Title: Deep
Category: TV Shows » Days of Our Lives
Author: And The Moment's Gone
Language: English, Rating: Rated: T
Chapter: 2, Words: 854
Warnings/Spoilers: If you know Chloe came back to Sale in 2007 then you're all set.
Summary: Damn can't you go that deep?
Official Disclaimer: All Days of Our Lives characters and plots belong to Ted Corday, and NBC. I do not hold stock either the man or the company. Brady Black, Chloe Lane, and any other character featured are NOT mine. The title, summary, and lyrics come from Scott Clifton's song Deep and I don't own that either.
Damn can't you go that deep
Do you neglect to see
What distances you from me
The wall I can't break down.
He's not coming after you. You knew that the second you dropped your first pair of socks into your suitcase. You blamed him in Rome. You told him you were leaving. It was his fault after all. And like the man you know him to be, he just let you go.
He doesn't fight like he used to.
Neither of you do.
You spent your first two weeks in New York. You hadn't seen your parents since you left for your honeymoon, and you missed your little sister. The four of you spend the days acting like tourists and the evenings catching up. It was almost enough to make you forget how you wound up there.
And why you are alone.
You don't tell your mother about what prompted the visit. You make sure to side step any conversations that meant you'd have to talk about your husband. And when you run out of excuses for why you can't talk about it, you lie. He didn't join you because of work. He has obligations. Your father doesn't understand when you tell him it's complicated. He finally backs you into a corner one night after dinner, and you amazed yourself by not caving.
You made plans to leave New York the next morning.
When you first arrive in Salem it's honestly like you'd never left, except for the fact that your sister-in-law is no longer pregnant. That reminds you for the first time since you left him that you hadn't considered filing for divorce. You know he won't. She's engaged to her ex-boyfriend now, something you know she's going to regret later, and every time you see her, she blushes and makes an excuse to leave.
She probably knows that you figured out she's still screwing her ex-husband.
Who is your ex-boyfriend?
Salem history gets you every time.
Her fiancé is oblivious to it all.
You want to tell her that you really don't give a damn who she screws. Both of them are related to her brother, to you. Both of them are family. She doesn't understand that falling back into that pattern will kill her, one way or another.
You find out one night after too much to drink that maybe your old friend isn't as oblivious after all.
He takes you back to the hotel room you're staying in – because you really hate the memory of the mansion – and tucks you in bed. He kisses your forehead when you tell him you're not really tired and he nods at all of the right moments when you tell him your beds been empty for too long.
You don't sleep with him.
Neither of you are that wasted.
For the first time in weeks, however, you finally admit why you're there.
And why he's not.
He's sympathetic, your cousin by marriage, to the point where he asks if you've called your husband. When you tell him no, you both smile. He'll call if you'd like. It would be a fairly easy conversation. He didn't even have to mention that you know he's doing it.
You ask him to give you a week.
He gives you three.
It's around the same time that you actually start to feel sorry for him.
You talk to your ex- or is he her current lover? You never were good with labels; your mind meshes them together now anyway. Nothing gets to be easy anymore. You tell him to stay away from her. One of you should have the chance to be happy. He's only going to hurt himself in the end. He's only delaying the inevitable.
His response is to kiss you.
You don't think too much after that.
You know it's the dumbest thing you've ever done even before you start considering it. He's family. And you've been down this road before. What you said to him rings clear in your mind. Everyone's going to get hurt, and it's most definitely going to be your fault.
At least this time you can truly say you don't give a damn.
You haven't cared for much in weeks.
The sex isn't that great.
You can't even bring yourself to say it's any good. It's just the human contact that you've been missing. You haven't let anyone touch you since...
You're rolling away from him long before you know he's finished and when you pull the covers, of his bed, up over your shoulders you think that he gets your point. There's a part of you that hopes he's pissed enough to leave you alone. When you realize he's not, you're out of bed and into the shower so fast you think you set the carpet on fire.
When you come out, he's holding up a piece of plastic and it takes you a moment to realize it's your phone.
You've kept it by your bedside for the last eight weeks. He still pays the bill, and you're not about to change the number. Whether it was just in case he might call, or because you know he won't.
In two months it hadn't rung once.
Apparently it had tonight.
