"Talk to me," Harriet begs.
"I don't know what to say."
"What are you feeling?"
"Confused, mostly."
"I can imagine."
"Harriet, I'm not sure what to feel. I don't know what to think."
"Do you want me to take you home?"
"I just want to go home."
"Do you want me to stop and pick Izzy up on the way?"
"No."
"Okay."
They make it to her house fifteen minutes later. Harriet follows her in the front door. Mac surveys the chaos around them. The house is full of unpacked boxes. She maneuvers around them, ignoring every single box as she heads into the living room. She takes a seat on the couch. Harriet brews her a cup of tea. She then joins her on the couch. She sets the cup of tea on the end table next to Mac.
"This feels completely surreal. I can't believe that it's happening," she admits
"I can imagine. What did the doctor say, today?"
Mac swallows hard, "I'm definitely pregnant," she says flatly.
"I saw the sonogram pictures."
"I was there, and it still doesn't feel real."
"It will."
Her eyes once again fill with tears, "How did this happen? Twelve weeks ago I wasn't trying to get pregnant. The thought did not once cross my mind."
"It crossed mine," Harriet says under her breath.
Mac's eyes widen, "What?"
"You were so sick. It just didn't seem like a stomach virus."
"I assumed that it was food poisoning. It was just a couple of days, and then it went away. I didn't consider the possibility that I could be pregnant. Why would I? I am past child bearing age."
"Apparently not."
"Why didn't you say anything?"
"I thought that you knew."
"I didn't know. How could I?"
"Didn't you notice that you missed your period?"
"I have been so busy lately that I wouldn't have noticed if a spaceship landed in the backyard."
"What is your plan?"
"I don't have a plan."
"What do you want to do?"
"I don't have the first clue."
"Are you going to tell…"
Mac cuts her off, "No."
"Not yet?"
"Not at all."
"What if you…."
"Never," Mac answers.
That night, she stands over her daughter's bed. She kisses the sleeping toddler's warm cheek. She brushes thick, dark hair out of her face. She pulls the covers up, and walks away from the sleeping angel. She flips off the light, and pulls the door closed halfway. She heads into the bathroom. She stops at the sink long enough to brush her teeth. She watches her reflection in the mirror as she moisturizes. She exits the room, flipping the light out on the way. She proceeds to her bedroom.
She zig zags around boxes that remain unpacked. The room is illuminated by the lamp sitting on the single bedside stand situated on the right side of the bed. She stops at the end of the bed. She stares at the king sized bed. She avoids the thoughts of sharing this bed with anyone. She moves to the right side of the bed. She turns the bed down. Feeling hot she peels her flannel pajama pants off. She crawls into bed wearing an oversized JAG t-shirt. She pulls the covers over her, and flips off the light.
She lies there in silence, knowing that sleep will not come any time soon. She thinks about her daughter. She thinks about the day she was created. She realizes that she was not present at the time of her creation. Her genetic material was present in the lab as they combined her egg with Harm's sperm. Years later Izzy came to fruition.
There had been many fruitless attempts to create her. They tried the conventional method time after time. They tried so many times that it became more of a chore than pleasure. There was no pleasure in it. With each day the passion between them fizzled. She never doubted that she loved him. She never doubted for a single instant that she loved their daughter. From the second her existence was confirmed she felt love for her.
She lies on her right side, with her knees drawn to her chest. Her chest rises, and falls, and the magnitude of the past twenty four hours hits her like a ton of bricks. The floodgates open, and the tears fall uncontrollably. She sobs in the darkness of her master bedroom, alone in her king sized bed. Before she can stop it her hand finds a resting place on her stomach. Her breath hitches as it all becomes very real.
It's nothing that can be seen outwardly, at least not yet. There is, undoubtedly something, someone now residing in her long empty womb. She thinks about the creation of this baby. This baby was not created in a lab. It was created in the heat of the moment on a cold October night.
For the first time in years she feels the heat of passion. She can't recall the last time she's felt this way. She feels her pulse quicken, and her blood pressure rise as he peels the shirt over her head. His kiss makes her feel alive. She feels more alive than she has in quite some time.
She doesn't feel a single pang of guilt as she crawls into the bed of stranger. She doesn't consider the consequence as they allow their hormones, and nature to take its course. She doesn't think past the moment as she calls out his name.
So why does she feel so damn guilty, now? Lying alone in her own bed, why does she feel this way? Her cheeks are tear stained, and her pillow is wet from all the tears. She feels conflicted about the whole thing. She had loved her husband. They separated before all of this happened, she reminds herself. Maybe she had stopped loving him long before their legal separation.
It doesn't really matter now, because he's gone. He is gone, and he is never coming back. Now she is left with a daughter who is too young to understand his absence. She has a little girl who she wanted so badly for so long. She is a beautiful little girl who is the perfect combination of her mother, and father. She has an angelic face, and she's probably never going to remember her father.
She does feel guilty for that. She feels responsible for his death, she admits to herself. If she hadn't been so persistent about having a baby none of this would have happened. He would still be here, but Izzy wouldn't, and Izzy is all that she has left of him.