Coming Home

Title: Coming Home

Author: Nicky

Rating: PG-13

Keywords: J/MP, MP/B, Angst

Summary: Miss Parker makes a choice that forever changes the lives of those around her. Sequel to Letting Go.

Disclaimer: As much as I'd like it, these characters don't belong to me. I'm just using them for fun. Although, I don't think they have much fun in this story :-) I'll be sure to send them to therapy before returning them.

Choices

By Nicky

Coming Home

I've dreamt about this moment for as long as I've known her. In the dreams, it has varied over the years. Sometimes it's quick and frenzied in her office. Sometimes slow and exploring in mine. Sometimes she comes to me. Mostly I go to her. Ironically, after we got married, I lost all hope in the dream ever coming true. I realized she didn't love me. She never promised me her love. She couldn't give me her heart. That already belonged to Jarod. So imagine my surprise when she offered me a gift I never thought I'd receive from her.

Two hours earlier . . .

I pace nervously around my bedroom, mentally slapping myself for my idiotic actions. What have I just done? I just left my wife in a hotel room with the love of her life, that's what. How stupid was that? While I was at it, I should have just turned down the covers and put mints on the pillows. I know that ours is a marriage of convenience. I married her to help protect the children. If the Centre ever finds out she's having Jarod's kids, then who knows what they'll do to her. I can't let anything bad happen to her. So to protect her and the children, I offered to marry her. That way, the Centre won't have any reason to suspect anyone other than me as the father. She'll be safe.

But despite the lack of love on her part, a small part of me hoped she'd forget all about Jarod once she was my wife. And for the two months we've been married, things have been good. Debbie's happy. I'm happy. And Marisa seems to be taking things in stride. Yes, she lets me call her by her first name. During the day at work, she's still Miss Parker. But to us at home, she's Marisa. She said it would be ridiculous for Debbie and me to still call her Miss Parker in our own home. She still calls me Broots. That's only because I'm not wild about my first name. She's only called me that during our wedding. But like I said, things are good. Other than the fact that we don't share a bed or a bedroom, we seem to be your typical, normal couple. Things were going fine until tonight.

I stop my mental tirade when the front door opens. Debbie's been in bed for hours, so it can only be one person. My wife has come home to me. I left her with Jarod, but she came home to me. I'm so happy I actually do a little jig, right there in my room. But then I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror and realize how ridiculous I look and stop immediately. But, I'm relieved she's back. I honestly wasn't expecting her. With a sigh, I cross the room to shut my light off and head to bed. I want to go and check on her, but she might need time. For some reason, and believe me, I'm not complaining. But for whatever the reason, she's back here with me instead of with him. She probably needs time to deal with that.

I get into the bed and close my eyes, willing my heart to slow down. She's came home to me. She's here with me. And that's all that matters right now. Those thoughts repeat in my head as I drift into a blissful slumber. Halfway to falling asleep, I hear the bedroom door crack open. Light footsteps pad across the floor and I'm suddenly on alert, wondering who's in my room. I sit up and switch the lamp on, shocked to see who's standing next to my bed.

"I'm cold," she says, crawling into the bed next to me. I pinch myself to make sure I'm not dreaming. Ouch! Yep, I'm awake. And to my utter shock, Miss Parker is climbing into my bed. I stare at her, mouth wide open, but with no words coming out. Like I said, I think I'm in shock.

"You don't mind, do you?" she asks me.

"Of course not," I manage to stutter. She burrows down into the covers and scoots closer to me, laying her head on my chest. I immediately react to her, biting my lip to control myself and praying she doesn't notice. But I don't know how she couldn't notice my little problem. A little gasp from her lets me know when she encounters the evidence of my desire for her.

"I haven't been fair to you," she whispers. "I haven't been much of a wife."

"It's alright," I groan as her gentle breaths on my neck make my whole body tingle.

"No. It's not alright," she sighs. "But it's going to be."

Before I can blink, she rolls onto her back and pulls me on top of her. I try to protest, not sure if this is what she truly wants, but my hands begin to explore her body of their own accord. I am soon powerless to stop what she's set in motion.

When he's done, he flops on his back, breathless, but happier than I've ever seen him. At least I was able to do this for him. It wasn't about me. Everything he's done these past two months have been for me. This is the least I can do for him. I can offer him this joy even though it leaves me feeling nothing but emptiness. As the emptiness consumes me, I roll onto my side and face away from him, unable to stop my tears. I don't want him to see me like this. But he hears me, his sated brain registering the sound of my sniffling. He turns to his side and places his hand on my back. I'm barely able to stop myself from flinching at the contact.

"Are you okay?" he asks. He sounds worried. "I didn't . . . hurt you. Did I?"

"I'm fine," I say, wiping away my tears. I sit up and give him a forced smile. "I'm just going to take a shower. Okay?"

"Alright," he yawns, a sleepy smile on his face. He's asleep within seconds. I give him a kiss on his forehead and find my nightgown on the floor. Pulling it over my head, I make my way out the room and down the hall to the shower. The room is soon filled with the hot steam of the shower. My skin bears the red marks from the stinging water. Yet I feel nothing. I don't feel the hot water on my body. I don't feel the hard tile under my feet. I don't even feel the cold I felt that initially sent me to my husband's bed. I don't feel anything at all. And I don't know if that's a good thing or bad thing.

I wake up with the feeling that I'm not alone. Turning over, I see my wife huddled in a corner of the bed and I realize that last night wasn't a dream. She came back to me and gave me a gift I wasn't expecting. She gave me a piece of herself I never thought I'd receive. I don't know what prompted it, but I won't question it for now. I'll just be grateful.

She begins to stir when I run my fingers through her hair. I can tell when she wakes up, because her body stiffens. I guess she's not sure where she is.

"Good morning, Sunshine," I say when she rolls over to face me. For a second, her face scrunches up as if she's going to cry, but she manages to stave off the tears. I wonder if it was something I said.

"Good morning, Broots," she smiles. I try not to notice how disappointed she sounds. I try not to notice how the look in her eyes seems to resemble thinly disguised hopelessness and despair.

"I think I forgot to say this last night, but thank you," I say shyly. It's been so long since I've slept with a woman that I don't remember the rules and the 'morning after' etiquette. Especially when the woman is your wife. Thanks may not be appropriate, but it's what I'm feeling right now.

"You've been patient," she says. "You've been kind. You deserve more than I've been giving you."

"Why last night?" I ask, and immediately want to stick my foot in my mouth. Didn't I just say that I wasn't going to question it? But now that I have, I look to her expectantly for the answer.

"I don't know," she shrugs. "This is my life now. It's time to move on with it."

"And Jarod?" What is with my mouth? I can't seem to stop asking these questions. But I admit, I'm more than curious to know what happened with them in that hotel room.

"Gone," she sighs. This time, she really does cry. But only a few tears. She rubs her belly in a small, circular motion and it seems to calm her. "I convinced him this is the best thing for all of us. He doesn't want to endanger the children anymore than I do. Last night was a good-bye."

An uneasy silence falls on the room. I've finally managed to keep my mouth under control. But there's one more thing I'm curious about. And as if she can read my mind, she answers my one final question.

"Nothing happened with us in that hotel room," she says quietly. "I didn't sleep with him. I made vows to you, Broots. I promised to remain honest and faithful. And I have."

"I believe you," I smile, pulling her into my arms. I hold onto her tightly, still afraid that this is all a dream and if I let go, she'll disappear. That's not something I want happening. She's with me. She came home to me. And with me is where she's going to stay. She made the choice to come home. So I'm making the choice to believe this is where she really wants to be. Because if I don't believe it, then I'll really see what this is costing her. I'll see that her choice is slowly killing her.

His embrace becomes suffocating, so I pull away, trying to find an excuse to escape.

"We're going to be late for work," I say. He looks over his shoulder at the clock radio and nods his head, releasing me from the death grip he has on me. I think he's afraid I'll up and leave on him. But I won't do that. I can't do that. I don't have anywhere to go. There's no one to run to. Jarod's gone now. Like I said earlier, this is my life now. It's time to get on with it. It's time to push away all the pain and try to cope with the present circumstances. When he called me 'Sunshine', I almost lost it. That's how Jarod used to wake me. But I can't allow that memory anymore. It's too painful. It's in the past. My life is here now. With Broots and Debbie. I have to push away the memories of Jarod because I can't deal with that pain. I don't want to feel it. I don't want to feel anything.

An hour later, I'm dressed and walking down the stairs. Normally, it doesn't take me this long to get ready for work. But my expanding waistline has limited my wardrobe options. My new shape is a bit difficult for me to maneuver and is taking some time to get used to. When I finally make it downstairs, Broots and Debbie are just finishing with breakfast.

"Good morning, Marisa," Debbie smiles. "We ate already, but Dad left you some pancakes. Do you want me to get you some?"

"That's okay, Sweetheart." I give her the same forced smile I've become so good at giving. If they look close enough, they'll see that it's devoid of any emotions. I can't deal with emotions right now. I don't want to feel anything. My so called smile is as empty as I'm feeling right now.

"I'm not very hungry this morning," I explain before grabbing my stuff from by the front door. "I need to get going. I'll see you two later." One more fake smile and I'm able to get out of there without them asking me any questions. And without them hearing the growling from my stomach betraying the words I just spoke. It wasn't a lie, really. I honestly don't feel hungry. Because I don't feel anything. But if I can remember, I'll try to eat something later. I'll just have to try really, really hard to remember.

Go to Chapter 4 – Temporary Fixes

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