A/N: I've been sitting on the first parts of this story for awhile, but I finally realized that the best way to prod myself into writing more is to post these first few parts, get a response, and then let that drive me.
I had an opportunity recently to look over comments and suggestions and messages I got throughout the writing of "The Fallen Kind" and I was extremely grateful for all the support I had been given. My readers and reviewers are just amazing, and I'm in a stage of transition in my life where I can use some positive light and love.
Anyway, more soon. Enjoy!
It had been an interesting but exhausting week. Artie, aided by the Regents, had finally announced that Myka would be taking over for Artie after he retired, something Myka never thought would happen. But if it made them feel better, she would let Artie train her.
Steve and HG were in Ireland, looking for the shepherd's crook of Saint Patrick, with little success. In their absence, Claudia was running interference and keeping up with research and Pete was spending equal amounts of time doing inventory and playing fetch with Trailer while Artie did his best to impart as much knowledge as possible to Myka. It made for long days, but Myka thought they were handling things remarkably well.
That was, until she heard someone vomiting in the B and B's bathroom. Since she and Claudia were the only ones home, Myka was immediately worried.
"Claud?"
"Uggghh," came the weak response.
Myka knocked softly on the door and then opened it, sticking her head into the bathroom.
Claudia was on the floor next to the toilet, leaning weakly against the bathroom cabinet. Her face was coated with a sickly sheen of sweat and she was a pale shade of green. The last time Myka had seen Claudia look so ill, she had been unconscious as Artie tried to use Rheticus' Compass to bring Joshua back from an inter-dimensional rift.
Myka hurried into the bathroom and wet a washcloth, then knelt down on the bathmat next to Claudia and wiped her face. "Better?"
"Thanks," Claudia whispered through cracked lips. "That feels nice."
Myka realized Claudia was still in her pajamas. "Have you been in here all night?"
"Yeah."
"You need to go back to bed," Myka said, taking charge in her usual manner. "I'll get you some ginger ale and toast."
"No, no," Claudia protested, her face going a darker shade of green. She gagged and leaned over the toilet, retching.
"Claud, you're really sick," Myka said, worried. "I'm going to call Artie."
"No!" Claudia practically yelled, and tried to get up off the floor. "Please don't tell Artie."
"Claudia, he'll understand," Myka said, reaching for her Farnsworth. "Everyone gets sick now and then. It'll be all right."
Claudia tried to say something, but her stomach rebelled again and she leaned over the toilet, gagging and retching.
"Myka, you're late" were Artie's first words.
"I know," Myka said. "But I'm here with Claudia, and she's really sick."
"What?" Artie snapped to attention.
"She's been throwing up all night," Myka said.
"Let me see," Artie said, his tone gruff and authoritative.
Myka tilted the Farnsworth so Artie could see Claudia, sweaty and pale on the floor. The older man muttered something that could have been an epithet or a prayer. "I'm going to call Vanessa," he said as Myka turned the Farnsworth back to her. "Try to get some water or ginger ale in her, and we'll meet you at the B and B."
"I'm fine," Claudia protested weakly. "You don't have to call Vanessa."
She swallowed hard as a hot wave of nausea swept her, and she leaned her head back against the cabinet, closing her eyes.
"Call Vanessa," Myka said, and snapped the Farnsworth shut. "Claud, I'm going to get you some ginger ale, see if we can settle your stomach."
Claudia breathed in little sips of air, trying to keep from vomiting.
"I'll be right back," Myka promised.
She hurried downstairs and grabbed a cold bottle of ginger ale out of the refrigerator, yanked off the bottle top, and ran back upstairs. Claudia was hunched over the toilet again, retching.
"Oh, Claud," Myka whispered. "I'm so sorry."
She wiped Claudia's mouth with the wet washcloth again and watched as the redhead sank back against the cabinet, looking drawn and exhausted.
"Take a sip," Myka suggested, and carefully brought the ginger ale up to Claudia's lips.
Claudia grimaced, but she obediently took a sip of the cold soda. Her stomach protested, but Claudia took several deep breaths and the mouthful of soda stayed down.
"I'm going to close my eyes," she whispered to Myka. "I'm not dead. Just… tired."
"I understand," Myka said.
The younger woman managed eight whole minutes of close-eyed reflection before she had to throw up again. Myka supported as best she could, offering cool washcloths and sips of ginger ale.
Twenty minutes after Artie's first Farnsworth call, the Warehouse's head agent and his paramour, Dr. Vanessa, showed up at the B and B. Myka ceded her place on the bathmat to the doctor, who came in smiling, toting her kit. "Good morning, Claudia," Vanessa said quietly, giving the redhead a small smile. "Although I bet it hasn't been a great morning for you so far."
"It was a rough night," Claudia croaked.
"This started yesterday?" Vanessa asked, leaning in to take Claudia's pulse.
"Last night."
"What did you eat yesterday?"
Claudia shook her head weakly. "Nothing much. My stomach was upset all day."
"She drank half of the ginger ale," Myka offered.
Vanessa took in the pathetic girl on the floor in front of her. "Well, I'm pretty sure you're dehydrated," she said. "Your lips look very dry, and if you've been vomiting all night, your fluids are going to be depleted. I could take you into the urgent care clinic to rehydrate you, but I think you'd probably prefer to stay here, hmm?"
Claudia nodded.
"All right," Vanessa said. "I'll have to get some supplies out of my car. Myka, can you find a bucket for Claudia? And Artie, will you help Claudia back to bed?"
Given their assignments, the Warehouse team broke into motion. Myka went in search of a clean bucket, and Artie scooped Claudia off the bathroom floor and carried her to her bedroom.
She nearly disappeared in the pillows and blankets, her face sickly green against the blue of her pillowcase. "Sorry, Artie," she whispered.
"What are you sorry about, dum-dum?" he asked, sitting on the bed next to her. "People get sick."
She was about to say more, but nausea rose up in her stomach and she shot upwards, gagging. Artie grabbed the garbage can from the corner and held her hair out of the way as she vomited.
"Kiddo, it'll be okay," he coached her, rubbing her back.
They rode out two more bouts of the same before Myka appeared with a bucket, and three more after that before Vanessa came in with another, larger kit.
"Still?" Vanessa asked, giving Artie a worried glance. He nodded.
"Yeah, we need to get some fluids in you," Vanessa said. She quickly set to work, tying a rubber tourniquet around Claudia's upper arm and tapping possible veins in the girl's arm. Once a suitable vein was found, the doctor slid an IV needle into the vein and attached a bag of clear fluid to the top. "This should help you feel better very soon. And I'm going to give you a big shot of anti-emetic, which should make your stomach calm down."
She drew up a syringe of medication from a little glass bottle, and injected it carefully into Claudia's upper arm. "There. All done for now."
The sounds of a Farnsworth broke the calm in the sick-room, and Artie stood up, grumbling, reaching for his Farnsworth. "What do they need now?"
"I'll go grab the laptop and get ready for research," Myka said.
"Go help her," Vanessa said to Artie. "I'm just going to complete my exam on Claudia."
Artie went, but he didn't look too happy about it.
Vanessa sat in his place and smoothed the hair off Claudia's sweaty forehead. "Have you eaten anything strange the last couple of days?"
"No."
"Been around anybody with a stomach bug?"
"I don't think so." Claudia struggled to sit up, gagged, and retched in the bucket's direction. Vanessa held the bucket and waited for the spasm to pass.
"Any chance you could be… pregnant?" the doctor asked, speaking the last word delicately.
If it was possible, Claudia went a whiter shade of pale, and Vanessa thought the girl was going to pass out then and there.
"Just a thought," the doctor said hurriedly.
"No," Claudia groaned, and Vanessa thought she was giving a negative answer to the question.
"Well, then that's out of the way. Maybe it's just…"
"No," Claudia interrupted, and reached for the bucket again. It was a false alarm, though, and the girl's pale face was sweaty but resolved as she straightened up. "No… that makes sense."
And then she felt nauseous again. "Oh, God, it's real, isn't it?"
"Lean back," Vanessa suggested. "You look like you're going to pass out."
"I feel like I'm dying," Claudia said. "I'm not dying, am I?"
"No, sweetheart," Vanessa said, giving Claudia a smile. "No, although I bet it feels like it."
Claudia let out a shaky breath and lay back against the pillow. "I really just thought I had the flu, but then I did some thinking, and…"
"And it's not the flu," Vanessa said.
Claudia nodded slowly, and then an anxious expression crossed her face. "Oh, God, what am I going to tell Artie? He's going to kill Steve."
"Steve?" Vanessa asked. "Is the father?"
"Well, it's either Steve or a second Immaculate Conception, and even though we work in the Warehouse…" Claudia rolled her eyes.
"I get the picture," Vanessa said, and patted the girl's hand. "Don't worry about Artie. I predict that he will be extremely angry at first, and then he'll get over it."
"It's the anger I'm not looking forward to," Claudia said. She felt sleepy.
"Get some rest," Vanessa said, seeing Claudia's eyes droop closed. "There will be plenty of time for talking later."
She closed Claudia's bedroom door behind her.
Myka was in the hallway, looking worried.
"Agent Bering," Vanessa said. "Can I help you with something?"
"She's pregnant, isn't she?" Myka asked.
Vanessa thought about lying, but Myka was extremely perceptive, and anyway, there was no point. The Warehouse's family was going to have to know sooner or later. "Yes. And she needs her friends around her now more than ever."
It was a sappy sentiment, but Myka knew the doctor's heart was in the right place.
When Claudia woke up again, light was slanting across the room in long chunky rays. A quick check of her watch confirmed that she had slept through the rest of the morning and part of the afternoon; it was now three-thirty.
And Myka was sitting in the armchair in the corner of her room, reading.
Claudia sat up slowly. "Good book?" she rasped out. Her throat hurt.
"It's all right," Myka said. "I've read better."
She put the book down and looked seriously over at Claudia. "How do you feel?"
"Honestly? Like I took a ride in the back of a cement mixer," Claudia said.
"How's the nausea?"
"Still extremely nauseating," Claudia said. "I thought Dr. Vanessa's medicine was supposed to fix all that."
"Your stomach's probably icky because it's empty," Myka said. "I brought you some more ginger ale and some dry toast."
"Thanks," Claudia said, touched.
Myka picked up a plate from beside the chair and brought it over to Claudia, sitting down on the bed. "So… how are you going to tell Steve?"
Claudia took a careful bite of the toast and chewed thoughtfully. "I was thinking I'd just slip it into our next Farnsworth chat. 'No, the shepherd's crook wouldn't be causing floods, just infestations of snakes. And by the way, I'm pregnant.'"
She swallowed and took a drink of the ginger ale. "Artie can't kill him if he's still in Ireland looking for an artifact. And with any luck, the artifact will kill him before he can get back here and get killed by Artie. Good thing we got him off the metronome, huh?"
"Claudia, why do you think Artie's going to kill Steve?" Myka asked.
Claudia looked down at the toast. Her stomach was churning again. "Well, Artie thinks of himself as my father. And countless movies and TV shows have shown me that, generally, over-protective fathers react murderously towards the man they believe 'sullied' their beautiful daughters."
She pushed the toast towards Myka. "Please take that away. I can't look at it anymore."
Myka quickly grabbed the toast plate and set it on the floor. Claudia sighed in relief. "Thank you."
"You can't tell him by Farnsworth," Myka said.
"I know," Claudia said. "It was a joke. Apparently not a very good one, but I've been throwing up a lot and I'm probably not quite right in the head."
She closed her eyes. "Oh, God, and I have to tell Joshua. And Pete, and HG, and…"
"Slow down," Myka said. "You don't have to tell anyone right now. I know, and Dr. Vanessa knows, and until you start feeling better, there's no need for anyone else to know."
But Claudia had passed the point of sheer exhaustion and was completely losing it. "We can't have a baby here, Myka. Somebody almost dies every week! And what if – what if it's not normal? What if an artifact got to it and it's going to have two heads? I was doing inventory two days ago! And…"
Her face went sweaty and pale again, and Myka held up the bucket. Claudia retched and then appeared to calm herself.
Myka rubbed her back. "Deep breaths, Claud. Deep breaths."
"I'm okay. I'm okay," Claudia said after a moment. "Oh, God, no I'm not!"
"Deep breaths," Myka coached.
"I'm so scared, Myka," Claudia whimpered. "I'm an idiot! I'm only good at breaking laws! I never went to college – hell, I never went to most of high school! I wore Volta's lab coat! Willingly! I can't raise a child!"
Myka put her hands on Claudia's shoulders. "Listen," she said. "Whatever happens, even if Artie kills Steve or Bronzes him or sends him to Outer Siberia, you will not have to do this alone. We're family, and we take care of each other."
Claudia sniffled, and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand.
"And so you never went to college," Myka said. "So you wore Volta's lab coat. Here's the thing, Claud – you're brilliant. You're kind, you're understanding, you're funny, you're talented in so many ways. How could these things not be the kind of things that get passed on? Honestly, if anyone was going to bring a kid into this family, I'd pick you and Steve in a heartbeat."
"Really?"
"Really," Myka said.
Claudia put one hand to her belly. She knew it was ridiculous, but she could swear she felt something – a light, maybe, or a pulse – something greater than herself. For a moment her head swam and there was a loud roaring noise in her ears, but then she stabilized, blinking tears from her eyes. "So what now?" she asked Myka, her voice sounding impossibly far away.
"Now?" Myka smiled. "Now we start thinking of artifacts that'll protect Steve when Artie hears about this."
Claudia laughed, and for the first time since the night before, she felt calm.
