Summary: "and so the game progresses...."

Rating: PG-13

Spoilers: Alternate Universe: But Season 3: In Praise of Women is a major factor

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the 7th Heaven characters, so please don't sue me

Author's Notes: I hope this isn't becoming totally unrealistic. I honestly wanted it wrapped up by the last few chapters, but it seems that just isn't the case. Thanks to every single person who reviewed, it really does a wonder for an author to see their work approved by individuals. Enjoy this next installment of the unfortunate events of the Camden household.

When Heaven Weeps

Eric Camden wearily walked the stepping stones that led to his home, his arms laden with numerous items papered in brown bags, a sharp object jutting into his shoulder blade. He winced as he struggled with the opening the door, which was flown open quickly, almost to the point of knocking the Reverend off his feet.

"Grace?"

The smiling woman now clad in faded jeans and sweatshirt, held Elizabeth in her arms, while a dishtowel sat haphazardly across her shoulder.

"Ruthie let me in."

Eric cocked his head, taken in the surprising encounter. Somehow, he managed to remember the groceries still situated in his full hands,

"Oh, right, okay."

He stepped inside, the confused expression now lacing his voice. Shutting the door with a quick kick of his foot, he walked into the kitchen, immediately noticing the apparent aroma that was settled in the air around them. Grace smiled uncertainly,

"I hope it's okay, I mean, that it's okay that I'm here."

Eric shook his head, depositing the food onto the counters, he began unbagging and asked,

"No, no, it's fine, you just surprised me is all. What's that smell?"

Grace looked relieved and grinned at the child she held, winking at Ruthie, she answered,

"The girls and I made cookies."

Ruthie nodded happily as she munched away at her own confection design,

"Grace puts in the whole bag of chocolate chips, not half like mom."

Grace laughed and set Elizabeth on the counter in front of her, handing her a teething ring and wrapping a protective arm around her tiny waist,

"I know it sounds so homebody like, and of course cookies is the stationary supply of after-school snacks, but it's basically all I can bake."

Eric nodded methodically as he continued to put away the thawing food,

"Did you-"

Grace cut him off,

"Take some to Annie? Yes, she didn't seem to happy to see me though. I assume you haven't told her about me."

Eric swallowed at the inevitable conversation he was to share with his wife,

"You make it sound like you're the 'other woman'."

Grace raised her eyebrows and shrugged as she picked up the little girl who was smacking her gums on the cold teething device,

"Don't hold off to long."

Eric nodded quickly and turned away to peer into the open fridge as Grace walked by, her hold still on little Elizabeth, thinking to herself with a canny smile,

"Maybe your statement wasn't so false, Reverend."

Again, Eric walked steps, this time to his bedroom, bracing himself for the accusations to start flying. Annie sat on a stool, brushing her hair absentmindedly, her eyes glazed over and staring into the large expanse of black space. Eric tore his own pair of eyes away from her empty spectacles and knelt beside her, gently speaking to her,

"How are you feeling?"

Annie remained silent, her brush strokes rhythmus and long, he tried once again,

"I know you must have a million questions about Grace, I mean, Miss. Lane. And I'll answer them."

She continued her vigil of the combing of her blonde hair, she glanced at her husband, those eyes piercing his,

"Are you trying to act stupid or does it just come naturally?"

Eric cringed at her cold and stinging words, he bit down hard on his tongue, blood trickling down the edge of his mouth, he winced as the salty blood mingled with salvia,

"I'm just trying to help-"

Annie stopped her brushing, her brush held up, silencing him, he obeyed.

"Stop trying, I don't need help. I'm fine. I don't need a 20 something man seeking woman trying to dig her claws into my family."

Eric reached out to place a calming hand on her back, she shrugged it off and glared,

"Tell her you don't need her, tell her she can pack up all her 'papers' and notebooks full of trash about how messed up I am or how I've damaged my children. And she can take the next bus to Who Caresville."

Swiftly, Annie moved out of reach and walked the path to the bathroom, she turned at the doorframe and spat out the order,

"I want her out by tonight."

Eric shook his head and moved closer,

"No, she stays. She'll help us, Annie, I know she will."

Disbelief echoed over Annie's face, then quickly disappeared, rage taking hold as she hissed back,

"Over my dead body."

Finishing her step inside the bathroom, she slammed the door firmly, leaving the door writhing with the strong force.

Eric sighed heavily as he sank into the bed, head in hands he muttered to no one in particular,

"Which could be true if this keeps up."

Looking heavenward, he gazed at the white tiled ceiling above his balding head, his hands clutched in a fervent prayer, his lips moving emotionally as he continued his vigil. His eyes closed slowly as he gave in to his wife.

Grace Lane sat perched on a stool, lemonade in hand as she poured over her carefully written notes. She smiled absentmindedly as she flipped through the pages upon pages of dictated examples of the entire Camden family. Hearing footsteps, she quickly shut her notebook, sliding it under her briefcase with ease as the Reverend walked solemnly into the kitchen.

Tapping her long painted fingernail against the cold glass of the pitcher, she silently offered the sweet liquid. He nodded and made his way to the table and heavily plopped into the high-backed chair. Grace held out the full cup of lemonade as Eric drank the contents rapidly. He sighed as he set the now half empty glass onto the table, he glanced at Grace who took a seat beside him, notebook in hand.

"Miss Lane,-"

Grace stuck out a hand, rose an eyebrow and waited for Eric to correct himself. He did so.

"Grace, I can't thank you enough for being apt to do this, but I'm afraid, Annie doesn't want this. And forcing her to do something like this doesn't seem right, or healthy for that matter."

Grace nodded her head in understanding, but thereafter, began shaking her head sadly.

"I know this must be difficult for your family to go through, especially on you, the head of the household, the caregiver, the father, the husband. It is not an easy task. But you just cannot stand by and let your wife tear your family apart. You'd be doing more damage than good."

Eric stared at his reddening hands, slightly raw from wringing them so often. He continued his plea, or explanation of his wife.

"You don't know Annie, she's usually not like this, the pregnancy was hard on her, and then losing Evan. It all just snowballed."

Grace reached for Eric's hand and held it tight, forcing him to look at her,

"Eric, I may not know your wife, but I do know her type. Controlling, manipulative, cold-hearted-"

Eric withdrew his hand sharply, hurt by Grace's accusations.

"Annie isn't like that. She's just...tired."

Grace shook her head and jotted a couple of sentences into her notebook hurriedly,

"Stop running around in circles, Eric. You need to understand your wife's condition."

Eric winced at her cross words, he wanted the world to stop for several weeks, just long enough to get his bearings. Grace pushed on with her advice,

"It doesn't have to end ugly. This doesn't have to last. She can get the right medication, the right counseling, the right kind of help your wife needs. You're not helping her by defending her. You're hurting her."

Eric didn't want to hurt his wife. Never in a million years would he want to do that. He loved her. To death do us part, he vowed. He bowed his head in compliance.

"I want to help my wife."

Grace smiled widely as she gently patted his hand lovingly as a mother would do to her son. She murmured quietly into his ear, reassuring him everything would end up fine.

"This is the right step, Eric. You've set the stage."

And set the stage indeed.

Grace Lane's POV
I watch the man in front of me, his kind heart torn in two. His spirit broken. By his own wife. I shake my head slightly as I scrawl into my spiral notebook, otherwise known as my precious possession. My handwriting is slighted so, caused by the angle of my arm in attempts to soothe my helpless client.

May 7th, 1999:

As I examine this needy family more and more, and continue to peel away crusted layers of pain and suffering, I find there is more to this family than meets the eye. Possibly something tragic in the family? Other than the recent passing of their infant boy. Perhaps another death? Extended family problems? I can't seem to put my finger on it. So many things have gone with this certain family. If it isn't one thing, it's another. The family is pulling apart from each other. Everyone is silent and reserved, scared to make a wrong move. Of course, there is one reason regarding this damaged core. Their mother.

Annie Camden: A mental case about to explode. Definitely a primal concern. Increasing signs of Post Partuom Depression and possible Post Traumatic Stress disorder with regards to twin son passing away shortly after birth. Needs medication. Needs counseling. Her husband on the other hand:

My main target.

To Be Continued.........................