The sight they make together, anxious parents waiting for the news on their unborn, first child, it too painful for me to watch. I have to look away before the picture is permanently etched into my minds eyes. Instead I focus on the machinery that's all around us and getting the job done. Just act professional and forget that this is my lover who's about to become a father. With another
( ... )
My eyes are bouncing from Wes to the screen, and I don't know what that look is when I ask if he sees anything. He hides it too quickly, and there's too much filling my head to figure out what's going on in his head. He continues on, clinically, professionally, and I feel the cool pressure of a dead hand slipping into mine.
My eyes swerve to that hand, even as her eyes are glued on the monitor. She's holding my hand. Like a normal expecting mother. It baffles me, and I almost miss what Wes says, my eyes finding his belatedly and looking at him in confusion. Why is she holding my hand?
I see the screen though, and- and- there it is. Only it's not an it, it's a- a- little person. Why is she holding my hand? That's almost more perplexing than the fact that the impossible is staring all three of us in the face. "I- I see," I mumble, staring at the screen and swallowing hard. This isn't like becoming a father. There aren't nine months to get used to the idea. This is like... I don't know what it's like, but it's, as
( ... )
Their child. Their child. Yes, rub it in please, Darla. She's doing that on purpose. I know she is. Even the hand holding and the looking at the screen and that soft look in her eyes. I don't know if it's the soul in her that does that, or if she's just a very good actress. One thing I do know is that Cordelia could learn a thing or two from this woman
( ... )
"What?" I say without thinking. That doesn't make any sense.
"It's supposed to come out. Babies don't stay in their mothers. It has to come out, right?" I say, scratching my head and looking at the hump of a belly in front of me.
"Damn fucking right it has to come out Angelus," she hisses, scrabbling behind her at the jars of supplies, grabbing a fistful of wooden tongue depressors and shoving them towards my chest, holding them there over my heart. She's not going to do it, we both know it, and to my credit, I don't even flinch. "You always did catch on quick," she sneers, covering herself up where Wes has cleaned up the gel and leaning against me, as if all the fight has gone out of her for now and she's trying to cover up her little outburst.
"It needs to come out right the hell now, but I can't do it. No one can do it." She actually sounds tired and frustrated and at a loss. I'm almost feeling sympathetic even. Nine months on her own with this...miracle. "I tried every shaman, every priest, every stupid demonic
( ... )
It's hard to look at Angel, smiling at his son, and not feel my heart break in tiny little bits. The sad truth is there's no one can blame for this. For the fact that from now on this child will be the most important being in his life. This child will represent his future. This child, whom I could have never have given him. No matter if I wanted to
( ... )
I nod in thanks as Wes opens the door to the car, since it seems pretty clear that I'm unlikely to get more help than that in future. It really doesn't make sense, but...really, what does when you've got the impossible happening. Maybe this is all a dream. A really creepy, weird dream
( ... )
"Alright," I murmur, already looking for a spot to park the car close by. I glance to my side at Angel and realize he doesn't even want to look at me. Short replies, not wanting to look at me, his whole body langue is shouting at me to stay away. It's already started? My god, life certainly doesn't waste any time kicking me in the ball does it
( ... )
The kid starts fussing a little when Wes leaves the car, and I'm not really sure what to do so I hum a little bit and make some faces at him. Not really going to do much good if he's hungry, I guess, but that's all I've got. If I'm looking a little too closely at his mouth for fangs well... I sigh, hoping faintly that he doesn't pee on Wes' jacket. He looks good in this jacket.
Maybe I'm asking too much, or too soon. Maybe Wes will grow to like this little kid. Maybe he was still in shock over Darla when I asked. But... We're together. We're together. He knows that, right? How could he not know that? I don't want to be with anyone else, I don't want to raise this kid with anyone else. I'm scared out of my mind about raising this kid, and the only thing that was keeping me okay with the idea of suddenly having a kid was the thought that Wes was going to be there too
( ... )
Angel of course does not agree with *my* conclusion. I can tell that much. I've not spend so many time with the man and not be able to read him like a book at times. This would be one of these times. He's still convinced that my saying the boy is not my son somehow equals to 'Wesley doesn't want anything to do with me and my son
( ... )
I'll second that 'err...but...' There's no way I want to hash this out with Lorne. This is private. ...And Wes says I'm the one who always runs away. Research my ass. I guess I do have Lorne to thank for keeping him here. Although, if he doesn't *want* to be here
( ... )
Well, that *was* my theory with the whole milk thing and the heartbeat. Just give him some milk, try it and see what'll happen. The worst that could happen is the boy spitting it out all over me. Or Angel, since he was supposed to be feeding his son. Looks like I'm the one going to give it a whirl though
( ... )
My eyes goggle at Lorne. He was here, he was the only one here after I slept with Darla. He knew. And did I not just say I was the father a few minutes ago? Does no one listen to me? I'm getting just a little pissed off here
( ... )
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My eyes swerve to that hand, even as her eyes are glued on the monitor. She's holding my hand. Like a normal expecting mother. It baffles me, and I almost miss what Wes says, my eyes finding his belatedly and looking at him in confusion. Why is she holding my hand?
I see the screen though, and- and- there it is. Only it's not an it, it's a- a- little person. Why is she holding my hand? That's almost more perplexing than the fact that the impossible is staring all three of us in the face. "I- I see," I mumble, staring at the screen and swallowing hard. This isn't like becoming a father. There aren't nine months to get used to the idea. This is like... I don't know what it's like, but it's, as ( ... )
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"It's supposed to come out. Babies don't stay in their mothers. It has to come out, right?" I say, scratching my head and looking at the hump of a belly in front of me.
"Damn fucking right it has to come out Angelus," she hisses, scrabbling behind her at the jars of supplies, grabbing a fistful of wooden tongue depressors and shoving them towards my chest, holding them there over my heart. She's not going to do it, we both know it, and to my credit, I don't even flinch. "You always did catch on quick," she sneers, covering herself up where Wes has cleaned up the gel and leaning against me, as if all the fight has gone out of her for now and she's trying to cover up her little outburst.
"It needs to come out right the hell now, but I can't do it. No one can do it." She actually sounds tired and frustrated and at a loss. I'm almost feeling sympathetic even. Nine months on her own with this...miracle. "I tried every shaman, every priest, every stupid demonic ( ... )
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Maybe I'm asking too much, or too soon. Maybe Wes will grow to like this little kid. Maybe he was still in shock over Darla when I asked. But... We're together. We're together. He knows that, right? How could he not know that? I don't want to be with anyone else, I don't want to raise this kid with anyone else. I'm scared out of my mind about raising this kid, and the only thing that was keeping me okay with the idea of suddenly having a kid was the thought that Wes was going to be there too ( ... )
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