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Perseus and Andromeda Up in the Sky

A story by Ryeloza

Chapter Two

Tom couldn't pinpoint the moment when sleeping alone had become more difficult than sharing his bed, but it had become inarguable that without Lynette next to him, his sleep was never restful. He'd escaped from Stella after only one drink, but he'd still been very much awake and ended up lying in bed watching reruns of Cheers. At some point between a classic barb from Carla and the switch to 3:00am infomercials, he finally lost consciousness again, but it was an uneasy sleep from which he woke several times. He felt Lynette's absence like a phantom limb, an acute, inexplicable pain.

A gray morning light tentatively filtered into the room when Tom finally woke up to find Lynette in the room with him. The click of the television shutting off roused him, and he sleepily blinked up at his wife, genuine pleasure and relief easing the tension he'd felt all night. "Hey," he mumbled, instinctively reaching out to grasp her hips and pull her down to the bed. She complied without hesitation, running her hand over the top of his head with an especially tender look.

"Sorry. I didn't mean to wake you."

"It's okay. I wasn't really asleep. What time is it?"

"A little after six."

Tom made a deep, disapproving sound in the back of his throat and patted her thigh. "Still early. Come to bed."

Lynette nodded, and bent to give him a lingering kiss. Lately, everything about her was incredibly tender and soft, love underscored by some persistent sadness. It felt like she was savoring each kiss like it was their last, but perhaps he was too. He'd been too hesitant to do anything but follow her lead in the past few weeks, and he was beginning to wonder if he had to be the one to push her beyond this. Unfortunately, he didn't have the slightest clue how to do this without seeming insensitive.

"You taste like syrup," he said quietly.

"We got breakfast. French toast day in the hospital cafeteria."

"Mmm." Tom pulled her down for another kiss, briefly letting his tongue skirt between her lips; the slightest foray toward something bolder before he backed away. "Sweet. Just like you." Lynette smiled, but it was more tired than amused, and with a slight sigh of disappointment, he added, "How's Edie?"

"She's going to be okay." The words came out positively, but Tom studied Lynette's expression with concern. Her eyes had drifted from his, focusing on the paper thin, faded scar on his jaw, and almost unconsciously she reached out to trace it with her finger. "She blamed Carlos. He broke up with her yesterday at the wedding. I didn't even realize she loved him." There was a pause of indeterminable length, and then abruptly she added, "Promise me something?"

"Anything."

"Promise me that if I die, you're going to be okay."

Tom was vaguely aware that he was shaking his head before she even finished speaking; the words felt like a sucker punch and the reaction purely visceral. "No." He sat up, ignoring her hurt, baffled look, and climbed out of bed.

"Tom—"

"Why would you say something like that?"

"Because it's something we need to talk about."

"No. You're just tired—And Edie—Remembering Mary Alice—" Tom's mind flew faster than his tongue, unable to organize his thoughts in a coherent manner. Imagining a life without Lynette was absolutely impossible, and he couldn't consciously analyze on any level what would happen to him if she died. He blew out a long sigh and rubbed the back of his neck. "Dr. Rushton said that your prognosis is great."

"I know."

"So this isn't something that we need to discuss."

Lynette stared at him for a long moment, and then nodded. "Okay," she said quietly. She rubbed her hands over her eyes, clearly exhausted, and as relieved as he was that she was dropping it, he was also upset by the fact that she wasn't going to argue with him. It felt like she was giving up, and at this moment, he wanted nothing more than affirmation that she was going to fight. Wearily, he rubbed his hand over his face and sighed.

"Why don't we just go back to bed? It's too early…"

"You're right," she agreed, again throwing him off kilter. He felt like he was dreaming, lost in a world where he had nothing but a shadow of the woman he loved. It was unsettling. "We can still get a decent two hours before the kids are up." She stood, stripping off her jeans and crawling into bed, and after a moment he joined her. Needy, but not feeling the least bit guilty for it, he snuggled up behind her, wrapping his arms around her torso and drawing her warm body back against his. She gave a content little murmur that eased his mind a little, and slowly he shut his eyes. Sleep, so elusive all night, suddenly clouded his brain, and he was already nearly gone when he heard her say his name.

"Hmm?" he responded.

"I think we should go out. On a date."

The words drew him back, and he opened his heavy eyelids. "A date?"

"Please. I just…I need this."

Tom paused at the frank neediness in her voice; it was a vulnerability she rarely showed, and it cut him straight to the core. "Okay," he agreed, pressing a kiss to her shoulder. "Tomorrow night?"

She nodded, apparently unable to speak, and Tom kissed her again.