Chapter 94: Taran

"Your baby is healthy, you have nothing to be concerned about."
"Then why am I not showing yet, Bishop?" I ask worriedly, allowing him to take my hand and help me up from the bed. He's been kind enough to come visit me in the apartment since Diogo won't let me leave. "I'm almost five months along and nothing. Where did the baby go, if it's in there at all?"
He chuckles and pats the slight rise on my stomach. "Not everyone shows or grows babies the same. Not to worry, your belly will get bigger in no time and then you'll be worrying about where your feet went."
I narrow my eyes at him trying to stuff the impulse to start screaming at him deep down. I tell myself he wasn't always this annoying, that the baby is making me think things I wouldn't usually think. Like every person that talks to me is the devil and needs to fall off the nearest cliff. That list includes Grayson, Stryker, Dee, Milla, Bishop and most especially Diogo.
I take a calming breath and thank the doctor for the exam and his expert assessment. "If this baby turns out to be a turnip I'm coming after you, Bishop." I rub my back, which has no real reason to hurt because my belly is non-existent. "It doesn't stick out and I only get the occasional flutter, which could be gas. The only way I can be sure it exists at all is that it makes me vomit, which you said would stop after the first trimester."
"I believe I said, the nausea should pass after the first trimester. Unfortunately, there are some women that are prone to sickness throughout their pregnancy."
Oh, fuck that!
"It is a turnip," I insist. "There's no way to know it exists except it makes me puke, and turnips make me puke. Therefore, I'm incubating a turnip. There's no other explanation."
Bishop smiles at my snarky silliness and picks up his stethoscope. "Listen," he says, placing the end against my belly and moving it around until he's satisfied. Then he pulls the earpieces from himself and hands them to me. I put them in my ears and dip my head, listening. It happens immediately; the gentle swish and whoosh of a heart rapidly beating. My own heart thunders in response, rushing blood to my head and obscuring the sound. I take a few calming breathes so I can hear it again.
I meet Bishop's eyes, my own wide with awe. I almost can't believe that my turnip is alive. Its heart is frantically beating away pumping life through its tiny half-formed body. A rush of something oddly close to affection hits me as I connect with the life inside me for the first time. No longer is it just a thing to worry about, a bundle of cells that makes me vomit on a semi-regular basis. Now it's real, and I ache to see what it looks like.
I dip my head again, swiping at tears as I pull the stethoscope from my head and hand it back to Bishop. I swallow hard and say, "Thank you. I needed that."
He smiles kindly and sets about repacking his bag. "I'm not surprised that you've been feeling disconnected, Taran. You've been through a lot in the past few months, not the least of which was a surprise marriage to our Warlord."
I smile at him, relieved that he understands and doesn't blame me for not wanting much to do with this baby. "I haven't even been able to bring myself to put together a baby room or think about things like baby clothes and diapers. Even women in the most deplorable conditions in the slums seem to look forward to birth more than I do."
He nods and sits on the edge of the bed, patting it, inviting me to sit with him. "In these tough times, babies are a reaffirmation of life. It's something normal and predictable in a chaotic world that changes as constantly as the wind. The joy of life is universal."
"Then why don't I feel joy?" Despair replaces my momentary feeling of wonder. "I feel like a ghost, like I'm going to disappear or fade away. I've lost almost everyone I've ever loved. I can't help but feel like like I'm going to lose this family too. I'm already attached to Diogo, but it's not too late to distance myself from the baby."
He places a hand tentatively on my back and rubs a little in a comforting way. "What you're feeling is normal, Taran. Grief does terrible things to us, but it's a natural course in life and not an emotion to shun or hide from. It won't last forever, and there will be a light at the end of your tunnel, I promise."
"How do you know?" I whisper, swiping at a tear.
"Because I've seen this before. Depression during and after pregnancy, it's not uncommon. It's just not something people like to talk about. We're told that babies are joyous and we should be happy with each birth. Especially because each new life extends the overall lifetime of our species. But the plain truth is that women struggle, especially when they don't have enough support."
I feel better as he speaks, much less like a freak that can't love her own baby.
He continues, "Soon you'll have a baby to love and it will consume you. Every time it cries, every time it smiles, when it eats, when it says your name, you'll connect. It may take time and you may feel depressed and sometimes frustrated and overwhelmed, but I'll be here every step of the way with you. You call and I'll be on your doorstep." He winks at me, "And not just because you're carrying the future Warlord."
I give a watery laugh and nod my head, continuing to sit in his semi-embrace soaking up his calm assurance. I love my husband, but his dominant bulldozing way of doing things isn't what I need right now. I need the reassurance of a man that has seen many births and many new moms throughout his life.
Finally, I straighten away from him and stand. "Thank you for coming all the way over here, especially with such unrest on the streets."
"It's my pleasure." He stands and collects his bag. "Your husband gave me an escort. He wanted to make sure I made it through the protests okay."
"Are there fresh protests then?" I ask curiously, leading him from the room.
"Oh yes, what with the new arrests, the whole city seems to be up in arms. I believe this is the reason your husband was unable to make it to this appointment."
"New arrests?" I eye Grayson as I escort Bishop from the bedroom. "Who's been arrested and why haven't I heard?"
Grayson stands to attention, his gaze sliding away from me. "Just some criminals, ma'am, nothing to worry about."
"I was considered a criminal until recently," I say sharply. "I want to know who has been arrested and why is it causing such an uproar?" When Grayson hesitates to answer I turn on the doctor. "I thought we were friends, Bishop. Friends don't withhold information and stress out pregnant women. I spend more time worrying about what I don't know than I do worrying over the things I do know and can't control."
It's a low blow, but I know exactly how to get the doctor to talk to me. He holds his hands up in surrender. "Rumour has it that your husband and his men arrested the new rebel leader and some top rebel advisors along with her. I believe they're being held for judgement, but the expected outcome is a charge of treason. Naturally, her arrest has caused a furor in the slums that seems to be rippling outward. Some young idiots nearly set my office on fire before Dee chased them away with a scalpel."
Fear rises up like acid, burning my stomach, throat and mouth. Emery! It has to be her. I can barely control the terror as I say goodnight to the doctor, kissing him on the cheek and thanking him for coming to see me.
"Any time, my dear," he says and leaves, either oblivious of my tension or happy to get away from it.
I turn my most scathing glare toward Grayson. "You can call my husband now and tell him to get his ass home." I really need to get one of these radios for myself instead of having to rely on Diogo's people to send my messages.
"Ma'am Mrs. Fuentes," Grayson stumbles over his words as he tries to deal with my anger. "The Commander is in an important meeting right now, he gave strict instructions to not be disturbed unless it's an emergency."
"We've been through this before, Grayson. If you don't get my husband here, now, then I will create an emergency that will make a city on fire look like child's play."
He shifts on his feet and drops his hand to the butt of his weapon. Typical Grayson reaction. If he can't control it then shoot it. Although, in this case, he can't kill the object of his torment.
"One more chance, Grayson. I need you to radio my husband right this instant."
He clears his throat and holds up a hand placatingly. "Ma'am"
I gave him his chance.
I gasp and grab my stomach without warning, pitching myself face forward into his arms with a pathetic moan.