Hello everyone. I want to apologize again for the delay in updating, I don't intend on making it habitual. I am a woman of many interests and I have always immensely enjoyed watching the Olympics. So, I can safely say that I did not write a single word of this chapter until the games were finished. Therefore, I wrote this entire chapter, which contains a little over 10,000 words, in about eight days (I also took this past weekend off to spend time with my husband, because as much as I care about Mary and Matthew's relationship, I value my own marriage more.) Again, I want to thank you all for your amazing support and heart-warming reviews. I'd be lying if I said reading them didn't make my day. I hope you enjoy Chapter 6—it was a labor of love. Cheers.

…

She died on a Tuesday—an average day where average people were carrying on with their average lives, unaware that the light had gone out in his life. On a Tuesday in early October, a machine helped her take her final breath, and his was guilt was born.

Love truly is watching someone die—painfully slow at first and then all at once. The human body is magnificent in health but pitiful in sickness. She has been vibrant with life only days before— running miles, dancing barefoot with her daughter resting on her hip, and making him laugh loudly. But her young, healthy body had quickly failed her. She could no longer nourish herself, empty her bowels, or even gather oxygen into her lungs without the aid of beeping machines or clear IV drips. She had died a broken shell of her former self.

Death—a slow motion fall, then a sudden slap against the earth.

He knew the very moment that she was gone. He had felt it instantly, like touching a hot stove or flipping a light switch. He could see the small peaks even out on the screen and hear the flat-line pierce sharply through the air, but his body and mind were the first to realize her parting. A swift kick in the gut, an electric shock through his system, sudden deafness and burning heat—all of them physical and all of them painful. Perhaps it was the incapacitating feeling of his own soul leaving his body, exiting along with his broken exhale, wanting to follow along to the place where her soul was going; or perhaps it was the bitter realization that her still warm body no longer encapsulated the her lovely spirit. Her motionless form still occupied the space beside him but he had never been more alone before in his life.

He saw her eyes twitch quickly behind her lids in those last seconds and had always wondered what final image her mind had conjured for her in those closing moments…what picture did she try to take with her as she left? Was it him? Was it her? …He hoped it was her, he didn't deserve to be anyone's final thought.

He wished she would have been surrounded by friends and family, but he was the only one to witness her final moments as she lie in the cold, blindly white hospital room that smelled of strong disinfectant, her broken sweat, and his desperate tears.

The sun shone brightly through the open windows, hitting her tangled hair, turning her knotted strawberry locks into something more like glorious fire.

He remembers the sun clearly. It was a beautiful day out, the type of day where the three of them would have walked about the city together enjoying the colors of fall, before finding a hidden café where they would have eaten outside and enjoyed the cool breeze. But the bright sunshine and sweet crisp air only mocked him that Tuesday in October. He wished it would have rained…that would have been more fitting, direness to match his misery.

It had happened so quickly. The accident, their dismissal of its significance, and before anything could really be done about it, it was already too late. She was destined for an early death and he was sentence for a long life of damnation, guilt, and pain.

Three days before, they had been enjoying their shared life and planning for the future, and three days after he would bury her young body into freshly dug earth.

Matthew stood at her grave and wept for hours, pleading loudly for her forgiveness, but the howling wind was the only creature that responded. Reality settled heavily and bitterly in his stomach—his wife would never hear his pleads and he would never find the forgiveness he needed.

His daughter cried somewhere in the distance.

…

Matthew's grip tightened around the black leather of the steering wheel as he stared at the spattering of raindrops caught by his windshield. He could no longer hear the rain's thunderous assault while parked deep underground in The Pearl's private garage, but he knew that a summer storm of this magnitude wouldn't pass for a while.

He looked at the clock on the dash and sighed tiredly as he read the small glowing numbers.

9:14

He had just spent nearly fourteen hours at the office, burying himself in his pro bono cases. Even when Matthew was just an associate, he tried to take as many pro bono cases as he possibly could, but they were always few and far between back then. He had always loved the feeling of humility that came along with helping those that couldn't afford to pay for an attorney, and he quickly learned that doing well by others was an addictive habit. Consequently, now that he was more than financially secure and his own name graced the company's letterhead, Matthew was able to take pro bono cases exclusively, acting only as a consultant on large corporate cases when needed.

Matthew slowly counted to three before pouring himself out of his car. He slung his worn, brown leather messenger bag across his body, and shut the heavy door, the sound of it echoing loudly off the cement walls and pillars of the underground garage.

Matthew stood outside his car for several moments, trying to pinch and rub the weariness from his dry eyes. He rested the weight of his body against the side of the car, not caring that mud and city grime were slowly inching themselves into the fibers of his $1200 suit. His frustration was palpable—why was he so exhausted nearly every waking moment of the day, but unable to find more than a few hours peace at night? He let out three tired breaths to the night and silently willed his body to move from the spot he was anchored to. Eventually, he was able to convince his legs into supporting his weight, and he slowly made his way to the executive elevator in the middle of the garage.

Once inside the plush elevator, his key-card swiped and the right buttons pushed, Matthew nestled his body into one of the elevators back corners and closed his eyes. His mind wandered to trial proceedings, rising and falling stock prices, the small but visible changes he had been seeing in Quinn, his desire for a cold beer, and deep brown eyes set against alabaster skin…plump, cheery colored lips…and waves of sweet smelling, inky hair.

He had discovered her once more in the night several weeks ago and this time he had been able to convince her into having a couple drinks with him. They sat closely next to one another at his hand carved bar and talked about nothing particular until four in the morning. He asked her questions about her studies and she inquired into his law practices. She talked about her sisters and her ambitions for the future and he listening intently to every word and syllable that fell from her perfectly shaped lips. He discovered that she loved red wine and smooth vodka, preferred white rums over dark, could be tempted into drinking an aged scotch, but refused to be anywhere near tequila. He had made her laugh and she had made him think about promises, dreams, and new beginnings.

Only a second later, Matthew heard a soft 'ding' and opened his eyes to see the elevator doors slowly open. He must have fallen asleep on the short ride up and he let out a quick hysterical laugh as he drug himself into the corridor, making his way towards his own door.

Matthew felt no relief or comfort in entering his grand and dimly lit home. Lightening flashed bright white across the sky, momentarily illumining the city skyline with a beautiful contrast of black and white shapes. He heard the light murmurings of a distant television to his left and saw the movement of elongated shadows bouncing off the hallway at the entrance to the kitchen. Matthew moved towards the murmuring, anticipation swelling in his chest, and he watched the dancing shadows, hoping that one of the ebony forms would be hers.

As he entered the kitchen his eyes fell on two different female forms but neither was the lithe figure that he yearned to gaze upon. He saw Elsie arranging his dinner onto a white china plate to his right and Anna standing in the middle of the family room to his left, her hands on her hips, eyes glued to a baseball game on the television. Matthew was suddenly reminded of the time and realized that she had gone home hours ago, back to her own life and back to her boyfriend. His heart sank but he quickly composed himself.

"Hello ladies." Matthew addressed them warmly, forcing a light-hearted tone and a matching smile.

"Hello Mr. Crawley." Elsie responded formally.

Anna acknowledged him with a short and vacant "Hey" still totally immersed in the game and Matthew couldn't help the real smile that came to his lips. He knew that Anna was a sports fanatic and he always enjoyed giving her tickets to any sort of event. She was always extremely grateful for anything, but Matthew enjoyed watching her light up like a kid on Christmas morning when he handed her tickets to her beloved Cubs games. He could tell from Anna's tense stance in front of the TV that the game was not going in the direction that she wanted it to.

Matthew asked her curiously, "Who's winning Anna?"

"I don't want to talk about it." She responded dejectedly.

Matthew laughed out loud. Unfortunately for Anna, this was a fairly common response. He leaned around her and caught a glimpse of the lopsided score, before taking a seat at the island just as Elsie placed his dinner in front of him.

"I hope maple-glazed pork chops and broccoli-cheese casserole sound good, Mr. Crawley."

"Thank you Elsie, it looks delicious."

In truth, Matthew rarely craved any sort of food. The pleasure of indulging in that particular sense had died along with his wife and now he mostly ate out of necessity and to maintain some semblance of normalcy. Consequently, thanks to his lack of appetite and a vigorous and punishing morning workout routine, his physique had become lean and hard.

"And what would you like to drink tonight?"

Matthew's thoughts returned to his desire for a cold beer, "Do we have any Amstel or Newcastle?"

"I believe we have both."

"Okay, I'll have a Newcastle."

"Excellent." Elsie gave him a lingering smile, before she looked up and fixed her eyes on Anna's back, where the later still stood as still as a statue in front of the television.

"Anna!" Elsie nearly shouted her name, causing Anna to quickly turn around and Matthew to jump slightly in his seat. Matthew saw Elsie fix a hard smile upon her face as she continued to address her younger co-worker.

"Mr. Crawley would like a Newcastle. Could you please fetch him one?"

Matthew immediately felt uncomfortable and he started backtracking, "Oh that's unnecessary Elsie. I can get it myself, please continue to watch the game Anna." He made to get up from his seat as Anna spoke.

"No it's alright Mr. Crawley, let me get it." She gave one last fleeting look at the TV, "If I watch anymore of this, I think I'll be sick." She left the room shaking her head as she made towards the bar in the front room.

Matthew settled himself back down and set about forcing himself to eat his meal as he heard Elsie shuffle around the kitchen, cleaning and organizing.

Matthew took several small bites before asking her, "And how was your day Elsie?"

"Oh, fine thank you, Mr. Crawley. An average day mostly."

Anna entered the kitchen again and placed the cold bottle of beer in front of him.

"Oh, don't let her lie to you, Mr. Crawley."

Elsie quickly turned to look at Anna, and Matthew could see the confusion on the older woman's face. Anna continued by explaining to him, "It was an average day for the most part but Carson also stopped by this afternoon looking for you."

Matthew saw Elsie's face flush with embarrassment, and he had to laugh as understanding dawned on him. He mimicked Anna's wide smile and decided to play along with the young woman's game.

"Did he now?" He met Anna's eye but knew that Elsie was watching him as he asked the former sarcastically, "And why on earth would my investment consultant stop by here when he knows perfectly well that I'm at the office every Tuesday?"

"I don't know." Anna responded with a laugh, "I overheard him say something to Elsie about dropping off some papers, but after he stayed and flirted with her for about ten-minutes, I don't know if he ever actually remembered to leave anything for you."

Matthew tried to fake a look of concern as he turned to a very red-faced Elsie and asked, "Did Carson leave any figures for me to look over Elsie? Or was he too busy admiring you?"

Elsie raised her hands in the air in surrender and tried to hide the smile on her face as she said, "Oh, be quite you two." She quickly turned back around and tried to occupy herself with the dishes.

Anna and Matthew exchanged matching smiles, as Matthew made a move for his beer. Anna silently offered him an empty, frosted pilsner glass, but Matthew shook his head, wishing to drink straight from the bottle instead.

He took a hard grip on the cold glass and tried to twist the cap off. His numerous attempts were unsuccessful as the bottle cap's ridges made small, painful cuts into palm and fingers. Anna looked to be enjoying watching him struggle, and after seeing her smile at him shamelessly, Matthew extended the unopened bottle to her with out hesitation.

"Here," he raised one eyebrow at her as he smirked challengingly, "if you think you can do so much better."

Anna took the bottle from his grasp with a confident smile on her face. He saw her as she rested the cap's lip at a small angle under the counter's edge, and in one fast and hard motion, Anna slammed the heal of her free hand onto the bottle's lid, causing the unhinged and bent cap to fall, spinning to the floor.

"Anna." Elsie sounded slightly ashamed as she addressed the younger woman over her shoulder, "that really is barbaric"

Matthew felt the look of astonishment on his face, as Anna coyly slid the opened bottle towards him.

He let out a few amazed chuckles and disagreed with his old friend, "I think it was amazing… How long have you been longing to show someone that?"

"It's been slowly killing me."

He laughed and raised the bottle towards her, "Here is to your continued good health."

He took several large gulps of the amber liquid as Anna walked around to start helping Elsie with the dishes. He couldn't help the relieved sigh that left his lips as he placed the half-emptied bottle back onto the granite counter top.

Matthew asked her through a mouthful of casserole, "Where on earth did you learn how to do that?"

"Mary taught me this past weekend."

Matthew froze in his seat at the mentioning of her name. He felt his flesh go cold but his heart accelerate.

He whispered to the room, "Did she now?"

"Yeah. I stayed up here on Saturday night with her and we had a couple of drinks while we watched a movie."

Anna paused suddenly, realizing what she had admitted to him, and then started talking very quickly, "I hope you don't mind, Mr. Crawley. Quinn was already asleep, and Mary and I just watched a movie, and had some popcorn and a few drinks. I told her you wouldn't mind. I hope I wasn't wrong."

Matthew hardly heard what Anna was saying, because his mind was too busy forming the picture of Mary Crawley stretched out comfortably on his leather couch, her face flushed from alcohol, her thick, shinning hair loose and disheveled, her thin legs clad in black leggings that were as tight as a second skin, and her chest covered only by that red shirt, which did unholy things to his imagination. He immensely enjoyed the idea and felt the smile grow on his lips.

"No," He knew he sounded breathless but he just didn't care, "I don't mind at all."

For a moment he wondered if Mary thought of him as much as he dwelt upon her. When his troubled mind decided to give him a moment's peace, the woman he barely knew often drifted into his conscious. Thoughts of her dominated his days and saturated his dreams. He had known her for only slightly less than two months and she had already had planted roots in his life. The roots she grew were strong and thick, and they would not come loose without causing him extreme pain and bitter sadness.

Matthew continued, "I'm glad that you stayed with her while I was gone, and of course I'm glad that you made yourselves at home."

He had gone out of town the past weekend to New York City to take care of some company business and Mary had graciously agreed to stay a weekend that she was not contractually obligated to.

He had bent down and kissed the crown of Quinn's strawberry colored head the morning he left, and as he turned to leave his unresponsive daughter, he noticed Mary watching him from the doorframe. Her gaze froze him in his tracks and he realized that he didn't want to leave her, nor his child, behind. Mary's face was relaxed and her eyes were soft but fixed steadily upon him. He found her more and more beautiful with each passing day, and the shade of emerald green that she wore that day made her look especially divine. Matthew could tell by her small smile and peaceful demeanor that she approved of his parting gesture to his daughter. He dropped the keys to his Land Rover into her outstretched palm and he handed her a scrap paper with his contact information, just in incase she would need to use a car or contact him in case of an emergency…or perhaps if she just felt inclined to call him in the middle of the night. He bid her farewell and tried to not dwell too much on the parting words she had offered to his retreating form: 'Come back quickly, Matthew.'

However, thinking of Mary always eventually lead back to the reason she had entered into his life in the first place—his stolen wife, his blame and burden in the manner, and his suffering child. Matthew again grew somber at the thought of his daughter.

"How was Quinn today?"

It was Elsie that answered his whispered question.

"I think she had a good day today. She and Mary played board games most of the morning, and I overheard them casually talking about this and that all throughout the day." Elsie paused and moved around to his right, to where Matthew could see the seriousness on her face. "I haven't heard her speak so much in a very long time, in fact… I don't know if I've ever heard her speak so much."

Matthew felt the ever-present weight on his chest lift slightly at her words, and he seized the moment to take in a refreshing breath of cool air. He too had seen the small, positive changes in Quinn over the past two months, but he was extremely pleased to hear that others were noticing too. He didn't know whether or not his restless mind and sleepless nights were finally making him delusional as well.

"I'm glad to hear that."

Anna moved to stand next to Elsie and added, "And she asked me if she could help me make lunch today. I have a feeling that Mary put her up to it, but still…she's hardly ever spoken to me before."

"Yes," Elsie agreed wholeheartedly and continued addressing Anna, "And she asked if she could help me with dishes after the four of us ate dinner tonight."

Anna nodded her head quickly and continued, "Oh and the other day, Mary took her downstairs to sign for a package for me, and as they left, I saw Quinn reach up and grab her hand. When they came back a few minutes later, Mary had the package in one arm and Quinn's hand still in the other."

"Oh, yes, I saw that too." Elsie added and it was clear that the two women had completely forgotten that Matthew was with them.

Elsie added excitedly, "Mary had to crouch a little to reach Quinn's hand wearing those enormous heals that she adores so much."

"It was so sweet, wasn't it?"

"It was, but nothing compares to the way Quinn has taken to dressing like her. Did you see the other day, when Mary wore those jean shorts and that red and navy plaid shirt?"

"Yeah," Anna laughed at the memory, "Quinn saw her come in that morning, took a good look at her, turned around and shut the door of her room, only to come out a minute later wearing a pair of poorly rolled jeans and a white T-shirt that she had taken a red and blue marker to."

"Mary's face was priceless when she saw it." Elsie laughed fondly and Matthew felt his own mouth rise in a wide smile. "But it was sweet of her to not bring attention to it."

Anna let out a few more soft chuckles before she paused momentarily, and Matthew saw contemplation at work behind her eyes. She then added thoughtfully, "That woman is a miracle worker, isn't she? It's only been, what?... seven weeks and I've seen a lot of positive changes in Quinn. It's not a complete transformation by any mean, but it's… something. "

"It really is amazing." Elsie soft voice, matched Anna's thoughtful tone. "I don't know if Mary realizes it, or gives herself enough credit but it really is wonderful."

Both of the women grew quiet then, and Matthew was left in a state of unfulfilled suspension at their sudden silence. He had been hanging on their every word and reveling in the heart stopping images that their conversation had elicited in his mind. He was the happiest he had felt in years while listening to the two women speak, and Matthew yearned to prolong the glorious feeling for as long as possible. He wished with all his heart that they would continue talking about the slow but wonderful transformation of his daughter. He wished they would talk more about how she was beginning reach out to others, he wished they would explain further about how Quinn was no longer terrified to leave the glass walls of their home, and he wished that they would describe every glorious detail of how his once emotionally distant and closed off daughter was forming a strong relationship with her astonishing caretaker—as if Matthew needed another reason to adore the woman.

Of course Matthew had noticed the subtle changes in his daughter as well, but Quinn still continued to keep him at distance. She still would not meet his eye or even acknowledge his presence. He only ever bore witnessed to her gradual metamorphoses from darkened shadows or behind unseen corners. He had discovered her animatedly playing with her dolls last week, and he had nearly wept at the sound of her quietly singing to herself last night. However, as soon as Quinn noticed that he was in her presence, she would revert back to a steely demeanor and blank silence. His own child hated him.

Matthew forced himself to speak through the tightness in his throat, "Well I'm glad that Quinn is responding so well to Mary. Perhaps I should surrender custody to her… I'm sure Quinn would like that and I bet Mary wouldn't ruin her life as I have."

He reflected on his blame for his wife's early death and his depression crashed back in around him again. Her doctor's were wrong; something could have been done if he hadn't been so foolish. He had been so stupid, so selfish, and so arrogant, and it had cost him the only happiness he had ever known. Matthew pushed his half eaten meal away from him and drained his beer in one final pull, before burying his face into his shaking hands.

He felt Anna and Elsie leave the space beside him, graciously making themselves busy and leaving him alone with his misery. He heard running water, smelled pine scented cleaner, and saw his half eaten meal quietly taken away from behind his partially closed lids. After several minutes of silence, where Matthew's mind tried to chase the feeling of happiness he had felt only minutes ago, Elsie put a gentle hand on his shoulder and spoke to him as one would speak to the dying.

"We're all finished up here for tonight, Mr. Crawley. Is there anything else you'll be needing this evening?"

Matthew kept his face buried in his hands while he answered her.

"No, that will be all for tonight. Thank you both for staying late and watching Quinn for me."

"Oh Yeah!" Matthew lifted his head slightly at Anna's words, his curiosity peaked at the sudden note of recollection in her voice, "I guess we forgot to mention that Mary is still here."

"What?" The surprise in his tone, matched the shock of the news.

"Yeah, when we got your call earlier in the evening, we came up here around 7 to relieve Mary and tell her that we would watch Quinn until you got home, but Elsie found her asleep in Quinn's bedroom."

Elsie nodded her head in agreement and continued explaining, "They both looked so peaceful, that I couldn't bring myself to wake them."

"Okay…" Matthew responded quietly, distracted by the unexpected acceleration of his heartbeat. He was suddenly very nervous and he looked about the room quickly, unsure of what to do with the knowledge that Mary was still there.

Elsie saw his discomfort, "Would you like for me to go and wake her now?"

"No!"

Matthew had said it much too loudly and much too quickly for it to go unnoticed, but he tried to recover by explaining, "…just let her sleep. I'm not going to be going to bed anytime soon and I'm sure she'll wake up eventually."

Anna and Elsie exchanged uncertain looks and Matthew pulled himself together before reassuring them, "Please, it's fine. Go to sleep and I'll you see both tomorrow."

The two women bid him goodnight and after they departed, Matthew remained sitting in his empty kitchen for a while. He thought back to two weekends ago, and smiled at the memory of how he and Mary had watched the sunset together on the patio.

He had discovered her leaning on the railing, staring thoughtfully out at the lake, watching the boats make their way into the harbor. She had accepted the red wine he had offered to her with a wide smile and he recalled how badly he had wanted to touch her at that moment. He longed to caress her snow-white cheek just once; he would start at the edge of her brow and end at the corner of her lips. It was warm that evening, and she wore a billowing, sleeveless top that would have made him whimper with desire if he had not put so much effort into suppressing it. He stood close next to her, mere inches separating where they rested their arms, and he tried to ignore how his own flesh warmed at the sight of the exposed, bare canvas of her white skin. Her arms and hands were naked to his eyes and he longed to see more of her, dazed in his wondering of whether or not the rest of her would be as flawless. The only movements were that of the descending sun, her wind swept hair, and their rooming eyes—hers were on the water, his were on her body, paying special attention to the lines at the corners of her eyes, the sharp planes of her shoulders, and the deep impressions surrounding her clavicles. As the earth finally rotated the sun deep into the water and the sky was covered in a variety of deep blacks and bright blues, Mary turned to look at him. Matthew felt his gut clench and he was struck by the sudden desire to know what it would feel like to have her body flush against his. Neither one of them spoke aloud, though they understood each other perfectly. Their eyes said everything that their lips couldn't put into words. Her face was an open book and he could read, speak, and understand every word. Then, a great heartbreak came upon them and Mary quickly looked away from him, her expression pained. He broke at the lost connection, and an irritated and pleading gasp left his body has he took a hesitant step towards her, wordlessly begging for her to look at him again. Mary's only response was to silently hand her empty wine glass back to him and slowly walk back inside. Matthew spent the rest of evening staring at the impressions of fingerprints on the clear glass, determined to learn every curve and twist of her body.

His sighed and heard his broken breath echo around his empty kitchen. His mind was hypnotized by the memory of her, and he mechanically stood and slowly walked towards the place that she would be sleeping. He craved the peace that she would unknowing bestow upon him. She was his sweet relief—like heavy rain on dry, cracked earth.

Matthew held his breath as he turned the handle to enter into his daughter's silent bedroom; he then felt that same seized breath swiftly sucked from his trembling body as he gazed upon the image in front of him. The rain still continued its thunderous assault outside, but the faded glow of the city lights casting a soft, muted light on the two forms peacefully sleeping by the glass windows. Mary sat in the rocking chair in the corner of the large room and the slow and even rise and fall of her chest peacefully rocked against Quinn's small body, as it lay curled in the woman's lap. His child had both arms around Mary's neck, and Mary had her long arms wrapped around his child's small body, her fingers splayed open, covering nearly inch of his daughter's tiny back. Arranged in this way, the two were chest to chest, silently suspended in a seated and motionless hug. Quinn's angelic face was relaxed against the hollow of Mary's long, white neck, and Mary's cheek rested, flush against the crown of the child's head. Their shared breathing was calm and deep, and Matthew found that his was tight and caught.

He had to lean against the doorframe, the serene and lovely image too much for his weary legs. He didn't know how long he stood there watching them sleep, but he did know that he could serve out the rest of his days, only standing and watching their shared slumber.

Lightening flashed brightly across the black night sky, causing Mary to stir slightly. He could tell that her body was fighting against consciousness, desiring to stay in the darkness of slumber, but eventually her eyes slowly fluttered open.

Matthew silently sunk further into the dark hallway, wanting to observe her from an unseen shadow. He saw her take a moment to gather herself before standing, making a visible attempt to control her every movement, not wanting to jostle the sleeping child in her arms. Mary clutched his child to her chest tightly, placing one arm underneath Quinn's bottom and placing her other hand possessively against the back of the girl's small head, her long fingers getting lost in strawberry colored ringlets. She gracefully strode over to Quinn's bed, and Matthew saw her place a lingering kiss on the top of the sleeping child's head, just has he had done, before gently placing her in the middle of the large bed and pulling the covers over her limp body. She stood, unmoving beside Quinn's bed for a handful of his ragged and stolen heartbeats and Matthew saw the adoration she harbored for the sleeping child plainly exposed across the surface of her striking features.

Lightening flashed suddenly again, casting the entire room in a hot-white glow, and, in that short time, Mary had found him. In that quick explosion of light, he saw the surprise in her eyes and the part of her lips. Darkness engulfed the room again and Matthew breathed twice before he saw her curving silhouette, black against the muted city lights, move towards him in the dark.

He couldn't take his eyes off her. He held is breath until she was inches away from him, sure that the she could hear the loud, erratic pounding of his heart. He opened his body up to her and she smiled at him sweetly. He heard his own heavy breathing and wanted only to give himself to her and know nothing but the heat of her body and the taste of her skin. She moved to his side, and he felt the soft fabric of her shirt brush against his hand, which curved and flexed towards her, wanting to maintain the contact. The air she stirred as she passed by him bore the scent of her sweet smelling perfume and he tasted the air with his tongue and he unconsciously wet his lips. Their bodies were faced in opposite directions but their heads were still turned toward one another, neither fighting against the impossibility of looking away.

Mary then turned and took three paces backwards down the hall, and Matthew saw her rich, dark eyes once more before the shadows of the darkened hallway collapsed in around her face. He watched as her body slowly turned away from him and he knew that he would seek her out in the darkness. She was wordlessly beckoning for him to follow her into the front room, and Matthew pursued her without hesitation, like a dried out man in search of cool water.

Once they were in the dimly lit living room, Mary kept her back to him and Matthew shamelessly admired the curves, dips, and planes of her body. Her physique was a perfect work of symmetry; she curved and dipped in all the right places. Her spine curved like a tight bow, and her limbs were long, lean, and delicate; her skin was as white as newly fallen snow, and her long hair was as dark as night. Her body was were beauty, sensuality, passion, and yearning all collided into one.

Several moments passed before Mary eventually turned back to look at him. She met his eyes momentarily, and Matthew was sure that the vigor with which she looked at him would peal the paint off the walls behind him. She eventually broke the link and looked at her feet and Matthew saw her perfect brows contract in irritation. He felt hot and nervous and he was sure that his own flushed skin did not look nearly as lovely as her rose-colored blush.

She returned her eyes to his, and he saw the wide smile she had painted on her face and heard the song of her uncomfortable laughter. Mary lifted her arms and shrugged her shoulders slightly as if saying, 'what now?' and Matthew could tell that she was trying to take some of the passion out of their present environment. She was attempting to maintain a shred of professionalism and a hint of stability, but Matthew silently wondered what the point of it was. Why bother with control when it was so blindly obvious that they both wanted to surrender control to the other?

However, Matthew offered her a small smile in return and reluctantly lowered his eyes from her face, understanding that if they both continued to stare at each other like this they would either make a huge mistake or spontaneously combust, leaving behind only piles of ash.

"Good evening, Matthew." Her voice was as smooth and as deep as a calm sea.

"Good evening, Mary." His was as steady as the steel structure beneath their feet and over their heads.

"I'm sorry I dozed off like that."

"It's no problem." Matthew wanted to tell her how is heart had both pounded and melted at the sight of her tenderly holding his daughter, but the words wouldn't come to his dumbstruck mind.

He spluttered again, "It's no problem at all…"

She looked away again and he saw another pink flush rise to her cheeks. Matthew discovered that he was growing envious of her blood, because it got to freely flow and wind through her system and endlessly warm her flesh.

He changed the subject; "I wanted to thank you again for staying here last weekend. I hope it wasn't too much of a trouble."

"No, it was fine. Quinn and I had a good weekend together and Anna stayed with me Saturday night."

"Yeah, Anna showed me the new skill that you taught her. It's very impressive."

He saw her look of confusion and Matthew continued by explaining and mimicking Anna's earlier motions, "The beer-bottle, thing."

He adored the way her face lit up with sudden understanding a moment later. Her dark eyes sparkled brightly and another devastatingly gorgeous smile broke across her face, the dimness of the room making her dimples look deeper than normal. Matthew's answering smile was automatic.

"Oh yeah!" She paused laughing. "I'm not much of a beer drinker myself but I did learn to do that several years ago and, I admit, I enjoy showing it off when I can."

She laughed again and the sound was pure and cathartic and it warmed every nook and cranny of his body, making him glow with happiness.

Suddenly, a small vibration filled the large room, and he saw her jump. Mary quickly recovered and reached around to her back pocket, from which she pulled a phone concealed within a glossy red case. He watched as her cheerful face slowly fell; it first morphed into something akin to scrutiny and then changed into a look of obvious frustration. He saw her brow crinkle and her jaw clench at whatever was flashing brightly across her phone's screen. Her eyes traveled quickly from left to right, her face growing more and more annoyed with every passing moment. Her whole body hand gone rigid, and Matthew was just about to ask whether something was wrong before she let out an irritated sigh and rolled her eyes dramatically. She shook her head from side to side several times before sliding the phone into her back pocket again, not bothering to respond to whomever had texted her.

He hadn't meant to chuckle at her annoyed expression but his small laugh echoed loudly around the room and when Mary returned her eyes to him, it was clear that the woman was infuriated.

Matthew grew somber and serious at her appearance. "Sorry."

She only continued to glare at him and Matthew felt as if he were back in grade school and his teacher had caught him in some sort of wrongdoing. The change in her appearance and demeanor was drastic, and Matthew realized, all too late, that whatever she had read on the screen had obviously upset her more than he had grasped.

Her body was still tightly wound, her arms crossed and her shoulders tense, and Mary's responding voice was as cold as ice, "No, that bit of annoyance just reminded me of something else that has really been bothering me and I need to discuss it with you."

"Ok." Matthew heard the trepidation and fear in his own voice. Why did it feel as if he were heading into a war zone clad only in his underwear?

"I really didn't want to do this tonight, but that text, and the five others he's sent me in the past two hours, just reminded me of what happens when problems aren't addressed."

Matthew swallowed the lump in his throat.

Mary spoke quickly, as if the words were burning her pink tongue, "I've tried to be on your side with all of this, Matthew. I've tried to be patient and understanding and I've even stuck up for you on different occasions but I'm tired of fighting the blinding truth in this whole mess. I've bit my tongue on numerous occasions, but I can't keep silent anymore."

Matthew suddenly knew where this conversation was heading, and his heart sank at the inevitability. She could open up the depths of his heart with just one lingering glance but now he could feel himself raising the bridges around his heart, his defense mechanisms taking over.

He swallowed again and answered her coolly, "I'm listening."

"Your daughter is suffering."

He knew it was coming but it was a blow nonetheless. He tried to remain civil, "Perhaps, but not like before."

"Just like before, Matthew." She was starting to tremble with her anger.

"I've noticed wonderful progress in her and so have Anna and Elsie." He heard her breathe deeply once before continuing. "You've been…amazing…an enormous help and I will forever be in your debt."

He was nearly pleading with her so that she would understand. He didn't want to go down this dark road with her, and he noticed how desperate he sounded but he just didn't care.

"But what's going to happen when I leave in a year, or rather ten months?"

"I…"

"Or when she starts school at the end of August? That's only two months away. I won't be able to spend this much time with her forever."

"I know that…"

"Why do you ignore your child, Matthew?"

There it was.

She had shouted it to the room and it was out in front of them, occupying the space between her flushed and shaking body and his stoic and blank form.

Matthew tried to steady himself, determined to stay calm, "I remain at a distance for my own good reason. I'll need you to trust me on that."

"I can not and will not do that because it's hurting your child."

He thought of his dearly departed wife, "It's for her own good."

Mary was temporarily stunned by his response, and her shocked words were breathless. "Do you hear yourself? You've seen how she suffers. How can you honestly believe that?"

He moved closer to her and he felt her warm, labored breathing across his face. He pleaded with her, reaching his clenched fists out to her, "It is, Mary… Please, I beg you, please trust me."

But Mary would not be calmed, "You're a coward. That's all you really are, shutting yourself away from her."

He stood up strait and spat back his retort, "You don't know anything about it."

"You're right. I don't and neither does she." He could see the whites of her wide eyes and noticed that they were starting to become moist at the corners but she pressed on. "Do you expect a child to understand something so complicated? All she understands is that her father doesn't love her."

He felt as if she had struck him and his chest burned as he responded, "That's not true…you know that's not true, Mary."

"Well, you've got a funny way of showing it."

He turned and started to walk away from her, knowing that this conversation wasn't going anywhere. He was determined to put as much distance between himself and her biting remarks, but her next words stopped him dead in his tracks.

"She asked me about her mother today."

Matthew turned back around abruptly and he looked at her as he never had before. He saw Mary's fury wavier slightly and it was obviously that she clearly saw the haunted man before her. She lowered her voice several octaves but she continued to press on.

"Did you know that? Your daughter asked me if I knew her mother because she wanted to know what she was like." He saw a tear drop from her right eye and watched it as it slowly rolled down her cheek; it touched the corner of her mouth before it rolled off the edge of her jaw.

Her voice broke as she spoke, "She just wanted to know what she was like…" Mary shook her head slowly and begged him, reaching into the emptiness in front of her, "What am I suppose to do with that, Matthew?"

He felt his own tears burn the back of his eyes and it physically hurt to speak through the tightness in his chest, "You don't understand."

"God, Matthew, what is it? I'm begging you, please tell me so I'll understand." Her voice began to rise again, "I know that you have your own convoluted reasons for keeping yourself from her but don't hide her mother from her as well."

"I keep myself from my daughter because once she's old enough to understand the truth of her mothers death, she'll really hate me forever." The words had left his mouth with out his knowledge and he saw fear flash across her face.

"She's already going to grow up hating you."

"Then so be it." The coldness of his own voice shocked him.

His word had temporarily stunned her again. "Who are you? I felt like I was starting to get a feel for you, but I'm beginning to think that it was an illusion."

He ignored her question, "Am I going to fight with you over this subject for the rest of your employment?"

"Yes." She answered swiftly, without hesitation and Matthew saw the truth of her answer reflected in her dark eyes.

He laughed humorlessly and ran his fingers through his hair repeatedly.

"Great!" He was shouting now too, "I'm so looking forward to the next year of you prying into my past."

"Only for as long as Quinn is suffering because of your delusional idea that ignoring her is somehow more beneficial."

"She'll know the truth soon enough and then she'll really hate me."

"What on earth happened to your wife?"

His fury was palpable and he moved close to her again, wanting to ensure that she understood his next words. She had to incline her head slightly to look up into his face and he could smell her perfume, the wonderful scent evoking the image of a dew soaked meadow covered in wild flowers. Lightening flashed white again, throwing one side of her face into deep shadow and casting the other side in a luminous glow. He was closer to her than he had ever been before, and they breathed the same caught air.

Matthew spoke, and he couldn't stop his eyes from roaming unashamedly across her features, "The thoughts of my past would keep you up at night, Mary."

"Thoughts of you already keep me up at night, Matthew."

He stepped back from her quickly as he felt their shared heat ignite the room once more.

Did she realize what she had just said to him? Matthew was sure that she did because he saw the lovely color rise to her cheeks once more and he knew that the longing in her eyes matched up perfectly with the desire in his. Were they destined to spend the rest of their existence in this permanent dance? Would they dwell endlessly in this eternal suspension between resentment and obsession? He had wanted to break something mere seconds ago but now he only wanted to destroy any obstacle that kept him from her. Mary was his bane and his blessing in equal parts; she was a constant and beautiful temptation.

Their heavy breathing matched up perfecting and her dark eyes bore deeply into his. Matthew could tell that she was determined not to be the first one to look away this time. He swayed under her gaze and after several loaded moments he let his eyes slowly leave her face, though he did let them slowly take in the expanse of her body, before resting somewhere on floor between them.

The vibration of her phone broke the silence again and Mary let out an audible grunt of frustration as she reached around to silence the buzzing without bothering to look at the screen. She then moved past him, and Matthew turned his head to watch her retrieve her bag from the couch. She threw the satchel over her shoulder and started to walk past him again, heading for the door.

Just before she was out of reach, Matthew reached out and grabbed her tightly around the wrist. Her progression was quickly stopped and Mary slowly turned her head to look at the spot where they were connected. Matthew realized suddenly that this was the first time he had ever touched her, and he immediately regretted that it happened under these circumstances—it should have been a friendly hold, a loving cress, or a passionate embrace. His fingers wrapped easily around her delicate bones, and the feel of her pulse captivated him; it danced, quick and strong, under his touch and he found himself studying the rhythm. Her skin was inhumanly soft, the texture somewhere between woven silk and crushed velvet. She looked up at him then, and Matthew loosened his grip but he did not let go.

He spoke to her quietly, "Where are you going?"

"Where do you think? I'm going home."

"Not in this rain."

"Yes, I am."

"Do you even have a jacket? It's a five minute walk to the train and you'll be soaked in thirty seconds."

She shifted her weight but did not pull her arm from his grasp, "So I'll hail a cab."

Matthew looked at her from under his brow, "In Chicago…while it's raining."

"Well, I'm not staying here tonight."

"Fine, I'll drive you."

He suddenly noticed that his thumb had been tracing small circles on he inside of her wrist and Matthew quickly dropped her wrist and then clenched his hand into a tight fist. His clasped, trembling hand hung heavily by his side and Matthew noticed that the parts of his hand that had touched her white skin were still burning hot.

Mary slowly lowered her arm to her side and Matthew thought that she looked slightly disappointed, "That's not necessary."

"Please, you live in Lincoln Park, right? There's not too much traffic, it'll take fifteen minutes."

She paused considering, "Who's going to watch Quinn?"

"Anna will still be up watching the Cubs game. She won't mind, especially when I tell her it's so I can take you home."

She didn't respond, and Matthew took her silence as consent.

Five minutes later they were pulling out of The Pearl's underground garage and into the sodden streets of downtown Chicago. Matthew was an incredibly wealthy man but he hardly ever prided himself on showing off his riches to the world. His wealth was so vast that he, his daughter, his daughter's children, and his daughter's children's children would remain in the highest tax bracket for as long as they all lived. He lived a luxurious life, but never really flaunted his capital to others; however, his Aston Martin V12 Zagato was an exception to the rule. The car was a beautiful piece of craftsmanship and ingenuity and he loved showing it off. The outside was a glossy cherry-red and nearly every surface of its interior was adorned in black leather. Its body was sporty and sleek with rounded edges and curving ends. Really, his car was the embodiment of sex on four wheels. He still got a thrill of excitement when he started the engine and he would freely admit that he felt like James Bond when he drove it. So, he enjoyed the sensation of his own swelling pride when he saw the look of impression on Mary's face. Though she was still irritated with him and she was trying to hide it, there was no denying that she was in awe of the automobile.

The inside of Matthew's Zagato was luxurious and cozy, but the cramped space now felt claustrophobic amongst all of the unsaid things and the burning tension between himself and the woman that now occupied the leather set next to him. The city itself was nearly as quite as they two, their shared, heavy silence was only occasionally broken my Mary's spoken directions.

She stared out of the window in front of her and Matthew tried to do the same, but he kept on stealing brief glances at her. Her profile was stunning, the passing city lights casting deep shadows and colored highlights across her carved but soft features. After he nearly ran a red light, Matthew tired with all of his might to focus only on the road in front of him. However, he couldn't stop from noticing the way in which Mary held her left arm out at an awkward angle. Her forearm was bent away from her body and lap, and her fingers were flexed and splayed open on the edge of her seat, almost as if she were reaching across the console to where his own hand rested on the gear shifter. He suppressed the urge to touch her again, tightening his grip on the leather clad shifter, but he wondered how long he would be able to fight the inevitability of it—he would have to touch her again and he would make sure that it was done under very different circumstances.

Several minutes later, Matthew slowly idled the car in front of an old, brick structure. He looked up at her apartment building's stained glass windows and crooked structure, and smiled in recognition. He decided against telling Mary that he owned the building she lived in, figuring that tonight was not the right night to disclose that bit of information.

Her heard the click of her seatbelt and the corresponding moan of the strap coiling automatically, but she did not move from her position beside him. Mary was looking at her tangled fingers in her lap and Matthew saw the look of quite contemplation on her face. He relaxed into a peaceful silence as he watched her brow crinkled adorably and her full, blood red lips pucker. Matthew watched her struggle for words for several moments and then accepted the fact that the woman next to him would be the closest he would ever come to heaven. His soul was meant for damnation, but before God inevitably casts him into the fiery abyss, he gave him a place of safe refuge and peace—she was his own personal Garden of Eden.

She looked up at him then and Matthew wondered what she would do if he leaned over the foot of empty space between them, and pressed his lips against hers.

"Thank you for the ride. You're right, I would have been miserable walking to the train in this rain."

"It's no trouble at all."

She spoke suddenly but her voice remained soft, "I'm sorry about tonight. I wanted to discuss that with you but I had intended on doing it in a more professional manner. I let my temper get the best of me and I apologize for it."

"I should apologize too. I shouldn't have been so angry with you."

She opened her mouth but her unspoken words died in her throat; however, Matthew knew what the she would have said. They were still torn on the subject of he and Quinn's relationship, but they both knew that bringing it up again would only lead to another argument and that would do them no good tonight.

Yellow light from an opening door fell across the street in front of them and both Mary and Matthew looked to their right, where they saw a man standing in the entryway of her apartment building. The man's arms were crossed and, though he couldn't be sure from this distance, Matthew assumed that the man wore a scowl upon his face.

"I had better get inside." Mary spoke quietly, her eyes still on the unknown man and Matthew felt a sudden sting of pain at how defeated she sounded.

"Ok... I'll see you tomorrow."

She turned back to him and nodded. Matthew then spoke again, remembering, "Oh, and you'll enjoy staying over this weekend, this Saturday being the Fourth of July. I barbeque and Anna and Elsie will stay late for the fireworks. We'll have an excellent view of the show because the city shoots them off over the lake."

"Yeah. I'm sure Quinn will enjoy that."

"Actually, last year she was a little frightened but she's older this year so we'll see."

She smiled at him before turning her head back towards the man and Matthew noticed how her face fell into lines of misery.

She sounded sad as she spoke. "Good night, Matthew."

He tried to sound reassuring, "Good night, Mary."

She opened the door and got out then, and Matthew watched her every step as she danced around rain puddles towards the yellow glow and warmth of her home. She barely made eye contact with the unknown man as she passed him and headed for an old wooden staircase, and Matthew bent low in his seat so that he could continue to watch her retreating form. The man in door had turned to watch her go too, and Matthew got a final glimpse of her black heals as she ascended the stairs, before the top of the doorframe blocked his view.

Matthew sat up straight again and shifted the car into drive just as the man in the doorway, who could only be Mary's boyfriend, turned to glare at him. Matthew already didn't like the man because he had the privilege of knowing something that his heart longed to experience, but the malicious way in which the older man glared at him and the possessive way in which he had look upon Mary, made despising him all too easy for Matthew. He stared daggers back at the man, and felt a little proud when the man's demeanor flattered slightly. He heard him slamming the door over the pouring rain and Matthew's masculine pride was immediately replaced with concern for the woman he adored. He now knew from personal experience that Mary could hold her own in any type of argument but Matthew couldn't suppress his panicked worry for her. The man had looked to be slightly crazed by his obvious irritation, and Matthew's hands trembled with concern.

He stayed parked outside her apartment until every light in the building went out, not knowing behind which brightly colored window she dwelled. He then drove in a daze, and he couldn't remember how he got home as he once more crawled inside the elevator and relieved Anna for the second time. Matthew was haunted by new and vivid images that night, and the fact that another man's arms would be wrapped tightly around her and that another would know the pleasure of her scent and the suppleness of her skin, tormented him endlessly. He gave up on sleep around three and as he watched the night sky dry and the bright pink sun come up that morning, Matthew thought only of her.