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「ζan → ℬell」 ([info]gimmeabell) wrote in [info]valesco_history,
@ 2008-05-07 00:24:00


Previous Entry  Add to memories!  Tell a Friend!  Next Entry
Entry tags:elizabeth fortescue, ian bell

WHO: Liz Fortescue & Ian Bell
WHAT: Liz spills her secret
WHEN: August '78
WHERE: Ian's house
NOTE: Liz → Sean

Liz had been biting at her lip continuously for about three hours at that point. She had a small red spot forming from where she kept chewing and it was beginning to sting a little, but the nervous habit was the only thing keeping her remotely calm. She was sitting in his living room (being able to come and go in his house was very, very nice), waiting for Ian to finish with practice and get home, and bouncing her leg lightly in one place just to keep herself from being overrun by her jitters. She didn’t know how he would react – especially since she had every intention of keeping at who knew how he’d react to that and well… Bugger. She just hoped he wouldn’t care. Hoped he’d be happy, even, but she wasn’t going to push it.

When she heard the door open and close, she nearly jumped up from her seat, her hands clasping together and twisting them around a bit. So this was that now or never moment that she’d heard about so often. She’d never really been put in a place like this before – thank God, that would just be weird. Who got pregnant regularly? Well, sluts maybe, but – Right, off-track, Fortescue.

“Weeeelcome home,” she stretched the word out if only to give herself more time, and it was kind of pathetic. “Have a good practice? I’m sure you did. Are you hungry? I um, brought ice cream from the parlour – it’s in your freezer if you want it and um… Yes. It’s tasty. As always. Promise.”

Avoidance was great.

Despite the fact that he had told Liz that he believed that everything was all right when she had told him so in the journals, Ian wasn't immune to that boyfriend-only sixth sense that could tell trouble through even the most carefully composed words. Well, and she was painfully obvious and hadn't composed her words very well at all, but it was so much more self-gratifying to think that it was his amazing understanding of his girlfriend.

"Thanks," he muttered in response to the ice cream (it was really nice dating Florean Fortescue's daughter some days), throwing his bag down next to the couch. Simultaneously, and strangely resembling said bag, Ian flopped down on the couch next to Liz, putting an arm around her. "And yeah, practice was fabulous, save the part where McLaggen worked us into the ground again... but I'm used to it by now, I suppose--what's up?"

So maybe he had been a little obvious in letting her know that he suspected her, what with the rushed speech that ran straight on into what he really wanted to talk about. It might annoy her (probably would annoy here was better), but did she really think she could fool him anyway? He sure as hell hoped not.

Straight to the point? She’d never been very good at that. Sitting up even straighter, she picked at the hem of her shirt a little, and went back to biting at her lip. She opened her mouth once or twice in a rather pitiful attempt to start the conversation, but everything sounded so stupid before it even came out. She couldn’t do it – she couldn’t, she wouldn’t, she shouldn’t, she—

“Ian, I’m pregnant.”

Well, that wasn’t too hard. Swallowing roughly, she let go of her shirt, turned to face him, and wrinkled her forehead some. She could have waited for a response that would mean being patient, and he should have known by now she wasn’t very patient at all.

“I um… Only a couple of weeks? But… I… I was feeling sick and you now how Dad is about people being sick in the shop so I went through an idea of what I could have and eventually when none of the potions worked it hit me that I might be so… so I took a test thinger and… and well… Well… itsaidwe’rehavingagirlandyes.”

Ian's mouth went dry and he could have sworn that his heart stopped for a full minute as Liz blurted out something that he absolutely hadn't been expecting. Actually, it was the furthest thing from what he'd been expecting... fuck, he didn't know what he had been expecting, but--but Ian, I'm pregnant wasn't it.

His mouth opened and closed a few times, groping in the air for words as Liz blabbered on about... about something, he didn't even hear, he wasn't sure he even cared because dealing with the fact that he was going to be a father--what? A father, oh shit--was the only important thing in his life in this moment. He couldn't deal with taking in any more information and it was like his brain had shut itself off to everything else to keep him sane. Not that he was sane right now, oi no, no he wasn't sane, he was--Liz--and a baby--and--had she said girl? A girl? Oh no, he was supposed to not be listening.

"I... that's..." Ian's hand gripped tightly on the edge of the couch, clenching and unclenching slowly as he tried to think. He couldn't think, he didn't know, he didn't know--fuck, what did he do now? He gulped and looked away from Liz. "That's... oh. Alright--okay. Okay."

"O...kay?" She repeated the word back slowly, wrinkling her forehead a bit, and nodding slowly. Okay. Well, it was better than getting mad, yes? It didn't mean he was happy but she hadn't expected him to be happy, had she? Well, maybe some silly part of her that was clinging to all sorts of ridiculous hopes, but that wasn't her rational side - Liz was a rational person! She didn't get caught up in emotions too heavily, did she?

Well, whether she normally did or not, she was at the moment. She clenched her jaw some, looking at her lap and rubbing one of her eyes with her finger to try and get it to stop tearing up. Oh, this wasn't how it was supposed to go. If they were meant to be together and have kids it was supposed to come after marriage and weeks of trying and a happy celebration afterwards because they were both just so happy to be making a baby but... But this wasn't anything like that, was it? It was far from it, even. Yet she had kept hoping he'd be happy none-the-less.

She could so blame this on hormones.

"You... You don't have to do anything. If you don't want to. I'm not... I'm not going to f... force you or anything." She muttered it quietly, still staring at her lap, going back to twisting the hem of her shirt out of nerves.

Ian sighed, the wibbly quality to Liz's voice turning his attention back to her. "Fuck, I--sorry, I mean... Ugh, Liz, don't cry," he muttered, pushing the heels of his hands against his closed eyes. He couldn't deal with her crying, not when he was about to cry himself. Not... over the baby thing, not over Liz being upset, but... when they were put together with his thoughts turning his brain into a pile of mush, it felt like he was... Fuck, it just felt like such a mess. How could this have happened? They had been drunk, but they were careful, they had had the potion, he remembered, and... This shit didn't happen when you were careful, you didn't end up sitting in your living room with your knocked up girlfriend getting emotional, wishing she would stop because you were trying to stop from being emotional.

Shit shit shit shit shit.

Oi, and now she was talking again, except he was listening this time. He wished he hadn't, because she was spewing utter nonsense, like she thought he wouldn't step up, like she thought he'd just throw her out along with this kid. "I'm not going to bloody not do anything, Liz, what kind of a guy do you take me for?" he asked with a groan, not particularly wanting an answer. "Whatever, I--just tell me what I do, I don't know what I'm supposed to... a girl, you said?"

Liz had promised herself she would not start sobbing, but when he started agreeing to help her, it was - well, she hadn't expected him to just run off, she knew he was better than that, but it was hard to believe when you were stuck in that situation and convinced that everything was just going bad, bad, bad and... well, with all the overwhelming emotions she felt, she started to sniffle more, and tears started to pour more freely down her face. At least she was crying out of happiness.

"Yeah a... a girl..." she said with a sigh, taking a deep breath in hopes of calming down her sudden hormonal rage. She placed her hands on her stomach, rubbing it a bit in hopes that that would somehow help. She gave a light shrug, her eyes still downcast. "I... I just... Need you here? With me. That's all. Nothing fancy. And to put up with me - my mum was a total nightmare when she was pregnant, or so says my dad, and if it's genetic, I'll prob--yeah. Er." There was a giant pause, before she made a decision on what he definitely should not do.

"Just don't propose because of this. Or I'll kill you."



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