: The Last Scion Has Two MommiesAuthor
: Bethany/LizWritten For
: Post-movie, during Bethany's pregnancy and raising her child (Liz is Jewish).Rating
: PG-13 (for language & irreverence)Author's Notes
: If you're at all familiar with Kevin Smith movies, and the content therein, you should be pretty well forewarned for this fic. If not, please be advised that there is a vast amount of religious irreverence contained herein. Per the prompt, I also wanted to write the childhood of Bethany's daughter, but after tripling the required word count on the pregnancy and childbirth alone, I decided (for the sake of my nonexistent sanity) to cut the story there. Besides, I had a good line to end it on. Thanks to amatia
for shiny beta goodness!First Trimester
"The irony of a pregnant woman working at an abortion clinic is unbelievable," says Liz, as Bethany grabs an unlit cigarette out of Liz's hand and throws it into the trash.
"And yet you feel the need to light up a cigarette around me?" asks Bethany. The trash can lid slams down as she yanks open a cupboard and pulls out a glass. "Jeez, I'm pregnant. You just said it yourself."
"You're the one who's the last descendant of the messiah," says Liz. She falls, only semi-gracefully, into a cheap-looking wooden seat and drops a brown paper bag on the table in front of her, then looks pointedly up at Bethany, who's frowning at the tap water. "Which I don't believe in, by the way. Can't you just, I don't know, miracle the smoke away from your lungs or something?"
"I don't think it quite works like that," says Bethany. She sits down slowly and sighs in relief. "I feel like a fucking boat."
"Don't say 'fucking' around the future hope for all of Christianity," says Liz. She pulls out a sandwich and unwraps it.
Bethany rolls her eyes. "Who put you in charge of keeping my baby safe?"
"Don't be ridiculous," says Liz. She gestures at Bethany with her sandwich. "You have to have a Jew around to take care of the kid. It's messianic tradition. Not to mention those two idiots you call prophets are completely hopeless when it comes to women."
"They're not--" Bethany stops, shakes her head, and chuckles. "Okay, they are. They mean well, though."
"I'm not taking up carpentry," says Liz, her eyes narrowing as she bites into her sandwich.
"Good," says Bethany. "Sawdust makes me sneeze."Second Trimester
"I hate maternity wear," says Bethany. She holds up a powder blue scoop necked t-shirt and smiles tightly at Liz. "It says 'bundle of love' on it. Why do they presume that pregnant women are glowing with maternal joy? I have to pee every half-hour. It's a little hard to have maternal joy when you're always running for the bathroom."
"Because it's a myth instituted by patriarchal society to make us believe we should be glad our bodies can be co-opted for forty weeks by another sentient being," says Liz, glancing up from The Girlfriend's Guide To Pregnancy
. "You wanna rent Alien tonight?"
"I spent three months barfing at the faintest whiff of food, and you want to rent a movie where a baby alien explodes out of someone's chest?" asks Bethany, hanging the blue shirt back up with a vicious glare. "They've got to have something that's not so goddamn happy."
"Your morning sickness is over," says Liz. "What do you care? It's a guy that gets pregnant, and Sigourney Weaver kicks serious ass. Think of it as an inversion of traditional female and male roles."
"Your feminist studies degree is showing again," Bethany points out. She grabs a white t-shirt, then throws a red one in the basket for good measure before she stalks over to the lingerie rack. "I need to buy another bra. I swear, I've gained three cup sizes this month alone."
"Your boobs are going to be nourishing the Last Scion," says Liz. She stands up and walks over to the rack, then starts flipping through them. "You think Mary had small boobs? She probably didn't have a bra store handy in Bethlehem either."
"I really hate you sometimes," says Bethany, sighing. "Remind me again why I signed you up as my Lamaze partner?"
"Because we moved in together after God knocked you up, and the sex is good," says Liz. A passing saleswoman's head whips around, and Liz flips her off with a bright, perky smile.
Bethany bats Liz's hand out of the way. "Liz!" she hisses. "I have to shop here for the foreseeable future. Try not to alienate the people who'll have the opportunity to commit fraud after I give them my credit card."Third Trimester
"Why am I getting the urge to write odes of joy to your unborn child?" asks Liz, walking out of the bathroom. A smear of white toothpaste is on her chin, and she's waving her toothbrush at Bethany. "I'm not a fucking poet, Bethany."
Bethany looks up from where she's sitting on the bed. "Because the Muse is inspiring you," she says. "Just tell her to shut up and bother Rufus or Metatron instead. Are you wearing my favorite shirt?"
"You know, Metatron showed up at the clinic last week," says Liz, ignoring Bethany's question. Bethany knows it's on purpose. "Him, at least, I believe in. He says God wants me to take care of you and the baby. He was annoyed when I told him I was already on the job. Mentioned something about how Joseph never gave him this kind of attitude and left."
"I'm having my baby baptized," says Bethany.
"Fine," says Liz. She goes back into the bathroom, and Bethany can hear the water start. "But no frilly white gowns. What's the priest going to say when you tell him your daughter was immaculately conceived, and the foster-father's Jewish? And a woman?"
"Oh, God, I hadn't thought of that," groans Bethany, her head falling back onto her pillow. "Do you think we should have someone that knows CPR around? Just in case?"
"Since we both know CPR," calls Liz, "it shouldn't be a problem. Unless he gets me mad. Then I might be the one making CPR necessary." The water stops, and Liz comes out of the bathroom, then climbs into bed with Bethany. "You tired?"
"All the time lately," grumbles Bethany.
"You've got one month left." Liz flips off the light and tugs the blanket up to cover them.
Bethany shoves the blanket off. "I'm hot and sweaty and disgusting," she says. "How can you possibly want a blanket?"
"Because this is Illinois and it's the middle of winter," says Liz. She pushes herself up to one elbow to stare at Bethany in the dark. "What?" she asks.
"Come here," says Bethany, smirking. "If you're that
"Says the horny pregnant woman who's looking for any excuse for sex," grumbles Liz. She leans over and kisses Bethany deeply, then pulls back to grin, her teeth white in the dark. "Good thing we don't have to be up early tomorrow."
"Tell me about it," says Bethany, twisting her hands in the fabric of her favorite shirt and yanking Liz to her. Labor
"I don't care what the book says," snarls Bethany, knuckles white as another contraction hits. Silent Bob steps back, his eyes wide, and his hands up. "I want a fucking epidural!"
"Look, I been reading up on babies," says Jay. He's pointing at a dog-eared pregnancy book he'd bought after they'd gotten Bethany back from New Jersey. "And it says right here
"Out!" Liz has one hand fisted on her hip, and is pointing at the door with the other. She glares at them. "And stay out until I come and find you."
Jay runs into the door on his way out, and Silent Bob runs into Jay. Liz smiles the toothy grin of a woman who knows she's feared. "They're such idiots. You're sure they're prophets?"
"Unfortunately," says Bethany.
The nurse just looks up and winks at Bethany. It's the Muse. "I've already called the anesthesiologist," she says, grinning.
"Thank God," says Bethany.Childbirth
Bethany's foot is braced on Liz's arm. The Muse is on the other side, mirroring Liz, and Bethany tries not to think about how weird it is to see the Muse wearing pink scrubs. It's not that hard to avoid thinking about it, since her OB is yelling at her to push, and Bethany's in the most undignified pose of her entire life, arms wrapped around her thighs, pulling herself up, and bearing down with her stomach and back muscles on her abdomen.
"...eight, nine, ten!" snaps Liz.
Bethany falls back on the bed, her breath exploding out of her as she reaches with one hand for the ice chips. She'd kill for a burger and fries right now. "How long have I been pushing?" she asks.
"Two hours," says the Muse, looking at her watch. "You're almost there, Bethany, sweetie."
Another hour and a half of pushing later, and Bethany's screaming every profanity that comes to mind, in English and
Spanish. Childbirth hurts more than she'd ever expected, but she falls silent as her baby starts screaming, eyes squeezed shut against the dimmed lighting in the delivery room.
"Do you want to hold her right away?" asks the Muse, wrapping Bethany's daughter in a soft, white cotton blanket.
Bethany nods wordlessly, her arms out, and tears starting to roll down her cheeks. Suddenly her daughter is in her arms, still crying, and Bethany holds her close, and so very, very carefully. "Hey, baby," she whispers, as Liz looks on, her eyes suspiciously bright. Even through the exhaustion, Bethany knows Liz will deny it all later. "Everything's going to be all right. Mommy's here."