Chapter Text
This was certainly not the way Fred had intended for her to find out, but that was his own fault. He’d wanted to ease Ginger into the reveal; he had this meticulous plan to sit her down when it was just the two of them, and carefully walk her through the events that had led up to this. He’d hoped he’d be able to avoid raising her ire if he explained it properly, but the way in which he had intentionally stalled fooled no one—least of all himself. He’d known she’d be furious, no matter how the truth was broken to her. He knew she’d doubt him, and justifiably so. He just wished he’d had the guts to do what needed to be done before it was too late. The very least he could have done was tell her before the press got ahold of the news; but alas, too little too late.
The eerie quiet that greeted him was a bad omen, even as Ginger surprisingly let him through the door with zero protest. With an uneasy sinking feeling at the pit of his belly; Fred kept throwing cautious glances all around to make sure he wasn’t going to be ambushed by a fuming Lela Rogers. To his relief, she seemed to be out and he continued to tail Ginger into the sitting room, watching her unceremoniously stop by the fireplace with her arms folded across her chest. That was her argumentative pose; her garde completely up, and Fred didn’t blame her. All he could do was cling to his hat—fingers idly fiddling with the brim where he held it in front of his hips, head hung low like a naughty schoolboy awaiting the final principal’s judgment.
He picked up on the soft sound as Ginger drew a deep breath and turned to face him—locking eyes with him for the first time since he’d crossed the threshold. Her gaze was cold as ice, her emotions locked away and her face a blank canvas. It made Fred’s skin crawl. Whenever she wore that expression, her fortifications were impossible to penetrate.
“Are you going to say anything, or am I going to have to do all the talking?” she finally spoke, breaking the oppressive silence with her sharp, tense voice.
“Gin, I—” he attempted, but immediately shut his mouth when she held up one finger to warn him.
“Uh uh. You better be real smart about which words you choose.”
Oh boy, was he in a lot of trouble. Fred bit his lip and offered an affirmative nod, agreeing to her terms in a heartbeat. He had a feeling he wouldn’t be leaving here with his manhood intact if he didn’t obey and play along. Giving an awkward shrug, he shuffled the toe of one shoe against the rug and tried to go over what he wanted to say in his head before actually piping up.
“Alright. Do you, uh, want me to start from the beginning?”
“No. I know how it happened, and I’d rather not know a damn thing about it. What I’d like to know is why.”
Fred squirmed, his face taking on a flustered shade of pink as he ducked his head further.
“Well, we’re married, of course we’re going to—”
“Of course?” the incensed Ginger exclaimed and Fred cringed; first thing he said, and he’d already put his foot in his mouth, judging by the increase in pitch and volume.
He cleared his throat, and made a second attempt while desperately trying to worm his way out of an oncoming argument.
“Look, Gin, you know what Phyl is like. It’s her house and I’m just the guy living in it, paying her bills. If I don’t play nice, she blows a goddamn fuse and I’m sleeping on the couch for the next eight months.”
“Oh, so you just fuck her a couple of times a month to keep the peace, is that it?”
Ginger’s reply was much harsher and cruder than anything Fred had ever heard come out of her mouth, even during lovemaking. It was just the way in which she said that made it sound dirty and uncouth. It made his flush intensify significantly and a deep shame mingled with the already intrinsic embarrassment.
“No! All I’m saying is, we’re married and I’ve gotta do what I gotta do, it’s not like I have any choice in the matter—”
Once again, he was swiftly interrupted.
“I think you have all the say when it comes to who you stick your dick in or not. I doubt it’s acting out of its own goddamn volition. I thought you said you didn't care for her, but she’s good enough to get your rocks off, then?”
There were so many things Fred could have replied with, but none of them seemed viable and none of them would pacify Ginger’s fury. He understood where her jealousy was coming from; it wasn’t like he himself hadn’t had one drink too many while upset about her various dalliances with the rich and handsome men of Hollywood. Any time he’d brought it up, he’d been made to realize what a hypocrite he was, and it only made him want to bang his head into the wall and scream in frustration. Their situation was his fault, entirely, and Ginger never let him forget it. It still seemed unfair that she was fully able to pick and choose the cream of the crop, and he couldn’t even sleep with his actual wife once without being torn apart for it.
“Look, it was a one time thing, I was feeling lonely and—”
“Oh, so you were lonely. Boohoo. Poor ol’ Freddie, let’s throw you a goddamn pity party, why don’t we?”
Fred could count the times he’d been directly angered by Ginger’s unforgiving attitude on one hand; he was the resilient type, he could take a lot of beatings due to growing up firmly squashed under Ann Astaire’s strict thumb. But what he didn’t like was being cut off, unable to speak his part on the matter and he couldn’t resist letting out a disbelieving scoff as some of his own dormant ire seeped out.
“That’s not what the hell I’m saying! I’m just trying to explain myself. You know I never sleep with her, why in the world else do you think I’m with you?”
“So I’m just here whenever you feel like you need a warm body by your side, then? Is that it? When I’m not around, you just take whatever you can get?”
Now that was a downright nasty insult, enough to render Fred speechless and he simply gawked dumbly at the thinly veiled insinuation. When he did manage to regain the ability to form coherent words, the first thing to leave his mouth was a incensed whine.
“Excuse me?!”
“You heard me!” Ginger doubled down, still immoveable; her stern blue eyes demanding answers.
Oh, he’d give them to her. Ginger might know what buttons to push, but she didn’t know the beast she’d just uncaged. He was doing his best! Why was his best never good enough?
“I heard, but you won’t listen to me!” he raised his voice unwittingly, if only to match her intensity.
“Because nothing you say is going to change the fact that your damn wife is pregnant because you can’t keep it in your pants! Do you know what I’ve sacrificed for you? I bet you haven’t even spared a thought as to why Lew left! I bet you think you’re the only one who’s affected by this mess, but guess what? You’re not ! I thought I got that through your thick damn skull the first time around!”
Fred knew she was right, he knew he ought to calm himself. Her pain was valid, and he ought to be chivalrous and back down.
He snapped instead, throwing his arms out as the kettle bubbled over.
“I don’t think that! Do you have any fucking idea how long I’ve been trying to confess this to you? I knew you’d get like this! I knew you wouldn’t even let me talk, so I kept stalling! I didn’t plan for this! Things happened, I was lonely and you don’t have the goddamn time for me either way! Do you know how many fucking times this past year you’ve picked up the phone when I’ve called, Gin? Four times! Four!” he raised one hand to emphasize the point, four fingers up. “Do you have any damn idea how many times I’ve tried to reach you, and you haven’t even come around to phone me back?!”
“I have a life outside of you, Fred, in case you hadn't noticed! I have an active career, you can’t expect to be at your damn beck and call! You ought to know that!”
“I do know it, and I have a life outside of you—even if it doesn’t fucking seem like it half the time, because all I think about is you! I haven’t seen you since May! May! It’s November! I was tired of being alone because you sure as hell don’t have the time for me, so I slept with her! We did it one fucking time, Ginger! One time! In six years!”
He unceremoniously threw his hat on the floor, giving a couple of good stomps to find some physical outlet for the rage; pathetically kicking it aside and letting out an irate grunt.
“Is that supposed to be some sort of feat of honour? Do you want a goddamn medal for keeping your hands off that miserable hag?” Ginger snarled back, taking one step towards Fred; hands balling up into tight fists.
“It’s better than whatever the hell you’re doing, jumping from beau to beau and expecting me to just sit back on the sidelines and watch the goddamn scandals unfold! Is it still Jimmy on your arm, or have we moved onto someone else that I haven’t been informed of yet? Oh, but I’m married so I’m not allowed to get hurt, am I? Well, what if I am! What if I hate seeing you sleeping around with the entire male population of Los Angeles! What if I feel left out!”
Ginger made the first move; her heels hammering against the hardwood floor as she closed the distance between them in the span of seconds to deliver a sharp slap across the side of Fred’s face. He reared back from the force of it; ear ringing and cheek burning from the sting.
“What the hell?” was all he could splutter out, one hand coming up to clutch defensively at his jaw.
Ginger’s eyes were still dry, but the hurt on her face was tangible. At any other time, Fred would have regretted his words instantly. He knew how much Ginger hated being called easy—and while he hadn’t said it outright, he had more than alluded to it. Normally, he’d be the first to defend her honour but for now, and even with the anger clouding his judgment; he did realize he'd crossed the line.
“At least you have a goddamn wife and kids! You have a family! A real family! Maybe I have been avoiding you because I hate seeing your stupid smiley face in the magazines, surrounded by them! Have you ever considered that it might hurt me? Yes, I sleep with other men but you’re the one rubbing your goddamn kids in my face twenty four-seven!”
“That’s all publicity! It means nothing!”
“It doesn’t look like nothing to me!” Ginger pressed, entirely unconvinced as she got right up in his face.
“Well, that’s not my fucking fault! That’s all on you, because I would trade it all away in a heartbeat if I could! For you! You know how I feel about you, so why do I always have to reiterate it? Yes, I love little Fred and I’m sure I’ll love this kid, too, but it should have been you ! You know that! I know I fucked up when I let you go, and I regret it every goddamn day of my life!”
Breathless and huffing, Fred ended up taking a few steps back and running one hand over his scalp in frustration. He tried his best to calm down and let his thundering heartbeat slow to a more healthy rhythm before saying anything else; his smarting cheek and Ginger’s narrowed eyes serving to sober him up. One deep breath, then another, and he began to realize what exactly he had let slip.
Once again grappling with the shame; Fred couldn’t bear to look at Ginger. He was being unreasonable; she had every right to be upset with him. He was just so tired of being disregarded and cast aside. Ginger was everywhere nowadays—news, media, gossip columns—and he couldn’t escape her. He felt as if he was being suffocated by her presence, and yet she was further away from his reach than she had ever been. Biting his bottom lip, he swallowed his pride.
“I know it’s a lot to take in. I didn’t expect this myself. I ain't sure I even want another baby, but I can’t very well take it back now. I know I’m going to love the kid, that’s just how things are,” he paused only briefly. “I’m gonna be a father again. There you have it. I know you didn’t like it last time, I know how much it hurt you, and I’m sorry. I’m sorry for putting you through this again. I’m sorry for losing my head. But it really wasn’t a planned thing. I swear it. I would never purposely do that to you.”
He hoped he sounded as sincere as he was, but he knew the gruffness to his little speech revealed just how much it bothered him to have to go through this ordeal once more. He damned Phyllis inwardly for her conniving schemes. He was certain that this had been her angle all along when she came to his separate bedroom, catching him off guard—get knocked up, play the part of the perfect doting wife and mother, get the press in on the scoop, and beat Ginger over the head with it. God, he was such an idiot for falling for it!
“It’s a little late for that, Fred,” Ginger said after a moment of consideration, her voice much softer now and her hands hanging limp at her sides. “Of course it hurts. You know I can’t—”
There were so many implications behind that phrase even as she trailed off, but Fred took it only one way and wordlessly finished the sentence for her. ‘You know I can’t have kids.’ It had always been a sore spot for her; desperate to be a mother, but unable to ever make that dream a reality. All because of Jack and a botched abortion.
“I was going to tell you. You know I was. I didn’t know it was gonna be all over the damn papers, I thought I had more time,” Fred earnestly murmured, letting the rest of the anger pour off of him. “I wanted to ease you into it. I was scared, and if that makes me a coward, so be it.”
Ginger sighed softly through her nose, and it appeared as if she, too, was coming down. They were at a stalemate, and Fred almost expected her to ask him to leave. He’d do whatever she said, hand rubbing at his cheek to soothe it for lack of anything better to do as he waited patiently.
“I’m sorry I haven’t picked up your calls,” she finally admitted, a palpable sadness creeping into her eyes. “I did it on purpose, you know. I avoided them. And you.”
Fred was fairly sure the hurt on his face matched hers now, because when she glanced up at him; she flinched visibly.
“Why?” was all he could say, the exasperation of the question not gone unnoticed.
“Because I’m tired of all of it. You’ve got an entirely different life now, and I’m imposing on it. I needed some space.”
“You are my life, Ginge. You'd never impose.”
He did what came natural, approaching her without thinking and reaching out to place his hands gently on her forearms; clinging to them as he sought her gaze. With all the rage evaporated between them, left was only a crippling shared sorrow.
“I’m not. Your son is your life, and so’s this new child. I could never offer you that, and you deserve better. You deserve to be happy,” Ginger shook her head, but she didn’t reject his closeness; a good sign.
Fred hesitated only momentarily before reaching up and swiping some of Ginger’s now brunette tresses behind her ear. He tilted his head sideways, leaving his hand there and when the caress was accepted; he carefully cupped her cheek, stroking his thumb back and forth along the tender skin. His eyes began to sting; a not uncommon occurrence, and he didn’t care to hide it. If he was going to tear up in front of anyone, it was Ginger. She’d never judged him for it in the past, and she wouldn’t start now.
“We knew this was going to be difficult. I’m no better than you are,” he whispered.
“I know,” she nodded weakly, exhaling a shaky breath as she stood on her tiptoes and nudged his nose with hers. “How long can we hold on, Freddie?”
“I don’t know,” was his honest reply, “but I’m not leaving without a fight.”
The small chuckle Ginger let out was enough to make Fred smile despite the burn behind his eyes.
“I love you too much,” he added, pressing a chaste kiss to her soft lips.
“Sometimes I wish you didn’t,” Ginger murmured right back at him, closing her eyes,” but I guess it’s a shared malady.”