Heartbreak Hotel | austin!elvis x oc (part 12)
(gif source: theresalwaysep)
plot summary: Angel Casteel is a small town girl who lucked into working as a costume designer at a film studio. Unfortunately, her confidence in herself wavers as she is assigned to work with Elvis on his latest motion picture. Overcome by his star power at first, she slowly starts to realize there is a man behind the fame, a man she understands. But as they grow closer, the world grows more turbulent, especially Elvis's world. Will this Angel be able to save Elvis from himself and the people around him? Or will getting mixed up in his word prove to be her downfall as well?
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12
pairings: austin!elvis x oc
word count: 3,029
warnings/notes: Woo it has been so long since I updated my stories on this account, but I'm back hopefully for awhile. I just started school again so my free time is limited, but I'm working on carving out time for this :) TW: withdrawals
Chapter 12: A Future to Fight For
In the Colonel's suite at the International Hotel, the light of a single desk lamp illuminated his bloated face as he stared at the telephone. The room was unnaturally still, the usual entourage of yes-men and assistants dismissed hours ago. Only Andrews remained, standing silently by the door like a stone sentinel.
"Get me Nick Calabrese," the Colonel ordered, his voice cutting through the silence.
Andrews stepped forward. "Sir, are you sure that's wise? Calabrese isn't exactly... discreet."
The Colonel's eyes flashed with cold fury. "Did I ask for your opinion? Get him on the phone. Now."
As Andrews dialed, the Colonel pulled a cigar from his breast pocket, biting off the end with savage precision. The sweet, cloying smoke filled the room as he puffed, contemplating the chessboard on his desk. The white king had been moved to the far corner, surrounded by protective pieces. The black queen hovered nearby, poised to strike.
"Calabrese is on line one," Andrews announced, placing the receiver on the desk.
The Colonel picked it up, his voice instantly transforming into genial warmth. "Nick, my old friend. I need a favor."
He listened for a moment, a slow smile spreading across his face. "Yes, it involves our mutual acquaintance in Memphis. I need information. Medical records, psychiatric evaluations, anything that might suggest... instability." Another pause. "No, nothing that obvious. We're gentlemen, after all."
The Colonel's fingers traced the black queen on the chessboard. "I need something to convince a judge that Mr. Presley isn't of sound mind to make his own decisions. And that his wife might be... taking advantage of his vulnerable state."
He nodded, though Calabrese couldn't see him. "Excellent. And Nick? There's a substantial bonus if you can find evidence of any... impropriety in Mrs. Presley's past. Anything that might suggest she married him for reasons other than love."
The Colonel hung up, his expression satisfied as he leaned back in his chair. "The game isn't over yet," he murmured, knocking the white queen off the chessboard with a flick of his finger. The piece clattered to the floor, rolling under the desk and out of sight.
***
Dr. George Preston sat in the study of Graceland, surrounded by medical journals and legal documents. The room, with its dark wood paneling and leather-bound books, felt like a sanctuary compared to the medical drama unfolding down the hall. He rubbed his tired eyes, trying to focus on the psychiatric evaluation protocols spread before him.
A soft knock interrupted his concentration. Martin Feldman entered, his suit rumpled from the long day of legal maneuvering.
"Any news?" Dr. Preston asked, setting aside his papers.
Feldman sank into the chair opposite him, loosening his tie. "The Colonel's attorney filed a motion to expedite the psychiatric evaluation. They want it done tomorrow, not next week."
Dr. Preston's expression darkened. "That's impossible. Elvis is in the middle of acute withdrawal. He's in no condition to be evaluated."
"I argued that very point," Feldman said grimly. "Judge Harmon compromised. The evaluation will happen in three days."
"Three days?" Dr. Preston shook his head. "He'll still be experiencing significant symptoms. Cognitively impaired, emotionally volatile…” He paused. “Which is exactly what the Colonel wants."
"Precisely why they pushed for it," Feldman confirmed. "They're hoping Elvis will appear unstable, irrational. It would support their narrative that Angel is manipulating him for her own purposes."
Dr. Preston stood, pacing the length of the study. "We need to prepare them both. Angel especially. The Colonel's attorney will try to provoke her, make her appear controlling or unstable herself."
"There's more," Feldman said, his voice dropping lower. "My contact at the courthouse says the Colonel's hired a private investigator to dig into Angel's past. They're looking for anything they can use against her."
"What could they possibly find? She's lived an exemplary life."
Feldman shrugged. "Everyone has secrets, Doctor. Or at least moments that can be twisted to appear suspicious." He hesitated. "And there's the matter of her... condition."
Dr. Preston stilled. "You know?"
"I suspected. The way she's been dressing, her occasional nausea during our meetings." Feldman leaned forward. "Does Elvis know?"
"No," Dr. Preston confirmed. "She hasn't told him. Doesn't want to add to his stress during recovery."
"If the Colonel finds out..." Feldman didn't need to finish the thought. They both understood the implications.
"He'd use it to suggest she trapped Elvis into marriage," Dr. Preston said. "The classic gold-digger narrative."
"Exactly. And a judge might be inclined to believe it, especially if Elvis appears unstable during the evaluation."
Dr. Preston returned to his chair, his expression grave. "Then we need to make sure that doesn't happen. I'll work with Elvis, prepare him as best I can. You focus on the legal strategy."
"And Angel?" Feldman asked.
"I think it's time she told Elvis about the baby," Dr. Preston replied. "Better he hears it from her than from the Colonel's lawyers."
***
Dawn was breaking over Graceland, painting the white columns with soft golden light. Angel stood at the window of Elvis's makeshift medical room, watching the sunrise while he slept fitfully behind her. The night had been brutal. There had been hours of tremors, sweating, and pain, punctuated by brief periods of exhausted sleep.
She heard the door open softly and turned to see Dr. Preston entering with a tray of coffee and toast.
"You should eat something," he said gently, setting the tray on a nearby table. "You've been up all night."
Angel shook her head, her attention still focused on Elvis. "I'm not hungry."
"Angel," Dr. Preston's voice carried the gentle authority of years of medical practice, "you need to keep your strength up. For Elvis, yes, but also for—" He paused meaningfully.
Angel's hand moved instinctively to her stomach, then froze as she realized what she'd done. Dr. Preston's knowing expression confirmed her fears.
"How long have you known?" she whispered.
"I suspected during our first meeting at the diner. The way you held yourself, your pallor, the occasional nausea." Dr. Preston moved closer, his voice kind but serious. "Angel, you need to tell him."
"I can't. Not now, not while he's like this." Angel gestured toward the bed where Elvis lay tangled in sweat-soaked sheets. "He's fighting for his life. How can I add this burden?"
"This isn't a burden," Dr. Preston said firmly. "It's hope. Something to fight for beyond just breaking free from the Colonel."
Angel sank into the chair beside Elvis's bed, exhaustion overwhelming her. "What if the Colonel finds out? He'll use it against us, say I trapped Elvis into marriage."
"Is that what you did?"
"No!" The word came out sharper than she intended, and Elvis stirred slightly in his sleep. Angel lowered her voice. "I love him. I've loved him since the moment we met. The pregnancy... it's a blessing, not a trap."
Dr. Preston pulled up another chair, sitting beside her. "Then that's what we'll prove in court. But Elvis deserves to know he's going to be a father. Especially now."
Angel looked at Elvis's pale, drawn face. Even in sleep, pain etched lines around his eyes. "What if it's too much for him?"
"Angel, I've been Elvis's doctor for years before the Colonel edged me out. I've seen him at his lowest points and his highest triumphs. This man has survived poverty, fame, manipulation, and addiction. But through it all, the one thing that's sustained him is love. Love for his music, his family, his fans." Dr. Preston leaned forward. "And his love for you. Don't underestimate the healing power of hope."
Before Angel could respond, Elvis began to stir. His eyes fluttered open, immediately seeking her face. "Angel?"
"I'm here, baby." She took his hand, noting that the tremors had subsided somewhat.
Elvis struggled to sit up, his movements still shaky but more controlled than they'd been hours earlier. "How long was I out?"
"About three hours," Dr. Preston answered, checking his pulse. "The medication is helping. How do you feel?"
Elvis considered the question seriously. "Like I've been hit by a truck, then backed over for good measure." He managed a weak smile. "But better than last night."
"That's progress," Dr. Preston said, making notes on Elvis's chart. "The first seventy-two hours are the worst. You're already through the first twenty-four."
Elvis nodded, his gaze fixed on Angel's face. "You look exhausted, darlin'. Have you slept at all?"
Angel shook her head, managing a tired smile. "I'll sleep when you're better."
"That's not fair to you," Elvis protested. "You need to rest too."
Dr. Preston cleared his throat. "I'll leave you two to talk. The nurse will be in shortly with your morning medication." He gave Angel a meaningful look before departing, closing the door softly behind him.
A heavy silence fell between them. Angel could feel the weight of her secret pressing against her chest, demanding to be spoken. Elvis watched her with those piercing blue eyes that always seemed to see straight through to her soul.
"What is it?" he asked finally. "Something's bothering you. I can tell."
Angel's fingers tightened around his. "There's something I need to tell you," she began, her voice barely above a whisper. "Something important."
Elvis's expression grew serious. "Is it the Colonel? Has he done something?"
"No, nothing like that." Angel took a deep breath, gathering her courage. "Elvis, I'm...pregnant."
For a moment, Elvis didn't react. He stared at her, his face completely still as if he hadn't fully processed her words. Then, slowly, his eyes widened, moving from her face down to her stomach.
"A baby?" he whispered, his voice filled with wonder. "Our baby?"
Angel nodded, tears filling her eyes. "I found out just before Vegas. I was waiting for the right moment to tell you, but then everything happened so fast with the Colonel and your health, and I didn't want to add to your stress—"
Her words were cut off as Elvis pulled her into his arms with surprising strength for someone so ill. He held her tightly, his body trembling now.
"A baby," he repeated against her hair. "My God, Angel."
Angel pulled back slightly to see his face, shocked to find tears streaming down his cheeks. "You're... happy about this?"
"Happy?" Elvis laughed, the sound rusty but genuine. "Angel, this is... this is everything." He placed a gentle hand on her stomach, his touch reverent. "How far along are you?"
"Almost three months," she admitted. "Dr. Preston figured it out, and Feldman too probably. I've been trying to hide it, worried the Colonel would find out and use it against us."
Elvis's expression darkened at the mention of the Colonel. "He won't touch our child," he said, his voice taking on a hardness Angel hadn't heard since before his collapse. "I won't let him."
"That's why I was afraid to tell you," Angel confessed. "I didn't want you worrying about anything but getting better."
Elvis shook his head, his hand still resting protectively over her stomach. "This isn't something to worry about, Angel." His eyes, clearer than they'd been in months, met hers with renewed determination. "I've been fighting against the withdrawal, against the pain. But now..." He swallowed hard. "Now I've got something to fight for."
Angel placed her hand over his. "The psychiatric evaluation is in three days. The Colonel's lawyers pushed to have it done sooner, hoping you'd still be in the worst of withdrawal."
"Let them come," Elvis said, a spark of his old defiance returning. "I'll show them exactly who Elvis Presley is. And it sure as hell ain't the drugged-up puppet the Colonel's been parading around."
Angel smiled through her tears. "There's my man."
Elvis pulled her closer, his movements still weak but purposeful. "I've been running from myself for too long, Angel. Hiding in pills and performances because I was scared to face what I'd become." He touched her cheek gently. "But you never gave up on me. And now, with this little one on the way..." His voice broke. "I've got a future to fight for."
A soft knock at the door interrupted their moment. Margaret entered with a tray of medication and a stern expression that softened slightly at the sight of them.
"Time for your morning dose, Mr. Presley," she announced, moving efficiently toward the bed.
As Margaret administered the medication, Angel watched Elvis's face. The news of the baby had transformed him. Though his body was still ravaged by withdrawal, his eyes now held a light that hadn't been there before. There was a fierce determination that reminded her of the man she'd fallen in love with.
"We should start thinking about names," Elvis said after Margaret left, his smile genuine despite the pain that still etched lines around his eyes. "If it's a girl, I'd like to name her after my mama."
"Gladys," Angel said softly. "It's beautiful."
"And if it's a boy?"
Angel considered for a moment. "What about Jesse? After your twin."
Elvis's eyes filled with tears again. "Jesse Garon Presley," he whispered. "Mama would have loved that."
They spent the morning talking about the future. The nursery they would create at Graceland, the kind of parents they wanted to be, and the life they would build together once Elvis was well. For those precious hours, the Colonel and his threats seemed far away, unable to touch the bubble of joy that surrounded them.
But reality intruded with the arrival of Martin Feldman later that afternoon. He entered the room with a grim expression, a thick folder tucked under his arm.
"I see you've shared the news," he said, noting Elvis's protective hand resting on Angel's stomach. "I'm glad. It will help with what's coming."
"The psychiatric evaluation," Elvis said, his voice stronger than it had been in days.
Feldman nodded, taking a seat in the chair across from the bed. "I won't sugarcoat this. The Colonel's team is preparing an aggressive strategy. They'll try to prove you were mentally incapacitated when you married Angel, that your judgment was compromised by the drugs in your system."
"Which he was responsible for," Angel said bitterly.
"Exactly. But proving that connection is complicated." Feldman opened the folder, spreading several documents across the bedside table. "These are the questions they're likely to ask during the evaluation. We need to prepare you both."
Elvis pushed himself up straighter against the pillows. Though his skin was still ashen and his hands trembled slightly, his eyes were clear and focused. "Whatever it takes."
"There's more," Feldman said, his expression growing more serious. "The Colonel has hired investigators to dig into Angel's past. They're interviewing everyone from your hometown, your former colleagues, even your extended family."
Angel felt her blood run cold. "What are they looking for?"
"Anything they can use to paint you as an opportunist. Someone who targeted Elvis for his money and fame." Feldman met her eyes directly. "They'll know about the baby soon, if they don't already. They'll use it to suggest you trapped him into marriage."
Elvis's hand tightened around Angel's. "That's ridiculous. I wanted to marry Angel from the moment I met her."
"And we'll prove that," Feldman assured him. "But you both need to be prepared for some very personal, very difficult questions during this process."
For the next several hours, they worked through Feldman's prepared questions. Some were straightforward, others were painfully intrusive, delving into their intimate life, Angel's financial situation before meeting Elvis, even her previous relationships.
"Why does any of this matter?" Angel asked, her voice tight with frustration after a particularly invasive line of questioning.
"Because they'll try to establish a pattern," Feldman explained patiently. "They want to show you have a history of seeking out wealthy or influential men."
"But I don't!" Angel protested.
"I know that," Feldman said gently. "But the Colonel is desperate. He'll fabricate evidence if he has to."
Elvis, who had been quiet during this exchange, suddenly spoke up. "What about the annulment petition? Can they really take Angel away from me?"
The question hung in the air, heavy with fear.
Feldman hesitated, choosing his words carefully. "Legally, yes. An annulment would effectively erase your marriage as if it never happened. But," he added quickly, seeing the panic in Elvis's eyes, "we have strong arguments against it. Your marriage was entered into voluntarily, consummated, and has lasted several months. The burden of proof is on them to demonstrate why it should be invalidated."
"And the baby?" Elvis asked, his voice barely above a whisper. "What happens to our child if they succeed?"
"That's a separate legal matter," Feldman explained. "Paternity and custody would be established regardless of marital status. But I won't lie to you, unmarried mothers often face an uphill battle in custody disputes, especially against fathers with significant financial resources."
Angel felt as if the floor had dropped away beneath her. The thought of losing both Elvis and their child was too much to bear. "They can't take my baby," she whispered, instinctively wrapping her arms around her midsection.
"No one is taking anyone away from anyone," Elvis said firmly, his jaw set. "I don't care what the Colonel throws at us. We're a family now."
Feldman nodded, gathering his papers. "That's exactly the attitude you need to maintain during the evaluation. Show them you're clearheaded, determined, and making decisions based on love, not impairment." He stood, straightening his tie. "I should go prepare the affidavits from Dr. Preston. Try to rest, both of you. The next few days will be challenging."
After Feldman left, Angel curled up beside Elvis on the bed, careful not to disturb the IV line still attached to his arm. For a long while, they simply held each other, drawing strength from the connection that had sustained them through so much already.
"I'm scared," Angel finally admitted, her voice muffled against his chest.
"Me too," Elvis confessed, stroking her hair. "But I've spent too many years being scared." He tilted her face up to his. "Not anymore. Whatever happens with this evaluation, with the Colonel's schemes, we face it together. You, me, and our little one."
Angel smiled through her tears. "Together."
Stay tuned for part 13!! Click HERE to view!!
