Blessed Event
a BML Production
by Trisha L. Sebastian



[Neither the characters nor the situations within are sole property
of me.  They have been borrowed liberally from Rumiko Takahashi,
and for that I am grateful.  I am not getting any compensation for
this story.]




	Light.  Then a sound.  Make that lots of sounds.

	I lurch awake, and instantly regret doing so.  My head pounds
like someone's using me for a punching bag.  What a familiar feeling.

	I sit up in bed, and the light cover falls from me.  I blink once
or twice, and it doesn't help the sudden shaft of pain that lances into
my eyes.  Halfheartedly, I shield my eyes from the morning sun, streaming
through the window.

	I look around.  I don't know where I am, and I sure as hell don't
remember how I got there.  All I remember is the old man, Akane's dad
and me, some sort of celebration and sake.  Oh yes, I remember the sake.

	Awful stuff, the first time you have some.  Then a pleasant blissful
feeling, so you hold out your glass for refills.  And the glasses are small,
and the bottle is small, so before you know it, you've had eight, ten glasses
and you're starting to feel sick.  You stagger out the door, into some bushes.
Then, darkness.

	Damn, I can't remember a thing.

	And then I hear a moan beside me.

	I turn, and stare in horror.

	"Good morning, Ranma."


NINE MONTHS LATER.....


	Where did I go wrong?

	I sit in the waiting room, because I am too scared to go inside.
Someone hands me a cup of coffee, and I take it gratefully.  I have been
drinking a lot of coffee today.

	I hear curses, lots of curses, so loud that the nurses grin
in amusement at me as they pass.  I hear a loud scream, followed by
weeping.  I clench my hands into fists, because I know that I am responsible
for it.

	After the marriage, I expected that things would be different.  But
instead, I got more revulsion, more hatred.  I would wake up in the morning
and find her beside me, staring at me with a look of utter misery and hatred.
And all the time, throughout the pregnancy, she would make pointed comments.

	"I would be feeling fine if it weren't for you."

	"It's all your fault that I'm feeling this way."

	"I didn't want this."

	"I don't want you."

	"I hate you."

	Funny how once you hear something enough times, it will finally
sink in.  She didn't love me.  She never loved me.  What I thought was love
was something else entirely.  Call it infatuation, call it stupidity...
whatever I thought we had together disappeared that one morning.

	I look around me, and see her father staring at me with hatred in
his eyes.  All around me, her friends glare at me.  One of them fingers
a weapon.  They wait, and I wait, to see what this fruit will bear.

	Oh, Akane, I hope that you can forgive me for my rash act.

	The nurse beckons to me, and I get up.  Hopefully, reluctantly,
I make my way over.  As much as I hate to say it, I wish that the nurse will
tell me that it was a horrible delivery, that the baby died, that she died.

	Anything will be better than the silence and the hatred.

	The nurse smiles, I smile, and she tells me to be quiet.  Every-
thing is fine.  She's resting with the baby.

	A huge sigh escapes my lips.  I open the door, and I see them 
together.  My child, and my wife.

	I sit down, and take her hand.  Too tired to protest, she lets me.
With ill-concealed hatred, she stares at me, her hair splayed out on the 
pillow.
	
	"Congatulations, Kunou," she says, sarcasm dripping from her voice.
My pig-tailed goddess looks down at the child, "We have a son."



AUTHOR'S NOTES:

	Much thanks to my fiance, Damon Collier for helping me hash
out the details of this story, even though he was being such a butt-head
while I told him the details of this story.
	Of course this is all Mike Loader's fault.  No need to explain why,
it just is.