Author's Note:
Firstly: I don't own Flashpoint or any of the characters. If I did Lou would currently be the godfather of Jammy's firstborn. Just sayin'
Second: Please be gentle - this is my first fic.
Thirdly: I'm not Ontarian, I don't know Toronto. My geographic/cultural knowledge of the T-dot is very very limited. Forgive me?
Fourthly: I started this fic before 3x08 (The Good Citizen) and have been cursing the show ever since. We haven't had a Wordy episode in forever and with one show they blow my backstory out of the water. I'd already picked a neighbourhood I thought might work. I wanted something middle-class and suburbanite so I chose L'Amoreaux. The Citizen's got his neighbourhood as a really urban, now thuggish area (What? Jane and Finch? Cabbagetown?). I've already picked out the addresses and locations and schools and such so I'm not going to go back and change it.
Fifthly: Please review! Thanks, you guys are the best.
Her mother always said the most important thing to know were your own faults. And Michelle Joanne Wooler knew her biggest fault. She did. Half the battle was over, right? It should have been all downhill from there. But it wasn't. Because for Shelley, figuring out that fatal flaw wasn't the most difficult part – it was figuring out what to do about it.
Shelley was used to being the fixer. She fixed things. When her mother would come home, devastated by another fruitless rendezvous with married men she'd soothe and comfort. She held things together when they'd get evicted from another apartment, methodically packing up their things while her mother indulged in exhausting bawling sessions. When her best friend had a pregnancy scare during the 9th grade she'd been the one standing there, squeezing her hand, praying the stick Nancy had stolen from the PharmaPlus read negative. She was the one people leaned on. She wasn't the one who broke.
Maybe that was why it was so difficult to admit that she had failed. She had failed in this marriage. She'd made a mistake – one that couldn't be undone. The vows were taken, the promises made.
She could see now that her biggest fault was her need to be loved. She'd watched the revolving door of relationships with her mother and friends and it wasn't something she wanted. She wanted one man who'd swear to stay by her side for the rest of his life. So maybe when Blake had walked into her life she'd be a little too eager. She had been all of 16, desperate to be loved and terrified of failure. When he'd proposed the day of her high school graduation she wept, unable to speak, and nodded yes.
Lots of people thought she was crazy, chaining herself to a man that early in life. She was young – she should meet men, experience life. But all Michelle wanted was a home. She wanted love. She wanted marriage. She was a smart girl. She could have gone to university. She'd graduated third in her class. Scholarships would have covered tuition. U of T had provided a generous entrance scholarship, when supplemented with her meagre savings from working at the diner after school, could have easily put her through the first couple years.
Their wedding had been small. Not many of her friends liked Blake. He didn't like them all that much either; he thought they were trying to break them up. He accused them of being jealous of their bond. He hated it when Shelley went out with them. He'd sulk and whine, darkly muttering comments about them for days afterwards until she'd just started saying no. No she didn't want to go out – she was tired from work. No she didn't have time for coffee or a movie. No she didn't want to go shopping this weekend. So their wedding had been small. They'd been crazy in love with each other though, so why did anyone else matter?
Crazy being the optimal word, Shelley thought now. Downright fucking crazy she thought as she cowered by the bed watching her husband storm around their small bedroom.
"You fucking BITCH. You think I didn't notice you making eyes at that fucking jackass. I told you not to fucking go to Nancy's. You never fucking LISTEN." He yelled.
She breathed deeply. "Blake, honey. Blake. Calm down. Nancy invited me. I had to go. It was her son's baptism and I'm his godmother."
"You agreed to that? You AGREED? We said you'd say no."
"No, Blake, you said I'd say no. She's my closest friend."
His face contorted with rage. His cheeks were flushed and splotchy. A vein bulged from his temple, shockingly blue against the violent red of his face. His fists were clenched, painfully tightand, not for the first time Shelly was afraid.
"Blake, I didn't flirt with anyone. I barely spoke with anyone other than Nancy." She spoke softly.
"I saw you! I saw with my own eyes when I got there! I saw you looking at him." He lunged across the bed, grabbing her wrist painfully. "You were making a FOOL out of me. Whoring around behind my back."
"NO!" She shouted. She was tired of Blake, and worse, tired of her marriage. He was jealous, he was domineering, and he was constantly pushing away her friends. Normally he was composed in public – he didn't want anyone to see true Blake. But today at Nancy's he'd lost it. And the worst part was, when the storm blew over she'd scurried after him like the quiet little obedient church mouse.
What he said wasn't true. Shelly was too afraid to so much as speak to another man out of fear of one of Blake's outbursts. It had been mere days since his last outburst, and the bruises had only just healed. Her hip still pained where she'd smacked it on the kitchen floor from the fall she'd taken the last time he'd hit her.
Blake grabbed a fist of her blonde hair, dragging it back so she was forced to look up at him. She was accustomed to this. And what would happen next. It was practically a bloody routine. She didn't cry.
She missed the old Shelley. She missed the girl who dreamed of a prince to steal her away. She missed her friends. She missed the freedom she'd known before Blake. But most of all she missed not being afraid. Because she was terrified, more than anything, that somebody would find out what a failure she was. The bright, intelligent young Shelley who'd dreamed of a future full of love and promise was gone. And the new Michelle was weak; she was stupid, she was afraid. And, more than anything, she was a failure: too stupid, ugly, inexperienced, needy and selfish to satisfy her husband, too weak to walk away from her broken marriage.
He snarled, rearing his hand backwards and she prepared herself for the blow.
Practically routine.
