Chapter 9

Groaning as Hope wedged her body more tightly against the small of her back, Kay flung an arm out, fumbling for the lamp chain and finally succeeding in dousing the bedroom in a weak yellow glow.

Hope merely moaned in her sleep, burying her red head beneath the fuzzy purple pillow she managed to keep close no matter where she slept.

Rolling onto her back, Kay gently pushed the yielding little body over a few inches, breathing a sigh of relief at the scant distance the maneuver afforded her.

Even as a baby, Hope had always snuggled impossibly close, always keeping that point of contact regardless of how small, as if she were afraid that having any one of them a finger's breadth away would allow them the opportunity to disappear.

Kay understood that feeling; it was the same feeling she got whenever she thought of leaving Harmony and striking out on her own. Would the family she left still be there when she returned? She wondered how long her parents would continue to keep up appearances when they had only Hope in this house, a child who didn't know the parents Kay had known growing up, parents untouched (although that had NEVER been completely true) by the actions of the past. They wore the strain of their lies like a brand, invisible only to the outside world, but they weren't fooling anybody that didn't want to be fooled. Sometimes she wished for the luxury of the denial Jessica seemed to be firmly and happily rooted in.

Hope whined softly, her feet kicking out restlessly, and flopped onto her back, eventually rolling onto her side to face Kay again.

A small, resigned sigh escaped Kay's lips as her kid sister tossed an arm about her waist and molded her small body against her side, her breath puffing warmly against Kay's collarbone. Shifting her eyes to the nightstand, she searched out the alarm clock, unsurprised to find that it was well after midnight and that sleep continued to elude her. Too much was on her mind. Her inability to cry for Theresa and Ethan, her dad's revelation earlier that night of the contents of the will, the surprise meeting of Reese's girlfriend…for reasons she couldn't fathom herself, meeting Sara had left her more unsettled than all the other events of the day.

Sara was pretty, nice, smart, and *blond*. She could easily pass for Charity's cousin, more easily than Kay herself.

Whether she was more troubled by her similarities to Charity or her very existence in Reese's life, Kay couldn't say, and her initial, instinctive yet irrational dislike of the girl worried her. So much so, that sleep, she'd already determined, was impossible for her tonight. Combing her fingers through Hope's sweat-dampened tangled hair, she thought back to that afternoon, the four of them playing catch with Sadie in Reese's front yard, and the way Sara's blue eyes followed and seemed to study her. It had been unnerving to say the least, and when her mother had made good on her promise to call, it had been an unexpected relief.

Hope wiggled again, whimpering in her sleep, due no doubt to a bad dream. Her forehead crinkled and the corners of her mouth turned down in a pout as she blindly sought out Kay's hand with her own small one.

Squeezing her hand between hers reassuringly, Kay soothed her with the low hum of her voice close to her ear and a kiss to the crown of her head. Extinguishing the lamp so that only the moon lit the room through the half-open curtains, she banished all thoughts but Hope's comfort from her mind and lay there quietly, in the hopes that sleep would eventually claim her.

Luis focused on the drip-drip of the coffee maker in the background and the feel of the kitchen countertop digging into his side, anything but Sheridan's eyes as they flickered across his face searchingly. He knew she was looking for some clue, some indication of what he was feeling in that moment, but through sheer force of will he kept his face expressionless, his emotions carefully under wraps. He couldn't do what he was about to do if she caught even the slightest glimpse of weakness in his countenance. Retreating to the kitchen had been Sheridan's idea, and for that he was thankful; the bright smiles, happiness cut short, and reminders of all they had lost—he could no longer convince himself that his grief, his mother's grief, Sam's and even Ivy's grief were the only ones of true significance—haunted him and gripped his heart painfully. Here, at least, their eyes didn't follow his footsteps, didn't judge his words. Only her blue eyes did. She had, Luis realized, started crying again. His hands ached to comfort her; his mouth had other ideas. "Your accomplice skip town? He never was any good at sticking around when the going got tough." She turned her back to him, but not before Luis caught the flash of anger his comments had inspired.

"He thought we needed some time to talk." She set two coffee mugs down on the counter with a thud and yanked another cabinet open, her shoulders tight and back ramrod straight. "I'm out of everything. You're going to have to drink it black," she poured then plunked a steaming mug down in front of him.

Luis grimaced, swearing under his breath as the liquid sloshed over the rim of the mug and scalded his abused skin. "Dammit," he hissed, cradling his hand close to his body, the white bandage soaked through. He flinched away when Sheridan reached for his hand. "Don't touch me. You've done enough damage."

Sheridan's hand dropped back to her side and her voice lowered to a whisper. "It's never going to be enough, is it? I said I'm sorry, Luis. I've said it a hundred, a thousand times. What's it going to take?" She flattened her palms against the kitchen counter and watched as he struggled to remove the bandage one-handed. Making a decision and daring him with her eyes to stop her, she moved to stand at his side, taking his hand in both of hers and gently removing the stained gauze. "Oh, Luis." Her fingers hovered over the angry, reddened flesh. "These…they're bad." She coaxed him to the kitchen sink, holding his hand underneath cool water. "What did you do?" she murmured, tracing her fingertips gently over the wounds. Turning his hand over, she noticed for the first time, his raw, bruised knuckles.

Luis didn't answer her. Disentangling his hand from hers, he awkwardly dried his hand with the clean dishtowel she offered, refusing to meet her concerned blue eyes or to acknowledge the electricity that seemed to crackle like a live wire between them. When the bar was safely between them again, Luis found his voice, denying her insistence that he see a doctor. "I don't need stitches. It looks worse than it is."

Sighing, Sheridan shook her head in censure. "Stop being so damn stubborn. At least let me put something on it. I have a first aid kit around here somewhere."

Luis followed her out of the kitchen, protesting the entire way. When she disappeared down the hall, he decided it was an exercise in futility and dropped wearily to the sofa, leaning his head back tiredly against the pillows. His eyes open to half-slits, he watched her as she knelt on the floor between his knees and took his hand again in her own. "Sheridan, what are you…" he began, only to break off, hissing and jerking his hand away. "That burns, dammit!"

"Baby," Sheridan chastised, gripping his hand firmly and blowing gently on his skin. "I have to clean it first," she rolled her eyes at him when he glared blackly at her.

Luis watched, achingly aware of her position and the warmth of her touch, every muscle in his body tightened in tension. Her fingers were agile and her demeanor worked hard to seem detached, but underneath it all there ran a current of caring that he didn't deserve, hadn't deserved in a long time. Of its own volition his hand tightened around her wrist when she moved to stand and he was strangely pleased when her breath seemed to stall between her lips at his touch. He wanted to thank her but what came out instead was, "You didn't have to." Bending forward, he searched the depths of her blue eyes for answers—how could she find it in herself to show him kindness after the myriad of ways he'd proven himself unworthy over the past years, the entirety of his knowing her—and felt something within him shift at the unnamed emotion he saw glimmering there for the briefest of seconds before she cast her gaze to their touching hands.

"There are other ways to punish yourself, Luis." The fingers of her other hand lingered at his pulse point. Whatever else she'd wanted to say was lost in the breath between them as Luis cupped the back of her head with his uninjured hand and pulled her into his kiss—desperate, sloppy, and scorching hot. She surrendered to the bruising pressure of his mouth on hers, giving him the control he so franticly sought in the tailspin from which they found themselves powerless to escape. When the kiss ended, her lungs scrambled to replenish themselves, and her chest heaved with the effort. Sinking back on her heels, she closed her eyes at the loss and the intensity of the feelings still rushing through her.

Luis's hand shook as it combed through her short blond hair and ghosted over her cheek. His fingers clenched in the black material covering his thigh, the denied need to keep touching her sweet torture in itself. And he admitted to himself that this time, she couldn't have been more right. "We can't stay here." He'd be damned if he lived right under Alistair Crane's nose.

"Anna needs her own bedroom." Sheridan's eyes were bright as she left the rest unspoken, covering his hand and squeezing hard. "We can do this."

"For Anna."

"For Anna," Sheridan echoed.

The letter, it had turned out, hadn't been much of a letter at all. Just three words scrawled on a piece of plain white paper in Ethan's simple, uninspiring handwriting.

"I forgive you."

Irrationally disappointed at first, Gwen had thought the words to be some sort of joke. Surely, she'd reasoned, it wasn't as simple as that. Three words—no preamble, no beating around the bush—just there. She'd sifted through the contents of the envelope, and finding another, smaller envelope within, had hurriedly slid her fingernail underneath the seal, eager to discover what was inside.

Photographs—some wallet-size, some larger—that recorded the various highpoints of their failed relationship stared back at her.

She choked back a laugh at seeing one of the first pictures of them as a not-couple—awkward and unsophisticated; they'd moved in the same social circles, their families had haunted the same boarding schools. Looking back, their introduction had no doubt been orchestrated as a means of furthering the strength of their family businesses. But their relationship had been more than that: they'd grown to be friends. And slowly, they'd grown to love each other. Yet, if she were being brutally honest with herself, she'd admit to the fact that she couldn't recall a single moment where they fell IN love with each other.

She still carried her pain too close to her heart to admit to *that.*

College socials, Ethan's law school graduation, stolen lunch dates in between meetings at her father's company, some quiet moments interspersed—they were happy. They were even content. The camera had captured some great smiles, some genuine moments of affection.

But not glimpses of a grand-scale love affair.

So her heart ached even while it wanted to soar.

She was forgiven. She should feel peace. But it wasn't as easy as that, she realized, knees pressing into the moist, soft earth and eyes staring straight ahead at two names forevermore linked in her mind and the minds of others; Theresa's and Ethan's love affair had been cut tragically short.

And she could find no peace in forgiveness wrought by Death's cruel hand.

Thought I'd leave you guys with one more new chapter tonight before I take a brief hiatus (RL calls) from posting.

Just out of curiosity for those who are reading: what part/characters in this story is your favorite? The main storyline of Sheridan/Luis, their past, the predicament they find themselves in now with Ethan/Theresa's will? Kay's path to redemption/second chance with little sister Hope/renewed friendship with Reese? Sam/Grace's struggle to keep their marriage and their family intact? Julian/Ivy and dealing with the loss of Ethan? Gwen's downfall/painful re-emergence into the good graces of Harmony society or attempts as such?

I'd really like to know. :)

Feedback is much loved and adored.

Thanks so much for reading!