A/N - Hello all you wonderful readers out there in Fan Fic land. Just want to point out that it has only been two weeks. This actually would have been posted sooner but it grew to mammoth proportions. (Over 8,000 words at one point.) So, I've split the chapter - which means I'll post the rest probably tomorrow. Needs some fleshing out. ;-)

Thanks to all of the reviewers & readers! You guys keep me going through the tough stuff.

Enjoy!

~GeekMom

P.S. Anybody out there a fan of Meredith's? ;-)

Martha's Heart

Chapter 21

Where There's Lightning, There's a Storm

Breathless. Amazed. Awestruck. Struck. By. Lightning. The crushing feeling caused by the elephant currently parked on your chest. Winding a swing so that the steel chains have intertwined and winched you up from the sneaker scuffed ground then when you let it go, you spin: it was that kind of adrenaline pumped vertigo.

Actually, it was his writer's practice of looking for thought-provoking words and phrases to describe an emotion or feeling.

He was certain the whole world stopped the moment the nurse came out to the waiting room and beckoned him into the delivery room. It had to have. His daughter had been born and the cosmos must have been rejoicing along with him. Everything that was conventional and routine stopped: the inner workings of the universe, his breathing in and out, the seemingly slow rotation of planets, moons and stars, his heartbeat. Everything that functioned the way it was designed to day in and day out, without warning needed to be reminded how. His daughter had been born: he would never take anything for granted again.

Kind faced women in pastel colored or baby woodland animals mottled scrubs directed his movements: they had him wash his hands, twice; then they put a papery yellow gown on him, covering his street clothes, had him sit, and then placed a bundle in his arms. Less than ten pounds, less than two feet long, in a multi-colored pastel blanket, a pink hat topped her head, but he could see gossamer strands of red hair peeking out from under the folded brim. His life had changed completely and forever. He was a father.

She was content and dozing when they handed her to him: she had been fed before he was allowed in the room. She opened her eyes: sparkling clear pieces of sky and heaven and squirmed. She looked up at her daddy who had all but lost the ability to blink or speak. He might have missed something if he blinked or looked away or let her out of his sight, ever. He could still smile though and he did. Rick decided that he was experiencing smiling for the first time. She did that for him: defined firsts and made him hyperaware that he had only been, up to that point, existing, but now his life had purpose.

A nagging thought bugged him: he should check on his daughter's mother.

He chastised himself and reluctantly dragged his gaze away from the approximation of perfection in his arms up to the bed. Meredith looked exhausted but serene. She had banned him from the delivery room despite his begging, peevishness and bribery attempts. His arguments fell on the ears whose owner would rather preserve her vanity than share the birth of their daughter with her husband. He obeyed her wishes even if he did not respect them and waited outside of the room as if he were a father in the nine-teen fifties, he had done his part and now she did hers. He half expected to see her wearing an A-line dress, apron and pumps to deliver their child. Rick's imagination could be cruel but he resented his expulsion. He continued to begrudge being ostracized and now was glad Meredith was asleep. He did not want to speak to her, not right at the moment anyway. He didn't want the fight he was holding at bay to sully his daughter's first hour on the planet. He sighed as he let his consideration linger on Meredith a moment longer. She did give him this most amazing gift and he loved her for that. He was sure that, now that their daughter was here, he would learn to love her just for her.

He was determined to do so. He had tried to force his heart to open itself to feel and find more than the carnal desire that had brought them together. He had made many lists about her qualities; about what they could accomplish together; about what he wanted from the marriage. The sex was still spectacular or actually even better than it had been at first. Pregnancy hormones, he read, could make a woman more lascivious. Rick could barely keep up the pace and intensity. He rose to the challenge and had satisfied all of her needs: inside and outside of the bedroom: shopping trips, vacations, pregnancy massages and primping everything a woman could possibly want primped, to make her feel human and beautiful again. Rick personally did not understand the not feeling beautiful part: she absolutely glowed. The life within her only amplified her beauty, not diminished it. He had denied her nothing even when she purposely and overtly manipulated the situation or him. Meredith appeared to be happy and was gradually moving toward treating him more as a husband and less as a cabana boy. That was up until two months ago, now, she barely acknowledged he was alive. That's when she started intensively hating herself, her body and by extension, him. He read that the mood swings were perfectly normal. Yeah, normal.

Rick carefully sat back in the armchair and as if on automatic pilot or out of instinct, began rocking, his body now just a tool for her comfort. He would gladly do anything for her. He had been holding her for less than ten minutes but he couldn't remember his life before they were introduced. His new normal.

She made adorable baby noises: not cooing or giggles or even spit bubbly pops, just a new set of lungs getting used to sending air through a new set of vocal chords. It may as well have been Shakespeare or Ian Fleming. To Rick's ears, everything she uttered was brilliant.

They stared at each other as he rocked her. He memorized every nuance of her face: the peaks and valleys, the tip of her nose; smaller than the tip of his pinkie, her lips; pink perfect rose petals, her eyes; were his own, miraculously genetically duplicated, gazing back at him. He knew she was studying his face as well. He wished he had shaved. Her eyes were all at once expressive and inquisitive and understanding. A prodigy. He instinctively knew she was already smarter than he would ever be and that they were beginning an amazing journey.

At some point, by mutual consent they fell asleep. He had come to the hospital with Meredith, prepared to do whatever she needed to be comfortable and for her to be comfortable he couldn't be in the same room. He spent the entire thirteen hours in the corridor outside of her room. Listening and hearing everything, pacing, sitting, reacting, imagining the worst and missing the best, watching perfect strangers come and go, and aching to participate. His exclusion was not unheard of, but most fathers in the nineties took part in the delivery of their children. Every time the nurses and midwives passed him in the hallway they would ask if he needed anything, most of them expressed sympathy and kindness but there was one older nurse who had decided that he must have done something unforgivable to be ejected from the delivery room. No matter how much charm, respect or good manners he plied, he was a bastard in this sweet grandmotherly woman's judgment.

It had all been forgotten as soon as he held her. Nothing else mattered.

The little family all slept in the room until Rick was woken by the absence of the weight of his daughter on his chest. An icy hand clenched his heart and his blood stopped circulating. Afraid that he had dropped her, Rick's eyes flew open. His panicked brain took a minute to catch up to the heartwarming scene before him and he inhaled deeply, relief flowing into his frozen bloodstream. "Mother, you worried me. I thought I dropped…" He stopped talking. His mother wasn't listening to him. The room was dark except for the light leaking in from the bathroom.

Martha didn't hear a word her son had said or notice his apprehension; she only just acknowledged he was in the room. "I'm sorry dear, what did you say?"

"Never mind," he whispered, standing up next to her. "Well grandma, what do you think?" He smiled broadly.

Martha had finished her careful inventory of her granddaughter's fingers and toes and tucked her back tight. "She's perfect," she declared and held the infant to her chest. "How is Meredith?" She asked looking over the pink hat to her sleeping mother.

"Okay, I guess. She's been sleeping. I haven't actually spoken to Meredith since she was born."

"Was the delivery that hard? When I had you I was…"

"…in labor for twenty-nine hours," he finished long-sufferingly, nodding his acknowledgement. He had heard about the ordeal she endured bringing him into the world countless times before. "I know about your anguish Mother and am forever grateful for your suffering through my birth," he said sarcastically. "This angel cut that more than in half. She will do everything better than I did."

"Angel…oh god Richard, that's not her name is it? That doesn't flow very well." Martha said and then demonstrated. "Angel Castle…ugh."

Rick raised his eyebrows. He and Meredith hadn't decided on a girl's name: she was totally convinced she was having a boy but also refused to let the doctor reveal the baby's sex. As with everything else, he deferred to her wishes. "No, that's a celestial being come down to earth. It's appropriate but not her name. We haven't decided on a name yet."

"Well darling you can't continue to call her the baby or she or even angel. She'll need a name. I named you after Richard Burton."

"I know Mother," he answered patiently, silently thanking the heavens again that he was male. He could have ended up as Twiggy or something equally ridiculous. "I was thinking Bovina or maybe Euphonia." He suggested the names with an absolutely straight face.

Martha did a double take. There was no way that his imaginative son was actually considering such hideous names. "Is there some sort of literary connection to either of those?" She asked reticently.

He almost cracked but just shook his head in earnest. "No…no, I just like them." Martha blinked twice. He loved rendering her mute. It was a goal in life. He couldn't hold out any longer and smiled.

"Oh, you," she fussed as she slapped his forearm. They sat down next to each other in the quiet of the hospital room admiring his daughter. "She really is quite lovely, darling." Martha blinked rapidly.

"Mother? Are you alright?" Rick asked quietly. He put his arm around his mother's slender shoulders.

Martha leaned onto his chest. She raised her eyes to his. "It's just…" she breathed in and out stuttering the exhalation. "I'm sitting next to my baby holding his baby." She quickly dismissed the emotions. "It's all very sappy and sentimental movie-of-the-week-ish."

"Well don't get too mushy on me. I feel it's my duty to remind you that you are now a grandmother." He shut his eyes, lifted his chin and raised his hand to his forehead. "I see Geritol senior vitamins, prune juice and four o'clock discounted meals at Denny's in your very near future.

"Watch it, buster," she warned, but smiled tenderly at him. "It would be wonderful to name her after you some way. How about Alexandra?"

"Alexandra for Alexander? I guess it would be difficult to make Richard more feminine." He grimaced, "Or Edgar for that matter."

"No. That will not do at all. Maybe Ricki?"

He shook his head. "I've never been a fan of taking a masculine name and adding an e sound at the end to make it feminine. Feels like a copout. I kind of like Alexandra, but it sounds so formal. I mean look at me. It's kind of stuffy or pretentious, I'm not."

"True. Oh, how about Alexis?"

"Alexis Castle's not bad. Of course Meredith will have a say."

"She always does."

"Mother. She probably won't want to name her after me at all," he added glumly.

She hated hearing his voice so full of bleakness. Martha closed her eyes and drew solace from the warm, sweet smelling baby in her arms. She laid a hand on his arm. "Can we take her for a walk? You look like you could use a cup of coffee."

Rick raised his eyebrows. "I haven't asked, but I don't see why not."

Their homecoming was quiet; it was the one thing he insisted upon. Meredith had wanted a fussy, noisy party to celebrate with people he didn't know. He said no. Rick put down all of the baby paraphernalia he had carried up from the car, unlocked the door, and escorted his pouting wife and his daughter inside.

Rick purchased the bigger apartment right before the wedding. Evidence of Meredith was everywhere: frilly lace curtains, deep magentas, and bright pinks, something covered in blue fur that Rick had yet to identify. It was just an apartment, he told himself. He didn't care how it was decorated except for his office. He had to work there and he required a certain atmosphere. His office was much more masculine than the rest of the apartment. It had cleaner lines and subdued colors. The smell of books, ink and paper permeated the space.

The other room he cared about was the nursery. He had suggested a storybook theme; Meredith loved the idea and asked him to let her do it. He was reluctant but gave in. She stuck to the theme, but it became Disneyfied. All of the classic fairytales in cute cartoonish characters with over-sized eyes and murals plastered to Alexis' walls, hanging on the windows and spinning above the crib. He faked his enthusiasm when Meredith revealed the finished room. He just couldn't deal with another tantrum. He silently decided that he would still read the un-watered, original classics to his child. Even though he acknowledged that his own books were anything but, Rick was a literature snob.

Rick delighted in his daughter. He reveled in her firsts: Halloween; he dressed her as a candy corn, trip to the park, Christmas, smile without gas bubbles, and tooth. He took copious amounts of pictures of these events. Meredith was not present for most of them. He felt badly for her as she missed one milestone after another. He marveled at how different his mother's acting career was from Meredith's. She seemed to be away from the house much more than Martha had been and that was saying something. Rick basically raised himself. He consoled himself knowing that Alexis had him and Meredith when she could. He had no doubts that Meredith loved Alexis and he had promised when she was still pregnant that he would be their baby's primary caregiver. He had no idea that it meant that even when she was home, Rick was still expected to be the primary. It confounded him why she wouldn't want to spend her time with her daughter. They had split up duties at first. Meredith had nursed Alexis for about a week after she was born but then feedings and two a.m. playtime fell to Rick. He bonded with Alexis but he hadn't had a full night's sleep since they came home from the hospital. His mother helped occasionally, but Martha also had an acting career, so Rick was reluctant to ask her for help. Meredith pointed out that Martha's career was winding down and was nowhere near as intense as her own. She could afford to miss some sleep and appearances.

Rick spied her as she entered the café. She was always well put together: her suit and shoes and bag never failed to complement each other, her hair and makeup were flawless and in her hand, she carried her PDA, a gadget that Rick coveted. He felt about as well put together as a vagrant who had just found a left shoe. She approached the table and declared, "Richard, you're late."

He stirred his coffee, scowled and glanced at his watch. "Late," he repeated feebly as she continued speaking. It might have been another language as much as he understood. He was still trying to figure out how he was late.

"Are you even listening to me?" Her frustration manifested itself by her manicured nails tapping out a hypnotic rhythm on the faux wood laminate of their table. He chided himself when he realized she sat down and he hadn't held her chair for her.

Rick sighed and ran a hand down his face in an effort to clear the cobwebs of his exhaustion. "Of course."

"Well then I asked you a question, when?"

"I'm sorry, Gina. When, what?"

She signaled for the waitress to come. "Oh God Rick, when's the last time you slept?" She ordered herself a latte and an espresso for him

"Last night." She eyed him skeptically. He swallowed, "Really," he smirked and tried to joke about it. "I think I slept for two hours."

"Look, I understand or at least I've read about having a newborn and I'm sympathetic but I need you to do your job. I haven't gotten anything publishable in over six months."

He started to protest. "It hasn't been…" He stopped and thought about it. "Alexis is colicky and she's up most nights." Their waitress brought their coffees.

"And before this she was teething. God Rick, what about Meredith?"

"It's not the same," he sighed and sipped his drink. He grimaced when the strong bitter liquid hit his tongue. "Actresses need to appear well rested in order to get jobs." It sounded weak to his own ears; he could imagine the judgment in Gina's mind if the look on her face was any indication.

Gina pursed her lips. "Well I'm here to tell you that authors need to write or their publisher drops their sorry asses." She smiled sympathetically as she watched his eyes droop. She reached across the table and laid her hand over his startling him awake. "I'm sorry, Rick, but if I don't have something soon, you'll be in breach of contract and Black Pawn will want their advance back."

"Define soon." She had his attention.

"Next week."

"Shit Gina…" He started to argue but lost momentum.

Gina liked Richard Castle. She liked his style: both written and personal. When she heard through the grapevine that he would need a new publisher after Pete McBride defected to Simon and Schuster, she called in a couple of favors and owed new ones in order to manage him. She admired the valiant effort he was putting into being a father and a husband. Frankly, it made him more desirable, even hot, but she respected the fact that he was married although she didn't understand his marriage to Meredith. They acted their parts at the parties or publishing events but she had never witnessed genuine affection between them. Gina had known Rick a few months longer than he had known Meredith. She had worked closely with him; helped develop his last two manuscripts: her style was probably more hands-on than he was used to. Even though she managed other authors for Black Pawn, her hands-on style began and ended with Richard Castle. If Gina had been honest with herself she would admit that she had a crush on him. She did not want to terminate their working relationship. She touched his hand again. "You want another cup of coffee?" She asked tenderly.

"Yeah, but make it to go." He answered sleepily, checking his watch again. "Look Gina, I've got to go. I'm sorry. I'll have something to you next Friday, okay?"

"Rick…" Gina offered him her support by grabbing his hand again.

Rick's eyebrows burrowed. If he wasn't so drained he would have sworn Gina was hitting on him: there seemed to be a lot of touching. "I really have to go," he said again. "Meredith has an audition and I have to get home to watch Alexis," he explained and then walked out of the shop. Gina watched him go.

All forms of transportation on the island of Manhattan conspired against him. The train was late. He overheard a tourist, "Normally the schedule is reliable." 'Yeah, right, if by reliable you mean a crap shoot.' he thought as he looked at his watch again. Fifteen minutes: he was supposed to be home fifteen minutes ago. He gave up on the train and climbed the steps two at a time to get to street level. It had begun to rain: a cold, blustery, driving April rain. "Perfect," he sighed and turned his collar up, kept an eye out for the elusive available New York City cab in rainy weather but started walking toward home and the inevitable castigation he would face there.

"Oh, but don't you see how miserable you are?"

"Mother how could you say that? Have you met Alexis? She's perfect. How could anyone be miserable around her?"

"There is more to life than your child Richard."

"I appreciate your concern and this past year has been an adjustment…"

"An adjustment? Richard you might as well be a single parent."

"Mother," he warned. "Alexis will grow up with two parents. We've spoken about this before."

"Yes, yes, I know, but you do realize that Meredith is practically gone already?"

"Really, do we have to talk about this today? Can we just enjoy Alexis' birthday?"

"I'm sorry darling. I just worry about you." She considered him as he frosted the last cupcake. "Where is Meredith now?" She asked brightly.

"At an audition." He sighed and then grinned. "Who would have thought that the off, off, off Broadway production of Cop Rock would close so soon." Meredith had garnered a long and undistinguished list of unbelievably bad production credits.

"Be nice," his mother chastised. "I'm sure it's difficult for an actress of Meredith's caliber to find suitable parts." She added drolly.

Rick stared at his mother. Martha Rodgers, friend of the struggling actor, champion of the near miss almost lead parts, had just backhanded something that sounded like a compliment about his wife's acting ability. He knew better: that was no compliment. He squinted. "What happened to, and I quote, she's a wonderful new talent? You do realize you introduced us, right?"

"Yes, yes and I fear I'll be paying for that the rest of my life."

"Mother." Rick cautioned as he rolled his eyes.

"What? I can't help it. Look at how you run yourself ragged taking care of your daughter and of her. How is the writing coming kiddo?" Martha asked mockingly. "Or did you forget that you had a promising career at one point?"

Rick shook his head. "I still do, Mother. At Dusk We Die is in final edits." He cleaned up the dishes from the cake decorating. "Can we just have a nice dinner? Please? For Alexis?"

"Fine. What can I do to help?" Martha stood, rubbed her palms together, and embraced him. He looked much older than his twenty-five years.

Rick sat at his kitchen table, lost in thought, twirling and weaving a length of purple curling ribbon around his first two fingers, waiting. Dinner was a mess, Alexis predictably dumped her pasta and wore most of her first birthday cupcake but Rick wouldn't have missed it for the world. Unlike his wife: it was two in the morning and he still hadn't heard from her. He had postponed dinner from five until seven, giving her an extra couple of hours to make it. He and his mother and Meredith's father celebrated Alexis' birthday without her. Mr. Cooper had travelled four hours from Pennsylvania for the occasion. Rick had never felt as awkward as he did having to explain his wife's absence to her own father.

Her key in the lock brought him back to the present and the maelstrom about to happen. Rick quietly watched her stagger into the apartment. He waited for her to come to him.

"Richard? Why are you sitting here in the dark?" She asked him oblivious to her transgressions.

His voice was almost inaudible. "Where were you tonight, Meredith?"

"What? Oh, I met some old friends from a production from…oh god…five years ago. I'm getting so old," she declared dramatically searching for sympathy.

He laced his fingers together and intently studied his knuckles. "Your father said to say hello."

"My fath…"

"He was here for your daughter's birthday party," he supplied through gritted teeth.

"Oh god…Was that tonight?...I'm so sorry…"

"Save it, Meredith. I'm not interested in listening to another one of your apologies." He stood, tilted his head and cracked the stress out of his neck. "I…I just can't…" He began walking toward their bedroom.

Unsure of what to do, she followed him. "Richard, I really am sorry I missed her birthday, but it's not like she'll remember it anyway. She's only one."

He stopped getting ready for bed and pivoted to face her. "That's not the point and you know it."

Meredith stepped closer to him. "What I know is that you love our daughter more than you do me. You barely speak to me when I'm home. I have to find companionship somewhere." Her voice rose. Martha, who decided to stay over on the convertible sofa in Richard's office, woke to the raised voices down the hall.

He stared at her. She couldn't possibly mean that in the way he took it. He sat down on the edge of the bed and shut his eyes. Rick deliberately breathed in and out, in and out. His exasperation bristled in him and he knew better than to try to have a conversation when he was so angry. "I can't speak to someone who is never here." He stated simply. "And, holy crap, I can't believe you're envious of our daughter. I love Alexis differently than I do you, Meredith but it's fucking hard to do when it seems like all you are doing is trying to escape all the time." He stood again, his level of frustration and voice rising along with him. "What the hell is more important than we are? Why can't you be here for her…or for me? Why can't you just be her mother?"

"I…" Meredith had sunk to the bed and had her back to him. "I didn't want to be a mother. I knew I would be horrible at it and I was right. You convinced me. You said you would take care of everything."

An icy wave fell over Rick and he couldn't breathe. He did say that, but... "Meredith…"

"Oh god, Richard, I'm so sorry. I'm trying, I really am. You're too good to me. I deserve for you to kick me out." She began to cry. "Please give me another chance."

After a long silence in which the only sound was Meredith's sniffling, he said, "Things will need to change." Martha rolled her eyes but bit her lip. "You'll need to be here more."

She stood up and threw herself into his arms and kissed his face. "Oh, I know. I know. I'm so sorry. You're the best father and husband, really. I do love you and Alexis. I'm begging you."

"I'm still angry, Meredith, no...Not tonight." He exhaled; she was so good at what she was doing to him. "I said no…" He grabbed her wrists and forced them off of his neck.

"Please forgive me?" She tearfully pleaded. Meredith wriggled her arms free of his grasp and threaded her fingers through his hair. She stretched on her tip toes and kissed his neck and expertly scraped her hands over the hypersensitive spots on his body.

He moaned, "oh god." Martha shook her head and quietly closed his office door.

"Julia," Martha called as she opened the door to the bistro. "I'm starved. Let's get a bite." She held the door for her old friend and shopping buddy.

"God, it got cold," Julia Murphy exclaimed. "I'm going back to L. A." She smiled as she kidded her friend. She and Martha had been friends since they were corpses one and two in a low budget slasher movie from the mid-seventies of which they both denied having any recollection of their participation.

"Let's get a table," Martha suggested. She scoped out the restaurant and found an unoccupied booth toward the back. "Come on."

After they were settled and ordered, Martha took a look around. She had never been in this particular restaurant and liked to absorb the ambiance. This one seemed to be chockfull of character. She'd have to remember to tell Richard about it. He always looked for new places of inspiration. "Oh my god," she said. Julia began to turn to see what prompted her outburst. "No, don't look." Julia rolled her eyes anxious to see where she was looking, well gaping actually.

"What is it?" She whispered, having Martha for a friend she immediately recognized the tone and need for discretion. Whether it would be justified remained to be seen.

Martha sighed. "It's Meredith."

"Your daughter-in-law?" Julia asked employing every device she knew to keep her from turning and looking.

"Yes…and that's not Richard." She ducked and looked to Julia. "What should I do?" Her eyes were fearful. Julia had seen Martha perform every emotion but there was no acting in this performance. She was genuinely terrified.

"What?"

"What if she's cheating on Richard?" Martha worried her bottom lip.

"Oh Martha, why would you jump to that conclusion? She could be at a business lunch or maybe he's an old friend."

"Maybe he's an old flame or someone she's using to get ahead. Maybe he's her lover." Martha countered.

Julia's eyebrows shot up. "Tell me how you really feel about her, darling."

"Oh Julia, I introduced them. She's so wrong for him now." Martha swiped a tear from the corner of her eye. "He's so tired. She never participates in raising Alexis. He's so adamant about his child having two parents," she inhaled a stuttered breath, "he lets her do whatever she wants. My heart aches for him."

"I take it this was not a planned baby."

"No and he's never come out and said it, but I don't think she wanted to keep Alexis." She stammered her granddaughter's name.

"Oh and because he was raised by you, a single mom, he doesn't want his kid to be raised by a single mom."

"Was I that awful? He turned out all right. Why would he rather put himself through heartache?" Martha dabbed at her eyes with her napkin.

Julia reached for her hand. "Listen, you did what you had to do and what you felt was right. He is a good kid, god I mean, man. What, he's going to be twenty-five this year?"

"Twenty-six," Martha corrected.

"Oh god, I feel so old."

Martha watched her son interact with his daughter as he strapped her in her highchair. She had invited his family out to celebrate his birthday. Alexis was just under eighteen months old.

"Okay," he said straightening up. He immediately leaned down and kissed his mother's cheek. "Mother, Alexis and I have been working on something for you." His eyes were alight with mischief and delight.

He sat down next to her and turned his attention to his daughter who was busily cornering, capturing and eating the goldfish crackers he scattered on her tray. "Pumpkin?" She immediately looked at her daddy and smiled. He returned her smile. Martha loved watching him with her. She had his undivided attention: something that Martha had not been able to accomplish in twenty-six years. "Who is this, sweetie?" He held his palm indicating Martha.

Alexis looked at her grandmother, to her father then back and smiled. "Grams," she shouted.

Martha smiled. "Oh what a wonderful gift but I thought this was your birthday, kiddo." She looked toward the door. "Do you think Meredith will be here soon?"

A shadow flitted across Rick's features. It was there for the briefest time but Martha noticed. "I…uh…I haven't heard from her this afternoon. She said she would try to make it." He looked down and then shot his mother his media smile. Martha recognized that too. "We don't have to wait. What's good here?" He picked up his menu and Martha's heart broke.

He had ordered them a lovely red wine. They were sipping their wine, playing with Alexis and catching up with each other's lives when Martha announced, "A toast," Rick arched his eyebrow and she held up her glass. "To my son, a good man, a good son, a good father, even though he's adopted."

A genuine smile graced Rick's face. "Oh Mother, I thought you might just be getting serious in your old…"

"Hold that thought kiddo."

"Got it," he chuckled but glanced toward the door again.

Martha followed his gaze. "So normally, as you know, the fact that I gave you your life, birth and this," she gestured wildly to herself, "I don't give you a gift, but what would you like this year kiddo?"

Rick's brows furrowed. "You're right. You don't usually give me a gift. What's up?"

"Just feeling generous I guess, and like I want to celebrate."

"Me?" he asked incredulously. He narrowed his eyes. "Why?"

"Goodness Richard, I just want you to have a happy birthday. Is that so hard to understand?"

A slow smile spread across Rick's face. "It's a pity gift." He smirked. "Am I really that pathetic?" He placed his hands on hers. "Mother, I'm fine really." He truly was, especially since her offer. His eyes danced in the humor.

"You don't have to make fun." She said petulantly.

Rick's smile blossomed: broadly, even showing his teeth. Though he had a beautiful sincere smile, he was still self-conscious about what he called glaring imperfections and he rarely smiled with his mouth open. "Actually I think I do. I think that's how we communicate Mother and I would hate to lose that." He was quiet for a moment before he added; "besides you're just so easy. You leave openings all the time. In point of fact, I'm quite reserved given the amount of material that you've graciously thrown my way."

"Okay," Martha said forcefully. "You've made your point. I withdraw the offer."

"What offer?"

"Your gift, Einstein."

"Oh, oh, oh, I see." He looked down at his plate. "There is something I could use." He surreptitiously looked at the door again.

Martha arched a single eyebrow in response. "Yes?"

"Would you mind keeping Alexis tonight?" Both of Martha's eyebrows rose. He hadn't asked her to watch his daughter all night before. Seeing his Mother's reaction he added, "I was invited to a poker game tonight: the usual guys, but Stephen King will be there also."

Martha regarded her son. He was lying, but she wasn't sure if it was a complete fabrication or just a part had been embellished. "Of course, darling." He smiled his thanks and looked at the door again. Martha couldn't be sure if he was checking to see if Meredith was coming or hoping that she wouldn't. Suddenly Martha's heart lurched as an old fear gripped her. "Richard…" She began reticently, unsure of how to allay her fears. "You're not planning on…"

"Mother?" He watched her intently, not sure where she was taking her question.

"Oh god, the drugs, you're not planning on numbing your sorrows with drugs again are you?" She knew she made a mistake before she finished.

Rick remained still and silent for an uncomfortable awkward moment. The voice in his head advocated shouting or denying or accusing. He was furious. When he finally spoke, it was in careful measured tones and words. "I am having difficulty believing that you would even bring this up. I have not touched any of that in years." He closed his eyes. When he opened them he asked, "Why would you dredge…I have a daughter…How could you think…" He dropped it, unable or unwilling to give his umbrage any more voice. He was just so tired…of everything.

"Because you're not being entirely truthful about where you're going tonight."

He looked like a guilty child. He exhaled forcefully. "Okay, no poker game. I…I just want to be by myself. I haven't had a moment to myself when I haven't been responsible for anyone but myself in a couple of years." He hung his head shamefully. "I…just…I just wanted to escape for a few hours. Maybe go for a walk, not worry about…" He guiltily looked at his daughter.

Martha wanted to cry but she held it together for him. Always for him. "Darling, yes, of course you can go. I'm sorry I doubted your intentions. Just…" she paused. He had been wiping Alexis chin but stopped to look at her. "Just know that you can't escape the responsibility or the worry. I'm afraid that they're with you the rest of your life."

"I don't want to get away for the rest of my life, Mother, only tonight. I'll pick her up tomorrow?" Martha nodded as he stood and placed kisses on his mother and daughter's heads. "Thank you. Goodnight, Pumpkin. Daddy loves you." He grabbed his coat and swung his arms into it. He locked eyes with his mother. "Thank you. I love you, Mother."

"Happy birthday, Richard. Goodnight." She turned to her granddaughter. "Alexis? You and I are going to have an adventure."