Gillian stirred in her sleep and wondered why she was awake, just like she did every time she was woken in the dead of the night. She must have heard something... And then she realised how freaking warm she felt and how her stomach was about to convulse on her and she whipped back the covers and headed around the bed and for the bathroom. In the dimness of the light coming through the bathroom window she bent over at the waist and aimed for the toilet as her stomach heaved, and hoped in the morning, when she came back in to check, she hadn't missed and made a massive mess; that would just turn her stomach sour even more.

There was hardly anything to bring up considering she'd had the smallest dinner last night, much to her husband's dismay. Oh! Gillian took a gulping breath and eased up from her hunched over position and went to close the door on unsteady legs. She actually felt a little better now she had thrown up but figured it was just a temporary relief until the nausea built up again and she was forced to rush for the nearest bathroom. She didn't upend her stomach every time she leaned over the toilet bowl; sometimes it was a false alarm. But even now, she hadn't worked out a rhyme or reason; a pattern she could counteract. She was only about a month and a half in to the pregnancy anyway and this wasn't new for her. She had been pregnant before.

After sitting for a few minutes on the cold tiles of the bathroom, her back against the cool plaster wall, Gillian got up again and brushed her teeth in the dark, feeling her way and guessing which tooth brush was hers because it seemed darker in her hand when she peered at it, bringing it up close; the light coloured one didn't belong to her. Gillian swirled her mouth out with cold water cupped in her hand several times and washed around her mouth thoroughly, trying to be quiet. She dried off and headed back to bed, settling on the mattress gently so she wouldn't disturb her stomach, or her husband, who she suspected was still asleep. She left the covers off and kept the sheet only because clearly she was too warm; that was what had woken her.

"All right?" Cal murmured in the darkness.

Gillian startled a little. "Yes," she whispered back.

"Were you sick?"

"Yes."

"Can get you somethin'?" He drawled.

"No I'm fine." The familiar churn started again and Gillian suppressed a groan. She swore it wasn't this bad last time she'd had morning sickness. "Go back to sleep," she whispered. She was. It was the only way so far to avoid the nausea.

PJ

Cal headed across the hall to his wife's office and pulled open the door with a jerk of his arm to let himself in. Gillian was standing next to the open window, her head practically hanging out of it; he wondered if she was looking at something in particular. She startled when he came in to the room and a little peaky when she came back in from the window. "All right?" He greeted, striding over to where she leaned back against the window frame.

"Fine," she repeated, unconvincingly. It looked as if she might collapse if not for the window to lean against.

Cal stood close and she leaned a little away from him. Wasn't going to take that personally. "Did you have lunch?"

Gillian shook her head, tight lipped, studying a spot on her carpet.

"Gotta eat," Cal told her gently.

"I really can't stand to," Gillian almost complained. Almost. She wasn't going to complain. The IVF had worked, she was pregnant and grateful to be and she was not going to complain about that. At all. Just in case some cosmic force got a message she didn't want to have this baby and take it away from her again. No way. She wanted him. Or her? Cal had started out teasing her for being superstitious, but quickly canned it when he saw the hurt on his wife's face and stopped to think about it. Now he was patient with whatever worked for her.

Beneath Gillian's eyes were a green-grey tinge and Cal studied the marks carefully for a moment; it was accented by the pale colour of her skin and the washed out freckles. She looked awful. He meant that in a nice way. In a way that meant he was concerned, not repulsed, by how awful she looked. He wasn't doing a very good job of looking after her. Not yet. He was hoping to change that. When he figured out how. "Come and have lunch with me," he coaxed gently.

"No Cal," she shook her head slowly. They'd had this discussion before. "Yeah, come on," he took her hand but didn't pull her away, just held it. "Linin' your tummy will actually help."

"I know but I just can't bear the thought of chewing and swallowing."

Cal argued food would be good for her, settle her stomach. And Gillian let very little pass her lips. Including Cal.

"Soup," Cal supplied.

"Soup?"

"You don't have to chew soup."

"Still have to swallow it," Gillian mumbled.

The corner of Cal's mouth lifted up in amusement and he turned his head away so she wouldn't think he was laughing at her stubbornness; he was merely amused. "Come on," he tried again. "You'll feel betta I promise." He took a step back this time and pulled on her hand gently but firmly, so she had no choice but to follow.

"I have a question though," Gillian resisted a little bit more.

"Go on."

"How can you be sure I'm actually going to eat it?"

"You just watch me," he gave her a wink and a tame grin and backed up around her desk slowly and Gillian couldn't help but smile back.