Incongruent Symptoms

"We have to leave," those were her first words; she had been frantic all morning, right after the usual sickness, "they are coming, I can hear them!"

Samara took the caramel hand in hers, forcing the erratic woman to stop. It had been going on for some time; instead of the usual headaches, the soldier became paranoid, neurotic, and, at some points, hallucinations even overcame her. The alien grew worried. Perhaps, this was an effect from the melding?

"Hush, I'm here," the corporal resembled the child she had been during their first meeting, meaning that an approach as if to a wounded animal was always the best, and this meant touch; they embraced shortly before the human began sobbing uncontrollably. "It's okay, no one can hurt us, no one . . . ."

"We have to leave Samara," the vulnerable creature repeated, this time more calmly and controlled, impressive for a woman who had been crying seconds ago; was it the mood swings? "I don't know why, but I feel a need to run, flee even . . . let's just leave here, please . . . ."

"If I didn't have my own duties, I would chase after those men," the pain was obvious in those electric blue eyes, but she only held her companion closer, "you have everything packed?"

They went over their old list, to which the human had added fundamentals for her new state. If anything, it released part of the burden the justicar feared. Hannah was still lucid enough to make conscious changes, and her logic helped ease a growing fear of lack of sanity. If an apparently sane human wasn't the most coherent, then insanity wouldn't suit the pregnancy; women definitely lost themselves (their minds, from the humans' part most likely) in such state. That was another thing; the soldier finally came to a decision and accepted the truth about the situation. They were calling it by its name, pregnancy, and she had finally contacted her captain through a secure line with the help of her omni-tool. He made sure that no one else found out, and granted her the months she needed to make sure everything went well, even allowed her to go back to earth. He would try and catch the culprits but without her there, he wouldn't be able to do much.

The only pertinent people whom she refused to call, were her parents, perhaps because they would, and this they both knew well, disown her. Maybe Hannah was even looking forward to that. The only thing that Samara had cared for, at those instances, wasn't the news to be shared by her romantic pursuit, but more that she remained coherent through the conversation with her captain. If paranoia struck then as it had struck at that precise instant, she knew there would be no chance for the Alliance to allow the corporal to remain outside its influence, and leave Hannah exposed to the criminals who had left her with child. Not that the Alliance would see it that way . . . . She shook the thoughts away as they finally left the place, just to have to return for a quick trip to the bathroom.

"I'm sorry Samara, it's just —" as always, the petite human was flustered by her inability to control her own body; it left her speechless.

Before anything else could be said, the cerulean alien took the young woman into a loving embrace, both hug and kiss. "How about leaving now?"

"Yes," the reply was breathless, and left the warrior with a smirk; sometimes, the situations were easier to control.

It was their third trip of the week, but it went with relative peace. The bathroom breaks weren't as frequent, but they did come across some bandits. This meant a problem, or such were the odds. They could feel the vulnerability of the human, so obviously Hannah was the easy target. They had no idea what hit them. Unfortunately, neither did the soldier after she did short work of the criminals. Samara had to carry her the remaining way, which wasn't far and still, there were other reasons to worry. The corporal was still losing weight.

The shuttle took them to a planet far away, where rumors of strange deaths had been spreading, and those who could recognize them as the work of an Ardat-Yakshi, and something told her she was getting closer. It was risky bringing a pregnant human along, but neither could stop Samara from her quest; Hannah knew the risks and consequences, and yet she remained at the alien's side. The justicar yielded because of multiple factors, but overriding everything, was the fact that she enjoyed spending time with the human. It was educative, if anything else. Their new place was the first place she had to force the young woman to eat.

"I don't like the smell!" It smelled as it always did.

"Yesterday, you were begging me to cook this," the pained look broke the soldier's will, and she took one bite, chewed for such a long time, that it didn't fix anything, "you need to eat, tell me if you crave something else."

The blonde grimaced; it had been a while since she had paid any attention to the physical appearance of her companion, but the usually shining mane was opaque and dimmed. It pained her even more when she saw the woman running towards the bathroom, and vacating her already empty stomach. With a sigh, she refrigerated the food, then went into the bathroom and began preparing the bathtub. The preparations were short; by the time the woman's usual sickness left, it was ready.

"It smelled of blood . . . ." The comment wasn't lost, but there was no chance to answer. "Oh hell no, you ain't cooking me alive on that thing!"

"It's just warm," Samara frowned lightly as she dipped a hand into the water, "it's not scalding."

"You kid me not," there it was, the scowl that spoke of mental instability, "I can see the bubbles!"

The seductress wasn't ready for a fight of wills; the water would cool too much. Instead, she offered to get inside with the human. Said creature was already holding tight to the frame, expecting to be forced into a cooking pot. Right then, she had a contemplative look on her face. She wasn't a terrestrial keen on physical contact, but at that moment, what gave her more peace was her touch sense, specifically when it involved the alien who was already naked and sliding into the cooking pot . . . . The decision wasn't hard at that point. Hannah whimpered as she got inside the tub.

Samara smiled softly as the young woman fell asleep against her inside the warm water. She got them both cleaned up, and dressed by the time her companion woke. By then, the petite creature was hungry, and finished the previously prepared meal, and then another dish, just to be ready for sleep. Humans were puzzling life forms, nothing else to be said. And yet, their primal instincts made them easy to . . . deal with. Manipulate would be a better word, but it wasn't one that she would be able to deal with. Samara was a practical being, if anything else, and her consciousness couldn't help but point the fact out. It was good that the creature cradled in those blue arms had other ideas. Unfortunately, it was paranoia-related.

"Hannah, be still," the soldier was, for some reason, struggling with the blankets; their heads collided, and while hers only throbbed, she knew that the wetness was from the soldier's blood.

"It's going to strangle us!" The worst part was the seriousness of the voice, as was the panic embedded in it; the human hadn't realized that she was bleeding. "We have to get out, we have to flee —!"

"Calm down," it was a soft tone, one that Samara had never believed she would ever use again, "you told me something about us being together . . . ."

"Nothing can stop us," it was as if just speaking, gave the young woman radiance; her locks acquired their golden beauty, her pasty skin returned to its vigorous soft caramel texture, "I'm sorry Samara, I don't know what's gotten into me lately —"

"I do," it was the only reasonably explanation, "you're pregnant."

"Does this happen to the asari?" It was a fair question.

"No." She was carrying, as it was becoming custom, the young woman, off to take a bath again, almost like their first meeting . . . . Trying to shake her thoughts off such topic, she expertly prepared the bath.

"Then how can it be the pregnancy? Female humans only get morning sickness —" The blessed silence came once she dipped the human into the tub, and the blonde could only whimper, then beg for her not to leave her cooking, just for the child to be quiet with the sting of the antiseptic from the medi-gel.

"Mood swings, headaches, heartburn, constant bathroom breaks, weight gain or loss, exhaustion," it was a memorized list, and she decided to carry on from the last, meaningful thing her mate had spoken of. Wait, mate? But the last item on the list forced the level headed life-form to look at the mentioned body part, "tender or swollen breasts, in your case, both . . . ."

"You looked it up," the voice was laced with touch, "you looked it up and actually remembered . . . ."

There was an awkward pause. "If I am to be present during your stages of pregnancy, then it would not do to stay misinformed. I must confess it took me a while to sort through your memories but it turns out you're quite well informed about your own biology. Those books seem really interesting —"

"I . . . it's just that . . . ." Finally, speechless; she took the chance to dip into the water. "I cannot believe . . . no one had ever done such a thing for me . . . ."

"I would have liked for you not to believe I'm like anyone when it comes to you . . . ." The pain was obvious, too obvious.

"I don't mean it in such fashion," the soft blue eyes were honest, "it's more the fact that you've kept tabs, went through such boring school memories, and just for me . . . ."

"Your mood swings are unpredictable, but not so frequent, while never suffering from constipation or heartburn, your headaches developed into paranoia, and your bathroom trips escalated," the warrior reinforced the facts that Hannah had mentioned, "but the most worrying, is the fact that you're still losing weight . . . ."

"Samara," Hannah began, while shifting position and sitting on the justicar's lap as they faced each other, "I love you."

It was sealed with a kiss. "But, these are swollen . . . ." A cobalt hand took gently a caramel breast.

The objection was quickly lost. Samara would never see a tub the same way ever . . . .