A/N: Another short Christmas story for you all. This one is dedicated to erika bones for prompting "First Christmas as a married couple." Happy holidays, all!
xxx
Lisbon woke on Christmas morning feeling nauseous, with a dull ache in the small of her back. Ugh. How could she feel seasick and dizzy lying perfectly still in her own damn bed?
Morning sickness, her ass. So far, the sickness had not confined itself to mornings at all. She'd experienced more than one humiliating interruption of an interrogation to dash to the restroom and puke her guts out, and once, vomited into a gutter at a crime scene, desperately trying to avoid contaminating vital evidence.
Her doctor had cheerfully assured her that most women stopped experiencing morning sickness in the second trimester, but Lisbon was six weeks into the second trimester with no end in sight. In a cruel twist of fate, the smell of coffee, once her lifeline through many long shifts, was particularly likely to set off especially horrible bouts of morning sickness.
She hadn't been prepared for how tired she would feel during pregnancy. She knew at an intellectual level that this was common, expected, even, but it was still hard to reconcile that intellectual knowledge with the practical consequence that she struggled to keep her eyes open late in the afternoons if she didn't have a nap at some point in the day. The woman who used to routinely work long hours at the office and then get up at 4 am to respond to a call from dispatch felt like a stranger, a distant acquaintance she could only with the greatest effort recall.
She dragged herself out of bed and shuffled into the bathroom. She peed, then grimaced at the sight of herself in the mirror as she washed her hands. Her face was pale and drawn, her freckles standing out in stark relief. She brushed her teeth, then turned to see herself in profile in the mirror. She smoothed her flannel pajama top down over her stomach and studied her baby bump.
It was definitely noticeable now. If she confined herself to loose clothing, most people wouldn't be able to tell, probably, but if she wore anything remotely form-fitting, there was really no room for doubt. She rested her hand on her belly a moment. When she glanced back at the mirror, she caught sight of a soft smile turning up the corners of her mouth.
She went out to the living room.
"Merry Christmas!" Jane greeted her, beaming. He stood up from where he'd been arranging presents under the tree and opened his arms for a hug. He wore a red Christmas sweater with white snowflakes and reindeer. He looked ridiculously good in it.
She smiled. "Merry Christmas," she said, giving him a kiss and snuggling into his arms. Mm. Jane cuddles always made her feel better.
He kissed her temple. "Back hurting again?" he murmured sympathetically.
"Mm." She closed her eyes and snuggled closer.
He rubbed his palm over the small of her back. "Come here."
He settled her on the couch, then disappeared to the kitchen. "I prepared you a Christmas morning feast," he said, presenting her with a cup of ginger tea and a plate of Saltines with a flourish.
The ginger tea had a strong flavor that wasn't her favorite, but it had proven the only thing that could reliably keep the worst of the morning sickness away, so she accepted it gratefully and nibbled at the Saltines.
She looked out the window, admiring their little pond, cool and still in the morning light. Jane had gotten a bird book out of the library and had been informing her about the various types of birds they had seen flitting about the property. They had a family of barn owls living out in one of the trees on the other side of the pond they'd grown especially attached to.
She snuggled into the couch, a new one Jane had picked out when they'd finished the renovations a few weeks ago. The perfect mix of squashy and supportive. Jane's taste in this area was impeccable.
The house had turned out beautifully. They'd added two new bedrooms, an extra bathroom, and expanded the kitchen. Gleaming hardwood floors extended through the house. Jane had personally fitted out the giant picture windows in the living room and had rebuilt the porch practically from scratch, complete with a porch swing facing the pond. Though he'd done a lot of the work himself, he hired a contractor to help him with the more complicated stuff. He hadn't let Lisbon look at any of the contractor invoices to see what he'd paid to get it done so quickly. This had annoyed her at first, but now she was grateful it had all gotten done in time for them to move in at the beginning of December, in time for their first Christmas together.
Her back twinged again. She shifted on the couch and sipped her ginger tea with a grimace. She thought mournfully of the fancy coffee-maker Jane had bought that hadn't been used once yet.
Jane called from the kitchen, "Pancakes okay?"
Lisbon consulted her stomach. "I think just toast," she said regretfully.
He came out of the kitchen, frowning. "Do you think we should go back to the doctor this week? I'm worried you're not getting enough to eat."
"I eat constantly," Lisbon pointed out.
He shook his head. "No. You nibble, then throw up. I'm worried about your overall nutrition."
She sighed. "Can we worry about that after the New Year? I'd really rather avoid going to the doctor on my week off. I just want to stay home and relax. Besides, we've been over all this with three different doctors. What new information could they possibly give us at this point?"
"I just don't like seeing you suffering like this," Jane said, his frown deepening.
"I'll be fine, Jane," Lisbon said tiredly. "Please don't fuss."
He came back over to the couch and sat down next to her. He squeezed her sock-clad foot. "I like making a fuss over you," he said softly.
She softened and leaned forward for another kiss. "You're sweet. For now, can you aim your fussing at the toaster?"
He kissed her back. "Yes, ma'am."
He made her a plate of toast with some sliced pears.
Unfortunately, Lisbon took one look at it and almost threw up all over the gleaming hardwood floor.
She just made it to the master bath in time to throw up her Saltines and ginger tea.
"Oh, dear," Jane sighed, coming in and kneeling down beside her, curled around the toilet bowl in a thoroughly wretched state. He rubbed her back. "This isn't a very auspicious beginning to the holiday, is it?"
"I'm sorry," Lisbon said miserably.
He stroked her hair. "Don't apologize. I'm just sorry you're feeling unwell."
A few minutes later, she was back on the couch, lying on her back with a pillow under her feet and a hot compress over her eyes.
"I hesitate to ask this," Jane said. "But do you think we should try some more ginger tea?"
Lisbon groaned without removing the compress from her eyes. "I hate ginger tea."
"So that's a 'no?'"
"No," she said pathetically. "It's an 'I'm desperate, so I'll drink it, but I'm gonna complain about it.'"
"Sounds fair to me," Jane said, and brewed her a new cup.
She sat up to drink the second cup, making a face over it.
Jane snapped his fingers. "I've got it. Irish soda bread."
Lisbon looked up at him. "What?"
"Irish soda bread. I bet that will settle your stomach. Stay here, I'll make a batch."
He disappeared into the kitchen without waiting for a reply.
A little over half an hour later, he presented her with a plate of sliced soda bread fresh from the oven and generously slathered with butter.
She looked at it dubiously. "You know this is exactly the same thing as toast, right?"
"Just try it."
She tried it. Miraculously, it stayed down.
She looked at him, amazed. "How'd you think of that?"
He shrugged. "My mom used to make it when I was sick. I loved it as a kid."
"It's good," she said, squeezing his hand. She knew he couldn't discuss his mother without pain, but she was glad he felt comfortable sharing these small details with her now and again.
"I have something for you," Jane said. "If you think you might be up for opening some presents now."
"Maybe in a bit," Lisbon said, leaning back against the back of the couch. She still felt weak and exhausted.
"Only one, then," Jane said. "For now, I mean."
He dug under the tree and unearthed a small, shiny red gift bag with a gold bow. "For you, my dear," he said, presenting the bag to her with a flourish.
Lisbon sat up and accepted the gift. "You can open yours now, if you want," she said, nodding to several of the packages addressed to Jane piled under the tree.
He shook his head. "In a minute. Open this one first."
"Okay." She pulled the tissue paper out of the bag and reached inside. She drew out a tiny set of baby booties printed with miniature ducks all over them. She stared at them.
Then burst into tears.
"What is it now?" Jane said, alarmed.
Lisbon only shook her head and kept crying.
Jane ducked his head to look into her face. "You would have preferred the elephant booties?"
She shook her head violently and buried her face in his shoulder.
He stroked her hair. "Teresa? You want to tell me what's going on right now?"
"I'm so tired of being sick," she sniffled. "And not being able to drink coffee. And being tired all the time. And getting emotional over stupid things."
"I know, sweetheart," he said, continuing to stroke her hair. "Are you sure you don't want to try to get to the doctor later this week? We could ask—"
She shook her head. "You don't understand. That's not why I'm crying."
He frowned. "Is something else the matter? Why haven't you said anything?"
"No," she said, sniffling again. "It's not that. I'm just—" she swallowed hard. "I never thought I'd have this."
"What do you mean?"
"For so many years, I was so focused on the job, on what we were doing. I knew the dangers. I knew what I was giving up. For me, it was worth it, to know we were stopping other people from getting hurt. To have that kind of purpose in my life. A true calling. But I thought the cost was not—not having a family of my own. I was prepared to pay it. So I never let myself even dream about this. A real home, with a husband I love and a baby on the way." Tears streamed down her face and another sob escaped her. "I'm just so—so lucky."
"Oh, my darling," Jane said. He put both arms around her and drew her close, his voice choked. "I feel exactly the same way."
[End]