A/N: Thanks much to everyone! Now as usual, the plot thickens in the verse.
Smithy: I learned the hard way never to mix the carbamazepine/tegretol with alcohol. Not even grape juice. And I'm also kind of photosensitive, so much of my social life involves hanging out at cozy restaurants and cafes instead of bars and parties! The trouble though is that I like caffeine. I tried going without it for a year, and I think I slept through half of my lectures as a result. So I try to strike a balance.
4: A Flash in the Morning
It would be just another deceptively normal morning for Enjolras, except that this time instead of simply dropping Eponine off at the lobby of Saint-Michel Hospital, he accompanies her to the obstetrics wing on the ground floor. 'We'd better get used to this place,' he tells himself as they walk through the brightly painted corridor decorated with posters of fetal development and pictures of chubby cheeked infants in their mothers' arms. Most of the women here are already very big with child; in fact some of them appear twice as heavy as Eponine is today. "That can't be good for anyone's back," he remarks as he and Eponine find seats near the reception desk.
"You think? Some women actually have to undergo some therapy for back problems after their kids are born." Eponine says flatly over the music coming from an early morning TV show. She bites her lip as she sees yet another patient queue up. "I might even have to reduce my OR time or scrub in only to assist when this kid starts getting really huge. It's not just my back that's going to be an issue by then, but even my legs. They're going to get so swollen-well maybe not too swollen since that's a danger sign..."
"Eponine, that is not going to happen," Enjolras says firmly. The fact that she does have some background with regard to the basics of obstetrics is more unsettling than reassuring; Enjolras is almost sure that with each patient Eponine sees, a new complication passes through her mind. He squeezes her shoulder both to catch her attention as well as to reassure her. "It's going to be okay. This is why we're seeking care this early, aren't we?"
She manages a brief smile. "I wish I could be as certain as you are."
"It's not being certain; I prefer banking on the better side of the odds this time," he informs her. The truth is that he's also worried, but he is not about to let on especially when Eponine is clearly wound up about this situation. So he settles for stroking her palm and to his relief her fingers curl around his. It's not holding on for dear life, but preferring to keep faith in hand.
By this time the receptionist has sauntered in, chewing on some gum while keeping one arm around a whole bundle of files. She starts when she sees Eponine. "Hello Doc, what are you doing here? And with your husband too?" she croons. "Who are you referring today?"
"It's just me, Maz. I have an appointment to see Dr. Laurain," Eponine says.
Maz's eyes widen with understanding. "Congratulations! So are you guys hoping for a boy or a girl?"
"At this point, having a healthy baby would be more than enough," Eponine replies.
"Oh of course," Maz replies as she glances at her watch. "You should use the toilet first, and then I'll take your vital signs before Dr. Laurain gets here."
"What for?" Enjolras asks in an undertone.
"Let's just say that it's not easy to do any examination on a full bladder," Eponine explains before getting up to go to the small washroom near the reception desk.
While Eponine is away, Enjolras busies himself with checking his email and getting a look at the morning news. He frowns at an article detailing searches in the ports and some bus terminals for smuggled goods and wildlife; this sort of thing is becoming more and more rampant lately, or the police are getting better at discovering these shenanigans. 'Those aren't the only things coming across though,' he notes, recalling now the sweatshop workers that Eponine had helped rescue just days ago, and the resulting entanglements with the immigration bureau. It's a thorny matter, but one he is determined to fight out just like all his other cases.
Eponine returns after a few minutes, just as Musichetta is also entering the office. "Perfect timing," Musichetta says by way of greeting. "I'll take it from here, Maz," she tells the receptionist.
'Don't most doctors get nurses or other staff to do this?' Enjolras can't help wondering, but then again, Musichetta is not like other physicians. He watches Eponine sit down calmly for Musichetta to take her blood pressure and pulse rate; this routine is almost a ritual for them by now, a throwback to medical school days. "Aren't there digital blood pressure cuffs by now?" he asks, noticing the rather old fashioned sphygmomanometer Musichetta is using.
"I prefer the calibration on these," Musichetta says before quickly jotting down her readings and ushering them both into a small side room. This space, as tiny as it is, seems bright and airy thanks to a large window that takes full advantage of the morning light. The cubicle seems even livelier thanks to a colourfully painted wire sculpture that sits on Musichetta's desk, a keepsake that hails from elective art class that Joly had once in college. "Now I know you guys well enough, but I still have to ask these questions for history-taking's sake," she explains as she pulls her chair out from behind her desk so that she is sitting closer to her friends.
"Alright, shoot," Eponine says. She answers each question readily, even volunteering more information than Musichetta asks in her interview. "So how far am I along?"
"Judging from the date of your last period, six to seven weeks," Musichetta says as she gets up to begin preparing the examining table. "That means you'll probably be giving birth in the second week of January next year."
Enjolras breathes a sigh of relief; they still have some time to prepare. "That is just an estimate though. Alex was born nearly three weeks ahead of schedule."
Musichetta nods. "It's also likely that the baby can overstay a bit. Not too long though." She pats the examining table. "Okay you know the drill."
Eponine shrugs as she grabs a hospital gown and a blanket. "Auguste, you really might want to step out before we do this."
"I've seen worse," Enjolras says, but all the same he pales when he sees Musichetta pick up a steel instrument that appears to be two rounded blunt blades joined by a single handle. "Wait, what is that?"
"That is called a speculum," Eponine explains as she climbs up onto the examining table and takes off her pants.
The name is enough to cue Enjolras in as to the purpose of this tool. "You're going to use that to take a look there...doesn't that hurt?" he asks both women.
"It can pinch a bit," Musichetta says. "Sorry, Ponine," she mutters before beginning her examination.
It is all that Enjolras can do not to blanch, so he looks at Eponine instead, wondering how she's going to take that. She is gripping the sides of the examination table so hard that her knuckles grow white and she squeezes her eyes shut until Musichetta is done with her work. "Everything good?" she asks as she finally sits up.
'Yep, as good as expected," Musichetta replies as she puts the speculum in a dish of detergent and then discards her gloves. "I'll order a few routine tests-just for the sake of taking baselines-"
"Chetta, I know it's not routine at this point, but can we add an ultrasound to that?" Eponine asks. "I just really want to be sure of things."
Musichetta sighs. "You know what's going to be the most harmful thing for your baby? Your worrying. All those things you were fretting about last night might not even do anything at all since they are not really a habit for you."
"Chetta..."
"Please, just do it," Enjolras cuts in. "I mean, you can see something, right?"
"A little. It looks mostly like a blob though, at least to most people. I won't even be able to tell yet if there are things wrong anatomically but we'll see that he or she is just there," Musichetta replies as she finishes writing in Eponine's chart. She gestures to another room with a bed next to an ultrasound machine. "Wait here, I'll have to get some gel," she says before quitting the room.
Eponine sighs as she takes a seat on the bed. "I know it's being pushy, but I can't let it slide," she admits.
"For all we know, nothing might be wrong," Enjolras reasons. Yet all the same he's excited that they'll finally be getting their first look at their child, even at this early stage. "We won't be able to see the gender just yet?" he clarifies.
"Not till I'm about four or five months along." Eponine looks at him keenly for a moment. "So do you want a boy or a girl?"
Enjolras is quiet for a moment; this is not really a question he's considered yet given that he's only found out less than 24 hours ago that he is now a parent. "Either way I'll be happy."
"You're shitting me. Everyone has their preferences," Eponine points out.
"I'm not! It's exactly what you were telling Maz earlier; what matters now is that the baby and you will be healthy," Enjolras replies as he strokes her hair. "Though having a son would be rather crazy, given that we're still somewhat parenting our friends?"
"That's so mean!"
"I'll only stop believing it once we stop having to drive them home drunk."
"That's going to change. Darren will do that for Jehan and Grantaire, and the rest will soon catch up," Eponine declares firmly. She pats his hand and places it over her middle. "I don't really have a preference either, well not yet. I don't want to think about it till I'm sure this baby is here to stay."
It's just as well that Musichetta soon enters the room, holding a bottle of ultrasound gel. "You guys ready?" she asks as she motions for Eponine to lie down on the bed.
"We never are," Eponine quips. This time she grips Enjolras' hand as she waits for Musichetta to get the probe in the proper position. "See anything yet?"
"Give me a minute. Okay, there's your cervix, there's your uterus...ah there it is," Musichetta says proudly. She taps on a keypad to freeze the image. "Okay everything checks out. Seven weeks and three days, actually. There's your kid."
The image on the screen is hardly more than a fuzzy gray blob surrounded by a dark sort of sac, but it's there, and if Enjolras squints he can just make out the barest flicker of movement. "Is that a heartbeat?" he asks.
"It probably is," Eponine replies, now also staring at the screen. She squeezes Enjolras' hand more excitedly. "Oh my. It is. It's kind of early..."
"But not unheard of," Musichetta says. She smiles as she turns off the probe. "It's going to be fine. Just follow up with the lab results, take care of yourself and don't stress yourself out." She also gives Enjolras a pointed look. "That goes for you too."
"Will do," Enjolras concurs. It heartens him greatly to see that Eponine is smiling now, and looking far more relieved than he's seen her in a few days. He drops a kiss on her forehead. "Better now?"
She nods before inching to kiss his lips. "Thank you."
Suddenly voices and muttering come from the waiting room. A knock sounds on the cubicle door. "Doctor Laurain? There's an emergency call," Maz calls from outside. "It's also for Doctor Enjolras."
"Great. Some accident most likely," Eponine sighs as she gets up from the table and starts putting her clothes back on.
Enjolras glances at his phone for any breaking news and sees a teaser reading: 'Explosion in the Central District, Car Bombing Suspected.' He runs out to the waiting room and sees everyone gathered around the TV. The footage is all fire and smoke but he can clearly distinguish the smoldering remains of a shop in the vicinity of the courthouse he frequents. "What happened?"
"Can't you guess? Someone's stopping a hearing," Maz says. "Any case you know, Attorney?"
Enjolras checks his phone for the schedules of the hearings in the venue that day, as well as meetings in the fiscal's office. 'Too many leads,' he realizes, seeing several controversial cases up for debate that day. At that moment he sees a lot of messages from Courfeyrac, Feuilly, Bahorel, and Bossuet, all asking where he is. He quickly sends a reply to all of them before calling up Courfeyrac. "What's going on, Courf?" he asks in an undertone.
"Glad you're asking; for a minute we all thought you were at the courthouse!" Courfeyrac says. "The witnesses that were at the sweatshop...the ones Eponine bailed out?"
"Yes, what about them?" Enjolras asks, already dreading the answer.
"They were supposed to meet the fiscal today, remember? Most of them are dead and there are more on their way to Saint-Michel. They were just about to enter the building when that car blew up." Courfeyrac takes a deep breath. "You're still at Saint-Michel?"
"Yes. Eponine is with me. We're in Chetta's office."
"Okay, sit tight you two and don't step out. I'll be there right away."