Dauntless

Dauntless: Daddy Dearest (Part 3)

"Goddammit, Camille! I can't keep doing this!"

"Well, you're gonna fucking have too!"

"I have no fucking clue how this goes together!"

"Figure it out!" Camille hissed, perched on the edge of the chair in the living room. I scowled at her from the floor, some baby trap in front of me in pieces. Why the fuck didn't they give these things to us already built?

"These directions make no fucking sense."

"Oh, give them here," She held her hand out, and I slapped the paper into it in irritation. If she thought she could do better, she could have it! I'd been trying to put this crib together for an hour, and so far it had three legs attached to some bars. None of that shit made any sense.

Her face pinched as she looked at it, hunching her shoulders a little. She pursed her lips, which immediately told me she had no clue either. I sighed, knowing that face meant she had no clue either. I leaned back into the chair, defeated by a baby crib.

"Wouldn't it be fine in a box?"

She swatted my head. "It's not an animal, Eric."

"Yeah, but seriously, wouldn't a box be fine for the beginning?"

"Eric!"

"Well, I can't get this thing together! I'm a soldier, not a handyman." I grouched, tilting my head back to look at her. "Can't you get one of these already put together?"

"Apparently not. This is what we got, so we're going to have to figure it out."

"They fucking gave this to us to make fun of us, I swear." I grumbled. "They knew we couldn't do this shit. Someone else is going to have too."

"And who else do we have?" Camille sighed, letting the instructions lower to her lap. Her dark eyes find mine, her shoulders slumping a little. "Eric, we don't have anyone else."

"No, I don't have anyone else. People actually like you." I corrected her, giving her knee a swift kiss where it's by my face. "What about Zeke? Or Tori?"

"You want me to get Zeke to do this?" She arched a brow down at me. "You hate him."

"He's a good soldier, he might be useful."

"Are you going to tell me to call on Four next?" She snorted, but straightened a little. "Although I'm sure he could do it."

"You are not calling Four," I snapped, sitting back up. "He couldn't do this."

"Why? Because you can't?"

"Oh, I can do it," I defended myself. "It's just... difficult. Killing people is easier then this."

Honestly, it was. I could kill someone ten times by the time I got this thing together.

Camille just shook her head at me, handing me the instructions and leaning back in her chair. Her hand was against her stomach, and she looked exhausted. I didn't think she's been sleeping, the kid has been pretty active lately. Lots of kicking, making her pee, he's on her bladder or something, I didn't know. 

She's tired, that's all I got. So tired, in fact, she spent a lot more time napping then screaming at me, so it's not all bad.

I looked down at the paper in my hands. Scars decorate my palms and fingers, from knife wounds to climbing, from training accidents to me just punching the shit out of people. These hands weren't equipped to handle something small and fragile, and my stomach knots painfully at the thought of it.

I didn't want that baby to come yet.

I was... terrified.

I wasn't a good person, not a good role model. I killed people, murdered them, followed orders. I was a fantastic soldier, but not a people person. I was the epitome of what Dauntless should be, but not how a person should.