2007-08-31: DF: Life For A Life

Starring:

DFSamantha_icon.gif DFNamir_icon.gif

Summary: Samantha and Namir are expecting. But the unexpected happens.

Dark Future Date: August 31st, 2009

Life For A Life


A hospital facility somewhere in New York

It didn't occur to her to think about it when it happened, or rather, when it didn't happen. At least not for a day or two. But then Sam was all hey, shouldn't I be craving chocolate and wanting to rip people's faces off by now? So then the next thought was 'uh oh' followed by 'oh crap'. So then there was another day or two of disbelief and denial, until finally she gave up, went to the pharmacy storage, and rummaged around until she found a stick to pee on. Then it was a day or two more of dilly-dallying, until finally she got the guts to go actually pee on the stick. So now, entrenched in the administrative wing in the area she uses as her office, she's sitting at her desk, waiting for the color change.

It was never a question of if Namir would be reassigned to something else within the Alliance, only a question of when. The answer came earlier today and he's been making preparations by bringing his replacement up to speed, making a few last-minute adjustments, and putting off saying his farewells as long as possible. Which is to say that he can't put it off any longer. So after giving a quiet knock at whatever hard surface could constitute as a door, Namir starts to poke in his head. "Sam?"

Samantha had been holding the non-pee end of the stick in her hand, scowling at it to change color one way or the other. She freezes in place, eyes going startle wide. "Yes!" she says, a little to sharply, and then tries to casually put the tester somewhere - oh god - on her desk. Maybe he won't ask. And if he asks, maybe he won't notice. Oh, and guess what Sam, it's not colors. It gives her a happy face. A happy face! Oh, god.

No, Namir doesn't notice right off, mainly because his attention is focused on something just over Samantha's shoulder. "I am heading out," he states flatly. Because the more neutral he sounds, the less depressing the farewell will be. It's been nice at least working in the same building as his wife, even if it was tense. Then a blink and he finally looks her directly in the face, frowning. "… are you all right?"

Don't let him see the tester. Don't let him see the tester. She deliberately avoids looking at it any further. "Heading out?" she echoes. "Right now? Right this minute?" Her tone is odd, almost shrill, but something about it doesn't say 'fishwife' as much as 'nervous'.

"I … yes?" Sam is nervous. Something Is Wrong. And accordingly, now Namir is a little off. He doesn't sound so sure of whether or not he's heading out right this minute. He had planned to. Sam was the last person on his list of People To Say Good-Bye To, but now there are a few doubts. He narrows his eyes at her, then starts to glance around the area. "What's that?" He takes a step or two forward, eyeing the thing on the desk curiously.

Aw, crap. She doesn't even have the means to come up with a suitable lie. Or no wait, it's not necessarily /hers/, right? "A pregnancy test." she supplies casually. "You urinate on it and it tells you if you're pregnant or not. It's not mine!" It so is. She's so lying.

It's a what?! The P-word causes Namir to freeze up and tense noticeably which only lessens just slightly at the last sentence. But then logic starts to set in. If it's not hers, then why is she the only person in the room? And why is she reading someone else's pregnancy test? Isn't that the sort of thing one does for oneself? He stands there like the proverbial deer in the headlights before he clears his throat and scratches at his cheek uneasily. "Ah … what does it say?"

Because she's a doctor! Oh, hell. She sighs. "It says I'm pregnant." she says in a defeated tone, and immediately chirps acidly, "So bye!"

What, no. Impossible. Sam can't be pregnant. It's not something that could happen to them. God is not that mean. Namir continues scratching at his cheek, thoroughly stunned at first as his brain tries to work through it. After several seconds of silence, his shocked expression becomes a colder scowl and he moves forward in an attempt to grab the test. "It does not," he grunts. Because surely she's just trying to give him a heart attack. "Let me see."

Okay, wait a minute. Sam's not a /liar/! She picks up the tester and sticks it out toward him. "See the smiley face?" she demands. "That means pregnant! And I'm late, for almost a week now which is why I took the damn test in the first place. It doesn't mean anything, Namir. You go do what you have to, and I'll…take care of this."

Who the hell invents a pregnancy test with a smiley face for 'positive'? That's cruel and mocking. Namir stares at it and once again the balking expression returns. As before, however, it soon disappears into a pained, displeased grimace. He hisses out an oath in Arabic and squeezes the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger. Wait, what? "Take care of it?"

Samantha doesn't really want to, but it's what she assumes he wants, and this crazy world isn't a place to have a child in. Not with the life she leads. "I thought we agreed we weren't meant for children." she says softly, looking anywhere but to his eyes.

That was before, when the war and everything else was breaking out and the idea of raising a child seemed rather distant. Now there is one, and Namir has always wanted one. The idea of getting rid of it is horrific. But if Sam doesn't want it … his mouth fixes into a hard line and his gaze bores holes into the far wall. "Fine," he growls. "But the next time we are not meant for children, maybe you should be a little more careful." Yes, this is all her fault. Absolutely.

Tenativity gives way to bitch-mode. "/I/ should be more careful?! It takes two to tango, Namir! Don't you blame this on me! I was taking precautions, but nothing's one hundred percent except keeping it in your pants, and I think when it came to getting them off, /you/ won that race!" Her spine straightens. "I ought to have this child and not let you have anything to do with it! At all!" So there!

"Perhaps I don't want to have anything to do with it!" snaps back Namir. He's angry and shaken and confused, and when that happens, the switch that tells him to think before speaking breaks. As such, immediately after the words leave his mouth, he regrets them — but pride keeps him from taking them back. What results is obvious unsurety. His eyes flicker to everything except Samantha and he starts to fidget again. No, he wants something to do with his child. He wants everything to do with it.

After all this time, she may have finally learned that what Namir says and what he feels can be two different things. After all, they reduce each other to bickering like ten year olds. But she's not certain how to read the conflict here. So her response is guarded. "The only reason I considered getting rid of it is because I thought it would be what you'd want." she says stiffly. And then she just waits.

The only reason he'd agreed with it is because he'd thought that was what she wanted. As soon as she says that, Namir lets out a sigh and closes his eyes. Now he looks more tired than angry — perhaps even just the slightest bit relieved. "No, I don't want to get rid of it." But if they keep it, there are so many other tough decisions to make. He runs both hands over his face with another sigh and holds them palm-to-palm before his face as he takes the nearest seat. "I don't know what we are going to do."

"We don't have to do anything." she says. "We both have jobs to do. Nothing about it stops you from doing what needs to be done, and I'll be pregnant, not an invalid. Are you allowed to say where you're going, or is it a secret?" She's serious. She knows he can't always talk about where he's going to be.

"There's a, ah, convoy on its way to Arkansas. They are planning to attack it and they wanted me to head up the operation." It's not exactly a risk-free job. Then again, nothing he does these days is without risk. Namir glances up at Sam. "You're sure you can handle this alone?"

Samantha can't help it, she gives him a wry look. "Yes Namir, I'm quite sure I can manage morning sickness, swelled feet, increased apetite and looking like I swallowed a basketball on my own." Then more gently, "Bekah will be around. I'll have help."

Bekah will be around. She's always been around. The corner of Namir's lip pulls upward dryly and he lets out a quiet snort. "Bekah's been around a lot where I haven't, hasn't she?" he grunts. It's good that she is — it means Sam won't be handling all this on top of her job alone — but it's still a source of jealousy on his part.

"We're both dedicated." Sam says easily. Then, "It'll be alright. Look, you'll be gone a few months, hey, that means I'll be through the morning sickness and into the part where I'm horny all the time. It'll be great timing." Snicker.

That gets a more genuinely amused grin from Namir. "Oh, well, I can't be disappointed with that. I get to skip gross part and get right into the fun one." And since that already got them in trouble, well, he won't have to worry about pregnancy. "I can come by and stay tonight before I ship out. I was going to just go home, but …" Well.

Samantha purses her lips. "I'm your home." she tells him, almost snappishly for such a tender sentiment. But with that, "I'd like you to stay before you ship out. We sound pretty World War 2, don't we?"

Namir raises an eyebrow at that, smirking. "You didn't sound very homey when you were throwing me out of the apartment a few weeks ago." It's not an accusation, just amused. At least he can laugh about it now. He extends an arm toward Sam, inviting her over for an embrace. "I'll stay. When I come back, maybe I will move back in too." Smirk. "Without the gunplay."

Samantha steps into his arms. "Excellent idea." She lets out a groan, burying her face in his shoulder. "Oh god," she says, "This kid's gonna be /lethal/."

***

============================== Dark Future News ==============================
Message: 16/31 Posted Author
Known Terrorist Killed In Standoff Mon Sep 01 Namir


The following was briefly featured on news stations the morning of September 1st and later repeated in a news article the next day:

Known terrorist Namir Dayan (known also as "The Arab") was killed during a brief standoff with Homeland Security early this morning near Greenwich Village. Officials say they had been tracking him to the area frequently of late and moved in when he was spotted there this morning. When confronted by Homeland Security officials, Dayan opened fire and retreated into an abandoned building, where it is reported that he was killed when further resistance put the lives of civilians in jeopardy. Two Homeland Security officers and one civilian were wounded during the encounter, another officer was killed.

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