Disclaimer: This is me celebrating the end of March, nothing more. In other words: not mine.

Story Summary: They're going to survive this together. It's just a matter of holding on. A Tom/Lynette fic that takes place at the very end of season three's "What Would We Do Without You?" after they get home from the hospital. This may be multi-chaptered.

Holding On

A story by Ryeloza

Lynette had never known a day could be so endless. She'd woken in the morning in a fog of anger and pain and now, just twenty-three long hours later, there was nothing left but the acute awareness of desperation. In just one day, life had beaten the crap out of her and all that was left was the shell of a woman who had never been more afraid.

The house was asleep. She and Tom had driven home in relative silence, each thinking their own dreadful thoughts, and while he had woken Karen and murmured soft, inexplicable thanks, Lynette had crept away to check on their children. Five soundly sleeping bodies in five little beds, dreaming away in the secure knowledge that they were safe and loved. Their world hadn't fallen apart yet; it only made Lynette more on edge to think that very soon it might.

For a moment, she paused outside her own bedroom, taking a moment to brace herself before she went in. She wasn't quite sure what to expect. The resentment between her and Tom was gone, deflated by the terrifying words of the doctor, but in the ruins of their anger, Lynette didn't know what was left for them. The uncertainty left her aching.

Carefully, she opened the door and walked into the room. At some point while she was looking in on the kids, Tom had come upstairs and he was obviously waiting for her. Hesitantly, she met his eyes; in them was a look so soft, loving and tenuous that it made her love him and hate him at the same time. Somehow it would be easier if he'd stayed angry with her; it would make what the doctor had said less real, his words less serious. As it stood, she knew that Tom's fears had prompted his forgiveness and she wasn't sure she entirely wanted or deserved that yet.

There was a breath of pause that went on forever and then, finally, Tom threw the opening punch. "Do you know what I said to Rick when we had lunch?"

Lynette's grip on the doorknob tightened. Talking about Rick still felt like a vise was squeezing her heart. Partly because she missed him; mostly because now that Tom knew the truth, she felt like the worst person in the world. Unsure that she could keep her voice even, she simply shook her head.

"I told him that no matter what had happened between you and him, I'd never leave you; I'd never stop loving you." Tom took a deep breath, clearly suppressing tears. "I will never stop loving you."

And there it was: the comfort of reassurance; the hope of rebuilding from the wreckage. She'd done a horrible thing and, somehow, everything was about to get even worse, but Tom wasn't giving up on her. She felt as though she was staring into the sun and it was burning her alive with its indescribable beauty. In that moment, she broke.

For a few minutes, she could only stand there and cry while Tom watched her through his own tear-filled eyes. She wanted him to come to her, to hold her and quiet her sobs, but she knew that he couldn't. Not until she showed him that she wasn't giving up either. It was something he could no longer take for granted, and that was no one's fault but hers. "I—" her breath hitched several times as she tried to get her crying under control, "—I fired him because he wanted to start something. Tom, I swear, we never did anything but flirt. I could never…" Lynette wiped her face with her hands, ignoring the mess of tears and snot that came with such hysterical crying. "You are the man I married. You are the man I promised to spend the rest of my life with. And I could never break that promise."

Tom nodded and took a shuddery breath, no longer able to stave off his own tears. "Come here," he commanded quietly, and Lynette forced herself to find the strength to cross the room to their bed. With an uncharacteristic meekness, Lynette crawled into Tom's lap, throwing her arms around his neck, burying her head in his chest and drawing her knees up so she was curled against him. He wrapped his arms around her, holding her tightly, and even though it wasn't the most comfortable position she felt secure for the first time in weeks—if she was honest, probably even months.

"Is it just an obligation? Being married to me?" he asked quietly; she trembled at the insecurity she heard in his voice, knowing she'd caused that, and he kissed the top of her head several times.

"No." She felt herself calm as she realized that what she said was true. Her dinners with Rick might have been an escape, but she couldn't run away forever. Eventually she had to come home and home was in the arms of the one person who would never leave her. She raised her head to look into Tom's eyes—driving home the point, hoping to put this to rest. "It's a choice. One I made years ago, one I make today and one I'll still make in twenty years. I love you. More than you'll ever know."

Tom leaned forward and kissed her forehead. "You're going to be fine," he whispered, though she didn't think either of them truly believed that. "We don't even know if you're sick yet." He smiled sadly at her and wiped away some of her tears with the pads of his thumbs. She mirrored his movement and then kissed him briefly.

"You need to sleep," said Tom.

"I know." She kissed him again, slower and softer and this time he responded in kind before drawing away.

"Lynette…"

"I need you to know that I love you."

"I do."

"And I need to know that you love me."

Tom nodded, his words coming out in a comforting sigh. "More than anything."

Slowly, Lynette unfurled her legs and escaped from Tom's embrace so she could peel her shirt from her body. He was watching her with a look of lust and hesitation; he wanted this, but he wasn't sure that she really did. The ambivalence was painful to see, but as she tugged off his shirt and saw the scratches from where she'd hurt him earlier, she knew exactly why he felt that way. "Lynette," he said, purposefully giving her an out, "it's four in the morning."

"Almost five," she corrected. She straddled him, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him toward her so their naked chests were in direct contact. He took a shuddery breath and rolled so she was underneath him. Gently, he brushed her hair out of her eyes.

"Are you sure about this?" he asked quietly.

In a day where Lynette hadn't felt less certain in her life, this was the one thing she knew for sure: "I need you."

It was enough.

Tom nodded nearly imperceptibly and began to kiss her again almost too tenderly. She threaded her fingers through his hair and pulled him to her, forcing him to kiss her more deeply. After exposing herself as so fragile, she needed to prove that she wouldn't break. In response, Tom ground his hips into her and she smiled against his lips, glad to feel his weight on top of her, solid and dependable; it was a consistency she needed now that the world around her was falling apart.

Despite his protestations of the late hour, Tom seemed to be in no hurry now that she had him in the mood. After kissing her for several long minutes, he moved his lips to her neck, sucking and kissing and biting her in the sensitive nook he'd discovered long ago. She ran her hands all along the muscles of his back, enjoying the slow, deliberate feel of him—he was marking her as his, and as childish and inconvenient as a hickey usually seemed, tonight it didn't bother her.

Tom continued to kiss his way down her body, paying less attention than he usually did to her breasts, and when he reached her pajama bottoms she lifted her lower body so he could remove them. Lynette was surprised when he didn't follow suit and instead just continued to kiss her—her hip, her thigh, her knee, all the way down to her toes. Then, finally, he shimmied out of his pajamas and edged his way back up the bed so they were face-to-face.

"You are so beautiful," he said. "Head to toe, inside-out. Beautiful." She blushed, unsure why when she'd heard him say it a hundred times over. "And I am so lucky to have you."

She opened her mouth to return the sentiment—because it was true; she'd never felt so grateful to have him as she did at that moment—but he effectively cut her off by kissing her again. There was something more desperate in this kiss; something that conveyed his fear and hers and their pain and regrets and everything that had ever been hurtful in their relationship. With his hands, he urged her legs apart and she eagerly obliged him, more than ready when he finally pushed into her. In midst of the pleasure and emotion of their love-making, of Tom's increasingly frantic kisses, Lynette felt more and more drawn back to her center; calmer and more confident. They could survive whatever was coming. Would survive it.

It was just a matter of holding on.