Like We're Stuck In Reverse

—

Author's Note: Happy New Year, first and foremost. Secondly, I was trying a new writing style and trying to get Victoria's POV on her feelings on Billy's downward spiral and stuff. Maybe I was successful. Maybe I failed. I don't know. I like this piece and edited it enough to be proud of it, but who knows? I feel like I'm a bit rusty. I am, for one, excited for Jason Thompson's appearance on this show and know he will be lovely with Amelia. But I will miss Burgess. I tried putting in a lot of scenes in that Villy lifer fans will get, just a shout out to those that have stuck it out with the ship so long. So, Team Villy, this one is for you guys. I've rambled enough and will shut up and let you read. Just a simple disclaimer…this show is not even remotely mine. I'm not even doing this for profit. Just entertainment, playing in the CBS, Sony, and Bell sandbox. Simple final note? If you don't like Billy, don't read this. If you don't like Victoria, again, don't waste your time. If you don't like Villy, exit.

Feedback would be lovely as always.

Thank you kindly,

Erika

—

"This is us at our best and our worst." / Or, two times Victoria leaves Billy alone because it is what he wants – and the one time she can't quite do that because he stays in the crevices of her heart.

—

It's a new day.

You're ready to go to war because that's what this feels like, about to go into Newman Enterprises. Your father is determined to build the company from the ground up and all that and it seems as if he will make you bleed actual blood for that to happen. But you do it before.

You let out a sigh, after dropping Johnny off at school for the last time before Christmas break and find a last minute sitter for Katherine in Summer since Hannah is battling a flu. The Crimson Lights bell rings above you and stride to the counter, encountering Dylan. Then you remember Sullivan's Christmas present in your car.

"What can I get you?"

"Coffee. The strongest you have," you reply, and note with a smile. "Fatherhood suits you. Enjoy all the late nights, the crying and the spit up. It'll go by quickly."

Dylan pours the black steaming liquid into a portable cup and smiles back.

"Glad I have your vote of confidence, Victoria."

You take the cup, lets your palms get warm. The heat stings your palms loudly and the pain blocks any thoughts of a man so drunk you're looking up at him from his rock bottom. The heat stings your hands so you don't have to think about a man so drunk and broken, it leaves you angry. He reaches out to touch you. Billy reaches out for hope, stumbles an all too sincere apology that finds its way into your heart. Anger is an easy emotion to manage. It has defined lines and intensities.

You back away from him even as there could be a flicker of regret in his eyes but you will not take him home.

You will not offer your hand. Not this time. Not this year.

"Hey," Dylan calls gently and brings you out of your reverie.

"Huh?" And then you feel your cheeks get hot for reasons you can't and don't want to define. You glance down, tuck a lock of your hair behind an ear and shift your thoughts around to what it is important. You look back up and force a smile but even before you know Dylan is your older brother, you find him an easy person to talk to and very perceptive. "Oh. Sorry, I didn't mean to blank out like that. I can't do that anymore—"

"Stitch told me. About Billy and what happened at the Underground."

You steel yourself. Put the walls up you feel you have to because this time, you're going to listen. You're going to back off. You're going to leave Billy alone, let him drown and be consumed in his quicksand.

"Well, Billy needs help and for our children's sake, I hope he gets it…" you say and shove that memory of a man towering over you and the light of this room hitting the smooth of the black gun pointed at your head. You remember counting backward from ten and your heart beating so hard against your ribcage, you fear your heart may stop and you will die from that instead. "…but he doesn't want it from me. I don't want to give it anymore. I'm tired of being hailed as Billy's saviour. Part of me resents being placed in that position when I'm just a person. Nick and I grew up in this vortex of our parents on this pendulum for years. I won't allow Johnny or Katherine to go through that. I can't."

Dylan nods, with understanding, "I'm sorry."

"Don't be. I'll be fine."

"I know you will," he says, with a vote of confidence of his own. "However, on the off-chance you aren't, feel free to bend my ear. Milk and cookies included."

"Thank you. And you said you were no good at this big brother deal," you smile fully now and as a joke add, "Glad to see the bossy sister was right."

You wish him a Merry Christmas and he wishes you the same.

When you grab two sugars, milk, a squeeze of honey, and stir, you can drive as quickly as you can to Newman Enterprises. You understand that cutthroat environment better than you understand anything else right now. You get through the back patio and would make it to your car if not nearly colliding with someone's chest. Your coffee is fine but your clutch is not and all of its contents – lip gloss, compact, phone, keys – all go scattering across the floor.

You place your coffee on a nearby table and bend to pick up your things.

"Oh my God. I'm so sorry. I should have paid attention—"

"Vick, it happens. Here. Let me," a familiar voice says, and for a miniscule moment in time, you're relieved he's hasn't passed out in a snow drift somewhere or drank himself to death, leaving you with the painful task of explaining why Daddy isn't here and the lifelong task of hating him for it. He bends with you and they pick up all of her things. They both stand and she straightens her back, retrieves her coffee and keeps her clutch close to your body like a shield. Billy half-smiles and hands your cellphone back to you.

"Thank you," you say, politely taking the phone back from his gloved hand. You feel the walls start to crack and you can't breathe. "I have to go."

"So, saving you from purse destruction doesn't warrant anything?"

"It warrants you a thank you. I've already given you that. So, if you'll excuse me…"

You grab your coffee and take measured strides to leave. If you don't look into eyes, the ocean can't pull in and drown you until your lungs give out. If you don't hear his voice, you don't have to hear the waves crashing and colliding against each other on a Jamaican beach.

"I'm sorry. Victoria, I'm so sorry. I've been an ass and that doesn't even begin to cover it. I just – I just feel terrible. You didn't deserve that. Can we please just talk?"

You turn around, blink the tears back and summon the anger so you can hold on it for dear life. You need the anger. You need the resentment to creep around the edges and to wrap around your brain. Your heart is winning this battle but your head will win the war. For once, you need your heart strong.

You're the Ice Princess and that is the only part of you awake. The rest of you is tired. Your eyes are cold and steely.

"I am talking to you. And now, I don't have time for this and really have to go."

There's that fire in his eyes – the kind of fire he has when protecting you, the kind of fire he has when he kisses you breathless and his body is warm and pressed against yours.

"Wow," he says, awed, but it's laced in sarcasm. Billy gives a mirthless chuckle, almost smirks. "I wanna tell you how Jack and I are almost good again. You know, he took pity upon the family screw-up and forgave me. How I wanna be better. But you try this Fort Knox Ice Princess crap like you don't care what happens to me—"

There it is. There is the anger you want so badly. Maybe he's saying all this to push all of your (right) buttons. You could slap him. You could beat against his chest and ask why he lets his demons win, and why he dances so close to the knife's edge, he gets cut and so does you. You could do all of that, but his drunken requests are chiselled into your brain and play like a 1950s vinyl record on a phonograph.

Why don't you back off?

Just leave me alone.

"Are you kidding me?" you hiss, icy cold. Your blood is racing and it feels below zero in your veins and under your skin, but you don't care. You feel the coffee in her grasp getting colder too. You lift your chin to look him in the eye. Blue irises with flecks of green in them up close. Ocean and earth. Stable and precarious. Wild, unpredictable yet in his own way, balanced and confident in himself and suffocating himself in self-loathing at the same time. "You get better. You take care of yourself. Our children deserve that. Please don't let Johnny & Katherine down when they worship you. Don't break their hearts like this."

"And don't you ever imply I'm a bad father—"

You control your tone. Keep it measured. Neutral, even. But how can you when Billy Abbott makes you anything but neutral?

"I never would and I'm offended you think that. But you showed up to see them hung over on the day you requested! You drove drunk and could have very well killed somebody, Billy," you sigh and breathe deeply to slow down your heartbeat's staccato beat – the one that only happens when you're so angry you can't see past the red edges in the periphery of your vision. "You scare me."

"So, what now? We have kids together. We live in the same town. Know the same people. Do we act like strangers? Like we never met, or loved each other? Or, do we just communicate through our attorneys? Is that what you want, Victoria?" Billy asks, and his tone is pleading, his words barrelling out and trying to hit you. You won't let them. He lowers his tone to a softer one. "I'm…just sorry."

You nod, slowly. Smile sadly, "You're always sorry," you sigh and say softly finally, the words pushing themselves against the pearly gates of your teeth and on the tip of your tongue. "I care about you, Billy. I care enough to respect your wishes and leave you alone."

You finally leave Crimson Lights. The December air is frosty but you like it. You find it cleansing in your lungs. When you finally bring the coffee to your lips and take a sip, it's lukewarm and bitter in the back of your throat.

—

The sound of phones ringing.

The shuffling of papers being moved against each other.

The tapping of fingers against computer keys and feet that rush up and down the newly resurrected hallways of Newman to conduct meetings and build trust that yes, Newman Enterprises is from the ashes, unbreakable and strong – your father's words, your sentiment.

"…yes, Meg. I got that marketing division report. Not the emailed one? Give me a minute. Ah, yes – thank you. Found it. It's colour coded too. Perfect. Yes. I get it," you pause, a smile touching your lips. "Get off the phone and go get induced, please. Mhm… Absolutely. Merry Christmas, Meg and congratulations on your little one!"

You love this – your usually organized desk is messy with your computer open. It's like a storm blows into your office, a tornado that tears you in all directions with tasks, meetings and negotiations. You love the adrenaline in your veins. You love the rush – the highs that make you feel powerful and above this big blue ball of dust. The lows when you crash still make you still powerful because you're Victoria Newman damnit and this corporate ladder doesn't scare you.

You're in the middle of answering an email from legal when a knock on your office door. You're almost going to snap at Phoebe for allowing interruptions when you look up and it's JT.

Oh.

He stands in your office doorway, no different from when you see him during Thanksgiving. Tan coloured coat. Eyes you fall in and out of love with. He carries a manila envelope. You're friends with JT and the interactions are not caustic anymore. You're even happy he's here but twinges of worry soon settle in your gut and you hang up the phone.

JT carries a manila envelope.

"Hi."

"Hey."

"Not that I'm not happy to see you, but what are you doing here?" you question, eyeing the manila envelope in his hand. "Is Reed okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, he's fine," JT answers, and explains. "We spotted your friend from the lab, Zach… or something. It seems that he promised Reed how to make something called a Rainbow In A Bottle, so he's down there."

"Oh. I'll go get him on my way down there since I have a meeting with the Laboratory Division later." Zach's brilliant at what he does and even more, you're working on another fragrance that is just yours. It smells like coconuts, pineapples with a hint of something like lavender your nose picks up. Maybe a hint of cinnamon too.

He's your best friend in this Newman melee to be honest. There's a joke that he's your work husband, but he's gay. You bounce work ideas off him and you appreciate that he's blunt because it makes for good advice. You know he'll be a good friend with you when you call him Zachary and he laughs. You can imagine him wrestling with the mop of almost black hair he cuts finally, so when you look at him and can see his hazel eyes and meet them fully.

Mac is pregnant when you hop on a plane with Billy and the children and ready to pop. It's a nice, warm occasion where all four of you with intertwined pasts and presents can come together to be grateful while celebrating another of Reed's birthdays. Johnny and DJ are best buddies, helping their big brother blow out his candles and Katherine falls asleep in Reed's lap after cookies and cake. You still have pictures of the festivities but if Reed is with Zach, but what the hell is JT doing here?

"Is Mackenzie okay? The baby?"

"Oh, yeah…yeah…" he answers and smiles. Reed inherits it from him, has your eyes. "The baby arrived a few days ago. Zoe Katherine Hellstrom. But," he gets pensive and shuffles from side-to-side. "I have a daughter now. Maybe because this is Katherine's great-granddaughter and that lady was all about the right thing. Victoria, here," he extends the manila envelope to you and you tentatively take it. "I'm, uh, righting a wrong. I always thought about it, but Mac talked me into it."

You glance at your ex-husband with your heart beating as you tear the flap off the envelope and pull the legal papers and you scan them.

Petition for joint custody, it says, and after that the ink seems to blend together and melt off the page.

"JT, I… why are you doing this?" you ask, when you finally tear your gaze away from the papers in your hands. You want to cry. You want to possibly hug him and you want to excitedly tell somebody – that Reed is home this year again. He'll be home for Christmas and New Year's, every holiday after that and every day in between.

Part of you wants to reach out and call Billy to tell him that Reed is back so they can play some alien based video game she doesn't understand, and Johnny is intrigued by and Katherine nestles in between her brothers. You want to call Billy but your stomach sinks and then you remember that he's a mess. He's always such a mess and he's not yours to save or clean up. Not anymore.

"I was angry when I took Reed away from you. Our marriage was falling apart. I was angry with you. We fell in love and then we fell out of love. I married Mac and you and Billy together were together, but I was so resentful. You're not your dad, 'Toria. And you know how I feel about him. To be honest with you, I still think he's a soulless bastard. Nice to see I was right when he got Adam off for the death of a kid, but…you're not him. Can't project that on you."

"You're entitled," you say, curtly. A small headache blooms at your temple.

"Well yeah, it was wrong for me to separate Reed from you," he replies, and scratches the slight beard coming in. "You know, DJ & Zoe have Mac and I. Johnny and Katie have you and Billy. I want Reed to have us."

You nod in agreement, as you lean on your desk. He takes a seat on your office sofa. You absolutely love this and he quickly says he filed the papers before he came here to drop Reed off. But you can't help looking at him but something else is wrong. You stop being his wife years ago and you're not really anyone else's wife – not even Billy's – but you still know when something bothers JT. He does this thing where he sets his jaw and says his words as if he's curving around them rather than saying what needs to be said.

"Victoria, I remember the night I had to tell Reed what happened to Delia. He's a tough kid, but he's a good kid. Resilient. Best of both of us that way, I guess. But he cried that night. He was so broken up about it. He didn't sleep very well either after the funeral when he came back. You know, a lot's changed in two years—"

Maternal instinct wants to run to the lab and hug your son tightly until all the sadness goes away.

"—and you don't want him to get lost in the shuffle," you put in, acute aware. Since that night where everything exploded and the foundation snaps and breaks no matter how hard you try to put it together, your life is split down the middle.

Before Delia's Death. After Delia's Death.

You fold your arms around your body when you feel emotions you weren't ready to creep in did. The visual of Reed – your sweet, softhearted boy on the brink of adolescence (you've missed so, so much) – breaking over the death of his stepsister breaks yours.

"He won't be," you say, with all the confidence in the world. "We'll work it out."

JT stands, "Yeah, we will. I have to get back to DC and get everything together. Let Reed finish up his school year before we move."

You're tentative to ask. But do anyway.

"Where?"

He smiles fully, "Here," your ex-husband smiles with a shrug. "When you miss something too much, you can't really stay away. DC was great, but Genoa City was always home."

You force yourself to nod, believe in that half-truth. You throw in a smile too and hope it doesn't fall off your face. Sometimes, missing someone and being with them are two different worlds. Sometimes, staying away is best. Sometimes, building the highest shield of ice around the heart already battered and bruised is the best option.

You're a little irritated that picture of Billy placing a kiss on your cheek, as the camera captures you in mid-laughter – you forget where, you forget when – is still in your office when you truly do want to leave him alone to be a better person. Meanwhile, all three of your children are truly home now.

Reed pads in, finds his way from the laboratory into your office and when he wishes you Merry Christmas and hug your little boy (because he'll always be your baby boy), you realize this is the best present you could ever get.

You separate from him as he glances between both you and his dad.

"Did you tell her, Dad?"

"Yeah, I did, buddy. We'll be moving back here in the next year."

"I'm so happy you're coming home," you say, with a smile brushing the blond hair out of his blue eyes. "Listen. Now, you have DJ, Johnny, Katherine and now, Zoey. Your dad and I don't ever want you to feel like you're forgotten somehow or lost in the shuffle. Ever. Okay?"

Reed nods, half-smile on his face. "I love you, Mom."

"Me too, baby."

"And hey," JT adds, ruffling his son's hair, "whatever you're feeling, you can tell us."

"I know that, too."

You watch as Reed and JT exchange a fist-bump. Billy does that with Johnny. It's really cute because Johnny likes to make it explode in his own three-year-old way. You remember from the doorway of Johnny's bedroom as Billy's fist gently bumps Johnny's small one.

You realize how nice it is to be friends with your ex-husband.

"Alright, buddy. I gotta go, but be good for your mom."

"Okay, Dad."

JT hugs his son goodbye and then he hugs you. You return it and thank him for this.

Billy's face imprints itself in the inner part of your eyelids and damn it, you can feel the current of the ocean pulling you in, the earth around your feet soften.

When you miss something too much, JT's words ring in your head, you can't really stay away.

It doesn't matter. Reed is home with you and will be for the foreseeable future. You miss your son. You miss watching him grow. You miss most of his sports games. You miss how the hell he gets so big and grows like a stalk. You miss the slight splattering of freckles on his face and you miss how he never goes anywhere without Lionel.

You can make a list of all the things you miss about Billy. You miss how silly he is still after all this time. You miss how every once in a while he makes you dance in the middle of the living room when the kids are asleep. You miss hearing him tell the kids about the story of the strikingly beautiful Ice Princess and the Royal Mess-Up lucky enough to meet each other and live something close to happily ever after because it's worth it. You miss the way he kisses you and how you make love, it's rough and gentle at the same time.

You miss how someone who tortured can look so peaceful when asleep. You miss the smell of his aftershave. You miss his little screw-ups like leaving the toothpaste uncapped or forgetting to put the seat down. You miss his hands and you miss the way your smaller, slender one fit in his –

It's a futile list and you'll leave Billy alone. Because it's what he wants.

"I'm starving and it's nearly lunch. What do you want, Reed?" you ask after you make a quick call to Phoebe to hold all your calls and push all your meetings back at least two hours. Newman will be still standing when you get back.

"Pizza sounds good, Mom."

"Ugh," you sigh, kiss his head after pulling your coat on and making sure he's sure warm too. "Pizza, it is! You're so big. You gotta stop growing."

Reed laughs, "You just saw me."

"Yes, I did and I missed you then too," you change the conversation because well, you miss your baby boy and it's wonderful to not have a computer screen and many miles between them. "Now, this Rainbow in a Bottle thing Zach showed you…"

"He swore me to secrecy…" Reed says, playfully in the elevator.

You feign annoyance. "Well, my position as your mother overrides that."

He shrugs, hands in his pockets, "Yes, fine. You have a point. But no, it's a surprise for you. That's all I can say."

Reed's eyes are shining and blue just like yours and you wonder how the hell you got so lucky. But you'll fire him – as much as you love Zach – if he shows your son how meth is made. Guess you've been marathoning Breaking Bad when you can't sleep. Billy needs to get his DVD set. Maybe you'll give it back when you're done and maybe you'll –

No, it's okay, Walt White and Jesse Pinkman will be fine without you.

You throw an arm around your son and ask him to tell you about Zoey instead.

(One of the most important men in your life is here with you and that's everything.)

—

(that time in between the heat of your anger kinda simmers and the ice around your heart thaws just a tiny bit and you don't know anything right now.)

zachary: reed's a good kid. apprentice potential.

you: rainbow in a bottle?

zachary: nope. remains a surprise for at least a week or two. still tweaking it.

you: i could fire you, you know?

zachary: you adore me and his royal iron fisted highness needs my brain. but more because you adore me, work wife ;)

you: stop being brilliant.

zachary: never. but get some sleep, victoria. srsly.

you: can't. working.

zachary: babe, no. your ex showed his ass at your bro's club and your other ex had to save him. i'm nocturnal by default because you know…vampire in disguise here so that's my reason. billy the reason, besides the kiddos, why you can't sleep?

you: … well… and i kinda hate it. i hate he makes me crazy. ugh.

zachary: like the high of acid.

you: excuse me?

zachary: um, he's your acid and you're addicted. have a feeling it's mutual. better to have billy making you crazy than no billy at all, right? sorry if i overstepped but…

you: no. you didn't. you're a good work hubby lol. and a good friend.

zachary: awww. same here. merry christmas, victoria. i mean that.

you: same to you :)

—

"You've reached Billy Abbott. I'm either off being awesome, doing awesome related things or both. Leave a message."

"Hey, it's me. I just wanted to let you know the kids are fine. Asleep. Reed appreciated seeing you. Meant a lot to him. He loves his light sabre and Johnny won't take off his dinosaur slippers because they roar when he walks," you remember with a laugh at Reed's face lighting up and Johnny so amazed by his slippers, their eyes both sparkle. "I'm glad you stopped by for Christmas. Katherine told me to tell you she loved her Superhero Katie teddy bear. She's actually snuggling with it now."

You think the bear with the sparkly pink leotard, silver slippers and a purple cape is just so cute. Katherine is an observant little girl who likes to stare and assess something before, in her own year old way, making a decision. She looks at her daddy and the bear before she smiles at him, putting her arms in the air for him to hold her. You almost cry from happiness because it's almost the picture perfect Christmas Margaret Anderson may envy. But you're hesitant and can't take any leap of faith at that moment. Currently, your eyes are heavy with sleep. The sheets and pillow smell like him.

Reed's asleep after getting his water. Johnny's asleep after two stories and snuggle time. Katherine falls asleep through the night, aside from a diaper change and a singing of You Are My Sunshine while gently rocking her to sheep.

You continue on, phone pressing to your ear, "I just… I know what I said, and I know what you said. A lot of things were said that morning and the night before. I'm…sorry. I'm sorry I was so frosty – no pun indeed – toward you but I truly want you to take care of yourself. I know you can do it," you pause, before the catch in your throat gets worse. "You don't have to call me back. I'm…gonna turn in now. Goodnight, Billy…and merry Christmas."

You hang up, and set the pink covered phone on your night table.

In the dimness of your bedroom, you glance at the black and white photo of you and Billy – a lazy around his neck as he holds your waist in his hands. He gazes down at you with a smirk as you meet his gaze with a full on smile and your noses touch. It's your favourite recent one. It's at some party you both go to represent Newman Enterprises and Jabot, turned into a date night.

You remember the champagne. You remember the music. You remember the dancing. You remember the laughter. You remember Billy eyeing you and the vase of red roses, petals asking to be picked and feeling the softness of them between your fingers. You remember how a chill runs down your spine as he brings his mouth to your ear, and whispers, "For old times sake, Vick."

You remember how you blush as you take him by the hand, pull a rose and hear the soft snap of petals detaching from the bud as you slip them down your black strapless dress. A slow seductive smile dances across your red lips as there is desire in his eyes.

You press a slow, deep kiss to his lips and then separating reply, "Let's get out of here. Help me release them, Billy."

And then he does.

He winds you up, in a tangle of limbs and sheets, until you say his name over and over like a prayer answered, a wish fulfilled. You flip him like you always do and you hear the laugh deep in his throat as you kiss him. Then you feel the comfortable way your fingers intertwine. You ride the current of a wave of water on the Jamaican beach together in symmetry until you take his hand and you both jump in. Stars fall all around you and you won't speak for Billy, but you swear you hear explosions like firecrackers.

Firecrackers. Celebration. Jubilation.

Kismet.

You both break through the surface and come up for air fulfilled.

You remember today. Before he leaves, Billy kisses you deeply, offers a half smile and then after hugging and kissing the kids goodbye, leaves. You feel your body almost pushed by your heart to run into the cold but your head holds you back.

You arrange the pillows to get comfortable, check the baby monitors and fall into them to try to fall into a decent sleep.

The way his hands cradle your face and the ghost of his lips against yours – you still feel them.

You realize that is no mistletoe anywhere at all.

—

(Maybe you can't quite leave Billy alone, because he never leaves you to begin with and weaves himself into the crevices of your heart.)

—

Fin.