Title: Words in the English Language
Author: PITAchic or Megan, whichever you prefer.
Rating: PG
Summary: M/S. Short fic. "We need to talk." Those have to be some of the most dreaded words in the English language.
Disclaimer: I don't own anything, because if I did, I wouldn't be working a crappy ass job at the movie theater with a bunch of sluts.
Spoilers: Sometime after the 10/7 episode (I don't know the name, sorry).
Author's Note: This is my very first Without a Trace fic (and my first fic in months), so please review and let me know what you think. If you guys like it, I might write a sequel. Oh, and sorry about the sucky title, but I couldn't think of anything better. Luv ya all!
"We need to talk."
Those have to be some of the most dreaded words in the English language. I inhale sharply, afraid of what's to come next. She tries to send me a small smile, but fails miserably, and ends up just nodding at her couch; A silent invitation to sit down. I'm trying not to shake as I take a seat, and I watch her carefully as she sits down next to me.
I always knew this day would come. She's always loved Jack, and when he didn't leave for Chicago with his family, it was the perfect opportunity for them to rebuild whatever they once had. I'm actually surprised that this moment didn't come sooner. What we have is a fling to her. It's much more to me, even though we've only been dating for about five months now. I guess I've always felt deeply about her. When she invited me to share a cab with her, well, that had to be the best night of my life. And now, it's over.
I stiffen, bracing myself for whatever words are going to come stumbling out of her mouth next.
"Do you remember the Melissa Grady, or rather, Lillian Dillard case? With the abortion clinic bombing?"
I frown, not understanding where this was coming from. What did this have to do with us breaking up?
"Yeah, I do."
"Do you remember when we posed as a couple wanting an abortion?"
"Sam, I really don't understand."
"Just listen to me, Martin," she says softly, with a touch of force that shuts me right up.
I nod, feeling more confused by the second.
"The woman at the front desk asked me if I'd ever been pregnant before."
I feel my heart drop, remembering her answer. I remember being shocked, then remembering we were playing a role. I still always wondered why she said yes though, and it's come up in my thoughts before. I never have had the nerve to ask her, both because I don't want to push her, and because I don't think I want to know the truth.
"You said yes, but you said you didn't have any children," I respond, trying to keep my voice from cracking and making a fool of myself.
"I was telling the truth."
I knew that was coming. I try to find something to say, something to do, but I'm frozen in place.
She continues, either despite or because my silence, though I'm not sure which.
"When I was 19, I got pregnant. My boyfriend at the time booked as soon as he found out, of course. I didn't want the baby. I was convinced it had caused the guy I loved to leave. I thought it was the reason for all my problems. I went to an abortion clinic, at least three times, but I never could go through with it. I decided to at least give it up for adoption, hoping that during my pregnancy my ex-boyfriend would realize he'd made a mistake and come back to us.
"As the days passed, then the weeks and months, I started to hate myself, as well as my baby. At five months, I passed out at a friends house. I was rushed to the hospital, but it was too late. I gave birth to a stillborn baby boy. Something had gone wrong, and the doctors told me I'd never be able to have anymore children. I remember lying in a bed in some cold hospital room, thinking God was punishing me because I didn't love my baby. I really did though. Even if I never showed it."
A tear escapes and trickles down her face, and I am finally able to move as I brush it away.
"I'm so sorry you had to go through that, Sam. I really am."
She nods as she seems to regain some of her composure.
"I know you're probably wondering why I'm telling you this now."
"The thought did cross my mind."
"Martin, I'm-- I'm pregnant."
That was not the answer I was expecting. I feel like I've been punched in the stomach, as the wind seems to be knocked out of me. I suddenly feel really hot, and my head is spinning with confusion.
"I thought the doctors said...," I trail off, trying to think clearly.
"Doctors can be wrong, especially since it was so long ago," she registers my shock, and I can tell she thinks I'm upset.
"Sam--"
"Martin, I don't want you to feel pressured to stay with me," she says, cutting me off.
"But Sam--"
"I'll be fine on my own, but I'm having this baby."
"Sam, can I--"
"I want to prove this time that I want my baby."
"Sam, will you at least--"
"There are plenty of single mothers out there, we'll be fine."
Unable to take it anymore, I grab her by the waist and pull her onto my lap, silencing her by planting my lips on hers. She responds immediately, relaxing as she wraps her arms around my neck. I pull away after a few moments, looking into her eyes.
"I want to be in this baby's life, Sam, but more importantly, I want to be in your life. I love you," I whisper, pushing a strand of hair that has fallen in her eyes behind her ear.
"You do?" she asks gently, looking like she's in both shock and disbelief that I'm not already out of the state by now.
"I have for a long time, Samantha. And I want this baby just as much as you do. We created a miracle, Sam."
"I was so afraid you'd leave me," she says, resting her forehead on mine.
"Never in a million years."
She kisses me then, more passionately than the kiss only moments before, but pulls away for a second to murmur in my ear before we make it to the bedroom.
"I love you too, Martin."
Those have to be some of the most wonderful words in the English language.
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