Le Descartes

by AMV84

Summary:

Isabel Conkin is in Paris, France, a place she's only dreamed of being. Yet, all she can think about is who cares about the city of love when there's no Jeremiah Fisher sitting beside her.

Or

A season three episode nine rewrite, because Conrad blows shit up, says "oops, sorry!" And the grown ups give him love and excuses, but Jeremiah acts like a flawed buttface for a few weeks and everyone wants to cancel him.

Or, or

Belly tries, one more time, to choose for herself, whether or not the people around her want to let her.

Notes:

This will obviously contain spoilers. So read at your own risk.

 

Everyones trash talking Jeremiah right now, but all i see is a flawed human. Really, the poor boy just desperately needed some positive parental guidance and unconditional support. And obviously to communicate better.

I hate Conrad. So much. People say Jeremiah is immature, but I actually think Conrad has him beat. Jeremiah may be a little naive but Conrad is downright selfish and entitled.

Chapter 1

Isabel Conklin practically poured her tired body recklessly into the wooden chair, wincing as it creaked ominously on the uneven cobblestones in front of a beautiful Parisian café.

A café that she can't even bring herself to properly appreciate because there are no soft golden curls tickling her cheek, or a tanned, muscled arm wrapped around her shoulders. There is no beautiful sunshine man, her beloved companion sat next to her, laughing brightly with a foam mustache leftover from this admittedly delicious latte she can't bear to finish.

Isabel Conkin is in Paris, France, a place she's only dreamed of being. Yet, all she can think about is who cares about the city of love when there's no Jeremiah Fisher sitting beside her.

Pulling out her phone, she stares at her background. Them, so happy. Before expectations and familial judgment. Without all the well meaning advice and downright sabotage. Opening a frequented album, she scrolls through the various memories, all smiling, if not from the mouths than definitely from the eyes.

So many photos through the years, a clear story of her messy, but beautiful love. They may not have always been on the same page, but they've always been in the same chapter. Always writing the same book.

Not a fairytale like the one she was told all her life from a well meaning, but truthfully unfair mother figure. Where she thought extreme lows were acceptable because they were followed by dizzying highs. Love bombing with grand gestures and epic speeches, but no substance, no real change or growth. The same endless cycle, but she's expected to swoon over it all anyway because it's coming from dreamy eyes and prince charming hair.

No, they've been writing an entirely different story. One with laughter and long conversations about shared hopes and dreams. Moments of miscommunication, but never of disrespect. Compromise, but never at the expense of the other. No one is the martyr. No one on a pedestal. Just a true, passionate partnership. A love meant to weather any storm, to survive the truest test of time.

As Isabel Conklin sits in front of the Parisian Café, she can't bring herslef to regret leaving. Doesn't necessarily regret not fighting harder for her almost wedding.

If shes being honest with herself, it wasn't their wedding.

Not the one on their beach, with the salty sea air curling Jeremiahs curls even more than they already are, just begging for her hands to bury themselves into them. There were no lovingly chosen seashells bearing witness as they dig their bare feet into the soft sand and promise themselves to one another.

She doesn't regret leaving, but she does regret not bringing Jeremiah Fisher with her. And she knows she'll regret it for the rest of her life if she doesn't at least try to reclaim what she's dangerously close to letting slip through her fingers.

With shaking fingers and a terrified heart, she presses call and presses the sun warmed screen to her cheek, listening and hoping he answers.

"Belly?" Her shoulders sink in relief.

He always answers.

Easily, like slipping on her favorite sweater, they fall back into familiar banter and her heart soars, though only for a too feelting moment, quickly he brings her back to earth.

"What is this?"

He asks her to come back and more than anything she wants to give in just to lessen her beautiful boys sadness.

But she can't.

Cousins, Finch, her mom's place. None of them are home anymore. Paris may not be home either, but she can hear it calling her name. Something in her, everything in her, screaming she has to be here, the next stage of her life is about to begin.

But does she dare?

"Look, you were wrong." She begins, probably not the strongest start, but she's never been known to do things right the first time around.

"When you said I was just marrying you to get rid of Conrad. When you implied that just because I have a past means my heart can't belong to you. That's not true and its not fair. Conrad is family, which means a part of me was literally raised to love him.

I didn't even really fall in love with him, because I was always told I was in love with him."

"I don't want to hear about Conr–" His pained voice cuts in.

"Wait, just, please I promise there's a point to this. You said your piece, now it's my turn to say mine. Okay?" She says, sternly.

It's quiet for a moment before he gently clears his throat, "okay, go ahead."

Belly takes a deep breath, "okay. Look, when I think of love, when I think of my future, when I think of happiness, I think of you. Only you. It',s been that way for four years now, and I don't see that changing anytime soon. I don't want it to change anytime soon."

She stands forcefully, chair scraping as its pushed back, garnering weird looks from the locals as she grows impassioned.

Nevertheless, she persists.

"I want to be with you, Jeremiah. There is no doubt in my mind. No hesitation in my heart. I'm not unsure. I'm not longing for something else. I know what I want. But you need to respect that when I say I choose you, that means I choose you. My choices are my own, and you don't get to say I don't love you the way you love me just because I've loved someone else before."

She can hear him about to interrupt again, likely to disagree but she's on a roll now. She's found her point and she is damn well going to make it.

"I'll admit that for a little while there, it was like I was sixteen again, lost, hearing Susannahs voice in my head saying I'm meant for Conrad. And I'm not gonna lie, it messed me up. I think it messed me up a long time ago and just kept getting worse as I got older and she kept pushing us together. But I know now that there is a difference between what I'm feeling and what I'm supposed to be feeling."

Her voice grows quiet, guilt bubbling up when she invokes Susannahs name, but just because she's gone, doesn't meant she was perfect. Doesn't mean she didn't do damage. She can't rewrite history to spare feelings.

"And... what are you feeling, Belly?" His deep voice rasps out, giving me goosebumps from thousands of miles away.

She smiles, this part is easy. She just needs to keep being honest.

"I'm in love with you, Jeremiah Fisher. That's what I'm feeling. Can you respect me enough to believe me when I say that the only one who owns my heart is you?"

She can hear his shaking breaths get louder and she can picture so clearly his tearful eyes and scrunched up face. It nearly destroys her, not being able to take him into her arms and make it better.

"I want to, I miss you so much I can hardly breathe, but I'm just so..." His voice breaks off.

"So what, baby?" Belly asks gently, filled with so much love for him.

"Insecure!" He practically roars through the phone, a sob ripping itself from his chest.
"I'm insecure and I fucking hate it Bells. I hate it. But everywhere I go, there he is! The better Fisher."

"Oh, Jer."

"You know I got a letter from my mom?" He seemingly changes the subject. She's confused but willing.

"Yeah? I got one too, my mom gave it to me."

"Well I'm sure yours was actually addressed to you."

"Wait, what?" Her stomach chills, her heart dropping. Please, no...
He laughs, it's not a happy sound.

"Yeah. I open the letter, hoping, praying it's something for me to hold onto. Some words of advice or just love from my mom in a time when I really need it. And there it is."

"Baby..."

"Dear Conrad. Her favorite son. Everyone's favorite. It's never me."

"Not mine."

"You don't mean that." He says mournfully.

"Hey." She scolds. "You don't get to decide for me who my favorite is, and as far as I'm concerned, you outrank everyone in my life."

"You really mean that?" He asks, sounding so much like the little kid yearning for affection and approval that she knows is still inside him.

"Yes." She says emphatically.

"I love our families, but so much of the problem is them, Jeremiah. We made all of this about them when it should've been about us."

"Yeah. I know. I guess I just thought, if we gave in, they'd approve of me for you. Think I was worthy of being your husband. Instead i guess i was starting to become my dad."

"Hey now, I wouldn't go that far." She quips. Smiling when she hears him laugh.

"Can we try again then? Just us, without everyone's opinions?" He asks hopefully.

Her smile drops, but she's come this far and won't stop now.

"I don't want to go back." Belly confesses, practically able to hear his heart drop.

"I can't go back. Every time I'm around both our families, I lose myself. And I don't want to do that anymore."

"I'll remind you who you are!" He bursts out, frantic.

A tear follows the curve of her cheek and she does nothing to wipe it off.

"This wedding should have been a beautiful, exciting experience. But instead it was a battleground being fought on all sides. Just something that's meant to make your dad look good, his girlfriend feel good, and my mom like it was the worst thing to ever happen to her. Everything was about everyone else and we were supposed to be grateful for it, we were supposed to say thank you. I'm so angry about all of it."

"What does this mean for us?" He asks.

"I guess what I'm trying to say, if you can believe it... would it be too much if I were to ask you to come to Paris?" She slowly. Each word spoken with meaning, finally saying what she hasn't been able to get out of her head since she got here.

The line is dead quiet for a few terrifying moments before his incredulous voice comes through.

"Come to Paris?"

"Yes." She says simply, knowing it's anything but.

"Just come. I know it's too much, but I want to ask anyway because even though I need to be here right now, doesn't mean I don't also need to be with you. I don't want to be Belly Conklin, Steven's little sister, Conrad's ex that he can't let go of, and I don't want you feel like the younger less loved Fisher. I want us to just be Isabel and Jeremiah. Young, in love, and not giving a shit what anyone has to say about it. Let's be us, see if we can build a life here. Let's just see what happens." She feels like the main characters of a movie, making one last ditch effort to keep her love.

There's no response from his end, just fast breathing, before she hears a series of notifications coming from his side of the line.

"Jer? Was that– I'll understand if it's too much. You can just tell me to fuck off–"

"My flight gets in tomorrow at 7pm." Jeremiah Fisher says confidently, before the sounds of rummaging and zippers being zipped and unzipped filter through the line.

Or maybe it's happening inside her head, because he can't possibly mean...

"What?" She mumbles out.

He sounds chipper now, joy animating his previously morose voice.

"Oh yeah, I started looking up tickets as soon as you asked if it would be too much."

Tears run down her face, "You mean..."

"Nothing will ever be too much if it leads me to you, Bells." He says warmly, stealing her breath away.

"I don't care what anyone says, you're my everything. I'm my happiest when I'm with you, so it's really in my best interest to just follow you wherever you go."

Belly shakes her head in disbelief. She can't believe this boy. Dazed, she mutters, "Where I go you go, huh?"

She hears him hum.

"Yeah, where you go, I go." Now the sounds of drawers being shut, hangers starting to clink together, dragging against wood fills the line.

"What about your job?" She forces herself to ask, despite not wanting to question it. "I know how hard you worked for the opportunity..."

He sighs heavily, "honestly, I fucking hated that job. I just thought if I became a fancy business man, maybe you'd be proud to be with me."

"I'm always proud to be with you, Jer. I just want you to be proud of you, too."

"Well, I wasn't proud I was turning into my dad, that's for sure. If you say you're proud to be with me, super senior, head a little bit in the clouds, then, well, I'm choosing to believe you. Fuck the job."

She laughs, "fuck the job!"

People are definitely staring now.

Fuck the staring. Her man is coming.

Still, she has to ask one more time. To be clear.

"Are you sure, Jer? I don't know when I'm coming back. We could be here a while."

Jeremiah chuckles through the line, a bag zipping close with finality on his side, before he says,

"I'm gonna say what I should've said to you when you told me you were considering backing out of going abroad so you could stay with me."

"What's that?" She asks when he pauses, clearly waiting for her to.

"Wanna run away to Paris with me?"

Isabel Conklin practically floats back into her chair, relishing in the way it jolts back and forth on the uneven cobblestone. She tilts her head back, letting the warm sun dry the tears on her face.

"I thought you'd never ask." Her voice drifts lovingly through the line, traveling thousands of miles away, miles beginning to decrease as a door shuts forcefully and long legs begin to bring her sunshine man back to her side.

Chapter 2: Freedom

Summary:

Jeremiah Fisher decides freedom and happiness are worth way more than the approval of others.

He just has to get through a difficult conversation or two before he can actually have either of them.

Notes:

Fine. I'm angry enough for a part two.

Also, the comments were encouraging and somehow the story took the wheel and decided where it wanted to go.

So if I'm going to write this, it needs to be mutually understood that in this universe there is no such thing as a pesky need for short term or long term stay visas. Let's pretend it's entirely possible to just drop everything and move thousands of miles away to an entirely different continent on a whim.

Jeremiah Fisher has loved Isabel Conklin for as long as he can remember. A gentle affection that steadily grew until it became a raging inferno. He knew her own love for him grew a lot more quietly, and he has always been okay with that. He's willing to put in the hard work needed to make something grow.

The problem is, he's always had trouble loving himself. Which makes it difficult to feel secure in how others feel about him. In result, that makes it entirely too easy to fall back into his insecurities, and regress to the version of himself that clings too tightly, whines too loudly, and listens too little.

He thinks it has to do with him only getting positive attention when he's happy and easy going, but ridicule and disdain when he's anything else. That pressure to perform and the expectation to be grateful for what he's given, can make him petulant, and desperate about the things he's promised, like a toddler clinging to a beloved stuffed animal.

He hates this about himself. Just when he thinks he's outgrown it, that desperation that only surges when he's about to lose the few things he holds dear, it consumes him yet again. Before he knows it, he's overcorrecting, and suffocating what he's trying to keep or he assumes he knows what he needs to do to fix it, instead of simply asking.

He's just never felt like his love is enough.

None of that is to say his mother didn't love him, she loved him so, very much. He would never say otherwise. Jeremiah has always known she had a definite soft spot for him, he has always tried his best to never take advantage of it.

He knew this as an undeniable truth, but at the end of the day, Conrad was her first baby. Hers and Laurels. That meant that they protected his heart in the way you only really do for the child that first made you a parent. They fantasized about his future, from beginning to end, in a way they never did for the others. Pinned all their hopes and dreams on him. He always tried to keep that in mind, that enormous pressure his brother must have been under.

Maybe that's why he never made the connection that Belly finally sparked in his mind. Never thought about it in the way she so harshly stated earlier. His willingness to cut Conrad a break and see only the best in both him and his mother, blinded him from seeing that in the script they wrote for Conrads life, they wrote a part for Belly as well. He never considered that they reduced Belly until she was simply an insert into a slot already written out for her.

It wasn't their love story, Conrad's and Belly's. All along It was just Conrad's story in general.

Jeremiah and Belly, everyone else, we're simply playing our parts, supporting characters to that sacred love story created for Laurel and Susannah's baby boy.

Jeremiah thought that proving his love meant supporting that story, fulfilling his role, denying his heart, even though, while Belly was looking at Conrad, and Conrad at anyone else, Jeremiah was always looking at her. Now he thinks, maybe love is refusing to accept less than what he deserves. For himself and for the person he loves most in this world.

He takes his bags and rushes down the steps of the summer home, heart about to take flight with or without the airplane he's desperately ready to get to. He feels like he could skip or spontaneously break out into song.

Unfortunately, joy never lasts in this house. As soon as his foot touches the last step he sees him and every good feeling evaporates, anger and deep pain filling its place.

Conrad.

As if crashing into a brick wall, he comes to a stop, a backpack strap hanging off one shoulder, a bulging duffel bag carried at his side, and stretches to his full height. His brother's eyes, a comfort before, are now just pitiful to him. Crocodile tears make them shine, a strand of hair falling dramatically in his face, and for a moment he understands how so many people are drawn in.

"Jer..." Conrad starts, voice cracking and remorseful, but then his eyes catch on Jeremiah's bags and his eyebrows furrow in confusion, before they straighten in annoyance. His expression turning haughty and spiteful.

"Where are you going." He says. Not as a question, more like an accusation.

Jeremiah can't stop his lip from curling in disgust.

"As far away from you as possible."

Conrad sighs, exhausted, as if the weight of the world has once again been placed upon his shoulders.

Can Atlas just fucking shrug already, so they can be done with this shit.

"You don't need to run away. Soon I'll be back in California and you won't need to see me for a while." He says, as if it solves all their problems.

Conrad slithered out of his hole, proceeded to pour gasoline all over Jeremiah's hopes and dreams. Then he struck that match and burned it all to the ground. All while handing Jeremiah a hose, pretending to help him put out the flames. Now, he wants to scurry back into the shadows, wait for all the ashes to be cleared away, then come back and pretend it was never there to begin with.

Fuck that, Conrat.

"No. California isn't far enough. I need to get as far away from as you as I can."

Jeremiah think he might just throw up if he's forced to be in the same timezone as Conrad for longer than absolutely necessary.

Conrad rolls his eyes, "Come on man, I'm sorry. I know I– I messed up. But if you would just let me fix thi–"

Jeremiah shakes his head, "You always fucking mess up. You always fuck shit up and then turn around and act like you're the victim. And everyone just fucking let's you. You can do no wrong even though wrong is all you ever do. I never want to see you again."

Conrad tries to look at him imploringly, "I couldn't help myself, Jer."

He doesn't know how, didn't think he possibly could, but Jeremiah thinks he hates his brother even more after that excuse. Taylor would say it's such a problematic statement, a major red flag. Redbird would agree.

"You can never help yourself. You know, its almost funny. All my life I've been compared to you. How different we are. How you all think I'm impulsive or too dumb to think things through without someone there to hold my hand." Jeremiah swallows the break in his voice before it can escape, "But every time you make a mistake, every time you break things, then throw a tantrum and walk away, every single person makes excuses for you. You get to be more than your worst moments but I'm never allowed to be more than mine."

Conrad's mouth pinches in annoyance, eyes darting to the side as if Laurel will magically appear to take his side.

Laurel's not here, and even if she were, Jeremiah is far passed caring what she thinks about him. She's made it clear she never saw him as her son. There will be no argument as to which Fisher son is her favorite.

"I tried so hard, for so long, to measure up to you. And if not to measure up, than to at least be almost as good as you. Now, I'd hate myself if I was anything like you. Now, I'm grateful that I am who I am, flaws and all. Because at least I try. At least I show up. At least I'm honest and own up to my mistakes. At least I don't need anyone to make excuses for me."

Jeremiah takes a few steps closer, Conrad takes a step back and he can finally see his brother as small on the outside as he knows he is on the inside.

"You just say "I'm sorry" and then expect that to be enough." A few steps closer, they're only feet apart.

"If people want to keep making excuses for you, that's fine. Laurel can keep coddling you, keep telling you, you do no wrong and dad can stay crawled up your ass. But not me. I see you, Conrad. I've always seen you, I just thought there was a good person deep down. Now I know better. I won't make the same mistake twice and I won't make any more excuses for you."

He feels good. Feels done. Jeremiah turns to go, makes it a few steps, before Conrad speaks up behind him.

"I love her." He says, simply.

"So what. Really. So?" Jeremiah yells, fed up. "You suck it up. You respect your fucking brother and you respect the choices Belly has made. Whether or not you like it is irrelevant. You pulled at her. Over and over, knowing that it would fuck with her head. Knowing the influence you and mom have always had on her."

Conrad pulls back, shaking his head flabbergasted, "Woah hey, what does mom have to do with this?"

"Everything! She has everything to do with this. I love mom. I loved mom. But at the end of the day, it was fucked up to tell a little girl that she was meant for one of her sons. Even worse, it was fucked up to pretty much choose which one it was going to be. Belly never really had a choice. At least not one that wasn't heavily influenced by the adults around her."

With a laugh like he finally understands everything, Conrad says, "Oh, alright. So now it's mom's fault Belly chose me over you. Grow up, Jer. Mom has nothing to do with Belly's feelings for me."

"You missed the point. You always miss the point when it doesn't benefit you. The point isn't whether or not she chose you over me. The point is she was always expected to choose you over everyone, everything else. Even her own feelings."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Conrad demands.

"Did she love you? Or did she love the fairytale she had been told her entire life." Jeremiah states, he may not know the answer himself, but he's coming to terms with the idea that maybe it doesn't matter. If Belly says she loves him, he's deciding to grow up and believe her.

"Shut the fuck up." Conrad says aggressively, his jaw tightening in anger.

Jeremiah isn't scared. He'll never be scared again.

"No. I'll never shut up again for your benefit. You guys dated for a few months, four years ago. That was real. I get that.

But let's be honest, you treated her like shit. You made your grief the loudest thing in every room. You took up all the space and left nothing for anyone else, not caring about the people around you. Every moment was about you. How you were feeling. How you were coping. Any time you "sucked it up" you were just sulking and making everyone feel like shit, all while acting like some sacrificial martyr. Then, you would keep her holding on with tiny glimpses of happiness, of what it's supposed to be like when you're treated right by your partner. You treated the bare minimum like it was some prize to be earned. And you call that an epic romance?"

"You don't know what you're talking about. It was more complicated than that." Conrad insists, shaking his head and crossing his arms insecurely across his chest.

"No. It wasn't. You've always been drowning Conrad, and I think mom raised Belly to be your buoy, something to hold onto when the storm hits. But who the fuck does Belly hold onto? You've proven it's not you. You only ever want her when she's doing good, when she's happy. When her storms hit, you go find another fucking buoy." Jeremiah shouts, enraged on Belly's behalf. This man says he loves her, yet he never stays. Never stands behind his words. This all feels so hollow.

"You're just pissed off that we both always knew she was never going to choose you." Conrad says like he's doing Jeremiah a favor by finally letting him know.

Jeremiah is filled with an inconceivable rage, wanting so badly to punch Conrad again. He can practically taste how good it would feel to do it. Can almost feel the sting in his knuckles.

He's actually taken a threatening step forward when he pictures Belly's face, open and loving, his future in her eyes. He can still hear her soothing voice, drifting through the phone, asking him to come to her.

Suddenly, he realizes it doesn't matter what he says to Conrad. Just like it doesn't matter what he says to Laurel. Or his father. All they hear are the words they think he would say, never the actual ones coming out of his mouth.

None of them ever really listen. They never hear him. His mother did, sometimes. When she wasn't disracted by the stars in her eyes, planning out Belly and Conrad's epic romance. So much of the time she expected him to follow the script set out for him. The loyal brother. The steadfast friend. Never a main character who is just as worthy of an epic love story.

Except for Belly. She always heard him. Always listened. Even when he wasn't sure of what he was feeling, she'd sit with him and they'd sort it out together. Love shouldn't hurt more than it heals. Shouldn't burn what it should keep warm.

Maybe some good can come from this whole mess, because now he's learned to never take anything for granted. There is no predestined love. No guideline for him to follow. No expectation or obligation for someone to be his life raft, or he the safety net for someone else. He can build his epic love story. He has been building it. And he's supposed to be on his way to excavate and rebuild the foundation, so the next time a storm hits, he and Belly can take shelter in each other and become stronger for it. He adjusts his hold on his bags and starts toward the door.

"We're brothers." Is proclaimed behind him. A last ditch effort to return Jeremiah to his burden. It feels more like a threat than a statement and he's even more determined to escape.

"Not anymore. I told you. I'm done. I'm going to leave–"

"Where? Where the hell do you think you're going to go?" Conrad has a hand bunched in his precious hair, ruining the perfect facade.

The sight makes Jeremiah laugh, and he laughs freely, feeling drunk off the taste of freedom, "Maybe I'll backpack through Asia or give K2 my best shot. Or maybe I'll check out the great barrier reef or take a long walk through the Sahara. The best thing is, you'll never fucking know."

He doesn't need to brag about where he's really going. Feels no need to gloat. He is truly, finally, done. He no longer craves Conrad's validation or his approval. Most surprisingly, he doesn't even care to win. This is no game. There is no winner. No loser. This is just life. And he is damn well going to live his life the way he wants, free of the shackles of everyone's expectations.

Isabel Conklin has given him the strength to set himself free.

Jeremiah takes one last look at his older brother, can see their mother in him and it makes something soften inside, but then he thinks about what Belly said, how she was practically raised to love him. Pushed and pulled and molded for him. He thinks, he was raised to watch them be together. To be affable enough to keep peace. Kind enough to swallow his wants. Sacrificial enough to never ask for more.

He looks around at the beach house, a place he used to love. A physical representation of their mothers love. Now all he sees is pain and obligation. Absence and loss.

He doesn't want to come back here for a very long time.

He knows Conrad is waiting for Belly to run through the door, to come back to him, and Jeremiah pities him. What are words with no action. Proclamations with no substance to back it up. Conrad is so used to things being given to him he does not know how to fight for things, how to see it through to the end.

Turning back to his unfortunate blood relative, he knows all he has left to say is, "All I see, when I look at you, is someone waiting. All I see is a selfish, sad man that looks a lot like my brother, but my brother is gone. He has been for a long time. Just like my mother, they're both ghosts now."

He pulls open the door for the last time, his final words tossed behind him as he confidently pulls the door shut behind him.

"Go ahead and keep waiting. You and mom can keep each other company."

He walks out, blue hydrangeas the only witness to the pieces of Jeremiah Fisher he leaves behind. Still, he does not stop until he's inside his jeep, backback tossed carelessly to the back, but duffel bag placed purposely, with care, into the passenger seat. He immediately starts the car and doesn't hesitate to reverse out of the beautiful nightmare of his childhood.

Never once does he lay his eyes on the beach house.

Fuck looking back.

He hits the gas with more enthusiasm than he probably should. With the windows down, wind blowing his curls wildly around his face, he bellows joyously from the top of his lungs, a wild, youthful sound. One borne from hard fought freedom and the absolute adrenaline of doing the most daring thing he's ever done in his life. Jeremiah cranks the radios volume as high it will go, laughing when You Can Never Tell by Chuck Berry comes on. If that's not a sign, he doesn't know what is.

He's only looking forward now and straight ahead is the love of his life, and with her, another chance.

With a noise of surprise he remembers one more thing he needs to do, so regretfully, he turns the music back down, and instructs his phone to "Call Dad" over the Bluetooth.

Unsurprisingly the phone rings almost all the way to voicemail, before even more surprisingly, his father actually answers him.

"Jeremiah? Hey, did Conrad find you?"

He rolls his eyes, of course his father wouldn't even let him speak before bringing up his favorite son.

"Yeah, dad. I found him. Look–"

"That's good, listen Kayleigh made us reservations for dinner and I'm going to be late–"

Jeremiah interjects forcefully, might as well get right to it, "Yeah yeah yeah, I won't keep you. I just wanted to let you know, thanks for the job opportunity, but I'm gonna pass."

Adam goes from absent and impatient to downright furious very quickly.

"What the hell do you mean you're gonna pass? Is this about that girl? You can't let her ruin your entire life, Jeremiah!"

"Her name is Belly. And I'm passing because it's boring as fuck, the environment is toxic as shit and your relationship with your assistant, who you cheated on mom with, makes me really uncomfortable."

"Woah, now wait one minute, you don't know what you're talking abou–"

"Also, I've decided I'm gonna be backpacking through Asia. I'm already boarding my plane, so I gotta turn my phone off. I'll call you when I get where I'm going. Talk to you later, dad." Jeremiah hits the end call button before his father can respond, immediately turning off his phone and tossing it into the backseat with his backpack.

His heart pounds in his chest, his eyes are abnomally wide, like a cornered animal ready to bolt, but he has no regrets. Every tie he cuts, the more weightless he feels. If he's not careful, his car may just sprout wings and fly him to Paris, fueled entirely on love, courage, and lunacy.

He turns the music back up, and soars down the highway. Every mile he goes is one mile closer to the absolute love of his life.

He really hopes he remembered to pack his passport.

Notes:

I don't edit. I just ramble all my feelings and hope it makes some sense. Hope it satisfied you all.

Also, fuck Conrat.

Chapter 3: The Long But Necessary Wait

Summary:

The road to love is long but worth it. Always worth it.

Notes:

Your comments give me life. Seriously. This probably would've died out, but the comments make me laugh and then I have to write more.

I had fun with this one, if you're frustrated with the lack of interaction between them, just know I was frustrated too, but it was necessary. I have plans for these two, promise.

Belly has had, quite possibly, the most chaotic, mortifying, and altogether stressful day of her life.

Which is really saying something because anyone who has been paying attention would agree that Isabel Conklin has gotten herself into some messy situations in her life.

After getting off the phone – the single most important phone call of her life, she gleefully leaves her table to settle her bill at Le Descartes, only to get back and realize her bag is not where she left it. Her bag with very important and sentimental items. The owner of the shop gives her some very unhelpful and frankly, passive aggressive advice when she states her bag has been taken.

The cherry on top, she only remembers her AirTag after embarrassing herself publicly.

Throughout the day, the only thing that keeps her going, the only thought in her mind that stops her from just sitting down on the cold uneven ground and giving up, is the fact that Jeremiah is arriving the next day.

Well, next night.

Curse intercontinental flights.

Soon, they'll be together again and they can finally work on their relationship. Here, no one knows us. No one knows the sordid history between their families. There are no judgemental eyes and not a single envious heart.

She knows its not going to be easy. She knows they have so much to work on.

Her lingering issues and hardwired way of thinking; she'll need to self reflect often and make an effort to ultimately reprogram herself. She's not used to thinking about what she's actually feeling, always prioritizing how she thinks others think she should feel.

It's new. For most decisions her first thought is still whether or not Susannah would approve, and that's not healthy. It makes her confused, then she doubts herself and becomes cold and distant. She's coming to terms with the fact that she has internalized a lot of toxic ideals, and she's starting to think all the kids did.

Well, except for, maybe, Steven. The little weirdo.

Belly also isn't blind to all the things Jeremiah has to work through. His insecurities and self esteem issues. Whenever they creep in, and he keeps it bottled in for too long, he turns into a little monster. He has always been her little monster, she'll forever love him endlessly, but her sunshine boy can turn into a raging storm when he he thinks he's losing anything he loves. When he thinks he's losing her.

She understands where it comes from, she knows his tender heart has been pushed and pulled and crushed over and over, only for him to pick it up, dust it off, and hand it back all over again. He's been wishing and hoping someone would just keep it safe, choose to cherish it.

Belly has always been one of the, if not the only one that has wanted to keep his heart. She wants to give it a home inside of herself. As much as people gravitate to him in every room, they often get frightened by how deeply he feels. They want to enjoy him, but they never want to keep him.

It's painful to admit that she has failed it, failed him, at times. She hasn't always treated his heart as delicately as it needs. She has sometimes forgotten to remind him just how loved he is by her, she can forget how powerful words can be.

Sometimes you need to hear it out loud.

Belly knows all of this has played a part in the way he has acted out, in how things exploded in the end.

That doesn't make it okay, though. Their failure to communicate, if left as it is, will be the thing that rips them apart.

She knows if they want this to work, if they want this to last in the way she knows they do, they have to have a real talk about both of their behavior.

The way they've been going is not sustainable.

They need to work on themselves in a very real way. An ongoing process that will take time, but she truly believes they can grow together. They've always brought out the best in each other, she just knows how solid they could become if they could get this right.
Funny enough, she's thinking about growth, communication, and tenderness whilst driving her foot down into the knee of a greasy, childish, bag thief.

Belly is rehearsing how best to bare her soul and encourage Jeremiah to do so in return at the same time as she bodily rips her backpack off the sweaty pile of French man, retreating back and immediately moving to open the front pocket.

The thief is scrambling up before she can find what she's looking for, accusing her of stealing the bag from him. Before she knows it, there's a crowd of angry people ready to take a side. Belly is so pissed off, her patience nonexistent after an entire day wasted running around like a mad woman, this moldy slice of bread is still trying to get away with something that isn't his.

"Quel est ton problème, salope?" She isn't fluent in French but she definitely knows the word for bitch.

"That's my bag!" She's never pointed so much, so aggressively in her life. It makes her feel surprisingly powerful.

"She's crazy, this is my bag." He says to the girl to his left, genuinely looking like he expects her to take it from Belly and give it back to him. It's dark in the club, but she thinks she can see him pouting.

Fine, she thinks, he wants it, then he shouldn't mind a little show and tell.

"Oh, really?" She starts, laughter in voice, "okay, yeah."

Then crouches down again, this time opening the main zipper, white filling her vision.

"So this is your dress, huh?" She dramatically pulls out her long wedding dress – she does not think he could pull it off – and feels a sick satisfaction when shock and embarrassment fashes across his face and he looks at the people around him.

"Psycho." He spits out at her, moving to retreat with his still laughing friends.

"Yeah, okay." She bites back, forcing herself to turn around when she would love to drop him to the ground again.

"You okay?" The girl, Gemma she thinks, who helped her get inside the club comes up and asks.

"Yeah, this motherfucker stole my bag." Belly says, still seething and secretly ready for round two.

On the bright side, her vicious actions earn her a much needed late night hang with other people her age. Its oddly therapeutic, telling her soap opera of a life to complete strangers. Who would have thought that meeting kind –but admittedly morally gray French locals, who soaked up her story like it was a Hallmark movie– was exactly what she needed.

She has an entertaining evening filled with shock and awe at every new detail she reveals, way too many questions about which one of the brothers is bigger – Jeremiah, not that she answers that – and scandilized reactions at how she just left things.

Apparently, it was bad form to leave the continent without even having a conversation with a man who allegedly blew up his life for her. Especially when he just so happened to be in the same airport she was. Though, she stands by the fact that she never asked him to "blow up his life." She really would have rather he didn't.

"Wow. You're a badass." The only guy in the group comments, trying to initiate some intense eye contact.

"No." She argues, she's never been called a badass in her life, and she's not interested in an impromptu staring contest. Unless its with a pair of ocean eyes.

She's also not blind to the interested looks the dark haired guy – Benito, she thinks his name is – keeps giving her. Almost smug in how he checks her out, like he expects her to eventually return the vibe he's trying to send out. It takes a lot to not laugh in his face. He's pretty much a Wal-Mart version of Jeremiah, with dark hair. As if she would ever trade the real thing for a knockoff.

The rest of them are nice though.

"Hold on, let's get back to the wedding of it all." Gemma exclaims, "So, you left Jerry, hopped on a plane, flew thousands of miles away only to then realize you should've brought him with you to begin with? So, you call him and just like that, he's on a plane?"

When she puts it like that, it does sound like a Hallmark movie.

"Jeremiah." She corrects. "And yeah." Belly can't believe it herself and she's the one experienced it.

"Wow. That boy must really love you." She says, like just the idea of such love is surprising.

It is surprising, but also, not. Jeremiah has never faltered in showing her how much he loves her. She can't stop her smile as she looks down into her drink.

They do keep asking about Conrad, Taylor and her mother a little bit, tickled at how she just left them all hanging.

"You don't make it through your twenties without inflicting some damage, otherwise you haven't lived." Gemme says at one point.

It's kind advice, meant to make her feel better, and it does, but mostly it encourages her to ensure she causes no more damage to Jeremiah Fisher. She'll cut herself some slack with everyone else.

"Well, thank you for being so nice to a total stranger." She says, ready to head out. "I mean, I guess you know a lot about me now."

They laugh at that part. Areeing that they definitely know a lot about her now, but that it was all voluntary. They argue that she should stay, the night is still young. Belly is tempted, but ultimately has to turn them down.

"I have to start looking for somewhere to stay for the night. I don't even know what I'm going to do long term."

She's trying very hard not to panic about it.

"You tracked down your stolen bag and mauled a man, I think you can figure out a living situation if you really put your mind to it. You'll be fine." Gemma says, and it does make her sound pretty badass.

"Yeah, and your man is coming here, and it doesn't sound like anything goods waiting for you back home, so its not like you can go home." Max, Gemma's girlfriend, says, her accent thicker than the others. The others admonish her for her bluntness.

The words are harsh, but true. It doesn't hurt her like she knows it should. She even surpises herslef for finding humor in them. Even though Jeremiah's not here yet, she feels his presence in her heart, and with it the feeling that all she needs is right here in Paris. She never even considering returning home.

"Either way, brutal honesty aside, that'll be a problem for tomorrow. For now, let's drink some more, you deserve it," Gemma says, interjecting when Belly tries to argue her need to leave, her worry she won't find somewhere with an availability.

"A lot of the Hostels are tourists traps that charge way too much wuth shitty accommodations, we'll take you to one of the local gems. Okay? Don't worry, we got you." She reassures.

They've been so kind, and she would really like to drink and unwind a little more. Belly considers the words and finds herself giving in fairly easily.

They cheer and immediately order more drinks.

The next couple of hours are spent talking and laughing, then they kindly cover the bill despite her protests, and proceed to walk her to the Hostel, making the end of the night less lonely than the day began.

When they get to the front of the delightfully ancient and embellished building, she admires the architecture for a moment in the dark before Gemma pulls insider the double glass doors.

She's surpised at how cheap the rooms are and inquires about getting a decent room for the week. Her new friends promise it's nothing like the horrible American movies – Max's words – and she decides to take their word for it, or else she'll never be able to sleep. While Belly is speaking with the man working the desk, Gemma interjects in french at one point to the man. Words spoken too fast for her to translate.

Gemma spies her confused look and smiles at her like she's cute.

"You said your man is tall right? I told him you needed a room with a larger bed."

She winks, patting Belly on the shoulder before heading back to the others.

"Thank you!" Belly shouts at her back and they all wave, some making a phone with their hands and holding it to their face, indicating for her to call them. She nods, smiles, secretly relieved she knows people willing to help her.

Some broken French and blushing cheeks later, she's situated in her room. One look at the bed and she sends another thanks to Gemma, if the beds were smaller than this than she knows Jeremiah would have had a terrible night. She's seen him curl up on too many tiny mattresses, so she's thankful she was able to escape a twin mattress and get a room with a bed big enough for her extra long, extremely cuddly man.

The quiet in the room begins to feel oppressive and for the first time all day, she takes a moment to check in with herself. The past 40 hours have brought so much change, and she hasn't even told her Mom she's in Paris. The thought makes her panic internally for a moment, before she forcefully shoves it down and decides to take Gemma's advice and leave it for tomorrow. Or the next day. Maybe the one after that.

Still, she finds she has no regrets.

Except, for maybe giving up her slot at the university here to begin with. She would really love to be a student and finish her degree.

Though, she did maul a man today, so maybe she can find a way to earn slot. Its another thing to add to the ever growing list.

Her and Jeremiah will figure it out together, and she'll help him figure out his path. They'll find something that he's passionate about, she can't wait to see what it'll end up being.

As shes tucked into the lonely bed, Belly only freaks out a little bit when she hears creaking down the hall, repressing thoughts of that stupid movie Steven tried to force her to watch

The next day she's goes exploring a little, both for herself and to scope out some stuff for her and Jeremiah to do. She buys a couple of things she has a feeling her goofball would have forgotten to pack in his hurry. She cant help her smile at the blue towel and matching toothbrush she finds for him.

They have seashells on it.

She counts down the minutes until he's supposed to get there. Frustrated when his flight is delayed.

At one point, late into the night hours after his flight was originally supposed to land, she decides to just go into the empty lobby. Even the man at the front desk is gone.

Something makes her go outside, unconcerned by her sweats, and she's not even a step out of the doors before she spots her sun kissed Adonis. Hes facing away from her wearing her favorite blue shirt, making her jealous at how close it gets to be to his body.

She sees him freeze before he abruptly turns around. Their eyes meeting feels like it shakes the world. A visceral snap as they slot back into place. Back where they belong. On each other.

Before she's even in his arms, she wonders how she could have ever left him behind.

 

__________________________________________________________

Jeremiah Fisher wishes he was a better planner.

After getting to the airport and panicking when he realizes he probably can't and/or shouldn't leave his Jeep parked in the airport parking lot. He takes a brief moment where he legitimately considers just leaving his car, letting it get towed and saying fuck the consequences. He has no plans on coming back anytime soon. It wasn't explicitly said, but he got the impression Belly meant years rather than months when she said it would be a while.

He absolutely meant it when he said he was in. If it's years she wants, it's years she'll get.

He wants to give her all of his years.

Jeremiah has already locked up his car, bags in hand, and taken a few steps away when he realizes if his car is towed and impounded, his father will probably find out. Then it'll look like he's a missing person or something and shit could get really complicated. He doesn't want complicated. He just wants to live his life with his girl.

In peace.

With a slight growl he goes back in his car and researches what you're supposed to do with cars when you're traveling longterm.

Pretty quickly he finds out about long term and offsite parking. After checking the time, seeing he has three hours before his flight, he makes some calls and locates a nearby offsite service that still has openings for 60–90 day parking. He figures he could just get someone to pick up his car in a couple of months and take it to the house in Boston or Cousins.

He finds he doesn't really care.

After a stressful 30 minute transaction and one misplaced cell phone, Jeremiah has finally boarded a shuttle that's supposed to take him back to the airport. His knee is bouncing chaotically as he stares at his watch with wide eyes. He briefly considers getting off the shuttle and just sprinting to the terminal, but quickly shoots that idea down. He does not need to be hit by a stray car or something as equally tragic right before he gets his love back.

He does sprint through the airport, though.

He's really lucky he wasn't tackled or escorted off the premises.

Jeremiah does have to take off his shoes though. He hates that part.

He doesn't take a deep breath until he's sat down in his aisle seat in coach, the seat next to him taken by a young mother and her very adorable toddler.

He wonders if the woman would prefer the aisle seat. What if she needs to get up often? But then what if she prefers the privacy of being tucked away, instead.

He supposes it wouldn't hurt to ask.

"Excuse me?" He says, keeping his voice hushed and polite.

At first it seems like she doesn't think he's talking to her, then it seems like she's considering ignoring the strange guy trying to talk to her and her sweet innocent baby.

Her curiosity seems to win out and she turns to him, keeping her child's head shielded protectively with her cupped hand.

"Can I help you?" She responds, not unkindly, but definitely short clipped. Kind of how Laurel when she speaks to him.

Jeremiah smiles anyway, keeping his eyes pointed respectfully away from her sleeping baby.

"Sorry, I just wanted to ask if you wouldn't prefer having the aisle seat, instead? It's no problem if not, I'll totally move anytime you need to get up, but just in case, I wanted to give you the option."

Jeremiah knows he's blushing by the end, painfully aware he's used too many words for what should've been a simple question, but this woman has eyes an eerily similar shade as Belly's and it's starting to make him wonder what his and Belly's potential babies would look like.

His body is starting to heat up at the thought. He would love a little girl, would adore a tiny Belly.

Stop. He's totally getting ahead of himself.

But he can't help the daydream.

Tiny baby.

Dark tufts of hair. Maybe curly like his. Or even blonde like his and straight like hers. Her eyes, though he knows Belly would probably argue that his eyes were better, he would love if a potential baby had hers. The deep rich color has always been his home, one glimpse and he melts.

Okay, definitely too much. Hard stop, buddy.

He snaps back into the conversation, face getting even hotter when he notices the near hostile expression has softened into amusement.

"You okay there, big guy?" She asks, voice almost condescending. "I said, I'd appreciate it. This little guy likes to have me up and about."

It takes Jeremiah a moment before he realizes she would in fact like to switch. He jumps up, stepping out of the way eagerly, much to her entertainment.

"Sorry," he says when they're situated. "You just remind me of my..." he trails off, both because this is getting really awkward and he's not exactly sure what to call Belly.

"Your... Girlfriend? Wife? What's her name?" She asks, almost laughing.

He smiles, he can answer that last one.

"Isabel. Belly. My Bells." He says reverently.

"Oh wow," She stretches out the wow at his tone, "you're down bad, big guy. Let me guess, the baby is giving you baby fever?"

She says it so bluntly, so straight out Jeremiah experiences a full body flush. Maybe even an out of body experience. He can't believe he's being put on the spot like this by a stranger whilst on a flight to reunite with his nearly lost love.

What even is his life?

Though yes, he does in fact have baby fever, but only if the baby in question is Belly's.

That doesn't mean he'll be admitting it out loud right now.

He gives her an awkward smile, titling his head in defeat, pointedly avoiding the accusation.

"Was just being polite." He says simply.

His answer seems to bring her even more amusement, but she seems to pity him and let's it go.

Jeremiah has never been a fan of flying, but strangely this time doesn't bother him much. He thinks it's because of what's awaiting him on the other side. He's so ready for her.

The leftover embarrassment and extreme effort he puts in to avoid direct eye contact with his bemused seat mate also takes him mind off the metal tin can sailing through the air.

His flight, unfortunately, has a connection, so what would be a seven hour flight turns into a twelve. His connecting flight is not as pleasant as his first. With a seat mate that keeps trying to use Jeremiah's shoulder as a pillow, which, he totally respects a dudes need to cuddle, but he is a taken man.

Finally, thankfully, theyve landed and after an unnecessarily long stall, they're allowed to disembark and he rushes to get away from the stale air and a sweaty overly touchy man.

While waiting for his bag, he kind of wishes he gave in when Belly offered to come to airport to get him, but he really didn't want her coming all the way here so late and waiting on him.

He'll admit it to no one, but part of his denial was his extreme nerves. Halfway through his first flight, he started to worry, what if she sees him and suddenly realizes she isn't attracted to him. He had a rough few days with not enough showering, very little food and exactly zero exercise.

He resolves to make use of the extra time he has before he sees her and goes to freshen up in the bathroom as soon as he reclaims his bag. He changes his shirt, the other having a slight drool stain from the sweaty guy wanting to cuddle. After a quick internal battle – partially external too, but no ones there to witness – he settles on a bright blue shirt.

Belly has always liked him in blue.

Remembering to stop and exchange American money for euros, he pulls out his phone and ignores all the messages his father and Conrad have sent him. There's even a few from Laurel, more than she's sent him in years.

Ignoring all of them, he pulls up the address Belly sent him, searching it up, he sees that it's to a Hostel and his eyebrows shoot up. Belly left the room when she tried to watch the first Hostel movie, so he hopes it's not a particularly creepy one.

His girl treasures her sleep.

Even though it's getting late, the atmosphere is still lively, and he feels infused with a need to live. He thinks there's a French saying for it. Something about joy and life.

He has to stop himself from wandering in approximately ten different directions, each time metaphorically grabbing himself by his collar and dragging himself away from all the pretty sights.

Jeremiah doesn't want to enjoy any of it without Belly, anyway.

He's eventually dropped off in front of a vintage looking building that he admires while he's getting his bags out of the car, it's opulent and embellished. Before he can think of other words Belly would use to describe it, he feels his heart skip a beat, the back of his neck tingles, and he just knows.

Turning around, standing on the sidewalk, is the most beautiful sight of his life.

Isabel Conklin stands outside the building, the double doors clicking closed behind her and he knows without a shadow of a doubt that everything that has brought him to this moment has been worth it.

They both stare at one another, neither moving, before at the same time they shrug at each other, the action making them laugh, even after everything their telepathy never fails.

With a girlish shriek that genuinely surprises him, Belly is sprinting at him, practically flying into his arms. He doesn't remember dropping his bags, then his arms are wrapped as tightly around her as hers are around him. Her hand has buried itself into his hair at the back of his head, firmly pressing him to her.

This is the hold of two lovers who nearly let go, only to realize they never want to be apart again.

Jeremiah knows in this moment that he doesn't care how the future looks, just that Belly is there to share it with him.

"My Bells..." He whispers into her neck, a full body shudder wracking through his body when she whispers "my love" right back.

He supposes they mean the same thing.

_____________

She takes him up to her room, her small hand clutching tightly to his much larger one. She keeps looking back at him and smiling, cheeks going rosy pink, like she needs to keep checking he's really there.

He can relate, if she weren't in his direct line of sight, he'd probably think he hallucinated the past 24 hours.

When they get into the room and she closes the door behind them, the click of the lock sounds abnormally loud in the quiet room.

He drops his backpack onto the hardwood floor. Then rests his duffel bag on the loveseat to the side of the comfortable looking bed, a bed he's grateful looks to be long enough that his feet won't have to hang off the end. He unzips the bag, smiling when he sees her gray sweater and bright pink shirt on top.

"I grabbed some of your things from the beach house. I noticed your favorite sweater and a few shirts I know you like." His voice comes out rough from fatigue, but warm.

"Wait what, Jer!" She says, looking both touched and concerned.

He smiles, loving that he can still surprise her. "I just wanted to make sure you had your stuff."

She shakes her head at him, a smile never leaving her face.

"Please, tell me you packed clothes for youself, too."

Jeremiah laughs, moving her things aside to show her some of his own underneath.

"Yes, don't worry. I just wanted to make sure you were comfortable."

Belly makes a face like he's the cutest thing she's ever seen and he's slightly embarrassed that it makes his chest puff up in pride.

She walks up to him and cups his cheeks with her hands, smiling at him, one hand traveling down to rub at his chest softly.

"Thank you for taking care of me."

He's smiling way too big, but he doesn't care. He's so happy he could burst into tears.

"We take care of each other."

He doesn't know who starts it, but suddenly they're wrapped around each other, breathing one another in as the tension slowly drains from their tired bodies.

At some point they start to sway to an imaginary beat, simply enjoying the closeness.

"Are you tired, baby?" Belly asks after many long minutes. Jeremiah thinks he may have started to droop into her, but he can't really be blamed. Her hand had started to gently scratch at his head, fingers lazily twirling the strands.

Her calling him baby infuses him with adrenaline like it always does, but it fades quickly, he hasn't slept in more than 30 hours and he thinks his brain may be melting.

"Yeah, I'm exhausted." He mumbles into her neck, leaving a light peck there, smiling when he feels goosebumps break out under his lips.

She rubs at his shoulders for a moment before she starts to pull away, an adoring smile pulling at her lips when an involuntary whine escapes him at the uncalled for loss of her warmth.

"Come on, let's get you to bed." She says, wrapping her hands around his forearm to pull him towards the bed, stopping at the foot of it.

She reaches down and unsnaps the button on his pants, then grasps the hem of his shirt, rubbing her thumbs soothingly on his stomach before she gently pulls it up and off. His heart jumps, but then calms just as quickly, when she starts to push his pants down he knows there's nothing sexual about this moment. She's caring for him, showing him without words her love for him.

When she makes no move to grab clothes for him to sleep in, he reaches forward and pinches the front of her shirt between his fingers, using hardly any pressure to pull her towards him. She practically floats closer. Smoothing his hands up her waist, he brings the shirt up with it, removing it from her body, mourning the seconds her eyes are hidden from him when he lifts it over her head.

When their eyes reconnect, they both exhale together in relief. Jeremiah reaches down to push off her sweats, leaving her in nothing but her underwear, just like him.

They smile at one another, hands caressing newly available skin, saying hello to landscapes they thought they said goodbye to.

When Belly pulls him into bed with her, he follows close behind, burying his face into her chest as soon as she lays on her back. They wrap so tightly around one another he doesn't think they'll ever be able to part.

He feels a long kiss press to the top of his head and he sinks into her.

"Go to sleep, Jer. I'll be here when you wake up." She murmurs in his ear, said like a vow she intends to keep.

"Promise?" He can't help but to mumble out, so tired he feels like he's underwater, so far away. He doesn't know if he imagines her response, but he thinks he must have because it was everything he ever needed to hear from her.

"Wherever you are, that's where I'll be."

Notes:

I don't speak French. I'm not sure Google speaks French. I used a little French anyway.

This was supposed to be a Belly chapter, but Jeremiah was tugging at my heart and demanded the spotlight too so its interesting how this turned out.

Hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I did writing it.

Chapter 4: Communication Is Hard

Summary:

We're on the road to healing and it is not linear.

Or

This chapter really earns that communication tag.

Notes:

lol.

 

I really hope there are no Bonrad shippers here because if there are, you're really gonna hate this one.

I almost expect Jenny Han to materialize straight out of the darkness and rugby tackle me for what I'm doing to her canon.

I'll take the tackle though because fuck that destined lovers bullshit.

 

Seriously. Any Conrad shippers. Please exit stage left. This is not for you.

*edit: if you read the chapter as soon as it was posted and it cuts off midsentence, it was a mistake that has been brought to my attention so it should be fixed now.

When Jeremiah opens his eyes he's confused at the direction the sun is coming in from through the window. He's so used to it coming from the opposite side.

He feels warm breath fanning out onto his chest, the memory of just where he ended up last night coming back to him. A smile stretches out across his face before he even looks down.

'My Bells,' he thinks. He prays. He loves.

He turns his head and there she is.

Well, there the top of her messy bedhead is. He swallows a chuckle before his body can shake with it, not wanting to wake her before she's ready. He carefully lifts his arm –not the one beneath her that's now painfully numb– and slowly moves the hair from her face, not wanting to wait another moment before he sets his eyes on her.

Her hair feels like silk between his fingertips and her face, when it's finally visible, is divine enough to have him in rapture.

He wants to worship at her alter every day for the rest of his life.

"Are you staring at me again?" Her face grumbles out, making him jump slightly.

Her eyes are still closed, which is a real shame, but she starts to rub his chest under her hand, right above his heart, calming it down as soon as it starts to race.

"I'm admiring." Jeremiah responds, running his fingers through her hair to tease out the knots.

She snorts. "No, you're staring. Creep."

"Fine. I'm staring. You got a problem with that, Conklin?" He taunts.

The challenge in his voice is enough to get her to open her eyes, the competitive spirit in her always a flame easily lit.

"You'd know it if I did, Fisher." She says, eyes softening when she reads the adoration that floods his face as soon as she meets his gaze.

There are stars shining in her eyes and they're shining for him.

"I can't believe you're here." She whispers, looking mystified, staring up at him like he's the one who's magic.

He breathes out an incredulous laugh, "I can't believe you want me here... I'm so happy you want me here."

She moves her head so her chin is resting on top of the hand on his chest.

"Oh, baby." She says. "I'm so sorry I ever made you feel like I didn't want you." She moves her head and presses a kiss to his left pec. "Things got so... complicated and communication fucked us both."

"It fucked us hard" Jeremiah agrees solemnly, expression breaking when he surprises a laugh out of her.

The sound of a phone ringing bursts their bubble of bliss and Jeremiah groans when he realizes it's coming from his.

"Shit. I think that's my dad."

Belly makes a face like she tasted something nasty. It's almost enough to have him laughing again. He thinks he's starting to really like how much she dislikes Adam.

"I know. I'm so ready to throw that thing into the Seine."

"Aw, you've been doing research." Belly gushes teasingly, scrunching her nose at him.

"Hell yeah baby, you want Paris, then I'm about to become a true Paris man." Jeremiah boasts, flexing his pecs, making her head bounce a little. She smacks his chest in retaliation, but it makes her snort out a laugh like it always does, so he'll call it a win.

"You're my Paris man." Belly says. And yup, hes a winner.

"Hell yeah." He cheers, agreeing wholeheartedly.

The ringing cuts off, only to immediately start up again, making him wince.

"Fuck. Okay. So, I told my dad I was backpacking through Asia." Jeremiah rushes out, words almost incomprehensible.

Belly gets up off his chest making him pout, resting her weight on a hand behind her to get a better look at his face.

"Jeremiah!" She exclaims, before an amused smile pulls at her lips. "Wait, that's actually kind of funny. Why did you lie?"

"I just decided, fuck it." He says, pushing up to lean on the headboard. The phone has stopped ringing for the moment. "Fuck them. I'm a grown ass man, and I want to live my life without everyone constantly keeping tabs on me. Also, I knew if he knew I was coming to Paris, everyone else would know and I wanted to talk to you about how you felt before making any decisions like that."

Belly leans forward and kisses his shoulder, leaning her cheek there for a moment after, before pulling away from him entirely.

"I love you for that, Jer. I don't want anyone knowing anything about me right now, but I'll also respect it if you do want to tell your dad where you are." As if on cue, his phone starts screaming at them again. Belly gives him a pointed look.

"Either way, you might want to answer your dad before he reports you as missing. Or worse, remembers he can probably track your phone."

"Shit! Fuck! Okay." He panics, before remembering, "Oh, and love you too."

He hops out of bed in nothing but his black briefs, almost tripping on his clothes as he digs through his jeans for his still ringing phone.

"Hey! Dad!...

"Jeremiah! I have called you over and over, what the hell do you think you're doing? Did you just get there? Where the fuck are you?" Adam sounds angrier than he has ever heard him, but Jeremiah can't find it in himself to care. Belly is sitting up in bed now, blanket falling to her lap and exposing her naked chest.

"Yup." He answers simply, fixated on the way the sunlight is illuminating her from behind. She looks him up and down slowly, before holding pointed eye contact with him. He starts to gravitate back towards her, caught in her pull, before stopping abruptly as his fathers question sinks in.

"I'm... here, in... Asia." Jeremiah panics and mouths at belly 'where am I?'

The tensions in the air breaks and Belly's intense look breaks as she buries her face in Jeremiah's pillow to muffle her laughter, before flipping back over and grabbing her phone. Hopefully to Google where most people backpacking through Asia typically start.

"I know you're in Asia, Jeremiah, I'm not an idiot. But Asia is massive! So, I want to know, just where in Asia are you?"

Belly looks up, large smile on her face, holding back her laughter as she mouths something at him.

"I know that, Dad. I'm in..." he pauses.

'Bad cock?' Jeremiah mouths back to Belly, which causes her face to grow red as she struggles to hold back her laughter.

She mouths it again twice more as he squints at her from across the room.

Oh!

"Bangkok!" Jeremiah exclaims, watching as Belly raises both arms to silently cheer from the bed.

"I'm in Bangkok."

Crisis averted. For now.
____________

 

Jeremiah get's lucky that Adam doesnt have enough time to call him more names as he's soon called into a meeting and doesn't ask my more questions, but as he gets off the phone and is about to silence and lock it, he spots an unread text from Taylor and remembers how Taylor said she hadn't heard from Belly.

She was a really good friend to him, so he finds himself mentioning it, despite wanting nothing more than to dive back into bed and wrap his entire body around her.

"I heard from Taylor that you haven't talked to her since the... wedding." He says softly, hesitating at the word wedding, not wanting to say the word 'almost.'

Belly does that cute thing where she presses her lips inward, and kind of squints her eyes and he knows she's mad and trying to find the words to explain why.

"I love Taylor. She will always be my best friend and she's really been there for me, with Steven's accident and with the engagement, but... she really hurt me, Jer."

She shakes her head, looking to the side and the light coming in from the window makes the tears in her eyes glisten.

He turns his phone off and throws it into the pile of his clothes on the ground. Taking quick steps until he's sitting on the bed in front of where she's sitting against the headboard.

"Hey," he coos, reaching out to hold both of her hands in his, rubbing circles into the back of them with his thumbs. "What happened, Bells?"

Belly blows air out through her lips before turning her eyes back on him.

"I had everyone on my back. Everyone judging me and trying to change my mind... I needed one person, just one person to trust me to make my own decisions. Someone that took me at my word." She says, voice thick with tears.

"She thought I was making a mistake, that I didn't want to marry you. And fine, everyone is allowed to have their opinions. But she wouldn't back down. I tried to tell her that the only mistake was letting our families be so heavily involved, but she wouldn't believe me." Belly squeezes her eyes shut, like just thinking about it hurt.

"She spent four years around us, Jer. Watching us fall in love. And all it took was a few weeks of complications, and that's it? Everyone wanted us to wait, but why wait when you're sure? Why do anything for the comfort of people who don't care whether or not you're comfortable yourself?" She asks him, but continues before he can give a response.

"She had weeks to tell me about her worries, but no. Instead, she decides to bring it up right before our wedding, when I'm already worried about you. It hurt, okay? I needed one person to talk to that wouldn't assume they knew what I was feeling. Someone who didn't act like they knew my own mind better than I did and I really needed it to be her."

"I'm sorry I wasn't there." Jeremiah apologizes, aware that he owes her one. Or more than one. "I'm sorry I didn't go to you. I should've been there that morning, stayed in bed with you. I let my insecurities get the best of me, and I'm sorry I was another person that didn't trust you to know your own mind."

Belly smiles through her tears, leaning in to press a kiss to his cheek.

"Thank you for acknowledging that. Taylor's my best friend and I know we'll be okay, eventually. I haven't texted her back because I can't be someone that defends my every decision to people. Not anymore. More than anything, right now, what I need is space. And time. Away from everyone." She says, one hand leaving his and moving to run through her hair, the other continues to play with his fingers.

"Except for me." He half says, half asks, unable and unwilling to stop himself.

She looks at him like she knows what he's thinking, before pulling his hand up to kiss his knuckles, smiling at him teasingly.

"Of course, except for you. You're my exception to everything, baby."

He smiles what he knows is an entirely too large grin and then dramatically stretches out to lay his head on her lap.

"You're my exception, too."

Belly shakes her head at him, before bending her head over his, her hair falling around them, and kisses him tenderly, their first since things fell apart.

The Spiderman kiss, but so much better.

The kiss feels like a promise, one for more to come. It's a light, but it lingers, and when she pulls back, he knows his eyes are hooded and glazed over. He's just about to pull her back to him when she sighs softly and then pats his chest twice.

"It's good that you brought that up, because we do need to talk." She says, smiling at him apologetically.

"Oh, no." He says.

"Oh, no, oh yeah. Come on, big guy."

He blanches at her words, air punching out of him and she does a double take at his reaction.

"Uh, woah, what's that all about?"

"Nothing!" He answer frantically.

Belly squints her eyes at him. "Something?"

"Nope, nothing!" Jeremiah, head still in her lap, and shakes it in the negative. She holds his head still to stop him. Leaning in to study his eyes for a moment before seeming to come to a decision. She let's go and moves to lean back on her hands .

"Okay, we are definitely circling back to that, but sure." She gently shakes one of the legs he's laying on, jostling his head.

"Come on, come sit with me." She says.

"That sounds ominous." He narrows his eyes at her.

She narrows hers right back.

"Good. It's supposed to."

At Jeremiah's wide eyed look, she laughs and he automatically relaxes.

He get's up from her lap and sits on the edge of the bed, across from where she's sat on the middle of the mattress. He makes sure to keep his posture open, knowing this is the start of those very difficult conversations he's known were coming. He kind of hoped they'd take a few days and just be together, but he also knows talking it out immediately is what is best. What's healthiest.

She reaches forward, taking his hand back in hers. He appreciates that she keeps on initiating contact, it's mending chips in him he didn't even know were there. Like shes lining him in gold, making him stronger than he was before.

"We need to be honest." She starts, "Just lay it all out there. I want you to tell me how you've been feeling. Not just recently, but since we were kids."

He tilts his head to the side, surprised that she wants to go back that far.

"Don't hold back or spare my feelings. I don't want you to keep things to yourself because you think I won't want to hear it. We need to completely clean out the wound if we want it to heal."

He nibbles at his lip, having so much to say, he has no idea where he would even start. He's so used to stuffing his worries and insecurities down that the idea of talking about them is overwhelming.

Belly must read the conflict on his face, she nods to herself and continues.

"I think we need to let ourselves talk about Conrad." She says bluntly, and he can't hold back a wince.

"I think that was our mistake before. We let him become the monster under the bed. Something we don't talk about, but both still keeping him as a worry in the back of our minds."

She reaches out and cups his cheek, forcing eye contact between them.

"I don't want him to have that power over us anymore."

It's a powerful statement, one he agrees with wholeheartedly, and it's enough to get him talking.

"When we were little and Conrad first taught you about infinity, I remember I didn't understand. I listened so closely, you looked so interested, so captivated, that I wanted to know more so I could talk with you about it later. In case you wanted to. But I just didn't get it. I think that's the first time I felt like I wasn't smart enough for you." He finds himself saying, surprised that's what comes out first. It's an old hurt, but one that lingers.

"Jeremiah." She says, voice pained.

"Then, when I got a little bit older, and I guess that part of my brain developed a little bit more, I finally understood the concept. But I didn't bring it up because by that point I knew it was a you and Conrad thing. And also because I disagreed."

Belly furrows her brows at that. "What do you mean?"

"I mean– okay, I didn't disagree with the concept, because you can't disagree with the fact that infinity is infinite and there is always a greater number, but I always thought, I don't care about an unfathomable amount of universes, or non stop cycles, I cared about this world. This cycle. This girl. You. I didn't need infinity. I just needed one. But I never thought my one could ever be enough. Could ever measure up to his..."

"His...?" Belly nudges gently.

"I guess it made me feel like he needed an infinite number of chances to love you, to do it right, and all I could think about was, I only need one. Only want one. I would do anything for one." Jeremiah looks down at his lap, feeling small. What is his one compared to Conrads infinity. "But my one has always felt so... small."

He finds it in him to continue.

"Everyone talks to me like I'm dumb. I know they think I'm not... deep enough for you. Not enough of a challenge. I guess, I just always have that worry that you would rather be with him. Everyone always prefers him."

Belly looks at him like he punched her in the heart and he has to stop himself from backtracking. She takes a moment to make sure he's done talking before she begins.

"I can see why you would feel like that way. Can even see how I might have fed into that." She shakes her head, a tear dropping from the corner of her eye before she wipes it away, then looking intensely into his eyes.

She's so beautiful.

"I need you to know, that couldn't be further from the truth. Every day I wake up and I'm excited because I know I get to see you, Jer. I love the way your mind works. It's so different from mine, in the absolute best way. You make me see the world in an entirely different way. I don't want a challenge. Not in the way they all think. I don't want my life to be a game, a series of obstacle courses I have to go through. Im competitive, but I'm not a masochist." She says, rolling her eyes, seemingly at the thought of needing a mental obstacle course to keep life interesting.

"You challenge my mind, and you most definitely challenge my body." She gives him a pointed look at his nearly naked body, he's surprised at the intensity of his blush at her checking him out so blatantly.

"When I'm stressed, just being around you is enough to make everything feel okay. You make me laugh more than I ever thought I could. Just so you know, and don't let it go your head, but you still give me butterflies, Jeremiah. I wouldn't trade our love for the world."

"You don't want Conrad?" He whispers out, searching her gaze, the very marrow of his pain on display.

"No. I don't want Conrad. I don't want to be in a relationship with Conrad." She says solemnly.

Jeremiah blinks away his tears. "I guess, I'm just always afraid that one day you'll look at me and realize you settled."

"You never give yourself enough credit, baby. You have no idea that it's a privilege for me to be loved by you." She responds.

That can't be true, he thinks. He gives her a look that conveys that.

"Belly."

"No, just wait." She raises a hand to stop his objection. "You always say you're lucky to be with me. You say it like you won the lottery or something, but I've always thought, I'm the one that won. I love you because of who you are, Jer. Your incredible heart, your loyalty, your sense of humor. If you weren't you, I wouldn't love you. Do you hear me when I say that?"

She continues,

"I need you to keep that in mind whenever you try to erase, or hide, the parts of yourself you don't like. I promise you, those are the parts I love most. There is only one you in this world Jeremiah Fisher, and I'm the one that gets to love you, please let me love all of you."

Jeremiah covers his face with one of his hands, embarrassed to feel it heat up and redden at her words, the need to cry sneaks up on him and it takes effort to hold the tears back.

"So, tell me more. That day, the day of the wedding, you were so upset. And it wasn't the first time." Belly asks. "What is it, exactly, that sets you off so badly?"

"When things catch me off guard." Jeremiah answers, when he's gotten ahold of himself, removing his hand from his face. "When there's something being kept from me."

Belly looks down, expression almost guilty.

"We need to talk about Christmas." She says, suddenly.

"What about it?" His stomach sinks, he knows this has to do with Conrad. It always does.

"When I stayed at Cousin's, Conrad was there."

Yup. Fucking Conrat.

"The whole time?" He asks, fearing the answer.

"He got there my first night, he didn't know anyone would be home. I didn't say anything and I'm sorry."

"Why would you keep that to yourself?" Jeremiah asks, his stomach in knots. He knew something was weird during that time. "We spoke on the phone multiple times and you didn't mention it. Why would you do that– unless..."

"Jeremiah. No." Belly says, stopping him before he can down that road again.

"I'm sorry. I just–" he gets up off the bed, moving towards the opposite side of the room, hands moving to the back of his head. "I don't understand... why would you keep something like that from me. Why would you even want to be alone with him?"

He starts to feel trapped, skin itchy and tight, the way it gets when he starts to think he's not enough and maybe everything has been a lie. He has no intention of walking out the door, but he can feel anger rising and bites his tongue to stop himself from lashing out and saying things he'll regret.

He feels like things are about to devolve into a fight and it makes tears spring to his eyes.

"Hey. Come here. Right now." She says from behind him, he turns to see she hasn't moved from her spot on the bed, her hands are outstretched towards him. His body tilts towards her automatically, but something holds him back.

"Wait, just, no, I'm– I need to pace. And think. I think I'm gonna just go walk the hall outside or–"

"No." Her voice cuts in. "Come here." Her voice is stern, but not in the way so many authority figures speak to him, not the way that reeks of ownership and entitlement, not the one that twists his stomach and fills it with gravel. No, there's warmth when she says it. Like he could say no if he really wanted to, she wouldn't stop him, but he'd like it much better if he said yes.

He stares at her helplessly for a minute, only now remembering they're both still in their underwear. The fact that they've been taking about difficult things while pretty much naked, breaks through his panic enough for him to realize he doesn't like how far away from her he is.

Why is he so far away?

He goes to her and she immediately pulls him onto the bed, maneuvering him until he's sat criss cross right in front of her, their knees pressed together. Belly then grabs and rests his arms atop his legs, and starts to smooth her hands up and down his forearms. She tips her head forward toward his until he gets the message and presses his forehead against hers, letting it rest there.

"Aren't we fighting?" He asks hesitantly, so very confused.

Belly shakes her head, no, her eyes closed as she gradually rests more of her weight on him, encouraging him to do the same .

"We're not fighting. We're growing." She says, breathing slowly, deeply, until he's doing the same.

Jeremiah hadn't even noticed the tension he was carrying in his body, how close he was to a full blown panic attack and an overreaction. His body preparing itself for more heartbreak. But this doesn't feel like heartbreak.

Somewhere along the way Belly has learned to read him the way a seasoned farmer can just look at the sky and know how the weathers going to be.

He would never have known what he needed in a moment like this, but apparently it's intentional touch and deep connection.

"Tell me what you're feeling. Right now." She asks a couple minutes later, he takes a deep breath, then another when he finds that it feels good. Finding the answer is easy.

"Calm, loved. Understood."

"Okay. And a few minutes ago?"

He sighs, starting to rub his hands along hers as well without realizing it.

"Insecure. Cornered. Blindsided. Overwhelmed... there was anger, too." He feels ashamed to admit it, having never been known as an angry guy.

But then he thinks about the firework incident on that fourth of july when everything intersected in a way that could never disconnect. There has always been a certain degree of anger simmering deep down. Fueled every time he's passed over for his brother. Every time Laurel looks at him and her smile drops, eyes losing the warmth they had had only seconds previous while speaking to Conrad. When his mother would call him a good friend, good brother, all while knowing it was breaking his heart to be either.

When Belly would smile at Conrad for doing the bare minimum.

"You knows it's okay to feel all of that right?" She interrupts his thoughts. "Like, it doesn't make you a bad person to be mad at people. To be mad at me. I just need you to communicate that you're mad instead of keeping it in and then lashing out. Just like when I'm feeling confused and start to panic thinking I don't know my own feelings, that I don't know what's real."

"You feel that way?" He can't help but to ask.

"Yes. Sometimes, I feel like I don't know my own mind. Like, okay, remember when I asked you about the dog, and you told me it was really Conrad that rescued it, not you?"

"Yeah I remember."

"I freaked out because Susannah told me when you love someone, you know and remember absolutely everything about them. You know them like they're the back of your hand."

"So you panicked when you realized–"

"I realized I didn't know everything about him and I didn't know everything about you. If I didn't know either of you the way she said I was supposed to, then how could it be love?"

"Belly. I don't know everything about you."

"And that doesn't scare you?"

"No, actually. It excites me because it means I get to keep getting to know you for the rest of my life. And I, for one, have never been so excited to learn."

That earns him a warm smile, but it fades quickly.

"It's just, I'll be living my life, happy, confident, then something Susannah said will pop into my head and usually it... when it goes against what I'm feeling, it makes me question what's real. And when the people around me start to tell me things, phrasing them like they're what I've been thinking all along... Expecting me to reach conclusions they've all been expecting me to reach. I start to question my own reality."

She looks lost in her head, her hands moving rhythmically, but also almost robot on his arms. He uses a little more pressure where he's caressing her own, and it pulls her focus back to him.

"When it's coming from every single person that I know and love, it makes me feel like I'm losing my mind, like I've lost the plot or something. And then I start to spiral and nothing makes sense." She finishes, eyes locked on his.

He's never heard her speak so honestly, and if she hadn't, he never would've known that her mind can take her around and around in circles. It reminds him of how he feels when he himself starts to spiral, like a bottle of soda shaken up with no way to relieve the pressure.

He knows they need to get back to talking about what happened at Christmas. They need to get back to the Conrad of it all, but he's starting to realize that healing isn't linear, so why should this conversation be? This journey is going to make them criss cross back and forth, around and around until they untangle the web they've all got themselves caught in.

He already feels like he understands her better. He knows it will all come out in due time.

"Is that what happened, what... caused these last few weeks?

"Yeah." She nods emphatically. "I was so confident, so sure... then my mom." She shakes her head this time, like she's shaking a thought away. "But it was fine. I knew what I wanted, her disapproval hurt, but it always hurt and at the end of the day, it didn't matter."

Belly bites at her lips and he has to force his eyes to stay on hers. He would hate for her to think he wasn't giving her the attention she deserved.

"Then your dad happened and you weren't around as much. You weren't... present... the way you usually are. Then I overheard Steven telling Taylor we were absolutely insane, that I was just filling some void, or whatever. I should've known we didn't really have his support, he wouldn't even tell mom he was your co best man..."

"Then Conrad happened." Jeremiah says when she pauses to gather her thoughts.

Belly nods.

"Then Conrad happened. Throughout all of this, my mind became more and more of a mess. When every one around you is convinced of a reality different from your own, eventually you start to wonder..." She looks at him helplessly, like she's hoping he can put her thoughts in order for her.

It makes him feel... capable. Like she's trusting him to be her lighthouse guiding her to shore, out of the storm.

Jeremiah doesn't think he's ever loved her more than in this moment.

"I wish you would've told me you were struggling so much. It would've hurt to hear, but more than anything, I would've wanted to be be there for you. You never have to struggle on your own, Bells."

Belly smiles at him and he suddenly understands why she shared all that when it was technically supposed to be his turn to share. She was trying to prove a point and he just helped her make it.

Sneaky, sneaky girl.

"I know, just like how I wish you would've told me about your anger, and jealousy and how much you were worrying. I would've wanted to hear it, I don't want you to struggle on your own, either."

"Okay. I think I'm starting to understand just how important talking things through are. If we had just talked like this, we wouldn't have had to guess what the other was thinking."

"That's called communication baby, I always want to know what you're feeling. Even if its not pretty or happy. I want to know those thoughts just as much as I want to know the happy ones."

He never noticed the difference between Belly when they're out in the world, with the people they've chosen, and Belly when she's in Cousins.

Didn't realize how much she would space out, then come back and say things entirely different than what she had said before. She'd become snappy and a little cold.

As they got older they went less and less to Cousins, so those moments were few and far between. But now that she's shared more, shined a light on things previously in the dark for him, he's realizing something very important.

It only ever happened around their families. And if it only happened around their families, that doesn't make it who she really is, it makes it a trauma response.

"He told me I was heartless." Her voice interrupts his train of thought.

Which, what the fuck.

"What the fuck." He says out loud, because inside was not enough. He doesn't even need to ask who the he in question is.

"Who the fuck does he think he is. The man is out of his mind. There is literally no one in this world with more heart than you!"

"There's you." She responds cutely.

"Aw. But not the point, Belly!"

"it kind of is, though. It only hurt because it made me think, it made me worry, what if you thought I was heartless? Just the thought of it crushed me."

"No. Belly. I know you're all heart. Even when you're struggling and confused, your heart is still the brightest thing in every room." Belly sniffles, pausing to wipe at her cheeks.

"I swear I'm not trying to do the whole 'oh you're cuter, no you're cuter' thing, I just need to point out that that is exactly how I feel about you, Jer. You are the brightest thing in every room. People liked to say Conrad was the sun for me, but that was only true in the sense that if you got too close, looked too closely, he burned you to a crisp. I always felt that you were my sunshine, my sunrise, my sunset. All of the beautiful things we're lucky enough to experience every single day. I'm lucky I get to experience you every single day." She says and his heart skips.

"I feel like this is the part where I say, 'I do.'" He responds.

Belly laughs, delighted, tears continuing to steam down her face, this time he wipes them for her, melting when she presses a kiss into his palm when he's done.

"We'll get to that. When its time."

He doesn't worry because he believes her. This, her, them. They're going to last. It doesn't feel like a beautiful lie he's telling himself anymore. It feels more real than the bed does beneath him.

"When its time."

_____________________________________

 

Belly let's herself relax for a moment before she gathers her courage.

"We need to finish talking about Christmas."

Jeremiah looks at her like she just told him he needs to spend the day with his brother.
It's almost cute enough for her to put the conversation off, they've already talked so much and it's only the first day. They have time. But she doesn't want wait anymore. Waiting has never worked out.

Even though she's worried he won't like what she has to say.

And she does have to say it.

"When I was there, it was... it was weird. It was nice because it felt like when we were kids again, and he was that warm family member, that protective figure, always ready to lend a hand. Then at other times it was so awkward and silent, like we would very much like the other to leave the room for a while so we could be alone but both too stubborn to actually do it. And I remember thinking, is this what Susannah and my mother envisioned for me? This quiet, stale, passionless existence?"

She pauses to gather her thoughts.

"There was comfort and familiarity. And it also felt good to correct assumptions he had about me. So, I stayed. Because I didn't want to have to leave. You know me, I'm stubborn. But a big part of it... a huge part was, I wanted to understand... Then when I started to understand, everything got even more complicated. After the break was over, I got scared that if I told you, you would think I wanted, like a romantic getaway with him or something–"

"What did you understand?" He interjects gently, eyes focused intently on her. She's surprised that's the part he decided to focus on.

"What?"

"You said you wanted to understand, and then you did. What did you understand?"

She doesn't really want to talk about Christmas. In fact, she would very much like to never talk about it again. She hasn't wanted to since it happened and not for the reasons everyone thinks.

It's not because she's hiding some deep passionate longing for Conrad, that she feels she's committed some deep emotional betrayal.

It's more she's been struggling with what those days started to make her discover about herself.

Something that, for her own sanity, she pushed down and resolved to not think about.

She was doing fine, but then when she spent those weeks in summer with Conrad, she was faced with what she had been repressing and her already fragile mental wall, the one meant to protect her, started to shatter. When they almost kissed, when she almost kissed him, she finally had to come to terms with what she's really been feeling.

And that means talking to Jeremiah about it.

He has it all wrong. Or, partially right, but only in a specific context.

The reality is much more complicated than that.

Belly sighs out a lot of anxiety, feeling slightly sick at her answer, but they need to talk about this. There can be no stone left unturned. She just hopes he doesn't see her differently after all is said and done.

"Sometimes I feel like.... well, I realized Conrad was supposed to be a brother to me."

Jeremiah looks like that is the absolute last thing he thought she would've said.

"Uh..." he stammers.

"I know. It's... look. I've always felt safe with him. Comfortable, but also desperate for validation. I wanted to learn from him and understand him. He has always frustrated me in a way few people do. One word and I'm ready to blow my top. In fact, the only other person that can tick me off faster than anything else is–

"Steven."

"Yeah. Steven. But then, it freaked me out because if I feel brotherly love for him, how were we ever–

"Together." Jeremiah fills in, voice almost monotone in his shock.

"Yeah. That's what I meant when I said that I think I've been messed up for a long time. I think, naturally, instinctively... I've always loved Conrad in the way a sister would a brother, or at least a close relative. One that you both love and love to hate, but I was also raised to think that he was–" Belly cuts herself off, before starting again.

"I was ten when I overheard Susannah talking to my mom about my huge crush on Conrad. That it was adorable, and she always knew I'd end up with one of her boys. I was ten." She holds up both hands, all fingers extending to demonstrate how young she was.

"And she said it like it was a forgone conclusion, like it was a fairytale that she couldn't have written better herself. I heard the word crush, remembered all the movies and stories I've heard about romance, and made the connection that that's what I've been feeling– I mean, he wasn't my brother like Steven. And I felt something completely different for you–"

"What did you feel for me?" Jeremiah blurts out, then bites his lip like he physically couldn't stop himself.

Belly finds him so endearing. She could stare at him for a lifetime and it still wouldn't be long enough.

"I was so young, to me it felt like tingles, like when you rub a balloon on your head, in your hair, and it gathers all that static electricity, it tickled and it excited me, made me giggle... but if they said what I felt for Conrad was a crush, then that had to mean what I felt for you was... friend love. And that was that."

She looks at him helplessly, hoping she made more sense than she thinks she did. Everything is just so jumbled, her head foggy when she tries to untangle the web of her mind.

"But then–" Jeremiah starts, Belly cuts in softly before he can voice it. She's pretty sure she knows what he wants to say.

"I didn't know. I didn't know the difference. I knew I never felt... brotherly love towards you. And I only have one brother. I didn't think you could love different siblings in different ways, so I didn't understand that what I was feeling for Conrad, was a variation of that. The thing is, I was never really attracted to Conrad. I didn't fantasize about him touching me or anything else intimate, didn't really think about it until it fit the narrative, the grand climax –pardon my french – that any great romance was supposed to reach. Before that, I only really thought about spending time with him. But you, you have always..." She trails off.

"I've always..." He coaxes.

"You make me burn, Jeremiah." She hears his breath catches at the heat in her gaze. "I've always been attracted to you. I just never thought you would be attracted to me, too." She shakes her head, continuing.

"My love map got... mislabeled when I was really young, so I've been lost for a very long time, Jer. During Christmas, I broke through that first wall, the first mental barrier and made the first step to re-writing my love map. But just because I identified the issue doesn't mean the problem goes away. So, when I spent so much time with him, fell back into old habits–"

He interjects, seeming to know what came next.

"And I was the butthead that was prioritizing the wrong things thinking they would turn into the right things in the long run."

She shoots him a halfway scolding look.

"Hey, you thought you were making moves for our future, to secure it for us. I know you only ever wanted to help. "

"That's what I said, you just used better words." He disagrees.

Belly shakes her head, biting back a smile.

"I like your words better." She reasures, she always loved the way his mind works.

Jeremiah beams, picking up her hand to kiss the knuckles, then her palm.

"You fell back into old habits...?" He encourages her to pick the thread back up.

"Oh, yeah. I– suddenly I was analyzing every interaction and reframing it. I was ten years old, and sixteen years old, thinking, feeling, based off of how others interpret my feelings. So, when Conrad tried to tell me what I was feeling, I started to doubt myself.

She pauses before saying the next part. Not wanting to, but knowing it was the catalyst to her panic.

"When I was staying in Cousins, planning the wedding, Conrad got hurt while surfing and I helped him. While I was bandaging his cut, I almost kissed him." She rushes out, before she loses her nerve.

Jeremiah's body jolts, like she's slapped him.

"Belly–" he starts before she keeps talking. Needing to explain before he makes the wrong assumption.

"When I was helping him, I remembered Susannah taught me to always end wound care with a kiss. That Conrad needs the extra love when he's feeling vulnerable. I leaned in to kiss him, but there was a sick feeling in my stomach, like it was wrong."

Her eyes fills with tears as the same panic she felt that day begins to bubble back up.

"As soon as I realized– I realized where the wrongness came from, I compared it to us and it didn't feel like static electricity. It actually felt... the love I felt for him in that moment was... maternal. I wanted to care for him, but it felt like the want was ingrained. Muscle memory."

"I was taught to love him, Jeremiah.
I love him, he is family. A part of me will always love him, but that love is also my... trauma. It's toxic and it makes me feel dirty–"

He shakes his head.

"Hey, you're not dirty. You're not." He stresses when she starts to open her mouth to argue. "I never really thought about how messed up it was every time my mom made comments about you and Conrad. But I was so focused on how you looked at him, how I could never get you to look at me like that, I didn't see how lost you looked after so many of your conversations with mom."

"I didn't look at you the way I looked at him. And that's a good thing. I could only ever love him in the way you love someone who needs you to care for them. Whatever he needed me to be, I would force myself to become and convince myself it was me all along. I loved him... like he was–

"A child. Your responsibility."

She nods her head, slowly.

"Yeah. It's fucked up. I threw up the first time the thought popped into my head. I read about transference in Psych, and the very real effects conditioning can have on a person, but I never... applied it to what I've been feeling. I always feel my most valuable, my most real, when I'm helping people. And even though Conrad would argue until he's blue in the face that he needs no help, Susannah made sure I knew no one needed more help than him."

Belly opens her mouth, but then closes it just as quickly. She's hesitant to say this next part, knowing how deeply he's still hurting over his own letter, but it's important.

"Okay, look, you brought up your letter over the phone, and I am so sorry you had to go through that, baby. I promise, we will definitely be talking about how that made you feel, but before we do, I need to talk about mine."

"Okay." He agrees easily, the brief flash of pain her mention of his letter, the letter he never got, fades quickly.

"I loved Susannah. I will never completely heal from losing her... but... one of the last times I stopped by to see her, Conrad walked in. I was laying in bed with her, crying my eyes out, and he just walked out. I remember thinking, yeah, that's the best way to describe Conrad Fisher, he walks out."

"Before I could say it out loud –I was feeling passive aggressive– Susannah says, "that's my Connie, steady and strong, with his kind eyes. He's always been so strong for me."

Jeremiah shoots her a look, like he knows exactly what she means, having probably heard similar remarks all his life.

She continues, knowing this will become another wound for Jeremiah to carry, another example of his mother's obvious favoritism.

"She told me– no," belly shakes her head, no more holding back, "she begged me, she said, 'Don't hate Conrad. He’s having a really hard time with all this. Please don’t let him push you away. He needs you. He loves you, you know? He does. Will you do something for me? Look after him. Will you do that?'"

Belly swallows past the lump in her throat, remembers how unfair the request felt, shackles wrapped around her ankles. She hated how Jeremiah was left out, no worry leftover for him.

"She told me, like it was time for me to accept my birthright, one she's been preparing me for all my life. When I read my letter, at first, it felt like she was right next to me, making me feel loved in that really special way only she had. But then I get to the part where it says, she hopes I find a partner who is solid and steady and strong, a man with kind eyes."

Jeremiah looks at her, realization bleeding into his features.

"She wrote that letter for me to read on my wedding day. Not knowing if it'll be five, ten, fifteen years in the future, and still, she implied the man I'll be married to is Conrad. She never wanted to let me let him go."

"Jesus, fuck. That's a mindfuck..." Jeremiah breathes out before he trails off, as if he can't even comprehend how deep, how far, this whole thing goes. Susannah had the best of intentions, but there's a reason they say the road to hell is paved with them.

Susannah wanted Jeremiah to be like a brother to Belly, but she wanted Conrad to be her one true love. Belly will never know if, maybe, she saw the direction Belly was leaning all those years ago. If, perhaps, she knew Jeremiah felt like lightning to her, and Conrad only a warm brotherly affection, and decided to intervene. To plant the seed while there was still time; before Belly could identity and name what her feelings truly were.

Or, maybe, Susannah was just a mother. One who loved both her sons, but truthfully, loved one a little bit more.

And everyone knows, a good mother will do anything to ensure the best for her child.

"She said whoever I marry may not be a Fisher and that would be okay, but it felt like she was obligated, not like she actually believed it. I left that conversation so confused. And then she was gone and I had to... live with it."

"Belly, I'm so sorry... I don't even have the words to..." Jeremiah looks at her helplessly, hopelessly lost. Even though he's at a loss for words, it fills her heart, seeing him look at her so openly. She can tell he's taken everything in, every word, and stored it inside of himself. Carrying them along with her so she won't have to hold them alone anymore.

"That morning, while I was getting ready, when Taylor came in and tried to tell me she thought I was making a mistake. I felt so alone. And then you came in and..."

"Called off the wedding. Couldn't handle it when you said a part of you would always love him. Didn't take the time to understand where you were coming from." He lists off slowly, putting the pieces she's given him together.

Poor boy, he's been trying to build a puzzle with her half of the pieces missing, some even torn and tampered with. But still, her steadfast love, he sits and patiently puts the pieces together with her.

She'll love him forever. Which is how she knows she can tell him how he hurt her, too.

"It hurt, Jeremiah. It hurt. It made me feel... so bad. Bad about how I feel and I don't want to feel bad about how I feel. I'm a complex person, just like you, like everyone... expect for, maybe, Steven." They both pause to share a smile at that, before she continues, voice serious again.

"I'm capable of feeling many things at once. I won't apologize for my capacity to love. Just like I wouldn't shame you for yours."

"Belly. I'm sorry. I'm sorry I never tried to understand. I guess I thought if we buried it, buried him, we could ignore it and just be happy. But you're right. He became the monster under the bed. And eventually, the monster always comes out. You were right, we need to take away his power, so he won't be scary anymore."

"I think we already did. Or at least made one hell of a start." She responds, immensely proud of the both of them.

"Fuck yeah, we did." Jeremiah agrees, his enthusiasm cheering her up.

"We have so much more to talk about and... I'm gonna need a lot of therapy." She shares, reveals.

Jeremiah laughs surprised, which makes her chuckle back.

"Honestly? Me, too." He tells her, like he's sharing a secret.

They laugh way more than what is probably appropriate for a moment like this, but she thinks they need the release.

"We're gonna be okay." She states. Knowing it in her heart. Her and her sunshine man will make it through this. He's not looking at her any different. If anything, she thinks she sees even more love in his eyes.

"Yeah, we are." He agrees.

Belly sucks in a breath, wiping the leftover tears, first from her face and then from his.

"Okay, we either need food, or a nap. Or both. Ooh, and a shower." She says after she's done, eyes lighting up at the thought of a hot shower to wash away all this leftover tension.

"Together?" Jeremiah asks hopefully, making her smile.

"One and two, yes. Three, not this time, big guy." She shrugs at him, only to be stunned, again, at his reaction.

Jeremiah rolls over face down on the mattress, groaning like he's been shot,

"please stop calling me that, I'm begging you."

Belly is dumbfounded, but determined. She needs answers and stat.

"Okay, go shower, get ready so we can go and then you, mister, are telling me all about that while we get some food."

Jeremiah groans again, she thinks she hears the word fever but she's been feeling him up all morning and she knows his temperature is normal, so it was probably just him mumbling nonsense.

When he doesn't immediately move, Belly smacks him on his ass, firmly but gently, before she presses a kiss to his shoulder blade and then shoves him straight off the bed, where he then falls to ground with a solid thump.

"Belly?" Jeremiah's voice drifts up from the floor, tone normal, like she didn't just evict him from their bed.

"Yeah?" She responds like it's normal.

"I forgot to pack my towel." He says, voice matter of fact.

She knows he can't see it, but she rolls her eyes affectionately at him anyway. She knows her man so well.

"I know. I picked one up for you in town."

"I also forgot my toothbrush."

Belly laughs out loud at that. Of course.

She shakes her head. "Yup. That too. They're in the bathroom."

The floor is quiet for a moment before he says, voice reverent,

"We really love each other, huh?" It sounds like he already knows the answer, but she'll give him one anyway.

"Baby, half of your duffel bag is stuffed with my stuff instead of yours. I went into town, specifically, to buy you things I knew you'd forget. I'll punch the next guy that tries to say we aren't dead ass in love with one another."

He's quiet for another moment.

"I also didn't pack a razor." He says.

Belly rolls her eyes again.

"Can't help you there," she pauses dramatically,

"Big guy."

Jeremiah groans again, this time into the cold hardwood floor.

There is not a single place on earth that either of them would rather be.

Notes:

This turned out way longer than I thought it would, but every word felt necessary.

 

psa: I like susannah. She was very warm and caring. But that whole "i knew you were destined for one of my boys" whilst blatantly trying to frame one boy as a brother figure and the other a love interest is all kinds of fucked up.

Also,

to smut or not to smut?

I can't decide.

Do I dare?

Notes:

May continue. May not. Depends on interest, inspiration, and the rage of injustice.