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Peja's Wonderful World of Makebelieve Import
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Published:
2020-11-05
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838
Chapters:
1/1
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15
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1,095

Grace Notes II—Apocalypse Child

Summary:

Chance gets by with a little help from a friend.

Notes:

(See the end of the work for notes.)

Work Text:


Grace Notes II—Apocalypse Child
by rhymeswithhope

 

 

The street on which Agent Emma Barnes found herself was so seedy that not even bums hung out there. She flipped open her cell phone and found the number from the call she’d received an hour earlier.

When Christopher Chance answered, she said, “This place is horrible! Rats would be offended to live here. Give me one good reason why I should go inside.”

“I need your help.” He cleared his throat. “It’s not as bad as it looks. Really. Just go to the side door and move the loose brick. That’ll get you to the keypad. The security code I gave you will unlock the door.”

“Chance—“

“I really appreciate this.”

“You owe me—“ she began, but he hung up on her. She would have turned around right then, except she was very sure she’d heard something else before he disconnected. Something that sounded an awful lot like a crying baby.

* * *

The clanking, wheezing elevator carried her up to the second floor. She had to admit, Chance had been right about the place. While it was hardly a palace, it was clean and rat-free. And someone had clearly given some thought to security. She looked up at the camera over the door and waggled her fingers.

“Thank God.” The Christopher Chance who opened the door was not the calm and unflappable one she was used to. His hair was standing up on one side of his head, he was barefoot, and the baby in his arms had deposited a nice patch of drool and spit-up on his shoulder.

“What the hell happened? Whose baby is this?” She eyed the infant with suspicion. After all, if the kid was with Chance, odds were it already had ninja skills or a poisonous bite.

“It’s Guerrero’s.” The baby’s face grew pinched and red, and then it emitted a sound like a siren.

“Guerrero’s? You’re kidding. You let him have a baby?”

“I didn’t have anything to do with it.” He bounced the baby in his arms, though it did nothing to stop the wailing. “Can you fix a bottle? I’d like a bourbon, and I think the kid needs some formula.”

Barnes rolled her eyes. “You expect me to believe some woman let Guerrero . . . you know. And this baby looks nothing like him. Where’s all the hair? And the teeth?”

Chance glared at her and padded toward the kitchen. “If you’re not going to help, then get out of here.”

She glanced around, taking in the blankets and toys, the portable crib pushed into a corner. The funk of dirty diapers hung in the air. “When was the last time you changed her?”

“The last time her diaper leaked and covered me with a substance that I’m pretty sure was outlawed decades ago by the EPA. Probably an hour ago,” he added.

Barnes found the formula and read the directions on the can before starting to fix the bottle.

“I don’t suppose you could move any faster?”

She countered, “I don’t suppose you can tell me what’s going on?”

He swung the baby up to his shoulder and patted her on the back. After a moment she released a massive burp, but continued to cry. “Guerrero’s made some enemies over the years.”

“What a shock.” She shook the bottle and tested it on her arm.

“Yeah, well, unfortunately some of them think it’s fine to go after a guy’s family. And for Guerrero, this little girl is it.”

“So he’s taking care of them, and you’re minding the store.”

Chance stared down into the baby’s face with an expression that might have been wistful. “You blame him?”

“Not at all. I did not hear that story from you.” She took the baby out of his arms and settled her in the crook of her elbow so she could offer the bottle. “Does she have a name?”

At that, Chance glanced away. “Mercy,” he said.

* * *

The bottle helped somewhat, and having a drink definitely took the edge off. Barnes found herself on the couch next to Chance while he tried again to get Mercy to sleep. They had turned the TV down low, flicking through channels in the hope of finding something interesting. As they passed one of the cable stations, the sound of explosions made Mercy’s eyes jerk open.

Barnes clicked past that show.

“Wait! Go back.”

“Chance, we are not letting this baby watch ‘Apocalypse Now’. It’ll scar her for life.”

“She stopped crying.”

Barnes glanced at the baby, the TV, and back to the baby. It was true—Mercy had subsided into little hiccups, and her eyes were already starting to close. As Vietnam went up in napalm flames, the baby stuck her fingers in her mouth and went to sleep. “I take back what I said,” Barnes told Chance. “That is definitely Guerrero’s kid.”

But he didn’t answer. He had fallen asleep too, his head leaning against the back of the sofa and his mouth a little bit open.

[end]

Notes:

This orphaned work was originally on Pejas WWOMB posted by author rhymeswithhope.
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