Doctor Doctor

*confusion is the first thing that my mind instinctively falls to. I dont understand, what the fuck is this, and how the hell do I get it to stop soon morphs to Oh my God...I cant do this on my own. The warrior is beaten back by the mother and my female side rockets fear through every inch of my body, incited by the hell weird elastic band pulling tight just under my skin, my stomach hard under my fingers, fuck uncomfortable, like a belt was a noose around my hips, tugged taut and fastened into the very last hole. So drinking chocolate milk brought on...contractions? The tense and release was unfamiliar but I'd heard enough and seen enough to know that these random twinges are cause for alarm, and while my body so calmly freaks my brain out, the female in me is terrified, my heart a stutter, my breath staccato, a complete meltdown of all composure as my arms wrap my stomach, trying to stop them, holding them the fuck in...stay, my mind moans, please don’t come out now...cause if you do...the cell flips open in my hand, weighing it in my palm, trying to figure out if the random contractions that creep up on me are worth a phone call...irrational when it comes to my young, I could be bothering him. As the tightness rolls over me again, the belt buckles to rock hard beneath my fingers, the internal 'am I being pathetic?' debate rolls on* 
{Leathers slick with the night rain sheeting down over Caldwell, raking the sopping hair from my eyes as I run, shitkickers sloshing through puddles, slapping wet echoes over the pavement and damn it feels good to be out hunting, working out the kinks and stresses, the luggage that comes with living in constant fear for your shellan and unborn young. Shame the low life junkies the Omega has been kicking out onto the streets were just canon fodder in the war that rages in the shadowed alleys of Caldwell. A war that had all but died, with Uncle O away licking his wounds, until now...now there were lessers crawling out of the woodwork, swarming the streets like sewer rats. Tracking down the group of new inductees to the tunnel under the bridge by the river, their stench overpowering even the fetid, sweaty odor that rolls off the water this time of year. Cracking my knuckles, rolling my neck on my shoulders before pitching myself off the bridge to land in a crouch at the tunnel entrance. The looks in their eyes as I pull up to full, menacing height says riding up in this crazy fucker's grille will be suicide...not total morons then...most backing away on instinct, except the one who decides to tackle me from behind, like he thinks he can bear hug me into hypoxia. What he meets is a wall of unyielding muscle. Slamming the fucker back into the wall, a wheezed curse huffed from his chest, before I smash the back of my head into his face and his skull into solid brick. A quick flip and my fist is pounding the lesser's face, opening up its nose like a geyser, pummeling its face into a black oily mess that resembles a Rorschach test. OTT perhaps, but hell, a Brother needs an outlet for all the fucked up fears about Tory and the young. Glancing back at the peanut gallery of lessers lined up to watch the show, who are starting to look like a serious flight-risk, the living corpse I have pinned up against the wall beginning to seize as its brain shorts out, at first I think the vibrations are from its convulsing leg against my thigh, until I realise it's my cell...and the ringtone tells me it's Tory...fuck!! She wouldn't be calling unless something...dropping the lesser to the ground like he's dog shit, a sneer and baring of fangs scattering the other new inductees into the shadows, reaching for the cell with a shaking hand, wondering momentarily why the phone is smeared with red blood...and then all focus is on Tory, waiting for her voice at the end of the line, struggling to compose my own, fear bleeding through the words} Tory, fuck, are you ok, is everything ok? 
*So the fear won. I wouldnt risk my young. Rather over-react than not react at all and lose them. Speed-dialling, waiting for the line to connect, the rings going on for eternity as my pacing quickens, my breath hitching, waiting for Vishous to answer, needing his voice, his reassurance, something before my terror won out and my brain stopped any logical thought and gave in to the worst case scenarios creeping through. My sigh of relief as Vishous answers, my voice cracked slightly* V...I need you to come home...I dont know...*clearing the fear from my throat, grasping onto my composure* something is wrong... *leaving out the word 'contractions' in case I'm way off base, and the young has hiccups again...nuclear hiccups that fill my stomach with elastic bands and twist them tight at intervals...just listening to your breathing at the other end, drawing strength from the slight connection, wanting you beside me to help battle my fears* Please...I need you...
{Fuck!!...a stab of pain shoots through my side as my heart slams up against my ribcage, fear trickling down my spine like ice, your words coiling dread inside me...it's too soon for the young...not right...beating down the panic that threatens to strangle logical thought, willing my heart to slow and my voice to calm} It's the young? I'm coming Tory...fuck...I'm on my way...is Havers there yet? You called him, true... 
 Havers? *fuck, Tory...call the DOCTOR...mentally slapping myself for not thinking of that sooner, blaming it on the haze of panic that floods my system and forms tiny ice crystals on the walls of the Penthouse, the temperature mirroring the inner turmoil currently channeling ice through my veins and apparently cutting off common sense* No...I havent...you're the only person I called...*and then my voice chokes...God so stupid...give me lessers and I know what to do...my own young? Their safety? Guaranteeing that they are fine? And my mind blanks, is overtaken by everything, can do nothing...defenseless to fight nature, mastered by the nightmare that plagues me with visions of losing them* I should call him?
{Biting back a growl, hearing the despair in your voice, your panic flooding down the phone-line. The one fucking time I'm not there for you and this happens...out hunting, relieving my own stress while you're left home alone, with the fear. My lead-lined fist connecting hard with the rain-slicked wall, breath an icy fog pluming into the night air as I speak into the cell phone, terror cracking my voice} I'm coming Tory...I'll bring Havers with me, true...{waiting for your shaky acknowledgement before snapping the cell shut. Leaning back on the wet wall for support, gathering my nerves to dematerialise, my gaze drawn to a glint of metal on the ground...a blood-smeared switchblade. My blood. Guess the reeking fucker gave me more than a bear-hug when he tackled me, gloved hand pulling up my shirt to reveal the oozing wound in my ribs...never even felt the damn blade...shrugging it off...all focus zeroed in on Tory and the young as I demat to Havers clinic, barging through the security systems...hell, I designed the damn things, catching wary glances from the nurses in the corridors, who back away when they see me in all my blood-stained, black, oily glory...and there he is...the target Havers, in green scrubs and rubber boots. He doesn't need to pull down the surgical mask for me to read his expression. The 'Oh fuck here comes a shit storm' is all in the eyes, shrewd eyes that rake over my blood stained leathers <<you're injured warrior, let me have a nurse attend you...>>The convo doesn't get any further as I fist the front of his scrubs, the panic flaring in my eyes, shaking my voice} No Doc, not me...I'm ok, true...it's Tory...the young... something's wrong, we need you...now...you come with me, true {grabbing the doctor's surgical bag in two hands and all put planting the thing in his chest} You can dematerialise with that thing, true? {growling the words} The Penthouse. Now!!
 *when the door opens, I dont know whether I move or you do, or maybe a synchronised motion bringing me into your embrace folding me into the security of your arms where my heart can beat a little easier, my lungs can work now that my oxygen has been returned to me, and the icy block around my soul can thaw in the presence of your love. You're here...all will be fine...we'll be fine...the contractions spaced, so fucking random, predicting the tightening cramps is near impossible as I breathe you in, peeking under your arm at the stoic Havers darkening our doorway, raising my voice to carry to the other male, my panic a tremble on my tongue* Doc...thank you for...*being manhandled here?* coming...what's happening? *as he steps through into the suite, I reluctantly separate myself from the sanctuary of your body and wait, awkward, unsure what to expect, his path to me cautious, as wary as my stance and slow, so fucking slow, minutes seem to pass between each step and my heart keeps a beating record of every movement* <<What are you experiencing that has you worried?>> *again, formal, polite, no hint of the general distaste that usually laced our previous consultations, a gentle calming to his tone, soothing a predator in distress, even his posture indicates he means no harm to my defensive position*<< I need to examine you, if you wont tell me...>>*my silence misjudged, but fear has my vocal chords in a vice...doctor and young, a bad combination, as he approaches, the instinct to fight warring with the need to back away from his touch, stupid given we asked him to come, but it is another male, wanting to put his hands on our young* there are...twinges? *fingers running over the spot that has been tightening sporadically every so often*...here...I dont know how to describe it, Doc..my insides just pull taut...*his nod strikes me as odd...why isnt he panicking?*<<are they regular? Can you time them? Predict them? *his eyes clear, calm in the face of my fear, taking note as I shake my head, no...* Good...have you... *his cough clearing a throat locked, his eyes flashing to my hellren and back, nerves simmering*...had any bleeding? *my turn to choke as my face flushes embarrassment, the only bleeding for a good fucking cause..another bobble head 'no'*...would you be willing to let me...?>>*his question trails off, simply motioning to my stomach, as if more words would spook me, walking the razors edge, the only thing keeping me from bolting, your ever steady presence* You hurt them with your...tests...and you'll be working without hands...*deadly serious as I prop myself at his bidding up on the couch, a little psych evaluation feel going down as he hovers over me and my eyes focus to restrain the beast unfurling, nervous beneath my skin, curling protectively around our young, growls low in my throat, hums of warning as he starts*
{Looming over Havers' shoulder like a thunderstorm, lips peeled off dagger fangs, your unease and fear palpable in the frosty atmosphere. Biting back the growl that vibrates my throat as the doctor rubs his hands together, warming his palms before lifting your shirt and placing those hands on the swell of your stomach, eyes narrowed to glowing slits as you jerk visibly at his touch, the bonding scent pouring off my skin in dark, threatening waves, locking my gaze on your fearful emerald eyes, grounding myself in you, my hand grasping yours, lacing your fingers in mine, the white-knuckle squeeze betraying the depths of your terror, tension humming between us like a high-voltage wire in the room...the silence punctuated only by Havers' occasional umming and ahhing as he palpates the young in your belly before looking up, his gaze flicking between the two of us, settling on yours as the least hostile pair of eyes, his voice hesitant. <<have you been engaging in any particularly... strenuous activities?>>{And the fucker can't help it...his gaze drawn inexorably to the wall of toys, the rack and...a vicious snarl, like a growling Rottweiler rips from my chest, fangs bared with menace} you think I would hurt her?...them?....Motherfucker!! {spitting out the words on a growl, ready to toss the bastard over the balcony....see if he falls faster than a ball-gag, true...then lets see if he's so quick with the judgemental asshole bullshit} I would NEVER do anything to fucking hurt them...{fury seething under my skin, rolling off me in waves}
*the temperature plummets at that question, the insinuations heavy behind the words and sucking all the calm from the room, rage swarming a firestorm of bonding scent and lethal threat, the Doc overstepping all bounds and jumping right into the middle of hell...to even think that we would...risk them...my anger ripping tears into my eyes, swamped with the memories...he knew...he knew everything my body had been through the last time, what it had cost me...so to believe we would willingly put our young at risk for the sake of...my growls echo yours, a maelstrom of protective instincts surging wild on the veiled accusations, and longing to tear his prissy ass to shreds for even implying that either of us would hurt them. My hand crushes a bone-breaking grip on yours, a slight restraint keeping you from killing him and grounding myself, my past flaring to the forefront, the agony of losing her still a searing pain when I think of it, voice a tormented whisper*we need him, Vishous...*turning to the good doctor, whose hands had frozen their poking on my stomach and were icy with terror, eyes peeled wide behind tortoiseshell frames, his guilt and regret in the sheen of cold sweat beading on his brow, knowing that if we decided to punish him...we would...with a vengeance...* No...no...strenuous activity...though you may need to elaborate on that...walking while carrying twin anvils can be pretty straining...*inclining my head to where his hands are immobile on the swell of our young, the need to know they are unharmed, are not in danger, overwhelming the fury at his snap judgement...expecting nothing less from his Glymera ass and reining in the predator lunging for his throat, roaring on the end of its leash, to kill, to punish, to torture as his question tortured my mind with flash images on a playback reel of the past* are they ok? Are they hurt? Do I....*swallowing hard, blood channeling shards of ice into my heart*...need to go anywhere? *the thought of being laid up in the hospital firing new arrows of fear...I hate hospitals but as his hands make their way over my stomach again, purpose unfreezing him, his head shakes*<<Not at this moment. They are not hurt, not in distress...growing too fast, but I suspect you know that...*his mutterings almost to himself, only catching snippets when his voice raises in thought or he thinks I need to know something...the cold circle of metal pressing to my skin, amplifying the sound of two tiny heartbeats for his ears only...his 'hmmmm' disturbs me, rousing my unease, fingers clenching around yours as he repositions the stethoscope on the other side, my voice slightly joking tinged with a panicky pitch* lost one, Doc? *they were both in there...kicking me to death while I had tried to sleep*
<<One of the young's heartbeats is running a little slow...>> {my own heart freezes in my chest at Havers' words, his frown betraying genuine concern despite the bland, placating reassurances that follow and fall on deaf ears. Diamond eyes cutting over to yours to exchange a fearful glance, the frigid terror in your expression no doubt mirrored in my own, your palm clammy in its death-grip on my hand...fighting past the knot of emotion that clogs my throat} What needs to be done? Anything Havers.....whatever it takes, true {Determined eyes locked on yours despite my addressing the doctor, you are all that matters to me...I will not lose you...I will not...clearing my throat again as Havers reels off the advice, no more dematerialising...not a problem, true...no fighting, the no overly 'strenuous exercise' glossed over quickly with a cough and some waffle about swimming and Tai Chi...regular check-ups until the birth...a smile pulling at my lips at your lip-curling, snarled response to that news...} <<and I would advise against your hellren feeding from you again until after the birth...>> {my pointed glare cuts him off mid-sentence, before he takes the convo in the direction of the puddle of blood that has been pooling on the black marble, despite my attempts to stem the bleeding with the pack I 'appropriated' from Havers' bag and was currently pressing tight against the stab wound in my ribs. Forcing a smile that doesn't reach my eyes} Doesn't sound too bad Tory...we can cope with that, true?
 *my brow furrowed...doesnt sound too bad? Did you not hear the no feeding part of that? Gaze cutting a scowl at you, lip curled off fangs, who the hell will you fucking feed off? Whoever she is she'll be dead the minute she touches you* No...not too bad...*if you wanted to skirt the issue, we'll skirt...I'm too tired to talk about this. Our young are fine, the slow heartbeat a plague in my mind, shooting off spores...but...otherwise they are fine...forcing a smile at Havers, my thank you quiet but sincere as he dodges around you and makes his way to the door, insisting we call if anything else should trouble us...caught up in my cocoon of panic, the haze slowly rises on my self focus, attuned to every inch of my body but oblivious, neglecting the outside world...as that slowly releases its grasp of fear, the scent of blood swims through my senses...catching my brain, inciting my hunger and worrying the fuck out of me* You're injured...*and that's it. With a snarl, the DM door is slammed shut and my hands search frantically for the source of your wound*