Disclaimer: Desperate Housewives isn't mine.
Story Summary: Lynette deals with the idea of Tom's mortality for the first time. Takes place after Rex's funeral in the season two episode "Next."
A/n: I've been trying to work on some of the many fics I have going right now, but they just won't seem to cooperate. So until they do, I just have to indulge my urge to write some other way.
This is one I've been meaning to do for awhile. Please let me know what you think.
Goodbye Isn't a Word We Know
A story by Ryeloza
Tom was out in the yard with the kids when she arrived home, and for a moment she lingered on the sidewalk just watching them. The boys were running around playing some game that would be inexplicable to anyone but them while Tom was guiding Penny around the yard as she tentatively practiced walking. It was strange how a scene she had seen a thousand times before suddenly made her throat tighten inexplicably; only her overwhelming need for self-control kept her from crying right in the middle of the street.
Porter spotted her first, hollering for her attention as he pulled a ball right out of Parker's hands and began to attempt to bounce it off of his head. If this was some new skill he'd mastered, it was hard to tell—Parker pushed him and the scuffle that resulted was enough to deter Porter's focus. Tom, who had looked up when Porter first called out to her, rolled his eyes and sighed.
"Cut it out, guys!" he shouted. "Or it's time out."
Porter gave his brother one last half-hearted shove, and Parker picked up the ball to resume whatever he'd been doing before. Vaguely, she wondered how much longer that threat would be any good.
"Hey," Tom said, drawing her thoughts away from the kids. He scooped up Penny and crossed the yard, leaning over the fence to give her a quick kiss. "You back to join the chaos already?"
Lynette shrugged, still fighting the lump in her throat, and Tom's brow furrowed in concern. She quite suddenly wished that the boys would create another distraction and divert Tom's eyes from her long enough for her to compose herself. But for once in their lives, they actually behaved. Lynette wished she could laugh at the irony.
"You okay?"
"Yeah…" she sighed slowly. She pressed her lips together and then swallowed. "Just…Rough day."
"I know. How's Bree?"
"Oh, you know her…pretending everything is fine, but really she's a wreck."
"Sounds like someone else I know."
Lynette frowned, mostly because it was true, but ignored the statement. Distractedly, she reached out and took Penny from Tom's arms. "Have the kids eaten yet?"
"Lynette…"
For a minute, they stared at one another, a contest to see who would break first. It was futile on Tom's part, though; Lynette already knew that it wouldn't be her. Nothing that she was thinking or feeling needed to be expressed because there was nothing Tom could do or say to make it better. There was simply no point. No point in admitting out loud that she was sad and scared and hopeless. No point in reminding Tom that in the past year, she'd seen two couples on this street torn apart by death. No point in confessing that she'd be completely lost if she was in Bree's shoes right now.
Judging by the worried way Tom was looking at her, he knew all of this already anyway.
"You know," he said, losing the battle of wills just as she'd known he would, "I really liked that tie. It was the first one you ever bought me."
And just like that, she lost it. Her emotions got the better of her, bubbling up and out so quickly that she actually sobbed. Suddenly, it was all too much to deal with—Rex's death; watching Bree pretend to be strong when she was obviously in pain; really realizing for the first time that she'd probably have to deal with losing her husband someday. Crying didn't feel like enough to express the enormity of what she felt.
Tom glanced at the boys with a slightly panicked expression and then hopped the fence to wrap an arm around her and guide her into the house. "I was trying to lighten the mood," he babbled nervously as he shut the front door.
She drew a hand across her cheek, smearing away the tears as he took Penny from her and put her in the playpen. "It didn't work," she moaned. Feeling ridiculous, she turned and sat down on the stairs. Breaking down like this didn't help anyone—her or Tom—and in the end, she was always left feeling completely incapable. "This is so stupid."
"It's not stupid," said Tom as he came back and joined her on the stairs. Gently, he pulled her toward him until her face was pressed against his chest, his fingers running up and down her arm as he kissed the top of her head. She could hear his heartbeat; bizarrely, it was that sound that finally calmed her.
"I don't want to lose you."
"You're not."
Lynette shook her head, pressing her nose into his shirt for a moment and breathing him in. He smelled like freshly cut grass and baby powder; comforting. "You don't know that," she said quietly.
"Hey, I'm not going anywhere."
He murmured the words into her hair, an innocuous promise he could never keep, but Lynette just took a deep breath and nodded. Despite her firm belief that words were hollow, it was something she needed to hear. Something for her to repeat in her mind like a mantra. Something for her to hold him to if anything ever happened.
He wasn't going anywhere.
"You're eating healthier from now on," she said firmly. The command made her feel balanced again; like she had some kind of control over a situation that was actually completely beyond her grasp. "And exercising more often."
"Okay."
"And going to the doctor to get your blood pressure checked."
"If that's what you want."
Lynette sighed, not sure if he was just humoring her or not; somehow it didn't matter. At this point, all she needed was the promise; for once, it was enough. Shutting her eyes tightly, she forced herself to concentrate solely on the feeling of Tom's arms around her, solid and whole, and on the perpetual beating of his heart. A reminder—he was here, now, with her.
And he wasn't going anywhere. Not if she could help it.