Ok, I feel like there should be an explanation for this story. I don't love the whole Tony/Michelle post season 3 time period (although I'm warming-up to the creative possiblities in it...) but this was just idea that wouldn't go away--so here it is! I really hate the fact that they were ever apart, but after much consideration, I decided this was one posibilities for her departure... And a hhuge thank you to Katie for looking over this story for me! Enjoy, and please review!

Looked Back

He never saw me look back.

People lie when they say that they didn't look back when they left. They always look back. Maybe not physically turning their head for one last glance as they're walking away, but the days following their departure are filled with doubt, apprehension, fear. They mentally rehash those final minutes, and everything linked to it. Only no one would tell you that. They say they never looked back.

I almost wish I could say that. And some days I scold myself for being so weak, but most days I just question myself…

I had slowly turned away from his figure on the couch. I clutched my purse and night bag into my chest with shaking hands. The tighter I squeezed, the more my bones shook and rattled. The bag wasn't too full. But it weighed a million pounds at the same time. My shoulders slumped. Staying upright was becoming harder and harder.

My whole body was trembling wildly; it hurt to take small steps. I had to use every ounce of willpower to begin my walk to the door, the longest walk ever. I wasn't sure whether I should be seething, or hysterical, or relieved.

The steps were slow painfully slow. The unforgiving words from moments before resonating in my head, the harsh afterglow of our final argument a suffocating aura, it was everywhere.

Final. It even hurt to think that. Was it really final? I wanted Tony to snap out of this now perpetual trance, to stop me from leaving. I wanted him to scoop me in his arms, kiss me, and apologize with tears budding in the corners of his eyes. I would smile through my sobs, hold him to my body and we would melt together, cry together, and this nightmare would be behind us for good. Our love forever instilled.

But instead, another step to the door, another inch closer. Subconsciously I slowed my gait even further.

My tears clouded in my eyes thicker, as if washing away that scene in my mind. I didn't expect that to happen. I wish I could, and with every part of me I wanted it to happen that way. My ears perked up, but there was no rustle behind me. Does he really want me gone? Why isn't he moving… or saying anything else?

I fumbled for the knob, in my numb state, the multiplying tears obscuring my view of the world I felt was crashing down around me. I let myself weakly lean into the small table adjacent to the door, stalling the inevitable. My hand brushed over the intricate carvings on the side, feeling but not seeing them. We had spent countless Saturdays scouring markets looking for that table...

I couldn't think about that. I should focus myself. Finally, I felt the brassy cool seep through my fingers, and I gripped the knob tighter. I took a deep breath; now all I needed was to be strong, one last drop of courage. I assumed Tony was still on the couch, watching my slightest of movements, wanting to see if I could really leave. Half of me knew that I had to this, but my heart, along with the rest of me didn't think it was a good idea.

I wiped my blurry eyes and fresh tears with my shoulder. I gingerly pulled the door open, holding my breath. I waited, hoping, praying for anything that would prevent me from having to do this. Something to save me, save Tony, save our marriage. I lifted one foot of the ground, in what felt like slow motion; my breath still held. The foot went out the door, over the threshold he once carried me over: beaming and laughing.

I placed the foot outside carefully, I was scared if I put too much weight on it, it would disturb everything, punctuate my departure. I was scared too much weight would shatter my world, but then I realized, my life was already in a million jagged pieces around me.

But nothing happened. So the other foot was prepared to come off the ground too. I knew I couldn't leave this way. Tony had to do something, if he loved me as much as I love him, he would do something, any second now.

I couldn't help myself. I wasn't that strong. In one quick motion, like the ripping of a band-aid, I whipped my head around, looking back into that house that held our memories, expecting to see him staring back at me, a saddened look all about him.

What I saw stung me more than anything else ever could have, or ever will.

A gasping, wet sob escaped me, and the next instant the door slammed behind me, shut by my own hand. I was outside now, my bags somehow on the cold cement feet away. My hands reached my face as my feet gave way under me, and my back pressed against the door and I slid to the ground, legs crumpled. My body was one quaking, hysterical heap.

Sobs and physical pain wracked my whole body, convulsions were sent through me with every cry into the otherwise silent dusk.

Nothing could hurt me any harder, any worse. I knew this then. I sat there, at this abandoned doorstep for what felt like an eternity. I felt stuck, frozen in this point of my life, in this position. I couldn't feel any part of me. Numb. I was so cold and afraid and I could not stop crying. Even as I looked into the darkened sky, the stars seemed to mesh and disappear through this curtain of wet, interlaced with my eyelashes.

Tony had been sitting there, unmoved. Neither eye was watching me, silently begging me back home, there were no promises of another chance. The TV blared and he was watching it, beer in hand. Black hair and a hand holding a pale glass bottle, the last thing I saw.

I should have been stronger, not so desperate as to see what was keeping him from mending the pieces of our broken life together...

He never even saw me look back.