The Breakdown
Chapter 2-Kara
The rumor was getting around, but Kara was not totally shocked by it. Mike had suffered in private, and they should have been more aware of it. Kara wasn't even sure how he continued functioning. She sat down at her kitchen table, with a piece of stationary, trying to find the right words to put on the sheet of paper. She remembered a time, just after the trials, when she was fairly ostracized by having gotten pregnant while serving on the James. It could have been career ending, but Kara found an odd ally. Mike.
"How are you feeling, Lieutenant?" Mike asked as they both began eating in the wardroom.
"Still regaining strength. Thank you, sir." Kara answered.
"And the pregnancy? Everything going okay?" Mike asked.
"I suppose. Dr. Scott says I am about ten weeks along now. I have been having some morning sickness." Kara admitted.
"Peppermint tea. It helped Christine a lot and I have it on good authority that Bacon has a stash of it. What about cravings? Christine had a thing for cinnamon rolls with Kaitlyn, chicken wings with Hannah and Italian sausage with Lucas when she was expecting." Mike asked.
"I want chocolate in the worst way possible, but Bacon has no stash of it." Kara remarked and Mike smiled in response.
Kara remembered a day later, she discovered three chocolate bars and a bag of M & M's in her quarters. She hadn't mentioned the craving to anyone, even Danny; so they were placed there by Mike, or at least given by Mike. She had savored that chocolate. Just then Frankie appeared with his face covered in chocolate. She could only laugh in response.
"What are you doing, Mama?" Frankie asked as Kara wiped his face off.
"Writing a letter to Uncle Mike. He's not feeling so well right now." Kara answered.
"He gave me my favorite toy car. Can I write on it?" Frankie asked.
"Sure. Do you need help?" Kara asked.
"No. I can do it!" Frankie said and grabbed the pen. Maybe Kara should have monitored him a bit closer, but after he finished and ran off, Kara looked at the piece of paper. In a seven-year-old's handwriting, there was the perfect passage. She couldn't have done any better.
"Get better, Unkle Mike. I love you!
Frankie"
