NOTES: This chapter contains discussion of the death of a child. It's a super angsty update, just so you're aware. *hands out tissues*
Extreme thanks to the_wordbutler for helping me with my words even when I give her an abundance of unpleasant feels.
"A pregnancy test?" Skye exclaims from her seat in the lone spinning chair in the medical ward.
"Why exactly are you here?" Phil asks.
The young woman shrugs. "Bored."
Phil rolls his lips, exasperation evident on his face. "Skye—"
"You can stay," Anna finishes. Phil gives her a questioning look. "Like you all are capable of keeping gossip to yourselves."
"I'll have to do a blood test," Jemma informs her. "S.H.I.E.L.D. bases aren't usually stocked with at-home pregnancy tests."
"That's fine," Anna lies, because needles are a fear of hers.
"And we'll wait for the results to come back before we determine how to check up on your hand. Don't want to do X-rays if—"
"Yeah," Anna interrupts. "How long will it take to get the results?"
"At least a couple of hours," Jemma answers, a note of regret in her voice.
"Excuse me," a new voice calls out.
Despite being warned by Melinda on the plan ride wherever this secret base is, Anna still does a double take at the man standing in the doorway. The last time she saw that face, Jemma was inspecting a body to find cause of death.
"What do you need, Billy?" Phil asks.
"Sir, she needs to be vetted before—"
"No," Phil says sharply.
"Sir—"
"I said no."
"Director, there are still regulations even if there is barely a S.H.I.E.L.D. left," the agent explains, and it's still weird for Anna to hear Phil's new title.
"It can wait," Phil tells the man in a tone that is the definition of quiet authority. Billy opens his mouth to argue, but then closes it and walks out of the room.
Anna looks at Phil. "What exactly does vetting require?"
"A lie detector chair straight out of some spy movie," Skye answers.
Jemma huffs as she readies her supplies. "Not that it works all that well if Ward passed his test." At the name of the traitor, they all fall into uncomfortable silence.
"Leo's mom said hi," Anna tells the young doctor. "She was very complimentary of you."
A bittersweet smile crosses Jemma's face. "She is a kind woman."
"I didn't get to see Leo, but—"
"Oh, Skye found a way to access his medical reports," Jemma says with a grin. "I've been able to keep up on his condition thanks to her."
"It's mostly legal," Skye informs them.
"I'm going to pretend to not hear this," Phil mutters.
"Don't you want to stay informed about his condition?" Anna asks.
"Of course I do," he says. "But I just don't want to hear from Stark about how his systems were hacked."
Skye sighs and props her feet up on a nearby table, smirk wide across her face. "I am pretty awesome."
Jemma looks at Anna apologetically. "I'm going to have to ask you questions of a personal nature."
"I'm out," Skye announces. "I suddenly remembered where babies come from and I don't need to hear about this."
Jemma waits for Skye to walk out of the small medical center before she swabs Anna's arm with alcohol. "Were you using or are you currently using any form of birth control?"
"I have an IUD," Anna answers.
Jemma grimaces. "There's an increased chance of ectopic pregnancies—where the fertilized egg settles in the fallopian tube instead of the uterus—with IUDs. I'll have to do a scan if the test comes back positive. If you have an ectopic pregnancy, I'll have to induce a miscarriage."
Anna nods. "That's fine." She can feel her heartbeat thud in her chest. She does the best she can to keep her breathing under control, and she certainly doesn't look at Phil. She keeps her focus on her shoes and tries not to let old memories creep up on her, but it's difficult.
"Have you ever been pregnant before?" Jemma asks.
"Yes," Anna answers quietly.
She notices the slight pause in Jemma's movements. "How did that pregnancy progress?"
Phil clears his throat. "Do you really need to know that to run the test?"
"Technically, no," Jemma answers. "But a full medical history—"
"Just run the test," Phil orders.
"Yes, sir."
At this point, Anna loses her battle with keeping her breathing under control. And now, there's the added bonus of hot tears filling her eyes. Phil moves towards her and pulls her as close to him as he can while she sits on the exam table. Jemma rambles about the latest news on Leo, but the words and the contact with Phil aren't enough of a distraction. Thankfully, Jemma is efficient.
"You don't have to stay here while you wait for me to run the test if you don't want to," Jemma tells them.
"Thanks," Anna sniffles. She remains still long enough for Jemma to place a cotton ball and a band-aid over where the needle stuck her before she climbs off the table and starts walking towards a door. She doesn't even know if it's the correct exit, she just knows she has to get away.
Phil places a hand on her lower back and guides her down a hallway and into his quarters. Anna knows it's his because the scent of his aftershave hangs faintly in the air.
"C'mere," Phil whispers as he pulls her into his arms.
She loses it completely then, too overcome with everything: memories, being near Phil again, and all-consuming fear. When she finally gets herself under control, she steps out of the embrace. Phil walks over to a mini-fridge and grabs a couple of bottles of water. He hands one to her, and she mutters her thanks.
Once she takes a long pull, she sets the bottle down on a counter and begins to pace the small area of the kitchenette. "I've never told you the whole story, have I?"
"You don't have to," he reassures her.
"No," she says as she shakes her head. "You told me about your alien thing." Anna pauses to waves her good hand in the general direction of his torso. "I should tell you about this."
Phil produces a box of tissues from somewhere. He tells her again she doesn't have to tell him the full story, but she does. He's seen the faint stretch marks still lining her stomach and the scar from the C-section low on her abdomen. And he knows she doesn't have a child now. She'd tried to keep the marks on her body hidden for as long as possible, but it was still months before he shyly asked about their history. She'd given him a four-word answer, and he'd never brought it up again.
"David and I married when I was stupid young, the week after I graduated from college. I was twenty-one, and he was twenty-four. We focused on our careers for a few years, wanting to get ourselves established and whatever." Phil remains rooted leaning against the counter. She doesn't look over at him while she walks back and forth. "David talked me into a trip to Georgia for my twenty-sixth birthday. A beach house his parents owned. It was actually where our son was conceived." She cringes at that. "Sorry, probably too much information."
"It's fine," Phil tells her.
Anna nods and continues. "We were only going to go for a few days to celebrate my birthday. I was still a couple weeks away from my due date, and my doctor okayed it, but—"
"You went into labor," Phil finishes for her.
"A few hours in, they noticed the baby was in distress." She swallows hard. These are words she hasn't told anyone before, at least not for a decade, back when she'd tried group therapy. It hadn't worked. "They did a C-section," she continues. "And that was when we found out something was wrong." She swipes tears off her face as she speaks. "He was born with a heart defect; it's called HLHS."
"I can look it up myself, if you want," Phil offers.
Anna shakes her head. She's made it this far. "It took a few hours for them to realize his left ventricle was drastically underdeveloped and his atria were connected. It made it difficult to pump blood to his body, and because of the atria his blood couldn't be fully oxygenated." She rattles off the terms, keeping it clinical, to make it hurt less. "The hospital we were at was barely able to handle my C-section. There was no way they could care for him, so they shipped us off to a hospital in Atlanta."
All she can see is her newborn's face, his skin possessing a faint tint of blue. She thought he was super sweet for sleeping most of the time, but she later learned his body wasn't getting enough oxygen to do anything else.
"David wanted to give him a name. We didn't want to know if it was a boy or girl beforehand. And we held off on finalizing names. 'Have to see their face first,' David'd said.
"But then he was born, and the doctors were throwing out all of these terms and procedures. He'd need at least three surgeries and, eventually, a heart transplant. The first surgery had to take place as soon as possible." She pauses, lost in a haze of fearful memories. "I told David that we weren't going to name him until he came through the first one," she explains, her voice breaking at the end of the sentence.
"And he didn't?" Phil asks.
She shakes her head. "Our families wanted a funeral, but we couldn't deal with it. The doctors let us hold him one last time, then we cremated him and spread the ashes at the beach where we were supposed to be vacationing."
"And that's why you hate your birthday and the state of Georgia," Phil says. Anna nods, and he slowly eases away from the counter and wraps her in another hug. "If you don't want this, we don't—"
"You want this," Anna says with a sniffle. "I know we've never talked about it, but I've seen the way you look at kids."
Phil shrugs. "I gave up on the idea a while ago." Anna pulls back just enough to look him in the eye. "I'll admit the thought crept into my head time or two when you came around, but I knew enough of your history to think you wouldn't want it."
She sighs. "It might make me a horrible person, but—"
"It's okay," Phil reassures. "If it's negative or ectopic, it's okay. We'll be okay."
"And if it's not?" Anna questions.
"I'll support you in whatever you choose."
Anna buries her face in his neck once more. She'd go through it again for him. She'd be a nervous wreck the entire time, but she'd do it.
"We'll cross that bridge if we have to," she tells him. "But just fair warning: we're going to have a fight later about how you'd walk away from your job because I might be pregnant, but not when I ask you to."
"That's fair," he admits.
She steps out of the embrace with another sniffle to take a drink from her water bottle. "How much longer?"
"At least ninety minutes," Phil answers. "When was the last time you slept?"
She can't think of an answer fast enough for his liking, and the lack of response is all he needs. Gently, he guides her to the bed and pulls her down with him. He softly tells her stories of places he's visited around the world. Today, he avoids any tales of beaches. It lulls her to sleep, and mercifully, she doesn't dream of newborns who are too tired to laugh or cry.
When she wakes some time later, he wordlessly hands her his phone. She rubs her eyes and then reads the single-worded text from Jemma:Negative.