A/N: and the writing streak continues...

Chapter Three

Emma's POV

The change that seemed to content to slam into him rather than wash over him was visible the instant they stepped through the overheard door, Will carrying the grooming table in his right hand while Moritz trotted happily on his left. He had wanted to carry both the table and the heavy stainless steel tack box but Emma had refused, shoving him off and ordering him to take the dog because she knew how desperately he had always longed to be that person, the one leading their own dog through the show site.

As it was the tack box, that had been a graduation gift from his father wasn't all that heavy, just awkward and bulky, one of those shapes that refused to give itself over to easy handling and so, every few feet it swung against her leg but it was worth it, to give Will this small childhood dream.

He staked out a spot off to the back of the non-reserved grooming sections, needlessly informing her that they had to stay within the tape. The paper plate, not-so-needlessly informed her with someone's loose script in black sharpie that they were number fifty-four. Before she had even set the box down he had the table up, whirling around to greet her with his eyes buzzing with excitement and he looked so different, she noted, in a suit and tie instead of a sweater vest with a button-down.

"You know, it would have been smarter to lug that crate in here first." He mentioned, running one hand through his hair before the movement caught up with his mind and he paused, shaking his head at the habit he was trying to break. "Wait."

The word had barely left his mouth and he was off, covering the distance to the door they had entered in purposeful strides, suit jacket floating out gently behind him while Emma stood staring after him with a confused expression, noticing he didn't have the dog. Glancing down she found Moritz in a sit, his eyes riveted on Will and she laughed realizing that her husband had been commanding the dog, not her.

Deciding to stay where she was Emma surveyed her immediate surroundings, dogs of breeds she didn't recognize and had probably never heard of were standing, sitting and sprawled lazily across tables while people in various stages of show-ready dress doused them in powder she assumed was chalk or blow-dried the longer hair on their legs all while carrying on conversations with those around them, as though they did this every day, and maybe they did.

One woman was balancing an ancient hair-dryer under her chin so that both of her hands were free to comb through the silky featherings of a cocker spaniel's ear while another, trimming the toe nails on a Boxer, glanced up sharply when the dog made a weak pass at nipping, her eyes boring into the dog, who turned his head, appearing sheepish like he was re-evaluating his impulsive display and realizing that it wasn't the wisest decision he had made all day.

"That," Will began, appearing beside her, apparently having caught the same scene, "is what we affectionately refer to as an 'Alpha Bitch,' Don't piss her off, as that poor dog is learning the hard way."

"Ahh," Emma smiled at the term, "and what is the term for men in the dog show world who shouldn't be pissed off?"

"There isn't one." Will quipped, kneeling down to set up the folded wire crate in a way that never ceased to amuse her.

She had watched her father, and she had herself, struggled with the very crate that he seemed to bend to his will, opening up the three panels that would form the top and longer sides of the crate so that the two panels that overlapped on the inside, the ones that would form the back and door of the crate were easily accessible. Then he would grab onto the top piece and wrench it backwards so that it barely caught at the rear of the crate, giving him just enough time to grab the door and latch it in place at the front before, in what she had gathered was a bit of a game for him, he would sprint around the crate and try to grab the back panel before it fell back in to latch it properly.

It took him maybe two seconds.

Her record was thirty two.

She knew this because he had been there, stop watch in hand, throughout the entire ordeal, mocking her with overly enthusiastic encouragement and play-by-plays that made it nearly impossible to concentrate. Her limbs had turned to jelly with fits of giggles she couldn't dissuade. After that, she had made a point to refrain from commenting on his speedy assembly. She didn't want him to time her again because she wanted to keep her record, not worsen it.

"Beat that." He taunted in a sing-song voice, ushering Moritz into the crate with a grin.

It was ridiculous, a competition over the assembly of a dog crate, but it was them, and she cherished it for that reason.

Checking his watch, noticing the time Emma had momentarily forgotten about saved her from any further commentary he might have been planning and she smirked back when he retrieved Moritz from the kennel he had just put him on and plopped him on the table, touching up little things here and there before slipping the lead around his neck.

She followed as he set off for the ring, experimentally gaiting Moritz for a few feet before seeming to mold into everyone else around him, one hand gripping the dog's lead right at the silver chain collar, keeping the dog close while he weaved in and out of hoards of handlers doing the same with their own dogs.

She caught up with him when he reached the table that sat ringside, where a steward waited to pass out armbands.

"Chesapeake Bay Retriever, Open dog." He informed politely, snatching up a rubber band from the Ziploc bag that was overflowing while the woman checked the catalogue at her fingertips, pulling a rectangular slip of paper from a box.

Emma giggled as she watched him fumble with it, trying to figure out how to successfully slip the piece of paper beneath the rubber band he had placed around his left forearm.

"Give me that!" She demanded, ripping the now crinkled paper from his hand, and tearing it slightly on the perferrated slits so that the rubber hand would hold it properly.

"You know this is like the equivalent of the mom that calls the kid over to clean their face while the whole playground watches." He grumbled, staring straight ahead, his posture defeated as Emma fixed the armband so that the number was visible.

"Stop whining." She threw back, grinning at a woman with a Beagle who was watching them with an amused expression from the next ring over.

They watched the first Chesapeake's go in, first the dogs than the bitches starting with the puppies between six to nine months and moving on to the classes that only served to break down the Open class that Will was entered in.

"Chesapeake Bay Retriever, number nine!" The ring steward called out and Will breathed deep as he headed for the entrance of the ring.

She could tell he was nervous but he had been studying the judge so intently that Emma was betting he knew what the elderly gentleman was going to do before he knew himself.

He looked so professional, stacking Moritz in the middle of a line of Retrievers of slightly varying shades, his strides matching those of the professional handler in front of him when the judge asked them to please 'take them around.' Moritz was so focused on Will, on the garlic chicken Emma had been forced to smell the entire drive down that he occasionally tossed in the air before letting the dog nibble off a piece.

"Oh, Will." Emma gasped anxiously, closing her eyes momentarily when he dropped the bait and Moritz lunged for it seconds before the judge was going to examine him.

To his credit, he didn't seem too flustered, although she imagined he was, but the judge, one of those jovial souls truly in love with their work, only laughed it off and gave him the time to reset the dog. After that, everything went perfectly and Will and Moritz took Best of Opposite Sex to the professional handler and the female retriever they would learn later, going over the catalogue in bed by the dim light of a cheap motel lamp, was the number three Chesapeake Bay Retriever in the nation.

"You know," Will called out as he approached her with a gleeful smile on his face. "I was worried I was going to get in there and wonder what it was that I ever enjoyed so much, but I love it Em, I love it. Everything about it, stacking the dog, the feeling of the armband around my arm, the sensation of gaiting around the ring, I love it."

For a moment she didn't know how to respond to his confession having always assumed that he never doubted his passion for showing dogs, but then again, when someone was removed from something they once enjoyed long enough their mind starts to distort their memory, almost like it's trying to protect them, to convince them that the thing they no longer had room for in their life wasn't all that important to begin with.

That was a very fundamental difference between a beloved pastime and an addictive behavior, or a set of addictive behaviors like those that comprise an eating disorder. Her mind, no matter what, was always twisting her memory of what it had been like to be sick but instead of working in her favor to show her how horrible things had been, it worked against her and maintained that everything would somehow be perfect if she just went back. A dead ringer for the lesson she had just imparted to her kids the other day.

"Are you hungry?" She asked, more as a way to reassure herself of who she had become than to really know, but the rings were clearing out and the judges, as evidenced by the American Kennel Club ribbon on their clothes, were making their way to the concession stand.

"Sir?" A woman, the woman Emma had smiled at earlier with the Beagle tapped Will on the shoulder, her expression indicating that she hoped she wasn't interrupting. "I was wondering if you wouldn't mind playing Judge for my daughter. She wants to show tomorrow and I just need someone to-"

"I'd be happy to." Will broke in, alleviating the woman's distress before it could manifest any further and she looked at Emma mouthing that they would be right back.

Emma followed, watching as Will introduced himself to the little girl who could not have been older than nine or ten, eclipsed by the empty ring that suddenly seemed so much larger when the person inside it was so small.

He was wonderful with her, lifting the tri-colored Beagle onto the table that was slightly too high, waiting patiently as she very meticulously wrapped her tiny hands around each individual paw and slid it into place rather than picking it up. Emma laughed then, when Will very gently pointed out that she had put the front legs just a little too far forward, ensuring the dog resembled more of a rocking horse than a stacked show dog, having been on the receiving end of such a comment more times than she could count when she had been learning how to stack Moritz.

The girl listened closely, and kept her eyes trained on Will while he moved one leg to where it needed to be letting her move the next. He examined the dog, bypassing the part that always caused Emma to giggle and in that animated way of an adult interacting with a child asked her to do a pattern, but not before he helped her get the dog off the table.

"He's great with kids." The mother whispered, seeming to regard Will with a sort of reverence that only mothers watching men with children can achieve.

"What's her name?" Emma questioned, nodding slightly to show that she agreed with the woman's observation.

"Hannah." She smiled, rolling her eyes slightly. "She's determined to show that dog in Juniors and she's nine no so I can't stop her anymore. She's growing so fast. I swear just the other day she was using two hands to try and move his paws."

Emma smiled, not finding it difficult at all to envision what the mother was talking about as she watched Will whisper something to Hannah before giving her a thumbs up and walking out of the ring.

"Do you have any?"

And there it was. The innocent inquiry Emma had been expecting from the very moment the woman had come up beside her. The question that held in its resolution, the one-worded reply she had already decided upon, an answer so much more tangled than the one she was about to give.

"No."

No, because you see I'm a recovered anorexic and part of anorexia is an irrational fear of weight gain and part of getting pregnant is gaining weight, and you probably wouldn't understand, but that's a problem for me. I won't tell you any of that though. If I hadn't had kids because I had been undergoing chemotherapy, I could tell you then, but admitting that I had an eating disorder, society frowns on that. Somehow, revealing a struggle with a physical illness is acceptable but saying you are mentally ill, isn't.

The woman, distracted by her daughter bounding up to her, excitedly asking if she had 'moved the dog out right' while bouncing up and down on the balls of her feet, never had the chance to respond and for that Emma was grateful.

They spent the rest of the day milling about the show site, Will, in his youthfully enthusiastic way, pointing out different breeds and explaining the regulations for the different levels of obedience and Agility before they would inevitably end up back at the conformation rings, and she could tell, that while the rest interested him, this was what moved him.

When groups rolled around they devised a game, each playing dog show judge and choosing the dogs that they thought, Emma for reasons of recognition or beauty, and Will due to knowledge of breed standards, would take one of the coveted four placements.

Will beat her every time when it came to the group winners but she chose the Best In Show winner, a striking lemon and white Borzoi that seemed like it could have stepped out of some aristocratic painting, and she delighted in feigning forgetfulness, and re-asking just what dog it was that went home with top honors because it was her victory, in his domain.

Will's POV

Somehow he felt more nervous for Emma, now stepping into a show ring for the first time in her life, than he had when he had been the one on the other end of the leash. She looked stunning, professional and sophisticated in the blue blazer and matching skirt, a tank-top of deep violet just visible underneath the jacket.

There were differences in her this morning, divergences from the way she normally dressed for school. She was wearing panty hose, something they had ventured out for last night after she had finally decided she would try to show Moritz, saying that she had noticed that all of the women wore them. He didn't mind it, and he understood why she had wanted to wear them, but he preferred her without them.

Her hair was tied back, fashioned into an eloquent bun with clips to tame the wild hairs that liked to fall out and frame her face. It was such a striking effect, seeing her hair completely pulled back and once again, he didn't mind it, but he preferred it down.

He laughed to himself when she popped the hunk of garlic chicken into her mouth as she began to gait Moritz down the diagonal strip of matting at the judge's request. That had been something she had been appalled with at their first show, and now, after having learned just how difficult it was to balance a show lead and bait while having to quickly stack a dog, she was doing it without complaint.

There was one less entry today and he had carefully chosen to leave that bit of information out as she had prepared to go in the ring. The special that had beat them yesterday was not entered today, and though he might be biased, he knew Moritz had a good chance at taking Breed over the remaining entries and he had wisely deduced that telling Emma that would only cause her to panic and not show. If Moritz won, he wanted her to have that success.

He pretended to be surprised when Emma's shocked eyes found his from across the ring where the judge was leading her over to the table so she could be handed the Best of Breed ribbon. That was a bit of ring procedure he had forgotten to go over, and as she had looked around in confusion for a few seconds, the other handlers must have realized her inexperience, immediately pointing out where she had to go seconds before the judge intervened.

"Congratulations!" He exclaimed excitedly, pulling her in for a kiss as soon as she stepped out of the ring that she barely returned, still too surprised to really register much of anything.

"Follow me." He whispered, knowing that if he told her where they were really going she wouldn't, as he, and a few other handlers, trailed after the judge now moving on to the next ring.

She successfully distracted herself, talking about how she couldn't believe they had won while they stood in a line she hadn't realized was a line until it was her turn. That's when she had whirled on him, her eyes frightened, and as expected, she tried to get them to leave with a flutter of excuses.

"I'll help, don't worry." He silenced her mid-protest then smiled at the photographer, who smiled back, probably used to people doing exactly what he about to do.

He led Emma out into the ring by her forearm, instructed her to walk Moritz onto the ramp placed at the center and helped her stack him knowing that if the picture was taken and the dog was standing incorrectly it would drive her insane. Whispering a few quick pointers on how she should stand he hurried off to the sidelines, smiling at the event she didn't know the importance of. That was what made it so special.

As soon as the picture was done she was inches away from him, a bundle of mannerisms, blurting out that she couldn't possibly take a dog into the group ring. He gave in then, telling her that he would handle that, because truthfully he had always wanted to.

Emma's POV

They were sitting at a small table near the concession stand each eating a cheeseburger and Emma was struck at how different this meal, the exact same one she had ordered at the last dog show, truly was. She was chatting with Will between bites, secretly pleased that he was going to have the chance to show in the group ring and still slightly annoyed that he had tricked her into a picture, a win shot he had called it.

"Will!"

A high-pitched voice squealed at a decibel it seemed only children could reach seconds before Hannah appeared at his side, the white stick of the customary sucker the stand was distributing with every order protruding from between her smiling lips. "Are you going to come watch me show? Please! I'm in ring three, in an hour!"

Emma grinned at the little girl's request, the adorable way that she was now watching Will, waiting for the answer that Emma already knew was coming.

Setting his cheeseburger down Will turned to the brunette, pretending that he was having to consider his options before saying, that yes, they wouldn't miss it for the world.

Hannah jumped up and down excitedly with the energy of a child adults could only wearily wish for, wondering what corner of their life their own exuberance had crept off to. Turning to inform her mother, cutting off the reprimand Emma could see forming on her lips, probably because the girl had wandered off without permission, Hannah opened her mouth to speak, forgetting about the sucker, which seemed to fall in slow motion to the ground, rolling across the floor, picking up fur from what was probably twelve different breeds before it came to a stop.

Everyone paused, staring, and Hannah just stood there, her eyes downcast as she tried not to appear as crestfallen as she obviously was.

Before anyone had moved Will was kneeling in front of her, "Here, take mine." He offered, "You're going to need it so you can run around that ring in an hour." He clarified when the girl tried to say no, keeping his voice gentle yet raised in pitch in an endearingly fatherly way that both Emma, and the girls' mother, melted at.

Hannah thanked him, her tone shy but appreciative as her mother shepherded her off to finish grooming their dog.

"Here, take mine." Emma held out her own sucker with a smirk. "You're going to need it so you can run around that ring in a few hours."

As Will chuckled, accepting the candy with an embarrassed grin, she realized it was the first time she had ever offered him food without an ulterior motive of ensuring she didn't have to eat it.

It was weird, how every once in a while simple, normal things the eating disorder had robbed her of appeared in her life; foreign yet familiar in some forgotten way.

"Sir what kind of dog is that?" Emma worked hard to act like she wasn't married to the man standing just in front of her chair on the other side of the plastic fence that designated the group ring.

"This," Will said, playing along with an authoritative and informative tone, "is a Chesapeake Bay Retriever."

"He looks like you. His coat, I mean, it matches your hair." Emma grinned wickedly now, dodging the small piece of chicken Will lobbed in her general direction while mumbling 'very funny' as the dog in front of him moved up and he did the same, effectively rendering any following conversation impossible.

Spying the chicken piece that had landed just inches from her feet she picked it up, a devilish plan forming in her mind as she palmed it and fixed her gaze on Will, now roughly four feet away. He was talking with the person in front of him, relaxed as he waited for the judge to examine the dogs at the front of the line and this, Emma could take advantage of.

She tried, and failed miserably, at stifling her giggle when the piece of chicken successfully connected with his back and he turned, unaware that it had come from her. It was the handler he had been conversing with who gave her away with a wink, leaning over and whispering in his ear something that must have been incriminating because soon the piece of chicken was back at her feet and Will was sticking his tongue out.

Briefly she considered continuing what they had started but the multitude of fur that almost eclipsed the tiny morsel caused her to hesitate and when she glanced back up at Will he was busy stacking Moritz, only one dog, a German Wirehaired Pointer, away from the judge. All in all it was a good excuse to leave the chicken where it was.

She was surprised when she heard others clapping as Will gaited Moritz, that is, until she caught sight of Hannah on the other side of the ring, tugging on what have been her father's suit jacket until he gave in and added his applause to that of the determined girl and her mother.

Offering Will a thumbs up he didn't notice when he free-stacked Moritz at the end of the line before quickly setting him up as the judge made the final walk-through she thought about the girl, her family, and how much Will would enjoy teaching a child to show a dog.

Will and Moritz were passed up but earlier on Will had revealed that he wasn't expecting to place in the Sporting group. Emma hugged him anyways once he finally forced his way through the sea of working breeds waiting to enter the ring.

She didn't have to worry about disposing of the chicken. Moritz accomplished that for her with the lack of finesse only he could manage.

They packed up their grooming site, mutually agreeing to get on the road as soon as possible rather than stay to watch who got Best In Show and as the afternoon sun began to sink into the horizon Will kept Emma awake with talk of Hannah.

"I wish I would have grown up at dog shows like that. She was so cute, handling that Beagle. Did you hear her ask her mother if she had moved him out right?" He asked, and Emma could hear the smile on his face.

They had gotten to Hanna's Junior Showmanship early, having wanted good seats and the girl's mother had only laughed when Hannah, fourth place ribbon in hand, had made a beeline for Will, who had given her a high five and posed for an impromptu picture that Emma would love to get a copy of.

"What did you whisper to her, before you left the ring?" Emma questioned, suddenly curious to know just what it was that had plastered such a thoughtful expression across the girl's features.

Will chuckled, as he passed a slow-moving van. "I told her to remember to hold his tail up and then said that I knew she would do great."

"Did you see her clapping for you in groups?" Emma tried out the term she had often heard Will throwing around. "She was across from me, and she bugged her dad until he clapped too. It was sweet. She really admires you."

"She's a good kid." He agreed, his tone contemplative, and somehow Emma knew without either of them saying it that a door, a previously closed one, was now cracked open.

Emma shrugged out of the blazer and skirt that had almost begun to feel stiff as the day had wore on, relieved to be back home in their own bedroom, looking forward to sleeping in their own bed.

"Let me help you with that."

Will slipped in through the partially-closed door, his jacket gone, and his dress shirt already partially unbuttoned as he stepped up behind her, bringing his hands to the waist line of the panty hose she had been moments away from removing.

She shivered when his thumbs hooked beneath the tight material and giggled as he dropped to his knees, peeling them down her legs, pausing just long enough for her to lift up her foot so he could get rid of them completely.

He slid his hands along the sides of her legs then, slowly moving up until he reached her torso and she turned under his embrace so that she was facing him, running a hand through his hair while he planted kisses on her stomach.

Standing up he drew her in for an open-mouthed kiss that tried it's best to make them forget that they had to be up early in the morning for a faculty meeting but in the end, reality won out and they pulled apart, their hands lingering on each other's bodies as their arousal slowly subsided and they went about their separate nightly routines, occasionally stopping mid-stride to steal a kiss or a caress.

Emma couldn't sleep, wrapped up in Will's tender embrace beneath the blankets, her mind swirling around the events of their day, around Hannah and her husband's words on the way home.

Making sure Will stayed asleep she slipped out of bed, tip-toeing down the hall to the computer room, hurriedly cranking the volume down on the speaker's Will seemed to perpetually leave at the highest setting as the room became bathed in the distinctive glow as the computer whirred to life and she found herself staring back at her.

The picture Will had snapped just the other night filled the screen and Emma studied it, focusing for a while on the plate, the red streaks of spaghetti sauce smeared across it, the chocolate piece that was centimeters away from being in her mouth, lost in the normalcy of it all.

In that picture she looked like the woman she had always envisioned; confident, relaxed and happy. She could see why Will admired it so much. It was the physical representation of who she had always wanted to be, and as she gazed into her own laughing eyes, she wondered when that had happened, when she had found what she had been looking for.

She waited impatiently for Google to load, already knowing what she was going to search, rolling her eyes when the computer prompted it for her. She lost track of time as she read, gleaning information that was both uplifting and disheartening, skimming through personal accounts as well as scholarly articles because she didn't just want cold, hard facts.

Glancing at the clock she noted with a sigh that it was two in the morning and she dreaded the thought of having to drag herself out of bed in the morning, bookmarking the sites she had open, saving them in one folder under a name that wouldn't draw too much attention if Will saw it.

She would have preferred to print the pages out but that would have to wait for a time when she wasn't running the risk of waking her sleeping husband. Erasing the browser history, she shut the computer down, lingering in the room until everything went black and she had to grope around for the door, not used to navigating the small space in the darkness.

As she climbed back into bed, resuming her original position she allowed herself a small smile, drifting off to the tune of words and statistics that worked as much in her favor as they did against it.

"You're back." Will mumbled, causing her to jump as he encased her once again in his arms..

"Emailing the breeder." She whispered, not feeling guilty about the lie because at some point, though she wasn't sure when, she would reveal to him what she had been doing.

"M'kay," He slurred back, "had fun today, you looked really good showing."

He sounded so sweet, his words running together like the thoughts that refused to settle in her mind, and for a moment, she contemplated saying something, but they were tired and she didn't know the words, and the morning would come regardless.

A/N: I can't take credit for the scene where Will gives Hannah his sucker, that belongs to faded_glass and it was simply to 'aww' moment worthy not to include.

To those of you who reviewed with a veritable novel (you know who you are) that truly made me feel so blessed. I'm so honored that so many of you are going beyond simply reading, and are really becoming (or already are) so connected to these characters. Some days, I can't believe I have accomplished something so wonderful!