A/N: How's this for a quick update? (: I just sort of had to write all this down, so... here it is. As a side effect, however, this chapter was done on the fly... please alert me to any mistakes I made. Thanks!

Chapter Fifteen:

My Heart Has Grown, But it's Broken Too

"I just don't believe it!" Seaweed's tone was definitely less skeptical than angry.

"It's true," Penny said bitterly as she flipped a piece of French toast over in a pan. "He just left." She had called Seaweed a couple of hours ago and told him what had happened with Tracy. He had told one of the other dance teachers to cover for him and come over right away; he was currently sitting on the sofa, trying to keep his voice down so Tracy wouldn't hear him while she was in the shower.

"Where did he go?"

"We don't know."

"How long till he's back?"

"We, ah, don't know… But he's going to call her when he finds a place to stay for a little while." For Tracy's sake, she wasn't even going to consider that Link might be gone for more than "a little while".

"And when will he find a place to stay?"

Penny winced. "We don't know that either." She flipped the French toast out of the pan and onto a plate with five more slices on it, put the plate on the table next to the bacon, and went to sit next to Seaweed on the couch. He put his arm around her, and she put her head on his shoulder, exhausted.

"Seaweed?"

"Mm-hm?"

"If we were married, and I was… how Tracy is… you wouldn't… leave like this, would you?"

Seaweed pulled away and looked at her. "Penny, of course I wouldn't. I thought you trusted me enough to know that."

Penny guiltily hugged him. She hadn't meant to hurt him. "I do." She buried her face in his chest. "But Tracy trusted Link, too."

He embraced her in return. They both knew that, while neither of them were going to say anything, they were thinking of Penny's father, who had run off just like Link when she was eight: still young enough not have really understood what happened, but old enough to remember bits and pieces of him.

I want this baby to grow up with a father, she thought.

Just then, Tracy came out of the bathroom with her hair dripping. Penny and Seaweed apologetically sprang apart. Seeing us together… what must that do to her? Penny thought.

Tracy showed no signs of grief. She immediately went to the breakfast table and poured half a bottle of maple syrup over two pieces of French toast.

Penny inwardly sighed with relief and discreetly motioned to Seaweed that they should join Tracy at the table.

They ate in silence for a few minutes. Inevitably, though, Tracy ran for the bathroom three-quarters of the way through her toast. Penny was sure that she was being sick, but wasn't quite sure what to do about it.

"Should we help her?" she asked Seaweed hesitantly.

"Yeah—you go hold her hair back, and I'll unfold the sofa bed. You got any saltine crackers?"

Penny stood there with her mouth open for a moment. "Um, if I have them, they're in the third cabinet to the left when you face the refrigerator." She started to go help Tracy, but paused. "How do you know all this?"

"My dad died before Inez was born," he said matter-of-factly while digging through the cabinet. "I helped Momma out a lot when she got sick like this. It'll go away in a couple hours."

"Okay." Penny kept walking towards the bathroom, but then stopped again. "Do you remember him at all?"

He sighed impatiently. "No, not really. Go help her."

"Right. Sorry." As she went into the bathroom to assist Tracy, she had to wonder if he, with no memories of his father, wasn't better off than her, with memories of a father who didn't want her.

TRACY'S POV

Tracy lay on the sofa bed pretending to sleep while Penny and Seaweed worried about her in the kitchen. They didn't know that she could hear every anxious and angry word they said—not in anger at each other, but in anger at…

Link. She forced herself to think his name, and it broke her heart.

She tried to think. Did I do anything except get pregnant? She snorted, which probably startled Penny and Seaweed. He can't possibly think that that's not at least partly his doing…

Maybe he's not thinking about me at all.

She surprised herself with that thought, but inwardly admitted that it was probably true. This is all about him.

Her eyes snapped open. If none of this is about me… then why am I moping?

She sat up quickly in the bed and asked loudly to no one in particular, "What time is it?" Seaweed and Penny looked shocked. It struck Tracy that this was the first time she had spoken all day.

"It's, um, about eleven thirty," Penny stammered, obviously flabbergasted.

"Oh," Tracy said pleasantly. "Guess I'd better go get ready."

"Ready for what?" Penny asked.

"My appointment, silly! You know, at the O.B.? Did you forget?"

"No," Penny said, still looking a little thrown. "No, I remember. I'll get my coat."

"Good idea," Tracy chimed cheerfully, "it's getting nippy out." She went to get her own coat out of her suitcase. She was going to be strong and happy if it killed her. Who knew? Maybe eventually she'd get so used to faking happiness that it would somehow become real.

I can do this, she thought. I've got Penny, and Seaweed, and I'm going to be just fine. I don't need… She gulped and forced herself to think his name again. Link. I don't. I can do this on my own.

Tracy went to bed that night feeling particularly satisfied. She had gone to the doctor, and the baby was healthy; she had actually gotten to listen to its heartbeat, and that had made her feel indescribably joyful. Really. It hadn't just been an act.

Now, though, lying on the sofa bed and staring at the ceiling, things looked less hopeful. She reached under her pillow for the letter and read it again.

Why am I keeping this? she asked herself as she read it for the fiftieth time. It certainly wasn't making her feel any better—not even the last note at the end.

Suddenly it occurred to her: How can he love me if he doesn't love all of me? She ran her fingers over her belly. That includes this little guy—or girl—too, doesn't it? So if he doesn't love him—or her—then…

Then he doesn't love me.

She cried herself to sleep.