STEVE & JAIME'S HOUSE, WASH. D.C. - Fri. 10:30am

Steve fastened the last lock on the last suitcase and breathed deeply to steel himself. He sensed her standing in the doorway: Jaime. "What do you want?" he asked bitterly, without turning around.

"We need to talk..." she began hesitantly.

"This morning pretty much said it all, don't you think?" He finally turned to face her, and the pain is his eyes made Jaime flinch.

"Steve, I'm..."

"Don't say it, please, unless you came to ask me to stay. Did you?" Jaime stared at the floor, the lump in her throat choking off her voice. Steve shook his head. "Didn't think so." He tried to contain his grief and anger before asking his next question. "Do you love him?"

"Yes," she answered softly, tears in her eyes.

"How long?"

"About two weeks. I...I've wanted to tell you, but the words wouldn't come...You didn't deserve this."

"Well, we agree on that, at least." Steve strode briskly into the living room to avoid Jaime as she began to move in his direction. When he turned around, though, she was right behind him.

"Steve..." her voice was shaking as she struggled to find the words. "I love you -"

"Don't even bother saying that! I'm not an idiot, Jaime; I saw the truth with my own eyes!"

"I do! I always will. But...this is so strong. If I'd ignored it and tried to go on with you like everything was normal, it would've been dishonest - to all three of us."

"Oh, and this! This wasn't dishonest?" Steve laughed bitterly at the irony. Not wanting to ask, but needing to know, he went on. "So you're sleeping with him, then?"

Jaime involuntarily reacted as though she'd been slapped. "Of course not," she protested, tears streaming silently down her face. "I - we - couldn't do that to you!"

"You couldn't," he repeated. "But this morning, that was ok? That you could do?" Steve softened when he saw how pale she'd become and that she was beginning to tremble. "Jaime, ever since you came back from rejection and amnesia, I've told you that all I ever wanted was for you to be happy." He began to reach over to brush away her tears, but forced himself to stop. "I thought that you were - that we were - happy together. I wish you would've said something; I'd have stood on my head, turned cartwheels or cut off my good arm to make you happy."

"I was never unhappy with you. We were always so good together..."

"Then why, Jaime?"

I don't know why. I can't even tell you when things between Oscar and I started to change. I fought it for so long; we both did. We didn't want to hurt you -"

"Well, that's comforting."

"All I can say for sure is, around two weeks ago, we couldn't fight it or ignore it anymore..."

"Then this is really what you want?"

Jaime nodded sadly. "I am so sorry." She reached out to embrace him one last time, but Steve avoided her, picked up the trunk with his bionic arm and the suitcases with the other. "Goodbye, Jaime," he said, looking straight into her eyes before he walked out the door.

Oscar's limo was parked at the curb. Oscar stood awkwardly (a first, for him) on the sidewalk, waiting for his old friend to emerge from the house. Their eyes met, and Steve stopped, as if expecting Oscar to make the next move. Oscar did just that, meeting him halfway down the sidewalk. Neither man spoke for several beats.

"Steve, I'm sorry it happened the way it did. Jaime wouldn't purposely hurt you for anything in the world; neither would I."

"I know." Steve looked him squarely in the face and Oscar was stunned to see acceptance, not malice, there. "I won't lie," Steve told him. "Losing her hurts like hell. But she hasn't truly been mine since the amnesia, not the way we used to be. At least with you, I know she'll be taken care of. She'll be safe...and loved." He loaded his belongings into his car and turned back one more time.

"Take good care of her, Oscar," he said simply, and then he drove away.

"I will, Pal," Oscar said into the distance. Then he started toward the house to begin doing exactly that.

END