It's Ethics

Title: It's Ethics
Author: drainbamage954
Rating: PG-13 (I know, weird isn't it?)
Genre: General, Romance, Angst
Fandom: The Boondock Saints/ Sean Patrick Flanery and Norman Reedus
Wordcount: 3,913
Warnings: Loooots of angst. No smut (sadly). Some kisses because I love kisses.
Summary: Set a while after 'Fuck Me' and can be read separately. A phone call which brings both good and bad news, depending on the perception.
Disclaimer: If I owned them I wouldn't have to write stories. I'd have them at my disposal; who the fuck needs stories when you have the real thing. I own nothing, just the movie and undying love.
Notes: This is based kinda in a series with the first story 'Fuck Me' which started it all. This could be considered a continuation of it, or companion. Probably gonna be a sort of series. Also, I know the timing of things isn't really realistic, but I'm trying here. Plus, I have no idea of the actual situation regarding Norman and Helena, just trying to get a good story.

It's Ethics--

Eth•ics

plural noun
1 [usu. treated as pl.] moral principles that govern a person's or group's behavior: Judeo-Christian ethics.
• the moral correctness of specified conduct: the ethics of euthenasia.
2 [usu. treated as sing.] the branch of knowledge that deals with moral principles.


You know how you hear in books or television or theater the description of physically feeling the impact of a piece of information, such as the main character dropping a phone as their body goes numb, the faithful lover's blood going cold when they catch their significant other cheating on them, that sort of thing. I'd never really believed it, thought it was all just played up, exaggerated for the entertainment of the public. I'd portrayed it and watched it and read about it, but never really believed it.

"What?"

Well, until now, when, literally, I feel like I've lost all my internal organs and my blood has been replaced with either dry ice or battery acid. I dunno which is worse but the feeling pretty much embodies both. I felt like dropping the phone like in those movies, almost did seeing as I couldn't seem to grip it properly anymore. I could hear movement on the other end.

"I'm pregnant."

Swallowing didn't seem to do anything except produce the sensation that I was swallowing a ball of glue rolled in sawdust. I lost my voice somewhere along the way. It was like my mind was debating what my body should feel in response to this news, battling with itself and leaving me in this torturous limbo.

"Norman?"

Licking dry lips, I try to find where the fuck my feet went, and voice for that matter. "I'm here." Pause. Inhale. "Just, processing I guess."

Processing is an understatement. Helena is pregnant. Pregnant with my child. The child which is a product of myself and Helena. Helena who is currently still in Denmark while I finish up filming in Toronto. Filming Boondock with Sean.

Oh hell.

"What do you mean 'processing?' I just told you I'm pregnant."

"I realize that," I say, raising a shaking hand to rake through my hair before dragging down my face. "It's just big news."

"You're telling that to the woman who has a human growing inside of her."

I'm going to be a father.

It's thrilling at the same time that it's terrifying.

"I'm going to be a father."

I can hear the smile in her voice. "Yeah, you're gonna be a father."

And then it hits. I'm going to be a daddy; a father. That feeling like I've just been slammed into a wall at 40 miles per hour and then forcefully fed champagne through a feeding tube jammed down my throat making my whole being expand with carbonated bubbles just begging to escape. I'm in shock.

I actually drop the phone, let it clatter to the floor as my fingers just can't grip it anymore, just don't work along with my whole body, which seems to have lost contact with reality.

"Norman!"

I can hear Helena calling from the phone on the floor and reality rushes back in, sweeping me away from my brick wall and wrenching the feeding tube from my mouth. I'm gasping, trying to catch breath I had just a minute ago. I dive to the floor and scramble for the phone, pressing it to my ear.

"Holy shit I'm gonna be a father!"

"Yeah, I know." Helena's voice sounds slightly relieved, breathless, as if she had been holding it moment before. "We're gonna be parents."

I'm grinning so wide my jaw hurts, smiling wider than I have in years. "Wow," the word comes out in a woosh of breath, not even spoken. The champagne is sending bubbles through my blood, tickling and electrifying every nerve in a rush of excitement. "When did you find out?" I feel winded and exhausted at the same time I could run a marathon. This is beyond excitement. I'm practically euphoric.

"Just the other day." Holy shit. "I haven't been feeling well lately and finally decided to get checked by a doctor. I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner, but, well, you've been so busy and I've just been trying to wrap my head around it."

A small part of me is annoyed at her. For not calling the moment she found out. But that's a small part, the rest just doesn't care. "How far along are you?" I'm going to be a father. The phrase keeps looping around in my head, over and over burning into my conscious like an iron.

"About seven weeks."

Holy shit.

"Wow." I can't form proper thoughts. I've lost reality to live in this euphoric cloud.

"I know, wow. I can hardly believe it." I can almost picture her, smiling happily, a soft glow about her as she sits, the phone against her ear, eyes cast down to where her fingers are, splayed on her stomach. "I'm scared, Norman." Swallow. "But at the same time I'm so excited and happy. I'm going to be a mother!"

"Helena, this is so-" But we never find out what it is. A swift succession of knocks prevents that, making me turn. I've forgotten where I am. A small room. Temporary. A trailer on the set of Boondock while someone waits outside.

"Norman?"

I'm lost.

"I'm sorry, I have to go."

I can hear the tinge of disappointment. "Alright, but please call me later."

Neither of us think about the time difference.

Hanging up the phone and walking across the small trailer to the door seems like a dream, ears ringing and eyes glazed, the smile still on my face as a low hum vibrates in my bones. It's mid-day as I open the door.

"Hey."

I can't help but smile, not quite jaw breaking but probably strange looking on my face. I get a weird look in return. And then the reality of Sean standing before me registers in my euphoric mind, piercing through the cloud to ram me back into reality. The reality that I'm going to be a father and don't love the mother. The reality which had me feeling so conflicted earlier. A reality which suddenly has my face falling as the excitement and euphoria collapse, tumble down into a pit that is my stomach, writhing and burning like spoilt food, fighting to get out.

At first, Sean looks shocked, my smiling face so open a rare sight, but then the shock changes to a different kind before he's leaning towards me, worry on his face as he places a hand on my shoulder. An attempt to steady someone who has lost their sense of gravity.

"Norman? Jesus Christ, you okay?"

I want to tell him no, I'm not okay. I all sorts of not okay. I'm bursting with happiness and excitement at the same time being eaten alive by guilt and fear and doubt. I don't think feeling as if you're about to throw up constitutes as okay. Before I know it, Sean's turned me around, pushing me gently back up the stairs of my trailer to the cramped living space. Gently, as if guiding someone old or ill, he leads me to the couch, pulling me down to sit with him as he delicately checks me over, hands running soothingly over me, checking for a temperature, any sign of sickness.

It's not germs that has me wrong. It's a different kind of sick.

I close my eyes, letting myself just drift in the soft touch of his hands, forget the new reality being built beyond my control. Just lose myself in Sean's presence like I've done so many times. It's so easy to just sit here, pressed slightly against him, as his hands travel over me, lulling me into security.

After a moment though, when nothing seems wrong to him, Sean stops checking and instead places his hands gently on my shoulders. I know he's fixing me with one of his searching looks. One of those looks I crumble under so easily. A look which can have me spilling the truth before I know what's happening.

So I don't open my eyes.

"Norman, what's wrong?" Sean asks, palms warm on my clothed shoulders, reassuring. "You look like you're about to be sick."

I almost smile and laugh. "I feel like I'm about to be sick," I say, still not opening my eyes. I don't want to tell him. I have to tell him. I have no idea where this will lead me. Will lead us.

I don't want to lose him.

I'm going to be a father.

It's funny how sometimes, if your emotions are strong enough, they can physically make you ill. Like being nervous enough to throw up before a performance, angry enough to punch through walls, a mothers ability to lift a rolled car off of her crying baby. Like being so conflicted you feel like you're going to be sick and your body wants to just shake convulsively.

"Did you eat something weird? You're not really giving me much to go off of," Sean says, a slight joking air to his voice though it's still pretty worried. I feel him shift as if about to get up and, in a flash of fear that makes no logical sense, grab his arm, eyes flying open. Don't go.

Blue eyes, similar to mine, flicker for a moment in surprise as Sean looks at me, curious as to my strange behavior and confused. He can read me though, read the unspoken words and nods, settling back into the couch. I lean into him, feeling strings snapping in my chest as I do so.

I think this is the part they don't tell you about. When people tell you about learning about being parents, they tend to omit the abject terror of the realization that you're going to be a parent, be responsible for a small creatures life, for bringing it into the world and doing so correctly. The fear of the responsibility, the reality of your life from now on. The feeling I have right now.

Or maybe it's because I have so much more to lose than normal parents. Because normal parents love each other. Because normal parents aren't dysfunctional and fall for other people.

Because, by being a parent, I might lose the best thing that's ever happened to me.

The thing which has his arms wrapped around me protectively, body heat drifting into my skin like a warm caress. The thing which broad sided me and has been sweeping me away ever since.

I don't want to lose him.

Helena's pregnant.

I don't want to lose him.

I guess this is the fear that makes me different from normal parents. I'm afraid of this new reality, this new child, and I'm terrified of losing him. It's two separate fears combined into one big cluster fuck of terror.

I want Helena to call back, laugh, and tell me she's joking. April fools, I'm a sick and twisted bitch.

It's March.

No, I didn't eat something weird. I shake my head no, eyes drifting down from his face to stare unseeing at his stomach. I don't want to open my mouth, afraid of what might come out. Words or sounds or something else equally as unpleasant.

Breathe through the nose. In and out. Blink every fifteen seconds. A writhing animal inside as strings are pulled and begin to fray, a tug away from snapping.

Sean's wearing his worn gray shirt. It's my favorite because it's so soft and simple. He looks better in black and off white, but for some reason, I love him best in this old worn shirt. It feels natural, comfortable, easy and familiar. Completely balanced between us.

I don't know if he knows that.

I feel him place a hand on the back of my neck, drawing my head to his chest, forehead pressed against firm muscle and fabric. Sean rests his chin atop my head gently as I close my eyes, enjoy the soft rub of his thumb against the skin of my neck. I feel and hear him softly laugh. I don't ask, just wait for him to tell me.

"Troy told me we need to head over to prep for filming in about two hours. I thought I'd come surprise you with a visit before we headed to the studio." Another soft laugh. "I guess I don't have the best of timing."

I know he can tell there's something wrong with me besides feeling ill. Knows it's not physical; that's just a result. But he won't ask. Sean stopped doing that after not too long, instead just waiting for me to tell him, which always happens inevitably.

Briefly, my mind flashes to what could have happened.

Sean arriving minutes before he did, minutes before Helena called, minutes which would have been happier, full of private touches, smiles no one ever sees. A kiss. A caress. Then the phone would ring, interrupting us and having me pulling myself away to the phone, answering feeling annoyed and then stilling, hearing the information before looking at him. I'd be watching Sean through the whole conversation, not being able to say anything coherent before hanging up quickly. Then he'd ask what it was about. And me, with my mouth which doesn't obey, would tell him, raw and cruel.

I press my eyes tighter, ending the scene playing in my mind before his reaction can begin from that initial shocked expression.

Right now, all I need is his presence. Need him here beside me, the physical contact. I don't need to kiss, to fuck, to writhe with him. I just need him here, like this, silent but there, supporting and solid.

Sean's great in that he seems to innately understand that, softly pushing himself off the couch and guiding me with him to my bedroom, laying me out on the bed first before crawling in after and delicately wrapping me in his arms, pulling me close and safe.

I'm going to be a father.

I don't want to lose him.

I'm lost.

I don't know how long we lie there for, eyes closed and hands gently caressing, breathing soft as the creature calms slightly; stops trying to rip through my organs to the open air. I don't know how long his arms were wrapped around me, head gently propped on mine, breath occasionally ruffling my hair. I don't know how long, but eventually I was finally able to open my eyes.

He knew, before I even moved, that I had changed. Knew even before I did that I was going to tell him what was wrong. Sean knows these things.

Sean also knows that, whatever it is, he's probably not going to like it.

Sean knows this because he's Sean.

Sighing slightly, I look up at him, meeting his already expectant gaze and seeing his own preparation for whatever is coming. I want to tell myself I'll be ready for whatever his reaction is. Want to, but can't.

"Helena called today," I say, not all that surprised at the raspy tone of my voice. It makes sense given the situation.

Sean doesn't move, doesn't react, but I know he's thinking, wondering where this is going. He doesn't like the fact that I'm supposedly still 'dating' Helena. He's never said it, but I've known that for a long time. He was especially unhappy when she surprise visited me two months ago. Every smile was fake, strained. It was the reason I got so drunk. Helena didn't know.

"How is she?" Sean's voice is neutral, which is a dead giveaway.

I pause for a moment, licking my lips, gnawing on the skin. The longer I wait to tell him, the worse it will be. For all of us.

"Pregnant."

It takes a while for him to realize what I've just said, his eyes remaining blanks for a moment before shifting to slightly confused. Then realization dawns and they switch fast, from shock to anger to hurt to confusion to pain to a battle of everything. His arms are limp, still draped around me, but not holding nearly the same reassuring power the did moments before. "Who's the father?"

I wish he were joking. I wish I were joking. I wish Helena had been joking.

April fools.

Too soon.

"I'm going to be a father, Sean."

I feel nothing inside, so unlike since the moment I picked up the phone. It's empty, and not just suspended empty, it's completely hollow. I'm a shell of a human, waiting for a reaction, a response, something which will make or break me. Because I'm not strong enough to stop myself from shattering.

For a while, Sean just looks at me, his blue eyes still too many emotions to decipher, before they close and he sighs, long and deep, an arm twitching around my waist.

"Okay."

I blink, my mind not able to comprehend the one simple word response. I say nothing and he opens his eyes, eyes which are slightly sad, slightly dead, and mostly bittersweet. "Okay."

I can't speak, can't do anything as he slowly draws away, carefully pulls himself from around me and moves off my bed. Far away, I can hear my bones breaking, my skull cracking and muscles tearing. But that's far away, a muted sound to the overwhelming roar of silence. I can do nothing but watch him as he slowly runs a hand through his hair, down his face and sighs, closing his eyes briefly.

I don't want to lose him.

I'm going to be a father.

I don't know if I can lose him.

The impact of the fall might break me. Will break me. Is breaking me.

"Sean."

He looks at me, blue eyes the same, sad, dead, mostly bittersweet, and smiles softly, heartbreakingly, looking more tired than I've seen him in a long time. "Congratulations, Norman."

I don't want to hear that. I want to hear 'okay' again, to hear that everything is okay, that everything will be alright. I want him back here, arms around me, telling me everything will be fine. Telling me I wont lose him.

I can't piece together words to say to him, to ask, to plead. He does that for me.

"I can't do this anymore," Sean says, looking away slightly, eyes to the side. "This is a different game, a different set of rules. This isn't just us. This isn't just you and fighting with letting go of Helena. This is much bigger. And it's something I can't be a part of anymore." His eyes close as he breathes. "I'm sorry."

This is wrong. I should be apologizing. I'm not the victim. I'm hurting him as much as I'm hurting inside. Everything is suddenly so wrong.

I want to fix this, to work out a plan, to find a way to make this all work.

Sean already knows that. I can see it when he looks at me, completely, stopping any words that might have been in my throat. See it in that small pained smile. I can hear it in the phrase which is both a memoir of this place, Boondock, us, and himself.

"It's ethics."

And he's gone, back turned in my favorite old and worn gray shirt, walked slowly but significantly out the door, blocked from view as his footsteps sound farther away. Gone in the soft opening and closing of a door, the latch clicking shut.

It's ethics.

I'm numb. Horribly, twistingly, torturously numb. Feeling like I'm a thousand miles away, I manage to drag myself up, shuffle to the phone, dial a number, and put the device to my ear, listening to the far away sounds of a ring.

"Hello?"

"Hi."

"Hey Norman." Her voice sounds too happy for how I'm feeling right now.

I don't feel anything anymore. It's all just that pounding silence, creating a gentle buzz in the hollow I've become, the substance of my being somewhere else being mangled by machines and wild animals. My voice is as dead as I feel.

"I'm sorry."

She says nothing.

"I'm in love with someone else."

I don't say who. I don't want too. It's too private. Too painful.

A pause.

"I know." Her voice holds no sound of surprise, no shock, no real pain, just a hint of sadness and regret. "I saw it in your eyes." I close them.

"I also saw it in his."

Someone choked somewhere, the sound painful and stabbing like a shattered dream. My eyes are closed, lips pressed shut as the phone is held to my head.

"I'm sorry, Norman."

She means it. She wouldn't say it if she didn't.

"I'm going to be a father," I say as someone chokes again, harder this time followed by a harsh intake of breath and a gasp. My legs feel weak as my hands go cold. The small glimmer of happiness that those words evoke are like a struggling flame, the only thing in this hollow shell.

"Yes, and I'm going to be a mother." The cold words of reality. Those choking sounds aren't stopping now, forming into harsh gasps and would-be sobs. I feel my shoulder hit the wall and slide before I realize I've fallen to the ground, legs as numb as the rest of my world. Eyes pressed firmly shut.

"I'm sorry."

A sigh through the telephone. "I am too, for both of you. Just promise me one thing." She waits as the choking breaks slightly, punctuated every now and then by a gasp. "Promise me you'll help raise this child properly. I don't care that you don't love me. Just promise to love it."

Her words echo around my head, driving forcefully into my shell and magnetizing the rest of me back, no matter how broken. My throat aches and burns. Slowly, shakily, I open my eyes. They're bleary as I realize I'm crying. The choked sounds I've been hearing are my own. Suppressed sobs and breathes caught in my throat.

"I promise."

I can hear the soft smile in her voice "Thank you" before the line goes dead.

Slowly, I feel the broken parts of my hollowed frame return, individually awakening in a slowly increasing ache which has me shaking and silently crying against the wall, phone lying limp in a hand against the floor.

A long drawn out dial tone.


A/N: Please Review. This is the second big point in the 'Fuck Me' series I'm writing. This separates what I call the 'A' timeline from the 'B' timeline. 'A' takes place after 'Fuck Me' and before 'It's Ethics' (you'll be able to tell which stories are which because of the content. 'B' takes place after 'It's Ethics' and continues the story from the phone call on. This is so people know that, yes, it's sad, but there is more to the story.