AN: Remember that this goes hand in hand with "Love Story" and that plot basically revolves around the idea that JR didn't find out his son was alive until mid-way or so through 2005. David and Brooke know nothing about the baby-swappers nasty little games and Tad and Bianca are the two in Pine Valley who know the truth.

Some might be wondering why I'm bringing up Dixie as more than just a side-note to "Love Story" so let me explain. I am a huge T&D fan so I never really liked her personal relationship with David but their chemistry was there and I always got the feeling that he truly, deeply loved Dixie and he told her things he never told anyone else. She will be a part of how he and Greens figure out what they have together and his caring and loyalty for the Dixie-bird will become important when the Chandlers set out to get back JR's son.

Anyway, review and tell me, as always, if I got into their heads all right!

Selfless

Seven – Good

When the day is done
And the world is sleeping
And the moon is on its way to shine
When your friends are gone
You thought were so worth keeping
You feel you don't belong
And you don't know why

And everytime you hear the rolling thunder
You turn around before the lightening strikes
And does it ever make you stop and wonder
If all your good times pass you by

When the day is done
And the world is sleeping
And the moon is on its way to shine
When your friends are gone
You thought were so worth keeping
You feel you don't belong
Neither do I

-Sheryl Crow, "Good is Good"

She woke to a migraine and, swallowing two extra-strength Tylenol, she left her empty home and headed to work, once again finding that Kendall was nowhere to be found. Forcing back her urge to get in the car and track down the newlywed wherever she was hiding, Greenlee instead decided to focus on her work, at least as well as she could with the headache in the back of her mind.

She focused on her task, shedding her blazer and her shoes as the minute as faded into hours and the time ticked away. She had one conversation with Simone about her date with Ethan that Kendall had set up and then been forced to listen to an hour of Dani's worries about Reggie's mental state and Greens had only answered that conversation, every so often, with a 'yeah, yeah' or a 'uh-huh'.

Some part of her, upon absorbing the younger woman's worries, was worried herself. Whether or not she enjoyed her twisted family, Reggie was her younger brother and, while she didn't know him as much as she should—hell, she usually dodged him when it looked like he wanted something—she found a tingle of something like fear for the young man.

She had finally accepted with extreme depression that she would never get the chance to forget about what she and David had done the night of Miranda's Welcome Home party. She was clearly even more messed up and twisted than she had thought she was and the fact that she was still thinking of these things was proof of that.

She fiddled with the ends of her hair, twisted her ankles and stared down at the decorations on her ring finger, hating them and hating that she had been so damn excited to put them on, so damn excited to hurt Kendall like that and know that she had what Kendall wanted. It had been twisted and she'd seen it even then, seen it as she said her vows, knowing that Kendall was watching and breaking.

It had made her giddy, so excited and so happy about doing it, about being the one who had finally won and she had, she had won what Kendall wanted most, she had won Ryan, she had been the one to deal that final blow to their always strained but once powerful connection and then she'd sauntered around and rubbed salt in the wound on a daily basis.

And Kendall had finally broke, had finally given up and given in and even when she smiled at Greenlee, laughed and played along, there was no warmth, there was nothing but an emptiness in her gaze and her smile and her voice, a ruined, hollowed quality that Greenlee had savored until the day that she woke up and saw that emptiness when she had looked into the mirror.

They had lost, both of them, and Greenlee had no idea what to do; she couldn't apologize because how exactly do you apologize for stealing another woman's man when she was grieving for her niece and trying to deal with her mother's abandonment yet again? What, was she supposed to give Kendall a pat on the back, hand the other woman the wedding ring that was rightfully hers and say 'hey, really sorry about all the pain and agony I've been putting you through… wanna go get some bon-bons?'

Greenlee highly doubted that that would work in any strange and disturbing way… and would she really want it to, really? She didn't want to be forgiven, she didn't deserve it, and she never would. No, she deserved to be hated, deserved to be vilified and yet she wasn't. No, the whole town treated her like a saint and treated her twisted, fucked-up marriage like some all-holy connection.

Greenlee had had periods of self-hatred before, quite often, but this was unlike anything else she'd ever experienced. It was over-whelming, a smothering feeling of deep disgust, something that made her stomach turn when she caught her reflection in the mirror. She deserved to be hated, deserved to be looked at like she meant nothing but she wanted to be touched.

She wanted to be seen and touched by someone who didn't call her saint, she couldn't take it anymore and all it did was make it harder and harder to breathe. She needed to be touched by someone who saw her flaws and didn't care, someone who loved her for her imperfections and called her on it when she was being a bitch.

Leo had done that; no matter how much he loved her, no matter how much he needed her, he had never hesitated to call her on it and, god, it had always meant so much to her, that he could be so honest with her and have faith that she wouldn't just lose it at him. And she didn't have that anymore and there was still confusion as to why she didn't have it anymore.

She dropped her hand forcefully, feeling the small band of metal as an impossibly massive weight that was shockingly cold, that froze the skin beneath it and made the ring an always felt presence that she wished desperately she could get away from, get rid of it once and for all and she knew, for sure, that she was trapped in Hell.

When Simone slapped a paper down on her desk, Greenlee gave a startled shriek, and her jump almost sent her chair rolling back into some heavy object that could have possibly killed her. She snatched up the paper, shook it angrily and was about to throw the paper at the other woman before she caught the face staring at her.

For a moment or two, she thought it had something to do with the fact that JR Chandler's son was dead, something that the press was still throwing around in joy and splashing across their front to sell more papers. And then she realized that JR's name was mentioned only as a tease to the real story, the story of the woman whose face was splashed across it's front.

It was an odd feeling, what came over her next, a came of chilly emptiness that filled her as she stared dully at the color photo of Dixie Cooney, at the words that proudly displayed that JR Chandler had lost his son and gained back his mother. She ripped the paper open, feeling lightheaded and dizzy, eyes latching onto the black and white grainy photos of the Chandler heir and Dixie Cooney going between plane and limo.

She panicked, lost it, and found herself running for the elevator before she knew it, her heels clicking quickly across the fine floors and breathing heavily as she drove her finger into the button over and over again. Not caring that she was leaving Simone and Dani alone to work, she simply left, wearing only a tiny dress and her heels as she flung herself into her car and sped off.

He supposed he should have known, when Joe had offered him a day off, that there was something off. Still, at least he'd had something strong at hand when he'd accidentally stopped on the show with Dixie's 'resurrection'. He'd stood there and watched the screen, remote limp in his hand, listening dully to the miracle.

It was so fucking perfect, wasn't it? Tad Martin got back his wife—or would that be ex-wife?—and his little girl and what happens to him? He loses his kid and his oh-so-loyal Anna runs off to the City of fucking Lights… what, was Martin some fucking saint in some past life?

Now, sitting behind his desk, he soaked himself in any alcohol he could find, and if there had been a cliff nearby, he most likely would have drained his current Scotch and stepped off it, one last final 'fuck-you' to the world. Or, hey, how about he commit a very messy suicide on Martin's car, a very nice gesture to the bastard who had no fucking idea how lucky he was?

Why did he get to be happy, why did he have everyone he wanted, people who loved him and cared and people who fought over who got to love him? Nobody had ever fought over David, not really and he could remember all too well how many times he'd been standing behind his mother while she snapped for one of the maids to take care of the brat.

He coughed, pausing in his drinking just long enough to get control of his breathing before going back to his binge, the only thing he had left to do these days. That's what he did now, he drank and he played with people's hearts and he drank some more and then he woke up in the middle of the night, cracked open another bottle and drank some more because what else did he do now, right?

Some part of him wanted to go see Dixie, just see with his own eyes and see her little girl and tell her how happy he was that she and her little girl were fine and okay. And he was, shockingly enough, happy for JR Chandler. He didn't like the younger man and the feeling was entirely mutual but he knew, all too well, what Dixie's son was going through and for that he was grateful that JR had his mother back.

Nobody deserved to go through that hell alone…

And here he was, wanting to check on Dixie and see that she truly was back but the other part, the part that was slowly becoming harder and harder to control and keep quiet? That part yearned to run to Fusion, tell her that he needed someone to talk to, to care about, someone who could take care of him because it was getting too hard to take care of himself.

He wanted Greenlee, wanted to track her down and beg her to help him and he studied the liquid in his glass, watching it slosh over the edge as he poured more, watched the way it finally stilled and, balancing himself carefully, he levered himself to his feet, swaying for a moment before getting a hold of himself and his limbs.

Getting to the door, he paused for a moment before turning to lean his back against it and, with a grimace, he slid down to the floor, feeling his shirt catch and ride up and feeling his bare back against the door; he slouched there for a few long moments, setting his glass to his side and dropping his hands to his lap with a noise of exhaustion.

And then he heard the footsteps and he grinned to himself, chuckling at the sound her recognized so easily, knowing the sound of those heels outside his door and remembering how many times he had heard them when Leora was alive, when she'd come over and steal some time with her lost-love's namesake, spend time with his daughter and sneak back out after an hour of careful cuddling.

He'd never forget how good she had looked, how she had looked so perfect with Leora's small form settled into her arms, the face buried in her neck and her hand smoothing up and down the back and how beautiful Greenlee had looked when she smiled because she'd always smiled with Leora. Just seeing the little girl would make her smile and holding her?

Oh, god, Greenlee had glowed…

When she knocked, fast and light, he sighed, laying his head back against the door and swallowing, listening for her voice and loving it when it came through the door, a muffled, lovely sound rich with worry for him. "David… let me in… I know you're in there, probably drunk out of your mind and I want you to let me in."

He obeyed with a broad grin, reaching up and unlocking the door and then dropping top the side, leaning off to the side and muttering darkly when she flung the door open and it caught him in the thigh painfully, probably bruising the skin but he didn't do anything but stare up at her, noting how amazingly tall she looked from down where he was.

She was a small, well-built woman but even a small woman like her looked huge from where was laying/sitting. She stared right back, paper rolled up in her fist and regarding him with a quiet sadness in her deep brown eyes. When she crouched, settling just enough not to fall on her ass, he grinned at her and she sighed, quietly, softly.

"You're drunk, David."

Another grin, even broader and more excited, even more savagely amused and she shook her head, her long hair rippling and he reached up, pushing it from her face and mumbling, "You should keep your hair back sometimes. You've got such a pretty face… does Ryass think you should hide you face?" He cocked his head, wriggled his eyebrows. "I could slip him something."

"Ugh…" She got a hold of his arm and the touch was raw, and so intense and juts the feel of her hand through his shirt made him shudder slightly, limp as she pulled him away from the wall and up slightly. "Son of a…"

"Yes," he mumbled with an air of mocking. Aware of her mutters as she continued to pull on him, attempting to get him on his feet, because she sure as hell couldn't carry him, could she? "Yes, yes, Greenlee, you are very correct in your assumption about my maternity… Vanessa was a bitch and I am, therefore, a son of a bitch… however, technically, you would be a daughter of a bitch because you and I both know how lovely a girly your mommy is…"

He stopped, blinking at her stomach, wondering how he had gotten there. With a frown, he contemplated what it felt like to be laying on his front half, with Greenlee sprawled out beneath him, one heel broken and muttering and swearing as she attempted to pull him of her and onto his feet. "You're not very good at this," he chuckled and she swore more savagely, getting her ass off the floor and shoving him onto his knees more.

With a grin, he dropped his face onto her stomach and inhaled the scent there, the scent that he had tried so hard to wrap himself in before she'd bolted away. He'd have very much preferred there not to have been any clothe between his face and her skin at the moment but, eh, he'd take what he could get at the moment and this was indeed wonderful.

Feeling his warm breath through her dress was making her body react in some very bad ways and she was only barely able to keep from falling and humping his leg at the moment, pressing herself against him, her breasts and stomach against his chest and his arms tight around her. Greenlee had never humped a leg before but, at the moment, it was such an exciting idea that it nearly knocked her down to her ass again.

David could hold his liquor, she knew he could and she had seen him beyond drunk too many times to count. Each time, though, he'd been able to take care of himself in some small way. She hated the thought of how alcohol he must have in him to make him act like this, mumbling words into her belly that made her want to shiver in pleasure and let himself be dragged around.

Grunting, Greenlee paused, shifting her hands up his back, to hold him beneath the shoulder, heft him more as she kicked off her heels and instantly found her balance a hundred times better, even if she did lose whatever height she had. He wasn't even trying to help her but, really, could she at all blame him?

She began moving again, one shaky step at a time, and then went stock-still in mid-step, heel lifted and the ball of her foot flat on the ground of the cabin as she considered this newest touch and how it felt to have his hand on her ass like this. Wasn't bad, not really, but something about it made her grimace, knowing full well that it had not been a move he had meant to do.

When David Hayward decided to touch a woman's ass, she had no doubt that he knew how to make it a hell of a touch and this one felt rather flat. The thought, of course, was rather irritating as she considered the thought of David's hand on some other woman's ass. She could see it now, like some SNL skit almost, the dumb blonde nurse with the garters and the massive rack and the gooey gaze.

Not worrying about the hand on her backside, she started back up her movements, dragging him through what should have been a small room, what was usually a small room. Entering the bedroom proved to be a hard thing on her, especially when her eyes settled on the bed where they had been tangled up together for hours, frenzied lovemaking sessions that had become even better each time around, deeper almost.

Thankfully, his bed wasn't high and she dropped back, holding him up as she did and trying to keep him form falling on her… she failed and found her breathing coming harsher when his head dropped to her chest. Once again, she had no doubt in her mind that it was an accident but the feel of his breath coming against her breasts proved to be almost too much for her.

She was shaking, all of her and was shockingly, painfully aware of the heartbeat that had started up between her legs, of the steady heat filling her stomach and her lower half, and, shit, she couldn't remember the last she'd reacted this quickly to something like this, not in the foggiest.

And, shit, was this a reaction…

"David…" she stopped at the hoarseness of her voice, clearing her throat before trying again. "David… get off… get up… I need you to get up…" His only response was a muffled groan, that of a man not enjoying being so useless but no doubt enjoying the convenient position he had found himself in.

Oh shit… she needed to get him up and off and get herself calmed down enough to take care of him and get some coffee into him… and she couldn't do that when she was reacting like this to nothing but his breath in this wonderful spot he had paid so much attention to that night.

It was with a sudden surge of strength that she managed to get him onto the bed, grunting as she pushed him up forcefully ad then flopping in exhaustion to the side of the doctor, groaning quietly but stopping when she heard him talking as he rolled and crawled up, collapsing in a weight of drunken depressed male.

"Greenlee, Greenlee," he mumbled into the pillow and she rolled her eyes before going back to her problem…getting over her excitement that dragging David into the bedroom had given her… would David mind if she used his shower?