attitude | take care of yourself

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take care of yourself

Every time that Faye thought she'd finally learned to accept her pregnancy in full, something came about to prove her wrong. In some ways, it felt like taking regular steps towards some blurred and as of yet uncertain destination. Telling Dean had been the first big step, one that left her feeling exposed and shaky at best, to learn that someone else was much more prepared for the changes to come than she was herself. Recognizing each symptom thereafter had been an almost painful process, one which drew out a sense of lingering paranoia. Were her aches caused by the pregnancy? Was she losing sleep because of anxiety? Was she, could she, had she— an endless myriad that never seemed to solve for itself, because some answers simply couldn't be had no matter how great the effort to root them out.

And that morning, she'd come across yet another problem: the clothes that she'd picked out for herself at the beginning of the month, skin-tight and every bit as capable of exuding confidence as the bright yellow she used to wear, were somehow too small around the waist.

Naturally, Faye knew that the changes had taken place since day one. But in some way, the baby was still a distant notion at the start. Fatigue, she could blame on the mental stress. Nausea, she could blame on poor eating habits. But a thickening of her waist felt somehow undeniable, because Faye Valentine was not one to let herself go to any extent, and her size had remained constant since she woke up in that chamber those few years ago.

Something else was changing, and still Faye felt like she was digging her heel stubbornly against all of it.

For the time being, her solution was to snag a shirt out of the several that Dean sometimes left at her place, before slipping on the loosest pair of jeans she had. Maybe she didn't look like much, but at least it masked the constant thrum of her chest as she took a deep breath, setting out for the common dining room, even if she had the lingering suspicion that her nausea would make it hard to keep anything down.

[ Dated April 20th, this is the post for anyone who knows Faye and wants to hear about baby stuff first-hand from her! ST/LT welcome, no limit, go wild. (Sorry for being slow enough to require backdating.) ]

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"Impossible," Finnick replies, though he doesn't expect Faye to really understand the absolute sincerity in it. Almost all of Finnick's life has been spent on the ocean; to suddenly not even have it as an option is nothing short of terrifying.

It's helped settle Annie a little though, and for that he's grateful.

"I'd just take a nice, hard rain at this point," he says, cracking open another shell, brow furrowing as he looks at her carefully. "What's wrong?"

Strangely enough, that one word is enough for Faye to understand how Finnick feels. On an almost daily basis, Faye finds herself missing space as much as she supposes that Finnick misses the water. Granted, space was only part of Faye's life for a couple of years, but for most of that time, a couple of years was all that Faye had. All that Faye remembered. And even before then, Faye's memories are always speckled with daydreams of making it out there into the dark velvet of the sky, to where the stars twinkle even from impossible distances.

And she can't have any of that anymore.

"I hear that when it rains here, it's practically a flood," Faye mutters, voice soft, brow furrowed. "And I'm just feeling under the weather, okay? Nothing's wrong."

Both Finnick's eyebrows raise high at the suddenly defensive tone and he finishes chewing before letting out a soft laugh.

"I see I touched a nerve," he says, cracking open another nut with two fingers before sucking the salt off his thumb, eyes still locked on Faye. Once clean, he reaches over to tug at the sleeve of the shirt she's wearing, so different her typical skin tight garb. "You look like you're wearing a tent."

"It's Dean's shirt," she mutters, because it's easier to admit to that, to something which could arguably be interpreted as romantic rather than admit to the fact that she's running from the problem and from acknowledging it at all. Shrugging her shoulder until the fabric pulls from his fingers, Faye does her best to train her expression into something softer. Finnick hasn't done anything wrong, it must be strange for him to see her in such an aggravated state. If only she could calm herself down.

But her stomach turns again, and Faye frowns, leaning forward to rest her forehead in her palm, skin feeling slightly clammy to the touch. "Just not feeling great, okay? Hard to rock my usual when that's the case."

"You're not going to vomit on me, are you?" Finnick says, pulling back a little with a wrinkle of his nose. He's kidding for the most part, a smile still tugging at the corner of his lips. Because, despite the overbearing heat, he's actually in a fairly good mood. "Because I can tell you, I have had quite enough of that recently."

Though, to be fair, Annie's never actually vomited on him. And he doesn't really mind it, only wishes he could do something to make her feel even a little bit better. Instead, he just always feel completely useless and more and more guilty.

Faye frowns, pulling herself up from where her forehead rests against her palm, and immediately regrets it. Not that she's about to run off to a toilet just yet, but the world seems to shift under her feet, and that definitely feels none too pleasant. More importantly though, what was it about her that gave it away? Was there just some big sign over her head that goes, pregnant! This woman is with child.

She hope not. Ruins her image.

"Was it that obvious?" she asks, curling into herself and suddenly feeling more insecure. Irritation bleeds away with her worry, settling in the quick furrow of her brow.

He'd expected her to laugh it off and maybe call him some colorful name so her actual reaction makes him frown in concern and he reaches out to lightly rest his hand on her shoulder.

"Maybe you should lie down for awhile," he says as he gets to his feet, boots once again clunking on the hard floor. "Here, I'll go get you some water."

With a heavy sigh, Faye shakes her head fervently before slumping slightly over the table, deep breath in, deep breath out. "No, I've done more than enough lying down lately," she insists, frowning. "It's not good for the—"

Somehow, it's hard to get the words out, and that just makes Faye roll her eyes harder at herself.

"I'm pregnant, not coming down with the plague," she says, not sure whether or not it's relief that rises up the back of her neck once the words are out.

Finnick is halfway out of his chair before he stops, brow furrowing at how quickly Faye shakes her head, feeling suddenly powerless to help her.

But at least that's something he's grown more accustomed to lately.

And then she locks in that one missing piece and it all makes sense. Finnick's eyes go wide and, for a second he nearly laughs. "You're pregnant? That's- I mean. Wow. That's... wow. Congratulations?"

"'Good luck' would probably be more accurate," Faye replies, rolling her eyes, although she keeps her gaze mostly trained on Finnick, watching the way in which he reacts. Naturally, he doesn't seem upset— and why would he? It's not his child, and as far as most people are concerned, a kid is good news on the island. But there's something beyond that in his expression, Faye leaning forward and squinting, as though she might be able to pick it out.

"So what's so wow about it? The fact that I don't seem like typical mom material?" she asks, doubt already seeping into her voice. That can't be it. Skepticism or incredulity would take a greater turn for the negative, Faye thinks. "Or are you just glad for Dean? Clearly he's good at taking care of kids."

In truth, Finnick really doesn't know Dean that well, though he has seen the man with a kid or two in tow before and he does seem to know what he's doing. Certainly has a better idea than Finnick.

But that isn't it.

"No, it's not-" He cuts himself with a somewhat awkward laugh, ducking his head to scratch the back of his neck before glancing over at her again. "Annie's pregnant. We, uh... found out a few weeks ago."

It's probably the worst thought to have cross her mind at a moment like this, but Faye can't help but think: now there's going to be proof that she doesn't make a good mother. There's going to be concrete proof, right beside her. They're just kids, Finnick and Annie, just kids at the end of the day— Finnick may share a physical age with Faye, but something about him has always seemed younger somehow, since the first time they met. They're just kids.

But they're going to do a better job of this than she ever can.

"...congratulations," she offers, brow furrowed and caught in the moment. "Assuming the both of you are happy. Seems like you'd be."

Finnick can't quite read that look in her eye, but he offers a somewhat strained smile and shrugs. "We're happy," he says because that isn't at all untrue. In fact, Finnick is fairly sure he's never been happier even if he's still half certain this is all in his head. Even if it has to end sometime, he'll have all this to remember.

"It's just... also kind of terrifying," he admits a moment later, his smile turning more sheepish. "I know next to nothing about raising a kid, you know?" He only really knows how to kill them, but he keeps that comment to himself.

It's everything that young parenting should be. Finnick looks a bit nervous and unsure, the corners of his smile a bit tighter than they'd otherwise be, but he is smiling, and it isn't forced. Faye stares again, perhaps a touch out of envy, but strangely protective all the same. Seems lately like that impulse turns up whenever she interacts with friends or family of Dean's. What that means in the long run, Faye won't bother to wonder just yet.

"Guess we've got a leg up on you there," Faye says with a small huff. "Dean's been raising his little sister since... well, probably as far back as she can remember. Have you met her yet? Cori?"

"I haven't, no," Finnick replies. "But I've heard a lot about her and seen him with her in passing a few times. She's a cute kid. But see, at least you both have had some practice. I've just been reading a lot of books, but not a single one of them has told me how to stop panicking."

"You think you're the only one panicking? I'm pretty sure every prospective parent panics at some point or another. Dean tries to hide it from me, but sometimes I get the sense that it's a lot for him. There's a difference between raising a baby sister and raising your own kid," Faye points out, rubbing at her arm, even though she doesn't feel particularly cold— quite the contrary, even. "Gets worse when you think about how often his family and friends have left this place. I'm not the first person he's wanted to settle down with, and that's not because he broke up with the previous girl."

Crossing her arms loosely over her chest, Faye shakes her head, and if there's ever been a calm moment for her during any of this, it might be now.

Trying to set an example, maybe, she thinks.

"But you hit the ground running."

It's far from the first time Finnick's been made aware of the tendency for people to disappear here. He's seen it firsthand more than a few times already, after all. But something about Faye bringing it up here, in this context, makes his blood run cold. Because Annie is just as likely to disappear as anyone else. And even if this whole island is just a construct of his own broken mind, he knows it won't feel any less devastating to lose her. Her and their baby.

Swallowing tightly, his frown deepens briefly before he forces himself to hide it. It's not going to do him any good right now. "So... what about you?" he asks instead, watching her carefully. "Are you happy?"

She can see the change in his countenance, although Faye isn't really sure what there is to do about it. Console him, perhaps, but all of the words feel empty as she runs them through her thoughts, unsure whether or not she has it in her to throw full weight behind them. Finnick moves on quickly enough, though, asking her that telltale question. Only because she's fond of the guy does Faye stop to actually give it some thought.

"Dean makes me happy," Faye confesses. "It might sound silly coming from yours truly, but he... really makes me feel like I can be young again, stupid again, and not have it bite me in the behind every time. Of course, this just goes to show that how you feel isn't an excuse for being anything but careful." She rested her hand briefly on her abdomen, even though there really wasn't much to be seen there.

"I think I might be happy," she concludes. "But it's not the kind of thing I like to think about. In my experience, the moment I decide I'm happy, something about it gets taken away."

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