[Day 2] FIC: In Another Life (18/22) - BtVS/Numb3rs
Day 2 of 14valentines and the subject is Transgender Issues. The essay can be found [here]
Also, Day 1 round-up.
~!~!~!~
So I completely flaked out last week and didn't post any of this story. Sorry. Here's some Willow/Don schmoop to make it up to you.
Title: In Another Life (18/22+Epilogue)
Author: lyl_devil
Rating: PG-15
Fandom: BtVS, Numb3rs
Pairing: Willow/Don
Beta: strangevisitor7 & kallie_kat
Words: ~38,500 (as of Jan 11, 2009)
Disclaimer: I don’t own either show. I just like to play in their sandboxes.
Summary: Every action has a consequence and every deal comes with a price. Willow’s life is wiped clean, so she makes a new one for herself in LA.
Master Post
Note: I don’t claim to know anything about magic, medicine or the FBI - what I didn’t pick up from tv and books, I made up.
~!~
Part 18
Willow practically floated into the apartment later that night, full of food and glowing, making Don smile as he closed the door behind them. His father had really laid it on thick tonight, but Don appreciated it. There were some things that only his father could deliver, and parental smothering was one of them.
Don watched her kick off her shoes and pad barefoot into the living room, turning on the stereo. Tonight was apparently a music night, which meant Willow turned up the stereo and danced around the living room. The first time she'd felt confident enough to do it with him in the apartment had been nearly six months earlier. Don took it as a sign of her trust and security in their relationship that she would be willing to let him in on something so vastly personal to her. She was still very self-conscious about certain things, but Don was slowly but surely breaking down each wall she'd erected between herself and the outside world.
Tonight, he just let her dance away in the living room while he put away the mounds of leftovers his father had foisted on them.
Don moved around the kitchen, reminiscing about a time when his kitchen was used for storing leftovers and beer. The kitchen in the new apartment, on the other hand, was used for so much more - for things like food preparation and eating. He’d had to make some adjustments to living with Willow, and a functional kitchen was one of them. It was strange living with someone again, and he'd found he'd had to get used to a whole other set of quirks and habits of hers, but he knew Willow had had to do the same.
Not that they hadn't had their share of fights. Don found that living with Willow was very different from spending most nights with her. And the merging of their collective 'stuff' had been a challenge on par with counting grains of sand. They'd accomplished it, but it hadn't been pretty, or quiet. Not even his cohabitation with Kim had been as traumatic for him as moving in with Willow, but Willow was also the first woman he'd ever wanted to share living space with since Kim, so he put in the effort.
Don had known that those first few months had worried Willow, because he was the only person she fought with like that. Her normal way of dealing with confrontational situations was to stand her ground, keep calm and reason with the other person. His way was to not talk about it until it went away - if it involved the woman he was dating; co-workers and family were a completely different category, which Willow apparently now fit into. When they fought, it was short, loud and abrupt, the anger dissipating as quickly as it had come.
Her therapist had told her that it stemmed from the intensity of their emotions, and that it was simply another facet of their relationship. Don just figured it was the side effect of two stubborn people in a relationship together. His father tended to agree with him on that score.
Turning to leave the kitchen, Don caught sight of the brown paper bag of pills that Dr Heine had given Willow earlier that day, which she refused to talk about. Don generally left things like this alone, but Willow usually didn't refuse to talk about stuff like this - at least not with him.
Casting a quick glance towards the living room and seeing glimpses of arms and moving shadows, Don took his opportunity and opened the bag. The first bottle was of a very mild painkiller, with a hand written note, 'Only if completely necessary.'. The next few were over the counter vitamins, with explicit instructions on how many to take and when. It was the last bottle that floored him.
A bottle of prenatal vitamins, with a note to call Dr Heine if Willow started to experience morning sickness.
Don had to blink a few times to clear his vision, and force himself to breath when he started to get light headed. Too many thoughts and emotions were running through his head for him to make any sense of it all. He'd just been thrown a fastball, and didn't know how to respond to it.
He put the bottles all back into the bag, barely noticing how his hands had a slight tremble to them, then leaned against the counter to think.
First, did he want this? Well, it was sort of a non-question, because if he was right he didn't have any choice in the matter. He didn't even consider not being there for Willow, because while their relationship might be just over a year old, he already had the feeling that she was it for him.
Second, was he ready for the changes this was going to bring into his life? The answer was unequivocally 'no', but that wouldn't stop him. He didn't know if anyone could really be fully prepared for parenthood, but that didn't mean he wasn't willing to do his best.
Which took care of question three.
Question four wasn't so much a question as it was a realization: Willow was going to be in his life from now on, whether they were together, married or broken up. His future would always in some way be tied to hers, and he found he wasn't too bothered by that.
His final question was, 'when was Willow planning to tell him?', though he'd grant her that today had been stressful and strange.
With a plan in mind, Don walked into the living room and switched the music from a dance beat to something slower.
“Don?” Instead of answering, Don held out an arm in invitation, smiling as she placed her hand in his, ignoring the bruises that still marred her skin. Pulling her towards him, Don wrapped his other arm around her back, tucking her in tight against her body as he moved them around the living room to the music. He felt her sink into him as she followed his movements, her free arm coming to rest on his shoulder from behind.
“When are you going to see Dr Heine again?” he asked after a while, swaying in place with her head in the crook of his neck. He slipped a hand under her shirt at the back, rubbing gentle circles into the skin of her lower back.
“Don't know. Sometime soon,” she murmured, her breath puffing against his neck.
Don waited another minute. “When do you need to get those prescriptions refilled?” he asked, wondering how many leading questions he'd have to ask before that beautiful brain of hers processed what he was saying.
The answer turned out to be two, because as soon as he'd mentioned the pill bottles, Willow had stiffened in his arms. He felt her become still for almost a full minute before she turned her head up to look at him.
“You snooped,” she accused, but it was weak at best.
“Is there something you want to tell me, Willow?” he asked, mostly because he wasn't sure it would be real for him until she did.
Instead of any of the expected replies, Don watched a wave of fear wash over her face. She was biting her lip and watching him with big, watery eyes, which didn't fit with any of the reactions he could have predicted. She was scared, and it was of him.
“Willow?” he asked worriedly, wondering if he'd gone about this entire thing the wrong way.
“Are you mad?” she asked in a raspy whisper, which threw Don completely off his train of thought.
“Wha-mad? No! Why would I be mad?” he asked her, frowning in confusion.
“I was so worried you would be mad or angry or something,” she said, trying to blink back tears. “I mean, I'm hardly the ideal person for a long term relationship, let alone lifelong. I don't even know anything about kids, or families, or what I'm suppose to do. And then there's this little voice in the back of my head that keeps telling me you're going to realize how horrible I am at being normal and ordinary, and that you don't want to be with me anymore - I don't have a past, probably never will - I don't know how to be without you anymore-”
“Hey-hey, there. Don't cry,” soothed Don, brushing away her tears. He kept forgetting that despite her tough and strong exterior, there was still an inner core of insecurities that popped up at inopportune moments. “I'm not mad or angry or any of those other things. I'm surprised, and still kinda shocked, but Willow,” he said, making sure he had her complete attention. “Do you really think you're ever getting rid of me now?”
“We're going to be part of each other's lives for the rest of our lives. Nothing is going to change that,” he told her. “You fit me like you were made specifically for me, and nothing is ever going to change that, either.”
“Besides,” he added after a beat, “my family loves you more than me.”
“Do not,” she said with a giggle, and Don took that as encouragement.
“Oh, you think so, huh? I'm convinced my Dad would gladly sell both me and Charlie if he had the chance to adopt you.”
“You're just saying that because I'm the only one that can win any of Charlie's logical-math arguments.”
“Hey, don't underestimate the power of your logic,” he countered, remembering fondly the previous month's family barbeque that Charlie had sulked through.
Hearing a slight giggle from Willow, Don pulled her back in tight against him and leaned down to her ear. “Is there something you want to tell me,” he repeated.
Willow looked up at him with a mischievous smile this time, biting her lip nervously as she pulled his hand from her back to lay it low on her stomach.
“We're going to have a baby,” she whispered, and Don had never loved her more.
~!~
Willow awoke the next morning to a cooling indentation in the bed where Don had been, and the sounds of a shower running. Smiling, she stretched languidly in the bed, relaxing in the early morning light that filtered in through the window. Yesterday Don had called in to both their jobs and gotten them sick days, so Willow saw no reason to get out of bed any time soon.
Until one of her ribs twinged at the movement, reminding her of why she had a sick day.
Pulling herself out of bed, she padded over to the full-length mirror and took stock of her 'battle' wounds. There were some faint scratches and bruises on her face, but those didn't really concern her. The dark band of bruising around her arms was worse, as were the scratches on her lower arms, and she already knew there were a couple of bruised ribs. There were also some bumps and bruises on her back and hips from being slammed into the ground, but those were minimal thanks to the clothing she was wearing.
Having no visible injuries didn't mean there wasn't damage done by the body check to the ground. It was why the paramedics had taken her to the hospital, and sent someone to get Dr Heine. Even though Willow hadn't wanted to believe or acknowledge the possibility of the baby, she'd still panicked at the thought of losing it. Dr Heine had assured her that everything was fine, but that experience had finally penetrated that she was pregnant. Thus had begun the quiet panic attacks that Don had taken care of last night.
Well, most of them. She still had no idea what to do with a baby, or even what to expect out of being pregnant. Willow consoled herself with the knowledge that most women were in the same boat, and it had nothing to do with losing her memory.
Tilting her head in consideration, Willow turned sideways in the mirror, flattened her t-shirt and looked at herself in the mirror. Did she look pregnant yet? Could you tell that there was a little life growing inside her at this very moment?
Then, what would she look like in a few months? Willow thought about stuffing a pillow under her shirt to find out, but decided she'd find out soon enough.
“Will you still like me when I'm fat?” Willow asked over her shoulder, having seen Don stop in the doorway.
“Oh, yeah,” he said. There was a raspiness to his voice that sent pleased tingles throughout Willow's body as she turned to look at him.
Willow watched him stalk towards her in nothing more than a towel, and wondered what she'd done to ever deserve someone like Don.
“You'll be beautiful when you're ninety seven,” he said, leaning down to kiss her gently.
Willow remained silent as he knelt down in front of her, his hands on her hips holding her in place.
“Hi, in there. I'm your daddy,” he whispered to her belly, and Willow felt her vision start to turn watery. “Your mommy and I can't wait to meet you.”
Willow felt the world shift under her feet at the word 'mommy', because until just then she hadn't thought of herself in those terms. Placing her hands on Don's head, Willow was glad that he was there with her. The future didn't seem quite so scary with Don in it.
She felt Don place a light kiss on her stomach before standing again, giving her one of her own. Then he wrapped her in his arms and whispered, “I love you” in her ear.
Willow started to cry in earnest at that point, and couldn't for the life of her explain to Don why.
Stupid hormones.
End Part 18
Part 19
Also, Day 1 round-up.
~!~!~!~
So I completely flaked out last week and didn't post any of this story. Sorry. Here's some Willow/Don schmoop to make it up to you.
Title: In Another Life (18/22+Epilogue)
Author: lyl_devil
Rating: PG-15
Fandom: BtVS, Numb3rs
Pairing: Willow/Don
Beta: strangevisitor7 & kallie_kat
Words: ~38,500 (as of Jan 11, 2009)
Disclaimer: I don’t own either show. I just like to play in their sandboxes.
Summary: Every action has a consequence and every deal comes with a price. Willow’s life is wiped clean, so she makes a new one for herself in LA.
Master Post
Note: I don’t claim to know anything about magic, medicine or the FBI - what I didn’t pick up from tv and books, I made up.
~!~
Part 18
Willow practically floated into the apartment later that night, full of food and glowing, making Don smile as he closed the door behind them. His father had really laid it on thick tonight, but Don appreciated it. There were some things that only his father could deliver, and parental smothering was one of them.
Don watched her kick off her shoes and pad barefoot into the living room, turning on the stereo. Tonight was apparently a music night, which meant Willow turned up the stereo and danced around the living room. The first time she'd felt confident enough to do it with him in the apartment had been nearly six months earlier. Don took it as a sign of her trust and security in their relationship that she would be willing to let him in on something so vastly personal to her. She was still very self-conscious about certain things, but Don was slowly but surely breaking down each wall she'd erected between herself and the outside world.
Tonight, he just let her dance away in the living room while he put away the mounds of leftovers his father had foisted on them.
Don moved around the kitchen, reminiscing about a time when his kitchen was used for storing leftovers and beer. The kitchen in the new apartment, on the other hand, was used for so much more - for things like food preparation and eating. He’d had to make some adjustments to living with Willow, and a functional kitchen was one of them. It was strange living with someone again, and he'd found he'd had to get used to a whole other set of quirks and habits of hers, but he knew Willow had had to do the same.
Not that they hadn't had their share of fights. Don found that living with Willow was very different from spending most nights with her. And the merging of their collective 'stuff' had been a challenge on par with counting grains of sand. They'd accomplished it, but it hadn't been pretty, or quiet. Not even his cohabitation with Kim had been as traumatic for him as moving in with Willow, but Willow was also the first woman he'd ever wanted to share living space with since Kim, so he put in the effort.
Don had known that those first few months had worried Willow, because he was the only person she fought with like that. Her normal way of dealing with confrontational situations was to stand her ground, keep calm and reason with the other person. His way was to not talk about it until it went away - if it involved the woman he was dating; co-workers and family were a completely different category, which Willow apparently now fit into. When they fought, it was short, loud and abrupt, the anger dissipating as quickly as it had come.
Her therapist had told her that it stemmed from the intensity of their emotions, and that it was simply another facet of their relationship. Don just figured it was the side effect of two stubborn people in a relationship together. His father tended to agree with him on that score.
Turning to leave the kitchen, Don caught sight of the brown paper bag of pills that Dr Heine had given Willow earlier that day, which she refused to talk about. Don generally left things like this alone, but Willow usually didn't refuse to talk about stuff like this - at least not with him.
Casting a quick glance towards the living room and seeing glimpses of arms and moving shadows, Don took his opportunity and opened the bag. The first bottle was of a very mild painkiller, with a hand written note, 'Only if completely necessary.'. The next few were over the counter vitamins, with explicit instructions on how many to take and when. It was the last bottle that floored him.
A bottle of prenatal vitamins, with a note to call Dr Heine if Willow started to experience morning sickness.
Don had to blink a few times to clear his vision, and force himself to breath when he started to get light headed. Too many thoughts and emotions were running through his head for him to make any sense of it all. He'd just been thrown a fastball, and didn't know how to respond to it.
He put the bottles all back into the bag, barely noticing how his hands had a slight tremble to them, then leaned against the counter to think.
First, did he want this? Well, it was sort of a non-question, because if he was right he didn't have any choice in the matter. He didn't even consider not being there for Willow, because while their relationship might be just over a year old, he already had the feeling that she was it for him.
Second, was he ready for the changes this was going to bring into his life? The answer was unequivocally 'no', but that wouldn't stop him. He didn't know if anyone could really be fully prepared for parenthood, but that didn't mean he wasn't willing to do his best.
Which took care of question three.
Question four wasn't so much a question as it was a realization: Willow was going to be in his life from now on, whether they were together, married or broken up. His future would always in some way be tied to hers, and he found he wasn't too bothered by that.
His final question was, 'when was Willow planning to tell him?', though he'd grant her that today had been stressful and strange.
With a plan in mind, Don walked into the living room and switched the music from a dance beat to something slower.
“Don?” Instead of answering, Don held out an arm in invitation, smiling as she placed her hand in his, ignoring the bruises that still marred her skin. Pulling her towards him, Don wrapped his other arm around her back, tucking her in tight against her body as he moved them around the living room to the music. He felt her sink into him as she followed his movements, her free arm coming to rest on his shoulder from behind.
“When are you going to see Dr Heine again?” he asked after a while, swaying in place with her head in the crook of his neck. He slipped a hand under her shirt at the back, rubbing gentle circles into the skin of her lower back.
“Don't know. Sometime soon,” she murmured, her breath puffing against his neck.
Don waited another minute. “When do you need to get those prescriptions refilled?” he asked, wondering how many leading questions he'd have to ask before that beautiful brain of hers processed what he was saying.
The answer turned out to be two, because as soon as he'd mentioned the pill bottles, Willow had stiffened in his arms. He felt her become still for almost a full minute before she turned her head up to look at him.
“You snooped,” she accused, but it was weak at best.
“Is there something you want to tell me, Willow?” he asked, mostly because he wasn't sure it would be real for him until she did.
Instead of any of the expected replies, Don watched a wave of fear wash over her face. She was biting her lip and watching him with big, watery eyes, which didn't fit with any of the reactions he could have predicted. She was scared, and it was of him.
“Willow?” he asked worriedly, wondering if he'd gone about this entire thing the wrong way.
“Are you mad?” she asked in a raspy whisper, which threw Don completely off his train of thought.
“Wha-mad? No! Why would I be mad?” he asked her, frowning in confusion.
“I was so worried you would be mad or angry or something,” she said, trying to blink back tears. “I mean, I'm hardly the ideal person for a long term relationship, let alone lifelong. I don't even know anything about kids, or families, or what I'm suppose to do. And then there's this little voice in the back of my head that keeps telling me you're going to realize how horrible I am at being normal and ordinary, and that you don't want to be with me anymore - I don't have a past, probably never will - I don't know how to be without you anymore-”
“Hey-hey, there. Don't cry,” soothed Don, brushing away her tears. He kept forgetting that despite her tough and strong exterior, there was still an inner core of insecurities that popped up at inopportune moments. “I'm not mad or angry or any of those other things. I'm surprised, and still kinda shocked, but Willow,” he said, making sure he had her complete attention. “Do you really think you're ever getting rid of me now?”
“We're going to be part of each other's lives for the rest of our lives. Nothing is going to change that,” he told her. “You fit me like you were made specifically for me, and nothing is ever going to change that, either.”
“Besides,” he added after a beat, “my family loves you more than me.”
“Do not,” she said with a giggle, and Don took that as encouragement.
“Oh, you think so, huh? I'm convinced my Dad would gladly sell both me and Charlie if he had the chance to adopt you.”
“You're just saying that because I'm the only one that can win any of Charlie's logical-math arguments.”
“Hey, don't underestimate the power of your logic,” he countered, remembering fondly the previous month's family barbeque that Charlie had sulked through.
Hearing a slight giggle from Willow, Don pulled her back in tight against him and leaned down to her ear. “Is there something you want to tell me,” he repeated.
Willow looked up at him with a mischievous smile this time, biting her lip nervously as she pulled his hand from her back to lay it low on her stomach.
“We're going to have a baby,” she whispered, and Don had never loved her more.
~!~
Willow awoke the next morning to a cooling indentation in the bed where Don had been, and the sounds of a shower running. Smiling, she stretched languidly in the bed, relaxing in the early morning light that filtered in through the window. Yesterday Don had called in to both their jobs and gotten them sick days, so Willow saw no reason to get out of bed any time soon.
Until one of her ribs twinged at the movement, reminding her of why she had a sick day.
Pulling herself out of bed, she padded over to the full-length mirror and took stock of her 'battle' wounds. There were some faint scratches and bruises on her face, but those didn't really concern her. The dark band of bruising around her arms was worse, as were the scratches on her lower arms, and she already knew there were a couple of bruised ribs. There were also some bumps and bruises on her back and hips from being slammed into the ground, but those were minimal thanks to the clothing she was wearing.
Having no visible injuries didn't mean there wasn't damage done by the body check to the ground. It was why the paramedics had taken her to the hospital, and sent someone to get Dr Heine. Even though Willow hadn't wanted to believe or acknowledge the possibility of the baby, she'd still panicked at the thought of losing it. Dr Heine had assured her that everything was fine, but that experience had finally penetrated that she was pregnant. Thus had begun the quiet panic attacks that Don had taken care of last night.
Well, most of them. She still had no idea what to do with a baby, or even what to expect out of being pregnant. Willow consoled herself with the knowledge that most women were in the same boat, and it had nothing to do with losing her memory.
Tilting her head in consideration, Willow turned sideways in the mirror, flattened her t-shirt and looked at herself in the mirror. Did she look pregnant yet? Could you tell that there was a little life growing inside her at this very moment?
Then, what would she look like in a few months? Willow thought about stuffing a pillow under her shirt to find out, but decided she'd find out soon enough.
“Will you still like me when I'm fat?” Willow asked over her shoulder, having seen Don stop in the doorway.
“Oh, yeah,” he said. There was a raspiness to his voice that sent pleased tingles throughout Willow's body as she turned to look at him.
Willow watched him stalk towards her in nothing more than a towel, and wondered what she'd done to ever deserve someone like Don.
“You'll be beautiful when you're ninety seven,” he said, leaning down to kiss her gently.
Willow remained silent as he knelt down in front of her, his hands on her hips holding her in place.
“Hi, in there. I'm your daddy,” he whispered to her belly, and Willow felt her vision start to turn watery. “Your mommy and I can't wait to meet you.”
Willow felt the world shift under her feet at the word 'mommy', because until just then she hadn't thought of herself in those terms. Placing her hands on Don's head, Willow was glad that he was there with her. The future didn't seem quite so scary with Don in it.
She felt Don place a light kiss on her stomach before standing again, giving her one of her own. Then he wrapped her in his arms and whispered, “I love you” in her ear.
Willow started to cry in earnest at that point, and couldn't for the life of her explain to Don why.
Stupid hormones.
End Part 18
Part 19