Baby, I'm thinking it over

What if the way we started made it something cursed from the start?

What if it only gets colder?

Would you still wrap me up and tell me that you think this was smart?

Waiting Game: BANKS

It was a pure coincidence that Asriel ran into Marisa.

His hunt for her had grown more aggressive after he'd been informed of her new state. It didn't take a mathematician to put one and one together. She'd been ardently avoiding him and she was pregnant which could only produce one plausible answer. It would take otherworldly factors to convince him that the child wasn't his. But as his quest for her continued into what must be by now her seventh month of pregnancy, if his calculations were right, his hope of ever seeing her again began to dwindle. It was common knowledge that by their eight month, esteemed pregnant women were expected to enter two months of seclusion until their baby was born and had been safely nurtured into its first month. This custom placed further time constraints onto his search which Asriel could not afford and hence he tried everything in this power to find her. However, Marisa's private line was still a bust and her visits to scholastic institutions noticeably diminished as many scholars remarked on the female emptiness that encompassed the buildings as Marisa, who they'd all grown quite fond of by now, slowly withdrew from public life. All hope seemed lost. That's why when Stelmaria had spotted Ozymandias at the local gymnasium as Asriel exited his usual fitness suite, he could hardly believe his luck.

Fate was really at play.

The golden monkey was loitering away from Marisa who was quietly talking to what looked like a yoga instructor in front of a dance studio. Neither had spotted them. Marisa looked much like her normal self, her hair tied up into a messy bun with some brown curls escaping the mound. She quite literally glowed as her skin, layered with sweat from what must have been an exhaustive workout, reflected the anbaric light. Even in pregnancy, Marisa was beautiful. The only difference lay in the gap between her spandex sports bra and leggings where a sizable bump protruded. Asriel very much doubted Marisa uncovered it bare in a proud display of her pregnant state but more as a method to show the externality for what it was. An unclothed, unloved, unwanted mistake.

"She's about to leave," Stelmaria mumbled and she was right, if the hugs and smiles were anything to go by - the conversation was coming to an end.

It was now or never.

Asriel walked with speedy intent towards Marisa. Ozymandias was the first to spot them and for the first time, instead of hurrying towards Stelmaria, the monkey scampered to hide behind Marisa. The woman's eyes flashed towards him in an instance but it was too late, he was already next to them.

"Marisa. It's been too long." It was an understatement.

The instructor turned around to see Asriel and flustered by the charming smile that graced his face, she stumbled back into Marisa. Asriel quickly moved to steady the woman lest she brought Marisa down with her.

"Pardon me," he started once the instructor was balanced again, "I didn't mean to sneak up on you."

"No, it's not your fault. I'm awfully clumsy." She proffered her hand. "Jessica Martins." She was a typical blonde Asriel noted as he replied with his name and title. She had emerald eyes and a slim build that had been perfected in this very gym. But next to Marisa, Jessica was like a prop to further exemplify Marisa's beauty which shone stronger still in her pregnant glow. Even so, Asriel wasn't slow to notice the green snake of jealousy that had wrapped around Marisa's fair features at the attention he was giving the instructor and he couldn't help but add further fuel to the fire.

"Why! What a beauty!" His comment was directed at the albino peacock that was trying (and failing) to engage Stelmaria in conversation. As everyone in the group's attention fell onto the daemon, the peacock became emboldened and spread its clustered feathers in a grand display. Jessica's face burned a bright red and Marisa had to turn away to stifle a laugh. Even Asriel struggled to maintain a straight face. The daemon quickly flapped its feathers together again realising how huge a blunder he'd made in openly displaying Jessica's internal desires for Asriel.

"Sorry. Oscar doesn't usually do this." Jessica mumbled, her eyes fixed on the ground in embarrassment. "You know what, I was just about leaving. It was nice to gain your acquaintance Lord Belacqua. Till next time Mrs Coulter." Neither daemon or human looked up again as they made their quick escape. Once they'd left, Marisa arched a knowing eyebrow at Asriel.

"What! I couldn't help myself," he offered, matching her with a cheeky smirk.

As they stood grounded to the spot, the atmosphere between them shifted for the worst. What had felt like a reunion between long lost friends rapidly bittered as the gravity of their situation descended. Asriel's eyes fell to her bump, which looked even larger with this proximity, to only lift his gaze to her face again. It was the first time he'd ever seen her visibly tired. She was emotionally exhausted. Her voice sounded so strained when he finally heard it after four months of silence.

"I'm going to go change. We're not doing this here."

For the first time, Marisa appreciated the favourtism policy practiced at Le Grand Plaisir. This evening it provided the privacy she needed as she sat across from Asriel in a reserved nook far away from the bustling tables, creating enough distance to shroud the contents of the conversation that was bound to ensue with much needed secrecy. Marisa had played with the idea of going to the Inventory Room or even Asriel's house but a seed of doubt within her told her that she could no longer trust herself around him. Her lack of self-control had gotten her to this point and though the maximum punishment for her prior actions was already growing inside of her, she still felt the need to take precautions. However belated these precautions were.

Asriel had attempted small talk a couple times but was met with cold, unfeeling eyes. It was unsaid between them but she knew what he did. What he's been doing. The word Belacqua had now fallen from everyone's tongue as tales of a lord obsessed with nonconformity, heresy and - most importantly (to Marisa at least) - the female sex had transcended from ladies' gossip to men's talk. Did she bother to acknowledge what had probably driven him to such desperate, attention-seeking ends? No. Instead she willfully misinterpreted the jealousy within her as repulsion at the fact that she was still carrying the child of this unfaithful recusant; his betrayal stinging like an infected wound in the depths of her heart.

He's been fucking other women.

So as they waited for their food, the silence between them was filled with the French singles that spilled out of the live band on the other side of the restaurant and thanks to her mother's insistence on language learning, Marisa was able to enjoy the tunes in full. Unfortunately though, the songs were all forlorn and set a depressing mood that couldn't be salvaged even once their meals had arrived. Marisa poked at her flamiche, uninterested in the fillings tucked within its puff-pastry and, absentmindedly, she reached under the table to stroke Ozymandias' comforting fur only to be met with the round of her now clothed bump. Her hand recoiled back to the table top in disgust. Oh, how often she'd forget about the grotesque thing that had booted her daemon out of his rightful spot on her lap. She scanned the wooden floor for her daemon and saw him playing with Stelmaria, attempting to hit her paws before she withdrew them from his reach. But the golden monkey lacked his former zeal and failed each time. Both of them were just too exhausted nowadays to even try. Her food continued to grow cold as her attention shifted back to the music. She recognised this tune; it was 'Hier Encore' by Charles Aznavour. His lonely voice wafted all the way to their nook, telling the tale of a missed youth and Marisa couldn't help but think the song was all about her.

Asriel had decided now was the best time to address the elephant in the room. He'd watched as Marisa had grown increasingly agitated as he finished the bottle of Tokay the waitress had left on their table on his own. All the while she would look longingly at the golden liquid, following it on it's journey from the bottle to Asriel's wine glass then finally watching it trickle down his throat in time with the bobbing of his Adam's apple. It looked to him that Marisa stopped herself from indulging not out of any consideration for the baby - their baby - but just so their ever attentive waitress wouldn't catch her drinking. Asriel had, painfully, come to learn that Marisa prided herself on her reputation above all else. Drawing liquid courage from the wine, he took one last sip before he sat the glass down.

"It's mine, isn't it?"

She didn't look up. She just continued to stab at her pastry. "I couldn't say for sure."

"But you have enough belief in the possibility that you saw fit not to tell me and instead avoid me for months," he retorted, trying to keep his anger at bay. Anger wouldn't help solve the mess they'd found themselves in.

"Like I said, I can't be sure."

He sighed, leaning in a bit closer over the table. "Suppose the baby came out without a strand of blonde hair and features in strong resemblance to mine, what would you do then?"

Marisa dropped her fork, finally giving up on the venture of eating anything. She leaned back into the chair and readjusted her position with an exhausted groan, pushing her plate away from her as if it made her sick. She took several heavy inhales and soft exhales before looking up at him but even with her control measures, the blue balls of her iris still floated in a pool of tears. She let out a quick gasp and shot her head up to stare at the ceiling, blinking furiously before any tears dared fall. When she looked down again her eyes had cleared but her voice was still raw with emotion.

"If that happens, Asriel," she paused at a loss for words, "I don't know what I'll do."

There it was. The tragedy of their situation. The 'what will be, will be' notion stung in the air but, despite its acrid taste of finality in doom, Asriel would not accept it. He rebuked it.

"We could plan a fail-safe. A getaway, if things do take a turn for the worst."

Her face contorted into a cynical look as she stressed each word of her following response. "And how could we possibly do that? I'm having a home-birth so once the nurse opens the door, it'll all be out in the open."

And that was it! Asriel thought. During home births, it was only the woman and a trusted nurse in the bedroom. Family had to wait outside. They could use that to their advantage.

"What if we planted a nurse who knew about the situation? A gyptian nurse at that. I know one that works on one of my estates outside London." The ideas came to Asriel at lightning speed and rolled out of his mouth just as quick. "If the baby is mine, we can instruct her to bring the child to one of my country estates and when the child is strong enough, we can move them to Caledonia. I have friends and family there, the laws are more lenient in Caledonia too and the Magisterium has a weaker foothold. They'd be safe there and it would afford us time to sort out things here."

Marisa had withdrawn into a nest in her mind as she processed everything Asriel had proposed. "Right now, I can think of a few problems within your master plan just off the top of my head. Like how the hell the is nurse going to move a crying child past my whole family?!" Her voice rose as she spoke, distancing itself from the hushed level they'd been keeping their conversation at all this time. Stelmaria sat up and darted her head around the open space, checking if they'd caught anyone's attention. Thankfully, the live band seemed to have blanketed Marisa's raised outburst under their mellow acoustics.

"She can pretend the baby is dead. Smother its cries with a blanket, I don't know." Asriel grunted, not enjoying having to be the one to come up with solutions to every problem Marisa brought. Surely, this was supposed to be a team effort. Wasn't that the element of parenting? Currently, it felt one-sided. "I heard a small minority in a gyptian offshoot actually drown their stillborn children in the River Thames; we could use that as a cover. A reason for the nurse to hurry away after the birth."

Marisa let loose a mocking snigger at the idea. "Fine, as ludicrous as it, suppose that works. How am I supposed to convince my mother to accept me using a gyptian nurse? She's already chosen a Nightingale nurse for me."

"That's something you just need to pull off, Marisa."

She scoffed and shook her head in disbelief. "This isn't going to work, it's too dangerous."

"And yet, right now, it's our only option." Asriel shot back."Unless you have a better idea?"

Marisa curled her lip, still unwilling to accept the facts of the situation so he tried again.

"Marisa, I don't know about you but I'm not going to allow my child to fall into the hands of Edward or the law or the Church for them to do whatever they want with them. I'm going to protect mine."

Marisa sat back into her chair once again, her demeanor now perfectly calm and this swift change in countenance shook Asriel to the core. Her pearly white teeth were exposed as her blood red lips stretched into a devilish smile. "You're so confident it's yours, aren't you? What if it's not? What if it's Edward's? Would you be disappointed?"

The manner in which Marisa referred to the baby she was carrying as 'it', a thing, was truly repulsing. Asriel had seen glimpses of this side of Marisa - a cold, detached fiend. He saw it in the way she clutched at her daemon's fur all too aggressively, the way she smiled sometimes (more like a sardonic grimace) and the painful distances she could exact between herself and her daemon. This soulless alter ego of hers seemed to lay dormant in a pool of grim darkness that festered and bubbled with internalised self-loathing and exhibited itself as the malevolent will to do conscious harm to others. In that split second, Asriel worried that the worst hands his child could possibly fall into was, in fact, Marisa herself. The thought was only passing, though.

"Do you want it to be mine, Marisa?" he questioned his vulnerability finally laid bare at her feet. "Or would you rather it to be his?"

She was mercurial. Her features evolved again, this time downcast. Her maliciousness was gone. Her stony armour had been attacked and through that crack the scared but loving girl within the strong, unfeeling woman shone through.

"I think you already know the answer to that, Asriel."

The last time Asriel heard from Marisa before their D-Day was over the phone well into her period of seclusion. Night had fallen as he sat at the island of his home's minibar, servicing himself to a cocktail of any drink that was at hand. Thorold had picked up the telephone, which rang in the corridor, and brought it to Asriel.

"Mrs Coulter for you, sir."

Asriel collected the object and waited for Thorold to leave the room before he lifted the receiver to his ear. It was a pointless act, Thorold seemed to know everything even whilst being told nothing. The wizard in him.

"Ughhh," Marisa sighed, "Thorold's voice is so soothing. Miles better than that Eleanor girl."

Asriel grinned into the phone. "You're the one that advised me to get a new househelp."

"And it's a good thing you heeded my advice. She was a bad egg."

"Was she now?"

They were effortlessly distracting themselves from the insecurity around them. Somehow, whenever they were in each other's company, they were able to carve out a world in the existing one just for the two of them. Solace in meaningless conversation and banter. Asriel was soon distracted from her voice though as he heard an owl hooting in the background.

"Was that on my end or yours?" he questioned.

"Mine." He heard Marisa chuckle to herself. "Look at me. I'm walking about in my garden, running away from my family in my own home. Who would have thought it would get to this?" She didn't wait for him to respond as she rambled on. "Definitely, not me. The dignified reputation I've dreamed of since I was a little girl and worked some many tiresome years to craft, now hanging by the tenuous thread that this folly actually pulls through." A pained groan escaped her.

"Marisa!" he called into the receiver, irrational panic washing over him.

She took several deep breaths.

"Marisa. Marisa," he repeated. "Is everything okay?!"

"Yeah." She drew out one long exhale before properly composing herself. "It's just a Hicks contraction."

"You sure? Sometimes it's not." Unwittingly, he had trodden on a nerve.

"Yeah and how would you know?" she grumbled. "Have you ever been pregnant?"

"I didn't mean it like that." Asriel amended. "I just…"

She sighed. "It's fine. It's me. I've been treating this thing like a parasitic worm for months; it's only in these last few weeks that I've actually come to terms with the truth of it all. Accepted the fact that I am actually having a..." Asriel heard Marisa slump into a seated position, "having a baby."

They shared the weight of their reality together in silence. The moment was both infinitely small and cataclysmically big. How many pregnant mothers and expectant fathers have walked this earth? How many of them shared a similar silence? If they were to amount all the seconds of shared quietude would it amount to months, years, decades or an eternity? It felt like a bottomless fall into parenthood, both of them positively unsure if they would even be any good at it. The child might possibly be better off orphaned than in their care. That was another option, Asriel thought, if it ever did get to that. The silence was finally broken by Marisa. Her voice, a whisper.

"I'm scared. I don't want to do this alone."

It was the first time he'd ever heard her cry. The first time she'd let herself cry in front of him even if he wasn't technically there to see it. Though it was messed up to admit it, the sound of her crying was the purest sound he'd ever heard her make. In its melancholy melody, Marisa's vulnerability and heart was finally disrobed. She was human, just as much as he. Her tears called for the most human of responses from him and though he'd never done it before, Asriel apologised.

"I'm sorry." He apologised wholeheartedly. "I'm sorry, Marisa." And he earnestly begged for forgiveness. "Forgive me."

She'd stopped the waterworks with one last whimper. "Forgive me, too."

"For what?"

"For whatever I might do if this goes wrong because you should know that…, despite it all..., I truly do -. Oh, fudge."

"What is it?"

"The kitchen light just turned on. It's… oh crap, it's my mother."

"Marisa, is that you?!" Asriel heard Marisa's mother cry from the other end of the line. "What the hell are you doing out here?"

"I've got to go." Marisa offered hurriedly. "Bye."

She hung up.