Disclaimer: Anything WTB? related belongs to those who created it, the rest is mine.

6. Cyclamen

Angela gingerly tried to remove herself from Barry's embrace. The glare of the alarm clock reminded her that it was midnight already and that she had a long day ahead of her. She thought maybe if she could slip away quietly and get home, that maybe there was a chance of getting at least five hours of sleep before she had to wake up. Five hours of dreamless sleep in her own bed before the familiar rapping of Tony's hand on her door welcomed her to another day. The first thing she had to do though was untangle herself from Barry's firm grasp on her body. She cared about him a lot; she wouldn't be here if she didn't, but lately she had begun to feel smothered by his need for her. As trapped emotionally as she felt trapped physically in this moment. She lifted his hand and attempted to roll out of his reach. Too late – she heard him whimper slightly before he reached out and pulled her back toward him. "Where are you going sweetie?" he mumbled into her bare shoulder with a kiss.

She repressed a sigh and turned towards him, gently grasping his hand in hers. "It's late. I have big day tomorrow. I need to go home."

"Stay here." It came out sounding like something between a command and a whine.

"I can't. We've discussed this before. I'm just not ready for the whole staying the night thing. I want to wake up in the morning and be with my family. I don't see them enough as it is." Her voice was calm and soothing, like a parent trying to deal with an unruly child. She sat up and reached for her robe in the darkness.

"Don't you want to wake up in the morning and be with me too?" His question was met with a heavy silence and then the sound of her fumbling for her clothes. The silence both angered him and answered his question at the same time. He tried one more time. "So, you're going then?"

She heard the hollowness in his voice, but fought back the impulse to give in. "I have to."

"No you don't." His tone was grim. "You want to."

With obvious annoyance, she replied, "Yeah, I want to. I want to curl up in my own comfortable bed for a few hours and then get up and kiss my son good morning because I missed kissing him goodnight. I want to hear Sam complain about how horribly unfair her life is and then wheedle her way into an extra allowance. I want to hear the same things from my mother over our morning coffee before I drag her out of the house to meet the train." She paused for a breath and then added, "I want my family."

"And Tony?" he asked.

"What?" She wheeled around to face him.

He rolled over and turned on a lamp. He slowly turned back to her and said with a trace of bitterness, "You mentioned what you wanted from everyone else in your little family. What do you want from Tony? Don't tell me he's not your 'family' too."

He could tell by the look on her face that she hadn't been expecting the conversation to take this direction. She cocked her head slightly, "What? What are you talking about? And what does my wanting to go home for the night have to do with Tony?"

Barry took note of her defensive posture, arms folded across her chest and eyebrows arched in challenge. The only time he saw her react like this, was when Tony became the subject of conversation. It was a sore spot between them, one he couldn't resist picking at over and over again. She was the master of denial and avoidance when it came to her housekeeper, but this time he wasn't going to let it go. Quietly he answered, "It has everything to do with Tony."

"It has nothing to do with...."

"It has everything to do with Tony," he repeated firmly. "It has everything to do with the fact that you can leave me waiting on the phone for ten minutes, but if Tony calls you answer in a heartbeat."

"Well, it could be about Jonathan," she explained lamely.

"It could be," he admitted, "but it never is. I got us box seats at the Mets' game because you said you liked baseball, and the first words out of your mouth were, 'I wish Tony could be here for this.'"

"Tony loves baseball. To see a game from up there would have sent him over the moon." She didn't know why she kept offering up these explanations. It only seemed to make matters worse.

"Yeah, I know, you told me." She could see the sadness in his eyes as he continued. "When I took you to La Fleur, you couldn't help but recount that adorable story of how Jonathan set you and Tony up for Valentine's Day."

"It was a cute story..." She stopped when she saw the annoyed look on his face.

"You cancelled on my awards dinner last week because Samantha had a school play...."

She interrupted him with a warning tone, "You said this was about Tony."

He was too caught up in recounting all the little things that had been annoying him lately to pay attention to her words. "Samantha is Tony's daughter, not yours. However, you seem to jump in at every opportunity to play at being her mother. And Tony and Jonathan seem to fit into the father/son role pretty easily too. So I wonder what part I could ever play in this perfect little family you've created."

She spoke low and deadly serious, "I am not playing at being Samantha's mother. I may not have given birth to that girl, but I love her just as much as if she were my own. I would do anything; give up anything, for her. Tony would do the same for Jonathan. Nothing you can say or do will ever change that fact, so I'm telling you this now, don't even try."

He recoiled a bit at the fierceness of her words. He hadn't meant to attack her relationship with Sam, he really hadn't. "Angela. I'm sorry. I, I was caught up in my little rant and I didn't think about what I was saying. I really am sorry."

Her expression didn't change.

The fire of his argument had died and all he was left with was remorse. Pathetically he tried, "Angela, it's just that I love you. So much. And lately it feels like you're slipping away from me."

"Barry, I care about you, I really do, but..."

"But you don't love me." His words echoed in the silence.

Angela felt the sting of tears at the back of her eyes. "I wanted to. I really tried."

"You should go home now." He wouldn't look at her, trying with all his strength to maintain his composure.

She grabbed her final piece of clothing and made for the door. At the last moment she turned and tried to speak, "I...."

"Go!" He said forcefully, secretly wishing she'd rush back towards him and tell him that she loved him.

Quietly, she stood and looked at him for a long moment, before softly whispering, "Goodbye Barry." The tears spilled down her cheeks as she threw on her coat and left his apartment. What was wrong with her? Why did she end up hurting everyone who tried to care for her? She closed her eyes briefly against the self-hatred and headed towards the comfort of home.