June 30th, 2016

Bent at the waist I brushed my hair back from my face, wiping my mouth with the back of my shaky hand, praying that this would be the last time I threw up. Whatever I had eaten for dinner last night was clearly not sitting well because I had thrown up for nearly ten minutes this morning, delaying our departure.

The sound of rustling branches alerted me to someone's approach and I tried to straighten, instantly regretting the decision as pain shot through my abdomen. "Oh motherfucking shit" I whispered, curling over and clutching my stomach as it spasmed in agony.

"Ambassador Flynn? Are you okay?" a concerned female voice called out, the rustling growing louder. A moment later a tall redheaded woman broke through the brush to my left and came to a halt, her frown deepening at the sight before her.

"You're sick. You need to see the doctor," she ordered, reaching out to take my arm in a firm grip, pulling me away from the tree that I had been using as a support. I protested weakly as my body ached and quivered, a cold sweat breaking out on my chest as we walked back towards camp.

"I-I'm fine…it's just a little food poisoning," I murmured, trying to smile at her. Shit, what's her name again? "Natalie, it's Natalie right?" I asked swaying in her grip, my limbs weak and trembling.

She grinned softly and shook her head, "Natasha, ma'am, but you can call me Nat or Tash, either is fine. I don't think its food poisoning, no one else is sick." She waved a hand around camp, indicating the overwhelming amount of healthy persons who, by now, were all staring at us.

Awesome.

I blearily followed her to the doctor's tent, which luckily hadn't been pulled up yet, and moments later found myself lying on a cot, the world spinning around me. Closing my eyes gratefully, I dozed, the voices of the camp a dull buzz in the background.

"Ambassador Flynn?" a gentle male voice inquired, "Can you open your eyes for me?"

I sighed and opened them slowly; turning to find Doctor Reynolds crouched close by, watching me steadily. He smiled softly, "Good, now, I hear you've been ill? Can you describe your symptoms for me?" he probed gently.

I nodded and laid a hand on my abdomen, "I've been having stomach pain for the past four or five days…I guess its cramps? I haven't gotten my period, just some spotting. I've felt sick to my stomach for days too, and then this morning I got really sick, throwing up for like ten minutes."

I shook my head, closing my eyes as a wave of dizziness passed over me, "I'm dizzy, and I got light headed when I stood up this morning. I don't know what's going on."

Reynolds hummed softly and a moment later I felt his hand on mine, "I'd like to do an examination if that's alright?" he asked softly.

I nodded and a moment later felt him lift my shirt, his hands pressing gently on my stomach, sending shockwaves of pain through my abdomen that had me crying out and trying to scoot away.

"Shit! Don't do that!" I gasped, glaring weakly at him.

"I'm sorry Ambassador; I didn't know you were in that much pain. Is it located on one side?" he asked, his hands still hovering over my abdomen.

I sighed and rolled my eyes, "It's been pretty bad on the left side," I muttered, "But try not to poke it too hard, okay?" I demanded, bracing myself as he nodded and reached out to probe the left side.

Tears rolled down my cheeks as he pulled his hand away, a deep frown creasing his forehead. "Have you been sexually active recently?" he asked, regarding me thoughtfully.

I nodded, frowning as I wiped at my face, "I'm in a relationship. Could this be an STD or a yeast infection?" I replied.

He shook his head, "I doubt it's a yeast infection, it's possible it's an STD. I've got a test we can run to find out one other possibility." He held up a finger and turned away towards a set of plastic boxes, pulling one open to riffle through until he found what he was looking for.

When he turned back around holding out the pregnancy test I laughed so hard it almost made me cry. "You've got to be kidding!" I exclaimed, holding my arm out to show him the birth control implant, "I've literally got birth control inside me!" I yelped.

Reynolds smiled sadly, "It's not 100% effective and you know it, you're a smart young woman." He held the box out and shook his head, "If you need help, I can get Natasha back in here," he offered.

I shook my head quickly, the last thing I needed was more witnesses to my embarrassment. He nodded and exited the tent, leaving me to take a very nerve wracking test.

Four minutes later there was a polite cough at the tent flap and a moment later he stuck his head in before entering fully. I pointed to the nearby table where the stick lay; I had been unable to look for myself.

The prospect of being pregnant was absolutely terrifying. I knew that Bass wanted kids, but I wasn't ready to have them, and there was no way we were ready as a couple to have them…hell we were barely a couple.

Reynolds turned and pulled a stool over in front of me, the pregnancy test in his hand. He held it out for me to see, "Positive. You're pregnant," he confirmed softly, his words tearing the world out from under my feet.

I stared at the test until his hand landed softly on my knee. I looked up and found his eyes on my face, so full of sorrow that I frowned, "What's wrong?" I murmured.

"I'm sorry to have to tell you this, but I don't think your pregnancy is viable. I felt a mass on the left side where your pain is located and coupled with your symptoms; I'm led to believe that you're experiencing an ectopic pregnancy."

The words swirled around in my head…not viable…ectopic…mass…. "Uhm, what does that mean?" I whispered, fear beginning to leech into my veins. My fingers knotted together in my lap and for the first time in a long time I wished that my mother was with me.

Reynolds gave me a concerned smile, his hand resting over mine, "I'd need to do a pelvic exam to be sure, is that okay?" he asked softly. I nodded quickly and he patted my hand, "Okay. If I confirm an ectopic pregnancy, the treatment is fairly simple; we give you shots of methotrexate, which is a cancer treatment drug, and it should take care of it."

I swallowed hard, "Should?" That didn't sound very certain.

Reynolds nodded, his brow furrowing, "Before the power went out we would measure the pregnancy hormone in your blood and do sonograms to see how far along you are to see what treatment is best, but now, this is the best option. You're lucky I have some with me to trade, or you would have to wait until we could send a runner to get some from a city. The only other option is to open you up and remove it, and in this day and age…" he shook his head, clearly not liking that option.

Frankly, neither did I. I really didn't like any of this.

He patted my hand again and stood, "Go ahead and undress from the waist down, and I'll get Natasha." He disappeared before I could object and a few minutes later when I had undressed and draped the blanket over my lap, returned with the tall redheaded militia woman.

Reynolds directed her to take a seat beside my head and a few minutes later we were underway. To my surprise, Natasha reached out and took my hand, her fingers strong and cool around mine. Beads of sweat broke out on my forehead and I bit back whimpers of pain during the examination—normally uncomfortable, now nearly unbearable.

When Reynolds leaned back and nodded, lowering the blanket over me, I heaved a deep breath of relief that it was over. Glancing up at Natasha I smiled ruefully as I released her hand, "Sorry I crushed your fingers" I murmured.

She shook her head, smiling softly, "Been there ma'am, I don't mind." With a short nod she exited the tent, leaving Reynolds to give me the diagnosis. As I redressed he went to his boxes, riffling through them until he found a small black box.

"It's ectopic then?" I asked tiredly, running a hand through my hair.

He nodded as he turned, opening the box to reveal a trio of needles. "This is all the methotrexate I have, but it should be enough. I'll give you the first shot now, okay?" he said softly, his smile encouraging.

I nodded and laid back, pushing my pants down and lifting up my shirt for him, closing my eyes as he wiped the left side of my abdomen with antiseptic before I felt the sting of the needle.

"Okay, all done."

I opened my eyes and peeked down, watching as he applied a band-aid. "Great," I murmured dryly.

Reynolds smiled faintly at me, stepping away to toss the used needle away, "You might experience nausea, vomiting, decreased appetite, and lethargy. Rarer symptoms are sores in the mouth and hair loss, but at this low dosage you shouldn't have those."

I nodded and sat up slowly, my head spinning for a moment before settling. "Sounds like a day at the park Doc." I smiled tiredly at him before sighing, "Seriously, thanks though Doc."

He nodded and offered me a hand, pulling me off the cot and guiding me to the tent flap, "It's my job Ambassador."

I shook my head, "It's just Becca, and it might be your job, but you saved my life. Take a compliment."

Reynolds laughed softly and nodded, "Yes ma'am, Becca. Now, doctor's orders, no horseback riding, only travel in the wagons for the next few days. You've got a bug and need rest, hear?" he ordered, raising his voice to carry outside the tent.

I grinned up at him, liking him even more. Any suspicions that the men and women travelling with us might have had about my time in the tent would be banished by those words. "You got it doc!" I replied loudly before stepping outside to make my way to my tent which was in the process of being taken down.

Home sweet home on the go.

Grabbing my pillow, cot mattress and blanket I walked to the nearest wagon where Natasha stood and smiled tiredly at her, "Would you mind directing the breakdown of camp? I'm on bed rest."

She nodded and patted my arm briskly before turning away, squaring her shoulders. "Let's move it you stupid mugs! I want this camp rolling out of here in the next thirty minutes! That means every one of you moves! GO!" she shouted at my messengers, sending them scurrying.

I snorted softly in amusement and crawled into the wagon, laying myself down in a corner and pulled the blankets up to my chin, my body already feeling shittier than before somehow. As the camp devolved into a hum of activity, I drifted to sleep, already dreading the moment I would have to wake up.

"You want us to supply you with fighters, weapons, and supplies and all we're getting in return is some medicine and seeds?" Curt Thompson spat, his bushy brows furrowing together as his thick fingers clenched around the grip of his gun that seemed to always be in his hand, a constant threat of violence that we all had grown accustomed to over the past few days.

I shook my head, "It's not as simple as that Curt. We're also offering a peace with your people. No more battles, no more death, and open trading with the Monroe Republic. Your people would be free to come and go within our border to trade and make a profit. If they wanted to live within our borders they would also be free to immigrate. In addition we are giving you grain, corn and sorghum seeds, and medicines that we know you need."

I leaned back and crossed a foot over my knee, knowing I had him at the next part, "We're also willing to consider a marriage alliance. Your son for one of our eligible women." I smiled faintly at the surprised look on his face and relaxed into silence, waiting for his response.

Bass, Miles and I had debated the last concession, knowing that there weren't many women that would agree to an arranged marriage, let alone one to a notoriously ruthless Plains Nation man. Ultimately it had been left up to me, if I could find a woman who was willing to accept the deal, and the son sight unseen, I could move forward with the deal.

After long contemplative moments Curt finally nodded, "I accept. Who is this woman?" he demanded, looking around the tent at the men and women that stood around us, watching the negotiations carefully.

His people had their hands on weapons; mine took careful notes to send reports back to the Republic. Only one actual Militia member was in the tent, her red hair a bright blaze a rare sight amongst the blonde and brunettes that surrounded her.

I lifted a hand and waved, not looking away from Curt. Natasha and I had discussed this at length as we travelled to the Plains Nation, having grown closer after my miscarriage.

I had considered keeping her with me as a personal guard, perhaps forming an all female squad, but Natasha had deftly pointed out that having her in a position of intimacy with the Plains Nation would be more useful to me.

When I had asked her if she was worried about them questioning her loyalty or perhaps harming her for some slight she might unknowingly make, she had just smiled wryly and assured me that she was perfectly capable of handling herself.

I wasn't sure what that meant, but I knew that to be a part of the Monroe Militia she had to be former police or military, and with the way she handled weapons and sparred with the male members of the militia, I felt slightly better about asking her to walk into the lion's den.

Curt's eyes widened slightly as Natasha stood next to me, her nearly six foot muscular frame imposing to anyone who wasn't stupid. She crossed her arms over her chest and stared him down, murmuring softly, "Madam Ambassador?"

I nodded, "Captain Black. I'd like to introduce the leader of the Plains Nation, Curt Thompson." I motioned to Curt and after a brief moment he stood, sucking in his barrel of a stomach and tilting his chin up to stare at her, his height topping hers by only a scant inch.

The two warriors stared at each other for a long moment, the tension palpable in the tent as they assessed the relative merits and skills of the other. Finally Curt nodded and turned behind him, reaching out to wrap a hand around a man who couldn't have been more than a year older than me, dragging him forward to stand before Natasha.

"Meet your wife to be, Dale."

I bit back a laugh at the young man's face as he looked up at Natasha, awed and clearly frightened. She had a good two inches on the man and was staring down at him like he was a bug to be studied and crushed under her boot if he didn't measure up.

Biting the inside of my cheek I swallowed hard and stood, smiling pleasantly at all parties, "Well, is everyone happy with the arrangement?" I asked in a neutral tone.

Natasha nodded after a moment and glanced at me, a faint smile on her stoic face, "Yes ma'am" she murmured before turning back to Dale.

Dale nodded furiously and blushed before coughing and running a hand over his neck and glancing back up at Natasha, "Uh, would you, uh like to see the stallions we have?" he offered nervously.

Natasha smiled softly and nodded, glancing briefly over at me for confirmation that it was safe for her to leave. My eyes flickered to the corner of the tent where Maggie sat with another woman preparing food, and I glanced back to Natasha, nodding faintly.

"I would like that very much" Natasha murmured, smiling at Dale faintly. His father and I watched them leave the tent for a moment, before turning back to our seats and discussion.

"When do you need our fighters to leave?" Curt asked as a woman from the back brought forward drinks.

"As soon as possible. We have a long march ahead to get to Maine, and we'll need to resupply along the way." I nodded my thanks to the woman and watched from the corner of my eye as Maggie stood and walked our way, carrying a tray of food.

Curt nodded, "We can supply horses as well to speed up the process. I expect to be compensated for them appropriately, of course."

"Of course. We'll ensure that half of the weapons taken from the rebels are distributed to your men and women and extra seed is provided as payment." I smiled briefly at Maggie, taking the plate of food she offered and settling it on my lap.

Curt nodded and dug into his food, "You're fairer than the last idiot Monroe sent. Almost felt bad sending his head back," he muttered around his mouthful of food.

I cringed and nodded halfheartedly, remembering the gruesome package. As I lifted my bread to tear it in half I noticed a slip of paper beneath it and quickly slid it into my lap, crumpling it into my pocket.

Tearing the bread into pieces I glanced around the room to see if anyone had noticed the note, but no one seemed to be paying me any undue attention. I breathed a small sigh of relief and continued to eat, listening as Curt recounted gruesome stories of conquest against the Republic, nodding and smiling politely, despite the fact that it was both incredibly rude and disgusting.

As the meal drew to a close Curt leaned back and nodded in satisfaction, "My fighters will be prepared to leave at first light. We will feast tonight and consecrate the marriage, it is your duty to dress the bride and provide a gift for the groom on her behalf." He stood and gave me a terse nod before exiting the tent, his followers trailing after him.

I sighed and leaned back in my chair, relief swelling through me. We had successfully struck a peace deal; gotten the fighters we needed, and had made another strong border for the Republic. Hopefully it would all last.

I watched in amusement as the Plains warriors danced around the enormous bonfire, dancing and singing, Dale and Natasha being led with them, much to their chagrin.

Natasha didn't have a white dress—honestly one probably couldn't be found these days unless it was made, and she wasn't a virgin anyways, so I had dug through my clothes until we had scrounged together a blue maxi dress that looked amazing on her.

Her long red hair was floating down around her in long loose curls and her cheeks were flushed with laughter, making her look years younger. Dale looked at her like she was the most beautiful woman in the world, and in that moment, she probably was.

I shifted uncomfortably, a wave of nausea rolling through me. My last methotrexate treatment had been three days before, but I was still feeling the side effects, especially since I had been given all three shots.

Rising from my seat beside Curt and his wives I murmured a polite "good evening" and made my way back to my tent, assured in the knowledge that my militia would be watering down their drinks that night in preparation for the early departure the next morning.

As I lay down in my cot I pulled the note from Maggie out of my pocket, re-reading for the third time.

They'll turn on you, don't trust the son.

It was a simple enough message, but what I was supposed to do with the information, I had no idea. Curt had informed me at the wedding festivities that Dale would be leading the fighters for us because he needed the experience, needed "the bloodying," apparently.

I rolled my eyes and sighed, the poor kid seemed like an innocent idiot who was more eager to look after horses and get to know his new wife than go into battle. But according to Maggie, we shouldn't trust that impression, and if her words were to be trusted, they would turn on us.

Long hours passed as I tried to figure out a solution to our newest problem, sleep remaining elusive until finally exhaustion overrode my restless mind and gave me the peace I needed.

Clarity would come with time and space.