#instant dad

Today is going to be a good day. 

From the moment I woke up, I felt it in my bones. Something good was going to happen today; it was inevitable.

The office receptionist (y/n) had cheerfully greeted me when I came down to the office area of Ghostbusters HQ after breakfast. We had talked for a brief moment before I headed towards ECTO-1. The Ghostbusters had been on the slower side of things, business-wise, leaving me plenty of time to fix up some things about our vehicle. ECTO-1 was due for an oil change, and I'd been putting it off for as long as possible. As long as I had some free time, I could do a couple of small upgrades and repairs to the interior as well.

I hear the faint, wailing sound for the first time as I'm opening the car's hood. I brush it off, thinking that it has something to do with Egon in the basement lab or... maybe it was the wail of a ghost. Could a ghoul have escaped one of the traps and been wandering around the old firehouse?

Maybe though, I'm just tired and imagining things. My imagination can be wild with and without proper sleep. Trying to clear my ears also doesn't work, and the wailing only gets louder. 

I turn to (y/n), "Do you hear that?"

She pauses her typing, straining her ears to listen. After a moment, she slowly nods, "It sort of sounds... like a-- crying baby." (y/n) frowns, getting up from her desk and walking towards the front entrance, "I swear it's coming from outside... you don't think there's a lost child outside, do you Ray?"

I shrug, following her towards the front entrance of the building. Slowly, she cracks open the door, stepping outside the door to look around. 

She gasps, "Ray! There's a-- a baby laying outside the door."

I hold the door open as she leans down, picking the screaming child up. "Oh god-- You don't think it's been outside for long, do you?"

Lost for words, I look outside again, hoping to see someone looking for this lost child. Or, at the very least, a good explanation as to why a baby has been left outside HQ. Instead, I find a hastily folded piece of notebook paper.

"There's a note." Picking up the letter, I unfold it.

The note reads:

 Ray,

I'm sorry I didn't tell you... but she's yours. I can't keep her. I wasn't meant to be a mother, Ray... I tried. I really tried, but it's not going to work. 

Her name is Christina; she was born on January Ninth and is five months old.

I'm so sorry.

Jenny

 "What does it say?" (y/n) peaks over my shoulder. She's still holding the baby, bouncing her through the fussy cries and whimpers.

My mouth feels dry, my hands clammy as I re-read the letter again. This is insanity! It can't be true! Jenny? I rack my brain, trying to remember exactly who Jenny was. Jenny... from the bar on fifth? That Jenny? 

"Uh--" I scratch my head, not exactly sure what to say. "I think she's... my-- my daughter. At least this letter says so."

(y/n) blinks rapidly, a frown slowly forming on her face, "Your daughter?"

"I-- I think so? It's what the letter says." (y/n) readjusts the baby in her arms so that she can read the note. She's quiet as she reads, a small frown appearing between her brows.

"We can't just-- I mean, this Jenny could be lying. She abandoned her own child on a busy sidewalk, for Christ's sake! She's not the most reliable..." (y/n) trails off, her eyes glued to my face as she waits for an explanation.

"I think-- I do remember a Jenny..." The words come out sheepishly.

"Oh my god," (y/n) looks down at the baby, whose cries have reduced to small whimpers.

"She wasn't anything serious!" I say as if that matters. It's clear from the child (y/n)'s holding that a one-night stand can result in unexpected things.

"Clearly," (y/n) looks back down at the note, "What are you going to do?"

"I--" have no idea. Rejecting the baby sounds cruel, but I know nothing about babies or parenting. Ten minutes ago, I wasn't aware I was a father, for Christ's sake. "What should I do?"

(y/n) ponders the question before responding, "Do you want my honest opinion, Ray?"

Nodding, I run a hand through my hair, "It couldn't hurt."

She gives me a small smile, "I think you should raise her. She's your daughter, after all."

"(y/n), I can't raise a baby. I don't know anything about children."

"But you've told me you get along with your nieces and nephews well enough--"

"I haven't seen any of them in years."

(y/n) gives me a long hard stare, "I think you're letting the shock scare you into believing you can't do this."

"What... what should I do? I mean, I live here, (y/n). It's not exactly baby-friendly."

She nods, "It's not, but I'm sure we can find you an apartment... but," (y/n) sighs, looking flustered, "If you want, you could stay with me for the time being. I have a pull-out couch in my living room, and we could go out and get a crib?"

"But, what about work? Who would look after her when I have to work?"

She purses her lips, "I guess I could? Only when it's completely necessary. And I mean completely necessary, Ray, like when you're out of the building or doing something idiotic and dangerous."

I smile at her, looking at the baby, Christiana... My daughter. I suppose I've been a father now for... well over a year. It's a weird feeling, finding out something about yourself you hadn't been aware of.

"Do you really think I could even... I mean, me? I'm not exactly the responsible type..."

"You're better than you think," she moves to hand me Christina, who has stopped crying. She's looking up at me with eyes that strongly resemble my own. A strong burst of emotion surges through me as I look into those eyes.