Thank you to Cynthia for some tips for the upcoming trip to Detroit!

Enjoy :)

One week later

"Jack wants me to take another statement from you."

Ben bit the side of his tongue before answering. "I'm not sure there's much more I can add to the statements I gave previously or my testimony before the Grand Jury."

"I know, but he still wants me to do it." Claire paused. "I could meet you some time later today?"

"No, that won't work," Ben replied, glancing at the clock. "I've got an important phone call later and the kids and I are heading to Michigan tomorrow to visit my mother so there's lots to do today..."

"I could come by your place this evening then."

"You're awful keen to push this, Claire."

"Well, look at this way. The more we get from you and Ralph McQueen, the less likely it is that we'll need Evelyn at trial." She paused again. "I talked to Jack. This was his idea."

"Ok," Ben agreed. "When you put it like that, we share the same objective."

"What time would suit?"

"Uh...seven-thirty?"

"Perfect, I'll see you then."

He replaced the receiver slowly and stood for a moment in the silence of the apartment. Claire had obviously relayed what he had said at the courthouse to Jack and if they were trying to find a way to rationalise not using Evelyn as a witness, then it was all he could do to try to help them, even if he really didn't think there was much he could add. What more really was there to say?

He moved around the living room, moving things from one place to another, wiping imaginary dust off of the furniture and straightening the pictures on the wall that were somehow out of sync.

Go out. Do something. You've got four hours to kill.

Four hours. Four hours until he would get to speak to her. His stomach was in knots. He had spoken to Harry a few days earlier who had confirmed that he could talk to Evelyn that coming Friday but that there were a couple of stipulations he had to make. The first was that Evelyn had to make the call, the reason being that if she felt she couldn't speak to him then she didn't have the stress of knowing that he was waiting for her to answer. The second was that she could call anytime between two and two-thirty but, if he hadn't heard from her by two-thirty, then she clearly hadn't felt able to call and he would need to wait at least another week.

He had made all the right noises when Harry had told him this, agreeing that of course it was for the best, but part of him couldn't help but think that it was all so regimented just for a simple phone call.

You have to go along with it. There's no other way.

He wandered into his bedroom and checked over the contents of his suitcase, mentally confirming to himself that he had everything that he would need. Peter had packed his things the previous evening, all except the last minute essentials, but Pamela's case was still empty, clothes dumped on top of it as though she hadn't quite figured out what to take yet. Their flight was at ten the following morning so he knew he'd have to chide her along that evening. They were both pretty excited about going, not just about seeing their grandmother again but about visiting places that they had heard him talk about. Pamela was desperate for a trip to the Detroit Institute of Art and Peter had subtly trailed that he wouldn't say no to going to a Tigers game.

He paused, thinking back on what he had said to Paul the previous weekend about fatherhood being the best job in the world. It was funny how so much could change in so little time. A year ago, weeks had gone by without him seeing them or knowing what they were doing. Now, the thought of going back to that type of arrangement elicited nothing but a hell no from deep inside.

At lunchtime, he took a wander down to the local deli and bought a bagel, salad and soup for lunch and picked up some light pastries, in case Claire wanted one when she dropped by that evening. He smiled, thinking about what Peter's reaction would be and wondered if he should tell him in advance or let him open the door to her. Telling him in advance would be kinder, but having him open the door to her would be more humorous, at least for him.

At two o'clock, he found himself pacing the living room, his eyes darting to and from the phone, waiting for it to ring. When it didn't, he sat down on the couch and tried to read the day's paper only to find himself going over and over the same lines of text. He switched on the television to catch the news only to find himself immediately putting it off again lest the noise hampered his hearing of the phone.

By two-twenty he was starting to give up hope.

Maybe she's just not ready. Maybe she just needs more time...

At two twenty-three, the phone rang and he found himself frozen, just staring at it. What if it was a sales call? What if it was a wrong number? What if it was his mother?

What if it's her?

Answer, damn it!

He took a breath and lifted the receiver, his heart pounding so fiercely in his chest that it felt as though his whole body was reverberating, "Hello?"

"Ben?"

He felt a shudder of relief go through him at the sound of her voice and he sat down heavily on the edge of the couch, his legs almost unable to bear his weight any longer. "It's you."

"It's me."

"It's so good to hear your voice," he let out a long breath. "How are you?"

"I'm good," she replied. "How are you?"

How am I? God, what a question. I'm talking to you. I'm talking to you!

"I'm great," he said with a slight laugh. "Now that I'm talking to you, that is. These last few hours have been, I don't know, some kind of torture."

"I've missed the sound of your voice."

"I've missed you." He closed his eyes, imagining her at the other end of the phone, what she was wearing, how she was sitting, whether her free hand was still or nervously touching her hair...an inappropriate feeling of need suddenly coursed though him, and he felt his groin twitch.

"I've missed you too," she said softly. "Three weeks is a hell of a long time when they tell you that you can't call. There's been so many times that I've wished I could just pick up the phone and talk to you."

"You sound...different."

"Different in a good way, I hope."

"You sound, I don't know, somehow lighter? Happier?" He wasn't sure if either of the words was appropriate but they were the only ones that seemed to fit. Gone was the terrible despair that he had heard and felt when he had seen her in London and brought her home, when she had both clung to him and retreated from him. She sounded more like her old self now, if she had ever truly been that. "I'm sorry, I'm not really sure how to describe it and I don't want to say you sound 'better' because...well..."

"I'm getting better, Ben. I'm not all the way there yet, and I'm not naive enough to think that I'm going to have solved all my problems in eight weeks, but the person you brought here...I'm not her anymore."

"I'm glad. I was so worried about you, sweetheart. You just looked so...so broken."

There's no other word for it. That's what she was.

You can help fix her. You know you can.

"I know and I'm so sorry that you had to go through that. I'm so sorry that I made you go through that."

"No you didn't. It wasn't your fault..."

"Maybe not, but I need to say sorry. I need to say a long of things, some of which I'm not quite ready to say yet, but I can say sorry for what you had to deal with in London. I was a mess and perhaps a part of me still is..." she paused. "But the therapy here has been good in allowing me to understand not only why I made some of the choices that I did, but the consequences of those choices, both for myself and others." She paused and laughed. "Does that make me sound preachy?"

"No, of course not," he replied hurriedly. "I just don't want you to feel that you have to apologise to me, that's all."

"Maybe I don't have to, but I want to. I was so lonely in London. I thought that when I got there and settled in and started working and making friends that it would all fall into place, that everything would make sense there that hadn't here and, when it didn't...I guess I didn't know how to deal with that. I know now that I should have asked for help, maybe even have reached out to you on some level."

"I know that you called," he offered. "You didn't say anything but I knew it was you."

There was a silence at the other end of the phone before she spoke again, her voice shaking slightly when she did. "I didn't know that. I thought you might think it was just a wrong number. Just hearing you answer...I suppose I was trying to work up the courage to actually talk to you but I couldn't do it, not until I'd had a drink at least."

He closed his eyes, trying to block out the memory of that particular call. "How are things going with that?"

"I'm sober. I have been since I got here. The first week or so was pretty rough but I reckon I'm over the worst of it now. They have AA meetings here in addition to the individual and group therapy, so I've been going as often as I can. I know three weeks isn't any time at all in the grand scheme of things, but I'm hopeful."

"That's good."

"I'm sorry that you had to see me drinking and I'm so sorry that you had to find out that I was sleeping with other men..." she paused. "I'm sorry that I did all those things. I was searching for something...and I couldn't find it. I didn't enjoy any of it. I want you to know that. It was never...fun."

He felt a lump rise in his throat, "I do know that."

"It was never a question of trying to find someone to replace you. It was never as...meaningful...as that. I know that part of you probably doesn't want to hear that but it's important that I say it."

"I know that too," he said, thinking back to what Alex had told him. "I've never thought badly of you for it, Evelyn, never. But, if you need me to say it then I'll say it. I forgive you."

"Thank you, that means a lot. I know it's not everything, not yet, but it's a start, right?"

"Sweetheart, you have nothing to prove to me. The only person that you need to do all of this for is you. I love you regardless of what you've done or what you think you've done...nothing you could ever say or do could ever change how I feel about you. The thought of another five weeks without you..."

She cleared her throat. "I was hoping that you might be able to do me a favour, not that you haven't done plenty already."

"Name it," he said automatically.

"I was hoping that you might be able to find me an apartment. I know that it's unlikely my old place will be available, but I actually can't bear the thought of going back to stay with my mother right now. My relationship with her is...all wrapped up in this mess and I know that being with her on a full time basis would be disastrous for both of us. I don't even think she knows that I'm here yet. I thought maybe you could call your realtor friend for me and see what's on the market? I'm only allowed to call certain people and the thought of leaving with no place to go..."

Her words trailed off and over his head.

You want me to find you an apartment?

You don't need an apartment.

You're coming home with me.

"Evelyn, I..."

"I'm sorry," she said quickly. "I know it's a lot to ask and I'm sure that you have lots of other things to take care of right now..."

"It's not that. Of course I can find you an apartment..."

"Thank you."

"...it's just that..."

"What?"

He paused, "I suppose I assumed that once you were finished with treatment you would just come back here to live with me. With us. Me and the kids. I assumed that you and I..."

I was going to pick you up and I was going to take you somewhere and I was going to make love to you until we were both spent and then I was going to bring you home and we were going to live happily ever after...

"I've missed you in every way imaginable for a man to miss a woman. I think about you every day and every night. I want..." he broke off, suddenly reminding himself that it wasn't about what he wanted right now. She was the one battling demons. She was the one who had to set the pace for their relationship going forwards. If she wanted to take things slowly, then he would do that too.

You have to. You can't lose her again.

It was her turn to pause, though he could still hear her breathing, and he felt his heart start to quicken again with the anxiety of waiting for her to respond. After what seemed like an eternity, she spoke.

"I need friends, Ben."

"Friends," he echoed dumbly.

"I don't have many, and the few I do have I've most likely alienated somehow. If I'm going to get fully better then I need to work on those relationships. I've learned that everyone needs a strong support network around them and..." she paused again. "You're the best friend that I have...probably the best friend I've ever had."

Friend.

No.

"That's...that's uh..."

"An emotional, sexual relationship right now...I...I don't..."

"No no, I understand," he said quickly, keen for her not to finish her thought, desperate for her not to come right out and say it. "No, you're right. It's...uh...it's important that you do what you feel you need to right now."

"I'm sorry..."

We've been here before. Professional not personal. Only this time there's no professional element and, Jesus, how much more personal can two people get?

"You don't have to be sorry," he said, attempting to sound cheerful. "I'm very happy that you're doing better and I want to do whatever I can to help you with that so, if you need me to find you an apartment, then that's what I'll do...and if you need to just be friends right now...that's fine too."

"Thank you," she said again, sounding relieved. "Having you in my life Ben...it makes me feel, I don't know, safe."

"I'm...uh...I'm glad."

"I think a part of me always knew that you'd come for me. I guess that's why I...I mean..."

"It's ok," he lied. "Really, it is."

There was an elongated silence.

"I'd better go," she said finally. "I've got a session at three."

"Sure," he said. "Uh...the kids and I are going to Michigan tomorrow for a week to see my mother."

"That sounds great." She hesitated slightly. "How are the kids?"

"They're good. They send you their best."

"That's kind. I know I have some bridges to build there too. Tell them I said hello and to have a great time."

"I will. I'll...uh...call when we get back and arrange with Harry for another time for us to talk...if you want to, that is."

"Of course I do. That sounds great," she said. "And thank you again for everything."

"No problem." He paused, wanting to tell her he loved her, but feeling it suddenly inappropriate. "I guess I'll say goodbye then."

"Bye Ben."

"Bye."

XXXX

"It's like she's pushing me away!"

"That's not what she's doing."

"Isn't it?"

"No, it isn't." Elizabeth sat forward in her chair. "What she said to you was right. She does need friends right now, people she can turn to, people she can lean on. Recovering from a near mental breakdown isn't an easy process and neither is dealing with all the things that led up to it. If you want my honest opinion, I think she's being very smart here."

Ben stopped pacing and looked at her. "By choosing not to be with me?"

"By choosing not to dive headfirst back into a relationship with you, yes."

"Oh great, thanks."

After he had put the phone down, he had felt what he could only describe as a terrible feeling of loss. As though everything he had been working towards, thinking about, hoping for had all been swept away with a few choice words on her part. He had tried to rationalise what she had said, tried to make sense of it, tried to see where she was coming from, but it didn't matter. He still felt the same.

Rejected.

Again.

"Ben...your relationship with Evelyn was intense right from the start. You didn't date like other couples might have. You didn't go for drinks and dinner and to the movies and gradually build things up. You both felt an attraction and you both physically acted upon it. Bang, before you know it she's pregnant and you're talking about moving in together and getting married. It was all way too fast, particularly for a woman like her who had suffered what she had with Edward. Add into that the trauma of her being attacked at the hotel, the shooting and the miscarriage..." she shook her head. "By the time she left for London you had been through more things in a few months than some couples go through in a lifetime together."

"But that's partly what I don't understand. Yes we've been through a lot together. Surely that should make us closer than other couples who just 'dated?' Surely that should make what we had worth fighting for not...throwing away."

"She's not throwing it away," Elizabeth said. "She's just pulling the reins back a little. Like it or not, Ben, what I said to you all those months ago was right. Evelyn needs to be able to stand on her own two feet and find her own coping mechanisms to deal with what she's been through. As a friend you can support her with that. As a lover it's all too easy to fall into the trap of propping the other person up."

"That isn't what I would do!" he exclaimed, frustrated.

"Yes it is. You just can't see it and that's ok. Like I said, she's not cutting you out of her life. She wants you there. She wants you to be friends and you know as well as I do that some of the greatest love affairs came about because two people were friends first."

He sighed, putting his hands on his hips and shaking his head. "I don't want to be her friend, Liz."

"You mean you don't want to just be her friend," she corrected him. "I get that, I do. But right now Ben that's all she can offer you. It's up to you whether or not you're willing to accept it."