Chapter Text
Care Package Denial
"Ma—"
"When do I get pictures of her? Are you having a photo shoot? Do you need anything else for my little girl?"
Owen swallows a sigh. The phone sits stuck between his ear and left shoulder as he untangles the large, black spider which apparently is some type of baby holder. He glances at the directions and grimaces. It's just as confusing as the IKEA rocker. "Mom, she's not your little girl."
"Right, she's your little girl."
His heart begins to pound. Muscles tense. Air lodges itself in his lungs. No, he's not a parent. He does not want to be a parent. Not ever. His mother has it all wrong. "No, she's not my little girl, either. You do realize she's not even hum—"
"Honey, did you like the dress and hat?" his mother interrupts. "Does she look adorable in it?"
Buried under the diapers and baby holder in the recent package, there had been a pink sundress with light pink sketched butterflies all over it. To make matters worse, it came complete with a matching hat. He couldn't believe his mother had sent it—not that he should be shocked at this point.
Glancing toward the little raptor babbling in the car seat next to him, he groans. "Mother, this is a velociraptor. Haven't you googled it yet?"
Blue's gaze is currently focused on her claws that she keeps clicking. Her little talons kick out every few minutes. Owen wonders what he's done in life to deserve this. He can't stand kids and yet he's forced to raise a raptor. He hasn't been that bad of a person, has he?
"O-wee, I don't understand a lick about goggles. There's no way I could find it, and I'm not asking your sister. She's too busy with the kids," she replies. "All I want to know is if the dress fits my little granddaughter. Does she need a bigger size?"
Pulling the knife hooked into the back-belt loop of his pants, he positions the blade in the back of the baby holder. Gingerly, he starts making a cut in the back. Threads of fabric stretch and snap as the knife slices through. It's calming work in spite of the terrifying conversation. It gives him something to focus on, so he can breathe again. "I'm thirty-three. I'm pretty sure I'm a bit old for that nickname."
She laughs softly. "Wait until you give your daughter a nickname, then you'll understand it stays with you for life."
"But I don't have kids," he objects.
Owen doesn't understand why she can't seem to grasp that. He's highly annoyed by it. Everyone seems to think he's supposed to be raising this raptor. The damn thing isn't even human.
Once he gets a decent sized hole in the back, he places the knife back in its pouch on his belt. From there he picks up needle and thread he'd requested earlier from the staff. "In fact," he continues, "I don't plan on having kids."
"You've been like that since Jessie," his mother says and the sadness in her voice is evident. She sighs. "Honey, I wish I could take away the pain you still have over it."
"I'm over Jessica, Ma. Have been for quite some time. I just have no intentions of getting married or having kids." It's been three years since he walked in on his ex-fiancee saluting his CO naked in their bedroom. He's pretty sure he's over it by now. However, everyone close to him thinks different and he can't understand why.
Just because he doesn't want kids?
"You used to," she says softly and there's a sigh. "Well, if that's your decision…"
"Sure is," Owen responds and walks to his chair. The little raptor begins to shriek as she loses sight of him.
"What are you doing to my granddaughter?"
He mutters a curse under his breath as he turns back and grabs the carrier. Placing it in front of his chair, he sits down and begins to sew around the edge he cut, making little loops as a new seam. "Mom, it's a velociraptor."
There's a hesitation before his mother starts again. "So, you're not using anything I'm sending?"
Pausing, he looks from the baby holder to the diapers, to the carrier...and finally the little raptor in the pink sundress.
"So, that's a yes," his mother responds, and the smile in her voice is clear as day. "Good, there's another package on its way."
Owen hates his life.