Jess Givens - dated to April 20th

[sluttylyingliar]

It's really, really not supposed to happen this way. Rachel has tried (sort of) to cut down the whining about this Wild Westcrap because it's about the happiest she's seen Raylan in pretty much ever but still. Birth? Without electricity? In the DESERT or whatever this is supposed to be? There are like, rattlesnakes around. And ghosts...maybe. And that clniic is not sterile and there aren't any modern drugs and these dresses are ridiculous and heavy and she can't breathe she's so pregnant.

Honestly, she should have known this would happen in the four seconds a day Raylan and Danny leave her by herself. Her back had been hurting all night but she had written it off to the lumpy mattress and somehow also forgot to mention the shooting pains that in restrospect were coming every ten minutes or so. She'd sent Raylan on with an assurance she was fine and all she needed was a soak in the bath (iron tub thing) and that she didn't need Danny to supervise. It's clear to her, now, that she should never be allowed to make the decisions every again because the second she stepped out of that tub, her water broke and it was very clear what was happening. And that is what happening very quickly.

She'd managed to scramble into one of those weird underdresses, not giving two shits how much the world was seeing and carefully made her way outside, her guts writhing and back not too painful to straigten. She squints against the bright, hot sun and pads barefoot out into the path.

"Help," she croaks out, arm firm around her belly like maybe she can catch the kid if he falls out right here in the dirt. "Shit, someone help!"

Another wave of pain sends her stumbling down to her knees, cursing loudly and creatively as she tries and fails not to panic. Two seconds in and she's already screwed this up.

Comments

[zuckered]

"If everyone did what they were genetically predisposed to do, the world would be a very different place," Mark says, his voice clipped, but quiet. He doesn't care to argue the point overly much. He can't guarantee how he'll act if things really draw that close to the line, and he doesn't want to speculate on it besides. Rachel will be fine, Rachel will get to the clinic (or its Western equivalent) with time to spare now that Mark's at her side, and maybe he should be concerned about the fact that all of her friends somehow managed to let her be so far alone when so far along, but it's a bit late to yell at anyone, and a bit late for feeling guilty himself. "Besides, I bet there's some friendship gene that makes me more inclined to save a good friend than any kind of kid, no matter how wide-eyed and adorable."

[sluttylyingliar]

That actually gets a laugh out of her, mostly because it kind of makes sense.

"Yeah, well, you've got me there," she snorts, sweaty hand bunching in the fabric of his sleeve. "I'd probably want to save you over some baby I didn't know, too."

[zuckered]

"See?" Mark immediately replies, and there's triumph in his voice, even if he's sure that this particular battle is far from over. It looks like he can spot the clinic in the distance, though, and if it's within viewing range, then it can't be long before he manages to haul her there. Or so he hopes. Were he superstitious, this is where he'd knock on wood.

Sadly, for all the wooden stables around, there isn't a true all that near in sight.

"And that got a laugh out of you, too. If you can laugh during labor, I think you're fine," Mark snorts, a nervous grin playing at his lips.

He hopes he's right.