Author's Note: Thanks for the well wishes for my daughter. She's got off antibiotics this weekend and seems to be doing ok. :)
Thanks for the reviews, Guests, awed, Singingsilent, bookworm, YazminXD, HunterofLight123 and BonapartNumbercrunch.
"Alright, thank you." He hung up his cell phone when she stepped out of the bathroom. His hair was damp from his own shower.
"Everything alright?"
A deep sigh. "A change in physician appointments next week."
The annual, massive physical exam that he had to go through because of the burn injuries. She sat on the bed beside him and set a hand on his back. "Do you want me to come?"
"Not really." He set the phone on the nightstand, got up, and walked over to the window.
"Maybe it's better this way. That's a lot of stress and tests to pack into one day."
"I cancelled the scan."
She blinked. "I thought you have to have a scan so they can monitor for lung cancer."
"I'm not having that much radiation when we're going to be starting a family soon. I'd rather not have a child who glows in the dark." His firm tone and stern look challenged an argument.
"Oh, let's see...put off having babies for what, three months so any affected sperm are out of your system, or becond a widow because you got lung cancer. Hm. I can't decide." She gave him a pointed look. "Call them back before they give it away."
"No."
Her eyebrows rose. "Jason."
"No! What, are you going to withhold sex until I go?" He snorted.
Folding her arms over her chest, she cocked her head. "That's a good idea."
His eye narrowed. "You wouldn't."
"I'm not the one about to turn thirty-five and wasting another how many months having children."
"That's not the point! I - "
"Call." She handed him the phone.
He jerked it away and stormed to the connecting door, holding the phone to his ear to make the call. Then he spun around. "You know what, next time, I won't be in the mood for sex." Then he slammed the door.
She cracked a smile at the emptiest threat on the planet. "I do it for your own good, Jay," she said to the shadows and headed downstairs as his voice carried through the wall, rescheduling the appointment.
He came downstairs for dinner a few minutes later, snatching one of the plates off the counter and dropping a spoonful of spaghetti on it from the pot on the stove.
"Dr. Port, it's not spiced yet!" Trudy hurried over from the kitchen sink.
His look stopped Trudy.
She held up a fork from the stack in her hand where she stood at the silverware drawer. He swiped it on the way out. His office door slammed a minute later.
Pete looked over with wide eyes. "I pity the poor soul he's angry at. Whenever he gets that look, he's stark raving mad."
"Then say prayers for me." She set the silverware on the counter and pulled down glasses from the cupboard.
"Sweet Jesus." Trudy made the sign of the cross over herself. "Like a bull in a flower patch, don'tcha know." Then the woman opened a drawer and pressed a jar of peanuts in her hand. "Calms him down."
She cocked an eyebrow and looked at the jar, then Trudy, and then Pete.
Pete shrugged.
With a sigh, she took a glass of milk with a straw in it and the jar of peanuts to his office door. Then she knocked.
"I'm busy!" he barked.
"Jay?" She opened the door and peeked in. "You forgot your milk."
He shot up from the desk and turned away, holding a napkin to his mouth.
"Oh. Sorry." At least he was eating. Hurrying across the room to get back out so he could eat, she set down the milk and peanuts. Then she paused and looked at his back. "I know you can't talk right now, but I did it because I want you around for a long time. I know you're angry with me and it seemed like I was treating you like a child. You're so stubborn about your care that sometimes I will fight you tooth and nail if you need something. I'm not pushing for physical or massage therapy because not having them isn't lethal. Not having this scan could be."
He didn't move.
With a sigh of defeat, she turned and walked toward the door.
"I still remember what it's like to not have medical problems and not have people look at me like some kind of freak show." The emotion drained out of his voice.
Her heart ripped out for him before she even turned around.
Standing behind the desk with the bandage on his lip again, he pointed a finger at the desk in anger. "You will not make threats ever again if I make a medical decision about my care with which you don't agree. Do you understand?" He spat the words.
She blinked. "I won't, even in jest. But, Jason, you're supposed to have that scan. I'm your wife and have a right to protest if you need a test - "
He slammed his palm down on the desk. "And that is all! I will not be disrespected by my wife!"
Taking a step back, she sank into a chair in disbelief. "I never meant it that way."
"And how exactly should I have taken it?" He folded his arms over his chest. The anger seemed to die faster than usual. "I'm not a child who needs my hand held, and I have the medical education to fully comprehend the risks and benefits of putting off the scan."
She bit her lip. Once again, she'd pushed him too hard. He had very valid points. "I'm sorry. I went about it the wrong way. But I'm not sorry for disagreeing with your decision or for saying so."
His temper faded. "I'm not asking you to not state your opinion - I'm asking that you don't shove it down my throat."
"Will you listen to me, though? You're so stubborn, particularly when it comes to your medical issues, that it seems like I may as well be talking to a wall if I don't shove things down your throat."
He unfolded his arms. "I may not want to hear it, but I do hear it. Sometimes I need time to come to terms with what you say." He sat in his chair, calmer and ready for discussion. "I was going to reschedule the appointment when you brought up being a widow...and then you demanded that I reschedule."
Her brow knit. "Because I knew you were going to argue it!"
That blue eye simply held hers, more patient than before. "Did you listen to what I just said? I was going to reschedule it when you brought up being a widow."
"Oh." Her eyebrows shot up.
"I know I'm a difficult patient. I'm trying to be more open about you being involved, but explain to me, don't shove. That doesn't mean I'll end up doing what you want, though. I don't know why, but this just really set me off tonight. I apologize for yelling at you."
"I know it's hard on you having so many medical problems and you just get tired of dealing with them. Maybe I'm neurotic about it all because I've only seen things go wrong and it's all still new to me..." Her voice broke and sudden tears spilled over. "But I get scared that something's going to happen to you. Like, what if this one scan is the one that would've caught lung cancer in the early stages when it could be cured, but skipping it slams down the mallet for a death sentence."
He got up and walked over to kneel at her feet. "Emma, I wouldn't truly fight it if these were to follow up on something suspicious or an actual problem was found." His hands held hers.
"But even in the hospital with your face you fought it every step - "
"Because arguing makes it feel like I have some control over it all, like it can be my decision. I complied with every single thing in the end, right? Even the damn home health nurse." He brushed away the tears.
She sniffled and took the handkerchief he offered. He actually had complied with everything. "But the physical therapy - "
"Starts next week." He pulled his phone out of his pocket and opened the calendar. Sure enough, Tuesday morning. "Some things I just need time to come to accept. I need you to not be like another doctor or nurse telling me what I have to do - so much of these injuries come with medical care or treatments that aren't options. Even my body fights me so often." He held both of her hands and searched her eyes. "I need you to not be another fight but my partner. I need you to talk to me about the pros and cons of a decision. You can tell me what you want, but it needs to ultimately be my decision." His finger caught a stray tear.
"If it's something really important, you'll do it, though?"
"Emma, have you heard of other burn survivors having a battery of tests every year?"
Come to think of it, no. She shook her head.
"There are very few people who have survived with the extent of facial injuries that I have. Physicians can get a bit excited when they find something rare. There isn't much data on the long-term health effects for someone with my injuries, so they have me in clinical studies. I did have that tumor in my eye socket, so I have to see a dermatologist every year now - the tumor likely came from altered scar tissue because of the fire. I don't fight that.
"Studies show that firefighters have an increased risk of lung cancer, so some theories suggest that someone with airway burns like I had could be at increased risk for lung cancer. But no data prove it. The scan is purely for research at this point, and I'm considering arguing for it to be every three or five years because it's a lot of radiation."
"Why didn't you say that?"
"I didn't get a chance too, and then I was too angry to add that detail." He offered an embarrassed smile. "You already know I have to go to an audiologist. The primary care physicians, dentist and optometrist are no different than you having to go every year."
It didn't seem quite so bad when he broke it down like that. "But you get so stressed and it's a lot of appointments - "
"Who would be excited about it?" He cocked his eyebrow. "I need to go to these appointments by myself because it's easier to handle the stress if I just shut down. If you're there, it's more real."
"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have pushed. You make me panic when you get stubborn and argue your care."
He raised her hand to his lips and kissed her knuckles. "In this, we are not compatible. Let me have my tantrums before you stress." A soft smile touched his lips.
That won a small smile, and she reached out and stroked the center of his poor cheek where it wouldn't hurt him.
His smile grew as his hand trailed up her arm and felt her touching the scars. "It doesn't bother you to touch?"
"No!" A small laugh followed. "Stop asking me."
His eye brightened. Then he glanced at the peanut jar. "What are those for?"
"Trudy said peanuts calm you down when you're upset." She cracked a smile when he rolled his eye at Trudy's strange assumption.
Pulmonologist, nothing.
She drew a deep breath in her office and set down the phone. Another appointment finished without significant findings. Now the terrible waiting for him to text how the next appointment would go. She turned to the computer and dove into work to try to pass the time.
By late afternoon, her stomach started to unknot as more appointments passed without a hitch. And then the phone rang. Jason. She snatched it up. "Hi, is everything alright?"
"Yeah, I'll be home later than expected." He never said 'yeah,' and he sounded upset.
"Did they find something?" Her heart beat faster.
"Nothing major. I'll be home in an hour or so." He seemed...heartbroken.
"Jay, what happened? I'll take Trudy's car and be there in a half hour." She shot up and headed for the front door.
"There's no need to come." Silence. "He thinks I caused the miscarriage."
Her brow snapped together. "What? He doesn't know that! There could've been a hundred reasons, like you said!" She grabbed her purse at the front door, covered the mouthpiece and yelled, "Trudy! I need your car to meet Jason at his appointment!"
"Go! Go!" Trudy called from the kitchen.
She hurried out the door.
"Emma, there's no point in coming - "
"You wouldn't have called if you didn't want me there. Why is this idiot telling you this?" She got in the car and put the phone on speaker.
"Because testosterone is low and other hormones are messed up. It's probably causing sperm issues."
"Of course they're messed up because mine are." She buckled and hit the gas.
"I don't follow."
"Recent research suggests that testosterone drops and prolactin and vasopressin rise in men whose partners are pregnant. The male picks up on the pheromones. Throw in a miscarriage and the psychological aspect, and your hormones are probably messed up like mine right now."
"Are you driving? Don't go down the mountain at high speeds to hurry. There's no need for you to come. By the time you get here, I'll be heading home."
"Where are you?"
"At the lab for more tests. Then I go back upstairs to the primary."
"The lab takes forever. I'll be there before you're back upstairs."
His voice softened. "Why are you coming? The results are the results."
"Because you need support at medical appointments instead of trying to be all tough Navy SEAL doing them alone. These aren't easy, you're stressed, I'm stressed, and I want to be there for you, even if it means staying in the waiting room."
Silence. The stubborn man wasn't going to admit to being nervous and needing support for this. "Be careful driving. And if they do figure out its my fault...I'm sorry, Emma." His voice broke.
Tears stung. "It's nobody's fault, understand? You had no more control than I did. I love you. I'll be there in a few minutes."
"I love you."
She hung up. He took things so hard when someone blamed him for something. He still believed himself to have a pain med problem after the nurse last year had said he was killing his pain threshold - it turned out to be a serious postsurgical infection causing the pain. He already felt responsible for Charlotte's and Charlie's deaths. He didn't need some idiot telling him he was responsible for the baby too.
Twenty-five minutes later, she stood at his primary care physican's front desk. "My husband, Jason Port, is here. Is he back from the lab?"
"Ummmm...let's see..." The receptionist couldn't be any slower. Climbing over the desk and checking the computer herself might be faster. "Yes, it looks like they just took him back. Janet?" She turned to a nurse behind the counter.
The nurse led the way to a back hall and knocked on a door. Then she peeked in. "Your wife is here. Would you like her to come in?"
"Yes, please."
The nurse stepped back.
"Thanks." She hurried in and he stood, ready to catch her in his arms.
He held so tight. "I'm being such a coward. I'm sorry you drove - "
"Hush. You're not being a coward." She pulled back in his arms and stroked his sound cheek. "How is your face doing with the mask on all day?"
"One thing at a time." He sat and pulled her down in the chair next to him.
Oh dear. He must be having some trouble from wearing the mask too soon and all day. She opened her mouth but a knock sounded at the door. An older man in a lab coat stepped in with a laptop.
Jason did the introductions.
The doctor shook her hand and sat on the stool. He set the computer down and scanned the screen. "Well, I asked for fast results and they're back. Men's hormone levels fluctuate several times a day. We expect the testosterone to be higher in the mornings, which yours was. Your high levels are even below normal range, though."
She bristled. Using 'normal' and implying Jason was abnormal wasn't the best word choice, given how he struggled to feel accepted.
"Some of your other hormones are fine, but some are elevated. You mentioned erectile dysfunction occurred a few weeks ago, and hormone imbalance could be the cause. I would suggest we run more bloodwork over the next few days to see if things change because you don't quite fit the profile for low testosterone. Hormone therapy is likely going to be the best treatment, if that's the case."
She opened her mouth to protest and then closed it. Jason should be the one to make a comment first.
"Now, we lost an early pregnancy last week. Emma heard of researching theorizing that the partner's hormones are affected by pregnancy too - "
The doctor shook his head. "That hasn't been proven. The studies aren't that scientific, with several flaws."
"But it hasn't been disproven either," she cut in. "And the impotency - " She stopped and set a hand on Jason's arm. He might want to discuss things himself or in private. "Do you care if I jump in? I'm not letting this one drop."
He cracked a smile. "Go ahead."
She turned to the doctor. "He'd been hospitalized for two months and he's still adjusting to a new self-image, which by the way, the doctors and social workers did not warn either of us that it'd have the impact it did for him sexually." She glanced at Jason. "I don't mean that in a bad way."
"I know." His smile grew a little.
Then she turned back to the doctor, on a crusade. "I think that was a psychological adjustment not out of the ordinary. He's very empathetic and we just had a loss. He's been dealing with that and taking care of me because I had some complications, not to mention he seems to be taking my grief hard too. I don't think one day or week of tests at this time is going to show anything 'normal.' What he's going through right now is normal. Shooting him up with hormones at this stage isn't an answer, it's a band-aid. And probably a bad one at that because taking someone who has physiological changes right now because of psychological things going on his life is going to cause problems."
"Or it could help," the doctor interjected.
She dropped her hands and gave him a look. "You can't be serious. Testosterone therapy is known to have psychological side effects of mood swings and aggression, not to mention physiological side effects. How does that make any sense at all to put a man on it who is going through the emotions of dealing with a miscarriage? There are a slew of other side effects from hormone therapy too. And I don't really care for you suggesting that he's the source for the miscarriage. My hormones could be messed up, it could've been my DNA flaw, or a whole host of other issues, so I'd thank you to keep such speculations to yourself." She released a huge breath and sat back. "Alright, I'm done." She looked at Jason.
A smile shined through his eye, like he appreciated the jump to his defense.
"Well, Mrs. Port, I understand your concerns and your perception of the issues. It's very common for the spouse to feel protective in a situation like this."
That shot her temper up a notch. "I certainly have a right to be protective. And I stated facts, not just perception."
Jason set a hand on her knee, as if to silently warn to calm down.
The physician looked at Jason. "You aren't having libido issues lately?"
"No."
"What about depression?" The doctor studied the computer screen again.
"I don't believe so. It seems like normal sadness from losing the pregnancy..." He looked at her, as if for confirmation.
She nodded. "You don't seem depressed."
"Jason, what's your birth year?"
The physician released a giant sigh when Jason gave the date. "Well, that explains it." He turned the screen to them. "We have a new computer system and it's inverting the graph. It should climb and then decline, not the reverse." He set the laptop on the desk and clicked and typed.
She glanced at Jason, who seemed to understand what the doctor was implying.
"Here are the actual readings..." He shook his head. "Alright, testosterone levels are in the normal range. Hm."
With a frown, she glanced at Jason and then the doctor. "Is that bad?"
"No, no. Testosterone begins decreasing one to two percent a year after age thirty. Most men his age are in the mid-six hundreds, and he's just under, which is fine. I'd suspect you'd be slightly above normal. How interesting..."
Jason shifted. "It's never good when a physician says something is interesting."
"Those studies your wife referenced claim that new fathers have large drops in testosterone and estradiol temporarily, as well as a prolactin and vasopressin spikes. It usually takes months for such a shift. Your prolactin and vasopressin hormones are higher than average." The doctor turned to her. "Has he been more nurturing lately? More subdued?"
Looking at Jason for a moment, she nodded. "Your temper isn't as hot as usual. It's been kind of strange, come to think of it." She frowned and then a smile cracked. "I kinda like it when you growl." Leaning in, she pecked a kiss on his cheek.
He smothered a smile.
"I can't tell for sure based on one day," the doctor said, "but I'm wondering if you're having some type of strong response to Emma's hormones. Emma, would you let me run a hormone panel on you? I suspect your hCG and progesterone are still falling, but your cortisol is high in response to the stress."
Her smile fell dead in the water.
Jason spoke up this time. "No. She lost a baby, and you're not documenting the loss." And that simple, calm but firm act of protectiveness made the conversation hit home.
Each day would document the hormones returning little by little to normal when they should be going the opposite way. Little by little, all traces of the baby would fade away. The grief slammed like a truck barreling down the interstate. Tears burned. Dropping her gaze to her lap, every ounce of energy went into stopping them. Not here. Not in front of this doctor right in the smack dab middle of Jason's appointment. Jason had enough to deal with without adding in more stress. This appointment should be on the OB floor getting ready to hear the baby's heartbeat for the first time. That random, painful thought forced the tears to fall. She brushed at her eyes. "Excuse me." She got up to go find a bathroom to sob it all out and pull herself together, but his hand caught her wrist.
"It's alright, Emma." He pulled her into the chair and tucked her head against his shoulder. Then he said to the doctor, "You can test me as much as you want, but she's been through enough." His cheek rested against her hair. "Shhh, sweetheart. It's alright. It's alright."
She choked trying to keep back the sobs. The pain just mounted and mounted, and being held in his safe arms made all the walls collapse. When the sobs finally melted into hiccups, she lifted her head. Tears soaked the shoulder of his shirt. She brushed at it and dabbed at her eyes with his wet handkerchief that had at some point appeared in her hand. "I don't know why I did that."
He stroked her hair at the temple and bowed his head to meet her gaze. His eye was a bit red too from crying. "Because you're grieving. It's only been a week, sweetheart."
She looked over her shoulder at the doctor's empty stool. "Did you finish talking?"
"We did. You're not coming back for any tests." He brushed a tear from her cheek.
"What about you?"
"Every other day I'll run blood work at home and send in the results."
Biting her lip that quivered again, she shook her head. "You're not being a guinea pig either - "
"I have to be checked anyways to make sure whatever's going on balances out again."
Laying her head over his heart, she drew a deep breath. "Do you feel sick or anything from the hormones being messed up?"
"No, sweetheart. Just sad seeing you so upset." His cheek rested atop her head.
"I was supposed to come to make you feel better." With a sniffle, she brushed away more tears.
"Holding you makes me feel better."
On the way through the waiting room, people read magazines orient occupied on their phones. The front of one magazine someone read had close-up shots of several attractive men, but one was exceptionally handsome. Something about him was so familiar and yet not. Then it dawned. The shock stopped jerked her to a screeching halt. It was Jason smiling - his face smooth and untouched by fire. The headline splashed across the top of the magazine as some kind commemoration to lost heroes for Fourth of July.
His hand tightened in hers and he pulled, his long strides making a beeline for the elevators. Inside, he dropped her hand, hit the button for the ground level, and stared straight ahead, his jaw clenched.
She looked up at his profile. "I just wasn't prepared to see that - "
"I didn't want you to ever see that," he growled and stared ahead at the doors like willing them to open would work. The doors opened a few seconds later. Although he offered his arm and escorted out the front lobby and to the parking lot, the tightness about his mouth bespoke anger. He opened the car door and set a hand on the small of her back.
She slid inside.
He walked around the car and got in the other side after saying something to Pete. His finger hit a button and the windows all darkened considerably. The car, however, didn't start forward.
"Oh! Trudy's car." She reached for the doorhandle.
"Are you driving it back?" All emotion drained from his voice.
She frowned and looked at his silhouette. The mask lay in the middle seat. "No, I was going to give Pete the keys."
"You aren't obligated to be in the same car."
"Why would you say such a thing?" She frowned.
The intensity of his gaze burned even though his face couldn't be made out in the darkness. "I should think you need time to process what you just saw." Heartache and regret filtered through his tone.
"I don't know if you're exhausted from a long day or depressed because of my meltdown, but you're not making one whit of sense. There is nothing to process. I'm going to give Pete the keys and will see you in the front seat in thirty seconds." She opened the door and something grabbed the back of her pants waistband. She looked over her shoulder into the dark car.
"Now knowing what used to be, do you have regrets?"
"Do you think I'm that superficial?"
The rhetorical question gave him pause. "You have to admit that marrying me has made your life harder."
"Not any harder than marrying a woman who miscarried."
"That's not your fault." A hint of protectiveness crept in his tone.
"And neither are your scars. I hate that you've suffered and things are difficult for you, but in all honesty, I can't say I'd change it if God gave me a choice. From what you've told me, I don't think I would've loved the wild, slightly arrogant man before the fire. A gentle, honorable, strong man - who has so much compassion and depth and love - is the one I fell in love with." Scooting back into the car, she reached for the button he'd used to darken the windows. "Let me see how much the mask hurt you."
His is hand caught her wrist. "Let me see how bad it is first."
Searching the faint view of him in the dimness, she nodded and got out to give Pete the keys to drive Trudy's car.
She opened the door and sat in the driver's seat after trading car keys. Jason sat in the front passenger seat, offering his profile. "Is your skin alright?"
"Let's go home." The flat tone gave no indication. When she didn't start the car, he added, "It can be treated at home."
"Do you hurt? I have asprin in my purse..."
A half-snort, half-laugh broke the silence, and he ran a hand through his hair. "There'd be no way to take it anyways without a drink and choking like some rabid dog," he mumbled, the laugh slightly insane. "Ah, shit, it's just a goddamn fucked up day." Then he got out, pressing the mask on, and walked over to Trudy's car a couple rows away.
Pete walked over, his expression solemn as he signaled for her to roll down the window. "He asked if you're alright to drive home. He's pretty upset and needs the ride home to pull himself together, he said."
Dropping her head back against the headrest, she sighed. "Someone had a magazine of fallen heroes for a July issue. Jason's picture was on it - of before the fire. Idiot that I was, I stopped in surprise because I didn't immediately recognize him yet did. Pete, it's like every time I think we're making progress, we end up right back here with him pulling away."
Pete leaned a hand on the car roof to bend down at the window. "If I may say so, I think there's more to it. He's very worried about the photos the paparazzi got in the field and what they might say about you. On the way to the appointments this morning, he flipped into a bad mood. I looked it up, and the pictures did come out. Add in the appointments today, and I know I would feel too humiliated to face my wife."
With a frown, she pulled out her phone. "I'll kill them, I swear."
"When you go on a crusade, Trudy and I will gladly join," he growled and spun on a heel for the car. He walked with a strong stride, like a man not pleased at all and ready to protect a friend in need.
Photos popped up by the dozens online - closeup shots of his scars without the mask from that day in the field and her kissing him. Headlines were worse.
Fairytale Gone Wrong - Real Life Beauty and the Beast
Billionaire Missing a Face
Married for Money, Not Love
Emma Port Insane to Marry a Monster?
Sick Need for Charity to Kiss This?
Freddy Krueger Sighting
Alien Disguised as Billionaire. Seduces Wife.
Her blood boiled, making her hands shake so much that her finger bumped the link and it popped open the article. Alien caught on camera impregnating woman. Her jaw dropped. The lowlife's implied possession of sex photos! It would damage Jason's reputation and the Foundation.
Throwing the car into drive, she peeled out of the parking lot. Time to make some calls to a lawyer and find that reporter from California who had wanted to do a story.
