Chapter Eight: I Only Want to Share It With You

I wake up that next morning and almost can't believe my good fortune—not only have a wonderful Donna and Cleveland given me my job back, but the garage apartment is mine once again. And best of all, Brian is curled up next to me. Gleeful, I am more than pleased because I've planned a romantic weekend for the pair of us, where I plan to tell him at last that I am pregnant. Getting up, I give him a kiss and head to the bathroom to take a shower, careful to lock the door behind me and not be in there for more than a few minutes, so as not to let on that something is going on with me.

When I finally come up, Brian and I switch places and by the time he is out, I am all dressed and prepared to go to the Griffin house. Stewie is waiting for us in the living room, upon Meera's lap. Beside them sits Roberto, and the three of them are watching T.V. "Hello, you two," Stewie says.

"Took you long enough," Meera says, raising an eyebrow. She continues to stare at me, and I quickly shake my head before she quickly turns to look at something that Roberto is doing on his phone. "Everything okay?" she asks.

He chuckles. "Yeah. Just checking on the status of your application."

Meera laughs. "I should've never given them both our contact information. I may be staying in Quahog, Bert, but that doesn't automatically mean I'm staying forever. I only just got my Associate's Degree. Who knows if I'll even meet the qualifications of any of the decent law universities around here?"

Roberto makes a face at her as Brian and I climb into the chair by the window. Tapping my fingers impatiently, Stewie soon hops off Meera's lap and rests in my lap, causing Brian to roll his eyes. I playfully twitch Brian's ear so as he'll calm down, knowing that I need him somewhat happy with me, given the bombshell I need to drop on him very soon. As Roberto continues to refresh and refresh his mobile page, Stewie proceeds to pull upon my sleeve until I finally look down at him.

"Yes?" I ask.

"My diaper needs changing," he informs me.

I roll my eyes. "Stewie, you know as well as I do that Meera is your nanny now. I can't go taking over for her…"

"Yes, you can," Meera states, without looking at me. "I looked after Rallo last week while you and Brian absolutely had to go to Martha's Vineyard for that random writer's conference or whatever. Change his diaper."

"I'll do it, if you…" Brian tries.

"No. I want Vivienne," Stewie declares, taking me by the hand and pulling me upstairs and into his bedroom. "Lois and the Fat Man took Meg and Chris on Grandma and Grandpa's yacht off Nantucket for the weekend, so I guess they decided it would be the opportune time to see if your sister was any good at her job."

I laugh at that as we enter his room properly. "You know as well as I do that I only just met her a month ago," I reply.

Stewie climbs up onto his changing table, lying back and unsnapping his overall snaps, lifting his butt into the air, and it is then that I get a good whiff of what he's packing. "Not going to throw up again, are you?" he asks.

I flush red, throwing away the soiled diaper. "I have no idea what you mean," I reply, doing my best to remain nonchalant.

He rolls his eyes as I take out a wet wipe and proceed to get any offending matter off of his delicate skin. "Come off it, Vivienne. You refused to go to Lupercalia, to the fifth century A.D. with Brian and me after we got back from Newport. I don't understand it—it's planes that pregnant women shouldn't fly in. My time machine is perfectly harmless to women in your condition."

I do my best to ignore his truth-filled words as I proceed to put baby powder onto him. "I don't think we should be talking about this…"

"Don't you dare tell me I'm too young!" Stewie says as I make a grab for a clean diaper and put it properly onto him before he pulls his overalls back on. "I know you're pregnant with Brian's baby, Vivienne! Admit it!" he orders as I rub sweet-smelling hand sanitizer onto both my hands.

I sigh. "Stewie, I'm not pregnant with Brian's baby…"

Stewie takes a good look at my midriff and nods to himself. "Right. Far too small to be just one child anyway. Probably twins…"

I shake my head, turning away from him. "Seriously, I need to get out of my head…"

"Done." Stewie grabs my hand and crosses the room, typing into the identification pad so as he can access his time machine. He promptly pulls me inside and presses a few more random buttons before the bright light surrounds us and we are soon standing in what Stewie claims to be Dublin, Ireland in the 1880's.

"Well, I wouldn't have chosen this…dress, or whatever this pathetic excuse for clothing really is," I say, shaking my head.

Stewie shrugs. "Well, you're wearing it."

I roll my eyes. "How did you know?" I ask him softly as we walk along, and wait for him to turn and look at me. "About…?" I ask, waving my hands in the general vicinity of my belly, not wanting the whole world to know about it, despite the fact that there is a very slim possibility that we know anyone here at all.

Stewie shrugs. "Your attitude. You're being extra nice to Brian. It's plain to see that there are only a few reasons why you're doing that."

"I'm always nice to Brian!" I cry.

He chuckles as we walk through the town, reaching up and managing to take my hand. "I know you know what I'm talking about. I deduced that there could only be a few causes to your friendly behavior."

"Yeah?" I ask as we pass a haberdashery. "Like what?"

Stewie regards the rather impressive window display for a moment—it is a lovely black silk fedora number that I can see he is considering. He brushes it off as we continue walking down the sidewalk. "I figured it could be drugs, but Brian is all over those, so I immediately assumed heroin," he goes on.

"I would never!" I cry out. "My uncle took his own life because of the drug! Well, that and being broke, but still…"

"Okay, okay, it was just a theory," Stewie defends himself. "Another theory was that you had decided to end things with him…"

"Again?!" I cry. "If anything, he's going to end things once he finds out about…all this," I say, for the word "babies" or the phrase "the twins" just doesn't seem appropriate right now. "I mean, please, he had Dylan and he barely sees him as it is. And then there were those puppy hybrids you guys had together and god knows how well that eventually turned out. I mean, you gave them to a pet store for Christ's sake!"

"It was a no-kill shelter," Stewie says, rather defensively.

"Why the hell are you defending yourself?!" I demand. "You and Brian both admitted that you weren't attached to them at all!"

"Do you want me to leave you here in potentially impoverished, disease-infested Dublin or not?" he asks levelly.

"Not," I reply. "I don't think my sensitiveness at this time could take it. I'm a pregnant wench, after all…"

"Wench?" Stewie asks, laughing a little. "Good one."

"How's Meera at being your nanny?" I ask.

He sighs. "She'll never replace you, of course, but it's actually working out just fine. Roberto is over all the time, but the family likes him, so that helps. He's desperate for her to get into Harvard or Yale, so that she'll have an excuse to stay here with him, but of course you were aware of that."

"I was, yes. I know I've only been aware of her existence—and being on excellent terms with her, as well as living together—but it's really nice to have an exact copy of myself there for me and everything that entails…" I bite my lip. "Maybe she and I could switch places for the upcoming weekend. I could stay home with you and Meera and Brian could go on the vacation…"

"No." Stewie stops walking, fixing me with a look. "That's a terrible idea, and you know it. I mean, what happens if Brian finds out and by some weird coincidence, discovers how much better he likes Meera than you?"

"You don't think he would do that, do you?" I ask.

Stewie shrugs. "I have no idea. I mean, you did tell me that Meera was for Bernie Sanders, didn't you?"

I lower my eyes. "Yeah…"

"Well, everyone's reporting that he's going to fold eventually. I mean, after the incumbent president and vice president support your enemy, it's only a matter of time."

"You're right," I tell him as we pass by a church with beautiful architecture. A priest bids farewell to his parishioners, and some of them speak briefly with him as they all proceed out onto the street. "Wait…" I say, gripping onto Stewie's hand as the priest heads back into the church after the final parishioner leaves. I pull Stewie around the flock of worshipers and manage to slip, unseen, to the back of the church, and open the door, spotting the priest as he takes the hand of an altar boy to the back.

"Oh, dear," Stewie says.

"Oh, dear, is right," I say, pulling him after me as we follow them. Peeking around the corner, I am sick when I see what the priest is doing. Motioning to the small boy in front of him, the priest points below his waist and the boy—who can't be more than ten years old—looks up in horror at what the priest is asking him to do.

"Viv, let's go!" Stewie hisses.

"You're only an orphan, Alastar," the priest chuckles. "Who in their right mind would ever believe such lies from your lips?"

"Lying is a sin, Father," Alastar replies softly, lowering his eyes to the priests' member in front of him, looking utterly sick.

"That's right, my son." The priest touches Alastar's hair in a moment of affection. "I know some priests do this as a moment of unkindness, but you understand, Alastar? I do care for you, and this is how any man in their right man teaches a boy how to be a man. I know you understand, my boy."

"I understand, Father," Alastar replies shakily.

Stewie grips my hand. "Vivienne, please," he begs.

"No." I yank myself away from him as poor Alastar leans in closer and closer to do the priests' bidding. "You sick son of a bitch," I say, advancing into the room. "How dare you do such a thing to an innocent child?!"

The priest immediately re-buttons his robes. "Ma'am, I do apologize. What you were seeing was…"

"What I was seeing was the most disgusting epidemic," I say, glaring at him. "Thank goodness I don't believe in god. Because I get to do this!" I say, lifting up my hand and slapping the priest across the face.

"Dear lady, you don't understand…" The priest begs, clutching his cheek.

"I understand plenty," I reply through my teeth. "I understand that you were using this poor boy for sexual gratification. Only your god knows just how many innocent children's lives you and your fellow priests and bishops have ruined. What you do is reprehensible," I say, striking him once again so as he falls to his knees, gripping his rosary.

"God forgives you," he says, clutching his cheeks and rosary at once. "God loves you… God shall forgive and love…"

"I don't want to worship anything you do, you pervert," I hiss at him, before turning to a panic-stricken Alastar. "Don't worry," I say, kneeling before him. "I know you're scared, but don't worry. I'm here to help you."

Alastar looks me up and down before permitting himself to step forward. "What have you done to the Father?" he asks.

I narrow my eyes in the priests' direction. "What should have been done to him and men like him a long time ago. You're safe now." I put out my hand. "Come. I'll take you somewhere safe."

He bites his lip, considering, but ultimately takes my hand and comes along. "Who is that, please?" he asks, looking at Stewie. "Your son?"

Stewie laughs at that. "No. I'm her…charge. She is my cousin."

"Oh," Alastar says brightly. He quickly takes off his alter boy uniform, revealing rather pitiful shorts, a sweater, long socks, and shoes in desperate need of repair. "I'm all ready to go, then," he says.

"Very good, dear," I say, giving a final glare to the priest—who is still pathetically praying for my own forgiveness—as we get out of there. "Was what the priest said true, Alastar?" I ask of him then. "Do you have no family?"

He shakes his head. "No, no family. Although you could just as well walk me to the work house or to the orphanage, that would be all right as well."

"Ooh, an orphanage," Stewie chimes in, all but yanking us both down the sidewalk, not having any concern for how fast we can travel ourselves.

"Just around the corner here," Alastar reports, and, as we turn the corner, we are greeted to a proper hell hole. "Don't worry. I sleep here a few times a week when Father Michael doesn't expect me with him…"

Immediately, I kneel before him. "Alastar, do you mean to tell me that Father Michael has done what we walked in on more than once?"

He reddens to his ears, lowering his eyes. "Yes."

I shudder inwardly, feeling ill, yet I know I must ask the next question. "You don't have to tell me, Alastar, but… How old were you the first time Father Michael…?"

He sighs. "Four or five," he admits, trembling a little.

I throw my arms around him then and Alastar, shocked, pulls away. "I'm sorry," I say, all but forcing myself to step back a little. "I'm so sorry, Alastar. I merely wished to bring you some sort of love and comfort…"

His brows knit together at that.

I sigh, shaking my head. "I'm sorry. Those must be some of the words that Father Michael uses on you. I meant the kind of love and comfort that a mother or another trusted and loving adult would give to their child…"

Alastar immediately brightens at that. "Will you be my mother?" he asks.

I smile at him, cupping his cheek. "You don't even know my name."

He nods. "Of course. What's your name?"

"Vivienne Shaw," I reply.

"Vivienne, then," he says, slipping his hand in mine. "Will you be my mother?"

I smile, kissing his cheek. "Well, we'll just have to see."

"Oh, hell no!" Stewie says, tapping his foot. "You can't bring a damn pet back with you to the present, Vivienne!"

I narrow my eyes at Stewie. "You know as well as I do that Alastar obviously has no one and he needs me. Stewie, please…"

He sighs. "Fine. But who's going to watch him while you're having your weekend away with Brian?" he asks.

I shake my head. "I guess I'll have to cancel it. Alastar needs us."

Stewie rolls his eyes but drags us into the bushes and throws the return pad onto the forest-like ground. "Alastar, can you understand me?"

He nods. "Yes. I'm not a pet."

Stewie raises his eyebrows at that and motions for us to join him on the return pad. The bright light flashes and soon we are transported back into Stewie's bedroom. We allow Alastar to walk around the space, eyes wide as he ascertains where we really are. He looks out the window, watching some cars going by, before looking down at himself. It is then that I am in for the shock of my life.

"You didn't tell me the time machine worked on everyone!" I cry out.

Stewie shrugs. "I didn't know…"

Alastar is dressed in blue jeans, a striped short-sleeved T-shirt, a typical sweater, and non-descript sneakers. He looks at himself in Stewie's mirror, raising his eyebrows. "Wow…" He then covers his mouth. "What…?!"

I immediately turn to Stewie then. "What the hell?!" I hiss.

Stewie's eyes are as wide as mine. "I programmed a language function in addition to the wardrobe function so as anyone who returned to Quahog would have a distinct American accent," he replies.

"Yet you still have a British one," I point out.

He shrugs. "I manipulated it never to affect my voice."

I bite my lip and turn to Alastar, coming up behind him. "I suppose I should tell you that we aren't in Dublin anymore…or in 188…"

"Eight," Stewie whispers from behind me.

"1888," I say quickly.

Alastar gives me a panicked glance. "Then where are we?!" he cries.

"Quahog, Rhode Island," Stewie replies, stepping towards the two of us. "The year is 2016, and the month is June."

"Then how am I not dead?" he whispers.

"You time traveled with us, Alastar," Stewie explains patiently. "Since Vivienne has such a kind heart, she insisted you come back here with us."

I put out my hand. "Don't worry."

He takes it. "I'll try not to."

"Would you like a new name?" I ask. "To assist you in fitting in just a bit more with the harsh modern-day society?"

He nods. "All right, then," he replies. "Since you're my mother-like figure, perhaps you could rename me, Vivienne."

I smile. "Well then, from now on you'll be known as Alan Hunter Shaw," I say. "Alan sounds like a slightly-more-modern version of your name anyhow."

"I'll draw up the fake birth certificate," Stewie says gleefully then, running across the room and getting onto his laptop.

"But I like Hunter," Alastar says. "Can't I be that instead?"

I smile. "Your first name will be Alan, but we'll call you Hunter. Lots of people go by their middle names, anyhow." I ruffle his hair ever so slightly. "Well, at least your hair looks as modern as it possibly can be…"

"Vivienne!" calls Brian from downstairs, his toenails clicking as they climb up.

"Oh, dammit," Stewie whispers, continuing to type information onto the laptop.

Brian enters the room. "Hey, you've been up here an awfully long time, and… Oh. Hello," he says kindly to Hunter. "Ha-ha. Did you and Stewie go into the future to see what our kids would look like?"

I shake my head. "No. But this is my son, technically speaking…"

"You mean it?!" Hunter cries.

I smile. "Yes. I mean it."

"Lady with a kid," Brian says, smirking a little and clutching his chin in an effort to appear philosophical. "I can roll with this."

"Kids are such wonderful things!" Stewie says far too loudly. "Do you like surprises, Brian? I know you must on some level. Because Vivienne has gone one hell of a…"

"Yeah!" I say quickly. "My surprise is that Stewie and I went to Ireland and found Hunter with this priest…"

"Oh," Brian says, and then, "Oh!" as he fully understands what we are talking about. "Oh, sport, I'm really sorry about that…"

I put an arm around Hunter. "Tell Brian your name," I tell him.

"Hunter," he replies.

"Alan Hunter Shaw," I correct him, tweaking his ear slightly. "But we've agreed that he's going to go by Hunter."

"Why didn't you call him Alan Hunter Griffin?"

I shrug. "Because we're not married, Brian. I'm not ready to be married."

Brian nods quickly. "Right, right, right," he says. "Of course. I mean, me either! Marriage, yuck!" he says.

I make a small sound of hurt. "I didn't mean that I never wanted to get married," I say rather defensively. "I mean that I'm just not ready."

"I know what you meant. I was just…"

"Making a joke about a very serious subject." I sigh. "This was stupid, coming back here. I think that I just need to…leave." I put an arm around Hunter and walk out of Stewie's room, and down the stairs into the living room. I bypass and ignore Meera and Roberto, who are in mid-cheer at being mutually accepted into Yale. I ignore their request for information about Hunter, and continue walking until we get across the street and into the garage apartment, where I quickly shut the door behind us.

"Your house?" Hunter asks.

I nod. "Yes." I move a few things in the living room around and pull out the couch. "This will be your bed for now. Until we straighten things out. Is it comfortable?"

Hunter climbs onto it and bounces slightly. "Great. Thanks."

I nod, smiling a little. "I'll overnight order you some clothes. We'll do some shopping together on my laptop and find out what you like and stuff. Thankfully summer vacation is in about a week so it wouldn't make sense for you to start school right now. When is your birthday?" I ask.

"The first week of September," he replies.

I nod. "Well, they'll probably test you to see where you are in school. Can you read and write, Hunter?"

He nods. "Yes. In English and Latin."

I smile. "Only a handful of high schools teach Latin. English is fine for now." I get my laptop and sit down beside him on the bed. I login and access Amazon fairly quickly, clicking on the various sections until I get to the "good stuff". Hunter has good taste and quickly we have a whole summer and some fall wardrobe things for him, along with practical things like a winter coat and rain and snow boots.

"I like green," Hunter tells me.

I put an arm around him and squeeze his shoulders. "I do, too."

There is a knock at my door then and I kiss Hunter's forehead. I hand him the remote and quickly change the channel to Cartoon Network, where they're having a re-run marathon of Ed, Edd, n Eddy, which I know he will enjoy. I also show him the buttons to press if he wants to watch Nickelodeon, and slip towards the door. "I'll be right back," I call over my shoulder as I open the door and step downstairs. "What?" I ask Brian.

He sighs. "I think I understand what's going on."

I cross my arms. "I doubt it."

"Vivienne, please don't push me away. Don't send me away. I love you. You know that, don't you?"

I sigh. "I thought I did. But that joke about marriage? That really hurt me, Brian. I don't know why you would joke about that… And in front of Hunter."

"He looks like a great kid. That's one of the reasons why I fell for you, Vivienne. You've got such a good heart."

"Flattery will get you nowhere, Griffin."

"Okay, Shaw, okay," Brian says, throwing up his hands.

I sigh. "What did Meera, Stewie, or Roberto tell you?"

"Nothing." He steps forward. "Come on. You tell me. They told me to ask you when I demanded to know why you were acting so weird."

"Acting weird?!" I cry. "Excuse me?!"

"See?! There you go again," Brian says.

I sigh, running my hands through my hair. I know that I have to tell him—it wouldn't be fair to me to raise the twins on my own, nor would it be fair to Brian to never know about their existence in the first place. "You're right, I'm sorry…"

"Just tell me." He takes my hand. "Whatever it is, we'll figure it out together."

"So many guys would say the same thing… But only if you knew the truth…" I shake my head at him. "I just have this gut feeling that you'd… I don't know, blow a gasket or something…"

He smiles. "I promise I won't."

"Do you know something?" I ask him then, straight-out. "Come on. Don't make me do this, I mean, please. You know."

He laughs a little. "I know that I love you. Come on. You tell me."

"No!" I cry out, giggling. "Come, on…"

Brian laughs a little. "Tell Hunter you're coming back across the street. It'll only be for a few minutes. Come on."

I roll my eyes, quickly going upstairs. I get a quick snack plate of pretzels and cheese for Hunter, as well as some water before telling him I'll only be a few minutes. Dashing after Brian, I run across the street with him, and go around to the back of the house. I am shocked when I see that the whole backyard section is completely carpeted with pink rose petals, and, when he pulls a string, several pounds of them fall all around us. He then snaps his fingers, and Stewie, hanging out the window, plays Mr. Brightside by The Killers. Despite the fact that the lead singer is a member of the Latter Day Saints church—who certainly have questionable beliefs as a whole—I am lost in the song.

"We never did get to have our dance," Brian says, referring to Newport.

Smiling at him, I am shocked when he runs off, only to return to stilts strapped to his feet, and manages to walk up to me. "Been practicing," he says, taking my hands.

Shaking my head at him, we proceed to dance around, as Stewie begins pulling strings after string around us, and more and more rose petals fall around us. I am nearly blinded by all the pink surrounding us, but I don't care. The flashes of color keep me alive and happy, and I find I am going to be as forthcoming to Brian as possible. I am laughing as the beat continues to pump in my ears, and I never want the song to end.

"Come outta your cage!" Brian chants to me.

"It was only a kiss, it was only a kiss, it was only a kiss!" I shout back, leaning forward, touching Brian's chest. "Too bad you can't take off my… Well, I'm not really wearing a dress right now," I say.

"Too bad," Brian pouts.

"Don't choke on my alibi," I tell him.

"Destiny is calling me," he replies.

"Open up my eager eyes…"

"'Cause I'm Mr. Brightside!" Brian says back.

Stewie plays the song again, and Brian and I proceed to dance faster and faster and faster, kicking up the rose petals.

"I'm never letting you go," he tells me.

"Good," I reply, leaning in and kissing him. "I'd be heartbroken if you did…"

Just as the song continues to end, Brian jumps out of the stilts and we land with a flop down into the sea of flower petals. We are laughing so hard that we barely hear Stewie closing his window above us as Meera calls that it is time for his nap. I turn to Brian then, who is smiling at me.

"Just so you know, I'm going to propose to you," he vows then.

I sigh. It's now or never… "Brian… There's something I have to tell you…"

"Yeah?" he asks.

I sigh. "I know I should have said something before I ran off but I was just so hurt and so angry… And I should have told you in Newport, but I didn't…"

He takes my hand. "Just tell me."

My eyes fill with tears as I turn to face him. "I'm pregnant, and it's yours… They're yours," I say at last.

His eyes widen. "They're mine?"

"Twins," I reply. "A boy and a girl."

He sighs, mulling it over in his mind. "You're right, you should have told me," he replies at last, turning back to me, "but I understand why you didn't. You were hurt and angry and you needed some space before coming back to face me."

I nod. "That's right."

He smiles a little. "So… Quahog or Seattle?"

"Hmmm," I say, laughing a little, but just before I can answer properly, my phone buzzes in my pocket. "Excuse me," I say when I see that Paul is calling me. "Paul?" I ask, confused as to why he's calling.

"Viv. Hi…"

"Paul? What's wrong? You don't sound like you…"

He sighs. "There's been an accident…"

Immediately, I sit up. "What?! What happened?!"

"Someone put something into Sarah's dinner," Paul says, slowly coming undone. "She lost the baby, Viv. Sarah's had a miscarriage… Someone killed our baby…!"

"Is she going to be okay?!" I whisper, tears coming to my eyes.

"It's touch and go," Paul confesses then. "Before she went into surgery, she asked for you and Meera. Can you come home?"

I turn to Brian, who nods quickly. "All right," I say, thinking we will need five tickets to go around, and we will have to do so quickly, as I am five months along already. "All right. I guess we'll take a red eye to Seattle…"

"We don't know who did it," Paul says softly. "The police are looking into it…"

"Don't dwell on it," I say, feeling like a bitch for saying so. What the hell is wrong with you, Viv?! I demand to myself then. You obviously have a problem for suggesting such a stupid thing! I mean, please, he's not going to spend every waking moment on— Oh, who am I kidding?! Of course he is! "I mean…um…"

"It's okay, Viv."

I sigh. "We'll book the tickets and be there as soon as possible, Paul."

"Thank you," he says, and I hang up.

Brian stares at me, imploring me for answers.

I sigh. "Someone's killed my nephew," I say resolutely, "and I've gotta find out who."