Glaukopis: Thank you. 'Be not afraid' (-lmao-) I plan on giving Wilson a decent role...bc I love Wilson. It doesn't get much better than Wilson! Sorry if the 'traces of hcg' was a throw off. My bad.
Ilessthree: Does that happen often? The mouth moving but no words coming out thing? xD ILU. Baha. Anyway! I'm banning you from procrastinating on studying.
...!: I feel like I need some witty acronym to reply to this. Because my name is an acronym, I'll use the B.I.D.N.A.R. part of it. xD
Kirei: She's pregnant. It's not from other things. Feel good things! K? K.
Lessthan13: Haha. I want to do that from now on. Just...eat my homework. ...Keep remembering you Trust me. Ha.
Little: 'Be not afraid'! I have a plan. The hCG is from the pregnancy. No other reason.
Final: I know what I'm doing. I've had this planned since chapt 2. Chase screaming /would/ be nice.
Ilive: Yup. More conflict ftw. Wilson seems like the best to have Cameron trust. He's so adorable. Bahaha.
JB: Heyyy. I know you! -wink- It's not false...or...anything that would make it false. It's positive. Fer realz. It's been 12 days, if I've been counting right.
Miralinda: Yes, she's pregnant. This chapt addresses the father issue.
Esuedros: Finding out by chance would end way too badly.
Enigmatic: ...better keep trusting. xD
Bigblusky: It's not a false alarm.
91: Thank you!
Kills: It's not a false alarm. ...That felt redundant. xD
Eva: Yeah. She needs to start doing some things herself.
Set: Have you ever seen Repo? There's a contest going on on deviantart for ppl to make body parts. I was almost inspired to make an iron heart for it.
Meva: It'd be impossible for it to be her first husbands. She'd had to have gone thru the whole sperm thing and what-not.
Floating: Nothing ever goes in better ways with me...er...most of the time.
Pink: It's not a false alarm. And Remy finding out by accident wouldn't be good.
A fan: ...I feel a lack of trust here...Heh.
Charmed: Thank you!
Nameless: ...All that whining and begging...and all I get is "oh shit"? xDDDD ilu
Shelby: Thank you!
Amazon: ...did you just figure out I'm evil? Ha. No dying. I don't offer insurance!
Katie: Thank you! We need to skype sometime.
Winterfell: Thanks so much for reviewing! Hopefully the wait didn't make you suffer too much!
YDPP: I'm glad you didn't die. I choked on water the other day and nearly did die. Not fun. xP Well, Foreman said Joe was brought to the hospital and Cuddy had him transferred when she heard what happened...explaining how other people know.
Rainbow: Thanks!
Lessthan13: ...I have no comment on this pregnancy sex thing. Lol.
Alexis: Thanks so much!
Once more...trust me on this. I have a plan! K? K. -smile-
Anyway....I got my vid from Olivia! And still melt every time I think about it.
youtube /watch?v=OkHLUmo1rNM
Remy's POV:
The living room is dark when you open your eyes and you're slightly shocked to be alone. If it's nighttime, it's logical Cameron is probably asleep, but you're surprised she didn't just curl up on the couch with you. Sighing, you roll over onto your back and drape your arm across your eyes. Not having Cameron by your side while you're at home makes everything feel off. Instead of enjoying the break from her clingy-ness, the room feels too empty.
Part of you tells yourself to just forget it and go back to sleep. Cameron probably set the alarm and she'll wake you in the morning. The blanket on the couch feels cold compared to the warmth you get from holding her at night though. Not liking the feeling she's making you soft, you quickly tell yourself you should only go back to the bedroom incase she gets scared waking up with you not there. Rubbing your eyes with your thumb and pointer finger, you slowly sit up then get to your feet.
Bothering to turn on the light seems pointless and you try not to run into any of your furniture as you make your way from the couch and back toward the bedroom. Halfway down the hall, the nightlight from the bedroom at least helps you see clear enough that you don't stub your toe on the dresser by the bedroom door for the umpteenth time.
A brief flash of panic nearly makes you freeze up when you notice the bed is empty a second after you walk inside the room. Your heart seems to resume beating and you let out an inaudible sigh of relief when you notice her sitting on the floor. The relief is almost immediately replaced with concern. "Hey," you say quietly, trying not to startle her as you walk over. She's sitting beside the bed with her knees pulled close to her chest. Upon further squinting through the dim light, you realize her cheeks are tearstained and she's clutching tightly to your hoodie. "Why are you in here all alone?"
"If I tell you, you'll be angry," she whispers, not tearing her eyes away from a spot on the wall she's staring at. Despite that her eyes are glazed over and her expression is emotionless as if she's in shock, she hugs your hoodie tighter and buries the lower half of her face against the fabric.
You furrow your brow in confusion and slowly kneel down in front of her, watching her shrink further away from you. She looks so small and fragile that you're not sure you could be mad at her even if you tried. "What makes you think I'll be angry at you?" you ask, wondering what she could have possibly done to get her this worked up.
"You're going to make me go home," she mumbles, her voice cracking. She lifts a shaky hand and rubs at her face as she scoots further away from you and into the corner. She buries her face against your hoodie and her legs and brings her arms up to cover her head like she's trying to hide from you. "Go away," she pleads, her voice barely audible.
"Allison, whatever happened, it can't be that bad," you assure her. There is no way in hell you'd let her go back to her house like this, even if she wanted to leave. Pinching the bridge of your nose, you try to think. At least you got a few hours of sleep, because it seems like it's going to be a long night with her. Sighing, you scoot forward and grab her arm, carefully sliding her across the hardwood floor and away from the wall. "Talk to me."
"I can't," she mumbles, her voice thick with tears. Sniffling, she shakes her head. "You're going to make me go home."
You try not to sound exasperated as you let out a long breath through your mouth. You sit down against the wall and pull her so she's sitting between your legs. You gently force her to move her legs away from her body enough that you can slide your injured arm around the front of her. "What's going on, Allison?" you ask a bit more firmly. It's impossible to tell if she's even paying attention to you while she's covering her face so you gingerly push her arms down. "Did I say something to make you think you have to leave?"
"No," she chokes, shaking her head. She squeezes her eyes shut and tries to look away from you, an ashamed look on her face. Her breaths are starting to come in short, shuddery gasps.
"Then why are you crying?" you ask, pulling her closer. You cradle her head against your shoulder, letting your hand rest on her forehead. "And don't say because I'm going to make to go home, because you're not going anywhere." When she doesn't respond, you move your hand away from her forehead and rest you cheek there, wracking your brain for reasons she could be upset and ways to comfort her. Trying to adjust your injured arm into a more comfortable position, you glance down at her name on your cast. "Allie, Sweetheart, what's wrong? Hmm?" you murmur, trying to keep your voice as soothing as possible.
She sobs quietly and pulls away, inching across the floor until she's sitting slightly beside you. She slowly holds out a fisted hand, the corner of a crumpled sheet of paper barely visible between two of her fingers. "I had Wilson do it," she whispers, glancing at you out of the corner of her eye before immediately looking back down at the floor. Her chin quivers and a new wave of tears fill her eyes.
You tilt your head to the side on confusion and place your palm under her fist for her to drop the paper on. She continues to clutch it so tightly her knuckles have turned white. "Let me see, Allie," you try to convince her, gently prying her fingers away until the ball of paper falls into your hand. You watch her for a moment as she buries her face in her hands and slowly starts swaying herself. You carefully unwrinkle the paper, placing it on your legs and trying to straighten it out with your hand a few times so you can read it.
Whatever you expected, it wasn't the results from a pregnancy test. "Fuck," you hiss under your breath, letting the paper rest on your lap as you stare at it and run your fingers through your hair. You lean your head back against the wall and glance over at her. You're pissed off, but not at her. The only thing you can feel for her right now is pity. She didn't deserve for any of this to happen to her. "You still have options, Allison."
"I don't want your options," she whispers, furiously shaking her head. "Life is precious."
"It's not a life yet," you answer, exasperated and overwhelmed. "You can't keep it."
"Don't make me get rid of it," she pleads, curling her arms up over her head again. "I won't be able to live with myself, Remy," she cries. "I can barely live with myself now."
"It's your choice," you answer. It's not like you can make a choice like that for her or force her to do anything. "How are you going to live with yourself with a kid though? Every morning, you're going to wake up and you're going to see it and you're going to remember what happened. Do you want that the rest of your life? You'll get over getting rid of it, Allison. It's tissue. It's not alive yet."
"How can you say that?" she whispers, lifting her head and glaring at you through her tears. "It's a baby, Remy."
"It's your egg, his sperm, and cells," you reply, looking down at the paper. "That's not a baby." Staring down at the assumed time of conception, you furrow your brow in confusion. "How long have to been here?"
"What?" she whispers, wiping at her eyes. With a shuddery breath, she closes her eyes and rubs her face. "I don't know," she mumbles, her voice still breaking. "About two weeks."
You rub your face, your hand muffling a string of colorful words. "It's not his," you murmur, tossing the paper back to her. "Look at the date, Allison."
She stares at you for a moment before slowly picking up the piece of paper. Her eyes widen as she notices for apparently the first time the part that says she's about four weeks along. "Oh god," she breathes, a mixture of relief and new fear in her expression. "That means it's Chase's." Tears start spilling down her face again and she lets the paper fall to the floor then runs her fingers through her hair. "We used protection," she whispers, hugging her knees closer and burying her face against your hoodie again.
You run a hand through your hair then push yourself to your feet. Putting your hand out in front of you, you brace yourself against the wall and try to think. You can hear her sobbing behind you, but you're unsure whether to comfort her or not. Now that you know it's Chase's, that means it's partially her fault, and you're pissed off at her carelessness. Whatever they used as protection, it wasn't enough. "Fuck!" You pull back then slam your fist hard against the wall.
Cameron shuffles back into the corner. "I told you you'd be angry!" she chokes, hugging her knees tighter. "Now you're going to make me go home…"
"What am I supposed to do?" you explode, your fear coming out in a burst of anger. You turn to face her, throwing your hands in the air. "I like you Allison, but I don't know if I like you that much." You regret the words as soon as they escape your lips. It terror and the reality she's going to have a kid talking. You like her a lot more than you've ever liked anyone.
"What am I supposed to do?" she whispers weakly. "R-Remy, I love you. Please, don't make me get rid of it." She shakes her head, shrinking back further against the wall. "I'm scared. What do I do?"
Tilting your head up, you close your eyes tightly and let your hand rest on your forehead. You need time to think and to process things. Not that it will help. No matter how much you think, she's still going to be pregnant. You didn't sign up for a kid, and you sure as hell didn't sign up for Chase's kid. Maybe Chase was right anyway. Unable to get your thoughts in a straight line, you drop your hand back down to your side and tilt your head down to look at her. "Get a new charity case that actually likes kids," you reply flatly.
"Remy, please!" Cameron cries.
You don't wait around to hear the rest of it. You're beginning to wish you never woke up. Turning, you walk from the room and back to the couch then curl up with your back to the living room.
Batman jumps up onto the bottom of the couch, then inches up beside you on his belly. He wags his tail against the cushion a few times then rolls over onto his back and begins wiggling.
Even though Cameron hadn't cheated on you and it wasn't all her fault, you feel almost betrayed by her. Biting back tears as you realize whatever you had will never amount to anything now, you slowly reach over and stroke the dog's soft stomach. "Everything is so fucked up," you whisper, pulling him closer and burying your face against his fur. "What did I get myself into?" You squeeze your eyes shut tightly, willing yourself to go back to sleep so for a few hours, you can pretend the last few weeks have just been one giant nightmare.
Your chin begins to tremble and you get disgusted at yourself for feeling something. You don't want it to sink in that she's pregnant and your relationship is over. You want to pretend like it never started. You slowly get up again and walk clumsily toward the kitchen, squinting through your blurry vision. Despite that Cameron has been in your medicine cabinet, the Ecstasy is exactly where you left it. You're shocked she hasn't put it through the garbage disposal, but maybe she kept it there to prove to herself she could trust you.
You grab the pills and look them over for a moment, debating on what you want to do. Anything is better than giving in to tears. You wipe at your eyes with your arm and tighten your grip on the bag containing the pills. As much as you need to take time to think, you don't want to think. Lower lip trembling against your will, you walk to the door and let yourself out, making sure it's shut behind you.
The walk to Rebecca's apartment seems to take longer than it usually does. It's like in the movies when the hallway continuously just keeps getting longer and the door gets further as you walk toward it. You're not sure whether this is revenge because you feel betrayed or whether you just need to stop caring and have someone care about you. You finally reach the door and knock loudly.
For a moment there's silence but you soon hear Rebecca shuffling toward the door. She opens it and squints at you through lidded eyes. "What are you doing here?" she murmurs, her voice think with sleep. Her gaze shifts to your hand and she sighs. "Remy, you have a-"
"I don't have a fucking girlfriend," you cut her off sharply. You take a step forward and push her further into the apartment then kick the door shut behind you. "Get high with me," you murmur, brushing your lips against hers as you back her up toward the wall.
"You're not thinking straight, Remy," Rebecca murmurs but kisses you anyway. She allows herself to be shoved against the wall. She grabs the bag from your hand, fumbling to get it open.
You rest your uncasted hand on her chest, pulling at the buttons on her pajama top for a moment. It's impossible to get them open fast enough with just one hand. Growling in frustration, you tug hard at the front of her shirt and tear the buttons right off, ignoring the frustrated look she gives you as she pulls away. She tosses two pills in her mouth then lets the bag fall to the ground.
As she kisses you again and you feel one of the pills being passed from her mouth to yours. You're too eager for it to take effect. Swallowing the pill, you shakily work on getting her shirt off then toss it in a random direction.
Rebecca rests her hand on your side then slowly trails it up so it's on your shoulder. She pauses and feels you shaking for a moment before immediately taking control. "I'm going to fuck you senseless," you mumbles, turning and pushing you roughly against the wall.
The moment you begin having second thoughts, the pill slowly begins to take over and you're lost in your perfect world where nothing painful exists.