Title: Son of Men
Chapter: 13
Rating: T
Summary: When a message comes through the typewriter, it's going to turn everyone's life upside down.
Author's Note: Hugs and thanks to everyone who has reviewed this story so far. I really do appreciate every single comment I get. I wish there was a way to thank you all personally, but alas, FF doesn't have that option in their comment setup, bummer! But rest assured, I am really greatful for every single comment I have received so far and I hope you'll continue reading and commenting :)
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Olivia didn't know how much longer she could actually take this. It was 4AM in the morning, and she yet had to get even five minutes of sleep. Sleep deprivation never actually had been a problem for her. Not sleeping came with the job, it was something she had gotten used to years ago. She could go days without hardly any sleep, she'd always coped somehow.
What she couldn't cope with now though was the constant nausea that she was plaguing her ever since she'd been released from hospital two days ago. 'Morning sickness, my ass,' she thought to herself once more when her stomach started to revolt in full force and, for what felt like the millionth time that night, she had to throw up. Hanging over the toilet bowl, she dry heaved until her exhausted body finally let her spit out a pitiful amount of bitter stomach acid into the same toilet she'd been emptying her stomach into to for the last few hours. Every time she thought her stomach had settled down, that there wasn't anything left she could spit out, her body would prove her wrong.
Olivia looked completely wrung out when she sunk down on the floor next to the toilet, her face coming to rest against the bathroom wall. The coolness of the tiles soothed her body just enough to allow her to rest for a moment until the next bout of morning sickness would hit her again. She'd tried ginger ale and crackers, the empty bottle and pack now laying discarded just out of her reach. But all they had done was fill up her stomach and make the vomiting so much more vile.
At the hospital, after she had emptied her stomach into a trash can in her room because she couldn't make it to the bathroom in time, the doctor had suggested she take it easy for a few days to allow her body to adjust to the changes that came with the pregnancy. What he hadn't prepared her for though were the constant vomiting attacks she had to suffer from ever since. During the day, while her mind was occupied with other things, she was successful at keeping the urge to throw up at bay. But once the night came around and she allowed her exhausted body to rest, there was no controlling the nausea anymore.
Peter had checked in on her twice. First, he had been by her side within minutes after she had bolted from bed shortly after they had retreated for the night. He had held her while she'd emptied her stomach into the toilet bowl, gently holding her hair back and out of her face, telling her with hushed words that everything was going to be okay. She had sent him back to bed shortly after when she'd sat huddled on the floor, legs drawn up to her body, hugging them close to her. He hadn't left her willingly, but she had reassured him she was going to be fine and would join him in bed a moment later.
The second time, he had shown up at her side with a bottle of ginger ale and a pack of crackers. He had sat with her through two bouts of vomiting, holding her just like he had done before while she heaved and spat. Again, she had sent him back to bed, telling him that at least one of them deserved some sleep. He wouldn't leave her side though until she reminded him that someone needed to watch Henry, needed to make sure that the little boy would continue sleeping safely in her huge bed.
The coolness of ice cold water against her forehead made her eyes snap open. It took her a moment to focus in the darkness before she could make out Peter crouched down next to her, gently dabbing her face with a wet cloth. She must have dozed off for just a moment, not even noticing that he had come to join her in he bathroom.
"You haven't gotten any rest yet, have you?" he said as he dropped the cloth to his side.
There was that sincere look of concern on his face. Concern for her well-being and for that of their unborn child. His eyes were glimmering in the dark, shining at her with so much love she had only seen a handful of times before. He was her rock, her constant, the one person who would always catch her when she was falling. He was the one who stood by her side, no matter what. And that was one of the reasons why she loved him.
"Rachel made morning sickness sound like a walk in the park when she was pregnant with Ella. This?" She shifted into a sitting position, resting her head against the wall behind her, "This is excruciating."
"I think we should call the doctor. This can't be normal at all."
Olivia shook her head, "This is my body getting used to the pregnancy. Hormones on a rampage. I wasn't quite expecting the worst case scenario though."
"I wish there was something I could do to help."
"Just don't ever touch me again," she moaned when the nausea once again set in which caused a rather irritated look on Peter's face, "I'm sorry. I didn't... I'm sleep deprived, I'm nauseous and I feel like shit."
"You can't sit here in the bathroom the whole night though," Peter said as he rose to his feet and held out his hand for her to take, "You have to try and get some rest. C'mon."
Even before Olivia could object, baby cries filled the apartment. She closed her eyes and sighed. A fussy baby was something she didn't want or could deal with right now. Henry had been a rather easy baby since they had brought him home with them, always happy and smiling, not once really upset, even when he had a wet diaper or was hungry. Olivia attributed that to the fact that he had taken to her as if she really was his mother, the Olivia Dunham from the other side.
Her eyes closed, she listened to Peter shuffle out of the bathroom. She could only imagine what was happening in her bedroom right now. Peter would go to the little boy who lay crying in the middle of her king sized bed, pillows safely tucked all around him, would gather him into his arms and try to figure out what was wrong with him. He would sniff the diaper first, then he'd try the bottle and when all that wouldn't help, he'd rock him in his arms and try to soothe him. All while she sat on the bathroom floor, fighting her stomach's urge to turn itself inside out.
Right at this moment, she wasn't so sure anymore if she could do this. Pregnant, with a six month old baby to care for that wasn't even her own while trying to save the world. Each of those things on their own was hard enough already, how she was supposed to manage all three at once, she didn't know. She knew she could always rely on Peter, but she wasn't sure if that was even enough anymore. They had a hard time already balancing work and home. The nights and weekends they had to themselves were rare, something that wasn't going to change. How could they possibly fit not only one, but two babies into their busy lives?
Henry's crying had turned into wailing by now, and Olivia knew that Peter wouldn't be successful in calming him down. It would take days, if not weeks, for Henry to get accustomed to his new surroundings and the new people in his life, and she was sure that she was the only one who could help him through that. So she lifted her aching body from the floor and staggered out of the bathroom and towards the bedroom.
Peter was standing at the far side of the room, behind the bed, holding the wailing baby against his bare chest while he rocked him back and forth. Henry was struggling against him, not wanting to be held – at least not by him. His tiny head was twitching from side to side as he searched for that one person that he was longing for. His mother.
But what Olivia wasn't prepared for, what she hadn't seen in months, was the way that Peter and Henry looked in the dim light of the bedroom. Her bottom lip started to quiver as she stared, transfixed on the two of them, tears forming in her eyes.
Father and son were engulfed in a white, shimmering light.
Peter caught the expression on her face, that look he had seen only a handful of times before. He knew exactly what she was seeing. And why. He made a turn towards her, but she just raised her hand in the air.
"I really wanted to do this. But I don't think I can."
"Olivia..."
"I'm sorry," was all Olivia said before her hand flew to her mouth and she ran back towards the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind her.