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Another day, another irrational driver incident.
You'd think that humanity would've learned their lesson by now... and that when police was driving behind, they'd at least make an effort to drive properly. But apparently not.
The car swerved left to right, and Crosshair blared the siren.
"Jesus" he cursed under his breath. He indicated for the car in front of them to stop.
"What do you think it is? Booze, drugs, too old to see?" Mayday started speculating.
"Maybe all three" Crosshair let out a sigh, shifting the car into park as the suspect vehicle rolled to a stop. He glanced over at Mayday, who was already unbuckling his seatbelt.
“Alright, same routine,” Crosshair muttered, checking his sidearm out of habit before pushing open the door. “You take the driver’s side, I’ll cover the passenger.”
“Got it. Good job. You're learning." Mayday stepped out, adjusting his jacket against the cold night air. The flashing red and blue lights illuminated the dark road, casting eerie shadows over the stopped sedan.
As they approached, something felt off. The car wasn’t rocking, no one was scrambling to hide anything, and the driver hadn’t immediately thrown the window down in an attempt to explain themselves. Instead, the vehicle sat eerily still.
Crosshair reached the passenger side and rapped his knuckles against the glass. The other hand hovered over the holster. “Ma’am, roll down your window.”
A moment later, the window lowered just enough for him to see inside, and what he saw made his stomach drop.
A young woman sat in the driver’s seat, her hands white-knuckling the steering wheel, her face contorted in pain. Sweat glistened on her forehead despite the chill in the air. She turned wide, terrified eyes toward them.
“P-please,” she gasped, her breathing coming in frantic, shallow pants. “Baby!”
Mayday cursed under his breath, then opened the door to her car. “Crosshair, we’ve got a situation.” He pressed the radio on his shoulder. “Dispatch, this is Unit 1317—we need an ambulance at our location now. We’ve got a woman in active labor.”
Woman in what?
Crosshair froze.
“You ever delivered a baby before?” He murmured to Crosshair, who just shook his head.
“NO? Why should I?” Crosshair swallowed panic, creeping from low in his chest.
“Relax” Mayday turned away from him and crouched down beside the door, his voice calm but firm. “Ma’am, we’re gonna help you, alright? Just try to breathe. Where's your husband?"
"Husband?" She glanced at them in fear, and muttered in broken English, "No husband. S-s-single-"
"She's a single mom" Crosshair supplied out loud.
"Oh, Okay okay-" Mayday sunk a little lower, "Ma'am have you had a baby before?"
A shake of her head.
"Fantastic, neither does my colleague here. So you're in good company." He sounded a bit pressed, yet still cheerful, "You two sit tight together for a second.”
Mayday scuddled off to the car he had parked behind them, then came out with the fucking traffic cones. Crosshair, while trying to at least be somewhat of solace for the mother, just snarled,
“What the fuck are you doing?” he whisper-shouted to his colleague.
Mayday, calm and undeterred, sectioned their car off, then as if there wasn’t actively a… uh… situation going on, sauntered back to the car oh-so calmly.
“Cross, a word?" he cleared his throat, then smiled at the woman.
Crosshair swallowed, then straightened up to tower over him, but in reality, he felt so damn small right now.
"Listen," Mayday unclipped his pistol and stashed it in their car, "Kid's not gonna wait for anyone. I'll be with the mom and you're my runner."
Then it hit Crosshair. This wasn't Mayday's first time. He never asked about his family either, wasn't his place until he offered, but by the way Mayday seemed so controlled about it all, Crosshair was sure he'd done this privately as well as professionally.
All he could muster up now though was a startled, "This happens?"
"You know, when a man and a woman-" Mayday broke in laughter at Crosshair's dumbfounded face. He nodded and clapped his shoulder, "Oh yeah. More often than you think. At least once a year. Cody got at least three kids named after him."
Crosshair swallowed vomit.
Playing stand-in midwife was not what Cody had mentioned when he pitched him the police academy as a third career.
"Fuck"
"Yep" Mayday laughed, "It's bad for everyone, but especially the mother."
Crosshair's mental state was somewhere between fleeing the country and running into the bypassing cars.
Mayday groaned at him, "You're not the one shitting out a melon so get your act together, okay?"
"Yes, sir." Crosshair nodded.
"Good," Mayday was quiet for a second, then, "Give me your jacket"
"What?"
"I said, give me your jacket. C'mon-" Mayday paired this order with a quick motion of his hand, and Crosshair shrugged out of his police jacket, "First, Call 911 again. Explain nice and easy what our situation is, where we are at, ask where the fuck they are at- I doubt that with this traffic, the ambulance will be here fast enough but we can still try"
"I know how to talk to first responders." Crosshair said clipped.
"Great, Cuz' you're one of them now. You get what that means Crosshair? First responder?" Mayday opened the boot of the car, and Crosshair nodded. Slowly but surely, he was getting aware of the gravity of what he was actually doing here. "Second, You're bringing me everything you can even think of. Water, blankets, wipes, whatever, get creative."
"Why"
"Because the head was almost there from what I could see," Mayday said in a deadly cool manner, and Crosshair made an atrocious sound.
"Oh fuck"
The woman in the car in front of them made a startled scream and Mayday moved quicker.
"C'mon. No time for panic. That's gotta come later. You're okay, trooper."
I'm okay. Crosshair replied inwardly, then nodded sharply.
Mayday dashed off and while Crosshair had 911 pressed at his ear, he scanned the contents of the car for anything and everything he could find.
Crosshair didn’t know how he got through the call with dispatch without losing his mind. His voice was clipped and sharp as he relayed their exact location, the woman’s condition, and the urgent need for medical backup. He could hear the dispatcher’s calm, practiced tone on the other end, reassuring him that paramedics were en route already—but every second that passed felt like scorn to his mounting dread.
In front of him, Mayday was already working, kneeling beside the open car door, speaking in low, steady tones to the woman. He had draped Crosshair’s jacket over her lap, trying to keep her warm against the night air, while his hands moved with the kind of confidence that suggested this was far from his first time in a situation like this.
Crosshair didn’t want to think about that right now.
He turned his focus to their cruiser, yanking open the trunk and grabbing anything remotely useful. A spare blanket. The half-empty water bottle they kept in the cupholder. A clean towel from the emergency kit. His brain was running on autopilot, gathering supplies with a precision that had nothing to do with medical training and everything to do with pure survival instinct.
When he turned back, Mayday shot him a quick look. “Blanket.”
Crosshair handed it over without a word.
“Water?”
He passed the bottle next.
Mayday nodded approvingly, then turned back to the woman, whose breathing had become more erratic. “Hey, you’re doing great, alright? Just keep breathing, slow as you can.”
“I’m trying” Crosshair breathed.
“NOT YOU, IDIOT-”
The woman let out a weak, panicked sob, clutching at Mayday’s sleeve. “No hospital?”
“Ambulance is coming,” Mayday reassured her, voice smooth and even. “But listen, we might have to get started before they get here, okay?”
Her eyes filled with terror, and Crosshair felt something twist in his chest.
Mayday glanced up at him. “Got anything else?”
Crosshair swallowed and nodded. He placed the rest of the items down beside him, then hesitated. “What else do you need?”
Mayday huffed a quiet laugh. “A miracle would be nice, but I’ll settle for you keeping your shit together.”
Crosshair had seen a lot of things in his life. Warzones. Crime scenes. The aftermath of human stupidity in all its worst forms. But this?
This was different.
The woman was panicking, her breath coming in frantic gasps as she clutched the fabric of Mayday’s uniform. “No, no, no, I—I can’t—”
Mayday placed a steady hand on her shoulder. “Yes, you can. You’re safe. We’re right here. Got six kids myself and they all got here somehow.” His voice was calm, reassuring, the same way he talked down armed suspects or nervous rookies on their first day.
"Six?" Crosshair repeated.
What? What type of breeding program was his mentor part of-
Mayday took a sharp breath, “Ambulance ETA?”
Crosshair barely spared him a glance. “Not soon enough.”
That wasn’t reassuring.
Crosshair pressed his lips into a thin line and crouched down beside him, scanning the woman’s face. Sweat beaded at her temples, her hands trembled, and her breaths were too fast—too shallow.
Shock.
Crosshair had seen that look before, just never in this kind of situation.
Crosshair scowled, but before he could snap back, the woman let out another cry, her entire body tensing.
Mayday’s expression sharpened. “Alright, it’s go-time. “Help her sit up!”
For a second, Crosshair didn’t move. His brain short-circuited at the sheer absurdity of what was happening, but Mayday’s voice cut through the fog again.
"Help her sit back, cadet" Mayday snapped at him, and Crosshair numbly blinked.
Mayday pulled the lever and scooted the driver's seat back, and Crosshair moved on instinct, stepping forward and bracing his hands against the woman’s shoulders letting her grab on.
Mayday barely spared him a glance. “You good?”
“No.” Crosshair made an undignified squeak.
“Too bad.”
Crosshair felt his pulse hammering in his throat as he took a step back, his hand instinctively hovering over his radio. Backup was coming. Help was on the way. Just... not fast enough.
Hunter leaned in the doorframe to the kitchen. Crosshair had come in like what... 20 minutes ago? Yet no hello, no shuffling, no reluctant post-work Omega hair kiss, no snide remarks over the smell or the state of the house. And slowly; Hunter grew worried.
His brother just sat there, in the half dark. White shirt, no jacket, back to the door.
"Hey, Mate." Hunter began, "How's the shift?"
No reaction.
"Mate? You okay?"
Crosshair slowly showed him a shaky thumbs up.
Sometimes things did happen on shifts, and Crosshair needed a moment. Or an hour. Or...
Yet Hunter never laid down the instinct of just... checking in. Wanting to offer comfort even if he got shot down. Or snapped at. Or had a sock thrown at his head.
And now it was as if he wanted to vanish in plain sight.
Echo came too, leaving Hunter's safe spot from aside the kitchen entrance. He wandered toward the sink, fetching himself a mug, then turned, "Holy fuck. What happened to your shirt?"
The closer he got, the more he could see. Crosshair’s white undershirt was wrinkled, damp in places, and had faint, dried dark stains in a pattern Hunter couldn’t quite place.
His hands, usually so steady, shook around a glass of water that hadn’t been touched.
“Cross,” Hunter tried again, quieter this time. “Talk to me.”
Crosshair blinked sluggishly, as if just registering the conversation. His mouth opened, but only a single word came out.
"Mayday" He muttered, staring blankly in front of himself.
"What's up with Mayday?"
While Hunter tried dearly to keep the panic down, Echo had pried the water out of his clasp and switched it for a cup of tea.
Not that Crosshair would notice anyway.
He took a deep breath, then, "Baby"
"Baby?" Echo reiterated, "Mate, what do you mean? What the hell happened, eh?"
Crosshair exhaled sharply, rubbing at his temple before he quietly started speaking against the table. “Mayday happened.” His tone was somewhere between disbelief and reluctant admiration. “He took control. Knew exactly what to do. I—I just ran around grabbing things, trying not to vomit or pass out, while he—” He gestured vaguely, eyes flicking toward his stained shirt. “Delivered the kid.”
"Oh," Hunter made a dirty grin, "You're a midwife now?"
Crosshair snapped his brother's neck with his eyes.
Echo let out a low whistle. “Damn."
"Yeah"
Then, "Still feel like vomiting?"
"Got that over and done with" Crosshair shot back, finally taking a slow sip.
"So Mayday got a second career going?" Hunter asked.
"Seems like it" Crosshair let out a short, breathless laugh. “He got six kids, Hunter. Six.” He shook his head in disbelief. “And he’s just—cool with.... that stuff... Handles it like it’s nothing.”
Echo grinned. “That’s just being a dad.”
Crosshair scoffed. “Sounds awful.”
"Mate, you're awfully distant for someone with a kid dangling from his wrist himself." Hunter liked to point out.
Despite claiming to just be brotherly to Omega, there were a lot of moments that surpassed this simple term of kinship. A kid needed a dad. And theirs essentially had 5.
Crosshair shot him a glare. “I am not a -”
“Relax,” Echo chuckled. “Just saying, you survived. That’s more than some can say their first time witnessing a birth.”
"To be fair, I did want to run into traffic" he admitted grimly. Crosshair had seen things he would never ever forget.
Hunter smirked, but his voice was gentle when he said, “And yet, you helped.”
Crosshair huffed. “I had no choice. It's my job. Mayday would’ve been up my ass.”
“Never mind Cody”
“Good Cody, chief of police. Chief of opportunism and secrecy.” Crosshair spat, “Never told me I had to do this stuff.”
“C’mon, as if anyone planned this shit.” Echo laughed exasperated, “You can’t honestly be mad you got to help deliver a kid”
“Pfh” Crosshair leaned back, and the little feeling in his heart told him he was anything but. Yet, a little warning would’ve been nice.
“Yeah” Hunter agreed easily. “I’m standing with what I said though. You didn’t run. Progress for you.”
Crosshair went quiet at that.
Echo mustered him, the little green cadet of a brother, "Now give me your shirt before Omega thinks you've been speared in the stomach."
"Or Wrecker." Crosshair snorted dryly, but unbuttoned it, "I can do my own laundry"
Echo, with practiced ease, pulled out a tub, pouring in soapy liquid, "I know. But I'm the only one here that does it the fuck right"
"Fuck off" but the lack of snark in Crosshair's tone eradicated the malice.
Then Echo opened the dryer, pulling out a soft tee and tossed it toward him. Not his, mind you, but who cared about that now anyway?
Crosshair caught a warm tee, and Hunter couldn't exactly tell if Echo anticipated these things sometimes.
He noticed Echo was doing more of the same for Omega too. placing her joggers on the radiator for after school, or spinning her towel and pajamas for a quick cycle in the dryer when she showered.
"Crosshair!" Omega wandered into the kitchen, rubbing her eyes as she adjusted to the light.
Having peeled herself off the couch, her hair was a mess and her socks mismatched—one of them suspiciously looking like Wrecker’s.
Hunter leaning against the counter, arms crossed, watching him too carefully. Crosshair stiffened a tiny bit and Hunter knew he didn't have a cuddle in him yet.
Hunter made a gesture at the kid, then her childish enthusiasm for her big brother's return calmed, and she went over to lean against the sergeant instead.
But that didn't hold her off from being inquisitive.
Omega squinted, crumpling her nose. “Why do you look weird?”
Crosshair exhaled through his nose. “Thanks.”
Hunter huffed a quiet laugh into her hair.
Echo smirked but said nothing, too busy scrubbing.
“Was it a bad shift?”
Crosshair finally moved, rubbing a hand over his face. “Something like that.”
She frowned. “Did someone get hurt?”
A pause.
Then, with a reluctant sigh, he muttered, “No.” A beat. “Not exactly.”
Omega’s brows furrowed, clearly trying to piece it together. “Then what?”
Crosshair shifted uncomfortably, staring down at his tea like it held the answers. It took a long moment before he finally, finally spoke again—his voice lower, quieter.
"Delivered a baby" he admitted, taking a sip. He surprised himself at the hint of pride in his tone.
The words settled over the room like dust.
Omega didn’t giggle or poke fun. She didn’t pry, either. She just… sat with it. Let him have the moment.
She tilted her head, then softened her voice, "What do you mean a baby?"
Echo jerked his eyebrow, "Well, a baby"
"A real-"
“Ya know, tiny human?” Hunter tried, “You like 13 years ago?”
Crosshair nodded, "Yup"
"Oh wow," Then she nodded, small but certain. She pouted adorably and then whispered, “That’s a lot of stressors"
Omega and her re-using sentences she learned in therapy. Or by Tech. Always awfully pointed. Not always the most sensitive to say. But factually accurate.
Crosshair scoffed lightly. “Yeah.”
And that might’ve been the end of it, a rare, quiet moment of understanding.
But then Wrecker’s voice boomed from the doorway:
“Wait, you’re the first face that baby ever saw? Kid's gonna grow up tough hahaha"
Crosshair’s eye twitched.
Hunter snorted.
Crosshair let his head thunk against the table.
Wrecker just kept grinning. “I dunno. If the first thing I saw when I was born was an angry cop with a toothpick’ that's a pretty grim start to life.”
Omega giggled. “At least they have a cool story!”
"It's a girl actually. May." Crosshair surprised himself that he even remembered that detail.
"Awww" Echo cooed, and got a nudge with his foot.
"Well ye can't call a girl Crosshair, can you?" Wrecker clapped Crosshair's shoulder, and at that, the lanky ex-sniper came to life a little bit more.
Hunter chuckled, nudging his cup toward him. “Drink your tea, midwife.”
Now, having grown curious of the noise, Tech joined, staying next to Wrecker in the door, “Why have you congregated in the kitchen? The documentary had just picked up momentum.”
“Cross delivered a baby”
“Yikes” Tech dryly commented, “Well, If anyone needs me I shall reunite with the source material.”
Hunter rolled his eyes and Crosshair groaned. “I hate all of you.”
And yet, as Omega continued giggling, Wrecker kept making terrible jokes, and he slipped on the shirt Echo had handed him, he found himself breathing just a little bit easier.
I mean, he had survived the night, after all.