Merry Christmas, Doctor Carter

It's a Wonderful Strife

"Go ahead," Jack jerked his head in the landline's direction by the bed.

"In private."

Both of them eyed him as though they thought he was looking for an excuse to bolt. Dennis had a strong feeling that he would.

"I can go with you," Dennis offered.

"No, no, I'm good," he insisted, setting a hand on Dennis' shoulder. "I'll be back in a bit."

With that, he left them in a lurch to their own devices.

************

On the way out, John sidestepped past people and made a beeline for the front door. Before he stepped through, he plucked up a cordless phone receiver and dialled the number that was on his pager. It wasn't long before, too, was pacing, running his fingers through his hair repeatedly until it stuck up. He heard a voice on the other end and froze. It was Peter's.

"Hello? Carter?" He heard nothing on the other end of the buzzing line. For a moment, he thought John hung up on him. Then hesitant breathing stuttered over the static. "Carter, what's wrong?"

John tried to speak, but it came out as a bubbling, muted garble. He attempted again. "N– Uh, nothing. Just nervous, I guess. What's the news?"

"Well, the good news is that you tested negative for HIV."

A little burst of anxious laughter left him. "Yeah, I kinda figured that," Still, he was grateful to hear it. "And the bad news?"

"I guess it depends on your perspective."

In his tone was a hint of indignation mingling with the words, "Doctor Benton."

"Sorry," For the first time in a long time, for the first time ever around John, Peter chuckled in genuine amusement. He had to admit, messing with him was kind of funny. "I suppose congratulations are in order."

"Why? What do you mean by that?"

"Carter, what do you think I mean?"

His smile, faint as it already was, faded, his lips still open. The news sunk in. Once again, he went silent for almost fifteen seconds.

"Carter, you still there?"

He didn't know what to say. He was having a baby. John. On some level, he knew, but he never imagined it. Who could? How could it happen? They were careful; he was on testosterone patches. It shouldn't have happened, yet, somehow, it did.

So much was going on in his head that he couldn't remember what he was doing. "U-uh... Sorry, what did you say?"

"You're not pregnant."

"What?" he echoed, voice cracking as confusion rose within him. "What do you mean? The tests I took–"

"Might have been false positives," Peter finished. "but like I said, you're in the implantation stage. After that is when hCG is detectable. Another three days, we can test again to be sure. Is there any bleeding or cramping?"

"Cramping, yes, bleeding... I don't know."

"Check and get back to me. It should be brown or bright pink."

"I know."

"Only a little, too. Not a lot, like you're menstruating."

"I know that too. Look, Doctor Benton, it's been six days. I'm hot, moody, my pecs hurt, I haven't been sleeping. I've gotta be, right?" John moaned, practically in hysterics. Salty tears tunnelled their way to his gaping mouth, which he licked away.