let a nurse tie him into a sterile gown and tried not to shake. At least he wasn't going to have to be the one cutting. He didn't think he could handle it. He'd performed surgeries before, but there was no way he was going to be able to do it today. Surgery was one thing, but amputation was another.

 

Amputation on an adult, who would understand why it had to happen when she recovered, was one thing. Amputation on a child, a toddler, was another story altogether.

 

Dave hadn't ever been overly emotional about the job. Doctors had to maintain a certain degree of detachment, or else they wouldn't be able to do their jobs at all. It wasn't easy, and it had been miserable to learn to maintain the right level of stoic resignation. When he found himself having to pronounce time of death on a patient and then move on to deal with a nervous but energetic child, he was grateful for the training.

 

Right now, however, all those lessons seemed to have gone out the window. Only his eyes showed behind the gown and mask, but hot tears burned behind his eyes as he stepped toward the operating table. The stink from the gangrenous arm threatened to overpower him, even filtered through his surgical mask, and he once again wondered if he was going to make it through this surgery.

 

He should have told the family no.

 

He couldn't do that though. The family was going through enough. Out of their three children, two had come down with meningitis. One, the older one, had lost her hearing. The other lay on the table before him, unconscious with her little arm rotting away on her body.

 

The surgeon started the process. Dave couldn't look away. His job was to help clamp off blood vessels, before the surgeon could seal them.

 

The child would probably forget, soon enough, what life had been like with two arms. Kids were resilient like that. Of course, replacing prosthetics as she grew would be expensive for a family already living in public housing, and childhood could be rough enough without something big and glaring to draw the attention of bullies. There was nothing he could do about it though. All he could do was clamp off vessels while a surgeon removed a dead limb from his patient.

 

A rough childhood was better than no childhood at all. And her family was certainly loving enough. They would handle it and support her.

 

The surgeon, Frank Nessi, finally finished the procedure. The amputated limb would have to be disposed of as medical waste. Dave and Frank closed off the stump and bandaged it. Under other circumstances they might have left it as an open stump for a little while, just because of the toddler's age, but they didn't want to leave any more opportunities for complications than they had to. The family had suffered enough. Once they'd done what they could, they went to clean up while the nurse brought the little girl into the recovery room.

 

Dave made a beeline for the bathroom as soon as he could safely do so. He regurgitated everything in his stomach and crouched over the toilet, heaving for a good ten minutes afterward. Even that wasn't enough to get the stench out of his nose, or out of his mind. Nothing would be.

 

Frank showed up at the back of Dave's stall. He hadn't had a chance to lock it behind himself. "Are you okay, Dave?" He leaned against the cheap metal cubicle divider. "If you were sick in my OR, with a patient that young, I'll take you out and kick your ass myself."

 

Dave held up a hand. "No. No, it's the smell. It's been bugging me lately."

 

Frank went quiet, and then he put a hand on Dave's back. "Just that smell, or all smells?"

 

Dave bowed his head. "A lot of smells. They've seemed more intense, which is weird, but the bad ones have a stronger effect on me. Not that anyone's ever not affected by that gangrene smell."

 

"True." Frank rubbed little circles into his back. "You feeling about done now?"

 

Dave flushed. "More or less, yeah."

 

"Okay. Stay here. I'll be right back." Frank took off.

 

Dave stared at the cheap, beige metal wall for a long few minutes until Frank came back. He carried a pregnancy test in his hands, new and unopened. "Never thought I'd have to use my old shoplifting skills again." He shook the little box. "I guess it's a little bit like riding a bike, maybe?"

 

"Um." Dave swallowed. "I shouldn't need that." He took the box. "But I guess we know better than anyone about the failure rate of condoms, right?" He heaved a mighty sigh. "I guess it can't hurt, if only to rule it out."

 

"Good man." Frank stepped out of the stall, leaving Dave to fill the little cup by himself.

 

When Dave had filled the cup up to the fill line, he stepped out into the rest of the men's room, put the dipstick into the cup, and set a timer on his phone. Frank leaned against the door to the men's room. When he noticed Dave looking at him, he winked. "You've got your privacy."

 

Dave wouldn't go quite that far. Frank was still here. He didn't say anything about that though. He didn't want to be a jerk, especially since Frank had been so helpful. Dave knew he was just being touchy because of everything this test meant.

 

He didn't know how to feel about the possibility of being pregnant. He liked kids, but hadn't given much thought to wanting them or not. He didn't know if he deserved them, and that was a bigger issue. He'd already lost his family, when he refused to help them hide their fraud and their theft. He didn't think he was supposed to go out and have kids of his own. The family name definitely didn't need to keep going either. Not after what his parents had done to it.

 

Of course, there was always the possibility that maybe Ken might want to give the baby his name. These things happened sometimes.

 

The possibility that Ken might want to stick around and be part of Dave's life too was one Dave didn't dare focus on. They hadn't known each other long. On paper, they weren't even remotely compatible. If someone had come up to Dave and told him, "We want you to date this alpha cop who judges everyone, how about it?" he'd have laughed them out of his office.

 

Dave had never felt so safe as he did with Ken; so complete as he did with Ken. It didn't make sense. He wasn't sure it had to.

 

The timer pinged, and Dave removed the dipstick from the cup.

 

"Looks like congratulations are in order." Frank had moved away from the door to loom behind him.

 

Dave stared at the evidence for a long moment. Then he discarded it and washed his hands. "That was… unexpected."

 

Frank's eyebrows knit together. "You don't look like you're exactly filled with joy."

 

"I'm sure I will be, once I've processed this." He swallowed. "I'm just—I wasn't planning for this." He pulled himself together. Frank was a friend and a good friend at that. He wasn't the kind of good friend that listened to a person angst about family drama in the men's room of the OR locker room when they needed to go report back to the family of a sick child.

 

They still had a job to do, after all.

 

"I wasn't planning for this, but it's a happy occasion, right?" He forced a smile. "In the meantime, let's go see those poor parents. I'm sure they're worried sick."

 

They cleaned up, changed, and went to check on their patient in the recovery room before going to the waiting room to talk to the parents. The Johnsons were good people, going through something no parent should have to be put through. They sat in the uncomfortable chairs in the waiting room along with their minister, Dr. Ellis, who stood up as soon as he saw the doctors walk up. "How is Kayla?"

 

"Kayla is responding as well as can be expected. She's still very sick," Dave warned them. He sat down on one of the same hard chairs, so they wouldn't feel weird about sitting. "Like we discussed, removing the gangrenous arm should help with that. Her body should be able to fight the disease better if it's not trying to fight the gangrene too."

 

He blinked back tears. The embryo in his belly didn't have a form yet. It wasn't anything but a clump of cells. He loved it anyway. How would he cope, if he was the one sitting there hearing from doctors that had cut a piece of his beloved child off at the elbow?

 

Frank put a hand on his shoulder and looked up at the family. "The surgery was a success," he told them, in a quiet voice. "There weren't any complications to worry about; no surprises. We did check on her in the recovery room before we came out to see you and she's already starting to come out of the anesthesia. She's a good little fighter. She's strong. I could wish this wasn't happening to her, of course, but since it is I couldn't be more comfortable with her progress at this stage."

 

Frank had been giving Dave time to recover. Dave could now reach out and take Kayla's mother's hand. "I need you to know that we're doing everything we can to make Kayla comfortable right now, and to make her well."

 

She squeezed Dave's hand, large dark eyes going soft for a moment. "I know you are. For both my babies, Doctor."

 

Dr. Ellis cleared his throat. "Do you mind if we have a moment of prayer, all together?" He put a hand on Dave's shoulder and another on Mrs. Johnson's.

 

"Not at all." Dave bowed his head in respect. He wasn't religious, but he respected the role of religion in others' lives. Many of his patients became religious during the course of their treatment. He wasn't about to criticize them for taking comfort.

 

Frank stiffened a little, but he bowed his head too.

 

Dr. Ellis didn't delve into fire and brimstone, for which Dave was grateful. Instead, he thanked his Lord for seeing little Kayla through the surgery and asked that He continue to shelter this child. He asked that the outbreak be brought to a swift end, which Dave couldn't argue with.

 

And then Dr. Ellis said, "And Lord, it hurts us to know this is something that was done to us; that was visited on our community. Please help us find it in our hearts to forgive, even as Your Son forgave those who hurt Him. We can't hope to understand what might drive someone to such a heinous act, but help us to find compassion in our hearts even for him. Help this person find peace, for his soul must truly be in pain if he's so eager to hurt others like this. In Jesus' name, amen."

 

"Amen." Dave didn't have to cover up his lack of faith, or feign enthusiasm for this prayer. He didn't know if he'd be able to find any compassion or forgiveness in his heart for the person making people sick like this, but he could hope.

 

Once the prayer was over, Dave and Frank took their leave of the Johnsons. They would go back to the pediatric wing, to wait for Kayla's return in the room she shared with her sister. Frank had another surgery, this time nothing to do with meningitis. And Dave—

 

Well, Dave had an important conversation on his schedule.

 

He made his way back to his office. Ken was there, at Dave's desk, working away on his own laptop. He looked up when he saw Dave walk in. "So. Is there any way to trace a particular strain of the bacteria?" he asked, looking up from his screen. Then, "You're as white as your lab coat."

 

Dave gave a little laugh. He probably sounded more hysterical than anything else, but he couldn't think about that right now. "Well, I did just help amputate a toddler's arm. That kind of leaves a scar, you know?"

 

Ken got up from Dave's chair and firmly escorted him over to it. "I guess it would," he said, in a quiet tone, as he guided Dave into his seat.

 

Dave leaned into his touch. He'd figured he could just blurt out the words. They were professionals. They didn't need a lot of flowery language or goofy stuff like that. Those words froze in his throat once he had Ken's hands on him. What if Ken walked away? What if those two words meant he couldn't ever have this comfort again?

 

He couldn't let his fears eat him alive like that. He took a deep breath. "I spoke with the family afterward, like you do. And I couldn't help but think, what if? What if this was me, sitting here, waiting for news about my child? Would I be this calm, this collected, this dignified? Or would I be an absolute mess, sobbing on the floor and kicking and screaming?"

 

Ken perched on the edge of the desk. "I think it's a little soon to be worrying about how you'd react if that was your child, don't you?" He ran his hand over Dave's hair, soothing and loving. Then he paused, hand frozen in place. "Unless it isn't."

 

Dave looked down. "It isn't. Frank stole a test from ER supplies. I'm going to have a baby." He steeled himself to look up into Ken's dark eyes. "We're going to be parents."

 

He didn't see anger. He didn't see disgust. Dave wasn't sure what he did see, but neither of the reactions he'd feared were present on his lover's face. "I think we need to sit down and have a talk about this. Someplace quiet, and someplace a little less fraught than the emergency department." He glanced over at the clock. "What time are you done here tonight?"

 

Dave snorted. "I could spend the rest of the week here and not be done."

 

Ken's hand dropped to Dave's shoulder, and a little smile played around the corners of his mouth. "I think you're going to need to re-think your position on that, going forward."

 

Dave's eyes bulged as the enormity of what Ken had just said hit home. "Everything's going to change. I'll have to quit my job—"

 

Ken gave a gentle little laugh. "You don't have to quit your job, goofball. You might want to re-think putting in marathon sessions, especially while you're pregnant. But plenty of people work and parent at the same time. And you don't have to do it alone."

 

Dave looked up again, into Ken's eyes. "I don't?"

 

Ken smiled at him. "However we decide to handle this going forward, you won't be raising this baby alone. I promise."

 

***

Ken drove Dave home not long after that. It was funny how he didn't think of it as "Dave's place" anymore. He didn't stay there with Dave every night, but it was easiest just to think of it as home now.

 

He and Dave got take out. It probably wasn't the healthiest thing they could have gotten, and Dave was eating for two now, but Dave had gone through a lot today and hadn't had a chance to do much in the way of grocery shopping. They'd get to that. They'd get to everything.

 

They didn't talk about anything until after they'd finished with dinner. Once the dishes had been rinsed and put into the dishwasher, Ken bundled Dave into the big, comfortable bed and climbed in beside him. Skin to skin contact was good. There was probably a perfectly good scientific explanation for why Ken felt so much more comfortable pressed up against Dave's bare skin, even if they weren't doing anything sexual, but Ken didn't care. All he cared about was the way his troubles seemed to melt away.

 

He ran his hand through Dave's dark hair. He hadn't missed the way Dave had seemed to melt into his touch, when all he'd done had been to stroke his hair like this. Ken hated the thought that Dave might have been uncomfortable telling him about this. He guessed he could understand it, maybe, but he hated it nevertheless. If he could help soothe Dave's heart just by stroking his hair like this, why wouldn't he do it?

 

He kissed the top of Dave's head. "You ready to talk now?"

 

Dave sighed. "I guess talking makes it real." He tilted his head back to look up at Ken, all dewy hazel eyes and vulnerability. "Which, I suppose, it is."

 

Ken chuckled. "That bad, huh?"

 

Dave looked down again. "I don't know. I love this baby. I love the baby already, and I don't even know them yet. It doesn't make sense. They're a bunch of cells. They don't have organs, or functions, or anything like that, but I love them."

 

"It's true." Ken would have to take Dave's word for it. He'd never spent a second of his time worrying about fetal development. He didn't intend to start now. "I think it's an instinct or something, maybe. And there's nothing wrong with that, you know? If you're able to get pregnant, it's okay for you to love your baby for crying out loud. And it's okay to be on the fence about it too."

 

"Are you?"

 

"Am I what?"

 

"On the fence?"

 

"Not at all." Ken shook his head. "I feel good about it, you know? I wasn't exactly sitting around counting the days until I finally became a father, but I didn't not want to be one. I'm nervous, but I'm nervous because I want to be a good father. I want to do right by my kid." He licked his lips. There wasn't an easy way to say the next part, not if he wanted to be good about it. "I'm more concerned about us."

 

Dave tensed up against him. "Us?"

 

"There's obviously something here." Ken started petting Dave's hair again, and maybe Dave wasn't the only one to find it soothing. "We work well together, professionally speaking, and the sex is—well, the sex is life altering." He gave a little laugh, because if he couldn't joke about life changes with Dave the next eighteen years were going to be a real drag.

 

Dave snickered a little bit before sobering up. "But," he prompted.

 

"And," Ken corrected, "we've only known one another for a few weeks. I like you. I'm more comfortable with you than I've been with any guy in a long time, you know? I'm just worried that trying to force ourselves into a mold and saying it's 'for the baby' is a bad way to start a relationship, and probably won't exactly set the best example for the baby either."

 

Dave took a deep breath and Ken's heart sank. This was it. Dave was going to kick him out, right here and now. Maybe he'd give him enough time to put some pants on before forcing him into the March cold.

 

Then Dave spoke. "Yeah. I think—I like you too. And I feel safer with you than I do with anyone else. But I think you're right. I think pressuring ourselves to move our relationship to some kind of artificial milestone, because of some kind of accident of biology, isn't going to do anyone any favors. Especially not the baby."

 

"That doesn't mean we can't let our relationship develop naturally." Ken kissed him again. "I just—I want to be with you because we want to be together. If we decide to actually live together, I want us to decide we can put up with our own foibles and issues because we don't want to be alone anymore, not because we have to."

 

Dave gave a little snort. "And if we decide not to?"

 

"Then we decide not to. We'll still make it work for our kid, because we love them." Ken tucked Dave's head under his chin. He hesitated for a moment. Dave had been forthcoming about his family's little idiosyncrasies, even when he didn't have to be. It was only fair that Ken should spill too. "My dad took off, when I was maybe three. I never saw him again. I don't know why he left, I don't know if he ever paid child support, I just know we had the same last name." He felt his teeth grinding when he set his jaw. "I ain't going to be him, no matter what."

 

"That must have been tough." Dave snuggled up closer. That was just him, the way he always was with patients. He wasn't judging; just accepting.

 

"Nah. It wasn't that bad, until my mom got re-married. My drill sergeant had nothing on Joel. Made Basic a breeze, let me tell you." Ken scoffed, and he didn't care if it sounded bitter. "He was a bastard, but he had money. I'm not letting our kid turn into him either."

 

"No." Dave shook his head. "I want the baby to have security, sure. I don't want the baby to turn into my dad either." He picked his head up and grinned. "You know, for one thing, I don't want the kid to wind up in jail. Those places are hotbeds of disease."

 

Ken couldn't help it. He threw his head back and laughed. "You're something else, you know that?"

 

"Damn straight." Dave playfully nibbled on his clavicle before subsiding back into a contemplative mood. "I've had a lot of privilege, and it's hard not to be conscious of it sometimes. I was lucky enough to get exposed to people with morals when I was young. I think—well, I was cut out after everything happened. I've got my job and I've got the trust fund my grandfather regretted making irrevocable when I was born. But I still think we can avoid having this kid turn into my family is just by exposure to you." He blushed and looked away.

 

"Are you serious right now?" Ken snorted. "I thought you thought I was too judgmental."

 

"I didn't say I always agreed with you. But you definitely have morals, and you've got a sense of what's right and wrong. You're not greedy. You respect people's rights." He shifted his weight. "You pretty much never go around releasing killer bacteria into the general population."

 

"I do have that going for me." Ken turned off the light. "So we're cool? We're on the same page?"

 

"We're both happy about the baby, and we'll take things as they come with regards to us. Not because we don't care about each other, but because we care enough about each other to not want to half ass it." Dave settled in for the night.

 

Ken drifted off after a moment, feeling lighter than he had in years.

 

The next night, however, wouldn't be as nice. He was going to go back to his mother's house. He agreed that it made sense to move some of his things into Dave's place, at least on a temporary basis, but he needed to explain to his mother what was going on.

 

And he needed to do it alone.

 

He headed back out to Jordan, trying to relax into the drive. It was easier to say than to do. His mom had always been okay with his sexuality, at least to the extent that he didn't bring it home with him. He didn't chalk that up to homophobia. She didn't want his straight brother bringing girls home either, at least as long as they weren't getting married. She was an old-fashioned kind of lady in a lot of ways and she didn't think that sort of thing belonged in the family abode.

 

And here he was, about to tell her he was going about everything completely backward. Not only backward, but with another man. He gripped the wheel a little tighter.

 

She was in the barn when he got there. She usually was. Sure, she had guys working for her, and Danny was around the farm full-time, but Mama had never been the kind of lady to avoid getting her hands dirty. She was out there from sunup to sundown, mucking out stalls and turning out horses just like her newest employees.

 

"Hey." She shoved a dunging fork into his hands by way of greeting. "If you pitch in, we can go have dinner faster."

 

Ken just grinned. She wasn't joking. The workers would still get paid full wages, no matter what time they finished. Mama had been a stable hand before she married Joel. She made sure she took care of her workers now. Even Danny got paid. Ken though, he had a job. He was a shareholder, and he'd get paid at the end of the quarter like everyone else.

 

He took off his jacket and pitched right in. He knew what he was doing and being there did make the work go faster. Once they were done, she bade her employees goodnight and herded her sons down the covered walkway and into the farmhouse.

 

Dinner was already prepared. All Mama had to do was heat it up. Ken washed his hands and set the table, just like he used to when he'd been a little kid. There was no kindly grandmother waiting to help him out now. There was no angry, hostile stepfather looking at him and Danny as spoiled interlopers either.

 

"Alright now, let's say grace." Mama reached out. The boys might be grown men now, but they knew better than to refuse. They took their mother's hands and bowed their heads. Mama said a quick prayer, and then they sat down to enjoy their warm meal.

 

Mama hadn't ever been a fancy cook. Dave wasn't exactly a fancy cook either. Dave was probably self-taught, whereas Mama had learned from her own mother. They both made good, solid, nourishing meals that made the whole body feel good. Dave's were probably a little healthier, but that was only natural.

 

"Look at you, all daydreaming and stuff." Danny reached out and stole the dinner roll from Ken's plate. "What's on your mind, little brother? Could it be the person whose house you've been sleeping at more often than not?"

 

Ken ducked his head and blushed. "Shut up, Danny. We're not supposed to talk about that."

 

Mama snorted. "It's not like I don't know what you're doing. I just don't like to know those details about my kids." She passed him a new dinner roll. "You must be pretty into him, if you're daydreaming so much that you let your brother steal food from your plate."

 

Ken bit his lip. He had to tell her. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad, if she could talk about it so casually like this. She'd never stepped in when Joel had gotten in his face about liking guys, but that had been a long time ago. Times were different now, and a lot of people's attitudes had changed. Love could change a person too.

 

"I guess you could say that." He took a fork full of chicken stew. "We've been working together a lot on this meningitis case."

 

Mama raised her eyebrows at him. "Is he that cute little doctor you were with at the press conference?"

 

"Yeah." Ken swallowed. "Yeah, that's him. His name is Dave. He's a nice guy. He cooks. He's smart and he's sweet as can be with patients."

 

"Well, that's good." Danny snickered. "I hate it when doctors are dicks."

 

"Shut up, Danny." Ken elbowed his brother.

 

"You shut up."

 

"Both of you shut up. And Danny, watch your language." Mama didn't bat an eye. "Kenny, don't elbow your brother. I hope you two get this meningitis thing over with quickly. It's some scary stuff."

 

"It is." Ken looked away. "I can't lie. It's horrifying to see what this person is doing. People, kids, you name it."

 

"I'll bet." Mama took a bite of her stew. "So when do we get to meet this mystery doctor?"

 

Ken's hands trembled, so he hid them under the table. "Um, probably a little sooner than later. He's, um. He's pregnant."

 

Both Mama and Danny dropped their forks. They clattered against the plates. "Are you sure?" Mama narrowed her eyes at him, all suspicion.

 

"I'm going to have to trust the medical doctor to know if he's pregnant." Ken rolled his eyes. His stomach threatened to rebel, but the question still seemed too absurd to be believed. "And he's been showing some symptoms, I guess. More emotional than usual, more sensitive to smells."

 

"Are you sure it's yours?" Danny wrinkled his nose. "You know how those omegas are."

 

Anger gave Ken strength he'd lacked before. "I know I trust Dave. And why don't you tell me how 'those omegas are,' Danny? All I know is there seems to be an awful lot of them on the medical staff at Silver Oak. Doctors, nurse practitioners, senior clinicians. You think they could get where they are if they were as frivolous as you seem to be implying?"

 

"I think this one managed to go and get himself knocked up," Mama told him. Her eyes were still narrowed. "I know I taught you better than this, Kenny. Why in the hell weren't you using protection?"

 

Ken bit down on the inside of his cheek to keep from lashing out. She'd given up a lot for him. She deserved to ask questions. "Condoms are only so successful. Sometimes they fail. This was apparently one of those times." He took a deep breath and rolled his shoulders. "This isn't something we sought out, but we're going to be happy about it anyway. We've made a conscious decision to be those kind of people. We want the best for our child. I hope you'll celebrate with us, but if not, I'll still love you."

 

Mama pointed her fork at Ken. "I will not let you be your father, Kenny."

 

Ken met her eyes. "I have no intention of being him. We're going to love that baby, no matter what. And I'm going to be a damn good father." He made himself grin. "I've got a good mama to show me how."

 

Danny elbowed him. "Kiss ass."

 

"Damn straight," Ken muttered.