Disclaimer: It is absolutely not mine.

A/n: I am so glad I've finally moved past my writer's block for this one. Hopefully there won't be such a long gap between updates now, because I've had a breakthrough about where this is going.

Thank you to everyone who is sticking with this story despite the length of time between updates. I hope you continue to enjoy it, and please know that I truly appreciate all the great feedback.

-Ryeloza

Perseus and Andromeda Up in the Sky

A story by Ryeloza

Chapter Five

When they drove home that night, it was like driving back to reality.

All night, Lynette had worn the softest smile. It was the type of smile that shone through her eyes as well, their midnight depths glittering with some unspoken contentment. The sight of that happiness in her was reassuring—hopeful—and that was what he tried to concentrate on. Not the fact that it was the first time in recent memory that he recalled seeing that easy pleasure in her; not the subtle reminder that it had been too long since he'd inspired that joy inside of her; not in the thought that he had almost lost the right to see her smile like that.

He tried to just be happy that she was happy. It really wasn't hard to do.

Now her eyes were closed, head tilted back against the seat, the very picture of someone in a restful slumber, but he had the eerie feeling that she was actually awake. It wasn't anything he could base in fact—he could only catch glimpses of her face in the occasional flash of headlights from oncoming traffic—but as sure as he was breathing, he'd swear up and down that she wasn't asleep.

"I want to make a plan," she'd told him as they sat and dined on their picnic dinner. For just second, his eyes narrowed nervously, that fear bubbling up that she was going to bring up a hundred thousand things he didn't want to hear. Maybe she had seen it, because there was a pause like she'd lost her thought before she said, "We should go on a trip."

Tom had looked at her in surprise. Their only plan for the summer had been to visit her sister for a long weekend, and that was before they'd found out she was sick. "Where?" he'd stuttered.

"I don't know. France, maybe."

"France? Lynette—"

"Not…now. I think maybe next summer."

In that moment, he'd smiled so broadly that his muscles hurt. Gently he'd taken her hand, pressing her knuckles to his lips. "Yeah. I think that's a good idea."

And she had smiled.

She had given him everything he wanted tonight, and he was riding high on that fulfillment. But he knew, even before anything happened, that it was all going to come crashing down around him.

It was just a matter of when.

As he pulled into the driveway and shut off the engine, he turned to look at his wife, reaching out and running the tip of his finger lightly over her cheek. "Hey, beautiful," he said softly, both of them reveling in the ruse of waking her even though she wasn't sleeping. "We're home."

Lynette opened her eyes, and even in the dark he could see that that smile was gone and all that was left was the vacant listlessness that had been present for too long now. He repressed a sigh, but as he drew his hand away, she caught his wrist and kissed his palm. "Thank you," she murmured. "For tonight. It was…" She trailed off with a slight nod of her head; she didn't need to say the words. He already knew. What hurt was the underlying thought—that it was a last hurrah; it put a finality on the evening that he didn't want to consider.

Slowly, softly, she added, "I've missed you."

"I've missed you too," he said, not saying the other part: that until recently, he didn't even know how much of her he was missing; that he hadn't realized he'd lost her until it was almost too late.

The words glided over her like water, almost as if she didn't hear him. "I've missed the way you used to look at me. All that love and passion and protectiveness. Tonight…It was almost like getting that back."

"Almost?"

"I can see the fear in your eyes, Tom."

Absurdly, he almost apologized, catching himself at the last second and reaching for her hand instead. He couldn't talk about his fear; he could barely acknowledge it in his mind; but he couldn't do anything about feeling it, and if that showed through…

He wasn't sure he could change that.

"I think that's what I'm going to hate the most," she sighed, turning her head to look up at the roof of the car. "Seeing that fear in people's eyes. I'm not sure I'm going to be able to stand it."

"You can't expect people not to worry about you."

"I know."

"It's not just fear. It's love too."

She nodded, glanced at him again. "I know. But Tom…I don't want to tell people. I can't tell people. Not…yet."

"Lynette…" He trailed off. What was he going to say? That she was crazy? That she was cutting off her support system at the knees? That she was wrong? If he took that away—if he deprived her of one of the only things left she could control in her life…

"Especially the kids," she said, not even allowing him the feeblest protest. "It's one of those things…It's one of those things that makes you grow up too fast. And I don't want to do that to them. I need time to figure it out."

"They're going to know something is going on."

"Tom." She said his name with just the slightest reproach, and he shut his eyes against it. "You can barely talk about it. And until you can—I can't do that alone. I can't handle that burden on my own. Can you understand that?"

His chest tightened and it was hard to breathe. It was too painful to know that he was denying her something she needed when he'd vowed to be everything for her in the coming months, but that guilt was overpowered by his anxiety and inability to contemplate this future. He'd never envisioned this; he'd never planned for this. And now that it was here, he was incapable of recognizing it for the harsh reality it was.

Somehow he had to pull himself together.

He just didn't know how.

"Okay," he agreed weakly, and her face cracked just a little under the burden of solitude he was placing on her. He wanted to cry. "We'll wait."

She squeezed his hand, the most acknowledgement she could manage (probably more than he deserved), and then got out of the car and headed for the house.

It was a long time before Tom could follow her inside.