I S-PIE

A Pushing Daisies Fanfiction

by hairsprayheart

Chapter Nine: Love is a Four Letter Word

AN: I am so sorry everyone! I've been spelling Simone's name wrong. It's HundIn, with an "I", not an "E". Erm. Well, hope you like this chapter! It has a lot of surprises. And, just a warning, there is a little more swearing than usual (hence the chapter title), and some "innuendo". I would be glad to up the rating if anyone believes it to be necessary. Thanks, and enjoy!

*

At this moment in time, Young Simone was four years, twenty-one weeks, eight hours, and thirty-four minutes hold. She had, two minutes prior, been told by her mother that she was to become an older sibling. She had, one minute and forty-six seconds prior, after recovering from the initial shock and realizing what this might mean, said her first "four letter word". And she had, one minute and forty-three seconds prior, been sent to her room.

She had learned the word from her father, when he had come home sick from work early three weeks ago and found his wife in his bed with his best friend. To make up for their mutual mistakes, and to halt their daughter's ceaseless questions, they bought her a Jack Russell Terrier puppy.

As time went on, the puppy also became Simone's comfort when her parents spent more time with the baby than with her, her refuge when the baby cried or her parents were overbearing, her friend when she began to believe that she was just too good for these foolish, selfish humans. And this was when Young Simone fell in love with dogs, and out of love with people. Particularly babies.

*

Emerson Cod opened his mouth to say something, but Simone held up a hand to silence him and his lips snapped closed.

"My turn," she said firmly, raising a single commanding eyebrow.

"Apparently, our little… adventures a few months back have resulted in a few implications."

Emerson choked. Simone frowned.

"And, I am here to resolve them. It," she amended, flustered. She chewed on the inside of her cheek. "All right. Speak."

"Shit, woman. Why'd you wait so damn long to tell me this?"

"I didn't have to tell you at all," Simone said defensively. "And why I waited 'so long' to do so is none of your concern."

Emerson steepled his hands thoughtfully.

"So, what's the plan now?"

"It is no different than it was before. You see, I am a breeder of dogs, not of humans. I have neither the time nor the will to raise a child."

"That's it, then," Emerson murmured. "You're getting an abortion."

"Of course I'm going to get an abortion," Simone affirmed, scowling at him. "But I believe that since… this is half your fault, you should pay for half of the procedure."

"I'll pay," said Emerson, feeling somewhat defeated. "If it's really what you want."

Simone looked at him, sizing him up.

"You're keeping something from me, aren't you?"

"I can help you," Emerson wanted to say. "I can help you in ways other than financially. I can help you raise this baby. Our baby. I know what to do. I'm here for you. We can do this, together." But what he said instead was this: "No, Simone. It's up to you. But I'm behind you, whatever that is."

Perhaps surprised or miffed by his lack of response, or at least the lack of the response she wanted, she turned on him.

"You think you're entitled to my personal life? To a place in it?" She turned on her stiletto heel and placed her hand on the doorknob. "Well, you think wrong. I don't need your help, Emerson Cod. You've already done quite enough."

Emerson said nothing. Instead, he reached into his desk and retrieved a small red box. He slipped out ten playing cards.

"These," he said quietly, "are my cards. And I'm going to show you some of them. Whether you choose to do the same thing for me, is up to you."

***

"Good morning."

This was the first thing the Pie Maker heard when he woke the next morning. And when his eyes finally fluttered open, they were met with the pleasant sight of Chuck. He smiled groggily and rubbed the sleep from his eyes.

"Good morning to you, too."

Chuck, also smiling, hugged her arms around herself in order to refrain from hugging Ned as he rose from his bed.

"You know, you look perfect when you're just waking up."

Ned blushed, surprised at the sudden praise.

"Well," Chuck amended hastily, "you look perfect all the time, but when there's that little bit of a dream left in the back of your mind, and you smile a little, and you haven't had to worry about any worry in your day yet… You just look so at peace."

Ned listened patiently to her run-on sentence, his grin growing all the while.

"Only you would notice that. Or go through the trouble of explaining your… noticing."

"I'm just an observant person, I guess."

"Then Emerson's lucky to have you."

"There's no luck involved. I'm getting thirty percent. Well, maybe there is a little bit of luck on my part. Or at least magic. Your-finger-ish magic."

"There's no magic," Ned replied quickly. "Just a series of unfortunate consequences. Or, not so unfortunate, for you."

"It is too magical. And unfortunate! My dad—"

"Can we not talk about your dad right now?" Ned interrupted, looking suddenly tired again. "I wanted this to be a good day."

"I'm sorry," said Chuck. Though she wasn't. Not really. "It still… can be. Can't it?"

Ned nodded, somewhat defeatedly.

"You're going to say that's it up to me whether or not I have a good day, aren't you?"

Chuck beamed. "It's up to you whether or not you have a good day."

Ned sighed. "Whatever happened to Fate?"

"I think you have him pretty well beat into submission."

"So you don't think that your current state of… being alive again is an accident?"

Chuck shook her head vehemently. "Of course not. Neither were your powers." She paused thoughtfully. "Of course there's Fate. It's responsible for everything, from your power, to our being together at this very moment in time."

"I'd like to think of it more as a gift…"

"All right. Your gift, then. Or maybe your curse."

"It's both," Ned sighed in agreement. "And it's also high time we headed down to the Pie Hole.

As he might have suspected, Chuck went off on another ramble, but thankfully got ready as she did so.

"I know you that you want it to be a good day—"

"Oh, it already is," Ned agreed, gazing hungrily upon Chuck's now-naked form. Chuck smirked.

"…but…" she continued.

"I don't like 'but's." Ned sighed.

"I did find this yesterday."

Chuck, having now slipped into a bra and panties, showed him the button triumphantly.

"Ta-dah!"

Staring at the button, Ned swallowed hard. "It's a button," he said dumbly.

"Not just a button," Chuck corrected him, shaking the button at him. "A sign. From Dad!"

"Yay." Ned forced his reluctant lips into a smile. He was surprised, for all her excitement about it, that she had waited until this morning to tell him. "Dad."

"Oh, come on, Ned. He saved your life, and Olive's too. So I guess you're even, right?" She shimmied into a flower-patterned dress. "Plus, I think he went on vacation for a while."

"It is kind of the middle of winter, you know." There was a smile hidden in his voice.

"People still go on vacation in the winter. To Florida, for example. All the time," Chuck defended her father.

Ned couldn't help but to smile – genuinely, this time – at Chuck.

"I mean the dress. It's freezing outside. There probably aren't any flowers out there at this time of year. Well, except for ours."

Chuck beamed. "I like being different. Being different is who I am."

"We aren't exactly a conventional couple," Ned agreed with a grin, slipping on a handy plastic glove to finger her ring lovingly.

"God, I love you," Chuck sighed, leaning heavily into him and nuzzling his chest. He stroked her hair.

"Are you ready?"

"Mm-hmm," Chuck hummed happily. "Just give me one more minute." She inhaled, breathing in his scent, his wonderful scent.

"You are the most beautiful thing in the world. Like my own personal flower, always in bloom."

Chuck smiled. "Thanks to you." She pulled away reluctantly. "If I'm a flower, you're my sunshine."

"I wish we didn't have to go."

Chuck sighed her agreement. "If we could live on love, we would be fat and happy."

"I already am happy."

She smiled and placed a bright hat onto her head, to which Ned promptly pressed a kiss.

"I hope you know that you never needed my dad's permission to marry me."

"Well, it would be nice to get it," Ned said, placing his sleeved arm in hers. "But even if I didn't, I hope you know that I would still love you." He unlocked the door to his apartment and stepped out into the weak sunshine. "Now. Shall we?"

Chuck jiggled his arm playfully and led him out the door. "We shall."

*

Emerson Cod had never been lucky in love. From the time he was young, girls had never been attracted to his haughty attitude and dark sense of humor. In high school, his first girlfriend dumped him only two days after their first date. So he hadn't really been expecting to meet the love of his life, Natasha Brown, so easily. They were on a subway and she had complimented his hat. As soon as the doors opened, he told her he had to run, and he did: after a suspect, whom he promptly tackled and wrestled to the ground. Natasha had followed him and was quite impressed. They fell in love the very day they had found each other.

But now, he could not find Natasha. His feelings for her had ceased, a long time ago. It was the combination of their fighting, her financial irresponsibility, and their whirlwind marriage. But the main reason was because she had taken his world away: their daughter, only one year old.

He knew he was in trouble when he started falling for Simone. And now, he was indeed very deep in trouble.

"What did we just do?" Emerson asked Simone as her eyes fluttered open. It was morning. They were in a strange bed in a strange place, and the only thing that seemed remotely normal was that they were together.

Simone snuggled closer to him for warmth. "I think we got married," she said dryly.

"And this is our honeymoon?"

Simone Hundin, now Simone Cod, nodded against her new husband's chest.

"Let's take full advantage of it, shall we?" Her eyes flashed, almost dangerously. She rolled onto her back.

Emerson obligingly shifted, raising the shin sheets to lay a trail of kisses from his wife's cheek to her belly.

"Baby…baby." He addressed his two loves.

"How did this happen?" Simone mumbled, her eyes rolling back with pleasure as Emerson slid his arms beneath her back and drew her closer to him.

"I told you that I loved you," Emerson answered shamelessly. "Card number eight."

"And that you wanted to marry me right then and there," Simone reminded him with a wicked grin. "Among other things."

"And here we are," Emerson sighed. "Motel 7. Where to now?"

"Home. Poor Bubblegum probably thinks I've abandoned her."

Emerson lay back for another moment, filled with contentment and wonder. All in one night, he had become a husband, a dog owner, and a father-to-be. Again.

"Normally people only act this crazy when they drunk," he commented wryly. "Is this gonna be a regular thing?"

"We were only drunk on love," Simone snorted. "Or foolish passion. And no. We have a few things to take care of first."

"Housing and financial arrangements," Emerson agreed.

"I agreed to keep this baby, not your terrible taste in interior decorating," Simone said, only half teasingly. "We will be moving into my home."

Emerson found himself hesitating. What if his Li'l Gumshoe came looking for him at his old house?

"What are you thinking about?" Simone questioned, her eyes meeting his as she came in between him and the ceiling.

"My daughter," he admitted, frowning.

Simone frowned too.

"It's been seven years, Emerson. It's highly unlikely that she'll show up again." Her eyes softened. "You should try to move on."

"I know," Emerson grumbled. "I've been trying."

"I can't really say I understand," Simone confessed. "The relationship Harold and I shared was, of course, almost purely for professional reasons. But it was still hard to lose him – as a partner, if not as a husband. A whole part of my life was gone. But I moved on, to you."

Emerson sat up suddenly, dislodging her from her position on his chest. "Hold up. Is this a relationship, or a partnership?"

"Right now, I think it's a little too early to tell," she teased. "Of course it's a relationship, you moron. What kind of partner would I have passionate sex with?"

She traced Emerson's lips with her finger, hoping to draw him out of his bad mood. When he remained stationery, her gaze softened and she sympathized in the small way she could. She leaned heavily against him, depending on him, letting him be in control, if only for a moment.

"Life is a bitch, isn't it?"

"It sho' is."

*

Normally, when Emerson Cod was not in the Pie Hole, it was not open – because he was usually with its owner on "other business". But in this instance, Emerson Cod's absence was not due to a case, but a more personal matter.

"This is weird," Chuck said to Olive. "There's hardly anyone in here."

And at that moment, there was someone in here: Alfredo Aldarissio, traveling salesman of homeopathic remedies, returning from a two-year-long trip.

"Alfredo Aldarissio, what are you doing back here?" Olive asked pleasantly, barely looking up from the already-clean countertop that she was scrubbing with increased fervor.

Alfredo Aldarissio clutched his worn hat awkwardly.

"Oh, I… I just thought it would be nice to stop by," he managed to stammer out. It seemed as though he had not quite said all he wanted to say.

"Mhmm," Olive said expectantly. She noticed out of the corner of her eye that Chuck, having given her a subtle wink, had slipped away. "Two years is quite a long time to be gone, Fredo."

Fredo exhaled and took a tentative step forward.

"It is," he agreed softly. "It is indeed." He licked his lips. "Could I… Could I get a macchiato?"

"Comin' right up," Olive said, too cheerfully, finally looking up from the now-spotless counter.

Alfredo collapsed into the nearest booth and watched, his mouth only slightly agape, as she filled a mug with steamy goodness. He had thought that, in the multiple fantasies he'd had about her, his longing heart had exaggerated Olive's beauty. But in truth, she seemed to have grown even more beautiful in his absence: her smile was brighter, her eyes were happier, her breasts were bigger… Oh-holy-God-did-he-really-just-THINK-that?! He crossed himself and settled his hat firmly on his head.

"Here you go." Olive plopped the coffee down in front of him, hesitating. "Can I sit with you for a minute?"

"Can you?" he repeated eagerly. He gulped his coffee to avoid further humiliation. It was scalding but he barely noticed. "Of course."

So she sat.

"The whole time I was gone, I couldn't stop thinking about you, Olive," he admitted. What Alfredo Aldarissio did not tell Olive Snook was that his intense feelings for her were the main reason he had kept away for so long. Feeling unable to control himself if he stayed around her for too much longer, he believed that keeping himself away from her would also keep his feelings at bay. But this was not to be, and the desperately love struck Alfredo left his current place in Alabama to return just as quickly as he could.

"Really?" Olive beamed, though Alfredo noticed sadly that the smile did not quite reach her eyes. "I thought about you, too."

What Olive Snook did not tell Alfredo Aldarissio was that her thoughts about him had been altogether naughty and scandalous, that she had believed herself to be desperately in love with him, that he had been just another man to break her heart just a little bit more when she finally began to believe that his little "trip" was an endless one. But as Alfredo Aldarissio did not know this, he did not know the reason for the sadness in her voice, and thought that all of her thoughts about him had been good ones.

Alfredo's heart leaped. This mildly frightened him, but when he reached for his "medicine", he remembered that it was not there. He calmed himself by looking back into her eyes.

It was as though she had read his mind.

"You're not carrying your crack case," she said curiously.

Alfredo's eyes sparkled with amusement.

"Well, I didn't want to upset you by bringing it here. I don't need it right now," he told her.

Alfredo Aldarissio also didn't tell Olive that in the time he had been gone, he had stopped self-medicating with his herbal medicines. He could live on the breath of her memory – she was his atmosphere now. While he had tried to staunch his feelings for her, they had only grown. Or, as the saying goes, "Absence makes the heart grow fonder." It had been painful, being around her and believing that she didn't love him back. But he realized that it was even more painful to be away from her.

"That's all right. I was actually hoping my friend could get some."

His attention recaptured by the sound of her musical voice, he nodded, even though he had no idea what she had just said.

"You're even more beautiful than I remember."

"Well, that's nice of you to say!" Olive grinned again, and this time, her eyes sparkled. Alfredo smiled shyly and glanced away, her glaring beauty almost too much for him to drink in all at once. "You just made my day."

He met her eyes again, his smile remaining and his gaze now unwavering. He had unconsciously inched his right hand forward across the table. Everything about him gravitated towards her. His palm was facing up, vulnerable. Without even thinking about it, he was telling her that he still loved her.

And Olive, without even thinking about it, told him that she still loved him. With a movement comparable to a bird alighting on a tree branch, gently covered his hand with her own. It was an unspoken gesture of protection, and trust, and forgiveness.

"I'm glad you're back, Fredo."

*

Olive appeared busy at the moment, so Chuck had gladly taken over her waitressing duties. It was the least she could do for the friend from whom she had "stolen" Ned (though, admittedly, Chuck had had him first). The man she was talking to looked familiar and kind. Chuck crossed her fingers behind her back, hoping for luck. Olive deserved a happy ending too.

Chuck glanced around the room, looking for customers that hadn't been helped yet. There was a man in a hat in the corner booth beckoning to her.

"Excuse me?"

Chuck brushed her hands off on her apron and approached the man with a

smile. His face was somewhat hidden under the brim of the worn fedora he sported, but she could tell he was handsome. "Yes, sir?"

The man lifted his arm and pointed across the room to Ned, standing behind the counter and mopping his brow with a towel as he cleaned fervently. "That's Ned, isn't it?"

"Yes." Chuck smiled unconsciously. "That's him."

"He's a good boy, isn't he?"

"Yes. He is."

She paused, knowing not to reveal too much, just in case. Ned had a secretive nature, due to dangerous secrets. She watched, intrigued, as the man's intense expression softened slightly.

"He should be. I raised him."

Chuck's eyes widened. "You? You're Ned's… father?"

Oh, hell, no.