AN and Disclaimer: Not much to say except that I do not own Reba. As always, feedback is appreciated. I hope you enjoy this!
"The All Seeing Eye"
Have you ever wondered why there is an eye perched atop a pyramid on the dollar…? Really, what is its true meaning? Maybe, it hints that the truth can only be seen from three perspectives, the three bases of the pyramid. Maybe, the "three" is a symbolic number, representing infinity… and eternity… In addition, maybe, just maybe, there are some things like truth and… love… which are eternal.
Reba could only collapse onto the couch after the day she had at work… She had three clients to show, an open house, and then, her boss had the nerve to toss his secretary's paper work on her! As she blew the air from between her lips, she let out her a frustrated yell into the cushions.
Now, her back and shoulder muscles were screaming in agony to her after the she had spent the entire day in heels. She despised heels.
It was both a blessing and a curse that the house was empty that day. Van had called in sick to the office (the memory made her let out another frustrated yell), and Cheyenne and Elizabeth were spending the day at their home playing the doting wife and daughter. Kyra was starting a nearby tour, so she was out with her band. It has also been a relatively Brock-and-Barbra Jean-free day.
Suddenly (speak of the devil), she felt firm but gentle hands massaging the tension out of her muscles.
"Long day?"
Reba only gave a muffled reply as she melted under his ministrations. "You have no idea."
As she let out a content sigh however, a feeling of uneasiness returned suddenly. This isn't right… He's not my husband anymore!... But it feels amazing…
XxX
Brock had walked in to find his ex-wife sprawled onto the couch face down. He could barely hold down his amused chuckle when she yelled into the cushion. He could see the stiff tension lining her back however, and almost automatically, his hands acted from memory, memories from long ago. He remembered nights when they soothed out each other's kinks and frustrations, and shared each other's pains; both through words and actions.
As he felt her relax under his hands, he couldn't resist teasing her. However, she didn't seem to register this, which could only be a testament to how exhausted she must be.
I want to help her. I want to take care of her, but I… I gave up that right long ago didn't I.
XxX
Barbra Jean had wanted to ask Reba whether she wanted to go out for a girls' night when she saw Brock massaging Reba while she laid facedown, and it brought back an old but familiar ache. A memory of a similar time flashed through her mind as she turned around and left.
She knew that they wouldn't do anything. They wouldn't do anything because they knew it would hurt her, but it was the intimacy she saw there, that innate bond and knowledge they had for each other that she saw there that sliced her to the quick.
XxX
Brock was enveloped in his thoughts when Reba suddenly jolted up, startling him. "Woah there cowgirl! What's wrong?"
"Nothing."
He wasn't buying it, but then he looked into her shining blue eyes, and he knew. He once again felt himself plunge into a pool of guilt.
He was so confused. What am I doing! He had just a passionate night with Barbra Jean, and he knew he loved her… but he felt guilty everyday afterwards. The instant he met Reba's eyes, it felt like he was betraying her all over again. He couldn't help it. Looking into her eyes, he saw a universe where stars continually died and were reborn, but buried deep within that beauty was also a deep sadness, a pain that he knew he for the most part instilled there. They were windows to her heart, as corny as that sounded.
However, he also knew that he would never—could never make the same mistake twice. Despite everything, Barbra Jean was still very innocent. He couldn't hurt her, and he knew that Reba would never forgive him if he did.
XxX
There you go gal, that door just popped wide open again.
Reba began to feel that odd, nervous fluttering in her stomach as he stared strangely at her, and she fell back on an old comfort… she went on the defensive.
"What Brock? Do I have something on my face?"
I miss his touch already… Wait! Get a hold of yourself girl! You can't go there!
Brock began spluttering… "No! No, I was just thinking."
She couldn't help herself. "Well, that's something new."
"Hey!"
"Look Brock, I need to shower, and then maybe finally relax for a bit tonight, so please…" She sighed as she opened the door for him and watched him leave, for once, without protest. When she shut the door behind him, it was in more ways than one.
It shouldn't hurt. It's been years already! It shouldn't hurt anymore.
Reba knew though that she would never be able to shut that door completely without slamming it on her own hand and something inside of her crumbled.
XxX
Barbra Jean sat on the couch at home fingering a family portrait, taken on their first wedding anniversary. She had spent the last seven years waiting for the other shoe to drop. Now she realized that there was never another shoe because the shoes had never been taken off to begin with.
It hurt more than she'll ever admit to know that although she may be his wife, that he may love her in his own way, he'll never be as intimate with her as he was with her best friend. She couldn't be his confidante, and she couldn't be his best friend. Those roles had already been filled long before she came into the picture. A single drop of saline water ran down the glass of the picture.
Big Daddy always said that I could perform a miracle if I wanted to. Now I can even make it rain inside the house
Perhaps the saddest part of all was that she could understand it completely, and she resented neither Brock nor Reba. It really was a cruel triangle fate had put them in.
XxX
In the background, a muffled thump fell among broken pieces of glass and a forever-ajar door.
Fine.