A/N: Thank you to Phish Tacko for her work on this. Go read her stuff!
Ch. 46
Mort had been feeling sick. Dizzy, nauseous and tired. Some days were good, some were bad.
Maryanne was concerned, but Mort continually brushed it off as nothing but a stomach virus. Nonetheless, she continued to care for him as best she could. Today happened to be one of the bad days.
It'd started off when Heather had come to watch Mort for a little bit and give Maryanne a break, and had bought her son breakfast, homemade pancakes.
She knocked on his door, and found her son awake, lying in bed and staring at the wall.
"Mortybear, I bought you your favorite breakfast!" She announced, walking up to his bed.
"Banana pancakes! And I even put a happy face on it with chocolate chips for you!"
Mort turned to face her. "Thanks, mom, I-" He took one look at the food, and started to turn pale.
"Are you okay?" Heather asked.
Mort shook his head, and quickly grabbed the bucket near his bed that Maryanne had given him in case he felt sick. A second later, he began to throw up what little contents he had in his stomach.
Heather put the tray down, and sat next to her son, rubbing his back as he was sick and pulling his hair back. After what felt like forever, he seemed to be finished.
"I'm sorry," He said, putting the bucket down on the floor. "I... as soon as I smelled the pancakes I felt sick."
"That's odd," Heather noted. "I mean, you were nauseous before, but not because of smell?"
Mort shrugged. "A lot of things have been weird lately."
"Well I'm sorry about that. If I'd known, I'd have never made them."
"Not your fault." He glanced over at the food. "Can you, uh, maybe get those out of here, though?"
"Oh, sure." Heather picked up the tray and took it outside. She spent the rest of the morning with her son, trying to help him feel better as best she could.
00
Eventually, Heather and Maryanne switched places, with Heather watching Anakin and Maryanne staying with Mort. Maryanne was very determined to figure out why Mort was still sick after so many days, and had snagged his medical file from the hospital. She figured some research couldn't hurt, especially if Mort was going to fight her on getting any real treatment.
First, though, she had some questions for him.
"Okay, Mort. Just answer these questions and I'll let you get back to doing nothing,"She joked.
Mort frowned. "It's not like I want to feel like this."
"I know, I'm just kidding. Okay, first question. What was the last thing you were able to keep down?"
"I think I had a sandwich last night. But that came back up earlier when mom bought me pancakes."
"So the pancakes made you sick?"
"The smell of them did."
"Okay," Maryanne said, scribbling some notes. "And when was your last cycle?"
"Cycle?"
Maryanne blushed a little. "You know... Your, um, monthly friend."
"Oh. That. Around the week of the 2nd."
"March 2nd?"
"February 2nd."
Maryanne thought about that for a moment. "That was over five weeks ago."
"Okay." Mort glanced down at his hands, as he was picking his nails nervously.
Maryanne decided to let that go, for now at least.
"Last question. Are you allergic to anything?"
"Not that I know of."
"Okay, thanks."
"That's it?" Mort asked, looking confused.
"Yeah, I need to do some research. Go ahead and sleep or rest or whatever. I'm going to get my laptop."
"Okay," Mort replied.
Maryanne had gotten up an gotten to the door when she heard Mort groan. She turned back around to face him. "What's wrong?"
"Can you bring a heat pack when you come back?" He asked, holding a hand to his stomach.
"Sure. Stomach bothering you?"
Mort nodded. "Feels like really bad cramps."
"Yeah, okay. Maybe you're getting your..." Maryanne could see Mort blushing, so she decided to stop, "...I'll just go get it."
"Thanks."
Maryanne nodded, and left the room.
00
As the afternoon progressed, Maryanne tried to do research while Mort tried to sleep. However the sounds he was making stole her attention instead.
"Gah," Mort cried out, as he tried to grab onto something that he obviously was dreaming was near him. "Can't.. don't make me," He whispered fearfully.
Maryanne looked at him. "Can't do what?"
"CAN'T SLEEP... THE CLOWNS WILL EAT ME!" He replied, turning and looking straight at her.
Maryanne's eyes got wide. This was REALLY creepy, especially since she knew Mort was still asleep.
"Um, you're already asleep," She said, as calmly as she could.
Mort curled back up onto the bed, gripping the sheets. "I don't want them to eat me," he said in a soft, scared voice.
Sighing, Maryanne thought it best to wake him up now.
"Mort!" She said, shaking him gently. "Time to get up."
It only took a few seconds for him to wake up. He glanced around the room nervously.
"What happened? I had the worst nightmare, about..."
"Clowns?"
"How'd you know?!" Mort asked, shocked. "Oh my God, it wasn't real, was it?!"
"No. You were talking in your sleep. Even opened your eyes. It was kinda creepy."
"Oh..." Mort looked embarrassed again. "Sorry."
"It's okay. It's not your fault."
Mort frowned. "Did you find anything in your research?"
Maryanne nodded. "Well, sort of."
"And?"
"Well...I think you need to see if you're expecting again."
Mort took a deep breath, and took a second to think before replying.
"I kinda knew you'd say that. Explains things a bit."
"I think it's just hard for your body to cope with it. Your last pregnancy was difficult, right? So maybe this time your body is trying to deal with the baby and is having a harder time healing."
"I guess it's possible. So then, what do I do? Can I keep the baby?"
"Yes, we'll just have to find the right supplements to help you along. Things should get easier for you over time."
"Okay." Mort looked kind of sad.
"Are you okay?" Maryanne asked after a few moments of silence.
"Kinda nervous about the prospect of being a father again, to be honest," He replied, not meeting her gaze. "And are you ready? You're a lot younger than me..."
"I'm old enough. Lots of 27-year-olds have kids."
"I guess."
"Are you going to tell your mom?"
Mort shrugged. "I'll wait until I find out for sure. No use getting her all excited about having another grandchild if it's not a hundred percent."
"That's fair. I understand. I'll swipe a few tests from the hospital tomorrow when I'm on shift," Maryanne explained. "Then you can take a few tests and we'll know."
"Okay." Mort still refused to meet her gaze.
Maryanne forced a smile, and took Mort's hand. "It'll all work out, Mortybear. I promise."