The Scarlet Letter

A/N: I have no idea where this story came from, or if there's any more to it than this. It might be a OneShot, or it might develop into more. I just know I had the thought, and this is how it manifested itself. As always, Enjoy!

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Doctor. Teacher. Lawyer. Astronaut. Cowgirl. President of the United States. Meredith Casey had dreamt of being many things when she was a girl, growing up in rural Indiana. "Adultress" had never made the list.

Of course, she doubted any little girl ever dressed up in her mommy's dresses and heels, snuck into the make up drawer, and then looked in the mirror and thought, "I'm gonna steal somebody's husband someday." But it happened. Every day. In every town. In every socio-economic class and race and religion.

Feeling all too much like Hester Prynne, she pulled her scarlet hair into a fat ponytail and ran her hands over her face. For the millionth time in six months, she told herself that she should have said "no." She should have walked away. She should have gone to her own room that night.

Sure, he was irresistibly sexy and incredibly alluring. But it didn't justify her actions anymore. And she knew it wasn't going to make the people they loved hurt any less. The guilt of breaking hearts and homes was wearing on her more everyday and she knew that it had to stop. She had to stop it. Now.

"Hey," she smiled nervously, her hands in the back pockets of her jeans while she hovered in the threshold between the bathroom and the master bedroom.

He was her Prince Charming. Everything she had ever thought about owning, he had given her. And everything she had wanted to feel about herself, he had brought out in her. His kisses made the world come alive, and the glint in his eyes when she walked into the room made it spin on its axis.

Their wedding had been traditional enough to appease his side of the family, and trendy enough to please her. She remembered the candles burning brighter on that day than she had ever seen them, before or since. She remembered the aisle of the church had seemed a mile long, and that all she had wanted was to kick of her Jimmy Choo's and run to him. She remembered the cigar smell on the priest's breath as he read the vows that they each repeated. And she remembered the way her heart had done somersaults in her gut when he had kissed her for the first time as her husband.

As he packed meticulously folded underwear and tee shirts into his carry-on suitcase, he hummed a classical tune to himself, just like he always did before a business trip. He was twenty years her senior, with the body of men ten years her junior. His strong features told his colleagues that he was not to be toyed with, but his kind eyes and gentle hands welcomed his children and grandchildren to hours of play time over the years.

When he smiled at her, she nearly threw up in the floor. "Are you feeling alright, Sweetheart?" he asked, ignoring his packing and rushing to her side. "I don't want to leave you if you're not feeling well."

When he touched her forehead, she smiled weakly. "I'm fine, Daniel. Thank you," she whispered, moving past him to the bed. The earth was beginning to spin beneath her feet and she was afraid that if she didn't sit soon, she would pass out.

Daniel Casey turned to his wife with concern in his brilliantly blue eyes. She had been only twenty-one when they met, a student at the nearby University of Tampa. Her aspiration had been in fashion design, and her knowledge of business and marketing had impressed him, even above her curvaceous body, flawless features, and blazing red hair.

The odds had been stacked against them from the beginning. His parents, his ex-wife, and his youngest daughter, hadn't approve. He was a father of three, the eldest boy being only two years younger than Meredith. They insisted that she was just a gold-digger, looking for a sugar daddy. There was no way that a twenty-one-year-old girl would fall for a forty-two-year-old man based on love alone.

Even his friends and business associates laughed at the prospect of their relationship enduring. They did, however, assure him that she would make a fine first wife, and that they wouldn't think any less of him when she took all of his money and ran off with the pool boy.

None of it mattered to Daniel, though. Upon her college graduation, she was appointed the Vice President of Marketing with his acquisitions company, and together they had built a beautiful life together. Now, nearly ten years later, the only thing he regretted was that she was hesitant to have his child because of his rigorous travel schedule. While he understood, he always felt it would be the one thing that would complete their almost-perfect union.

She leaned against the bed and thought about what an unconventional pair they had made. In the office, they were an impeccably-tailored pair, each carrying an air of intimidating professionalism. But at home, he was comfortable in khakies and polo shirts, while she lounged in jeans, tank tops, and her own punk-inspired creations. Even at the age of twenty-nine, she could rock a mini-skirt and combat boots better than her college counterparts.

She wasn't really sure when she had started to notice the drastic differences between them. What she did know for sure was that every night that she spent with her secret lover, the more definitive those differences became in her mind. And she knew that it wasn't fair to the man who had loved her, even when everyone said that he shouldn't.

"Alright," he smiled brightly, lifting his carry-on from the bed and setting it carefully on the floor. "I think I have everything." He nodded to the briefcase on the desk and Meredith stood to grab it, following him dutifully down the hall.

The birds were singing around them as they stepped out of the house. The sun was shining and a few of the neighbors were mowing their verdant lawns or watering their blossoming flower gardens. Nature acted as though it had no premonition, no warning as to how this day would end.

"Alright, Sweetheart," Daniel said, after loading his luggage into the trunk. He took her arms in his hands and pressed a kiss to her forehead. "I will see you in four days."

She kicked herself inwardly for not saying something sooner. Why had she waited until he had to leave? Couldn't she wait for until he returned? When they would actually have time to discuss what had happened?

"Daniel, when you come home," she said, wishing to hell that she could keep her mouth shut a little bit longer, "I, um," she ran her hand over the top of her ponytail. "I won't be here."

"Oh?" he asked obliviously, opening the door of the car. "Are you going away with the girls?"

She shook her head, the lump in her throat making it impossible to speak anymore. "No," she managed to whisper before the tears streamed down her cheeks.

Daniel saw his wife dip her head, staring hard at the driveway as droplets of tears fell to the concrete below them. "Meredith, what's going on?" His gut felt the truth, but his mind refused to believe it. There had to be another explanation. Anything but his greatest fear.

She took a deep breath and sniffled. "I'm so sorry, Daniel." When she finally raised her emerald eyes to meet his, the pain and confusion staring back at her broke her already shattered heart into pieces. "It's not your fault."

Unable to believe what he was hearing, Daniel slid behind the wheel and started the car, shutting the door as though she had said nothing at all. Meredith wrapped her arms around her stomach, fighting the sobs that were threatening to rack her body. He hated to see her cry, and she would implode before she made this any harder for him.

She studied the wheels of the car as they began to roll backwards and then stop. When he rolled down his window, she took another breath to calm herself and then looked up. One of the things she had always admired about him was his ability to stare adversity down without flinching. Seeing the tears brimming in his eyes now was more than she could handle. Maybe it was her own guilty conscience, but she could have sworn that he had aged thirty years in the last five minutes.

"There's someone else, isn't there?" he asked

She shook her head, but said nothing. Whether she admitted it verbally or not, his heart would ache the same. Wiping her eyes, she tried to compose herself enough to mouth her final "good-bye" and then turned back toward the house.

She would pack only what she had purchased for herself, and be gone before he returned, just as she had promised. None of the things had ever really mattered to her anyway. At the moment, all she wanted was to rid his life of any reminder that he had been married to a lying, deceiving, back-stabbing, adulterer.

Barely making it back to the bathroom, she collapsed onto the bed and hugged her knees to her chest, sobbing uncontrollably. Her life, as she had come to know it, was over. And she wasn't entirely sure that the one waiting for her would offer her a fraction of the happiness that this one had.

The ringing of her cell phone drew her face from the pillows she had fallen into. She was in no condition to answer the phone, but if anyone understood her state of mind, it was him. "Dave," was all she managed, before gasping another sob.

"Is he gone?" his deep voice rumbled in her ears, providing a slight reprieve from the overwhelming pain she was feeling. When she manage to mutter a confirmation, he let out a deep sigh. "I'll be there in ten minutes. We started this thing together, we'll deal with it together." There was a slight moan of response from her end. "Meredith? Sweetheart, you're gonna have to calm down for me, okay? Take a breath."

She did as she was instructed and tried her damnedest to collect herself. "I feel like such a horrible bitch," she managed before another round of tears coursed through her.

"I know, Sweetheart," he answered, offering no contradiction. "I'm in the car. I'm on my way. I'll be there in a few minutes, okay?" Hearing her anguish was breaking his heart and making his mind reel. "Meredith, baby, I know it hurts. I know it does. We're gonna get through it, though. I promise you we're gonna get through it together."

As she continued to cry in his ear, Dave Batista rested his elbow against the open window of his Escalade and rubbed his creased forhead. Contrary to popular opinion, he had never been in this position before, either. He'd never known the agonizing torture of looking the woman he had promised to love, honor, and cherish forever in the face and tell her that he had broken those vows. Not before last night.

"Dave," Meredith's tiny voice broke into his thoughts once more. "I have to go now."

He cleared his throat as he punched the security code into the gate outside her housing community. "I'm on your street, baby. I'm almost there."

"I have to throw up," she said, her voice sounding distant and disconnected.

Nodding, Dave flipped his phone shut and parked his car in her driveway. For the first time in six months, he didn't care if the neighbors saw him. He didn't care what all of the bitches on Wisteria Lane had to say about him or his mistress.

He used his key in the front door and followed the sickening sounds of her purging up the stairs. Moving inside the bathroom, he knelt beside her and pulled her long hair out of her face as she finished. When she rested her cheek against the cool porcelain of the seat, her eyes found his, the sadness resonating between them.

"We're going to hell," she whispered.

Dave nodded in understanding and sat on the heated stone tiles of the floor. Pulling her into his arms, he rocked her slightly as she continued to cry.

Though their relationship had evolved from just a physically intimate fling, he had yet to fully express his feelings for her. They were both married, and it had never seemed appropriate. But now, as she shook in his arms, he felt as though no one had ever needed to hear the words more than she did at that moment.

Kissing the top of her head, he bent his lips to her ear, brushing her soft skin slightly. "I love you, Meredith."

It didn't make everything okay. It didn't even really make things better. But somehow, it was still nice to hear. Running her fingers nimbly over the Buddhist bracelet on his right wrist, she stared blankly at the hem of his pants. Her voice was barely audible, but she knew that he heard her. "I love you, too."