WC: 460 Oh goodie, now they both have a voice in their head. xD
She listened to every word silently, that disgusting expression still lingering on her face. She could feel it, be it her imagination or reality, the distress she'd suddenly caused him. He cares. He's angry about it, but not because of you. See? He's as good as yours. That voice... Argh! What an annoying thing, that instinctive voice in the back of her mind. He asked who the father was eventually, and without meaning to, she shook her head slightly. Realizing this, she sighed.
The name was spoken with such... distaste. She felt his hand come to her shoulder, and it was if he'd flipped a switch. Girl's eyes shot open, and for a second, she was rigid. Just as suddenly, though, she all but threw herself at him, arms snaking under his and around his back, gripping tightly. Then, the tears came.
"I didn't want this! I don't want this! Shawchert, I'm scared!" She shrieked into his fur, eyes shut tight. "I don't know why I did it! I'm so sorry... I'm sorry..." More apologies followed, murmured amongst sobs and hiccups as she cried into his chest, ears pinned back and body twisted in a way that was probably uncomfortable.
That voice in her head taunted her as she cried. Everything you worked for is falling apart. He'll never accept the kid, so why bothering carrying it? You know how. Abort it. No one would think badly of you then. They'd shower you with well-wishes. ...no... This was our last chance with him, stupid girl. One lie. That's all it would've took, was just one white lie. No. The thing doesn't even have a name or face yet. What's stopping us?
For a long moment, Sky wondered. She'd be able to continue as a medic without a child bogging her down. She'd have a less strained chance with Shawchert, who seriously seemed to be considering her these days. No one would glare at her for having a bastard child, or children. Life would go back to normal, and in the future, she'd have a chance to start a family with Shawchert. It seemed like the ideal choice.
A heartbeat. Her own? No, and it wasn't the baby's. Shawchert's. Deep and steady, even at a stressed pace. The voice couldn't argue with it. If she got rid of the child, he'd be free of strain towards her, but if he found out, he'd hate what she'd have done. It'd really be over for us then. Her sobs broke away into a soft hiccup every now and then. ...I'm not a murderer. It was weird to have the voices, her own and her instincts', in unison like that. He'll just have to accept it if he wants to be with me.
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