[ it was different when the Beatles sang it ]

[ifthebroomfits]

WHO: Nico and Victor
WHEN: December 2017
WHERE: California
WHAT: Nico and Victor have an awkward talk about a very sensitive subject

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[killbotwashere]

On one level Victor's aware of Nico in the bathroom. He's plugged into the building's fiber optic trunk, hacking merrily into public databases, scraping locations, schedules, prisoner lists, transfer times. Filling dossiers with digital chaff and rudely doctored photographs. He giggles a little to himself.

When he hears Nico moan, he turns towards the faint sound of her voice. She doesn't sound okay. She sounds a specific sort of not okay. Something he was supposed to remember. The light of the setting sun leans into the room as he turns, gets him right in the eyes, red and orange and yellow - Karolina? - and startles him into sudden clarity.

"Nngh. oh. oh shit." Vic's mind was like a box of puzzle pieces shaken by a toddler. Sometimes he was lucky and enough of himself stuck together that he could fill in the rest. There was something important he was supposed to remember to do, something he had told himself to ask her but only when he was having a good moment. Shit. Now. Hold it together.

He's felt the changes in her body when he holds her at night. Her scent has changed. She picks different things to eat. Part of his mind is analyzing everything around him now, all the time. Nico is a very familiar subject.

He stands up, yanks the cable from his arm, goes through the apartment quickly, turning things off, hiding papers so they wouldn't catch his eye and make him dissociate again. No distractions, nothing to shake up the puzzle box again. He leans against the kitchen counter, as far from the bathroom as he could get without actually hiding in the bedroom. Let her come out in her own time, give her space.

Please God, let me hold it together. Please God just give me an hour.

He knows it can't be his.

[ifthebroomfits]

The nausea wins and she throws up twice. It's ragged and wet and she's heaving up nothing but stringy bile the entire time. She hasn't been able to keep down anything of substance for two months, her face and limbs thinning even as her stomach rounds out. Nico had chalked it up to nerves before, willing to blame anything but the blatant truth. The linoleum floor sticks to her sweaty legs as she gulps air and tries to get a hold of herself.

She needs water. Nico wipes her mouth against the back of her hand, pulling herself to her feet. She can still stomach water. Maybe some toast. They haven't got a lot in the little apartment anyway, so she hopes-thinks-prays that Tommy and Victor haven't noticed that she's barely been picking away at what provisions they do manage to scrounge up.

Nico's still mired deep in her own thoughts when she walks into the kitchen, almost right into Victor. She hadn't even felt him, noticed him there, and that is unsettling. Her awareness of whatever natural current of magic people have in them is usually spot on; she is so overtired and strung taut, she didn't even notice one of the closest people to her.

Tucking a hank of sweaty hair behind her ear, she makes a beeline for the cupboard.

"Hey. I thought you were in sleep mode?" It's neutral territory, carefully picked. She knows how terrible she looks, but Nico is never exactly sure what Victor does and doesn't pick up on anymore. Sometimes, he's the same man that prayed with her in hushed Spanish when they lost Gert---the first time, that is. But other times, he's this jumbled-up, confused thing that has too many sharp angles and stilted speech patterns to be anything but a robot. It surprises her every time when he forgets a word, a name, an emotion. It rattles her, because she always manages to believe that he's better in the lulls between episodes.

It's a necessary self-deception.

[killbotwashere]

Vic stays out of the way as Nico storms the kitchen. Studies her carefully.

So tired. When did I last really look?

It hurts to see her like this - he knows he's a factor in it when he's not himself. He'd like to just go to her and hold her against him, mutter nonsense into her hair, try to make this better, but that's the wrong play right now. They won't talk if he does that. He has to be very careful, circle this moment for the right approach. If she gets too upset, he'll get upset and then it'll fall apart.

"No...I was just trolling a bit. It's quiet. The good quiet." He meant a couple of things by that, she'd know.

[ifthebroomfits]

Nico scrubs a hand over her face, rearranging the bruise-dark smudges of tiredness under her eyes.

"Good. We could use some quiet," she says, taking a chipped mug from the cupboard and running it under the tap. She hooks her finger over the edge so that she can feel it fill and keep her attention on Victor. He's hovering, just barely orbiting her.

The water is lukewarm and tastes like rust. She wonders if it's safe for her to be drinking it, safe for---for the baby. The thought swells, clamoring for attention, and she swallows it down with a sour mouthful of nausea.

She mumbles a spell at the glass, scrubbing it with magic. It's enough to fix something, at least.

Taking a sip, she chases it with a deep cleansing breath.

[killbotwashere]

Vic backs off a little, keeps watching. Trying not to be creepy. He has doubts about the water here after a hard rain, but normally it's probably all right. He should maybe research that. Don't stall. Into the breach.

"Um. I could hear you in there." Apologetic twist to his mouth as he says it.

"We have some chicken broth. Think that'd stay down?" He reaches way up the shelves for a can. Who the hell had put it up there? Tommy needed to look after things better, they couldn't expect Vic to get the little things right. He ground his teeth.

[ifthebroomfits]

His hedged little admission of I heard you shoots panic tingling through her. He might as well have said I know, the way it rattles her. Nico continues to drink her water in carefully measured sips.

"Sorry," she apologizes, lips pressed tight to the edge of the glass. "I think I have the flu. Maybe."

Jesus, she knows better than to lie to him. He's a walking lie detector. She just---just can't get the words out, admit it aloud. The panic sinks to the pit of her stomach and rolls and flutters. Or maybe that's something else? She doesn't know. A part of her is scared to know.

"I should at least try some chicken broth."

[killbotwashere]

He looks her up and down, pulls his eyes away, back to the cabinet. Bowl or mug? Gets out a mug.

"You don't have a fever."

He glances into a drawer for the can opener don't get distracted and mutters frustration. He pinches the metal rim of the can hard and just tears the metal upwards. Broth goes into the mug, mug goes into the microwave. The microwave cavity is leaking radio everywhere, really inefficient, he should fix that don't get distracted.

Victor looks at his shoes, then up to Nico's eyes. Doesn't look away.

I think you need to see a doctor.
I'm not mad.
You could have told me.

He really didn't have time, did he?

"Is it...is it Tommy's?"

[ifthebroomfits]

She can tell that he's agitated before he drops the question, knows him well enough to realize that his moment of lucidity is starting to fray and cloud around the edges. He jumps from thing to thing, cycling too quickly to finish anything. Nico is just about to intervene, do the small things herself because she hates to see him break down like this, but then he grinds out three little words that jam her heart in her throat.

Is it Tommy's?

Would it be easier or harder if it were Tommy's?

It isn't. She knows that it isn't.

"I can explain," Nico says softly, her mouth dust-dry. She sets down her glass of water with a sharp clink, haltingly taking a step closer to him. Laying a hand between his shoulderblades, she leans into him. "It isn't his. I'm---I'm sorry, Vic. I'm really fucking sorry."

[killbotwashere]

He'd been certain, but still, actually hearing her confirm the pregnancy took the air out of him, like a great soft fist pressing into his midsection. The sense of loss, of rearrangement, made his head swim, pushed all the disjointed, flyaway processes into the background. Victor felt about as human as he had in years. He realized he was bent inward on himself, staring down at the floor, and that Nico was touching him.

He made himself meet her eyes again, hoping he could convey I'm still with you here and I'm not angry with you. He wasn't. He couldn't name what he felt. Why was she sorry, really? He straightened up, brought her into the circle of his arms. Swallowed with a dry clicking sound. Deep breath. She was so thin. It was not okay, not for either of them.

"Don't worry about it, don't worry about me. Okay? Please?"

Deep breath. He stared up at the ceiling.

"Whose?" It was an arbitrary place to start but he had to start somewhere.

[ifthebroomfits]

She scrunches her eyes closed, dizzy and swimming in her own head. She can't believe she's telling him, can't believe that he isn't angry and demanding. This has to be some kind of betrayal for him. He had to have known better than to think that she was his one and only, had to have known that she'd revert to old habits and try to find something warm and stable when he was at his worst. What they have is physical, wavering afterimages of a love they might have had ten years ago. Victor needs it and she doesn't deny him that because hell, she needs it, too.

But she needed Teddy, too.

"Teddy's. It's---it's all screwed up." She inhales sharply, almost a sob, and hesitantly presses into him when he puts his arms around her. God, she just wants someone to lie to her and tell her it's going to be okay. Nico's miserable enough to want to believe it. "I'm sorry. This wasn't supposed to happen. I've been so careful, and it was only once, and---and I can't just---stop it. I can't. I can't do that now."

[killbotwashere]

He tightens his arms around her shoulders, leans his cheek against her hair.
There's no anger, only fear and grief. He'd expected this moment to come, one way or another, ever since Nico and Tommy busted him out of high-security storage. He wasn't ignorant of his condition. He had whole weeks where he could barely speak, and didn't have a clear enough sense of self to even care. One day he might fragment and just not come back.

"Teddy." He just nods. Not a surprise that Nico would turn to him. They'd been close for years. He imagines Teddy holding her, big guy, very alive always, and a tiny noise escapes him. It hurts like he's dying, but he still can't work up anything like anger, not right now. Can't pretend he's lost Nico when she was never really his in the first place. He's just so afraid. He can figure out if he hates Teddy later.

"I know. I know." He takes a ragged breath and loosens his hold so he can see her face.

"Nico, you need to see a doctor. I really think you do. You..." Cuts himself off. "What do you want to do?"

[ifthebroomfits]

"I can't," Nico sighs, bowing her head and pressing her face against the side of his neck. She can feel the prickle of tears coming, the cusp of a breakdown that she's been courting for months. With a wrathful kind of stubbornness, she doesn't want Victor to see. She's not sure how much more he can take and it's obvious that he's already taxing himself as-is.

But jesus, the care in his voice. It's enough to make her fingers tremble with the need to hold onto the piece of Victor that's surfaced. She just wants him to stay, to be the human that's still there in all the cracks and torn-out pieces of psyche.

The soft noise of hurt that he makes, hollow as a punch to the stomach, kills her.

"I can't see a doctor. The baby's a fourth Skrull and a forth Kree and inside me. I can't go to just anyone, and it---it'll register all through the resistance if I do. Billy and Teddy aren't supposed to be alive. I can't jeopardize them."

More than I already have, she mentally adds. It hangs, pendulous, threatening to drop.

"I don't know what to do, Vic."

[killbotwashere]

He lets her cling, and strokes her head, and just breathes for awhile.

"Gotta be somebody. Someplace. McCoy. That...ninja guy."

Their trio's been a hearty 'fuck you' to the government, the status quo, 'collaborators', for quite awhile, and a whole lot of people would be delighted if they burned out and collapsed. But now they seriously needed some support.

"You should. maybe. Should talk to him. Even if it's risky, he should know. Does he know? Maybe his mother. Is his mother still around?"

He's going to lose it. He should get away from her before he does, he doesn't like her seeing him decohere. He should also make sure she eats something, somehow.

"It's gonna be okay, boss. Listen to me, It's gonna be okay." Came back for me, held me together, please, please be okay. Merciful God watch over us.

[ifthebroomfits]

Please stay, please stay, please stay this time, she thinks, but she isn't Billy. Her wishes have no weight. His sentences are jerking up, cracking. Victor's standing right there with his arms around her, but she's still losing him.

It's no wonder that she has to get away sometimes. Nico can barely hold herself together, and here she is with a blue-screening ex-love and a speed junkie who doesn't remember how to fit with people who move at a thousandth his speed.

"I'll tell him," she says, even though she isn't sure. How can she? What will she do, just track Teddy and Billy down and ruin what modicum of peace they have between them? Balling her hands in his shirt, she adds, "I'll find a doctor. I'll make this okay. I just---this doesn't change things. Do you hear me, Victor? This doesn't change us."

Please don't let this be the last straw for you. Don't fall apart because I screwed up again.

[killbotwashere]

He smooths her hair, strokes his hand down her back. She couldn't make that promise, but the fact that she wanted to made him feel a little better. Victor presses his lips to her temple, muffles a sort of chuckle against her hair.

"Of course it does, mi jefe. Of course it does. That, that, that's life." Slow down. Relax. You can hold on a little longer.

"We'll make it okay. We will. It's not all on you all the time." Except for how it sort of is.

He pulls back enough to offer her a wavery half-smile. He wants to get away and he doesn't. He wants to go out and destroy something big, and he wants to hold Nico until she falls asleep. Of course she might have just woken up. When he's not online time sometimes gets a little weird on him. Oh God he should not be around an infant, that could be bad.

"Just tell me whrrr. what you need."

[ifthebroomfits]

Her stomach gives another seasick heave, though she isn't sure if it is lingering nausea from her omnipresent morning sickness or how easily he says that this would change things---and the rolling stammer that goes with it. She just resists the urge to dig her hands into Vic's hair to keep him close when he peels himself away.

He's so close to being himself. This has gotten so difficult for him, she can't tell if he's getting better or worse. She wants to know, but knowing feels like more than she can handle. He'd answer with his usual brevity, not connecting the right grief to the fact that what makes him human is disappearing.

"Don't let this change you," she says, swallowing thickly. "I need you to keep with me. I'll need your help. What do I know about babies?"