Chapter 25

Lightning zigzagged across the darkening sky in the distance, and gusts of warm air swept the tree branches back and forth in a frenzied dance, leaves rustling and limbs creaking against the unexpected force of the gales.

Humidity made the short blond strands of Sheridan's hair curl around her face, and her skin was damp with sweat wherever they touched, making her shiver slightly with each new blast of air.

One particularly violent shiver had Luis tightening his arms around her. His lips brushed her forehead as he murmured, "Maybe we should go inside." When Sheridan's only response was to nuzzle her nose deeper into his neck, he opened the palm that rested against the small of her back, his fingers tracing absent patterns on the skin bared by his questing hands. "The storm's getting closer."

"Not yet." She shifted against him, the hand cupping his shoulder moving to cradle the back of his head in her hands, and her nails lightly scratched his scalp as she feathered slow, languid kisses across the line of his jaw.

"Sheridan," Luis groaned, feeling his blood start to heat in a familiar way at her touch. The whine of the hammock faded to the background as the sound of his own increasingly labored breaths filled his ears.

"Hmm," she answered, her teeth catching lightly on his earlobe.

Luis's fingers clenched in the thick material of the blanket they'd laid across the green blades of grass earlier, and he shuddered, feeling the drag of her nails across his naked chest, down to the waistband of the jeans he wore. "Sheridan," he protested halfheartedly when he felt her hands slip beneath the waistband and travel around the back. "I'm getting too old for this." Of their own volition, his hands had found their way to her hips.

"Too old, Luis?" Sheridan teased his mouth with kisses. Her blue eyes danced at him as she pulled away, her bare legs sliding across the heavy denim covering his thighs and her hands coming to rest again on his chest. "You'll never be too old for this," she smiled, dipping her head to kiss him again.

Losing himself in the sweet meeting and clinging of their lips, Luis felt all awareness of the gathering storm slip away. His hands moved from her hips to slip beneath the soft cotton of her tank top, and he grinned into the kiss when he felt the answering shiver the movement elicited. "No bra?" he teased when she broke away gasping. "The evidence suggests this seduction was premeditated."

Drawing her bottom lip between her teeth, Sheridan couldn't help letting her eyes flutter shut when the full force of the onslaught of sensation hit her. "Your mother…asked," she sucked in a shaky breath when he switched tactics, sweeping the pale pink shirt over her head and tossing it onto the grass behind them, only to return his hands to her skin mere seconds later. "I couldn't…I couldn't say no."

"Just can't refuse a Lopez-Fitzgerald, can you?" Luis laughed, pretending to be hurt when she playfully smacked him in the shoulder. "Ouch," he rubbed at the tender spot. "Kiss it better?"

Rolling her eyes at the hope he failed to disguise, Sheridan pressed a kiss to her fingertips then pressed them lightly against the wound, shrieking with laughter when he captured her hand and pulled her down to him, attacking her sides and tickling her mercilessly as he rolled them over until she was beneath him and gasping for breath, pleading with him. "Luis, stop. Stop. Uncle, okay? Uncle."

"Now will you kiss it better?" Luis grinned, tucking a curl behind her ear and letting his hand linger there.

Blue eyes dancing wickedly at him, Sheridan smirked in response. "I can think of other places to kiss."

Luis groaned when he felt the button of his jeans pop open and the warmth of her hand delving inside to hover along the waistband of his boxers.

"Now who can't refuse a Lopez-Fitzgerald?"

Ali was still giggling about her little brother passed out cold in their daddy's old bed muttering about airplanes and clouds and Superman when Theresa plopped down beside her on the sofa, her own smile just as bright.

"I guess he liked the plane."

"Guess so," Ali grinned, curling happily against Theresa's side when she held her arm open to welcome her. "I'm glad you're staying tonight, Aunt Theresa."

"Me, too," Theresa replied. "It's been too long since we've had a sleepover. Right, Loma?"

"Too long," Paloma agreed, sitting down on the other side of Ali with a bowl of popcorn in her lap. "Mama says start the movie without her. She's still trying to get Hope down for the night."

Ali fished the remote control to the DVD player out from between the couch cushions and handed it to Theresa. "She's afraid of storms," she told Paloma, grabbing a handful of popcorn from the bowl and tossing a few kernels into her mouth. "Cristian usually is too."

"Poor thing," Theresa giggled. "Guess he's just too tired to care."

"Uh huh," Ali nodded, stretching her legs out in front of her and wiggling her toes. "What movie are we watching?"

"Something about being 13 going on 30," Theresa answered absently as she bumped shoulders with Ali. "I have some new pink polish if you want me to paint your toenails," she told her niece.

"Okay," Ali grinned so broadly her nose scrunched up.

It had to be, Paloma decided, one of the most absurdly cute expressions she had ever seen. Still she couldn't let the moment pass without a little teasing. Her sister really did make it easy sometimes. "Great. Flip that around, and it could be your autobiography."

"Ha. Ha," Theresa said. "If we'd have let you pick the movie, we'd be watching 'The Sound of Music' right now."

"Funny," Paloma mused, scooping up a handful of popcorn in her palm. "I always thought the nuns could have been singing about you. You know that part where they're trying to solve a problem like Maria? Should have been Theresa if you ask me."

"Oh!" Theresa tossed a pillow in Paloma's direction, missing by a good mile and a half and making Ali giggle helplessly. "Eat your popcorn and hush, Loma. The previews are almost over."

"Fine," Paloma huffed with a good-natured roll of her dark eyes. "Chicken," she accused, tossing a handful of popcorn Theresa's way.

"Oh, this means war," Theresa's eyes flashed as she grabbed another pillow from the armchair nearby and brought it down over Paloma's head, making her squeal in protest and Ali scramble off of the sofa and out of the way, laughing so hard she could barely breathe.

"Girls!" The warning from Martin was yelled with humor and affection and paid absolutely no heed whatsoever. "Don't make me come out there!"

"Come on, Mija," Pilar shook her head slightly, arriving in the midst of all the hoopla. She took Ali's hand, leading her into the relative safe haven of the kitchen. "We're going to need more popcorn," she muttered.

Now Ali could never be 100% certain, but she trusted those handy Lopez-Fitzgerald instincts her daddy had passed on to her. She could have sworn her nana just winked!

"I was a free man today, Babe," Hank baited his wife over the remainder of Chinese takeout. "Aren't you going to ask if I stayed out of trouble?"

Gwen rolled her eyes at him, closing the carton of sesame chicken and pushing it back across the table to him. "Luis didn't call asking me to post your bail," she muttered dryly. "I imagine you stayed out of trouble just fine."

Hank feigned hurt, clasping a hand over his heart. "And here I thought I filled your every thought. Aren't you even curious where I took Abby on our clandestine meeting? Come on, I know you're dying to know all the details."

"Hate to disappoint you, Bennett," Gwen smirked, "but frankly, I don't give a damn. How you choose to woo a woman impregnated by and hopelessly in love with another man is your business, not mine. Do anything else interesting today?"

"Damn," Hank grinned proudly as he scooted his chair across the tiles and bumped knees with her. "I just love how secure you are in my feelings for you, Babe. Have I told you lately how sexy I think that is?"

"Once or twice," Gwen tried valiantly not to smile but couldn't help it when he tried, and failed spectacularly, to pick up some rice with his chopsticks and bring it to her mouth. "Hank," she shook her head at him with twinkling brown eyes. "I've never really found someone else feeding me sexy," she said, taking her napkin and wiping away the small mess he'd made.

"Not even chocolate covered strawberries?" Hank looked crestfallen, but then again, he was excellent in the art of fakery.

"Not even chocolate covered strawberries," Gwen laughed, framing his goofy face between her hands and kissing him soundly. "I wouldn't mind some wine though. Pour me a glass?"

"One glass of wine coming right up," Hank mock saluted her, pushing his chair back from the table and standing up to fulfill her request. "Go on to the living room. I'll put the leftovers in the fridge and be right out."

"Are you sure you don't mind?" Gwen bit her lip, brushing a loose strand of blond out of her eyes as she gazed up at his much loved face.

"I'm sure," Hank answered her with a kiss to the forehead. "Go," he shooed her away. "It'll be the most interesting thing I've done all day."

"Oh, Hank," Gwen smiled, capturing his hand as he moved to leave and pressing a kiss to his palm. "I…"

"Yeah, Babe?" Hank smiled back at her, brown eyes dancing as the flashes of lightning flickered across his features.

"I was insanely jealous. Insanely," she reiterated.

"Good." He seemed pleased at the thought. "For a minute there, I was afraid I was losing my touch."

Lightning flared again in the distance, and Abby imagined she could see the tumultuous sea waters churning and roiling against the sand and rocks lining Harmony's ocean front. She turned from the windows when she heard his voice.

"Won't be long before the storm gets here."

"It's funny, isn't it?" she wondered aloud, turning once more to face the spectacular scene displayed outside.

"Funny how?" Nick asked her, hovering just behind her, his hands fisted at his sides as he resisted the urge to touch her.

"How something so violent could be so beautiful," Abby whispered, meeting his gray stare in the reflection of the windows. "Kind of like me," she mused softly. "And her father."

Nick tensed further at the mention of the daughter she'd lost and the relationship that had borne her, and he couldn't help feeling things would have been different if he'd only known her then. He didn't know how; he just knew it would have. Maybe…maybe there'd be a little girl with Abby's eyes waiting to be tucked in for the night in the bedroom he'd come to think of as the nursery. Maybe there wouldn't be a little girl at all. Either way, he liked to think the pained tightness of the voice she always used when she spoke of her past wouldn't be there, would fade away into nothingness. It was moments like these he wanted to break free of the stranglehold his head had over his heart and tell her, tell her…tell her that he cared for her, more than he'd ever cared for any other woman in his life, and that he'd sooner die than lose whatever it was that they shared. But he was strong-willed. And stubborn to a fault. And he'd never experienced someone like her in his life before.

"Maybe…maybe," she said, sounding lost and young and all the things that made his heart ache inside his chest, "maybe I didn't deserve to be her mother. Things happen for a reason, right?" she turned to him, hazel eyes shining in the darkness. "Maybe He saw that and decided to take her away from me, and she's in a better place. A place where that bastard can't hurt her anymore, and her fool of a mother…"

"Shh." His hands slid around her slender shoulders, pulling her trembling body close and tucking her tawny head beneath his chin. "Shh," he soothed as he felt her arms wrap around his back, clenching fistfuls of soft cotton beneath his shoulder blades.

"Maybe…"

"No," Nick cut her off, holding her shoulders even more tightly and pressing his lips to her hair. "No more maybes." He only hoped she believed him.

Thunder boomed loudly overhead, rattling the windowpanes and making the house shudder on its foundation as two sopping wet figures burst through the kitchen door, heads bowed against the driving rain.

Sheridan jumped as a particularly vicious strike of lightning lit up the night sky, and the lights they had left on in the kitchen flickered then died. "Luis," she fumbled for his hand in the darkness.

"Right here," Luis answered her, wrapping his fingers firmly around her wrist and pulling her along behind him. "You okay?" he questioned when he heard her softly uttered cry behind him.

"Fine," Sheridan assured him. "Just found Cristian's missing bat."

Luis grinned in the darkness when he felt her wrap her arms around his waist from behind and shuffle her feet forward cautiously. "That bat was never missing. He just wanted you to think it was. I never thought I'd say this…"

Sheridan said it for him, softening the edges of her laughter with a gentle squeeze to his hands, "Cristian doesn't like baseball."

The now constant flashes of lightning were the only illumination they had as they made their way from the kitchen into the living room.

"There are other sports," Sheridan reminded him when he remained silent. "Basketball. Soccer."

"Soccer's Jake's thing," Luis replied, swearing softly under his breath when he stubbed his toe on the coffee table. "Besides, from what I hear Cristian seems to like flying just fine."

Sheridan reached one hand behind her and tossed a pillow aside when she felt her legs bumping up against the couch. Still holding onto Luis's hand with her other hand, she smiled up at him even though she knew he couldn't make out the expression on her face. "You should have seen his face."

"I can imagine," Luis's free hand sought out her face in the darkness. Stroking his thumb across her cheekbone, he leaned in close and pressed his mouth to hers, the blind action just awkward enough to make Sheridan giggle girlishly when they bumped noses in the process. "Stay here," he brushed his lips against her forehead. "I'll be right back."

Dropping down to the sofa below, Sheridan brought her legs up, wrapping her arms securely around them, and shivered without Luis's welcome body heat nearby. "You were right," she called, digging her bare toes into the cushions of the couch and chafing her hands over her goose-bump pebbled flesh.

"I'm always right," came Luis's muffled answer. "What was I right about?" he asked a few moments later, bending at the waist to light the candles on the coffee table.

How was it, Sheridan wondered, that her husband could make ratty, hole-ridden gray sweatpants look so attractive? Taking the plush towel he offered her, she rubbed it briskly over her hair. "We should have come inside sooner."

"Come on," Luis teased her as he collapsed onto the sofa beside her. "Where's your sense of adventure?" His brown eyes eyed her appreciatively as she peeled her wet tank top from her body to replace it with the soft, equally worn out black tee-shirt she'd proclaimed her own early on in their marriage.

Sheridan let the towel slide to the floor with her wet clothes, promising herself she'd clean up later. Later, when the chill was gone from her skin, and her husband didn't look so invitingly warm and cuddly. The thought made laughter bubble in her throat, and she couldn't say what caused her to shake more: the cold or the thought of Luis as a uniform clad teddy bear.

"I'm not even going to ask," Luis muttered, pulling her into his arms and tucking her head beneath his chin.

Burrowing deeper into his open arms, she pressed her cold nose in the crook of his neck and was rewarded with an answering shiver from her husband. "You wouldn't appreciate the humor anyway," she mumbled against his skin.

They lapsed into silence and watched the brilliant lightshow Mother Nature was putting on outside. Gradually, the lightning seemed to calm, but the rain still fell heavily.

Lulled to a relaxed state from the steady beat of the rain, Sheridan yawned and hugged her arms more tightly about Luis's middle before letting her fingers dip into the waistband of his sweatpants and rest lightly there.

Giving her an answering kiss to the top of the head, Luis trailed his fingertips up and down the length of her arm. "So much for movie night," he chuckled lightly, referring to the night of fun Theresa had planned for Ali's sleepover.

"I'm sure your sisters have other ways of keeping Ali entertained," Sheridan laughed. "She loves spending time with them."

"She does, doesn't she?" Luis mused.

Sheridan smiled to herself, knowing how much Ali's close relationship with Theresa and her growing fondness for Paloma meant to him. "Luis," she captured his hand with her own, threading their fingers together. "Have you given anymore thought to the trip?" She sighed when she felt him tense in response to her question before willing himself to relax.

"It's too soon."

"I know it feels like it," Sheridan lifted their joined hands to her mouth and pressed a kiss on the inside of Luis's wrist. "But it'll be good for Ali to have a little fun after the year she's had, and think of how Theresa will feel if you don't let Ali go. Chad and Paloma are both going, and they're taking Jake along."

"I'll think about it," Luis said. "I'll think about it some more," he smiled when he felt and heard her exasperation. Changing the subject, he urged, "Tell me more about Cristian's first flight."

"Well," Sheridan began, sitting up beside him, her blue eyes sparkling with humor in the candlelight. "He wants to be Superman when he grows up."

Luis laughed, his fingers finding their way into Sheridan's hair and stroking lovingly as she regaled him with the details of her day with their young aviator in training. "Superman. Last year it was Spiderman. What else?"

"A man approached me about giving him flying lessons…"

"Children don't get to choose their parents."

"Doesn't seem fair, does it?" Nick murmured, his lips brushing against Abby's forehead as he spoke. They lay lengthwise on the couch, Nick's head resting against the arm, Abby's tawny head nestled on his chest, a comfortable tangle of limbs. That's where they had been for the duration of Abby's earlier emotional outbreak, and that's where Nick continued to hold her close, his hand stroking calmingly up and down her back, slipping occasionally beneath the soft cotton to splay against the small of her back and the sunburst design that served as a constant reminder of the past. "Nobody in their right mind would choose me."

Abby raised her head, her hazel eyes boring into Nick's unwavering gray gaze. "You can't really believe that." She traced the neckline of his tee-shirt with her fingers, finally cupping her palm around the curve of his jaw. "I've seen the way children react to you. They adore you. Ask Ali. Ask Lanie." Her eyes sparkled, and the lightning illuminated the smile on her face. "Is it true? Am I really one of your favorites?" she teased, unprepared for the seriousness of his answer.

"THE favorite," Nick covered her hand with his own, bringing her hand to his mouth and pressing a tender kiss to her palm.

Abby's breath caught in her throat as his fingers slid into her hair, and he stared at her with an emotion she didn't dare name in his gray eyes. Her thumb caressed the corner of his mouth, and her lips parted as they pressed sweetly against that same corner seconds later.

Nick stilled beneath her, through sheer force of will letting her take the lead. Only when he felt her gently sigh into his mouth did he respond in kind, letting the kiss build and build and fill him with aching warmth. He groaned when her soft curves settled more fully atop him, his breath escaping in harsh pants as she leaned her forehead against his own.

With Hank's concerns and the memories of the resurrected past still whirling inside her mind, Abby felt as if she were freefalling, and she desperately wished to place her feet on solid ground again. But she couldn't do that. Not if they continued on the path they were on, one already traveled. It had to be different this time—different than all the times before. There was too much at stake. "We can't do this," Abby frowned, fingers digging painfully into the bunched up muscle of his shoulders. "I need to keep my head. I need to do what's best. For this baby. For me. For you. We can't do this. We can't complicate things with sex. I can't think straight when...," her hands slid up to cup his face again, and she implored him, "Nick, please." She kissed him again, tears filling her eyes as she pulled back. "I don't want to lose another child because I'm too weak to make the right choice, and I don't trust myself to be strong here. Not when I can't tell up from down or what you want from me or this relationship. We can't do this. *I* can't do this." Her eyes pleaded with him to understand.

Wordlessly, Nick gently guided her head back to his chest and wrapped his arms tightly around her, offering what comfort he could afford her, a difficult choice decided in that moment, the only choice he felt he had the right to make. If Abby couldn't be strong, he'd be strong for her. Even if it killed him.

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