Doubt (Chapter 7 - No Happily Ever After)
Title:Doubt
Author:glasheen25
Pairing/Characters:Nancy/Ned, Nancy/Frank
Series:post-files
Word Count:2889
Rating:R
Summary:In the first instance Ned misses his flight, missing Nancy's birthday in the process. In the second instance Ned makes his flight, arriving on time. How a seemingly inconsequential event could lead Nancy's life in two completely different directions.
Spoilers:None
Warnings:None
Why Bess regarded shopping as a pleasurable activity, was something Nancy never really understood. The mall was heaving, the unrelenting snowfall and the plummeting temperatures driving the whole of Chicago indoors. Teenagers hung in groups, the girls giggling and whispering about their latest crush, the boys staring on unimpressed, their conversation extending solely to the previous night’s football game. Weary-eyed mothers pushed prams in the same circuit around the mall, their red-faced babies squalling angrily. Nancy didn’t blame them. She felt like crying herself.
Sipping her diet cola delicately through a straw, Bess gazed at Nancy curiously, her finger twisting around a lock of pale-blonde hair. “You mean you’re quitting your internship? But, why?" Bess demanded as she absently picked at the cold remains of the French fries on her plate. “People would kill for the opportunity you’ve been given. And you’re going to throw it all away for the FBI?" The disdainful way she uttered the words left Nancy in no confusion as to Bess’s opinion of her decision. “You could get kidnapped, shot at, murdered. I’ve seen Criminal Minds,” she explained with an emphatic shake of her head, as though watching a television show was more legitimate than any training in Quantico Nancy could hope to pursue. “Why would you possibly want to do this?”
“Because I hate working at Baker & McKenzie,” Nancy answered honestly, pushing wilted lettuce leaves to the side of her plate. “I hate it, Bess, I absolutely hate every second I’m there. You have no idea what it’s like,” she added with a meaningful look, pleading with her friend to understand. Having secured her dream job working as a buyer for Bloomingdales, Bess loved, adored and raved about her job; about the parties, the glamorous photo shoots, the jet setting to Paris and Milan. Nancy only complained.
“Nancy, get real,” Bess retorted dismissively, using her napkin to delicately dab at a ketchup stain on her sleeve. “Everyone hates their job at the beginning. You’ll get used to it and, you know, settle down.”
“That’s the thing, Bess, I don’t want to have to get used to it,” Nancy sighed, draining the end of her soda and discarding the paper cup on her plate. “I don’t want to have to settle. I’ve always wanted to join the FBI, you know, the same way you’ve always wanted to work for Bloomingdales.”
“I guess I understand,” Bess relented finally, as she gathered her purchases and slung her purse over her shoulder. “What does Ned think?” she asked after a pause, her attention mostly focused on a glamorous purple gown draped on a mannequin in a shop window.
“Well, it was kind of his idea,” Nancy shrugged, dabbing some gloss onto her lips.
“But won’t you have to move to Virginia?” Bess suddenly realized, turning to Nancy and shuddering at the thought. “What are you and Ned going to do?”
“It won’t be so bad,” she replied, the look of abject horror on Bess’s face telling Nancy she remained unconvinced. “We can do holidays and weekends. We survived all those years when Ned was away at Emerson, surely we can get through this.”
Pausing at a baby store, Bess gazed wistfully at the spring themed window display, miniature dresses and tiny pairs of jeans draped among cotton-tailed rabbits and yellow chicks. “How cute are those pink jeans?” she cooed, her nose practically pressed against the glass. “You know, I can’t wait until you and Ned have a baby, so I have an excuse to go into one of these shops and buy lots and lots of cute baby clothes.”
“Don’t hold your breath,” Nancy muttered in warning, taking Bess by the arm and guiding her friend forcefully away from the store, as though even being in the vicinity of a baby store was infectious and pregnancy was a disease Nancy certainly wasn’t willing to risk.
--
Shaking the snow from her red-gold hair, Nancy eagerly pushed open the door of the restaurant, the bells hanging over the door tinkling merrily. Her father was already seated at a corner table, and seeing him, Nancy forced a smile and squashed the nervous flutter of butterflies that were already threatening to erupt. Doing this, leaving her internship, would be regarded as a mistake in her father’s eyes, Nancy knew, and she hated disappointing her father. Joining the FBI would be another disappointment.
“Hi Dad,” Nancy greeted Carson, leaning over and giving her father a kiss on the cheek.
“How are you, Nan?” he greeted his daughter warmly, smiling as she peeled off her snow-sodden coat and took a seat opposite him.
Quietly bustling, the restaurant was full of the regular lunchtime patrons, the customers on first name terms with the waiting staff and the patter of conversation familiar and teasing. There was an energy in the room, a sense of impatience, heightened by the fact that people could so rarely linger over lunch when their inevitable return to the office hung over them like a dark cloud.
Seeing the steaming plates of food coming from the kitchen, Nancy’s stomach grumbled in anticipation. Nancy had somehow managed to sleep in that morning, an event which was unusual for her, and thus breakfast was a hastily grabbed piece of fruit and a black coffee.
“Any news, Nan?” her father asked curiously, as she poured over the brief menu before finally settling on pasta. There was an expectant tone in Carson’s voice, as though he guessed something was up, and Nancy knew why. Although she saw her father regularly, it was rare that they actually met for lunch; Carson’s meetings with clients often spilled well into the afternoon.
“Actually, Dad, there is something,” Nancy admitted hesitantly, taking a piece of bread from the basket and tearing a narrow strip from it nervously. “I’ve been accepted into the FBI and I’ve decided to go for it,” she declared, the words tripping over themselves in her eagerness to get the information out in the open.
“That’s your news?” her father spluttered in shock as he gratefully accepted a glass of wine from the waitress.
“Well, yeah,” Nancy shrugged, confused by her father’s reaction. It was almost as though he’d prepared himself for a different sort of news. “What did you think I was going to say?”
“Oh, nothing,” Carson replied dismissively, regaining his composure as he cut into his steak. “I suppose I’m just wondering what made you decide to do this? I thought you were really settling down at the firm.”
“It’s not what I expected it to be,” Nancy admitted with a shrug, placing her cutlery on her plate and gazing apologetically at her father. “No offense, Dad, but this is not what I’m supposed to do. I’m bored, irritable. Hell, I don’t know how Ned puts up with me half the time. I have to do this,” she leveled with him, her arms crossed as she gazed at her father from across the table. “Because I think I'm going to go crazy if I don’t.”
“And Ned is okay with this?” Carson prompted her doubtfully, taking another drink from his wine.
“He says he is,” Nancy confirmed with a hopeful sigh. “We know it’s going to be hard but we’re both willing to work for this, so it will be okay.”
Nancy had expected disappointment, even straight-out disapproval from her father, and she had prepared herself for that. Luckily, in the end, he displayed neither emotion and if anything, just seemed resigned to her decision.
“Nancy, I just want you to be happy and if that means joining the FBI, then that’s what you should do.”
“Thanks, Dad,” Nancy smiled, reaching across the table and squeezing his hand warmly. Carson’s approval meant a lot and Nancy wasn’t sure how confident she’d be leaving everything behind, if her father hadn’t accepted her decision to join the FBI as gracefully as he had. It was a sign of sorts and Nancy was determined to take it.
--
Though it was barely six o’ clock, the sky was already inky black, the pale crescent of the moon spilling light onto the world below. The house was freezing, a victim of the bitterly cold temperatures. Shrugging out of her warm purple coat, Nancy stared at her reflection in the mirror in the hall. She looked exhausted; dark shadows, black smudges lingered under her eyes. Work had been trying at best. She had made twelve cups of coffee, had gone on two sandwich runs and had even been sent to collect a senior partner’s dry-cleaning, his housekeeper seemingly indisposed for the day. It was ridiculous. She felt like a servant. Apparently, this was normal practice, this was what an intern was expected to deal with if they hoped to graduate onto getting real experience the following year. The only thing that sustained Nancy, the only thing that got her through the day, was the thought of handing in her notice. Not that they’d notice or even care, she thought wryly, rubbing a little moisturizer under her eyes. They’d just replace her with another blonde, who would be more than willing to make their coffee and collect their lunch and who might even manage to perform her duties with a smile on her face, as opposed to Nancy’s barely contained scowl.
Though Ned had sworn to her he would clean up after dinner the previous night, the kitchen was a mess, their plates heaped lazily on the table, the countertops scattered with crumbs and some spilt spaghetti sauce dripping a gooey mess on the otherwise gleaming tiled floor.
“Typical,” Nancy sighed irritably as she noisily loaded the dishwasher, gaining a tremendous sense of satisfaction from the heavy clang of the pots and pans as she practically threw them into the sink.
Nancy knew she was being irrational, that Ned generally did his share of the household duties, often taking charge of the cooking, which allowed Nancy the indulgence of a steaming bubble bath after a particularly stressful commute home. But try as she might, Nancy couldn’t shake off her mood and was busy preparing dinner, making angry stabs at the chicken when Ned arrived home, a fierce gust of wind blowing in a shower of snowflakes behind him.
“Hey Nan,” he greeted her warmly, an irrational surge of anger shooting through Nancy as he laid a hand casually on the small of her back. “How are you?”
“Fine,” Nancy muttered, not even bothering to turn around, anger burning in her chest as she sliced through the chicken fillets.
“Do you want to go out tonight?” Ned suggested cautiously, sensing his wife’s caustic mood. “We could go to the movies or maybe for a drink?”
“I can’t,” she replied matter-of-factly, pulling away from him and sweeping some red-stained wine glasses from the table and balancing them carefully beside the sink. “There’s too much to do. I couldn’t possibly go back to work in the morning the state the house is in. You told me you would do this last night,” she finally spat out, unable to contain her anger any longer.
“I was, until a certain person distracted me,” Ned teased his wife lightly, taking her hand and forcing her to look him.
“But you could have done it afterwards,” Nancy replied stubbornly, resuming slicing up the chicken fillets into neat, uniform sized pieces. “I feel like a servant. You're not the only one with a job, you know?”
“Where’s all this coming from?” Ned asked, taken aback by the frustration in her tone. Gently reaching out, he placed his fingers on her cheeks, and tears prickled at Nancy’s eyes at the tenderness of his touch.
“I don’t know,” Nancy admitted honestly, the anger slowly draining away as Ned took her in his arms and held her close.
“You’ll be okay,” Ned murmured reassuringly, a worried expression on his face as he ran a hand soothingly over her hair.
--
Saturday morning was Nancy’s favorite time of the week; the morning generally revolving around lazy, drawn-out sex and sharing breakfast in bed, Nancy and Ned lingering under the sheets, entangled in each other’s arms long after the sun was spilling through the curtains.
This Saturday morning was different, though. Ned was on a business trip in New York and Nancy was alone, running through a nearby wooded park, almost wishing she was at work, engaged in some mindless task if only to distract her from the worrying thoughts that had been building up inside her for days.
Her period was almost a month late.
The rational part of Nancy’s brain pleaded with her that she was not pregnant, that the notion was entirely impossible; Nancy took her pill with military precision, the routine as firmly ingrained in her daily regimin as showering or brushing her teeth. She didn’t feel any different, she hadn’t put on any weight, and she hadn’t been plagued with the infamous morning sickness Jan had complained about for months. But the memory of Ned’s Christmas party niggled at her. She had been dreadfully hung-over and she had been sick.
Slowing down her pace, Nancy forced herself to relax. The park seemed almost alive, the glorious green of the grass a welcome sight after months of snow and ice. Daffodils had seemingly sprung up over overnight, their yellow heads bobbing in unison as Nancy jogged along the twisted path, but the trees were still bare, the skeletal branches stretching grotesquely into the sky. Leaves and branches crackled underfoot as she made her way deeper into the woods and Nancy knew Ned would, quite rightly, kill her if he ever found out she had run this isolated track of land alone. Chicago was noticeably quieter under the Riverside Murderer’s reign, the increased police presence on the streets at night made all the more prominent by the city’s otherwise deserted state. But she needed the space to think and in truth, the prospect of having a baby terrified Nancy far more than any knife-wielding serial killer ever could.
A baby would change everything. It would mean giving everything up, everything she’d worked for, everything she’d hoped to accomplish, and nobody would understand. Everyone would gush delightedly, touch her stomach, and force their excitement on Nancy. It would be hell and once everyone knew, that was it. Ned, she knew, would swear that after she had the baby, they could move, that she could still join the FBI and Nancy would see the words for the false declarations that they were. She had tried to talk to Bess about it but had pulled back at the last moment, not wanting to make the situation more real than it already was by putting words to her fears.
Pushing herself even harder, Nancy turned up the volume on her iPod until the music drowned out her thoughts.
She would deal with this tonight. Take the test and see if she was pregnant. If she wasn’t, then she could just relax, suffer through the next few months at Baker & McKenzie before handing in her notice and finally realizing her dreams at the FBI.
And if she was. Well, that was something else. She would need more time to consider that possibility. Ned was away until Thursday and that gave her time to think, time to consider. And as long as Ned didn’t know, Nancy didn’t need to panic yet. She could fix this. The only question was how.
Author:glasheen25
Pairing/Characters:Nancy/Ned, Nancy/Frank
Series:post-files
Word Count:2889
Rating:R
Summary:In the first instance Ned misses his flight, missing Nancy's birthday in the process. In the second instance Ned makes his flight, arriving on time. How a seemingly inconsequential event could lead Nancy's life in two completely different directions.
Spoilers:None
Warnings:None
Why Bess regarded shopping as a pleasurable activity, was something Nancy never really understood. The mall was heaving, the unrelenting snowfall and the plummeting temperatures driving the whole of Chicago indoors. Teenagers hung in groups, the girls giggling and whispering about their latest crush, the boys staring on unimpressed, their conversation extending solely to the previous night’s football game. Weary-eyed mothers pushed prams in the same circuit around the mall, their red-faced babies squalling angrily. Nancy didn’t blame them. She felt like crying herself.
Sipping her diet cola delicately through a straw, Bess gazed at Nancy curiously, her finger twisting around a lock of pale-blonde hair. “You mean you’re quitting your internship? But, why?" Bess demanded as she absently picked at the cold remains of the French fries on her plate. “People would kill for the opportunity you’ve been given. And you’re going to throw it all away for the FBI?" The disdainful way she uttered the words left Nancy in no confusion as to Bess’s opinion of her decision. “You could get kidnapped, shot at, murdered. I’ve seen Criminal Minds,” she explained with an emphatic shake of her head, as though watching a television show was more legitimate than any training in Quantico Nancy could hope to pursue. “Why would you possibly want to do this?”
“Because I hate working at Baker & McKenzie,” Nancy answered honestly, pushing wilted lettuce leaves to the side of her plate. “I hate it, Bess, I absolutely hate every second I’m there. You have no idea what it’s like,” she added with a meaningful look, pleading with her friend to understand. Having secured her dream job working as a buyer for Bloomingdales, Bess loved, adored and raved about her job; about the parties, the glamorous photo shoots, the jet setting to Paris and Milan. Nancy only complained.
“Nancy, get real,” Bess retorted dismissively, using her napkin to delicately dab at a ketchup stain on her sleeve. “Everyone hates their job at the beginning. You’ll get used to it and, you know, settle down.”
“That’s the thing, Bess, I don’t want to have to get used to it,” Nancy sighed, draining the end of her soda and discarding the paper cup on her plate. “I don’t want to have to settle. I’ve always wanted to join the FBI, you know, the same way you’ve always wanted to work for Bloomingdales.”
“I guess I understand,” Bess relented finally, as she gathered her purchases and slung her purse over her shoulder. “What does Ned think?” she asked after a pause, her attention mostly focused on a glamorous purple gown draped on a mannequin in a shop window.
“Well, it was kind of his idea,” Nancy shrugged, dabbing some gloss onto her lips.
“But won’t you have to move to Virginia?” Bess suddenly realized, turning to Nancy and shuddering at the thought. “What are you and Ned going to do?”
“It won’t be so bad,” she replied, the look of abject horror on Bess’s face telling Nancy she remained unconvinced. “We can do holidays and weekends. We survived all those years when Ned was away at Emerson, surely we can get through this.”
Pausing at a baby store, Bess gazed wistfully at the spring themed window display, miniature dresses and tiny pairs of jeans draped among cotton-tailed rabbits and yellow chicks. “How cute are those pink jeans?” she cooed, her nose practically pressed against the glass. “You know, I can’t wait until you and Ned have a baby, so I have an excuse to go into one of these shops and buy lots and lots of cute baby clothes.”
“Don’t hold your breath,” Nancy muttered in warning, taking Bess by the arm and guiding her friend forcefully away from the store, as though even being in the vicinity of a baby store was infectious and pregnancy was a disease Nancy certainly wasn’t willing to risk.
--
Shaking the snow from her red-gold hair, Nancy eagerly pushed open the door of the restaurant, the bells hanging over the door tinkling merrily. Her father was already seated at a corner table, and seeing him, Nancy forced a smile and squashed the nervous flutter of butterflies that were already threatening to erupt. Doing this, leaving her internship, would be regarded as a mistake in her father’s eyes, Nancy knew, and she hated disappointing her father. Joining the FBI would be another disappointment.
“Hi Dad,” Nancy greeted Carson, leaning over and giving her father a kiss on the cheek.
“How are you, Nan?” he greeted his daughter warmly, smiling as she peeled off her snow-sodden coat and took a seat opposite him.
Quietly bustling, the restaurant was full of the regular lunchtime patrons, the customers on first name terms with the waiting staff and the patter of conversation familiar and teasing. There was an energy in the room, a sense of impatience, heightened by the fact that people could so rarely linger over lunch when their inevitable return to the office hung over them like a dark cloud.
Seeing the steaming plates of food coming from the kitchen, Nancy’s stomach grumbled in anticipation. Nancy had somehow managed to sleep in that morning, an event which was unusual for her, and thus breakfast was a hastily grabbed piece of fruit and a black coffee.
“Any news, Nan?” her father asked curiously, as she poured over the brief menu before finally settling on pasta. There was an expectant tone in Carson’s voice, as though he guessed something was up, and Nancy knew why. Although she saw her father regularly, it was rare that they actually met for lunch; Carson’s meetings with clients often spilled well into the afternoon.
“Actually, Dad, there is something,” Nancy admitted hesitantly, taking a piece of bread from the basket and tearing a narrow strip from it nervously. “I’ve been accepted into the FBI and I’ve decided to go for it,” she declared, the words tripping over themselves in her eagerness to get the information out in the open.
“That’s your news?” her father spluttered in shock as he gratefully accepted a glass of wine from the waitress.
“Well, yeah,” Nancy shrugged, confused by her father’s reaction. It was almost as though he’d prepared himself for a different sort of news. “What did you think I was going to say?”
“Oh, nothing,” Carson replied dismissively, regaining his composure as he cut into his steak. “I suppose I’m just wondering what made you decide to do this? I thought you were really settling down at the firm.”
“It’s not what I expected it to be,” Nancy admitted with a shrug, placing her cutlery on her plate and gazing apologetically at her father. “No offense, Dad, but this is not what I’m supposed to do. I’m bored, irritable. Hell, I don’t know how Ned puts up with me half the time. I have to do this,” she leveled with him, her arms crossed as she gazed at her father from across the table. “Because I think I'm going to go crazy if I don’t.”
“And Ned is okay with this?” Carson prompted her doubtfully, taking another drink from his wine.
“He says he is,” Nancy confirmed with a hopeful sigh. “We know it’s going to be hard but we’re both willing to work for this, so it will be okay.”
Nancy had expected disappointment, even straight-out disapproval from her father, and she had prepared herself for that. Luckily, in the end, he displayed neither emotion and if anything, just seemed resigned to her decision.
“Nancy, I just want you to be happy and if that means joining the FBI, then that’s what you should do.”
“Thanks, Dad,” Nancy smiled, reaching across the table and squeezing his hand warmly. Carson’s approval meant a lot and Nancy wasn’t sure how confident she’d be leaving everything behind, if her father hadn’t accepted her decision to join the FBI as gracefully as he had. It was a sign of sorts and Nancy was determined to take it.
--
Though it was barely six o’ clock, the sky was already inky black, the pale crescent of the moon spilling light onto the world below. The house was freezing, a victim of the bitterly cold temperatures. Shrugging out of her warm purple coat, Nancy stared at her reflection in the mirror in the hall. She looked exhausted; dark shadows, black smudges lingered under her eyes. Work had been trying at best. She had made twelve cups of coffee, had gone on two sandwich runs and had even been sent to collect a senior partner’s dry-cleaning, his housekeeper seemingly indisposed for the day. It was ridiculous. She felt like a servant. Apparently, this was normal practice, this was what an intern was expected to deal with if they hoped to graduate onto getting real experience the following year. The only thing that sustained Nancy, the only thing that got her through the day, was the thought of handing in her notice. Not that they’d notice or even care, she thought wryly, rubbing a little moisturizer under her eyes. They’d just replace her with another blonde, who would be more than willing to make their coffee and collect their lunch and who might even manage to perform her duties with a smile on her face, as opposed to Nancy’s barely contained scowl.
Though Ned had sworn to her he would clean up after dinner the previous night, the kitchen was a mess, their plates heaped lazily on the table, the countertops scattered with crumbs and some spilt spaghetti sauce dripping a gooey mess on the otherwise gleaming tiled floor.
“Typical,” Nancy sighed irritably as she noisily loaded the dishwasher, gaining a tremendous sense of satisfaction from the heavy clang of the pots and pans as she practically threw them into the sink.
Nancy knew she was being irrational, that Ned generally did his share of the household duties, often taking charge of the cooking, which allowed Nancy the indulgence of a steaming bubble bath after a particularly stressful commute home. But try as she might, Nancy couldn’t shake off her mood and was busy preparing dinner, making angry stabs at the chicken when Ned arrived home, a fierce gust of wind blowing in a shower of snowflakes behind him.
“Hey Nan,” he greeted her warmly, an irrational surge of anger shooting through Nancy as he laid a hand casually on the small of her back. “How are you?”
“Fine,” Nancy muttered, not even bothering to turn around, anger burning in her chest as she sliced through the chicken fillets.
“Do you want to go out tonight?” Ned suggested cautiously, sensing his wife’s caustic mood. “We could go to the movies or maybe for a drink?”
“I can’t,” she replied matter-of-factly, pulling away from him and sweeping some red-stained wine glasses from the table and balancing them carefully beside the sink. “There’s too much to do. I couldn’t possibly go back to work in the morning the state the house is in. You told me you would do this last night,” she finally spat out, unable to contain her anger any longer.
“I was, until a certain person distracted me,” Ned teased his wife lightly, taking her hand and forcing her to look him.
“But you could have done it afterwards,” Nancy replied stubbornly, resuming slicing up the chicken fillets into neat, uniform sized pieces. “I feel like a servant. You're not the only one with a job, you know?”
“Where’s all this coming from?” Ned asked, taken aback by the frustration in her tone. Gently reaching out, he placed his fingers on her cheeks, and tears prickled at Nancy’s eyes at the tenderness of his touch.
“I don’t know,” Nancy admitted honestly, the anger slowly draining away as Ned took her in his arms and held her close.
“You’ll be okay,” Ned murmured reassuringly, a worried expression on his face as he ran a hand soothingly over her hair.
--
Saturday morning was Nancy’s favorite time of the week; the morning generally revolving around lazy, drawn-out sex and sharing breakfast in bed, Nancy and Ned lingering under the sheets, entangled in each other’s arms long after the sun was spilling through the curtains.
This Saturday morning was different, though. Ned was on a business trip in New York and Nancy was alone, running through a nearby wooded park, almost wishing she was at work, engaged in some mindless task if only to distract her from the worrying thoughts that had been building up inside her for days.
Her period was almost a month late.
The rational part of Nancy’s brain pleaded with her that she was not pregnant, that the notion was entirely impossible; Nancy took her pill with military precision, the routine as firmly ingrained in her daily regimin as showering or brushing her teeth. She didn’t feel any different, she hadn’t put on any weight, and she hadn’t been plagued with the infamous morning sickness Jan had complained about for months. But the memory of Ned’s Christmas party niggled at her. She had been dreadfully hung-over and she had been sick.
Slowing down her pace, Nancy forced herself to relax. The park seemed almost alive, the glorious green of the grass a welcome sight after months of snow and ice. Daffodils had seemingly sprung up over overnight, their yellow heads bobbing in unison as Nancy jogged along the twisted path, but the trees were still bare, the skeletal branches stretching grotesquely into the sky. Leaves and branches crackled underfoot as she made her way deeper into the woods and Nancy knew Ned would, quite rightly, kill her if he ever found out she had run this isolated track of land alone. Chicago was noticeably quieter under the Riverside Murderer’s reign, the increased police presence on the streets at night made all the more prominent by the city’s otherwise deserted state. But she needed the space to think and in truth, the prospect of having a baby terrified Nancy far more than any knife-wielding serial killer ever could.
A baby would change everything. It would mean giving everything up, everything she’d worked for, everything she’d hoped to accomplish, and nobody would understand. Everyone would gush delightedly, touch her stomach, and force their excitement on Nancy. It would be hell and once everyone knew, that was it. Ned, she knew, would swear that after she had the baby, they could move, that she could still join the FBI and Nancy would see the words for the false declarations that they were. She had tried to talk to Bess about it but had pulled back at the last moment, not wanting to make the situation more real than it already was by putting words to her fears.
Pushing herself even harder, Nancy turned up the volume on her iPod until the music drowned out her thoughts.
She would deal with this tonight. Take the test and see if she was pregnant. If she wasn’t, then she could just relax, suffer through the next few months at Baker & McKenzie before handing in her notice and finally realizing her dreams at the FBI.
And if she was. Well, that was something else. She would need more time to consider that possibility. Ned was away until Thursday and that gave her time to think, time to consider. And as long as Ned didn’t know, Nancy didn’t need to panic yet. She could fix this. The only question was how.