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.) ]

He told me to leave the past in the past. That it didn't matter. That everything we have to learn from the past, we've already taken in, and that getting trapped is... pointless. There's nothing to learn from it. Nothing to gain. For a long time, I fought against that idea in my head, because I guess I never really let go of the notion that I had a past at all.

But I do. And whether I like it or not, he's part of it.

There was this gym that I'd seen Jason climbing around before. Never really that I looked out for on the island, because when you have an abundance of trees and all too much bamboo to know what to do with, you're not short on objects to train with. But now that the island's turned into cities and buildings, let's just be honest: I don't know what to do with myself. I can't go punching walls, and the ghostly natives aren't about to stop for my boot anytime soon. So, armed with that little slip of paper, I go around searching for that gym. I find it before too long, not too far from the Compound, right around New Atlantis just as it was before. With heavy wrought iron and plenty of pads sprinkled around, it's just about the best place for me to be.

Dropping my leather jacket on the ground, wearing nothing more than a tank and trousers in the wintry air, I start punching the nearest bag with a sharp exhale.