A.N.: Okay, I threw this together after watching the episode where Kyle's dad died (can't remember the title or the air date); it just took me a while to post. I also wrote it in less than ten minutes, so don't expect it to be wonderful. Review anyway!
"The Problem With Amy"
Capable.
Self-possessed.
Rational.
Bruce Van Exel was all of these things.
He was also in love…and therefore a liar.
Surprising, wasn't it? Anyone who had known Bruce for more than five minutes also knew he was one of the most honest individuals on the face of the planet. Moral to a fault, was Bruce. He was the type of person who would rather lose everything he had than deceive anyone, especially anyone who really mattered to him. And yet, for countless months now, he'd been deceiving the one person—besides his daughter, of course—that he cared for the most.
It wasn't that he didn't trust Amy. He did, of course he did. She'd stuck by him longer than anyone else, supported him without question and without judgment. He'd learned, after all their years together, that she would never turn her back on him no matter what happened. She was loyal beyond anything he could have expected her to be, and it was only natural that he trust her with everything that he was.
Problem was, he couldn't trust her with this. He couldn't tell her how much she meant to him, couldn't tell her how difficult it was to push her from his mind. He couldn't tell her that she was literally always in his thoughts, that he would have given his life and so much more just to make her happy.
He couldn't tell her that he loved her.
And he did love her. He could admit it to himself, at least, even if he couldn't be honest with her. She'd wheedled her way into his heart before he could find a way to defend himself, because he could realize how dangerous she might be. She was like an ache that wouldn't go away, an addiction he didn't even want to conquer. He loved her more than he'd ever loved anyone—again, with the possible exception of his daughter—and he didn't think he could change that, didn't think he could even make himself want to change that. She was everything to him, his reason for getting up in the mornings, his motivation to become the best man he could possibly be. She was just…everything.
But he couldn't tell her. He was too afraid—afraid of how she might react if she knew that he loved her, afraid that she wouldn't return his affection and then she'd take back her friendship for fear of leading him on and making him suffer. He was afraid that she would reject him, and that was why he didn't tell her.
He also knew they didn't have a chance in hell of staying together, even if she did accept what he offered. Amy didn't know what she was looking for, in her partner, and it was inevitable that she'd eventually decide he wasn't it, and leave him just as she'd left all those other men. She would be happy for a while, would be content with him, but she wouldn't stay. She'd move on, still looking for the one person who could complete her and take all of her problems away. That person didn't exist, of course, but Bruce didn't think Amy would ever realize that. She didn't understand that love only eases the problems, sometimes makes them worse but never makes them disappear completely. She didn't understand, and that was precisely why he couldn't tell her how he felt. She'd move on, no matter how happy he made her at first, but he never would, and he wasn't willing to have his heart broken like that again.
It was hard for him, not to tell her the truth. Every time he saw her, every time he looked in her eyes, he had to actively force himself not to confess. It was hard, but he couldn't exactly walk away from her, either. He'd already tried to distance himself from Amy, and he'd ended up just making himself miserable. He needed her too much. Even if she never saw him as anything more than a friend, he'd already realized that the only way to keep even a fraction of his sanity was to stay with her for as long as she would let him.
Of course, there were times when he almost lost control—today, for instance, when he'd gone to their office and found Amy inside. She'd been sitting on her couch, elbow propped on her knee and chin cupped in her hand. Her eyes had been riveted on the papers she was studying, and while he immediately noticed the exhaustion tightening her mouth, he'd thought that she'd never looked more beautiful. He'd frozen slightly in his tracks, helpless to keep his eyes from drifting over her lovely features, her slim body. She'd piled her dark hair on top of her head, exposing the graceful neck he loved so much. God, she was stunning...
He'd recovered quickly, of course, leaning against the wall, knowing he shouldn't have risked coming to her domain but still unable to take his eyes from her. "I thought you left," he said, spouting off the only coherent thought in his head.
She sent a small, tired smile in his direction, and he almost stopped breathing. "Almost." She sighed, the smile fading as she began to gather up the books and documents before her. "Judge Rose pigeonholed me in the stairwell," she explained, "pleaded for some help on this memorandum that's due tomorrow." She stood, moving slowly after sitting too long in one position, and a note of bitterness entered her voice. "Besides," she added frankly, dropping the documents on her cluttered desk, "there's not much pulling me home right now. Lauren's with her dad, and, uh, my mother's having race issues with her boyfriend, if you can believe that."
Actually, he couldn't. Race had never seemed like such an issue to the Gray family, but he locked onto the idea to keep himself from dwelling on Amy's beautiful face. At least it gave them something…not so dangerous to talk about. "Well, race is important," he retorted, hoping she'd start an argument so he could distract himself.
She didn't, but she also didn't just drop the subject. "Doesn't seem like it should be," she observed quietly, still rifling through one of Judge Rose's files.
It was as good an opening as any. "And yet, there it is."
His voice had hardened a little in spite of himself, and she paused, turning to look at him, surprised by the sudden sharpness of his words. "So…so what's the answer? Everybody just stick to their own kind?"
She seemed genuinely baffled, as though she'd never considered the matter before. Knowing her, she probably hadn't, at least not seriously. "Well, I don't know if I have any pearls of wisdom to share," he answered, the harshness gone from his tone, smiling a little at how easy it was to talk to her sometimes. "I do know that honoring my race informs my personal life."
She was also smiling, but she looked confused, and she stepped closer, genuinely trying to understand what he was saying. "So, um, if, for example, you were drawn to a white woman…that would be a problem for you?" Her eyes had darkened, as though she finally realized just how personal this question might be, and his heart skipped another beat. Did she know how he felt about her? Or was this an honest question, having more to do with her mother than with either Bruce or Amy herself? No, he suddenly decided. She didn't know how he felt. He'd been too careful, these past years, to let her see. She might be fishing for reasons other than her mother—she wasn't oblivious to the possibilities of a relationship with her X.O., after all, even if she'd never seriously considered acting on it—but that was all it was.
No, he answered silently, not if it was you… "Yes."
"Even if you were in love?" she persisted, sounding a little shocked. Judge or not, he mused, she was still so naïve. When was she going to let go of these little girl's fantasies about love conquering all? He'd have thought, from all she'd seen in her career or in her personal life, that she'd have gotten past expecting Prince Charming.
How little she understood, he mused tiredly. Would she laugh, if she knew that he was, in fact, drawn to her, in love with her? He knew she wouldn't see it as a simple case of a black man being intensely attracted to a white woman, but just as a man wanting a woman, period. It didn't matter to Amy if he was white or black or purple and polka-dotted. It would only matter that he cared about her, that he saw her as more than just his best friend. And that was another problem, because he wasn't going to be just another one of her men. She meant too much to him, and he'd already decided to throw her off by making her think he was a little bit of a racist. He wanted her to think he wouldn't want her because she was white rather than because he thought he couldn't keep her. "A lot of black men see white woman as a trophy," he told her gravely, "and trade up as soon as they get the chance, usually leaving an abandoned black woman in their wake." That part, at least, was true enough, even if it didn't really have any relevance to them as a couple. Bruce wasn't leaving any black women behind; his ex-wife certainly didn't count.
She couldn't quite grasp any of that. "Doesn't love trump all?" She sounded desperate, as though this was something she needed to believe for her own sake, something she needed him to tell her was true no matter how much it wasn't.
He chuckled, still amused by her innocence. "Yeah," he retorted, "in fairy tales and bad movies."
She wasn't smiling now, even looking a little sad, so he quickly added, "You live out your convictions in the choices you make. For me, I just…I believe in black families, that's all." I believe that you'll leave me…
She moved away, apparently deciding this was too much for her. "Oh, well," she shrugged, looking disappointed. "If Ignacio thinks the same way, that's the end of my mother's current happiness. Although, one would wonder why he led her on this long." She snorted. "God, it's amazing any two people ever get together at all, you know? It's like demolition derby out there. Everybody just smashing into each other, then puttying over the damage, making sure the wheels are still on, until they smash into somebody else."
Her voice took on a hysterical edge, as she realized he already knew she wasn't talking about her mother anymore, as she realized what she sounded like. "Oh, I know, I know!" she almost shouted, sounding hurt and angry and betrayed all at once. Sounding…broken, almost, and Bruce tensed inside, barely registering that he was already walking towards her. Some part of him had realized that she needed comfort more than he needed to keep his distance from her, and he had never been able to deny her.
She saw that he was coming closer, saw the careful concern on his face, and she threw up her hands to stop him, not wanting his pity. "I know how this looks," she snapped as he continued to walk towards her, undeterred. "Man leaves, woman cries. It's not that. It's--" She reached up to scratch the back of her head with nervous fingers, clearly hedging, trying to find an excuse for the way she was behaving. "Why, I—I had an uncle that died a couple of days ago, and I was—I was really close with him, you know? I mean, well, not for a long time, but I--" She stopped, knowing she wasn't fooling him.
He was only inches away from her now, close enough to hear how ragged her breathing was, close enough to see the pain in her eyes even though she was looking anywhere but at him. "Amy," he began quietly, trying to find something that would soothe her, something that would help her deal with whatever was really bothering her. "You don't need a reason." You don't need a reason to cry, to lose control. Haven't you realized yet that you don't need to be strong, with me?
The tension broke inside her, with that, the walls crumbling down. Her expression sagged with relief, some of the pain leaving her eyes and the corners of her lips lifting in a grateful, if faint, smile. She fell into his waiting and open arms, pressing her face into his chest, breathing deeply as he wrapped his arms around her and held her close, as he buried his face in her hair.
Just like I don't need a reason to love you…