The Fall - Book 2

233. Sclipire mea Micuța

JULY 20, 2020 — AVENGERS COMPOUND — RÉA

Even though there is a lot of emotional weight currently hanging over both of us, Caroline and I are having a wonderful time at breakfast. As always happens when we get together, we fall into easy conversation: she asks me about Bucky, Conall—though she simply calls him 'your baby boy', because only Bucky and I know his name—and about my music; I ask her about Adam, her realty business, and how her pregnancy is going so far.

"I feel great...a little tired, but great. Of course, I'm kind of waiting for the other shoe to drop. I know every pregnancy is different, but with Adam, I didn't have any sickness until around the sixteen-week mark. Most people see a decrease in the sickness around that time, but I'm apparently wired differently...and I'm wondering if that's how it's going to go this time as well."

I nod in understanding. "I get that...the whole 'other shoe' thing."

"How about you? I know you've had the fatigue...have you had any sickness?" She shakes her head. "Never mind. You're...you. And Nat's mentioned that you don't get sick, so that's a stu—"

"No. That's not a 'stupid question'...don't even finish that thought. I actually, um...I'm actually going through this as if I was human. Fully human, I mean."

"You...you can do that?!"

I let out a quiet laugh. "It was a process, believe me. But worth it, because I wanted to have the whole pregnancy experience, with all that entails." I smile softly. "If Bucky and I are blessed with more children, I'll do the same for those pregnancies. Because, like you said—and like all of the books say—every pregnancy is different. I want to experience those differences."

Caroline nods thoughtfully. "Can I ask you a per—"

"Alright, ladies, here is your food," our server, Lindsay, says, placing her tray on a stand. "Quiche Lorraine for you..." she sets a plate in front of Caroline, "...and for you, vegetable quiche, steel-cut oats, a side of yoghurt with honey, and the fruit plate." After she sets my last dish in front me, she looks between me and Caroline. "Do you ladies need anything else?"

"No, thank you," my friend and I reply in unison.

"Alright then. Enjoy!"

Once she's gone, I return to our conversation.

"You wanted to ask me a...I'm guessing you were going to say 'personal question'?"

"If you don't mind. Obviously, you don't have to answer, but I'm curious."

"Shoot."

'Oh, gosh, there's a Bucky-ism,' I can't help grinning slightly.

"Can you, um...can you control when—if—you get pregnant?"

"I..." I hesitate, tilting my head as I think. "...I don't actually know. The...well, the history of the Host isn't exactly pleasant conversation."

"I'm okay hearing it if you're okay sharing it."

I nod at my friend. "Fair enough. So, I don't actually know because the other Nephilim were all...were all exterminated before they could reproduce. And I've been informed that, even though I'm a Nephilim, I'm the first of my kind." I hesitate, a slightly self-conscious note entering my tone. "This sounds so egotistical...'I'm so special, blah, blah, blah'...but this is what I was told, so...." I lightly clear my throat. "I'm the first of my kind, and this little one," I rest my hand on my belly, "is the second: 'a Nephilim created out of pure, unconditional love'. Which is wonderful, it truly is...it just...it also means that there's not any information available about what to expect; it's all 'figure it out as I—we—go'."