"I will help you sing away the fury, but I will not bear it for you."

Morgan Ann Bennett

Thanksgiving came and went. It was a holiday well spent, as well as my first Thanksgiving without Quinn and Callie could be.

Everyone felt bad for me and I hated that. I tried hard to stop moping around but I just wasn't back to my normal self.

I've been sad before but never felt this type of pain, physically or otherwise. This is the depression Callie was always talking about, and I wouldn't wish it on my worst enemy.
I'm sorry that I ever tried speaking on her diagnoses when I never even experienced anything slightly like this before they- before their loss.

I wanted so badly to believe the three-month-old baby inside of me was an upside, something to look forward to - a distraction. I made sure I ate and drank water to nourish the baby, other than that, I didn't care as much as you'd expect a first time mother to.

With my mental state, I can't help but think that I'll be like Callie once this baby is born - negligent. I've always wondered how she could take care of another life when she wasn't even in control of her own? I suppose she managed, I mean, before Quinn was born, Callie raised me since I was eight.

I don't know if I'm that strong, though.

I didn't want to talk to any professionals, only Mary. She was a light through all of this, practically my guardian angel.

My parents had been in contact with me more since they left Penshaw. Of course, it's mostly because they lost a daughter and grandchild and want to be apart of my baby's future.

Chris, poor thing, he'd been hassling me about going shopping for the nursery. I've done a good job stalling, questioning where we'd put all the baby stuff. His loft definitely wasn't baby-friend as I've mentioned time and time again, and I didn't want to use The Vaughn's home as a storage unit.
It's something we had to figure out, for sure.

Clearly, he's prepared, or at least, he's convinced himself he is.

That's why I made dinner for us two so we could try and regroup, or plan.

Click. I turned down the stove to 'low.'

Some old Elvis song serenaded the interior of Chris's apartment as I walked around the island with a half-full glass of wine in my hands.

I popped it open again and took a gulp. Or two or three.

The sound of the lock turning in the door made me pull the bottle from my lips and return to the food.

With the flick of my wrist, I stirred the dish one final time and pushed the pot onto another burner, turning the first one off.

"Hey, babe," I rang with a smile. "you're home early."

"Hey, baby," Chris returned with a bright smile.

"I was hungry," he added, kicking his shoes off.

He forced the door shut and tried walking towards the kitchen but the rise of my eyebrow reminded him to lock it.

He chuckled, backtracking.

"Forgot," he claimed in a breath.

"Mhm." I sounded, wiping my hands clean with the dish towel.

Chris's signature scent filled my nostrils, a smell I could never get tired of.

He wrapped his arms around me at the island and kissed my cheek.

With a squeeze, he asked me how my day was.

I turned and presented him with two plates and some silverware.

"We'll discuss that over dinner. Here." I bossed with a proud smile as he did what I said.

~~~

My fork clinked against the plate as I picked at my meal. Like weeks past, I just wasn't hungry.

"You need to eat, Ann," Chris spoke with a mouthful.

One of his elbows was improperly on the table as if Mary hadn't taught him better than that, but I excused it because he made himself comfortable and dug in since he was so hungry.
He had on a white collared short-sleeved company shirt, black slacks, and played footsy with me under the table in a pair of navy and yellow striped socks.
His coffee-colored hair was pulled back low at his neck with two strands falling into his face. I just watched him eat for a while, neither of us had anything important to say. Seems like it's been that way for some time now, whenever I'm not forcing myself out of mourning, and Chris isn't feeling sorry for me.

"Mom said you haven't talked to her in a few days?" He broke the silence.

Feeling guilty, I rubbed the back of my neck and thought of what to say. "I've been busy." I lied.

Chris prolonged his glare on my face and drawled a slow blink. "Doing what?" He asked and I shrugged my shoulders.

"Stuff," I mumbled. "I'll talk to her soon, okay?"

He swallowed the water from his glass and slightly pulled it from his mouth to say, "I'm not arguing," and then put the glass back on the table.

I nodded, glad I avoided that.

"I know," I exhaled. "I appreciate the concern."

He nodded his head too, continuing with his dinner.

"Actually," I spoke up sheepishly. "I have to talk to you about something..."

I watched the chewing motion of his jaw slow and his tired-looking eyes flickered. He swallowed hard and then ran his tongue over his top row of teeth.

He's bored of me, I know it. All I ever do anymore is mope. That, play housewife, but neglect all the good parts, I thought.

Then his phone rang and I could finally feel my heart start to beat in my chest again.

I sank in the seat, feeling irrelevant compared to work which had become more important to him than me. I'm proud, though.

He cleared his throat, seeing the contact 'R. Fisher' on his lock screen.

"Can I answer this, or did you need to talk about something?" Asked Chris, rising up from the chair.

His eyes were wide with softened eyebrows like he wanted to care about what I had to say, but his body language in rushing away from the dinner table said otherwise.

"Yeah, no, it's fine," I said, stuffing my chin in the cup of my hand. "it can wait!"

"You sure?" He asked, answering the call anyway.

"Yep..." my voice trailed off as I watched him lunge towards the back room.

"It can wait," I said to myself, patting the tabletop as I blew air from my cheeks.

~~~

Nights were hard because I could tell Chris was impatient - sexually frustrated, you could say. It's been weeks but I couldn't bring myself to get intimate. Whenever I lied down in bed all night, I would see glimpses of Callie and Quinn. All of that hurt would hit me in waves, resulting in sleepless nights because their memory kept me up.

"You want me to sleep on the couch?" Chris offered after a minute of tossing and turning, probably because of all my sniffling.

"No, no," I sniffed. "your back."

"No, your back," he chuckled.

Chris sat up and rubbed the sleep from his eyes.

I kissed his temple and then fell onto my back, signaling him to lie with me and he did.

"Go back to sleep," I said in a whisper, stroking his knotty hair.

He kissed my stomach. "Good night," he rasped and then placed a kiss on my neck.

His head on my chest, I replied with a small, "good night," and tried counting the stars until he was asleep again. I stopped at twenty-nine.

I never believed in God or any one religion but I always resonated with the reincarnation theory. Not in a way, like, if I die that I'll come back as a cow, or something, no. I think, though, we are all souls and this skin is just a physical body we use to navigate life on Earth. The soul, I believe, is just energy, and energy doesn't die, it's recycled. There might not be a Heaven necessarily - or Hell- but when our physical bodies die, the soul becomes, well, energy. Kind of like matter, you know, existing in the universe all over, be it in forms we can or can't see.
One of Quinn's favorite movies was The Princess and the Frog. There's a scene where the lighting bug, Ray, says his lover is a star and when he dies, he comes one, too, and is reunited with her.
I hope there's some truth to that, it's what put me to sleep.

~~~

"-I love you, too. Have a good day," Chris wished as he left for work the next morning.

I waved until he could no longer see me.

When the door closed finally, I relaxed my posture and my smile went with it.

Another day with nothing to do. Seriously, nothing to do. Of course there was the restaurant, or visit the guests at Red Sage, but- okay, I was avoiding The Vaughn's.

It's just, everyone's so excited about the baby, and I had to figure out some things before accepting any gifts.

"-Just call me back, okay? I'm starting to get really worried, this is like the fifth time I've reached out and you didn't answer; that's not like you. If I did something, can you just tell me so I can be like 'oh, Teddy, I'm so sorry, how about some steak and lobster' and then we hug it out like we used to? Call me." I ended my final voicemail to Teddy.

I couldn't pinpoint the last time I seen or heard from him, but it was well over a month at this point. Teddy was my rock and just ghosted me. I hoped he managed to get far away from Malcolm and was just trying to fly under the radar, instead of just ignoring me. Whatever the reason, I could understand, but I needed him.

No really, I needed him. So, for some time I had a feeling that maybe the baby isn't Chris's. I asked myself "what if it's Malcolm's?" I know he said he didn't touch me but I couldn't shake the thought that he did. I mean, I was unconscious and woke up with bruising. Malcolm isn't a trustworthy man and he'd almost basically threatened me to give it up or else. A man - monster- like him, takes what he wants by any means.

All I needed was a DNA sample. That's where Teddy came in, I was hoping he'd be able to sneak in and get something, anything.

Time was ticking and I had enough. Tired of waiting around, and with no sign of Teddy, I had to take matters into my own hands.

I paused in the middle of the floor and looked around with a sudden thought.
Is this the mania Callie would talk about? Oh my God, I feel crazy but I can't stop, I have to do this.

There were some suitcases he brought over however long ago when I first imposed on Chris and managed to escape the Hell hole that is Malcolm's home. I hadn't touched many of them because a lot of that stuff, he paid for.

There has to be something in here, right?

I dropped to my knees and pushed over a pile of luggage in the far corner of the den.

The suitcase on the bottom was Malcolm's himself. What, I figured he wouldn't miss it? His words: what's mine is yours. Well, except for anything regarding his business, apparently.

I unzipped it and my eyes took in the unfamiliar contents.
What is all this junk?

Coats, jewelry, a few twenty dollar bills... Jesus, Teddy must've just grabbed anything out of the room when I asked him to pack for me.

Some hair fell in my face and I tucked it quickly behind my ears as I continued the search.

Oh. I remembered some things, he did buy me this jewelry. After he tried returning things for money, I kept some things hidden. The suspicion that our "relationship" would fail was always in the back of my mind. After all, I was only in it for the money, so of course I set some things aside.

Aha! A single hair caught in the clasp of a gold wristwatch. This meant two things.
One: I finally have that DNA sample
Two: Malcolm Jameson really needs to shave

~~~

BANG! BANG! BANG!

I stood outside of The Vaughn's picturesque two-story home, finding myself doing the potty dance later in the afternoon.

Time was running out, I had an appointment with a nurse for this DNA testing.

Sure I'm scared of the results but I'm terrified of not knowing if this is really Chris's baby, or not, and I'm not about to wait another six months to find out. He'd be crushed. More so, he'll absolutely hate me (again) at the fact that Malcolm rap- had his way with me.

I just need to find out, the suspense is killing me. Every time I thought about what Malcolm must've done, I start to itch. One can only scrub themselves with soap and bleach so many times. I don't know if even therapy will help in this case. Actually, I'd try it, but paying someone with a fancy piece of paper that they paid an arm and a leg for to tell me I'm crazy is literally the last of my worries right now.

I squirmed for another minute before Carter opened the front door.

"Morgan, hey!" He greeted me with a toothy smile.

I stood under him, staring at his face. Sometimes I forget that's he's Chris's dad and how handsome he is scares me.

"Heyyy," I sang awkwardly, trying to keep both feet on the porch at the same time.

"It's been a while," he talked, throwing a dish towel over his shoulder after wiping his oil-stained hands with it.

His tall frame stood against the door like he was getting comfortable as if I had all day.

I looked past him anxiously and bent my knees.

"Yeah, yeah. Is Mar' here?" I rushed.

He chuckled and pushed off of the door, letting me in, and I did not hesitate.

"You know," he spoke to the back of my head, "I'm just as great as my wife. For the sake of Chris and the baby, I'd really like us to get closer, Captain."

I smiled, remembering the nickname he gave me.

Stopping at the bottom of the stairs, I looked to him and nodded.

"Okay, Cart-man, I'd like that. Maybe we can build something else together?"

He looked down and concealed his grin. "I'd like that."

"Morgan?" Mary's voice called out.

I watched her descend the stairs and cut her off.

"I need to talk to you!" I spit out all in one breath as I grabbed hold of her wrist and dragged her back up the staircase.

All the while I talked, filling Mary in on what's been happening - err, what I think happened - she stated at me like I had three heads.

Like, I know no one's mother wants to hear their son's pregnant girlfriend tell them that they may be carrying someone else's child, but I really needed her advice!

"I-" she tried to speak and couldn't. I understood.

We sat at the foot of the bed in Chris's old bedroom that had been preserved. Jack was using it but once Kailyn moved out, he settled into that room because it was bigger.

She sighed deeply and rubbed her temples.

I released the tension in my back and found myself slouching.

Looking deep into her eyes, I grabbed Mary's hands almost desperately.

"I know you won't support this," I exhaled, "but I don't know what else to do."