Disclaimer: I own what you do not recognize. And nothing more.

A/N: a plot bunny that hit me today with so much force that it was more like a plot jackhammer. Hope you enjoy

Of Cowards and Heroes

Chapter 1

"Adéla," he told her, trying hard not to betray the excitement in his voice. "Have you been…well, lately? Not sick, I hope?"

She turned a slightly scornful look on him, but he thought that he detected a hint of nervousness in her eyes. "Sick?" she asked incredulously. "Whatever gave you that idea?"

He leaned back on their bed, and smirked at her. She should know better than to lie to him. He'd done so much of it when he was younger that he'd practically turned into a human lie detector. Her voice, with its slight shake at the end, had been the giveaway, and so now he pounced, tackling her until she was pinned beneath him, shiny curls of copper spilling out on the pillow underneath her head.

"Adéla," he smiled down at her, now, leaning closer to place small kisses her neck, shoulders, and lightly, so very lightly, on her exposed stomach. She frowned up at him, noting with obvious unease the amount of attention he was lavishing upon her midsection.

"Stop that," Adéla pouted slightly, and it worked; soon his lips were on hers, and she smiled contentedly into their kiss. He still hadn't stopped caressing her stomach, though, and, unnerved, she pushed him off. "Look, you know I'm ticklish," she said, with a small laugh to cover her discomfort.

Frustrated now, he scowled and sat back at the foot of the bed, eyes narrowed as he looked at her. "Why don't you tell me, Déla?"

The woman across from him sighed; she knew what he meant. Why did he have to bring this up now, when everything was going so well? In a few more days she would have taken care of it, and he would never have to have known.

Just then his face darkened, and she knew that she'd spoken her thoughts. "James," she called after him, but he had already left their room. Determination etching itself onto her features, she followed him, not bothering to look inside the house for him. She knew where he had gone. Damn. It was raining outside, and as she looked into the coat closet, his black jacket was hanging beside hers. "Figures…" she muttered to herself, and left the house.

He knew that she'd come after him. Adéla was a firm believer in never going to bed angry with one's lover. Not one for leaving any loose ends, their fights were always resolved quickly, as she hated any drawn out hard feelings. And yet he couldn't help but feel resentful towards her, this woman he was going to marry. The woman who was carrying his child, or so it seemed. The three pregnancy tests in their bathroom rubbish bin had said as much, and he'd noted how unusually vibrant she had been lately, her whole body so alive with energy that he'd been amazed she hadn't come to him to announce the good news straight away. It wasn't as if he didn't like children. He'd always told her that he wanted children. And she'd always smiled, kissed him, and agreed that it would be wonderful, one day.

But it had been a month since he'd found the tests, and she still hadn't said anything to him about it. Not one word, not until now.

"James?" she called, and, dripping wet and feeling resigned, he turned around. Sure enough, she was there with his coat, holding it out to him and looking apologetic. "I…I had an…appointment…" he flinched and turned away again, but she caught his hand and squeezed it, turning him towards her. "I'm sure you know what it was for, but…I'll cancel it, and we can talk about this…I just thought you felt the same way I did about it! I love you, James…and I want to make you happy."

And as he looked at her, the world blurred for a moment. Her words echoed through what seemed like an age until another, long since unheard but never forgotten voice was speaking them instead. The rain stopped, and Adéla's hair became redder, her eyes green, and her figure more slender. "James?" his wife implored him, her eyes pleading with him to understand.

"Lily," he said gently. "I love you Lily…you already make me happy! I like things the way they are….with you and me, here, in this house…things are just perfect. We're too young, Lils. I don't know if we're ready – if I'm ready for this. I….love you, but I don't know if I want this baby."

A particularly large raindrop fell on his bare head then, and he realized that it was not his twenty-year old self who had spoken those last words, but the now equally drenched woman standing in front of him. Shaking his head, he tried to rid himself of his momentary trip to the past, but Adéla had already continued.

"And you told me yourself that years ago, when you were married…you didn't think you were ready to have a child. Well, I'm young, James, and I don't think that I'm ready."

James simply stared at her, wordlessly reaching for the jacket she held in a still outstretched hand. They began to walk back to their home in silence, James slipping his hand into hers halfway. Now matter how much she annoyed him, no, even with this…this new development, he couldn't stay too far away from her. Once at home, though, he knew that there was no escaping it. And really, he could easily see her point of view. She was young, only 24 to his 36, and quite literally fresh out of university. They'd only been together for a couple of years…so it was perfectly normal for her to want to spend more time just with him before any children came into the picture. It was all too possible that she simply wasn't ready yet. Merlin knows he hadn't been. Then again, at twenty, he hadn't been ready for a lot of things. 'But that's life,' he mused, as he slid into bed beside her, pulling her body close to his. 'It's what sets apart the brave and the cowards…those who throw themselves into living anyway, and those who can't take it and run.'

In the very back of his mind, James knew which one he was. And just like always, he found that he really didn't care.

A/N: Please tell me what you think...it means a lot. Any ideas or thoughts are greatly appreciated! - Laren