rackofbadcds | Alternate title: Three Men and a Baby

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rochelle

Alternate title: Three Men and a Baby

Holy hell of a morning.

After Coach had gotten shot, the motherfucking mountain man, the one the other called Marshall, didn't waste time. The other woman quickly introduced herself as Jean, a nurse and Marshall's wife, and had barely started trying to stop Coach's bleeding when Marshall brought up the bunker. It was less of a reccomendation and more like a demand. With Coach bleeding as bad as he was coupled with Rochelle's condition, which he would bring up later, the faster they got out the better.

And it was just in time, because as soon as the four of them got out of the hospital and made their quick introductions. Well, introductions coupled with arguing, especially when it was brought up who had shot Coach. Jean was about to shut them up with the roar of a horde did it for her. It didn't take more than a second for them to decide what to do. They abandoned the van (temporarily, they hoped), carried Coach and Rochelle into Marshall and Jean's pickup truck, piled in, and drove the fuck out.

Coach managed to stay conscious, even with all the blood he was losing. Rochelle, though, was out hot (pun intended) in her feverish condition. Jean did her best with the both of them. She said there was a doctor at the bunker, a co-worker she escaped with before she found Marshall again, who could give them a lot better help. Otherwise, between driving and trying to stablize the others, Jean and Marshall didn't have much focus to explain themselves and the bunker. As soon as they were out of the woods, that story was being saved.

The horde finally caught up when they got to the bunker. The slow opening door didn't help. But ~~a crescendo later and~~ the door opened enough for them to crawl under, and all that's left was to shoot the zombies trying to do the same until the door slid closed, just as slowly.

It finally did, and Coach leaned against the wall. He panted, hard.

"God DAMN..."

Jean moved over to him and offered an arm. Marshall was already carrying the unconscious Rochelle in both arms of his own arms, seeing as he wasn't sure how good of an idea it was to haul a pregnant woman over his shoulders.

"Gotta agree with that shit." He grunted. "Doc better still be here."

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Travis paused.

"She and Marshall have wanted a child for a while now. I know they would. But that's not my point," he sighs. His eyes go back to his work. "Everyone's lost family in this hellhole. Make sure she isn't one of them."

And that was a hell of a tall order. Travis was pushing sixty--he knew that. But he didn't want to be one of those people who were just waiting to die. And he didn't want anyone else to be, either.

But that train of thought screeched to a stop when the results of his bloodwork started to come back. A few silent seconds passed. Then Travis leaned over the counter.

"Hold the hell on, that can't be right..."

"Jesus, Doc. I'll try, but..." Nick couldn't make that promise any more than anyone else. He didn't set out to die though, didn't put himself in danger if he could help it and neither did Ro. So here was hoping at least.

His attention was distracted from that worry though. That wasn't a good thing to hear, ever.

"What can't be right?"

"It's--"

Travis was too distracted and dumbfounded to finish that sentence. Yet another silence goes on for half a minute, probably too long for comfort. But finally, Travis turns around. He takes a good, long look at Selena, before his eyes slowly settle on Nick.

He sighs. He walks over to the nearby bed, and sits down.

"Before I say anything else, she's not Infected." His tone is suddenly somber. "And she's immune. But... well. Do you know what a carrier is?"

Thank Christ. He almost relaxed when he heard that she wasn't infected, but... then he had to go on, not looking any more hopeful than he had earlier really. Nick frowned slightly.

"Are you saying that's what she is?" Shit.

Travis goes quiet. He looks again to Selena. Reaching out, he gently tugs some of the blanket away from her face. She's calm enough now, eyes half closed and fidgeting as much as she can.

He nods.

"So, what does this mean, doc?" Nick can't help the edge to his voice, the worry coming to his expression.

"Going by the look on your face, you already know." Travis sighs. "Well. There aren't that many non-immune left to accidentally infect anymore. But there's always some. Not everyone here is immune."

"That doesn't answer what we're gonna do about it. Last thing we need is someone getting infected, but..." Like hell was he going to let anyone touch his kid or lock her away anywhere... whatever the hell they might want to do.

"Who isn't immune?"

"No. It doesn't." he said with a frown. "Honestly, I don't know. Most anyone that's left is immune now, but the stigma is still there. I wouldn't say anything, for one. Especially not to any military types."

And at the second question, he has to think for a moment.

"... Jean, for one."

"We'll have to tell her at least, right? I mean she's gotta stay away from the kid." Shit, they didn't need anyone getting sick down here... and Nick couldn't have anyone getting wind of this and kicking them out. Getting tossed out with a kid?

Yeah, no way. That was gonna be too dangerous.

"I ain't planning on making any announcements there, Doc."

"Well. There's another thing."

Christ. Travis pushed up his glasses. Here comes the fun part.

"From what I've seen and heard through the grapevine it's... it's typically passed on from father to daughter."

"Shit." There wasn't much else to say, was there? He looked at the baby bundled in his arms, frowning.

"So what, are you saying I'm probably the same? That I could be a danger too or something? Is that it?"

"You might be, yeah."

Because how else could he answer that?

"So what does that mean exactly?" He'd leave, if he had to -- because he had a feeling he wouldn't exactly be the popular guy around here if most people knew he could infect some of their own, but the kid? Yeah, no way. Nick might not be a great dad, but he was making damn sure his kid had a safe place to grow up.

"That's what I'm trying to figure out. It's been two years and people are still too damn scattered to come up with anything real about how carriers 'work'. Theories here and there, yeah, but most of it is rumors and hearsay from a lot of scared, paranoid people. And the military's worse. They're just as scattered and they'll still shoot at anyone who MIGHT be a carrier."

Travis sighs and pulls himself on his feet. He knew way too much of this from experience. On and off, he traveled. Some days it was to find people to take back to the bunker, others it was spent finding other settlements. To say he heard a lot of stories was a damn understatement.

"Some people they had carriers with 'em for months and nothing happened. Some say they have one for a week and they killed everyone. That kind of thing. I have my own theories, but..."

He puts his hand behind his back and walked over to the counter.

"Did you ever feel like people get sick around you? Have you ever been around anyone who wasn't immune besides us?"

"I don't know," Nick answered honestly. "I don't think they did, but... when everything went to shit again, when the infected found us, who's to say, right?"

His instinct had been to lie, to say hell no, but Nick didn't think that'd benefit him much at all. He didn't want the whole damn bunker to kill over because of him.

But on the other hand? he couldn't -- wouldn't -- take his kid out there either.

"No one's gotten sick yet, have they? And we've been here for a while, sharing air and every damn germ we got, right?"

"Not since you've been here, no. I can't say the same for a day-old child, though."

"So, what are we going to do then? What's gonna happen?"

"Wait and see?"

Trevor folded his arms and leaned back.

He was serious.

"Seriously. If you haven't had any serious problems, and she hasn't kille--well, infected anyone yet, I... honestly, I don't know."

"Okay..." He let out a sigh and eyed the baby in his arms. She was asleep again, relaxed and peaceful and she had no freaking idea the trouble they could potentially be in.

"You gonna tell anyone about this?"

Trevor pulled himself out of his spot this time. He took a few steps over and leaned over, running a finger softly along Selena's cheek with an almost sad smile.

"Tell anyone what?" He said in a mock, fake innocence.

Nick relaxed a bit at that, letting out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. This might have been the dumbest idea either of them ever had, but like hell did Nick want this out when he had no idea how anyone would react.

And he wasn't taking his kid out there.

"Thanks, doc." He forced a slight smile. "So, can I take her back to bed now?"

"Go." He said softly, for Selena's sake, with a nod. "Don't forget what I said either. You do your damndest to stay alive for this girl."

"Are you kidding? I'm not gonna leave her if I can do anything at all to avoid it." And that was a strange feeling... you know, wanting to stay alive for someone else and not just because he wasn't going to die after all the bull crap they've been through.

Cradling her a little closer, he said his good nights and started back towards their room. Some sleep sounded good after all that... though there was still the matter of what to tell Rochelle.

He didn't want to worry her, but... this felt like the kinda thing she should know. Shit. Maybe she'd be asleep when he sneaked back in or something and he could deal with it in the morning.

And speak of the devil, Rochelle was awake. Well, barely. Give her a few and she'd probably be out cold. But when your little girl is getting testing for one of the most important things to have in this life - it keeps you up.

As Nick and Selena came back, she lifted her head up and a slow, tired grin spread across her lips. She chuckled and pulled herself up against her pillow, watching Nick cradle their daughter in his arms.

"I dunno if I'm ever gonna get used to you like this."

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