FicWad

20. Joe

I was reeling in shock as I ran from the apartment, Angie's voice, yelling at me to wait ringing in my ears.

I jumped into my car, put my key in the ignition and stopped.

I didn't know where to start. I didn't know where she was. And I didn't know if she wanted me to find her.

I slumped forward, head in hands and felt tears sting my eyes. Had she tried to tell me about the baby? Had she even /wanted /me to know? Too many question swam in my head.

I took a deep shaky breath, trying to focus my mind. None of that mattered now. All that mattered was finding her and stopping her father from forcing her to get rid of the baby.

The only thing I could think of was getting on a plane to Boston and telling her I loved her, no matter what the consequences would be.



Megan

"Wait," my strangled voice pleaded weakly.

The nurse stopped on her way out the door, turning back to face me. She waited expectantly.

"I don't want this," I whispered.

She stared at me, examining my face.

"I don't want to get rid of it," I continued, stronger and surer now.

"Lot's of people have second thoughts..." she began, gently.

I shook my head violently. "No, you don't understand. He's making me do this," I rushed out.

"Who? Your boyfriend?" she encouraged me to go on.

"No, my father. The man in the waiting room," I explained.

"Nobody can force you to do this, Megan," her tone was gentle. "Tell him it's not what you want. It's not too late."

"You don't understand," I shook my head sadly . "It's not as simple as that."

She was lost for words, but I could see she was on my side, I could see this situation was all too familiar to her.

"Help me," I grabbed her hand, pleading with my eyes.

She hesitated briefly, unsure of what to do.

"Please," I whispered.

She bit her lip, contemplating her next words.

"There's a back way out. He wouldn't know you were gone for at least an hour..." she blurted out.

I grabbed my things and hurried after her.



Joe

I ran through the terminal doors, and straight to the information desk.

"I need a flight to Boston. Right now," I informed the clerk behind the desk.

She gave me a bored look and turned to her computer. She tapped the keys slowly.

"This is an emergency, could you hurry it up," I snapped.

She glared at me, purposefully slowing her efforts.

I tapped my fingers impatiently on the desk.

"There's a flight that leaves in three hours. There's a seat on that one," she turned her icy stare on me.

My cell sounded and I quickly removed it from my pocket, hoping against hope that it was Megan. "MOM" flashed on the screen. I pressed ignore and turned back to the clerk.

"Is there nothing sooner? Please, it's important," I pleaded, trying to keep calm.

She sighed heavily and turned back to her screen.

My cell sounded again. Again, I checked the screen and hit the ignore button.

"There's a flight in 45 minutes," she began, but was interrupted by my cell ringing again. "Shouldn't you get that," she snapped, annoyed by the interruption.

I gritted my teeth to stop from snapping at her again, and angrily flipped my phone open.

"Mom, this is not a good time.." I snapped.

"Joe," my mothers tearful voice stopped me short.

"Mom, what's wrong?" I felt panic surge inside me.

"Joe, it's your Grandmother. She's in hospital. Come quickly. I don't think she's going to make it," she was cut off by her own sobs.

"Ok, Mom. I'm coming," I assured her.

"Sir?"

"Huh?"

"Sir, if you want this flight you have to take it now. Check-in closes in 15 minutes," she informed me.

I looked at her, completely torn.

"Sir?" her annoyance had returned.

I shook my head sadly at her and turned away.

I had to go to my Grandmother.



Megan

As soon as I had got through the back door of the clinic, I had ran.

I had no idea where I was going, but I had to get as far from my father as possible.

I finally stopped, exhausted and out of breath, casting furtive glances behind me, sure that he had followed me.

And now, hours later, I sat nursing a cold latte in a dingy back street café. And I had no idea what the hell I was going to do.

I hadn't solved anything by running. I was still pregnant and alone and Joe was still in deep trouble.

I felt tears spring to my eyes. Tears of utter hopelessness. I felt completely defeated. Every scenario that played out in my head ended in someone getting hurt. Usually me.

And to top it all off, I couldn't even turn to Joe for help. He had made it pretty clear what he thought of me.

I had made two phone calls after leaving the clinic. The first to Angie, to tell her I was okay.

"Angie, I ran away. I didn't get rid of the baby," I wept

"Thank God, Meg. Joe knows. Joe knows about the baby. I'm sorry.." she blurted.

"But how?" I gasped

"He came here, looking for you. He wanted to talk. It just slipped out. I thought you had told him," she apologised.

"What did he say?" I held my breath expectantly.

She paused for a long moment.

"Nothing," was her simple reply. "He just ran out."

My heart sank like a brick.

My second call was one of pathetic hopefulness. I had contemplated what Angie said, and decided in my deluded mind that if he wanted to find me, he would try my fathers house. And if he had tried to reach me there, there was someone who would definitely know. Magdalena.

"Magdalena, it's Megan. I can't talk right now, but I need to know if Joe has tried to contact me there? Has he been to the house? Or called maybe?" I waited.

"No, no one has been here," she answered simply.

"Have you been there all day? Could you have missed him?" I clutched to the last straw of hope.

"I haven't left the house all day," she confirmed, snatching that hope away. "Is everything ok?" her voice was laced with concern.

"Yes everything is fine," I lied unconvincingly and hung up.

And now, here I sat, blinded by tears and misery.

"Pull yourself together," I scolded myself. "Self-pity is not going to make anything better."

The woman at the next table cast a glance at me, and went straight back to her newspaper. After all, this was New York. Weeping women talking to themselves was not an unusual occurrence. If I hadn't been so desolate that might have made me smile.

I tried to clear my head, tried to formulate some kind of plan to make this all better.

But I never believed in miracles.

If you need something done, you have to do it yourself. My father had always told me that.

If there was any way out of this, I would have to find it by myself. And step one had to be getting Joe out of trouble.

Which meant only one thing. Reasoning with Brett Taylor.

A spark of a plan was forming in my mind. I offered up a silent prayer. This had to work.




AN: Sorry this has taken so long. I just lost my way a bit with it. Let me know if you think I'm back on track or if this sucks horribly. Appreciated.