Disclaimer: This is so not mine. If it was the show would focus way too much on the Scavos.
Story Summary: Tom and Lynette talk things out after she finds out about Kayla. A missing scene from the season two finale, "Remember."
A/n: My 75th story! I never thought I'd get here. I hope you all enjoy this. Please take a minute to let me know what you think.
After the Lights Go Out We Fall, Fall, Fall
A story by Ryeloza
Tom was clinging to her.
It was his form of reassurance: a touch to prove she was there; a tight hold that begged don't go away, don't leave me, don't…don't…don't… Whenever they fought he coped this way—not apologizing, but loving her anyway. And she always let him because she loved him too.
But tonight was different. Tonight she had her back to him with the covers pulled up to her chin, burying herself against the pain and the ache and the worries that plagued her despite his incessant apologies. She couldn't look at him because the wound was still too fresh, but she didn't fight him when his arms snaked around her and his mouth settled close to her ear, even if it did hurt like hell. Words bubbled beneath the surface that she knew she'd never say: I missed you…I still miss you…
From the moment he'd laid eyes on her today, Tom hadn't bothered to hide his desperation. She could see it in his eyes; she could feel it in his touch; she heard it in every word he said. Somehow it was even worse now; there was nothing like the still of the night to expose vulnerability. His, not hers; never hers. "I love you," he mumbled into her ear. And what he really said: I love you, I missed you, forgive me, don't leave me, I didn't mean to hurt you but I did and I have no idea how to make it better… "God, you have no idea how much I love you."
I can feel it, hear it, taste it, touch it. I know it…
"I don't think I knew until I came home and you weren't here. There was nothing…"
"I know."
He kissed her behind her ear, but she knew it was a hesitation; a pause before he spoke again. Something he didn't want to say but he would say anyway because he didn't filter his emotions like she did. Heart on his sleeve…he always had his heart on his sleeve. "Did you really let me go?"
"Yes."
God, she didn't want to talk about this. His grip tightened on her; his nose brushed the back of her head. He was begging her now: to let him in; to lie to him; to reassure him. She wasn't sure exactly what he wanted, but when his breath hitched and she felt the shuddery chill of him fighting tears she had to show mercy. Reluctantly she turned in his arms, facing him but keeping her eyes downcast, her arms not embracing him but remaining taut between their chests. "I don't like to run away."
From confrontation. It's weak.
"You did, though. You ran away without even talking to me first. You didn't leave a note…You just left." His hand moved to her face, willing her to look at him. She didn't.
"I was afraid. I was afraid that you'd come home and you'd lie to me again. I didn't want to hear it. I couldn't sit there and let you touch me and look at me and make me think that it was all in my head."
"You nearly destroyed me."
"You did destroy me."
He was startled by the admission. She could tell by the way his thumb stopped stroking her cheek; by the way the words took his breath away. These were the things she never said because they were buried so deeply inside of her that she barely admitted them to herself. But he had to hear this. She had to confess this—she wasn't sure if it was for herself or for him.
"I had to go away and I had to let you go. If I didn't the pain would have swallowed me whole."
"And it was just that easy?" He was broken.
Good…You broke me first.
"I thought you'd left me first. I thought you'd given up on us. I thought you'd stopped loving me. What was I supposed to do? Break down? Scream? Throw myself off a building? It was accept what had happened and let you go or give up on everything. I made a choice."
He rested his forehead against hers and she shut her eyes. "Sometimes I hate how strong you are," he whispered.
"Sometimes I hate how weak you are. How could you not tell me the truth?"
"Couldn't lose you. Because I wouldn't be strong enough to let you go. I'd just have to give up."
"No you wouldn't. You'd do what you had to."
They breathed in sync—calm, calm, calm, calm.
"Do you still love me?"
"I never stopped."
"Really?"
She laughed bitterly. Burden or blessing, she'd learned the truth in the past week. "I'm going to love you forever. No matter what you do. And that kills me because it just gives you the right to break my heart again and again."
He kissed her: her forehead; her eyelids; her nose; her cheeks; her lips. Never, never, never again. "If it makes you feel any better it's the same for me. You couldn't do anything that would make me stop loving you." He took a shaky breath; kissed her again. "God…" he sighed. "When did we fall in love like this?"
What an impossible question.
"I don't know. But it hurts like hell."
He pulled her closer and, wrapped in the scent of him—in the comfort of his arms, she finally let herself relax. She wasn't alone in this. Not anymore.
"We're going to survive this," she mumbled into his chest.
"I know."
As we fall, fall, fall…