Enjoy :)

May 1994

Six weeks earlier

London

"Evelyn, do you have that report for the McCormick file? Evelyn? Evelyn!"

Evelyn started suddenly at the sound of her name and looked up to see Sarah framed in her office doorway. "Sorry, what?"

"The McCormick report. Do you have it?"

"Oh...yeah...it's here somewhere," she started leafing through all the papers on her desk.

"Are you ok?" Sarah asked, coming fully into the room. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

"No, I'm fine. It's just..." she paused, still almost unable to believe it. "Ben resigned from the DA's office."

"What?"

"I called...I called the office to speak to him and...his secretary answered and she told me that he resigned last week. I mean, I read in the paper that he lost his most recent case but I didn't think that he would resign..." she trailed off, thinking back to the brief conversation she had had with Celia when the other woman had informed her, in a tone bordering on accusation, that Ben no longer worked there. After calling previously and getting no answer, it had taken her a week to pluck up the courage to try again and now she wished she hadn't bothered.

"Why were you calling him?" Sarah asked.

"I don't know," she looked away. "I just...felt that I should. Maybe...maybe I should try him at home. I mean, if he's not working that's probably where he'd be, right?"

"Maybe you should just leave it alone."

"Why?"

"Because he's obviously got other things going on right now," Sarah said. "Even I know how much he cared about his job. He wouldn't just leave it for no good reason. I doubt you calling him now would make things any easier for him."

Evelyn paused, knowing that her cousin was right. If Ben was going through something, then hearing from her would be the last thing he would want or need. It would be selfish, especially when she had been the one to walk away. "I suppose."

"Trust me," Sarah said. "Now, do you have that report?"

"Oh...yes..."

"Great, thanks. And you're still on for that meeting at four, right? O'Connell is probably going to be the first account you handle solo so you need to make a good impression right off the bat."

"Yes, I'll be ready," she replied, sounding more confident than she actually felt.

"Good."

Once Sarah was gone, Evelyn found herself slumping in her chair, her head in her hands. She had been half hoping her cousin would forget about O'Connell and forget that she had ever said it would be a good first account for her to deal with. Over a month in her new job and she still didn't have a fucking clue what she was doing.

"Knock, knock!" She jumped and looked up to see Alex standing at the door, a boyish grin on his face. "Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you."

"No, it's ok," she said, straightening up and trying to look more professional than she felt. "What can I do for you?"

"It's more what I can do for you," he replied, stepping inside and closing the door behind him. "So, I can't make drinks tomorrow night because I have my girls for the weekend."

"That's nice."

"Yes, it is...so I was wondering if you fancied doing something tonight instead."

"Like what?"

"Oh, I don't know...drinks...maybe even dinner?"

Evelyn felt her insides go cold. "You mean like a date?"

"If you like," he shrugged. "I am actually good at other things besides sex. Unless...unless that's what you'd prefer."

She tried and failed to stop herself from shuddering and glanced at the clock. Two o'clock. She had worked through lunch again. There had been no time for wine. She looked at Alex again, at his friendly smile and open body posture. He was a nice man, she had to give him that. There seemed no hardness to him, no brutality lurking beneath his exterior and yet...what the hell did she know?

You know he makes you feel like you did with Edward, she said to herself. In those early days before it all turned nasty. You know what you are when you're with him.

"Evelyn?" He was still watching her, clearly keen for some kind of answer.

"I think...I think it might be better just to leave it this time," she replied finally.

"Ok," he replied easily. "If that's what you want, that's fine. Just let me know if you change your mind." With a final smile, he let himself out of the office, closing the door behind him.

What do I want? She asked herself once she was alone again. I want everything to be different. Everything.

New York

"I can't believe how much you two have grown! Honestly, Peter, you'll be taller than your father soon! And Pam...you're so much prettier in the flesh than in your pictures. Oh it's just so good to see you both."

Ben smiled as his mother fussed over his children, pulling them into embraces that he could tell partly embarrassed them but which he also knew they secretly enjoyed, and when she turned and pulled him into her arms, it was hard not to feel like a child again himself.

"And you," she chastised him gently, pulling back and casting her eye over him. "You look exhausted."

"He's not working, Grandma, he can't be exhausted," Peter quipped.

"Yes, well that's something we can talk about later," Mary Stone said, in a tone that indicated she wouldn't be swayed from the topic. "Your Aunt Carole sends all her love. She's sorry that she wasn't able to come out from Wyoming but what with the change in timing and your Uncle Sam's work..."

Ben nodded, understanding fully his older sister's dilemma. After Evelyn had left and it was clear that there wasn't going to be a wedding, there seemed no need for his family to visit after all. But having geared herself up for the trip, his mother had told him that she would still be coming, but that he should tell her when would suit better. Now that he was unemployed, it had seemed like the perfect time.

"It's a pain in the ass that we have to be in school while you're here," Peter said, as they made their way towards the parking lot.

"Language Peter," Ben said.

"I don't see why we couldn't just take the week off school," Pamela chimed in. "It's not as if we'd miss that much."

"Don't be ridiculous," Mary said. "Education is very important and I would have been very upset if your father had told me he was keeping you away from school for the duration of my visit. I'm sure that we'll have plenty of time to see each other. All of this weekend in fact."

"Are you sure you don't want to stay with us?" Ben asked. "I told you that I would happily take the couch and give you my room..."

"Nonsense! I'll be perfectly happy at the hotel. Besides, you're too old to be sleeping on a couch."

"Thanks."

"Oh you know what I mean. In any event, I like having my own space as much as you do. I'm sure I'll be perfectly comfortable."

He found himself zoning out of the conversation as they all piled into the car and he started the slow journey to the hotel. His mother and the kids chattered back and forth the entire time, there seeming no natural break to the conversation. As they sat, bumper to bumper, in the evening traffic, he allowed his mind to wander, as it so often did these days.

It had been a week since he had left the DA's office and, so far, it felt like the longest time in his life. Even when he had taken vacations before, he had always known he had something to be going back to. Cases had always stayed in the back of his mind ready to be attacked once he had returned to his desk. This time, there was nothing. He still got up in the mornings to make sure that Peter and Pamela got off to school and he was there at dinner time when they arrived home, but for the most part, he just drifted through the rest of the day. In the last week he had been to the library twice, a coffee shop once, the park once and spent the remaining time in the apartment.

He felt lost.

More than once he had wondered if he had made a terrible mistake.

"Where are we going to eat?" Pamela asked, once they were in the lobby of the hotel.

"Why don't I see your grandmother up to her room and you two can think about where we should all go," he said, a decision that seemed to please everyone. Leaving Peter and Pamela sat in the lobby, he carried his mother's suitcase into the empty elevator and pressed the button for the tenth floor.

"I meant what I said," she said, once they were alone. "You look exhausted. Have you slept at all lately?"

"A little," he admitted, "but I've had a lot to think about."

"I can understand you being upset at Evelyn leaving, of course I can...but leaving your job? Ben, I'll admit, when you told me what you'd done I thought you were crazy."

"I know. You said as much on the phone."

"You've been there over twenty years! You barely know any other kind of life! Have you actually given any consideration as to what you're going to do now?"

"Some."

"Really?"

"Yes."

"And what have you come up with? Doorman? Cab driver?"

"There must be lots of things I could do," he argued as they exited the elevator and made their way along the hall to her room. "You don't earn a law degree and twenty odd years experience without learning a few things along the way."

"Ben..." she sighed as he opened the door. "You're fifty-one years old, not thirty-one. Do you know how hard it is going to be for you to convince a company to take you on?"

"I'm hardly on the scrapheap!"

"I'm not saying that you are, but whatever job you go for you are going to be competing with candidates half your age."

"So experience counts for nothing?" he said, growing irritated by her dogma.

"Of course it does."

"Well then."

Mary sighed and sat down on the edge of the bed. "You're my son. I'm allowed to be concerned about you and your future. You have the kids living with you full time now and financially, you have to be able to support them as well as yourself."

"We're fine," he said, moving over to the window and taking in the view. "I'm perfectly capable of caring for them financially. I've got some money put by and I'm sure that I'll find a job before too long."

His mother said nothing for a long moment. "If you're punishing yourself for what happened to that girl..."

"I'm not," he turned around to face her. "And I don't want to talk about it."

"Fine," she said, getting to her feet again. "Maybe you could give me fifteen minutes to freshen up and then I'll meet you back downstairs."

He nodded and then left the room before either of them could say anything else. Fortunately, he knew her well enough to know that she would say nothing about either his employment or Ann Madsen in front of the kids and for that he was grateful. When he had told Peter and Pamela that he had resigned, their obvious question had been why and he had made up a story about it being the right time to move on. He thought they had bought it. He hoped they had.

As the elevator made its way back down to the lobby, he thought about the funeral announcement that he had seen in the paper. Ann Madsen was to be buried the following day and though part of him wanted to run and hide, another part of him felt that he owed it to her to be present.

"Dad!" Pamela called when he came back into the lobby. "Can we go to Melons?"

"Sure," he replied, somewhat distracted. "Why not?"

London

"Don't tell me," Alex grinned. "You've changed your mind."

"Not about dinner," Evelyn replied, "but I could use a drink."

"Sure," he tossed his pen onto the desk, "I can get onboard with that. Where do you want to go?"

"Anywhere," she said quickly. "Anywhere they serve wine at least."

It was just past six o'clock and the afternoon had flown away from her. The O'Connell meeting had gone better than she had expected it to. The client seemed nice and friendly and she had found that she had quite a lot to contribute. Sarah had looked pleased at any rate, so she assumed that it had been successful. Of course, she knew the hard work was really just beginning. It was one thing to impress at one meeting, quite another to pull off a successful campaign. Buoyed by the feeling of accomplishment, she felt like celebrating and, somehow, a bottle of wine alone in her flat didn't seem like much of a celebration.

"Then follow me and I will take you to a lovely little place I know," Alex said. Twenty minutes later, they were ensconced at a small table in the corner of a dimly lit bar and, half a glass in, he had already put his hand on her knee. "I saw you were in with O'Connell earlier."

"Yes," she nodded, grateful for the feeling of the liquid sliding down her throat. "It's the first account that Sarah wants me to handle on my own."

"Big responsibility," he whistled.

"Stop trying to scare me."

"I'm not! I'm being serious. They're an important client, one of the first ones we ever had."

"Maybe that's why Sarah's given me them, because she trusts me."

"Maybe," he eyed her carefully. "You seem pleased anyway."

"I am. I actually felt, for the first time, that I might have known what I was talking about," she said. "I think I may have said at least one or two intelligent phrases."

"Oh, I'm sure you said more than that," he said, leaning in and kissing the side of her neck softly. Instantly, she felt herself recoil and he pulled back. "Why do you always do that?"

"Do what?"

"Pull away from me."

"I don't," she replied, taking another long drink of wine. "You've had your hand on my leg since we got here and I haven't told you to remove it."

"That's different," he frowned. "Come on, Evelyn, we've already slept together more than once. There's no need to act all embarrassed."

"I'm not embarrassed."

"Making love isn't a crime, you know."

She jerked away from him, pulling his hand away from her leg and sliding to the far edge of her seat. "We haven't made love," she said sharply. "We've had sex. Fornicated. Fucked. Whatever you want to call it."

"Ok..." he said, looking at her as though she had slightly lost her mind. "What if I want to call it making love?"

"I don't," she got to her feet. "Because that isn't what it was. It'll never be that." Reaching over, she grabbed her glass and downed the remaining contents. "I have to go."

"Wait..." he pushed the table back to follow her. "Evelyn, wait!"

Pretending not to hear him, she turned for the door, pushing past a couple as they were coming in, and suddenly finding herself out on the street, taking in huge lungfuls of air, feeling as though the world was spinning around her, despite the fact she had barely drunk anything.

Making love...how can it call it that? How can he think for one moment that was what it was?

"Hey, hang on a minute!" Suddenly he was in front of her. "What's wrong? What did I say?"

"Nothing," she replied, trying to sidestep him, only for him to follow and block her path. "Just...can you please get out of my way?"

"This is crazy. Come on, let's go back in and finish our drinks."

"No."

"I won't touch you, I won't mention love making..."

There's that fucking phrase again! He has no fucking idea!

"No!" she pushed past him and started running, no easy task in high heels, until she had turned several corners and found herself having to pause for breath. She had never felt so unfit in her life, her clothes of late starting to pinch around the waist. She knew it couldn't be from eating, as she often skipped meals depending on how she was feeling. No, it had to be the wine. There were a lot of calories in a bottle of wine.

Looking around for any kind of recognisable landmark, she caught sight of a bar in the corner. The happy hour posters and neon lights that she could see as she approached made it look more like the kind of place students would hang out. But as she pushed the door open, stepped inside, and saw to her satisfaction that there was a wine list sitting on one of the tables, she realised that she didn't care.

New York

Dinner had gone well, better than he had expected after talking to his mother. She had, of course, said nothing further about his job and the conversation had tended towards generalities and what the kids were up to at school. He had to hand it to Peter and Pamela. They could rise to the occasion when it was warranted.

By the time they had deposited Mary back at the hotel and made their way back home, it was late and, with school beckoning the following day, he had fought off their arguments about being allowed to take at least one day off and seen them into their rooms and into bed.

Once alone, he moved over to the bureau in the corner and lifted out the notebook that had been his constant companion over the last week. It had started as a letter that he had intended writing to Evelyn, just a brief note about how things were and expressing hope that she was having a good time. He hadn't even been certain that he was going to send it, but putting pen to paper had been cathartic. Only now, it had morphed into more of a journal, something he felt a keen need to write in at the end of every day, explaining his thoughts and feelings, an outlet for his broken heart.

Mom arrived today, he wrote. It was odd seeing her again after so long. Odd, because it felt as though no time had passed at all. She has a way about her that makes you feel like a kid again, but not in bad way. Not in a way that makes you feel small and inferior. No, more like a kind, loving, nurturing way. When she hugged me at the airport, I could honestly have just cried in her arms.

I think you would have liked her and I know she would have liked you too. I would have liked to take you home to Michigan sometime to visit her there and to show you where I grew up. Maybe we could even have gone to Wyoming to see my sister. She lives in the middle of nowhere. It's so vast and open that all you can hear is the sound of the birds. I haven't been there in so long now, but I think her home was what inspired me to think about a home for us upstate.

Maybe you wouldn't have wanted to go to either Michigan or Wyoming. I know I promised you London, Paris and Rome but I guess you've beaten me to at least part of that.

I love you. I miss you more than you'll probably ever know.

I hope you're happy.