Fairytale of New York - Not 65 in Central Park

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Shorter chapter because I didn't write this in chapters and so it was really hard to cut it up equally! Hope you like it! NB. This is set in early December, before Kirsten and Julie decide to set up business together.

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Kirsten shivered and Carter stood up and pulled her with him. 'Let's walk; it's too cold to sit here.'

'It's sixty-five degrees at home,' she muttered, her teeth chattering.

'And about sixty-six degrees less than that here.'

She laughed and they began to walk, wondering if the fact their arms were linked should concern her more than it did. But it was damn cold so she wasn't going to detach herself.

'So, how did…uh, Julie take being widowed?' Carter asked.

'Well you know Julie; she doesn't stay single for long. She almost became Julie Cooper-Nichol-Cooper by the end of the summer.' Kirsten paused and thought about what she was saying, 'This must sound crazy.'

'Well it is Newport.'

'Point taken. Do you want the full story?'

'I think I can live without. So, apart from the ever-changing intricacies of Julie Cooper-Nichol's love life, which I would rather not get into, how are things in the gossip central of the USA? Any big scandals?'

'Apart from me being an alcoholic?'

'That's practically a law in the O.C. isn't it?'

'Not being a rehabilitated one and certainly not when you're Kirsten Cohen…not that I know who she is anymore.' Kirsten added to herself. Her voice was barely more than a whisper and Carter strained to hear it.

'You're still Kirsten and she is what you make her. You're still an incredible woman…strong, beautiful, intelligent…

'But not infallible.'

'Who is Kirsten? No one.'

'I suppose you're right.'

'I know I am, and I also know you're not okay, are you?'

'Are we still being honest with each other?'

'I know you can't lie.'

'No,' she admitted quietly, gently twisting the wedding rings on her finger. 'I'm not okay…but I will be.'

She'd put on her 'confident Kirsten Cohen' voice he noticed, the tone that reassured everyone, took charge and now she was using it on herself.

This wasn't Kirsten. Not the Kirsten he knew.

He wondered what the real Kirsten was like. Was there one? Or was she just a jigsaw puzzle of people she was trying to be; perfect daughter, perfect wife, perfect mother. Business woman without subordinating her family, Queen of the Newpsies without being one of them, married woman without her rings.

How many Kirsten's were there? She had a chameleon-like quality but which one of those faces was she? Who knew Kirsten? Not her. Not him. Did Sandy? Once perhaps, but not now. It had been obvious when he was in California that Sandy Cohen had no idea what was going on in his wife's head. He foolish enough to think things were fine, didn't realise his actions had really hurt his wife; that he was nowhere near forgiven, that she was holding a grudge. Sandy hadn't seen, or hadn't dreamed or dared to see anything in the intimacy between Kirsten and him, Carter, at least not until afterwards. When there was nothing more than a kiss and a whole lot of confused feelings left, when she was alone, that's when he'd rounded on her. No wonder she'd snapped.

But he couldn't deny he felt guilty blaming everything on Sandy. Kirsten hadn't made things easy.

Neither had he if he thought about it, but that was irrelevant.

This mess was between Sandy and Kirsten. He was glad he wasn't the one having to untangle it; it was hard enough trying to dissect it from the outside, or rather, from the outer edges.

So now Kirsten was hiding from it. Kirsten Cohen retreating from the fight, refusing to take a long hard look at things and find the truth? Is that what rehab did to you? Took all the fight out of you to combat your alcoholism and left you broken, a shadow of yourself?

Carter made a subconscious mental note to never cross the line. Being a borderline alcoholic suited him; the idea of having to be tee-total was terrifying. Not that he had anyone who cared enough to actually send him if it got that far.

'I'll be fine,' she insisted. 'I'll figure it out, play the part; it's easy enough. Be the wife Sandy had before, minus the obsessive working, be the mother Ryan should have had, be the mother Seth used to have. Pretend I'm not the daughter whose goodbye to her father was a screaming insult, pretend I don't hate cooking, pretend I can fit in with the Newpsies. Pretend I'm not I'm not an alcoholic, imagine I don't miss drinking like I do, pretend Rebecca Bloom never existed, make believe my husband didn't keep leaving me for her, pretend we weren't more than colleagues, convince myself last year just didn't happen.'

'You don't have to pretend Kirsten,' he told her.
You can't pretend we weren't more.

'If I pretend I'm halfway there.'

'No you're not; it still means you're faking.'

'And at some point you forget that, if you do it long enough.'

'It doesn't change the fact it's not real.' Carter had lost the thread now but he was completely certain that forgetting you were faking didn't make something real.

'Real Carter? I live in Newport Beach. I'm surprised I even know the word.'

He frowned, where was the spark, the verve, the fire? This woman seemed lost, resigned. 'But you're different Kirsten…'

'No I'm not. I'm not sure I am anymore. It's frightening but it's true.' Carter tried to disagree but she cut him off. 'I'm a desperate housewife, I even learnt to cook. Sandy took over the Newport Group before it went completely bankrupt; he's working to make it reputable, a positive force in the community but he's being the business man, late nights, weekends at the office. Perhaps it's just jealously; I was always the breadwinner, I always had a job…now I'm just…I don't know. I'm the wife and mother that I thought I wanted to be, turns out I don't want that after all. And how horrible is that? How selfish?'

She looked despondent, weary, as he scanned her face. Being sober obviously didn't suit Kirsten. Alcoholic or depressive? Carter knew which one he would choose.

'Perhaps you're talking to the wrong person,' he said gently, hating saying it but knowing it was true.

She was married. Married. She should be saying all this to her husband. But she wasn't; she was talking to him, again, finding solace in him. And as much as he wanted to let her, he couldn't be that guy again. He couldn't watch her turn back to her husband for a second time. It hurt too damn bad.

'I can't seem to help talking to you. Sandy and I…we're not so good at talking; we didn't used to need to and now it's too hard. When you've spent twenty years communicating without words…they don't seem to come so easy.'

'The easy things aren't usually the most important.'

Kirsten looked up at the man beside her, 'Since when did you become so wise?'

He hesitated before replying, his eyes dark and fathomless 'Perhaps if…my wife had talked to me before she took of her ring my wedding anniversary wouldn't be such a dismal occasion.'

'You don't often talk about your ex.'

'I don't often have sentimental thoughts; usually they're not fit for polite company.'

She recognised the tone, the forced joke. It signalled that the subject was closed and she didn't want to pry, she didn't want to know; she liked it better that way. Knowing more about it would just make her think, compare the situation to her own, wonder about Carter, question why he left.
Did his wife have an affair? Did he?

Did they just reach the end of the road?

Did he leave because he didn't want the same to happen to her and Sandy? Did he care that much about her?

Did he still love his ex-wife beneath those barbed comments and bitter insults? Was the carefree attitude all an act? Beneath that was the Carter she'd found drowning in self-pity and tequila on his anniversary.

Is that why he drank so much? Because he was still hurting? Trying to numb the pain?

Kirsten knew that one.

They were both damaged, he just hid it better. She'd past breaking point and shattered while he fought it, angry and intoxicated.

Impulsively she pulled him towards her, wrapping her arms around him in an involuntary hug. He slowly reciprocated the gesture, holding her close and guiltily relishing the contact, the way she fit into his arms, the scent of her hair.

They broke apart gently, Kirsten looking nervous, 'So-…' she began.

'Don't apologise; I needed that.'

'Me too.'

The pair stood looking at each other for a few long seconds before they both tried to talk at once.

'I…'

'You…'

Carter smiled and gestured for Kirsten to finish.

'I hate to say it but I really have to go now.'

'Yeah, it's getting late…Well, this is goodbye then,' he said, looking down at the sapphire eyes before him and being surprised to find them glistening.

'I suppose it is.'

'Déjà vu?' he joked.

She laughed sadly and nodded. 'Goodbye Carter.'

'I'm haven't stop missing you yet and now I'm gonna miss you all over again.'

Kirsten bit her lip, unable to reply. She lent forward and slowly pressed her lips against his cheek, lingering for a moment as she regained her composure and breathed in the scent of his aftershave. Her eyes cast down she drew back, his last words rumbling softly in her ears. The words he'd said the last time they'd said goodbye, words that she could still hear sometimes when she shut her eyes and thought of him.

'So long Kirsten.'

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And that, as they say, was that. Oh we mourn what could have been, but it was not to be, prepare yourself for angsty Kandy for I am afraid…the Carsten has left the building! Please review