Disclaimer: I am doing this for absolutely no gain (unless you count fun, because I do have a lot of fun writing these). It all belongs to Marc Cherry and ABC.

A/n: Well here it goes: my fic-a-day for this December. For those of you unfamiliar, every December I try to write one short fic a day from now until Dec. 24. Usually I pick a common theme, but this year I decided to take requests for fic. This first one is for CharadesNinja, who requested a story about Lynette's reaction to Tom and Renee's alleged affair. I have no specifics about what will actually happen on the show beyond some vague spoilers, so this is entirely out of my imagination. I hope you all enjoy.

And please keep the requests coming! I like tackling things that I wouldn't necessarily think of or go out of my way to do on my own, so feel free to leave a suggestion in a review or an email (my address is linked in my profile) or on my blog. Anything in the DH universe is fine with me, so long as it follows canon pairings.

Thanks for reading!

A Collection

by Ryeloza

One: One Lie

"Is it true?"

She sees a flash of something in his eyes. He knows. He knows that she knows. But as quickly as the realization sparks, it's replaced by a fear so deadly that it's all the confirmation she needs. "Is it true?" she repeats, the threat implicit: Tell the truth or so help me God…

"She told you?"

"Is that a yes?"

Slowly, Tom gives an almost imperceptible nod. She's surprised by how much the affirmation shocks her, like falling so hard that the wind is knocked out of her and she chokes for breath, desperate to stay alive. He's watching her with the most nervous expression, waiting for her to react, waiting for her to do something other than stand there staring. She's not sure if she's glad or pissed that he's not sputtering excuses.

It's strange how much of their marriage she's spent dreading this very moment, and now that it's here, it's nothing like she expected. She expected to be furious; she expected to throw things and shout and rage; she expected to storm out in a fit of righteous indignation. But the truth is that she mostly feels numb; like a dull throbbing after the initial stabbing pain of a stubbed toe or a bumped an elbow. And she doesn't know what to do or say or think, but somehow, something bubbles out of her almost as if someone else is saying it. "I don't believe it."

Tom blinks back tears. He is raw with emotion; he's always so raw with emotion. Just once, she wishes it could be her.

"I don't believe it," she says again. There is more conviction this time. As if after all of the times she's accused him of this or suspected he was cheating or worried that this would happen, she's failing to follow through on her certainty this one time that it's actually true.

"It was one stupid mistake. I wanted to take it back as soon as it happened."

God, are they really this cliché?

"When?"

Tom swallows hard; she can hear it as though he's gulping. "About six weeks after we started dating. We got in that stupid fight…"

She remembers with an astonishing clarity for something that happened over twenty-one years ago. Renee had been visiting; she'd witnessed the whole fight. Nearly orchestrated it, in fact, with her lewd prodding about their relationship; well timed, seemingly casual questions that had set off a series of explosions that ended with Tom storming from her apartment, and Lynette going on a tirade for nearly an hour after he left. Renee stayed long enough to calm her down, and then headed back to her hotel, claiming an early flight the next morning.

"She invited you over." It's a horrid realization, mostly because she thinks she should have known all along. Not because the next day Tom had crawled back to her with apologies and desperation for forgiveness in his every word, but because Renee has always been a chronic disease. She remembers when she first arrived at college, feeling so worldly, but in actuality being so very naïve. The freedom from her family had been addicting, and she'd gotten caught up in a whirlwind of excitement and rebellion, urged on by her roommate constantly pushing her, whispering in her ear to go for it. She'd been drunk on the adrenaline rush; she'd marveled at the idea that some rich, beautiful, popular girl actually wanted to be her friend because in so many ways she was still crippled by years of abuse. It had been a long time before she realized that Renee was using her, getting off on her ability to bring her down.

That could have been the end of it. They'd gotten into a fight; she'd finally stood up for herself. But just a few weeks later, she'd seen Renee with her own family and realized that they had more in common than she'd ever suspected. Suddenly she couldn't abandon the friendship, no matter how poisonous. From there on out, she'd always thought they were on even ground, both of them able to give as good as they took. She'd been more cautious, more aware of Renee's dangerous side—the jealousy and fear and anger that plagued her destructive actions.

And all this time, all these years, she has gone on believing that she knows Renee well enough to keep her from ever being a threat.

She hates being wrong.

"I should never have gone," Tom says in a rush. "I was drunk, and I wasn't thinking, and it just happened."

"She pushed you into it."

Tom hesitates, and she tries not to read too much into the pause. It doesn't mean he's lying. That he's going to lie. "I shouldn't have gone," he finally repeats.

She almost laughs. He wants to take responsibility for this, now, twenty-one years after the fact. It's ridiculous. He's right; he shouldn't have gone. But she knows without a doubt that once he was there, Renee orchestrated every step like the calculating shrew she is. What was it, she wonders, that pushed her to do it? Was it just the challenge of taking something that wasn't hers? Was it being able to prove that she could still best Lynette where it counted the most? A smug reminder of which of them really had the power? But if that's the truth, why wait twenty-one years to tell her?

The reason doesn't really matter, she slowly realizes. What difference does it make in the long run? All she knows is that it hurts. It hurts so badly to think that no matter the reason, Renee had been able to get Tom away from her. She had been seduce him. And she just wishes that he had said no. That he had resisted. That he had loved her more.

She wishes that she'd never found out.

"You are the only woman I've ever been in love with." Before he's even done speaking, Lynette is aware that she's shaking her head—she doesn't want him to try to make this better that way (if there is any way to possibly make this better)—but Tom ignores her. "I was young and angry and stupid and I didn't have the slightest clue about how I felt about you. And then…that happened, and it was this horrible epiphany. I knew I was in love with you and I knew that I'd just fucked everything up."

"So you decided to lie to me? Pretend it never happened?"

Tom shrugs hopelessly. "I was desperate."

Lynette wants to roll her eyes. She wants to call him out for lying to her for so many years, for betraying her, for trying to excuse it all by saying that he loved her, but at the same time, some niggling part of her mind knows exactly what would have happened if he had told her. He was right to be scared.

They wouldn't have had the past twenty-one years together.

Now they're at the same crossroads, all these years later, and she knows that it's entirely up to her whether to walk away and give up the next twenty years or to forgive him. Forgive that twenty-nine-year-old man who betrayed her for the man who has stayed by her side, faithful and loving and constant, for the past two decades. The man who stands before her now, confessing one lie that could change their entire relationship. One lie.

"Lynette?"

She already knows what she has to do.