7 – Spike and Lynda.

-x-

Lynda immediately knew who was knocking on the door. Even though he wasn't even supposed to be in the country any more, only one person would ever knock on her door with quite such a level of half-contained aggression as her soon to be ex-husband. She kept one hand on the doorframe when she opened it, barring his way in, and glared at him.

'I thought you were leaving yesterday.'

'Changed my flight.' Spike narrowed his eyes at her. 'Is that all right with you?'

'I'm sure it's none of my business. Been having fun?'

'Wonderful fun,' Spike replied. 'Me an' Jamal checked out Billy's set at the Comedy Store last night, then I had a few drinks with Toni and her Beeb buddies today.'

Lynda raised an eyebrow. 'Any good?'

'Yeah, a couple of them were pretty hot. But then, I've always had a bit of a thing for Girl Reporters…'

'I meant, Billy's set.'

'Ah, it was terrific. He lasted about two minutes before he got gonged off. Of course, he claimed discrimination. Britain's First Sit-Down Comedian, he's callin' himself. I said to him – "Billy, you're British and you're sitting down, but you kinda need to work on the comedy aspect." He says that two outta three's not bad, so…' He trailed off. 'So there you go.'

Lynda sighed, but didn't budge. 'What are you doing here, Spike?'

Spike blinked, sadly. 'I miss Emily. Is she in?'

'Spike, it's 10 o'clock at night. Of course she's in, she's been in bed for nearly two hours.'

'Oh.' Spike frowned, licking his lips. 'Say, mind if I come in and see her anyway? You always do a crappy job of tucking her in.'

Lynda bit her lip. After a moment's pause, she dropped the arm that was blocking the door down to her side. 'If you wake her up…'

'I won't.' Spike avoided meeting her eyes as he brushed past her in the doorway. 'I promise.'

We all made promises, Lynda told him silently, watching his back as he crept up the stairs to their daughter's room.

-x-

Lynda tried to settle herself back on the sofa as she waited for Spike to come back downstairs. After ten minutes he joined her, sinking down into a chair opposite her.

'Here we are again,' he sighed. 'Just like old times.'

Lynda picked at a loose thread on her skirt, irritably. 'Please don't, Spike.'

'What?' Spike raised his eyebrows, innocently. 'Hey, why shouldn't I start feeling nostalgic? After all, I'm gettin' Divorced in a few weeks time. Makes a guy think.'

'Stop acting like you're the only one who's hurting,' replied Lynda, quietly.

'Hurt? Why should this hurt? I mean, you and me are gonna be getting the hottest fashion accessory for any go-getting Thirty-Something about town, aren't we? Everybody who's anybody's got a Divorce these days – Julie, Colin… isn't Sarah on her second now?'

'Technically, Colin was Widowed,' Lynda corrected.

'Pot-ay-to, Pot-ah-to,' replied Spike with a slight sneer. 'At the end of the day it's the same boat we're all cramming into, and not a paddle between us…' A small object on the coffee table caught his eye. He picked up the ashtray as though it were smeared in excrement. 'Been smoking again, Lynda?'

Lynda didn't blink. 'Been drinking again, James?'

He put the ashtray back down, folding his arms. 'What if I have? I'm miserable as all Hell, why shouldn't I?'

'You know all too fucking well why you shouldn't.'

'Don't you dare preach to me, Lynda,' Spike seethed. 'Do you have any idea how much it eats me up to look in the mirror every night and see my Goddamn father staring back at me?'

'You don't have to turn into your father, Spike. It's your choice.'

'Is it?' Spike let out a short, hysterical, joyless giggle. 'Divorced before the age of 40 – dragging a poor kid through the mud of my failed marriage and across the Atlantic all the time – depressed, angry, alone… think any of those were really my decision?'

'Don't blame the divorce,' snapped Lynda. 'We've talked about this. We've been over it and over it. It was the only way. You agreed!'

'Did I.' There was no inflection of a question in his tone - rather a flat, unhappy sarcasm.

'Yes. You did.'

'And what about Emily?'

'Emily won't have to grow up in a madhouse, watching her parents screaming abuse and throwing plates at each other.' Lynda avoided Spike's gaze. 'Wouldn't you have liked to have avoided that when you were a kid? I know I would have.'

'Your parents never threw plates at each other!'

'You don't know that!'

'I've met both your parents, Lynda. They're not the plate throwing kind.'

'Maybe not.' Lynda went back to picking the thread out of her skirt. 'But I am. And for the record, it's not exactly encouraging for me when I look in the mirror either… you might see your Dad, but I end up seeing your mother, which is disturbing on several levels.'

Lynda's comment managed to raise a genuine smile from Spike.

'Why are we doing this, Lynda?'

'Spike, stop it.'

'Why are we doing this to ourselves – to Emily?'

Lynda just shook her head, he gaze still cast down at her knees. Spike got up from the chair and walked over to sit next to Lynda on the sofa.

'Lynda…?'

'The divorce is going ahead, Spike,' Lynda told her lap. 'It's practically complete. We can't just…'

'Why not? Lynda, it's our marriage.'

'You're drunk,' replied Lynda. 'You're drunk, you don't mean it.'

'I'm not drunk. And even if I was, it doesn't change the fact that…' Spike wrapped a hand around Lynda's fretting fingers. 'I still love you, Lynda.'

'Stop it, Spike.' Lynda wiped a tear away from her eye. 'Please, please stop.'

'Seeing you again… it still gives me the shivers,' continued Spike, 'just like it did the first time I laid eyes on you. Whenever I go away it helps me forget how in love with you I am. But I can't stay away. I've never been able to stay away.'

'We've got to.' Lynda caught another tear with her free hand. 'We have to stay away from each other, Spike. We're no good for each other…'

'Lynda, please.' Spike could feel himself starting to well up too, in spite of his best efforts. 'We're husband and wife. We've made the most beautiful, smart, wonderful little girl together. This has got to be worth saving. It's got to be worth giving one last try.'

'"One Last Try"?' Lynda suddenly stopped quietly controlling her tears and lurched forward with a loud sob. 'Spike, have you ever counted how many "last tries" we've given ourselves? It has to be at least a hundred. It never works, Spike. It never, ever works! We always end up in the same place. It doesn't work. It's broken!'

'It's not broken,' pleaded Spike. 'It's just… we just lost our way, somewhere.'

'This is our way!' Lynda cried. 'It has been from page one. Don't you see? We have to give up this fight, for everyone's sake. We have to concede defeat.'

'You want us to quit? Just like that? Just... just run out of Fight?'

'If it was just you and me I'd keep on at it, I'd keep on fighting.' Lynda tried in vain to keep the stream of tears from completely soaking her cheeks. 'But it isn't just you and me any more.'

Spike squeezed Lynda's hand. 'Don't say you're doing this for Emily's benefit, Lynda, I'm begging you. Don't load that sort of responsibility on the poor kid.'

'Well,' Lynda replied, reproachfully, 'you've been perfectly happy to blame it on everything and every one but your own stupid self… not just me and my job, people who weren't even there to defend themselves… Colin's little disappearing act… Sarah and Kenny's success… your poor Dad… I bet when you were sitting at Matt Kerr's funeral you were trying to come up with reasons why us splitting was his fault…'

'Well Lynda, you gotta admit, as role models go, he didn't turn out to be the kind I'd really want a wife of mine to have…'

'See?!?' Lynda exclaimed. 'Saint Spike of Los Bloody Angeles. Nothing's ever your fault, is it?'

Lynda tried to pull her hand away from Spike's, but her husband kept a firm hold.

'I know what you're trying to do, Lynda.'

'No you don't!'

'You're just trying to push me away so that you don't have to deal…'

'Shut up, Spike!'

'…don't have to deal,' persisted Spike, 'with the fact that I still love you. Are you listening to me? I'm still so in love with you. And I'm not leaving until you can look me in the eyes and tell me honestly, once and for all, that you're not still in love with me too.'

Lynda kept her head down.

'Lynda?'

Still, she couldn't look back. He grabbed her chin, forcing her to meet eyes with him.

'Lynda.'

Lynda tried to stall, fighting back more tears. They were such simple little words – words that they'd said to each other thousands upon thousands of times… casually at breakfast, passionately after furious arguments, reassuringly at funerals, joyfully in the Maternity ward. And desperately – so very desperately – each and every time they chose to give it One Last Try.

'You know the answer, Spike.'

Despair tugged at the corners of Spike's mouth. 'You don't love me?'

'I never said that.'

'Would you please give me a straight answer, Lynda Day? Just the once?'

In spite of Spike's firm grasp of her chin, she managed to look away from him. 'Why do I always have to be the Bitch, Spike? Why is it always me who has to be tough and make the right choice? Don't you think I want to make Emily pudding and fill her up on custard before teatime? Don't you think I want to just say I love you and pretend that we can just wave a magic wand and make everything better? We can't get back together because it's the wrong thing to do. Do you understand that, Spike? Do you understand?'

Spike paused. 'You honestly believe that?'

'I think you do too.' Lynda met eyes with him again. 'Don't you?'

Spike looked at her for a moment, then got to his feet with a sigh.

'I'll see if I can get a ticket back to the States for tomorrow night,' he replied. 'Could I at least take Emily out one last time before I go?'

Lynda nodded. 'She'd like that.'

'Yeah. Um.' Spike cast his eyes down to his shoes. 'I'll see myself out, then.'

Lynda nodded in agreement, and Spike turned towards the door.

'Don't go.'

Spike stopped, and turned back around to face Lynda, curiously.

Lynda put her hand up to her lips. 'Oh. I said that out loud, didn't I?'

'Yeah.' There was a long, awkward pause. 'So… um… do you want me to stay or not?'

Of course she wanted him to stay. Of course she did, of course! She loved him. Her daughter loved him. Only an idiot would make him go. Her insides screamed at her to make him stay.

She got to her feet, clearing her throat, wondering what she was going to say next.

'Ignore me,' she told him. 'I'll, erm…' she patted his elbow in a conciliatory manner. 'I'll see you tomorrow morni…'

She kissed him. She hadn't meant to do that.

Spike pulled out of the kiss, staring at her.

'Lynda, what are you doing?'

She wiped her mouth. 'Making a terrible mistake.'

She kissed him again, on the lips, on the neck, on the shoulder, and allowed him to hoist her legs up around him and carry her back to the sofa.

-x-

'Cigarette?'

Lynda smiled slightly. 'No thanks. Drink?'

'Nah.'

Lynda cast a nervous glance up at the ceiling. 'Hope we didn't wake Emily.'

'Don't think we did.' Spike wrapped an arm around her as they surveyed the trail of destruction their violent lovemaking had created across the living room.

'Well,' he told her.

'Well,' she agreed.

'One Last Try?'

She laid her head on his shoulder. 'One Last Try.'

-x-

THE END