Disclaimer: Well, if I owned MK, DOTR would have its very own channel, would never have an end to brand new episodes, and Johnny would be in it. Key word: if. If you can't read through my thinly-veiled lamentation, I will spell it out for you: I. Do. Not. Own. MK. Boo-hoo.
Summary: Johnny is on-set for his newest movie. He's missed a few calls. An AU drabble one-shot. Not one of my best works; just something that hit me on a whim.
Stretching to relax the muscles in his neck, Johnny sat himself in his trailer and sighed with happiness. His newest movie (Sudden Violence II: Evil Red) was two months into filming, and he had just finished an intensive fight scene. And, after checking a mirror, his make-up was still flawless.
It took a real man to wear make-up, Johnny knew. It also took a real man to accept all the teasing and prodding his wife threw at him in regards to his perfect foundation.
Speaking of whom, he should check to see if Sonya called him recently. She was eight months pregnant and hating it terribly; Jax had to drive her home more than once from Special Forces headquarters when she snuck from the house out of boredom.
Picking up his cell and flipping it open, he saw eight unheard messages in his voicemail. Raising a brow, Johnny put the phone to his ear and proceeded to listen to the messages.
"Eh, Johnny?" Kurtis Stryker, the newest recruit to the O.I.A. and also one Johnny had help Jax to keep an eye on Sonya, sounded worried. "Are you there? Pick up, please, I hate leaving messages. . . . . I think . . . I think you ought to come home. We're not sure, because Sonya's not being cooperative on the subject, but . . . I think her water broke. I'm going to try and get her to spit it out, so don't panic just yet. I'll update you as soon as I can, talk to you later."
Johnny blinked. Sonya . . . in labor now? Nah, Stryker had said he wasn't certain. He was just reading too much into Sonya's temper.
Then again . . . Stryker wasn't exactly a stranger to Sonya's habits. Maybe . . .
The next message started, halting his thoughts. Again, Stryker had left it.
"Johnny Cage, pick up your damn phone! Dammit, why the hell don't you bring your phone everywhere with you like all the other egocentric actors? Sonya's water broke; she's in labor right no-aaaaaah!" Stryker's scream made Johnny pull the phone away, and he cautiously put it back when the screech faded. "Jesus, Sonya, did you have to squeeze so hard—ow, ow, ow, stop hitting me I can't drive if you're hitting me! Johnny, dammit, when you get this message get your ass over here as soon as you can!"
Frozen, Johnny could only sit as the phone continued to play back the messages.
"Johnny, where the hell are you?" Jax's angry voice reverberated over the phone. "Sonya's in labor, didn't you get Stryker's messages? You're the one who's supposed to be getting his hand crushed, not Stryker or Sub-Zero! Get your damn ass over here right now or I swear I'm gonna crush you into puree!"
". . . . Is this thing on?" Sub-Zero, voice uncertain, started haltingly, "Johnny? I hope you realize Sonya's about to declare you a dead man when you return to D.C. And Stryker doesn't appreciate you leaving him to be the one holding Sonya's hand. She already broke one knuckle on his hand—" Another pause as two screams, one male and one female, rented the background, then he began again, "Make that a knuckle and a finger, now. Johnny, while I do understand that patience and control is important to surviving under normal circumstances . . . this isn't a normal circumstance. You're dangerously close to a rather excruciatingly painful death."
Sonya wasn't due for another month. He couldn't believe she was in labor now of all times. Not while he was on the other side of the country.
This was a bad joke. Was Raiden trying to pull his leg? No, not even Raiden would try this. Sonya had made it very clear what would happen if anyone tried to use their unborn child as a gag.
"Hey, Johnny, it's Nightwolf. Just wanted to let you know, Sonya's in good hands. We're all wondering, though, if you're alright? You haven't returned any of our calls, and we're getting worried. Stryker's losing fingers to break, and Jax is heading to radiology right now to check his wrist. You're strongly missed right now; I know Sonya would like it if you showed up sometime soon . . . preferably before the baby arrives."
"Johnny, come on, by now you must have gotten the others' messages," Liu had called next, concern in his voice. "Have you left L.A. yet? I'm not too sure how long Sonya has before the baby comes. The doctor says her cervix is five centimeters . . . You gotta get over here. Time's running out."
"This is Kitana, Johnny. Where are you? Sonya's truly worried; she's refusing to deliver the baby until you come. Please, call back as soon as you get this message. We really need to know if you're okay."
Johnny was struggling to get his body into gear, but his mind was stuck in a rut. His jaw was working up and down, trying to shout to an invisible audience that his wife was giving birth.
Then Sonya's voice startled him.
"God damn it, Johnny! Where the hell are you! I'm giving birth to your baby, and you aren't answering your damn phone! If you leave me with Jax in the delivery room, I am going to make you sleep on the couch for the rest of the year! Get over here right now befo—" Sonya's scream drove Johnny out of his chair, his trailer, and into the street screaming for the limo to take him immediately to the private runway, leaving the phone lying on the floor of his trailer as the message finished, "—dammit Jonathan Carlton Cage GET OVER HERE!"
"Here's your baby girl, Mr. Cage," a nurse smiled at the new father, blushing slightly. When she had chosen a medical career, she hadn't dreamed she'd get so close to a movie star! "Be sure to support the head."
"Thank you," Johnny breathed, handling the baby gently. He didn't remember when he had last taken his breath, but it was a minor detail as he gazed down at his baby. She was so beautiful . . .
Johnny perched himself on the side of Sonya's bed, switching his loving gaze from the baby to her. She smiled tiredly at him, reaching over with a hand to gently brush her fingers against the baby's cheek. "Thank you for giving me this blessing," Johnny whispered to her.
"Mm, and I'll thank you for not holding the black eye against me," Sonya replied, raising her hand to glide over the swollen, black skin around his eye.
Johnny grinned. As soon as he had burst into the delivery room, Sonya had punched him and screamed at him that she'd hate him with every fiber of her being for the rest of her life. Apparently labor strongly affected women's dispositions. "It's alright; I probably deserved it. I should've stayed in D.C., what with you being only a month away from delivering."
"Yeah, you should have," Sonya arched a brow at him. "You left me with nothing to do except watch TV and sneak into headquarters. And since when did Stryker and Jax listen to you over me?"
"Since I told them the one who kept you at home would get paid best," Johnny joked, pressing his lips to her forehead.
"Ha ha," Sonya retorted, tracing a finger around her daughter's forehead. "So, what's the damage?"
"Stryker's entire right hand is broken, and Jax's wrist needs to stay in a splint for three to five weeks," Johnny recounted, giving Sonya their daughter to hold. "Liu, Kitana, and Nightwolf are fine, but strangely Sub-Zero needed stitches on his forehead. How'd that happen?"
Sonya looked down shamefully. "I got frustrated, and threw a vase. Stryker ducked, but Sub-Zero never saw it coming."
Johnny chuckled. "Don't worry, they understand. They're more upset with me than you; they firmly believe if I had come when I should have, they would have been spared most of the injuries."
"Well, it's true," Sonya told him. "Did you offer compensation?"
"I've paid their bills. Since I have a pretty hefty bank account, they claimed that it wasn't much reparation."
"So. . ." Sonya narrowed her eyes. She wasn't sure she liked where this was going.
"I offered one of them could be godfather," Johnny said slowly.
Sonya considered that, and sighed. "Wonderful. The godfather of my daughter will either be a reclusive warrior that freezes his hot chocolate, a brawny Major with a penchant for technology, or a former New York officer with horrendous driving skills. Such a selection to choose from. Maybe we should just make all three of them godfather, just to cover all the bases. Especially since this is the last time I ever give birth."
"Heh, well, let's save that decision for tomorrow, honey," Johnny hugged and kissed his wife, thinking to himself, Best not tell her right now that I promised all three their own godchild. I'm not sure she'd appreciate that.