A Love Story:

2)

Adam Chandler had no idea about what to do. He sat in the front room of the mansion, staring at the fire, holding a Scotch he hadn't touched since he'd poured it an hour before. Stuart, though loving as Hell, was no help whatsoever, telling Adam to just sit and let JR heal.

But Stuart was not JR's father; he had no idea what had to be done. Adam conveniently forgot that Stuart had raised Scott in his dark musings.

No, what JR needed was a new wife, a new child. And this time…

Bess's nursery was untouched since he'd left it a week before, the crib ready and waiting for a child that would never come home. He'd finally crawled out of the nursery after a good week, locking himself in his rooms before leaving one morning for work.

He was on automatic. Leave before sunrise, keep himself busy to the brink of exhaustion then come back home and lock himself back in his room. He'd barely said a word to anyone, not even Erica, who was currently trying to convince Bianca…

Adam tightened his hold on the glass, jaw clenching as he felt the familiar surge of anger. Bianca Montgomery. Traitorous little bitch.

Adam could still see her face that day at Erica's, defending Carey, begging both to let the little slut live happily after ever with that greedy excuse for a brother. Erica had been as livid as Adam, but seeing as how that daughter's conception had been enjoyable…

Who would've thought that Hart would be the only one to get close enough to at least comfort JR?

Kendall Hart might be the most conniving little shrew in Pine Valley but, as far as Adam was concerned right now, she was the only person to remember the true meaning of loyalty. She'd been the only one allowed into that nursery during that awful week, the only one he was talking to now. Had barely left the mansion except to change clothes. Hell, the last three days she'd even brought along clothes and pulled a chair into the nursery to sleep there!

Now, she was a woman!

JR needed a woman like that, strong, loyal, steadfast, able to just sit and give that silent support that was all too precious. Unfortunately, Pine Valley was sorely lacking in the loyal women category. There was Brooke, but just the thought of that caused Adam to shudder.

The gears in Adam's head turned as he finally took a sip of the Scotch, watching the whip and sway of flame. Perhaps outside the Pennsylvania state area? Maybe.

Bianca Montgomery would probably whisper those lies of Babe's to the new wife, all about the evil Chandler seed and nothing about the Martin and Carey way of doing things… stealing, lying, destroying hearts that were already fragile before. So, the woman would need to get the real truth of JR before little Montgomery came in to ruin it, steal even more of JR's happiness.

How dare she keep the child from JR! Hire armed guards if you will, but to do that… Even Hart, who loved Montgomery more than anyone else, had raged about that. Pacing back and forth in front of Adam, positively boiling. What kind of a woman could do that?

Little bitch had shown her true colors, refusing to let JR even see Miranda, say good-bye, just because she hadn't liked Miranda's first word. Adam's own fury had paled in comparison to Kendall's. She was still on cold terms with Montgomery, though she was attempting to figure out a way to let JR see Miranda for a second.

Not that it would do any good. The moment, the moment that could have made JR's pain so much easier to bear had been ripped away by her surge of jealousy.

Yes, a woman like Kendall, a woman with that kind of class and caring and, when she was backed into a corner, claws like a jungle cat. Oh, yes, a woman who was not afraid to come out and rip people like Bianca Montgomery and Babe Carey to shreds.

Adam's plan was coming together as he pieced together pieces of a perfect woman. Strong, lethal, fierce to protect him, but also gentle and, in some ways, vulnerable.

There'd need to be more than just that deadly side, Adam realized as he glanced up at the picture on the mantle. There'd need to be some Dixie there, a deep well of love and trust and tenderness for him. Babe had projected that and he'd fallen full force, which was how they'd come to be here.

Standing, Adam walked to the picture, studied the curves and curls and blue eyes and smile of Dixie Cooney. What he needed was a perfect blend of Kendall Hart and Dixie Cooney. Despite Dixie's constant battling with him, she'd always tried to include Adam in his son's life. And that…

For the first time since he'd gotten that DNA test back, he really smiled, the final pieces of the puzzle clicking together.

Oh yes, he could get them together, give JR the loving family he deserved.

After all, who said the marriage had to come before the child?

It was a testimony to Adam's scheming mechanism that he didn't bat an eye when JR Chandler strode into the room, raging.

At least, he didn't bat an eye about the scheme. But the fact that JR could be mistaken for a living man? Oh, yes, that surprised him.

"JR?"

JR didn't answer, storming across the room and seizing a bottle of Scotch before spinning and tearing up the staircase to his room.

And Adam was left staring at the again-empty room, eyes wide. It had been the most of any emotion, other than grief, that JR had displayed in weeks. And, more than that, it was a familiar emotion that Adam had experienced a thousand times… each time in the company of Brooke English.

And Adam Chandler smiled, looked up at the ceiling and cocked his head. "Lottie, you always did know how my head worked, didn't you?"

Kendall Hart had given up on discovering Greenlee's secret for today. Now, she searched her cabinets for a bottle of tequila. God, she needed a drink. A nice couple of shots of tequila, maybe a glass of her Christmas present from JR, that bottle of bourbon.

She had no idea how he'd found out that she was a bourbon girl.

Today was shot. After she'd driven JR home to the Chandler mansion, she'd been unable to get back into the groove at FUSION, mainly because of the fact that Greenlee had disappeared for a good hour that morning and had been back when Kendall had gotten back from lunch with JR. Finally, only an hour after she'd gotten there, she'd fled, heading back to her place.

Ignoring Bianca's messages for a girls' night out—like Bianca cared—she'd shed her dress and heels for a terry robe.

What the Hell was Greenlee hiding? Well, Kendall sure as Hell had a big 'ol suspicion, but then, Greenlee would never do that to her loving husband.

With a laugh, Kendall headed into the living room carrying the bottle of tequila, found hidden behind her glasses, a lime and salt.

If Greenlee was having an affair, which it certainly looked like, who was the unlucky guy? Well, if that old saying about mothers and daughters was true, than Greenlee probably had herself a cabana boy. Yet, even Greenlee was more stylish. Maybe a waiter? Probably a dumbwaiter?

Huh. Kendall flipped on the TV, laughing at her own joke. Dumbwaiter. Too funny.

Usually, she'd be watching Benny Hill or Monty Python with Ethan on a Friday night, but seeing as how he was somewhere in Northern England this week, she was without her best friend to muse with. Who would've thought her best friend at the age of 29 would be a Oxford graduate with an obsession for British comedy and American gossip and a schoolboy crush on Simone Torres?

Maybe I'm wrong, maybe he is gay.

Sure, he'd had his share of girlfriends, and hey, Simone, but really, what straight man has more fun watching Desperate Housewives than his own wacky British soccer? Sure, he said it was for the eye candy, but what if his eye candy was more along the lines of a gardener than a housewife?

Now grinning, Kendall found BBCA, and brightened further to see that it was playing, would you look at that, Monty Python. Okay, yes, she missed her British pal, but, really, she could survive a week without him.

As Eric Idle began a scene, she contemplated her evidence, grimacing at the word "evidence". Too much time with Uncle Jack, she decided, taking a quick shot of her tequila.

Greenlee's affair, and by now Kendall knew that's what it was, had begun during the week of the New Year, and Greenlee had begun showing the signs only a day or two after the New Year.

And, most importantly, the affair was continuing. A week long affair might not be a big deal to some people but for Greenlee to cheat on the love of her life? Gasp! No! Horrors!

Kendall wondered if she was enjoying this just a bit too much. Pausing, she considered that, really mulled, thought about everything they had put her through.

And then she threw back her head, toasted whoever had gotten into Greenlee's ugly little pants and howled with laughter.

Hypocrites deserved whatever crap hit the fan.

Micaela Kincaide was jailed at about half past two; at three in the morning, Amy managed to bail her out. The black-haired wild child had thankfully not resorted to escape by helicopter, although Micaela had a sneaking suspicion that she had seen a card for hot air balloons on the dashboard of her dusky blue car.

Dropping Micaela off at her new apartment, Amy headed to the Pine Cone.

The apartment, a studio place, was still stuffed with her many boxes and bags and she knew full well that she'd probably never unpack most of it; most would either be put in storage or shoved into the corners.

Heading to the only part of her place made up, her bed, she kicked off her heels and rolled into bed with out even undoing her hair. She was in a comatose state before her head hit the pillow. Her father had always found it funny how quickly she could fall asleep; called her "Sleepy" when she was young.

And so Micaela slept, like a log, until she was jarred awake by a nightmarish screeching. After a moment of grunting, she managed to open her eyes and knock the clock off the desk. The screeching dies away with a pathetic "eeeh" as she dropped her head dully back to the bed.

She cringed at the drool stain, but couldn't pick back up her head. Micaela could feel sunlight, a warm heat spread over her back, legs and arms. As she lay there, she wondered where the Hell her blanket was and why she was wearing an eight hundred dollar suit in bed.

Her mind fuzzed, melting back into the sweet waters of sleep before with a jerk, she remembered him.

Chandler. Adam-fucking-Chandler Jr.

Groaning, she turned her head, staring blearily at the sunlit wall. When he found out that she was out, he'd probably try to smoke her out. At least, that's the impression he gave her. Contemplating him, she stared, wishing absently for Trump, her stuffed penguin. But he was on that counter over there, and her telekinesis wasn't working today.

Micaela could not spend her time in Pine Valley trying to avoid the long arm of the Chandlers, not if she wanted to get the Foundation a headquarters people could recognize. Her biggest chance was Bianca Montgomery but with the –

The young woman stopped, all traces of sleep fading. Chandler.

As in, JR Chandler, as in, kidnapped baby. Pa had followed the story intensely and had sent his best wishes to Adam Chandler Sr. at the same time, mourning himself for that lost time.

But then, considering how dear mommy Kincaide had dealt with the divorce… As far as Buck Kincaide was concerned, Arabella Carey deserved to be sent to Hell for her part in that horrible incident. People were looking for Krystal Carey, who had somehow disappeared.

Micaela could still remember her father after all of it had ended. Even now, almost two decades later, he still called her up to make sure she was okay. The fear didn't end; sometimes it could lessen, but it never vanished.

What is it like to lose two children?

Micaela couldn't imagine, she simply couldn't. Having grown up an only child, Micaela didn't understand sibling dynamics; she'd been raised by her father, and she fought to erase her first six years with her pathetic excuse for a mother.

And she'd never had any kids.

So what must it be like?

"Like you've lost your heart."

Her father said it all the time, and now she wondered if it got more painful when it went past kidnapping and into death.

It had to, didn't it? Because, no matter how horrible a child being taken must be, there was still a kind of hope. A hope that the child could be back in your arms. But death?

There was no hope, no one who could say "maybe" or "what if" and bring the child back.

Now awake, Micaela reached up and pushed her matted hair from her face as she raised her head and pushed herself back against her bedpost.

Her fury towards Chandler had settled down and left her feeling chilled, like a frozen winter after a scorching summer. Now, as she fought the touch of sympathy, she tried to fight her first instincts to run over and offer her sincerest apologies.

No.

But what about the Foundation?

Micaela, groaning, finally climbed out of bed and staggered to the bathroom, staring at herself in the mirror.

It was times like these that she hated her conscience.

Somewhere in Switzerland…

"Do you feel like you can't catch your breath? And you think you're just about to fall?"

"… Yeah."

"And you know that, no matter how far you fall, you're never going to hit the ground? You're just so far above it? And you just keep getting higher… and higher… and higher… and you're afraid you're never going to come down?"

"Yeah… Yeah, that's exactly it… What?"

"It's never occurred to you, has it?"

"What?"

"You're in love with me."

"No."

With a strangled gasp, she bolted upright, finding herself in the shadows of her own bedroom. For a moment the pull was so strong, she found herself reaching out to the other side of the bed, finding it empty.

It was empty.

Except…

Shivering, she huddled down in the blankets, shaking as she stared at the ceiling. There it was, an odd tingle along her spine, and across her stomach. She could smell aftershave, soap, and something else.

His aftershave, his soap, his something else.

Reaching up, she brushed a few loose blonde curls back, swallowing, closing her eyes…these dreams had to stop, they just had to… because they were driving her mad.