Wild Nights, Wild Nights || s.reid

33. Love--Is Anterior to Life

CONTENT WARNING: IMPLIED/REFERENCED MISCARRIAGE
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You blinked.

Then you laughed, "No, I'm not. That's absurd."

The doctor pressed her lips together. "Your blood contains hCG levels that are consistent with around five to six weeks of pregnancy." Then she paused, before adding, "hCG stands for—"

"Human chorionic gonadotropin," you cut her off briskly, "I'm aware of what it stands for and what it is. But you're wrong."

Irritation flashed across the doctor's features. You couldn't have cared less. And you refused to even so much as look at Spencer, whose hand had gone limp in your own.

"Oh... kay," she drew out. "Would you—"

You cut her off again as you hopped off your perch from Spencer's bed and walked over to her. "I'm sorry—could I see that for a second?" you asked, pointing to her tablet.

She looked taken aback, even more so as you took the tablet from her hands without waiting for a response. Your eyes quickly scanned the screen.

Your hCG levels were close to 6,000 mIU/ml, which, given the non exact nature of the hormone and the broad range of levels that accompanied any given week of pregnancy, did fall into what could be seen between five and six weeks.

You blinked at the screen a few times as if it would change the data.

And then you shoved the tablet back into the doctor's hands. "There have been cases of phantom hCG levels in non-pregnant women before. It's likely another case."

Behind you, you heard Spencer softly say, "Y/N..."

You ignored him.

The doctor huffed out a breath and asked, "Okay, Agent Y/L/N, when was your last menstrual period?"

"I—" You paused.

You couldn't answer.

You didn't actually remember.

With everything else going on, you hadn't noticed you were even late.

And the doctor gestured towards you, as if to say, well, there you go.

"Okay, but—" You rubbed your face with your hand, resting it over one of your eyes as you closed them. "I take daily hormonal contraceptives to try and regulate my period. I don't know if you've realized, but it's been a rather stressful few weeks. It's not implausible that my cycle's been thrown off, and the chances of getting pregnant while taking oral contraceptives are just so statistically unlikely that—"

"Daily contraceptives are only ninety-nine percent effective if taken perfectly—as in, at the exact same time every single day. Do you take it at the exact same time every single day?"

You dragged your hand down your face, snapping, "I'm a federal fucking agent. I can't just stop in the middle of a takedown to take my fucking birth control just because it hits 8pm."

"Well, then, the rate of effectiveness for oral contraceptives drops to around ninety-one percent, unless you use other methods of contraception along with it. Do you?"

You couldn't believe you were having this conversation right now. You felt like you were fifteen-years-old again, and your pediatrician was asking you whether or not you were even sexually active—which, at the time, you very much were not.

But mortification and denial were the only two things keeping you from succumbing to a slew of repressed memories that you could not confront right now.