A/n: This fic was inspired by Fiona Apple's cover of Elvis Costello's song "I Want You". I tried to stay true to the song, so this fic is both abstract and at the same time, it focuses on all the feelings that are expressed in the song. I strongly recommend listening to the song too. Dedicated to Quirkette100.

She loved him. There was no denying it. From the moment they first became a couple, she knew her heart chose him and she would never give him up. Sometimes the intensity of her feelings for him terrified her. What if he ever got hurt? How would she live without him?

"I love you," she said tearfully and she wished she had better words to say. But no other sentence she knew was stronger than that.

"What is this supposed to mean?" he turned to look at her, a glass of whiskey in his hand.

"I love you, Jack. You're the one I want to spend my life with," tears ran down her cheeks now and she considered pouring herself a glass of whiskey too, to calm her nerves. "And this thing – it can happen. I, I know it can happen sometimes. And… you still love me, don't you?" she had no doubt in her mind that he did. The fling between him and his secretary, Angela couldn't be compared to a serious, committed relationship, to marriage. She looked at him expecting a response. He couldn't be in love with Angela. She wasn't classy, or beautiful, and yet, she still managed to seduce him, to take him from her for one moment in time. She still recalled the last time they made love. He was wilder than usual, and she was willing to entertain some of his fantasies. She had given him what he wanted. He should have been satisfied. But maybe it wasn't enough. "Jack, I love you," she said again and walked over to him. Her lips covered his in a passionate kiss, the taste of whiskey strong in his mouth. She would let him have his way tonight. She would do anything he wanted her to do. They could get over this little bump in the road.

Her lips formed the words even before she woke up and yet, she knew that she meant them. They were true and they burned on her tongue like hellfire. She needed to feel his skin against hers, to hear him whispering in her ear, to see the emotion in his eyes.

"What did you say?" he turned around and groaned.

"I want you, Jack," she repeated her earlier words, the words she cried in her sleep.

"You must be crazy. It's late, Sharon. Go to sleep," he said and rolled away from her, burying his face in the pillow. Maybe he was right, she thought. It really was past midnight and they had to work in the morning.

"Jack, can you hug me?" she asked. If he wrapped his arms around her, she would be okay. She would endure until tomorrow night without satisfying her carnal needs. He didn't respond, and she snuggled closer to him and wrapped her arms around his body. He grunted and moved further away from her, closer to the edge of the bed. He's never rejected her this way before. He must have been really tired, she told herself. Moving over to her side of the bed, she pleasured herself, as she fantasized about him, imagining that the hands that trailed down her body were his. She fell over the edge with a desperate cry and by the way he didn't move by her side, she knew he was asleep.

Sometimes he gave her that look. She wasn't sure what it meant at first, and then she took the time to analyze it, the way his blue eyes raked over her body, appreciated her form. The way he bit his lips whenever she wore an item of clothing that was more revealing than he was used to. She did it on purpose, of course, and it seemed to be affecting him, but not to the extent that she wanted it to. He never made a comment, or tried to touch her.

She considered the option that he felt guilty and undeserving of her, after she found out about his short affair with Angela. She wished he would say something, but it appeared that silence has become his new best friend. They barely spoke anymore, and felt like two strangers living in the same home and sharing a bed for the lack of space rather than the abundance of love. It hurt more than she could describe. It made her want to cry and scream. And yet, she remained silent, not daring to rend the delicate, albeit uncomfortable balance they managed to establish.

Sometimes at night, she laid awake and tried to imagine him with Angela. The way they undressed each other, their lustful gazes locking. The way they devoured each other, gasped each other's names. It made her cry silent tears, and as she watched him do mundane things, like cooking a meal or reading the mail, she felt her heart constricting painfully inside her chest.

What could Angela have given him that she didn't? This question was ever present in her mind. Angela didn't know him as well as she did. She didn't know what he liked to eat, which music was his favorite, what baseball team he cheered for, his favorite color, and the way he liked to organize his ties in the drawer. What could Angela have said to capture him this way? Did she admire his look? Maybe she mentioned how she enjoyed the smell of his aftershave? Jack always enjoyed receiving compliments about his appearance. It was really, the easiest way into his good graces. Apparently, it was an easy way into his pants.

Wanting to know what had happened, and demanding answers was terrifying. Jack's affair with Angela may have been the elephant in the room, but somehow, opening the door wide enough for the gigantic creature to leave required more strength than Sharon imagined it would take. She knew that hearing the truth, the dirty details would be a slow and agonizing torture, and yet, she hoped that it would clear the air between them. She would forgive, and they will move on, and things will be put in the proper perspective.

"Please tell me," she begged. "I need to know." And he did. She couldn't stop the tears, and she felt as if every word he said ripped a part of her heart out, bit by bit, until it was barely beating. "Is she better than me?" she asked, and she knew the question was like an emotional suicide, but she couldn't let it go, not until she knew every single thing there was to know.

"The two of you are different. I can't compare," he replied. What was that supposed to mean? She didn't know and the more he tried to explain to her all the things he liked in Angela, the more she started hating that woman. She was nothing more than a cheap adulterer. How could Jack even enjoy her company? Her insides were boiling.

"It's not gonna happen again, right?" she asked, the helplessness in her voice evident to the both of them. He shook his head. She smiled for the first time in three months. She felt her heart lightening and the fire inside her flaring again. Her husband, the man her heart chose to love, the person who was going to be the father of her children one day – he was hers again. She couldn't contain the emotions that coursed through her, filling her so fast that her skin tingled and her breath hitched. No one in the world would ever feel about Jack the way she did.

"I promise," he said and she walked over to him and captured his lips, her fingers quickly unbuttoning his dress shirt.

"I want you, Jack," she said, her voice breathy and thick with lust. This time he returned the feeling.

As they laid on the gray carpet in their living room, their limbs tangled, their skin sticky with sweat, their hair tousled, and their breaths ragged, she knew that tonight she made it clear to him, in more than one way how much she craved his touch, how much she loved him and how willing she was to forget his indiscretions and move on. She didn't need to use words, and neither did he. And even though she wanted to believe that she will never stop feeling this way about him, she knew all too well, that there was always going to be a seed of doubt inside her heart. She would never let it grow, and all she could really do was hope that he wouldn't do anything to water it.

THE END

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