Disclaimer: Desperate Housewives isn't mine and I make absolutely no claim to it.

Story Summary: Tom and Lynette discuss the job offer. A missing scene from "Everything's Different, Nothing's Changed." Spoilers if you haven't seen the latest episode.

Yours, With Regrets

A story by Ryeloza

By the time Tom parks the car under a tree in a deserted church parking lot, Lynette has pretty much convinced herself that it wouldn't be a big deal to have sex in the car. As long as they're careful, there's not much of a risk, and she's pretty sure that it would completely seal the deal for Tom. Really, she should have taken this approach to begin with; he's always been a car guy—clearly showing him the perks of this job is a much safer route of manipulation to take.

Not that she's manipulating him.

Maybe a little.

She shakes the thought away. Even if the car is a tactic, the sex wouldn't be. There is something overtly sexy about watching Tom drive this car. She isn't sure if it's the look of excitement and desire on his face, the connotation of power, or some combination, but she's pretty turned on. The fact that it might push him right over the edge as to whether to take this job is merely a bonus.

She unbuckles her seatbelt and turns to face him, ready to maneuver into his lap, when he surprises her by looking over and saying, "Look, can we talk about this?"

She's so thrown off the most she can manage is, "Huh?"

"Can we just discuss this like adults? No more yelling. No more games. Is that possible?"

Lynette wants to be offended by his insinuation that she's been behaving childishly, but the most she can manage is a flutter of indignation. In the overall scheme of things, his perception of the past few days is a moot point. "Sure," she agrees, wondering if she can discreetly undo the top button of her blouse. "Although is there really much left to discuss?"

Tom shoots her a look that's mostly annoyance—maybe a little bit of all that pent up rage. "Lynette."

"What?"

"Why do you want me to take this job so badly?"

She furrows her brow, not necessarily confused by the question, but by which answer is the best to give him. And the moment she thinks that, guilt flames inside of her so pure and brilliant that it stings her eyes. It's like coming out of that fog—the same one she always gets lost in when she tries to do what is best for Tom. It's stepping back into reality and remembering that this is her husband, the one person she's supposed to be open and honest with, and that her actions have real consequences, often ones she never foresees until it's too late.

Which is part of the point, of course.

"Lynette?" Tom prompts, but his voice his gentler now, like he can see the realization in her eyes. It's amazing how he can still love her in the face of such ugliness. This is one thing that she gets entirely from her mother, and no matter how aware of it she may be, it's also one flaw she can't seem to fix. "Can you just tell me the truth? Is this really about me?"

"Yes. And no." She shrugs helplessly. "It's complicated."

"It always is."

It's not an insult. If anything, he's looking at her even more tenderly now, and she remembers that he's the one person in the world that absolutely loves her for how complex she is. Maybe it's a balance thing, because one of the reasons she loves him is because he's so straightforward. Tom is not manipulative, and he doesn't hide from her, ever, and she's just a frightening mess. It seems unfair, but Tom always just loves her harder when she reveals just how completely screwed up she is.

"You want all of it?"

"Yes."

"Okay." She folds her left leg underneath her right, turning completely to face him now. She feels like she's bracing herself for the worst, and she's not sure why. "Part of it is Carlos," she says, holding up a hand to stop Tom before he can protest. "I know he's our friend, and I know you feel loyal to him, but I don't."

"Honey, I know you feel like business isn't personal, but—"

"He fired me last year, Tom. Do you remember that? He fired me without hesitation, without a second thought. He fired me even though we were about to have a family of eight, and you were out of work too."

Tom looks down at the steering wheel, silent in contemplation, but for Lynette there's only a feeling of immense relief as she finally says the words. This is something that has been locked deep inside of her for over a year now, an anger that flares every so often without warning. It's a small part of the reason she didn't go back to work after Paige was born, not that she actually told anyone; she barely admitted it to herself. It was easier to say that Tom fit in so well there and that it was good for him; easier to say that she didn't want to leave the baby; easier to just go into business with Renee. Those were all parts of it anyway; it felt easier to keep this one secret to herself.

"You know part of me still blames him too?"

Lynette's eyes widen. This isn't what she expected, not from Tom. And she certainly didn't anticipate him echoing the one thought that she still hasn't admitted out loud. "You do?"

"I know it's ridiculous. I know that everything that happened when we lost the baby was completely separate from what was going on at work, but it feels like it all would have been different…" He sighs. "It's illogical. I know it's illogical."

She reaches out and puts her hand on top of his, rubbing her thumb over his dry skin. "I feel the same way. Like there was all of this added stress before anything else even happened." She swallows hard, a sudden lump forming in her throat. They're approaching dangerous territory here; things she's sure neither of them has ever admitted. "We knew from the start that it was a high risk pregnancy with my age, and the fact that we were having twins…But…"

Tom shakes his head, just this slight jerk like he doesn't want her to go on. But now that she's started, she can't seem to stop. "But I insisted on taking that job anyway. I insisted on keeping all of those secrets. I knew—"

He reaches out, roughly grabbing her upper arms and shaking her just a little. The force of it shocks her into silence. "You listen to me," he says, his eyes clouding over with tears. "I don't want to ever, ever hear you blame yourself for what happened. Do you understand me?"

She shakes her head, blinking back tears that have formed out of nowhere. "Lynette," he says, "I don't blame you. I don't. Neither of us knew…"

"But we both blame Carlos? He's not a scapegoat."

"Yeah he is. Because there's no one to blame. Not really. And neither of us has been able to deal with the fact that Patrick was just taken from us for no reason."

"Tom—"

"Uh-uh. That's something we both have to face, even if we don't want to. Do you hear me? Lynette?"

She nods, more of an acknowledgment than an agreement. The anger still flits inside of her; her need to lay guilt somewhere is palpable. And now that she's admitted her own fault in this, it feels like a dam has broken—one that might never be fixed.

She's so grateful when Tom awkwardly changes the subject.

"If we take that off of the table, is there really any other reason for me to take this job?" he says, only the trembling of his voice betraying the emotional fragility they both feel. She takes a deep breath to steady herself, refusing to cry.

"Yes. Selfish ones."

"The perks?" He sounds surprised. "Really?"

"Some part of me feels like it should have been mine. If I hadn't had the kids…If I had kept going in my career…"

"You'd be the one taking this job now, not me."

"Maybe."

"Definitely." Tom almost smiles, but it's not in amusement. There's something bitter about it, the way he always looks when they discuss what-could-have-beens. "Well you're right about that."

"Tom—"

"No. Don't apologize for it. It's true."

They stare at one another, unblinking, and she's unable to read his eyes. She never understands where precisely this resentment lies: in jealousy; in his own failures; in regret; in guilt. It's something they don't discuss. Maybe she's afraid to hear the answer. Maybe Tom's afraid to admit the truth.

Which is what she has to do, now, no matter how much she doesn't want to.

"There's another reason," she says quietly. "Because maybe I'm not the only one who should have had this life years ago."

"What?"

"I tanked your promotion, Tom. At Peterson. And I know it was forever ago, but I've always regretted it. Don't you feel like this job is a second chance to get what you always wanted?"

He looks at her, shock written all over his face. "No."

"No?"

"I haven't thought about it," he says frankly. "God, I haven't thought about any of that in years."

"Well I have."

He gives a self-deprecating bark of laughter that seems out of place, and as her eyes question him, he shrugs. "It's just," he says slowly, "that you and I seem to be blaming ourselves for a lot of stuff that we shouldn't."

"How can you not blame me for that?"

"Do you blame me for ruining your career?"

It's her turn to be surprised. "What are you talking about?"

"Whenever you talk about how things could have been…I don't know. It feels like it's my fault somehow. Like I forced you to choose."

"Tom," she says firmly. She reaches out to grasp his forearm, waiting until he looks at her again to continue. "You never forced me to choose. Not then, and not now. And I don't blame you. Any regrets I have are all mine."

Tom sighs, and then unbuckles his seatbelt so he can turn to face her. Slowly, he leans forward until their foreheads meet, and she shuts her eyes, suddenly exhausted.

"Why are we wasting so much time with regrets?" he whispers. "This whole year…"

"I don't know."

"Do you really want me to take this job?"

Lynette takes a deep breath. For the first time, she feels a sense of calm. There's no fear over what will happen if Tom doesn't take the job. No drive to force him into it. Just peace. "I want you to be happy," she says. "I don't want you to regret anything else."

"You're right."

"I am?"

"Yeah," he breathes, leaning forward and kissing her softly. "And I'm going to take the job."

"Really?"

"Yes, really." He kisses her again. "I want you to be happy too."

"I am."

"No regrets."

She nods, understanding. It's an aspiration—a hope for the future.

"No regrets."

A/n: Oh my gosh. Tonight's episode—it's like an overload. I can't even begin to handle everything that happened. This is just my first attempt to express the many thoughts flying through my head. I had to start with Tom and Lynette because they're always the most demanding.

I really wanted to do a character motivation piece, because it seemed a little off to me that Lynette would be so insistent about Tom taking this job without any kind of explanation. I mean, was I really just supposed to believe that she was suddenly that obsessed with material possessions and money and status (especially after kind of berating her mother for the same thing just a couple of episodes ago?)? So this was my attempt to address that issue.

Thank you for reading, and please let me know what you thought. It always helps to know if the characters were on track or not.

-Ryeloza