It was never any question, the fact that he had wanted her to be a part of their son's life. It was never any secret that no matter how angry he was, he had missed her every single day of her absence. The actual return, however, was a different story altogether. At first he had wanted to turn her away, feeling just as angry and betrayed as when she had first left. Feeling nothing. The love just wasn't there anymore. But it didn't take long before he remembered the way things used to be and it was all he could do not to ask her to stay there with them and never leave again. It would be too hard. He couldn't. With all of the patience she had, Abby stood there, waiting, watching every move and listening to every word he said to their little boy. He spoke to him a mix of English and Croatian, something that puzzled her, but it flowed in a strange, smooth manner, and Joe seemed to understand as best as anyone possibly could. They settled in the living room, the little one still sleepy from his nap and lying against his father's chest. Abby just stood. It wasn't her home anymore. For a moment, Luka considered simply letting her continue to stand there, letting her feel just as lost and alone as he had when he'd realized that she was gone. After all, she certainly hadn't given him any consideration, too occupied with work and drinking, in the weeks before she had left. It was almost justified, hurting her the way that she had hurt him. It almost felt right. But it was cruel. Luka was not. Not to her. Instead, he motioned for her to sit beside him, unaware that he was watching her as she did so.

"Don't you want to hold him?" No response. Just that look he was so familiar with. Hesitation. "Abby, he's your son."

"Well, he doesn't know that." she spoke the words with some degree of sadness. Almost apologetic. The baby began to cry as she took him in her arms, and she glanced at Luka, almost ready to hand him back.

"He's just hungry." he said in a sympathetic tone, catching the look in her eyes. "Sometimes he wants a bottle after his naps, sometimes he doesn't. Just hold him while I get it."

"Luka." She had never felt so helpless. She had made her own son cry. "I can't."

"Yes you can. Talk to him, it always calms him down." His tone was steady, reassuring. Sad. It was hard to have to tell her what she should already have known. "It's been a long time since he's heard your voice."

For a moment, he couldn't help wondering if she really did want to be a part of their son's life. If she had left, she certainly couldn't have wanted it that badly in the first place. Or maybe she did. Maybe she was just scared. There was no reason to it, no sense, not as far as he knew. As he stood there in the kitchen, preparing the bottle, he looked across the room and watched her. Watched her as she held the little boy they'd once been through so much together for. They had sat together in that room, on that couch, for countless hours. Hours that had dragged on and on. They had picked out cribs and patterns and wallpaper, felt the first flutter of movement, cried while he was sick and once they had brought him home, shared so many moments with that baby in their arms. All in that very spot where she sat, as he watched her from the counter. What did she feel at that moment? Did she still feel the same happiness that he did, looking down at their child? He couldn't help wondering, couldn't help thinking of every possibility, couldn't stop running each and every scenario through his mind. He couldn't. Period. No, it was too much, the thought that maybe, just maybe, she didn't feel for that child the same way he did anymore. That would certainly be the worst possibility of all, for his own son to have to go through the pain later in life of knowing that his mother just didn't care enough. Enough to stay, enough to be there to watch him grow up, enough for what? Luka didn't know, but he didn't want any of them to have to find out. They sat there, together again, quiet for a while as Joe willingly accepted the bottle from his mother. With the first smile she had managed in days, Abby looked over at Luka, completely thrilled, however prematurely, that things had started to go smoothly for she and her son. He stayed silent instead, damning it all to hell. Why did she have to smile at him that way? It made him remember why he'd fallen in love with her. It made him remember all of the good times they'd had. It made his heart ache like nothing else and he couldn't quite tell anymore if the anger was stronger than everything else he still felt for her. Everything else that he always would feel.

"I wish he remembered me." she said, quietly, running a fingertip along the boy's tiny cheek. Her smile had long since faded; she simply didn't feel entitled to that happiness, especially not as she sat there with Luka. "Do you think he does?"

"No." The single word came out shortly, flat and blank. Unforgiving. It had to. He had to reassure himself that he wasn't going to give in so quickly. Yes, the anger was still there. He needed to know for sure. "He remembers his mother. But you're not even the same person anymore, Abby, how could he remember you? I don't even know who you are now."

"Why aren't I the same? Why wouldn't I be? I haven't changed." she spoke before she could realize what she was saying. Abby, Abby, you never learn. You idiot, you fucking idiot. It was all wrong. "I mean, I've changed, but not... I'm not the person I was when I left. The person you hated so much, Luka, I'm not her."

"But you're not his mother anymore, either. You don't know when he first stood up, or what was his first word. You don't know, you weren't there." He turned his eyes away from her again. Could she tell? Did she know how much it was killing him? He wasn't sure, but oh, God, how he was trying not to care. Trying to pretend it had nothing to do with his feelings. "You don't even look at him the way you used to. You've changed, Abby. And not just when it comes to him; you're different. I've never known you the way you are now."

"Maybe I haven't changed at all, Luka. Maybe you just never knew me. Maybe you never wanted to." she quipped, her tone even and concise. She could hurt him, too. Watch the anger flare up and see the look in his eyes that she knew meant he had felt it. They had played that game too often. "It doesn't really matter now, does it?"

"What is that supposed to mean? You think it's all been a game, or something? Don't you tell me what's important. Don't. Not you, of all the goddamn people in the world. You don't have any right to say what does and doesn't matter to me. Not at all. Seriously, Abby, what the hell does that mean?"

"It means, you wanted a baby, you got it. What difference does this make to you? What difference do I make? God, Luka, you should be so fucking lucky to get the easy way out. No commitment. No mess, no fucked-up Abby to put up with, isn't that what you wanted the whole time? Get rid of the burden, get the kid you wanted so badly and even get to walk away looking like some kind of saint. Well, congratulations. You win. You were always right and I was always just one of the annoying details."

"I never thought that! I never--- God, fuck you. Just, really, fuck you if you can think for a second that that's what I wanted." he said, almost surprised himself to hear the words. For a moment, he clenched his fists. Yet as he spoke he caught a glimpse of their little boy, who was leaning back in his mother's arms to look at him, and lowered his voice as he continued. "You can't make what you did any better by blaming me, not even a little bit. Yeah, Joe is the only good thing that came of this in the end. But I wanted the rest of it so much back then. Even when you started fucking everything up, I wanted it. And I loved you and I wanted you, and you-- you just... you had no idea how much."

"But you don't anymore." she said. He couldn't, could he? Couldn't love her anymore after what she'd done. He hadn't planned to say so much; she could tell by the way he faltered towards the end. And it was her turn. She was almost sick at the thought of him knowing how she still felt. How she always had. Yet the words kept coming. "You don't, you know, love me. You don't want to be with me anymore, now."

"I don't anymore." He spoke simply. Reached out to take the empty bottle and take Joe in his arms. The little one pulled up to stand on his father's lap. Smiling, laughing, leaning in to place a wet kiss on his cheek. Luka returned the boy's smile, leaning in until their noses touched. Everything was right again, for a moment. "You remember that lady? Hm? That's Mama. That's your mother, Joe. She came to see you."

"He doesn't speak yet?" she asked, watching them, understanding little of what Luka had said to the boy and none of the reply. "Doesn't he know any words?"

"Sure he does. He just doesn't always get them right. No sentences or anything yet. But I know, right, Joe? We manage to figure each other out. He understands you, you know. Likes to pretend he doesn't, but he's just stubborn with English sometimes, since I don't speak very much of it to him. The nanny does, though."

Little things like that made him so upset all over again. Bitter, almost. It would've been her job. He worried that his English wasn't good enough, that he shouldn't teach Joe for fear of teaching him incorrectly. Abby would speak English, Luka would speak Croatian, they'd agreed. They had spent so many nights discussing those things. Nights while she was pregnant and couldn't sleep. Nights when he would find himself in the kitchen cooking for her at some ridiculous hour, or out driving to the grocery store for some absolutely repulsive item. She would call him right as he was walking down the first aisle. One thing would turn into two. Into three, into four. Do they have this? Can you find that? Endless questions, in between apologies for asking him to go out so late. The trunk would be half-full as he put the bags away afterwards. And Abby would stay on the phone until he was home again. Just in case, or so she had said. In case of what, neither were sure. But to her, it had sounded better than admitting she just wanted to hear his voice. They'd never been so close before as they were during her pregnancy. They would sit on the floor in the bathroom during the early weeks, his accent heavier than usual when he was tired, as he spoke to her. Pushed long strands of hair away from her face, rested a hand on her back. 'You should go. Go to bed, Luka.' she would insist, miserably, looking at the toilet, 'It's late, get some sleep.' But he would reach for her hand and tell her quite simply, 'No, no. I'll stay.' He worried too much to be able to sleep during nights like that. She knew it, yet they had the same conversation every time. She wanted to know that he would be there. He always was.

"Listen, Abby, if you want to..." Stay. Stay here, forever, if you want to. It was only as she looked up at him, waiting, that he realized how long he'd paused and tossed those words around in his head. It was too soon. Maybe, maybe. But not at that moment. "I was going to take him to the park tomorrow, as long as the weather is alright. You could come, if you want to."

Luka Kovac was in way over his head.