The Rest of the Story

A/N: Thanks to everyone who's been reading. This one is an Aideen and Fletcher cookie that just happened to strike me at work. I couldn't resist this bit of angsty fluff.

Stillness

Stillness was something that Fletcher usually welcomed. With two children and another on the way, a little quiet was a pleasant change—not that Oliver was particularly loud until Nikki would begin picking on him—and it was especially important at the greenhouse or out in the garden, whose design he swore he was the only one who understood. Stillness and quiet were wonderful things, unless you were talking about Aideen.

She kept herself busy for so many reasons, but now as she entered for second trimester, there were some experiments she couldn’t risk doing and travel to other areas was dangerous, now not just for herself but for their baby, their youngest daughter.

She couldn’t be quite so busy now, and it was in moments like this, when she grew still and contemplative that Fletcher hated the most. More than either of her parents, the woman had the ability to draw into herself and allow the guilt to start its steady attack on her. Honestly, he dreaded her quiet more than her vocal nightmares. With the nightmares, he knew he could hold her, kiss her, and soothe her. Nightmares were for the things done to her.

When she grew quiet during the day, there was no telling how to deal with whatever crime she felt she committed because she would never discuss it. Day was for contemplating the things she felt she should have prevented, things she felt she’d done to others.

She was quiet much more often than she had been prior to the pregnancy, and Fletcher wondered if it was a mistake. Al didn’t thing so, and as he was still the person Aideen turned to when she needed someone to talk to, Fletcher trusted his judgment.

Nikki was off dress shopping with her Mum-mum, and Oliver was with Nicholas and Victor. And Nina, Fletcher added. The young woman had become a staple in the two men’s relationship. Really, it was only a matter of time before they asked her to move in. Roy and Ed were both off on official state business in Creta, and it left Fletcher completely alone with Aideen today.

And she was quiet.

And still.

Fletcher knew he could say her name a few times before she answered back, before it snapped her out of her self-imposed torment. Even then, she would still be dwelling on it.

But Fletcher knew better from years of practice. Five years of marriage, four years of a relationship before it, and a few years as her teacher had given him lessons, himself, in the language of calming Aideen.

Pulling Aideen out of one of these moods took more than a simple wave of a hand in front of her face. It required a bait and swap. He would do something with her to get her attention and then occupy her. Of course, it all had to be done in a way that that was not suspicious.

Fletcher moved over to the radio in the corner. He knew the one station always played relaxing instrumental music. He turned the dial, noticing that there was still no reaction from his wife as the music filled the room.

“Aideen?” He waited for a reaction. “Aideen?” Finally, she looked up. “Dance with me?” Fletcher said, holding out a hand to his wife.

The dark-haired woman placed her delicate, ivory-colored hand in his slightly darker, rougher one. “You know, I’ve never figured out how your hands are so smooth, as often as you use that pyrotec cloth,” he said as he wrapped an arm around her waist.

“Good genes,” she said, quietly. “Although, it still drives my papa nuts. His hands are nearly like mine.”

Fletcher smiled as he pulled her close to him, the two moving easily in circles around the room. She rested her head against his shoulder, her hand sliding up his arm to his neck where the other already rested. His own hand moved between them to the rounded bump at her stomach, still so small, but there.

“Have you thought of any names?”

“Not particularly. Have you?”

“Nothing I like,” Fletcher answered, twirling the young woman around. “I can’t even find a baby name meaning that works for me.”

“You mean there isn’t one that says ‘conceived on a table while grandpa accidentally witnessed?’”

“No,” Fletcher said with a laugh, his cheeks still heating up at the memory. “Your father really needs to learn to knock.”

Aideen laughed. “He has, believe me. And my dad has learned to walk into my brother’s apartment with his hand over his eyes. It embarrasses Nicholas to death, but I find it amusing.”

Softly, Fletcher kissed the full, rosy lips. “You know,” he said as he spun her under his arm slowly, “I still like the way you look in green.” She had on a simple green dress, one with a high waist to accommodate her growing belly.

“You only say that because you were the one who forced me into it that first time.”

“Maybe,” he said, holding her close again. This time, he kissed her more firmly. “I love you,” he said as they parted.

“I love you, too,” she said. “Even if your bait and switch has gotten predictable.” She cupped his face in her hand.

“Then I must think up new methods,” he said

“Not until I tire of this one.” She tilted her chin up to rest it on his shoulder. “And I don’t see that happening for a long time.” Arms still muscular from sparring with her family tightened around Fletcher, while he returned the embrace. They’d stopped moving, and were just holding one another in their livingroom as the music played.