#yaaaaaall

*Is suddenly hit in the face with how much sense Dark Choco being Cacao and Lily's kid would make*

at this age, they were irregular. so elizabeth hadn’t thought otherwise when it was missed-- 

but now it had been over a month, if she was doing the math right. well over it, really. 

and she had thrown up three mornings in the row. it brought her back to being NINETEEN, in a bathroom on the set of her boss’ client’s early morning shoot on melrose. which was how she knew that she might be in the same position once more. 

of course, it was entirely different then, but then again, was it really? there was twenty years between the two incidents, but elizabeth leah hawthorne ( archer, but, in the moment, for all purposes ) was still the same person as she had been then, just with more experience, a different partner, and a bigger checking account. the same question of doubt laced with undertones of what the truth was more likely to be ( she just KNEW ) took turns dominating her headspace with the thoughts of-- what if he’s not READY. 

that question made more sense at age nineteen, yes, but it still rose in her mind now. because ezra was so BUSY, and god. regina needed their attention, as did bryce, and his ex wife was just around the corner, now, and work was overwhelming, dangerous... 

regardless of what the answer was, though, on her husband’s readyness, or if he still loved her as much as he had a year ago, or if he loved her and did not harbor any feelings for his ex wife: the answer to the question of whether or not she was pregnant or not was written on the stick on the counter of her office’s bathroom. 

the blonde rose from sitting on the bathroom floor slowly, muscles stretching until she stood before the mirror. her long blonde hair framed her face, which, while normally smiling and shining in an attempt to reflect kindness and warmth to those around her, now simply looked tired. almost blank, in an attempt to hold back as much emotion and stress and anxiety as she could. 

hands gripped the edge of the counter HARD for just a moment, as if mustering the strength to turn the test over. as if it weighed a thousand pounds, not an ounce. “either answer’s okay.” the words fall from her lips in a whisper, even though she was completely alone anyways. “either answer’s fine.” 

liz flipped it over. bit her lip. read the word printed on the small, digital screen sitting in between her fingers. although they were silent, non-sentient letters printed in succession of each other, they might as well have been yelling at her.