"Trust us to pick the time of day when LAX is bloody busiest."

Jetta set her case down on the trolley, casting a glance around her with a frown on her face. "Justin, what time flight did you book us on again? 'alf eleven? Couldn't you at least 'ave aimed for something that wasn't in the middle of midday rush?"

"Seems to me LAX is always busy." Justin said with a grin, hauling his case on top of hers and taking control of the trolley. "Besides, there was the flight at six o' clock this morning, but you didn't seem keen to get up that early, so this was the best I could do."

"Six o' clock means bein' here at bloody four. On an average day I don't go to bed till about two." Jetta said simply. "An' watch where you're steerin' that, will you? That case is new an' the last one got busted because your sister kicked the wheels off it. I don't want to be buyin' another before we get back."

"I can steer." Justin assured her. "And I can't say I've noticed too much of this two am bed going since we've lived together, Jetta...or are you breaking me into your routine gently?"

"That's the club girl Misfit routine." Jetta replied with a grin. "Up late, to bed late, and plenty of life in the middle. I 'aven't had much chance of it since we moved in together. What with your bloody chest an' bein' an invalid, an' then all the crap with the 'ouse an' movin' an stuff, I've been too blitzed by eleven to think about goin' out too much. There sure as hell is a lot of shit in bein' married, an' that's a fact!"

"But you don't regret doing it?" Justin shot her a quizzical look. Jetta shrugged.

"Not yet." She said flippantly. "I just wish things would slow down a little bit. Seems all we've 'ad in the last few months is one crisis after another an' I'd quite like it to get back on an even keel. Have fun. Go out. Do dinner or visit a bar or whatever. See a movie. Jus' not worry about drownin' accidents or house removal costs or what colour to paint this or that room. Don't you think so?"

"Yes, but we are getting there." Justin manoeuvred the trolley over towards the end of a long queue to book in. "Almost everywhere is done except the kitchen and the fitters will be doing that while we're away. So we should come home and find a nice new home waiting for us...and I can carry you over the threshold and do this whole newlywed thing properly."

"I'd like to see you try!"

"Why? Are you that heavy?" Justin eyed her innocently and she whacked him playfully on the arm with her purse.

"Shut up." She ordered. "Don't you know it's rude to comment on a girl's weight? More likely you wouldn't be able to lift me because you're a wimp."

"I don't think you'd weigh that much." Justin eyed her thoughtfully. "Though we could do an experiment now, if you like..."

He let go of the trolley, holding out his hands, but Jetta swiped them away.

"Stop it, you clown." She retorted. "And if you must know, January's a bloody bad time to be pickin' people up. After Christmas, we all put on a few pounds...so keep your 'ands and your macho urges to yourself an' we'll all be happy."

Justin looked thoughtful.

"I wondered why you spent so long in the bathroom this morning." He bantered. "Was that it? You were assessing the Christmas damage?"

Jetta did not answer right away, and Justin wrapped his arms around her shoulders.

"It's all right, you know." He said softly. "I really don't care how much you weigh - I was only teasing you."

"I know." Jetta pursed her lips. "If you must know, I've put on five pounds since the last time I weighed myself."

She sighed.

"And that might not seem like a lot to you, but it's bloody massive to me." She added. "I ain't never put on more than a couple of pounds in a half year before. God knows what I was eatin' at Christmas, but it must've been steeped high in the bad stuff, I'm telling you."

"Well, five pounds is nothing as far as I'm concerned." Justin assured her. "You don't look any different to me."

"At least you know all the right things to say." Jetta grimaced at him. "That's a good start."

She reached down to fasten the zip on her bag properly, a pensive look entering her grey eyes.

"I wasn't weighing myself this morning, actually." She admitted. "Would you be creeped out if I told you I was up at five o' clock 'avin' breakfast?"

"Yes." Justin said. "You and five am don't generally mix. Why on earth?"

"Anticipation about goin' home?" Jetta shrugged. "Anyway, I made oatmeal - since it's the only damn thing I seem to know how to make that early in the morning - an' went back to bed. Next thing I know, well...shall we say that the oatmeal made an unscheduled re-appearance?"

"You were sick?" Justin's teasing expression became one of surprise and concern. "Jetta, why didn't you tell me?"

"Because I probably did something wrong with cookin' it an' I didn't feel like a kitchen safety lecture." Jetta sighed. "I feel all right now, if a bit empty. But you know what a menace I am in the bleedin' kitchen anyway - that's the last time I cook anythin' for myself."

"I'm going to have to teach you to manage the oven properly, if I'm ever going to get a night off, I see." Justin said with a smile, then, "Jetta, I'm not sure there is a wrong way to cook oatmeal. I mean...it's oatmeal."

"I think the milk was off." Jetta owned. "Either way, I didn't 'ave the best start to the day. You are officially appointed 'ouse cook, for the safety of everyone else in the area."

Justin was silent for a moment, pushing the trolley forward in the queue absently as a gap opened up in front of them. Then, at length, he spoke.

"You wouldn't still be having those dreams?" He asked. Jetta started, then shook her head.

"Not for ages. Not since before Christmas." She said decidedly. "Justin, I'm not some weak wuss who gets her stomach turned by a silly dream. I told you before, dreams are my body's way of copin' with things. They happen, they work through, they go. They don't make me nauseous an' there's no reason for you to fuss. That's gone through me now. I don't dream like that any more. It's fine, so stop fussing about it, all right?"

"All right." Justin's brows knitted into a thoughtful frown. "It's just...well, how do I put this...?"

"I don't know." Jetta looked nonplussed. "How do you put what?"

"We've been dating for more than a year, right?"

"Right. So?"

"So you've slept at mine a lot of times and we've hung out a lot more times during that spell. Right?"

"Yes. Justin, where is this going?"

"Well, you didn't strike me as the sort of person who gets sick easily."

"I'm not. Your point is?"

"My point is that since we got married, you've been sick an awful lot." Justin said quietly. "Haven't you noticed that?"

"Not really." Jetta shook her head. "New Year - okay, but I drank too much and probably deserved to come in in that state, thinkin' back. An' after your accident I was a touch wobbly, but that was shock. We all know that...it wasn't a fun couple of days, you know. Other than that...? No. I hadn't noticed anything odd."

"Well, I have." Justin rubbed his chin. "And it's starting to worry me, if I'm honest. I mean, nobody throws up after eating oatmeal, Jetta. Not even if they're as bad a cook as you are. That's just not right."

"So like I said, the milk was probably off or something. I don't know why you're makin' a big deal out of this!"

"Because I'm worried about you." Justin admitted. "You don't seem completely yourself lately, and I'm just concerned something else might be going on."

"Somethin' else?" Jetta creased her brow. "Like what? Food poisoning? Gastroenteritis? What?"

Before Justin could answer, they arrived at the booking in desk and for the next few minutes both were engrossed in sorting out their luggage to go into the hold. Once they were through into the departures lounge, however, Justin pulled his wife over to one side, putting his hands on her shoulders and running his gaze over her thoughtfully. She frowned at his scrutiny, irritation flickering in her eyes.

"Justin, what are you doing?" She demanded. "Have you completely lost your mind this mornin' or what? You're starin' at me like...God knows what, to be honest. I'm not goin' to stand this fussin' for much longer. Just because we're married doesn't give you the right to mollycoddle. Will you just accept that I'm fine and get over it?"

For a moment, Justin didn't reply. Then, very quietly, he took her by the hand, leading her to an empty seat and sitting down, pulling her down beside him.

"Tell me something honestly." he said softly. "When was the last time you had a period?"

"What?" Jetta's eyes almost fell out of her head. "Justin! That's not the kind of question you blurt out in a busy airport!"

"That's why we're over here, where it's quiet." Justin said simply. "Tell me. When?"

"Why? 'Ave I been more moody than usual of late, or something?"

"No, you've been damn odd of late." Justin said bluntly. "So I want to know. When was the last time you were on?"

Jetta hesitated for a moment, then her brows drew together in a frown.

"Honestly? I ain't sure." She admitted. "We've been so busy that I 'adn't even thought about it. I was late in November, because of your accident - I spoke to a doctor there an' you know they put it all down to that. An' I...I can't remember. Why? Is it important?"

"It could be." Justin chewed on his lip, then, "I can't believe you don't see what I'm getting at. Jetta, you've been nauseous a lot lately, and you've not had a period since...well, are you saying you've not had one since October?"

"Guess so." Jetta frowned. Then colour drained from her face and she swore in low tones. "Oh God. That's what you're trying to say."

"It occured to me." Justin admitted. "Do you think...is there any chance you...could be?"

Jetta swallowed hard.

"It'd be bloody impossible, considerin' we're always safe." She managed at length. "I mean, always. We always take care of things. I'm more careful than that. So are you. Unless it's divine intervention, I don't see how I could be."

"But you haven't had a period. That being the case, surely we have to consider it a possibility?"

"Or...?"

"Or there's something else going on which might be worse." Justin said quietly. "Because however you look at it, Jetta - you've not been well lately."

Jetta buried her head in her hands, running her fingers through her thick dark hair as she absorbed his words.

"But how?" She asked. "Justin, we're always safe! Do you think I'd bloody get into bed with you if one of us at least wasn't prepared?"

Justin shook his head.

"I know you wouldn't." He said evenly. "But Jetta...something else just occured to me."

"What?" Jetta raised apprehensive eyes to his.

"We were very drunk the night we got married." Justin said slowly. "Very, very drunk. You know that. We went back to celebrate. And...well...I don't remember a whole lot about that night even now. Not after we exchanged the vows and got back to the hotel. But I know that by morning we'd...got about a bit. And neither of us were really thinking much about protection...at least, I doubt we were. We weren't really thinking at all. We just..."

"...Did it." Jetta whispered. She cursed again, shaking her head.

"No way. No damn way." She said flatly. "I'm not pregnant, Justin. Stop trying to spook me. It's impossible. I mean, dammit, considerin' the number of times we've been together an' been safe, the chances of us fallin' down on that one sole occasion'  must be ludicrously small. I mean, people are always tryin' for a baby, right? That means it takes more than one shot to nail it, surely? An' if we were drunk one night, so what? It doesn't mean...well, it doesn't mean that somethin' went wrong. There's no guarantee we even did anythin', to be honest. We were both smashed. We might 'ave just passed out an' that was it."

Justin looked uneasy.

"Well, maybe." He acknowledged at length. "You know more about female biology than I do, and my memory of that night isn't really clear enough to say what we did or didn't do. But when we get to London, Jetta...I really think you should take a test. Even if it's just to prove that you're not and put our minds at rest on that account. Okay?"

Jetta bit her lip.

"I don't want to."

"I know, but for my peace of mind if not for yours." Justin squeezed her hand. "Besides, if you're not, I want you to see a doctor anyway. Because if that's not it, something has you off kilter...and if it's a hangover from my accident, I want it seen to and sorted out. I don't like seeing you unwell, whatever the cause. All right?"

Jetta sighed, glancing at her nails.

"Whatever." She said heavily. "I don't want to argue. But this is supposed to be a vacation, Justin. A break. An 'oliday. Not a nag-fest. So drop it, huh? I don't want to be thinking about this stuff the whole flight to England."

"We could postpone, if you like."

"Dammit, not a chance." Jetta got to her feet, shaking her head. "Not a bleedin' chance. If we went home now, do you 'ave any idea how many questions we'd be asked? No, we're going away. I'm 'avin' my 'oneymoon an' that's it. We'll discuss this in England, if there's anythin' to discuss at all. But for the time bein', the whole bleedin' subject is taboo, is that understood?"

"All right." Justin nodded his head. "I guess an airport isn't the best place to discuss it, anyway."

"Especially not when there might be tabloid press around." Jetta agreed pointedly. "Whether they know it's me or not, you can't be sure. An' this is the last thing I want to see appearin' in tomorrow's press!"

"Then we'll change the subject." Justin promised, but there was doubt in his glance as he looked at his wife. "And we'll work out what's what when we get to London."

Part Two
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
The Boring Disclaimer:
Jetta is not my character - she and the Misfits were created by Hasbro and given life by Christy Marx and the writers of the Jem series. However, the events, concepts and plotline contained in this story is my own and may not be duplicated. Justin, Gianina and any character not featured in the Jem cartoon are entirely my creation and are also not to be duplicated anywhere else.