DISCLAIMER: Scarecrow and Mrs. King are the property of Warner Brothers and Shoot the Moon Productions. My use of these characters is intended purely for entertainment, a few laughs and maybe a sigh or two
Title: Great Expectations 7/?
Author: Merel Inglis
Time Frame: Takes place after the show ended, the marriage is common knowledge
Summary: We know he can shoot with deadly accuracy, drop-kick a KGB agent in to the next day without mussing his hair, and bootleg his 'vett into any parking space in DC. But how will the charming and dashing Lee Stetson face the adventures of becoming a
father?
Rating: G
Archive: Fine, but ask first
Feedback: You betcha; can't get better without it!
Author's Notes: Thank you, Pam, for taking the time to beta-read for me. Your feedback and interest in this story is much appreciated.
Amanda pressed her cheek to the cool porcelain, desperately willing the rising nausea to abate and give her some rest. She'd experienced her share of morning sickness while she was carrying both of the boys, but this…this was simply torture. Morning, afternoon, evening; there seemed to be no predicable time it came upon her. She'd be fine and then WHAM, she'd find herself racing to the bathroom to, as Phillip so eloquently put it this morning, 'toss her cookies'.
"Amanda?" Lee's voice drifted in to her from their bedroom. "Amanda? What..." he pushed the bathroom door open and went to help her up from the floor. "You still feeling sick?"
She nodded, shaking off his helping hands. She turned to the sink, picking up her toothbrush.
"Sweetheart, this is starting to worry me." Lee looked at her, the concern showing in his eyes. "You've lost weight and it can't be right that you're this sick all the time."
"It's not all the time, Lee," she sighed. "And it's not unusual to lose weight in the first few months of pregnancy.
Lee remained unconvinced by her explanation. "I want you to call the doctor, Amanda."
"Lee…" she started, pausing from scrubbing her teeth, a trickle of toothpaste in the corner of her mouth.
"No, no, you promise me." He pointed his finger and his best 'don't mess with me' look at her. At her look he decided to switch tactics. "Do it for me? Chalk it up to being a nervous new father-to-be? Please?"
She rinsed and spit, then turned to look into her husband's worried eyes. "Okay. Okay. I'll call her today. I promise. I have to set up my next appointment anyway." Amanda leaned in to kiss him, but just as their lips were about to meet another wave of nausea intervened and she scrunched her eyes shut and turned her face away from his. Pushing a finger into the middle of his chest she backed him out of the bathroom, slamming the door shut in his face.
"Amanda," he called through the door. "Let me help you. I feel terrible that you have to be going through this. I want to be there for you…share in this."
Sitting on the floor next to the toilet Amanda looked up at the door separating them. "Lee," she sighed tiredly. "In a matter of months you're going to share with me weight gain, mood swings, swollen ankles, varicose veins, stretch marks, and watching something the size of a small watermelon emerge from my body through an opening the size of a lemon. I'd really like there to be some things we don't share…some little bodily functions that are just all mine. Puking my guts out, I think, is one of those things."
Lee's eyes had widened to the size of saucers during her litany. "Well, if you put it that way," he responded sheepishly.
"Really," Amanda rested her head in her hands. "There's nothing you can do. Go on ahead to work. I'll meet you there later."
"Okay." He gave in reluctantly. He kissed the fingers of his right hand and then patted his side of the door with them. "I love you, Amanda," he said with a small, hopeful smile.
"Yeah. I know," came her monotone reply.
The smile slowly trickled away from his face.
To Be Continued