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Six days ago I'd been barely alive. "I can't remember."
He raised his eyebrows at that, but didn't question. He knew I was Directorate. Knew some things just had to be accepted without question. He clasped his hands in front of him. "Of course, given that you are no longer taking the drug, I would envisage the effects will not last very-long. A last burst, perhaps, before infertility."
I blinked, and suddenly his words hit me. Ohmygod. I could have kids. I was fertile, however briefly. I felt like screaming. Dancing. Running through the building shouting the news.
"Of course," he said, his voice full of a sternness that somehow kept me anchored, "we will have to keep a close eye on what is happening, and run weekly tests. If you do become pregnant, it might mean hospitalization, as we cannot predict how your body, with the changes it is undergoing, will react."
I didn't care if I had to be hospitalized the whole nine months. Not if it meant having a child at the end of it. I shifted on my seat, and had to resist the impulse to ring Rhoan and tell him the news. God, he'd be over the moon!
"And," the doctor continued, "because you have such a narrow margin of fertility and will need to ensure maximum opportunity for pregnancy, you will have to watch your body's chemical and physical changes, and ensure the sexual act occurs during hours of peak receptiveness."
"And the monitoring involves... ?"
"These days, it involves nothing more tedious than wearing a small monitor under your skin. It'll tingle softly to warn you when a peak has been reached."
I nodded, and wondered if I was grinning like a fool.
"Remember though, that even this machine cannot guarantee conception. It may be that you will not fall pregnant, especially given your history. There is never any certainties when it comes to life, even in this day and age."
"I have a chance, Doc. That's all I wanted."
He nodded. "Then you wish to have the monitor implanted immediately?"
I opened my mouth to say, "Yes, of course," but the words froze somewhere in my throat as his earlier words hit me. The experimental drug you were given has actually achieved its aim. The same experimental drug that had changed the very cell structure of past half-breed recipients. The same drug that, even now, could be changing my body in unknown ways.
Oh, fuck.
I closed my eyes, and rubbed them wearily. "I need to think about all this," I said slowly. "As much as I want to rush into having a kid, there are other considerations."
He nodded. "Just remember that it is a small window, and time is of the essence if you wish to attempt conception."
Like I didn't know that. I stood. "I just need a little time to think about it."
He studied me for a moment, eyes full of understanding. "I'll be here until at least nine-thirty tonight. Ring me if you come to a decision or want to discuss things further. Other than that, we'll make your next appointment for tomorrow, same time. Will twenty-four hours be enough?"
Twenty-four hours to decide whether or not I should risk following a long held dream? God, no. But I nodded, and left, and was in such a daze that the elevator ride back down to the ground didn't even stir my usually fragile stomach.
The doors opened, and Quinn was standing there, expression concerned as he reached out and gently cupped my elbow. "Are you all right?"
My laugh was shaky. "Yeah. Just got some wonderful news."
He frowned. "Then why are you as white as a sheet and shaking?"
"I'm scared of tall buildings, remember?"
"I remember. But I also know you're lying." He hesitated, his dark gaze boring into mine, as if trying to reach my soul. "There was a time you trusted me."
I still trusted him. I just needed to think about things first, before I told anyone. But I couldn't think here. Couldn't decide here. I rubbed my hand across my eyes again. They burned, as if filled with unshed tears. "Can you drop the questions and just drive me to Mt. Macedon?"
The elevators doors tried to close. Quinn put a hand against them and said, "Why?"
"Because I have a decision to make, and I think better when I'm running through trees." And Mt. Macedon was the least developed of the big parks that surrounded metropolitan Melbourne.
He stared at me a minute longer, then his grip tightened on my elbow, and he led me out of the building.
The strength of the sun was waning into dusk, and the wind carried the chill of the storm predicted to hit later this evening. I glanced up, watching the clouds race across the pink tinted sky. The wolf within me hoped it did rain, because there was nothing more refreshing, more isolating, and more primordial than racing the thunder of a storm through rain-lashed trees.
We climbed into the car and headed for Mt. Macedon. Quinn didn't say anything, and for that, I was grateful. My thoughts were a mess, going fifty different ways, and right then, I didn't have a hope of coping with any sort of conversation.
