chloe_writer (![[info]](http://p-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} chloe_writer) wrote in ![[info]](http://p-stat.livejournal.com/img/community.gif){kind=small} chlack,@ 2007-04-15 19:39:00 |
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| Entry tags: | chloe_writer, fic |
Unexpecting
Title: Unexpecting
Author: chloe_writer(Heather)
Rating: T
Cliché: Accidental Pregnancy
My entry to the fic-a-thon!
Chloe stared numbly at nothing in the middle of the nearly-empty bullpen. Everything had slowly come to a halt over the past two hours, as loose ends were tied up and one by one, staff members brought their replacements up to speed went home for much-needed sleep.
Morris had already gotten his sleep; he was passed out in the clinic in a drunken stupor. Milo had found him in the men’s room hours ago, bottle in hand and unconscious. Chloe had waited until there was a lull in the action, and then disappeared into an unused hallway to cry quietly, knowing that he was lost and that she simply couldn’t deal with the downward spiral Morris was throwing himself into. Knowing that once again, she was going to be alone.
Now she stood at her workstation, attempting to muster the energy to gather up her things and go home to an empty house and mourn the loss of felled agents, her friends; of the countless innocent lives.
And as she stood frozen, her eyes suddenly glanced up and landed on Jack.
Jack.
He was sitting up in Bill’s office, his head in his hands, shell-shocked. Again, he’d lost so much. The last day she’d seen him, the day he came back from the dead to save her, she thought he’d lost everything he had left. And today, somehow, he’d managed to loose a little bit more: the psychotic, estranged family he couldn’t stop himself from loving and the girlfriend who had died trying to save him months ago.
Chloe glanced around her and realized with that she was the only one left, even in CTU, who knew half of what Jack had been through. No one else remembered. Hell, no one else had even been at CTU back during previous ordeals years ago, long-past days when Chloe had seen the world come apart at the seams, sucking Jack’s lifeblood out of him.
But she… she remembered.
And so she felt the icy numbness give way as she, almost without thinking, climbed the stairs to Bill’s office. She opened the door quietly, but Jack still started at the noise and looked up.
His face seemed to relax when he saw her. “Chloe,” he breathed, his relief tinged with a hint of desperation that was far from lost on her.
“Jack?” she asked hesitantly, taking an awkward step toward him.
He rose unsteadily and moved toward her; she reached for him and pulled him into a tight embrace. They stood that way for a few long moments, and as she realized that the last time Jack had hugged her had been nearly two years ago, it struck her that it was probably the first affectionate human touch he’d had since then.
“Chloe,” he said hoarsely, “Chloe, what am I gonna do?”
Her eyes burned with tears, and she dug her fingers into his back as she shook her head. “I don’t know. I don’t know. I don’t know… let’s just get out of here, okay? Let’s just get out of this damn building.”
He nodded and they pulled apart. “Jack, I’m gonna go get my stuff. I’ll meet you by the rear exit, okay?”
“Yeah,” he murmured.
“Okay. I’m, uh… gonna go do that now…” she managed haltingly, leaving the office and going for her things.
Jack followed Chloe silently as she unlocked and entered her apartment. She closed the door behind him and they both stood there awkwardly for a moment before the tears started to sting in Chloe’s eyes once again, and she reached for Jack, leaning into him. Wrapping his arms around her subtly trembling body, he felt tears begin to form in his own eyes. But just the same, he cupped her face in one scarred hand and turned her toward him, staring at her with an emotion she couldn’t define.
Jack leaned forward and drew her to him, plunging his tongue into her mouth. She reciprocated instantly, and a sudden heat surrounded them as a fresh, raw intensity sprouted between them. When they pulled apart, they were breathing hard, staring at each other, and then she was reaching toward him and tugging off his shirt. As she did this, Jack moved closer and began unbuttoning Chloe’s blouse.
“Bedroom,” she breathed, and they moved silently in the direction she indicated. Moments later they were on the bed, clothing shed and coming close together. Bare skin pressed up against bare skin as she pressed her mouth to his once more. Moments later, he entered her and they began to move in quick rhythm: brutal and hard.
They moved together almost frantically, desperately, releasing pent-up tension and fear and despair and relief as they did so. They climaxed close together in an almost violent crescendo, pulling apart soon after, breathing hard and collapsing against the bed.
Their limbs were twisted together as Jack and Chloe fell into deep, long-awaited sleep.
Chloe’s alarm jerked them awake the next morning after nearly sixteen hours of undisturbed slumber. She cursed and shut it off, disentangling herself from Jack and the twisted sheets, climbing out of bed to shower.
When she returned to the bedroom, wrapped in a towel and with dripping hair straggling down her back, Jack was sitting on the bed in his t-shirt and boxers. “You going in to CTU?” he asked her, staring studiously at the opposite wall and attempting to ignore her current state of undress.
“Well, I do kind of work there,” she said, rolling her eyes as she turned toward her closet.
“I’m coming with you.”
She turned back to face him. “You don’t have to, you know.”
“I want to, Chloe. I haven’t been able to do anything for three years. I’m ready to do something again.”
“Well… fine!”
As Chloe was driving home that evening, she asked abruptly, “Is this going to be awkward?”
“Is what going to be awkward?” Jack asked, despite knowing exactly what she was talking about.
“The whole ‘us having sex’ thing. Is that going to make things awkward?”
“Only if we make it awkward.”
“So… let’s not make it awkward?”
“Yeah,” he chuckled, “let’s not.”
They slipped into a routine with remarkable ease, going to work together, coming home together, eating together. They never talked about the fact that they were living together; there didn’t seem to be much to say about it. The arrangement made sense; Chloe was the closest friend Jack had left.
They were still sleeping in the same bed, but they didn’t have sex again, nor did they ever mention that first night again. In fact, they didn’t speak about anything that had happened the day Jack came back. They both knew each other well enough to understand that the silent empathy between them was everything they needed.
One morning three weeks later, Jack watched Chloe with some concern as she took out a yogurt for breakfast, stared listlessly at it for moment, and then put it back.
“You alright?”
“I’m fine,” she snapped, “I’m just not hungry.”
He backed off, but the concern lingered. She was unusually quiet on the way to work that morning, not even cursing at the traffic like she usually did.
“Chloe, what’s wrong?” he asked suddenly as they neared CTU.
“Nothing’s wrong! I’m fine.”
“You’re quiet...”
She glared. “Maybe I just don’t feel like talking.”
“Why? What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
It was a blatant lie. Chloe felt like hell. She was exhausted despite a full night’s sleep and feeling distinctly nauseous. As the morning wore on she felt worse, not better, and by lunchtime the thought of food had gone from unappetizing to repulsive.
As she sat in the conference room in a meeting early that afternoon, she was suddenly overcome with a dizzying wave of nausea. In the middle of Bill’s intelligence update, she rose suddenly and left the room, making it to the restroom just in time.
Chloe coughed a few times after she vomited, and then went to the sink to rinse out her mouth and splash cold water on her face, effectively ruining her makeup but at least making herself feel a little better.
She could see her hands trembling as she glanced down, and the next thing she knew, she was walking slowly— numbly— out of the bathroom and down the corridor. Finding a secluded corner, she sighed and leaned back against the wall.
Moments later, Jack came charging toward her. “Chloe!” She scowled and turned away. “Chloe,” he said again, more gently this time, and placing a hand on her shoulder. “What’s the matter?”
“I’m not feeling well,” she told him stiffly.
Jack knew her too well to believe that. “That’s not all, is it?” he asked softly, reaching for her shaking hand.
Chloe’s defenses crumbled at his tenderness and she shook her head slowly. Jack watched with growing concern as her already pale face blanched and she raised her eyes—glassy with tears—to look at him.
“I’m late.”
He looked momentarily bewildered “You’re…”
“Late,” she hissed emphatically.
Understanding washed over Jack and he swallowed. “Are you—”
“I think so,” Chloe whispered as the tears finally began to spill over her lashes, “I’m almost positive.”
“Chloe…” Jack sighed as he pulled her into him. He stroked her hair gently as she began to sob softly, burying her face in his shoulder. “Chloe, we can figure this out, alright? We can figure this out.”
“I’m scared, Jack. I’m so scared.”
Despite his own shock and growing apprehension, Jack maintained his calm and gave her a reassuring squeeze. “I know you are, Chloe,” he murmured soothingly, “I know you are.”
“I don’t know what to do…”
Jack pulled back a little so that he could look her in the eye. “We’re going to figure this out, you hear me?” Chloe looked up at him, eyes watery and vulnerable, and nodded. He reached for her shoulders and looked at her tenderly as he told her, “I’m going to talk to Bill and get us the afternoon off. Go get your things together and we’ll leave.”
When they got to her car, Chloe silently handed Jack the keys. He eyed her carefully as she plopped into the passenger seat and slumped dejectedly.
Jack simply didn’t know what to say to her, so they drove silently for a few minutes before Jack worked up the courage to tell her, “We’re gonna need to get a test, Chloe.”
“Nope. Stole one from clinic,” she said with a scowl.
Twenty minutes later, Chloe dropped the stick down by the sink. In a few more minutes, the stupid piece of plastic was going to reveal her fate to her. A stupid plastic stick.
Suddenly, the nausea once again seized her and a moment later she was gagging over the toilet. She could hear Jack moving in the next room and a moment later he was kneeling beside her, gently rubbing her back.
She started to swat him away with one hand, but a fresh bout of gagging distracted her and Jack only moved closer. “Shh…” he murmured, pulling her hair out of her face. “Shh…”
When the nausea finally subsided, Chloe leaned back as Jack handed her a paper cup of water. She raised her eyes to him. “Check it.”
“You sure?”
“Just do it,” she huffed, perching on the edge of the tub. She watched him pick up and study it carefully, his face inscrutable. Finally, he met her eyes.
“It’s positive.”
“Oh, Christ,” she said quietly, dropping the cup on the floor and standing. “Oh, Christ.” Tears began to carve paths down her cheeks as she pushed Jack aside and left the bathroom, her breathing beginning to grow hitched and labored.
By the time Jack caught hold of her elbow just seconds later, she’d begun to sob. “Oh my god. Oh my god. I can’t be. I can’t be.”
“Chloe…” He sighed into her hair as he once again pulled her against him, running his hand up and down her shaking back. “It’ll be okay.”
She jerked away from him. “It’s not going to be okay, Jack. Nothing about this is okay.”
“Chloe....” As he stepped toward her, Chloe backed away again and sank onto the bed.
“Pregnant, Jack.”
Sitting down beside her, Jack reached for her hand. “Is that really so bad?”
“Yes.” Chloe bowed her head and let her tears spill into her lap.
“Look at me.” Jack gently titled her face toward him. “Chloe, we can do this.”
“I’m scared,” she whispered.
“So am I,” he told her honestly, “but we’re gonna figure this out.”
“How? How Jack? What is there to figure out?”
“Do you want to keep it?”
“I’m not getting an abortion, if that’s what you’re asking,” her voice trembled, “I can’t do that.”
“Hey—no one’s asking you to. No one’s asking you to.”
Twisting away from him, Chloe said softly, “But I’m going to make a terrible mother.”
“No.” Jack turned and forced her to look at him. “No, you’re not." He smiled at her. "Chloe, your job is taking care of people. And you're damn good at it. You've saved my life more times than I can count, so don't tell me that you're going to be anything except a wonderful mother."
"That's different, Jack."
"Not different enough. You're good at taking care of people and you're going to be a good mother."
The first few months were hell. Chloe was sick all the time; she was ill all day at work, and when she came home had no energy left do anything except crawl into bed.
They told Bill as soon as Chloe's ob-gyn confirmed that she was indeed pregnant. He’d been shocked, but Bill had done a good job of hiding it as he offered them his congratulations and removed Chloe from the roster of analysts who could be brought into the field.
The older man had been remarkably understanding about Chloe's constant nausea, making no comment if she suddenly slipped out of a meeting and assuring her that as long as she felt up to it, there was always a place for her and her skills at CTU.
Jack, on the other hand, had taken a considerably less laid-back attitude. He hated having to watch helplessly every time Chloe’s stomach turned inside out—which was frequently—and her perpetual exhaustion worried him.
“Chloe,” he said one night while he was eating dinner and she was gingerly sipping a cup of tea, trying not to look at or smell the food, “You can’t keep doing this.”
“Doing what? ” she snapped, despite knowing exactly what he was talking about.
“This! Look at yourself, Chloe. You’ve actually lost weight in the past couple months, do you realize that?”
“Yes,” she admitted, coloring slightly.
“Do you know what it’s like to have to watch you get up from your desk a dozen times a day to go throw up?”
“No, but I do know what it’s like to have to get up from my desk a dozen times a day to go throw up.”
“That’s the point, Chloe!” Jack exclaimed in exasperation. “You’re sick, and it’s not—”
“I’m not sick,” she practically spat, “I’m pregnant. And I’m going to be for another six months, and I can’t just bring my life to a screeching halt because I’m not feeling great.”
“For crissake, Chloe,” he nearly shouted, “‘not feeling great?’ Is that what you call being sick every waking moment of the goddammed day? All I’m saying is that you use some vacation time until you’re feeling better.”
“Which could very well be never. So, no. We are not having this argument again.”
But eventually, Chloe did start to feel better, about the time she started to show. It wasn’t obvious yet, but if she scrutinized herself in the mirror there was a definite bump, and her clothes were starting to feel tight. So on a day off, she curtly informed Jack, “I’m going shopping. I’ll be back later,” and flounced out the door.
Chloe walked timidly through the door of the maternity shop, twirling the end of a lock of hair. The store was full of women farther along than she, some with toddlers in tow, and she felt almost as though she didn’t belong there. Uncomfortable, Chloe was about to abandon the idea and get out of the store when a saleswoman approached her and gave her a reassuring smile. “First time?”
“Um, yeah.
“Okay. So are you looking for basics then?”
Chloe fiddled with the charm of her necklace. “I guess so.”
“Career sportswear?”
Chloe rolled her eyes slightly. “Hell of a name for work clothes, but yeah, that’s what I need.” The woman gave an understanding nod and a little smile and gestured for Chloe to follow.
Two hours later, Chloe had selected a practical assortment of maternity-style slacks, skirts, and tops as well as a couple pairs of low-slung sweatpants that rode below the slight swell of her belly.
It was as Chloe was about to pay that she noticed a woman with a baby about two months old in a front-facing snuggly. The little boy was tiny and wide-eyed with wispy, chocolaty hair and eyes and creamy skin, wearing a blue striped sleeper. All of a sudden Chloe stopped and found herself staring into the eyes of the chubby-cheeked infant.
The baby’s mother gave Chloe a friendly smile, and said genially, “His name’s James.” But Chloe gave barely more than a polite nod and murmur as she continued to look in wonderment at the little dumpling of a baby in front of her. Because it was at that moment that Chloe realized for the first time that she wasn’t just pregnant, she was going to have a baby.
Her thoughts went racing back years to when Angela was a baby: a soft, sweet-smelling bundle of warmth in her arms. A cooing, gurgling baby. And Chloe began to remember the longing she’d so fervently repressed: the desire to hold her own child in her arms, to see tiny lips pressed together to call her mama.
Chloe was blinking back tears as she finally looked up at the little boy’s mother and whispered, “He’s beautiful.”
The woman read the look on Chloe’s face and her expression softened and grew warmer. “Yours will be, too,” she told Chloe quietly.
“You know that everyone’s going to know once you start wearing maternity clothes, don’t you?”
Chloe shrugged. “The women already do.”
“They do? ” Shock was evident on Jack’s face.
“Yep. Nadia figured it out ages ago, and she said most of the women had already guessed.”
“How in god’s name did they know?” Jack asked, still baffled.
Again, Chloe shrugged. “Probably because I was sick all the time and Bill wasn’t sending me home. Or because I’m more hormonal, although I’m usually a bitch anyway, so I doubt—”
“You’re not a bitch, Chloe” interjected Jack.
“Am too. And Nadia said that a couple of the women down in IT who’ve had babies said I was walking differently.”
“None of that makes any sense.”
“That’s because you have a penis, Jack. Get a little estrogen in your system and maybe you’ll figure it out.”
Chuckling, Jack shook his head.
Chloe ignored him and continued to fold and hang her recent purchases.
Jack had had a point, though. When she wore an empire-waisted blouse that accommodated rather than pinched her slightly swollen belly, she could see the looks of surprised confusion on Milo and the other men in the office.
Figuring she might as well get it over with, Chloe sent out a memo: “Yes, I’m pregnant. Jack is the father. Have a goddamn field day.”
They got several curious glances and congratulations that ran the gamut from warm to hesitant to just plain confused, but eventually, CTU adjusted to the idea.
“Jack?” Chloe said out of nowhere one evening as they were sitting side by side on the sofa watching television.
“Yeah?”
Resting her left hand around the curve of her tummy, Chloe asked, “What exactly is it that we’re doing here?”
Jack turned to face her. “What do you mean?”
With a slight shrug, Chloe gestured vaguely with her right hand. “This. You and me. What are we doing?”
Glancing downward, Jack reached for the remote and turned off the television. “What do you think we’re doing?”
“For god’s sake, Jack, that’s what I’m asking you!”
“I don’t know,” he answered honestly.
“I mean, I don’t get it. We’re having a baby for crissake and I don’t even know if we’re—involved. We’re living together but I’m just a little unclear on whether that’s because it was the logical place for you to stay when you got back from China or because we’re having a baby together or because of—you know, I’m going to need a little clarification on your part, Jack.”
“I love you.”
Her face broke into a smile. “I love you too,” she said with rare softness. “But… I mean, love can mean a lot of different things, I mean… are we talking about, like, a platonic you’re-loyal-and-we-make-a-great-team-an
In response, Jack leaned toward Chloe and kissed her tenderly, one hand buried in her silky hair. And they did exactly what Chloe had suggested.
