Chapter Text
Morgan was becoming far too familiar with toilet bowls lately. Some were more round, others were more oval. Some had chips in the porcelain while others were in pristine condition. And that’s not even getting into the smell.
The toilet in Morgan’s hotel room was unremarkable except for how nice the cold porcelain felt on his forehead as he tried to hold in another wave of heaving. And promptly failed.
Food poisoning or a stomach bug seemed unlikely, Morgan had to admit. It had been over a week now and his symptoms weren’t improving.
After another visit to the Russian Pack, the plan had been to drive around the States and see the sites, maybe look into any potential man-eating cases Elena had found. Morgan had spent two months with the Russians before flying to California so he could work his way back to New York. He’d felt a little off during the last stretch of his stay, but it hadn’t fully hit him until he got to California. When he first started feeling sick, he chalked it up to jet lag and stayed an extra night in his hotel. After three days, he had to admit it wasn’t going away and powered through the nausea to keep driving.
Now Morgan was cutting his road trip short and heading to Stonehaven. The original plan had been to go back to the Sorrentino mansion, but something was definitely wrong. He hoped Jeremy would have answers for him.
Once Morgan could lift his head up long enough to drive the three hours left to Bear Valley, that is.
-
Morgan hadn’t even gotten out of the car when Elena stepped onto Stonehaven’s front porch. Her blonde hair was tied back in a ponytail, several strands falling loose like it was hastily done. The way she walked leisurely down the steps and over to greet him would have looked calm to anyone outside the Pack, but Morgan could see the concern etched into her features.
“You look like hell,” Elena said, taking Morgan’s bag and slinging it over her shoulder. She paused, confusion flashing over her face, then she frowned.
“What’s wrong?” Morgan asked.
“Your scent. It’s just… different.”
Morgan sniffed at himself, but couldn’t tell the difference. “That doesn’t sound good.”
Elena took a deep breath and her expression resolved to firmness. “Let’s get you inside,” she said. “Jeremy has everything set up. Clay has the kids, they won’t be back until dinner.”
“Let’s hope it doesn’t take that long,” Morgan said, trying for a light tone in his voice and failing. Somehow, now that he was closer than ever to figuring this thing out, he felt worse than he did when he still had another three days’ drive ahead of him.
“Let’s hope,” Elena agreed.
-
Inside, Jeremy rounded a corner and stopped, a slight furrowing of the brow the only indication Morgan had that anything was wrong. And coming from Jeremy, that was scary as hell.
“His scent. It’s like…” Elena trailed off.
“Yes, I see what you mean.” Jeremy nodded.
Neither said anything else as Morgan glanced between the two. Finally, Elena headed for the stairs and gestured for him to follow Jeremy down the hall. “I’ll be up here if you need anything.”
“How have you been feeling?” Jeremy asked as they walked.
“Not great,” Morgan admitted.
“I’ve heard.” They entered a room that had been set up as a sort of medical bay, complete with an exam table, trays of tools, and monitoring equipment. “Please, sit.”
Morgan sat on the end of the exam table as Jeremy rearranged some tools on a nearby tray then picked up an electric thermometer.
“You spent some time with the Russian Pack?” Jeremy asked as he took Morgan’s temperature.
“Yeah, a couple months.”
Jeremy nodded. “Lay back on the table.” Once Morgan did so, Jeremy continued, “This started after you got back?”
Morgan just nodded. Jeremy had started pressing into various parts of his abdomen, and something felt off. An uneasy feeling crept through Morgan until—
A growl ripped through Morgan’s throat as he lurched up, covering his abdomen protectively.
They stared at each other. Morgan could have laughed at how comical Jeremy looked, his eyes wide and his hands up, but he was too busy wondering what the fuck was wrong with himself.
“Sorry,” Morgan mumbled. “I don’t know what that was.” He forced himself to unfurl from his position and laid back once more, that uneasiness still coursing through him.
“It’s fine,” Jeremy said. He picked up a stethoscope off the tray of tools. Morgan calmed a bit as he went through the motions of listening to his heart and lungs, the deep breaths helping.
Afterwards, Jeremy hesitated before taking a breath. “I’m going to need you to humor me on this one,” Jeremy said as he put the stethoscope away and opened a drawer in a nearby cabinet. From this angle, Morgan couldn’t see whatever it was that he was pulling out. “It’s probably nothing, but…”
Morgan sat up as Jeremy handed him a rectangular box. He barked out a laugh which trailed off when he saw how serious Jeremy was. He swallowed, staring down at the box.
-
Morgan tried not to pace as Jeremy watched the test. It would be negative, because it was literally impossible for it to be positive, and that would be that, and they’d move on to other tests. There was no reason to worry about it.
That didn’t stop Morgan, though.
Jeremy picked up the test and turned, frowning. Morgan held his breath as Jeremy handed it over.
Two lines. Two? That meant—
“No fucking way.” Morgan shook his head, dropping the test back on the tray. “It’s defective. Or something else. I’ve heard some cancers can cause a positive test, it’s probably—”
“You’d rather have cancer than be pregnant?” Jeremy asked.
Morgan whirled on him. “I’d rather not be some kind of fucking freak of nature!”
Footsteps sounded down the hall, then Elena burst through the door. “I heard shouting, what…” She trailed off, seeing Morgan and Jeremy staring each other down. “Jer, what’s wrong?”
Jeremy picked up the test, handing it over to Elena, watching as her brows shot up.
Elena looked at Morgan, who had his hands balled into fists as he tried not to scream again, then back at Jeremy. “How is this possible?”
“I’m not sure,” Jeremy said. “There’s nothing about it in the Legacy, but—” He cut himself off, hesitating.
“But what?” Morgan asked, not sure he wanted to know.
Jeremy sighed, leaning back against the exam table. “It depends on who the other father is.”
Morgan flushed, thinking back to the reason he’d run off to Russia in the first place. There was no way he was going to be telling them about that until he absolutely had to. Elena and Jeremy looked at him expectantly, so he lied, “One of the Russians.”
Jeremy nodded. “It’s possible that all male werewolves can reproduce this way, but only with other werewolves. Likely, any such cases would be rare and kept hidden, considering the Pack’s old views on such things.”
In other words, the Pack used to be as homophobic as you’d expect a group of sexist brutes to be. Not the best environment for two men to raise a baby together.
Jeremy quietly added, “The other possibility is that they didn’t survive.”
Morgan’s head snapped up, and he stared at Jeremy in shock.
“What do you mean?” Elena asked.
“You and I both know how many things can go wrong with pregnancy. There’s no way of knowing what complications there could be for a male body. Not to mention childbirth.”
Morgan’s head spun as he tried to imagine how, exactly, childbirth could happen. None of the images were very pleasant.
Elena turned to say something, but before she could get a word out, Morgan was out the door.
-
Morgan sighed as he heard footsteps behind him. They’d given him some time, long enough that the sun had started to dip below the trees and the air turned chilly, but he couldn’t stay out in the woods forever.
“Are you okay?” Elena asked, rounding the tree Morgan was leaning against.
With a shrug, Morgan stared at the brown leaf he’d been crumbling between his fingertips, watching flakes drop to the ground. Too many thoughts and words filled his head, crowding each other out so he couldn’t speak any of them.
Elena sat in the grass beside Morgan and rested a reassuring hand on his shoulder until the light faded, when they finally stood and headed inside without another word.
-
The next morning, Morgan snuggled deeper into the sheets beneath him. It was like a Newfoundland winter morning, when he wanted to stay in bed as long as possible to avoid having to face the icy winds. The longer he stayed, the more he could deny the situation he was in.
It was nice under the plush comforter, anyway, surrounded by soft pillows. Morgan stretched his legs out before turning on his side to curl up, wrapping his arms around one of the pillows. He could just spend the rest of the day like this.
Footsteps sounded in the hall, moving toward the door. Nothing new, Elena and Jeremy had been checking up on him all morning. He’d also heard Clay and the twins, indistinct voices in conversation and the shouts and yelps of playing. Nobody bothered Morgan while he rested, though, which he appreciated.
Unfortunately, it wasn’t to last. The door opened and then shut with a click. Morgan’s stomach rumbled as the scent of food wafted to him. He wasn’t sure he could handle pancakes and bacon and everything else he could smell, but then again his stomach didn’t seem to care how carefully he ate.
And now that he knew he was eating for two… Morgan banished the thought. He’d eat for his own health. A werewolf couldn’t afford to go without food for too long.
“You can’t stay in there forever,” Clay said.
“I can try,” Morgan mumbled into his pillow, but he pushed the blanket off his head anyway. He sat up, gratefully taking the plate of pancakes while Clay set the tray with the rest of the food on the nightstand.
They were silent for a while, Clay sitting next to Morgan and swiping the occasional bite of food off his plate while he ate.
Eventually, Morgan asked, “What would you do?”
“I wouldn’t go through with it,” Clay said. At Morgan’s raised brows he added, “I have kids who need me. I can’t risk myself for some hypothetical kid.”
“Doesn’t feel so hypothetical.”
“Then maybe that’s your answer.”
Morgan sighed. “What if something goes wrong?”
Clay didn’t answer for a moment, chewing a piece of bacon. Then, “What if it doesn’t?” Before Morgan could respond, Clay continued, “You overthink things. So weigh the pros and cons. Is it worth trying?”
Morgan swallowed around a lump in his throat. He’d been thinking about it all night, until exhaustion finally made him sleep. If everything went right, then he’d be a father. He would be raising his kid as a Pack member, surrounded by their peers. Maybe he could even take them up to meet his family in Newfoundland.
But if everything went wrong, Morgan would be dead. So that left the other option: guarantee survival by ending this situation. Be in the same place he was a few months ago. The neutral option.
Morgan knew which option he was going to pick. It wasn’t even a contest. He took a deep breath and sighed out, “Fuck.”
Clay clapped Morgan on the back. “Welcome to fatherhood, you’re gonna be saying that a lot.”