Three's Company

If there's one thing Hyde's learned since Kelso first started bringing Jackie to the basement, it's that she never shuts up. Day or night, rain or shine, people listening, pretending to listening, or blatantly ignoring her, she doesn't stop.

So to have her storm into the room, flop down on the couch, and begin to tear through a magazine in absolute silence, is a major shock to Hyde's system. What throws him off even more is the fact that, so far, she's lasted two hours and forty three minutes without saying one goddamn word.

He watches her finish the magazine and flip back to the beginning for a third consecutive time and finally breaks. "So … Jackie … whatcha' readin'?"

"Cosmo," she mutters, and doesn't even look up.

Hyde nods, crossing his arms over his Led Zepplin t-shirt. "Cool, cool. Hey … you know Eric and Donna are gone for the weekend, right?"

"That sounds suspiciously like a come-on," she says, narrowing her eyes at the 'What's Hot, What's Not' article.

"I'd have to be stoned," he smirks, and tries to get back on track. "So you're waiting for Kelso, then? You guys back together now or somethin'?"

"Oh!" Infuriated, Jackie slapped the magazine shut and hurled it in his direction. "Shut up, shut up, shut up! God! How insensitive can you be? No, Kelso and I are not back together. It's Saturday night, he's probably off at a party sleeping with whatever slutty blond he's with now, and here I am! Stuck in this stupid basement with no one but you for company!"

"Hey," Hyde says defensively. "I didn't ask you to be here. Door's that-a-way, babe, don't let it hit you in the ass on the way out."

"I am just so sick and tired of being alone!" she explodes, and she is pacing now, back and forth so furiously that his head spins as he tries to follow along with the movement. "All I want is for somebody to … oh. Oh, no. I think I'm gonna be sick."

Hyde doesn't move. He can hear her through the basement's thin walls, retching into the toilet and sobbing softly between heaves. Wrinkling his nose in disgust, he waits for her to emerge.

When she does, she looks pale, not at all like herself. Jackie on a normal day is like one of his acid trips – all bright colors and loud noise, vibrant and distracting, easy to get lost in. Now, her face is tear-stained and makeup-smudged, her clothes wrinkled, sure signs of the apocalypse.

"Jackie …" he begins, hesitantly. "Do you want to talk?"

"Oh, God," she moans. "Okay. You're probably the closest thing to smart we've got in this place, so … okay. Steven … I think I'm pregnant."

"Oh, crap."

Jackie throws herself down on the couch again, this time so that her head is nearest to his chair, and eyes him meaningfully. "You can't tell anyone yet, Steven."

"'Kay."

"Not even Donna. I haven't said anything to anyone yet. I'm waiting for …"

Her pause snaps Hyde out of his shock. "For what? Kelso to grow up enough to be able to accept that responsibility? See you in the year never, Jackie."

"Just shut up," she insists. "I'm not even sure yet, I have an appointment next week, but until then …"

"But you just blew chunks," he says, confused.

"Ew," she says daintily, then explains, "It could just be nerves. Sometimes I get myself so worked up that I get sick."

She sounds like she's trying to convince herself as much as him. And that settles it for Hyde. He stands, grabs the keys to the Vista Cruiser that Eric left behind, and pulls her to her feet. "Come on. The drugstore's still open. You'll take a test."

In the parking lot, she puts her foot down. Or rather, locks the door, hunches down in the passenger seat, and refuses to get out of the car. "People will see me, Steven. They'll know! I can't be head cheerleader if people know I'm … pregnant."

She whispers the last word harshly, as if it's a disease. Fed up, exhausted, and – frankly – curious as all hell, Hyde slams the door, marches straight up to the night clerk of the Quik-E-Mart, and demands the most expensive home pregnancy kit they have.

Three minutes and $4.95 later, he returns to the car, hands her the purchase, and propels them quickly back to the Forman residence.

"Go," he directs, gesturing to the bathroom door, "Learn."

She ducks her head as she brushes by him so that he can't see her face, but he's almost positive he hears a quiet chuckle. The sound of it stays with him, unable to be drowned out by the seven o'clock news turned up to full volume, until she exits the bathroom again and lets the door close behind her with a soft click.

Hyde doesn't know why he feels so grim. If Jackie is pregnant, there's nothing he can really do about it. And it won't really affect him all that much, in the long run. Besides having to listen to her complain about swollen feet and Kelso freak out about being a dad, both of which he can tune out in a heartbeat, he has no real vested interest in the outcome of the test.

Still, he taps his foot impatiently as she makes her way over to him. "Well? What's the verdict?"

Jackie shakes her head slowly. "I'm not."

"You're not?"

"I'm not."

"Well, that's great!" Coming dangerously close to showing emotion, Hyde clears his throat and backpedals. "Isn't it?"

"Are you kidding? It's a miracle! I just … I'm just wondering if maybe I'm kind of a bad person. I mean, I am so happy to not be having a baby. Does that make me awful?"

"I think it makes you a normal sophomore cheerleader," he informs her. "Congratulations on your non-pregnancy, Jackie."

"Thank you, Steven." She sits, but leans forward to clasp his hand. "Really. For everything you did tonight."

Hyde shrugs. "No big deal. Just didn't want to see you sulking all night."

"Can you just do me one more favor?"

"It never ends, does it?"

"Don't tell anyone I thought I was … well. Just don't say anything about tonight, okay, Steven? Please?"

He nods and tells her, "Sure thing, but just 'cause you asked so nicely."

And he keeps two secrets about the night – Jackie's situation, and the fact that he agreed not to tell because she called him Steven and held his hand.