A Love Story:

5)

Dixie Cooney hadn't been in the car when it had exploded. James had done the DNA tests twice, just to make sure, before contacting his boss.

JR Chandler had hired James the minute he came into his power as a Chandler, hired James because she was the best.

But after a year, James had begun to get sick of the case. If it wasn't for the amazingly generous check she got every third month, James would have abandoned the case ages ago. They had never even found the car, for God's sake! So James had remained in Switzerland, living in the expansive penthouse Mr. Chandler had brought her, scanning through her files every so often.

James had had no idea, when she got that call from the Swiss police, that she'd be giving this news to his boss.

News that Ms. Cooney had perished, yeah, of course. But news that she might have… No freakin' way had James ever dreamed of this twist.

It was like some soap from home, all shocking twists and dead people not really being dead. Still, if one person on this case gave her one of those weird-ass thoughtful looks while dramatic music began in the background; well, James would kick his ass.

Now, she'd pulled all her old info up, cracked open a new container of coffee and waited for the office to open.

Adam knew something had hit his son like a Mack truck on an early January morning, especially when JR took a seat on the patio, wearing nearly black glasses and reclining back.

JR hated glasses, hated not being able to make eye contact; he was a big believer in the old "eyes are the windows to the soul" bit. Usually he was a good judge through the gaze though… until, once again, Babe ruined it. Yet, his deep gazing hadn't stopped after that, just intensified, as if he hadn't looked hard enough or long enough at Carey, as if he had done it right, he could have avoided a horrible mistake.

Well, he had of course, but they all had… well, except for Adam. But then, Adam had his own expertise in the "cheap slut" category. Hell, he had his own archive.

JR was an amazing judge of character… unless he let his feelings get in the way.

The elder Chandler didn't have that problem, not usually; see the box marked "Liza Colby" in the back of his archive marked "traitorous bitches" for an adventure of when he didn't follow his instincts. Yet, even when his emotions got in his way, his experience, over sixty years in the making, stepped in and set off warning bells.

JR simply didn't have that experience yet… but he would. Adam could already see it building, see it flexing and experimenting, making an almost painful effort to stop the pain for JR.

Now, on the couch in his black jeans and black shirt, his head leaned back with his dark glasses on, JR had clearly shifted into a state of withdrawal.

It was up to his father to find out what he was so desperately fleeing from. With most people, Adam would plan a sneak attack, but with JR… JR was his son, and every time he looked at him, he saw more of himself. Most of that Chandler-ness was good, was strength, was what would save him from another Babe Carey and another Christmas Eve mourning for two children, one dead, and one stolen.

But what only Stuart, and possibly Brooke, saw and understood was Adam's sadness at the other parts coming in… other parts finally breaking under the strain. It was the price of loving, of letting yourself open up, even a fraction, only to let the proverbial wolves tear you to shreds.

"What happened to that bottle of Scotch I got two months ago?"

"Spilled." His voice was quiet; his face was emotionless, expressionless, empty of anything that could be used against him.

"Son, that was an expensive bottle. What did you do, water the flowers with it?"

JR made a noise, a noise that Adam recognized. It was a sound that always caused a flood of memories from his own childhood, a flood of what memories he had of JR's. Stuart would make it when he was a boy, when he had been unable to deal with the world around them.

JR used to make it as a boy, when Adam and Tad began their tirade… in front of him, in front of JR.

Whenever Adam had heard that noise, he'd hate it and flee as quickly as possible. What it meant, what it showed, what it revealed about someone always made Adam's skin crawl, his spine chilled even as he grew angry, a helpless surge of rage that would be gone in the same swirl of cold blood and hot skin as it came, leaving him lethargic, and eager for nourishment and sleep.

Now, at JR's older age, the noise wasn't as high-pitched or helpless; with adulthood, it had deepened and grown rarer, popping up only when JR's mind approached his breaking point. It frightened, yes, frightened, Adam, and he always feared that one day it would herald a lifetime of visits to the nearest mental asylum, trying to convince his son to take his pills before dinner.

Adam hadn't heard it since JR had lost Bess, heard it as he stood outside the room, wishing he could go but knowing there was no help or comfort to be given. Yet, today, it was back, and deeper than ever before, pitched in a way that he had never heard.

Adam felt as if he were stepping out onto a frozen pond, seeing the hairline cracks in the distance but unwilling to leave the danger for safer pastures. Reaching into his private stores of Chandler courage and plain old stubbornness, he took his first cautious steps forward.

"Was it cleaned up?"

JR reached up, scratched his head in a sudden flare of movement that reminded Adam of himself. "I did it myself."

Which meant he had either been in the nursery or his own room. He resisted his own urge to take a seat beside JR, seeing and picking up on how the young man sat, trying to take up all the space on the couch. "What happened?"

"I got spooked."

By what! It took all his will not to lunge out and scream the words, shaking his son until he snapped out of this state. But he held back, slipping his hands into his pockets. "What's the matter, the little bitch asked for a cow for a wedding present?"

The seconds ticked by as his son stared stoically at the sky, perhaps trying to blind himself in the sunlight. If he really wanted to, he needed to take off the--

"The car was empty."

Adam would have given anything to not understand, to have his first thought be that they found Carey's car but she had escaped, to not instantly put it together in a single heartbeat.

Except, he knew, as soon as he heard the four words, he knew. Only one empty car would inspire this instant reaction in JR. Not even Carey or the little excuse for a Martin could inspire such a near-breaking point. "When?"

"Last night. I got the call last night, from my girl over there."

The cracks were beginning to grow, spread but he was halfway across the pond, no, the lake, he saw with a sudden clarity. He was on a lake, trying to walk across, get to that side, the side he could just barely see, a stretch of oddly flat white.

"The woman you sent over, James, Vivianne James, right?"

One single nod as he dropped his head, flexing his fingers, as he hung his head forward, his shoulders and back following the movement until he sat stooped forward.

"JR… that doesn't mean anything, you know that. How do they even know she was in the—"

"Her water broke in the seat. They've got the DNA evidence. She did it twice." He reached up, slipped off the glasses but didn't straighten. "Of course, we all know how truly wonderful DNA can be. What does it matter if the results come out and destroy everything, right? As long as you get what you want, right?"

When he raised his head, met Adam's gaze squarely, his father didn't react, just gazed back, careful, recognizing that look for what it was. It was the look of a man who was clinging to the other bank, wanting to head across but unwilling to, seeing those growing cracking spread before him.

"Doesn't mean she survived, right?" Still, his gaze never faltered, stayed still. "She could have thrown herself out, killed herself in her attempt to survive. Maybe she dragged herself out, died, was eaten by maggots and carrion birds and other things that take people away from us. Hell, maybe she drowned, huh?" With a sudden noise of vulgar humor, he fell back, letting out a burst of laughter and gesturing vaguely with both arms. "Swept up by a river, her bones were broken, her lungs filled…"

He raised his head just enough to meet Adam's gaze, grinning, chuckling quietly. "What do you think, do you think Kate's lungs filled with water, too? Oh! I have a better idea, Dad! She gave birth, but in mid-rescue, the chopper went down! But instead of dying on impact, they were swept up in the sudden flash flood! Because see, the car didn't burst into flames! It burned, steadily, for hours, but they have just enough DNA to somehow tell us that instead of dying quick, when the car hit, she probably dragged herself out, survived just long enough to "

"JR."

The quiet strength there finally stilled JR's grisly story-telling. But it had achieved its purpose, done its deed. The images, feelings, smells lingered in the air, filled the mind like river water. Adam stood there, breathing quietly, searching for anything to solve this, to give JR something other than this.

"That isn't the only answer to that test."

"Only answer to the other one."

Adam felt his own pain, pain he remembered from losing that other child, so long ago, flare up. He grasped desperately at the ice as it cracked farther, crawling forward, all focus on getting to the other bank, to where the other man waited, not brave enough to go.

"Martin survived a fall into a river."

"He wasn't pregnant, he wasn't missing a kidney, he didn't have heart problems, he hadn't been betrayed "

"JR… Dixie is the strongest woman I know."

He shook his head, letting out another bitter sound of laughter. "Not that strong."

Adam moved forward, took careful seat beside his son, continuing his moves across the lake. The opposite bank was clear, and he could see the other man waiting. "The DNA doesn't mean that she went into labor from the crash."

"It's not "

"What if she went over that cliff because of a sudden contraction? What if… what if, she was somehow able to throw herself out of the car JR? What if she gave birth out there?"

"She wouldn't just leave me! You know that! She wouldn't just not come back!"

"Dixie Cooney wouldn't… but what about somebody else?"

A moment of silence beside him before… "That's ridiculous."

"Martin didn't survive… Ted did."

JR shook his head, stood in a sudden movement of frustration. "Come on! Nothing would keep her away from me!"

"Except that… You know I'm right. You wouldn't be so upset if you didn't." He could see the bank, increased the speed of his movement, refusing to listen to the cracking and splintering and grinding behind him. No turning back now.

"The chances of that…"

"That's the point, JR. There is a chance, right?"

Blue eyes, her blue eyes, met his, held them. "Yes."

"Then take it!"

There was silence around them, the normal sounds having bled away until only the two men were there, two men, a father and a son. Beneath him, the lake rose up, began to shift, finally and he began to run, legs pumping.

And then, his son went inside, pulling out his cell phone as he moved, disappearing in a flutter of curtains.

And he reached the opposite bank, flinging himself down and locking himself around the other man, anchoring both himself and the other man, putting down a kind of base where there had been nothing but an empty hollow.

And, in the cave, the first spot of sunlight filtered in, striking the broken but loyal little soldier… showing him the path to a new little leader.

And Adam Chandler pulled out his cell phone and dialed up the secretary for Kincaide Incorporated.

When Nancy called up Micaela with the new benefactor ready for a meeting, the young woman nearly had a stroke.

Ms. Montgomery had cancelled their meeting, had said something about a more important meeting. Micaela had seethed for a good hour before Nancy, who lived in Texas, called her up.

But what really shocked her was that it was Adam Chandler who wanted to help her get it a headquarters and a good name. After the day before, Micaela had personally been waiting for the sky to open and swallow her up. Yet, despite her shock, she waited only ten minutes before telling Nancy to say okay.

Adam Chandler no longer had control Chandler Enterprises, that little piece of shit, Maxine Malone, little showgirl bitch, now had it. Yet, Adam Chandler was a true business man; how he'd remained in relative control of it even through the upheaval was proof of that.

Pa had begged her to let him help, he could have built it up in a matter of months. But, adoptive or not, she had his stubborn streak and had denied the help, insisting on at least seeing what she could do if left to her own devices. Call it Southern pride if you will, but either way, half the fun was in getting there.

So, yes, yes to any help he could offer.

Yet, she never expected him to ask to come to her place.

Micaela spent a half-hour shoving boxes and junk out of the loft, into closets, behind the sofa, anywhere before running to slip out of her fluffy pink bathrobe and into the first good-looking thing she could find, a cream colored dress that laced up the back, and fell just past her knees.

She just hoped to God he didn't get the wrong impression.

Although, considering his romantic past, he could probably take the award for most young wives at his age, what, ninety? Hell, she didn't even know his age, but then, neither did most people.

She dug out two glasses, a bottle of her own beloved tequila and had just put them down when he knocked.

The two minutes he spent surveying her place were jarring, but he finally took a seat, nodding to himself. He took the drink she offered, leaned back and left her to scan through the files.

After she was half-way through the first page, she put her drink aside, wondering if someone had slipped something into it. This couldn't be possible.

"Something the matter, Ms. Kincaide?"

Micaela glanced up, squirming, smiling tightly. "Mr. Chandler, could you have, um, made a mistake? Here, this, right here?"

"That? Oh, no, I did those documents myself, my dear."

"But this is very… generous?"

His drink sat barely sipped when he sat forward. "Ms. Kincaide, I have waited to find an organization like yours for a long time. I will not risk the chance of you running off, God forbid, to Buchanan Enterprises, perhaps?"

She flushed quickly and ducked her head, clearing her throat. Did he go through her business records? "How did you know about that?"

"I make it my business to know."

Staring at him, she wondered if this was what Eve had seen when she saw that apple. Then she smiled helplessly to herself, clearly hearing Amy's voice in her head, ranting about how the story of the biblical fall was just a sick plan of the early churches to demonize women. She didn't know if it was true, she couldn't, but Amy's rants were always adorable to watch. And Adam Chandler's look when he offered the pen made her feel like a female Faust.

Yet, she reached out and took the pen, smiling slightly to herself. Leaning down, she began to sign, even as she denied the odd something in the papers, something she couldn't put a finger on.