Disclaimer: I have absolutely no claim to Desperate Housewives, nor do I want to make one. I'm just having fun, I swear.

Story Summary: Season seven redone. Picks up after the season six finale, and goes AU from there.

A/n: I was in kind of a bad mood today, and I wanted to do something to improve it. I've been playing around with doing my own version of season seven for awhile, but I was stuck on how to approach the baby switch plotline. I finally came up with an idea today that I hope is intriguing as opposed to absurd, but we'll see. Please let me know what you think.

Equivocacy

By Ryeloza

Introduction

It was a quiet Thursday night on Wisteria Lane when Jack Pinkham arrived outside the home of Mrs. Bree Hodge. He hadn't been there in years, but the lawn was as immaculate as he remembered; the flowerbeds as beautiful; the house as meticulously kempt. His uneasiness grew as he took in each minute, monotonous detail, a plethora of subtle reminders that Bree was not the type of woman who welcomed change with open arms. It made him feel even more like Death, creeping about with grief and pain billowing behind him. His words would be his scythe, ready to bring about the most unimaginable reality.

Jack had been nominated for this job quite against his will. He was a mere cog in the massive legal wheel of Fairview Memorial Hospital, but certainly there were people more influential and experienced than he was who could break this sort of news to a person. The fact that he'd blurted out that he knew Bree had been his downfall. It had created this blind faith that the news would be better coming from someone she knew; that it would be less horrible somehow (as though that could possibly be true). All of his protestations—that he'd only seen Bree a handful of times since Rex had died, that he didn't know her that well, that he'd never given someone news like this in his whole life—were fruitless in the face of such unrelenting logic: Jack Pinkham was the man for this job.

He'd spent all day with his stomach in knots, rehearsing the best way to give her the news, and still he had nothing more than, "Bree, I have something to tell you." Improvisation was a weak skill even in the best of times, so Jack didn't particularly regard this as a good plan of attack, but the words had never come to him and he didn't think they ever would. Putting off the task—which wasn't even an option—would not necessarily help, but it didn't stop him from treating each step toward her front door like the arduous chore it was. The lights were on, warm and welcoming; he'd never wanted to flee more in his life.

So it was with monumental effort that Jack reached up and rang the doorbell.

Bree was prompt. It wasn't surprising as Jack was fairly certain she'd never been late a day in her life. There was a click of heels in the foyer, the door opened with a sharp click and Bree stared at him, rather agog at his sudden reappearance on her doorstep. Jack felt a single shimmer of relief: that was not the Bree he'd known—the Bree he'd known would have feigned polite indifference if the pope himself had shown up at her house, inviting him in with a smile and a graceful wave of her hand. Perhaps things had changed, somehow.

"Jack," she said, her voice warm if not tinged with intrigue, "what are you doing here?"

Another Miss Manners faux pas. "Hello, Bree. Can I come in for a minute? There's something I have to tell you." He cringed at how robotic he sounded, but knowing that the rest would come in somewhat of a stuttering, fearful mess wasn't entirely reassuring. With a slightly raised eyebrow, Bree beckoned him inside, leading him to the living room and gesturing that he sit. Jack, tense with pent up energy, declined.

"This isn't—I have something…"

"To tell me?"

"Yes," sighed Jack, momentarily relieved by her insight until he remembered that he had already said that part. "It's something…big."

"Oh?"

It was polite interest at best; she didn't really believe him, and Jack felt his heart sink. "Life-changing big," he amended. And then, at Bree's strained smile, he added, "I work for the hospital, you know."

Bree's smile twitched, becoming more of a smirk. "I do remember, Jack. Rex and I had you and Tara over for dinner about two dozen times while you worked together. How is Tara?"

"She's fine. Good. Bree, this is about something that happened at the hospital."

"With Rex?"

"No." Jack sighed in frustration, running his hand through his hair. He really should have been better prepared. "This has to do with you. We…A few days ago, one of our nurses confessed…"

There was a long pause where he stared at a point above Bree's shoulder, trying and failing to find the words. Finally, she gave him a gentle prompt. "Confessed what?"

"Confessed that she switched two babies at birth."

Against his better judgment, Jack's eyes flickered to Bree's face. The seriousness of the situation seemed to have finally hit her; her pale face had lost some of its pallor and her eyes were glassy. "You're not saying…But Andrew and Danielle weren't even born at that hospital."

"It wasn't Andrew or Danielle." Jack took a deep breath. Now was not the time to hesitate, not with Bree looking at him with those fearful eyes. He forced the words out even though they felt wedged in his throat.

"It was you."

For a moment, Bree gazed at him, incredulous disbelief etched into her porcelain features. She looked eerily doll-like, as though the life had gone out of her. Then she gave a queer little laugh. "Don't be ridiculous."

"I'm serious, Bree. We looked at the nurse's records; it was just after she was hired. She was put on probation soon after for undisclosed reasons."

"But…That doesn't…That can't be true."

"The hospital is inclined to believe her. Of course, you'd probably need to take a DNA test to be sure. We haven't contacted the other woman yet—"

"I can't believe this," Bree interrupted. She stood up, pacing the room in a jerky, painful fashion as though something was biting at her heels. He'd never seen her so discomposed; not even at Rex's funeral. "This is absurd. You're saying—What are you saying? That I have a whole other family somewhere?"

"Yes, I suppose you could look at it that way."

"What other way is there to look at it, Jack? I can't—I can't believe this."

"Bree…"

But Jack didn't know what else to say. He'd managed to break the news; that was his job. This part, comforting her, this was what he'd been so afraid of; this was where he'd known he'd falter. There was nothing to say or do that would make this any less shocking.

"I think…I think you need to leave, please," she said distractedly. She seemed on the verge of falling to pieces, and it was only the knowledge that breaking down in front of him would be worse than doing it in private that propelled him out of the door.

"Bree, please," he said as she ushered him outside, "call me when you've thought about this. We can talk some more. Figure out what you want to do."

He forced his card into her hand, but he wasn't sure she even recognized the gesture before shutting the door in his face.

Yes, it was a quiet Thursday night when Jack Pinkham arrived at Bree Hodge's home. A night that would change her life forever.