(no subject)
"Twenty-seven."
Hips is in her bathroom in London, door locked just in case. She doesn't want any interruptions, in spite of the fact that Ramon and the menagerie are all in Spain. They might pop in at any moment.
"...Twenty-nine."
She's marking days off on a calendar.
"...Thirty-two..."
Her voice is getting quieter and quieter as the numbers keep going up and up and up.
"Thirty-five..."
It had been so long since Hips had to deal with having a period, she was more used to it being NOT there than there. So she can perhaps be forgiven for not realizing exactly how late she was.
"...Thirty-six. Thirty-seven. Thirty-eight. Thirty-nine. F-...Forty."
She stares at that calendar, realizing finally that she was due to get her period March 13th, and didn't even spot. She'd not re-upped her infertility shot, so that wasn't it. She can't be ill, her nanobots would fix it. Although there was that whole thing with the throwing up in the...mornings...
Morning...sickness...
Hips is up and out of the bathroom in a flash, grabs her purse, and is down the road to the chemist's in less than five minutes.
***
An hour later, she's out her door again, this time to a different chemist's, to pick up a different brand of pregnancy test.
***
Another two hours after that, she's sitting back in her bathroom, three more tests in front of her, all different brands, all gotten from different chemist's shops, all of which were in different worlds than this one. The last thing she needed was somebody recognizing her (she was still somewhat infamous in London, after all) and smearing her pregnancy all over the yellow press.
If she was pregnant.
These last three tests are her proof. If they turn up positive, like the first two did, then she'll know for sure.
She carefully pees on all three of them, then sets them on the counter to register, then washes her hands. She's very methodical about it, and she's forcefully remaining calm. She is CALM, damn it. Her hands aren't shaking at all as she washes them.
The next ten minutes are the longest ten minutes of her life to date. She simply paces up and down the hallway, sucking on a large bottle of water to replace what she just peed out.
Oh, gawd...
This was impossible. This was impossible! She couldn't be pregnant. Ramon was infertile! She had nanobots who'd tell her if she was! ...Right?
For the first time since she started counting, she frowns, and rolls her eyes up.
"Spill it, you little smeggers, or I'm going right to Kryten and having him replace you."
There's a long piece of hesitation, and then one singular voice pipes up, as opposed to the millions in chorus. The apparent spokesman, who drew the short straw.
...yes, miss hollis... mrs. salazar. you're pregnant.
Her heart leaps, and adrenaline rushes through her body. She has to sit down. All she manages is an awkward slide down the wall outside the bathroom. Her head is spinning.
"...Why didn't you tell me sooner?" she whispers.
we wanted it to be a surprise.
She finally manages to stand up about fifteen minutes later, and goes to check the tests. Plus sign. Double line. Positive. Positive. Positive.
"I'm having a baby," she whispers to the empty London flat, and goes goose-pimpley all over.
...Oh, gawd, Ramon's going to have an absolute cow. He doesn't want kids.
Now what?
Hips is in her bathroom in London, door locked just in case. She doesn't want any interruptions, in spite of the fact that Ramon and the menagerie are all in Spain. They might pop in at any moment.
"...Twenty-nine."
She's marking days off on a calendar.
"...Thirty-two..."
Her voice is getting quieter and quieter as the numbers keep going up and up and up.
"Thirty-five..."
It had been so long since Hips had to deal with having a period, she was more used to it being NOT there than there. So she can perhaps be forgiven for not realizing exactly how late she was.
"...Thirty-six. Thirty-seven. Thirty-eight. Thirty-nine. F-...Forty."
She stares at that calendar, realizing finally that she was due to get her period March 13th, and didn't even spot. She'd not re-upped her infertility shot, so that wasn't it. She can't be ill, her nanobots would fix it. Although there was that whole thing with the throwing up in the...mornings...
Morning...sickness...
Hips is up and out of the bathroom in a flash, grabs her purse, and is down the road to the chemist's in less than five minutes.
***
An hour later, she's out her door again, this time to a different chemist's, to pick up a different brand of pregnancy test.
***
Another two hours after that, she's sitting back in her bathroom, three more tests in front of her, all different brands, all gotten from different chemist's shops, all of which were in different worlds than this one. The last thing she needed was somebody recognizing her (she was still somewhat infamous in London, after all) and smearing her pregnancy all over the yellow press.
If she was pregnant.
These last three tests are her proof. If they turn up positive, like the first two did, then she'll know for sure.
She carefully pees on all three of them, then sets them on the counter to register, then washes her hands. She's very methodical about it, and she's forcefully remaining calm. She is CALM, damn it. Her hands aren't shaking at all as she washes them.
The next ten minutes are the longest ten minutes of her life to date. She simply paces up and down the hallway, sucking on a large bottle of water to replace what she just peed out.
Oh, gawd...
This was impossible. This was impossible! She couldn't be pregnant. Ramon was infertile! She had nanobots who'd tell her if she was! ...Right?
For the first time since she started counting, she frowns, and rolls her eyes up.
"Spill it, you little smeggers, or I'm going right to Kryten and having him replace you."
There's a long piece of hesitation, and then one singular voice pipes up, as opposed to the millions in chorus. The apparent spokesman, who drew the short straw.
...yes, miss hollis... mrs. salazar. you're pregnant.
Her heart leaps, and adrenaline rushes through her body. She has to sit down. All she manages is an awkward slide down the wall outside the bathroom. Her head is spinning.
"...Why didn't you tell me sooner?" she whispers.
we wanted it to be a surprise.
She finally manages to stand up about fifteen minutes later, and goes to check the tests. Plus sign. Double line. Positive. Positive. Positive.
"I'm having a baby," she whispers to the empty London flat, and goes goose-pimpley all over.
...Oh, gawd, Ramon's going to have an absolute cow. He doesn't want kids.
Now what?