Disclaimer: I don't own.

A/N: Sorry once again for the long delay-it's been a busy week and weekend. Father's Day and all that, and then my Dad's 61st birthday is on Tuesday! :) Plus, I struggled with what, exactly, I wanted to do with this chapter...

So, I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think!

Chapter Ninety One:

It was… extremely uncomfortable, stepping into the home that Susan had left and come back to, before and after our affair. Jace's eldest sister was living in it now—his parents having moved, according to Sara, to New York. Sara understood my sentiments, at least, and slid her hand into mine as we walked up the narrow sidewalk to the front door together. She knocked, but then let herself in a moment later, and with a bleak certainty that this would be nothing but awkward, I followed her inside.

I wasn't sure how much of the decorating was new and how much had remained from when Susan and her husband—Tom, I had learned—had raised their children here. …I wasn't sure I wanted to know, either. I was certain I would have nightmares about a twelve year old Jace in this house crying for his mommy while four hundred miles away I'd been bent over a desk in his mother's office, flinching from just the sound of the ruler, knowing what was coming…

Sara closed the door behind us and it closed with a snap, making me flinch—my thoughts on rulers apparently a little too close to the forefront of my mind. Sara glanced at me, a little curiously, but didn't ask, which I was thankful for. She didn't know the extent of Susan and I's relationship… she knew that the woman had been controlling and possessive, and that she liked that I was a student… but she didn't know the extremes to which I had allowed myself to be used. She didn't know about rulers or handcuffs or begging for and earning scores on tests I'd already legitimately passed… or the very real punishments when I honestly did get a question wrong on an assignment.

And she didn't need to—it had taken me years and years to deal with it, and I had. At this point, it would serve no purpose to be brought to the surface other than to absolutely mortify me and make Sara's pretty features contort in pity, which I was entirely unprepared for.

She set the diaper bag and the umbrella that we had needed to get to the car but which was presently unnecessary, the day still bleak and gray, but the rain having slowed and stopped in the last ten minutes of the drive here. Then, she offered her hands, silently asking if I wanted her to take Ayla from me. I shook my head, holding the small girl closer to me, and she nodded in understanding… I was uncomfortable here, and holding Ayla gave me something to do without being part of the main interaction.

Then, she turned and walked ahead of me, black dress and nylons and shoes making her a picture of grief and mourning and reminding me with every click of her heels exactly why we were here and what day it was. I followed behind, through a kitchen which was very modern, a dining room which troubled me because it looked as if it had changed very little in the last twenty years, and finally into a living room where the entire family was seated. The TV was turned on, but the volume was low, and no one really seemed to be watching it.

Tom was seated in the largest armchair, clearly the patriarch of the family, despite his wife's controlling ways… I wondered briefly if that was why she'd left him… because no matter how hard she tried and no matter what her family allowed her to get away with, he was still the head of the family. Susan was on the larger of the two couches, with the woman I recognized as Jace's eldest sister, the owner of this home now. Beside her was a man I didn't recognize, but from his hand gently running over the small of her back, I assumed it was her husband. On the smaller of the two couches were the two younger sisters, the middle sister squished between her husband and the youngest of the girls, the one Sara could tolerate. Her husband had a four year old standing shyly between his knees and there was an infant car seat on the floor, holding a sleeping child. Sitting on the floor in front of the TV, were three children who I assumed were the eldest daughter's children by the way they seemed to be treating this house as their home, shoes not on, dress clothing hanging limp and unfastened in places, mouths open and eyes on the television.

Sara and I stopped in the entrance to the living room, and an awkward hush fell over the room as all eyes fell on us. Even the three on the floor turned a moment later, when a commercial flickered over the screen. I swallowed convulsively, feeling how tense Sara was beside me. Tom broke the tension, standing from his seat of power and moving over to us, as if there were no reason in the world why this should seem strange. "Sara… good to see you, honey. How are you holding up?" He pulled her into a tight hug and I watched her slight frame tremble while the muffled sound of her sniffling against his chest could be heard.

"I'm okay."

He pulled back gently, his gentle eyes studying her face carefully, and then nodding slowly. He turned to me, offering me a hand. "Gil…" I took it and we shook before leaned in and patted my back in a man-hug that surprisingly made me feel like one of the family, despite my strange, strange relationship to it. He backed up, smiled, and turned his gaze to Ayla. "…Can Grandpa see you, honey?" He asked her, holding his hands out. I glanced at Sara who nodded just as Ayla was flinging herself forward into the man's arms. I released her to him, and he grinned and moved back to his chair, bouncing her on his knee. There were no available seats without squeezing in close, so we stood on the edge, Tom the only person in the room who seemed unaffected by our presence there.

After a painfully long moment, Jace's youngest sister asked Sara about her flight and while Sara hesitantly answered that it had been fine—that Ayla had slept most of the way—the others picked up their old conversations and the children turned back to the television. Thankfully, we only lingered for roughly fifteen minutes before Tom suggested that we get going so we were at the funeral far enough ahead of time to greet people. I was relieved and, as Sara and I were standing only a few feet in from the doorway, we led everyone else out and into the kitchen where the children from the floor were straightened out to look presentable and the family discussed carpooling as everyone moved outside and Sara collected the diaper bag.

The eldest sister—I couldn't for the life of me remember her name—had a minivan that would seat seven. The youngest sister and Susan piled in with the three children, which left us, Tom, and the middle sister's family, with two cars either way… Tom said he'd join us, and in one long line, the three cars made their way to the church in which Sara and Jace had been married—the church Jace had grown up attending, I knew. …It was hard to even walk through the doors—I could hear Sara's 'I do' ringing in my ears, and I had to remind myself forcefully that all of that was behind us.

Jace's coffin was out in the entryway, an open casket, and I felt my stomach rolling even from a distance. …I had last seen that face uttering its dying wishes on ragged breaths. I felt tears prick my eyes, but a glance at Susan had me fighting them back fiercely. I had cried in front of her more times than I cared to remember. I glanced at Sara. "I, uh… I can take Ayla… into the sanctuary…" I offered, thinking that with all the times Ayla had asked about Jace since his death, the last thing she probably needed was to see him look like he was sleeping. …She would not understand what it meant.

Sara's eyes were bloodshot when she nodded, turning to Tom who still held her and had clearly heard my words. He passed Ayla back to me and I was grateful she came willingly, rather than wishing to stay with Mommy or Grandpa… which would have been understandable. Children could sense emotion, even if they didn't understand the reasons behind it… and with everyone so upset, it would have been natural for her to want to stay with Sara. …I squeezed Sara's hand in parting, berating myself for not staying to offer her some strength and comfort, and took Ayla through the large doors, down the aisle, and into one of the front rows that were already marked as 'reserved'.

She smiled at me and pointed to my face again. "Gla." This time it was less of an exclamation and more a calm statement—she was informing me of what they were. I smiled.

"Glasses."

"Gla." She repeated, and then leaned forward, her little arms circling my neck in an almost choke-hold of a hug. "Dada?" She asked me, and I wondered if she'd recognized Jace from so far away, or if her question was unrelated. I sighed.

"…Daddy's buh-bye. Daddy got owies and he had to go buh-bye."

"Buh-bye?" She asked me, and I sighed again, wishing she had either been younger or older when she'd had to endure this… because there was no way she could possibly understand, long-term, even something as simple as 'Daddy buh-bye.' If she were younger, she would know he was gone, but I wouldn't feel as obligated to answer her questions each time… and if she were older, she might understand. …She would remember, and not have to learn anew each time she asked that her Daddy wasn't coming back.

I nodded, and she laid her head on my shoulder, seeming suddenly very tired, despite her long nap only an hour previous… but then, grief was often an exhausting emotion. …I wondered if she understood the situation well enough to truly feel grief, but I didn't get to speculate more than a moment before I felt a body slide into the pew beside me. I turned, expecting Sara, and came face to face with Susan instead.

I cursed myself for the audible gasp I let out, causing Ayla to lift her head and turn to look at the woman. She smiled and reached for her, and I shifted her to the other side of my body, feeling guilty for ignoring her clear desires. Susan raised an eyebrow. "I was surprised to hear you telling her that 'Daddy' went buh-bye, Gil."

I clenched my teeth, and breathed in deeply, wanting very much to look behind me and find some reinforcements, but I also didn't want her to see me looking… I didn't want to show a sign of weakness. At my silence, she chuckled softly, the sound echoing quietly in the stillness of the sanctuary. "I just figured you'd be taking my son's place… telling her that you are 'Daddy' now… You're very good at that…taking my son's places."

My jaw was set and I shook my head. "I'm not going to be baited today, Susan. …Despite what you believe about me, I have a lot of respect for Jace… he was a good man. I'm not going to do this, here."

Her hand fell onto my thigh, somehow caressing and applying force simultaneously. "Oh? …Then where would you like to do… this?"

I moved my left hand from Ayla's side where it had held her steady while my right arm held her up, and lifted her hand by the wrist, removing it. "That? Nowhere. A confrontation about how you think I'm trying to take your son's place…? Anywhere else, on any other day."

Her smile was coy and she leaned in a little closer—not so much that her family members in the lobby could interpret her true intentions, but close enough to make the hair on my neck and arms stand on end, even in the heavy suit I was wearing. "…Tell me, Gil… does Sara use a ruler too? Does she tie you down?" I swallowed convulsively, trying to simply block her out, but her voice was so close and quiet in my ear, implanting itself in my thoughts, reminiscent of other whispered words from a lifetime ago. "Or do you find yourself unsatisfied, because she doesn't? …She doesn't seem like she's got it in her. I mean, she's probably not vanilla… but she's no Rocky Road, like me, is she?"

I turned to her abruptly, speaking in a hushed voice. "Enough. You're not going to make me snap at you or run from you… Ayla needs to be in here, because seeing… the body… will only confuse her. If you have any love for her as your grandchild, leave well enough alone, instead of baiting me in front of her, with no regard for her at all."

She frowned deeply. "I do love Ayla, just as I loved my son. More than a man who has never been a father could understand in his paltry feelings for his surrogate child, daughter of his married whore of a girlfriend."

I fought every nerve in my body that was telling me to stand… to go anywhere else… or to simply stay and yell at her. I balled my fists and curled my toes and grit my teeth. "Susan…" I warned, and a pain-filled smile crossed her face, understanding dawning. …Tormenting me was her way of dealing with her grief over Jace's death. She couldn't stop herself…

"Now, back to you and my oh-so-faithful daughter in law… I remember how hard you used to get, just at the suggestion of me tying you down and using your body for my own pleasures… how you'd beg me…" I was shaking, looking behind me now for some help, uncaring that she could see, and she smirked slyly. "I don't think you're the type of man to just wish for what you can't have, but you're with her… so it must be that you've turned it around. …You snap the ruler now, don't you? …Do you wear leather, Gil? Do you buy complicated contraptions to keep her bound and contorted while you work out your anger at me on her innocent little body?"

I stood up, finally willing to run from her. I swallowed convulsively, shaking with anger, and it was only more than twenty years of devout religious upbringing that kept my voice quiet in this place. "Stop it. Your son is dead, and I'm very sorry about that, but I'm not a naïve nineteen year old boy you can manipulate into believing that your compulsions are normal in the bedroom and that my hesitancy was a symptom of my ignorance rather than my lack of desire. Whatever you think of Sara and I, this is not the time or place to air your grievances, nor attempt to upset me with your wildly off-base speculations. Enough is enough!"

Though this all came on a whisper, the tone of my voice communicated my anger—I was shaking with it—and then I was sliding out of the pew past her, storming down the aisle with Ayla on my hip, and miraculously, Sara was on her way up, so that I wouldn't need to bring Ayla within sight of Jace again. "…Are you okay? What happened, Gil?"

I shook my head, finding myself tense and breathless and fighting back tears again—how was it that the woman could still reduce me to such weakness? I wanted to scream and punch a wall… destroy something violently… anything to provide an outlet for my absolute rage, not at her words, but at the fact that anything she said could have any effect on me at all. "Nothing…" I said, my voice rough and trembling, with a hard edge beneath it. "I'm fine."

She frowned, clearly disbelieving me, but she pulled me into her loving, gentle arms, and I felt my shuddering body still, melting into her with a desperation that reminded me too forcefully of being a child trying to mold themselves to their mother's frame, so in need they are of comfort. Her small hands slid up my back, pressed against the back of my neck, and held me tight to her. And when she pulled back from me, a moment later, I felt so much more stable… more calm. She slipped a hand into mine and offered a small smile. "…There's a vending machine, over in the Youth Group areas. Lets grab a bottle of water and take a few minutes, yeah?"

I nodded, running a hand over my jaw, wondering if my level of distress had been as visible as her actions implied. I followed her out of the sanctuary and to the right, in the direction of the doors rather than Jace's casket, turning down a hallway just beside the doors and following her down it and finally into a large room, complete with pool tables, vending machines, tables and chairs, pinball machines, and, in one corner, several large, worn, squashy couches around a TV.

She closed the door behind us, locked it, and together we moved to the couches, plopping down to just take a minute. His family had been more than a little overwhelming, even with Susan's tormenting, and we'd only spent an hour with them at this point… there was much more—much worse—to endure before this day would be over.