it'stooLATEtomakeyouMINE [Mystic]

[drake fitzgerald minor III]

And we’re not gonna live forever
Can you tell me, is it now or never
And I’m not gonna make up your mind.

Drake had been through a lot of stressful experiences during his time in the military. Hell, dealing with thirty seven-year-olds for five days a week was stressful, too. But all of that was a completely different category of freaking out than this was. Something was wrong with Mystic. That wasn't the sort of thing Drake had mentally prepared himself for on any level. Granted, she'd never been the incredibly tough, hardy sort of girl one played rough punching games with, but she wasn't really a delicate flower, either, not so far as Drake could remember. Emotionally, she held up pretty well. That was evidenced by the fact that she was sane right now. Drake would have probably spiraled into depression had he thought Mystic were dead. The thought of it made him want to be sick, honestly, so he didn't think about it. But right now, it seemed that something was wrong with her.

He didn't immediately assume she was dying, of course. He wasn't that morbid. But as he helped her out of the pool, and she collapsed, unconscious, he realized this wasn't a simple...whatever. Bolting from the little enclosure, hopping desperately into his pants as he ran out onto the path, he came across a couple jogging. "Call 911!" he yelled, and they, thankfully, complied, as he pulled on his shoes, leaving his socks behind, hardly even noticing the horrible feeling of cold wet feet inside of loafers. It wasn't important right now. What was important was Mystic, and how the hell he was going to get her to the ambulance when they were a quarter mile from the road.

Fortunately, the paramedics were quite adept, and managed to get the gurney up to Mystic's location before Drake made it too far down the path trying to carry her. And after that, it was just an incredibly long ambulance drive (or so it felt to Drake) before they got to the hospital. He supposed someone should call Flannery, but he didn't have his cell phone with him, (ergo the getting random joggers to call 911) and besides which, he was far too busy worrying about Mystic to deal with the hassle of calling the man whose wife he'd slept with and just gone skinny dipping with. Well, technically, she hadn't been naked, but he was, and that would be hard to explain if it came up. Everything seemed to slow around him as they left the ambulance, and headed towards the emergency entrance to the hospital.

And he told her of his heart
It might be love
And all of the things he was so scared of

”Fuck, fuck, fuck, move!” Dust sprayed up from a bullet impact inches from Drake’s feet, and he stifled a hiss of discomfort at the grit that landed in his eyes. “Minor! Minor, get the fuck away from there!”

Drake wanted to. He really did want to. But the bullets, flying around him, the clouds of dust from the desert street, made it nearly impossible for him to see anything. This abandoned car was the only shelter he’d seen close enough to get to, and he was certain that if he moved away from it, he’d be shot. There was a familiar odor, one that almost seemed eeerily reminiscent of a time when things in his life had been far more normal. Filling up his car’s tank, going for a lazy Sunday afternoon drive...That smell, it wasn’t a good one, it was just one that reminded him of better days...gasoline, he told himself. Lots of it. With a start, he realized that this truck, unlike many of the other abandoned vehicles one might find, hadn’t been siphoned clean of fuel. Where there were bullets on metal, there were sparks. And sparks and gasoline, in the same place...that was never a good combination. Drake realized that in a matter of seconds, it wouldn’t really matter whether he got shot, because the explosion, at that range, would make sure he didn’t survive anyway. He lunged forward, running towards the last place he’d heard his CO’s voice.

The explosion came sooner than he’d expected, the fireball billowing out to engulf his back. He fell, the impact with the dust extinguishing part of the flames, mostly on one side, but the other side felt as if someone were peeling his flesh off, layer by layer. Drake wasn’t sure if he managed to scream or not before the world faded to nothing.

The next thing he knew, the black abruptly changed to white, and he found himself staring upwards into blank white space, a faint buzzing in his ears. Annoying, he thought, but he noticed that he also wasn’t feeling any pain. That seemed strange. For some reason, he expected to be in pain. At the moment, he felt nothing particularly alarming, only heard the steady beep of a heart monitor nearby, the faint clink of surgical tools against each other.

“If we don’t graft this kid’s shoulder soon, he’s not going to have a shoulder.” a voice said, as if from on the other side of a wall, muffled, blurred in his mind.

“There’s no NO2...” the reply came.

“He’s been out since they brought him in....”

“You’re the doctor.”

And that was when the pain came back.

He said when it's gettin kinda rough over here
I think of that day sittin' down at the pier
And I close my eyes and see your pretty smile

Drake ran alongside Mystic as they took her into the emergency room, and since she wasn’t conscious at the time, he signed his own name on the clipboard an orderly shoved at him. He answered all the questions asked of him, and wondered if no one in here would recognize her. After all, she worked at the hospital, and he presumed she spent a lot of time here. Maybe not at night, though, he reasoned...and he wasn’t sure what wing. The ER was a rather intense place, even at this hour. There were several young men with dour expressions sitting in the waiting room, one holding a bloody towel to his forehead, the other two scowling mercilessly at a picture of Jesus and little children hanging on the wall across from them.

God, he hated hospitals. He wasn’t sure why, all he had were images, feelings...but just being here made him want to run screaming back out the door he’d come in. He couldn’t, though. He was here for Mystic, and he’d stay here for her, until she told him to go away.

“Sir?” A voice cut through Drake’s moment of otherworldly thought, and he turned to face the nurse. “She’s unconscious, still, but we’ve got her on a bed, and we think she’s stable. We’ll have to wait until she wakes up to answer some quesitons for us before we can put her on any real meds, though.” Drake nodded, wordlessly, and made his way to Mystic’s side as they showed him where her room was. “Mystic?” he said, quietly, taking her hand tentatively. The nurse said she was stable, but Drake had a horrible feeling in the pit of his stomach. He’d told her he could go through losing her again, but in all honesty, he had to admit that had been an exaggeration at best. It might not kill him, but he was sure it would do some damage.Could she hear him? Drake had a feeling that maybe she could. After all, when he’d been unconscious, he’d been aware of...At that memory, it was as if a wall came up in his mind, a nearly physical wall that he ran into face first when he tried to think of what he could feel when he’d been in that Army hospital for all those months. “Mystic, stay with me. I can’t lose you again. Please. Don’t go.” Shameless pleading wasn’t usually his style, but sometimes, circumstances called for special measures.

I don’t want to live without you
But I don’t want to live a lie
We’ll never know ‘til we try

[mystic pearl adier]

So far from where we started
So far from what we wanted

» If she were given time to think about it, Mystic wouldn't have the foggiest clue why she'd passed out. It had only ever happened once before, but still... Maybe it was the standing up- too fast, perhaps, and it caused a rapid drop in bloodpressure? Accompanied with what she'd been feeling just previous to it, it was plausible... Still she was have no clue. She spent all day around two-pound newborns- she wasn't a doctor, and knew next to nothing outside of what she had to know to work in the NICU. But did she need an explanation? No, really, not at all. Besides, who cared about the reason? It happened, and that's all anyone needed to know until more tests could be done- impossible when on a stupid mountain.

» As she started to wake up- eyes still closed- thoughts still foggy, she got slowly but surely more aware. Without looking around, she knew where she was, just by inferring. She knew she'd been in pain, and through a very brief brush with consciousness earlier knew she was in an ambulance, and that there was blood. And, by extension, she knew- or, rather, was undoubtedly sure, with no confirmation- what happened. She could be wrong- while intelligent, she didn't know everything- but highly doubted it. There had been just as much blood, though that didn't come around until just before she was out of the ambulance and taken into the ER, and the pain was just as blinding. God, not again.. Drake had at one time called her strong, and she'd denied it earnestly. She wasn't. Maybe sometimes, a little bit, she was able to pull herself together through a tough time, but prolonged exposure to such things broke her. For instance, with Drake; she had been able to get herself together and move on, on some level, after his death. But now, if he were to actually die, or if anyone else she loved did, it would break her. She was able to move on with her life, albeit a bit discouraged, after miscarrying, but if it had happened again, like she was all but convinced, she wouldn't do nearly as well, wouldn't get over it so quickly- possibly never. In any case, it was her greatest fear, that happening again.

» Mystic was so afraid to open her eyes. She knew someone was there- someone was holding her hand. And she just wasn't up to facing anyone that would possibly be there. Drake? No. His reaction... it was just off. Maybe she was misinterpreting, maybe she was jumping to conclusions, but she knew for a fact he was anything but happy. Flannery? Forget it. He needed his space. He needed to be angry. While she loved him, she didn't want to try to talk to him until he'd had the proper amount of time to collect his thoughts. Nothing good could come from trying to talk it over too soon- rash decisions would be made, there would be regrets, and they would always have to wonder, what if they'd been able to be clear-headed about it? Or worse, what if they were both there? How would they interact? She really, really did not want to be caught in the middle of some sort of brawl. If, by some cosmic event, she was wrong about why she was currently in the hospital, and she had to get up and physically pull the two men apart, that would do it. Besides, she just didn't like fighting, and definitely didn't want guys fighting over her.

» Alas, she would eventually need to open her eyes. No matter who it was, she was pretty sure he would not leave her side until she was awake, and while she wanted to avoid conflict as much as possible, she would get so bored if all she could do was lay still, and all she had to look at was the inside of her eyelids. She could only handle so much boredom before it drove her up the wall, in which case she would wake up so abruptly that whoever happened to be in the room could very well have a heart attack. Besides, if she didn't wake up, she would never know if she was right, and all she would have were assumptions. The thought of losing another child overwhelmed her and she had no choice but to open her eyes. Though her fears did keep her from sitting up. She looked first at Drake, then immediately beside him. Oh, no.... Not again...

» What she saw- or rather, didn't see- nearly made her cry. The only monitor there was the one keeping track of her own vitals. Nothing attached to her abdomen, nothing indicating whether or not she would be self-doomed to never try again. And so she took that as her being correct in her original assumption. Was there really any explanation other than that she had lost the baby? It would be early, sure- maybe they just hadn't checked yet, and were waiting until she woke up, stable, to check? That was the most ridiculous thing in the world. She wanted to know now, not wait until some lazy-ass ultrasound technician decided to get off their lazy rump and get to her room. It was too much for little Mystic to digest all at once, and she had to use every ounce of her self-control not to burst into epic tears right that second. She placed her free hand over her mouth and she shook her head tearfully. "No..."

[drake fitzgerald minor III]

Drake was lucky enough (or unlucky enough, depending on how you looked at it) to have been in a position where soul searching was something he had to do on a regular basis. He didn’t have to conquer his manly emotional inhibitions, not because he didn’t have them, but because it was just a simple fact to him that there were things he did not know about himself that he’d never remember unless he was constantly trying to piece his life together. Therefore, situations like this, situations that finally broke down walls inside of other people, seemed like painful repetition of the same for Drake. It certainly wasn’t that he didn’t care that Mystic was in trouble, and it wasn’t that it wouldn’t absolutely destroy him to lose her, it was just that Drake was well aware of the fragile nature of life, and this did nothing more to remind him than had his time in the military.

It was, however, uniquely disturbing to see Mystic in this position, because the simple fact of the matter was, Drake had spent the last few years of his life feeling like he was still in it. He went through his daily routine in a blur, as if he were being pushed around on a stretcher, hopping off to do something here and there. Sometimes, he wondered if he’d even awakened from the coma. Maybe this was all a long, detailed dream, something his unconscious mind was feeding him to keep him busy while he wasn’t awake. He didn’t honestly believe it, but sometimes, things felt so strange, as if he were living someone else’s life, as if he’d been dropped into this body, handed a set of memories and told “here, pretend these are yours.”

Absorbed in that train of thought, he didn’t notice right away when Mystic opened her eyes, but once she spoke, he gave her hand a quick squeeze. No? What did she mean, no? He thought at first that she was saying it in response to his pleading with her to stay with him - although he’d been referring to her staying on the planet, not her staying with him physically instead of with her husband. While he hadn’t been asking any such thing, his heart plummetted.Damn it, Drake, stop trying to fool yourself into believing anything good can come of this.

”No,” he said, ”I mean...” He realized then, though, that the no she’d spoken a minute ago had been a different kind of no. That wasn’t a no of protest, that was a no of...something else. Disbelief? Resentment? Drake wasn’t sure. Hell, it was only one word. ”What’s wrong? Sweetie, what is it?” He was distracted enough that he didn’t really think twice about the affectionate nickname he’d just used. ”Mystic, the doctors need to talk to you. I didn’t tell them about...er, what you told me. They don’t know what meds to give you. If you’re awake enough, if you can handle it, can you tell them?”

[mystic pearl adier]

» She wasn't saying no to him. She would never do that- no matter what her interpretation of what he meant was. She hadn't even heard him speak, having started coming around just after he shut up. Otherwise, she probably would not have hesitated to open her eyes and assure him she would stay. She couldn't promise anything as to what she would do as far as staying with him or Flannery, but she could promise he'd always have a place in her heart- that, and she wasn't going to die anytime soon. She would never be able to outright reject him at all, let alone with a single word. And definitely not now.

» The worst part of knowing something horrible- anything horrible, really, from the death of a pet to...well, this- was having to tell someone else. Speaking about it, saying it, would be admitting it was true. When they were telling Flannery what they'd done, that tore her apart. The guilt before telling him was enough, but saying it, hearing it said out loud... even though she already knew it happened, it just made everything seem so final, so real. And now, with Drake not giving her any indication that he had a clue, it would be all up to her to tell him what she thought.

» But that would have to wait. She didn't want medicine. She hated needles, hated being prodded, and hated having to deal with messing around with the dosage until they found the right one. That, and no matter what she took, she always seemed to get every side-effect known to man. "Yeah, well," she started, "I'm allergic to just about everything, so if I've got some sort of virus or what have you, I'm pretty well screwed." She was fed up with the hospital, this room, and everything else. She just wanted now to go home and cry, and make some sort of half-assed attempt to act like it didn't affect her, or that she wanted it to happen. Yeah, it might be painful and suck major ass, but not having to deal with having this kid would make the whole situation easier, seeing as no matter who she ultimately ended up with, with her luck, it would end up being the other guy's kid. But still, she would never, ever wish for such a thing to happen.

» She gave his hand a light squeeze but then looked away, making no effort to really hold onto him. "Yeah, I'll... talk to them. Not that it'll do any good." She was never the cynical type. Always optimistic, sometimes irritatingly so, she always seemed to think there was something good inside a bad situation. But this time, now, she wasn't even at the end of her rope- there was no rope. It had been incinerated. She was done dealing with this... kid. She was a sensitive person, and this was just so overwhelming. Sniffling a little, and watching the door, she figured she might as well tell him. "I think... that I lost the baby." She didn't expect any sort of reaction from him. It was all so sudden... Plus she'd only just told him it existed before she was in pain, and his reaction then wasn't the greatest; why expect anything different now? "It's not fair," she squeaked.

[drake fitzgerald minor III]

If there was one thing above all that Drake’s experiences had taught him, it was that life wasn’t fair. It was many things - beautiful, painful, complicated, precious...but it wasn’t fair. Bad things happened to good people, and bad people often got things that others deserved more. Mystic was evidence of the former, Drake couldn’t help but think as he watched her. She was such an amazing girl...now woman, he remembered, thinking back to the day they’d met. God, he loved her. He remembered a conversation he’d had with his father once, when he was younger....

”She wasn’t worth your time. Always thought she was a tramp, myself.”

Drake couldn’t help but smile at the sound of such unrefined words coming from the lips of his responsible, respectable father.

“But now I’m out a date for prom.” he pointed out.

“What are you, a chick?” his father asked, scoffing. “Girls worry about that. Guys don’t care. Didn’t anyone tell you that?”

Drake grinned.

“Yeah, but I wanted...”

“Oh, don’t even go there. Don’t you think I know what you wanted? What every male high school senior wants after prom? Don’t worry about it, son. She’ll come along. You’re not bad looking. Got your mother’s genes. I knew it when I saw her. I said to myself, “Junior, you have to have her. You’ll make beautiful babies together.””

“You thought that?” Drake said, skeptically.

“No, but there was something about her...Just trust me, you’ll know. When you find the girl who’s right, it’ll just...fit. Like anything else, relationships have parts that are meant to go together in a certain way. If you try to shove a part in that doesn’t belong, you can bust the whole thing to hell.”



At the time, Drake remembered, he’d thought that idea was ridiculous. He’d just been looking for a little fun, not something abstract and romantic like a soul mate. But he’d met Mystic, and even though everyone said they were so young, didn’t know what they were getting into, he’d known. Just like his father had told him, he’d known. It was funny, how something so simple as meeting one girl could change the way you believed, thought, and loved. After her, there had never been anyone else, and the more time he spent with her, the harder he found it to believe that there ever would be.

”No, no, no..shhh..” he whispered, trying to calm her obvious distress. ”I’m sure the baby’s fine. She’s like you, she’s strong.” He had no way of knowing that the baby was a girl, of course, but it seemed more appropriate to assume a gender than to use the impersonal “it” when referring to Mystic’s unborn child. ”I didn’t tell them about the baby.” he reiterated. ”They probably don’t even know, but I do know that if they had...” If they’d taken a dead baby out of her, he certainly would have known, but he decided not to finish that sentence. ”Just tell them, and I promise, we’ll take care of both of you.” Was that true? Could he really take care of her? Not just now, but...what if...what if this baby was his, what if they had to take care of it, feed it, raise it, send it to school...Well, he had school covered up until second grade, but... could he support her if she needed him to? Did he have any choice? This was his responsibility, and he had to take things into his own hands if he were asked to. Was he ready? He supposed he’d have to be.

[/blockquote]

[mystic pearl adier]

And as both our worlds fall down
We have lost and we have found

» Mystic was always a very decisive person. She wasn't one of those people that took forever to make a decision- she always seemed to know exactly what she wanted almost instantaneously. For example, if she were to be dragged out shopping- though that hadn't happened against her will since she was a child- while her sister would take forever to decide between two different shirts, Mystic would see one she liked and that would be that. It was the same way all through school, just in a different way. Whenever there would be a test in, say, math, and she didn't know the answer and had no clue how to work it out, she would leave it blank. She never saw a point in staring at a blank space trying to figure it out when she knew damn well she wouldn't be able to answer the question in the time alloted. So when Mystic first met Drake, she knew almost right away, she was so sure he was the One. Even though when he'd come into the cafe`, it was fairly busy and there were several other customers demanding her attention, it always seemed to turn back to Drake. So when he "died", she was devastated, and simply did not believe there would ever be anyone else. But then when she met Flannery, that changed. She was so sure he was the One. Apparently, Flannery felt the same way, judging by how quickly they were married. Why wait when they were both so sure?

» But now, Mystic found herself in a situation where it was nearly impossible to make a quick decision. It wasn't just herself that her decision would affect- it would undoubtedly make one man happy, while the other would be heartbroken. How could she, decisive as she was, really make a quick decision when so much was at stake? Sure, it would be easier just to stay with Flannery, if he could forgive her; there wouldn't be a messy court system involvement, or a crushing divorce. But Drake... there was so much history there. They'd been so close, so in love- did it really even end when Mystic got that letter? Besides, his tattoo- just ink, but not to Mystic. It said forever; and that meant so much to her. Of course, she'd also said forever when she got married...

» She sighed heavily, staring at the wall. "But I've been through this before... it... it felt the same..." Sniffling, she used her free hand to brush away a tear before turning back toward him, and grasping his one hand with both of hers. "Maybe you're right..." Maybe, by some cosmic event he was right; and if that was the case, she damn well better calm down. Stress out too much, and it would be her being right, and nobody really wanted that. Now she wanted to get this over with, so she could know, and end this damn waiting. But she wasn't one to shout, even if she needed something, and she really didn't want Drake to leave her side- what if he didn't come back? What if he ended up being one of those guys that walked out at the first chance they got? "Alright, I'll talk to them," she half-whispered, ready to ask him to get them in there, but, as if on cue, there was a knock on the door. Mystic cringed a little, expecting it to be Flannery- no doubt, they'd called him, as it was well0known around the hospital that they were married, and besides, he was her emergency contact- but was almost relieved when a man in scrubs walked in, smiling kindly.

» Not wanting to be rude, but not wanting to let go of Drake, Mystic only let go with one hand, still holding him with the other, and turned toward the doctor, who started to speak to them. "Well, now. Quite a pickle we've got here, hmm?" Mystic, despite her usually cheerful disposition, gave him a disapproving, flat look. This was no time for jokes! Shaking it off- he knew that not all patients would appreciate the joking around, he stepped closer and reached out to press two fingers to Mystic's wrist, checking her pulse just as a gesture to tell her he was serious, and not some random whack-job. "Well," he started, letting go. "Do you want to see how your baby is doing?" Oh, they definitely knew- it was just one of those tests they ran on all woman around Mystic's age that came in with complaints of abdominal pain- but what remained to be figured out was whether she was still knocked up, or if she would have to deal with another loss.

» Well, she thought she was ready, but as a nurse came in carting an ultrasound machine, Mystic suddenly almost changed her mind. What if Drake was wrong? She couldn't bear to go through this again, hearing the worst sound one can encounter on an ultrasound- absolutely nothing. She wasn't prepared to deal with that, and so as they started running the stick over her belly, she reached out and tugged on Drake's wrists, turning her head toward him- the opposite direction of the machine- and used her hands to hold his over her ears. But in doing so, she missed what should have brought great relief; a soft swishing sounds signifying a heartbeat.

[drake fitzgerald minor III]

Strike me down with lightning
Let me feel you in my veins
I wanna let you know how much I feel your pain

Sometimes, when Drake looked back on his life, or what he could remember of it, he found himself astounded by the idea that so much could happen in one lifetime, to one person, to two people, for that matter. And hell, there were still all the months he'd spent in a coma that he couldn't even add to the count. Things were so much simpler when he was younger. Oh, for the days when his only responsibilities were his own homework...not ruining marriages and grading fifty second-graders homework among other things, he thought, rubbing his forehead. Not that he regretted anything he and Mystic had done. Well, that wasn't entirely true. As his father would have said, though, he was only regretting the consequences, not the act. He loved Mystic, and he couldn't feel guilty for showing her. He did, however, regret the pain he'd caused both her and Flannery - no one deserved to go through what he was putting either of them through. God, why did everything come back to him?

Because he was the link between them. Mystic wouldn't have cheated on her husband with anyone but him, he knew. It sounded conceited, but he felt as if he knew her well enough to be certain that she wasn't the kind of girl who threw her affections around carelessly, nor her body, for that matter. He respected her too much to believe anything else. Also, he liked to think that he wouldn't ever have been with a girl who'd just sleep around in the first place. No, that was out of the question. This was undoubtedly all his fault, either directly or indirectly, for even being there in the first place.

But still, he had a hard time beating himself up for existing. That wasn't exactly his fault. Nor was the fact that he'd been scheduled to take the kids to the pier that day, or the fact that...well, yes, the rest of that was. But now wasn't the time to play Emo Drake. Now was, instead, the time to be there for Mystic, and not make things any worse for her than he already had. The fact that her baby was alive seemed to comfort her at least a little. Drake, of course, not knowing what Mystic had been through before he’d come back into her life, couldn’t possibly appreciate just how good that quiet fwish-fwosh must be for her to hear. Honestly, while he thought it was a strange noise, that moment, when that sound became audible, was one he was certain he’d never forget.

That noise was a heartbeat. And that heartbeat belonged to a child, a child that he had quite possibly created. There was a life there, something so unknowing and apart from whatever events had transpired to make it, that Drake couldn’t help but be astounded by the overwhelming power of it. Somehow, it made everything that had happened that much more real. If it was his...if he was the baby’s father, oh, god. How could he have been so completely naive as to think that what he and Mystic did would only affect them? It wasn’t just them. Hell, it wasn’t just him, Mystic, and Flannery. There was someone else, who had absolutely no say in the way things would go down after this. What if Mystic and Flannery couldn’t fix things? What if this child grew up in a broken home, because of Drake’s own selfish reasoning?

”Oh, my god.” he breathed, quietly, running a hand through his hair, feeling older than he ever had. He could almost hear his father’s voice in his head...”Well, boy, you’ve done it now.” But even though Drake couldn’t know that the baby was his, and even if it was, if he’d play any part in its life, he felt a complete sense of adoration for it. He loved this child, and even if it wasn’t his, it was Mystic’s. She wasn’t even showing yet, but sure enough, the sound was proof. ”I love you.” he said, quietly, running the pad of his thumb across the skin of Mystic’s hand.

Your eyes are the brightest of all the colors
I don't wanna ever love another
You'll always be my thunder

[/size][/blockquote]

[mystic pearl adier]

And if you're faced with a choice, and you have to choose,
I hope you choose the one that means the most to you.

» She didn't want to hear the noise at first- or possible lack thereof. But she knew she would have to face it eventually, whatever it meant. Sound- deal with the very real fact that she had no clue which man was the father. No sound- deal with even more stress than was already handed to her because of the situation at hand, between the two aforementioned men. She never in a million years- or, more specifically, her short 21 years- thought she would be faced with the question. Whose kid was it? Her sister she could definitely see not knowing, if she should ever find herself knocked up. But Mystic? No way. She had never been the type to cheat, ever. Never thought she would. Drake was her first real love, and right up until the time she got his letter, and beyond that, she hadn't even looked at another guy. After the letter, well, she still didn't look at other guys, despite the fact that a couple did try to ask her out. When Flannery came along, she was just then, after such a long time, starting to really come out of her funk; and he ended up being her first... well, everything else. Once she met him, once again, she didn't even look at other guys. But what was she to do now, when she was sandwiched- metaphorically, of course, though literally wouldn't be such a bad idea- in-between the only two men on the face of the planet to whom she was most attached?

» At first, she was crushed- she heard nothing, mainly because her attention was focused elsewhere. At first, she thought Drake's ”Oh, my god” was a bad thing; considering what she'd just told him, that she'd lost one baby already and was scared of dealing with that a second time, she though 'oh my god' in this context meant that he was bracing to wipe away yet more of her tears. But as she gradually regained her focus on her surroundings, and actually listened, she heard the swishing. She wasn't exposed to ultrasounds often- most of the work she did with them was purely for scanning a preemie for brain bleeds or heart problems- it took her a second to register the swishing as a good thing. She breathed a nervous, soft chuckle of relief before smiling up at Drake and squeezing his hand. "I love you, too," she said softly, as the nurse simply shook his head and switched off the machine. His job was to simply come in, identify the sound, or lack thereof, and get out. He was just about sick of seeing starry-eyed couples all goo-goo gaa-gaa over hearing their child's heartbeat. He didn't happen to know Mystic, though, and had no way of knowing that this was by no means just another day on the job.

» When all this started- when she walked out of the house, earlier- she was very much concerned with what the other nurses would think. She knew they probably wouldn't shun her- maybe at first, if they chose not to hear her out and think she was simply out sleeping around behind Flannery's back. But if they chose to listen, some might actually comfort her. It wasn't her fault she was wrong about Drake actually being dead, or that she just happened to run into him... It wasn't his fault, either. But she was concerned that rumors would start- the few nurses that weren't really friends with Mystic could be vicious when it came to taking fact and twisting it into a rumor; these people also had a tendency to sound believable, and Mystic just couldn't handle that kind of thing, not to mention the toll it would take on Flannery, who was probably already heartbroken enough. It wouldn't be good for anyone. But with the fear of not finding a heartbeat behind her, and now faced with the very real possibility that it was Drake's baby, she was done caring. She didn't care if one of the "bitchy" nurses walked by and overheard her telling him she loved him, but knowing Flannery wasn't even there, so it couldn't be him she was talking to. The nurse did his best not to look at them- too tired of seeing happy couples starting to make out at the sound of the heartbeat, even though judging by the way they looked when he walked in, that probably wouldn't happen- as he mumbled something about how they'd keep Mystic overnight for observation, and could go home sometimes tomorrow afternoon, and then left the room.

» She did love Drake. So much more than she could find the words to say right now. It was then clear, to her, what her choice would be. Maybe it was a little sudden, a little hasty, and completely unfair to poor Flannery, who was absent at the moment, but she knew that if she waited any longer, she would over think, and probably end up breaking all three of their hearts. Maybe it would be more fair to choose neither of them, but that almost seemed stupid to her; why, if she loved both of them so much, would she opt out of both? No, that couldn't happen. Yes, breaking one heart would suck, but far less so than breaking both, on top of her own. She'd lost Drake once, and it nearly destroyed her. She couldn't let him go again, not when he was so willing to fight for her, to be around. She was so afraid that if she let him out of her sight now, he wouldn't return; not because he didn't want to, but because of some cosmic event that actually would end up with his death. One of the many things plaguing her the last couple of weeks, between the time she and Drake got it on and now, was that, what if she had only boned him because she was so stoked to see him again after all this time? Now she knew, that simply wasn't true. She did it because she loved him, still, and this time, she wouldn't let him go.

» As the nurse walked out of the room, Mystic was suddenly quite tired. All this happening in one night was taking its toll on her body, and she just needed a lot of sleep. But now she was fighting it, afraid that she would wake up and not see Drake there anymore. So, letting go of his hand and placing both of her own on the side of the bed, she pushed on it so she could scoot over without putting all the stress on her hips. "Lay down?" she offered quietly; not in a way like 'hey babe lay down let's bone'- she wasn't like that- but more of a, 'hey, lay down here, I need to be held' type of way. So what if someone saw him laying there with her- if he chose to lay down, that is- they weren't doing anything wrong, technically. Worst case scenario, Flannery would walk in- they had, no doubt, probably called him, since he was still her first emergency contact- but she couldn't deal with that now. She just needed to be held. It would help her sleep.

[drake fitzgerald minor III]

You have taken the heart of me
And left just a part of me
And look, look, look what you've done

Drake couldn't quite decide whether he was glad or not that he didn't have anyone he knew very close by who'd pass judgment on the things he'd done. On one hand, it was nice to have to deal with resistance only from Mystic's relations, but on the other hand, he felt a little bit guilty. She'd cheated on her husband, been insulted by her sister, and God only knew what other kind of hell she'd go through. His parents weren't even here. Nobody he knew would be involved in her social circle; that was evidenced by the fact that he'd been back as long as he had before he'd even known they were living in the same city. The truth of the matter was, Drake stood to lose a lot less in this situation than Mystic did. In all honesty, he thought, all he had to lose if Mystic made her choices a certain way was Mystic herself. And, in the event that certain things were proven to be true, a child. And if she chose to be with him, well, he stood to gain something very, very precious to him.

But Mystic, no matter what choice she made, she'd be losing something. It made more sense for her to stay with her husband, of course. She could do that without risking the disapproving glances of family and society, without earning herself dirty nicknames, without having people whisper about her behind her back. No one ever heard the gossiping women at the beauty parlor whisper "Oh, my goodness, did you hear about Miss Adier? She left her secret lover for her husband! Imagine that!" No, Drake was more than aware that he wasn't the strong favorite in this situation. The odds were stacked rather heavily against him. One thing, though, that he did have going for him, was the passion that had been re-ignited between himself and Mystic. There was undeniable chemistry between them, a flame that had seemingly not faded with time.

Yet, as Mystic pulled back the covers and beckoned for him to join her there, in the hospital bed, with nothing more than mutual comfort in mind, Drake knew that there was something much deeper than heated physical attraction that connected the two of them. It only reaffirmed the adoration that had been so deeply etched into his mind, and without a word, without consideration for the disapproval that might be raised by the hospital staff, he slipped off his shoes and lay down on the bed next to her, sitting half propped up on one elbow. Sliding an arm around her shoulders in the less crowded space between her neck and the pillow, he pulled her close, resting a hand flat on her stomach. "I guess you could say I messed things up a little." he told her softly, then, not wanting her to think he was simply voicing regrets and misgivings, added "I wouldn't be the one to say it, though."

He wondered if Flannery was on his way. Although he'd signed his name when he'd brought Mystic in, he knew that her husband would be the most likely nearest of kin on her emergency contact information. That or her sister. And if her sister showed up, well...with how angry Drake thought she'd have to be to call Mystic a slut...that was some powerful stuff. He wondered if she'd even realize that Mystic was between them as she rushed in to murder Drake in the hospital bed. That thought almost made him smile, although he was somewhat sobered by the fact that he really still was owed an ass-kicking for all of this business. After all, if Mystic were his wife, and had cheated on him...he knew he'd never be able to hurt her, but hell itself probably wouldn't be able to stand between him and the guy. Especially if he'd known and somewhat trusted the guy. Drake closed his eyes, and pressed a kiss to Mystic's forehead, trying to will away such negative thoughts. Mystic needed him to be positive right now, and that was what he was going to be.

You have taken the best of me
So come and get the rest of me
And look back
Finish what you've begun

[/blockquote]

[mystic pearl adier]

I'll keep us together,
Whatever it takes

» For now, at least, there was only Drake. There was no hospital staff, no Flannery- just Drake. His touch was so comforting to her now that, beyond them, there was only a void. Of course, it would be stupid to truly believe that, since there was every possibility in the world that someone would walk in and, if it were hospital staff, start some sort of nasty rumor or, if it were Flannery, start some sort of fight. She didn't think he'd hurt her, but the thought of the two men hurting each other did, by extension, hurt her as well. It was stupid to think that everything was just going to blow over on its own, that they just had to wait it out, and soon they'd all be in perfect harmony, and never get into some sort of tiff. But did that mean they couldn't just talk it out, all three of them, instead of some sort of fist-face meeting?

» Honestly, though, Mystic wasn't sure who Drake had more to fear from- Flannery or her family, mostly her sister? Flannery, of course, would have those feelings of anger and betrayal to fuel him; she was, after all, his beloved wife, who now seemed to be drifting away from him. But her family, mostly her sister... Well, they were the ones who were there, who had to bit up the tiny shards of Mystic's heart, which got shattered when she read that letter. It took them literally months of constantly trying to console her to finally get her to stop crying at anything that reminded her of hi- which was, unfortunately, pretty much everything. She was an adult by then, yes, but inside, she was very much like a child that had just lost its favorite pet. If Mystic's sister found out that Drake had actually been alive all this time, that they never really needed to console Mystic for his death, Drake was going to die. It didn't matter his excuse. No matter how ironclad and medically sound, Mystic's sister would find a way to poke holes in it, pick it apart. She wasn't nearly as understanding as Mystic, and certainly wasn't going to be happy to see him alive. Part of Mystic wondered if it would not be in Drake's best interest for her to make the choice to stay with him. There were so many people- she had a fairly large family, as he may remember, a lot of whom lived nearby- that would want to kill him- not literally, but maybe make his life hell- for what he did. She didn't want to see anything bad happen to him... But, once again, she couldn't bear the thought of losing him again, for what could possibly be forever. Besides, wasn't that the entire basis of love- wanting to be together, no matter what the consequences?

» She rested her hand lightly over his, closing her own eyes at his kiss. "No," she said quietly, nuzzling gently against his shoulder. It was so comfortable to be in his arms; she'd forgotten how well she fit. "It's just as much my fault." Sure, he didn't have to bone her, and it wasn't like she molested him or anything. But Mystic was far from unable to say no. While definitely eager to please, and being the kind of person that hated to deny simple things, if Mystic didn't want to do something, she would say no. She didn't have go to bed with Drake. She didn't even really have to go to his apartment. Hell, if she really wanted to avoid this, she could have walked away from the pier that day, instead of waiting for him to come back from taking the students back to school. But she didn't. She wanted to see him again. She wanted to be alone with him. Even though someone watching might have thought it blatantly obvious, Mystic doubted that either of them really intended to end up in bed. But they did, and it wasn't like she had protested.

» She sighed a little, feeling herself slipping out again, but wanting to stay awake because she was so afraid he wouldn't be there when she woke up. "Don't go," she whispered, even though, just by lying down, he probably wasn't leaving any time soon. "I need you." And that was the last thing she managed to whisper just before slipping off to sleep, looking strangely peaceful.

[drake fitzgerald minor III]

She seemed to honestly believe that she was equally at fault here, and Drake didn't have the heart to argue with her under these circumstances. Getting into a back-and-forth of "no, it's mine...no, mine!" didn't seem like it would be very helpful emotionally or practically. Drake just wanted to forget the fact that they weren't alone, forget that her angry husband or family might come and kill him at any moment, and hold her. It seemed like such a simple thing, but with thoughts as heavy as the ones he had running around in his head, it was hard to let his guard down and relax.

The feeling of holding Mystic, though, was so natural that it took him a surprisingly short amount of time to be lulled into a sense of security. Whether it was accurate or not, lying here with her like this, being with her, simply because she needed him, felt to him like it made more sense than anything he'd done in the last four years. That might not have been saying a lot, considering the confused nature of his last four years, but still...it gave him a feeling of calm that he hadn't been expecting to feel as long as this situation went unresolved.

"I'm not going to leave." he promised. He wanted to add a "not now, not ever" to the end of it, but he didn't want her to think he was being hostile and threatening to stick around even if she asked him to leave. "I need you, too." It was a rather un-manly thing to say, but Drake was so far from caring about that right now. Mystic was the one piece of his life that he knew, beyond any trace of doubt, was something true and real from his past. Everything else was still foggy a times, but he could see her face, their reflections in the water of the pier, as clearly as if it had been just yesterday. The visions that came and went were fleeting, and Drake still wasn't sure whether they were his memories or something he just thought up. Mystic, though...she was solid, she was real, and he could hold onto her.

He knew that she loved him, she wouldn’t have told him so otherwise. If he’d let his mind worry over it, he probably would have started to wonder whether she loved him enough to leave her husband for him. It sounded so awful when he put it like that. Wasn’t there a song about being a homewrecker? He sighed, a little louder than he’d meant to, and hastily reminded him to be quiet so as not to wake Mystic.

He was surprised to find that his eyelids were beginning to feel heavy, and he set his head down on the pillow next to hers. Her hair, in spite of the fact that she'd been dunked in the hot springs, still smelled like some sort of flowery shampoo, and Drake smiled inwardly. It didn't take long before he too had drifted off to sleep.

[/blockquote]

[mystic pearl adier]

» Mystic was always a pretty light sleeper. You could do just about anything around her if she were asleep, and it wouldn't phase her a bit. She'd been known, as a child, to sleep through lightning storms that had even her sister, who also happened to be a good sleeper, running into their father's room to be held. Nobody really knew why, since she was so sensitive when she was awake, she would sleep so well, but it happened. Everyone had her pegged as the sort of person to wake up if a pin dropped. But they were wrong. In all honesty, Drake could have boned her gotten up, had a massive fist-fight with Flannery, and then both of them stormed out, and she would wake up and wonder why the hell she was all alone. Of course, that wouldn't happen- right? Besides, once Mystic was asleep, she usually stayed that way for a good while; along with being able to sleep through loud noises, save for maybe an alarm or, one would hope, a crying baby, came the ability to sleep for a good while without waking up at random. There were nights, sure, that she would wake up and have trouble going back to sleep, or staying that way, but they were rare, and usually only when there was a lot on her mind.

» She was asleep for a short while before finally stirring, and at first she was a bit confused. For all she knew, for an instant, she was waking up in Flannery's arms, just like any other morning in which they both happened to be home. If neither of them had to be at work, they'd probably spend the day together. Maybe they'd go to the beach, or for a walk through the park. Or maybe they wouldn't. If the weather was bad, or they just didn't feel like going out, they'd stay home and fuck watch a movie, or something. Even though their schedules were a bit hectic- they had been just about ready to try to find a way to coordinate them better so they'd see more of each other- they would find some way to make the most of their limited time together. It didn't have to be anything huge, as long as it was the two of them. But as she got more of a handle on her surroundings, Mystic realized this wasn't her bed, and that wasn't Flannery. She wasn't confused for long, as the day's events suddenly came back to her, making her heart break all over again.

» How was she going to make this right? She couldn't. How was she supposed to carry on and be happy with one man knowing what she'd done to the other? And no matter who she ultimately ended up with, what would the other think of her? She had never lied about loving either of them. Right now, her heart was literally torn in two, because the love she had for both of them was so real that it hurt. But because she would end up having to stay with only one of them, would that, by default, make the other believe she'd lied to him? How was she supposed to get them both to realize how much she loved them when... It was too much thinking.

» Sighing a little, she tilted her head up to look at Drake's face, thus bringing a smile to her own. Yes, if it weren't for him, none of them would be in such an emotional turmoil right now, but damn it, she loved him, and despite everything, she was just glad he was there. It was just still so amazing to her that he was alive. Once she'd gotten that letter, she'd given up all hope of ever waking up in his arms like this, given up on ever being held by him again. After only a second of debating, just watching him sleep, she decided it would really do not harm and moved herself so she could plant a small kiss on his lips- and she did.

[drake fitzgerald minor III]

Drake couldn’t remember the last time he’d slept as well as he did for that short while. (Aside from the times he’d passed out, of course, and those weren’t exactly voluntary.) The hospital bed was far from comfortable, and probably wouldn’t have been even for the single occupant it had been built for, but somehow, it seemed more comfortable to him than anywhere else he’d tried to sleep lately, even his own bed. Obviously, it wasn’t the bed itself, but the company, and Drake wouldn’t have wanted to be anywhere but there. He had no idea how long he slept before Mystic’s slight stirring brought him into a drowsy state of semi-lucidity, and he kept his eyes shut, re-locating himself.

It was just as he was starting to wake up that Mystic leaned over and kissed him, and Drake, unable to keep from smiling, opened his eyes halfway and glanced over at her. “Hey...” he murmured. “I didn’t wake you up, did I?” he asked. He didn’t think he had; she’d moved before he’d even been aware of his surroundings, but he wanted to make sure (or at least be polite). She felt so small and comfortable in his arms, and he wished he could keep her there forever. That wasn’t likely to happen; he was sure someone would be showing up to look for her soon, but he could pretend.

“I wish we could just get out of here.” he said, letting his head fall back onto the pillow, staring up at the ceiling and drawing her close up against him. “Not like...the hospital, just...here...all of this...What I wouldn’t give for a time machine.” That sounded stupid when he said it...hell, it sounded stupid before he’d said it and he’d gone ahead and said it anyway. What the fuck could he possibly hope to achieve with a time machine? He could go back and...do what? Not enlist in the army? Would he even have met Mystic, then? Not go on that mission and get blown up? He’d likely be court-martialed for refusing to obey orders. He could send her a letter..”Dear Mystic, if you’re reading this, I’m not dead. I’m just in a coma. I don’t remember you yet, but I will. By the way, I wrote this from the future.” Ridiculous. He had half a mind to share that thought with Mystic, just to get a smile out of her, make her laugh, but decided against it.

”What are we going to do about this?” he asked, half under his breath. Not about the baby...Drake would never have remotely considered doing anything but the honorable thing if his child was in question..but about the whole situation. He knew she wasn’t likely to have an answer to that, any better than anything he could come up with.

”Is...is anybody going to be coming to find you?” he ventured, after a moment. ”Just wondering...you said you talked to your sister...and I don’t know about...” He sighed. He felt guilty even mentioning Flannery’s name, after what he’d pulled behind the other man’s back. Not that he’d known she was Flannery’s wife at the time, but still...Flannery had been nice to him, had invited him over for dinner, and Drake had thanked him by quite politely informing him that he’d had sex with his wife.

[/blockquote]

[mystic pearl adier]

» She simply shook her head a little. No, he hadn't woken her up. Actually, she wasn't even sure what had, but knew it hadn't been him. As far as she knew, she was the one to wake him up, and should probably be the one to be apologizing, though she doubted it would really even matter at this point. Sure, she did have a tendency to be disgustingly nice and apologize for any tiny violation of etiquette, but times like these, now, she knew there were way more important things to worry about. In all honesty, if she could, she would put up a "do not disturb" sign on the room door, and just lay there with him forever. But even if there weren't physical barriers to that- one of them would eventually have to get up and piss- there was still the whole issue with... well, everything else. Namely, that someone would eventually come into the picture, and that someone would likely have a bone to pick with Drake.

» Not one to laugh at times when she ought to be serious, Mystic was unable to suppress a short burst of laughter at the mention of a time machine. Was he out of his mind? Had they given him some sort of drugs? "Time machine?" she asked, struggling not to giggle further. "Did they give you some sort of drug?" She pulled away from him a little so she could sit up, and then looked down at him. "Besides... Time travel ultimately screws up the basic fabric of life. Haven't you seen Butterfly Effect? The guy keeps going back in time to fix little things, and only creates more problems..." She trailed off, realizing that, really, it had nothing to do with them. This wasn't a small problem. And what she'd left out of her little mini-review of the movie was that, ultimately, the guy changed the past so that he never became friends with the girl, thus ending their possible future; and even if it were possible for them to go back in time and not go to Drake's apartment, or even not meet at all, she wouldn't take it. Even though it sometimes hurt her, both of them, or others, she loved him, and couldn't imagine life not having known him.

» One thing she was known for was being highly sensitive, Mystic was. She might not be moody and dying of laughter one second only to turn around and bawling her eyes out the next, but it took very little to get her from borderline amused to borderline depressed. His question, perhaps without intending to, struck a chord. What were they going to do? No matter which way they sliced it, it would really, really suck. "I don't know," she said, laying back down as well, resting her head on his shoulder... but then burying her face in it, fighting back tears. She didn't want to cry any more- not right now. She knew he hated it when she cried, especially if it were because of him or anything related to him... But, god, she loved them both so much, and having to be torn between them just completely broke her heart. How was she supposed to do this? She wanted so badly to do it delicately, but was there really a delicate way to break a man's heart?

» After a second, she managed to pull herself together, lifting her head up so she could answer his next question. "I... have no idea," she answered honestly. "My sister is... probably out drinking or something," the two were identical, and yet polar opposites all at the same time. While Mystic hated the thought of drugs or alcohol, her sister had practically celebrated being able to legally drink, and had been trying to drag Mystic to a bar ever since they turned 21. Mystic, of course, would have none of it, but her sister always tried to "invite" her out on the weekends, and then Mystic would inevitably get a call later to go get her sister from the bar, and the entire ride to take her home, Mystic would hear about what a great party she missed, and respond by stating that it was enough of a party just hearing about it. Besides, even if, by some miracle, her sister was sober, she hated hospitals, and unless Mystic was dying or seriously injured, she would see no trace of her sister in the building. "So I don't really know..." Of course he would want to know if Flannery was coming- poor Drake would have it bad enough once the man showed up, and being caught in the bed with Mystic would probably make it worse. But as for if he would actually come- the jury was still out. He might show up, he might not. In any case, he probably wouldn't expect Drake to be there, which wouldn't help anything. Sniffling again, Mystic tried not to think too hard about it. She didn't want Drake to leave her side, but in order to preserve his own safety, he may have to...

[drake fitzgerald minor III]

Drake laughed, surprising himself with the unexpectedly harsh sound that replaced his normally soft laughter. It wasn't so much an angry sound as it was a tired one, and it was that (and somehow not the fact that he'd fallen asleep fully clothed on a hospital bed not his own) that showed him exactly how stressed he'd been lately. Despite that, though, he was still amused by her reaction to his time machine comment. He hadn't seen the movie she was talking about (Drake wasn't much into the movie scene, having more important things to focus on, such as who the hell he was), but he appreciated the moral lesson she thought it offered, and he grinned. "No, but if I had a time machine, I could go back and...tell myself who I was." That seemed like a reasonable thing, he thought. It wouldn't get him court-martialed or killed...hopefully.

What the hell? Who was he kidding? Time machines? Maybe they did put him on drugs when he got in here. He doubted that, though. He should really stop letting his mind wander away into weird places when he wasn't fully awake, and just focus on being normal for the few minutes it took him to wake himself up. He didn't want Mystic to think he'd gone off to war and turned into one of those crazed, battle-scarred psychopaths who come home, act normal, then up and slaughter half their hometown one day. Besides which, she was acting like she might start crying now, and Drake had that to deal with. He absolutely hated the fact that he’d made her cry at least three times since he’d seen her that day at the pier. They were supposed to be happy and love each other forever, not make each other cry like little children.

"No, no, no..." he said, not in a scolding way, but in a comforting tone (or so he hoped). "Hey...it's all right. You don't have to answer that right now. Nobody's going to make you, okay? You can wait as long as you need. I don't care how long it takes. I'll wait for you." He meant that to sound as if he were willing to spend the rest of his life waiting, and hoped it didn't sound instead like he didn't care at all. Thankfully, she didn't cry, but went on to answer his question. He was surprised by her answer, honestly, but he had a feeling that was really what her sister was off doing, or at least, that Mystic believed it was. She wasn't the kind of girl who'd make something like that up, especially about someone she loved. Drake couldn't ever recall much drinking happening during the short time he'd been around her family, but then, he'd only been eighteen or nineteen at the time, so it wouldn't have had much of an impact on him anyway.

"Do you need anything?" he asked, suddenly. He remembered that she hadn't been feeling well earlier that evening when he'd come over to their house, and it occurred to him that he might go get her something from the hospital cafeteria, or even from his own apartment if the cafeteria wasn't open. "I don't know what kind of food they have here...I don't really spend much time at the hospital. But I can get you something if you're hungry...or thirsty. Just let me know." He honestly wasn’t trying to escape the room...but he had a feeling that, being the ridiculously unselfish person that she was, Mystic wouldn’t mention it even if she was hungry.

[/blockquote]