Chapter Text
Malik woke alone to a cold bed. She sat up, rubbing her eyes tiredly and looking around the room. The pilot had never really noticed how much space Adam left behind until now.
This pregnancy thing was really messing her up. She couldn't sleep, yet woke up at odd hours. Add that to the morning sickness that definitely wasn't just confined to mornings and the most ridiculous cravings and mood swings; she was surprised Adam was even able to deal with her, much less keep up with her.
But that was how being married and expecting a kid worked. Probably.
Slowly, she swung her legs around and off the bed, standing carefully so she didn't overbalance herself. Another night of nursing a glass of water for an hour or so before she could try to attempt to fall asleep again. Dreaded routine.
Adam was usually asleep next to her - but not tonight. Sarif had kept him to help plan some sort of event, and of course, after everything, security presence would be even tighter than ever, especially with the level of paranoia her boss had developed following the train wreck of events that had culminated into the Panchaea incident. This was the reason why Adam hadn't been home yet, she hoped, and not because he'd been caught up in some conspiracy, or, God forbid, been hurt at Sarif Industries. Both the former and the latter were pretty unlikely, the latter especially since she would've heard about it by now - but she'd come to expect the unexpected, particularly because both had happened within at least six months of each other.
There was a light tink of glass against a table as she made her way to the living room. That was probably him. From the sound of it, he'd just gotten home. Good - she'd have someone to chat with for that hour.
But as she neared the room - no, it actually looked like he'd been there for a while. His coat was draped over the back of the couch, and the interface for all the automated stuff in the apartment was dark - he'd definitely been home for at least 15 minutes, if not more.
Adam was sitting on the couch, back facing her. She watched him pick up a glass - of water, thankfully, knowing he wasn't quite drinking his troubles away like he used to - and bring it halfway to his lips before setting it down again, sighing and putting his hands over his face.
"Adam," She said softly, not wanting to startle him, "are you alright? How long've you been back?"
He jolted upright, glancing just over his shoulder. "...I'm fine," He said, after a moment's hesitation, "not too long. Didn't wanna wake you up."
Something was seriously wrong. Maybe it was the tone of his voice, or maybe just intuition. She walked to the front of the couch, sitting and cupping his face in her hands. "You're not fine."
He was trying his best to hide his expression, but little details gave it away - a subtle crease in his brow and a slightly more pronounced grimace. Not too different from his normal expression, but by now she could tell. She wasn't sure how long he'd really been here, but she hoped he hadn't been alone with his thoughts for too long. She pressed her forehead against his own, giving him a reassuring smile.
"What's wrong?"
He sighed, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her into a tight hug. He stayed there for a moment too long for it to be just a normal, passive hug. The fact that he was (a little less than obviously) upset pushed it even further.
Malik had never seen him like this before - probably to keep up that damn macho vigilante justice image everyone seemed to have of him. But also because he'd never been too lost before. Sure, he'd been at death's door and back, and given augmentations that, frankly, he had no need or want for, but he'd always had a reason for keeping his emotions centered towards anger and guilt and vengeance.
But never sadness. What kind of head of security loses it whenever someone or something was harmed? Yes, Megan probably counted, but that more or less fell into vengeance, and then anger following Panchaea. And quite frankly, she'd never seen him this...alone.
Adam pulled away, hands lingering for a moment at her waist before breaking away. "What did the doctor say?" He said quietly, eyes flickering towards the bump she'd been carrying for a few months now.
Instinctively, she put a hand to it, a spark of excitement lighting. He hadn't been there with her - and though she resented Sarif a little bit for pulling her husband away when she was supposed to have her first ultrasound (in Sarif's defense, he did send a rather long apology email, along with an even longer phone call, though she still didn't appreciate it), at least this would cheer him up.
"...There's three of them."
He blinked, then his eyes widened, leaning back as he processed the information completely. "I...three?"
"Triplets. They're not sure if they're identical, but for sure there's three."
Suddenly he looked away, closing his eyes, resting one of his hands on her own. Instantly, she was worried. This was the exact opposite of the reaction she expected.
And then, finally:
"What if I'm not cut out for being a father, Faridah?"
No. No, this was not what he was thinking about this entire time. She hoped it wasn't what he'd been thinking the whole time. No wonder he'd been so upset. With the mess his parentage was and how he'd found out about it, he had a reason to be concerned.
"Don't say that." She said sharply, moving him back to face her, though gently. "Don't you dare. You are going to be a terrific father, Adam. What are you worrying about?"
"What if I hurt them?" His voice raised slightly in alarm, fists clenching of their own accord.
"You haven't hurt me. You saved me. You're the only reason I'm right here, right now, talking to you about our kids." She pressed her lips against his forehead, feeling him give a shaky sigh at the movement. "I trust you. And so will they. That's what makes the difference."
He didn't respond, just stared at her, jaw tightening briefly. She stroked his hair gently, like she usually did when he woke from the fleeting nightmares he still had. Inwardly, she hoped the movement was still as reassuring here as it was in those situations.
This was one of the things he couldn't punch his way through - his self-doubt and ambivalence when it came to just the hopefully mostly normal, domestic life that they'd committed to. But she damn sure knew that this was one thing he could handle.
"...Come to bed, Spy Boy. It's cold without you there."
"...Alright."