A/N: Two to go.

So this, Amy thinks, is what it's like to be loved.

So, yeah, OK, she knows what that's like. Ten years with Reagan means she's pretty much got that feeling on lock. If there's one thing Amy can say for her fiancee it's that she's totally got the romance thing down.

Flowers for no reason? Just a bouquet of sunflowers the size of the sun, waiting on their kitchen table when Amy staggers in after a long and often frustrating day at work? Check.

(Amy never thought she'd be the kind of woman who'd like that sort of thing, with all it's cheese and all it's… flowery-ness. But she does. She so does.)

A text message in the middle of the day - another of those incredibly busy days that she knows Reagan's spending in the studio, recording that annoying little Bieber wannabe who's somehow got the idea that saggy pants are still a thing - that she somehow always manages to send right when Amy needs it most, when she's thisclose to cracking and the only thing that keeps her in one piece is those three little words?

(I'm never far.)

(Yes, she knows that's technically four words - she can count - but that's so not the point.)

So… check. Again.

And then there are those nights in bed (or on the couch) (or the kitchen table) (or, that one time, in the garage, bent over the hood of her car before she'd even had time to get inside and thank God she wore a skirt that day) that were all about her, those moments when she swore Reagan needed her like she needed air to breathe and she takes so long and it's so intense that Amy's only choice is to push her away.

Eventually.

Like, you know, in the morning. Or when she can't hold herself up anymore and she's about to slide right off the hood. Whichever comes first. (Amy.) (Always Amy.) (Pun 100,000,000,000% intended.)

So, check. Again. (And on those nights?) (Check.) (And check.) (And check.) (And check.)

(And you get the point.)

Still this is… different.

This is all of them together - family and friends and family friends (and Jack) - everyone in the same place and they're all laughing and smiling and having a good time and genuinely, Amy thinks, enjoying each other's company and there hasn't even been a single punch thrown.

Not yet, anyway. The night is young.

They're all there and they're all having a hell of a time (or they're all way better at faking it than she ever was) and it's all just for her. Well… for them - her and Reagan - but it's really the for 'her' bit Amy can't quite wrap her head around. It doesn't matter how hard she tries or how old she gets (cause twenty-six is ancient, you know) this… she never quite gets it, she never quite expects it.

You can take the sixteen-year-old loner (except for Karma) out of the girl but you can't… well…

You can't take the sixteen-year-old loner (except for Karma) (and then Shane) (and eventually Lauren) (and, you know, Reagan) out of the girl cause, well, she is the girl and, in some ways, she's always gonna be the girl, which means that yes, it's dawning on her as she stands next to their booth in Planter's and watches her nearest and dearest (and Jack) that this is what it's like to be loved.

And God, can she not wait until it's over.

"If you want to sneak out the back and head for the hills, I promise I won't tell."

Karma's voice damn near scares Amy right out of her dress, not unlike Reagan's hands did a bit earlier, right after they got done stashing the tiny Booker - and her not so tiny grandmother - in a back room and right before they headed to the church and no, Amy didn't feel like a total sinner walking between the pews with the taste of Reagan still lingering on her lips.

(And tongue. And fingers. And her thigh. And… well…)

(It might take less time to list all the places she wasn't and Amy still marvels at just how quickly they got… all that… done. Masters of efficiency. That's them.)

(Practice makes perfect and they love to practice.)

"Is it that obvious," she asks Karma, trying not to act like she's noticed the glass of champagne in her best friend's hand and isn't worrying that Karma's doing something stupid and see? You really can't take the girl out of the… well… her. Still worrying about Karma even when she's not done anything too very Karma in a while. Like, you know, years.

Unless you count the spawn of Harvey she's got incubating in there and oh, first? Ewwww. And, second? That's not really fair. Amy doesn't think them having a baby is stupid at all. Possibly insane, but not stupid.

Karma laughs, the glass shaking in her hand. "Amy, I've known you since you were old enough to hate things like this which, probably, was like immediately after leaving the womb." She takes a quick peek out at the room and Amy can't help noticing the way her eyes linger (as in stop) at Jack's table.

The one he's sharing with his other daughter.

"She's moving back you know," Amy says, watching as her best friend's eyes go wide and nope, she doesn't say it just so she can change the subject, but hey, Karma's short attention span has been saving her ass for years. "She told me when we were riding back from the airport. She's coming back to Austin."

There's this moment when everything happens so fast that Amy can barely process it all, when Karma blinks - like a thousand times - and then stares down at the glass in her one hand while the other one almost unconsciously goes to her belly and then she's turning this odd shade of green, like fresh dolla dolla bills, and lurching toward the table, almost diving headfirst into one side of the booth.

And see, this is why Amy hates parties.

(Yeah. Cause that's the only reason.)

Somehow, Amy doesn't panic (much.) "Are you OK?" she asks, slipping down into the booth as discreetly as she can. The last thing either of them needs is Lucy spotting Karma's distress and hustling over to help cause, she's pretty sure, that would make all that green on the inside come rushing on out pretty damn quick. There's a second when Amy's other fear - but, what about the baby - is almost too much for her and she thinks that maybe she should go find Reagan (not like she knows bubkus about baby stuff, but she's always Amy's first call) or maybe her mom or Mrs. Ashcroft or, you know, anyone else, anyone who might be even a tiny bit better equipped (as in at all) to handle… this.

Cause there's more than one potential "this" here and Amy knows it because, with Karma, there is never just one potential "this". Karma is the "this" queen and she always has been and that was before pregnancy and hormones and Harvey DNA oozing around in her system.

And did Amy mention 'ewwww'? Cause, you know, ewwww.

So, for instance, right now, Karma's "this" might be the baby or, for another instance, "this" might just be "oh God, Lucy's coming home and she's coming home for me and I'mma have to break her heart" or, also, "this" might be "Lucy's coming home and I'mma have to leave a sock on the doorknob so Shane knows not to come in, and do you think preggers belly is gonna be a turnoff for her, so I should get all the sexing in now before I'm, you know, fat?"

Amy isn't at all sure which of those thises this one is and she's even less sure which of those is worse.

(The last one.) (Definitely the last one.)

She feels helpless and if there's one thing Amy hates, it's feeling helpless. That was the story of her life for way too long. "Can I do something?" she asks though, honestly, she thinks she might have already done enough. "I'll get you some water. Or seltzer. That's good for upset stomach, right?" Karma manages a low groans that Amy's totally taking that as a 'yes' and she's about to bolt for the bar (and no, the fact that it's at the other end of the restaurant has nothing to do with it) when Karma suddenly latches onto her hand.

And, apparently, pregnancy gives you some fucking guns cause Karma's grip is like steel and it only takes a couple of seconds before Amy starts fearing for her fingers.

(Reagan would be pissed if she lost any of those before the honeymoon.)

"OK," she says, settling down gently into the booth, taking a hold of Karma's hand with her free one and it's meant as a comforting gesture and not just as a way to subtly pry her fingers loose from the jaws of death. "What can I do for you, Karms? Crackers? Cheese? Bread?"

When in doubt? Food.

Karma glares at her and Amy gets the hint. When in doubt, food for her. Not everyone cures an upset tummy by, you know, filling it. "OK, so that's a no on the cheese and bread. A cool cloth? Um… Tylenol? Advil?" She's about a half a breath from offering her a valium (she has some in her purse and no, she didn't expect to need them tonight, but if Glenn has taught her anything over the years, it's to always be prepared.)

(Which is totally why she always has a spare pair of underwear in Reagan's truck.) (And in her office.) (And in the recording studio, hidden under the bass drum.)

Amy winces as Karma's grip gets tighter. She's not as green, which is good, but what's not so good is that she's about three shades too pale to be considered any color and Amy's got less than no idea what to do here, so she goes with the only option she can think of.

"Should I get Shane?"

If she was looking to get some color back in Karma's cheeks, then Amy did her job. And did it well cause Karma shifts from green to pale to holy shit she's dead to holy shit, she's not dead, she's on fire in the span of a heartbeat and it's only when she can practically feel the heat from her best friend's cheeks (and that sounded so less dirty in her head) that Amy realizes what she said.

And just in case she still hadn't… "Shane?" Karma's trying to yell or, at the very least, sound aghast and upset and confused, but it comes out more like a strangled cry that could almost, Amy imagines, be what she sounds like when she's -

Yeah.

No.

Not going there. Not now. Not ever.

(Not even in those weird drunken roleplays when Reagan likes to dress up and wear costumes, and she only wore that red wig once and never ever ever again.)

"Why?" Karma asks, struggling to sit up and failing - Amy's gotta wonder, if she's having this much difficulty with the moving now, what's it gonna be like in a few months - before giving up and just leaning back to stare at the ceiling which is, ironically, how she got in this mess in the first place. "Why would I want Shane?"

Now there's a question Amy's asked herself more than once over the years, usually when he's outed her or said the wrong thing to the wrong person or stuck his nose in something that wasn't even kinda his business or, you know, mentioned scissoring.

(Which is even more fun than he seems to think it is, but she's never telling him that.)

"I… um… just...cause… um… he's not… um… "

There are no... boyfriends… around me… right now.

What was that about not being able to take the sixteen-year-old out of the woman?

"You know, don't you?" Karma asks, apparently not realizing that having both hands pressing gently against her belly and breathing in that way - hiss hiss whoo hiss hiss whoo - would be enough of a clue for anyone that there's something… amiss. "Dammit, Reagan swore that she wouldn't tell you."

"She didn't," Amy says, taking a quick glance over her shoulder, thinking (hoping) that maybe the mere mention of her name might be just enough Potter-esque magic to make her fiancee appear, but no. She's still off putting the final touches on Glenn's gift. "Karma, I've known you since you were old enough to love things like this, so since while you were still in the womb."

Maybe not her best choice of words, all things considered.

"I may not be the most perceptive person ever," Amy rolls on. "But even I can pick up on clues, even I can see when something's off with you, even I can tell when my best friend in the world -"

"Shane said something, didn't he?"

Amy sighs and drops her head. "He's so loud when he's drunk," she says. "But, in his defense, he did say you were gonna be the hottest and most fashionable baby mama in the history of the baby mama."

Karma tilts her head up, one eye open and Amy knows she's busted. "He so did not, but thanks anyway," she says, "at least someone knows you're supposed to humor the pregnant chick and her delusions."

Yeah, like Amy hasn't spent a lifetime humoring Karma's delusions.

Karma shuffles her way up in the booth, pulling one leg beneath her and leaning her elbows on the table. "Sorry," she says, "I wasn't trying to ruin your party."

Amy bites her lip and counts it down in her head. Three… two… one…

"It's been ten years, Amy, are you ever gonna let that go?" Karma doesn't look at her - she's still staring at the table and will continue to do so until it agrees to stop moving. "It was just one ill-advised kiss -"

"And three very well-advised punches," Amy says, running a comforting hand over the other woman's shoulder. "And a near breakup of my relationship -"

"Emphasis on the near," Karma says. She reaches up and catches Amy's hand in hers, lacing their fingers together and not once does the thought that that might be anything more than it is cross her mind. "I mean, you are marrying her tomorrow, you know. So, if anything, you should probably be thanking me."

She says it with a laugh - which she almost instantly regrets cause the shakes - but Amy doesn't join in. Instead she scoots closer in the booth, wrapping her arm around Karma's shoulder and resting her head against all that red.

"Thank you," she whispers and there's something to it, something in her voice that Karma hasn't heard in… well… years, that makes her turn (slowly) (and not without a small groan) (and she is so gonna punch Shane later) (and like every day for the next six months) and look at Amy.

"I was kidding," she says and she was. Really.

Mostly.

Amy nods. "I know," she says, "but see, here's the thing… all this? This party and these people and this night? None of it happens without you."

Karma would like to argue, she really would. She's even got some very reasonable, very salient points. Like, for instance, while she might have had a little something to do with it - faking it was her plan, after all - there's a way (as in way) more compelling case to be made that none of this happens without Reagan.

Reamy was forever after all. Endgame. OTP. You name it, they were it. Karma couldn't have stopped it even if she'd wanted to.

(She tried, after all.)

"I know we've had our ups and our downs," Amy says. She knows that well. "And I know that I tease you about the party a bit."

"A bit?" Karma asks. "A bit? You bought Liam and I matching boxing gloves for my eighteenth birthday and spent the next month promoting the 'Fight of the Century!'"

Reamy vs. Kiam. Steel Cage. Two teams walk in.

Only the lesbians walk out.

"In my defense, that was Reagan's idea," Amy says. "And also in my defense, I think you'll like your bridesmaid's gift a bit better." Karma smiles (gifts!) but then lays her head back down on the table as another wave of Harvausea washes over her.

And yes, she's ship-naming her urge to vomit now. Humor the pregnant chick, remember?

Amy glances out at the crowd, catching her sister's (the DNA one) eye and nodding once. Lucy scoots out from Jack's table and disappears back toward the kitchen. Amy turns back to Karma, relieved to see she's not paying any attention to her (story of her life, again). "Do you remember when my da… Jack left?"

Karma nods, which only serves to make her head bump against the table and she sits up too fast and oh, she's not just gonna punch Shane. There's gonna be some kicking involved too.

And he better be happy with just the one kid, cause she can't promise he'll be capable of having any more after that.

"When he left, I almost did," Amy says. Karma turns to look at her, but Amy's… well… she's off, somewhere else right then. A look her best friend's seen a few times over the years. "I wanted to," she says. "I wanted to hide under my bed or in my closet and never come out."

Three… two… one…

"And what a loss that would have been to the gay ladies of the world."

Even Harvausea can't keep Karma all the way down.

Amy snorts and shakes her head. "Yeah… one of them, at least," she says. "But I didn't. There was no hiding and there was no closet - not intentionally, anyway - and there was no quitting, no giving up on… everything." She turns to Karma and brushes her hair back from her face. "And that's because there was you."

Over Karma's shoulder, Amy can see the kitchen door. Nothing yet. Which is good, really, as she's got just a little bit left to say.

"Before there was Lauren and before there was Shane and before there was… my mom," she says, "even before there was Reagan. There was you, Karma. There was always you."

Karma lets her head hang, trying her best not to let the tears show cause she knows - after all these years, she knows - if Amy sees her cry, then she's gonna cry and if she sees Amy cry, it will look like the forty days and nights of rain in here in like five minutes flat.

Amy pulls her close, one eye on the door. "There was you and your stupid plans. There was you and your never ending quest for popularity. There was you and your obsession with that Booker boy." Karma pops her head up, a pout on her lips that makes Amy smirk. "And there was you, underneath all that, always being the best friend anyone could have ever hoped or asked for and not for the Shanes or the Liams or the Tommys. Just for me."

OK. Somebody call Noah. We're gonna need an ark up in this bitch.

"I know you've held back with Lucy, Karma," Amy says, squeezing Karma's hand in hers, stifling the head shake and the protests before they even start. "I know you've worried yourself half to death thinking I'd have a problem with it or I'd think you were substituting her for me or that she would think you were."

Can't have the original? Grab the knock off. Can't get a Louis Vuitton? Grab the Luis Vutton.

Ten years ago, Amy wouldn't have thought that was what Karma was doing. She would have known. But, as she's been reminded all day long?

This isn't ten years ago.

"And I know you're terrified of what she's gonna say when she finds out about the baby," Amy says and, really, she doesn't know, but this is Karma she's talking about. She knows. "But my sister… and yeah, that still sounds weird… she loves you. She loves you in all the ways that I wanted to, but I never really could, because that you wasn't for me."

The kitchen door swings open and Amy spots Lucy slipping out, one of Emma's still tiny (but not as tiny as they used to be cause things change) hands clasped in hers. They start for the booth and Amy slides back, putting just a little distance between her and Karma.

How many stories of her life is she gonna run into tonight?

"There was a time, Karma, when I never wanted to let you go. I wanted to keep all of you, all to myself," Amy says. "But that time was then and this is a new time. A new chapter." She leans in, kissing Karma gently on the forehead, as Lucy and Emma reach the booth, standing silently behind her. "And tomorrow, I marry the love of my life. I officially start my new family."

She looks over Karma's shoulder, into the eyes of the sister she didn't know she had but now can't imagine being without. And she knows it's right and she know's it's not really goodbye.

But God, it feels like it.

"And tonight, Karma," she says, gently turning her best friend around. "Tonight, you start yours."

Amy had played this moment out in her head a thousand times, always imagining being there for all of it, for the second Karma would see the daughter (DNA be damned) she thought she'd lost and the love she'd always wanted to find, standing right there, together, as they should be.

But imagination and plans… well... they're funny things and they never work out quite the way you think and when that moment came, when Karma saw Emma and Lucy and they were the only two she could see?

Yeah, Amy couldn't… she just couldn't.

So, she slipped silently from the booth, ignoring the sobs from behind her, the way Karma called for Shane, the way she said those three little words sixteen-year-old Amy would have killed for.

She made it about five feet.

And then there she was, like she was conjured up by some Potter-esque magic. And Amy wasn't at all surprised. "You're here," she said, falling into those arms she knew by heart.

"Of course I am," Reagan said. "You're here. And wherever you are..."

Amy knew the rest.

Story of her life.