A/N: Thanks to everyone who commented. Please continue to do so. I'll dare to be one of those obnoxious authors who points out the responses will dictate the speed at which I post the next installments of the story (Part 3 and 4 are already complete).

Part 2: Desperate Conversations

He'd slept on the sofa; without a blanket and his shoes still on. Sleep hadn't been the plan and he'd sat in the dark room until his eyes had fallen shut and he'd drifted into unconsciousness, his body drifting into a lying position.

When he awoke he could hear Jude in the kitchen. He ventured into the room but didn't announce his presence. She jumped when she turned and saw him standing there, dark circles under his eyes, his skin pale and his eyes fill of desperate hope and immense pain.

"Jude," He whispered hoarsely. He took a few steps toward her but she backed away. "Please," He whispered, his voice breaking, "Please talk to me."

She turned away from him. "Every time I look at you I see… I see…" She gasped, unable to complete the sentence.

He tried to touch her but she shoved his hand away.

"Every time you touch me my skin crawls!" She found her voice and the words spewed out, the only thing betraying the emotions beneath her calm exterior, "I never understood that expression but now I do. It's as if that part of my skin wants to detach itself from my body and jump down the garbage disposal!" She gasped for air, her breathing, her words coming out in jagged gasps, "I can't breath when you're near me," She took a few steps back as if to illustrate her words. She backed into a table and leaned against it as if she couldn't stand without the additional support, "I can't… I can't look at you."

His heart was breaking. He could swear he heard it cracking and shattering within his chest. He found his arms reaching for her but his feet refused to move. He was left reaching for her but feeling as if there were miles separating them.

"I can't… I can't forgive you," She whispered, "I want to. I'm trying but I can't. Not yet." She shook her head, "I'd tell you to leave but I…" She paused, looking away from him, "I can't breathe without you," tears filled her eyes at the statement that contradicted her earlier words. She brushed them away and they didn't return. The stoic, emotionless expression was once again present, "I'm stuck, Tommy."

At the lifeless utterance of his name he backed away, crashing into the wall behind him as his wild eyes searched hers.

She shrugged, her hands extended in front of her in a questioning motion, "What do I do?"

He couldn't answer the question for her; they both knew that.

She turned away from him, her hands palm down on the surface of the table as she leaned against it. A few moments passed and the silence was deafening. Finally she turned to face him. "Sleep in the guest bed room," She said in a monotone, "Use the guest bathroom. Don't speak to me, don't approach me, just give me space."

He finally spoke, "I could stay at a motel if-"

"No," She cut him off and shook her head, "Stay."

She left the room a few minutes later but he remained staring at the space she'd occupied long after her footsteps faded.

---

A week had passed, during which time Tommy had complied with Jude's request and given her space. They hadn't spoken since that day in the kitchen. He'd avoided being in the house as much as possible and when he was home he stayed confined to his room, leaving her the entire house to haunt without his presence.

He'd been racking his mind for justification for his actions, an excuse; anything but he always came up short. He still couldn't believe what he'd done. It seemed like a dream, like a scene from a movie he'd watched; it had to be someone else's life, someone else's actions.

His life's one goal became winning Jude back. He had to find a way to regain her trust, to prove to her that she still was the most important thing in his world.

He passed Jude in the foyer as she arrived home from lunch with Sadie. Her eyes didn't meet his as she strode past him, heading for the stairs.

"Jude," He called as he spun around to watch her.

She stopped but didn't turn.

He paused, now he was speaking he didn't really know what to say, "Have you… have you come to a conclusion?"

She sighed dramatically and spun around to face him. She stood on the fourth stair which offered her additional height to look down upon him, one hand gracefully resting on the railing, "No, Tommy, I haven't." Her expression implied boredom and her tone was one she might use for discussing bread or grass clippings.

"I want you to know," He took a few steps toward her and she backed two more steps up the stairs, an action that pained him though he tried not to let it show, "That I am going to prove to you that you can trust me. What happened was a temporary delusion, I don't even know what it was but I hate myself for it and I swear it will never happen again." His eyes were earnest as he gazed up at her.

She shook her head, "Once upon a time I actually believed your promises." She turned to depart, taking a few more steps before his words interrupted her again.

"What should I do?" He asked, "Is there something I can do to prove it to you. I'll do anything! I'll cut off my foot if even if it would just be the start of you believing in me again. I'll cut it off just to see you smile again, to show some damn emotion." He stopped himself then. His frustration was getting the better of him.

She glanced over her shoulder at him, a sly smile on her lips, "I can think of an extremity that could do with being cut off." With that she continued up the stairs. He didn't interrupt again and cringed at the meaning of his words.

But there was a glimmer of hope. She'd smiled; a small and weak smile but one nonetheless.

Preview for Part 3: The Dance

"No," He cut her off. It was the first time he'd refused her on anything since the events of three months ago. He lowered his face to hers, pressing their foreheads together, the tips of their noses grazing slightly. She didn't pull away.