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At seven o'clock sharp the next morning, Wilson knocked on Becca's door. There was no sign of life, so he rang the bell. Then he knocked again. Three minutes later Becca appeared in the same clothes she was wearing last night, her hair all messed up, and lipstick smeared outside the confines of her lips.

She squinted at him in the morning light as she opened the door fully and let him in. "What are you doing here at this ungodly hour?" she mumbled.

Wilson took in his surroundings. The house was all done in a crème and gold color scheme. The grand staircase in the middle of the back of the entrance way was done in marble. The carpeting in the side rooms was lavish and the furniture looked expensive. He knew that she came from money, but not this much money. Wilson was surprised.

"What?" he finally said.

She rubbed her face. "Shh. Use your inside voice."

He laughed. "Hung over?"

"Yeah. And you woke me up." She pointed to the couch in the formal living room and instructed him to sit while she went into the kitchen on the other side of the staircase and grabbed a water bottle out of the stainless steel refrigerator. "Want something to drink?" she yelled out to him.

"No, thanks."

Becca came in and plopped down next to him on the sofa. She was too tired and her head hurt too much to hold it up, so she moved and laid her head in his lap, flinging her ankles over the arm of the couch. She took a few sips and then swallowed. "Your legs are soft…like a pillow."

"Um, thanks?"

She laughed a little. "Do you ever just think that we're really stupid? 'We' as in people in general. We have no idea about anything we're doing. We make decisions on the fly and they're always the wrong ones."

"Not really, but it makes sense."

"See, like why didn't you want to have sex with me in the back of my car that night? Because you were afraid it was going to ruin your reputation? You were afraid someone would know we're sleeping together? Wrong decision. We could have done it; nothing would have been any different than it's going to be in a few months. Everyone's going to know."

"About that…" he said.

"Yes?"

He looked down at her face. "I'm going to level with you. I have a bunch of questions that I want to ask you but I don't think it's right to just blurt them out, blurt any of them out."

"This whole thing isn't right," she reminded him. "Just ask me. It'll make you feel better."

"Do you know how far along you are?"

"Two months."

"So when was that? The first time?"

She shook her head. "Too early. Probably the second."

"Are you mad at me? For not using protection?"

Becca took his hand. "Right now, I'm not looking to point fingers. Yeah, you could have. Or I could have said something. Or I could have stopped it all together. Or you could have. It's irrelevant really. Coulda shoulda woulda – didn't."

"Yeah," he mumbled. "So, so now what?"

"What do you mean now what?"

"Are you keeping it?"

Now it was getting serious. She sat up and took a swig of her water. "I want to know what you think first before I tell you."

He smiled. This was so like her to toy with him before doing anything. "Well, there's adoption and abortion, right?" She nodded. "I don't think I could live with myself knowing that I had a kid somewhere out there in the world and not know where it was or what it was doing. It wouldn't be right."

"And?"

"And abortion is bad. I don't know how you mentally recover from doing something like that. I don't know how safe it is, either. I'd be afraid for you." He sighed. "Now what do you think?"

"More or less the same as you." She picked up his hand. "I've thought about this a lot, before I ever met you and now after I found out. The whole teen sex thing is a crapshoot. It's good, but not good for you. Anyway, I want to keep it. I'm not a murderer or a quitter." She seemed to feel strongly about that, and that was the response Wilson was looking for, so he didn't really speak any more on it.

"Do you think we can raise a baby together?"

"Possibly. But you're a good guy. I have faith in you. You'll always be here when I need you." She paused. "Actually, I was happy that it was with you. Out of all the guys I've been with, you seem to have it together the best out of all of them."

"I'll take that as a compliment."

"…So?"

He wasn't following. "So…what?"

"So you forgot one."

"One what?"

She laughed. "One question."

"How did you know?"

She just smirked. "I know lots of stuff."

"Fine. So who and when are we telling?"

That was exactly the question she was thinking he'd forgot. "Well, my parents hate me so you can do whatever you want with yours and we can never tell mine."

"You've said that before- that you're parents hate you. Why do you think that?"

"Um, because they do. It's…" she strained her head to read the grandfather clock in the corner of the room, "7:09 on a Saturday morning. Where are my parents? I have no idea. Do they know where I am? No. Better question- do they care? No."

"Why don't they care about you?"

"Because they're bad parents?" she asked in a mock question. "Who knows. I blame Stephanie."

Wilson was more confused than ever. "Who's Stephanie?"

"My sister." She seemed shocked. "I never told you about her?" He shook his head. "Oh. Well she's twenty. She's a junior in college. She goes to U Penn. Steph had her heart set on Berkeley, but she didn't get in. I don't know why, though. She's a genius. Anyway, my parents used to at least be around when she was younger. They never cared much, but at least they were visible. When she was in ninth grade they found out that she was doing cocaine. Or she did it. Once. And she hung around with people who did it." Wilson seemed shocked, so Becca tried to play it down a little bit. "We're rich kids living in a rich community going to a rich school. That's just what happens." He seemed to understand, so she continued. "So they went completely ballistic on her and they had this huge falling out and they barely spoke until she went off to college. She left and she hasn't been back since. Not for Christmas or Thanksgiving- nothing."

"That's awful."

"Yeah."

"So what does that have to do with you?"

"When she gave up on them, they gave up on her. And me. She raised me from fifth through eighth grade- until I realized that we had money and went through my whole 'I'm a crazy teenager' phase which I am still not fully out of. We were so close. But she didn't get accepted to any schools here so she had to go to school on the East Coast. It was either University of Pennsylvania or Duke."

"Does she still talk to you?"

"A little bit. She'll call on my birthday and maybe one other time during the year." She turned away from him and then turned back. "You're an only child, right?"

"Yup."

"Do your parents care about you? I notice they're never home either."

"My dad cares, and so does my mom. I just don't think they know how to deal with me. I haven't done anything wrong, besides this, but they just decided I was too much to handle so they've taken a step back lately. My dad cares, he's just busy. And my mom's dealing with her mother being sick, so that's pretty much all she has energy for. I kind of feel like I'm getting the short end of the stick."

She nodded. "If you feel that way, you probably are."

He nodded in agreement. "I have to tell them though. They'll be devastated, but I have to tell them."

"Do you think they'll be there for you?"

Wilson didn't even have to think about it "Yes. Definitely."

Becca smiled faintly. "That's the difference between you and me. I'm sure mine wouldn't give a damn."

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A/N: Is this all just that morning at Becca's house? Yeah. This whole chapter was just a cop-out. I didn't really know how to get all of this stuff out in the open, what they wanted to do about being pregnant now, so I just smushed it all into one long conversation. I don't really think it worked. Oh well.

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Hey, if you did a ship name for Wilson/Becca, you'd get Wicca. Hahaha. Review.

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