Chapter Fourteen

Jaime could see Michael's shoulders (his entire body, really) stiffen in the chair. "Is that...you?" he whispered.

"Turn around and find out," Jaime said softly. She white-knuckled the arms of the wheelchair as she waited for his response. How would it feel to actually see him again, to look into his eyes? Michael didn't move. "Look at me, Michael," Jaime requested.

"I...can't..."

Rudy wasn't about to allow his former assistant to cop out. He gripped Michael firmly by the shoulders and turned him around, forcing him to face his wife. Michael slumped visibly and after a brief, uncomfortable look at Jaime, he stared at the floor.

"What did I do to deserve this?" Jaime asked in a thin but clear voice. "Michael? What did I do...except love you?"

"Don't you think she's entitled to an answer?" Rudy demanded.

"Can I...talk to her...alone...?" Michael managed to choke out.

"Not in this lifetime," Rudy told him.

In spite of Rudy's firm instruction to stay out of Michael's reach, Jaime wheeled herself closer until she was knee-to-knee with her husband. "Are you proud of yourself? I believed everything you told me – all of the lies – and the biggest one was when you said you loved me!"

Michael glanced up quickly and then lowered his head, unwilling to meet her steady, unwavering gaze and unable to bear seeing the angry, pain-filled tears in her eyes. "I do....love you."

"No! No, you don't. You couldn't possibly do what you did – not if you loved me!"

"I'm...sorry, Love....I didn't mean -"

"You didn't mean what?" Jaime answered bitterly. "You didn't mean to put me in a wheelchair? You didn't mean for me to be afraid of my own husband? Or maybe..." Forcefully, she wiped a tear from her eye. "Maybe what you didn't mean was for me to survive! Was that it, Michael? You couldn't have the obedient little Stepford Wife you always wanted, so let's dispose of the one you did have?"

"No, you....you don't...understand..."

"Then explain it to me – make me understand! Dammit, Michael - why would you do this?" Jaime began to sob quietly and this seemed to get Michael's attention. Finally he met her gaze, his own eyes filled with pain and confusion.

"I – I didn't want...to lose you. And...I just wanted to talk to you...I had to make you stay...so you would listen..."

"You thought that would make me listen? Drugging me and hurting me?" Jaime shook her head. "That isn't love, Michael. What you did...it was attempted murder!"

"No...you – you're not listening again. Why won't you ever listen to me?" Swiftly, his hand shot up and grasped Jaime by her chin, squeezing her still-bruised cheek. "Just listen to me!"

Rudy dove forward to pull him off, but Jaime was faster. She reached up with her right hand, as if to take his hand with her own, then bent his fingers back, slowly releasing his grip on her face and causing several small bones to crack. "Thank you," Jaime said through her tears as she let his broken hand fall onto his lap. "You just answered every question I had."

Rudy knocked on the door, correctly gauging that the conversation was over. As he wheeled Jaime down the hall, Steve and Jenn heard her soft, muffled sobs and jumped to their feet, rushing to embrace her. Steve spotted the fresh finger-marks on her face – and his hands balled into fists. "Just give me thirty seconds in there," he told Rudy. "That's all I'll need."

Jaime reached up and gently grabbed his arm. "I'm...alright," she announced to the whole group. "I'm finally alright."

Rudy nodded and as they headed back to the van he patted his pocket (which held a small tape recorder that even Jaime didn't know he had). Michael had given them both everything they needed.

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