Fic: Just Like This (Fred/Christina, 6000 words, FRAO)

[rsadelle]

Title: Just Like This
Author: Ruth Sadelle Alderson
Pairing: Fred Durst/Christina Aguilera
Rating: FRAO for m/f interaction.
Disclaimer: Not mine, never happened, all made-up.
Summary: Fred and Christina sneak around, Christina gets stalked, and other stuff happens.
Author's Note: Many thanks to Nette for helping with this story. She helped me plot it, she told me what didn't work, she found some missing punctuation, and she helped me search for a title.


Christina pressed the "talk" button on her cell. "Yeah. Talk to me."

"Can you talk?"

"Just a minute." She glanced around the roomful of people and ducked into the bathroom, locking the door behind her. "Yeah, I can talk," she said, hopping onto the counter.

"I have to see you."

"Shit, Fred. We just got together. You know we can't do that too often or we'll get caught."

"We've already gotten caught."

She was silent for a moment. "What do you mean we've already been caught?"

"I'm looking at a stack of pictures. Somebody was watching us last time, and they had a camera. Chris, we're fucked."

"Don't panic yet." She pushed her hair back. "Who gave the pictures to you?"

"I don't know. They were in an envelope that was slipped under my door."

"Well, was there a note or anything with them?"

"No. Just the pictures."

She hopped off the counter and paced the length of the bathroom. "Then don't freak out. Either whoever sent them will want cover up money or they'll publish them somewhere. Either way, there's nothing we can do about it now."

"Fuck. I told you it was too fucking dangerous to do anything there."

"Calm down, Durst. I'm the one with a reputation to protect, not you." She stared at herself in the mirror. "If anything else happens, let me know. For now, just burn the pictures and forget about it."

He snorted. "That's easy for you to say; you haven't seen the pictures."

"Try to keep your hormones in check," she said dryly.

"Chris, if you'd seen these pictures, your hormones would be out of control too."

"I'll take your word for it." She pulled out a tube and fixed her lipstick. "I've got to go. Call me if anything else happens."

"I will."

"Good. Bye, Fred." She clicked the phone off and tucked it back into her pocket. She plastered her best smile on her face and left the bathroom.

***

Christina opened the envelope and tipped the pictures out onto her lap. "Oh, shit." She flipped through them quickly, flipping them over to make sure there was nothing written on the back of them, then reached for the phone and dialed a familiar number.

"What?"

"Why do you do that? It's so rude."

"It keeps the unwanted away. What's up?"

"I got my own package of pictures this morning."

"Fuck."

"Fuck is right. These aren't just some idiot with a camera; these are professional."

"Yeah, I know."

"No note either."

"Sounds just like what I got."

"But who the fuck took them? We were careful."

"Not careful enough. I told you we should have just gotten a room."

"And left a paper trail? Not to mention security cameras." Christina looked down at the photographs on her lap. "Although I guess that doesn't matter anymore."

"So what do we do?"

"There's nothing we can do," she said, frustrated. "Not unless whoever sent these does something else."

"You could take it to your lawyers."

"And have it spread all over the New York Post? No way." She pulled out one of the pictures of the two of them kissing and stared at it. "Fuck."

Fred sighed. "Look, you said there's nothing we can do, so do what you told me to do and just burn them and forget about it."

"Yeah, I know." She tipped her head back against the back of the couch. "Want to get together sometime soon?"

He was silent for a long moment. "Is that a good idea?"

She laughed shortly. "It doesn't really matter now, does it? Someone knows and has proof." She paused. "I'm just glad it was me and not Jorge who opened the envelope." She sighed. "I don't even want to think about that." She rubbed her forehead tiredly. "Can we get together?"

"Yeah, if you want."

"I do want." She reached for her calendar. "I've got some free time this afternoon while Jorge has to do some rehearsal thing with the other dancers. Does that work for you?"

"Yeah. Like two?"

"That works."

"Where?"

She sighed. "Hell if I know." She thought for a moment. "Fuck it. I'll come to your place."

"Just because someone knows doesn't mean you have to go out and advertise it."

"I won't advertise. I *do* know how to be discrete. But if someone's onto us, there's no reason to sneak around as much as we have been."

"Okay. You know how to get here?"

"Yeah."

"See you at two."

"Yeah. Bye." She clicked the phone off and looked back at the photos. She took the picture of them kissing off the top of the stack and locked it in her safe--the one even Jorge didn't know about--then placed the remaining pictures and the envelope in the fireplace. She struck a match and lit the corners of the stack. She added some newspaper to the small blaze so that it wouldn't be obvious what she'd burned. She stood up and went to the kitchen.

"Buenos días," Jorge greeted her, planting a kiss on her lips.

"Morning." She poured herself a cup of coffee from the newly-made pot and grabbed the newspaper. "Busy day today?"

"Yeah. Dance practice all afternoon." He took the Entertainment section from her hands.

"Hey. I was reading that," she protested.

"You'll have all afternoon to read it." He sat at the table and spread the section out, leaving almost no room for her. She took the front page into the living room and settled onto the couch. When Jorge got up to go get ready, she went back to the kitchen and worked her way through the Entertainment section. Jorge kissed her cheek on his way out. "Bye, Chrissy. See you this evening."

She smiled up at him. "Bye."

Once his car pulled away, she went back upstairs and rifled through her closet. She pulled her baggiest clothes out of the back and grabbed a baseball cap, red, off the shelf.

She washed all the makeup off her face and put on the clothes. She pushed her hair up under the hat and looked herself over in the mirror. Anyone who knew what they were looking for would recognize her, but, to a casual observer, she'd look like just another groupie.

She shoved her phone and keys in her pockets and slipped out the back door. She let herself out the gate and made her way around the block to the bus stop. She got off the bus, still unrecognized, across the street from Fred's place.

He opened the door only seconds after she knocked. "Hi."

"Hi." She stepped in and waited for him to shut the door and flick the curtains shut. She took off the baseball cap and tossed it onto the hall table, then wrapped her arms around Fred and kissed him.

"I kind of liked the hat," he said between kisses.

"It was in the way." She pulled his shirt up and pushed him back into the house. "Where's the bedroom in this place?"

He chuckled. "All of a sudden the wall isn't good enough for you?"

"We've never done it in a bed." She pulled his shirt off and tossed it to the side.

"Come on." He took her hand and led her down the hall. "Here it is," he said with an expansive gesture. "Fred Durst's bedroom." He looked down at her. "Not the most impressive bedroom in the world."

"It has a bed," she said as she leaned up to kiss him again. "That's all I care about." She pulled her shirt over her head and unhooked her bra.

"That's why it's called a bedroom." He reached down and unbuttoned and unzipped her pants. "What'd you do? Steal a fat man's pants?" he asked when they fell to the floor.

"I just dressed like you," she said with a smile.

He laughed and kissed her again as she worked his jeans off. "Including the hat."

She laughed. "Including the hat." She kissed him and pulled him down onto the bed with her. "Enough about my outfit." She shimmied out of her panties. "I didn't come here to talk about my clothes."

Fred leaned over her and kissed her. "You came here to fuck." He pulled off his boxer shorts and tossed them onto the floor.

"Exactly." She spread her legs and pulled him over on top of her. "Now you've got the right idea," she murmured into his ear as he slid into her.

He brushed the hair away from her face. "You're mine, aren't you, Chris?"

She smiled up at him. "Yeah." She pulled him down and kissed him, wrapped her legs around his hips. "Can we do this?"

"Of course." He began to move, thrusting in and out of her with a steady rhythm, making sure his movements hit against her clit.

She came with her mouth sealed against his, letting him drink in her sounds of pleasure. He kept their lips pressed together as he came.

"Who do you think took those pictures?" she asked when they were lying together.

He brushed his lips over her hair. "I don't know who could have. If it was the paparazzi, they'd be published already."

She rolled over and hugged him close. "Who else would do it?"

"Hell if I know." He stroked her hair. "Probably just someone trying to freak us out."

She kissed his shoulder. "Fuck."

"There are a lot of messed up fuckers out there."

She snagged his watch from the bedside table. "Shit. I've gotta go. Have to be home and dressed properly before Jorge gets back." She wriggled against Fred, pressing down into his arms. "I wish I could stay."

He kissed her temple. "Me too." He rubbed her back. "I can drive you back."

She shook her head. "Too conspicuous. I'll take the bus." She dragged herself up and started gathering her clothes together.

Fred came up behind her and caught her shoulders. "Be careful," he murmured into the skin of her neck.

She put one hand over his. "I will." She turned and put her arms around him. "I've got pepper spray in my pocket. I'll be fine." She kissed him. "Don't worry about me; I can take care of myself."

He rubbed his hands up and down her back. "Call me when you get home."

"I will." She shoved her shoes back on and went back to the hallway where she grabbed her hat and pushed it low on her head. She leaned up and kissed his cheek. "Bye." She slipped out the door and across the street to the bus stop.

When she got home, sneaking in the same way she'd slipped out, she called Fred to let him know she'd gotten home safely, then shoved her clothes into the bottom of the hamper and got into the shower, washing all traces of Fred off her body.

***

"What?"

"Fred, are you awake enough to listen to me?" Christina paced her living room.

"Yeah, yeah, Chris. I'm awake."

"I went out to get the paper and there were these *dolls* on my porch."

"Dolls? You called me at some godawful hour of the morning about dolls?"

"They weren't just dolls," she said, exasperated. "Whoever did it is *sick*. There was one of the dolls of me and a Ken doll with a red, backwards hat, and they were twisted together and messed with."

"Messed with? What are you talking about, Chris?"

"There were all these slashes on them, and they chopped the hair off the Christina doll." She bit at one of her too long to be practical fingernails. "And they drew dark lines across the faces."

"Chris, that sounds serious." She could almost hear his frown. "Maybe you should call the police or something."

She ran a hand through her hair. "I can't do that. I threw them away, but I said I'd call you if anything happened."

"Shit, Chris. This is a little more serious than some pictures."

"I know that." She sighed. "I just wanted to let you know about it."

He echoed her sigh. "I really think you should call the police."

"I'm not calling the police," she insisted.

"Fine, don't call them. But if *any*thing else happens, you're calling the police. And if you won't, I will."

"Okay, I get the fucking point."

"Look, I'm not trying to tell you how to live your life here, Chris. I'm worried about you."

She sighed and tapped a finger against the back of the couch. "I know that." She glanced at the clock. "Shit. Jorge'll be down in a minute. I've gotta go."

"Be careful, Chris. Keep an eye out for anything weird."

"Yeah, you too."

"I mean it, Chris. Be extra careful."

"I *will*," she said, exasperated.

"Good. Bye."

"Bye, Fred." She pressed the off button and set the phone down just as Jorge came down the stairs.

***

Jorge flipped on the light and stopped in his tracks. "Madre de Dios."

Christina pushed him into the house. "What--" She looked around at the drawers that had been pulled out, the furniture in disarray, the spray-painted letters spelling out "slut" on her walls. "Fuck." She pulled her cell out of her purse and dialed 911.

They waited on the porch until the police arrived, then followed them into the house to see if anything was missing.

One of the officers, who introduced himself as Officer Heller, took their statement as others worked over the house, looking for clues and dusting for fingerprints. "Have there been any threats? Anything unusual?"

"No, of course not," Jorge said.

Christina crossed her arms over her chest. "Yes." She met Jorge's shocked gaze, then looked down. "There were some pictures and a couple of dolls."

"Do you still have them?"

She shook her head. "No. I burned the pictures and threw away the dolls."

Officer Heller sighed. "You should've held on to them and called us. You're going to have to describe them for us."

She glanced up at the tight, angry look on Jorge's face. "The pictures were high quality, black and white, eight by tens. They weren't just some fan with a camera, they looked professional." She forestalled his next question. "They were of me at a time when I thought there was no one watching."

He nodded. "And the dolls?"

She took a deep breath. "Two of them. One was a Christina Aguilera doll, and the other one was a Ken doll. They were cut up, slashed, and they had dark lines over the faces, like permanent marker. The hair was all cut off of the Christina doll."

"Thank you. We'll do our best to find out what happened." Officer Heller glanced around the room. "It might be best if you waited outside for us to finish."

Christina silently followed Jorge back out onto the porch. She watched him stalk out onto the grass and snap open his cell as she lowered herself onto the steps. She wrapped her arms around her knees and watched him pace as he talked. He finally flipped the phone shut and came back to her.

"I'm going to stay with Javier."

She looked up at him and nodded. "Okay."

He pressed his lips together in a frown and went back into the house. She hadn't moved when he came out with a bag. She watched him get into his car and drive away. She pulled out her cell and dialed with shaking hands.

"What?"

"Fred?" Her voice shook as much as her hands.

"Chris? What's the matter?"

She blinked back her tears. "Somebody broke into my house."

"Fuck! Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine." She wiped at her eyes. "They just made a mess out of things. They pushed the furniture over and broke a few things and they--" She stopped as her voice caught.

"What, Chris?" he asked gently.

"They spray-painted. It says 'slut' all over the walls of my house." She angrily rubbed at her eyes.

"Goddamn motherfuckers," Fred swore. "What the fuck did they think they were doing?"

"I don't know," she answered him quietly.

He sighed. "I know. I'm not-- It wasn't your fault."

She laughed bitterly. "Isn't it? I'm cheating on my perfect boyfriend." She rubbed a hand through her hair.

"Shit. That's not a fucking reason to trash your house."

She shook her head against her hand and sighed. "No," she said reluctantly, "it's not."

"Of course it's not. Chris, you can't stay there tonight."

"I'll be fine."

"Chris, I'm serious. You and Jorge should go stay at a hotel or something."

She sighed. "Jorge left."

"He what?" Fred's voice was low and dangerous.

"I had to tell the police about the pictures and the dolls and he was mad. He went to stay with one of the other dancers." She looked down at her shoes and waited for Fred's reaction.

"That fucker," he growled. "He shouldn't've left you alone."

"I'm fine," she said exasperatedly. "I can take care of myself."

"Chris, you can't stay there alone. Come stay with me for tonight at least."

"Fred, I can't do that." She pulled open her purse and fished out her planner. "I'll go somewhere else, okay? But I can't come to your place. I'll go stay with Brit or go to a hotel or something."

"Go to a hotel and let me meet you there."

She shook her head. "I'm *fine*, Fred."

"Chris, please. Let me meet you there. Shit, Chris, someone fucked with your house. I want to see you, okay?"

She smiled and looked down at the business card she'd pulled out of her planner. "Okay. Let me make the arrangements and I'll call you back."

"Okay," he agreed.

"I'll call you back in a couple of minutes." She clicked the phone off and called the hotel. When she'd made arrangements with them, she called Fred back and told him to meet her there. She put her things back into her purse and pushed herself up. She met Officer Heller in the doorway.

"Ma'am, we're done in here." He handed her a card. "We'll be in touch, but you can call me if you have any questions."

She smiled at him. "Thank you, I'll do that."

"Ma'am, I suggest you go somewhere else for the night. We'll make sure someone's patrolling the area, but it may not be safe."

She nodded. "Yeah. I've got a place to stay. I just need to get some things."

He nodded at her. "Okay. Let us know if anything else happens."

She shook his outstretched hand. "I will. Thank you." She went into the house and up to her bedroom. She packed what she thought she would need for a day or two, waited for the police officers to file out of her house, and checked all the locks before leaving.

She checked into the hotel, making sure that they would give Fred a key when he arrived, and went up to her room. She dropped her bag next to the door and flopped down on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. She sat up when the door opened and Fred came in.

He kicked the door shut behind himself and came to where she was, dropping his bag on the way. "Hey, Chris." He leaned over her and wrapped his arms around her.

"Hi." Her voice was muffled in his chest. She scooted back on the bed and lay back down, pulling Fred down on top of her.

He ran his hands up and down her sides. "Are you okay?"

She nodded, wrapping her arms around him. "Yeah." She blinked back tears. "But they fucking broke into my house."

He stroked her hair back from her face, his large thumbs stroking her cheeks. "I'll fucking kill them."

She laughed. "Fred, you can't--" Her breath hitched, and tears slid down her cheeks to drop onto the bed.

He stroked the tears away. "I would." He kissed her cheek. "Don't cry, Chris." He kept brushing away her tears. "Come on, don't cry."

"Just like a man," she said through her tears. "Can't deal with a few tears."

He kissed her, his lips soft against hers. "I don't want you to cry."

She put her hands on the back of his head and pulled him down so that his forehead rested on hers. "Careful, Durst. People might think you're a nice guy if you keep saying things like that." She wiped the tears away from her eyes.

"I am a nice guy," he protested mildly. He started to shift to the side, off of her, but she held him there.

"Don't."

"I'm heavy."

"You're fine." She stroked his back. "Really." She kissed him.

"You sure?"

She nodded. "I'm sure." She dropped her head back against the bed and just looked up at him, feeling his weight press her down. After a long while, she sighed and pushed at him. "Let me up." He rolled to the side and watched her get up and pull things out of her bag. She came back and kissed him apologetically. "I've got work to do tomorrow, so I really need to get some sleep."

He cupped her cheek. "That's okay."

She smiled at him and took her things with her into the bathroom. When she came back out, she was wearing a night shirt and she'd washed the makeup off of her face. Fred watched her fold her clothes into some sort of order and come back across the room to the bed.

She slid under the covers and pushed at Fred. "Go brush your teeth and change."

He kissed her gently. "Yes, ma'am."

She grinned at him. "Go."

He got up and gathered his things out of his bag. "I'm going."

She watched him come back out in boxers. He dropped his clothes next to his bag and turned out the light. She held the covers up and let him slide in next to her. She tucked one hand under her cheek and looked at him in the soft light of the bedside lamp. "This is something we've never done before."

He nodded. "There's never been time."

She reached out and touched his cheek. "We should do this more."

He kissed her hand. "Yeah, we should."

She scooted closer to him and draped her arm over his hip. "We might have more chances." Her eyelids dropped closed. "I don't know if Jorge's coming back."

Fred kissed her forehead. "Don't worry about it now." He kissed her lips lightly. "You have work to do in the morning."

She nodded against his lips. "Yeah." She blinked open her eyes. "Thanks." She leaned forward and kissed him. "You're the best."

He grinned at her. "I know." He reached across her and turned out the lamp. "Go to sleep."

***

Christina punched a number into her cell. She looked at where the couch used to be, sighing, and sat in one of the chairs. She flipped open her planner and found a piece of notepaper. She started making a list as she listened to the phone ring. A new couch was at the top of the list.

Just as she was about to give up on the phone, the ringing stopped and a voice growled into her ear, "What?"

"Don't tell me I woke you up. It's afternoon."

"I was trying to clean up. I had to fucking drop a whole armload of shit to answer the phone."

"I'd kind of like to have to clean up. Instead, I have to buy a new couch."

"What happened to your old one?"

"It was Jorge's. He moved out this morning, and he took his couch with him."

Fred was silent for a moment. "So it's over with him?"

She added "press release" to her list. "Yeah, it's over."

"Are you okay?" he asked warily.

She sighed and pushed her hair back. "Yeah, I think so, but I'm feeling kind of queasy. I don't know if it's about him or if I'm coming down with something."

"Maybe you should go to the doctor or something." Fred sounded worried.

She shrugged. "I've got some downtime. I'm just going to relax for a few days, and if it gets worse, then I'll go to the doctor."

"Well, if you've got time, you want to get together?"

She made a face at her list. "I don't know. If I feel better, yeah. I almost didn't keep my breakfast down," she admitted, "and lunch wasn't much better."

"Chris, that doesn't sound good."

She waved away his objections. "I'm fine. It's probably just a bug. I'll be better in a couple of days."

"Well, take it easy and go to the doctor if it gets worse."

"Yes, mom."

He laughed. "I worry, okay?"

"You worry too much."

"I love you."

She was silent for a long time.

"Chris?"

"Yeah," she said. "Yeah, I know you do." She pushed a pile of papers together. "Look, I have to get some stuff done." She looked at the empty space in her living room. "Like buy a couch."

He laughed. "Don't buy an ugly one."

She grinned. "I won't."

"Good. And take care of yourself."

"I will."

"Call me later this week."

"You know," she pointed out, "you could call me. You could even call my non-cell phone since Jorge's not here to answer it anymore."

"Yeah, I could," he drawled, "but you're never there, and I'm always here. It's just easier if you call me."

"Lazy bastard," she laughed.

"Yep."

"Go back to your cleaning."

"Yes, mom," he mimicked.

She laughed. "I want that house spotless next time I see you."

"Don't worry; it will be."

"Good. I'll call you later."

"You'd better."

"I said I would."

"All right, then. Bye, Chris."

"Bye Fred."

***

Christina pocketed her keys as she waited for Fred to answer his door.

"Hey, Chris. Come on in."

She stepped through the door and shied away when he tried to kiss her. "We need to talk."

He frowned at her. "We talk all the time."

She looked up at him, and he could see the sheen of near-tears in her eyes. "This is serious."

He frowned, but nodded and took her into the living room. She sat on the couch. He sat next to her. She reached out as if to touch him, but pulled her hand back.

"I wasn't sick. I'm pregnant." She looked down at her hands. "It's yours. I'll understand if you don't want to be a father to it, but I thought you should know."

Fred reached out and touched her stomach with something like awe. "I thought you were on the pill."

She nodded. "I am. Or, I was. I stopped when I found out. That's what you're supposed to do." She looked at his hand resting on her stomach. "Jorge always insisted on condoms anyway. I don't know if he was fucking around or if he just didn't trust me." She looked up and met Fred's eyes. "It's yours."

He stroked her stomach softly. "I love you." He leaned forward and kissed her softly.

She put her hand over his. "Do you want to be its father?" She met his eyes again. "It's my child. I'm not giving up. I'll raise it alone if I have to."

Fred shook his head. "I want to be its father."

She blinked back tears. "Are you sure?"

He nodded. "Yeah, I'm sure." He leaned forward and kissed her again, lingering at her lips. "I won't make the mistakes I made with my ex-wife and daughter." He turned his hand over and linked his fingers with hers. "I promise."

She gripped his hand and kissed him. "I know." She kissed him again, flattening their hands against her stomach. "I love you."

***

Fred grabbed Christina's hand and swung it as they walked up the walk to her door.

"Don't you think you're taking this happy family thing a little too far?"

He grinned at her and leaned over to kiss her cheek. "I'm just happy."

"So am I, but this is getting ridiculous."

Fred dropped her hand and stepped back, crossing his arms over his chest. "What, you want me to be sullen and angry?" he growled.

Christina laughed and put her arms around him, kissing him lightly. "No. You're more fun when you're happy."

He grinned down at her. "Good, because I am happy." He caught a movement out of the corner of his eye and moved them sharply. "Chris, watch out!"

She moved with him and shoved a hand into her pocket, finding her pepper spray.

A woman's voice screamed at her. "Slut! Goddamned, fucking whore!"

Christina fumbled with the cap on the pepper spray.

The woman sliced the knife down across Christina's arm.

Christina finally got the cap off her pepper spray. She pushed down on the button and sprayed it into her attacker's eyes.

The woman dropped her knife, clutching at her eyes.

"Bitch," she snarled.

Fred stepped forward and slammed his fist into the woman's stomach, winding her. "Call the police."

Christina already had her cell phone out. Fred kicked the knife away and stood over their attacker, guarding her. The police car that had still been assigned to patrol near her house arrived in a few short minutes. One cop quickly cuffed their attacker while the other glanced at Christina's arm and radioed for an ambulance.

"Shit, Chris. You're bleeding."

Christina clamped a hand over the cut on her arm. "I'm fine." She looked up at Fred. "It's just a cut."

Fred frowned at her. "You look pale." He guided her to the steps. "Sit down."

"I'm fine," she insisted, but she sat down heavily.

Fred sat next to her, putting one hand on her back, stroking it, and the other on her stomach. "Are you sure?"

She nodded. "Yeah." She looked down at his hand. "She didn't get near me."

A second police car parked at the edge of her lawn. Officer Heller, the same cop who'd taken her statement after the break-in, made his way up to the walk. "Bag it," he said to one of the other officers, gesturing at the knife. He sat down next to Christina. "That's a nasty cut you've got there," he said, nodding at her arm.

"It's just a scratch," she said.

He nodded. "Alright. Why don't you tell me what happened while we wait for the EMS to get here."

Christina looked up sharply. "I don't need them. I'm fine."

"You're not," Fred said.

"It's standard procedure," Officer Heller told her. "Now, what happened?"

Fred watched her carefully, absently stroking her stomach, while they told Officer Heller about the attack. When the paramedics arrived, Officer Heller let them take his place next to Christina while they examined the cut and bandaged it up.

"Are you hurt anywhere else?" one of them asked, noticing Fred's hand.

Christina started to shake her head, but Fred met her eyes, then looked at the paramedic. "She's pregnant," he said.

Christina threw him a look. "She didn't get to me. All she got was my arm."

The paramedic frowned at her. "You should see your doctor," she advised. "The stress can be harmful to the baby."

Christina nodded. "I have an appointment tomorrow anyway. I'll ask her about it."

The paramedic was satisfied with that. "Good. Take care."

Christina smiled up at her. "Thanks."

When the paramedics were gone, Officer Heller sat down again. "Someone from the department will be in touch about testifying in court."

Christina nodded. "Okay. Do you think she's the same one who broke into my house and did all the other things?"

"She might be. Hopefully we'll be able to find that out." He pulled himself to his feet. "We'll keep you posted."

"Thank you." She stood and shook his hand, glaring at Fred when he tried to put his arm around her as if to steady her.

"You're welcome." He shook Fred's hand as well, and went back down the walk.

"Come on." Christina took Fred's hand and tugged him up the steps behind her. She unlocked the door and led him into the house. She rubbed her forehead as she flopped down onto her new couch. "Shit. I've gotta call my mom."

Fred grabbed a juice box from the refrigerator and brought it over to her. "Do you have to do it now? Here." He handed her the juice.

She looked at him. "I'm not a child you have to feed." She unwrapped the straw and shoved it into the box. She sucked in some of the juice viciously. "How long do you think it's going to be before the press picks this up? And you told them I'm pregnant. It's now a matter of public record."

Fred paled and sat down next to her. "Shit. I didn't think about that."

She sipped her juice slowly. "You did what you thought was best, but now I've got a lot of phone calls to make." She pressed the cool box to her forehead for a moment. "We have to decide what to tell the press. And how." She reached for the phone. "But I have to call my mom."

***

Fred sat down next to Christina. "Here." He handed her a glass of milk.

She made a face. "I don't really like milk that much."

"It's good for the baby." Fred popped open his beer. "You have to have calcium."

Christina took a sip of the milk. "Think chocolate milk will work just as well?"

Fred grinned at her. "Probably." He went to the kitchen and came back with Hershey's syrup and a spoon. "Here. Try that."

She smiled up at him. "Thanks." She squeezed chocolate syrup into the milk and stirred it vigorously. She sipped the milk, then added a little more syrup. "Much better," she said when she'd tasted it.

Fred rubbed her knee. "Good. Can't have you being unhappy."

Christina grinned at him. "Rub my shoulders? That'd make me even happier."

Fred laughed. "Don't get carried away," he said, but he put his hands on her shoulders anyway. "Are we up yet?" he asked softly after a few moments.

"We should be pretty close." Christina grabbed the remote off of the coffee table and turned on the TV. She leaned against Fred and sipped her milk while they watched the end of a video.

Christina sat up and leaned forward when John Norris started relating the news. "And in the biggest story in today's news, Christina Aguilera and Fred Durst were attacked outside her home in LA." A picture of their performance at the Video Music Awards flashed on the screen. "Police reports say that the attacker cut Christina's arm, but the singer sprayed the woman with pepper spray and the police were able to apprehend her. Police reports also state that Christina is pregnant. No official press releases have been issued in connection with the report." John turned to Carson. "And that's the news for today."

"Well, that certainly is news. We have to go to a commercial, but when we get back, we're going to chat with Fred and Christina and find out what's really going on." Carson waved his cards around. "Even I don't know what they're going to say."

Christina giggled. "He looks so dazed."

Fred laughed. "And confused."

Christina grinned and relaxed back against Fred during the commercials, but sat forward again as soon as the TRL logo appeared on the screen.

"Well, we're back. And we've got Fred Durst and Christina Aguilera on the phone. So, what's up? The news is that you were together, you were attacked, you're pregnant. Any of that true?"

Christina listened to herself laugh. "Pretty much all of it." She chuckled as she watched Carson's reaction. "Poor guy," she said to Fred. "We really floored him."

Fred chuckled. "Yeah."

"Wow, all of it," Carson was saying.

"Yeah. We were attacked, the woman who did it is in jail and I'm pregnant. Fred's the father."

Christina leaned back against Fred as she watched Carson try not to give away how shocked he really was.

"And we're both very happy about it," Fred told Carson and the millions of teenagers watching the show.

Christina sipped her chocolate milk as Carson said, "Well, congratulations."

"Thank you," they'd answered together.

"God, we're annoyingly cute."

Fred laughed. "At least it's appropriate for TRL."

She grinned. "That's true." She switched off the TV as Carson introduced the next video. "Think we can give Brit and Justin a run for their money?"

Fred grimaced. "I'm not really the cute, boyband type."

Christina pulled him to her and kissed him. "I like you the way you are."

"Bad boy rep and all?"

"Bad boy rep and all." She kissed him again. "So that's it," she said, waving at the TV. "The world knows."

He stroked her hair. "Yeah, the world knows." He stretched out along the couch and pulled her against him. "I can't wait to see what the gossips do with this."

She settled into his arms. "Whatever they say, I'm sure it'll be interesting."

Fred handed her the glass of chocolate milk. "Drink your milk."

Christina rolled her eyes. "Yes, mom."

Fred grinned at her. "You're the mom around here." He rubbed her stomach. "That's why you have to have the milk."

"You're such a pushy father-to-be."

"I just want to do things right this time."

Christina patted his hand. "You will. You are." She turned her head and kissed him lightly. "You're going to be a great dad." She settled back in his arms and sipped her milk. "We'll be a great family."

--END--