WARNING: This story is a sequel to HEAVY INFERNO; if you'd like to understand half of the plot of COLD GROUND, you may want to read that first d(^_^)b

1. Skinny Love

Monday. April showers brought flooded streets to the city; water flowed through the gutters like sand through an hourglass. Unfortunately, time wasn't going by as fast as I would have liked it to. I pulled my truck to a stop and flipped through the envelopes in the plastic box in the seat beside me. Evelyn Waugh, Evelyn Waugh… I gathered all of Evelyn's mail and stuck it inside of her mailbox. I pulled the truck forward one house, and flipped through the box for the next set of envelopes.

My days weren't usually so glum, in fact most days I was more than happy with my job. But today were the days when I had a hard case of the Muddy Blues – the days when I wonder why I bother getting up in the morning. Norman Jayden, masculine FBI profiler and mean brawler was known far and wide by his peers, respected and looked up to. Somewhere over the last three years, being dragged along the salty trails, he'd been reduced to being me; Norman Jayden, mailman and part-time chauffer for 'tweens. I wondered what the Jayden three years ago would say if he could see me now.

Days like today I just shoved the mail in the mailbox and drove on by without even glancing anyone's way.

By the time I made it home through traffic and lights, Ethan usually had dinner ready on the table and Shaun was taking a homework break. If nothing else, we all ate dinner together every night like a famn damily. Ethan was always smiles for me, even through the tired bags beneath his eyes. Shaun was fourteen now, and more secretive than ever – such was the world of a teenage boy.

We ate, and then Shaun would hole up in his room as Ethan and I would catch up and watch some boring TV program on the National Geographic Channel while he snuggled up against me. Then he'd start dozing, I'd tell him to go to bed but he'd persist that he wasn't nodding off until he finally gave in an hour later and we stumbled groggily into the bedroom.

Lather, rinse, repeat. That had become my life now. Well, our life. I had everything I wanted and more – Ethan, Shaun, a steady job, a home. And yet, as lucky as had been to have all of that and more, I wasn't happy. No, happy's not the word I should be using because Ethan really did made me happy – I think what I'm trying to say is that I feel… like I'm living someone else's life, not mine. This whole 'family man' suit I'm wearing still feels itchy; the family world still so alien. When Ethan and I went to a parent-teacher meeting (because he insisted I go as one of Shaun's parents even though I told him I didn't want to) I felt so out of place. The stares and awkward small talk we got from other parents didn't help ease the unsettling feeling in the pit of my stomach.

I was bored, plain and simple. Ethan and I had come to a sort of rut. Oh, I loved him to death and couldn't imagine being alone, let alone with anyone else. We still fit together like two halves of a whole, and it never stopped feeling 'right' when we were wrapped up in each other, but somehow it felt like we'd been at a standstill for a few months now, going nowhere.

But where was there left to go? We had a house in a great neighborhood, we had mutual friends, and we had our careers – well, Ethan's career and the job I'd settled on at the advice of my therapist. We'd planted roots, we'd built a life and a pretty fucking spectacular one at that. We'd made it despite odds and people who rooted against us. But all that glitters isn't gold, and I wondered where we were going, if anywhere.

That was my problem; I'd lost momentum. I was completely stuck in one spot in every aspect of life. Ethan had noticed as well, but since he was still hurtling forward and sky-rocketing as an architect he still had the comfort of knowing that he was still moving in some aspect. I was damn jealous of Ethan, though I wouldn't ever tell him that. He would just take it the wrong way if I did. I didn't even like admitting that fact to myself. I was supposed to support and stand by my partner through thick and thin, and her I was envying his rising career and the paths set out before him.

The next day I drove Shaun to school and then headed into work. Once off, I went home and changed out of my little blue-grey uniform (I still couldn't get used to the shorts) and ate dinner with my family. Then Ethan and I watched TV, I urged him for most of the evening to go to bed until he finally did and that was that. Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, all the same.

Saturday that was some little get-together at one of the neighbors' houses. Cheap wine and joke killers, that's what the evening consisted of. But I laughed at these bad jokes, of course, for Ethan's sake. These things were important to him for some reason. I just didn't get it. I liked half the people on our block less than half as they deserved while he liked half the people on our block more than twice as much as they deserved to be. But that was the man I'd (sort of) married; Saint Fucking Ethan. Perfectly charming, charitable, and excessively handsome. Even after living with him for two years it still boggles me to think that any human could be that humane, and yet there he was.

I had to step outside to get some fresh air. The cool night breezes did help get the smell of middle-aged high brow wannabes out of my hair, but it was a short lived victory when Ethan walked outside with a stern look on his face that I'd seen before; clearly he was not happy with my performance.

"What's wrong?" He asked.

"Nothing, I just needed some air – go back inside, enjoy the party," I said dismissively.

"I'd rather go back inside with you," he said. Those bright puppy eyes were boring into my soul, and I couldn't stay frustrated for much longer. Ethan walked down the front steps and placed his arms around my neck as my hands habitually found his waist. "Just come inside, sit down, and join the conversation."

"What conversation? They've been talking about that bottle of wine for the last twenty minutes," I groaned. Wine was a farce. They thought it tasted chocolaty, blackberry flavors accentuation the rich texture with an oaky finish: I thought it tasted like sulfur and hate.

Ethan and I had this thing, this sort of dance. I would be frustrated or peeved about something and feeling particularly argumentative. He would try and talk me into something that I didn't want to do. He'd place his arms on my shoulders, I'd grab his waist, and eventually we'd end up slowly rotating and swaying from side to side like a couple of prom kids. I didn't know how he did it – he was a magician that way. I'd try to start and argument and we'd end up dancing under the stars with smiles on both of our mouths.

"Just come back inside with me. We'll stay for another half hour at most and then I promise we'll go home," he said. I hung my head and peaked up into his eyes sparingly, shaking my head with a sigh.

"I don't know how you do it," I said.

Ethan chuckled and it was still the best sound in the world to me. I lifted my head to meet his gaze, and he leaned in to lock his lips to mine. I could still taste the wine on his lips, and though bitter in flavor, it was still sweeter than the purest sugar when mixed with the natural taste of his taut, tender skin.

That night I was stirred from a deep sleep by Ethan's whimpers and murmurs. When I finally opened my eyes and looked over at his side of the bed, he was already sitting up and rubbing his face.

"What's wrong?" I asked.

"Just a bad dream," he said.

I rolled over and clicked on the lamp on my nightstand. I pushed my body into a sitting position and leaned back against the headboard. I looked down at my watch; almost 4 am.

"I'm sorry for waking you," he said sullenly. I ran my hand up and down his back and he leaned into my touch.

"What kind of dream?" I asked.

"Nothing you'd want to hear about," he said with a weary smile. His tired eyes scanned my face and then he kissed my cheek, stubble pricking my jaw line. Ethan rolled over and that was that.

It had been the third time over the last couple of weeks that a bad dream had violently shaken him out of his sleep. If they were that frightening then I wished that he'd tell me so he wouldn't be alone in this. But as it was all I could do was stand by idly and wait for him to come to me – forcing it out of him would get me further from where I wanted to be.

Saturday. Glorious, sunny Saturday. What was up my sleeve for Saturday? Nothing. Ethan handled the yard work, it was his own therapy. He loved it – it was like floral crack for him. I didn't work Saturdays, and it wasn't like I had paperwork to slave over anymore. No real hobbies. The neighbor husbands had a golf ritual. Every Saturday morning they'd go to the nearby course and just swing away the afternoon. I hated golf, but I was invited once, and it made me realize just what kind of douchebags I lived next door to. They were just full of racist jokes and sexist humor with personalities that were one-dimensional and bland. That was also the last time I went golfing with them.

I flipped through the channels and tried to find something worth watching, even a college game would suffice. All I found was QVC. I turned off the TV and moaned grumpily. I sidled into the kitchen and peered out the sliding glass doors to the backyard.

Ethan had already mowed and was now just trimming the hedges. He'd already taken off his shirt under the hot summer sun, and I swallowed. Five long weeks, that's how long it had been since Ethan and I'd well… partook in the 'perpetual premaritals.' He had this thing about not taking any risks while Shaun was home or still awake, and now that summer break had begun he stayed up playing his shooter games until it was damn near dawn. I still wasn't convinced that the kid slept at all because on the weekends he was up bright and early for the cartoons.

So with me working during the day when Shaun would be gone, and him home on the weekends, that left Ethan and I no real chance for some alone time. There was always a party, or a BBQ, or family time with the three of us, or the rare occasion when Grace would join us.

Ethan looked up and waved. I smiled halfheartedly and waved back, receding back into the shadows of the house. I had to get out of this house before pent up testosterone and aggravation drove me insane. My destination; the nearest bar.

I found a nice dive about fifteen minutes away. Ethan wouldn't be happy with my extracurricular choice of that day, but he could blow me – no, really, it would be a relief if he did. I settled into a table in a dark corner and hid behind the bottles of brew the young little blonde waitress would drop off. A sandy blonde woman at the bar had been eyeing me for the last twenty minutes and I would stare back on occasion. It was hard to peg her age without feeling like I was insulting her. On one hand, she looked older, maybe mid-fifties, but she still looked beautiful enough to pass for years in her forties. But then again, if she was in her forties I'd feel bad for mentally calling her old.

It wasn't until my third beer that she sauntered over and stood beside my table, looking down with a smile on her lips and a decision in her eyes.

"They're playing Patsy," she said.

"Walking After Midnight," I said. I looked down at my watch, and laughed. "They're playing it about seven hours too early."

She laughed with me and I took another swing, staring back up at her and wondering what her agenda was.

"Dance with me," she said.

"I don't dance, especially not in public," I said. Ethan was the only person who could get me to dance wherever he wanted me to, and that was never an obligation.

"Come on, do I have to drag you out onto the floor?" She held out her hand and winked. "Come on."

I resigned with a swig and a sigh. I took her hand and she helped me out of my booth and onto my feet. I was buzzed, feeling the alcohol in my legs already, but not enough to forget that there were eyes on me as she dragged me out in the middle of the floor. I took her hand as she wrapped the other around my shoulder.

"You want to get out of here?" She asked. "Let's go to your place."

I tried to stifle back my laughter, but a little made it through the barriers. Of all the guys to hit on in this place she picked me; I couldn't believe her taste in men was that bad, but here we were.

"Go back to my place? You want to go back to my place?" I asked. She nodded with that ever-present smirk on her lips. "We can't."

"Well then how about my place?" She asked. I shook my head tipsily and smiled to match hers. "You know, it's true – what they say about older women; we do try harder, and I've got a lot of years' worth of perfected techniques I think you'll find quite pleasurable."

"No, I can't do that either," I said.

"Married?" She asked. My immediate reaction was to say no. I mean, technically Ethan and I weren't married, nor could we. Not unless the laws changed. Still, under the circumstances a yes wasn't farfetched.

"Yeah, I am." She nodded and continued to sway with me.

"Happily?" She asked.

"For the most part," I said.

"Then why are you here?" She asked. "Look, it's not like I think you're something special. Sometimes you just don't want to be alone for one night. Sometimes you just need to feel close to another person, you know?"

I could understand that, and I did understand the need to feel wanted by someone. I couldn't remember the last time that I'd felt wanted or needed by Ethan, yet I so longed for him in so many ways for so many days.

I kissed the back of her hand and left her on the floor, making my way back to my beer.

I pulled into the driveway. I knew that Ethan would smell the beer on my breath and immediately chastise me for driving while tipsy, but I'd made it home in one piece. I opened the door quietly and took a look around the house. It was well lit, and the TV filled the house with music. Yep, he was home and probably waiting on me. Great.

I sat my keys in the bowl beside the door and warily made my way into the kitchen where Ethan was tossing a salad. Something in the oven filled the kitchen with a delectable aroma, and I just about fell to my knees. I hadn't realized just how hungry I was.

"Hey," Ethan said with a smile. "I'm glad you're home, you can help me with dinner."

I reached across the counter and picked a mushroom out of the salad bowl.

"Don't pick with dirty hands," Ethan groaned, smacking my hand away as I laughed. He went to cutting up a cucumber and I walked behind him, sliding my hands around his waist and up his torso to his stomach and chest. I pressed my body against his back and placed a soft kiss on the back of his neck.

"Someone's feeling good," Ethan mumbled.

"I'm just glad to see you," I whispered into his ear, making sure to blow just a bit of warm breath into his ear. That usually sent chills down his back; the way his muscles had tensed up, I was guessing that hadn't changed since the last time.

"Not now, Norman," he said. But I ignored his words and took the lobe of his ear gently between my teeth and gave it a quick lash with my tongue. He jerked away. "Norman, I'm serious! Not now!"

"I'm sorry, I thought you might be just as happy to see me with such a busy week," I said, a little more bitter than I should have been.

"You're drunk," he said flatly.

"No, I'm buzzed at best," I said.

"You've been drinking." I could hear the disappointment in his tone and it had set something off in me. Some green little monster that had been stowing away somewhere inside of me decided to rear its ugly head.

"It that a problem?" I asked, raising my voice a little more. "I wanted to get away for a while, am I not allowed to?"

"Please, don't do this," Ethan begged in a low voice. He stuck the knife upright in the wooden cutting board and turned to look me in the eye, folding his arms loosely. "Don't do this, not tonight."

"Why not? Now's as good a time as any to have a good old fashioned marriage squabble." I placed my hands on the counter on either side of Ethan and leaned in closely.

"We have company Norman. Shaun brought one of his school friends and her father over for dinner to meet us and I want to make sure that they see how we are as a natural happy family." Ethan turned his back to me and went back to chopping the cucumber.

"I was under the impression that my current disposition was my natural state," I said acidly. "But then again, I don't have anything to prove to anyone else about us."

"I'm not trying to prove anything," he said quietly.

"Oh sure you are – that we're just like everyone else, that we breathe, and eat, and have just as much a right to raise a kid as any of these half-assed macho hetero fathers around here," I said. "Well if you want to prove to them that we bleed red like them then why not show them that we argue just like real couples."

"Norman, for the last time I'm asking you not to do this tonight," he said, just as calm and comely as ever. And that was usually what made me even more irritated; no matter how hard I tried to pick a fight, Saint Ethan would never raise his voice or even get angry.

"I'll be upstairs," I said.

"You're not going to help me?" He asked.

"Apparently my hands are really dirty, remember? Besides, I want to get changed and look my best if we're going to give them the dog and pony show."

Ethan rolled his eyes and went back to his studious task of cutting and mixing.

I immediately felt like shit after everything had been said and done. I sat at the top of the stairs and listened to Ethan working alone downstairs in the kitchen. Alone. He didn't deserve any of that attack that had just taken place. Wasn't that the point of having a partner? To help when the going got rough? Wasn't I supposed to make him feel safe no matter what? Wasn't it my first and foremost job to make him feel secure in my love and trust? I turned tail and practically bit his head off the first time he asks for my help. I'd sum it up to stress, but that wasn't really being honest.

I changed into casual slacks, a buttoned shirt and v-neck sweater, steadying my drooping eyes as I tried not to look so 'intoxicated.' I brushed my teeth and gargled like it was water from the fountain of youth to try and kill the beer breath, but the acidic taste still lingered.

I sheepishly made my way downstairs but avoided the kitchen, instead darting straight into the living room and changing the music to something more soothing. I stretched out on the couch and wondered how I was going to look Ethan in his eyes for the rest of the evening after making such an ass out of myself. I was just thankful that the company of the night hadn't arrived yet.

When the doorbell finally rang, I heard Shaun dart out of his room and down the stairs. I hadn't heard him get this excited over anything in a long time. I could only assume that this girl was more than just a friend, or would be much more in the near future. We were probably going to have a lot more estrogen walking the floors of our house this summer than ever before. A vital young lady's touch never made things worse, at least not in my experience. She'd probably be a good influence on Shaun.

I heard him greet the visitors in the hall and I rolled off of the couch and steadied myself. I was getting soberer for the most part, I could pull this evening off with enough charm and grace to satisfy Ethan's plans. As much as he didn't want to admit it, he had been trying really hard to prove his point, had been ever since the day I moved in. But for some reason I just couldn't put half as much heart into it as he did. I envied that about him, on top of the dozen other things I so envied about him.

I walked into the dining room and put on my best smile.

"Hello, welcome," I said. I extended my hand toward the father; tall, six-foot two or so. Strawberry-blond, green eyes, and a nice smile. Solid grip, firm handshake, I was guessing he'd played football in his college days. "I'm Norman."

"Gregory," he said. He looked down at the girl standing beside him, with long blonde curls and eyes as green as her father's. "This is Anna, or H as her friends call her."

"H?" I asked. "How do you get H out of Anna?"

The way her eyes looked at me, it was like she was scared of me or something. Was my smile really that bad? Whatever she saw as she stared at me, it took her a moment to shake the shock out of her system before she accepted my hand and shook it.

Ethan set the table, and the rest of the evening consisted of him rambling as Shaun and Anna exchanged the occasional blushing glance. Once in a while I would catch Ethan's eyes, and no matter how much I tried to look pleasant and pleasing to him, there lingered that air of disappointment that disheartened any spirit I could muster.

"Please excuse me, I just need some fresh air," I said. Gregory nodded graciously, and I didn't even look Ethan's way since I knew just what kind of glare I'd see in that direction.

Stepping onto the back patio and scuffed my shoes against the smooth lacquered wood. I realized that despite my best efforts, I couldn't escape my guilt over Ethan out here any more than I could in his presence. Ethan was everywhere outside. He'd kept this yard in top shape. He'd decorated the inside with hints of himself, pictures of me and him, and the three of us as a family. Ethan made this home, and he treated me better than he needed to. Better than I deserved.

I heard the glass doors slide shut behind me and I glanced over my shoulder. Gregory joined me on the patio.

"Good night; clear and full of moon," he said. "I love summers here. Now and then you'll get the surprise rainstorm, but nights like this make up for them."

"Yeah, they sure do," I said mechanically. He shoved something long and brown under my face.

"Cigar?" He asked. I took it and sniffed it. My old boss used to be fond of offering his personal stock around, and I'd been obliged to partake a time or two. I tucked it between my teeth and Gregory lit the other end for me.

"Thanks," I said. I knew Ethan wasn't fond of the smell of smoke, but since I was already in the dog house and probably looking at a night of couch-camping it couldn't possibly hurt.

"So how long have you and Ethan lived in this house?" Gregory asked.

"One year and… three months." I took a puff and glanced over at Gregory as he rocked back and forth on his heels. "Are you and Anna new here?"

"Oh, no – I was born two miles from this spot," he said. "We've lived in this neighborhood for about three years now."

"Really? I haven't seen you around," I said.

"I've seen you," he said. I saw him staring at me out of the corner of my eye; it made me a bit uncomfortable, to be honest. But I've never liked the feeling of being the center of anyone's attention, Ethan being the blaring exception to that. "How long have you and Ethan been together?"

"Two years," I said.

"Everything going great between the two of you?" He asked. "You two didn't exactly look like honeymooners when you were looking at each other tonight."

"Just stress at the moment, that's all," I said. "You married, Gregory?"

It wasn't exactly a smooth topic transition, but I didn't feel like gossiping about mine and Ethan's problems with a guy I'd only just met.

"I was, my wife died a few years ago," he said. "We'd been separated about two years prior to that, anyway. I wanted to discuss our options, and she thought I was a pig."

"Options?" I asked with a wry glance at him. I noticed that he was still staring.

"I wanted to explore an open relationship, or maybe something loosely polyamorous – she didn't," he said. "Have you and Ethan discussed anything like that?"

"No," I said. Particularly because I couldn't imagine Ethan going out to find love from some stranger. I'd go mad with jealousy, I'd be deflated with inadequacy, wondering what I didn't have that he was looking for. I wouldn't want anyone but Ethan, and the thought of him wanted someone else over me… I would rather experience an ARI attack and bleed to death.

"You know, if you're having problems in a young relationship it's not a bad idea to discuss," he said.

Gregory moved closer to me, practically pressed against my side. He snaked an arm around my shoulder and I was too shell-shocked to react; was this guy really hitting on me? Right here, right now? In my own home with Ethan just inside? With his own daughter able to see?

"Listen, in case you'd like to just sit down and have a little friendly chat, maybe come over for a drink and just hang out like old pals, don't hesitate to give me a call," he said. He slipped his business card into my pocket and then he was gone.

What the fuck was that about?

I put out the cigar and headed back inside. Shaun and Anna were laughing, clearing the table as Ethan and Gregory chatted. I stuck to the sidelines and tried to stay out of sight and out of mind. I was glad to send Gregory on his way and bid Anna a good night. I staggered tiredly upstairs and slip the sweatshirt off of my body and kicked off my shoes, falling back on the bed.

Ethan came into the room and didn't say a word. He unbuttoned his shirt and slipped it off of his shoulders.

"Thank you," he said monotonously.

"For what?" I asked.

"For doing me the favor of playing nice," he said. His attitude was tedious. Distant.

"Ethan, will you just look at me?"

His numb eyes met my gaze, and I felt like a child caught shoplifting.

"I'm sorry." I couldn't help the tremble in my voice or the warmth that suddenly flooded my eyes. I paused and looked away to make sure that I didn't break down. I hated that being around Ethan turned me into a mushy, emotional being. "You needed me, and I wasn't there."

"No, you weren't," he said.

"I know that we're having some problems now but I just need you to help me," I said. Ethan's eyes weren't so numb anymore, now somewhat lost and curious. "Help me figure out what it is that I can do to make things the way they used to be. I want to be the us that I remember."

Ethan sat on the bed and ran a hand down my chest, along my stomach.

"I'm sorry, too," he said. "I shouldn't have brushed you off like that. And I shouldn't have gotten so upset when you came home from drinking. Home is supposed to be a sanctuary, and sometimes I just get so caught up in what I've got to do for everyone else that I forget what's really important."

He placed an arm on the other side and leaned over me, looking down into my face.

"I know that I've been neglecting you lately, and I haven't been meeting your emotional needs," he said morosely. "You've been shouldering this all on your own. Can you forgive me?"

"You're too good to me," I said. He leaned down and kissed me softly. I ran my fingers through his hair and pulled the back of his head toward me. And for the first time in a while, there was more than a distant semblance of passion between us; Ethan and I were reminded of just how strong our love was with the charged kisses between us.

His hands went to unbuckling my belt and I pulled my shirt over my head. It felt better than I remembered to have his warm chest pressed down against mine as he straddled my hips. I'd nearly forgotten just how we felt when we were together in passion, forgotten the zeal of being one person with Ethan as we held and catered to one another. And we stayed that way until morning, waking slowly and just listening to the birds outside.

"I love you," I whispered into his ear. He reached back and scratched my head gently, massaging with his soft touch.