I do not own Bates Motel.

But, in some ways, I do own a Dylan. And I love him so much.

Yeah, Whatever

Not Crazy, Getting Better

One day at the park he turned to his beautiful wife.

Emma who was watching Katie climb so very, very high on the jungle gym.

"Mommy! Mommy, look!"

Her smile was big and bright as her little daughter crowed and waved proudly.

"I see you, Katie! You're doing great!"

Dylan reached out and touched Emma's hand.

She tore her gaze away from the exuberant Katie and found her husband standing quietly.

"Hey," she asked mildly. "You okay?"

He smiled at her, a real smile.

With clear, unshaded eyes.

"Yeah, I am."

She nodded, starting to turn back to Katie.

Dylan stopped her, bringing her back to him.

"I'm really getting better, Emma. I'm going to be okay."

Emma's eyes were soft as she touched his face with a gentle hand.

"I know you are, Dylan. You're strong and you're working so hard at it. I'm proud of you."

They wrapped their arms around each other then, holding tight as long as they dared.

For . . .

"I love you, Emma."

"I love you, Dylan."

"Mommy! Daddy! Watch! Mommy! Daddy! Hey!"

. . . life, as life does, called.

They were coming back from it.

From the Ninth Circle of Hell.

They were getting there anyway.

Or at least he thought they were.

Until in the midst of playing with Katie, tickling, smooching, cuddling Katie.

Emma Decody Massett started crying.

Dylan, previously having felt pretty good that day, was reasonably alarmed.

"Emma?"

Reaching out to her, it actually feeling normal to reach out for her . . .

"Don't pressure me. For anything."

. . . again.

Rubbing her back, tucking an errand strand of wavy auburn hair out of her face.

"Emma, what is it?"

She shook her head mutely, tears flowing freely.

Absently touching her daughter's clothes in the comforting gesture Dylan himself knew all too well.

"Emma?!"

She swiped at her tears with her fingers . . .

". . . ridiculous when I cry."

. . . and finally spoke, gulping air as she went.

"I've been thinking about it."

Oh shit, she's going to divorce me. And I thought we were doing so much better.

"And I shouldn't have left you."

Huh? Emma, you're right-

Oh.

"Norman killing my mom wasn't your fault and you needed me and I abandoned you."

Dylan felt the strange shifting open of his brain to a new concept.

Emma had done something wrong, something bad.

Emma had hurt him.

Hurt him when she shouldn't have.

He had never allowed himself to feel anger towards her before in regard to what had happened in White Pine Bay.

Her abandoning him, cutting him off from his only lifeline, her and Katie.

He had only ever accepted that he had deserved it.

And now, something suffocating and strangling was releasing it's suffocating grip from his wounded and scarred heart.

Freeing him.

Just a little more.

Much like when she had freed him from the shame of being a child of rape and incest.

Her words were flooding out of her now.

"I'm so sorry, Dylan. I'm so sorry. You deserved someone to stick by your side. Not freak out and run away."

An outpouring of regret.

"Can you ever forgive me?"

He was not worthless.

He never had been.

Dylan Brian Massett was a decent human being who deserved to be stuck by and supported.

Through the darkest of times.

Because even though he had lied and he had been selfish, that had not make him a bad person.

Only a desperate one . . .

I want to be with Emma.

She's a good person.

I'm better when I'm with her. I feel better when I'm with her.

. . . at the time.

Oh.

"Yeah, yeah, sure, Emma," he replied, working past the lump of healing pain in his throat. It's okay. I love you."

She drew back, dark eyes searching him.

Her face pinched a little then, as if his words hurt even as they healed.

"I love you, too, Dylan."

And her tears of shame eventually dried up.

The trauma Dylan Massett had endured had not taken his love for his wife.

He loved her deepest and completely, as much as one human being could healthfully love another.

But the experience had, for nearly a year, taken his ability to express his physical love.

She had surely been hurt by his gentle rebuffs when he had pulled away from her wanting kisses, her needful caresses.

"I'm sorry, Emma. I love you. But . . . I can't. Not yet. I . . . I'm sorry."

He didn't blame her for anything, not even for abandoning him in his worst hour of need.

For she had come back, had forgiven and accepted him again, after all he had done and allowed to happen.

And he wanted nothing more than to take her in his arms and make love to her again.

But his depression had been so complete, so absolute, that part of him didn't physically work.

And she would smile sadly, hug him tight.

"It's okay. I understand. I'll be here, it's okay."

Over and over she said that. Night after night.

Until she eventually simply kissed him sweetly and supportively.

And didn't offer herself anymore.

"I'm here, it's okay. I'm here."

So they slept in the same bed, shared the same warmth.

Even laying in the pillows and blankets, wrapped in each other's arms, heartbeats synchronizing as one.

Taking part in a chaste, accepting, healing companionship.

Finally, one night, months after he finally left White Pine Bay forever, after months of self imposed isolation, months after he finally asked for help, the night after she had apologized for abandoning him, he took another step.

They lay there peaceful and enduring.

Drifting toward sleep at the end of a new day.

Dylan shifted

Felt Emma's fingers brush reassuringly against his cheek.

Drowsily, he took hold of them, brushing them against his lips.

Kissing them sweetly.

She murmured something kind and loving.

And he, feeling his body awaken in the warmth of spring from his dark, empty winter, reached out for her.

Emma . . .

And he found her in the dark.

Kissed her eyes, her nose, her cheeks.

Her lips.

Softly, gently.

Until she opened her mouth to his.

And he went.

They undressed each other a little at a time, sleeping clothes slipping quietly to the floor.

It was a gentle, loving, and slow coupling.

More an easy, unfettered return to physical love than wild, passionate free for all.

He lost himself in her and let everything else in the world go away.

And she let him, welcomed him, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and holding him tight.

His release came after only a few minutes and he buried his face in her neck, tears light upon his cheeks.

He was fully home then, home to his wife who loved him and accepted him now without reservation.

When he could speak, it was a surreash of grateful breath, nothing more.

"I missed you, Emma. I'm sorry I went away. I love you so much."

"I love you too, Dylan. Always."

Yes, Emma needed to apologize.