you know the first rule of combat?

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.) ]

At the start of the New Year's Eve party, Faye had to remind herself that if there was any night for which she had to hold back on drinking, it was then. While normally not a person who hit the bars too often, there were definitely some drinks that she sorely missed from back in the day, bourbon whiskey burning the back of her throat with each blessed sip. But tomorrow was significant for more than just the start of a new year, and while in almost any other situation, Faye might have shrugged it off entirely— this time, she couldn't.

Groaning, Faye pulled herself to her feet before the sun crept above the horizon, reminding herself that she could push through the pounding against her temples for this. It wasn't very long before she returned from the Compound, arms laden with a simple chocolate cake and a carefully wrapped book from the shelf, complete with a ream of brightly colored origami paper, the same sort she'd enjoyed playing with as a child.

Sneaking back into the hut, she hoped that Edward hadn't already taken off for the day.