A/N: Since I haven't been around all week like I said I would be, this is my peace offering to El: the next chapter to Blue Light Crashing like she requested. As for the other stories, updates have been written. Although I haven't been here, I haven't been slacking on my fics. In fact, I've started a new one...about Liason. ;) LOL Thanks for being patient with me. Also, just to let some of you know, as I told you, this story is personal, too. Although there wasn't a Bailey (an older child with a previous relationship) and there was love in the marriage, this basically is the story of my Mom's first marriage. Basically I'm Rowan and my little sister (sorry Mariah, lol) is Quentin. Instead of being ten weeks early, my sister was only six, but, nineteen years ago, that was a big deal. Instead of taking place during Thanksgiving, it took place during Easter. However, basically everything else is true to form. It's just one of the many stories I now find amusing about my ass of a real father. He! Anyway, I've rambled enough. Enjoy!

Charlynn

Chapter Four

You hear of moments where in someone's life time stands still, but, until it happens to you, it is a concept that is rather difficult to grasp. However, Marissa Cooper Channing knew the feeling for she had experienced it herself once. Years before on what she had assumed would be an uneventful flight home, she had sat next to a rakishly attractive young man who, at the same time, was devilishly flirtatious and yet compassionate and earnest in his attempt to be her friend. In those brief minutes they had shared together while their plane was crashing, she learned what it felt like to have time stand still, and, as she stood in the hospital hallway outside of the NICU with her two and half year old daughter resting rather belligerently on her hip, she experienced it for the second time in her life.

There he was. After so many years of unvoiced regrets, nights of crying herself to sleep, of loving him from afar, and of dreaming of the moment when they would finally see each other again, there he was, standing before her when she least expected him. Wasn't that the way life always worked though?

In all her imagined reunions, things were never as complicated as they were in that moment. She wasn't married to another man with a divorce pending, he already knew that they shared a son together, and, although it was a vain thought, she always pictured herself looking radiant and so gorgeous it would take him a lifetime to forget her face. However, while she stood across from him, mesmerized by his crystal clear, cobalt eyes she had dreamed about for almost eleven years, she realized that, despite not being the perfect reunion she had hopefully anticipated, she wouldn't change a thing about it, not the slight stain on the cuff of her right sleeve where her arm had accidentally brushed through Bailey's spilled orange juice that morning, not the tired, dark circles haunting her defenseless eyes, not even the touching awkwardness that separated them, an awkwardness that made her feel like a young, carefree schoolgirl in love for the first time.

Slowly though, their private moment in time was interrupted. Rowan fidgeted, fighting to be released so she could escape her Mother's tight clutches on her rambunctious body, Ryan ran a nervous hand through his already mussed and unruly hair, and she shuffled her feet, glancing down at her simple ballet flats before smiling timidly up at her ex-lover through veiled and misty lashes.

Startling her, Ryan was the first to speak. "Are you okay?"

"What," Marissa questioned without thinking, immediately confused. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"Well, you're in a hospital, so I just…."

"Oh, no, I'm fine. We're here for my son," she explained, motioning him to the window of the nursery. "See the little boy in the far corner, the really little one who's sound asleep right now?" He nodded his head to show that he did. "That's my son, my youngest child, Quentin. He was born two weeks ago, two and half months early, but the doctors say he should be alright. What about you," she asked, turning to face him, "are you okay?"

"Yeah," Ryan dismissed her concerns, "I'm just here for a drug test." As her mouth fell open in shock, he laughed softly before clarifying. "I'm applying for a new job, and it's a part of their application process. That's why I'm here actually, in Atlanta. There was an opening for the sports editor position, I sent my resume in, and they called me for an interview."

"You're giving up your job traveling? I never thought you'd do that."

"Well, people change; I changed. I grew up," he grinned sheepishly making her laugh. "I've realized that's life too short to spend the majority of my time on the road…or actually on a plane, and you know how well I like those."

Teasing him, Marissa asked, "so, you're still afraid of falling?"

"Not of falling," he corrected her, "just of heights." The significant implication of his words was not missed upon either of them. "If you're going to be here for a while, why don't we go down to the cafeteria? You and I can each get a coffee," he offered while walking off towards the elevators, "my treat, and the little princess in your arms can get whatever she wants."

"Wait, no," she called out, the anxiety in her voice stopping Ryan dead in his tracks. "You can't go down there."

"To the cafeteria, why not? As long as I don't get a poppy seed muffin, I'll be fine."

"Caitlyn's down there," Marissa offered quickly. Technically, it wasn't a lie, but she also knew it was only a half truth. "And I know how well you two get along. The hospital is understaffed today because of the holiday. They'd be unprepared for World War III."

"Okay," he moved to stand beside her once again. "If you think it's best for me to stay away from your sister, then I will, but I don't have any hard feelings for Caitlyn. Everything she said to me all those years ago was true. Unfortunately, it took me too long to figure it out." Shadows crossed Marissa's face, dimming the shining, happy light of her eyes, and Ryan noticed. Not wanting to upset her further, he changed the subject. "If you don't mind, then I'll just stand here with you two lovely ladies and wait for my appointment."

Before she could reply in an affirmative manner, Rowan, once again, started squirming in her arms, this time voicing her annoyance at being held. "Mommy," the little girl huffed in exasperation, "put me down!" Thinking better of ordering her Mother, she added a cheeky, "please," before offering Marissa her sweetest, most innocent, always mischievous smile. Once the young sprite was standing, she turned towards Ryan, tugged on the leg of his loose blue jeans, and introduced herself, complete with a dainty, melodramatic curtsy. "Hello, Mister Stwanger. I'd Rowy Caween Channing."

"It's nice to meet you," he looked up at Marissa so she could silently mouth the little girl's name to him, "Rowan Careen Channing. My name is Ryan Atwood. I'm an old….I'm a friend of your Mommy's."

Too absorbed in sharing an amused grin, neither Ryan nor Marissa noticed the confused expression upon the precocious two year old's face. However, luckily for her Mother, she shrugged her curiosity off. After all, she had more important things to do than ponder the bewildering aspects of life. "Mommy," she spoke up again, breaking the second intense gaze the two adults had shared since seeing each other again after so long, "Rowy watch TV?"

"Sure, baby," Marissa agreed, signaling for Ryan to follow them towards the small waiting room a few paces away from the NICU. There, while they talked, Rowan could watch a movie and play with the numerous toys scattered around the brightly decorated lounge area. Once she was situated, the two of them took seats on a couch together, their bodies close enough to have an intimate conversation but far enough apart to appear as if they were merely friendly acquaintances. "So, a drug test on a holiday? Is there any particular reason why the newspaper couldn't let you stay at home with your family and wait an extra day?"

"Well, first of all," he teased, "the news doesn't sleep, even for a national holiday, so that excuse wouldn't work for them, and, secondly, there's no family."

"But I thought Theresa…"

"Theresa and I have been divorced now for more than four years," Ryan admitted.

Not knowing what to say, Marissa simply offered a quick, almost incoherent apology. They both knew the words were mumbled insincerely, and, while the knowledge of her petty behavior horrified Marissa, it made a satisfied, pleasant warmth spread through Ryan.

"It's okay," he offered her. "It's something that should have happened long ago. Hell, if we're going to be honest with each other," – he didn't notice the tortured flash of guilt that clouded her eyes briefly before she carefully repositioned the mask of friendly interest,- "I should have never married her in the first place. After what happened between us…that night," his soft, slightly husky voice betrayed the feelings of regret and sadness he was desperately trying to disguise, "I ended up going back to her…just like you said I should. We tried to make it work, basically living separate lives in the same house. In exchange for taking me back, I had to agree to try to have a baby with her. Five years later and still no baby, we went to a fertility specialist. It turns out it was impossible for her to have children."

"But she told you she was pregnant in the first place all those years ago to get you to marry her."

"It was a lie," he replied in an even tone. "My whole life since I was sixteen has been a lie, but no more. It took me a while to figure out what I wanted, but I know what that is now, and I'm here to try and get it. I want what you have," he continued, motioning towards her daughter. "I want the perfect family. How many kids did Rowan say you have, three, and, judging by that rock on your finger, I assume you also have a very lucky husband at home, too."

"Appearances are deceiving, Ryan," Marissa stated matter-of-factly. "Yes, I have three kids, Bailey is the oldest, then there's Rowan, and finally there's Quentin, but no family is perfect." Deciding to be honest about at least one aspect of her life, she continued. "I'm getting a divorce. My husband cheated on me, and, in fact, asked me for the divorce this morning. Life works in mysterious ways, doesn't it? Ten years ago I destroyed a marriage, and, now, all these years later, another woman has destroyed mine."

"You didn't destroy my marriage," he stated adamantly. "I did that myself."

"I still think it's karma."

"No matter what, I think you're handling it well. You look good. I mean," he stumbled on his words, blushing, "you look healthy….happy….you look good."

Grasping his hand, she squeezed his sweaty palm tightly in order to reassure him. "You look good, too." Breaking through their moment, a nurse appeared in the waiting room to tell Marissa that she could see her son. Standing up, she was surprised when Ryan did not let go of her hand but, instead, reached to entwine both sets of their fingers together. "It was good to see you," she told him truthfully, hating herself for not saying more.

"It was good to see you, too," he returned with the same sideways smile on his face she had loved since the first time she had seen it. "And, just to let you know, your husband is a fool to cheat on you, to hurt you, to throw his life with you and your children away like that."

"Maybe he is," she conceded, shrugging her shoulders, "but we all the play the fool at some point in our lives. All we can hope is that our foolish behavior is forgivable." Letting go of his hands, she turned towards her daughter, picked her up, and left the sitting lounge without another look in his direction. With her back turned to him, Marissa couldn't see the perplexity marring his handsome face, and he couldn't see the abject pain contorting hers.

She had always wondered what sort of love she still felt for her ex. Was it merely the love a woman feels for the father of her child, was it a nostalgic love for the few, brief, wonderful months they had spent with each other, was it the platonic love a person feels for a close friend, or was she in love with him? Seeing him that day, talking to him, touching him told her everything she needed to know and more to answer that question. Marissa Cooper Channing was still very much in love with Ryan Atwood.

"Are you ever going to talk to me?"

The question broke through the wall of silence that had descended between the two sisters on the way to Caitlyn's house. While the kids were occupied in the backseat, Bailey by listening to music and reading and Rowan by sleeping, the younger Cooper sibling had been driving her sister's car, a sister who was so lost in her own thoughts she hadn't notice the deliberate circles they had been driving in for the past hour.

"Sure," Marissa responded too eagerly. "Why don't you tell me why you took a cab to the hospital today instead of driving yourself?"

"I didn't feel like driving."

"But you were adamant that I let you drive home."

"Yes, because, when a person is behind the wheel, they're in control," Caitlyn explained, "and I needed to be the one who not only steered this vehicle but also our conversation. I know you well enough to realize you'd never voluntarily tell me about what happened at the hospital today."

Feigning innocence and confused as to how her sister knew anything, Marissa stated, "I have no idea what you're talking about. Rowan and I waited until it was time to see Quentin, and, since you weren't back yet, one of the nurses sat with her outside of the NICU so I could go in alone."

"You're leaving out a very important piece of information. You're not telling me who you saw or what you did." The older woman merely shrugged her shoulders in mock misunderstanding. "Damn it, Marissa," Caitlyn exploded, "I saw you! I saw you and Rowan with him, talking to him….to Ryan Atwood."

Suddenly nervous, the blonde asked, "Bailey?"

"Bailey never saw him. I suggested a scavenger hunt around the hospital to get him away from the scene, so, for now, you're safe."

"What do you mean for now?"

"He's getting close to the truth. What do you think we talked about the entire time we were in the cafeteria? That's right," the younger woman confirmed the wary look in her sister's eyes, "we talked about his Dad. He wanted to know what he was like so that he could be more like him, he told me about this sports writer who has his same name; isn't that a coincidence, and, now that Ryan knows you're living in Atlanta, it's only a matter of time before one of them figures out the truth. Did you say anything to Ryan today?"

"No," Marissa admitted. "It wasn't the time to say anything. It didn't feel right." Watching her sister glare at her out of the corner of her eye, she tried to explain. "We just saw each other for the first time in nearly eleven years, he's relocating, getting a new job, settling down, and then there's me with a son in the hospital and a divorce pending…."

"Wait a second, did you just say divorce," the auburn haired woman interrupted. "You finally did it; you finally went and saw a lawyer to file the papers. Good for you."

"Actually, Andrew asked me for a divorce. He admitted that he's with another woman, that he's in love with her, and that it's time to end our marriage."

"When did this all happen?"

"This morning."

"That ass asked you for a divorce on Thanksgiving morning while your son was still in the NICU, and you're still going to go back to that house to prepare dinner for him and his parents?" Furious, Caitlyn slammed her hand down onto the horn of her sister's car, startling Marissa. "Oh hell no!"

"I already told him I would, so I …."

"Oh, you can do whatever the hell you want to at this point," the younger woman said stubbornly. "He's the one who should be doing everything in his power to kiss your ass in order to make sure you don't take him to the cleaners with this divorce. So, what you're going to do is you're going to call Christopher and Elizabeth, cancel dinner, but not say a word to your louse of a soon-to-be ex."

"And how am I supposed to avoid him when we still, technically, live in the same house? Plus," Marissa added, twisting around in her seat to watch her children for several long moments, "how am I supposed to explain cancelling Thanksgiving to my kids?"

"Why are you even asking those questions," her sister chided her. "You'll stay with me; you'll have Thanksgiving with me."

"Caitlyn, we can't impose upon you, Jackson, or the boys."

"What are you talking about?" She was so distracted by the emotions she was feeling, Caitlyn had to pull over the car, put it in park, and turn to stare into Marissa's eyes. "We're family. For thirteen years, you were the only person in my life who loved me, who took care of me. So, now that you've hit a rough patch, it's time for me to take care of you, and, if that means sharing some of my pad tai and dumplings with you while you squeeze your skinny ass next to mine on the couch as we annoy Jackson and comment upon all the football players' cute butts, then that's exactly what we're going to do."

With tears of gratitude and love in her eyes, Marissa took her sister's hand in hers. "Caity, you don't owe me anything, and, even if you did," she laughed briefly, making the younger woman smile, "the nine months you put up with me while I was pregnant with Bailey, when I was a confused, emotional, grumpy mess, more than makes us even."

"It's not about owing you anything or paying back a favor; this is about me helping out my sister just because I love her. Now," Caitlyn ordered, "dry those tears, tell me what happened with Ryan, and smile, damn it. This is a good day after all. You've managed to get rid of the ball and chain and see your ex-lover all within the span of a few hours. That's more than some women accomplish in years."

A small giggle and a smile later, Marissa did as she was told, and, surprising even herself, once she started talking about Ryan, she couldn't stop. "He was so sweet. He was patient with Rowan and made her feel special and important in our conversation. He was sympathetic about Quentin being in the hospital, and he even called Andrew a fool for divorcing me." So caught up in the memories of her conversation, Marissa didn't notice the all-knowing and slightly incredulous smirk on her sister's face. "And he's divorced," the blonde added, sneaking a quick look in Caitlyn's direction for she was eager to see the younger woman's reaction.

"It's about damn time!"

"He admitted that, too, that it was something he should have done a long time ago. But, what was weird about the confession was that I didn't feel vindicated for being right all those years ago nor did it make me feel better that he realized he should have left her for me; I just felt sad for him." Stopping for a moment to collect her thoughts, the older woman continued after taking a deep, steadying breath. "His whole life was a lie, Caity. The past twenty one years of his life have been based upon a lie."

"I don't understand."

"Theresa, his ex-wife, told him when they were sixteen that she was pregnant, that's why he married her, but it turns out that she could never have children. She tricked him into marrying her."

"She didn't force him to say yes, she didn't force him to stay married to her for all those years, and she sure as hell didn't force him into hurting you," Caitlyn pointed out. "I get why you could feel sorry for him, but he's not completely blameless in this mess."

"No one ever is," Marissa replied cryptically. Although the younger woman had wished to continue their conversation, her sister's open ended, rather ambiguous statement closed their discussion, leaving her afraid and nervous for what the older woman was going to do next. After all, Marissa had not always used a clear head when it came to making decisions about Ryan Atwood, and reasonable was something her sister definitely wasn't especially when her life was in such turmoil.

It had been a Thanksgiving Marissa would never forget. As her sister had pointed out, it wasn't everyday that a woman's husband asked her for a divorce after admitting he was in love with another woman and then met up with her former lover whom she just so happened to share a secret son with and still had romantic feelings for. And that had just been the morning.

Once they had gotten back to Caitlyn's, chaos and confusion had ensued. With four kids there, ages ranging from nine to one, one roguish and playful man, and an unlimited supply of bakery made turkey sugar cookies, the house had been filled with loud laughter, childish bickering, and enthusiastic conversation. The commotion had been music to Marissa's ears.

While she and Caitlyn had handled the ordering of the food, merely sitting on the bar stools at the raised kitchen counter and calmly chatting like only sisters can with wide, generous cups of sweetened coffee in their hands, Jackson had played with the children. Upon his insistence, they had gone turkey hunting, but, instead of the traditional hunting rules where actual game was stalked, Bailey had served as the potential Thanksgiving dinner, marshmallow guns had served as their weapons of choice, and football game updates had served as their mating calls to attract their wild game. In the end, he had ended up the hunted instead of the hunter, and Caitlyn had been forced to help him get mashed marshmallows out of his hair, nose, and ears, while Marissa had been quick and sly enough to snap several pictures of her brother-in-law for future bribery situations. Once order had been restored and food delivered, the intimate family had settled down in the living room together, their chosen takeout in their laps, while the seven of them had watched the parade just as Marissa had promised her daughter. Luckily, Caitlyn had recorded it, too.

After dinner and the parade, the younger kids had been exhausted and carried to bed, Rowan in her Mother's arms, JJ in his Dad's, and Carter in Bailey's after he had volunteered to help out his aunt. He had returned though to watch the football game with the adults, excusing himself an hour later to go upstairs and read some more before he went to bed.

The rest of the evening had passed by rather simply. Just as Caitlyn had insisted, she and Marissa had made complimentary remarks about the football players' best assets to annoy Jackson until they had tired of the teasing and had turned to a more feminine form of entertainment: painting their nails. So it had been with a fresh manicure and pedicure that Marissa had taken herself to bed at ten o'clock, leaving her sister and her brother-in-law alone for some private time and offering herself the privacy she needed to complete a Thanksgiving ritual.

Situated snuggly in the center of the guest room's bed, the various throw pillows used for decoration surrounding her petite form to make her feel not as alone on the king sized mattress, she sat watching The Nutcracker, but while her body was trapped mercilessly in the present, her mind was wandering back over time to the distant past when she had watched that same movie snuggled into the side of the only man she had ever loved. They were memories she cherished, and, if she was still enough, quiet enough, focused enough, she could almost smell Ryan's spicy, purely masculine scent, she could feel his strong, comforting arms wrapped around her vulnerable form, and she could sense his heartbeat moving beneath her in time with her own. She barely saw any of the beloved movie that night, for her eyes were too clouded with emotional tears to see clearly, but, if she had known that the man she was dreaming about was sitting in his lonely hotel room that late, Thanksgiving night with the same movie playing on his TV screen while thoughts of her ran through his tortured, haunted mind, those same tears which she was just capable of retaining and preventing from falling, would have flown freely down her cheeks, wetting her delicate, porcelain skin, and painting her countenance with the saline evidence that he still had her heart and, in all likelihood, always would.