Disclaimer: Not mine.

A/n: Thank you so much to my wonderful reviewers. You guys are so good about letting me know what you think. I'm always happy to see your reviews!

And speaking of reviews, Jess, what have you heard about the Tom/Renee thing? I've been trying to find some decent spoilers on the subject and I'm coming up empty. If you know something will you email me and let me know? My email is linked on my profile. Thank you!

Okay, on with this show! I hope y'all enjoy!

Balance

A story by Ryeloza

"For our entire marriage, you have been the one to make the decisions: 'I'm going back to work. I'm hiring a nanny.' Well this time, I am making the decision: she stays."

Lynette looked at him with a rather dazed expression, and despite how mad he was he almost felt smug. She thought that he was a Neanderthal? That was fine. He was perfectly capable of acting like a jackass; and why shouldn't he if that was how she saw him? She'd probably be happy, seeing that she always had to be right. "You know what really ticks me off?" he asked, taking full advantage of her speechlessness. "I told you I'd care of it. I told you'd I'd talk to her when I got home."

Lynette's brow furrowed and she crossed her arms. Tom knew before she spoke that he'd provoked her out of her stupor. "That's bull and we both know it."

"Excuse me?"

"I know you. I know your version of talking about it. Your big plan was to pull your mom aside, tell her to play nice with me, and then let it drop like nothing happened. That's how you'd deal with it. I know you."

Tom faltered for a moment—mostly because that was exactly what his plan had been—but ultimately his righteous indignation won out over the truth. "At least I would have said something! I know you too, Lynette. And I'd bet my right arm that you didn't say anything to my mother before you went out and hired a nanny."

"We said more than enough to each other at dinner."

"Yeah," agreed Tom, the sarcasm dripping off of his tongue. All rational thought seemed to be out the window. "Well for someone who talks all the time, you never seem to say anything important."

Lynette flinched just the tiniest bit, but only some peripheral part of him took the hurt look in her eyes to heart. He constantly kept himself in check; he always worked so hard not to say anything that might bring up that look of haunted childhood pain in her eyes; he didn't let his anger get the better of him. And now, in one instant, he no longer had the energy or willpower to shelter her. Not when she liberally said whatever was on her mind without thought or concern for anyone else. Her regret was always retroactive, and Tom was sick of it.

Without another word, he brushed past her and left the room. He wanted to leave the house. He wanted to jump in the car and take a long drive to cool down. Unfortunately, the second he stepped into the living room, he ran right into the one other person in the world he didn't want to see at that moment.

"Tommy?"

Tom shook his head, grabbing his car keys from where he'd dumped them on the table. "Not now, Mom."

"Yes. Right now." She looked at him sternly, leaving no room for argument. It was the flip side to how overbearingly caring she was—cool, calm and authoritative. Despite her willingness to do anything for anybody, she also never took any crap. "Come on," she said, walking past him and opening the front door. "We're going for a walk."

"Mom—"

"Now, Tom."

Pouting, Tom stormed out of the house onto the porch, not angry or stupid enough to rush ahead of his mother. She shut the door and then the two of them started slowly down to the sidewalk. "Tom," she said, heaving a little sigh, "I'm glad that you and Lynette are fighting."

Tom stopped short, only propelling back into motion when his mother continued to amble down the street. "What?"

"In fifty-seven years of marriage, your father and I never fought. Do you know why?"

"No."

"Because we didn't care enough. We were fine just going along, pretending that we were a happy couple. I knew about what your father was doing behind my back. You know that. The only reason I never said anything was because I didn't care."

Tom frowned, fighting against the sick feeling he got in his gut whenever he thought about his parents' divorce. It had come as a shock, even though he'd known for years that their marriage was basically a sham. Truthfully, he'd been just as happy to live the lie as his parents had been. "That's not true, Mom. You were devastated when Dad left."

"We were married, Tom. That's a life-long commitment. And you don't throw that away for any reason." His mother sighed. "I'm an old, lonely woman. And that's all because your father made me a promise that he didn't keep."

"Mom, I don't know what Lynette said to you, but you have to know that I want you to stay."

His mother smiled, linking her arm through his and patting his forearm gently. "I appreciate that, Tommy. But Lynette—"

"Lynette…" Tom blew out a frustrated sigh, forcing himself not to say anything rash. Already he'd calmed down enough to realize he'd gone too far with Lynette; he didn't have the right to speak to her that way, no matter what she said. "She told me what happened with Penny at dinner. You can't do that kind of stuff, Mom."

"I know Lynette was upset."

"Yeah, I am too." Tom held his breath for a moment, surprised that he'd actually said the words. He'd had no intention of doing that. "It's not Penny's job to serve her brothers. The twins are nineteen. Parker is eighteen…" And you are a fifty-year-old man who was acting the same way. He frowned, perturbed by the idea that Lynette might have been right. Again. Forcibly, he managed to continue, "They're all more than capable of taking care of themselves."

His mother shook her head. "I know that, Tom. But I like taking care of them. I like taking care of you. I don't understand why Lynette has a problem with that."

"She just—we just want them to grow up to be self-sufficient. Mom, I didn't even know how to do laundry until I went away to school. I never cooked for myself. I didn't even know how to iron a shirt."

"You shouldn't have to do those things."

"But I did, Mom. I was almost thirty when I got married. That's twelve years I spent on my own. So, yeah, I want my kids to be prepared for that when they leave home."

His mother slowed to a stop, turning to look up at him with blurry eyes. Immediately, guilt hardened in his stomach. "Do you think I was a bad mother?"

"No! No, Mom, you are a great mother. And you taught me so many other things. You taught me the most important thing I know: how to take care of other people."

"Really?"

"Of course. You know Dad—Dad was never around. You took care of everything and everyone. And I…I am really lucky. Because Lynette and I take care of each other. But you're the one who taught me how important that is."

His mother's face softened and she leaned in, hugging him tightly. "Thank you," she said quietly.

Tom nodded, happy that he'd fixed something; happy that not everything was wrecked.

All that was left now was to figure out how to make up with Lynette.