulled her hair back into its trademark French knot and strapped the knife Ardeth had given her to her belt. She tightened the laces on her boots, all the way up to her knees, and fastened her badge to the other side of her belt along with the transmitter of her Ear; the receiver she stowed in the special pocket sewn into Agents' shirts just for that item.
This time when she walked into the cafeteria and requested a lime sherbet and ginger ale float to combat her nausea, dead silence followed in her wake, not whispers. She walked with authority, practically strutting, over to her table to wait for her drink, and crossed her legs, and her arms, practically daring anyone to look at her sideways.
That was how Rowan found her, sipping at a bright green float and looking like she wanted to commit at least four felonies.
The Elf looked her from head to foot, then asked, "Permission to join you, SA-9?"
She looked up at him. "Granted."
He, she noticed, was in uniform too. When she'd left his apartment that afternoon he'd been in one of the robes that the Clan had sent back with them.
"I'm a freak," Sara said irritably. "Did you hear?"
"Really?" He managed a smile. "I heard you're giving birth to the Elven Messiah, and something about bringing balance to the Force, which according to Frog would make it Darth Vader. Aren't you excited?"
"No," Sara snapped. "I’m not. How would you feel if everyone thought you were carrying a mutant baby Jesus and got knocked up by god?"
"About as pleased as if everyone thought I was the god who knocked you up," Rowan replied calmly. "What are you drinking?"
Sara sighed. He didn't deserve her wrath; nobody did. Whatever was going on was nobody's fault, and striking out at everyone over it wouldn't accomplish anything. "It's ginger ale and lime sherbet," she said, pushing it toward him. He looked dubious. "My mom used to make it for me when I had an upset stomach. That and plain boiled potatoes with lots of salt."
Rowan looked up at the clock. "It's almost 1900. Are you ready?"
"No. Not at all. You?"
"Not even a little bit. Shall we?"
They headed down to the Floor level, and Sara was grimly satisfied when one of the Admins took one look at the two of them and opted for the next elevator. Whether it was because the girl recognized them, or was simply intimidated by the uniforms, Sara didn’t care; just now she wanted everyone to be scared of her, and to leave her the hell alone.
“You should try to ground,” Rowan remarked, eyes on the digital display clicking down the floor numbers. “You’re practically throwing off sparks.”
She grunted in assent, but didn’t make much of an effort. “You don’t seem much better. Did you get any sleep today at all?”
Rowan’s jaw was tight, one of the few signs he ever gave of being angry. “I couldn’t,” he said flatly. “I had to feel the psychic echoes of my amori having wild animal sex with the Seraph all afternoon.”
She stared at him. “You could feel it?”
“Oh yes. Through a shielded room, a shot of whiskey, and three Xanax. Apparently he projects really loudly when he’s fucking. I wish I’d known.”
Sara swallowed, her own frustrations forgotten. “Are you going to be okay?”
“I don’t know.” He wouldn’t look at her, and she knew he was lying. Was it to spare her the anxiety, or to deny it to himself? “I can’t think about it right now, though. There’s too much else going on.”
“No kidding.” Sara reached over and took his hand, and impulsively he hugged her; they stood like that the rest of the trip down, neither speaking, just holding on. In a few minutes everything was going to change, irrevocably, and she wasn’t sure how much more either of them could take, but they were going to have to face it one way or another, and at least they weren’t alone.
The elevator came to a halt—one of the things she’d always appreciated about the base was that the elevators were smooth and didn’t lurch when they stopped, which was doubly important now when anything might set off her nausea—and they stepped apart, taking the left-hand hall to Ness’s conference room.
Ness, Nava, and Jason were all already there, and Sara nearly gasped when she saw the vampire. There were fading cuts and puncture marks just barely visible on his neck, and he was clearly exhausted. He looked like he’d spent the afternoon in hand-to-fang combat with a jaguar.
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She caught the way Rowan bit his lip when he saw Jason, and she understood. Not a jaguar, then; a Seraph. Damn it. This was going to get ugly.
“All right, everyone, if you’ll take a seat,” Ness said. “I’m going to turn the floor over to Dr. Nava for this meeting.”
Sara sat down next to Rowan, who very carefully avoided sitting next to Jason; when the vampire offered him a smile, the Elf returned it measuredly then looked away. Startled, Jason eyed the Elf as they all got settled, a vague look of unease on his face as one of his hands absently reached up to glance over a two-puncture mark at his shoulder. Sara wished she could be a fly on the wall for the conversation that was coming between them.
“We’ve compiled the results of the tests we ran yesterday,” Nava said, bringing Sara’s attention forcibly back to the present. “We double checked the data just to be sure, but I can say with 98% certainty that SA-9 is, in fact, pregnant.”
Sara closed her eyes and leaned forward on her hands, the room spinning around her. She’d known, of course, the minute Jason had said it that it had to be true. Hearing it like this wasn’t any easier. “Okay.”
“Now, I had Frog draw up a chart of commonalities and divergences between human pregnancy and what is known about Elven pregnancy, so that hopefully we can anticipate any problems ahead. The first thing you need to know, Sara, is that Elves gestate for 12 months, not 9.”
“You mean she’s going to give birth to a three month old baby?” Jason asked.
“Not exactly. That’s where the divergences come in. Elven fetuses develop very quickly for the first three months, which is why she’s already exhibiting symptoms after only a week. Their bodies develop at about twice the rate of a human’s during that time, but then slow down dramatically. The bulk of the gestation period is devoted to development of the brain. By the seventh month physical growth has all but stopped; the sensory organs are still developing but the fetus won’t get any larger. Instead, the remaining time is spent on mental and psychic development. That’s a major reason why Elora, for example, was so articulate at age two.”
Nava turned on the projector and clicked through a series of images on her laptop, showing a comparison between the growth of a human fetus and what the Agency had researched as far as Elves went. Sara paid very little attention, hearing Rowan’s commentary from a thousand miles away as he corrected a few of Nava’s facts and they discussed members of Clan Willow who might be able to provide more information.
Sara’s mind had frozen, and she couldn’t form a coherent thought, let alone digest what they were saying. It wasn’t until she heard Ness’s voice calling her back to the room that she blinked and pulled her hands away from her face. They were wet; she’d been crying, silently, the whole time.
“SA-9…Sara…do you need a moment?” Ness asked with uncharacteristic gentleness.
Sara shook her head and whispered, “What am I supposed to do?”
Silence. Sara looked up from Nava’s face to Ness, and asked, “What about me? What about my job? Am I supposed to lie around on a fainting couch for a year hooked up to machines while you study me? What if this thing kills me? What if I kill it? And what if I don’t want a kid? Do I get any say in this at all?”
Again, silence. Ness took a deep breath and said, “Sara, I’m sure you realize what a remarkable occurrence this is. No one is going to force you to be a parent, but if there’s any way I can convince you to continue the pregnancy, I’d like you to consider it. Your job is not in jeopardy, regardless. You’re a valuable member of my team and I have no intention of losing you. And I want it made clear to everyone here that if there’s any danger to you, your health will come first.”
Nava cleared her throat. “What I’d like to do, Sara, is monitor you very closely for the first trimester as it’s the most hazardous. After that there’s no reason you couldn’t be on limited duty; no patrolling, obviously, but case-by-case involvement otherwise. To be frank, for the next twelve weeks it’s likely you’ll be feeling like hell and won’t be able to work to capacity anyway. We have no idea how this is going to go—there are no records, no precedent. For all we know your body could reject the fetus any second now.”
Sara wiped her eyes with her sleeve, not caring how it looked, and shook her head but didn’t say what she was thinking—there was no way the baby was going to just up and die. One way or another, if she chose to have it, it would be had. She was as sure of that as Jason had been sure that she was pregnant in the first place.
“There is one other thing,” Rowan said quietly, speaking directly to her. “If you decide you don’t want to keep the baby, Sara, you don’t have to. She would be more than welcome in Clan Willow—births are very rare among our people, so it’s quite common for children to be raised by other than their biological parents. There’s always someone who wants an unwanted child.”
Unwanted child. Sara felt the phrase in her mind like an icicle, piercing her all the way from head to heart.
She had always been vehemently pro-choice, but when it came down to it, could she kill the first baby of its kind for millennia? This wasn’t some drunken one-night-stand like her last pregnancy in college. Could she think of this as nothing but an embryo when it would be born Rowan’s child, a creature of legend whose very existence was already proving the impossible possible?
“Can…can I think it over?” she asked weakly. “Do I have time?”
“Of course,” Nava answered, and Sara had the sense that the doctor was berating herself internally for getting so excited about the idea of what was happening instead of focusing on a very human, very scared patient. “There’s no rush.”
“Okay.” Her voice was small and young, and normally she would have hated the sound of it.
“I think we should adjourn, then, and let Sara rest,” Ness said. “SA-9, if you’ll give me an update on your decision as soon as it’s made, we can schedule another meeting and get a concrete plan of action underway. In the meantime I’d like you to do as Nava mentioned and go by the infirmary before coding on shift each day for a quick checkup. Was there anything else we needed to cover?”
Rowan spoke up. “Actually, Ness, I have an alternative plan that I’d like to suggest.”
Ness sat back. “Go ahead.”
“I would like the opportunity to return to Clan Willow, and I’d like to take Sara with me. I think the Healers would benefit from a chance to examine her as well, and while we’re there I can do some research into our history and talk more in depth with the others about Elven pregnancy. I also have some…personal research to conduct, and as I was unable to finish my work with Aven I’d like a chance to do so. I think the quiet time away would be good for Sara and help her think things through.”
Sara’s heart leapt, but she didn’t say anything, watching Ness’s face turn thoughtful. “You may have a point there, SA-5,” she mused. “This is as remarkable to your people as it is to us. A joint effort might be the best approach. What do you think, Nava? Would it be safe?”
“I suppose,” Nava said a little reluctantly. “I’d really prefer to have Sara under my care for the duration, but I can understand why the Elves would want to have input, and if we’re going to keep Sara safe and healthy this year I suppose it would be best to have their perspective. As for her immediate safety I don’t see why it would be a problem, as long as we did an airlift to the Clan site rather than expecting her to hike.”
Ness turned to Sara. “How do you feel about that, Sara?”
She took a deep breath and nodded, trying not to sound as jubilant as she felt. “I think it’s a good idea. How long could I be gone?”
“What sort of timeframe were you thinking of here, SA-5?” Ness asked.
The Elf was, Sara noticed, determinedly not looking at Jason when he replied. “Since I currently have no case load, and have virtually unlimited vacation time saved up, I’d like to request four weeks.”
Jason set his coffee cup down hard. “A month? Are you
joking?”
“No,” Rowan replied calmly. “Three weeks for research and a week to make up for the vacation I didn’t get. For Sara it would be medical leave. The Clan is easily within communication range and has computer equipment so I can transmit my findings and reports on Sara’s condition. She can even make daily reports herself.”
“It sounds like you have a problem with this plan,” Ness said to Jason, who looked like he’d been struck.
“Of course I do!” he exclaimed, surprising everyone in the room. Nava jumped. “You can’t just pick up and leave for a whole month, Rowan. You’re needed here.”
Rowan met his eyes. “Am I?”
Silence fell, and Jason’s mouth snapped shut at the icy undertone in the Elf’s words. Sara had to hold back a smile; it was very rare indeed to see the vampire so flabbergasted. His hand was very pale gripping his cup, and he stared into his coffee for a moment without responding.
The Agency, Volume III Page 16