Maybe It's Better This Way
Summary: 'She couldn't be…' Kirsten has some surprises, happy and sad. Mainly Kandy, but partly a Cohen Family et all saga. Very long and long awaited by some!
Disclaimer: I own zip, need I say more?
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This wasn't going to be anything like this! It started out as the story on Kirsten's children (meant to be the final shot!) but kind of grew into itself. Maybe it's better this way! Lol! It's pretty mixed in style and stuff because I started it in May 2005 (lol) and didn't write it in order. Goodness knows where it fits in OC time…it's AU in season 2…post Rebecca, sort of post-Carter but not so serious, Caleb's not dead (and always ends up slightly nicer in my fics!) and Kirsten's drinking exists but isn't so all-consuming. Please read and review! Please read and review! (Yes I'm trying to brainwash you!)
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Chapter 1: Five Times
(Minds out of the gutter people!)
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The first time she was sick was early on a grey Monday morning. She groaned as she bent over the toilet, the weather was horrible, she felt the same way and there was a potentially huge contract coming in for the Newport Group this week. This meant masses of work, late nights at the office and her father being even more demanding and stressful than his usual beastly self. She could not get ill right now, she couldn't cope with it.
Thankfully, once the bout was over she felt as right as rain and put it out of her mind. It took more than a little queasiness to unsettle Kirsten Cohen.
At least until it happened the next day, and the next.
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The following day hadn't started well; they'd both overslept and Kirsten had been woken by her husband's irritated exclamation rather than the gentle kisses she was used to. First she'd snagged her nail on her stockings and laddered one of them, her hair refused to go how she wanted it and downstairs she'd managed to spill hot coffee over Sandy's shirt meaning he had to go change when he was late as it was. From then on the day continued to go downhill; she'd definitely got out the wrong side of bed.
She snapped at Seth, at Ryan, at Clare, her father, Julie, irritating investors, contractors, even Sandy when he rang to see how she was feeling, answering the phone with a curt 'What?' thinking it was Julie ringing back for the hundredth time that day.
What was up with her? She wasn't usually this bitchy. Everything was just getting on her nerves, not least the fact she seemed to have become incredibly clumsy. Pens, folders, cutlery all seemed to be impossible to hold onto. By lunchtime she was feeling stressed and sick, or rather, being sick.
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There was something profoundly humiliating about being ill at work. The ornate bathrooms in the office didn't seem the place to be puking up your guts, or rather the bagel your husband had carefully sliced and schmeared for you that morning despite being in a hurry. It also made Kirsten feel out of control and undignified, two things she hated. At home it didn't matter she could just be herself, drop the front and be soft for once. At home she had Sandy, the only person in the world who could make her feel better by just being there. He loved her whatever state she was in, tired, crabby, drunk, sick, so there was no need to pretend. Here she had to avoid her dad, hide from Julie and lie left right and centre.
But then again, if she was home she'd still have to lie, little white lies; 'I'm fine,' to Sandy, to Seth, to Ryan. It was better Sandy didn't know, he'd only hound her to go to the doctors. That was the downside of admitting how sick she felt and letting him look after her. Once she crossed the fine line between him thinking she was just tired and actually being ill there was no going back; Sandy would call an ambulance if she as much as sniffled. It was a no win situation.
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So she struggled through the rest of the day, shooting daggers at anyone who dared disturb the relative peace of her office. She needed some aspirin for this god-awful migraine, a long nap and a hug from Sandy. Actually she'd settle for the latter alone. He was home when she got in, the boys too. The three of them were chatting as they transferred food from take-out cartons to plates and Kirsten paused in the doorway to watch them.
'Save some for your mother,' Sandy was saying, 'she should be in soon…' He glanced up, catching sight of his wife and smiling warmly. 'Talk of the devil,' he joked, drawing her towards the table. Her stomach balked at the idea of eating but she tried, if only so that she could have the large glass of wine she needed after such a day.
Never underestimate the medicinal properties of a good glass of red, she thought as she began to relax. However bad days are bad days until the sun goes down and after dinner, as she was clearing the table, two of the plates somehow slid from her hands, shattered over the kitchen floor.
'Shit.'
Kirsten rested her elbows on the kitchen island and dropped her head onto them, sighing exasperatedly and hurriedly wiping away the hot tears that suddenly sprung from her eyes. 'Sorry, I just…bad day.'
'Don't worry Kirsten, I'll get it.'
Her sons began to clear up the broken crockery while Sandy took one of her hands in his. 'What's the matter hey?'
She shook her head and withdrew her hand, 'I'm pretty wiped out; think I might go soak in a hot tub.'
The fake smile she gave them was pretty obvious but they all pretended not to notice. Each of them had felt the sharp end of her tongue today and it wasn't pleasant. May as well live and let live, for now at least.
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Sandy was in the shower the next morning, washing off the salt and sand from his morning surfing session when a fully dressed Kirsten clattered hastily into the bathroom in her heels. Still standing so as not to crease her pristine suit, she ducked her head over the toilet, one hand frantically trying to hold her hair out of the way, the other bracing herself against the wall.
Sandy immediately shut off the water and clambered out of the shower. Throwing on his robe, he approached his wife who had finished being aggressively sick and was now worriedly checking she hadn't marked her clothes. He slid a reassuring arm around her waist and could feel her ribs heave up and down as she breathed deeply.
'You alright baby?' he asked concerned. Kirsten nodded as she rinsed her mouth, spitting violently into the basin when he suggested she stay home.
'Big conference, just nerves that's all,' she told him, smiling and kissing him in quick succession before leaving. He shook his head, since when did Kirsten get nervous about work?
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Sandy watched in drowsy contentment as the warm California sunlight filtered through the blinds and played across the soft features of his wife. She lay facing him, a few strands of blonde hair fluttering in her face as she breathed. He reached out and gently tucked them behind her ear, unable to resist pressing a kiss to her lips, even though he knew it would probably wake her.
Kirsten's eyes opened a fraction and then fully as she saw Sandy staring at her. He did that often, just lying there watching her sleep. It was a loving gaze but it still made her feel a little embarrassed sometimes. He'd tried to explain it once;
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'You're just so beautiful and you look so peaceful. I love watching you, whatever you're doing but this is special; you look…I don't know, just…like, this is you, this is the real Kirsten Cohen. It makes me think how lucky I am, I get to wake up with you every morning and I thank whatever confusion in the space-time continuum made things end up like this.'
'I love you,' she had said, 'and I don't know how I got so lucky; I get to wake up with you…some mornings.'
'Is that a not-so-subtle dig at my surfing habits?'
Kirsten giggled, 'Maybe.'
The conversation had then descended into something which Seth swore his parents did not do in any way, shape or form.
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'Good morning,' she murmured, languidly running a hand over his stubble. Sandy kissed any fingers that came within reach and wondered how she made even yawning so attractive.
'Did I tire you out last night sweetheart?' he asked teasingly, watching as a pink tinge crept across her cheeks and down her throat to fade at the rise of her chest where a few hours ago Sandy had trailed kisses.
She stuck her tongue out, 'I love you.'
'Same here.'
Kirsten snuggled up to her husband, savouring the rare occurrence of waking up with him. Why on earth did the waves have to be best in the morning? Whoever had shared that fact with the surfing world was obviously male and single.
'As much as I would love to stay here like this,' she murmured half an hour later, 'we can't; it's Thursday.'
'So?'
'I have meetings and you have clients.'
'Sod them.'
'Sandy! Is that any way to run a business?'
'It's one way,' he told her, grinning cheekily.
'You're incorrigible.'
'Thank you,' Sandy replied kissing his wife who didn't argue the point any further, letting him tug her closer and intensify the kiss. At least until she felt her insides swirl, and not in the way they usually did when Sandy kissed her. Kirsten tore her lips somewhat reluctantly from Sandy's and rolled out of bed, heading for the bathroom. The sight of his nude wife streaking across the room would have raised a smile if he hadn't been confused as to why she had cut their rather promising make-out session short.
'Honey?'
The answer was the sound of her retching. One of the sounds guaranteed to make Sandy Cohen leap out of bed faster than if he'd just found he was sharing it with Julie Cooper-Nichol. Within seconds he was beside her, simultaneously supporting his wife and reaching up to keep her hair out of her pale face.
'What?' she asked once she was done, twisting round in the sheet Sandy had grabbed from the bed to wrap them both in, and taking in how his blue-green eyes were anxiously studying her face.
'Kirsten…'
'Meetings. Clients,' she reminded him, stalking back to the bedroom with the sheet and leaving him naked. Single word sentences Sandy noted; he wasn't going to argue with her right now.
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On the fifth day, as Sandy was holding her hair up again, a thought flashed through her mind.
Pregnant?
There was something vaguely familiar, a kind of déjà vu about the pose they held that made her think it. But she couldn't be. She was a thirty-nine year old CFO of a multi-million-dollar company with two seventeen-year-old sons.
This could not be happening.
She had a husband she'd almost lost twice in the past year and a twenty-year marriage that still hung in the balance.
It wasn't possible.
She was on birth control.
But nothing was perfect, she knew that. Kirsten Cohen wasn't perfect, she just appeared that way.
Perfect life
Perfect marriage
Perfect family
She knew the hidden reality, the secrets she'd kept, the façade that was Newport life, the way her father ruled her, who she'd become.
The fights they had over nothing, how close they'd both come to infidelity.
So perfect her two sons had left last summer, her sister moved to Japan and they discovered her father had a secret love-child.
Some kind of perfect.
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'Kirsten? Kirsten!' Sandy's voice filtered into her thoughts and she shook her head. She was being foolish; she'd just eaten some bad Tai or had a touch of the flu, that was all.
'Kirsten?'
'Yes honey?' she said, straightening up.
'You sure you're ok?' he asked, his eyes wide with concern.
'Yes sweetie,' she told him, clambering up from the floor and going to brush her teeth.
He was still stood leaning against the doorframe when she'd finished.
'I really don't think you should go into work today,' he began. Kirsten glowered at him, 'I'm fine.'
'Why do you always say that and I don't believe you?' He asked grinning.
'Because you worry too much,' she said rubbing a hand across her face and drawing his attention to the dark circles beneath her eyes.
Sandy became serious again, 'Really Kirsten, this is the third day in a row and I…'
'Fifth,' she muttered.
He stopped abruptly mid-ramble, 'What? Well…well,' he struggled to get back on track, 'that just backs my decision, if you go to work today and this continues, you're going to the doctors.'
Kirsten sighed, but a glance at her husband's face let her know this was non-negotiable. Sometimes, well mostly to be honest, she could get round her husband, but when it came to her health Sandy switched to full protection mode. Strategically placed kisses weren't going to get her out of this one.
'Fine, fine, but only because I'm running late and don't have
time to fight,' she conceded.
Sandy smiled and leaned in to kiss
her 'You wound me honey.'
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I've never got to triple figures in reviews. That's my goal and yours. Get me started on this my longest ever fic – potentially 30 chapters, most of them already written!
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