But Anthony had spent ten years in a bottle avoiding emotional pain.
It looked like he was going to spend a year on his ass to avoid physical pain too.
Unfortunately for him, Faith wasn't as easily deterred from visiting as his father and brothers were.
"Small doses right now," Vin had said when she asked him why he wasn't going up every weekend.
She understood why.
Anthony was a dick when he was a drunk.
And he was no less dick-ish when he was in pain.
But she was determined to stick it out, to see what Anthony D'Onofrio was like when he was alcohol and pain free. She had a feeling he was actually a pretty decent guy.
That and, well, she was just too stubborn to give up. He wasn't going to out-stubborn her come hell or high water.
"Is this some kind of sick punishment for all the years I was an asshole, 'cause Faith, I think you've paid me back enough already."
Faith turned back, hands on her hips, ready to fight. But then she got a good look at him and sighed instead, dropping her arms.
He looked like shit.
There was no nice way to put it. Detoxing had made him green and sweaty and sick and miserable. He dropped twenty pounds. His face got sunken. And while he was completely detoxed, the weight had been slow to put back on and his skin had taken a grayish hue thanks to the pretty constant pain he was in. You could see it wearing on him too- in the tightness to his jaw and around his eyes, in his short temper, in his willingness to just sit around and not do anything, to all but give up.
"This isn't payback," she said, moving over toward him. "This is me making sure your leg gets better so you don't use that as an excuse to drink when you get out of here."
"Faith," he said, his tone hollow, "my leg is never going to get better. I'm half a fucking cripple for the rest of my life."
She felt a stab of pain in her gut at the truth of that. He would never not walk with a limp. He would never have full mobility again. A part of him was forever changed that night at Lam.
"You know," she said, going for levity, "there was a time when gangsters with canes were all the rage. I say we get you a black fedora, an overcoat, and some fancy spectator shoes and really commit to it. Like those people who dress up for Renaissance fares, but, you know, for mobsters," she offered.
She got a small chuckle out of him, but seeing as it was the first sign of amusement she had heard from him since he first woke up in the hospital, she would take it.
"Come on, slacker, this was enough of a break," she said, tugging on his shirt sleeve and moving away.
He would follow her.
He would grumble the whole way.
But he would follow her.
Because whether or not anyone else could see it, Anthony D'Onofrio was determined to finally get his life on track.
"That was longer than expected," Daniel said as she walked up to where she had left him on the front deck of the rehab center two hours before.
Daniel and Anthony hadn't exactly learned to play nice yet, though she was hoping for that day eventually, so while Daniel drove out with her because she still had a permit and needed a licensed driver with her, he waited outside.
"I practically had to drag his ass half the way back," she told him, walking over and putting her hands on his hips, leaning up and angling her face upward toward him, raising a brow when he didn't immediately lower his lips to hers.
"It means we have less time to work on your badass defensive driving you've been bugging me about all week," he warned.
"Come on, we can be late for dinner, can't we?" she asked, grimacing at the idea of going at all.
"You obviously don't know Max's mother very well," Daniel said with a smirk, leaning down and sealing his mouth over hers.
Max, she knew.
Max, she had grown to love like a friend.
In fact, still being an agent, he fit in seamlessly with all of her friends. He had even shown up at Lam one night and Vin comped his drinks. No more Balvenie 40, but he had a couple beers and shot the shit with her, telling her old war stories about him and Daniel, telling her how long it took him to best him in a grapple and how, despite his much bigger size, Daniel could always drink him under a table.
His family and why she needed to meet his family was a little beyond her when Daniel first mentioned it to her. But after about ten seconds, she figured it was due to the fact that Daniel had no family of his own. She couldn't imagine that he spent all that much time with Max's mother and sister, but he was likely always welcome when he wasn't on a job. That was more than he had anywhere else. It was the closest to family he had.
So the least she could do was be there with him when he went there for dinner, as awkward and uncomfortable as she felt about it.
She had never dated the kinds of guys who were close with their families so she had never had to have that "come meet my parents" dinner. It was uncharted territory for her. But, fact of the matter was, she and Daniel were on a serious path.
After four days of living at the hospital, they had gone home to her apartment. No words were spoken. They didn't need to be. They both walked to the bathroom and slowly stripped as the water warmed up. Then they climbed in. While Daniel had scrubbed the shampoo in her hair and she had leaned back into him as he did so, it was chaste, sweet, bodies just comforting bodies that were too warn out to even consider physical activity. Then they grabbed chips out of the cabinet and curled up in bed each eating half the bag before they passed out.
She had woken up with his body curled up behind hers, his arm heavy on her belly, his hand between her breasts, his head tucked into her neck.
With a full night of sleep and a burden of worry off her shoulders, her body had come alive, the memory of his hands and mouth on her stoking a desire she had tried to keep repressed for over a week.
She wiggled her ass back against him and he made a low, growling sound as he slowly came awake.
"Good morning," he grumbled, planting a kiss into her neck.
Her hand slid up his forearm and grabbed his hand, pulling it to cover her breast, sighing when his fingers immediately started rolling her nipple. "You're making it better," she said as he rolled onto his back, pulling her slightly so his other hand could slide inward and down, pressing between her legs.
Then he gave it to her a way she never found herself comfortable with before- sweet, slow, loving.
There never was a conversation about 'where they were heading' and 'what does this all mean'. They just fell into step. He stayed at her place most nights, was there for her when she got back from work, went with her to the hospital. He even hit the pet store to pick up food for Rhoda when she ran out. Without her having to ask.
It was small, silly almost, but having been a woman who had done absolutely every single thing for herself from making money to buying food to cleaning her damn bathroom since she was sixteen years old, it seemed huge to her. It was one less trip she would have to make.
And she had a small feeling that maybe, just maybe, she could get used to having him around.
Then she did.
Danny- 9 months
"I'm just saying, can we negotiate on how much fucking purple there is," he said, shaking his head, talking about what was now their apartment.
About three and a half months in of him staying at her place every single night, she had bluntly, as was her style, told him he could 'just move his shit in'.
He hadn't shared a place with a woman since he was in his early twenties. Faith found herself similarly out of her depths.
But he was somewhat surprised to find it simply... worked.
He helped train her classes when she would let him, eventually easing him into the women's shelter when the women got comfortable with him- so they could use him to learn how to fight a bigger, stronger opponent.
Shayna eventually, begrudgingly, accepted his resignation, not just from undercover assignments, but the Bureau as a whole.
<
br /> He hadn't realized how much of a weight that had been on him until he was free of it, until he could shake his shoulders easily again.
And while he had more than enough money to live off of for a good long while, that wasn't the kind of man he was. He was used to action, to thinking on his feet, to doing- not sitting around thinking about doing.
The thing about spending your life in law enforcement was, your skill set was specific. He could fight. He could strategize. He could assess threats.
So he needed to find a job that put those skills to use.
As such, he eventually found himself in private security- a job he could do as full or part time as he wanted, a way for him to feel useful again.
"What's wrong with purple?" she shot back as they stood next to the endless paint swatches at the home improvement store.
"Babe..." he said with a brow raise that she sighed at.
"Alright, fine. But, um, maybe we should, ah, pick out a couple more colors..."
"Babe, the apartment is a studio," he said, brows drawn together, turning to give her his full attention not only because that was a weird request from her, but because it wasn't like her to trip over her own words.
"Well, see..."
"Okay," he said, putting down the handful of items they had already picked up, just various things to fix up a bunch of things that hadn't been working right for a while that she had never gotten around to hiring anyone to fix. "How about some eye-contact," he suggested, ducking his head a little. She took a long time to raise her dark eyes and he found the area around them tight, tense. "What's going on?"
"This really isn't the place to..."
"Faith," he cut her off, reaching out to touch the side of her neck. "Know you're not exactly the kind to be shy about shit, so out with it."
"Fine," she snapped, small-eyeing him. "I think I'm pregnant."
Everything inside him seemed to seize at those words.
It wasn't that he was freaked, just surprised. And maybe a little concerned. They hadn't had that talk. They'd been safe. They were both experienced, mature people who knew better than to chance it without a condom. But there was always a chance.
And they never had the kid talk.
Hell, neither of them had ever really even been around a lot of kids save for Xander and Ellie's baby who, luckily for his parents, was a happy baby and would go to anyone.
"Okay," he said, nodding a little. "First things first... think?" he asked.
"I'm late. I'm never late. It's clockwork. I just..."
"Alright," he said, releasing her neck, taking her hand, leaving all the shit they had compiled and leading her out onto the street.
"What are you doing? We needed that stuff..." she objected as he pulled her down the block.
"We need to have an answer so you stop stressing out without knowing," he said simply. It wasn't like her to not confront things, so he figured her avoiding it was because she was worried about his reaction. And that wasn't alright. If she was or if she wasn't, they were in it together. "Early test?" he asked as they walked down the aisle and he saw for the first time how many options there were for such a thing.
"I guess? I mean... I have no idea. I've never taken one before."
"Early it is," he said, grabbing a box and dragging her to the register then back through the store toward the bathroom.
"Daniel, we can wait until we get home," she insisted as he opened the door and they both moved inside.
"By then, we could have our answer," he said, ripping open the box and handing her the stick. "You pee, I'll read the instructions."
"I'm so not peeing in front of you. We're not there yet. Actually," she said, shaking her head, "we will never be there."
"Here," he said, ignoring her and turning on the tap high.
On a sigh, likely knowing she wasn't going to win the argument, she went into a stall and peed on the stick then came back out.
"Alright, one line is not, two is," Daniel said, taking the stick and putting it on the counter. "We have to wait at least three minutes," he told her, pulling her into his side
They both stood there watching the clock.
He wasn't sure exactly what she was feeling, but he had a strange mix of trepidation and excitement. He hadn't lived a life where he could have ever considered bringing a child into the world. But, standing there in a fucking drug store bathroom staring at a pee stick, his arm wrapped around a woman he realized on a lazy Sunday afternoon, five months into them dating, while she bitched about the new bartender at Lam, that he loved the fucking woman more than he had loved anything in his entire empty life, that he wanted kids with her. He wanted to come in and watch her on her knees in front of a small daughter, teaching her how to throw a punch. He wanted to see her hand a switchblade to her right before her first date. He wanted to see her get all teary-eyed when she went off to college. Because, despite her adamant declaration that she was not a crier, he had seen her tear up at least a dozen times in nine months. And one of those times was when he told her he loved her. To which she had responded with a, "Yeah, well, I guess I love you too."
So he was, as the time got up, more excited than trepidatious. Even if it was a little soon. Even if it meant they had to quickly find a new, bigger place to move into to. Even if he would have to comfort Faith that it would be alright.
Faith took a deep breath. "Moment of truth," she said, looking from the clock to him and both of them turned to look down at the stick.
One line.
"Oh," Faith's breath whooshed out, but if he knew her, and he fucking did, it wasn't a relieved 'oh'. It was more of a disappointed 'oh'.
His arm gave her a little squeeze. "Well," he said, getting her attention. "We could, you know, start being less... careful," he offered and her head turned to him, megawatt smile in place.
"I could maybe get behind that idea."
And then they stopped being so careful.
Right there in that very bathroom.
Faith - 10 years
"Really, Ant?" Faith asked, shaking her head at her son and his honorary uncle as they walked in the door to her condo.
Eventually, Ant got clean, he got mostly out of pain, and he was generally un-grumpy at least sixty-percent of the time. He still walked with a cane and he still had bad days, but things had changed for him five years before. Starting when he met a woman.
But that was a story for another day.
"What? He wanted to look like us," Anthony defended, devilish smirk in place.
"Suit? Fine. But he has on a fedora, Ant. And spectator shoes. Where the hell did you even find spectator shoes for a kid? He looks like a gangster."
"So?"
"So, he's six years old!" she hissed. "And you are in the mob. Don't you think that's a little... on the nose?"
She and Daniel didn't get pregnant in the drug store bathroom. Or on their bed. Or in their shower. Or on the dining room table. Or in the stairwell of their building.
In fact, something they thought would be as easy as taking a condom out of the equation, ended up being one of the hardest parts of their relationship. She had peed on countless sticks over the course of four years before they finally started seeing doctors, getting tests run, and finally, she had to start taking shots. In the ass. Each time Daniel stabbed her with it, she got to slap him. It made her feel at least marginally better about the whole thing- at least they both had to go through some pain in the process.
Eventually, they finally, finally got two lines.
Faith quit Lam.
Daniel, K, and Trey all took over her classes while she couldn't.
Then, almost five years to the date of when they first met, she had a healthy, fat, squishy little baby with dark eyes and dark hair.
They had agreed, somewhere along the line, that they were only going to have one, that it was too heartbreaking a process to go through again. And she knew Daniel had been hoping for a girl, had wanted to raise a little girl to grow up to be like her
mother. But they had a boy and Daniel curled up in the bed with her and declared, "This is just as good. Now, we can put another good man in the world. It needs them."
Nash was equal parts both his parents, meaning he was one-hundred percent confident, stubborn, opinionated, and loud. But he also got a healthy dose of his father's tenacity and his mother's giving personality. He was the favorite of all the girls in his school because he was the only boy who didn't buy into that cootie bullshit or tease them. Faith had a feeling he was going to be a real ladies man when he got older, but if he knew what was good for him, he would do that whoring around with respect.
Or he'd have his mother to answer to.
And his father.
And his Aunt Corey.
And K, Xander, Trey, Gabe, Salvatore, Gio, and Anthony as well.
"Oh, hey look," Daniel said, walking out from the bedroom, "Al Capone has been reincarnated," he said, grabbing the brim of his son's hat and pulling it down over his eyes. "Nice pocket square, kid."
"Uncle Ant said it was a joke," he said, lifting his chin and reaching up to fucking straighten his tie. "But I like it," he declared, moving away. "I want to wear it to school on Monday," he told them as he walked down the hall to admire himself in the mirror, no doubt.
"On the plus side," Ant said, still grinning, "they'll make him take off the hat at school."
With that, he gave Faith a wink and stepped into the hall. "See you on Sunday," he called, waving his hand over his shoulder at them as he walked away.
When she quit Lam to have Nash, Vin, being the old-fashioned man he was at heart, was a full supporter. And when she tried to bring up the delicate topic of her mother, Vin had held up his hand to stop her and declared that he was going to keep paying that bill regardless of what she still had hanging over his head. But that he had one condition- dinners at his place on Sundays.
She left Lam that day and went all over the city collecting up the files she had on Vin, then carefully destroying every bit of evidence there was.
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