Complete Again (TomTord Mpreg)

Six

Tord woke up slowly, his eye fluttering open as he let out a quiet sigh. The room was dark, no artificial lights bringing clarity to the area.

Tord had just had the strangest nightmare.

At least he hoped it was a nightmare. He had been diagnosed with something impossible, his friends and coadvisers pressuring Tord into something he could never do.

He sat up slowly, grunting as he felt a pinch in his left arm.

Wait.

He reached down, touching the area and readjusting the thing in his arm. He followed it up a bit.

Realizing what it was, his eyes darted around the room, his breaths growing quicker and quicker with terror.

It hadn't been a dream.

He was in the med bay with an IV drip digging around in his vein, in a hospital gown and hooked up to more machines than he thought the base had.

He was still pregnant.

This nightmare was a real one.

Tord quickly sat up, drawing his legs to his chest as he started crying. He felt small, almost incapable of processing his reality as his breathing picked up to a terrified pant. He closed his eyes, resting his chin on his knees as he struggled to calm himself down.

It's gonna be okay, he kept telling himself. You're gonna be okay.

He stayed there, huddled and crying, for god knows how long. It may have been mere minutes, but it felt like an eternity as he sobbed quietly, a hand gently holding his stomach.

He didn't remember changing into a gown. He didn't remember the IV, or the machines. Hell, he didn't even remember what day it was! He must've been exhausted when they came in to hook him up, he couldn't imagine them doing this to him while he was sleeping.

Once he had calmed down enough, he dried his eyes and began to survey his surroundings. A few stray tears rolled down his cheeks as something on the bedside table caught his eye. He turned to look at it, letting his legs fall from the side of the cot as he moved to get a closer look.

A small octagonal pill was placed neatly atop a napkin, the paper labled in crude, bleeding sharpie.

"Take this. -Celia"

There was a water bottle next to it - crumpled, the plastic white from tension - but it was still full.

Tord didn't want to trust either offering.

Celia never told him what it was, or what it did. For all Tord knew, it could just be a sugar pill laced with something deadly. Did his friends really want him to die for this?

He picked it up with two fingers, rolling the thing around as he examined it.

His coat was hanging on the edge of the cot. He reached out for it, snatching it from the edge and stuffing the pill into the breast pocket.

He needed to know what it was.

He opened the water bottle, drinking half before setting it back down.

Hopefully, he could play it off like he took the mystery pill.

Tord carefully peeled back the medical tape holding the IV in place, taking a deep breath before easing the needle out of his vein. It was quick, so it didn't hurt as much as it could've, but Tord still gasped at the feeling.

He spent a minute or two just unhooking himself from about seven different machines, all of them connected to his arms, chest, and stomach. All of them watching his heart rate, his temperature, and his blood pressure. He assumed the ones on his stomach were to monitor the baby's vitals.