Destiny, Compromised

Chapter 12

Disclaimer: No ownage of the Sailor Moonage.

When Ami glanced up from her steaming cup of tea, Darien's face seemed utterly unperturbed. He just kept his eyes fixed on her, with a small smile playing on his lips. A tear brimmed over Ami's eyelid and slid down the length of her cheek when Darien reached over and brushed it aside with the pad of his thumb.

"Did you hear me?" she asked, knowing she had muttered her astonishing news.

He nodded silently, allowing his hand to continue cupping her powdered cheek. "What are you going to do?" he finally asked.

"What do you mean?" she retorted.

"I mean—you're not going to get an abortion, are you?" He frowned.

"Why would I arrange to tell you this if I were going to just end the pregnancy?"

"I don't know."

With the tips of his fingers he stroked the side of her face before he grinned and shook his head.

"What?" she demanded angrily. "What is the matter with you?! I'm pregnant!"

"Don't you see?!" he laughed. He scooted his chair even closer; the scraping sounds came even louder across the floor. "This is it! We can be together—we can make a life together!"

She pulled away, shoving his hand down. He dropped it onto the table, but it stayed close to hers, which was still flattened on the plastic table surface. "What are you talking about?"

"Ami," he said more seriously, grasping her hand. She did not snatch it away. "I want to do the right thing—the responsible thing." Smiling again, he squeezed her fingers.

Her eyes were wide and uncomprehending. "I don't understand. What is 'the right thing'?"

His smile once again transformed into an outright grin. "I want to marry you. We could have a life together—we could raise our baby together. We could forge our own destiny."

"Get married?" she repeated dumbly. He nodded.

For a long moment everything in her ears was buzzing. Even the clear sound of the live guitar was all hazy to her. She surveyed the café, expecting to clear her head as it swung back and forth. Darien's gaze was fixed on her, but she could not bring herself to look at him.

"Darien, you don't even know me," she said flatly.

With his thumb and forefinger he took her chin and directed her face toward his. "I don't know you? I know you are painfully shy, even after someone takes the time to get to know you—I know that you pretend that your mom is your hero, when you would have much rather had her home with you your whole life than out there saving people. I know that you are only becoming a doctor to win her approval and because you feel as though you are in too deep to back out. I know that you paint watercolors and then auction them off for children's charities. I know that you take things quietly without complaining. I know that it bothers you when our friends blow off your incredible knowledge and abilities because they find all your random knowledge useless or boring. I know that you always dump at least four sugar packets into your tea because you don't like the taste of tea unless it's very sweet. I know you love music, and wished you had more time to go to local concerts. If it weren't so crowded, you would hang out at this place every weekend. I know that you sometimes hole up in your room for hours to read new novels, and you get very disgruntled if you're ever disturbed. I know you, Ami. And I know you know me."

Ami grasped his hand and turned it over so the palm was facing the ceiling. She traced the lines there and then tickled his fingers. "I had a crush on you for a long time."

"…And now that crush has turned to love," he said matter-of-factly.

"I didn't say that," she said through gritted teeth as she reached for her tea again, this time pairing it with the cookie.

"You didn't have to," he whispered.

Sighing, she leaned against him. She rested her chin on his shoulder, and he tilted his head so that the side of it was resting against the crown of her head. When she reached for her tea, he straightened up but kept his arm wrapped around her. Absently she grasped the string on the teabag and dunked the bag a few times before setting it aside on a napkin. She tore open one more sugar packet and dumped it in. Gently she swirled the contents of the cup, trying to mix it evenly, and then took a tentative sip.

Clearing his throat to ease the tension of the silence between them, Darien reached for his tea. There was only one small brown packet of sugar remaining, but this he left on the tabletop in case Ami decided her tea wasn't sweet enough. He arched his back to stretch his broad chest. It suddenly made him feel the more manly, knowing that Ami was carrying his baby. He didn't know if it had anything to do with God or spirits or evolutionary instinct, but recognizing that in some way, his line would carry on made him feel strong. Like he could take on the world. After finishing his stretch, he drained his plain tea in a draught.

Unexpectedly, Ami nudged him. "Hey," she said.

"Hey," he responded.

She looked up at him through her eyelashes. "We had fun together, didn't we—that weekend when it happened?"

While she munched her cookie, he nodded. "Yeah. We had fun. It was almost like—like we were an ordinary couple. Going out on dates." He tilted his head as he remembered.

Fingering the rim of her empty cup, Ami released a forlorn breath. "If we didn't know the future, the past wouldn't matter so much. You can always let go of the past."

He stood up and gathered the rubbish from off the table, including the insulated cardboard cup she was fiddling with. Shuffling over to the trashcan, he dumped the contents inside and returned to the table where Ami was once again tracing the small cracks with the tip of her fingernail.

Darien grasped the back of her chair and bent over her shoulder. "Let's try a new idea—let's focus on the present," he suggested.

Sadly she smiled before she eased out of the chair. The nausea had definitely eased, and she was hungry. As she stood up, she murmured, "Come back to my apartment with me."

With the faintest nod, he gave his assent. They made a subtle exit from the café and walked without speaking down the length of the block toward Ami's apartment. As they mounted the stairs toward her floor, Darien automatically placed his hand in the small of her back, as though he would protect her from falling and injuring herself. Feeling his touch, she glanced over her shoulder at him in surprise, though she did not pull away. In fact, she felt her heart begin to pound a little harder than it was already doing.

When they reached her apartment, she fumbled with the key for a few seconds before jamming it in the lock. They filed inside, and Ami flipped on the lights. They both removed their shoes and placed them beside the door before she hurried into the kitchen. This apartment's kitchen was separated from the living area by a white wrap-around bar, which Darien approached and folded his arms over it as she reached inside the cupboard. When she turned around again, she was holding the neck of a bottle of wine in one hand and a glass in the other.

"Would you like a glass of wine?" she asked, placing both on the countertop.

"Certainly," he replied, "but what about you?"

"Pregnant," she answered flatly.

"Right."

Carefully she poured out his glass and handed it to him by the stem. He accepted gratefully and raised the glass to her before taking a sip. After smiling at him, she stood on her tiptoes to rummage through the clutter on top of the refrigerator.

"What are you doing?" he chuckled.

"I'm looking for the saltine crackers—I know they're up here somewhere," she groaned as she tried to leap.

Shaking his head, Darien said, "Oh, you and Serena both—you are so short, you can never get to anything!"

He set down his glass and started striding toward her. She turned around quickly and waved her hand. "No, no—it's fine! Drink your wine."

Cocking his head, he watched her drag over a step stool. As she stepped up and found the crackers—at the very back, mind you—he sniffed the wine. It was cheap, but satisfying enough on a jarring night like this. Both Ami's sweater and shirt had been so pulled by her reaching that it revealed a triangular patch of skin, including part of her hip. The breath stuck in his throat. He remembered what it was like to hold that hip as he—

He shook his head violently. When his vision stopped blurring, he saw Ami standing by the sink, munching crackers. The look of sheer relief on her face was almost comical. Darien leaned over the bar, standing in between the stools there, and continued sipping his wine.

"So, tell me about this Zach," he said, trying to sound nonchalant.

Brushing away a few crumbs, she said thoughtfully, "Well… we have gone out on a few dates, but we are both pretty shy. He hasn't kissed me yet. We have held hands, though, if that counts for something."

"Hm," Darien said noncommittally, though he sounded irritated.

When he had done with the wine, she took the glass and set it in the sink before packing away the crackers. Before she could do anything else, he strolled around the edge of the bar and joined her beside the sink. After slipping his arms around her waist, he bowed his head to kiss her neck.

"Don't start that," she protested, though she did not pull away.

His fingertips crept underneath the hem of her sweater and in a flash he had swept it off her and dropped it atop the kitchen mat.

"It doesn't matter anymore," he said against her ear. "We already made a baby together."

She tilted her head back to look into his face. Then she kissed him willingly, arousing him even more. Slowly she drew him to her bedroom, clicking the lock shut after them—just in case. Darien undressed her slowly, as if he feared damaging her or their precious baby growing within. They made love with the same slow fervor in a desperate hope that they could slow the pace of time, which seemed to be launching them mercilessly into the future with every passing moment.

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