Till death do us part
(c) 2023 by ihatemilk
_October 2015
Of course, the damn phone started ringing as soon as she left it on the kitchen counter and headed to the bathroom. Well, she would call back; her bladder didn't give second chances, not with the baby pressing on it.
It was Sean.
Not that she could tell by the sound – she had one universal ringtone that came with the phone when she first turned it on – which Gabrielle had used to find hilarious for some reason, bringing it up every now and then to piss her off – and gods, she would give everything to hear it now.
"Xena, you've had this phone for months and you've never even once changed the default ringtone."
"So?"
Gabrielle laughed out helplessly. "It's practical, too – you could personalize your ringtones to know who's calling—"
"I know who's calling when I look at the screen."
"Okay, this conversation has just run its course," Gabrielle laughed, "I give up."
Not thinking what she was doing, she found herself holding the phone and staring at Gabrielle's number, about to tap the receiver icon and stopping herself just milliseconds before. But the tears she couldn't stop.
She flinched when the phone rang in her hand.
"Yep?"
"…and she picked up, for once."
"Hi, Sean."
"Yeah… no… I'm just calling, 'cause we would never talk otherwise."
"Sorry, been flooded with work."
"Yeah, yeah — you're not the only one that has a job, you know?"
"If you're trying to get me to feel shitty and guilty, you just did."
"How's you, sis? Tell me something."
"Good," she said, resting her elbows on the bar countertop, staring pensively at the familiar set of skyscrapers drowning in the blinding, midday, desert sun.
There was a long sigh on the other side; but she knew he was smiling, and she grinned, too.
"Exactly the elaborate answer I expected. I can hear you smile, by the way," he said, making her chuckle.
"How's being a dad treating you?" she asked, heading to the bedroom closet. She dragged out a pair of black sweats and a black tank-top from the bottom drawers, putting the phone on speaker and tossing it on the bed.
"Oh, very funny – by the way, amidst all the praises of parenthood, none of you a-holes remembered to mention that sleeping more than three hours in a row would become a thing of the past."
"Depends on a kid. You're just unlucky."
"Oh yeah? Laugh all you want, we'll see how your future kids turn out."
She froze, holding her breath. In fact, there was no reason she couldn't tell him. She probably should.
"Annie? You still there?"
"Yep."
"Was it wrong for me to say what I said?"
"It's fine. I look forward to having one, actually."
"Oh… that's damn great!" Sean said, and paused, surely to think how to phrase what she knew he was going to ask, in a way that wouldn't piss her off. "You seeing anyone?"
"I guess you can say that," she said, a warm rush spreading over her stomach. Did her heartbeat just go up at the very thought of him, seriously? Gods, this was bad. And damn Sean, of course he could read her like an open book; he was just like Gabrielle that way.
"I'm guessing this is serious, from the sound of it," he threaded carefully, the smile evident in his voice. Stupidly, she could feel her heartbeat thudding in her ears now.
"Sean..."
"Oh dear, so it is serious."
"Anything else you wanna know while you're at it, Sean?"
"Geez, fine, sorry to be interested in my sister's life…" he sighed with exasperation, making her grin.
"I'm happy to resume the conversation when you stop sulking."
"Are you… trying for a baby?"
"Sean…" she said with a warning, failing to wipe the smile off her face.
"Oh my God, you are…"
"Look, I gotta go, so if there's anything else—"
"Of course you do. Have I ever told you how much you piss me off?"
"Not that I recall, no. Didn't you once say it's what siblings are for?"
"When am I gonna see you? You in town for Thanksgivings? Of course not – who am I asking…"
"No. Will call you once I'm back."
"Oh yeah, sure you will – and of course, your current location is a state secret, correct?"
"I do like it how well you know me."
"Oh, just remembered – ran into an old acquaintance the other day, turns out she knows you – asked to send regards."
"In Oman?"
"New York."
"What's the name?"
"Julia Anderson."
"Not familiar." The name didn't ring a bell per se, but for some reason put her on alert instantly. "Who's she?" she asked, right before a wave of heat flooded her face when the dots connected, his following answer clearing all the little doubt that remained.
"Defense attaché – in London, I think."
Her jaw tensed so hard it sent a tingle up to her temples. "How do you know her?"
There was silence, silent hesitation. He fucked her, gods no…
"Sean?"
"I don't really know her that well, we had a brief run-in at the North Delegate's Lounge, three years ago or so. Haven't seen her since – and ran into her there the other day."
"What does she look like?"
"Short, green eyes, curly red hair – she's hard to miss, really."
"Must have not made an impression if I don't remember her." She swallowed with clenched teeth, taking a long breath as quietly as she could. "What did she say?"
"Nothing, just asked how you were, asked to say hi."
"Thanks, Sean – really gotta go now."
"Sure. And keep in touch, for heaven's sake."
"I will."
She tapped on the red receiver, left the phone on the counter and headed for the sofa as the sudden fatigue overcame her.
The annoying tension in her chest was still there when he came back an hour later, even when she melted into his embrace when he kissed her.
"You okay?" he kissed her forehead, running his hand through her hair, massaging the back of her scalp, making the pleasant tingle run down her back. "What's wrong?" he asked softly, melting down a big part of the grudge that made her chest heavy. She wanted to tell him, but the very sound of that name made her sick – and this reaction annoyed the hell out of her on its own. She freed herself from his embrace, walking towards the kitchen; it was time for a cup of melissa herbal tea.
"My brother called. Passed me regards from your girlfriend," she said, turning on the kettle.
"What?"
"They apparently know each other."
"Xena, I—"
"Are you still in touch with her?"
"No."
"She must be missing you, then," she stated casually, turning back to see his reaction. She didn't like it; the deep frown, clenched teeth, the worry etched on his face. And most of all, she didn't like it that he was probably lying and assuming she would buy it. Lying didn't surprise her, but taking her for an idiot triggered her in all the wrong places.
"That's her problem," he said.
"It'd better not become mine," she said, looking around for her gun belt; Dubai was safer than most places in the world, but she never left home unarmed. Having eventually found it on one of the sofa cushions – which took a while, both items being black – she put the belt on, taking her time to adjust it, pushing it further down her belly, feeling his eyes on her as she did.
"Where're you going?"
"For a walk," she said, slipping the gun into the waistband holster which she then covered with her top; conceal carry was mandatory here but as a civilian she always chose it anyway, even in open carry states.
Passing him on her way out, she threw him a glare, challenging him to stop her, but he just stood there, fuming.
Having closed the door behind her, she could hear his roar – which had to be pretty high volume if it got past the door as soundproof as this.
In other circumstances, it would make her smirk, maybe.
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