Edward Crichton - To Crown a Caesar

A baby!

I thought getting myself stuck in Rome was crazy enough. Now things were really starting to hit me. I knew nothing about raising a kid. What was I supposed to do when I had to go shoot someone? Let Uncle Wang and Uncle Santino watch him while Helena and I were off on a mission? The kid would be sarcastic jackass in a week!

My head started to swim and I felt like collapsing as adrenaline from both the news and the fight waned.

Somehow finding my way back to the tent, I started working on the zipper, only to have it stubbornly fight me back. Just as I finally yanked the thing open, I heard Santino call out from the small camp fire where he sat with Wang, Gaius, Marcus, and Titus.

“Congratulations, Hunter,” he said nonchalantly.

I turned awkwardly. “For what?”

He looked at his companions like I’d just asked the dumbest question of all time. “Helena’s pregnancy, of course.”

I stared dumbfounded. “What makes you think she’s pregnant?”

He cleared his throat. “Well, when a man comes stumbling back from a long talk with a woman where a brawl goes down, it means one of two things. By the way, she really kicked your ass back there.” He paused while Wang saluted me with some money he must have won from a bet. “You know… most couples just yell at each other, not throw down like that.”

My head started spinning again.

“Anyway,” Santino continued, “it means she’s either been lying to you this entire time and that she’s really some kind of transvestite or… an unexpected pregnancy. But I’ve seen her naked. She’s definitely not a man.”

“You’ve…” I mumbled, before catching on. “You what!?”

“Hey, don’t sweat it, buddy,” he said grabbing at his chest over his heart. “I’ll cherish the image forever.”

My swirling emotional storm wanted me to go down there and beat the shit out of him more than anything, but my lack of adrenaline was holding me back.

“I hope they name the kid after me,” Wang offered.

“Wang Hunter?” Santino asked, meeting Wang’s eye for a few seconds before the two of them burst into laughter. The three Romans were thoroughly confused until Santino translated what the slang word “wang” was as well as what a “hunter” was. The little English lesson barely lasted the time it took for a full translation because now all five of them were laughing hysterically. Even fucking Titus, who rarely showed any emotion, held his side as tears streamed from his eyes. Marcus even fell off his log.

I threw out a few chuckles at my own expense with them.

Trying to ignore the pack of hyenas outside, I pounded my fist against my forehead and escaped into my tent. After drying myself off, I snuggled into my bunk, bringing my blankets up to my nose. I felt like I’d aged three decades.

I still couldn’t believe it.

A baby?

A baby.

I couldn’t help but smile again at the thought.

Mission Entry #11

Jacob Hunter

Tripolis, Syria — October 42, A.D.

Well, folks… it’s been fun.

This may very well be my last journal entry because two very different things might happen in the next few hours. Behind door number one, and a much more preferable outcome, is a successful mission consisting of Agrippina’s capture and our obtainment of the last orb. Behind door number two, and the more attractive game show girl (that’s always how they get you!) is our deaths.

Fun, eh?

Oh, should I mention Helena’s pregnant?

Pregnant !

As if I didn’t have enough to worry about. Apparently, there really isn’t a stork that magically brings children into the world. Well there goes that bubble. Poof. Cue little wisp of smoke. To make matters worse, Helena insists on going on the mission. We couldn’t leave her behind since she’d find a way to join us anyway, and even though Madrina was staying behind, she couldn’t stop Helena even if she tried, despite her size. And as much as I want to, chaining the mother of my child to a pole doesn’t exactly seem like the best option either.

Sigh.

I think I’m going insane. I can only imagine what my blood pressure must be like. Maybe I should ask Wang to give me a checkup…

The human body is not designed for so many fluctuations in emotions.

But anyway, I know I said I wouldn’t bring it up anymore, but this is a biggie. I’m going to have a baby for crying out loud.

And isn’t this what journals are for? Writing down my thoughts and feeling!?

What’s that you say?

You don’t want to hear it?

Fine!

Look at me. I’m arguing with myself in a print medium. Normally I just fought with myself in my head, and that was bad enough. This is getting ridiculous.

As for the mission, we’re going in slow and meticulous. We don’t know what awaits us within Agrippina’s little stronghold, but we’re used to unknown terrain. We also have a full complement of troops with us, and the additions of Gaius, Marcus and Titus helped our odds just that much more. The two former legionnaires were handier with a sword than any of us, and Titus had been training with rifles for years. He wasn’t the best shot in the group, but in the CQB environment we’ll soon operate in, he would do just fine.

All right then. There isn’t much more to say. Nor is there much time to say anything, if there was anything to say at all.

There’s a mouthful.

Well. Wish us luck.

It’s been real.

“Are you done with that thing yet, Jacob?” Helena whispered from atop the sand dune.

“Yeah,” I replied, tying off the notebook and tossing it in my bag, maybe for the last time. “Any word from Bravo Team?”

“Not yet,” she said, scanning the dock area of the complex with her DSR1. “They’re late.”

“You know how Santino likes to make an entrance,” I quipped.

Helena didn’t respond, diligently performing her sniper duties, only five rounds left in her rifle. I glanced over at Vincent, who crouched next to me behind the dune. His rifle hung at his right side by a strap around his neck as he practiced reloading magazines one handed. I’d watched him practice the maneuver over the past few months now, and he was good at it. Every attempt he made to secure a fresh magazine into the dangling rifle’s magazine had been successful so far. I just hoped he’d be able to do it during the insanity of a combat situation.

“Ready to get back in the saddle, Vincent?” I asked.

He looked up at me when my interruption caused him to miss his reload for the first time. He gave me a disgruntled look.

“I’m not so old that you can put me out to pastures quite yet, Hunter,” he reported. “I am not completely worthless.” He smiled. “Not yet.”

I heard Helena grumble something similar from atop the dune.

So far Santino’s little comedy posse only assumed Helena was pregnant. His little joke, as it turned out, had only been just that, and not an insight into her internal workings. After she’d joined me in the tent, we decided to keep her situation under wraps for the time being. We didn’t need to worry everybody.

So, I ignored her.

I offered him a smile. “The thought never crossed my mind, sir.”

He nodded and went back to work practicing his maneuver. Meanwhile, I hunkered down against the sand and looked up at the stars. They were far brighter than any variety back home and there were so many more. More than I could ever hope to count.

“Get up here, Jacob,” Helena ordered, interrupting my stargazing.