Broken Dreams
By MeriBeth

DISCLAIMER: These are not mine. I lay no claim to them. Joss & co. own all… I am merely a mom.
SPOILERS: Provider
DISTRUBTION: Archive permission is hereby granted to: Wishing Hearts; Bookish; A Whole New World; Strictly Fic; Is It That Obvious? and Inevitable. Anyone else, please ask.
RATING: PG
FEEDBACK: Much appreciated, please send to: meribeth@aesiraven.com
AUTHOR'S NOTES: I don't know if this should be classified as a missing scene or not. Either way, it was inspired by the scene in 'Provider' where Wes and Gunn are watching Fred with Connor.

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Adorable I think I called her earlier in the day, though Gunn's 'so sweet' worked as well. Just the sight of her with Connor, cooing and murmuring the nonsense that all women do when holding little babies, was arresting, capturing all my attention. It added one more dream to the many I have of her, another silent wish for what could be. Yet that isn't what keeps me here now. No, it's her tears.

I knew Gunn didn't understand that yearning in her eyes when she watched Angel assist Cordy upstairs. The pair of them lost in their own little world, all their attention focused on the baby that Cordy cuddled close. I knew Gunn didn't understand the moment he rather grumpily stated that he was heading out to check in with his old crew, see if they needed him.

I did, though. I knew what she yearned for, not Angel which is likely what Gunn thought. No, she yearned for the baby, for it to be her climbing those stairs with a child in her arms, her attentive husband by her side. I wanted to be the one helping her tend her child, a little girl with her mother's sweet face and dark curls.

Even now, I can imagine it. Fred cuddling our child close to her heart, sharing secretive smiles, so like the ones Cordy and Angel unconsciously share over Connor. Its so easy to imagine that little girl, older now… hair in bouncing pigtails and blue eyes wise beyond her years chasing her older 'cousin' around the lobby, laughing at him trying to get away from her.

I wish I could tell her of the dreams I have, but I won't. She's too fragile now with the realization dawning that she's been relegated to the role of eccentric maiden aunt, the one that you always hated to see at Christmas. Instead, I'll hold her while she cries for her broken dreams, comfort her as best I can. Perhaps one day I'll tell her of the child I wish we shared...