freedhunter | (no subject)

(no subject)

Going to the mall during the busy hours probably hadn't been the best of ideas, Ford thought as his wife and him were making their way through the crowds, bumping shoulders with passerby's ever so often. He was mainly just annoyed, but he worried about her. Crowds and Darcy had never been the best of combination. Though as far as he could tell, she was holding up okay. Comparing her now to the woman he had first met was like comparing night and day.

Still, they had some shopping to get done, shopping they had been putting off for long enough already. And it had to be now, if they wanted to get home to have dinner at any sort of suitable hour, and go out stargazing later in the evening like he had promised her they would. It wasn't often that he agreed to go out and do that with her, so now that he had promised he wanted to keep that promise.

But it was still crowded. And loud. And annoying and frustrating and full of idiots and... And crowded.

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The problem with Ford, one that he wasn't completely aware of, himself, was that he looked too much to the past. To what he had been and not to what he was. Maybe it was understandable. He had lived so long on his own, lived as a killer. An expendable asset whose one task was to hunt down a target and kill it. How could someone like that ever hope to be able to take care of a child? Only that was what he had been, not what he had become. It was a pity that he couldn't see that, at least not when it came to the subject of children.

"Yeah. He was." He washed another plate, rinsed it and handed it over. "But I wonder who was most scared, him or the mother."

It was that weird small talk they did whenever kids came up. They both knew what the question was and that there wasn't an answer from her husband on it yet, but she also knew that if they didn't outright talk about it, they'd continue skirting the issue entirely. She didn't want to be pushy and she didn't want to force him into something he didn't want--that would make him just like her own father. She knew better than that and she'd rather be with him, childless than without him and a child, or the option. Darcy hadn't become herself again until he showed up and refused to let her wallow in her own self-pity.

"She was," Darcy answered, "the little boy didn't understand the full extent of fear. He was too young, but a mother?..." Darcy shook her head. She couldn't imagine the fear that had to run through her.

"Yeah, that was my bet, too." He'd sensed the panic when they were looking for her, after all. He almost added that to the list of reasons to not have a child. What if something happened? How would that feel?

He washed the last plate, rinsed and handed it over. Pulled out the plug to drain the disrupt dishwater. Started to wipe down the sink. "So. Stargazing." Yes, he changed the subject, but he didn't think they were done with it for the night.

"Stargazing," she smiled over at him as she stacked the last plate and put them away in the cupboard. "Make some tea for us? I'm going to go grab blankets," she asked before leaning in to kiss his cheek. Darcy walked away and headed upstairs to grab something warmer to pull on, then a couple of big warm blankets. She took a moment to stand there in their room. Their was still this residual feeling of awe when she realized she was married and not just married, but married and happy. She had to remind herself sometimes that happy is all she wanted and if this was all she got, kids or no, she could be very happy.

Darcy returned downstairs and slipped on a pair of warm slippers. "Ready?" she asked him.

"Just about." He was just pouring the finished tea into a thermos for them to bring out. He'd also slipped a small flask of bourbon into the bag they were bringing, because why not? Once the thermos had joined the flask, he handed the bag over. "Go get the car running and I'll be with you in a minute." He gave her a quick kiss and headed upstairs to find a warmer sweater.

She saw the flask and smiled. Oh, he would. Not that she minded so much, but she was less likely to add alcohol to her tea. She nodded and took the gear outside, grabbing his keys and going to his card. She put everything in the back seat and climbed into the passenger side, reaching across to turn on the car and get the heater going. Darcy had a few moments to curl herself up into the seat, to warm up while the car got warm. Most of all she tried to clear her head of thinking about children. She didn't like how she ran herself in circles over it.

Another one who was running in circles about the subject was, of course, Ford. He loved his wife, so very much, and he would give her the very world if she wanted it and if it was in his power to do so. But, this? Children? He just couldn't see, how that could not go wrong. But she wanted children...

He found a warm sweater, and pulled on his warm, black, woolen coat on top of it. He did hate the cold, and tonight looked to be one of those clear but cold nights.

He left and locked the house and got in the car, and they were off.

Until they came to a decision, they were going to go in circles over it. Right now, she hoped to go out and spend some time clearing her head, staring at the only thing that made sense to her even in the worst of times. She loved the sky and always had. It was clear and beautiful and cold, but she would snuggle up close to her husband who could act as a personal space heater for her.

They drove out of the city so they could find somewhere a little darker where the skies would be clearer. She snuggled into the seat in the car while he drove, glancing over at him every so often. "How's Francis been?" she asked. She hadn't spoken to him lately, but she figure Ford may have.

"He's good." He talked with him often over the phone, but they didn't meet up as often as Ford would have liked. But the man was busy, Ford knew, and he had just properly settled in into married life, himself. "He's just about working himself to the bone trying to get better, from what I can tell. Seems Quinn's helping him out a lot. Seems she's always at his place when I call." He had his definite suspicions about that, but so far Francis hadn't said anything.

Darcy had her own suspicions. Quinn was always either working or helping Francis. She wasn't sure if she was trying to ignore what happened to her until it went away and those feelings vanished--which they wouldn't--or if she was involved in something she couldn't tell her. There was the thought that those two had become close, but she didn't let her mind wander that direction.

"He'll get there," she said as positively as she could. He was a strong man, strong enough to come out of it in the first place. He'd make it. He had to.

Edited 2012-11-15 22:38 (UTC)

"I'm just worried he's pushing himself too hard. I know he wants to get back to where he was." And that scared Ford a little, because that might mean that Francis was preparing to get out there again. Back to work, back to hunting. Back to killing, he thought, thought he knew that taking life had never been Francis' first choice.

"What about Quinn? What's she doing when she's not playing nurse or personal trainer to Francis?"

"Maybe he'll know when he hits his limit," she tried to sound encouraging. It wasn't easy especially since he seemed like the type to be very dedicated to what he set his mind to. It reminded her a lot of Quinn.

"I don't hear from her much. She's training and trying to figure out where they're going to put her. I don't want her back in that, but I can't tell her no. I have no place to," she resigned herself to that a long time ago. "She's going to do what she's going to do and there's nothing I can say or do to stop it. And I don't think she does have the sense to know where her limits are."

"Francis is the kind of guy that, when it comes to himself, he'll find that limit and then try to take one step past it. If he can't, he'll nurse his wounds and try again. And again. Maybe that's how he became as strong as he did."

But about Quinn, well... "You're the big sister, of course she's not going to listen. But hopefully Flynn will have some sense for once and she'll listen to him. And Francis can be good when it comes to making Flynn see reason."

"I hate not having any control over this," she muttered. That wouldn't surprise Ford at all. Darcy's quest for control often left her feeling short of her goal and self-loathing. She wasn't going to be able to control her sister or make her see any sort of reason, but maybe someone else could and Darcy would have to accept that as that being as good as it would get. That was all she could do.

Francis was someone Darcy trusted, however. She could understand him and feel like he had Quinn's welfare in his best interest. That would have to do.

He glanced over. "I know you do." And he did know. He had gotten so much better, but she still had her issues.

They finally arrived at their destination; a field outside of the city. With no city lights there, no light-pollution, the night sky seemed to come alive. Ford parked and got out, fetching the blankets and the bag from the backseat. "So... Pick a spot."

He understood and he knew when to push and when to tell her to shut up and right now all he had to do was let her know he got it. She was always going to struggle with some aspects of this control issue, but she was much better than she had been.

They arrive and climb out of the car. Looking up at the sky and then the field, she headed out to a big open spot, coat tugged tightly around her, the collar popped up over her neck to keep in the heat. "Here's good," she said finally, still standing with her eyes turned up.

One of the blankets were placed on the ground to keep the cold in the ground from seeping up into them. Then, as soon as she had sat down, he took a seat behind her, long legs on either side of her, and wrapped the two of them up in the remaining blanket. That was as cozy as it was going to get. Which wast actually quite a lot.

"So what do you see today?" He asked, resting his chin on her shoulder.

Darcy essentially folded up into the fetal position with her legs pulled up to her chest and leaning back against him. He was warm and the blanket helped and the sky was gorgeous tonight. The stars were bright and the void a beautiful black, hints of color around the edges. She was really glad he'd agreed to go stargazing with her. It was something that soothed her.

"I see..." she smiled up at the sky. She could answer with the constellations and where certain satellites should be passing over, but no, today she would be a little more poetic. "I see options. I see different paths and serenity. I see something that I don't need to control."

He smiled and turned his head to kiss her neck. "You're in a philosophical mood today," he mused, and after yet another brief kiss to her neck he looked up again. He couldn't see options, nor could he see paths. But he could see serenity and something that didn't need to be controlled. Something that couldn't be controlled, and that was just fine.

She tilted her head to the side as he kissed her neck and smiled, "Even I get tired of thinking in grids and boxes after a while." That's often what she saw. There was a lot of times that she mapped things out and found perfect grids and boxes and then all she could do was see those little squares. She needed to not think that way all the time.

But she was still stuck on them and it was still running through her head. "You're never in a philosophical mood," she teased him. "Everything is one thing or another."

"Oh, I can get philosophical. But that's usually not very good." Guilt and death and what ifs and... So many what ifs. Those were the times when he would brood, go off on his own and not really communicate. He preferred it when he had his head squarely on his shoulders instead of up in the clouds. His feet firmly on the ground.

He opened the blanket enough to reach out into the bag and take out the thermos and the two plastic mugs they had brought with them. Quickly as to not loose the heat trapped in the blanket he filled the mugs, handed one to her. Then with some maneuvering he managed to hold the blanket closed in one hand and his mug in the other.

"Okay, so no philosophical conversations, but what about theoretical " he would know where she was going with this immediately, but the conversation had come up earlier and she felt that she could ask again. Maybe not for a direct answer, but that she was looking for him to give her one and preferably sooner than later.

She took the mug with a thanks and helped pull the blanket shut around them to keep out the cold. The heat from the mug helped keep her warm.

He could guess where she was going with that. Taking a deep breath and willing his mind to keep calm and not go on immediate defense and feel bad, he took a sip of tea and nodded. "Okay then. Theoretical. Shoot."

She wasn't sure she could actually come up with a good way to phrase this, but most of all she wanted to know his heart about it. She knew what he logically could tell her about why they shouldn't have children, but he's yet to explain emotionally what that would mean. And she couldn't bring up a child in a loveless home if the father didn't want them in the first place.

"Theoretically, let's say we do have a baby," she breached it slowly, "do you imagine you'd resent me for pushing you?" She hasn't been pushing too hard but there was pressure.

He shook his head. "No." If they had a baby, then it wouldn't be an accident. It had been many years since he had rendered himself infertile. I was a simple thing for a shifter like him. A simple thought, blockage to the vasa deferentia, and ta-daa: the easiest vasectomy ever done. So in other words, if they had a baby, then he had agreed to it. He would have made an active decision. And he wasn't the type to be pushed into that against his will.

"Theoretically, let's say we don't." Of course he had to turn the tables. "Will you resent me for refusing you children?"