I wasn't even going to post this on here...but my why the hell not nature won out and so...here it is. my foray into Denise and Ghetti fic.
Summary: Denise and Ghetti. This was infidelity of the worst sort.
Wounded heart
-1-
She wrote him regularly, and set aside one day every week where she baked the cookies he liked to carefully ship them out to him.
She went to work, and put everything she had into her patients.
Morethan once she came early; stayed late...tried to be there for the oneswho didn't have anyone else to do that for them.
She was in attendance for the weekly--sometimes more--tribal meetings, for Claudia Joy's parties, everything that was expected of her; she did it.
And every little thing, all of it, was so hard.
--
"If it's so hard for you, if I'm making your life so much harder...fine." Ghetti's expression was blank, impossible for her to read. "I'll just take myself out of the equation."
"No, Ghetti..." Denise tried to stop him, she hurt him she knew that, but it was all unintentional. She couldn't do this though...what they were doing, she just couldn't. "That's not—that's not what I want atall."
She didn't want it like that. She wanted him—she needed him there.
"Sure you do."
As he walked away, she felt empty inside. Like she'd lost a part of herself.
He was gone, and even though it was what she needed (right?), she didn't want it.
--
"So you did it?" Roxy asked.
Denise nodded, "You know, I was sitting there thinking I would feel somuch better after...and I can't. I don't."
She came here because Roxy was the only one who had never judged it,or looked at what she was doing, and thought it was just cheating on her husband. A sin of the flesh. Sometimes she wondered if it evencould be called that, she'd never even slept with him.
It was so much worse than cheating. Ghetti knew her in ways that Frank never had, she talked to him about things Frank could never understand. There was rawness with Ghetti that had never been there with Frank.
"You cared about him." Roxy said, pouring a shot of Jack for her, and seating herself next to her friend. "It's going to hurt, Denise."
Denise downed it quickly.
It was so much more than that, she realized. If it had just been about the physical, about sex...it would be so much easier. But it wasn't, it was emotional infidelity of the worst sort.
"Right." Her tone was depressed, and unconvincing. "I should go," She said, her tone muted. "Let you get back to those boys of yours."
Roxy jumped up to try and stop her, to convince her to stay a while.
"I'm in no hurry; they're spending the night camping in the backyard with Trevor." Roxy couldn't help but feel like the last thing Denise should be right now is alone.
Denise smiled sadly. "I really should go; I'm catching an early shift in the morning."
"Denise, wait you don't have to run off...would you like some dinner?"Roxy was worried about her, something about this, about Denise's expression, mannerisms, what she'd said—and more importantly not said; unsettled her.
Denise shook her head. "Thanks, Roxy, but I just want to go home andsleep. Go home and see your boys. Trust me, they grow up fast, you don't want to miss a minute of it."
She felt so guilty for piling this on Roxy in the way that she had. She'd asked so much for her by telling her the whole sordid story, and then asking her to keep it to herself. She'd asked Roxy to lie to her husband to help her keep her secret...and she did.
--
Dear Frank,
She'd started this same letter so many times...in her mind.
It was going to be a note of apology.
It was going to be a note of denial.
It was going to be a note of goodbye.
Dear Ghetti,
But then she was never sure whose name belonged on the top of that letter.
Who belonged to what letter?
They both loved her; she knew that even though Frank wasn't the bestat showing his love, he did. But there was something about Ghetti that she couldn't get out of her mind no matter how many glasses of wine she downed, or how many times she reminded herself of her commitment to her husband, her family, and the Army...she still loved him.She couldn't run away from that no matter how many letters of love she wrote her husband, how many care packages she put together for him...It twisted her up and convoluted her, and she wanted nothing more for everything to stop and catch up with her. For everything to be suspended in the air the way she felt she was.
--
There are rules to being a good Army wife. You keep things at home in order while your husband is away. You take care of the children, you send them letters and care packages to try and brighten their day. The most important part is when you get the coveted phone call, the almost tangible proof that they're still alive. You keep conversation light; never to say anything that could distract them from the mission at hand.
That was why the 'dear john' letters, even the ones she'd written out...were never, ever sent. It didn't matter if it was apology, or denial, or even goodbye...she was Mrs. Frank Sherwood. She was an officer's wife.She loved Frank. She did. It was so hard to remember a time before her husband, he had been her whole life—he and Jeremy—for so long; since she was nineteen. The funny thing was she had been part of the Army even longer. She understood the concept of Army, Unit, and then family and she'd never questioned it. Not when it tore her family apart, not when only did the Army own her husband, but her son also, not when she had to be second best to both men in her life because Army their first love.
Competing with the Army never bothered her until she realized...she didn't have to. With Ghetti, the Army was nothing more than an employer; the Army didn't steal him from her. He loved her and her alone.
The only problem with this was that she loved him too.
She tried to convince herself it was the loneliness; she knew her friends thought it was just loneliness. Even Roxy, who had been so understanding, thought that was what it was about. She wished it was this easy, that as soon as Frank came home...it would be over.
That every ounce of her being that felt herself aching to be with Ghetti, would just disappear.
But deep down she knew it was something that could never go away. So the question was could she live with that? Could she spend the rest of her life with her husband, all the while wanting another man?
Was it fair to anyone?
--