Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Oh no, not here, not now, was Neil’s first thought when he began leaking in the center of the fruit aisle. 

On a list of things not to do as a runaway son of a crime lord, having his water break in a public place was the least inconspicuous. 

Neil squeezed his eyes shut, swallowing numerous times before scouting around to see if anyone had noticed. Then he took a swift glance at the cameras he’d counted when he came in. None were pointed at him, so he quickly stuffed the oranges he was holding into his duffel bag. 

There was now a small puddle around his feet. 

Neil shuffled to the end of the aisle, planning out a route that would have him cross no other people. He kept his head down, but his eyes alert, making his way out of the store without paying. He needed to get back to his motel room. He had his duffel with him, but the diaper bag he had bought and prepped was back there. 

Neil had started feeling contractions hours ago, but he’d hoped they were only Braxton Hicks contractions. If he ignored it, he wouldn’t have to face reality: 

He was about to have a baby. 

He made a detour into a restaurant down the street, stashing his duffel out of sight. A hostess approached him, intending to seat him. 

"Hey. How many?" 

Neil smiled apologetically. "Sorry, I'm just looking for the bathroom. Hope that's okay?"

She pointed him to the restroom with her pen, already shifting her attention to something else.

Neil feigned like he was going to the bathroom, walking by a family's table and snatching a jacket from the back of a man's chair. A few tables away, he quickly tied the jacket around his waist in a way that covered most of the wet patches of his faded jeans. He made an about face, heading back out and moving down the sidewalk. He held his duffel in front to cover what the jacket didn't. 

Neil powered on one of his disposable cell phones, calling a cab company number and giving his location. When the car arrived, he removed the battery from the back of the phone and snapped it apart. He threw it in a nearby trash can before getting into the car. He set his bag in his lap. 

"Hey." 

The man gave him a nod. "Hey there. Where to?" 

In the cab, a contraction hit him and he bit his lip to keep from reacting. Just a few more minutes. 

Soon, Neil was at the motel and he counted out the money he owed the man. Handing it over, he rushed up the stairs outside of the building. He used his key to open his door, relieved to find the tiny room just how he left it. 

But he double checked just to make sure. And then triple. Then he opened the diaper bag, sifting through and grabbing everything he'd prepared for when he went into labor. 

Another contraction nearly took him off his feet. 

Neil dropped to the floor on his knees, his fingers curled into the bed sheets. He pressed his head against the mattress, biting back a yell. 

How many minutes has it been between them? Fifteen? Ten? They gradually got more intense and it was harder to hide his pain. 

He shoved his jeans down, wrestling out of them. Getting undressed with a protruding belly was a chore and even worse now. 

Neil took his things and moved to the cramped bathroom. If he bled, he didn't want to leave any fluids on the bed and receive any questions. So he made do with sitting on the bathroom tiles. 

He used one of the towels to bite down and quiet his screams. The long hours and everything after that was a blur. All he knew was he finally heard a cry and he was holding his kid. 

It was a girl.

Sitting on the cold bathroom floor of a motel with a crying newborn in his arms, Neil knew his mother would beat him for this if she were alive. 

For a moment, he just thought about his mom and wished she were here to guide him through this. He missed her so badly, it burned a hole into his chest. The sorrow was eating him whole. 

He hadn't cried since he was a child, but he broke down into tears, silently sobbing. She died seven years ago, but her voice still filled his head. 

Getting pregnant from a one night stand. Stupid, stupid boy. Foolish.

He numbly went through the motions of cleaning his daughter in the sink, staring in the mirror and not recognizing who he saw. He flinched away from his red rimmed eyes despite having contacts in.

Then he sat on his bed, numb to the bone, numb to everything except the bottle he'd prepared to feed his child. 

Neil sat in a small diner, sipping from a glass of juice at a table. 

He had a baby carrier strapped to his chest and a hoodie tugged over it. It wasn't obvious he was carrying a baby unless you were standing close enough. He hoped she'd stay this tiny for a long time. 

Being a tiny person himself came in handy when he was pregnant. His belly didn't stick out too much if he wore baggy clothes.

He peeked down, seeing the light tuft of hair on his sleeping daughter's head. She was quiet for now. The waitress that served him had cooed 'oh, what a darling' when she noticed. 

His child, who had no name like him. He had nine months to choose one and nothing really came to him. 

Two men sitting at the diner bar were making commentary on the exy game playing on the wall-mounted TVs. 

"Looks like they're sending on Minyard again." 

"Smart move." 

There, on the screen, was his baby's father. And the top ranked goalkeeper in the whole nation was none the wiser. 

It wasn't a shock. He knew Andrew was a professional exy player when they met. Andrew knew he knew when they slept together months ago. Neil was sort of obsessed with the sport. His mom had called it too dangerous, told him to obsess from a distance. And now, exy had fucked him in a whole other way. 

"There's your dad," Neil whispered, his eyes glued to the screen. 

For a moment, he wondered how Andrew would react if he told him he had a child now. He was in Minnesota, Andrew was in Illinois. It wouldn't take too long to get there. 

But then he shook his head. That would be stupid and Andrew probably didn't even want a kid.

He went back to his dinner, keeping one eye on the score. 

Chapter Text

Exy was everywhere. 

Games playing in diners, in bars, merchandise in the display windows of stores, commentary on the radio, the faces of Kevin Day and his blonde counterpart on billboards. 

If Neil ever met Andrew Minyard again, he'd have some choice words to say about the cravings, nausea, swelling and back pain he had to deal with for months.  

He'd adapted long ago to resting in the most cramped positions and living on an erratic sleep schedule. But their baby digging into his ribcage and sitting on his bladder made it almost impossible to catch a wink of sleep. 

He was exhausted and tender everywhere. 

Even now, his body still ached from labor, but pain was no excuse to stop moving. His mother had said so herself, another one of her mantras. Don’t look back. Pain is temporary, death is not. 

So he began traveling when his daughter was only a couple weeks old. They were in a new city, taking refuge in another rundown place. It was them against the world. 

Gray-blue eyes. Pale blonde hair. Ten little toes. Weighing barely anything. 

Years ago, this thought would have been unfathomable. 

His mother had warned him that boys only spelled trouble, that his eyes weren’t to wander and he was not to get physically involved with them. It'd taken a couple beatings to hammer that point home. 

Mary had no idea then that her daughter was actually her son, that he was one of those rotten boys she'd warned about. 

But she'd been right. One night of secrets, cigarettes and pleasure had earned him this. They'd been safe, they'd been extra careful, they'd used protection. 

And yet, those thin pink lines had left him shell-shocked and trembling, curled into a pathetic ball beside the toilet. 

Sure, he'd fucked up. Neil could admit that. But there was no time to dwell on his mistakes. 

He was a parent now. 

She (he still couldn’t think of a name) needed him. 

He woke up several times in the night to check on her, to make sure she was breathing. He’d count ten inhales and exhales. He’d touch her forehead to check for any signs of illness. 

In public, Neil concealed her face from view and bundled her up. He kept her close, never putting her down around strangers or allowing them to touch. He only fed her right before he went out, didn’t give cameras the chance to catch them sitting still for long. 

They never separated. 

What if his father’s men caught up with him and he had to run? He couldn’t leave her defenseless and alone. What if they found her one of those times he’d step out of the motel room or away from a car? He’d never forgive himself. 

Was he continuing the cycle of his mother's overprotectiveness? Possibly. 

The second coming of Mary. Or something like that. 

The thought made his stomach churn in unpleasant ways, but he’d never treat her the way his mother treated him. 

Fourteen years ago, Mary stole five million dollars from his father and ran. Since then, the money had dwindled significantly. In between paying for new identities, hideaways and plane tickets, he had a sad fraction remaining. 

Neil had to think about the future. 

As his child grew, he’d need to routinely buy false identities for both of them. Depending on the contact, forged documents could even go up to hundreds of dollars. He needed to save what he could until then. 

The problem was, raising a baby was expensive; hundreds a month minimum. 

He’d planned on breastfeeding to save on the cost of formula and cut down on store trips, but that didn’t work out. His chest dysphoria chose then to make a vicious resurgence and he subsequently quit before his mental health could tear him apart. 

Baby formula it was. And that wasn’t the only expense. 

He'd spent days turning over solutions in his mind like stones, ones that didn't include giving his only child up. He'd made up his mind, he was keeping her. 

So, Neil resorted to… Well. 

It was deceptive. Some would say a scam. He wasn't ashamed to admit it. He had been taught to do what he needed to survive. 

And this was no different. 

Neil had his kid in the baby carrier as he shopped, strapped to his chest. His cart was full of baby formula, diapers, wipes and a few other items. 

An elderly lady stopped by him, trying to see the baby’s face. Neil subtly backed away, turning his body.  

"How precious. What's his or her name?" 

"Olivia." Lie. Even if she’d had a name, Neil wouldn’t give it to her. 

“That’s a beautiful name. Y’know, I knew an Olivia once.” The woman smiled, reaching out one of her wrinkled hands. "Can I—" 

"Please don't," Neil said politely as he could muster. The thought of anyone touching his daughter made his skin crawl. He got a disappointed look, but she accepted his answer and moved on down the aisle. 

He tore his eyes away from her, smoothing down the hair on his daughter’s head. She made a small noise in her sleep and snuggled closer to him. He placed a light kiss on her head and grabbed the handle of his cart again. 

He was here for a reason. 

The trick was to go to a store he’d never visited before and pick the busiest checkout line during a busy day. Only two registers were open, so people were lined up behind Neil in no time. 

Being surrounded by so many people made him itch to leave, but he stayed in place. When it was time to pay, Neil patted his pockets. 

He paused, then patted more frantically. He muttered to himself before exhaling and looking at the cashier. He put on his most apologetic voice. 

"Oh, shoot. I forgot my wallet. Sorry, I'll just… Come back tomorrow. I'm so sorry."  

The worker nodded, presumably beginning to cancel the items. 

Neil stepped back, moving the baby carrier into view and counting the seconds. One. Two— 

"No, hey, don't worry about it, honey. I'll pay." 

Bingo.  

Neil widened his eyes, turning to locate whoever said that. An older looking woman with a short hairstyle and kind face. 

"Oh. Thank you, but no, I couldn't possibly accept that—" He started, shaking his head. 

She held up a hand. "I'm not asking. I'm paying." 

Hook, line and sinker. 

The line parted to let her through. 

Neil stepped aside as she swiped her card. He kept his eyes on his feet, like this was embarrassing for him. He moved the newly bagged items to his cart, let her buy her own personal items and waited for the receipt to print. 

“Thank you,” he said quietly. The lady followed him out of the store. 

"You really don’t have to thank me. What's your name, honey?" 

"Jason. My car’s over here." 

"Nice to meet you, Jason, I'm Christine." He nodded, weaving through the parking lot. 

“Nice to meet you as well.” 

"I hope you don't mind my asking, but how old are you?" 

"Twenty-three.” He glanced down. “Olivia here is six weeks old." 

Christine smiled at that. "How sweet. I hope this doesn’t sound rude, but… Is her mother in the picture?" 

There was no 'mother' to speak of. Black club clothes, lidded hazel eyes and firm fingers flashed through his mind. 

Neil made a show of swallowing. "No." 

"Oh. Poor thing." 

She rubbed his back soothingly. Neil fought the urge to shy away from her contact. 

His ragged, secondhand clothes helped with the illusion that he was an incredibly poor, young adult with a baby. 

Pity me, they said. Or so Neil imagined, from the way these strangers treated him like an injured puppy. 

Christine trailed him to his stolen car, helped him put everything in the trunk. She told him about her four children who were already heading to college, to enjoy infanthood while it lasted. Neil nodded along, feigning to care a lick about what she was saying. 

Once she was done and the trunk was closed, he faced her. “Thank you so much. I won’t forget this.” 

The woman’s face softened. “Anytime. Here, anytime you need help, don’t hesitate. Okay?” 

She went to her car, grabbed a pen with some charity name printed on it, jotted her number on the back of his receipt. Handed it over. 

Neil gave an insincere smile, taking it. “Okay. Thanks.” 

He wouldn’t call her. 

He buckled his baby into her car seat, waved Christine goodbye and stepped on the gas so he wouldn’t have to see the sweet, motherly look on her face anymore. 

He only felt a little bad, but it was for a good cause. 

They'd get the good feeling of having helped someone in need and go on about their days, he’d have more supplies for his child. 

In a couple weeks, he’d try another store. Another sensitive soul would fall for his lies. 

Neil glanced in the rearview mirror, watching the store shrink into the distance and then his daughter blink awake. He looked back to the road. 

Yeah. 

What they didn't know wouldn't hurt them.