Letting Go
Author: enigmaticblue
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Nika is mine, but Wesley isn’t. Obviously, since if he were mine, he wouldn’t be dead.
Summary: Set in between Beginnings and A Love As Strong As Death. Wesley and Nika deal with disappointment.
A/N: spikesgurl asked for a moment between Wes and Nika, set in the Cast Me Not Away ‘verse. I was happy to oblige.
She stood in her bathroom, in front of the full length mirror, examining her body. Nika had never hated her body before, had never felt particularly self-conscious, other than during the usual awkward phase in adolescence. The hatred—the inadequacy—she felt now was new, and terribly painful.
Nika knew that she had much to be grateful for—a wonderful husband, two beautiful boys, family and friends—but it was somehow not enough in the face of her body’s betrayal. It appeared that she could not nurture another child.
The soft knock on the door startled her out of her thoughts. “Yes?”
“Love? Are you alright?”
“Yes. Just a moment.” Nika grabbed her robe from the back of the door, unwilling to allow Wesley to see her naked, no matter that he had a hundred times before. He hadn’t touched her since the last miscarriage, and although Nika knew it was a product of his concern for her, she feared that he saw her the same way she saw herself.
“Are you okay?” he asked again, his blue eyes bright with worry.
She nodded. “I was just getting cleaned up.”
“Do—do you want to go out to dinner tomorrow night?” His voice was uncharacteristically hesitant. After knowing each other for nearly a decade, Nika would have thought that they had no reason to be so tentative.
She already knew that grief did strange things, though.
“What about the boys?” Nika asked.
“Nain will take them,” he replied. “I’ve already arranged it.”
Nika forced a smile. “Good. I look forward to it.”
Wesley opened his mouth to reply, but then paused. “Spike and I have a job tonight. I should be back by morning.”
“Be safe, cariad,” she said, wishing that she could say more. Wishing that a wall hadn’t risen up between them.
“Always.”
And he was gone.
~~~~~
Wesley slipped inside the house as silently as possible, not wanting to wake any of the inhabitants. Spike had offered him their couch for the rest of the night and the morning, but he’d known that he was needed at home. He had to find a way to bridge the gulf between him and Nika; he was tired of walking on eggshells.
The first miscarriage had been quite disappointing and they had decided to wait before trying again right away, since Nika knew that it was always a possibility with a pregnancy. The second had come later, and had been more difficult for her to recover from. The third—
Wesley was worried that she would despair and possibly grieve herself to death.
He hadn’t been willing to inflict his own grief and disappointment on her, and Spike had offered his shoulder. Or, more accurately, Spike had offered a large bottle of Scotch and his couch. Between men, it was probably the same thing.
Wesley knew that they were lucky. He and Nika were healthy, as were the boys and Enid. They had friends and family close by, and plenty of support. They ought to simply be grateful for what they did have, rather than mourning over what they didn’t.
Somehow, that didn’t help the grief, no matter how much he would have liked it to, and it was so difficult to talk about it. He often thought that Nika’s sorrow must be deeper than his; he’d not had a child growing within him, only to lose it.
How did he begin to redress her hurt?
His stomach was growling, and he went into the kitchen to
see if
“Thank you,” he said, smiling at
“One of the hazards of getting old,” she replied. “You require a lot less sleep. How did you boys do tonight?”
Wesley was always amused when she referred to him and Spike as “boys.” Spike was twice her age, and he felt older every day. “We did well. The paycheck will be nice.”
“You’ve been working too hard,”
“It’s been a busy season.”
“There’s more to it than that, Wesley.”
The last thing he needed was a lecture on how he wasn’t living up to his abilities; he didn’t have a how-to manual on how to be a husband or father. “What would you like me to say, Enid?” he asked, his tone harsher than he meant it to be. “I have no idea what to say, or do, to make it better.”
“And have you grieved, cariad?” she asked softly, unfazed. “Have you grieved with your wife?”
Wesley shook his head. “She doesn’t need that burden.”
“A burden shared is a burden halved, my boy,”
Wesley stood, looking at the plate of cold food, for a long time after she’d left to go back to her apartment over the garage. He and Nika had been strong for each other so many times over the years that he had no idea why it was so difficult now.
~~~~~
“You look very nice, cariad,”
Nika tried for a smile, but didn’t think she’d quite managed it. “Do you think so? This dress doesn’t make me look fat, does it?” At her grandmother’s expression, she shook her head. “Never mind.”
“You need to talk to Wesley, Danika.”
“I don’t know how to talk to him about this,” Nika replied, on the verge of tears. It seemed she was always crying these days. “I feel like such a failure, nain.”
“I know,”
“I do.” Nika took a deep breath, composing herself. “I do. I’ll speak with him tonight.”
Nika frowned. “Nain!”
“Well, you do.”
“Are you ready?” Wesley asked from the doorway of their bedroom. He was in a suit and tie for the first time in a long time; her husband rarely dressed up these days.
“I am.” Nika stood and smoothed the front of her dress, trying not to be too obvious about her nervousness. She knew that Wesley still found her attractive, but it was so hard for her to feel beautiful anymore.
As though sensing her anxiety, he kissed her deeply. “You look wonderful.”
“So do you.” She rested her hands on his chest, feeling the beating of his heart, even through several layers of fabric, and she knew that he felt the momentousness of this occasion even as she did.
“We should go,” he said. “We’ll be late otherwise.”
The evening was warm enough that Nika left her wrap at home,
letting the spring breeze caress her bare arms. She was grateful that they
didn’t have to worry about leaving the boys with
She recognized the restaurant immediately as the one Wesley had brought her the night he’d proposed—officially. Nika felt tears sting her eyes, although they were happy tears.
They had been so happy that night; nothing had been able to tarnish that feeling, and nothing would ever be able to mar that memory.
“Is this alright?” Wesley asked anxiously. “If you don’t want to stay here, we can go somewhere else.”
“No,” she said quickly. “This is perfect. It’s just—it brings back happy memories.”
He smiled, a faraway expression in his eyes. “It does.”
Nika wanted to apologize for being distant, for keeping him outside her grief, but the hostess approached them before she could say anything. Besides, it was probably a discussion she wanted to have in private.
They were seated in a private corner, and Nika wondered if it was by design, or simply coincidence. Wesley held her chair out for her, and she thought herself lucky once again, for finding a man who knew how to treat her.
She deliberately kept the conversation away from anything serious. Instead, they talked about the boys and how they were doing in school, what they might do for the twins’ birthday, and his job the night before. In essence, they spoke of everything but the one thing they hadn’t yet addressed.
When the conversation faltered and died, Nika braced herself for what she knew was coming. “I think we should talk about this,” Wesley said softly.
It wasn’t worth trying to pretend she didn’t know what he was referring to. “I know.”
“Perhaps we should stop trying,” Wesley suggested. “I don’t think I can watch you hurt again.”
Nika closed her eyes. “I know.”
“And I don’t think I could bear to lose another baby,” he added. “I realize that it must be ten times worse for you, but—”
“No!” Nika said quickly, thinking she had at last got a glimmer of understanding as to why Wesley had been so hesitant around her lately. “I don’t think that’s the case at all, cariad. We’re in this together.”
He reached for her hand. “That’s true.” It was clear that he was trying for the right words. “But I think that these losses have been harder for you to bear.”
Nika shook her head, unable to speak; her tears choked her.
“Do you—” Wesley stopped, bowing his head, as though carrying some great burden. “I was so disappointed this last time,” he confessed. “I thought it would go well this time, and when you lost the baby…” He trailed off, then added, “But I’m more afraid of losing you.”
“I was never in danger,” Nika said.
He met her eyes, and she could read the truth there; Wesley had been, and still was, frightened. She’d been too grief-stricken and weak from blood loss to notice at the time. “You are a fighter, sweetheart,” he said. “Next time, however, you may find yourself fighting a battle that you cannot win.”
His honesty emboldened her. “I feel like a failure. I love our boys, Wesley, but I wanted a little girl—so much. To know that I’m incapable of carrying another child to term—”
With his free hand, Wesley reached across the table, stroking her cheek with a callused thumb. He didn’t offer empty platitudes, nor did he try to convince her that what she felt did not reflect the truth; Nika knew that already.
“Let’s go home,” he suggested.
Nika was more than ready.
~~~~~
In retrospect, Wesley thought he probably should have guessed how Nika felt, that it was more than grief for what had been lost—it was grief for what would never be.
Although they had never been guaranteed a girl, he was aware that Nika’s skills as a midwife, and all her knowledge, had been passed from mother to daughter—or from grandmother to granddaughter—in an unbroken line.
Beyond that, however, was the simple fact that they’d had plans. Nika had wanted several children, and they had lost three. It might have been worse for her, but Wesley had grieved, too.
The house was silent when they entered, and he led her back to their bedroom. He didn’t know if she was ready for sex yet, and he was willing to give her all the time she needed, but Wesley was still hungry for her.
Years of marriage had not changed that.
He shut the door behind them and turned to speak, to ask if she wouldn’t like to go to bed, but he stopped abruptly. Nika had already unzipped her dress, letting it drop to the floor in a heap. Swallowing hard, Wesley loosened his tie. “You look amazing.”
Her boldness seemed to evaporate. “I—”
“No.” His tone was fierce, startling both of them. “You are lovelier now than the day I married you, and you are perfect.”
“Hardly,” she replied, but with a pleased smile, and Wesley knew that she at least did not doubt that he meant it.
His mouth on hers was demanding. Wesley had not always been a man of action, but over the years he’d learned when to put words and plans aside. Her hands were impatient, pushing his suit coat off his shoulders onto the floor, and pulling his tie off.
“You have too many clothes on,” she mumbled against the skin of his throat.
He chuckled. “You got undressed rather quickly, my love.”
Nika’s movements slowed, and she pulled back. “Wesley—”
Fingers pausing on a button, he met her eyes. “Yes?”
“You’re right.”
“About what?”
“I think we should stop trying. We have everything we need.”
“It’s up to you, Danika.” He tried to push his fear to one side, knowing that she did the same for him every time he went out hunting demons with Spike. It was a part of loving someone else, putting their needs first.
“I don’t think I could survive another loss,” Nika said softly. “It would hurt too much.”
He nodded, tossing the last of his clothing onto the floor. “Whatever you like.”
“Maybe we should take the boys somewhere,” she suggested. “
Wesley made a face. He’d been there once before and had decided that he’d rather face a pack of Fyarl demons. The boys would love it, though; Nika was right about that. “We’ll do it.”
“We could bring Meg along, give Spike and Buffy a day off,” Nika said. “Since Spike can’t go.”
He put his hands on her shoulders, feeling the chill on her skin. “You’re cold.”
“A bit.” Nika’s smile was coy. “I’m sure you’ll warm me up nicely.”
“I can certainly do my best.”
~~~~~
Months later, Wesley couldn’t help but look back on that
night with a sense of irony, as it was more likely than not the night Carwen
was conceived. He always supposed that it was just one more example of how what
you wanted most wouldn’t come until you’d let go.