Not Fair


wf_graeme2_icon.gif wf_remi2_icon.gif

Scene Title Not Fair
Synopsis Parts of what will never be are harder to let go of.
Date August 27, 2011

In dreams…

Spring has finally begun to show its face; the weather is warming up, green is starting to come back into the world to replace the gray of winter, and flowers are even starting to poke out of the ground, mostly colorful little buds that are waiting for the weather to get just a little warmer. And the skies, the skies are starting to look blue, rather than gray.

Remi has been waiting for today. Today, she'll finally tell him. Today, he'll finally find out that little miracles do happen, even if it was an unexpected miracle. She's known for a few weeks, but she's kept it to herself quite well. Only she and Liz know. And that little heartbeat is still fresh in her mind, along with that pleasant little buzz she hears in the back of her mind. The nausea she's been able to push off, though only barely, and it has taken carrying saltines with her.

The woman is seated at a table, quietly munching on those crackers as her eyes trail over one of the many books she enjoys reading.

It's taken a bit for him to arrive, even after Graeme agreed. There's a thing he has, about always managing to wash up and clean up and dress presentably for Remi, although the nicer clothes and the less frayed sweaters that the former teacher prefers are harder to come by. There's a pause in the doorway, before he looks over to her. "So," comes the beginning of a question, drawl cut short by curiosity, "what's all this about, hm?" Gentle, teasing, he takes a seat on the edge of the table itself. "I mean, you see me at dinner anyway, most of the time." Unless Graeme's too busy in lesson plans or out and away, when he doesn't come to dinner, but that's rare.

Those ever-shocking blue eyes raise to Graeme, and a faint smile appears on Remi's features. She always smiles for him. Especially now, since she's found out. The book is closed, set on the seat next to her, and she pulls out a saltine, promptly putting it in Graeme's mouth as she raises, offering him a warm hug along with the cracker. At first, all he gets is a bit of French offered forth as almost a purr.

Finally, however, she switches to English. The accent has dried away over the years, though it's still easy to tell that she grew up speaking French. "It is something very special. Something that I can't share with you in the middle of the dining hall, because it's too special for other people's ears for now."

Eyebrows raise, and Graeme grins, nodding patiently through the French that he doesn't understand until Remi finally speaks in an understandable language again. "It is?" He's confused, at least a little, but he wraps his arm around her shoulder and holds her close anyway. Special is good, and there aren't enough things that are special or happy these days, at least not often. "Well, alright then, what is it?" A grin mirrors itself on his face from hers while he waits, though the question of why here and why now still lingers in his mind.

The woman squeezes Graeme, inhaling his scent. Then, she tilts her head upward, planting a small kiss on the man's chin. "Oui, it is." she smiles faintly, before pulling away from him, moving to a spot where she can keep him sitting on that table. Because sitting is a very good thing, at this point. Another purr of French is put forth, one of her favorite ways to be enigmatic.

It's also giving her a chance to formulate the way that she wants to put this important news into words. She's not as ready as she thought she'd be. Part of her is terrified of what is to come once those words are out of her mouth and in Graeme's ears. And so she mumbles in her native tongue, because she knows he can't understand her.

Finally, she decides to forego words to start with. She reaches out, pressing her hand gently to Graeme's temple, a faintly nervous smile upon her features. Then, she acts as a bit of a radio of sorts. First, a dim yet pleasant buzz can be heard in the back of Graeme's mind. Constant, small, insignificant compared to the minds of Graeme and Remi, not even aware yet.

And finally, she replays that moment, the moment she knew for a fact that she is carrying Graeme's child. The visuals of it are drab; a smiling Liz and her son, Joshua, who Remi's taken a shining to. The most important part, however, aren't the visuals that come with it. It's that heartbeat, a swift little galloping sound filling his ears like music.

And then, the telepath takes Graeme's hand, guiding it slowly to her stomach.

"I'm pregnant."

Graeme's never quite gotten used to the outright displays of her telepathy, certainly not when it involves things like this, but it takes him until after the actual announcement to freak out and back up a few steps. "You're what?" he asks, quiet. He's not pissed off or annoyed, or anything like that, just very, very surprised, and there's a big part of his thoughts focused on whether or not this is a world he wants to bring a child into, whether he'll be there to see a child grow up. "Remi, you're what?"

Blue eyes watch Graeme quietly, weighing his reaction. He's not upset. That's a good start. All of the same thoughts have gone through her head, though she doesn't state as much. She simply watches for a long moment, her hand trailing to her stomach. "Pregnant. Enciente. Biryeminaya. With child. A bun in the oven." Three languages, plus a few extra explanations thrown in for good measure. That should help it sink in.

She pauses again, watching the man with a level gaze. Her eyes turn downward after a moment. "It's yours. You're the only one…" She breaks off, fidgeting.

It helps the announcement sink in, alright, and even makes Graeme chuckle a little. "I …" A faint smile grows on his face, and he reaches to take Remi's hand in his, with a little squeeze. "Just," and another pause, before Graeme finally manages to get his words together and speak coherently, quietly, the drawl coming back out, "I don't really know what to say." Which he didn't have to say for her to know that.

There is an unbidden flash of joy, and excitement. "I never really thought I'd breed or anything like that," he adds, with a grin. The words are mainly a cover for other doubts, though. "You know I can't …" and then speech fails him again, for all that he doesn't want to be negative at the moment. Commit. Be anything more than your friend and the father of your child. Graeme blinks, then looks back over at her, biting down on his lip momentarily after he's done.

The woman squeezes his hand back, offering a faint smile in response to Graeme's own smile. "I didn't either, at first. I was scared and happy and excited, all at once. I still am." She turns her blue-eyed gaze to Graeme's hand, her finger stroking over his knuckle. "I'm about eight weeks along, the doctor said." Her other hand lingers over her belly, almost protectively.

"Honestly, I never thought it would happen to me." She smiles faintly…until those other doubts cross his mind, and her smile fades, her eyes turning away from his gaze. It's something that she's accepted, certainly, but the wonderful hormones that have come of the little miracle in her belly make her emotions a bit off kilter.

And it is with tears glistening in her eyes that she turns a smile to Graeme, lifting her hand to wipe at her cheeks. "I know."

Eight weeks. It makes sense, and Graeme nods, quietly, falling silent for a moment as he processes the information. Thank you. Graeme can't bring himself to say it aloud, yet, but it doesn't stop him from squeezing Remi's hand just a little bit tighter when she acknowledges it. He manages to stop chewing on his lower lip before it bleeds, and a smile grows on his face once more, and he moves over to wrap his free arm around her shoulder. "I am happy about this," he says, quietly. "Even if it's weird, to think about bringing a child into all this, I am happy."

The redhead nods quietly. She really wants to be calm and collected, but she can't seem to turn off the steady trickle of tears for the life of her. She does, however, lean against him as he pulls her closer, turning to rest her forehead against his chest. "I am too. I just…I always thought that if this ever happened, it would be…" She shakes her head. "A family."

There isn't much that Graeme can do other than hold her, for the moment. "We will be a family, Remi," he says. "After all, you are my friend. And now, you're the woman who is the mother of my child." He offers her a smile. "Family comes in many forms. I promise."

It's like a dam has broke suddenly. Remi's gotten good at keeping herself calm and composed these past several years. She's good at pretending to be okay, at putting on a brave face. But that just means that when she finally lets it go, it all comes rushing out. And it's just as suddenly that Graeme is hugging a sobbing pregnant woman, whom is clinging to him like her life depends on in.

"I'm so…so scared, Graeme…" She manages to whimper this out between sobs, still holding tight. "I'm happy, but it's so…terrifying."

Slowly, Graeme wraps his arms around her shoulders, holding her. His own calm doesn't waver, doesn't get a chance to. "I know," he says, quietly. "You think I'm not? It's a god damned war out there, Remi." He leaves out the part that they're in the middle of it, still. "And I don't know the slightest about children except what I learned by being around for Monica and Jaiden and such…

"I spent the first nine or ten years of my life in group homes and foster homes and places that aren't any decent place to be a kid." Not something that he talks about much, and even as it's mentioned Graeme pushes memories out of his mind, stops focusing on them, and frowns, biting down on his lip again. "And now suddenly, this. But we can do this, and we've got more than we know. It'll be okay."

It takes a while before the telepath can fully calm herself, the sobs melting into sniffles. "Oui. We — we will be okay." She nods, doing her best to convince herself of as much. Finally, she tries to turn her attention toward less depressing issues. "You're going to be a good father, Graeme. We will make this work, oui?" She squeezes him tighter.

"It will all be okay." With this statement, she leans up, planting a kiss on Graeme's chin, while pulling one of his hands to touch her belly. "We'll make it work."

Skinny Brickfront, Endgame Safehouse

Blue eyes open to stare up at the ceiling, her hand already resting over her stomach as Remi fights off the last shreds of sleep; her free hand reaches out to rub at her eyes, even as her mind reaches out…only to find the other mind she was looking for absent. Her hand drops back down to her side for a moment, curling around the makeshift bedsheet.

Slowly, the telepath sits up, pulling her knees up to her chest and resting her chin atop them, to better frown at the wall. Then, the tears come, first slowly, and then followed by sobs that are muffled by her legs and the fabric of her sleep pants.

Not that whoever gave her the dream can hear it, but she still all but shouts it. Stop it! Stop giving me these dreams…stop showing me what I can never have! Please…please just stop. Of course, it's likely that most of the house hears her, too, but she doesn't care.

It's not fair.

Blue Moon Cafe: Aric's Apartment

Graeme's good at getting up without waking the man whose bed he's sharing. At least this time, and he pauses at the doorway of the bedroom, barefoot, to stare at the sleeping figure. His boyfriend, a word that he still marvels at at times. A faint but melancholy smile parts his lips as he makes his way to the living room, and the window with it's slight view of Manhattan, lights and city, not at all the desolate landscape of his dreams.

One palm presses against the glass, and Graeme struggles to quiet his thoughts, still mindful, though by now it's unlikely that the teacher will go back to sleep, or even back to bed. Long minutes pass in silence, before Graeme kneels to wrap his arms around the Great Dane who has joined him, one silent, wracking sob escaping, for what he knows really can't ever happen. Won't ever happen, and it's his fault, and it's still not fair.

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