Disclaimer: The characters used in this story belongs to creator Darren Star, 90210 Productions, Fair Dinkum Productions, Spelling Television and Torand Productions. No copyright infringements intended.

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They were so quiet leaving the doctor's office that Brandon was sure that if a pin had been dropped they would hear it. He turned his head towards Andrea. She had yet to say anything. Ever since the doctor had said her piece, Andrea had just stared into the open space, as if she hadn't heard a single word of it, but Brandon knew better. He knew those words were repeating themselves in her mind like a mantra, if she hadn't already moved on to panicking about the future, that was.

What freaked him out the most was how quiet she was. Hysterical Andrea he could deal with. He had plenty of experience. Even after they had started going out they had butted heads so many times that it was second nature by now. Brandon thought with some amusement that if their relationship were to have a theme song, 'Love is a Battlefield' would probably be a good choice.

Brandon stared at Andrea, who was very slowly making her way down the corridor one miniscule step at a time. He wished she would just say something, anything. Yell, go into full panic mode, scream at him that it was all his fault. He'd rather have her chucking things after him, screaming at the top of her lungs than staring quietly into the air like this. That was something he just couldn't handle.

"Andrea?" he said, hoping to break the silence.

She stopped up. At least he'd gotten a reaction. Then a hand rose to her mouth and she mumbled, "sorry, I have to..." before making a dash towards the bathroom.

It took him a couple of seconds before realizing he probably should follow. For the first time in his life he ignored the sign labeling the room as the women's bathroom. He recognized her shoes sticking out from one of the stalls. She had been in such a hurry that she hadn't had the time to close the door, forget about locking it. He winced when he heard the retching. True he hadn't had a drink in years, but he could still remember the hangovers, hanging over the porcelain, convinced he was going to turn inside out at any minute. He couldn't help to think nature was a cruel being to make someone to go through that for months.

He walked up to the stall. Andrea was crouched over the bowl, her left hand holding onto the edge while her right held her hair out of the way. Brandon took two steps forward and bent down next to her. He placed one hand supportingly on her shoulder while the other took over the job of holding back her hair, allowing her to use both hands to support herself.

It felt like forever to him. He didn't even want to think about what it had to be like for her. When it seemed like the nausea had subdued, he grabbed some tissue and handed it to her. Even after wiping her mouth and flushing, Andrea remained hanging over the toilet bowl, as deafening quiet as ever.

Brandon wondered if maybe she still felt queasy. He was about to say something when he noticed her shaking. It was barely noticeable at first. For a moment he thought she felt chilly, but then he heard the quiet sobs coming from her.

He did the one thing that came natural to him, he reached over and pulled her towards him. The sobbing only increased at this. He urged her to lean her head against his chest, allowing him to put his arms around her properly, stroking one hand up and down her back while listening to her muffled sobs.

He didn't say anything. What could he say? That it was going to be okay? He didn't know that. They had only just started college for crying out loud. He was probably as scared to death about this as she was. But he didn't feel now was the right time to lay that on her, not when she needed him to be her rock. His time would come later.

For now he just held her.

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