A/N: Lots of angst and lots of love. More or less Normero all the way. Enjoy!

Rating for language (f-bomb) and (sexual) content. Trigger warnings for the mention of suicide.

It's Christmas in July. So what did you expect? We all go a little mad sometimes.

The usual disclaimer applies.

Norman?

He is not sure whether he is awake or asleep. In any case, he's in bed, stretching himself out for a few more minutes. It's so comfortable; he doesn't want to get up, especially not when she is here with him.

Move over, Norman. I need some space. You have become so tall.

He feels her breath against the back of his neck as she giggles, smells her perfume.

"Mother?" Norman turns around under the sheets, but she's not there anymore. He knew that, of course, and yet… it felt so real as he had hoped it would.

The effect of his medication abates faster than he expected. That is great news. It's been only two days that he has stopped taking his medication and already he is experiencing hallucinations. It was so good to hear his mother's voice. She sounded gentle, loving, nothing reminding him of the complicated situation at home. Home… He sighs. It's the sheriff's home now, not his anymore. Stop being dramatic, Norman chides himself, smiling when he realizes that he heard his mother's voice in his head saying the words. It's not the same, being with her when it's not actually her, but there is no other choice. If this is the only scenario that lets him have her for himself, he'll settle for it.

"You're up, I just wanted to wake you." Norma is disappointed. She got up early to call Norman or rather Dylan because it was the same scenario as every day. Norman wouldn't talk to her. Save that tomorrow is Christmas and she had hoped that this would soften him up. It did not; so some cuddling in bed to ease the pain is what she needs right now. Unfortunately her husband seems to have other plans. He is wearing is uniform, apparently ready to go to work. "Do you have to work today? I thought you have a couple of days off until after Christmas."

"Yeah, I do," Alex answers absentmindedly, "but I have to go in today to make sure the skeleton crew is prepared."

It's their first Christmas together. Maybe this is how things work when you are married to the sheriff. Norma can't shake the feeling that something is wrong though. "Okay...," she says slowly, watching him as he walks up and down the room, looking for something. Alex has been so supportive and understanding throughout the whole Norman situation; she has been waiting for something like this to happen. A mood swing, a blowup, but this is different, as if it wasn't even related to her or Norman. More than anything, he seems to be distracted. "Alex? Everything all right? What are you looking for?"

"Hm?" Romero picks a cushion up from the floor next to the bed. Out of the corner of his eye, he discerns a spot of white, pulling a shirt out from under the bed. It has lain in a corner, wadded and unnoticed until now.

"Give me that." Norma reaches out to take it. "I must have overlooked it when I cleaned up."

Alex is about to give it to her when he realizes it is not one of his and for sure not one of hers since this is a man's shirt. "Whose shirt is this?" It's not jealousy making him ask; he would never believe she was cheating on him. He just doesn't understand how another man's clothes could end up in here.

Norma shrugs. "Probably Norman's."

He frowns. "How did it get under the bed?"

She shrugs again. "How would I know? He probably took it off and dropped it, forgot to pick it up to put it in the laundry. Try to live with two sons and you'll…," Norma's voice trails off when she realizes that both of her sons don't live with her anymore, sadness clouding her delicate features. She makes a face to cover her melancholy.

But for once Alex doesn't worry about her state of mind. His thoughts are stuck as to the how and why the shirt ended up there. "Took it off? What do you mean? Why would he take his clothes off in here?" He looks at the connecting door between their bedroom and Norman's room, something that has been bothering him from the beginning, then back at her. "Did he sleep in here before I… before we…?" His distinct jawline she loves turns into a razor edge as he clenches his teeth.

This look. Norma hates the look Alex gives her. Reproachful, judgmental because she and Norman are too close, or were, whatever. You can't leave the past behind; something she has learned the hard way. It all adds up to the conclusion that she is a bad mother, and moreover, impossible to love considering everything. At least in her imagination that's what Alex is thinking in moments like these. Usually he says something or takes her in his arms to comfort her, distract her fears, but not today. It seems as if she has to talk this one out.

"Sometimes. When we talked and it got late. Not on a regular basis, not when he got older."

"He was already seventeen when you moved here."

"It was not… Well…," she stutters, exhaling to compose herself. "Dylan said something, I told Norman he couldn't sleep in here anymore, and that was about it." Casual, yet defensive. Norma wishes their conversation was over already. Nothing good is going to come out of it.

Romero stares at the bed as if he saw it for the first time. "So he did use to sleep in here with you." It's not a question but a realization. There's a difference between accepting that your wife and her youngest son have a very close relationship that is probably unhealthy on some level and finding visual proof of it.

"What?" Norma laughs uneasily, trying to play his realization down. "You're making a big deal out of something that's nothing."

It's the wrong finding on the wrong day. And it's not Norma's fault that he is tense and moody. But the things he has been bottling up during the last days are clawing their way to the surface and he knows it will get ugly once they are out. Especially that one thing he is trying to avoid like the plague but that sticks to him and threatens to pull him under every year. Every fucking year. You would think things get better after a while. Time heals all wounds and all that shit. As if. Some wounds are not meant to become scars. Ever. Alex feels his anger seethe inside of him. He wants to grab Norma, force her to show him which bed linens Norman slept in with her, and throw them away, hell, throw the entire bed away and buy a new one. Norma is his, their marriage the only thing that matters to him in a world that did not have much kindness for him until they met. Today of all days, he simply can't bear to let fate have the last laugh. He realizes that his hands have started to tremble, something Norma rightly interprets as rage but wrongly believes herself to be the reason for it. He has to get out before it gets worse, will explain everything to her but later. Right now he can't breathe and needs some air.

"Here." Alex hands Norman's shirt to Norma in passing.

"Alex! Don't be mad at me. Don't leave like that, please," her desperate voice echoes through the house, but he is already on his way out, almost running down the stairs.

Norma doesn't comprehend what is going on other than that it finally must have happened. What she is, what she and Norman are to each other, drove Alex away. The fabric of Norman's shirt is still warm where Alex held it, burning her skin.

She thinks about calling Dylan's number perhaps a dozen times or more but somehow manages to restrain herself before she presses dial. It would have been a pointless move, anyway. All she wants is to talk to Norman, the one person in the world who always understands her and would be able to comfort her. Unfortunately he is also the last person in the world who wants to talk to her. Well, make that two, Norma thinks bitterly because her husband doesn't seem to be keen on talking to her either judging by the way he left. She thinks about calling Alex, too. As the minutes pass and turn into hours, her desperation fades and makes room for anger though. She is no saint, but neither is he. Who is he to condemn her?

Eventually Norma is so frustrated that she lets off a scream, throwing her cellphone across the room. What good does it do to own such a device if there is no one to call? It crashes against the wall, surprisingly still working despite some nasty scratches when she picks it up. At least she feels a tiny bit better.

Here she is, trapped in an empty house with no one to talk to, nothing to do. God, she hates to wallow in self-pity. So Norma puts on some music and occupies herself with housework as she always does when she needs to keep her thoughts and feelings in check. There is a brief moment of weakness when she does the laundry and buries her face in Norman's shirt that Alex found under the bed. It still smells like him, faintly but unmistakably. She considers hiding it in her wardrobe and basically has to rip it out of her own hands. Her fingers tremble as she turns on the washing machine before she can change her mind. Why is she so screwed up? Why are they all?

Late in the afternoon, she has scrubbed the entire house, cleared up half of the basement and is so tired that she almost falls asleep when she takes a bath. Still no sign of Alex. Norma decides to have a nap. As ugly as that scene was earlier, she refuses to believe that he won't come back home. Maybe a nap will help to make time elapse faster. She falls asleep as soon as her head rests on the pillow.

When Norma wakes up, the house is dark. It takes her a moment to remember what happened and find her bearings. A look at the clock tells her that it's almost midnight. Her heart skips a beat. Alex's side of the bed is still empty; he is not here. Then she hears something downstairs.

Alex is in the living room, trying to insert a DVD, however failing miserably because he is so drunk that he can't even stand still, let alone coordinate his movements.

"Alex?" Norma has witnessed him drunk before but not like this.

"What happened to you?" he slurs when he sees her. Here they go again. What happened to hello? She didn't blow dry her hair. Therefore it's curlier than usual and ruffled since she just woke up. He used to like it that way. "Looks sexy," Alex adds. Ok then, still likes it that way.

He fumbles around with the DVD player some more and finally simply turns on the TV, the volume too high, some action movie blasting away. Norma grabs the remote and turns the TV off.

"God, Alex, what is going on with you?" It can't just be Norman's shirt. Something else must have happened. Only now she notices the smell because she is standing right next to him. Norma sniffs. "What is this smell? Have you been at a campfire?" Perhaps there is some strange Christmas ritual in White Pine Bay she knows nothing about.

Alex gives a laugh. It doesn't even remotely sound happy. "Yeah, something like that." He leaves it at that, no further explanation, nothing whatsoever.

"Care to elaborate?"

He has trouble forming a coherent sentence. Dear Lord, whatever it is that is going on, it has its claws deep in his soul. "There... there was a... a fire… at the police station."

"Oh my God. Did someone get hurt? What happened?"

He is slurring so badly by now that Norma has to make him repeat his words three times before she eventually understands what he is saying. "Short circuit. No one got hurt, only me a bit."

Alex raises his hand so fast and clumsily that she has to step back so that he doesn't hit her unintentionally. There is a burn on his hand, minor but still.

"Why didn't you say anything? Let me take care of that."

Norma gets the first aid kit in a heartbeat, ushering him to the couch. Alex drops down on it as if he was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. She carefully treats his wound although it doesn't seem to hurt or perhaps he is so consumed by whatever other pain that he doesn't feel it. The situation is similar to the one months ago when she treated his laceration. The moment their eyes met back then, she knew something was bound to happen between them sooner or later even if she would have assumed affair and not marriage, lust and not love. The fond memory makes her smile. Alex is growing quiet, her touch soothing him. He is not smiling, but the way he looks at her now at least remotely resembles the man she has come to know as her husband.

"You're good at that. Taking care of others." The way he says it tells her that he, too, remembers. He doesn't slur his speech as badly as before anymore.

"Yes. I like it." It's her way of bearding an unkind world.

"I fell in love with you then. Or maybe I already loved you, maybe I've always loved you, even before I knew you. Do you believe in fate? That we were meant to be? I couldn't let anything happen to you. I don't know what they have planned. I had to protect you. I couldn't risk it," he is talking himself into a rage.

"Alex… Alex, stop! What are you talking about?"

"They found your robe in the woods."

That makes no sense. "What?"

He looks at her, really looks at her, his eyes focusing on her face through the drunken haze. And then he tells her. About the robe, about Rebecca's warning, that he had no other choice than to destroy the evidence. Her robe as well as the DNA samples. It's not difficult to fake a short circuit and cause a fire. It's Christmas, they are shorthanded, the case of a missing woman not a top priority since they don't even can be sure she actually is missing and didn't disappear on purpose. So today was the day the DNA samples would have been sent in if they hadn't been destroyed in the fire along with the robe. Now the physical proof is gone that could have connected her to a possible crime, Norma is safe. Alex wasn't searching for anything this morning when she came back into the bedroom. He was stalling because he kept thinking about what to do and whether to tell her or not. They are beyond hiding secrets from each other, and yet, every day seems to be a new challenge regarding that aspiration.

Norma sighs, her hands touching his face, his chest. She is unable to let go of him, another déjà vu hitting her hard. Bob Paris. She didn't need another proof that Alex is willing to do anything to protect her; she knows. The last thing she wants is that he puts himself in danger for her sake.

"Was that the reason why you were acting so weird this morning? I'm sorry about the shirt and… everything." She doesn't even know exactly what she is apologizing for, just that she doesn't want things to be so messed up.

"Yes... No." Alex seems to sober up and along with soberness comes fatigue. It's difficult for him to concentrate. "Today is the anniversary." The only anniversary Norma knows of that makes him sad is his mother's birthday, but this is another date. He doesn't look at her but at their intertwined fingers when he speaks on, "She killed herself the night before Christmas."

Some truths are so cruel you wish you could unhear them although it wouldn't make them any less real. She knew that his mother had committed suicide, but they never talked about the specific date. No wonder he wasn't as enthusiastic as she had hoped when she asked him to decorate the Christmas tree with her some days ago.

"Oh Alex." Norma pulls him into her arms, feels his restraint waver as he tries to keep up the facade before he eventually gives in.

There is no sound, just silence. If it wasn't for his twitching shoulders and the dampness she feels on her neck, she wouldn't know he is crying. Something tells her he has never allowed himself to show his grief before, at least not in the presence of someone else. It breaks her heart and fills her with gratefulness at the same time. There is so much he has done for her; this is the least she can do for him in return.

His breathing becomes regular again and he leans back to look at her. Norma wouldn't normally call a man beautiful, but he is, his dark eyes a sea of devotion in an otherwise stoic face. One of his many contradictions that fascinate her.

Norma expected Alex to be drained, considering everything that has happened today, longing for a good night's sleep. His kiss catches her by surprise. He tastes of Scotch and pain and love and it is one of the best kisses they have ever shared because of its raw honesty. There are no hiding places anymore. It's just them, right here.

When he pulls her onto his lap, he is already hard. It was a strange day. She is tired; they both are, but it seems to be what he needs right now. Alex kisses her again, his hands already finding their way underneath her clothes, eager to touch bare skin. As much as she desires him, Norma is not in the mood to make love. She wants to be close to him though. Being with Alex is so different from being with any other men she slept with before; he would never pressure her into doing anything. That's why she wants to give in to him all the more.

She takes off her panties as he watches her, his pupils fully dilated due to his arousal and even darker than usual. When she slips back onto his lap and reaches for his belt, Alex's hands caress her thighs, sliding between her legs to make her catch up with his level of arousal. Norma gently pushes his hands away. Her body is already responding to their closeness; she doesn't need the additional stimulation. Alex stops for a moment, scrutinizing her to make sure this is what she really wants. His breathing becomes erratic as she pushes down on him and settles for a slow rhythm. He leans his head against the backrest of the couch, not breaking eye contact when he grabs the back of her neck to pull her closer. At first Norma thinks he is going to kiss her again, but right before their lips meet he halts, their faces so close that she can feel his breath on her skin.

"We don't have to do this if you don't want to."

She smiles. He would stop right now if she told him to.

"I don't want to stop. Let me do this for you. This is not about me," Norma whispers.

Something flits across Alex's face, a sentiment that goes deeper than love, deeper than anything he has ever told her. It almost scares her. Then he kisses her softly, a sharp contrast to the desperation and need that have influenced his actions until now, his words that follow when he breaks their kiss the one and only truth that defines his life.

"Everything is about you."

To be continued

I'm thinking about having several, alternate endings for this story, e.g. one happy ending and one tragic one. I'm a sucker for angst, but I also want the characters to be happy and this could be a way to have it all at once. Not that the end of this story is near. There will be some more chapters first. I just thought I'd share the idea and ask you what you think about it. So?