Warning: sexual situations

A/N: I tried to keep this at the "T" rating and not take away from the story. I tried not to include anything you wouldn't see on network television these days –although that's sometimes beyond the "T" rating in my opinion. If you'd rather read it without the sexual innuendoes then PM me and I'll send you a different version. Lots of confusion in this chapter, but then again, isn't that how most 'divisions' start? Thank you for reading and especially those who have left comments. To the guest reviewers, I appreciate you as well. I just don't have a way of contacting you except in an author's note.

Chapter 8

Hank sat in the soft chair of Dr. Robertson's office hearing that his wife and two daughters had participated in a family session the previous day while Hank was on shift. The news was surprising and for a moment, a flash of anger swept across his face.

"I don't understand. Why wasn't I told about this?"

"Because I needed to discuss how they were doing, and get their honest perspective on how you were progressing. I know it seems wrong to you, but if you had known they were coming in, then you might have influenced their opinions, without even realizing it. I know you may be upset, but I felt that it was the best way to help."

"By lying to me?"

"No, Hank… By not informing you ahead of time."

Hank scrubbed his face with the palm of his hand. It was obvious that he was doing his best to calm himself.

"Don't you want to know what they said?"

"I figured that'd be privileged information," Hank shot back sarcastically.

Being the professional that he was, Dr. Robertson ignored the comment. "Your wife and daughters are doing quite well. And, from what they told me yesterday, so are you."

"Humph," the fire captain grunted.

"I spoke to all three separately, and each one told me basically the same thing. There's only one area where they feel you need to continue to work."

Weary hazel eyes shot daggers in the general direction of the psychiatrist. "And?"

"And I agree with them," Dr. Robertson commented,

"Well, you wanna share your little secret with me? I am the reason we're all here, ya know."

Hank's attitude was growing worse. Sensing the need to alter the course of his patient's thinking, the psychiatrist spoke up again. "I asked them to each write down what they feel is still missing in your recovery. I have those notes here and I'd like for you to read them. Then, if you'll allow me, I'd like to work with you on an exercise to help you get past the last hurdle towards your complete recovery."

Hank looked at the papers his therapist was holding and his heart softened. He looked down at his wringing hands then back up at the man who had helped him come so far in such a short period of time. "Doc, I owe you an apology."

"No need, it was a surprise. Now, are you ready?" He asked, extending the notes to the fire captain.

Slowly, Hank accepted the proffered papers. Did he really want to know what his family thought of him? He quickly decided that yes, indeed, he did. Looking down at the first note, he recognized the script as that of his youngest, Victoria.

Daddy,

I love you so much and I'm so proud of all the hard work you've been doing. Actually, I'm proud of everything you've done. My whole life you've been saving other people and their property. You're a hero in the eyes of many people, but especially to me. You're my hero, Daddy. I know you've been hurting since that horrible fire and I just want you to know that I'm here for you. You've come a long way but there's just one more thing I hope you'll do. You seem to know that everyone around you has forgiven you for how you treated them, including all of us. But, Daddy, you've got to forgive yourself now. Nothing that happened was your fault. So, please let it go. I love you with all my heart. You're the best daddy in the whole wide world.

Love,

Vickie

Hank wiped a tear from the corner of his right eye. His baby was growing up way too quickly, sounding so mature for a fourteen year-old. He took Vickie's letter and placed it behind the others, noting that the next one was from his first-born.

Dad,

I love you with all my heart and soul. You are the best father a girl could ever have, even if you do give my dates a hard time. I know you do it because you love me, and honestly, I appreciate that. Lately, you've been hurting so badly and I wish I could make it stop. But, I don't know how. I think that you do, though. Everyone in your life has forgiven you, even for the things that weren't your fault. Now, it's your turn. You must forgive yourself, Dad. Vickie and I need you to be there for our proms, our graduations, to help us move in for our freshman year at college and, one day, to walk us down the aisle. Please do this for yourself so that you can be there for all the things that we'll need you there for in the future. One day, I want to see you holding your grandchildren. But, that's a long way off from now – haha. Anyway, please do what Dr. Robertson wants you to do, but do it for yourself. He's helped you come a long way and he'll help you get to the end of this. I love you, Dad. More than I can say on a piece of paper.

Love you,

Missy

Hank ran his open hand down his face, drying it from the tears that had slipped free as he read his daughter's heart-felt words. He knew who had written the last letter, and in a way, he almost dreaded reading it. He and 'Becca had shared many talks since his recovery began and he couldn't imagine what else she had to say to him. With shaking hands, he slipped Melissa's page behind Vickie's and stared into the short note from his beloved wife.

My Dearest Hank,

I don't know what else I can say that I haven't already said. We've talked about the need for you to forgive yourself, and I know you are struggling with that fact. But I want you to be here with me as we continue to raise our girls to adulthood. I want to share many more anniversaries, Christmases, and many more birthdays with you. I guess what I'm trying to say, is that even with all we've been through lately, I'd do it all again. I love you so much, Hank. I need you to always be by my side. I want to grow old with you. Let go of the guilt you've been holding. Please do this for us, do it for the girls, but mainly, do it for yourself. We have a lot of living to do!

I love you from the bottom of my heart,

Your 'Becca

Hank no longer had the energy to wipe the tears from his face, instead, allowing them to course unimpeded down his angular features and drip from his chin. This was it. This was what he needed to do, what everyone had told him he needed to do, and what he now realized had to be done. He swallowed hard, accepting the box of tissues that Dr. Robertson placed in front of him. He dried his eyes and blew his nose.

"Doc, can I keep these?"

"Absolutely, they may be a source of strength and encouragement for you in the future."

The weeping fire captain nodded his thanks. "How… How do I let it go?"

"Do you want to let go of it? You've been holding on to your guilt for a long time, punishing yourself. Are you sure you're ready?" The psychiatrist knew what he wanted to do to help his patient, he just hoped the man would be amenable to the idea.

"I'm willing to try," Hank said, his voice barely a whisper.

"Great," he said, taking a seat beside his patient. "Part of the problem, is that you have a definite beginning for this ordeal."

"Carrigan's death," Hank mumbled, barely aware that he had even spoken the words out loud.

"Yes, but there's no definite ending. If you'll allow me to, I'd like to go over an exercise that I think will help you. It will give you a definite ending and hopefully, closure."

"Sounds like a funeral."

"In effect, that's exactly what it is, Hank. It's the burial of your guilt, and the beginning of your self-forgiveness."

Hank looked up at the other man, steely determination in his eyes. "Let's do it."

Dr. Robertson cleared the table in front of his patient, turned down the lights and placed a large multicolored candle on it. "Please, take a seat in this straight back chair," he suggested.

"Having a séance, Doc?"

"Not exactly; we're trying to lay a few ghosts to rest, not conjure them up."

Hank tried to smile, but his nervousness remained.

"Hank, as a firefighter, you know the damage that flames can do. They will consume anything and everything they touch. This candle represents you, and the flame," he stated, using a lighter to light the candle, "represents your guilt."

Hank swallowed the bile he was beginning to taste in the back of his throat.

"Look at the flame, Hank. See how it consumes the wick? Watch as the wax of the candle begins to melt away, slowly warping as the flame continues to inflict its damage."

Hank nodded his understanding. "I want you to take some time and reflect on how your guilt has damaged you, as a person, a fire captain, a father, a husband…" He stood up, walking to the door. "I'd like to ask your family to join us for this. Is that okay with you?"

Hank nodded as he continued to stare into the flame, remembering the night it all began. He transported himself back to that moment when his whole world exploded along with the structure that took the life of one of the men under his command. He never heard Dr. Robertson open the door. He only heard the sounds of the fire, the smell of the smoke and water, the flashing lights and the shouts of male voices as first Marco and then Chet walked out of the building carrying a fallen brother.

Rebecca and the girls looked up when the door to Dr. Robertson's office opened.

"He's ready."

Rebecca exhaled in relief. The three of them stood up in unison and walked over to the open door. They knew what to do from this point forward. Dr. Robertson had explained it all the day before. Slowly, they each entered the darkened room. Missy took her father's left hand, feeling him shaking as he slowly squeezed back, never taking his eyes off the flame. Vickie, sat down on his right, taking hold of his free hand, feeling the sweat on his palm and seeing the tears falling down his face. He was still staring at the flame as wax began to pool along the edge of the candle, threatening to spill over.

Rebecca stood behind him, placing her hands on his shoulders, feeling his trembling and knowing he was struggling internally. His heart was aching, but this was the moment when his soul would find its peace. At least, that's what she was hoping for. Slowly she began to knead away the tension she felt, making sure he knew she was there, behind him, supporting him as he fought to do what he had been trained to do for the last twenty years.

Hank thought about all the harm he had inflicted on those around him. He reflected on the fact that they were still here, still supporting him, still loving him. He thought about the note he had received from Kyle Carrigan's family and how even they were not blaming him for what happened to their loved one. He watched as the puddle of wax grew until it spilled over, rolling down the side of the candle just as his own tears were spilling over on his cheeks. This was it. The fire that had been raging within him since that night had to be extinguished, and only Hank could do it. He squeezed his eyes forcing out the remaining tears, determined to cleanse not only his eyes, but his entire being. He squeezed the two smaller hands holding his, and felt the gentle caresses of his wife's tender loving care as she continued to maintain her physical contact.

He once again opened his eyes, anger beginning to swell within him at the flame that had caused him so much pain, and pain to so many others whom he loved dearly. He hated it. He hated fire and all it represented. And now, he hated this flame burning in front of him and what it also represented. Using the breathing technique Dr. Robertson had taught him, he inhaled deeply the red breath of the fire engine representing the profession he loved, and exhaled the dark gray smoky negativity that had consumed him for so long. Inhale… Exhale… Inhale… Exhale… His daughters increased their hold on their father, knowing what he was doing. Inhale… Exhale… Inhale… Exhale… Rebecca accepted the chair Dr. Robertson offered her. Sitting behind Hank, she wrapped her arms around the man she loved more than life itself. She rested her chin on his shoulder, feeling his chest expanding and contracting. This was it. He was finally letting it go. Inhale red… Exhale gray… Inhale red… Exhale gray… Suddenly, the three Stanley ladies felt his body tensing up, trembling almost as if he were having a seizure. Inhale red… He held his breath for only a moment more, then opened his eyes and blew out, completely emptying his lungs of air… and his soul of the gray guilt he had been harboring for so long. Aiming his exhalation at the flickering flame, he watched as it seemed to try to run away from him, then disappeared amid his breathy assault. A faint plume of smoke rose silently upwards, carrying with it the last remnants of the guilt he had carried for far too long. His eyes drifted upwards, following the white smoke until it completely dissipated from sight. Once again, he inhaled the fire engine red color he loved so much, but this time, there was no gray left to exhale. The fire captain had done his job. There would still be some overhaul to complete, as there was with all fires, but his flame of guilt and subsequent self-destruction had been permanently extinguished.

E!

Chet helped Caroline out of the van, the effects of the wine making themselves even more obvious as they tried to walk to her door. "I hope I can fin' m'key," she slurred.

Chet helped to steady her, regretting slightly that he had suggested the wine. However, she seemed to be enjoying herself, relaxing completely as they were talking freely. For that, he was grateful.

"Heeere we go," she giggled, trying to slip the key into the lock, missing multiple times. "I t'ink I need your he'p."

Chet chuckled, holding his larger hand on her smaller one and guiding the key into the lock. "Here," he said, wrapping his arm around her waist and helping her inside. He turned on the lights only to have her turn them back off.

"Nu-uh, lamp," she said, stumbling to the end table, turning on the softer light.

"Easy, Caroline. I don't want ya to fall."

She giggled again, uncontrollably, slipping her sweater off of her shoulders and sliding her feet out of her sandals. "S'long's I fall o' you," she said, planting an open-mouthed sloppy kiss on his lips as she relaxed into his embrace.

Somehow, the two made their way to the sofa and Chet was completely taken aback by her brazenness. "Um, are you… sure you're… okay?" He asked between kisses.

"I've ne'er fel' better, Che'ter, ah, ah-ha," she giggled, leaning forward and snorting as she laughed into his shoulder.

Chet's blue eyes nearly bugged out of his head as she began removing his tie. He couldn't stop his hands from roaming up and down her bare arms. When she began to unbutton his shirt and plant a trail of hot kisses along his neck up to his ear, he groaned in pleasure.

"Uh… Ohmygod, Caroline," he whimpered.

"Do ya got prote'tion?" she asked, continuing to nibble around his ear, her panting breaths causing a definite yearning from his body.

"Upstairs, ho-hold that thought. I'll be right back," he said, gently pushing her back onto the sofa. "I'll hurry," he said wincing slightly as he rushed to the door.

Taking the stairs two at a time, he fumbled with his own keys as he nervously found the right one and inserted it into the lock. He rushed into the kitchen, tearing open the box and pulling out two, placing them in his pocket. He made a quick stop by the bathroom for a quick brush-up, not wanting the lingering effects of the garlic from their meal to dampen Caroline's mood, then slammed his door shut and headed back to his date.

Caroline stood up, wanting to go to the bedroom, but the room began to spin uncontrollably and instead, she slid down on the carpet, burning her knee. "Owww, shi'," she groaned, struggling to get herself upright and down the hallway. She bumped into the door facing, trying to get into her bathroom. The wine and the water were beginning to create another problem. Forgetting that she was wearing a skirt, she merely unsnapped it and pulled it down as if she were wearing shorts, plopping sideways on the toilet, nearly falling off. As soon as she had finished taking care of her business, she began trying to brush her teeth, her previously discarded garments left on the floor. She didn't have enough coordination to hold her toothbrush in one hand and squeeze the toothpaste out with the other. After dropping a couple of globs of toothpaste into the sink, she finally set the brush down and used both hands to load the bristles with Colgate. The running water, along with the toothpaste, made her even more dizzy and nauseated.

Chet opened the front door, closing and locking it behind him. Not seeing her anywhere, he pulled out the condoms as he walked down the hallway, calling out her name.

"Caroline?"

"I'm 'n heeere," she slurred out, from behind the closed bathroom door. Finally, holding onto the cabinet with one hand, she rinsed out her mouth with the other. She turned to go into her bedroom, tripping over her skirt and panties lying haphazardly on the floor. Losing her balance, she reached out and grabbed the shower curtain.

Chet tossed the condoms onto the nightstand, removing his shirt and shoes as he waited for her to come out of the bathroom. A crashing sound startled him and he rushed to the bathroom door.

"Baby? Are you okay?" He asked, gently knocking on the door. He thought he heard a mumble from the other side, and wasn't sure what to do. Deciding that since they were obviously about to get to know one another on an intimate level, he opened the door and peeked inside.

"Oh, Baby, your back!" He stated in a raised voice, remembering the initial injury from the car accident where they first met. "Did you hurt yourself?" Chet was shocked to see her sitting on the floor, partially covered by the green shower curtain. She had one arm stuck in her sleeveless top and tangled in her bra, the purple mass wedged on top of her head. She had forgotten to unbutton the button at the neck.

"I can't ge' ou'," she said, struggling.

Carefully, Chet stepped over the small pile of clothing left near the toilet, and began peeling away the tangled mass, shocked by her appearance - and missing clothing - as she sat on the cold tile floor of her bathroom. "I think we need to get you to bed, sweetheart."

"Yea, you too," she giggled, reaching for his neck.

Carefully, Chet lifted her, carrying her to her bed. He pulled the covers around her, making sure to cover her completely, then sat on the edge of the bed. He realized that any sexual encounter with her would have to wait until she was sober.

"C'mon, join me," she groaned, trying once again to unbutton his shirt. He grabbed her hands, kissing them as he tucked them back beneath the covers.

"Not tonight, sweetheart," he said, trying to hide his disappointment. He knew that she was in no condition to consent for any romantic activity.

"Y-you don' wan' me?" She said, tears beginning to well up in her drunken eyes.

Chet tenderly brushed the hair away from her face. Did he want her? Yes, in the worst way. But, he wasn't the kind of man who would take advantage of the situation. He wanted their first time to be memorable for them both. "Yes, Baby. Yes, I want you. But, you need to sleep this off."

"I-I not s'eepy. I wan' ya, Che'ter. I-I wanna p'ease ya," she slurred.

Chet couldn't believe what he had just heard. She wanted to please him? Maybe she didn't want to make love after all. Maybe she was just trying to give him what she thought he wanted, a payment of sorts for their night out. He shook the thoughts from his head, knowing that she was too inebriated to make sense at the moment. When he looked back at her face, her eyelids were growing heavy, but tears were streaming down her face.

"Baby?"

"P'ease… P'ease don' lea'e me?" She cried.

"I won't leave you, sweetheart. I'm right here. Are you hurting?" He feared that she may have re-injured her back when she fell.

"No… Jus' wanna be hel'… Wan' ya to hol' me… P'ease?"

Chet removed his socks, shoes, his outer shirt, and his pants, then crawled into the bed beside her, wearing only his boxers and t-shirt. More than anything, his body wanted to be making love to her, but his heart and his head wouldn't allow it. He was glad that he was laying on top of the covers, rather than beneath them with her. He held her as she curled up beside him, holding her in his arms as she silently wept. He wanted to ask her why she was crying, but he figured he knew. She was missing her husband, and once again, Chester B. Kelly didn't measure up.

E!

Across town, Roy lay on his back, his hands locked behind his head. Joanne lay curled away from him sleeping, but Roy couldn't find the rest he needed. He stared into the darkness, thinking back over what had happened a few hours earlier. They had been together for so many years that he knew her body as well as he knew his own. Something wasn't right. What he had felt was different than at any other point in their lives. Granted, neither of them had ever experienced a sexual relationship with anyone else, and neither had any regrets about the fact, but maybe that was why he knew what had happened. There was no mistaking it and it left Roy once again feeling emotionally unfulfilled and somehow less of a man. For the first time in their sexual relationship, Joanne had faked it.

E!

Chet lay still, spooning Caroline, feeling the even breathing that proved she was sleeping. He pulled her a little tighter, making sure she remained on her side in case she got sick. He inhaled the scent of her shampoo, felt the softness of her skin, and wondered if what he thought was developing between them was somehow slipping away from him. He lay there, quietly, inwardly kicking himself for suggesting the wine. Would their night have ended better without the alcohol? Then again, maybe the wine just hastened what was sure to happen anyway. Unable to sleep, he continued to hold her, allowing her to sleep off the effects of the alcohol, and vowing to leave before she awoke. He couldn't face her and the rejection he felt was coming.

Eventually, as sleep grew closer and closer, he extricated himself from around her and slowly got out of bed. He sat there, staring at her sleeping form, her beauty still obvious to him even with the smudged mascara and tousled hair. He reached down, once more brushing the stray strands out of her eyes and gently kissed her forehead. "Goodbye, Caroline." He gathered up the clothing he had left on the floor, stepping into his pants as he walked down the hallway of her apartment. He didn't bother buttoning his shirt or even putting on his socks. No one would see him at two in the morning. He slipped his bare feet into his shoes and quietly left his sweetheart, and his dreams, locked in the apartment behind him.

E!

A rapping noise woke Roy and Joanne up.

"Mommy? Daddy?"

"Come in sweetheart, what's wrong?" Joanne asked, rubbing the sleep from her eyes as Jennifer slowly entered the room.

Behind her, Corrie made her way inside the bedroom, holding tightly to the older girl's hand, tears streaming down her chubby cheeks. "I want my mom-my," she cried.

Joanne quickly stood up, wrapping her robe around her and reaching for the upset toddler. "Come with Jo-Jo, sweetie. We're gonna see your mommy real soon, I promise," she said, kissing the toddler lightly on the forehead as she lifted her into her motherly embrace.

"I can sit up with her, Jo. You've got to go to work in the morning," Roy offered with a yawn, feeling as if he had just drifted off to sleep.

"It's okay, I've got her. It's time for me to get up anyway. It's seven o'clock." Joanne took the two girls and left the room, talking to them about getting breakfast as they made their way downstairs, the younger girl's crying abating.

Roy leaned back on his pillow with a huffing sound. He thought about the previous night and what he could have done differently. For the life of him, he couldn't imagine what he had done wrong. Why he hadn't been able to please her, he didn't know. Was there something physically wrong with him? He didn't think so. But, why had their love-making ended with a less than pleasing experience for his wife? And why hadn't she just been honest with him?

Eventually, realizing he wasn't going to be able to go back to sleep, he got up and got dressed. He needed to relieve Joanne with the girls so she could get ready for work.

E!

Somewhere in the deep recesses of her sleeping mind, Caroline heard Corrie calling for her. She forced her eyes open, her head throbbing, and called out for her daughter. "I'm here, baby."

Sitting up in bed, she looked around the room and realized that she had been dreaming. Corrie was still at the DeSotos'. She pushed her hair back away from her face and tried to get out of bed. Her aching body protested the movement. "Ugh," she groaned, then looking down realized that she was completely naked.

Memories from the previous night assaulted her. Eating at the restaurant with Chet, drinking several glasses of wine, returning home and… "Ohmygod," she gasped, remembering bits and pieces of the events that followed their return to her apartment. Her knee was stinging, her back ached terribly, her head was pounding and her stomach was swirling. She recalled sitting on his lap removing his tie, kissing passionately… She reached for the nightstand to steady herself, urgently needing to get to the bathroom. There, on the nightstand, were two unused condoms. Her eyes scanned the floor, not seeing what she desperately needed to see.

"No… Please, no, he wouldn't…," she mumbled, her breathing coming in short gasps.

She stumbled into the bathroom, turning over the empty wastebasket, again not finding what she was searching for. More memories pushed forward from years earlier and her stomach began to lurch. She managed to reach the toilet before emptying her stomach into the porcelain bowl, gagging on both the burning stomach acid and the memories. It was going to happen again, she just knew it. "Oh god, Chet… I trusted you… I'm such an idiot…," she cried out, once again gagging into the toilet.

Eventually, she managed to pull herself up off the floor and looked into the mirror. There was a small bruise right at her hairline near her right temple, but she didn't remember what happened. She wet a wash cloth with cool water and began washing her face, the cool feeling relieving the burning from her tears. She couldn't stop crying no matter what she did. She was completely disgusted with her behavior from the previous night. She had allowed herself to become vulnerable and now she was going to pay the price for it - again.

E!

Joanne brushed Corrie's hair then packed the brush up in her pink bag. "I'm so glad you spent the night with us, Corrie," she commented with a smile.

"Me, too," Jennifer said from her place beside her guest on her bed.

Roy stood in the doorway watching the scene. He wondered how the evening had turned out for Chet and Caroline and hoped it had gone better than it had for Joanne and himself. Shaking the thoughts from his mind, he joined in with the conversation. "You'll have to come back and stay again sometime, okay, Corrie?"

"Okay," she grinned, previous pleas for her mother seemingly forgotten.

Joanne stood up, planting a kiss on her husband's cheek. "See you in a little while, honey. Goodbye, Jennifer. Be good for your father."

"I will," the little girl said, watching her mother take Corrie by the hand and head off to work.

A few minutes later, Joanne pulled into the apartment complex where Corrie and her mother resided. Taking her small charge by the hand, she guided the toddler up the sidewalk to her apartment and knocked on the door.

Inside, Caroline had done her best to hide her appearance behind a thick layer of make-up.

"Hey, how'd it go? Hello, Princess," the young mother said, rushing through her greeting to her friend and diverting her swollen eyes.

"She did great, Caroline but… What's wrong?" Joanne's voice held alarm.

"Nothing, just, uh, slept late," she lied, unable to hide the definite limp in her gait.

Joanne followed her friend inside without waiting for the invitation. "Corrie, will you take this to your room for Jo-Jo while I talk to Mommy?" She asked, pleased when the little girl complied happily, seemingly unaware of her mother's distress.

"It's nothing Joanne, really."

"Nothing? Your eyes are blood shot and swollen, you've been crying, you're limping and," she gasped at the mark on the young woman's knee. "And what happened to your knee?"

"Please, don't do this, please?" She asked, her chin beginning to quiver.

"Talk to me, Caroline," Joanne pleaded.

"My date started off well enough, but… Let's just say it didn't end that way… For me, at least," she mumbled, turning away just as her older friend pulled her into a hug.

"Did Chet do this to you?" Joanne whispered, the younger woman's silence answering her question. She looked around the room, noticing the purple sweater on the floor and a man's tie on the back of the sofa. Grit and determination coursed its way through her veins. She pulled back from the hug, brushing the hair away from her friend's eyes. "He won't get away with this, Caroline."

Caroline grimaced at the venom-filled words. She knew Joanne was making the wrong assumptions and she had to stop her. "No, he didn't do anything wrong. I'm to blame. I, uh, had too much to drink so…"

"No way, don't say that. He had no right to hurt you, no matter what," she said, seething.

"No, Joanne, really… It wasn't like that," the younger woman said, back-peddling. She had to get Joanne to understand that Chet didn't do what Joanne was thinking he did.

"Are you going to be okay for a little while? I need to work for a couple of hours, but then I can…"

"No, I'll be fine, honest. I just need some rest and…." She looked up just as Corrie came back into the room. "And spend time with my Princess," she smiled, her face lighting up at the sight of her little girl. "Thanks for everything, Joanne. I mean it," she emphasized.

Joanne didn't want to leave her friend hurting, but she had a responsibility to her employer and their customers. She left with a heavy heart, walking down the walkway staring at a certain apartment on the second floor. "You sleazy sonofabitch," she mumbled, opening the door of her car and slamming it shut. Ten minutes later, she wheeled into the flower shop, deciding to park in the back. She inhaled a cleansing breath, calming herself before facing Iris. As soon as she walked inside, she went immediately to the phone to make an urgent call to her husband.

E!

Johnny donned his aviator sunglasses as he pulled out onto the freeway heading for a local business he knew well. It was Saturday, making it a safe day for him to take care of the business at hand, Joanne would be at home with the kids. He parked the Rover along the street, slipping his sunglasses into his shirt pocket, and walking into the front door. He smiled at the older woman who looked up to greet him, a hint of surprise forming on her face.

Just as she opened her mouth to speak, a familiar voice was heard in the background.

"Roy, you've got to do something… I don't know, talk to him… Well, what he did is criminal!" She stated in an emphatic stage whisper. "Well, if you don't, I will. Arrgh!"

Back out front, Iris once again looked warmly at the handsome man in front of her, watching as he became noticeably uncomfortable.

"Thorn, have you…," She began, only to have her train of thought derailed by his animated facial expressions.

Johnny knitted his eyebrows together, quickly shaking his head from side to side just as Joanne came around the corner. "Um, John, John Gage," he offered in response to the older woman's greeting.

"Arrgh, men!" Joanne growled, then realized they had a customer. "Oh my, oh I'm terribly sorry, I didn't see you come in and… Johnny?"

"Hi, Jo. Everything alright?"

"Yea, I'm sorry, just a… A slight misunderstanding," she answered, unconvincingly. "So, what brings you into Bloomers?"

"Oh, I was just, um, thinking about sending my aunt some flowers," he said, stumbling slightly over his words, still thinking back over the greeting he had received.

"Oh, goodness, where are my manners. Iris Campbell, this is my husband's paramedic partner, John Gage. Johnny, my boss, Iris Campbell."

"Pleasure to meet you, John," Iris said, still a bit confused, but beginning to see things a little clearer.

"Johnny, can I talk to you for a minute, please?"

"Sure," he said, turning and following Joanne out the back door, but not before casting Iris his trademark grin. "Nice to meet you, Iris."

Joanne led Johnny through the back door and out into the back parking lot. If Roy wouldn't call Chet's hand on his inexcusable behavior, then maybe Johnny would.

E!

Back at the DeSoto residence, Roy hung up the phone, rubbing a worried hand across his face. Joanne had to be mistaken. There was no way Chet Kelly would do what Joanne was accusing him of doing. He was a bit arrogant and a nuisance at times, but there was just no way the lineman would ever treat a lady the way Joanne had described. He looked out the back window and saw their neighbor, Mrs. Seabury pulling weeds in her flower garden. Jennifer always enjoyed helping Mrs. Seabury and the older lady seemed to enjoy the young girl's company. Perhaps the older woman would enjoy a little company while Roy paid his shift mate a visit.

"Jennifer, I'm going to be out back for a minute," he called out to the little girl who was upstairs in her room. He wanted to ask the older lady for her assistance.

"Okay, Daddy."

Roy stepped out on the back deck heading next door when he saw a crumpled blanket on the ground. Picking it up and shaking it out, he recognized it as the spare blanket that his wife kept in the linen closet, the one they often took with them to the beach. He began folding it up, when he noticed it was dirty and had a distinctively male footprint on the corner, a footprint much larger than his own. "What the…"

"Daddy, I wanna swing," Jennifer called out, rushing through the back door onto the deck. When she saw the blanket her father was holding, she began to giggle.

Roy looked at her curiously, still trying to figure out what the footprint could mean. "What's so funny?"

"That blanket," she said, pointing at the faded cloth in her father's hands.

"The blanket is funny?"

"Yea, the other night, I saw a big man's naked booty when he was kneeling on it," she stated, still giggling.

Roy's stomach somersaulted then fell to his feet. Various reasons for his daughter's comments rushed through his mind, none of them acceptable. Had there been a streaker, a peeping Tom or a flasher in the neighborhood? Or, was the reason something much more sinister? "Jen-baby, tell me more about what you saw," he said, careful not to make her fearful of telling him anything. The last thing he wanted to do was make his innocent daughter think she had done something wrong.

"It was when you were working, Daddy. I woke up 'cause I heard this loud man's voice talking to Mommy outside. When I looked out the window, I saw his naked booty."

"Wh-where was he?" Roy asked, afraid of the answer he might get.

"They were on the blanket. He was bending over Mommy's back, and his pants were falling down," she said, giggling again. "Isn't that funny?"

Roy's mind was racing a thousand miles a minute. Jennifer's revelation was something alright, but funny wasn't exactly what he had in mind.

E!