Look at these eyes
They've never seen what matters
Look at these dreams
So beaten and so battered
I don't know much
But I know I love you
And that may be all I need to know
It was only in the early evenings that she really thought about Texas and Gunn. Fred's mind tended to run along at a furious pace. She would have compared it to a train, but really, it took so many twists and turns, that after a few moments of deliberation, she had to compare it to a school of fish, darting back and forth, but eventually heading toward the same direction, though nobody knew how or why. They just... did. Thoughts always drifted in and out, she never really stopped thinking, not even while she was asleep. If she did, it was rare, and as far as she could remember, it had only happened recently, usually during those times when Gunn's hands or his mouth or his... erm... other body parts were doing something to some part of her.
There was some unforeseeable power in Gunn's touch, in his caresses, that made her lose her capacity to think all together, moments of passion infused in her that made her need for him insatiable. When her mouth slid hotly along his collarbone, she wasn't thinking about equations and what-if's, but about HIM, his body, his eyes, his rhythm. It was the first intimate relationship she had been in, maybe for this very reason. Sensation gave way to reason, emotion gave way to logic, and when she was in his arms, returning his kisses - it wasn't that she didn't WANT to think about things - it was that... she couldn't.
She never thought about consequences, or what other people would say or do, but only of herself, of him, when she was with him. There was only that moment, and it had been so liberating, at first. They were young, and in love, but this not thinking... She had come to realize that those times, when she wasn't thinking - those were the most dangerous times of all.
It was how she ended up here, restricted to one side of a full size bed by a six foot bed hog. She didn't mind. In fact, she rather liked it when Gunn held her this way, spooned up against her, snoring slightly, cuddling her into him. That had been a surprise, him being all snuggly. She never would have guessed that. Charles was a tough man. He grew up on the streets, protecting by killing, fighting, and for the longest time, he never even had a bed. He was hard and cold and brittle - that was the impression he gave off. Funny, how she had never believed that. She had always seen SOME spark of warmth in him, but it was still a surprise, the tenderness he was capable of. By appearances, he had always appeared so... distant and stand-off-ish. But he wasn't. He cuddled. When he slept, it was usually with a kiss on her bare shoulder, a sweet touch of his lips and a sleepy 'good night, don't let the bed bugs bite'.
Faith had once told Fred, quite frankly, that she didn't think Fred was a type to handle the 'fuck buddy' business very well. Those were her exact words. 'Fuck Buddy'. It was so crude and... horrible. Not at all close to what she had with Charles. But sex was a factor. Sex she had never had before, and it was dangerously close to habit, to do it frequently. It was getting to a point where Fred didn't feel comfortable in bed without Gunn's male form behind her, couldn't sleep on the other side of the bed even when he wasn't there.
And she thought. About so many things. But not the consequences. Never the consequences - and she should have.
But even now, she couldn't stand to think of them, not the aching pit in her stomach, or her tremoring heart, not now. Not when things were so mixed up, and especially, not when his fingers caressed her naked form while her mother's cheery voice echoed tinny in her ear, completely unaware that her innocent daughter had her very large, very male lover in her bed.
It had been a surprising phone call, one that Fred was NOT expecting, a weekly check-up that came a day too soon because of her mother's bingo game unexpectedly rescheduled. Fred's frazzled mind wasn't quite ready to take it. There was too much to be scared of now, too much to think about, all these thoughts... and Gunn was sleeping there, and he had no idea, and then Trish Burkle called to check up on her daughter.
And Charles had this very dangerous habit of snoring.
Fred had done her best to sound normal. Unfortunately, 'normal' involved a certain level of loudness, and hyperness, and Fred couldn't do that now. Even if she could, the last thing she needed was her mother hearing Gunn's sleepy voice right behind her.
So she listened, her deadened heart thumping, counting beats, while her mother continued to worry with the best of intentions.
"Fred, honey, I just don't think it's appropriate, all that at work romancin'. What with Wesley practically livin' with that 'ex-con'-"
"Faith, Mommy," Fred corrected in a near whisper, trying to lay perfectly still, for fear her boyfriend would wake up. Charles mumbled something behind her. Her heart jumped slightly, and she reached back, pressed her hand to his lips in an attempt to shush his sleep talking. Oh, thank GOD he wasn't snoring. "And she can be very nice...when she's not cursing."
"Yes, dear - I know she served her time, and she's helpin' the helpless, Good heavens, Cordelia adores her, but ... and it's not just that. Cordelia raising Angel's baby, and not much else I hope..."
"Mother!" she hissed, startled into surprise.
Trish Burkle, best damned bus driver in Texas, sighed, a delicate twang on her voice that made Fred swallow. "Sweetheart, I love your friends, I do. They consider you family, and because of that, all of 'em are like my own. The whole lot, even Angel. They save the world, and it's wonderful that you're a part of that - but they're livin' in sin." Of course, it WOULD be at that moment, that Gunn's roamy hands would absently move up her abdomen, bump against a breast, and proceed to knead it. Shock filtered through it, and then her baser instinct took over with a gasp. She could have killed him. Even sleeping Charles got horny. Geez. Biting her lower lip, she sucked in her breath, clamping her thighs together.
"Fred?"
"Yes, ma?" she managed breathlessly. When she began to arch against him, it was more than a problem.
"You seem distracted, honey."
"Sorry, just a sec..." With shaking hands, she reached down, grabbing his hand and pulling them away from her chest, redepositing them on her stomach. Sleepy Gunn didn't seem to mind. He shuffled against her, pressed himself closer to her, and once again became a dead weight. A very turned on dead weight. Fred gulped. "I... Mommy? What were ya sayin'?"
Her mother had apparently used the time to think, because a big heavy sigh came through the receiver. "Look, Fred. I know you might think I'm old fashioned, and all, but... it's a tough city, Los Angeles, and I don't want you falling into any bad habits. There are rules, sweetie, but it's only there to keep you from getting hurt."
Getting hurt. Consequences. Thinking before passion. Reason before emotion. There were reasons for that. Fred blinked, shifting uneasily against Gunn's hardening shaft. "Mommy... are you... having the sex talk with me?"
"Goodness, Fred! You could have at least spelled it out!"
"Mother, I'm twenty-four." Gunn's sleepy, diligent fingers pressed against her abdomen, pulling her into him, and the action left her breathless, heart aching as she stared at the dark hand against her smooth, pale skin. Such a contrast. "I'm controlling myself, Mommy."
"You okay, sweetie? You sounded kinda choked there."
"I feel a little sick," Fred finally responded. "I just... I'll be fine, really."
Her mother didn't sound convinced, but Trish didn't comment. It made Fred swallow, wonder if her mother knew more than she let on. "You probably think I'm silly," Trish chuckled, suddenly sounding tired. "I mean, you're our little Fred! Smart and pretty and independent. We've raised you right and good." The words made her heart sink further, and lost, Fred's fingers closed over Gunn's, smoothing over the palm, searching for some form of stability. "And we trust you, we do."
"I know you do, Mommy," she whispered, a trembling smile that matched her shuddering heart overtaking her face. Her mother continued to talk, but Fred didn't listen. Her thoughts whirled now, remembering Texas, that slow town that she came from, where her haven had been her library.
It was all she knew before this. Before Los Angeles - before Pylea. Things were simpler. True, things scared her, and she preferred her research to others, but... everyone knew everyone there, on the hot dusty streets, and everyone spoke with an accent that had almost faded from her own speech. Everyone there, they were traditional...
Gunn's arms encircled her, warmth consuming her. The nausea continued to build. "When are you coming to visit?"
"Soon," she whispered. "Really soon, Mommy." It was a lie. She had just lied to her mother. God. "I love you."
"Tell your friends to be careful, we want to see them ALL for Easter."
Words of endearment that Fred barely remembered were mumbled, and then came the blessed dial tone. She wasn't aware she was trembling until she put the phone back in it's cradle, slipped further into Gunn's embrace, and stared at the blank powder blue wall.
The shift in movement caused her big old bear to stir, and lips skimming over her shoulder as he asked dizzily, "Who was that?"
He was awake. Fred froze for only the barest of a second, managing to wipe the stray tears that had drifted from her face before she craned her neck, flashing him a quick smile. "Mom."
Gunn's eyes widened. "Oh," he said, almost too casually.
His nervous response almost made her smile, her haggard emotion so fragile the short chuckle nearly released the tears. Charles never had forgotten that day that her mother, during her last visit, had hinted something along the lines of Fred going out with 'that nice Wesley', while everyone was sitting in the lobby. The pause had been considerable, until Cordelia literally dragged Faith out of the room before the temperamental Slayer had time to react. Trish, still wary around the foul mouth girl (who, to her credit, really HAD tried to control her swearing), had been completely dumbfounded until she was quickly filled in on the recent hook-ups.
"Oh," had been her response, and then, "But she wears so much... black."
~~~
"You do wear a lot of black," Debbie commented.
Faith, who until then, had been listening with a distracted frown, arched an eyebrow, shooting the bar maid an incredulous look. "Do you WANT me to kill you now?"
~~~
Fred lay back against the pillow, for the moment glad she couldn't see Gunn's face. She was so worried her face would give everything away, from the sad resignation, to the raw panic - the myriad of emotions flitting through her.
"How's she doing?"
"Good," Fred responded, "And yes, she likes you, Gunn. She asked how you were, I said you were fine."
He was quiet, and her eyes closed as his mouth pressed against her shoulder, deep in contemplation. Fred once again lost herself in her thoughts, Gunn's warmth now a reminder of what she had done - of what they had done...
God, she was so scared...
Charles' kisses were sweet, like they always were, the mention of her mother had killed his excitement, and now there was only his early morning repose. Except it was evening, and she was anything but relaxed. But Gunn, too sleepy to really catch hold of any discernment, saw none of it. Instead, his lips slipped along the curve of her neck, hot breath that made her sigh, confliction and nausea building up, pleasure and pain, as she held his arms around her closer, reached behind and stroked the nape of his neck, holding his embrace, returning his love.
"You know," he whispered, gently smoothing the wild strands of dark hair from her face. "I was thinking... Maybe... if you think we're ready... Maybe we should ask take a vacation. Like... go somewhere, just the two of us." His sweet words were so full of hope, so free of restrictions. She swallowed, eyes on the wall, suddenly wishing for the black markers she knew were still in the bottom dresser. "Baja... or even..." he sounded kinda nervous, pensive and hesitant in that deep 'Charles' voice, "Texas. Go visit your folks..."
The nausea twisted in her stomach, a spiral of uncomfortable ickiness that rose to the back of her throat. She kept it down. How, she had no idea. Her eyes began to stink, as her chest rose and fell with emotional breathing.
"That would be something," she whispered. Something to show up with your almost live-in boyfriend, and announce to the world, that you were- "Yeah." When she didn't respond, his palm slipped along her forearm, and he squeezed. "It's something to think about. Hey! I know! I know it's kinda late for breakfast, but pancakes, and waffles with strawberries dripping off of them? Sound good to you?"
Images of food immediately brought their smell to mind, in living color. Her stomach gurgled, and she clamped her teeth, closing her eyes.
"You like that, right? And the syrup - at that diner that we first-"
Oh, God, she really was going to be-
"I gotta go," she whispered, scrambling now, pushing away and rising unsteadily to her feet.
"Fred!"
Hand over her mouth, Fred stumbled quickly to the bathroom, pushing open the door and landing on her knees. Panicking, she fumbled with the toilet seat, picking it up just before IT happened.
Oh, God. She hated this feeling. The loss of control as she vomited overwhelmed her, and she crumpled against the toilet. She trembled, the acrid smell disgusting her, nauseating her.
"Fred..."
She couldn't look at him, it was all becoming too real. Way too real. Moisture continued to well up in her eyes, and she knelt there, hidden, until she felt her robe slide over her shoulders. Gunn, now wearing boxers, placed a cool hand on her shoulder, carefully cupping her long tresses and pulling them off of her face.
"All right, that's it," Charles said gruffly, reaching around her to flush the toilet, sliding an arm around her to help her shaking body up. "We're getting you to a doctor. This ain't no twenty four hour flu."
"I'm fine," she said hastily.
"Fine my ass. Fred-"
"Charles, are we there yet?" she interrupted breathlessly. He paused, arms around her waist, staring into her dark brown eyes with a concerned intensity filled with love. It did something to her, a hope that she had somehow missed before. Her fingers curled around his bicep, holding onto him for support, suddenly so thankful, that he was there with her.
"Where, Fred?"
She took a breath, and let it out. "That place where we have all those serious talks and I can tell you everything - and I can say that I'm so scared, Charles."
He blinked, staring stupidly for a moment, but only a moment. A palm cupped her face, and she leaned against it thankfully, as he led her back to the bed, gently sitting her on the edge. Kneeling down, Charles took her hands in his, and there was something in his dark orbs that made her quiver.
Fear. For her.
"What are you so scared of, baby?" he asked gently. "What?"
It was all pent up inside her, and she had kept her fears hidden for what seemed like so long, it was almost twice as hard to get it out. She opened her mouth, but no sounds would come out, until they edged in a second later, barely spoken. "I think I'm pregnant."
The next five seconds were the worst in her life. Charles stared, he just stared. He didn't move, didn't speak, just stared, boring into her eyes as if he was still waiting for her answer.
And then it came, the realization, because the color drained off his face. "How?!"
"HOW?" she repeated, stunned by the question, shocked into stammering, "All the sex we had is how!"
"I know but..." his hands slipped from hers, and he got up, moving emphatically, "we used protection, and... " He whirled, coming back again. "Are you sure?"
She shrank from him, the intense look. Would she tell him if she wasn't sure? Of course not! She shrugged meekly. "I haven't... taken the test or anything. I've been scared to... but... I'm pretty sure."
"We gotta be sure, Fred! I have to be sure, because I can't BRING a kid into this world, I can't-"
"You can't?" she sputtered, eyes widening. "YOU? Charles, this baby is in ME! It's just as scary for me! This wasn't supposed to..." the words broke her, and the tears began to run down her fear, moisture that stung her. She sobbed into her hands, a mess of hot tears and wild emotions, fear overtaking any maternal instinct she had.
"Shhh. Hey... hey..." And finally, Charles became her boyfriend again, because he was back, kneeling between her, holding her in his arms. She sank into him gladly, head on his strong shoulder, shuddering softly. "Sweetie, I'm sorry, baby. I didn't mean to... I just... I want to be sure..."
She froze. "And if I am?"
He blew out his breath, uneasy and considering. "We'll handle it."
Something about the way he said that made her heart sink, and her mouth babbled, emotions rampant on her tears. "Is that all we'll do?" she whispered quietly. "Handle it? Charles, I'm scared-"
"I know, baby." She closed her eyes as his forehead came to rest on hers, his breath moist on her lips. "It's a baby..."
She shuddered, eyes falling on the phone. "My parents, Charles. What will they say? They were so worried already, and now-"
"What?" Gunn pulled back, eyes wide open now, staring at his girlfriend with wide-eyed innocence. "What are they worried about?"
Uh-Oh. Fred felt the sickness spread, her fingers tangling into nervous fists on her lap as she stared.
"Fred," he said, his voice harder now. "What were they worried about?"
"I..." she didn't want to say it. He would get hurt, he would take it the wrong way, and... but God- "Gunn... they don't know about... us." He blinked. "I mean, they do, but... they didn't it was... as serious... as it is."
"What do you mean?" the voice was low, surprised. Charles fingers closed around hers, and he shook his head. "Fred!"
Her tears were quickly returning, and she hastily wiped at them, anything to keep from seeing Charles. "They love you, Charles, they do, but they... they kept saying that they wanted me to be with someone with an education - a degree, someone with a future."
Oh, God. That was wrong. That was just such a wrong word. A future. Charles winced as if slapped. He swallowed hard, and his hands fell from hers, stepping back as if suddenly afraid of her.
Fred's heart lurched, her voice mottled with tears as she sat up, arms out imploringly. "Charles, they love you. You know they love you. They think you're big and strong, and you have such a beautiful heart, it's just that... they just ... we're so different, and they thought that we wouldn't... they're WRONG, Charles. They love you, but - they didn't think we fit."
Oh, God - when it came out that way, it seemed so ugly. So ugly what her parents thought, even if it was only with the best of intentions for their daughter. A man who could take care of her daughter financially, raise her children and provide a home and food and stability-
Love should have last on the list - and Fred didn't care about that. Not at all.
"What, it's like, a race thing?"
She blinked in surprise, the hostile tone taking her by surprise. "What?! NO! Charles, I can't believe you'd even think that! It has NOTHING to do with that-"
"No future?" Charles' heart was wide open, wounded in his eyes, taking a step back from her. "That's what you think? I got no future? That I couldn't bring a baby into this world, raise it, take care of it-"
"Charles, I never SAID that!" she pleaded, on her feet now, moving forward even as Charles moved back.
"But you're thinking it, right?" He kept moving back, always out of her reach. "Thinkin' that I ain't cut out to be a father. Can't raise a baby cause I don't have an education, and a degree and-"
"Charles, I'm scared because it's a baby!" she squeaked, tears streaming from her eyes as she balled her hands into fists, lost in her emotion. "A baby! A living, breathing human baby, and it's forever, and it's US! And it's ME, Charles! And yes, I'm scared about what my parents might think, because they're my PARENTS-"
"Yeah, I guess I wouldn't know about that," he stuttered angrily.
Her shoulders sank, voice breaking. "No, Charles... please don't-"
"I don't know nothing about parents. Shit, I don't know nothing 'bout family. But that's stupid me! 'Course they'd be scared their little girl got knocked up by a brother from the streets, all street and no future? Turned their fling into something that might last a while, now they're stuck with him forever. That their fear or yours, Fred?"
Fred was so wounded, she never heard the door opening, she wasn't even sure how it happened, but seconds later, her palm was stinging, and Charles was slumped against the wall, a hand held against his cheek.
The silence was appalling as clarity came back to her, even with the blurring tears, and the unfocused versions of Cordelia, Connor and Faith in the doorway, staring in open shock.
"What the hell? Who died and made this place 'Cops'?"
Charles swallowed, ignored Faith's comment. "Fred-"
But she couldn't take it, she couldn't have this talk anymore. It was hurting too much, his face and her face, and his heart and her heart, broken and scarred and the future was so uncertain, and there was so much insecurity and pain, and turmoil- "Charles, leave."
He didn't want to, she could see it, but the imprint of her hand was embedded into his cheek, and he refocused on her, orbs clouded with moisture, before he ducked away from Faith and Cordelia and slipped into the bathroom, closing the door.
She heard the lock turn with a click.
"Oh, crap." Trembling, Fred turned, tears still drifting down her face as Cordelia stared unseeingly into the air. "Oh, crap. GREAT TIMING, guys!" she said. Fred gave Faith a curious stare, but the Slayer only shrugged, bewildered. Cordelia shook her fist at the air. "GREAT timing. REALLY appreciate this!"
"Cor? What the fuck are you on?" Faith asked, moving to stand next to Fred, a comforting hand on the waif girl's shoulder.
Cordelia's hazel eyes were distracted, but she looked resigned and just a little bit angry. "Think you're up to a bar hunt?"
"You want us to get drunk NOW?" Faith asked. "Shit, Cor, Fred's turned into a freaking water park, here!"
"VISION," Cordelia enunciated. "Some vamp's gonna eat some big-haired lady. We gotta go. Fred, come on."
"I can't leave!" she said breathlessly, mouth dropping at the absurdity of the order. Her eyes traveled to the closed bathroom door. "I just... can't!"
"Look, whatever the hell he did, I sure as hell am NOT leaving you to continue the Jerry Springer reenactment. You're coming, and you're cooling off. Get some clothes on. Faith, get her jacket."
Fred opened her mouth to protest, but Faith's firm grip was around her wrist, pulling her toward the door. Fred gave her a look. The Slayer's eyes were surprisingly warm, distant and soft, as they focused on hers. "You gotta get out," she said quietly, running a gentle finger down Fred's cheek. "Let's go, baby."
Fred closed her eyes, resisting another look at the closed door, before she followed her two friends out.
~~~
Rick's stomach was all in knots. He remembered once, an old girlfriend had told him the same thing. Well, not EXACTLY the same thing, but it was close - about the no future thing, and it... it hurt.
He swallowed, not having the courage to break the quiet as each woman fell silent, lost in their worlds of conflict.
"So wait... now you're psychic?" Dan asked, looking confused as he straddled the chair, dress shirt rolled up to his elbows, open to reveal his wife beater.
"Sweetie... weren't you on the pill?"
"We used condoms-"
"But what about dental dams! AND... diaphragms! And spermicide! You can never be too careful!" Debbie's eyes were round as saucers.
Faith narrowed her eyes. "You want her to use the pill, condoms, diaphragms, spermicide, and a DENTAL DAM? Why not put on a sponge? Shit, girl, might as well put on a scuba suit!"
"I'm gonna," Dan said, fussing with his tie, clearly regressed into typical 'guy' panic.
Debbie rolled her eyes. "Dan, sweetie, that's assuming you actually get LAID. You don't. You have nothing worry about."
"Well, there's an upside," Fred managed softly. Cordelia and Faith stared, and she managed a meek smile. "At least we know MINE has nothing to do with the world ending. I mean ... with Wesley all paranoid and Angel being all..."
Suddenly, all three girls froze.
"Angelus-y..." Cordelia's hands clamped to her mouth. "Oh my God - You don't think I already-"
"Unless, you could picture Angelus banging on our in the middle of the night whimpering his head off, I really don't think you have to worry."
Rick turned, encountered a pretty blonde woman with a messily pulled back pony tail, holding a baby, standing in the doorway of the bar, looking none too happy.
"We're closed-"
"Kate?" Rick blinked. Kate? Cordelia stood, moving around the bar, and coming forward. "What are you doing here? And why on earth did you bring CONNOR?"
"That's Connor!?" Debbie squealed. "OOOH! Lemme see!"
"Touch him and DIE, Skank," Cordelia said, narrowing her eyes, and hugging the baby protectively. "Keep the spermicidic mitts OFF my kid."
"Wow, you're bitchy." Debbie tossed her hair (or she tried. Rick didn't think he had EVER seen her hair actually MOVE, what with all that hairspray) and moved back to the table.
Cordelia rolled her eyes, and Rick continued to stare, open mouthed, as Fred and Faith also surrounded the older women they apparently knew.
"What are you doing here, again?" Cordelia asked.
Kate frowned, crossing her arms. "So there I was, with my Book of the Month, Lorne was JUST putting little Connor to sleep, and guess who knocks on our door? Wesley. Looking for Faith. We give him some tea, tell him to give you some time, blah, blah, blah, he leaves. I sit down with my book, Lorne sits down with his head in my lap, I start to read-"
"Shit, you guys have been living together a week, and you're already boring."
"Shut up, Faith," Kate said pleasantly. "Guess who POUNDS the damned door open, waking CONNOR? It's half crazy Angel - looking for Cordelia!" Kate rubbed at her eyes. "I didn't even wait for Gunn."
Fred shuffled.
"So I take it you know them?" Dan asked, coming up behind them. Everyone stared blankly at him, and then turned away without comment.
"Wait... so what are you doing there?"
Kate narrowed her eyes. "I'm tired. I want to read my damned book, and Lorne has a meeting at eight for the new Caritas - So. GET your asses back home, TAKE care of the shit, WORK it out, and STOP getting drunk at bars." Kate rubbed at her eyes, blinking. "Come on, I'll drive you home."
"Kate-"
"I brought my friggin' gun, Cordelia. And I have Lorne's permission to use it. You have any idea how much of a pansy he is when he doesn't get his full eight hours?" With that, she was out the door. Rick's eyes widened as the three women stared.
"You can't leave now!" Dan protested.
"Yeah!" Debbie said emphatically. "What about the rest of it?"
"The rest of it?" Cordelia said, holding her child close to her. "Is none of your business."
"Hey! We listened! We counseled! How about a little compensation, here?"
"How about you fuck off?" Faith said to the barmaid, chucking her hair. "Be glad you're not food."
"I well... dammit!" Rick ignored Dan's outburst, his hands in his pockets as he rounded the bar, smiling at the three women.
"Good luck. I hope it works out," he said simply. He handed Fred a plastic bag. "Just in case."
The three women stared, and a smile fell across Cordelia's face. "You might be the one normal person in this place," she said simply. "Including us."
"Must be nice," Fred commented.
"It's actually pretty boring."
Faith grinned, the last to leave as the two moved toward the door. "Trust me. You're not missing much."
Rick watched as the door closed behind her.
"Well, crap," Dan said, slumping down on the table. "What're we supposed to do now?"
Rick turned as silence descended over the deserted bar.
Debbie tapped her fingers on the cracked wooden table. "Spin the bottle?"
He rolled his eyes, going back to behind the bar. Bet there was a pretty good Jerry Springer on right about now.
~~~
So many questions, still left unanswered
So much I've never broken through
And when I feel you near me
Sometimes I see so clearly
The only truth I've ever known is me and you
I don't know much
But I know I love you
And that may be
All there is to know
She had a headache.
Faith understood a lot of things. Nowadays, despite the never ending trauma that seemed to be directly associated with having a relationship, she felt she knew some things. Not all things. Shit was still going down, and she felt it in her bones, but she wasn't alone. Not anymore.
Still, there wasn't anything Kate, Fred or even Cordelia could do to help her with this. Faith hesitated, her fingers closing over the metal key, pausing just before it slipped into the lock. Taking a breath, she wondered if she had ever really felt this uneasy before. Flashes slid over her, unconscious slips into the pasts, seeing Wesley as a stranger, in Sunnydale, surrounded by contempt and judgment.
The first time she had seen the British Watcher, her words hadn't been for him. They had been tossed in contempt, a question that was edged in disdain. "New Watcher?" And when the answer was in the affirmative, she found it so easy to toss her hair and dismiss him. "Screw that."
"Screw this," she whispered, backing away from the door, turning, and tossing her hair, and "SHIT." She closed her eyes, heart beat thumping erratically, before turning back and slamming the key into the lock, nearly breaking it in her anger. "Fuck you, Wes," she whispered under her breath. "Shit was so much easier when I didn't fucking love you."
The apartment was dark. Faith narrowed her eyes, hand still on the doorknob, peering into the stillness to find a man desperately hunched over his books. There was a bottle of whiskey on the table and a shot glass beside it. Her gaze riveted on his immaculate fingertips, the grace in his well-bred past that sometimes made her wonder if he ever would have considered anything with her back then.
What did he think of then? White trash? Irredeemable trailer park whore? Was that why he had tried to kidnap her from Angel's? Why he was so willing to take her back to England?
The knots in her stomach twisted, sending a horrible lump to her throat, and it took effort to swallow it down. The force she used to close the door was a little more than she expected, and he jumped when it slammed into the doorframe, rattling the hinges.
Wesley's blue eyes were clear even in the dark light, and they caught her, at first distracted, then with a haunting focus that made her blow out her breath shakily. Without a word she dropped her bag, slammed the keys on the little table next to the door, and took a step forward.
He must have seen the expression on her face, her 'don't fuck with me' face, because he didn't move. He stayed perfectly still, frozen in time with an astounded expression, and a beautiful bright hue in those damned eyes of his. The sparkling orbs that got her into so much damned trouble in the first place nearly sparkled with hope and haunted pain.
Shit.
She moved to the couch, shedding her leather jacket as she did, and she settled into it with practiced ease, never moving her eyes from his gaze.
It was a long beat, and she waited, blithely aware that for possibly the first time in this relationship, she felt like she had the upper hand.
And fucking- A. She didn't want it.
Aggravated fingers ran through wild tresses, and with a husky voice, she spoke, evenly, without a stammer or even a swear word.
"Okay. So this is what I have figured out. A) You're paranoid that Angel is going to lose his soul. B) This is probably because you've found some horrible prophecy and because you want to 'protect' everyone, you're not a saying a thing. C) You've definitely got a reason to be completely psycho about this because after tonight's escapade Angel's soul thing is definitely stringy. Oh, and Fred might be pregnant, but that has nothing to do with anything, except I just found out."
His mouth opened slightly, a dazed glaze over his eyes. "I... Fred is pregnant?"
Faith snapped her fingers, rolling her eyes. "Focus, Wes. She might be. There's a lot of shit you can find out when, you know, you actually TALK to people."
The angry edge in the voice made him wince, an action that was not lost on her as she clamped her mouth shut, for the moment so overcome with anger that she had to glance away from the man at the table with all the damned books.
Why the hell did she bother? Why? What was so fucking amazing about a relationship that kept you hanging? That kept your heart in constant limbo, and had you wondering every fucking day when the guy was going to wake up and realize who you were and why he had absolutely no reason to be with you?
Why was she fighting so hard to keep this alive? Why did it hurt MORE that he was hurting than the fact that SHE was hurting?
This love shit was so screwed.
GET OUT, Faith. Get out NOW.
"Faith."
It was a quiet whisper, but it went right through her, jerking her face back to his - and there it was again: the twist of her heart, the lump in her throat, the need to make it all okay. Her fingers tightened around the leather of the couch's armrest. She really had a huge fucking headache. "All right," she finally managed, interrupting whatever guilt ridden tirade Brooding Wesley was going to come up with. Her face rose and her jaw tightened, and the anger was back in her tone, controlled, barely. "I'm going to give you five seconds to tell me what the hell is going on with you. To TELL me. And after that, if you keep that stupid mouth closed, I'm walking out, and this, whatever the hell is, is over. I don't have time for this shit - 'cause you know? I've got myself a fucking family now, all right ? And Cordy's freaking and Fred's fucking 'with child', and I don't have anymore time than that. You get five seconds. If this relationship is worth that much, you better spill."
It was loaded, as every nerve in her body was on fire, waiting, waiting, waiting, for those precious five seconds. He never moved. He gazed at her with somber eyes, staring at her with his mouth closed, contemplating in this dark room, at the dark girl who had somehow ended up in his bed, in his house, giving him ultimatums.
It was a gamble she wasn't sure her heart could take, but the fear had wrapped around it and she held her breath, fingers gripping onto the couch, as if it held her very life.
Fuck, maybe it did.
He never said a word.
It was way past five seconds, and Faith's eyes closed, and her chest rose and fell, something heaved, and finally she only said, "Fuck this," before she was on her feet and heading toward the door, leather jacket in hand, hand reaching for her keys.
"FAITH!" Books went flying, she turned and saw them clatter to the floor, the chair turned over, and a thin man stumbled over it, barely managing to keep his footing as he ran. He fucking ran, with panic in his eyes, and something else, a desperation as he clutched onto her shoulders, held her firm, almost as if by sheer will he could stop her. "Please," he whispered. "Please, don't. Just... listen."
"Listen?" she managed. "Wesley, that's all I ever WANTED to do!"
"Then do it," he whispered, and it was the pain that made her stop, the aching, the need to be heard. Their gazes met, and with a hard glance, she dropped her keys back onto the table, threw her jacket next to them, and crossed her arms.
"Then talk."
He did. In stammers and whispers, and with every word, Faith was NOT relieved. As soon as the words 'The Father Will Kill the Son' emerged, her throat parched, and everything that she really didn't want to know came streaming out of her boyfriend's mouth.
"That's bullshit!" she burst. "Wes, Angel would NEVER hurt Connor. He loves that kid-"
"The prophecy clearly states-"
"Well, you read it wrong!" she stammered, stepping back, shaking her head emphatically. "You read that shit wrong, Wes. 'Cause, that's not going to happen-"
"What do you think I've been trying to disprove, Faith?" he said, turning away from her, running angry fingers through his hair. "I've done everything I can, and I always come down to the same conclusion."
Her eyes closed. She closed her hands into fists. It couldn't be true, because he was wrong. He was WRONG. Prophecies, and their bullshit - it was all just WRONG- She turned, and suddenly the panic froze, and her body stilled. Wesley was silent, curled onto the sofa, arms held tightly to him, shuddering.
This wasn't her Wesley. This was a broken man. This was... a man who was alone. She swallowed, and there was nothing else to do but walk forward, calmly take a seat next to him, pull at his torso. He didn't move, not at first, but then it was surprisingly easy to slip her arms around him. In two seconds, he was buried in her warmth, breathing her in, and his trembling body pressed flush against hers.
It brought back another flash, of herself in this state, clinging to him as if he was all that mattered. He sure as hell was all that fucking mattered now.
Faith closed her eyes, lost in his musty woodsy BRUT smell, pressing her lips against his forehead as she rubbed short fingernails through his mussed, soft brown hair.
"Okay," she whispered, and her soft voice did something, made him tremble against her, a shudder as he clutched her even tighter. "Okay, I believe you, okay?"
"Faith-"
"Hey..." Her heart was beating so hard, so hard, but her eyes were amazingly clear as she regarded him, cupping his stubbly chin and staring into moistened pools of brown. "I love you," she whispered gruffly. "Okay? That's not changing." Her lips pressed against his once, soft and tender, that told nothing of lust and everything of acceptance. He held her close, breathed her in, and gradually, ever so slowly, he stopped trembling.
She felt a minute swell of relief. The craziness was over for now. "Okay," she said again. "Back to earth now?" he didn't say a word. "I mean - not going to just up and take Connor and run for you life, or some stupid shit like that, right?" He froze beneath her touch. "Cause you would. You're that dumb."
He was tense, but she only closed her eyes and trailed a gentle hand against his cheek. The low laughter that came from him made her smile grimly, once, and she pulled back, pulling her legs up on the couch.
"Hey Wes?" His hand reached for hers, tangling their fingers and holding on desperately as he regarded her. With her free hand, she wiped clumsily at the tears in his eyes, easy, and... very unsure. "You know, back in Sunnydale - a lot of shit changed for me. I killed a guy, and... didn't know how to deal with it, and... didn't wanna deal with it. And it wasn't like... I didn't, like I could, and umm... didn't really trust anyone - sure as hell didn't trust you... It made things... easier, to give in." He blinked, and she swallowed. Why the hell was she playing the sharing game? Why the hell was she looking into his eyes and telling him what the hell went through her when she didn't even know half of it herself? "I didn't believe in anything, Wes. I had nothing, and Buffy had everything, and the one thing I had - she took from me... and... I didn't talk to anyone, and I killed people, you know? Lots of 'em, and I thought it helped, to keep it all in. But you know... the keeping it in, the not trusting? Fuck, Wes... every day, while I was in the pen, I wondered, you know... what if I had told Buffy I cared? You know? What if I had fucking listened, would I have felt that empty?"
"Faith..."
"If you ever," she swallowed down hard, eyes on him in pure conviction, "If you EVER, keep anything like this from me, ever again, it's over, Wes." He blinked, and suddenly he wasn't in focus anymore. Wetness clouded her vision, tears that seeped and threatened to fall over onto her cheeks, her lips almost bled from where she bit at them. "I will kick your ass, because I've lost a lot of things, but I can't bear, losing you to that. 'Cause that's how that shit starts, Wes. I can't have that happen to you. It fucking eats you alive, and I can't do that again, I can't watch it happen to you."
His arms were around her in two seconds, his lips buried into hers a mili-moment after that. He moaned, and then he just held her, so tightly, that she wondered if he had gotten stronger. Tears were stinging when he let her go, and the uneasiness penetrated, but his hand clung to hers. Faith was never more sure of anything, than when he whispered, "I can't lose you, Faith. Bloody hell, I can't not have you."
"Don't ever lie to me," she whispered.
His jaw clenched, his eyes closed, and she wondered if he would say anything else. Instead, his head bowed, and he carefully placed her fingers in his palm, and raised them. She watched with a raw throat, heart jerking in her chest when he kissed them, as if they were something precious.
It was pure irony, a world tipped sideways, and a place she didn't know, when he asked her, HE ASKED HER, a very simple question: "What can I do?"
*You don't understand. I don't care.*
Faith got to her feet, and pulled him with her. "It's not you, Wes. It's us. 'What do we do?'"
A short silence, thick and heavy, filled the air, and when he nodded, she gave a relieved nod back. This was a fucking relationship. And they were in it together. And they would get through this shit together. "We gotta talk to Cordy and Angel. Let's go."
She pulled him to the door, and he let her.
That meant the fucking world.
~~~
She wondered why she even bothered with the pretense of calling her apartment 'home' anymore. She had more clothes here than at her place, and she slept here more often than she did with Dennis.
Dennis was slightly pissed, but her over protective ghost was last on her list of priorities at the moment. Cordelia fumbled with the door, tossing Fred a sympathetic glance as she scrambled up the stairs, turning to the third floor, and making a right.
"Angel?" she asked, voice slightly out-of-breath, when she entered the room, Connor wrapped closely to her. The room was empty, and she closed her eyes and cursed, heart thumping unsteadily. Where the hell was he? Oh, God, Angel -
Kissing her child's head in distraction, Cordelia pulled out her cellphone, ready to start dialing, until a loud sound made her jerk her head to the closed bathroom door.
"Angel?" Without another word, Cordelia placed squirming Connor in the crib, and moved toward the bathroom door, pushing it open.
She froze, and suddenly everything came crashing as her eyes filled with tears. "Oh, God... Angel."
The vampire was bare-chested, his shirt lying in tatters, jacket in a rumpled dirty heap, and he was bent over the toilet bowl, convulsing over it, dry heaves coming from his body.
"Angel..." she came forward, no longer remembering any sort of fear as she knelt beside him, arms wrapped around him, gently brushing the hair away from his forehead. His skin was clammy, cold. "Angel-"
He trembled, eyes closed as he kept his vamped face hidden from her. "There's something wrong with me," he whispered, an aching voice coming from him that nearly undid her.
"Shh, baby," she whispered, bringing him in closer. "I know, honey."
"Cordy, I'm sorry-"
"Oh, baby, it's okay... it's not your fault..."
He bent over the toilet bowl, knuckles white as he clutched at the porcelain. "I would never hurt my boy, Cordy-"
"I know..."
"But there's something wrong. There's something wrong..."
"Shhh, sweetie, I know." He gave a cough, something that sounded like a sob, and a growl, and yellow eyes were streaked with moisture as he looked at her imploringly.
"Come on." Cordelia stood, grimacing as Angel gripped her shoulders, his body weight nearly making her topple. She kept him still, moving him toward the sink, steadying him against it. "Stay here," she whispered, "I'll be right back."
"Cor-"
"Right back." She moved as quickly as she could, opening the bag she had brought with her and pulling out a container of blood. He was hunched over, straightening when he saw her, blanching at the blood in her hands.
Shaking his head fervently, Angel backed away. "Cordelia-"
"Drink."
"Cordelia-"
"It's fine, Angel. I made sure. It's not from your regular guy, but from a guy Lorne knows, you need it." He was going to argue, but she grabbed his hands, placed it in them, twisting off the cap. "DRINK. You have to get that in you, calm yourself down." He was still skittish, a low growl coming off him, but she held it to his lips, tipped the cup, and he grimaced.
"Tastes like shit..."
"Good! Bloodlust over! Keep drinking," she ordered.
He groaned, but the gulping continued, spilling some, and when she brought the container back, his lips were stained red.
For once, it didn't stop her from pressing her lips delicately against his, feeling his fangs protruding slightly. It was a kiss he needed then, and she gave it willingly, stroking the demonic face carefully. Vampire Angel was still Angel, and he had to know that.
He closed his eyes, gathered her close, a long breath coming from his body.
"Cordelia..."
"Yeah. I know."
Angel shuddered once, keeping her so close, she winced. But the skin wasn't as sallow, and the vampire face receded. She breathed a sigh of relief, managing a smile, if only for his benefit.
"Hey. Welcome back."
He sniffed, a barely there smile crossing his face, before it faded just as quickly.
"Connor?"
"In his crib, waiting for some Daddy love." He was ready to move, but she kept him there, pinning him to the sink, holding his arms steady. "Wait, Angel - we have to talk."
"Cordelia-"
"Something's happening to you, okay?" she said, her voice firm, gentle. A palm ran gently down his face, soothing her words. "You've been a little vampy lately, and being a vampire, that's well... normal, but you're taking it to a whole new level. You've been all blood-a-holic lately, and I want you to understand that. Do you?"
"I'm a vampire, Cordelia. I need to drink something red - "
"And how!" she said, shaking her head. "You big dummy. You think if it was that easy I'd care? Tell me you're not so dense you don't know what I'm talking about."
He wasn't that dense. Angel slowly nodded, and she smiled, a whisper of relief clouding her soul. "Thank God. Look, I'll get Fred working on this, but she might be pregnant, so we gotta give her a little bit of time, and Wesley is acting weird, so Faith is going to try and get that out and-"
Angel blinked. "Fred's pregnant?"
"That's how rumors get started. I said 'might be'. Don't freak out." It gave him something to focus on, concern for the Pylean refugee making his eyes cloud and darken, but it was an Angellike brood, and it relieved her. Angel's beautiful big heart was focused on something other than guilt.
"Does Gunn know?"
"Judging by the big ass slap that Fred gave him when me and Faith walked in, I'm guessing, yeah, he knows."
Angel nodded, shivering slightly, eyes on some unseen place behind her. Cordelia kept the silence, locked between his legs, rubbing at his bare shoulders with a soft caress, moving down to his biceps.
They were silent. There was nothing but his heavy breathing, an unconscious act that she noticed happened when he was scared. Really scared, into thinking he needed it.
Without a word, she moved an arm behind him, blindly finding a towel from the rack beside the sink where she had last left it, and fumbling with the faucet, she moistened it.
He was curious, but she didn't say a word as she wiped at his mouth, never realizing how she was holding her own breath until she let it out, rubbing at the remnants of blood on his mouth. "All clean," she said, her voice husky as she patted at his face, managing a smile for his benefit.
"Cordelia."
"Hmm."
"Are you frightened?" His dark eyes were so wide and innocent then. It was so odd. She felt old, cupping the face of her vampire lover who had lived lifetimes. His hands grasped her shoulders, and he stared at her as if she held his very world. He had never wanted anything but honesty from her. So she gave it.
"A little bit," she whispered. "But not of you. Never of you."
"You should be."
When she smiled, he looked dazed, and her complete trust stunned him, she knew, because he stiffened, as she buried into his chest, wrapping her arms around his waist. "I know. But you know me... one big dummy."
It took a full thirty seconds for him to carefully place his hand on the small of her back, pulling her closer to him.
"You know, according to Fred's mom, we're living in sin."
And that finally got a laugh. A shaky one, but it was there, rumbling through a tired chest, and suddenly everything was going to be okay.
"Where's Connor?" he whispered. Taking him by the hand, Cordelia pulled him into the bed room, and then over to the crib. Her eyes were guarded, careful as she led him over to Connor's crib. Angel himself seemed fearful, hesitant, until his little boy spotted him, raised his chubby arms, and almost mewed.
"Connor," he said brokenly, and gently, Cordelia lifted his son, placed him carefully in his arms.
It was a haven of peace, if only for a minute. Cordelia was unable to push away the paranoid thoughts, the fears of what was happening to Angel, of outside forces once again trying to destroy the life of a GOOD soul. A wonderful father, a wonderful man... pire.
Her mouth tightened, the smile hurting her, as her heart gave an erratic beat, but she didn't say a word, lost in the sight of Angel holding his son.
If they ever hurt this man and this child, Cordelia would kill.
She swore to God, she would.
Mission be damned.
It was a frightening thought, and she was grateful for Angel's cool touch, a tender brush of his knuckles that slid across her cheek. She leaned into it, smiling.
"Hey guys - don't want to screw with the Kodak moment, and all, but Wes has some shit he'd like to share with the class."
Cordelia turned to the doorway. Faith stood there, on her face a tightened, haunted expression, her hand clutched in Wesley's. And God... Wesley looked... haggard.
"You okay, Wes?" Angel beat her to it, turning with her.
"Uh... it's about Connor..." Wesley took a breath. "I found a prophecy, Angel."
~~~
Something had to be said for Fred's love for Gunn.
She cared for the guy. A whole heck of a lot.
Because, you know, even with Angel and Wesley dealing with really important freaky stuff, it was still disconcerting that the only thing Winnifred Burkle could see was Charles' face when she told him he had no future. God, she had been so stupid. She was always so stupid when it came to him. He was so... different. Just, not like any of the boys at home, and not like Angel or Wesley, but almost like a boy. A really big, really tall, really good in bed boy, granted, but still... sometimes, those big brown eyes and that Kool-Aid smile reminded her of a child.
Her palm slipped to her abdomen, and Fred's heart skipped a beat. Could a woman who was barely a child and a man who was barely a boy raise a baby?
She couldn't do it alone. She couldn't.
'When I grow up'. That had always been the game in elementary school. When I Grow Up I'm going to have a white picket fence, right after becoming the first woman president. And I'll be married to a rich and handsome man, and we'd have a boy first, and then a girl, and we'd live in the suburbs.
It was a nice dream, really. Fred had always been a dreamer.
Her hand curled around the door knob, and she pushed open, fully prepared to face reality. She wasn't sure if Charles would still be locked in the bathroom, but her hands still shook, and her stomach felt ill, and she wanted more than anything to be held, like he had held her before.
She wondered, if she asked very nicely, if he would, before they got back to the fighting.
She tripped on a really huge teddy bear that she had missed when she stepped into the room. Fred squeaked, flailing her arms, stumbling forward, and found herself with an armful of Charles, as the young man helped her regain her balance.
"Hey," he said quickly, guiding her to the bed. "You okay? You're not hurt or anything?"
Fred blinked, looking up in astonishment. "I, uh..."
"Here. Rest." Fred turned her head, and found Charles pushing aside pamphlets and big fat books that now littered her bed. "You okay?" Once again, Fred was at a loss for words, eyes roving over the different papers. She fingered one, picking it up. "ITT Tech?" Fred picked up another one. "A first time guide to pregnancy?" She began to peruse the others. "Devry - Los Angeles Community College - Parenting for Dummies - Charles, what-"
"Here, um, lemme move those." Charles pushed all the brochures and books away. "You want some water? I can get you some water."
Fred was once again at a loss, as she turned around, and saw her room scattered with everything from Connor's old crib to a book called 'Cracking the SAT's'.
This was... weird.
"Charles?"
He came back, a glass of water in his hands that was thrust immediately into hers.
"I went to the store," he said quickly. "I bought a few things."
"A few things?" she repeated. "It looks like Penny and Rosie took you shopping at Walmart."
"Don't be dissing my girls!" he said, looking hurt as he clutched at the big plastic bag. She blinked. Again. "Look, I ... uh... it's too late to go to the doctor today, but I set up an appointment for tomorrow, and for now, just to be ... you know, really sure, I bought these." Fred's eyes were now was wide as saucers, as Charles put every pregnancy test that was ever produced on the dresser next to the bed. He paused, staring at her. "You didn't drink or anything, when you went out with Faith and Cordelia, right?"
"I uh... no. Charles-"
"Good. We can't be taking no chances, you know? Now, look, just take those into the bathroom, and if we're really sure, we can start making plans, you know? Planning the wedding - something small, right? And-"
"Charles-" A few of the tests fell out of her arms, and onto the floor.
"I figure, if you help me, I can take the SAT's and work on my GED, and if I REALLY work it, I can get into classes by Fall. Then I can get a second job, take classes at night, and maybe-"
"CHARLES!" Fred's outburst startled even her, and she took a moment to register her shock, before she got over it, in favor of panicking over her now very obsessive boyfriend. "What are you - Marriage? College? What are you doing?"
He gave her a blank look. "What do you think I'm doing?" he responded. "I'm getting prepared."
"For what?"
"For what?" he repeated dumbly. "For our baby! For ... you know... the future."
The future. The two words hit Fred like a ton of bricks, and her wondering heart broke slightly, as she turned, saw the books, and the crib, and the stuffed toys. "Oh, Charles..." The tests fell from her hands, and she moved past him, suddenly staring around the room, and then back at him, her big boy lost in the midst of all this... adultness. "You... Charles, we don't even know if I'm... if I'm really..."
"So we make sure," he said, coming forward, voice soft and smooth, almost pleading as he came forward. "We make sure, Fred, and we... "
She swallowed down hard. Her eyes blinked, suddenly stinging, and when she wiped at them with the back of her hand, it came away wet. His palm was resting against her abdomen, warm and firm, and in Charles' eyes there was so much emotion. The deep brown was sparkling.
"You want this," she whispered, voice barely given breath.
He looked guilty, and he snatched his hand away, like a boy caught with his hand in the cookie jar. "I just... Fred - I ain't ever had a... maybe a few years ago - I would have said, no way, you know? No way I could take care of a kid, but... I could give my kid... I could give it a future. If I tried, you know? And... if yours, Fred. Yours and mine, and..."
Oh, God. Fred swallowed down hard, as she suddenly realized exactly what was happening. It was a dream. Charles' dream was like stars in his eyes, and she saw it all, in the insecurity, in the hesitant way he spoke, in the books piled around the room. THIS was Charles' future. This was the rest of his life.
"I... Charles -" Her voice broke then, soft and shaky, and it made him pause. He stared at her, mouth opening slightly, and he jerked, as if slapped.
"You don't want it," he whispered breathlessly. "You... oh, Fred... I'm sorry..."
"You're... sorry?" she began, so bewildered she didn't know what to think. Her mind was whirling with so many thoughts it was impossible to distinguish one from the other, and she didn't know what to think, what to want, what to see...
Dreams and reality seemed to sink and mesh and LORD she was so confused, it was happening so fast-
"You deserved better, Fred. I knew that. I didn't, I didn't mean for this to happen to you. I know, it's like, I struck gold right, but YOU... you don't belong with me." Fred watched, horrified, as he sunk onto the floor, head buried in his hands. "I should have cared. I DID care, but you were here, and you loved me, and I never, ever... I never had so much, and I had it with YOU, and you don't want it..."
Fred stood there, dreams crashed and burned, reality shattered in its wake. It was a lot to process, really, a lot for her heart to take, but it was simple, when it came right down to it.
Her heart did the flip flop thing, and she came forward, methodically chose four of the best pregnancy tests, and then crouched forward in front of her boyfriend. "Wish me luck."
She gave his lips a quick kiss, flashed him a worried smile, and then moved to the bathroom.
For the five minutes that she waited, alone in the bathroom, Fred thought over a few things. Well, more like absorbed, and she, quite logically, came down to a few conclusions.
1) Dreams were just that. Dreams.
2) There had been nothing on earth, NOTHING sweeter than the moment Charles had placed his big hands over her belly.
3) Nothing really happened like it was supposed to anyway. She had survived five years in a hell dimension and it had scarred her for life, sure, but if it hadn't - would she ever have found herself here?
4) Her mother would just have to realize that Fred WAS living in sin.
Well, she amended - that could wait.
It was with a shaky breath that she turned, and there was a question in her heart that she desperately wanted answered as she stared at the sticks.
Her breath came out shakily as she found her answer.
It was a really crazy, really insane world, but she had her answer.
The door opened, and she stepped outside. Charles stood, hopeful face faltering at the face she gave him.
It was a terrible moment, her heart pounding, until the reality sank in, and she waved the stick, unable to contain a smile. "It's positive! Three of them!" He blinked, and she threw the fourth over her shoulder. "That one is faulty anyway, that's what the studies say."
Charles looked like a fish, with his mouth open like that. "You mean... we're... "
"We're havin' a baby," she whispered, her smile now beautiful and wide, and there was fear and joy and excitement and anxiousness, and SO many questions...
But none of those seemed important, compared to the sunburst radiance of Gunn's grin. "You serious?"
And she shrieked with laughter, throwing her arms around her big boy as he swung her around the room, reality merging with dreams for one blissful moment, when the reality became the dream: they were having a baby.
His lips covered hers, and Fred kissed him gladly, relief flooding her as she held him tightly, the future more unknown than ever. But it was manageable. They had done all right so far.
"So... we're having a baby?" the foreign voices broke into their moment, and Fred and Gunn separated, and found smiles on haunted faces. A slight bit of joy that seemed out of place on haggard expressions.
"Yeah," she answered, clutching at Charles' sleeve. "We can have the joy later, what..."
Cordelia looked genuinely sorry as she walked into the room. "I umm... we need your help. Some blood samples, and general, Angel Investigations 'we're all gonna die', stuff." A searching glance to Gunn reminded her that he was the only one still clueless, and she clutched at his hand, questions and methods already flooding through her mind as she nodded her head.
"Sure."
"FUCK, guys." Faith moved into the room. "A fucking death wish prophecy and tainted blood can wait for two damn minutes, okay?" she pushed past Wesley and smacked Angel on the arm. Two seconds later, Faith was hugging Fred, a wonderful embrace that made the overemotional Fred blink back tears, as genuine smile slid onto the Slayer's face. "Like we don't have ENOUGH with the Olympian Screamer back there," she said, tugging at a curl. "Congrats, but don't THINK this is going to be a trend, Wes," she tossed over her shoulder.
"Bloody hell, Faith!"
But the spell was broken, and Fred's heart was suddenly lighter when Cordelia hugged her next, a soft, gentle hug, with a true, real smile. "That's great, Fred. I do get to be the Godmother, right?"
"Screw you, Cor. You got Connor. I get this one."
"HEY! Listen, little Miss Slay Freak, do you think, I'M going to let YOU take care of THAT kid-"
"Cordelia, Faith, I think at this moment, we have a matter that is more pressing urgency than your maternal rights."
"SHUT up, Wesley."
"Yeah, English, screw you!"
Fred watched, felt her heart grow lighter as she saw a smile creep up Angel's face, barely there, but prevalent, all the same.
Gunn's arm wrapped around her, and she leaned into his embrace, deciding that she'd let Cordelia and Faith argue a few minutes more, before she would remind them about the blood and the other stuff.
Right now, they needed this.
The future was so uncertain. A small smile slid across her lips, as Gunn's fingers tickled her tummy.
At least there was a bright spot in their world of darkness. At least they were together.
She squeezed Charles' palm.
They were growing up.
~~~
"Do you have... an eight?"
Rick narrowed his eyes, palm idle as he waited for Debbie to mop her brow.
"GO FISH!" she pronounced, ending the heated moment.
"Dammit!" Dan said, slamming down the cards. Rick sighed, checking the watch. Oh yeah. This was boring.
"Guys, closing," he said matter-of-factly, turning away from two as they began to grumble, gathering their coats.
"I gotta tell ya, Debbie said, allowing Dan to place her big fake fur coat over her shoulders. "Tonight was pure foreplay. All that talk and no pay off."
"Yeah. Not that I don't know what that's like," Dan said, rubbing at his hair, gathering together his laptop and snapping the case shut. The tie was hung loosely around his neck, the blazer slung on.
Rick reached up and turned off the tv. Jerry Springer faded into nothingness. His mind wandered, and he turned back to the doorway.
Would he ever see those girls again? He wondered, if Cordelia ever found her alcoholic boyfriend, and if Faith would really go back to see her brooding nerd, and Fred... would she stick to the guy with the no-degree and no future?
Probably, he surmised, wiping at the last glass. They loved them.
That was a big deal. He frowned. Lucky bastards. He wondered if they knew, whoever they were, how lucky they really were.
The tinkle of the bell distracted him.
"I don't know if we should be doing this, dog." Rick blinked, Debbie and Dan faltered, and they all stared as a tall, muscled black man stepped into the room, in denim and a jean jacket, bald headed with a strong profile.
"I umm..." Rick began.
"Well, Cor had a point." Another man entered, this one almost as tall as the one before him, wearing a large black trenchcoat and a scowl, moving around the first to stare at the bar. "We don't know what's going to happen, this may be the only time we get to do this. You know, concentrate on the happy."
"But my girl, is-"
"In very good hands." A man with a distinctly British accent came in last, wearing glasses and stubble, a wrinkled sweater over khakis his ensemble. He inspected the place with disturbing thoroughness. "Besides, I am NOT crossing Faith again, not tonight. She ordered us to come, and I shall be here. I look forward to the distraction. If only for one night."
Rick froze, glanced at the other two bar patrons, and then jerked their gaze back to the three men that entered.
"I... can I help you?"
"You closed, man?" The black man came forward, leaning against the bar. "I kinda need a drink. But not to get drunk or nothing, kinda like... can I say celebration? I mean with all the shit that's-"
"It's okay, Gunn, you can say celebration," the man in the trenchcoat said, coming forward, a tight smile that seemed foreign on the handsome features, fading slightly. "We need one right now."
Rick gulped. Gunn?
"Angel?!" Angel turned, startled, and Rick himself jumped when suddenly Debbie threw herself into the guy's arms. "It's really YOU!"
"I... huh?"
"And Wesley, the nerd!" Dan pumped the Englishman's hand up and down, on his face a happy smile. "I ... God, I feel like I'm meeting celebrities!" Charles chocked an eyebrow, watching the scene with amused interest.
He leaned toward Rick. "Looks like my boys are famous!"
Rick couldn't stand it any longer. "Is she?!"
Charles blinked, smile frozen, tearing his eyes away from Angel, who was trying at first subtly, and then blatantly, to disengage himself from Debbie's grip.
"Is she what?"
"Pregnant! Is Fred pregnant!"
"I... uh... Angel?! This dude knows about Fred!"
"SHE IS! That's... wow. Congrats, this one's on the house!" Rick felt elated, happy, ecstatic. He grinned happily, punching the stunned Charles Gunn on the arm, and pulling out a bottle of vodka. "You too, Wesley! But not you, Angel. No sir. Now I've got some stuff that has no V-8, I can serve you maybe some water? You need to cut down!"
"Angel, he's scaring me, man."
"You wanna trade?" Angel asked, yelping when Debbie's hands went southbound. Rick let out a sigh, sliding over the tumbler to Gunn, mentally thanking God.
The girls hadn't left them hanging. No sir, they were just getting started.
"Here!" Dan pulled Wesley by the hand, handed him the laptop. "I heard you're like a genius. Can you figure this out? It's the stock market quotes on the Dell merger-"
"Bloody hell-"
Charles took a drink, downing it. "They made us coming to a freaking looney bin." Rick just smiled happily.
These guys were the ones to talk to. They were the ones who pissed their girlfriends off, got them pregnant, threatened them, and loved them, and STILL got forgiven.
And he was going to figure out how they did it.
THESE MEN WERE GODS.
It was going to be a hell of a night.
End.
~~~
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