An Intangible Pattern - Fate Bound.

Christmas day.

Alex awoke late on Christmas day. She inhaled deeply and rolled over, watching snow fall softly outside the window. Downstairs, someone was already awake and she could hear the cheerful jingle of Christmas music and the clatter and murmur of people preparing breakfast.
She lay a little longer, unwilling to disturb the fleeting moment of stillness before submitting to the rush and riot of the day's celebrations. Any brief reprieve from the emotional chaos of the last forty eight hours was welcome.
"Was it really so awful?" - Noah's words echoed in her head.
She didn't know how to answer him.
He was an overwhelming presence in her life, like an awesome wave that loomed up and over her, sweeping her away with frightening force. Control was beyond reach, reason collapsed and beneath it all boiled something wild, angry, joyful and destructive... And when the wave passed, and she was left reeling, all seemed gray and insignificant by comparison.
From the moment of their introduction, there was no balance, no stability: she lost all sense of joy in the subtle while she oscillated sickeningly between extremes of feeling nothing and everything.
She thought she could keep her distance; shut down and do what was necessary at the expense of her integrity; absorb the impact of their connection and shield the people she loved from having their lives torn apart. However there was no doubt, the line she held firm between them had been crossed.
Sex to satisfy their urges was one thing, she had accepted she would need to sacrifice her body, but to sleep with him again afterwards was an inexcusable surrender.
Was it really so awful?
He had been so different once the haze lifted in his eyes, revealing a clarity of mind and a sincerity of intent that shook her resolve. He was so gentle, so attentive, wordlessly responding to the subtlest of her signals, making her believe that he truly saw her: was that what it felt like to make love?
But he raped me.
No matter what, it always came back to that. How could she expose her heart to a man who had already, so savagely, sunk his teeth into it?
Even so, she could almost have forgotten it when she let herself drift off in his arms, and she could almost have forgotten it as she woke up and looked at his face, lit by the glow of the dying hearth, innocent and blameless in sleep. In that moment, an unplaceable emotion overwhelmed her, painful in its intensity, and she fled the cottage in an act of self-preservation.
Think of it as being high.
Was that what it was? Was there any other explanation for the pull she felt towards him?
She had tried to avoid him, keep him where she could still see the dark stranger lurking under his placid exterior; but then he had come to her, not as a combatant, but an ally.
She sensed no agenda in his sympathy, he didn't try to romanticize what was happening to them, nor tangle her up in meaning where there was none. He had just offered her space - a place where judgment could be suspended while they figured out how to proceed. And now, the question was whether she was willing to extend the same to him?
If his only intention was to seek mastery over himself, and not over her, then she thought she could work with that.
We're both just stuck in a shit situation and the only way out is through.
She sighed and rolled stiffly out of bed. Her chest, which had been recovering well, gave an aggrieved stab as she got up and shuffled across the hall to shower: the result of their wild night and the anxiety that followed. She longed to stay under the hot water to ease her aching muscles, but she would be missed, so she washed quickly and got dressed. As she rummaged around in her sock drawer, her fingers brushed the empty container of the morning after pill. She grimaced and shoved it into a clean pair of socks, burying it deeper in the drawer. With the house full of people, she had not been able to dispose of the packaging discreetly.
Stupid! - she thought, self-reproachfully.
Both she and Noah had brought condoms, hers secreted away in her coat pocket, while he had left some on the desk; but in the heat of the moment all thought of protection had been forgotten. Fleetingly, she considered if it was true that Omegas were extremely fertile; perhaps it was just that heat made them careless. She felt nauseous at the thought of becoming pregnant with his child: things were complicated enough, so she forced the thought from her mind and focussed on getting through the day.
When she arrived downstairs she was greeted by Arthur and his parents.
Arthur sat at the table looking gray and queasy, he waved at her as she entered the kitchen.
"Good morning, Alex!" Isobel greeted her, drawing her into a hug and kissing her cheek, "Happy Christmas, dear! How's your head?" She smiled and her eyes flicked mischievously to her son.
"Happy Christmas!" Alex replied politely, feeling strange at spending Christmas with anyone other than her immediate family, "I'm fine, I didn't have a lot to drink last night."
"Very sensible," she approved, pouring a cup of coffee from the pot on the table. "Perhaps you might be able to stomach some breakfast... unlike someone I know."
Arthur looked up from the fizzing glass of berocca in his hand, and with a suffering expression moaned, "It's unkind to mock a dying man."
"Have a croissant," said Arthur's father, offering a plate of freshly baked pastry. Arthur waved a hand dismissively and clenched his jaw, while Alex's mouth watered at the delicious smell. She accepted the offered food gratefully and glanced around the room.
"Thanks. Is everyone else still sleeping?"
"Oh no, your mum and Cat are both up and about, they went out for a walk. Darling, could you pass the marmalade?" said Isobel, directing the last question to her husband. She turned her attention back to Alex and gave her a warm smile, "Now that everyone's awake, we can open up some presents."
Alex swallowed her mouthful of pastry, "Ah sorry, I hope you haven't been waiting for me?"
Arthur's father laughed, "You aren't far behind this one." He nodded to indicate Arthur.
"Ugh!" Groaned Arthur, gripping his head.
"How did you get into such a state?"
"I tried to keep up with Graeme and your mum."
Alex arched a brow wryly, "Yes... I noticed those two egg eachother on . Do you want to go to the hospital?"
"Don't even joke." Arthur downed his glass and refilled it with water, "...seems a bit unfair, Mari's fine."
"I made her drink some water before we turned in," Alex shrugged, "...you'd already passed out by that point."
"Oh god." He looked up at her in horror, "did I do anything embarrassing?"
Arthur's father barked a laugh, "Where do we start?"
"Christopher!" Isobel rebuked him, but the corner of her mouth twitched.
"Take a look outside when you get the chance..." replied Alex wickedly, over her coffee mug.
"Oh god!" He buried his face in his hands.
Alex glanced out of the french doors and could see Cat and her mother winding up the garden path. They waved as they kicked the snow off their boots before entering the kitchen.
"Happy Christmas!" greeted Cat cheerfully, as she took off her gloves, her cheeks rosy with the cold. She hugged her sister and kissed her on the cheek. Alex shuffled over one seat to let her sister sit next to Arthur, and greeted her mother.
The morning passed pleasantly as gifts were passed across the table and then attention turned to preparing Christmas dinner. Although Alex had never spent Christmas with Arthur's family, there was a sense of nostalgia. It reminded her of some of her earlier Christmases, when her Grandfather was alive and her uncle still lived in the UK. The language was considerably less colourful, but the warmth and bustle was the same. They barely left the kitchen as everyone pitched in to help Christopher, a keen chef, prepare dinner. As they did so, they shared their stories of Christmases past.
"...I remember you used to get so excited about Santa Claus! You used to try and catch him out, right up until Cat was about eight or nine. Your grandfather used to dress up every year."
"We knew," said Cat and Alex in unison. Mariana looked up from her chopping board, a little sheepish. "You did?"
They both laughed, "It was very obvious after he got caught in the Christmas lights and pulled the tree on top of himself," laughed Alex, peeling potatoes.
"I remember being so shocked that Santa Claus knew that kind of language." commented Cat with mock outrage as the party laughed.
"Cat, where do you keep your colander?" asked Christopher, looking confused.
"Oh! I think it's still out in the garden," she laughed.
Over the course of the afternoon, Arthur gradually recovered from his hangover and joined in their bantering, though he looked visibly strained when Rachel dropped in, with her children, on her way to dinner with Frank's family. He grimaced painfully as the children squeaked excitedly to their grandparents about their day.
"You only have yourself to blame," Cat teased, eyes twinkling.
He sighed, and gave her a mortified smile.
"Hey! What happened to our snowman?" Complained Leo.
"Uncle Arthur happened, that's what," giggled Cat under her breath. Alex stifled a laugh.
"Did I?"
"Oh yes! You better replace that bra by the way, it was expensive."
"Oh...boy." He exhaled looking mortified.
"Don't worry you were a delight. You just told everyone you loved them." assured Alex, "...over and over again."
Later, after dinner, when everyone was pleasantly full, the family retired to the living room.
"I could sleep," murmured Isobel contentedly, from where she was snuggled on a sofa between her husband and son.
She patted Arthur's head affectionately. "Thankyou for inviting us sweetheart, it's been a lovely day." He smiled sleepily, "Hopefully next time, I won't be as hungover. Shall we watch a movie?"
"Wait..." said Cat, she looked at her husband, uncharacteristically nervous, "how do you feel now?"
He looked perplexed and raised a brow at her, "I'm fine... what's up?"
"I have one more gift for you, can you wait a few minutes?" She stood up and left the room. Questioning glances passed between each of the party.
"I wonder what it is," said Isobel.
Some intuition bubbled up in Alex but she dared not say it out loud. She glanced at her mother and saw she too was holding her breath. It wasn't like Cat to be so nervous.
It couldn't be? Could it? When? I've been so absorbed in my own problems, I didn't even notice. - she glanced at Arthur, but he still looked mildly curious.
He doesn't even suspect.
After a few minutes Cat came downstairs, holding a bracelet box. He glanced curiously at it and took it from her shaking hand.
"I wasn't sure when to give this to you, but it just seems right."
Mariana set her knitting down and leaned forward eagerly.
Arthur looked at Cat with a confused smile then opened the little red box. He frowned and drew it closer to his face. Isobel peered over his shoulder and her hand flew to her mouth. Arthur's eyes snapped back to Cat in amazement.
"What...Really?" He cried, as though expecting it all to be a big prank.
"Yes! Really!" Cat half laughed, half sobbed with joy. She was shaking, tears falling from her smiling face. Arthur stood up abruptly and drew her into a tight embrace, burying his face into her hair and kissing every inch of her face. The little red box scattered to the floor, dislodging a pregnancy test.
"My god....Oh my god! I love you! I love you so much!"
He pulled away and pushed her hair from her face and kissed her forehead. Laughing he asked, "Why are you crying!"
"I'm just happy!" She choked out.
Christopher was holding Isobel, who was openly crying and smiling at their children's happiness. Mariana was the first to get up and hug them both tightly.
"Congratulations," she squealed, delight in her every feature.
Alex stood up and embraced her sister warmly. "How long have you known," she asked, kissing her cheek. A pang of regret stabbed her heart, thinking of how she hadn't been there for Cat when she found out
"Since yesterday morning," Cat sniffed, grinning widely. "...There wasn't really time to tell anyone, with the party and all... and I was a bit scared of saying anything, since it's still so early, but I just couldn't keep it to myself anymore."
"How wonderful, darling!" Said Isobel, rubbing Cat's arm gently. Christopher had his son wrapped in a bear hug, slapping his back, his eyes misted over and his voice thick with emotion, as he mumbled, "I'm proud of you, son."
Alex stood back and observed them all, all smiles and tears. Despite the love and joy she felt on their behalf, the specter of envy still rose up in her consciousness. She crushed it down again.
Cat's gain is not my loss. - she told it sternly.
Why is it never me? Why is it always her? - it cried mournfully before sinking back down. Her eyes pricked, but she took a breath and wiped away her tears.
It's not her fault. They deserve this. They deserve to be happy.
But the hollow in her heart echoed back - Why don't I?
She shook her head and went to the kitchen to fetch a bottle of champagne, lemonade and some glasses.