Chapter Text
On the twelfth hour of the first day of October 1989, 43 women around the world gave birth. This was unusual only in the fact that none of these women had been pregnant when the day first began.
~~~~
Mr. Johnson’s baton swung back and forth in a repetitive motion several times before stopping and cutting off the band’s attempt at their newest pep band piece. Mary had lost count of how many measure’s they’d been through at least 10 measures ago and had given up on trying to catch up again when Mr. Johnson’s voice snapped her out of her reverie. “Again. This time I want to just hear the trumpets at measure 15.”
Mary sighed and went back to absentmindedly scanning her music. She played flute, and the trumpets would take at least a few minutes before they got this section cleaned up.
About halfway through the trumpets playing through their segment, Mary felt a sudden, painful, tugging sensation in her stomach, as though it was being pulled on by a million hands. At first the sensation was just a minor tingling, before quickly escalating to excruciating pain, it wasn’t long before she began to scream, drawing the attention of everyone in the band room.
Several voices began echoing in a cacophony of noises and confusion, most simply wanting to know what was happening. Mr. Johnson’s voice echoed above the rest, loud and impossible to ignore, “Someone call an ambulance, now!”
The next couple minutes passed in a blur of pain and confusion, but the end result was even more confusing. By the end of the ordeal, not ten minutes had passed since the beginning of the incident, and Mary was holding her newborn son, who was wailing even louder than she had been during her sudden pregnancy.
~~~
“Who’s is it?” Back at her home, Mrs. Griffon, Mary’s mother yelled at her daughter, “Who did you do it with?”
“I don’t know!” Mary screamed right back. “I don’t know, didn’t you read the report? One minute everything was normal, and the next…”
“Well, we can get a DNA test, see who’s responsible.” Her mother still looked angry, but seemed to have accepted the facts when the doorbell suddenly rang.
“Greetings, Mrs. and Ms. Griffon. Do you mind if I step inside? It is awfully windy out here.” The man had a clipped, business-like tone and a thick British accent, dressed in a navy blue, striped suit, with a long white mustache and short beard. A short distance behind the man, on the sidewalk, was another man, who, contrary to the elaborate attire of the older man on the porch, was wearing a simple black suit with no tie.
“Of course, please, come in,” Mrs. Griffon enthusiastically waved the man into the house as though he was sent straight from the almighty. The man seated himself in the chair in the living room, before beckoning the Griffons to sit as well, as though this was his house, rather than theirs.
“My name, is Sir Reginald Hargreeves,” the man said in the same clipped voice he’d used in his greeting. “I've heard that you have come to receive an unexpected new addition to your family.” Hargreeves’ eyes twinkled as he mentioned the baby sleeping in the next room.
“Y-yes, it happened during school, I- I don’t know how or why,” Mary stuttered out, shaking from nerves, how did this man know, and how had he arrived so quickly, he clearly wasn’t from Des Moines, hell he didn’t even sound like he was from the United States.
Reginald was quick to respond, laying forth his proposition, “I’ve come to relieve you of the trouble of taking care of a child at your age, I will pay, too. You name the amount.”
Mary’s jaw dropped at the proposition. “What?”
“How much for me to adopt the child from you, Ms. Griffon? As I’ve said already, the amount is of no consequence to me,”
Mary and her mother gaped at him. Money like what he was offering could go a long way. College could be a done deal. Hell, they could finally move to where they had always dreamed and build up their own business. It was an offer you would have to be crazy to turn down.
“No.”
Reginald and Mary’s mother both turned and stared at her, their faces both painted with shocked expressions.
“I don’t want to give him up. He’s my child, and I want to raise him. Besides, is this even legal? To buy a child from a new parent?” As much as Mary was confused and scared by the situation, one thing seemed very clear in her mind: Reginald was not trustworthy.
After a few moments of silence, Reginald spoke again, voice as cold as a glacier. “Are you sure this is the course of action you wish to take, Ms. Griffon?”
“Yes, I am god damn sure! You are NOT taking my child!”
“Very well then. I have one more argument to present, and then I will take my leave.” A small smile crossed Reginald's face, absent of any trace of warmth or kindness. “You can allow me to take the child. If I'm correct, it has not yet been legally registered, so you’d face few repercussions from the government. However, if you remain adamant on retaining the child, I’ll just take it by force.”
Mary shot to her feet, yelling, “GET OUT! GET THE FUCK OUT OF OUR HOUSE RIGHT NOW!”
Reginald slowly levered himself to his feet. “If this is the course of action you have chosen, then so be it.” With that remark, he left the house, walked to his car on the street where the other man opened the door to allow Reginald to climb inside, and drove away.
Mary and her mother shared a look, both knowing almost instantly what had to be done. Her mother was the first to voice it, “Leave anything you don’t need. Thirty minutes to pack, we need to go!”