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wardenparker · 1 year

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Down the Rabbit Hole - ch 13

Jack ‘Whiskey’ Daniels x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

When Jack accidentally shoots a civilian on a mission he takes on not only the guilt of the man’s death, but inherits his soulmate as well. To you, it’s a dream job with more perks than you can imagine - but for Jack it’s a nightmarish complication. Even more so when he starts to develop feelings.

Rating: Explicit for references to violence. 18+ Word Count: 7.6k Warnings: *Blanket warnings - mentions of deceased spouse, a lot of food and alcohol consumption, family recipes, age gap, cursing.* Angst, guilt, possible unwanted pregnancy, lies, nausea/illness, talk of abortion, anxiety, canon typical injuries. Summary: Your return from New York is bumpy to say the least, and things to awry that no one ever could have predicted. Notes: This chapter is short but packed with intensity, which only means one time. I once again cried during the entire edit 🧡

Ch 1 ~ Ch 2 ~ Ch 3 ~ Ch 4 ~ Ch 5 ~ Ch 6 ~ Ch 7 ~ Ch 8 ~ Ch 9 ~ Ch 10 ~ Ch 11 ~ Ch 12 ~ Ch 13 ~ Ch 14 ~ Ch 15 ~ Epilogue

Jack taps on his thigh impatiently as he waits, the jet steadily sinking towards the ground. He had decided to come to the airstrip to collect you, especially since there had been no text from you beyond that simple text last night before you had gone out with the girls. He hadn’t expected you to stay on your phone but he had anticipated a text Goodnight. When it hadn’t come, he stayed awake, only falling asleep when he had checked your location to find you back in the hotel. There’s a feeling he gets when something’s not right, he had it the morning you disappeared. That sinking, curdling feeling in his stomach. The threat of bile in the back of his throat. That same feeling has saved his skin more times than he can count and he wonders why he has it now as the Statesman jet touches down.

The decision to cut the trip short and come back after one day had been easy, thankfully. Sophia was being called in to start a case and you weren’t feeling too jolly anyway, so the three of you had packed it in on the afternoon of the second day and come home. The last thing you expected to find when you stepped out of the plane was Jack waiting on the tarmac in the Bronco, but he’s there in all his glory making the guilt and worry churn inside you with every step you take closer to him.

You don’t look happy to see him, but Jack keeps the easy smile on his face as climbs out of the Bronco and waves to all three of you, his eyes firmly landed on you though.

“Hey.” Swallowing the bile and fear welling up in your throat, you step onto solid ground with a quick farewell to your girls and acknowledge that your plan of heading straight to Ginger’s lab is now sunk.

“Hey.” Jack watches the way that your eyes shift over towards Gabi and Sophia. “I’m not spoilin’ plans am I? The tower called and said the plane was comin’ back tonight so I wanted to make sure you got home.” The unspoken question of why you didn’t tell him you were coming home lingers in the air.

“Of course not. Nothing to spoil.” Lying to him makes you feel like you’re going to choke on each word, but how could you do anything else? How can you tell him what you’re afraid of? It’s impossible - it would ruin everything. So you force a smile and lead the way back to the Bronco on wobbly legs. “I was going to come and surprise you, but you beat me to it.”

“Hopefully it’s a good idea.” Something is wrong. There’s a nervous tremor to your voice and he doesn’t know what would put it there. “Tired from a wild trip?”

“A little.” Mostly you’re tired from your own frayed nerves, but you let him take your suitcase and get into the truck when he holds your door open a moment later. “We were out late and then up early again this morning.”

“So what you really want is a soak in the tub and the bed?” He asks, shooting you a small smirk. It’s been nearly a week since he’s touched you and he wants to desperately.

“Actually? That sounds pretty amazing.” If he thinks you’re tired - which you are, but emotionally - he might not push tonight. And you don’t want to have to deny him because Jack is still Jack and you want that intimacy with him; but you’re terrified of what might be going on with you and you won’t have an answer until you can go see Astrid.

“I’m more than willin’ to throw in a massage.” Jack climbs in beside you and the second his hand hits your thigh, you tense. Making him pause for a moment in shock. You’ve never tensed around him, not even when you were freshly recovering from your injuries.

“I think I’m still a little hungover.” Lying again makes you feel like you could burst out crying on the spot, but you know he felt the way you froze at his touch and you’re about twenty seconds away from just confessing everything. At least you’re honestly queasy - that would come with the hangover but instead it’s fear. Or the baby…who knows.

“Okay.” Jack slowly slides his hand away from your thigh, making it seem as if it’s a part of starting the Bronco and turning around, but he’s perfectly capable of doing that one handed.

The drive home is quiet – silent except for the sound of the engine and the quiet classic rock playing through the radio like usual. They’re the sounds of home, and you should be chattering away at him about your trip or deciding what to have for dinner tonight but you just feel like a lump of anxieties in that front seat with him. It’s not until the house is in view that you open your mouth again. “Sophia got called up. I—I didn’t know if you knew or not.”

“Yeah– uh,” Jack drums his fingers on the steering wheel. “I’m going with her.”

“Wha—” You look over at him in confusion and see the set look of worry on his face. “I didn’t know you’d passed your tests. That’s—that’s great, honey. You’ve been dying to get back in the field.”

“Yeah, I finished them up yesterday.” Jack tells you awkwardly. “Didn’t seem the type of thing to text and we didn’t talk.”

“Right.” That’s your fault, and you swallow the guilt harshly. “Well…congratulations.”

“Figured I’d go out and do a field assessment on Sophia and give her a little back up.” Jack hums, wondering why you are being so stiff. “Promised Tex I’d look after her.”

“She applied for Statesman status.” Talking about friends is good. It doesn’t fuel the fire of fear in your belly the same way. “Champ probably wants your assessment before he signs the final paperwork.”

“Yeah. That’s the plan.” Jack chuckles, “the kid is worryin’ me to death about it.” He tells you. “Talkin’ about how he doesn’t want to be away from his soulmate. ‘Specially since they are talkin’ about trying for a little one. Says he’s eager to father his soulmate’s babies.” If you weren’t acting strange, it could be a segue way in to a conversation about kids for you and him. But he decides to leave it.

“O—oh, I…Soph hasn’t mentioned it.” All the attention during the trip had been on the dresses and on getting you to feel better, which was an impossible task. “Good for them,” you manage to say the words without being sick, which is better than you thought.

“Might be Tex projectin’ a little. Man wants to be a daddy.” He chuckles again and the silence falls between the two of you again as he parks the Bronco in front of the house.

That feeling of dread pulls at your now perpetually upset stomach, tearing you out of your seat and making you run in the front door as fast as humanly possible to make it to the bathroom before you’re sick all over the front walk or living room. You have no doubt that Tex does want to be a father. You had even talked about it with him at different points, from the point of view of an excited friend. Knowing that you might be the one to make it happen instead of Sophia - instead of his soulmate - has you clinging to the toilet bowl as you hear Jack’s boots rumble across the ground floor of the house.

“Sugar?” Jack frowns, hearing the obvious signs of sickness and the dread that threatens to overtake him nearly has him stuck in place. “You alright?”

“Yeah.” The tears in your eyes are easily dismissible with being sick, even as you’re choking back sobs. “Hangover.” Is your weak excuse, hoping he buys it.

Jack is a lot of things but slow ain’t one of them. He distinctly remembers the night your breasts were sore and you’ve been tired and feelin’ poorly. He’s also pretty damn good at math. Stumbling back from the downstairs bathroom, he swallows down the urge to break something or someone. “I– I’ll go run you that bath then.”

“Thanks…” The fact that he didn’t come in is a blessing, but you’re still pretty sure that you heard hurt in his voice. Some piece of shit soulmate you are…

He feels kind of sick himself, turning around and racing upstairs as he tries to rationalize the information he has. It’s hard to, though. You’re pregnant. You’re pregnant and it’s not his. He closes his eyes after he turns on the water to the tub and sighs.

You stay downstairs a while, getting yourself back under control and rinsing out your mouth before you slog up to the master bathroom with the big claw footed bathtub where Jack is sitting looking gray in the face. “Absinthe…” you shrug like it explains everything, even though you didn’t drink at all after the play. “I took the girls to a 30s bar last night…”

“Yeah.” Jack huffs a flat laugh. “I–I gotta go pack. So I’ll leave you to rest.” He pushes off the small little seat that you had told him was for a makeup area and swallows.

“When are you leaving?” Despite not exactly being ready to have a heart-to-heart with him, you so desperately want to just launch yourself into his arms and beg forgiveness. Beg that he not call off the wedding. Promise him that you have a solution. But you’re too frozen.

“I– we were going to leave tomorrow morning, but I’m going to go early.” Jack offers. “Scout the situation.”

“So you’re leaving tonight?” It’s a punch in your already roiling gut, but you nod.

He isn’t. He’s going to go sit in his office and try not to drive himself crazy. But he can’t stay near you and not ask questions. “Yeah.”

“Do you know how long you’ll be gone?” You can’t ask him where he’s going, or why, or anything about the mission, but a general time frame could be helpful. It would let you know how long you have to recover.

“Not sure. Week, maybe more.” Jack shrugs, not looking directly at you. “Sorry, sugar, but I know you won’t even notice I’m gone. You got the restaurant to baby and –” he chokes on his choice of words and coughs to cover it up. “You’ll be so busy you won’t have time to miss me.”

“That’s not true.” As riddled with fear and anxiety and guilt and everything else as you are, you’re all of those things because you love him. And because you really don’t go a single minute of any day without thinking about him. “Of course I’ll miss you.”

“It’s– it’ll be okay.” It’s more towards himself than you but he manages a small smile. “I promise.”

“Do you at least want me to make dinner?” There’s a scrambling in your thoughts that you can’t account for. He’s slipping away, you can feel it, but you have a plan to fix it. You just need to put it in motion.

“Nah, sugar.” Jack shakes his head, knowing he can’t eat right now. “You aren’t feelin’ good. You relax. I’ll be packed up and out of your hair in a jiffy.”

“Okay.” Something about him is off but you can’t put your finger on it. He just seems jittery. Hopefully it’s just you projecting or your imagination. Jack is already out in the hall by the time you murmur, “I love you,” and you sigh heavily before you start to undress.

In the closet, Jack closes his eyes and tries to remind himself to breathe. He had caused this. He had pushed you away and caused you to date. Because of his unwillingness to admit your connection. It was his fault you are pregnant with a child that isn’t his.

Once you’re in the tub you can hear him moving around in the adjoining closet, packing things and presumably going about his business as normal. The jasmine-scented bath he drew for you is as cozy as it could possibly get, and any other time you would have begged him to join you. There would have been candles and music and glasses of something smooth and heady to drink while you lazily rode him right here in this tub. And the fact that you’re not doing that right now has you staring silently at your silver-painted toenails when you finally hear him in the hallway again.

“Sugar, I’m all packed.” For some reason, he can’t go into the bathroom. Not when you’re vulnerable. He calls out through the closed door. “I’m gunna head out.”

“O–okay.” You know that any other time, you would just pop out of the bath and run into the hallway, but you can’t. You’re rooted to porcelain and fresh tears start falling immediately. “I love you,” you manage, this time loud enough for him to hear.

Jack closes his eyes, leaning against the door frame with his arm braced above his head as his forehead is against the jam. “I love you too, sugar.” He murmurs, the affirmation coming through low but clear. It’s almost ominous, a goodbye. “Be good.” He sighs and pushes away from the door, the bag hooked over his shoulder as he turns and walks away.

The fall of boot steps and the closing of the front door make your volatile stomach drop all over again, and you reach for your phone after wiping your hands on a towel. You need this over with. To Astrid, you type out as vague a message as you can just in case she shows it to Gabi or asks her if anything happened on the trip: “Hey honey! I don’t want to interrupt your night, but would you be able to put aside time for me to stop by the lab in the morning? I’d like to ask your opinion on something. Thanks!”

The text comes back only seconds later. "I've always got time for you. Drop by anytime in the morning and we can have some coffee together."

******

You have to force yourself to wait, the next morning. It was impossible to sleep through the worry and without Jack there, and you blew through an entire novel overnight before showering, putting on clean clothes, and getting yourself out the door to the lab. The door swishes open dramatically but you still knock on the frame, holding two cups from the Statesman cafeteria when you cautiously step inside. Yours is chamomile tea for the seemingly endless nausea, but hers is that quad shot almond milk mocha latte that she loves so much. “Morning,” you murmur quietly when she looks up.

"Hi." Gabi had said that you had been acting strangely, and the slightly wane, waxy set to your face shows that you have been dealing with things. "How are you feeling?" She accepts the cup and takes a sip as she watches you closely.

“Not great.” That’s a fucking understatement, but at least it’s honest. “I need to ask you for a favor, Astrid. Two favors, really. But I need to ask you to keep this entirely between us. Not even Gabi or Jack can ever know.”

Frowning, she pushes her glasses up further on her face, taking this as a more 'business than pleasure' visit. "You have my word and discretion." She promises. "Are you hurt? Did you have a flashback from your visit to New York?"

“No.” Sitting down on the other side of her desk, your hands cradle your cup of tea until they get too jittery and you have to set it down in front of you. Astrid is your friend. She’s Jack’s friend. And now you’re asking her to put the longer-running of the two relationships aside. It’s enough to bring fresh tears, which you breathe away steadily. “I think…” Another shaky exhale has you look down at your hands when you can’t look her in the eyes. “I think I might be…pregnant.” You tell her quietly.

"Oh!" At first the sound is happy, until she reads the moment and slumps back in her chair when the wave of melancholy hits. "Ooohhh." She bites her lip, understanding that with the timing of this, you are not happy. How could you be? The probability of knowing you were pregnant with Jack's child are statistically very low. She sets her coffee down and reaches out to touch your hand. "First thing’s first." She murmurs quietly. "If you are, it will be okay." She assures you quietly.

“No. It won’t.” It should be so comforting to have her reach out, but instead you feel like the act of familiarity is a burn. You jerk away awkwardly before slumping forward again. “The last time I had my period was the week before I slept with Tex. That was months ago. There’s…there’s no way it could be Jack’s and I—I—” If you could get through even a sentence without crying it would be a miracle, but even when you practiced it at home it was impossible. “I know there’s a tiny chance. I just…if I am…is there a way to find out whose it is?”

"Yes there is." Astrid nods, her heart breaking for you, with you, over this. "Would you–" she pauses. "It would take only a few hours in the chamber." She tells you quietly. "If you didn't want to–"

“If it’s not Jack’s, I can’t.” Grateful that you’re not the one who had to say it, you still shudder at the reality of the situation. “What are the alternatives, really? Have Tex’s baby? Have your brother’s baby? I—I don’t— I don’t even think I could live with myself, and Jack sure as fuck would not still marry me, soulmate or otherwise.” It all comes tumbling out, the fears and anxieties, and you find yourself scratching viciously at your arms again as your breathing goes shallow – another panic attack bubbling out of your throat at the thought of losing Jack for any reason.

“I don’t think he would go that far.” Astrid tells you quietly. Would Jack be devastated? Oh yes he would. But he’s also a man who accepts mistakes because he’s made plenty of his own. Especially where you are concerned.

“I need to know, Astrid.” As quiet as your voice is, at least it’s determined. “Because I can’t do that to Jack.”

“We can find that out quick enough.” She promises, patting your hand and standing up. “Why don’t you go get undressed and put on a gown.” She offers, motioning towards the table in the corner.

“Thank you.” It feels like walking to your own death sentence as you disappear to change and sit down on the exam table on the far side of the lab. The thing is…you have to know. You have to. And that’s enough to make you sick all over again.

Astrid keeps her emotions in check and moves efficiently as she prepares for the exam. The machine will do most of it. She moves over and touches your shoulder. “Lay back, okay?”

“Okay.” The best you can do is to remind yourself to breathe, but even that is hard right now.

As soon as you lay back, Astrid presses a button on her table and a line of laser light starts scanning over your body. “Hold still.” She urges when you twitch. “It won’t hurt.”

Presumably the laser doesn’t care if you continue to shed a few anxious tears, but you keep the rest of your body still as it travels. Whatever comes next, you just have to promise yourself that you’ll handle it before Jack comes home. That everything will be done by the time Jack comes home.

Ginger’s face doesn’t give anything away as she studies the tablet, punching the screen with her fingers and she looks up. “There’s going to be a needle for a quick blood draw.” She tells you, not wanting you to be upset if you aren’t expecting it.

“Okay.” Whatever she needs to do, that’s what is going to happen. Right now it just matters that you keep breathing.

The needle is small and the amount of blood taken even smaller. Just enough to run the labs and confirm what she can already see. You wince but you don’t say anything and when the machine moves away, she gravitates towards you. “Let’s get you redressed and then we can talk.” She murmurs softly.

“Okay.” The word passes your lips one more time and you lift yourself up from the table to shaky legs. Frankly it’s a miracle you’re as functional as you are, and you step back behind the partition to put your clothes on silently.

She triple checks the test and when you come back around the small partition, there is a small cup of pills waiting for you. “Here.” She offers.

“What are these?” It doesn’t really matter. You’ll take them no matter what. But if she’s giving you pills to end an unwanted pregnancy, you at least want to observe the moment with some seriousness.

“Some vitamins. Your vitamin B and C levels are low. A Valium to help you relax and sleep.”

“H-how long will the blood work take?” Everything at Statesman - and everything in this lab - is state of the art, but that doesn’t mean knowledge is magical or instant. You take the pills that Astrid is holding out to you and brace yourself for however long she might say you have to wait.

“I’ve got the results back.” She assures you softly, smiling at you. “The blood work and the ultrasound tell me that you are not pregnant.”

For a second you just stare at her. You were convinced. You were sure that you had ruined the very best thing in your life. And now that it isn’t true, the relief you feel punches through you like some kind of Eldritch horror. “You’re—” The tears are different this time, still hot and angry when they come down your face in sheets, but now you’re only angry at yourself for ruining the last few days with the people you love. “You’re sure?” You ask, hiccuping between great, bulbous tears.

“Your womb is clear, there’s no evidence of an ectopic pregnancy. Your hCG levels are low, no chance of pregnancy. I ran the test three times to confirm. You are not pregnant.” She promises, turning the screen around so you can see the ultrasound of your stomach and the test results.

“So I was just…sick?” The screen she shows you is like a perversely high tech version of the ultrasound information you remember from going to the doctor with your sister years ago, so you have some vague notion of what you would see if the test was positive. This, though? This is perfectly normal. Like your body has never even heard of the concept of a baby in the first place. The hand that instinctively moves to cover your stomach goes there out of disbelief, and you lay back on the table with a tight sigh.

“You’ve been under a lot of stress and –” Astrid shakes her head and sighs softly, berating herself. “Sometimes with the healing of traumatic injuries, the side effects of the hyperbaric chamber can be….odd.” She explains. “I thought Jack told you.”

“He did.” He had been very careful to warn you, in fact. “But we just thought my side effect was how tired I was that week.”

“Your body is vastly different from Jack's, especially considering his injury was brain trauma.” Ginger rationalizes. “Yours was more physically manifested and it makes sense that your reproductive cycle has been thrown off.”

“Stress and healing.” All you can do is accept it, especially when the alternative is…alarming. After spending 48 hours panicking about the possibilities, are you really…upset that the answer wasn’t a little month-old fetus genetically encoded with Jack’s soft, coffee-colored eyes and adorable single dimple? Honestly? You really might be…

Ginger’s eyes are quizzical, tilting her head at the riot of emotions crossing your face. “Are you– disappointed?”

“I—don’t know,” you admit softly, staring up at the ceiling so that you don’t have to see the concern on her face.

“It has to be confusing.” She pats your shoulder again. “I know that you have been stressed. I don’t want you going in today. Take the day and relax.”

“Doctor’s orders.” Right now you just want to go home and get back in that bath that Jack had drawn for you yesterday. Pretend like last night had never happened and crawl into his arms in bed. But he’s back out in the field and you’re…you’ve never felt more alone than you do right now, which is not how you expected to feel at all. But that isn’t the fault of the woman next to you. “I…thank you, Astrid. I just need to get my head on straight. But…thank you for helping me.”

“Anytime, sweetheart.” She doesn’t hesitate to pull you in for what she thinks is a much needed hug. Knowing that you must have felt so scared and alone. No wonder why you had suddenly withdrawn if you had thought you were pregnant. “Anytime.”

“Hopefully not for this reason.” You sigh out, hugging her back fiercely. “Not until it’s happy anticipation and Jack is back here with me.”

“Did Jack know?” She asks curiously. “Is that why he slept in his office last night?”

“He—?” The panic is back without hesitation, choking you and making you feel dizzy. “He told me he was leaving early to—” Oh god. You’ve ruined it. You’ve ruined it anyway. “No one knew.”

She winces, cursing herself for sticking her nose in where it doesn’t belong. “I’m sure– they left really early.” She supplies hastily. “Maybe he didn’t want to bother you. Since you weren’t feeling good.”

“Maybe.” That isn’t it, and both of you know it. There isn’t a chance in hell that Jack wouldn’t have just slipped silently out of bed early this morning if things had been normal. This is your fault. You must have been acting stranger than you thought, and he’s an especially perceptive man to begin with.

“They should be back in just a day or so.” Ginger reasons quietly, wondering if it wouldn’t be better to talk to Jack herself before he gets back. “It’s a quick op.”

“But—” You catch yourself and nod. Astrid doesn’t need to know that Jack said it would be a week. That your relationship with your soulmate is crumbling before it ever gets off the ground. Instead you stand up from the table and accept another hug. “Thanks,” you murmur quietly. “Again. For everything.”

“Of course.” She tightens her grip on you and pulls back to give you an encouraging smile. “Go get some rest and everything will be normal when you wake up.”

******

It’s after dark when you wake up again, disheveled in one of Jack’s t-shirts and a pair of sweatpants that should probably have been replaced years ago. You’re hungry, which is usually a good sign, so you throw on a cardigan and trudge downstairs in search of food — only to come face-to-face with Diana walking in the front door as quietly as a church mouse. “Di?” Maybe she was coming to check on you? That is perfectly in keeping with her personality, after all. Universal mom friend.

“Hey.” She tries for a smile but it falters, the worry shining through her face is way too obvious to hide. “I need you to sit down, sweetheart.” The slight tremble in her voice makes her words waver.

“What’s wrong?” When your stomach flips this time, you at least know it isn’t from an act of your own stupidity, but it unnerves you all the same. Diana looks pale and you take the last two steps quickly to reach her side. “Di, what happened?”

She guides you over to the couch, aware that you might collapse if you are standing up. Especially since Ginger had indicated you weren’t feeling the best. “Jack is– he’s been hurt.” She tries to break the news gently but there is never a good way to say this. “He’s – they have him stable but it’s serious.”

The first reaction you have, before anything else, is to insist that she’s wrong. Jack is a good agent and he’s with Sophia and there’s no way that could happen. But her face is so serious, lined with anxiety and uncertainty. “Where?” You ask, when you can finally swallow past the fear forming in your gut. “Where is he?”

"He's on a chopper, about an hour out." Diana swallows harshly, trying to tamp down her own fear in order to be here for you.

“How serious is serious?” You’re already up again and walking to the door to slip into a pair of shoes, ready to go wherever you need to be. If the last thing you ever say to Jack was a weak declaration of love through a closed door, you’ll never fucking forgive yourself.

"They've almost lost him twice on the way here." Diana stands and quickly rushes over towards you. "But as soon as Ginger gets him into the chamber, he will be alright."

“What the hell happened?” Your purse is sitting by the door like always, and you grab it without even a second thought. Heart racing, blood pounding, and stomach threatening to revolt is how you went to the lab this morning, and it’s how you’re going again tonight.

"I'm not exactly sure. He was shot. It ruptured his spleen and he had fallen when he was hit so there is internal bleeding." Diana doesn't have much information, but she's willing to tell you what she knows.

“But Ginger can help him.” It’s not a question, as the two of you bolt outside and into Diana’s car. Your mind is racing, but instead of devolving into desperate sadness you feel like you’ve hit some kind of problem-solving mode.

“She’s going to do everything she can.” Diana promises, cranking the engine and throwing the car into reverse. “You know Ginger.”

“He…left early last night, Di.” There’s nothing for you to do while she drives but sit there, and you fidget in your seat. “I was distant when I came home from New York and he slept in his office last night before they shipped out.”

“Did you have a fight?” She could have sworn everything was good between you.

“Not exactly.” It was all just so uncomfortable, and now you’re facing the reality of Jack coming back hurt and you can’t stand it. “Things have been off lately and it’s my fault, but I—I can’t let that be the last time we see each other.”

“Is it because you’re pregnant and the baby isn’t Jack’s?” Diana asks quietly.

“How did—” You stare at her from the passenger seat, jaw almost unhinged, and sigh. Did Jack put your symptoms together just like you did and assume just like you did? “I’m not…just…for the record…I went to Astrid this morning…”

“Jack came by the house last night.” Diana admits quietly, looking over at you. “He wanted to talk to Champ.”

“I haven’t been myself lately, and I was feeling sick,” you begin, feeling like you need to explain yourself. “I added it all up while I was in New York and thought I might be pregnant. He—he must have done the same math. But Astrid said I’m absolutely not, and it must have been the healing from my incident that threw my body out of whack.”

“You don’t need to explain to me, sweetheart.” Diana assures you, giving you a soft smile. “Jack asked Champ – well, he asked him how quickly he accepted Bobby as his own, if it was hard on him.” She bites her lip. “Bobby isn’t Champ’s biological son. He adopted him at birth. I was pregnant when we met.”

“What?” This is definitely new information to you, especially since you had always thought that Bobby looked like the perfect mix of his parents. “I—I mean—I had no idea.”

“It’s not something that many people know.” Diana admits. “Roger admittedly looked similar to Champ. So thankfully there’s never been any questions from strangers. He unfortunately never knew that he was going to be a father before Bobby’s biological dad died. Car accident.”

“I’m so sorry.” It’s a lot of information to take in, but you do your best to wrap your head around it as Diana parks in her designated space outside the main Statesman building and the two of you jump out to go up to the lab. “So…I don’t…Jack wanted to talk to him? About—about accepting Bobby?” It’s such a gut punch on top of all the things you’ve already dealt with over the last few days, to think that Jack was trying to figure out how to support you when you had feared he would call everything off instead.

“Jack admitted that he thought you might be pregnant and that it would be way too soon in your relationship for it to be his child.” Diana had excused herself to make some tea and let the men have their talk, but Jack hadn’t been trying to hide the conversation. “And he didn’t want to lose you over it. Said it was his own damn fault if it was the case and it damn sure wouldn’t be the kid’s fault.”

“I was so sure he’d hate me.” You’ve lost count of how many times you’ve cried today, and it doesn’t matter anymore. Crying over this makes sense. “That Sophia would hate me, or Tex, or even everyone, for making their lives more complicated…”

“It would be complicated.” She won’t deny that. “But if you had been pregnant, that baby would have just had two sets of parents.”

“But now he’s hurt.” That familiar feeling of panic is right under the surface, but you swallow it down as the elevator shuts to bring you both upstairs. “And the last thing that happened between us was awkwardness. I—he—I didn’t even kiss him goodbye, Di.”

“You’ll kiss him hello.” Diana tells you with a certainty she doesn’t exactly feel but she needs you to believe. “And kiss him every time he leaves the room from now on.”

There’s a fear there that’s too great to acknowledge, but you nod and follow her out of the elevator when it reaches the floor that the lab is on. You can’t bring yourself to ask out loud what the machine might do to him this time. He’d come out of it an admittedly different man last time, and when you were healed by it, it had turned your body around on itself. Who knows what effect it might have on Jack tonight, and that is terrifying to think about.

Diana keeps a tight hold on your hand as the lab doors open and Ginger, along with several of her assistants, rush around to get things ready. The screen overhead is on, displaying the camera from the helicopter medic’s helmet. Jack is laying on a gurney, his shirt and jacket cut from his body and his normally golden skin gray, blood covering his torso.

“Oh god…” Instinctively clutching Diana’s hand tighter, you stay out of the way of the bustling medics but keep your eyes glued to the screen. He looks like he’s been ripped open from the side and you have the heaviest instinct of violence you’ve ever felt in your life. Whoever did this to your soulmate had better hope you never find them. You may not be a trained Statesman agent, but you’re certain in this moment that it wouldn’t matter. You’d tear them limb from limb and turn them into dinner.

“BP dropping!” The medic’s staticky voice comes over the speakers. “There’s another fucking bleed somewhere!”

“Diana…” The grip you have on her hand is unforgiving while you watch the monitor, but she squeezes yours back. “Please tell me that they got the guy that did this to him.”

“Sophia got them.” The camera twists as the medic reaches for something from the bag and you get a view of the other agent, sitting along the wall and looking worried, covered in blood. Jack’s blood.

“Fuck…” Sophia looks terrified as she sits on the other side of the stretcher, and you can’t stop yourself from instinctively reaching out even knowing they can’t see you and it won’t make any difference. That’s your friend and your soulmate in that chopper, and the only thing you can do is stand here. “There has to be something I can do,” you murmur, not knowing if anyone even hears. Not knowing if it’s even true.

“Nothing right now.” She knows how helpless you feel. “Just pray right now. Even if you don’t believe, pray.”

The two of you stay sitting in a corner, watching the feed from the camera on board the helicopter. They manage to stabilize Jack again but don’t seem confident about it, and it’s a full half hour before that camera shows the team landing on the Statesman helipad on the roof of the building so they can bring him inside.

When the team bursts through the doors with Jack, Sophia is hot on their heels. Immediately rushing over to you when she sees you spring to your feet. “I’m so sorry!” She cries. “I– I don’t know what the hell happened. He was perfectly fine one moment and then he was–” she gestures towards the gurney.

“You got the guy, right?” Whatever happened, you can’t rewind and undo it now, so when you look Sophia in the eyes that is the one thing you want to know. “The person who hurt Jack is dead?”

“Yes.” Her jaw clenches and she nods seriously. “He’s dead.”

“Good.” The team of medics is swarming Jack right now and you will not get in their way, so you hug Sophia close for just a few comforting seconds. The tears are mighty at this point - seeing him in person feels like your heart is being ripped out of your chest. “Thank you for getting him home.”

“I wasn’t going to do anything less.” Sophia had probably saved his life, if it were told completely. If he had been alone, Jack would have bled to death before the team could have gotten there.

“Thank you.” It’s too much to think about what might have happened if Sophia hadn’t been with him. That’s not something you can swallow right now. You just hug her again instead. “I’m sure you have work to do. I’m going to stay with him.”

She nods reluctantly. “I have to clean up and report to Champ.” She squeezes you tight. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

“I’ll be right here.” Under no circumstances would you go anywhere else. Not while Jack was fighting for his life.

Sophia can understand that. If it were Tex, she would be right there in your shoes. “Tex is headed in to sit with you.”

“Thank you.” There isn’t a whole lot else you can say without tumbling into anxiety, and frankly you’re terrified enough as it is. The comfort of friends sounds like a miracle. She squeezes your hand and turns around to quickly walk through the doors to go up to Champ’s office.

It isn't until Jack is fitted into the biometric pod and Ginger has his vitals stabilized that she lets you come closer, putting two chairs beside him for you and Tex. He had come in with water and snacks, warning you that worry is draining and that he was promising to sit up with you as long as it takes.

Diana stays off to the side with Ginger but she walks over to you and touches your shoulder after the first hour. "I am going back to the restaurant. Don't worry about anything. I'll take care of it all."

"Thanks, Di." Honestly you hadn't even looked at a clock since waking up and had no clue what time it was, so it seems a little shocking that the restaurant is even open. All you knew was it was after dark and you had been asleep. It could have been 3 a.m. and you wouldn't have known the difference. "I'm not–I can't leave him."

"Of course you can't." Diana huffs as if the mere idea is offensive. "If anyone has an issue with that, they can deal with me." She knows that none of your staff will argue, they will worry about Jack if they know. However, the civilian staff is normally kept in the dark concerning these matters. "I'll bring some dinner back later." She promises, leaning down and dropping a kiss on your head before leaving.

At a certain point, there isn't a lot you can do besides sit. You're wide awake beside Jack, sitting in silence with Tex as you both watch the monitors around your wounded warrior buzz and beep and flash every few seconds. It's a noisy room for the heavy weight of what's going on, busy despite the fact that no one is scurrying around any longer.

"It's different this time." Tex offers quietly, shuffling in his chair beside you and stretching his long legs in front of him. "He's got somethin' to live for. He fought death the last time and he didn't even have you. He'll pull through."

You huff softly, watching Jack's face as he sleeps in the biometrically-induced coma that is healing his body. "I don't know," you admit, feeling the way your jaw wobbles at the admission. "He's...we...last night was tense before he left."

"Hell, everyone, every relationship has tense days." Tex doesn't know the details, but it can't be that bad. "He knows you love him, he loves you."

"He, um..." The fact is, this concerns the man beside you as much as it concerns anyone else. This is Jack's emotional little brother. Your best friend's soulmate. Your friend. You swallow the guilt and the nerves, and you glance at Tex beside you with trepidation. There was a time barely twelve hours ago that you were resolved for him never to know. Now it feels dishonest to leave anything unsaid. "He thinks I'm pregnant," you murmur, knowing that the only person who could overhear you is Ginger and she's the one who ran the tests. "I'm not. But he thinks I could be..."

"Then he's got everything to live for." Tex lit up for a moment, happy for his friend even if he relaxed slightly when you told him that you're not pregnant. He knows Jack would be disappointed, but he would probably make a joke about being happy to practice some more. He's never seen Jack wanting kids, but it's got to be interesting.

"Not...not really." You glance back at him briefly before refocusing on Jack, deciding that this will be infinitely easier if you're not actually looking at Tex when you say it. "The thing is...because of the timing...he thinks...and even I thought...that it could be...well, yours."

He's silent for a minute. More than a minute, actually. Stunned into silence before he opens his mouth. "But....you're not." He says slowly, clarifying.

"No." The worry in his voice tells you everything it needs to. That if that baby had been real, it would have torn apart the fabric of your friendships just like you thought. "Ginger did the test this morning."

"I'm sorry that you've been going through this." Tex starts and then he hums. "I– did you start thinking you were when you were in New York? Sophia texted me and said she was worried about you."

"Yeah." There's just no way to hide how embarrassed you are, so you just sit there and watch Jack, not letting your eyes waver again. That's your whole life right there on that bed, and you don't know what the hell you'll do if he doesn't wake up. "Yeah, I...I did. Ginger says the pod must have thrown off my system after the kidnapping. It was just a fluke. The symptoms lined up but it was just a coincidence."

He sighs and reaches over to take your hand. It's not meant to be a romantic gesture. Rather, one of comfort. "I want you to know that no matter what, you have people who care about you. We are all a big, dysfunctional family." He jokes quietly. "If you had been, we would have...made it work."

"I wasn't going to keep it," you blurt out, clutching his hand for just the speck of comfort it provides. "I asked Ginger if she could find out. I didn't–" It's so much to hold on to, and you had isolated yourself so much that when it comes out of you it sort of just explodes everywhere. "I couldn't do that to all of you. I couldn't destroy our family and I just kind of panicked and shut down at the dress shop and I could barely even look at Jack when I came home. I couldn't look at him, or kiss him, or barely even talk to him and now he's this and if he doesn't wake up I don't think I could ever forgive myself."

"He's going to wake up." Tex promises you, a slightly desperate undercurrent to his voice. "He has to." His thoughts about you not keeping a baby, he keeps to himself. There's no way he could say what he would do under those circumstances, so he can't judge you.

"He has to." If he doesn't – if you lose the best thing in your life – then anything else around you is just noise. None of it matters.

______ Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @katheriner1999 @littlemousedroid @harriedandharassed @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @hardc0rehaylz @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri @adancedivasmom @madiebear @tanzthompson @emilianamason @bigsdinger @xocalliexo @pedr0swh0r3 @avaleineandafryingpan @charlyrmv @avidreader73 @iceclaw101 @loveslide @elegantduckturtle

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My Masterlist!

#Pedro Pascal #Pedro Pascal character fanfiction #Pedro Pascal fanfic #Jack Daniels #Jack Daniels x reader #Jack Daniels x you #Jack Daniels x female reader #Jack Daniels x f!reader #Jack 'Whiskey' Daniels #Agent Whiskey #Kingsman Golden Circle #soulmate au #Agent Tequila #Agent Tequila x OC #Agent Tequila x female OC #Agent Ginger Ale

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