Title: Coming Home
Author: Nicky
E-mail: NickyM96@yahoo.com
Rating: PG-13
Keywords: J/MP, MP/B, Angst
Summary: Miss Parker makes a choice that forever changes the
lives of those around her. Sequel to Letting Go.
Disclaimer: As much as I'd like it, these characters don't
belong to me. I'm just using them for fun. Although, I don't
think they have much fun in this story :-) I'll be sure to send
them to therapy before returning them.

Choices III - Coming Home
By Nicky

I've dreamt about this moment for as long as I've known her. In
the dreams, it has varied over the years. Sometimes it's quick
and frenzied in her office. Sometimes slow and exploring in
mine. Sometimes she comes to me. Mostly I go to her.
Ironically, after we got married, I lost all hope in the dream
ever coming true. I realized she didn't love me. She never
promised me her love. She couldn't give me her heart. That
already belonged to Jarod. So imagine my surprise when she
offered me a gift I never thought I'd receive from her.

* * * * * * * * * *

Two hours earlier . . .

I pace nervously around my bedroom, mentally slapping myself for
my idiotic actions. What have I just done? I just left my wife
in a hotel room with the love of her life, that's what. How
stupid was that? While I was at it, I should have just turned
down the covers and put mints on the pillows. I know that ours
is a marriage of convenience. I married her to help protect the
children. If the Centre ever finds out she's having Jarod's
kids, then who knows what they'll do to her. I can't let
anything bad happen to her. So to protect her and the children,
I offered to marry her. That way, the Centre won't have any
reason to suspect anyone other than me as the father. She'll be
safe.

But despite the lack of love on her part, a small part of me
hoped she'd forget all about Jarod once she was my wife. And for
the two months we've been married, things have been good.
Debbie's happy. I'm happy. And Marisa seems to be taking things
in stride. Yes, she lets me call her by her first name. During
the day at work, she's still Miss Parker. But to us at home,
she's Marisa. She said it would be ridiculous for Debbie and me
to still call her Miss Parker in our own home. She still calls
me Broots. That's only because I'm not wild about my first name.
She's only called me that during our wedding. But like I said,
things are good. Other than the fact that we don't share a bed
or a bedroom, we seem to be your typical, normal couple. Things
were going fine until tonight.

I stop my mental tirade when the front door opens. Debbie's been
in bed for hours, so it can only be one person. My wife has come
home to me. I left her with Jarod, but she came home to me. I'm
so happy I actually do a little jig, right there in my room. But
then I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror and realize how
ridiculous I look and stop immediately. But, I'm relieved she's
back. I honestly wasn't expecting her. With a sigh, I cross the
room to shut my light off and head to bed. I want to go and
check on her, but she might need time. For some reason, and
believe me, I'm not complaining. But for whatever the reason,
she's back here with me instead of with him. She probably needs
time to deal with that.

I get into the bed and close my eyes, willing my heart to slow
down. She's came home to me. She's here with me. And that's
all that matters right now. Those thoughts repeat in my head as
I drift into a blissful slumber. Halfway to falling asleep, I
hear the bedroom door crack open. Light footsteps pad across the
floor and I'm suddenly on alert, wondering who's in my room. I
sit up and switch the lamp on, shocked to see who's standing next
to my bed.

"I'm cold," she says, crawling into the bed next to me. I pinch
myself to make sure I'm not dreaming. Ouch! Yep, I'm awake.
And to my utter shock, Miss Parker is climbing into my bed. I
stare at her, mouth wide open, but with no words coming out.
Like I said, I think I'm in shock.

"You don't mind, do you?" she asks me.

"Of course not," I manage to stutter. She burrows down into the
covers and scoots closer to me, laying her head on my chest. I
immediately react to her, biting my lip to control myself and
praying she doesn't notice. But I don't know how she couldn't
notice my little problem. A little gasp from her lets me know
when she encounters the evidence of my desire for her.

"I haven't been fair to you," she whispers. "I haven't been much
of a wife."

"It's alright," I groan as her gentle breaths on my neck make my
whole body tingle.

"No. It's not alright," she sighs. "But it's going to be."

Before I can blink, she rolls onto her back and pulls me on top
of her. I try to protest, not sure if this is what she truly
wants, but my hands begin to explore her body of their own
accord. I am soon powerless to stop what she's set in motion.

* * * * * * * * * *

When he's done, he flops on his back, breathless, but happier
than I've ever seen him. At least I was able to do this for him.
It wasn't about me. Everything he's done these past two months
have been for me. This is the least I can do for him. I can
offer him this joy even though it leaves me feeling nothing but
emptiness. As the emptiness consumes me, I roll onto my side and
face away from him, unable to stop my tears. I don't want him to
see me like this. But he hears me, his sated brain registering
the sound of my sniffling. He turns to his side and places his
hand on my back. I'm barely able to stop myself from flinching
at the contact.

"Are you okay?" he asks. He sounds worried. "I didn't . . .
hurt you. Did I?"

"I'm fine," I say, wiping away my tears. I sit up and give him a
forced smile. "I'm just going to take a shower. Okay?"

"Alright," he yawns, a sleepy smile on his face. He's asleep
within seconds. I give him a kiss on his forehead and find my
nightgown on the floor. Pulling it over my head, I make my way
out the room and down the hall to the shower. The room is soon
filled with the hot steam of the shower. My skin bears the red
marks from the stinging water. Yet I feel nothing. I don't feel
the hot water on my body. I don't feel the hard tile under my
feet. I don't even feel the cold I felt that initially sent me
to my husband's bed. I don't feel anything at all. And I don't
know if that's a good thing or bad thing.

* * * * * * * * * *

I wake up with the feeling that I'm not alone. Turning over, I
see my wife huddled in a corner of the bed and I realize that
last night wasn't a dream. She came back to me and gave me a
gift I wasn't expecting. She gave me a piece of herself I never
thought I'd receive. I don't know what prompted it, but I won't
question it for now. I'll just be grateful.

She begins to stir when I run my fingers through her hair. I can
tell when she wakes up, because her body stiffens. I guess she's
not sure where she is.

"Good morning, Sunshine," I say when she rolls over to face me.
For a second, her face scrunches up as if she's going to cry, but
she manages to stave off the tears. I wonder if it was something
I said.

"Good morning, Broots," she smiles. I try not to notice how
disappointed she sounds. I try not to notice how the look in her
eyes seems to resemble thinly disguised hopelessness and despair.

"I think I forgot to say this last night, but thank you," I say
shyly. It's been so long since I've slept with a woman that I
don't remember the rules and the 'morning after' etiquette.
Especially when the woman is your wife. Thanks may not be
appropriate, but it's what I'm feeling right now.

"You've been patient," she says. "You've been kind. You deserve
more than I've been giving you."

"Why last night?" I ask, and immediately want to stick my foot in
my mouth. Didn't I just say that I wasn't going to question it?
But now that I have, I look to her expectantly for the answer.

"I don't know," she shrugs. "This is my life now. It's time to
move on with it."

"And Jarod?" What is with my mouth? I can't seem to stop asking
these questions. But I admit, I'm more than curious to know what
happened with them in that hotel room.

"Gone," she sighs. This time, she really does cry. But only a
few tears. She rubs her belly in a small, circular motion and it
seems to calm her. "I convinced him this is the best thing for
all of us. He doesn't want to endanger the children anymore than
I do. Last night was a good-bye."

An uneasy silence falls on the room. I've finally managed to
keep my mouth under control. But there's one more thing I'm
curious about. And as if she can read my mind, she answers my
one final question.

"Nothing happened with us in that hotel room," she says quietly.
"I didn't sleep with him. I made vows to you, Broots. I
promised to remain honest and faithful. And I have."

"I believe you," I smile, pulling her into my arms. I hold onto
her tightly, still afraid that this is all a dream and if I let
go, she'll disappear. That's not something I want happening.
She's with me. She came home to me. And with me is where she's
going to stay. She made the choice to come home. So I'm making
the choice to believe this is where she really wants to be.
Because if I don't believe it, then I'll really see what this is
costing her. I'll see that her choice is slowly killing her.

* * * * * * * * * *

His embrace becomes suffocating, so I pull away, trying to find
an excuse to escape.

"We're going to be late for work," I say. He looks over his
shoulder at the clock radio and nods his head, releasing me from
the death grip he has on me. I think he's afraid I'll up and
leave on him. But I won't do that. I can't do that. I don't
have anywhere to go. There's no one to run to. Jarod's gone
now. Like I said earlier, this is my life now. It's time to get
on with it. It's time to push away all the pain and try to cope
with the present circumstances. When he called me 'Sunshine', I
almost lost it. That's how Jarod used to wake me. But I can't
allow that memory anymore. It's too painful. It's in the past.
My life is here now. With Broots and Debbie. I have to push
away the memories of Jarod because I can't deal with that pain.
I don't want to feel it. I don't want to feel anything.

An hour later, I'm dressed and walking down the stairs.
Normally, it doesn't take me this long to get ready for work.
But my expanding waistline has limited my wardrobe options. My
new shape is a bit difficult for me to maneuver and is taking
some time to get used to. When I finally make it downstairs,
Broots and Debbie are just finishing with breakfast.

"Good morning, Marisa," Debbie smiles. "We ate already, but Dad
left you some pancakes. Do you want me to get you some?"

"That's okay, Sweetheart." I give her the same forced smile I've
become so good at giving. If they look close enough, they'll see
that it's devoid of any emotions. I can't deal with emotions
right now. I don't want to feel anything. My so called smile is
as empty as I'm feeling right now.

"I'm not very hungry this morning," I explain before grabbing my
stuff from by the front door. "I need to get going. I'll see
you two later." One more fake smile and I'm able to get out of
there without them asking me any questions. And without them
hearing the growling from my stomach betraying the words I just
spoke. It wasn't a lie, really. I honestly don't feel hungry.
Because I don't feel anything. But if I can remember, I'll try
to eat something later. I'll just have to try really, really
hard to remember.

To be continued . . .