Title: The Hollister legacy
Spoilers: None, but helpfully if you've seen up to Love Hurts.
Archive (if applicable): Lies and Manipulations www(dot)geocities(dot)com(slash)loz06, also www(dot)fanfiction(dot)net
Feedback: The good, the bad and the very ugly it's all appreciated.
Summary: Bill hasn't totally left us.
Author's Notes: I usually avoid this sort of story because I think it's a little soapish/cliché,
rules are made to be broken I guess, even mine.
Disclaimers: Roses are red, violets are blue, I'm just playing, please don't sue.
The red display next to her bed glowed 5:25am. It wasn't its in built alarm that had awoken Mac, but the rising bile in her throat and the washing machine action of her stomach.
The bathroom tiles were warmer than the cold reminder she got each morning that Bill was gone, each time she looked over to where he slept.
In truth she'd been doing much better lately, they'd caught those responsible and it gave her a little closure, she'd mourned and now was the time to move on. Moments like this were tough however, someone to rub her back and whisper soothing words she missed. Ironic how she didn't miss it before because she didn't have it and now it was gone...
Moments later she got a second viewing of last nights meal. If this hadn't been happening for the past 2 weeks she might have considered ringing and abusing her local Chinese take-away, threatening them with the health department.
Trudging back to bed and decidedly fed up she vowed to take the morning off and find out what was wrong with her, mornings like this were just madness. Moments later she was head over the toilet bowl again.
Mac considered dragging herself to emergency but she realized she'd be low priority and would be forced to wait till well after sunrise, she'd be better off going to her G.P.
There was something humiliating about a woman in her position bent over a toilet bowl at the mercy of her bodies' rejections of nightly meals.
By six there was no point going back to bed so she hauls herself into her morning shower.
Mac knew she wasn't a model patient, long stressful work hours, irregular and inappropriate meals, sporadic exercise and intermittent sleep, it was part of the job almost.
It put her in the running for a number of problems so the doctor decided to take a broad sweep and drew some blood. The memory of the last time she had had some blood drawn sent shivers though her and she prayed for it not to be HIV. Despite the possibilities being very slim.
The morning strategy session was interrupted as she rushed to the bathroom again. Having not eaten breakfast, there was nothing for her body to reject; it left her crouching and almost gagging on the bathroom floor. She emerged pale and pasty with a thin layer of sweat caking her skin. Session abandoned she sought refuge in her office on the black lounge.
"Not now Peter." She said as the office door opened, Mac couldn't see it was him but she knew he'd want to know what was wrong.
The door quickly clicks closed.
By midday Mac is feeling like herself again and with no major cases on at the moment she continues with the housekeeping duties, the things they never seem to get a chance to do.
Mac jokes with Angie how she hasn't been felling well lately and that all her bad habits are wreaking havoc on her all at once.
Never the dumb blonde Angie knows what she thinks it is, but it's not her place to say. She doesn't even want to try and comprehend it herself.
What is left unsaid now, will be discovered sooner or later.
It's late when Mac gets home and as she surveys the contents of her fridge she ponders if dinner will be worthwhile considering she'll probably be looking at it again in a couple of hours.
A piece of fruit and a slice of bread seem like a safe option. She eats carefully, flicking the channels to a late night news service from her spot on the lounge.
That's where she falls asleep.
5:45am the kitchen digital reads as the apple and bread hit the stainless steel of the sink. Between not eating and throwing up she thinks she'll be mistaken for a bulimic. Running the cold tap she splashes some water on her face and heads up to the shower, shedding the previous days crinkled clothes along the way.
The water is a warm and a welcoming relief as it massages away some of the queasiness. Mac scrubs her teeth using extra toothpaste to rid her mouth of the sour taste, scraping the brush along her tongue.
As she drags her sorry self off to work later that morning she's thankful for two things, that her results are coming this afternoon from the blood work and today all she has to do is bring her diary and notes up to date, a light day by anyone's standard.
Mac smiles brightly at Angie who comments she looks better today.
It takes her a couple of hours to get all her notes from various meetings at headquarters in order and into her thick diary. She pulls out her personal diary next.
Something inside her pulls as she comes to the date where she and Bill were supposed to leave for holidays, she quickly turns back a few weeks which is empty except for the small red cross that marks her monthly cycle.
Mac flicks forward through the diary feeling sure she's missed placed the next cross in the diary. Peter opens the door and the phone rings as she counts four weeks from the last cross and ends up on the day Bill and her were scheduled to leave the country.
"Ellen Mackenzie." She answers the phone suddenly feeling queasy again, she definitely didn't have her period around the time of Bill's death and that was a month ago.
She stands, putting a finger up to tell Peter to wait till she's finished on the phone, he watches her face twist and turn as the receptionist tells her the results of the blood work.
"Thank you." She says her voice raspy, placing the phone in its cradle.
"What is it?" Peter asks confused. Not realizing the depth of the news.
"I'm pregnant with Bill Hollister's child."