Rico

Three months later…

“Jasmine. Get up. Now.”

A grumble emerges from beneath the sheets, but Jasmine does not.

With every passing day, I know one thing: I love this woman more than I have loved anyone or anything. Even when she’s grumpy, which, right now, she very much is.

A pretty blue eye peers at me from a crevice in the sheets.

“I’m not getting up, Rico.”

“Come on, little girl,” I rumble. “Your mother is expecting us for lunch. It’s 10 am.”

“I don’t care,” she says, burrowing into the blankets. “You go have lunch with her. I’ll stay here.”

This isn’t like her. Jasmine loves her mother. The two of them have been bonding since being reunited. They’re so much alike in big ways and small. From the way they push their hair back out of their eyes, to the way they live life so fiercely they set every day aflame. When they’re together, Jasmine is more trouble than ever. They tell each other little French jokes which make no sense to me. I’m fairly certain they talk about me right in front of me, which I have informed Jasmine is a highly spankable offense, and yet she still risks it.

I reach down into the bed, feel her forehead. It’s a little clammy. I start to worry.

“What’s wrong, are you sick? Does Daddy need to get the thermometer?”

“I’m not sick,” she mumbles, moments before getting up and sprinting to the bathroom with surprising alacrity for a woman who wouldn’t move an inch.

I follow her, frowning. She’s definitely sick, even on an empty stomach. I rush to hold her hair back as she retches.

“Don’t fuss over me, Rico,” she says, emerging from the toilet bowl to wash her face and hands. “I’m fine.”

“You are not fine. You’re acting like a co-ed at a bar, but there’s no alcohol in sight. I’m calling the doctor.”

“You don’t need to do that.”

She’s more stubborn than ever when she’s sick, but so am I. I almost lost Jasmine once to her devastating mess of a family, there is no way I am taking any chances with her health.

I bundle Jasmine back into bed, and I tell her I’m going to call a doctor.

“Really, Rico? A house call? Just because I was sick one time?”

“Yes. Really,” I say firmly. “And you know what else? You can see the doctor with a red bottom if you keep this up.”

She pouts at me. “You’re being mean! And I’m sick!”

“I thought you just said you weren’t sick.”

“Got me there, Agent Rico,” she pouts.

“Stay in bed,” I say firmly. “I’m getting Doctor Alice.”

Jasmine grumbles, but she doesn’t mind Doctor Alice. Nobody minds Alice. She’s technically our on-call in field physician. She’s the one who gets a message when one of the team goes down. She’s a younger woman, but I’ve seen her deal with everything from twisted ankles to split skulls with the same calm, collected, somewhat impish manner. It’s a real skill she has, making people feel better even when they’re missing bits of their bodies.

She’s quick too. Not fifteen minutes after I call, she’s cheerfully banging at the door loud enough to wake the dead.

I open it, as much to save the door as to let her in.

“Hey Rico,” she says, coming through with her doctor bag. Her hair is blue and red today. Last time I saw her it was pink. Her eyes are green. She has a pixie face with big dark eyes set in it. She’s a smart cookie, and everyone is protective of her. Half the agency would date her, if she’d let them.

“Hi Alice, Jasmine is in bed.”

“Wish I was,” Alice quips. “What’s wrong?”

When she hears that Jasmine has been feeling nausea with no obvious cause, is too exhausted to get out of bed, and is otherwise a grumpy little brat, she smiles.

It’s not the reaction I was expecting.

“Is there some kind of disease that makes you happy, Doctor?”

“Well, not a disease technically,” she muses to herself, pulling a slim plastic wrapped cylinder out of her bag. “More of a parasite, if you want to look at it strictly.”

“She has a parasite!? How! Something she picked up in Paris?”

“Could have been Paris, could have been here. They’re really common. I’m going to go talk to the patient. You should make her something to eat. Something light, like toast.”

I’ve just been deputized by five feet nothing of neon hair, but I don’t mind. I head to the kitchen while Alice goes in to see Jasmine.

A few minutes later, Alice emerges, still smiling.

“So, what is it?”

“Not sure,” Alice says. “I just sent her to the bathroom. We need urine.”

“It’s that serious? I’ve never heard of any common parasite that makes people sick like this,” I rumble.

“I think you have,” Alice smirks.

“Is there a chance I have it? I feel fine.”

“There is no chance you have it, Rico,” she snorts. “You’re immune.”

Before I can further interrogate the doctor, a high-pitched scream emanates from the bathroom. I drop the toast and run, reaching the bathroom door just as Jasmine throws it open…

BAM!

After Alice resets my nose, Jasmine explains what’s going on. Or, she at least tries to as I hold my head back to stop the remnants of blood from making any more of a mess.

“It’s positive.”

“It’s positive?” Damn. She has a parasite. Somehow, I’ve allowed her to become infected with some kind of organism which is making her ill. I promised I’d look after her and yet here she is, ill. “We are going to have to take care of that,” I growl.

Jasmine’s eyes narrow, her breath hitches. “Wow,” she breathes. “I thought you’d be happy. I never thought you’d even consider wanting to… take care…”

“Happy!? Why would I be happy?!” I look down my broken nose at her, utterly confused. “You’re infected!”

“Infected?” She bursts into tears. “I mean, we hadn’t talked about it, but I thought you’d be happy. I thought we had a future together…”

“Oh shit,” Alice intervenes quickly. “This is my fault. I’m so sorry. It’s my fault. My humor. The parasite thing. I thought you’d get it. Jasmine isn’t infected. She’s pregnant.”

Pregnant? As in… having a baby. As in… I’m going to be a father. All of that takes a lot more to process than it should, and as it works through my mind. I look at Jasmine, her cheeks stained with tears. I feel my heart swell with love.

“Baby!” I sweep her up into my arms. “Oh we’re going to have a baby, baby!”

Jasmine floods my face with her tears. Neither one of us were expecting this. Maybe we should have. We haven’t been as careful as we could have been. She is crying and squealing, I am holding her as close as I can, and together we are swept up in a celebratory moment like none I have ever experienced.

“I am so sorry,” I say. “I had no idea what you were saying. That damn doctor…”

While we celebrate, Alice is packing her things, making a quiet exit.

“Alice!” I call her name just as she gets to the door.

“Yeah?”

“We are going to talk about your bedside manner one of these days,”

“Sure,” she smiles. “Congratulations, guys.”

She leaves, and I kiss Jasmine as thoroughly as I can with a splinted septum.

“You’re really happy?” She smiles breathlessly. “I mean, you’re not just pretending to be?”

“I’m thrilled,” I reassure her. “This is the best news.”

“It really is,” she beams. “We’re going to do this right, Rico. We’re going to be good parents. We’re going to make this baby feel loved, no matter what. And we’re never going to let it…” her voice cracks. “It’s going to be different for this baby than it was for me and Leon.”

“It is,” I promise, holding her so close and yet so carefully. She’s so precious to me. She’s my everything. And the little life growing inside her is going to be protected just like she is: with everything I am, and everything I have.

Jasmine

If anyone had told me a year ago that the growly, stern as fuck agent who rode my ass and made me obey the law would croon like a woman and speak in baby gibberish, I’d have said they were lying. And yet here he is, our son all swaddled in blue blankets he’s kicked off, his face all red because he’s about to scream, because he’s stubborn like his daddy and feisty like his mommy. Then Rico, dressed in a t-shirt and boxers as if he doesn’t have to report to the office in twenty minutes, leans in and talks in low, soft tones until our squirming little boy stills.

He talked to him throughout the whole pregnancy, right through my belly like a madman, but didn’t that baby know his daddy’s voice from the second he filled his lungs with air and howled.

Rico protects both of us with the loving care and fierce possession only he holds. And we love him back. God, do we love him back.

Bit by bit, day by day, Rico helps me forget the sins of my past. I’ll hold the scars forever, but they no longer rule me. They’re becoming woven into the fabric of who I am as a woman. Resilient. Fierce. Loved.

So loved.

Leon’s shown miraculous improvement under Eric’s tutelage, and all of the men who worked for us have either fled back to France or gone into hiding. My mother returned to America, and now crochets little baby blankets and booties as if she didn’t leave a past of crime and betrayal behind her.

RIco was up for promotion, but he declined. A promotion would have meant longer hours, and he said he isn’t interested in more hours at work, apart from his family. God, I love him for that.

I watch as he gathers our son up close to him and kisses his soft cheek.

“Thank you,” he says. He’s given me everything I needed, everything I’d given up hope of ever having. And he’s thanking me?

I respond without thinking. “I love you.”

We forged our way to our union, and now that we’re together, nothing will ever tear us apart.

THE END