A/N: Not enough Angela fics out there. Dedicated to xocrazililkelox!

Summery: "I never cared about him anyway. I thought I was having... I mean I thought I was, but I wasn't, and that's the only reason I married him..." – Angela Shepard, TWT, TIN. Angela has a problem; will Tim be able to solve it? ONESHOT.

With a rusty clang the silence was broken. Water pushed down the faucet, and gurgled down the plughole, in a loud rumbling noise. Cupping her hands under the running faucet, Angela splashed the water on her face – continuously, until the cold water became too much to handle – and sighed. Water dripped down her face, but she didn't have the energy to reach across the bathroom and grab a towel. Tired eyes closed as the sound of the open faucet echoed throughout the small room. A sigh escaped full, sombre, lips as joints and muscles remained tensed. She couldn't find herself to relax.

Damn it! She cursed. I'm such an idiot.

Opening her eyes, Angela looked at herself in the mirror. She had thought he had been careful. Fuck. She'd never trust a guy with that kind of responsibility again. Next time, she'd make sure protection was being used for sure. Next time... Damn, screw that. I'm never having sex again. Oh, who was she kidding? She was worse than guys when it came to her libido.

"Hey Angel, hurry up will ya!" Curly screamed from the other side of the door, followed by loud banging.

Oh Shit. What was Tim going to say when he found out, and Curly...? Well Curly' reaction would be less terrifying than Tim's, but nevertheless. She could feel bile rising in her throat. Her mother, Frank... Oh God... Maybe she could one of those operations done? She had heard about them from girls at school, doctor's who were willing for a small fee to take the baby out. She could do it before anybody noticed. Or maybe she should just tell Tim, he'd deal with it. He'd know what to do.

Angela let her hands slip from the sink and fall to her side. Her head ached from too many thoughts. Turning off the faucet she reluctantly sauntered out of the bathroom.

"You took long enough," Curly frowned. Giving him the one finger salute she stalked into her bedroom, slamming the door behind her.

Opening her closet Angela tried to find something loose fitting, something that wouldn't show the shape of her stomach. Okay, so her stomach wouldn't start showing for months yet but for some reason she felt like it was bulging out already, swollen and ready to burst. It took long enough, but she finally found a blouse that didn't hug her body like a second skin.

Angela frowned. God, she looked like a dork.She didn't want to put on any make-up, but no way in hell was she going to leave the house without any on. 'I think I'm pregnant' was written all over her face. She had to cover it up. She had to act normal. Slipping on a pair of heels, she clattered downstairs.

Her mother was sat in the kitchen; head hovered above a cup of coffee, recovering from an obvious hangover.

"Where's Tim?" Angela asked. Her mother looked up with bloodshot eyes and a miserable expression on her face.

"Don't shout Angie," Angela scowled at her mother's pet name for her. Why could she just call her 'Angel' like everybody else? "He's at work."

"Ok, I'm going out"

"Aren't you going to have any breakfast, sweetheart?"

"I'm not hungry," Angela replied, grabbing her purse and making a dash for the door. She had walked two blocks, till she decided to make a detour through the park to avoid seeing anyone she knew. She couldn't risk blurting out anything yet.

Her feet were killing her. She wished she had worn tennis shoes, but damn, the red pumps looked mighty fine on her... Beauty was worth the pain. Sitting down on a park bench, she lit up a Camel and sighed.

A few feet away was a climbing frame, sandbox, and a slide. Toddlers and younger kids hung from the bars and screamed down the slide. Jesus Christ, they were noisy little bastards. My baby is going to be quiet, Angela decided, and smart like Tim. Hopefully the baby would get its looks from her family, because lord knew Billy was no James Dean. Damn, why couldn't the daddy be James Dean? She'd have a pretty baby if he was. Or to be more realistic, Ponyboy Curtis, heck even Bryon Douglas would have good looking kids. But damn, what was she thinking, she didn't want a baby. Not now.

"Hiii," a high pitched voice greeted.

"Why hi there, darlin'," Angela replied, looking down at a girl who looked no older than four. She had curly blonde hair and bright blue eyes. Well, aren't you a pretty little thing, Angela smiled. "What's your name?"

"Cyn-thia," the toddler spoke in broken baby speech. Reaching into her pocket she pulled out a half eaten cookie covered in lint, and held it up. "Coo-kie?"

"No thanks, sweet pea" Angela wrinkled her nose, as the girl continued to jab the cookie at her. "I said no, now shoo." The toddler's face visibly crumpled. Oh oh crap. The girl ran away blubbering.

Having a girl would be neat. Angela pondered. A little darling, she could dress up in expensive dresses and put in pigtails. What am I saying? I don't want a baby. Period.

Flicking the cigarette butt away, she got up. Partly because the toddler's mother was coming toward her looking pissed off, and partly because she wanted to get to Tim before he got busy. Picking up her pace she hurried out of the park and toward Main Street.

His bar was pretty much empty at this hour, which was what she was hoping for, but Tim was nowhere in sight. Oh shit. Behind the counter, the barman was whistling to himself as he wiped down the counter and counted the cash in the register.

"Where's Tim?" She asked brusquely as the barman looked up startled.

"Well, good morning to you too, Angel."

"Jakob," she frowned "don't piss me off."

"Aren't we in a good mood today? He's in the basement, checking on the sto-" Angela pushed passed him and headed downstairs. She heard Jakob faintly mutter "you're welcome."

"Tim?" Angela called as clattered down the stairs.

"Angel? What are you doing here?" He asked, moving away from the barrels of beer. "I ain't got any money if that's why you're here."

"I don't want your damn money," she snapped.

Tim stared. He approached his sister, slowly "what's wrong?"

Okay, how was she going to tell him? She had to explain it to him slowly and rationally. She had to show him she wasn't panicking. She opened her mouth, and immediately closed it again. Gah, what's wrong with you. Tell him. Tell him. Tell him.

"Angel?" he asked, this time his voice seemed to soften. "You look like you've seen a ghost. What's wrong?"

Explain it from the start. Sensibly. Don't panic. "I skipped a period." She sobbed, so much for not sounding panicky.

"You came over to tell me that," he frowned, looking disgusted. "Isn't that best discussed with your girlfr-" he stopped mid-sentence. Angela could see the blood drain from his face as realisation hit him. After a silence which felt like it would never end, he spoke with a fowl look on his face. "Who's the asshole who knocked you up?"

"Billy," she replied. "Tim, what am I going to do?"

"Simple," he spoke softly and gently, but his expression didn't get any sweeter. "You're going to marry him."

Well there you have it. Reviews and constructive criticism is appreciated.