Love is never easy…

…………………………………………………………………

It doesn't really matter now you're gone
You never were around that much to speak of
Didn't think that I could live without you, baby
It couldn't be that hard to live alone

But I'm all, all alone again
Thinking you will never say
that you'll be home again

And it's gonna be a long night
And it's gonna be cold without your arms
And Im gonna get stage fright
caught in the headlights
It's gonna be a long night
And I know I'm gonna lose this fight

Once upon a time we fell in love
And I thought that I would be the only one

But now I'm on, I'm on my own again
Thinking you will never show
you won't be home again

And it's gonna be a long night
And it's gonna be cold without your arms
And Im gonna get stage fright
caught in the headlights
It's gonna be a long night
And I know I'm gonna lose this fight

Lost in you arms baby
Lost in your arms

Now I'm on my own again
Thinking you will never show
you won't be home again

And it's gonna be a long night
And it's gonna be cold without your arms
And Im gonna get stage fright
caught in the headlights
It's gonna be a long night
And I know I'm gonna lose this fight
I'm gonna get stage fright caught in the headlights

It's gonna be a long night
And I know I'm gonna lose this fight
I'm lost in your arms baby
Lost in your arms

- the Corrs -

Chapter Thirty Five:

It's a Cold and it's a Broken Hallelujah

There's a song playing in the cab as we near the condo that I recognize – it's one that I've heard Beth sing – and it's right up there with Nobody's Diary or Barber and his fucking Adagio for cheerfulness. Right up there with Rufus Wainwright and his Hallelujah, too (which is not a song about happy endings, just in case you've never quite picked up on that.)

And right now, any one of them would suit my mood just about fine.

"Sure is a cold one," the driver observes – fortunately he hasn't seen fit to be too chatty on the drive – just as he pulls over to the curb. Maybe it's just his way of telling the blind guy that we're here.

I don't say anything. I'm not feeling real friendly.

"You need any help getting to yer door?"

Buddy, I shot and killed four people the day I got my eyes drilled out, and only one of those was at point blank range… but I suppose I shouldn't actually say that out loud to the nice old guy who, shock of shocks speaks perfect English. "I'm fine," I lie. I'm not fine. Well, I suppose I'm fine in respect to his asinine inquiry – but I'm not fine.

He tells me what I owe – I throw in a reasonable tip – and step out into the cold. It really is a fuck of a cold night, too, feels like the temperature has been dropping steadily since sundown. I only barely notice – everything just kind of feels the same right now. Warm / cold, day / night – it's all the fucking same.

I stop and listen to the cabby pull away from the curb before making my way up the walk. The walk has been shoveled and steps have been shoveled and salted – you know, so some idiot who can't see doesn't slip and break his fool neck coming home at one o'clock in the morning… home? Yeah, I guess I can call this place home. Home is just a place to hang your hat, after all.

As soon as I open the door, I become aware of the soft sound of someone sleeping on the sofa. I don't need to be able to see to know it's Beth.

I pull off my boots and hang my hat…

And I know what you really want to know: did he or didn't he…?

But honestly, do I really have to answer that?

She kissed me.

I kissed her back.

(I was too fucking startled to do anything else.)

And in any case, it wasn't entirely unpleasant – I really do call her Hot Lips for a reason.

But there was nothing there (other than a hand in my crotch, eliciting certain uncontrollable responses – but Hell, I'm a guy, a good breeze can give me a stiff one, you know it, I know it, it's just anatomy – although in all fairness, Paula is a wee bit more talented than a stiff breeze… ) But there was really nothing there (no, the gentleman doesn't protest too much, he's just a little startled by that fact that there was nothing there.) We swapped a little spit… and… it was nice, but… but I never wanted to just hold her in the dark. I never wanted to just sleep next to her – wake up next to her. I never wanted to just be in the same room with her. She's a great woman – but she's not my angel.

So, for the record, no, I did not go home with Paula Basil tonight.

I told her I had an early morning, but maybe some other time – hey, give a guy a break, I was caught totally fucking off guard, ok? I mean, Christ, of all the things I might have expected, being invited back to her place to mess up the sheets just wasn't one of them. And all that other stuff… yeah. I get what she was saying about not letting her emotions get in the way of her investigation – but she believes me. And that, my friends, is un-fucking-believable. (I guess maybe it shouldn't be – Paula knows me. She knows I sometimes pad my bank account with other people's money, but she knows I wouldn't go after Corazon without a damn good reason. It's just not my style; I have nothing to gain from him pushing up daisies.)

So after extracting myself from that kiss, I made my excuses and called a cab. I stopped back by the office to drop off the 'phone' and chat with Eddas about what was on it – figured I ought to warn her about the, er 'personal' nature of some of it. We talked about what Paula was up to – the work related part of it. Eddas isn't any more sure of what to make of that than I am. As for the rest, she was polite enough not to have anything at all to say… and now, here we are. I'm home. I'm home and I have a shit load of stuff going through my head, not all of it seemingly directly related to anything.

After hanging up both my overcoat and suit jacket, I release Spencer from his harness as quietly as I can and make my way over to the sofa and just stand for a while, listening to the steady, soft in and out of Beth's breathing.

I imagine her lying there in her pink bathrobe and black nightgown, maybe there's a book laying across her chest – I picture how peaceful – how beautiful she must really be. Mon ange. My angel. The only truly good thing to have ever happened to my life… which I know isn't quite true, because Emma's a pretty darned good thing too, even if from time to time I'm sure she's going out of her way to give me a heart attack… even if she really does love this Jim guy. (It's not like I can deny that he was a big part of her life but… jealous? You'd better believe it. I was never supposed to meet her, never supposed to know her, but now that I have? That just changes everything. Everything changes everything and it feels like nothing really makes any sense any more. I should have gone home with Paula tonight… I don't mean that I wanted to, I mean that I should have wanted to. But why would I want her when everything I really want is right here? Hey – I told you I was confused.)

I park my ass on the floor in front of the sofa, very carefully quiet so not to disturb my sleeping angel. I want to touch her – I need to touch her. But I won't do it.

I want (desperately) to 'see' her with my hands – to feel the soft curves of her body and the smoothness of her skin; I want to run my fingers through her hair – but I don't want to wake her, so I keep my hands to myself, even though it hurts. I hate sitting here in the dark, unable to do anything but listen – all I have are my ears to convince me that she's really real – that she's really here. But – I can hear her. And – yes, there's just a little bit of that orange floral musky perfume of hers lingering in the air. I remember the first time I smelled that… along with cinnamon and vanilla. But she's one of those girls who digs candle light…

I wonder if Beth slept like this (peacefully) in Culiacan – if she slept like this in Neal's house. I wonder if she ever waited up for him when he went out drinking with his brothers or buddies – or if she just went to sleep hoping he'd run his car off a bridge in a drunken stupor.

I have a hard time imagining my angel as being that vindictive, though. She probably got out of bed in the middle of the night and went to collect his sorry ass, just so he wouldn't drive… I could be wrong – but I'm pretty sure I'm not. That's the sort of thing she'd do, even if Neal didn't deserve it, because Beth just doesn't look at the world in terms of who deserves what. If she did, she wouldn't be with me.

With me.

Christ – why the Hell would anyone want to be with me?

At least Paula knows me – she knew what she was asking when she invited me back to her place – but Beth? She just showed up here – and – and what?

Look – Sheldon – there's only so many ways I can say it. I'm not afraid of you. I want to be a part of your life… nothing worthwhile is ever easy…

I remember her wrapping her arms around me in the dark, back in Mexico, chasing away the nightmares, holding me when I shook, when I was afraid – when I couldn't tell what was real and what was just in my head. No one else has ever really seen me like that. No one else has taken care of me the way she did – no one's ever cared enough.

What I told her is true, Milo did come close – he saw me at what had been my worst up until that point – but neither of us was in real good shape back there. We both broke down – both came close to breaking completely – but we both managed to come out of it whole. And I can't honestly say that I would have made it through without him – not just because he was someone to tend my wounds, someone whose wounds I tended, but because of the history we already shared, strange though it was, even then. Anyone else – anyone else I might have been able to shrug off, drive away, no matter how much I needed them or they needed me, because I just wouldn't have cared about either of our lives. I was real ready to just curl up and die – but he wouldn't let me.

Neither would she… she wouldn't let me bleed to death in her kitchen, even when I threatened to hurt her. She wouldn't let me curl up and die even though she had to know I wanted to. If I'd really shattered her mirror and slit my wrists in her bathroom that day – she would have pulled me back somehow, I know it. Deep down, I know it. I may never know why, I sure as Hell didn't do anything to deserve her kindness, but I know she never would have let me go, not like that.

I know, too, that I didn't come away from the Day of the Dead at all whole. Something broke – something that couldn't be patched up by just any one. Something – inside.

I can accept that Cucuy sold me out – I should have known better than to trust the hired help anyway. I can even accept El not following through on his assignment the way he was supposed to. I underestimated his loyalty to his country, that's all. Sometimes plans go awry. Shit happens – that's just the cost of doing business. I accept that.

What I can't accept is that I really didn't see it coming. My instincts failed me completely – not a single red flag went up in my head. And I still don't know if Ajedrez knew all along that I was CIA or if it was just some unhappy coincidence that put me in her bed – but I – I never saw it coming. I never saw that she was playing me like a fucking bass fiddle and that single fact has taken as big a toll on my confidence as – as loosing my eyes has taken a toll on psyche.

I know I'm not quite the same person I was a month ago. It's nothing big or obvious – I haven't gone soft – I don't suddenly love puppies and rainbows, but inside, things aren't the same. They're out of balance. I'm out of balance. I'll never admit out loud that my confidence has been diminished (fucking shattered). I won't fess up to being just a little (lot?) more messed up in the ol' noggin than I was a month ago to anyone, but Iknow it's true.

I need physical contact. I never needed that before. I need the reassurance that only touch can give me because something inside cracked – something broke – and I just don't trust the things I used to rely on. My instincts. My self-confidence. (Yeah, I'm a real cracked pot all right… I almost laugh aloud because I have finally gone and done just what every shrink I've ever seen expected me to. I broke.)

But the one thing none of them ever counted on was that there might be an angel who would hold me in the dark, who would take care of me – who wouldn't let me go.

I'll never be the same – I'll be second and third guessing myself for the rest of my life, but I don't want to think about where I'd've ended up if she didn't give enough of a shit to do a whole lot more than slap on a few band aids and send me on my way. I know she saved more than my life that day... and she went so far above and beyond the call of duty for any nurse…

The sound of Beth stirring on the sofa brings me to the here and now – "Hey there, Cowboy," she says very, very softly.

I can't help the smile creeping across my face – no matter how scared and uncertain I feel in the dark, the sound of her voice is – magic. "I didn't mean to wake you," I tell her softly.

"How long have you been sitting there?"

I just shrug, "Wasn't really paying attention." (I want to touch her – to hold her – but something inside keeps me from doing it – I don't quite know why…)

"So – how did everything go?"

"I ah – I owe you an apology, Ange." I couldn't lie to her if I wanted to – there's just no point in trying. (But I don't want to hold anything back– she's my angel. No matter what, she deserves the truth out of me. There's so little I can give her, I have to at least give her what I can.)

"An apology?"

"You were right. About – someone else – someone who would – put up with my shit. Or at least – who might want to try."

Nothing.

"Paula invited me back to her place tonight."

Still nothing.

"Beth – I didn't go."

And yet she still says nothing…

"Ange?"

"Sorry. Just – sometimes it sucks being right."

"Why?"

"Because I'm always right about the things I'd rather be wrong about. When I'm wrong – it's just because I'm too close to something – or my judgment is clouded by other things."

"Like knowing there'd be someone else in the picture so you think there's no way I could want 'a girl like you'?" I manage half a smile at her.

"Yeah. Stuff like that."

It feels like she's pulling further into herself – pulling away from me. Defense mechanism – I understand about those. It still hurts to have her pulling away – but I do understand. "What I said before, it still stands. Paula might be interested in me – but – " but I'm not good at this. When it comes to girls, I still find my tongue getting tied up in knots. Sure, I can be suave and even quite charming with strangers of either gender – but that's just part of the job. When I don't care about the other person, I can make them believe anything I want. But this is different. I care about her – I need her to believe me. I need her to believe in me – and I know that's a fuck of a tall order to fill. "I'm just not interested in anyone else, ok?"

More nothing.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

"I don't think you have to be psychic to know I don't believe that." Although I'm not quite willing to call her a liar, either.

"I – just can't shake the feeling that – you're – leaving – "

"That's – the other thing," I confess – although – yeah. I'm really not good at this. "I'm afraid I'm going to have to break that promise about taking it easy."

Nothing.

"I have to get away for a couple of days, that's all. It's work – I'll be back by Saturday morning."

"I'm sorry – I – " not only is it small, her voice is very shaky. "I just can't help it – I – "

I finally reach out and cup her face in my hand – she lets me touch her, and it's like the rest of the world just vanishes… "I'll be back before you know it, I promise." Not that I don't feel a small stab of guilt – I promised I'd come back and then I broke that promise… I promised her I'd take it easy and I know I'm not going to do that, either. How can I give her anything if I keep breaking my word…

"Where are you going?"

"I – ah I'd rather not say. But I'm not leaving the country and I'm not going alone – not that I really expect my new little assistant to be much use for anything but driving."

I feel her smile just a little and taking a chance, I pull her closer to me and find her lips with mine – Beth doesn't pull away or resist, but she is hesitant. Then, after a moment she really does return my kiss. Our tongues dance – and my insides go completely numb – but it's not that cold you-can't-feel-anything kind of numb – its more like everything is tingling and alive and it's just too much… only I want more. I want everything – and I want to give her everything, too… I pull her head back, belatedly reminding myself to be more gentle (not that she puts up any kind of fight) and go for her neck and ears, causing the most delightful little noises to come out of her throat.

I shift so that I'm up on my knees in front of her – I can feel her body under mine – I've got her pressed against the sofa – and her hands in my hair draw me further in, pulling me up onto her, so that I'm straddling her waist. I kiss her long and hard feeling the heat rising off her skin… and I'm beginning to realize just how in the way my damned glasses are, I just don't want to take them off… I know she knows, she's seen my face – but… for right now I'll just deal with having them in my way.

"You're really going to have to tell me where you want me to stop," I whisper into her ear, in between nibbles and caresses. "Or else I might not – " I am a greedy bastard and I know it, I want every part of her… and I want it now.

Hands on my chest stop me there – damn, maybe I should have kept my big fat mouth shut…

"Just tell me – this is – real – tell me you're not wishing I was someone else. Tell me you're really 'here'."

And of course I know just what she's asking – and – it hurts to think she would even consider it – but I guess I am who I am and we both know it. "I am right where I want to be," I move in to kiss her again, to show her how much I want her – how much I need her. But her hand won't budge off my chest. "Ange, I can't give you all the things you deserve – but I can give you my loyalty. I know it's not much – but it's – it's all I have to offer." And I'm sorry about that, I wish I did have more…

"You don't owe me anything, Sheldon."

Those words cut into me. I owe her everything. And I say as much. "But that isn't why I didn't go home with Paula tonight." Only I really don't know how to make her understand… she's all I want… all I need… but she – she honestly thinks I could be here with her and be wishing I was somewhere else, with someone else…? "How about we switch places?" I suggest – I keep forgetting that it wasn't all that long ago that I was shot through both thighs and kneeling really is not the best position in the world.

Beth doesn't really say anything – at least nothing I can quite interpret – but she doesn't resist when I slide off her and maneuver us both so that she's sitting in my lap. I wrap my arms around her – she doesn't seem to object, but she doesn't lean into me, either.

"Did you – really – think I'd fall into bed with someone else tonight?"

"I know what you said earlier – but – it's easy to say something one moment and then in another moment do the opposite, even if you really meant what you said when you said it. Sometimes – sometimes if you don't think something could even happen anyway, it's easy to say you wouldn't want it, just because you're not expecting it – but then if the opportunity presents itself – it would be hard to resist. I could understand that," that last is barely a whisper. (And suddenly I wonder who broke up with who, her or that philandering weasel she'd been engaged to, little Dr. Fuckmook from med school.)

But she's right, I didn't expect Paula to kiss me, even if we had been flirting – I mean, come on, I flirt with Milo, for Christ's sake. Well, ok, Paula doesn't know that, but I still didn't expect her to take me seriously. After the Day of the Dead, I never expected any woman to look at me like that again. I don't know how Beth does it – I don't really know why Paula wanted me to come home with her, not unless Beth is really right about there being someone else who could… yeah. I don't want to think about it. I don't want to think too hard about what Paula really meant about not letting her emotions get in the way – what that might imply about before. Because I do get it now. I didn't then – but I do now. I understand exactly why she was angry – hurt – by my not visiting her while she was laid up. That was when it finally dawned on her that I was not emotionally involved at all. She had finally figured out that she really was just someone I fucked (which isn't quite true, I really did spend more time with her than I did most people – but I there was absolutely no emotional investment, not on my part, not after Holly.)

"Sheldon?" I only barely hear Beth's voice.

"Sorry – I was – in my own head."

"Did you hear me at least?"

"Yeah. I heard you loud and clear." She doesn't owe me anything. She really believed that I would fall into bed with Paula. She really thinks that even if I didn't, I might honestly have been 'there' instead of 'here' when I kissed her… and Christ, that fucking hurts. I have everything I want right here – but I still don't really have it, not if she doesn't trust me, not if she can't at least take me at my word. I know I'm a prick, an asshole, a real royal jerk and a rat – but I never promised any kind of anything to Paula. She knew that when I was out with other women it might just lead to the ol' horizontal mambo. If she got emotionally involved – well that just wasn't my fault. I've never lied to her about the kind of person I am... and I haven't lied to Beth, either. Which is why I suppose I shouldn't be surprised that when it comes down to it, she really doesn't trust me… after all, I am the bad guy.

"I – I know I don't have the right to expect – anything," Beth's voice is so soft I almost miss that.

"Well – for all it's worth, I didn't go home with Paula tonight – she offered but – I didn't go. I didn't want to. But I do have an early day tomorrow – so – maybe we should both just get some sleep." Maybe this is why I don't get involved, why I don't let my guard down or let other people in. Even when it seems good, it still fucking hurts like Hell.

"I'm sorry."

"It's ok," I lie.

"Please don't – "

"I understand," I shrug at her. "And it's really ok." I don't want her to know that I'm hurt. I don't want her to know how fucking easy it was for her to hurt me. Just a few words and I'm down for the count, six two and even, stick a fork in me, I'm done. Mr. Tough Guy… yeah. Right. I fish around in my pockets until I find what's left of my pack of smokes.

"I just – I didn't think you were really a – a monogamous kind of guy – and that's ok, I can live with that. I really do get it that sex is just sex, it doesn't have to mean anything."

(My own words, biting me in the ass, how fucking lovely.)

"I guess I just figured that an exclusive type thing was what you wanted," I tell her – there's a real frosty edge to my tone, despite my best efforts to keep it at bay. "Maybe I was wrong." And maybe we should have talked about it, but I just assumed. I just knew I didn't want anybody else. I even told her that. But who in their right mind would believe a guy like me, anyway?

"You weren't wrong. I've meant everything I've said – about you. About – this. But – I really would take – whatever you were willing to give – just as long as you're still willing to give me something."

Except that I can't seem to get her to accept the only things I have, a shred of honesty, a little loyalty – that's all I've fucking got. I know it isn't much, but doesn't it count for something that it's all there is? She asked me to take it one day at a time. I am. I'm trying. I'm even trying to tell myself that there has to be some way to fix this, some way not to lose her – because as much as it hurts, it would hurt a whole fuck of a lot more if I got back from my little Southwestern excursionto find her gone…

Was I really so wrong to come clean with her about Paula? It seemed like the right thing to do – but I'm not so good at figuring out the right thing. It isn't the sort of thing I've exactly made a habit of… "I'm tired," I at least manage a neutral tone. "How about we just call it a night and get some sleep –?" Yeah, like that's going to happen. I'm going to lie here and pick apart every conversation we've had since she arrived. I'm going to toss and turn and get up and ramble around the condo trying to figure out where exactly things went wrong tonight. And tomorrow, Heaven help my little assistant because every little thing is going to piss me off… oh right, like he'll notice the difference… and Beth still hasn't moved. "Come on – I'm serious. It's late."

"Please just tell me that I haven't screwed this up completely."

"We'll talk in the morning."

"I'm really sorry, Sheldon. I – I just want you to know that," she says – then she leans in and kisses my cheek.Why does it feel more like good bye than good night?

Nothing worthwhile is ever easy… I guess the more worthwhile it is, the less easy it has to be to – otherwise where would the balance be?

And – yeah, after she goes upstairs, I really do spend the rest of the night dissecting every fucking conversation Beth and I have had, starting with the very first words out of her mouth when I woke up in her kitchen on the Day of the Dead…

Cold as the northern winds
in December mornings,
Cold is the cry that rings
from this far distant shore.
Winter has come too late
too close beside me.
How can I chase away
all these fears deep inside?
I'll wait the signs to come.
I'll find a way
I will wait the time to come.
I'll find a way home.
My light shall be the moon
and my path - the ocean.
My guide the morning star
as I sail home to you.
I'll wait the signs to come.
I'll find a way.
I will wait the time to come.
I'll find a way home.
Who then can warm my soul?
Who can quell my passion?
Out of these dreams a boat
I will sail home to you.

Enya/Roma Ryan