Lifeline
Fandom: Alias
Pairing: Weiss/Nadia
Rating: PG
Spoilers: Up to the end of season four, blink and you’ll miss a tiny one for season five.
Word Count: 1,020
Summary: Eric’s never lied to her.
The sensation startles her, though she supposes she should be used to it by now. She’ll be doing something like washing the dishes, or doing the shopping, or doing nothing like she is now, just watching mindless television, when she feels it. First comes a flutter deep inside her belly, almost as if the tiny occupant is waking up, becoming aware of its surroundings. Then wriggling, like its trying to get comfortable, and not having a very easy job of it. Then finally a kick, the first in a series, as if someone is trying to make their presence felt, as if she could forget that she’s six months pregnant and big as a house.
She shifts slightly on the couch, trying to get comfortable, running her hand over her stomach, feeling a healthy kick in return. She must smile, or make some kind of face, because a hand that’s not her own joins in the party, resting on her stomach just underneath her own hand, and he’s part curious, part envious when he speaks. “Harry’s busy again, huh?”
She resists, barely, the urge to roll her eyes, turns to look at him, mock irritation fading when she sees the smile on his face. “Eric,” she chides, and that’s all she needs to say.
“What?” His face is all innocence, as if he knows what she’s going to say, and he should, because they’ve had this conversation more times than she can remember. “Harry’s a perfectly good name…”
“We are not calling this child Harry,” she says firmly, and he opens his mouth to reply, stopped when there’s another kick right where his hand is. He feels it; she can see it in his eyes, in the way his smile broadens even further, and her heart swells at the sight. This has been all she’s wanted all her life, a home, a family, a place where she truly belongs.
She’s never been this happy in her life, and she knows that in three months, she should have everything her heart has ever desired.
She’s just so afraid that it won’t turn out that way.
“That’s my boy,” he says, patting her stomach proudly, and has the grace to look abashed when she arches an eyebrow and stares at him.
“Or girl,” she reminds him, and he inclines his head.
“Or girl,” he allows, before muttering, “You look way too like your mother when you do that.” It’s a teasing comment, one that makes her laugh, and he takes his opportunity to continue his train of thought. “Seriously, Harry’s a great name… it works for either a boy or a girl… it’s an old family name…” Another raised eyebrow look reminds him just how spurious she considers that particular link.
“Stage name,” she corrects, and he shrugs.
“Appropriate though,” he says. “After all we’ve been through to get here… you should be glad I’m not suggesting Houdini.”
He’s still teasing, and she knows that he’s right, knows he’s trying to get her to smile. Because this baby has survived what Eric calls an ass-kicking fight during the mission to rescue her mother in Guatemala, not to mention her being beaten up and zombified by Rambaldi worshippers, then fighting to the almost-death with Sydney before being left in a coma for three months. She could have – should have – miscarried on any of those three occasions, but Harry – and she’s going to kill Eric for making her think like that – is made of strong stuff, and every day she grows a little larger, a little more uncomfortable, and, God help her, a little more hopeful.
She’s seen too much over the last year and a half to believe that her life can run smoothly, that she can escape the clutches of Rambaldi and prophecy, though she thinks sometimes that she might be a little more confident if it weren’t for the fact that she and Sydney, inextricably linked in the manuscripts, are both pregnant at the same time.
Coincidence Eric tells her, and she wants to believe he’s right. She wants to, but she’s still afraid.
“Eric,” she whispers now. “What if-?”
That’s as far as she gets before he shakes
his head. “No what-ifs,” he says, leaning forward to brush his lips over hers.
“Harry is going to be fine…we’re going to have a normal life, away from
“And
She’s so close to believing him, closer
still to tears, and he cups her face with one hand, drawing her closer to him.
“Especially
When he breaks the kiss, she buries her head in the crook of his neck, closes her eyes and whispers, “Thank you.” Ever since she came out of her coma, he’s been by her side, holding her hands, soothing her fears as best he can, refusing to let her go through this alone, even though, in her darkest times, she’s told him that he should run far away from her, find a nice girl, live a quiet, normal life. He’s never even entertained the thought though, has calmly taken everything she’s thrown at him – sometimes literally – and accepted it, moving away from Los Angeles with her, cutting all ties with their former life, not decorating the nursery at her request, nor buying any baby clothes or equipment lest it be tempting fate. He’s been there for her every step of the way, and she can’t imagine what she’d do without him.
He chuckles against her hair. “No need,” he tells her quietly. Then, even more quietly come the three words she’s come to regard as her lifeline. “I love you.”
She smiles as peace envelopes her. “I love you too,” she tells him, letting all the what-ifs and maybes vanish from her mind.
After all, Eric’s the only man in her life who’s never lied to her, so it’s easy to believe he’s not doing it now.