April 2020- Seven and a Half Years After the Blackout
The faint sound of someone vomiting reached Miles's ears and he lifted his head to the open doorway of the dining room. It was definitely coming from upstairs and he knew the likely source of the noise. He glanced down at the papers scattered in front of him, then sighed, and pushed himself out of the chair. By the time he reached his bedroom, Nora was propped against the night stand, shaking and distinctly clammy looking.
"I really don't need to hear from you right now." she muttered, not even bothering to open her eyes.
"I was just making sure you hadn't died during this round." he reached down for the old trash can she had an arm curled around and pried it out of her grasp. The lack of object made her open one eye and she watched as he moved to dispose of the contents.
"You don't have to do that."
"Someone has to. Otherwise it's going to overflow in another one or two sessions."
"You're gross." she tipped her head back with sigh and he saw her grimace as he set the can down next to her. He sat down against the side of the bed and stared for a moment, trying to decide how bad she was. She prodded him in the thigh with her toes, then jerked her chin towards the door as a gesture to leave.
"You have stuff to do."
"It can wait."
"It's one of the only chances -"
"Stop."
"You can't keep putting this off." she mumbled, but knew not to push any further. Next week, it would be two months since the bombing and executions. In that time, Miles had done little in the way of planning his overthrow.
She knew it wasn't intentionally- at least not fully. Bass was on a rampage and Miles still needed to be seen as the General. He had little time to himself. He was either stuck in meetings with Bass and their advisors or he was personally overseeing and training the latest batch of recruitments. Bass's reasoning had been the better crop of soldiers had come out when Miles handled their training. Once he had delegated that responsibility, things had gone to the wayside.
However, she couldn't help but wonder if his heart wasn't completely in with his decision. She wanted to hit him, tell him if he was going to kill him, then do it, and stop fretting. But it wasn't that simple, something she had even said herself. It seemed the past weekend or so, Miles was finally brainstorming.
She knew little about what he was doing so far. From what she could tell, things were only in the strategizing phases. How was he going to do this? Who was going to help? What was the best and easiest way?
It seemed to Nora, he was struggling to decide if he was going to do this himself or having others involved. He flat out told her he did not want her involved in any way. If things go wrong, he's going to come after me. I'm not giving him any reason to come for you too. You're going to deny you had any idea of any of this.
She personally thought he was going to need help. He might be able to pull the trigger or tighten the noose or whatever the hell he decided on his own but he was going to need people on his side once this all went down. Otherwise, he was going to be arrested as a traitor and enemy of the Republic.
"God," her thoughts were interrupted by the uncomfortable build-up in her stomach and she was hunched over the can before either of them could say anything else. He moved closer to her, pulling back the hair that had fallen from her ponytail, and kept a hand moving on her back in small circles.
She hated it. She propped an elbow on the edge of the can as she gave a feeble, choked cough. Her throat felt like someone had shoved a hot poker down it.
"You don't have to sit here."
"Shut up."
"I'm serious. I don't even want to sit here. Who would voluntarily empty buckets of puke and hold someone while they threw up constantly?" her voice had that emotional little quality in it- the one he had only heard certain times before when she was close to losing it completely. He was a little surprised to see tears in her eyes - not entirely sure they were from the force of her vomiting.
"Who would voluntarily storm into surgeries with blood and guts everywhere and insist they weren't leaving?" he countered, sliding a hand along the side of her cheek. "I vaguely remember promising not to leave if you got sick. You'd do the same and have so, so don't act like I'm some sort of anomaly. Okay?"
She gave a small nod and he nodded in response, saying, "I think we should postpone heading out to the shore."
"No. No, Miles, this is the only chance we get."
"It's not the only chance."
"It's tradition."
"I know but I'd rather you stay in the city where you can get help if you need it and not the abandoned Jersey Turnpike. We can always go in a couple weeks."
"I was looking forward to it." she frowned in disappointment and he agreed.
"I know. I was too. But again, I'd rather you get healthy than force you on a trip you're in no shape to make."
"I'd make it."
"And wind up there half dead. That's not going to be fun for either of us."
"No."
"No. Now that that's settled, I sent a messenger over to Hannigan's office so he could come check on you."
"What? No!" the revelation had her reeling backwards, nearly smacking her head into the wooden table. "Absolutely not."
"Babe,"
"I'm not sick. There's nothing wrong with me."
"You've been throwing up for the past week. There's something wrong. I know you would rather die than actually let a doctor even look in your direction but I'm not going to stand for that."
"I'm not dying. It's probably just a virus. It'll pass."
"You look like death warmed over."
"Thanks a lot."
"You're worrying me. You usually don't get sick."
"Exactly so it's most likely nothing."
"Well, it's too late now."
"That's fine. I'll barricade the door when you go to let him in. No one is getting in here."
"Don't be a baby."
"This is coming from the man who demoted three militia doctors because he refused to accept their treatment."
"That was different."
"How?"
"There was nothing wrong with me." he gave her a quick grin, then leaned in to kiss her. She made a noise and turned her head away so his lips smacked into her cheek.
"My breath is disgusting right now."
"Like I care." but he kissed the side of her head softly as a consolation and helped her stand up. "I'll bring you some breakfast."
Her stomach turned at the thought of a meal and she shook her head weakly.
"No. I'm not that hungry."
"You need to eat."
"If I eat, I'm going to puke again."
"I'll bring something light up and if you want it, it'll be there. I won't force feed you."
"Fine."
"But you do need your energy. And I know you're not stupid."
"I'll be fine."
When he came back fifteen minutes later, she scowled when she saw Hannigan enter the room behind him.
"Really?"
"I said I sent for him."
"There's nothing wrong!"
"Let him be the judge of that." Miles settled against the front of the dresser and crossed his arms. Nora glowered at him for a solid thirty seconds, then turned her attention to Hannigan, who stood awkwardly off to the side. He knew never to get in the middle of their bickering.
"How are you feeling?"
"Can't complain."
"You know, this is only going to work if you're being honest." he commented as he stepped up next to the bed. "Besides, he's already briefed me."
"Well, then I'm sure you know by now that I have the plague." she gave Miles another glare, felt her irritation rise as he grinned slightly in amusement. He was taking way too much enjoyment out of this.
"General, I'll have to ask you to step outside for a few minutes." Hannigan added, glancing towards Miles.
"It's nothing I haven't seen."
"I understand but I'm afraid I must insist."
"You know if I leave, she's going to say she doesn't have the Plague."
"I promise I'll give you a rundown when you come back in."
Miles thought of just standing outside but it seemed that it was going to take longer than just a few minutes. He glanced at his battered watch for the fifth time and realized he was pacing the length of the hallway. This is ridiculous, he thought to himself. There was most likely nothing seriously wrong with her. He just needed to keep himself occupied.
He gave one last glance at the closed door, trying to decide. They could come get him when they were finished. With that, he walked downstairs to continue with his work.
He lost track of the time and was surprised to hear footsteps approaching the room. He closed the folder on the table as Hannigan appeared in the doorway.
"So how long until she's up and running?"
"She's fine now."
The response was not what Miles expected and he smirked slightly as he stood. The doctor did not waiver from his answer.
"This is why I wanted to be in the room. How much did she pay you to keep quiet?"
"She explained all her symptoms to me General. I examined her and I reiterate, she's perfectly fine." the other man pulled his glasses from his nose and wiped them carefully on his shirt. "Everything she stated are classic symptoms of a pregnancy."
"A- a- what?"
"Your wife is pregnant. At least it would seem that way. I explained to her that I'm not the expert on obstetrics but I do have a colleague who is a midwife. I'll contact her and have her come out to speak with you and Nora."
"So you could be wrong." Miles blurted out.
"It's always a possibility, yes," Hannigan responded slowly, not sure how he was supposed to take his reaction. "But all the signs point to me being correct. It looks like it's in the early stages, possibly between six to nine weeks along. Again, as I said, I'll have Danielle come out to check on Nora. If anything should happen between now and then, as always, feel free to send for me. I'll see myself out and - congratulations, General."
Miles hardly reacted, too busy wondering about the terrifying chill that ran down his spine. The sound of the door clicking in the latch shook him out of his reverie and he glanced up the stairs. He should go to her but his legs wouldn't work. Finally, he forced himself to move. The walk to his bedroom felt like the longest journey he had been on.
Nora sat silently on their bed, still trying to absorb what Hannigan had said. She looked down at her thin torso, timidly placed a hand against herself. A baby. A smile threatened to form on her face but Miles's footsteps reminded her of their talk from the previous year. He didn't want a baby.
Her brief happiness was shoved mercilessly to the side in favor of panic and anxiety. She dropped her hand quickly as Miles rounded the doorway and entered their bedroom. For a moment, neither of them said anything. The guarded look in his eyes only caused her more trouble. She couldn't tell what he was thinking. No, she knew what he was thinking but he was trying to keep that in. It gave her a glimmer of hope. At least he was trying.
"I don't have the Plague." she said softly, hoping to the break the tension between them.
"Yeah. I heard." he leaned against the front of the dresser - a point against her, she would have figured he would have sat next to her - and stared across the room. "Is this a joke?"
"Miles,"
"What the hell were you thinking?"
"Excuse me?" The question made her feel more like a daughter being scolded by her father for accidentally getting pregnant. It suddenly forced her out of anxiety and into anger. "What do you mean what the hell was I thinking? I'm pretty sure I didn't impregnate myself Miles!"
"Maybe neither of us did anything. Hannigan's practically a hack. He even said himself he doesn't know."
"You say that every time he says something you don't want to hear. Sorry to dash your hopes but he's right."
"No."
"What do you mean no?"
"You can't be pregnant."
"Well, I am, and we already said that if it happened, we would just deal with it." the memory of their conversation stung but his reaction stung worse. She knew he was going to act this way. Why was she allowing herself to get so upset over this? She swallowed a few times, trying to keep the tears at bay.
"Why now?"
"It's not like I planned this. And frankly, this is on you, seeing as you're the one who got me pregnant. You knew you didn't want a baby. You should have changed your methods!"
"There might not be the pill anymore but I'm almost positive there are other ways you could have prevented this too."
"Fine. God forbid you need to actually shoulder some responsibility. It's okay Miles, we both dropped the ball on this one." she rolled her eyes at him in irritation.
"How can you be taking this so lightly?"
"I'm not taking this like anything! You are this close to enacting one of your rants. I don't have time to process what's happening because I need to worry about you and your feelings. I just found out, same as you!"
"So you didn't know?"
"Don't you think if I did, I would have said something?"
"No."
"Thank you for that. It may have crossed my mind once or twice but I never thought it was the definite reason."
"I can't believe this is fucking happening." he muttered, fisting his hands in his hair. He walked along the length of the bed a few times, swearing under his breath. She watched him until she felt the urge to vomit, which she now cursed as morning sickness that would not be going away anytime soon.
"You are unbelievable, you know that?" she gasped at him, once she had straightened back up. "You're a fucking immature child. An hour ago, you practically had your stupid, goddamn face in that bucket next to mine, acting like some loving husband, spouting about how you promised you'd be there for me. So the flu or the plague is okay but it's a baby so now you're going to ignore me? Go to Hell."
A flash of guilt passed over his face but it was quickly replaced by his dark glare that had been staring her down since he returned to the room.
"Why is this happening now?"
"Don't act like this is an inconvenience only now. I don't care if this happened five years ago, or ten from now. You'd still be whining like a little bitch because you didn't get your own way!"
"It is an inconvenience! I'm trying to plot to kill someone and you went and got pregnant!"
"There you go again! Yes, yes, you're right! I stayed up for nights now and thought to myself, how can I sabotage Miles's plan? Wait- I know! I'll get myself pregnant! You're using that as an excuse but you were very clear on your stance a long time ago." she crossed her arms over her chest, hoping that would stop the dull ache that said she wanted to hit him. "Get out. Seriously, just get out. I don't want to look at you or talk to you. And you know what? This isn't about Bass. Or the Republic. Or any other excuse you can try and come up with. I know what you think about having kids and the reason you're so against it is because you are a fucking coward. Lashing out at me isn't going to change anything! So maybe you could pull your head out of your ass, actually grow up, and realize this is happening and I want you to be part of this."
"And if I don't?"
"If you don't, that's your loss. I want you here. I would love for you to be here. But I don't need you. I'll handle things on my own if that's what you really want. I guess that talk we had was just that. All talk. You're not going to deal. You're not going to handle anything. I know you Miles and you turn away from things faster than anyone else I know. So go. Go now before you make this any worse for me."
She stood her ground, unwilling to flinch under his anger. They both knew they could each twist words, knew how to push the other one to their breaking point.
Finally, he conceded, letting out an unintelligible yell, and stormed from the room. The door slammed hard enough to shake the house when he left and not long after, she heard Bond galloping away from their property.
She sunk back down onto the bed- she didn't even realize she had stood up during their confrontation- and inhaled a few deep breaths. He wouldn't be gone long. There was no way. Or so she hoped.