Disclaimer: NONE ARE MINE!!! Except Aaron (Eric) and his mother. Everyone else belongs to their respective owners. This is for entertainment only! No infringement intended and no money is being made from this fic!!

Choices.

"What is the matter with you?" John demanded.

Marguerite stood silent, as she had the first time he had asked.

"Marguerite—" John began again.

"How do we know?" She blurted out, interrupting him. "How do we know this woman is Aaron's Mother?"

"Eric's mother," John correctly.

"Whatever," Marguerite spat. "But…how can we be sure? We don't know what she looks like, she—she could be anyone for all we know!" Marguerite had managed to keep her emotions under check until now; she burst into tears. John touched her arm and she looked up to meet his eyes.

"You know this woman is Aaron's—Eric's mother. Just as much as we'd all like to deny it." John didn't look away from her once, he reached out and brushed his finger against Marguerite's cheek.

Marguerite's lip trembled and she wiped her tears away roughly with the back of her hand. "Maybe your right, hell I know your right." She looked out the window then back to John's face. "But just because she's his mother…" She paused trying to pull herself together. "What kind of woman would leave her son all alone?"

John sighed, "you heard Veronica."

"But she has no right!" Marguerite nearly screaming stomping her foot; fat tears rolled down her cheeks but this time she didn't bother to wipe them away.

John seized Marguerite by the shoulders, he was so livid he could have shook her. But not so much at her, but at this woman. This woman who claimed to be Aaron's—Eric's mother. This woman who threatened to break their 'happy family' apart. John wanted to shake Marguerite. "What right do we have?" He wondered. "What right do we have to keep a child from it's mother?"

"But—" Marguerite began.

"I know you love Aaron Marguerite," John said tightening his grip on Marguerite's shoulder. "Believe me I know. We all love him, even I love him."

"Well then…why?" Marguerite demanded. She opened her mouth again, but instead a sob escaped her throat. "I love him," she whispered, "I love him like my brother…"she whispered.

John's mouth dropped open, "what happened Marguerite, what happened to your brother?"

"It was a long time ago," Marguerite replied, avoiding John's question. "He died when I was almost eleven."

"His name was Aaron wasn't it?" John demanded.

"Yes," Marguerite replied, "it was." She smiled softly, "he was such a good boy…just like Aaron—Eric." Suddenly her face hardened, "but then he got sick…and he died. He died and I couldn't do anything. I begged Mother, I begged God but I couldn't do anything—"

"You can do something now Marguerite, you can do something now." John said enclosing Marguerite in a tight hug.

"No," She replied, fighting only for a moment before collapsing into John's arms.

"We have no right Marguerite, to keep a mother from her child." He whispered into her hair.

"I know John…" Marguerite replied finally, "I know."