FIRST TRIMESTER

“Are you likely to be doing this all the time?” Mal asked from where he was sitting on the bed, pulling on his boots.

Freya looked at him sideways, her head still over the small toilet, naked. “I hope not.” She reached for the towel but it wasn't there. “Shit,” she added quietly.

Mal was on his feet and at her side immediately, picking up the offending item from the floor where it had fallen. “Here,” he said, trying not to look into the toilet as he kicked it closed. It flushed and he pulled the drawer open, dampening the towel under the tap.

Freya stood up carefully, not wanting to move too fast, or jerk too hard, just in case. He pushed her hair back from her forehead and wiped her mouth. “I look like crap,” she commented, glancing into the mirror. “I thought women were supposed to bloom at a time like this.”

“My momma always told me she hated carrying me for nine months,” Mal said conversationally. “What with the morning sickness becoming the afternoon sickness, the back ache, the need to …” He stopped at the look on her face. “Mind, then she said she’d never have had it any other way.” He tried a lopsided grin. “Me being so pretty an’ all.”

She was still glaring at him. “And you think it was worth it.”

He dropped the soiled towel into the sink and put his hands on her shoulders. “Frey, honey, there’s a lot of things in this ‘verse that I think are worth it. Most of ‘em, admittedly, are on board this ship, in this room, but …” He looked deep into her eyes. “If I could I’d take all this for you. The sickness, the back ache, the … all the other stuff.” He stroked her cheek with his thumb. “If I could wave my magic wand and make me blow up like a balloon instead, I’d do that too.”

“You think I look like a balloon?” she asked, turning quickly to look into the mirror. “Oh, God …” Too fast. She jammed her hand over her mouth and Mal had the toilet open again in a moment. And none too soon. She threw up again, loudly, stopping only when there was n