He couldn't summon the desire to go back in Rodi's so he wandered back to the hotel but walked right past his room and up to the roof. If he could have transported any place in Llanview to Philadelphia with him this would have been it. He walked to the edge and put his hands on the ledge, the slightly chilled breeze washing over his face almost calmed him.
As much as he loved being on the roof, looking up at the stars or out at Llanview, he didn't go there very often. It was their spot. And there was no more them. There was no more chance for them, because he was losing her for good this time. He couldn't process it; it was wrong, it just had to be. It was like when he was working a case and all the evidence added up pointing to one suspect, but he just knew there was something he was missing.
There would be a cure, a miracle, a last minute save. There always was.
It took him a minute to process that the strange shape standing at the edge looking out was a person, and even longer to realize that it was her. Natalie had either heard the door from the stairs or somehow sensed that he was behind her because she turned and smiled at him. She was wearing pajamas with a long heavy coat thrown over them and a knitted wool hat on her head where that thick red hair should have been.
She smiled at him, "Hey John."
"I didn't realize you were up here," he said walking closer.
"Yeah well I have to sneak around these days," she said turning back to the view. "No one lets me have any fun."
He stood beside her silently for a moment, looking out at the lights. She hugged herself tightly and shivered as a gust of wind hit them. "It's cold," he said, "you shouldn't be up here at night like this."
"Yeah," she said with a sad smile, "I'll catch my death of cold." She laughed. When he didn't she added, "I'm sorry. I forget other people don't find that funny."
"Don't apologize," he said.
"I don't have too many more nights to look out at the lights. There are too many trees at Llanfair, you can't see anything. And I don't know how much longer I'll be able to sneak away like this."
"Natalie," he pleaded feeling tears well in his eyes, "don't-"
She sighed. "John, please don't make me pretend with you. I pretend with everyone else all the time because they need it, but it's exhausting. You never used to let me get away with pretending."
True there were plenty of times he'd called her on a pretense, but there were plenty of times they'd both pretended about things. Because sometimes the truth was just too hard to acknowledge.
"It's amazing how the view from up here never changes, isn't it?" she asked coming up behind him. He turned to see her, her hair long and draping over her shoulders the way it should be and he didn't know whether to be happy she was here or not.
"Well go ahead," he said, "tell me how I screwed up this time."
She shook her head, "I'm not under any delusions that you need me to beat you up for your mistakes. You do an excellent job of that all on your own."
"Well you know what?" he snapped, "I've been having to do everything on my own the last four years so-"
"Are you mad at me for that?" she asked sounding shocked.
"No," he said running a hand over his face, "but you keep showing up here telling me what I need to do, what Kayla needs—what she needs is you!"
She stared at him for a moment before she spoke again in a tone that was calm but clearly charged with emotion. "And if I could be here, you know I'd… Damn it John I'd like to be there with you to help out just as much as you want me there, but it's not like I chose this. And please remember, when you're pissed at me for leaving you a lot of work to do that I was the one who got the short end of the stick."
"How'd the appointment go?" he asked.
She took a deep breath. "Not as well as I'd hoped."
"Natalie?" he asked tentatively, hoping that didn't mean what it sounded like it meant.
"It's back, John," she said looking up at him, "the cancer's back."
"How bad is it?" he asked, trying to sound calm.
"Hard to say at this point," she said, "it's definitely not good. The fact that it came back, it-"
"Okay," he said his mind racing, "well they caught it soon so-"
"I can't do this again," she said shaking her head, tears welling up in her eyes.
"Yes you can," he said putting a hand on either shoulder, "look you beat this once before, you can do it again. You're a lot stronger than you think."
"You don't understand what it's like," she insisted. "Feeling that bad all the time. Forcing your way through each day. Sitting there in the infusion room. You know they arrange all the chairs in a circle, so we can talk to each other but no one does. We just sit there in silence together like we're practicing for being dead." She looked into his eyes and added, "You're the only person I was ever really comfortable being silent with."
"Well I'll tell you what," he said squeezing the tension from her shoulders, "you ever need anyone to sit and be quiet with, you just give me a call, okay?"
She nodded, holding back the tears. "I will. Just don't blame yourself if you can't save me this time."
"I know," he said, "I'm sorry. I just-"
"Don't sweat it," she said with a sigh.
"I tried what you said," he said turning back to the view, "I tried talking to her."
"John," she laughed, "it's not that simple. You can't all of a sudden say you want to talk and expect her to just open up. You're gonna have to do some of the talking."
"About what?"
"Us," she said simply.
"No," he said, "she's too young to understand-"
"Maybe," she admitted, "maybe she won't understand. But she's not too young to know. I think she needs to know John—it's no wonder she's confused. She's getting to the age where girls are obsessed with finding out about love and she grew up with two people that were scared as hell of it."
"Well… I should go," he said.
"No, wait wait," she said reaching for a bottle of wine, "you have to taste this. Jessica and Nash's latest. And possibly last." Her face was flushed—she'd had quite a bit to drink already. He probably should have stopped her from drinking more, but he wasn't quite ready for the evening to end.
"Why's that?"
She shook her head dismissively, "They're having some kind of issue. Jess swears it's the last time she's leaving him, but she always says that." She filled two wine glasses slightly more than she should have and handed one to him. "A toast," she said raising her glass, "to our daughter. Eight years old going on forty. The best thing we've ever done."
He nodded and raised his glass, clinking it with hers. He took a sip and then raised it again, "And to her mother. Who is still as amazing as ever." She blushed but clinked her glass with his.
"This is good," he said taking another sip of the wine.
"Well I know you're more of a beer guy," she said, "but we drank all the beer already. Is it weird that we went through that much alcohol at a kid's party?"
"Well there were a lot of grown ups there," he said.
"Yeah," she said taking a swallow of wine, "I'm glad she has so much family, you know. And that they were all able to be here."
"Yeah, it's good," he said. The wine was sweet and he realized he was drinking it too fast. Natalie drained her glass and refilled them both.
"You ever think about it?" she asked, "I mean, you and I, we're still technically family."
"I guess you could say that," he nodded.
"We share a daughter, you know," she continued, "but we don't really share anything else these days. I mean, I have no idea what's going on in your life these days."
"Not like I know all the details of yours," he said, "like earlier for example."
"What do you mean, earlier?" she asked.
He hadn't meant to say anything but the wine he'd had and the beer before that had loosened his tongue a little too much. And as much as he knew he should just dismiss it, he kept talking. "What you and Rex were talking about," he said, "and I know you well enough. I remember how you are when you're trying to get a guys attention. That slinky black top."
She flushed almost purple, "I'm that obvious."
"Not that obvious," he said, "I haven't figured out who it is."
"Oh," she said with a laugh.
"So?" he asked.
"So?" she asked innocently.
"Who is it?" he asked poking her.
"You really don't know?" she asked over the rim of her glass.
"Not a clue," he said.
"Well this is really embarrassing," she said.
"Someone I know?" he pressed.
"You could say that," she giggled tucking her hair behind her ears.
"Who?" he asked as she drained her glass again.
"It's you, John," she said.
"Me?" he asked surprised.
She nodded. "You're the one Rex was talking about. The reason for the slinky top. The reason I drank way too much tonight."
"What are you saying?" he asked.
"It's crazy, I know, it's just lately I've been feeling…" she covered her face with her hands, "I'm such an idiot."
"No," he said gently pulling her hands away. Their eyes locked suddenly and he realized how lightheaded he was. Was it the alcohol or her? Before he could figure it out she seized his face with her hands and pulled his lips to her own. Something in the back of his mind screamed at him to stop her but he wasn't the slightest bit interested in listening to that voice and instead he kissed her back with everything he'd been holding back for the last five years.
Somehow they ended lying on the couch with him poised above her. He was completely lost in the sensation of her flesh against his as her hands roamed his body for the first time in five years until her wine glass slipped from her hand and shattered on the floor.
He sat up with a jolt as she murmured, "Leave it." He shook his head and tried to catch his breath as he moved back from her.
"John?" she asked softly, still not moving.
"We've both had a lot to drink," he said, rubbing his eyes, trying to clear his head.
"Sometimes that's what it takes with us," she said sitting up. He immediately wished she hadn't because that brought her closer to him, which only made it harder to deny himself her touch. "We've both gotten so good at denying ourselves what we really want," she continued, echoing his own thoughts, "or are you saying you don't want this?"
"I always have," he sighed forcing himself to look at her. He owed it to her to look her in the eyes, "but that doesn't mean it's a good idea. Because if we sober up and realize we made a mistake-"
"Things could get pretty bad," she nodded, squeezing her eyes shut, "particularly if that little girl upstairs found out. Her life's confusing enough as it is. Oh God John, I'm such an idiot! I'm sorry-" Her voice cracked and she covered her mouth with her hand as though she were holding back a sob.
"Hey," he said gently turning her face so that she would look at him, "don't apologize. I was right there with you, okay? We just- we should slow down. I don't want to have to explain to Kayla that her mom and dad got back together because they had too much to drink."
"Right," she said, wiping her nose with the back of her hand.
"We should talk about this," he said, "but not tonight. Take our time."
She smiled suddenly. "We can do that, can't we?"
"Yeah we can," he said smiling back, running his fingers over a lock of her hair.
"You know, when I found out I had cancer I felt like I'd run out of time when I wasn't looking. But now-"
"You beat it," he told her.
"I did," she said, "and something like that kinda makes you feel like anything is possible."
"Even us?" he asked.
"I think we've always been possible," she said, "we just never quite managed to make it work."
"So what are we going to do?" he asked, "we gonna give it another try?"
"We can't let Kayla know," she said soberly, "not until we're sure."
He nodded. "We go real slow. Just see where it goes."
He ran his hand through his hair. "You should be the one having this conversation with her."
"Would if I could," she said wistfully, "I know talking about love was never your strong suit."
"I tell her I love her," he said, "Irony of ironies she's the one who won't say it back."
"John," she said, "she knows that. Deep down she knows that you love her. She knows I loved her."
"Then what-?"
"What I don't think she knows is how much I loved you. How much we loved each other. By the time she was old enough to remember we were just two people who did everything possible to keep each other at arm's length."
They sat on opposite sides of the table not looking at each other. Letting the lawyers do the talking. Neither of them had the energy to fight anymore and neither of them cared much about the division of property or mundane details like that.
Finally one of the lawyers spoke and said, "Well then, all that remains to be decided is the custody of the minor child Kayla McBain."
At the same moment both of them looked up and their eyes met. Hesitantly Natalie said, "I don't want her feeling like she's caught in the middle of us. And I don't want her to feel like she's losing either of us. So what do you think a week with me a week with you?"
He looked back at the table. This wasn't the way to tell her but he hadn't found a way to do it earlier. "That's going to be hard to do when she starts school."
She looked at him blankly. "Why? I mean even if we're not living in the same school district one of us can just drive her to school I'm sure we can work it out with the school system."
"I just took a job in Philly," he said, "It's gonna be kind of a long commute."
She stared at him in shock. "You're leaving town? John, why?"
How could he answer that? He couldn't tell her the truth—that he couldn't be near her and not be with her, but he couldn't be with her and not destroy her. He just couldn't do it anymore. "Figured it was time for a change," he finally managed.
"What that little girl needs," Natalie insisted, "is to know that she came from a place of love. That her parents loved each other desperately when she was born. No matter what happened afterwards."
"What did happen afterwards?" he asked. "How did we wind up where we did?"
"You were there," she sighed.
"Actually, I wasn't," he said, "not when you needed me. I was such an idiot."
He sat in the car for a long time, trying to steady himself. Maybe she was right; maybe he was avoiding her so he could avoid facing the loss of their son. Maybe part of him really was angry with her. If she had just listened to him-
But no, she always knew better. She always did what she wanted regardless of the danger it put her in. Only this time she wasn't the only one who'd gotten hurt.
No. He clenched his fists. No, he couldn't be mad at her. Not after what she'd been through. Even if she was in some way to blame, she'd paid enough. And he wasn't going to let Cristian Vega destroy their relationship once again.
He took a deep breath as he stepped out of the car and made his way to their apartment. Unlocking the door and letting himself in he was surprised to find the lights all off. Was she out? Maybe she'd gone to sleep early. It would make sense after what she'd been through lately.
He made his way quietly down the hallway, not wanting to wake her, just wanting to make sure everything was okay. He stopped at their bedroom; the door was open but it took his eyes a moment to adjust to the dark and his brain a moment longer to believe what he was seeing.
"Yeah," she admitted, "but at least you weren't the only one. I mean, to be fair, you did walk in on me in bed with your brother."
"I should've listened to you when you said it wasn't what it looked like," he insisted.
"Michael was the one who said that," she reminded him. "What I said was a little less… helpful."
"Fine John!" she screamed as she followed him out to the porch, "I'm sleeping with your brother. Is that what you want to hear? Then fine, I'll say it. I've been fucking your brother for years now, can't believe it took you this long to find out!"
"Looking back," he said slowly, "I think I knew from the start I was wrong. That neither of you would have… I was just looking for a reason to be mad."
"You had a reason, you just couldn't admit it," she said. "If I hadn't gone running off that night, so sure I could save Cristian…"
"You think if our son hadn't died…?" he asked.
"The problem wasn't him dying," she said, "it was you shutting down afterwards."
"Yeah," he said softly.
"You have to stop it," she said firmly, "because children learn by example. If you don't open up Kayla's gonna shut down and I know that's not what you want."
"How?" he asked, "How do I do it?"
She smiled and shook her head. "How many times have you done the impossible? How hard can it be to do it again?"
He felt a sudden burning on his chest and when he reached up to rub the spot found the St. Jude medal Natalie had given him so long ago. Strange, he thought looking down at it. He had no memory of putting it on in the first place. When he looked back up she was gone again.
To be continued.