Disclaimer: I don't own.

Warning: Language

Author's Note: Thank you so much for the reviews! I really love them, and I really appreciate them! I hope you continue to enjuoy the story...and don't worry, all will be explained at some point. :)

The Perfect Wedding

Chapter 2 – Wrong

Jackie Burkhart stood at the Forman kitchen counter and watched Mrs. Forman scurry around the kitchen as if her life depended on it. She smiled and looked down for a moment. Mrs. Forman. When she'd offered to do all the cooking for the wedding, Jackie couldn't say no, even though the food wouldn't be quite the gourmet feast she'd always imagined.

Gourmet didn't matter much anymore. Mr. Forman's death had changed everything for everyone, and no one more than Mrs. Forman.

"Have you tasted anything? What do you like best?" Mrs. Forman stood across from Jackie, her hands clenched to her chest and an anxious look on her face.

Jackie lifted a shoulder. "Mrs. Forman, I can't possibly eat all of this." The counter was full of food. Plates of appetizers, main courses, sides, desserts, took up nearly every inch of it. It all looked and smelled amazing; the colors bright and the scents enough to induce anyone to gorge themselves. She gave a shrill, forced giggle. "If I do that, I'll never fit into my wedding dress."

Ah yes, the dress. The one she'd made her daddy pay for back when she thought it was Steven she'd be marrying. She clenched her fists. She was having alterations made. Definitely. If not, it wouldn't be good. It would be wrong to marry Fez in the dress the way it was.

Mrs. Forman affectionately swatted her other hand. "Don't be silly, Jackie, a tiny thing like you? Just have a bite or two of each dish. Those are the best ones, anyway!"

Jackie nodded and picked up a shrimp roll. As she tasted it, delicious of course, she continued to watch her stand in mother. She seemed smaller now, and the heaviness under her eyes just wouldn't go away despite the cream Jackie had given her. "Mrs. Forman," she said quietly, her stomach billowing with either nerves or hope. "Look, I just wanna say that if you think this is too soon...I mean, I don't want to be disrespectful."

She closed her eyes. Too soon. Was it? They'd gotten engaged almost immediately after Red died.

Was it wrong? They'd only dated three weeks before...

But Red's death changed everything. That night changed everything.

Mrs. Forman looked at her, and Jackie wondered if she could read minds. If she could, Jackie wished she'd tell her what her doubts and thoughts and crazy ideas that were all mixed up meant.

"Oh, sweetie, no," Mrs. Forman cooed, walking around the counter. She took Jackie's hands and smiled with false brightness. "This wedding is a wonderful thing, and I'm so touched that you want me to be a part of it. It really helps. It keeps me busy, and when I'm in the kitchen I feel like I'm close to..." Her voice broke. "When I'm here, it's like he's here..." Her lower lip trembled and Jackie shook her head, sensing the downpour. Mrs. Forman did as well, probably to ward off the tears.

It didn't work.

Her smile became tight, her eyes shiny and wet. She dropped Jackie's hands. "Excuse me, sweetie." She left in a rush, and Jackie heard the escaping sob just as the kitchen door closed.

Jackie closed her eyes. Great. She'd done what they'd all be trying desperately not to do. Her own eyes welled up. Making Mrs. Forman cry was not a thing she could live with. Not anymore. She was a surrogate mother. No. She wasn't even almost a mother. Pam was almost a mother. Mrs. Forman, in every way, acted like her mother, blood be damned. She bowed her head. Good going, bitch!

"Geeze, Jackie, hungry?"

There was Steven in the doorway, sans sunglasses and smirking at her. She couldn't help smirking right back. Never could, actually. "Mrs. Forman went a little crazy, She says I can't make a good decision about my wedding dinner if I don't taste everything she knows how to cook."

His grin faltered. Jackie's heart thumped for no good reason. His reaction had nothing to do with her mentioning the wedding. It was Mrs. Forman. She knew how worried about her he was. He'd told her. And she could see it. She cleared her throat. "Wanna help me taste test?" She cocked her head and gave him a half smile.

Until she realized that it might look flirtatious, and then she straightened her neck, pressed down the up-curved lips.

He shook his head. "Can't. Gotta go help Forman out with some crap at his house."

She nodded. "Right. Someone's gotta pick up the tools and use them." They both chuckled, and she took a step forward. "You know, it's really nice of you to help Eric out. Since Mr. For...I mean, it's just nice." She'd noticed. He'd been there for Eric, in his own way of course, and denying it all the while. But she'd noticed. Used to be she noticed everything about him, and bad habits were the hardest for her to break.

Steven snorted but stepped towards her. "It is not."

She nodded, the corners of her mouth helplessly floating upwards. "Yes it is." Another dozen feet forward.

And another step from him. "Is not."

They were only three or four feet apart now, and still, she took another step. Bigger. "Is too."

He grinned and she saw his eyes. They always seemed to glow and lighten when he was having fun or amused. Or turned on. God, no! That's just wrong! Now they were lighter. She hadn't amused him in so long, and it made her feel bold. She stepped again. Her skin suddenly felt hot and like tiny butterflies were beating their silken wings just underneath it. And her heart – well, she couldn't feel it. Then it was back. Gone. Back, and now she wondered if it was going to break through her body and escape.

"Is not."

He was closer, and she could sense the feel of his skin, and she couldn't breathe very well. It all seemed lodged beneath her breasts. And god, why did they ache?

"Is too and shut up," she managed. Was her voice hoarse?

She couldn't stop the next step. She smelled his cologne and shampoo. Toothpaste, too?

They were only two feet apart. And he was wearing that too tight Ted Nugent tee shirt. He smelled so good. He hadn't shaved that morning, and she remembered all too well how his stubble felt on her stomach...her breasts.

Heat washed all over her.

"Am I ruining it, Jackie?"

She looked at his face. His smile was gone, and it almost looked...he almost seemed...

Then she saw it in his throat. The adam's apple moving just a tiny bit. And then his mouth opened just a tad. His eyelids dropped just a smidge.

The room began to spin. Get out. Get out. GET OUT!

It was so wrong.

She ached there, and all over. But it was wrong. WRONG.

Jackie closed her eyes and stepped backwards, bumping into the edge of the counter and wincing, but ignoring the sharp pain in her hip. Jerk. He was a jerk. He'd done that on purpose just to see if he could. She coughed and pointed at him. "You're wearing a tux at my wedding, Steven, so get used to it."

She stared at the food but saw him. He stood there as if unable or unwilling to move, and she tried to think of something else to say.

"Whatever," he said. He sounded nothing. Zen. Calm. Cool. Of course. He moved out of her peripheral vision and towards the door. "Better not eat too much. Don't wanna get fat before you marry a candy loving pervert."

And despite his nasty words, she panicked. "Steven," she said, turning around. He stopped and looked at her, making sure she heard him sigh. "You're not gonna do anything to ruin my wedding, are you?"

Why she asked, she knew she'd never figure out. What answer she wanted, she knew, but it was so damn wrong and she had to get rid of it. She'd have to take a night long bath in bleach to cleanse the wrongness out of her.

Still the Zen. His eyes were cold now. Darker. Open wider. "Why would I ruin your wedding, Jackie?"

He said it as if there was no possible reason, and her heart sank despite her screaming inner Jackie. He was completely over her. If he'd ever really loved her, he didn't any longer. And now, with a definite chill in his eyes and voice, she doubted he ever had. She shook her hair over her shoulder and grimaced. Steeled herself by tightening her stomach and arching her back the way she'd done so often when Sam had been around. "No reason." Shet turned back to the food. "Have fun being Eric's yes boy today."

His answer was the opening and closing of the door.

"So, we've got the flowers taken care of, the music, the food, church, reception hall, the wedding party," Jackie said, making checkmarks next to the completed items on her list. Only a few small things were yet to be done, and they could wait a little while. She glanced at Fez, who sat next to her on their couch looking intently at the notebook in her lap. "Anything we're forgetting? You do have all the decorations for the church and the ballroom, don't you?"

Fez nodded, his eyes still skimming the notebook. "Of course, my pet. Twinkle lights for the reception, ribbons and candles for the ceremony."

She narrowed her brow. "And roses. You asked for peach, pink and white ones, didn't you? Because if there are any red roses besides in my bouquet, I'm gonna be upset."

He smiled appeasingly and patted her hand. "I know, snookums. Don't worry. You'll be the only one to bear the flower of love."

She sighed and relaxed a bit.

Both looked at the notebook, saying nothing until the silence became unbearable.

Fez cleared his throat. "So, uh, looks like we've got it all under control. Everything is ready. We're...ready?"

Jackie nodded. Her throat felt a bit thick, and like she needed to cough but couldn't. The list, her own handwriting, looked foreign to her. Like some other soul had written it and placed importance on it. And she felt detached, not a real part of herself.

They sat there, both quiet. Lately this happened frequently. On the couch watching t.v. At the table eating. In bed trying to sleep. In the car driving to the mall. When the wedding wasn't the topic of conversation, or clothes or shopping, or the horrible people Fez had to deal with at the salon and the amazing people Jackie met at work, or Kelso, or how fabulous she was looking, there didn't seem to be much to say.

It was so wrong. Wasn't it? Shouldn't they be able to talk for hours upon hours about anything, including uncomfortable stuff, deeper stuff than hair and shoes and gossip?

Jackie shook her head. Stupid head full of stupid thoughts. It was just the excitement and the stress of planning a wedding in six months. After they were married, they'd go back to normal.

Although normal, she remembered, wasn't much different. Had they ever talked about Mr. Forman's death? Had he ever asked her why she'd not come home that night? Had he even noticed?

"So..." Fez tried, but his sentence petered out. She noticed him smile oddly before looking down at his hands.

She turned to him and gasped. Her DRESS! How had she forgotten this? "OH! Fez, you have to help me decide how to alter my dress." She grinned and bounced up and down. Yes! This was perfect for them to do together! "I'd ask Donna, but she has such horrible taste. She'd probably want to stick a layer of lumberjack flannel on it." She rolled her eyes. "And since you're so good with clothes and I'm not quite sure what exactly I want, you have to help me."

Fez gasped too and jumped off the couch, looking gleeful. "Oh! I have been hoping you would ask me. I have sketches!" He started towards his bedroom but stopped cold after only a few steps. He turned back, his smile of joy gone. "But...my peach, isn't it bad luck for me to see the dress before the wedding day?" He frowned. "Or is it bad luck for me to sleep with the dress before the wedding?"

Jackie's eyes widened. "Why would it be bad luck? Oh..." Right. That old superstition, and the entire reason Donna's first wedding dress was ruined by that idiot Eric. And Fez was the groom. She'd forgotten all about it.

And him?

She closed her eyes. Tears threatened. What in the hell was wrong with her?

"So I guess I cannot help you, Princess."

She opened her eyes and Fez looked so sad. She knew it wasn't because of her slip. It was because he couldn't help her with her dress.

Wasn't that screwed up? Sort of...wrong? And not wrong in a good way?

She stood, determined to ignore pesky thoughts and irritated insides. She smiled as widely as she could without looking ugly. "It doesn't matter, Fez. I mean, we're meant to be. Remember? You're my perfect man. Bad luck can't touch us." She nodded and pressed her lips together. "You're the best one to help me with my dress, so you're gonna do it!"

"But angel dove..."

She flounced to him and grabbed his hand. "Come on!"

He'd do it. She'd make him. And he'd let her.

Now, if only he'd call her Jackie once in awhile and not one of his sappy pet names. It wasn't as endearing as she'd anticipated when they'd started dating.

They stood together in front of Jackie's full length mirror. She wore her gown, and Fez circled around her, pinching material here and there, studying the gown and wondering to himself if what he'd sketched could actually be done. She put on her veil and he fussed with it, suggested she instead go with a crown of flowers, white roses, and subtract the over the face style.

He was genius, she decided as he took notes. Reforming the bodice, adding more meading, making it off the shoulder and a slightly lower neckline, a tighter waist, would make such a difference. It wouldn't in any way but color resemble the dress she'd worn while imagining her wedding to Steven.

And that was of utmost importance.

Finally, Fez stood next to her and they gazed at one another in the mirror. He smiled, and she returned it.

"You look so beautiful. Whoever marries you is a lucky son of a bitch." He made an angry face. "I hate him already."

She turned her head to him, and he stared back, his mouth forming an "O".

More silence.

His face reddened, he closed his eyes, then shook his head. "I just..." His voice, still heavily accented even though she prayed every night it would become normal, was higher than usual. "I just sometimes forget."

Jackie, her heart large and heavy and beating fast, wanted to scream at him, to slap him for daring to forget that he was engaged to her. HER! How could he just forget?

But she'd forgotten, too, just an hour ago, and it hadn't been the first time. If not for the tiny ring she wore on her left hand, she might forget all the time.

No I wouldn't!

She smashed down her pride and tried to grin. "Its okay, Fez. I understand."

"Its just that I never really thought that you would accept me as your lover, and now that you have...or almost have...it is a lot to take. Please forgive me, sweet pea. It will never happen again. I swear on my mother's grave. Well, on her hut, anyway."

She nodded. "I know, and its okay, Fez. It really is."

What was her last name going to be? He'd told her, written it down for her, but she couldn't remember it.

Where was he from? That he hadn't told her. Or if he had, she couldn't recall.

Did he have parents? Were they like hers? Had he really grown up without toilet paper and Christmas? Isn't that what he'd said that one day?

Jackie stepped backwards away from him. "It's late," she said, not knowing or caring if it really was. "I'm going to take this off. We'll go to the seamstress tomorrow, okay?"

He moved towards her and put his hands on her shoulders. And of course, gave her his "sexy" grin. "We should make out," he sasid. "And do it. Definitely do it." His expression became that of a kid not getting his own way. "We have to do it before the wedding, Jacqueline, just to see if we...fit."

She was surprised he didn't stamp his foot on the floor.

"Fez," she said, backing away from him. "I told you. I wanna wait till the wedding night. It'll be so special that way. Way more special than my two other first times."

Do not think about your first time with Steven! God! It wasn't that special. So what if he'd actually...no! This is wrong!

Fez frowned. And this time, he did stamp his foot. "But I don't care about that!"

She did her best to keep her voice even. "I do, okay? Now. I'll see you in the morning." She leaned forward and brushed her lips over his.

"Fine." He pouted. "But you will wish you had listened to me on our wedding night." He raised his eyebrows. "You will need time to adjust, if you know what I mean."

He left, and she rolled her eyes. Right. They hadn't had sex yet, but they'd fooled around and she'd felt it.

It wasn't big. Especially compared to Steven. And she doubted Fez had the talent to use it that Steven had, either.

"No," she muttered, sinking down onto her bed. Thinking of Steven in any way was wrong, and especially that way.

Twenty minutes later, she was in sweats and in her car, driving somewhere she hadn't figured out yet. It didn't matter. The dark and the empty roads mattered.

She shook her head as she turned down the Forman's street. She wasn't going to stop. No. She just wanted to see.

If Steven's home?

No. Wrong thought. Wrong, wrong, wrong.

The word kept repeating itself in her head, sneaking in without her permission or warning or context. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. And as much as she told her inner Jackie to shut up, she didn't listen. Wrong.

Sometimes it sounded like Steven's voice. But he'd never tell her she was wrong about this.

Would he?

Was that why she'd asked him to give her away? Was that why Fez hadn't protested when she'd told him she was going to? Did he really want to marry her? Did she really want to marry him?

Did Steven give a damn at all?

She rubbed her temple then turned up the radio, even though she detested the stupid song playing.

Everything was wrong. And what was most wrong about all of it was that she was driving alone at night past her ex-boyfriend's house after putting the finishing touches on the plans for her wedding day. And just to see if said ex-boyfriend was home.