A/N: I own nothing you recognize. Full House is property of Warner Bros. I'm just playing with the characters for a while.

2016

Suzie Gladstone walked up the stairs of the home she'd known so well. She'd spent more time there than anywhere else in her life.

Her once neighbor, and now the occupant of the attic apartment was laying with her head and torso on the kitchen table with her hands over her head.

"What's up with Gibbler?" Suzie asked Stephanie who was eating her cereal at the other end of the table as if oblivious to Kimmy.

"Fernando."

"Ah."

Fernando was Kimmy's estranged husband. Suzie knew enough to know he wanted to get back together but Kimmy was reluctant.

"What's the problem?" she asked, cheerily. "Maybe I can help?"

"No offense," Kimmy replied, raising her head. "But you and Joey have been together since the stone ages. I doubt you'd understand separation problems."

"What my tactless friend is trying to say is that you two have a perfect relationship," Stephanie covered quickly. "Y'all are like the poster couple for happy relationships. You never even argue much less fight."

"Well, while Kimmy might be right about the length of our relationship, you my dear, are dead wrong about the never fighting part." Suzie took a cup of coffee from DJ and sat down at the table. "In fact when we moved in here after Pam's death, we were about two big fights away from divorce court. Pretty much the only thing still holding us together at that point was sheer force of will." She took a sip of her coffee and leaned back in the chair. "That, and really good sex."

Stephanie choked and spit out her cereal before declaring, "Aunt Suzie! I'm trying to eat here! Don't put that image in my head."

"Sorry, Darling." She stood up and kissed her niece on the top of the head. "You know, you do live in our old room." She grinned. "I'll see you all tonight. Then I'll tell you what I know about separation."

1987

Suzanna walked into her apartment with the intent of getting a shower, some food, collapsing into her bed, and being comatose until 4 a.m. when she'd have to have the same exhausting day all over again.

"Hey, Babe, I'm home," she called out dropping her bag by the door and slipping her shoes off. Not getting an answer, she walked softly into the small kitchen where her husband would usually be cooking supper for the two of them. His job as a high school English teacher put him getting home from work four hours earlier than her job at the hospital let her.

A note propped against a Tupperware plate of roasted chicken and vegetables greeted her instead of his usually smiling face.

Gone to the club. Be back late.

Love

-J

She thought she'd be mad. In fact, she waited for the anger to come but was shocked when all she felt was relief. She loved Joey. She really did, but lately things hadn't been so great. He hated his job, preferring instead to spend time at the comedy club perfecting his routine while leaving his after hours school work, like grading papers and writing lesson plans to the last minute, often robbing them of the little time they did have together lately. Her job wasn't helping things either. She had just been promoted to head nurse of the ER at All Saints hospital. The hours were long and trauma filled often with gunshots, car accidents, the drunk and drugged out crowd, and one crisis after another stretching her seven to seven day shift into seven to eight, nine, ten, even midnight before she could drag herself home, eat cold leftovers, and stand under a scalding shower until the water turned cold, -(not long in their tiny apartment), before falling into bed until time to do it all over again. She wanted to quit, to go back to working the floor in maternity, but the pay for head nurse was too good to give up and Lord knew they needed it. Unfortunately, her frustration had bubbled over that morning with her screaming something at him about being a perpetual child. Now that she thought about it, that was probably why she had come home to an empty apartment and note. She held the note in her hand for a moment before grabbing a pen and scribbling:

Please don't wake me.

-S.

4 a.m.

Suzanna groaned when her alarm blared out. She reached out to turn it off and tried to set up but Joey caught her, pulling her body back against his.

"Stay," he whispered, nuzzling her neck.

"I can't," she said, trying to pull away. About twice a month, this game ended with her cuddling up to him and being late for work, but she wasn't in the mood for that this morning.

"Be late," he replied, trailing kisses across her shoulders.

"Not this morning, Joe," she snapped, jerking away from his embrace more forcefully than she intended. She sighed. "I'm sorry. I just can't." Whether it was be late or be with him, she didn't clarify.

She padded into the bathroom, thinking about when the last time she had actually played their little game was. She was astonished to realize that it had been more than a month. In fact it had been more than a month since they had been intimate at all. She shook her head to clear the bad feelings that thought gave her and climbed into the shower. She had just finished washing her hair when she felt the door open. She looked back over her shoulder to see Joey step into the shower with her.

He didn't say anything, just pulled her into his arms and held her as the steaming water rushed over them both. When he did finally speak, it wasn't some self depreciating joke, or funny voice to make her laugh, instead he sounded just as tired and frustrated as she felt. "What's happening to us?"

She just shook her head.

He held her for another long moment before saying, "I love you, Suzie Q. I love you so much."

"I know." She turned to face him and slid her arms around his neck, pulling him in for a kiss. "I do know that, Joey." This time it wasn't stress that made her stay in the shower until the water was freezing.

By the time she had fixed her hair, put on her make up, and slipped into a pair a scrubs, Joey had fallen back to sleep. He was stretched out sideways across the bed as if he'd been waiting for her when he fell asleep. She resisted the urge to scold him for laying down in their bed with wet hair, and just grabbed the afghan off a chair and threw it over him. She leaned down and brushed a kiss across his lips. "I love you, too." But as she left, she wasn't so sure that was the truth anymore.

Please R and R. Tell me what you think and what you'd like to see.