Hi guys! Sorry for the delay in this chapter. Last week was my birthday, and thanks for all for the great wishes! Here is the next bit, hope you all enjoy it, and as always, please let me know what you think!
In her dream, Tess was standing in the bathroom of her childhood home. She was surrounded by the pale blue walls and tasteful, monogrammed towels that her mother had seen in the pages of a home decor magazine and just had to have. It was the perfect bathroom in the perfect house in her perfect childhood. She hated that bathroom. Her dream self was clad in the soft, feminine, matching pajamas she had been raised to believe were the only sleep options, but her reflection was completely different.
Even though it was a dream, Tess was horrified to see the reflection in the mirror. Her face was pale and dirty, exhaustion written all over if, as if she hadn't slept in days. That wasn't half as startling as the bruises and dried blood that decorated her cheeks. The clothes that the reflection wore matched the ones from the worst point in Tess's life, the clothes she had worn while being held in captivity, waiting for her own death. Even Dream Tess wanted to look away, but she didn't.
Her reflection was trying to tell her something, that much was obvious, and Dream Tess kept her eyes glued to the damaged woman in the mirror. A look of urgency was clear on the reflection's face, and her words were grave. She kept urging Tess to wake up, to please, please hurry and wake up before she missed it. The reflections pleas were confusing, because Tess could not for the life of her figure out what she might miss by not waking up.
Finally, the reflection began to cry. Deep, gasping sobs wracked her body, and her words were nearly unintelligible. This disturbed Tess deeply, because even in her dreams, she was NOT a crier. It bothered her to see any version of herself so deeply upset and so obviously wounded. Through the sobs, all Dream Tess could make out were the words, "wake up". It was so startling, the details so clear, that Tess did not want to listen; did not want to wake up. That was her face covered in blood and black and blue and tears, and even though she knew it wasn't real, she didn't want to leave her alone.
The decision was taken out of her hands by movement that jarred her immediately from sleep. She kept her eyes closed even as her heart practically stopped, her breath catching in her lungs. She couldn't think of why on earth somebody would be close to her, moving around in her bed. It took a moment of frozen fear for the rest of her senses to catch up with her. It was the smell that finally allowed her to start breathing again; the smell of sunshine and cinnamon and cigarettes that could only belong to Kozik.
Of course that brought up a whole new set of concerns. What on Earth was Kozik doing in bed next to her? Her tongue still tasted of scotch, but could she really have been so drunk last night to have done….something about the feelings that had held steady in her heart since the first time she met him? The were blurry images and half-memories hiding in the corners of her brain, but she couldn't remember clearly what had happened last night.
She couldn't think on it too long, because quite suddenly, a wave of nausea hit her, hard. It could have been the residual effects of the alcohol, or it could have been the strange dream, but regardless of the cause, Tess couldn't lay still with her eyes closed, pretending to sleep, while she pondered her current situation. The puke was coming, and it was coming quickly, and it she didn't get moving immediately, it was coming all over her bedroom.
Like a flash, she darted out of bed and made for the door in the dark. A split second later, she smacked loudly into a wall.
"SON OF A BEAST!" Tess screamed, hand held to her aching forehead. "God damned mother fucking cock sucker!"
"Tess?" Kozik spoke up from the bed, sleep hanging all over his tone. "What's wrong?"
"Oh God," Tess groaned, willing herself to think. She realized relatively quickly that she was not, in fact, in her own room, but instead she was in his. Regardless of what room she was currently in, she needed to get to the bathroom, now. She made a beeline across the room towards the actual door and into the bathroom.
She made it just in time for the content of her stomach to hit the toilet. Her knees pressed into the cold bathroom floor and her arms hugged porcelain. Tess couldn't help but marvel at the shit storm her life had become. She was so far removed from pristine, pale blue bathrooms with monogrammed towels that she was surprised her subconscious could even recall it. If only her prim and proper mother could see her now.
It was nearly nine o'clock before the sunlight streaming into his bedroom window woke Chibs. He wondered why he had never noticed how absolutely useless his curtains were, but then again, he rarely slept so late. The fact that he was still in bed at such an hour surprised him. The fact that his wife was stretched out next to him, sound asleep, surprised him even more. He wouldn't complain about it; not even for a second. To Chibs, there was no better sight in the world than to see his wife sleeping next to him in their bed. He had gone a long time without this particular sight, and he was determined to take advantage of each and every morning offered to him.
Under the quilt, his hand found its way to her waist, silently willing her to move closer. She complied without ever knowing it, and he held her close, inhaling her scent. He was used to being surrounded by the smell of cigarettes and motor oil and leather and whiskey. Fiona always smelled liked apples; had for as long as he had known her. It didn't take a genius to realize what smell he preferred.
"Too early," Fiona murmured, snuggling deeper into his arms. "Not waking up yet."
He chuckled in response and rested his head back on the pillow. "Doesn't the fact that you're talking indicated that you're already awake, Love?"
"No," she grumbled insistently. "I'm sleeping."
"If you insist," came his intelligent reply. He pressed a kiss to her temple and extracted himself from her embrace. "I'll make the tea so it'll be ready whenever you decide to be awake."
"Love you," she breathed through a yawn as he climbed out of bed.
"Love you more," he argued, pulling on a shirt and heading towards the cradle that had been set up near the closet, away from the window. As best as he could remember, Rory had woken twice in the night for food and nappy changes. Chibs figured that the wee boy would begin fussing for something else soon, and he may as well take him and allow Fiona some extra sleep, a favor he would be happy to trade on later.
"Good morning, my wee boy," he said stretching his tired, achy muscles. "Do you care to-"
His question was cut off instantly when he finally glanced into the cradle. It was empty. No baby, no blanket, no stuffed bear. It was just empty. He had been the one to lay Rory down at 4:30 this morning, after his last bottle, and thought it had been sixteen years since he and Fiona had had an infant in the house, he knew for a fact that they didn't get up and walk away, which meant that they definitely had a fucking problem.
Fiona was already snoring from the bed, and Chibs figured that there was no sense in waking her up in a panic. He quietly made his way back to the bedside table and removed the gun he kept there.
Two doors down the hallway was Kerrianne's room. With one kid already unaccounted for, there was no way in hell he was going to walk by her door without checking in on her. Panic settled in his chest when he found her room empty as well. The bedcovers were crumpled and skewed, so she most definitely had been there, but the question of where she, and Rory, were now nagged at him.
As he passed through the kitchen, heading towards the front door, a noise distracted him. It was coming from the living room, so Chibs clicked off the safety and changed course. He wasn't exactly sure what he was expecting to find when he arrived in the living room, but what he saw stopped him in his tracks.
Kerrianne was curled up in his favorite arm chair, wrapped in a quilt. The television was on and some show about teenage werewolves or something similar played muted on the screen, but Kerrianne paid it no mind. Rory was settled in her arms, sharing her blanket, and she held the bottle carefully in her hand as she fed him, softly encouraging him to eat up, so that he could grow big and strong.
He watched them for a moment, wondering why it had never occurred to him that Kerrianne having the baby was even a possibility. He took a few seconds to revel in relief at the fact that both of them were safe and sound. He felt the weight of the gun in his hand, and clicked the safety back on, which unfortunately alerted Kerrianne to his presence in the room.
"Jesus Da!" she whisper-yelled as she turned to face him, desperate not to disturb the peaceful baby. "Why the hell do you have a gun?"
"Rory was gone," he explained softly, lamely hiding the gun behind his back. "You weren't in your room. I didn't know where you'd gone and I thought-"
"You thought that we had been abducted by some crazed people, desperate for revenge," she rolled her eyes. "I get it. But put the gun away! You shouldn't have guns around babies."
"Aye, I get it," he told her, turning away to return the gun, hoping like hell that his wife never found out about this.
"Hey Da?" she asked, causing him to turn back around. "How do I look?"
"What do you mean how do you look?" he replied, confusion coloring his tone. "You look the same as always."
"No," she shook her head. "I mean...do I look like a big sister?"
Her question was honest and her eyes stared up at him, searching for approval the same way she had as a toddler learning to walk. For a long time, she had been his little girl, his only baby, his heart. Now, she shared it with another, and he couldn't believe how much he loved them; both of them. Looking at his little girl, he realized very starkly how grown up she was. She look like a 'big sister' in every way. "Aye, you really do."
She grinned up at him. "Good. That's really good. You know, I've always wanted a brother."
"You have?" he asked, surprised. He was learning new things about his daughter every day.
"Yeah, I have," she nodded. "Never said anything, though. When I was about eight or nine, Ma asked what I wanted for Christmas. I told her that I wanted a new baby brother. I was little and I had no idea about where babies came from or what was actually going on in our lives. Ma started crying. She was so sad. She told me that I needed to wish for something else, because a baby was never, ever going to happen. I was so mad at her, even though she was crying. I didn't understand why she wouldn't let me have a brother. I thought she was just being mean." Kerrianne was quiet for a moment. "I eventually understood when I got older; she would never have had a baby with Jimmy, not ever. She is the best mother in the world, and for a long time, I was sad that I was the only kid that would ever get to realize that. But now...now Rory is here. I have my little brother, and I have Ma, and I have you. We are a family, and I don't even care about leaving Ireland or our house burning down or anything like that. How could I care? Look at us, now. Look at all we've got." She breathed in and smiled up at him, eyes shining. "I guess what I'm trying to say is...I am happy. Really, really happy."
The flood of information from his daughter threw him for a moment. It wasn't like her to be so forthcoming. He could wholeheartedly agree with her assessment of the situation.
"Me too, Baby," he told her, leaning down and pressing a kiss to the top of her head. "Me too."
Opie woke up to the smell of bacon and pancakes, if he wasn't mistaken. The fact that Lila was in bed next to him, plus the shrill screeches of laughter coming from the kitchen, told him that Ellie and the boys were handling making breakfast. Part of his brain told him that he should probably get up and go make sure they weren't setting the house on fire, but another part of him was perfectly content right where he was.
"You know that they are probably making a huge mess right now, don't you?" Lila spoke up when she noticed that he was awake. She leaned up on one elbow and pressed her lips to his, slow and lingering. "Good morning."
"They usually do," he shrugged half-heartedly, his mind less on the kids and more on the kiss. "They're kids. It's what they're good at."
"At least Ellie is responsible and will probably clean it up," Lila reasoned. "She is such a great kid, Op."
"She always has been," he told her. Donna had always said that she was glad that, between the two of them, they had managed to create a perfect little girl.
"The boys on the other hand…" Lila trailed off. "I think that it will be a very long time before we can call either of them responsible."
Opie laughed. He wasn't sure where his next words came from. Maybe it was the fact that he was thinking of how much he had missed when his children were babies. Maybe it was the fact that his Old Lady did porn, and he hated it. Maybe it was any one of a number of reasons, but once the words were out, they made perfect sense to him. "I think we should have another little girl."
Lila sat straight up in bed next to him, her eyes focused on him. "You think what?"
He smirked up at her. "I think we should have a baby. A little girl."
"A baby," she whispered, falling back to the bed beside him. "A baby. I don't know, Op! If we had a baby, I wouldn't be able to work anymore. And how would we handle four kids?"
"Like we handle three, I guess," he shrugged. "And I am bringing in plenty with the Club and the garage. I can take care of this family. You don't need to work."
She didn't want to tell him that working was what she wanted to do. Porn was not the conventional career choice for many, but it gave her an income and had taken care of her and Piper for years. It allowed her some stability and some control in her own life, and she didn't want to give that up. She loved Opie, she loved the kids, but she was hesitant to relinquish what had basically been her life for years.
"A little girl," Opie said again, grabbing her attention. "She would look like you. Blonde hair and big eyes. We'd make a gorgeous kid."
He had a point about that, but it was too much to consider right now. He didn't seem willing to give her much time to think about it, though, as he pulled her close, lips descending on hers, hand slipping into the back of her panties. Clearly, he intended to get started on this baby business right away.
The high pitched wail of the smoke detector sounded through the house, as if some deity on high had her back. Opie groaned.
"Oh no!" she heard Kenny cry. "Ellie! What do we do!?"
She broke the kiss and climbed out of bed, pulling her robe off the rack. "Sorry Op. Hope that you are in the mood for burnt bacon this morning."
Tess splashed water over her face and avoided even looking in the mirror as she rinsed off her toothbrush. The immense amount of vomit has been quite a rude awakening this morning, and she swore to herself she would never drink again. On second thought, she thought of the fact that she still had very little idea of what had happened last night and why she had woken up next to Kozik this morning and realized that maybe a drink would be good right about now.
She swished some mouthwash around in her mouth, desperate to get rid of the taste, but also desperate to delay having to face the inevitable that waited for her outside the bathroom. She knew that they would need to have a conversation, and she could only guess as to how that would go. She would be a liar if she said that there wasn't a small part of her that was terrified that he would be gone when she came out of the bathroom, even though it was his own house they were in.
She spit the mouthwash down the sink and wiped her face and mouth with the hand towel. Taking a deep breath, she raised her eyes to the mirror and took herself in. With the dull hair and deep under eye circles, plus the still evident wounds on her head, she bore a striking similarity to her dream reflection. That thought made her turn away from the mirror, suddenly eager to get as far away from the bathroom as she possibly could.
The smell of coffee greeted her outside the bathroom door, and her eyebrows knit together. Had Kozik actually gotten up? Had he made coffee? She hadn't expected that, since he usually had the sleeping and cooking habits of a teenage boy, but her nose was no liar. Somebody had definitely made coffee, and she was desperate for a cup of it.
She found him in the kitchen, clad only in a pair of old sweats, pouring coffee into their preferred cups. She had insisted on bringing her tried and true, chipped blue coffee mug with a picture of a cartoon puppy from her own apartment. He was partial to his favorite cup, decorated with surf boards and a topless redhead. Even though it was him making the coffee and not her, the fact that they kept their small, simple coffee cup ritual alive this morning made it seem like just another day, and that comforted her.
"Hey," was all she could come up with to say.
"Hey," he replied with a smile, picking up her cup and handing it to her. "I, uh, I made coffee. Thought you might need some. You know that I am not great at coffee, so I hope it's okay."
"It's perfect," she replied after a single, savoring sip. "Really. It's great. I think you should take over coffee making duty."
"I don't know about that," he muttered, looking down. He stayed quiet for a long moment until it felt awkward. "I was going to make you breakfast. I didn't know how you would feel after...well, after that. Sometimes, when I am hungover, I just really want a big, greasy breakfast, but some people don't like that. I wasn't sure what you would want, and I really suck at cooking, so I just decided to wait and see."
"Yeah, thanks," she said, grimacing at the thought of having to clean a kitchen that Kozik cooked in.
"We can go get something, if you want," he spoke up. "There is this really good diner nearby, and they have blueberry pancakes."
"Coffee is good for now," she told him, honestly. She was incredibly hungry, and the idea of blueberry pancakes make her mouth water, but she needed to talk to him, and if a conversation didn't happen now, it might never happen. "Look, can we sit? There are some...holes in my memory from last night, and I was hoping you could help fill them in."
He pulled out a chair at the tiny table and allowed her to sit down before sinking into the other one. "I figured you would want to talk about it."
"First off, how much did I drink last night?" she wondered, sort of in awe of herself. It had been a very long time since she had been that drunk.
"I actually don't know," he told her. "You weren't drinking with me. You were with Maeve, I think."
A memory sparked in her mind, and she could picture it; sitting across from the girl drinking shot after shot and hearing her make comments that had induced rage. "Remind me to never drink with the Irish, ever again."
"Yeah, I should have warned you about that," he grinned.
The awkward crept up on her again as she prepared to ask what she needed to know. "So, um, well. This morning, I woke up. In your bed. Did….did something...what happened, Koz?"
"Nothing," he was quick to say, the look in his eyes steely. "Nothing happened last night, You were drunk and I wouldn't do that." She raised a skeptical eyebrow at him. "I wouldn't do that to you."
She breathed a sigh of relief. "So how did I end up…?"
"In bed with me?" he finished for her. She nodded and he continued. "Listen. I am going to tell you exactly what happened. You probably won't like it, but I won't lie to you and pretend it was nothing."
He recounted exactly what he remembered from the night before, and she felt herself grow smaller and smaller in her seat. By the time he was done, she was surprised he could still see her at all.
She buried her head in her hands and groaned. "In front of everybody? I just walked up and kissed you?"
"Yep," he nodded. "It was a good kiss, too."
"I have to quit," she declared. "Wait, no, I can't call them and tell them I quit. You have to quit for me. I can't go back there."
He rolled his eyes. "You're not quitting. Trust me, that Clubhouse has seen much worse that a kiss. You are going to be fine."
He had a point there, but she couldn't believe what she had done. She had let her emotions, her lust, her jealousy at Maeve's words get the best of her, and she had given them all a show. She was embarrassed about that, of course she was, but there was another feeling that overpowered her embarrassment. Curiosity won out.
"Why did nothing else happen?" she asked aloud, surprising him. He looked confused at her. "Why didn't you try to sleep with me last night? You said you wouldn't do that...to me. What makes me different than any other girl?"
He shook his head slowly, his eyes never leaving hers. "Do I need to say it? Don't you know, Tess?"
"Don't I know what?" she asked, feeling the seriousness and tension in the room.
"Don't you know that you are different; different than all of them? Don't you know that you are special?" he told her.
"I'm not special," she disagreed, eyes looking down. His hand on her face caused her eyes to raise again.
"Yes. You. Are." he told her, firmly. "With any other girl in the entire world, I wouldn't have hesitated. I would have taken every opportunity to get them drunk and fuck them whenever, wherever I could. And I won't lie; I thought about it. I want you Tess. But you….you aren't like every other girl in the world."
"I'm not?" she wondered, stupidly.
"No, you're not," he shook his head. "Look, I have been a one night only guy for a very long time. Most of my life. I don't even know if I believe in love. But I know that if I was ever going to love anybody, it's you."
"Me?" she asked, unable to believe what she was hearing. His words weren't excessively romantic, and it would never be what school girls dreamed of, but to her, they were perfect. They were what she had wanted to hear for a very long time.
"You," he confirmed. "I have tried to shake it off, I have tried to convince myself that we are just friends, but it hasn't worked. I care about you Tess. I might even love you, once I decided for sure if I believe in it or not. You have been through a lot, too much, because of me, but I think you feel it too. If you need time, it's yours. If you need space, you've got it. But I'm not going anywhere, Tess, no matter how many times you drunkenly kiss me or puke all over my bathroom."
She was blown away. This man, this maddening, infuriating man who drove her eight kinds of crazy was basically coming as close as he ever did to saying that he loved her. She knew that she should be smart about it. He was willing to give her time to decide and process. Right now, she didn't need time. She didn't need space. Right now, she had everything she needed. She had coffee, and most importantly, she had him.
Tess stood from the table and took a short step to stand right in front of him, she bent at the waist and saddled him with a kiss that she hoped made last night's seem tame. She let her lips linger lazily as she kissed him. She could taste the coffee on his tongue. After a moment she broke the kiss and stood straight again before she walked away.
"Wh-where are you going?" he asked, dazed.
"To get dressed," she smirked over her shoulder. "You're taking me for blueberry pancakes."