Disclaimer: You know the drill.

A/N: Here's a longer chapter to tide you through until I get around to actually finishing this fic. Which is something I plan to do...eventually. ;) Feedback is always appreciated & enjoyed (& may actually prompt me to get cracking on this - Gotta love blackmail.) Till next time - cheers!

12...

Half full. That's the way I've always seen the glass. That's the way I've lived my life. You chase after your dreams, you work hard, and then maybe someday...

It'll all come crashing to the floor.

I sat in the murky depths of Marty's Melody Room, staring at my beer mug and wondering about whether the glass was half of anything. Did thinking about it influence the question? Were you supposed to just go with your gut? My gut was telling me to gulp down what was left of my beer and order another one. Nobody cared how I saw the glass. This was a bar, not some shrink's office.

Marty's. How many times had I found myself strutting through the door, or stumbling out of it the wee hours of the morning? Probably more times than was worth counting, even before I was legal. This is where the gang came to celebrate life's big moments or drown our sorrows in the losses. So, here I was again. Same old stool, same old friends - minus the same old Tony. Me and him weren't on speaking terms anymore. He was the clown who thought diving into third would be his big break. So much for dreams and ambition.

Out of the fog clouding my head, I heard Philly come up from behind and slap me on the back. "Yo Tone, the guys and I are headin' out. You wanna come?"

I shook my head and glanced up at him briefly before returning to my contemplation of the beer mug. Half full or half... "Nah. I'm gonna hang around here for a while."

"Aw, come on Tone. You're no fun anymore. All you do is sit around and mope. Come with us, it'll be a blast."

Faintly over the din of the jukebox, I heard one of the guys yell, "Hey Philly, you goin' or what?"

"Keep your panties on! I'm tryin' to get Tony to come!"

"Leave him! He's not gonna come, he never does."

Philly shook his head and turned back to me, but I stopped him before he could say any more. "Go Philly." I ordered, "You heard the guy, I'm not comin'."

He stared at me a moment then sighed and slid into the chair beside me. Leaning forward so I could hear him over the racket, he began, "Hey Tone, I know you're disappointed 'cause of your shoulder and the majors, but god man, it's been months. Oh boo-hoo, you're not a big fancy athlete anymore. Big deal. You can't keep doin' this. You're depressin' me."

Anger surged through me and I briefly thought about how good it would feel to knock him out. Then I realized that this was Philly; the guy who'd practically been my best friend since junior high. Sure, sometimes he deserved a bit of knocking around, but right now; well it wouldn't be a good scene. Standing up abruptly, I made to leave, muttering, "I'm outta here."

"But Tone..."

"Eh oh Philly. If I'm bringin' you down, why don't you leave me alone? I don't want your pity. An' I don't need you to talk some sense into me! I don't need this!"

"You're my pal, Tone. I don't wanna..."

"Just lemme go, okay! Didn't you hear me? I tried to say it nice, but now I'll say it slow. Get lost!" He put an arm out to stop me, but I shrugged him off, escaping into the silence of the night.

It was late before I finally dragged myself in the door. I'd been wandering for hours, trying to get a grip on things, but all I'd managed to do was to fall deeper into regrets, deeper into the blackness that was holding me. I'd been someone for a while, and now I was just a nobody: a guy with a bum shoulder and a grade 12 education. That and a dollar would get me nowhere. Worse, everybody knew I'd screwed up. I felt like the biggest joke of Pitkin Avenue since Joey Bucco had married some girl for money and ended up being robbed blind faster than you can say annulment. I could just feel the pity radiating from the people who cared about me. I could see the shame in their eyes and I couldn't make it go away. Worse, I couldn't ignore it either. Maybe it'd be easier to avoid them all. If only they'd let me alone.

Marie was sitting at the kitchen table when I came in. It was still set for dinner, but dinnertime had long since passed. "Hey," I called, making my way across the room towards her. I bent to place kiss on her cheek, but she turned her head and began clearing away the dishes. "Marie..." I tried again, knowing she was mad, but not willing to see the reason why. She tossed some pots into the sink with a loud clang and then returned to the table for a second load. I picked up a plate to help her, but she avoided my hand, choosing instead to carry a large pot of pasta to the garbage. I watched her striding back and forth across the kitchen until finally I couldn't take it anymore and snapped, "What? What's with the silence? I told you I probably wasn't gonna be here for supper! I told you I was probably gonna go out with the guys! What's with you?"

Silently, deliberately, she set the dishes down and turned to face me, her hands gripping the counter for support. With eyes blazing, she began to speak. "The guys," she spat. "It's always the guys or somethin' Tony! What's with me? What's with you? You seem content bein' with anyone but your wife an' daughter, but hey, no big surprise there! You've never been around much before either!"

"Marie."

"Oh, don't Marie me! You got hurt and you lost your job, temporarily. So what? It's only been a few months and you act like it's the end of the world. News flash Micelli, your world's not over, it's right here!" She punctuated her last statement with a stamp on the floor and then paused for a breath, her face flaming with anger.

"It's not temporary." I spoke quickly and softly, stuffing my hands into my pockets; hoping she wouldn't hear me. Saying it made it real.

Her mouth was open, ready to continue with her rant, but at my words, she stopped. She stared at me with a look somewhere between annoyance and confusion. "What?"

"I said I'm done with baseball." A moment passed while a grim smile appeared on my face. "Well, baseball's done with me. I got the official word today. I'm done."

When she didn't speak, I continued rambling on, hoping to fend off the rising wave of desperation that was threatening me. "See, the Doc says my shoulder's as healed as it's ever gonna be, but the team trainer's say it's not good enough. An' I could maybe try out for another team, but really, the word is out and nobody wants a baseman with a bum shoulder. So, I'm done." I looked down at the floor and sighed. There, I'd said it and the sky hadn't fallen in, but I felt about a hundred years older.

"Oh Tony..." Everything about her physically softened and she took a step toward me, but I turned away, absently rubbing the offending shoulder.

"So. Um. Huh. Where's Sam? She's not in bed yet, is she?"

Marie gave me a look and I knew that I wasn't going to be able to avoid this conversation. Still, she gave in a little and answered me. "She's spendin' the night at Mrs. Rossini's. I took her over a couple hours ago so we could talk." She paused and moved a bit closer, "Tony, I'm so...."

I slowly raised my eyes to hers, trying to hide the pain and shame that I'm sure was lurking there. "Don't." I warned.

She stood directly in front of me, blocking my path, and trying to meet gaze, "But...."

Carefully, I grabbed her arms and moved her out of my way.

"We gotta talk Tony!" she called to my retreating form.

I stopped and slowly turned around to face her. "'Bout what? I messed things up for us. You know it and I know it an' everybody in the neighborhood knows it. What's talkin' gonna do except remind me that I blew it and now the life we thought we were gonna have isn't gonna happen."

"That's not true! Tony, you wanna know what I feel? I feel sad 'cause my husband's hurtin' an' he won't let me help him. And I'm even madder 'cause he's bein' an obstinate jerk instead. Who the hell cares what the neighbor's think? What about what I think? But it doesn't count, does it? Not in Tony Micelli's world 'cause I'm just a wife and a mother and not anybody who's really important! Oh, you've got some ego on you Micelli! Do you think that I..."

Her words were cut off by the slam of the door as I walked into the hall and out of the building. Running wasn't an answer, but I couldn't bring myself to hear what she had to say. I already knew I'd messed up bad. I was hurt, I was scared, and I didn't know where I was going, but it didn't matter. All I knew was that I couldn't stay where I was.

"Tony?" My father peered warily at me through the crack in the door, before stepping back and opening it wider.

"Hey Dad! Whatcha doin'?" I brushed past him and into the familiar apartment filled with the assorted bits and pieces of his life.

"Sleeping, Tony. You know it's after one in the morning? Why aren't you at home with your family, like a sane person?" He paused and then looked up at me with a worried frown. "They are okay?"

"Oh, they're fine. Better now." I wandered through the apartment, wondering how nothing in it had changed after all these years.

"Better now than what?"

"Better now they don't have me to drag them down. Hey Pop, you mind if I stay here a while?"

Slowly, he lowered himself down into his favorite easy chair and fixed me with a death glare. "Sit!"

Hastily, I sunk into the battered couch beside me and waited for him to speak. I'd never been one to defy my father outright and I wasn't about to start now.

"Anthony," he sighed, "What is happening with you?"

"Not much. I'm just changin' some things in my life." It was harder than I thought to play this cool, unaffected character.

"Like leaving your family? This isn't you." He knew me too well.

"Well, it's the new me. You see it's good this way 'cause I can't mess up anyone else's life but my own now. No wife, no family, no baseball. It's better this way."

"What do you mean, no baseball, and who is this better for?"

"I, uh. They cancelled my contract with the Card's. My shoulder's a wreck and I'm through playin'." I'd been dreading telling him. He'd been my biggest supporter, my biggest fan, and I was letting him down. I hated that.

"And this is a reason to leave your family?" I looked up at him, surprised by the lack of reaction to my not playing ball anymore.

"No, but the fact that I have nothing to give them is. I can't give them a better life, hell; I probably can't give them the life they have now. Besides, what else can I do? All I've ever done is play ball, and I can't do that anymore. I'm not much good for anything." I glanced up at him and saw that his face was rigid with disgust and shame. "See, you see it too."

After a lengthy pause, he leaned toward me steely eyes and a firm voice. "You're right. I don't like what I'm seein', but it's not why you think. Baseball, smaseball! Who care's if you're a ball player? Did you really think it was going to last forever? No, I'm ashamed my son has turned into a sad, little boy that gives up because he hurt his arm and the big bad baseball league doesn't want him anymore. They hurt your pride and told you you're not the man you thought you were. What do they know? I told you once I was proud of you, but now I have disgust and it has nothing to do with baseball. You have it all! You have that gorgeous wife of yours who loves you to death and that beautiful brown-eyed little girl who thinks the sun rises and sets for her dad. You've got your health," he paused then, noticing my disbelief. "Yeah, you do! So what if your shoulder isn't perfect? You still have an arm that works! You're still a young man, not tired and worn out like me! You have everything and you're willing to throw it all away for nothing!" He breathed heavily before shifting in his chair and rising to his feet. He stalked down the hall towards his bedroom and without looking back, called over his shoulder, "The couch is yours if you want it!"

I sat in silence and watched him disappear in his room. Where had all those words come from? What did it all mean? Willing the world to either disappear or stop entirely, I lowered my head into my hands. What the hell was I doing?

I went home the next morning after a restless night spent pacing my father's apartment. Everything was quiet in the early twilight as I unlocked the door and headed inside. When I finally found Marie, she was sleeping with her head resting on the table. Just seeing her brought on this incredible rush of love and concern. She was going to be so stiff and grumpy and it was my fault. My fault. Just like the tear stains resting on her pale cheek were my fault. I shook my head and sat down across from her, wondering how she could still love me after all I'd put her through. Somehow though, in spite of everything, I knew she loved me and would put up with me through just about anything. I honestly didn't deserve her.

"Hey." Her voice cut through the stillness and I jumped at the sound. She was groggy and her hair was disheveled, but she was still so beautiful to me.

I reached across the table and grabbed her hands. "I am so, so sorry."

Her eyes welled with tears and I slid out of my seat and closer to her, wrapping my arms around her body. She buried her head against me and cried as held her while I whispered my love and apologies into her ear. I don't know how long we sat there, but eventually the tears subsided, and she raised her head to look at me. Again I whispered, "I didn't mean it, I'm sorry, I..."

She placed a finger on my lips and studied my face. "It's okay Tony, I understand."

I wiped a tear away from her cheek with my thumb. "Do you really?"

Smiling sadly, she chuckled and shook her head. "No, but I'm willin' to try if you're willin' to try too."

It wasn't easy, and it didn't come overnight, but eventually we found a way to work things out. I got a job at a manufacturing plant and threw myself into spending time with my family and friends. That spring, I ended up coaching Sam's little league team, and if it wasn't the big leagues, it was thrilling in a new way. I found out that I liked working with kids, especially the one who called me dad. Was the glass half full or half empty? I still didn't know, but whatever it was I had was good enough. Life went on.