A Thousand Moments

by RighterB

Modern AU in which Mary is a grad student in Chicago and Matthew is a hedge fund investor/ part-time lawyer/ multi-millionaire who is in need of a nanny to care for his 5 year old daughter. Romance and Angst ensue in this multi-chapter story. Long time reader, first time author.

10. Chapter 10

Finally an update! I apologize for the delay I sincerely hope that you continue to enjoy my story. There is a lot that I really love about this chapter and several things that I really hate, but I'm giving up and posting without another moment's delay.

WARNING!- I didn't have a beta reader for this chapter so I apologize in advance for errors. I hope they don't ruin the chapter for you.

I've changed the rating of this story from T to M for this chapter, but don't get too excited, I did it for language and subject.

Please notice that this chapter is part 1…part 2 will follow.

…

Part I.

Matthew quickly ran his hands against his scalp, calming his nerves and styling his disheveled hair in the same movement. The blackened city sky was outside his window and he breathed very deeply once before turning to face the two women who sat, side-by-side, on the edge of his bed.

"So…" he held his arms out to his sides, giving them a clear view, "…how do I look?"

"Handsome," said the child with a smile.

"Uncomfortable," said the woman with a snicker.

Matthew let his arms drop dejectedly and he looked away from them, gazing down at his ensemble, "But…this is what everyone is wearing in the fashion magazines."

"But you look so uncomfortable."

He pulled at his sleeves, "I read over and over that layers are in."

"But…can you even move?"

He adjusted his tie, "…It's a little tight in the arms."

She laughed once, "I thought so. How many layers do you have on?"

Besides his jeans and artistically scuffed boots, Matthew was currently wearing a double breasted charcoal grey leisure jacket, over a wool cardigan, which hung open over a black waistcoat, behind which rested a loosely knotted tie, and then, finally, a buttoned and checkered Oxford and forgotten undershirt.

He shrugged his shoulders, trying to mask his embarrassment, "…Just a few."

She laughed again and pulled the girl onto her lap who was now giggling along with her, "You're a horrible liar, Matthew."

His normally strong and deep voice sounded more like the frustrations of a confused child, "But…I basically copied this from a something that what's-his-face was wearing on the front of last month's GQ."

Her smile widened, "You know the whole point of those magazines is to sell clothes? So, the more layers, the more money you spend."

He massaged his brow, trying to sooth the tension that was building there, "Thank you, but I am very well versed on business and marketing practices."

Matthew looked down at his outfit that he had spent hours researching and let a small sound of disappointment and frustration leave his lungs.

It had been a long, long time since Matthew had a casual night out with people his own age and he found himself desperately nervous to fit the part. He didn't want to look like a widower, or a multi-millionaire, or even a businessman and lawyer; he just wanted to look like an average twenty-nine year old living in the heart of The Second City. So, for the past few weeks he had flipped through GQ's and Men's Fashion, and scrolled through hundreds of different fashion blogs searching for the picturesque vision of a casually well-dressed man.

Matthew wasn't the type of person who normally obsessed over his outwards appearance. On the contrary in fact, he happily lived his life switching only from simple cotton pajamas to suits that someone else had designed for him. But, for some unknown reason, he's been fixated on what he would wear ever since Sybil invited him out three weeks ago. It was completely out of character to waste both time and effort, only in the name of fashion, but had been obsessed with it.

Perhaps, it was because on this night, when so much would be new and out the realm of his normal life, the garments that clung to his body was the one thing he had complete control over.

Therefore, seeing the lack of awe on the woman's face before him, Matthew couldn't help but feel disappointed that his hard work had not paid off.

The woman spoke again, her eyes examining his outfit from where she sat perched on his bed, "What look were you exactly going for?"

He let out a single humorless laugh, "Just…" he fiddled with a silver button on his jacket, "…casual street fashion."

She must have read his disappointment, "Don't get me wrong Matthew, you look great." She looked at the girl on her lap, "As Quinn said, you look handsome…"

"Handsome!" Quinn cut her off with another excited giggle.

The woman smiled at the child again, "That's right—Handsome." She looked back up at him, "But we are going for a night on the town. You're going to want to be comfortable more than anything else." She paused and ran her eyes over his many layers once more, "Have you forgotten how hot clubs are?

He gave her a knowing look, "It's been a while since I've been in a club, Anna."

"I know." Anna smiled back at him, "Well let me remind you—It get's hot, really hot, in clubs, Matthew."

Matthew was pleased that Anna had stopped calling him Mr. Crawley in the past few months. He considered her a close friend, perhaps even his closest friend considering what she had witnessed and endured along side him over the past years, and he was happy the old formality of titles and position were slowly fading away.

Anna continued speaking, a small smile still on her lips, "And it's even hotter in clubs when you're dancing."

"Oh." Matthew suddenly found some of his old confidence, "I won't be dancing tonight. I'll happily watch everyone else, but I will not be participating."

Anna replied, her voice just as confident as his had been, "I'll get you to dance."

"No." He denied it.

"Yeah." She stated the fact.

He shook his head silently.

She nodded in reply, "This is happening…it's best if you just accept it now."

He again shook his head, trying to ignore Quinn's third round of giggling.

"You are dancing with me, Matthew." She smiled at him, knowing that she had him beat, "So, you better loose those layers because you're not ruining my dress by sweating on it."

Matthew looked down at his failed outfit again and sighed once more, "Well, da—" he remembered his daughter in the room, "I mean…dang it." He looked back at Anna and his voice echoed his frustration, "What am I suppose to wear now?"

Anna must have read his nervousness and agitation because she suddenly became thoughtful and her words were calming, "It's alright, we'll get it figured out… a lot of times, less is more."

She lifted Quinn from her lap and stood to look at him more closely. Anna adjusted her violet colored cocktail dress and jet-black blazer as she stood and walked towards him on a pair of ink colored stiletto heels. She looked beautiful, perhaps even sexy, but Matthew could never look at her that way; Anna was like the younger sister he never had. In fact, as she came towards him and Matthew saw how the dress clung to her every dip and curve, he felt the urge to cover her up so that men wouldn't be able gawk at her tonight.

Perhaps he would have to dance with her tonight, just so that others couldn't.

Anna studied him for a moment before indicting his jacket and asking, "What are you wearing under that?"

Matthew opened his jacket further, showing the layers underneath, "A sweater…" he pulled at the waistcoat, "…this vest, thing… and an Oxford."

"No, I meant under the Oxford."

Matthew's confusion was evident in his response, "Just a plain v-neck."

"What color is it?"

"What?"

"What color is the v-neck? White? Grey? Black?"

"I think it's navy blue."

"How does it fit?"

"What?"

Anna widened her eyes and stomped her foot impatiently, her frustration with him getting the best of her, "How does the v-neck fit you, Matthew? Is it too loose? Too tight?"

"It's alright; fitted but not skin-tight."

Anna clapped her hands together loudly, making Matthew jump, "Perfect! Take off everything else but the leave on the V-neck." She moved away from him and sat down next to Quinn on the edge of his bed again, "You can leave on the boots and the jeans too."

Matthew sighed and rolled his eyes at Anna before turning towards his bathroom, frustrated with himself that he had wasted so much time researching his failed outfit.

"And Matthew," he stopped and turned back to Anna, who was still studying him again from the short distance, "You can leave the jacket on too…" She smiled at him, perhaps knowing that he craved some praise for his efforts to look the part tonight, "… it really does make you look handsome."

"Handsome!" Quinn added again, her excitement too much to contain.

Matthew smiled at Anna and gave a quick wink to his daughter, who burst into another round of joyful laughter.

…

Twenty minutes later, Matthew and Anna sat side-by-side in the comfort of his Range Rover as they navigated through the busy weekend traffic of downtown Chicago. The colors of the city were the essence of contradiction—the dark shadows of the night and the bright beams of light spilling from opened windows and doors, soft and warm glows and loud and sharp neon's.

The world outside was bustling and congested, but the interior of Matthew's car was relaxing and quiet.

…Perhaps, too quiet.

The silence and comfort were painful and Matthew had nothing to distract himself from the nervousness that was bubbling uncontrollably in his gut.

His nerves were on high alert and, despite his now simplified clothing, a light sheen of sweat covered his brow. He twitched and moved uncomfortably in his leather seat, his building agitation getting the best of him. Matthew's knuckles were white as he strangled the steering wheel in front of him, and he continuously adjusted his body, wringing his neck from side to side and reposition his posture, but no matter how much he sought a degree of comfort, he was unable to settle in and relax.

"Nervous?"

He gave a quick glance at Anna who offered him a small, warm smile.

Matthew took a moment to painstakingly loosen his vice-like grip on the wheel. His mouth was sticky and dry, and his voice was small with his worry, "It's just…been a long time."

Anna only responded by nodding her head once, knowing, perhaps all too well, about the years that Matthew has spent cooped up in clouds, rarely leaving his glass tower for anything other than work.

It had been nearly four years now.

It had been nearly four rotations around the sun since his wife had passed.

It had been nearly four years since Matthew had gone out for an evening with his peers, and he found himself desperately nervous to fit into the mold of how he should conduct himself. Did social cues change in his absence? Would he still be able to related to others? Would he be an outsider due to his years spent in seclusion?

…Would they see the selfish act that claimed his wife for an early grave written in his eyes?

However, his uneasiness was not only due to his many years spent in morning and social isolation, but also, in part to the woman that permanently lived behind his eyelids.

With every blink, Matthew would see an ivory form in the blackness of his closed eyes—Mary.

He was nervous to meet more of her friends and family. His encounter with Sybil had gone extremely well, but he was anxious over the idea of meeting the others that knew her best; especially Mary's other sister, Edith, and her long-time, live-in boyfriend.

Matthew's grip tightened again at the mere thought of the later. Tonight would be the night when Matthew would finally meet a man whom he already couldn't stand to be near. Tonight would be the night when he would have to smile and nod and attempt to make friendly chatter with a man that currently slept next to the woman that owned everything that was left of him.

The idea was a bitter pill to swallow. It got stuck in his throat and obstructed his breathing. Just the simple thought of their wrapped arms and entwining legs made Matthew physically sick.

But he mustn't show his contempt. He mustn't reveal that tonight, or ever. He mustn't be outwardly rude or hostile towards the man that Mary loved; Matthew adored her too much for that.

In addition, to the crippling nervousness, a swarm of excited butterflies were also at play in Matthew's core.

He had been so looking forward to seeing Mary in a different setting. He was eager to watch her engage with the people she cared about, and he wanted to be with her in a place outside of their shared norm. They had acquired a natural rhythm with one another inside the walls of The Pearl, but Matthew was excited for the chance to see her cast in a different light.

He longed to know every facet of her. He desired to learn and memorize every bit and piece of her. She was his favorite book and he wanted to thumb through her pages, discovering her every chapter, her every line and word, her every letter and thought.

He wanted to know her…just as she now knew him.

Matthew had hidden the truth inside for so long that when it finally broke through, when he finally confessed everything to her, it spilled from him aggressively. It gushed from his soul and burst from his mouth, draining him in the agonizing process.

The night Matthew broke apart in the shadow of her body, Mary gave him new reason to adore her; more fuel for his notebook.

Mary had held those pieces of him, those violent demons and those jagged edges, so tenderly and so selflessly. She had shouldered the burden that he had passed to her without uttering a single complaint. She had stared into the heart of the storm that he became and she did not waver under the untamed elements.

She held the truth for him, because he could no longer endure it alone.

The truth of his wife; the truth of his son.

His son…

His lost second child was something that Matthew had hid so carefully and so completely for such a long time, that on some occasions, he could almost convinced himself that it had never happened; that his boy had never been.

But the truth would creep up on him from time to time. It would make its painful reappearance, wrecking his body and infecting his mind. The truth often leaked into his semi-conscious, invading him in the night, attaching itself to the delicate line between waking and dreaming. His soul would conjure up and his dreaming eyes would see the face of an unknown boy. Some part of his mind would know that it was only a hallucination, but Matthew would be unable to wake his body. He was paralyzed in the night against the child's face. Matthew would feel his drugged body fight against the image, twitching and tensing in the debilitating coma of sleep, but the image of the boy would not fade. So Matthew would have to endure the vision, to watch the boy that never was, live a life that never came. He would have to bare it, counting down the agonizing moments when his body would finally revolt against the assault of so much pain, dragging open eyelids, gasping for air, drenched in sweat.

Some part of him had reached its limit that night three weeks ago. His heart, silent for too long, reached its final threshold and Matthew tumbled over the edge violently. His fragile body fell, collapsing head over heals, crashing and burning, breaking painfully against his long hidden memories and bitter realities.

His anguish had trumped him, and the truth spilled from his mouth in an unfiltered, dirty mess.

He had been out of control and broken, sobbing for his wife, sobbing for his lost child, sobbing because his confession would only make Mary leave him. Matthew knew the day would turn over, he knew time would pass, he knew the night would come, and he knew the truth of his past would drive her away.

But he still confessed. He uncovered his filthy soul for her to see. He let her know the shameful details and he shined a light on the things that had fallen through the cracks, because Matthew loved her enough to be truthful; Even if it meant losing her forever.

It was terrifying to be that exposed to her. He had felt more than naked. But he surrendered control and floated in suspension, wanting to die in the warmth of her body but fighting to survive long enough to feel the release of her next exhale.

His body and mind were at war; his mind wanted to keep his long held secrets but his lips let them fall freely into the empty air, his mind wanted to collapse in shame, his legs rooted him to the ground before her.

Thankfully, Mary's arms took from him the overwhelming weight, and she gave back what he needed most, and the entwining of their bodies settled the dispute.

…

She moved towards him. Her dark eyes rimmed with the wetness of his grief, her lips trembling with the burden she had never asked to bear, the blood in her checks matched the setting sun outside of his window, and Mary had never looked more beautiful to him than she did in these silent seconds of space and time.

Mary enclosed him in the curves of her body, fastening him to her, holding him up right, supporting him in more than just the physical sense. Bits of him continued to spill over her arms and fall haphazardly around their entwined feet, but she paid no attention to his brokenness, she only held him tight; she only held him together.

The pressure—the freeing pressure of her embrace, was a weight that made Matthew light.

The scent of her filled his nose and lungs, enriching his body, bring oxygen to his brain and making his blood a deeper shade of red; a red that matched her quivering lips, a red that matched the marks her hungry hands made in his flesh. Mary's fingertips and palms left burning and blistering marks over every inch of his back, illustrating the snaking maze she traveled. Matthew was on fire by her hands, never before knowing that burning alive could be such a savage pleasure.

He memorized the feel of her curves pressed against him, learning her softness and the layers of her bones. He suffocated in the curtain of her ink colored hair, wanting to drown in the black waves, tasting rose buds, vanilla beans, and brown sugar.

Her breathing was even in his ear, the rhythm full and strong, although, when his hands traveled lower, cupping the dip at her back and resting on the edge of her hips, the even pattern of her inhales changed, becoming labored and rushed, portraying a longing in her that was not lost on him.

He pressed her tighter to his body, wanting to know the shape of her ribs as the curving bars dug sweetly into his own waist. He wanted to count her vertebrae; numbering and naming the disks that supported the weight of them both. He wanted to measure the circumference of her lungs as they filled with the air that she stole from his body.

But nothing, nothing could compare to line of her ivory neck. How could a root of flesh be so lovely? Never had Matthew experienced such a temptation; such concentration of her scent, such a warmth, such a sight to behold in the dimness of the setting sun. Her flesh was polarized, a magnet calling to him, urging him to connect, to settle there. It would be easy to caress the delicate flesh, to move into the inches of unexplored air, to lightly press his trembling lips against her jugular, against her veins. He longed to test the softness of her skin, to truly know whether God made her cells out of silk, but surely the sweetness of it would break his legs.

He could hold Mary for the rest of his days and consider it a life well spent.

Matthew had slept in his suit that evening, her scent clinging to his body and transferring to his sheets, warding off his demons for the night. He had awoken refreshed, his shirt and pants creased and matted with the evidence of her. He took his coffee on his personal patio that morning, and as he bent to inhale the air around his own shoulder, wanting to his fill lungs again with what remained of her there, Matthew found a single strand of her dark hair. A tremble broken from his lips and he reveled in the knowledge that a piece of her had clung to him throughout the night.

Matthew delicately held the dark line in his fingers and watched in amazement as the cool morning sun reflected off of it, turning the blackness to plums and amber. A sudden burst of wind snatched it from his fingers, and Matthew reached for it once, grasping the air for the delicate strand of her, but his clutched hand came back empty and heavy.

He mourned the loss for a moment, before deciding that she belonged best in the cool, dancing wind, as it softly caressed his face and fitted perfectly around his body.

Mary belonged best in the untamed heavens.

…

Anna's voice brought him back. Back to the present, back to his car, back to the busy traffic around them, "So, what did you get her?"

Anna indicated the small gift bag in the back seat that Matthew had placed next to Anna's wrapped package.

"Oh…" he looked at the blue bag in his rearview mirror momentarily before returning his eyes to the road, "…it's nothing."

Anna laughed before asking, "Is it really nothing? Or is it 'Matthew Crawley nothing'?" She etched the quotes in the air.

Matthew turned towards her questioningly, "What's the difference?"

She tilted her head, giving him a knowing look, "Matthew, last Christmas you gave me and Elsie each a $9,000 watch and insisted that they were 'nothing'."

"Don't you like them?"

Ann rolled her eyes and said with another laugh, "Of course we like them, but I'm just saying that your definition of 'nothing' is very different from the rest of the worlds."

Matthew cocked an eyebrow back at her, "Well, for your information, I didn't spend a dime on her."

Anna was taken aback, her silence portraying her surprise.

Matthew continued on, "I'm just giving her a book that I've had for a long time…it's one of her favorites and its just been sitting on my shelf for years."

Another eye roll was Anna's only response and Matthew spoke again, pointing to her own golden wrapped package in the back, "And what are you getting her?"

She adjusted her seat, crossing one bare leg over another, "Oh, I just made her a couple mix CDs."

"Oh! How sweet!" Matthew's words were drench in sarcasm but Anna punched him once in the arm, making him quickly shut up.

"It is sweet! Or it's at least thoughtful. We have the same taste in music but she has even less time than I do to discover new stuff, so I made her a couple playlists of my favorites."

His curiosity was peaked, "What's on it?"

"A lot of mellow stuff; soft indie rock and singer/songwriters mostly." Anna indicated several pubs outside of the car's window, and Matthew saw how many already had long lines of people pouring out of their doors, "Nothing like the house music or hip-hop they'll be playing wherever we end up tonight."

They came to a red light and Matthew pulled the car to a stop. A touch of his sarcasm returned but he masked it with a wide smile in her direction, "A playlist—how romantic of you Anna."

Anna laughed again, "Yeah, well I'm not ashamed to admit that I love her…although…"

Anna's voice trailed off and the car was suddenly doused in a heavy, sticky silence. Matthew looked over at her and saw Anna staring at him in a way that made him feel uncomfortable and vulnerable. There was only the quiet humming of his car's idling engine as Anna's eyes continued to search his own, her peering gaze sending a chill of unknown dread down his spine. Her brow was crinkled with worry and Matthew knew she measuring her next words, considering them with great care and judgment.

Eventually Anna decided and her deep intake of breath broke up the silence around them, "Although, I know I love Mary in a very different way then… then the way you love her, Matthew."

The world was heavy; it made of lead, and rock, and sand, and the weight of his expanding heart, which throbbed to the rhythm of her name.

Matthew's first instinct was to deny it. But he couldn't; the feel of Mary's body pressed against his own was still too fresh, a constant reminder of his never-ending threshold of love. He then battled against a powerful feeling of betrayal. He wanted to be angry with the woman to his right for seeing so clearly something he considered to be his most precious of secrets. But he couldn't; Anna was too dear a friend. He then wanted to wish away the truth of Anna's words, to trade them away for something else, something that could actually be. But he couldn't; he wouldn't trade away the sensation of loving Mary for all of the apathy in the world. He then wanted to escape, to leave the car, to leave the city, to run away with truth. But he couldn't; their minutes were numbered and he had to be with her while he still could.

The traffic light was still red and Matthew gazed at the small scarlet sun, wishing that it could burn through his retina.

A warm acceptance eventually brushed across his cheek and Matthew suddenly could remember her smell—rose buds, vanilla beans, and warm brown sugar.

When Matthew had held her, he finally understood the purpose of his own body. His arms were meant to wrap around her, to hold and rest, to press and secure. His legs were built walk towards her, to stand beside her. His chest was created to breathe her in, his lungs overflowing with the sweetness of her, expanding and growing, adjusting and swelling; filled with oxygen but still breathless in her company. His eyes were meant to focus and fade; focus on the small lines covering her curving lips, focus on her ink lashes, focus on the color of cream and roses; fade away and blur into nothingness everything that was not her. His hands were covered with nerves only so that he would know the pleasure of her silk skin and thick, feather hair.

And is lips…his lips had not yet fulfilled their true purpose, but they soon would

Matthew knew that he was created to love her. He was drawn up and fitted with legs and arms, with feet and hands, only so that he would be able embrace her, and understand that to hold her, was to hold the one he freely passed his heart to.

Why wish away such a beautiful gift? Why run from something that he only wanted to sprint towards? Why deny such an undeniable truth?

So he didn't.

The light turned green and his foot gently found the accelerator, pulling him towards the woman he loved.

When he spoke, Matthew's voice was measured and soft and brave, "How long have you known?"

He heard Anna's relieved exhale and wondered how long she had been holding her breath. She matched her quiet tone to his, "It's been a while now… I've seen it…growing in you for weeks and weeks."

"Does Elsie know?"

"I think so. Some times she says certain things that makes me think that she does…but we don't talk about it."

"Does Mary know?"

Anna paused, and Matthew heard her thickly shallow. Eventually, she spoke and her voice was small with her anxiety, "Yes. I think so, but she's denying it."

He expected to feel his panic return but it didn't. Matthew breathed in Anna's words and let it swish around his brain, a deeper acknowledgment of his own feelings the only outcome.

Anna spoke again, "I think she does realize your feelings towards her, but she's denying the full truth of them. She's hiding it from herself…like she's too scared to deal with the effects."

Matthew felt scattered and he longed to fill the small black notebook in his jacket pocket with the feelings he was currently unable to sort out in his mind.

"I'm sorry if I'm crossing some line as your employee, or even as your friend, but I just wanted you to know that…I'm worried, Matthew."

Matthew looked at her briefly and saw the evidence of her concern smeared across her features, "Of course, I'm not worried about your character or even about her, she's so lovely inside and out and what she's done with Quinn has been amazing… but I'm worried about what," Anna indicated the air that hovered around his trapped body, "all of this, will do to you both…She's in a relationship, a serious relationship with someone that she's been with for a long time. And you're…"

His eyes were heavy and he knew what her next words would be but he asked anyway, "I'm what?"

Matthew again turned to look at Anna. She breathed deeply and her bright eyes were only filled with her concern for him, "You're still so haunted Matthew…"

He looked away, back to the road, and nodded slowly in agreement.

Anna continued on, speaking quicker than she had before, "It's just that seeing you with Lavina for all of those years and then seeing how you collapsed in on yourself when she died, carrying the weight of a thousand men and aging lifetimes in the span of a few months. I just…I just never thought you'd ever love any other woman again."

She said her last words with a since of finality and spoke no more. The only sound in the night was that of the car's humming engine and tires, their tread forming around the cracked pavement beneath them.

Matthew thought of his late wife. He thought about how her smile would brake across her face, and how she laughed with her whole body, and how angry she got when others showed their self-imposed ignorance and prejudice, and how she would softy cry when reading a book or seeing a random act of kindness on the news.

He thought of their short time together and then he reflected on the past four years without her.

He thought of how disappointed in him she would be. How angry she would be for how he had chosen to live his life in her absence. No matter what part he had unintentionally played in her early death, she would have never, never wanted him to be so burdened by his guilt. She would have never wanted him to be so miserably sad without her, because she had never caused a moments sorrow in her whole life.

Matthew found his voice. It grew warm in his chest and fell softly from his mouth.

"You're right. I did love my wife, Anna. And if we would have been blessed with a long marriage, and if we would have had the chance to grow old together, I would have loved her, and her alone, until the very end…"

He heard the sounds of his past; he heard crunching metal and a fading heart monitor.

"But life didn't work out that way for us; life took a different route. I lost Lavina. I lost my wife and I've spent the better part of four years morning her death…nearly losing the best part of both of us in the process."

Matthew thought of his daughter; her resurrected smile, her rediscovered laugh.

Matthew's grip grew tight on the wheel again and he fought, tooth and nail, against his ever-present demons. His voice became harsh and strained, "But I'm tired of living under the weight of my past sins. I'm sick of being paralyzed against the mistakes of my past and I want to live this blessing of a life!"

The demons fought back against him. They scratched at his skin and tried to seep into his mind. They showed him images of his broken wife, images of his lost son, images of his struggling daughter.

But Matthew fought back. He gritted his teeth and strangled the wheel, the tendons and veins in his hands bulging with the effort to convince himself of his awakening, "And I knew my wife…" His voice cracked but he continued to press on, "I knew her!" He slammed a fist on the wheel, emphasizing the truth, "and she would want me to be happy…I know that. Some days will be harder than others and I know sometimes I'll slip up and fall, but Lavina would want me keep on trying. She'd want me to be happy."

And Matthew demons fell away, leaving his body, leaving his mind, crawling back into the darkness of the night.

He took several calming breaths before turning towards Anna, "So, you're right. I couldn't possibly love any other woman again, and I don't love any woman…"

Matthew thought of Mary, her passion, her tenacity, her abundance of life and vivacity. He thought of her warmth pressed against him and the breath of life that she had given him.

Her image calmed him and Matthew's next words came from him with such conviction and such passion, that no one on earth could have denied the truth of them.

"…But I do love Mary. I love her because she opened my eyes and nursed my wounds. I love her because she helped me regain the feeling in my legs and she taught me how to walk back into my daughter's life."

Matthew laughed, a single hysterical laugh and met Anna's eye, "So, I love her…I love her and I'll never disturb her happiness with another man if that is what she wants but I can't stop loving her, Anna."

He turned back to the road, "I can't stop…I wouldn't even know how."

It was a relief to say those things allowed; to confess his hearts desires to another human. Matthew felt Anna's eyes linger on him but he couldn't turn to look at her again.

Several more streetlights came and went above them but the silence in the car remained, until they rolled to a stop on a street lined with other cars, the windshield in front of them glowing with the bright haze of neon.

Matthew shut off the engine and felt his nervousness return to him now that they were within the shadow of their final destination. He breathed deeply, gathering himself for whatever he would encounter inside.

Anna unfastened her seatbelt and Matthew heard it slowly coil.

"Ok."

Matthew turned to look at her, seeing the understanding in her eyes, "Ok. I believe you." She smiled at him warmly, "Just try not to get yourself hurt."

He smiled back at her, "I'll try…but even if I do get hurt…" Matthew leaned forward reading neon lights of the sign in front of them— Mr. Bates,"…it'd be worth it."

Anna opened her door and Matthew followed her. The night was clean and crisp, and the sounds of Lincoln Park, of cars, people, and music, filled his ears.

Anna retrieved their gifts from the back seat handing the small blue bag to Matthew and adjusting her dress before turning to him and asking, "Are you ready?"

He exhaled loudly, hoping to pull the worry from his body. The attempt was unsuccessful, "I guess I have to be…please don't let me do anything stupid."

Anna laughed loudly, "Oh no! I haven't had a night out in a long time either and I plan on having a ridiculously great time. You're on your own."

It was cruel act of fate that the first thing he should see when entering into the busy bar was the soft line of Mary's neck being kissed by another.

It was a quiet moment between Mary and the man at her side, a stolen moment that was meant to be private and intimate even in the vastness of the room and the congestion of people, but Matthew had seen the secret perfectly from where he stood just inside the door.

He felt his heart concave and crumple in his chest and the desire to bolt out of the door before anyone could spot him returned full force. Matthew was healing but he wasn't ready for something like this yet; the image before his eyes attacked him and wounded him in his softest parts.

Mary's boyfriend continued to drop small, fluttering kisses up her neck, his mouth coming closer and closer to her ear, a single long arm wrapped around her, pulling her body closer and closer to his lips. The man moved the black curtain of her hair, revealing the same ear that Matthew had quietly spoken into three weeks ago when he had half-heartedly warned her to stay away from him. The man whispered to Mary something unknown before continuing to lay more retreating kisses back down her exposed neck.

Matthew felt sick, defeated, and enraged in equal measure. He drug his eyes away from the man's progression, pulling them to the face of the woman he adored. Mary's beauty was unprecedented in the soft glow of the room and the sight of her flushed skin knocked the wind from him. A small smile was curved upon her lips and her chest rose and fell with her soft laughter.

However, as Matthew got a deeper look at Mary, noticing her wide, lifeless eyes and the slanting, contorted angle of her body, Matthew thought Mary's movements and responses to the man looked unnatural and forced, but, perhaps, that was just the way he wished to see them.

The room was loud, the music was loud, and Matthew's struggling heart was loud.

Matthew fixed his eyes on the Mary, calling to her wordlessly across the bar. He willed her to look at him, to pull away from the man she was pressed against, and cling to him instead. But she didn't hear his silent call and the man pulled her closer and as Mary turned her head to place a quick kiss of on the man's pursed lips, Matthew's heart stopped beating altogether.

Anna must have seen his panic and apprehension because she grabbed on one of his jacket lapels and dragged him across the room, and they were in front of Mary before Matthew could pull away and run.

He came to stand four feet in front of her and she was lovely in the dark, dancing shadows of the room. Her dark hair was down and soft, fuller than normal with natural looking waves. Her sleeveless top matched her painted lips and Matthew thought it should be illegal for her to wear this particular shade of red; it was the color of wine and Matthew discovered that he was desperately thirsty. A chain of gold was tight around her neck, her eyes were lined a little darker than normal, and the over-all effect of her appearance was mesmerizing.

Mary was one of seven others and her small group sat around a circular table already littered with dirtied and stacked plates, scattered and empty food containers, broken and stained chop-sticks, drained shot-glasses, and an impressive number of drained beer bottles, which were being stacked into a glass pyramid in front of an unknown dark-haired man.

Perhaps it was the subtle stirring of the air around her, or perhaps it was the slight variation of the sound waves assaulting her ears, or perhaps it was the feel of his cool shadow as it came to rest across her lap, but, no matter the reason, Mary sensed his presence and she slowly looked away from the man at her side.

Their eyes settled and fell into place in an easy and practiced way and the world was a wonderful place to be again.

Mary extracted herself from the man at her side, moving away and separating herself, a ghost of something akin to shame highlighting her features. The shame lingered for only a moment longer before a brilliant smile tore up her face and ignited her dark eyes.

"You're here." She spoke the words loudly over the music and crowd, her full lips moving around the brilliant smile that remained on her wine colored lips.

Matthew's mouth formed into a full smile in response and, for the moment, every memory of her being loving kissed by another fell from his mind. How could he possibly think of her being wrapped up in another man, when she looked at him like she was now?

"Happy Birthday." His reply was soft, as soft as he remembered her skin to be those weeks ago.

Mary's smile fell slightly but the heat in her eyes intensified and brightened, her gaze reducing him to a puddle in the shape of a man.

"Yeah, Happy Birthday Mary!" He had forgotten Anna at his side.

Anna moved around the table towards Mary, and she stood to embrace her.

Mary laughed slightly uncomfortably, portraying her embarrassment at being the center of attention, even on her birthday.

She spoke a little breathlessly, "Thanks so much for coming out tonight." She looked back at Matthew momentarily before turning toward Anna again, "Sorry that you missed dinner though." She indicted the empty carryout containers scattered across the table, "Bates doesn't have a kitchen but you can order in, so Napier bought everyone Oriental Spoon, which has the best Korean in the city."

Anna just smiled at her, "No sorry we're late. Matthew had a late meeting with a client and I didn't want to leave without him. Plus we've already eaten."

Matthew knew that Anna was lying about eating dinner to spare Mary's feelings and foresaw himself buying her a questionable dinner from a street vendor later in the night.

Mary glanced back at him once more, "Oh, good," she looked relieved before turning towards the group of people that surrounded her, "Well, let me introduce you both to everyone."

Anna came back to stand at Matthew's side as Mary indicated the man at the edge of the table to her left. The man was dark-haired and was carefully placing another empty beer bottle on the half constructed tower in front of him, "That's Napier at the end. We've gone through both undergrad and grad school together."

Napier looked to be a little further along in his drinking than the rest of the group and he lifted a beer bottle in Anna's direction, paying no attention to Matthew, "How's it going beautiful?"

Matthew could almost hear Anna and Mary roll their eyes.

Mary spoke to her, "Don't pay any attention to him. He thinks he's really hot but once he gets over that delusion, he's actually really sweet."

Mary then indicated the familiar smiling face next to Napier, "You both of course know Sybil," Sybil gave Matthew a small smirk and a quick, knowing wink, "…and next to her is our friend Jimmy."

A tired-looking but handsome blonde man stood to shake both Matthew and Anna's hands, "Hey. It's nice to meet you both." His smile was friendly and his grasp was firm.

Mary spoke again, smiling at Jimmy, "He was my neighbor for years and would constantly come over and eat my food and watch my TV, but now Ed and Sybil have the pleasure of feeding him."

Jimmy smiled back at Mary, "At least I'm always grateful."

Mary skipped over introducing the man who sat directly beside her and turned toward her right, pointing to the two women at the other end of the table.

"This is Gwen" Mary indicated the woman directly to her right. Gwen's hair was dark auburn and every inch of her exposed skin was dotted with freckles. She gave Matthew and Anna each a small wave and a large smile.

Mary continued, "She works with Ed and is about the nicest most and most genuine person that has ever walked the earth, which is why it's so confusing that she hangs out with Edith by choice."

Matthew then heard Mary's deep intake of breath and felt the apprehension in her corresponding exhale. He followed the line of Mary's sharp glare and let his eyes side over to the woman who sat to the right of Gwen.

"…And this…"

The fair-haired woman stared back at Matthew forcefully. Her eyes were not harsh or angry but they held a weight that made it feel as if she were x-raying him. She was dressed mostly in dark colors that were in direct contrast to her pale skin and light brown eyes. An unlit cigarette dangled between her fingers on her left hand and a small tumbler containing rich colored liquid on ice was grasped securely in her right.

"…is my other sister Edith, but everyone calls her Ed."

Matthew knew that he should have smiled at Edith in a friendly manner, but her hard eyes felt like she was administering a test, and, if he were break into a smile, he would have failed her exam.

"Edith…" Matthew heard the irritation and embarrassment in Mary's voice, "…play nice."

Eventually, a small smirk reached the corner of Ed's mouth and her eyes softened by degrees.

"It's nice to meet you Matthew." She lifted the tumbler to her lightly painted lips and took a deep pull of the amber liquor. "I've heard so much about you."

Matthew saw Mary roll her eyes this time and he watched as she turned back to the slightly older man who sat silently beside her.

Mary looked down at the man, but he did not return her gaze. His eyes were fixed and sharp, staring a blistering hole through Matthew. Her boyfriend still had an arm resting on the back of Mary's empty chair, claiming his territory, and his other hand was clenched in a tight fist on the table in front of him, portraying his irritation.

Mary reached out and placed an open hand on his shoulder, trying to calm the obvious tension that radiated through the man's body.

"And this is my boyfriend, Rick."

Rick's deep-set eyes were the color of murky ice and his long face was carved, cracked, and weathered. There was no doubt that he was a handsome man, even with his slightly receding, light-colored hair, but he looked so out of place in this younger crowd of people while dressed in his cabled sweater and tweet jacket.

Mary spoke to the crowd again, her voice a little strained with the effort to screen the angry tension radiating form the man at her side, "And, everyone… this is Anna and Matthew, who I work with…" she looked back at Matthew again and smiled a little sadly, "…and who I work for."

There was a random scattering of 'hello's' and 'how's it going's' from the small group and Matthew smiled and nodded at them all before returning his to eyes to Rick.

The smile fell from Matthew's lips and he felt his light eyes grow darker as Rick stiffly nodded once in Matthew's direction.

It went against everything that he believed in and everything that he longed to do, but Matthew took one painstaking step forward and reached his right hand across the table to the man at Mary's side. The man gazed at Matthew's outstretched hand with poorly disguised detest and Matthew understood from the sharp glare in Rick's eye and the hard line of his lips, that they not only shared a love for the same woman but, also, a mutual loathing of the other.

Rick eventually removed his hand from the back of Mary's chair and grasped Matthew's hand firmly. Matthew's muscles pulled and shortened as he tried to push out all of his contempt with the gesture. Rick responded with the same might, his veins bulging in his exposed hand and wrist, and Matthew knew the force they were each applying to the other's hand could shape steel.

They let go a moment later and he took pleasure in seeing how Rick flexed his hand gingerly, as Matthew tried with all of his might not to mimic him and relieve the stubborn pain radiating through his own sore digits.

"Wow!" Edith spoke, breaking up the tension. "I'm going to need another stiff drink after witnessing that show of testosterone."

"Edith!" Mary's irritation with her sister was growing, reaching the same level of contempt that Rick and Matthew shared for the other.

But Ed continued on with a dry laugh, "If there is a pissing contest later, please let me be the judge."

Tensions were high and Anna spoke up, offering the only medication that had a chance of levitating the stress, "How about I get the next round?" She looked at tower of empty bottles in front of Napier, "It looks like Bud Light is the general consensus…Ed, why don't you help me?"

Edith took another look at Mary, whose eyes were bulging out of her skull, before standing and putting her unlit cigarette back behind her ear, "Fine, but no one better throw any punches until I get back."

Matthew watched them saunter off towards the bar, heading in the direction of an older bartender who was smiling widely at Anna.

Matthew took the empty set next to Edith's vacated chair, directly across from Rick who continued to stare daggers at him.

Mary too returned to her seat and Matthew clearly saw the stress and worry distorting her perfect features. A flash of guilt warmed his skin and he immediately regretted wearing his dislike for her boyfriend so openly. Matthew was tired of causing her so much stress in her life. He had been a horrible father, a secretive employer, and his obvious feelings for her were causing her hardships in her relationship.

So he decided to try and elevate her stress. Matthew slid her birthday present underneath his chair, hoping for more of a private moment with her later, before fixing his eyes on his hands on his lap, knowing that if he looked Rick in the eye again his poor behavior would return.

"Rick…" his mouth was like cotton, "Mary tells me that you are a professor at DePaul, how is your fall semester getting on?"

Rick's response was straightforward and clipped, but not obviously unfriendly, "It's going well. I have three undergraduate classes and two graduate classes this year. It's keeping me busy."

"And in what area do you emphasize your research and study?"

"Mainly, policy and diplomacy concerning the rebuilding of Europe after the Great War and the Second World War."

Matthew caught Mary's appreciative smile out of the corner of his eye before continuing, "Any area specifically?"

"Berlin mostly, but I've extensively studied The Rhine area as well."

"That sounds like incredibly fascinating work."

"It is. I enjoy what I do." He lifted his arm and let it fall around the back of Mary's chair once again. "And I'll soon be given a full professorship where I'll make a very comfortable living. It's not enough money that would make one lazy," Matthew did not miss what Rick was implying, "but it will provide us…" he pulled Mary closer to his side, his grip on her arm was tight and unmoving, "…with a very comfortable future together."

Matthew's blood pressure dropped.

Hearing Rick speak of he and Mary's entwined futures with such assurance and certainty made Matthew realize, perhaps more than ever before, that his time with her was limited. He would have only until the end of her school year; he could almost hear the time slipping away. Matthew could have cursed himself for wishing away they past three weeks in anticipation of celebrating her birthday with her. He should have lived in and took note of every second spent in her presences, because one day in the near future, their seconds together would run out.

Matthew felt the lifelessness in his eyes, "May I offer you my early congratulations," and he heard the defeat in his voice.

He felt her eyes on him, prickling his skin and tugging at his chest.

Just then Anna and Edith returned from the bar, their arms overflowing with bottles of beer. Matthew grasped the bottle that Anna offered him just as he saw Rick pull Mary closer and whisper something else in her ear. Mary blushed slightly and turned away from Rick to glance fleetingly at Matthew. He must have been imagining the sadness in her eyes before he lifted the bottle to his lips and drained it with one breath.

By the time Matthew lowered the empty bottle to the table, the rest of their group were conversing with one another. Gwen had engaged Mary and Rick, and Anna, who had removed her blazer and taken the seat on Matthew's right, was in a four-way conversation with Jimmy, Sybil, and Napier.

"Here." Another beer bottle slid towards him from his left.

He looked up and saw Edith holding her own bottle out towards him. He picked up her offering and knocked the neck of his bottle with her's.

Edith spoke over the noise of the crowded bar, "Here is to birthdays and bad decisions."

Matthew gave her a broken smile and his respond was lifeless, "Cheers."

They each drained half of their bottles before guiding them back down to the table.

Matthew spoke, desperately wanting something to take his mind off of the way that Rick's fingertips lightly stroked the exposed flesh of Mary's shoulder, "And what do you do Edith?"

"Ew! I demand that you call me Ed. Mary and Sybil are the only ones that can call me that and not get physically assaulted…so, you've been warned."

He laughed despite of himself, "I wouldn't want to cross you."

"No you won't." She smirked at him before continuing, "I could smack my parents for naming me Edith. I truly want to believe that they lost a bet or something." She glanced around the bar, her eyes holding on a group of men by the door, "But at least I can get away with being called Ed…I love it actually. It's such a dude's name, and it really amplifies my bad-assery."

Matthew felt a real smile lift the corners of his mouth, "That it does."

Edith was rough and intimidating but not at all unlikeable. He found her dry humor and easy confidence to be immensely refreshing.

"OK, what do you do…," He lifted his bottle to her again, "…Ed?" She smiled and responded and the dull crash of cheap glass reverberated around them again.

They each drank again before she responded, "I'm on the design team for Audi."

At this Matthew's interest was truly peaked and he leaned toward her, "Really? The first car I bought when I started practicing was an Audi… I loved that car."

"Yeah?" Edith took another drink and Matthew followed her example, emptying his second beer, "I've only been there for about eight months so I'm pretty low on the totem pole but it's a good job and they encourage creatively, so hopefully I'll be able to see some success."

"What models have you been in on?"

"The A6 mostly…" she finished her bottle with a final pull, "…and I came in on the very end of the Q7 and the Allroad."

His voice was building with his excitement, "Those are all fantastic…I've been looking into the Allroad." He glanced quickly at Mary, noticing with a bit of pleasure that she had pulled away from Rick's touch, leaning closer to Gwen. "I've been thinking of getting it for… someone special."

Edith waved him off, "Yeah, yeah, but I'm pissed at my boss at the moment and I really don't' want to talk about work when I'm trying to get drunk and have a good time." Edith looked at the group of men by the door again before glancing back at the small group in front of her, noticing how they all were still talking together before turning back to Matthew, "Well I'm going to need to have like ten more beers before I'm even feeling buzzed, so lets skip all of that bull-shit and do some shots instead."

Matthew turned slightly to look Mary wishing that he could have a moment alone with her, but she was wrapped in what Gwen was telling her and he knew that the night was still young.

He turned back to Ed, "Alright."

She tilted her head and gave him a mischievous smirk, "Your treat of course."

Matthew laughed once more before standing, "Lead the way."

Edith stood, made sure that her unlit cigarette was still secure behind her ear, grabbed two more full bottles of beer off of their table, and started walking towards the bar. Matthew trailed shortly behind her, but before he got too far away, and because he couldn't help but look back at her, Matthew glanced over his shoulder.

Their hearts brushed as their eyes came together. She had noticed his exit. Her brow was crinkled, a waterfall of small horizontal lines portraying her bewilderment about why he was walking away from her.

And though his affection for her was as sure as the spinning earth beneath his feet, Matthew found that he was slightly irritated with her. She was being so unjust; so unintentionally cruel. It was unfair for her to look at him like this. It was wrong for her to make him feel so guilty just for leaving her side. It was unfair, especially, when she was in the arms of another.

He turned away from her, the simple action requiring too much effort, and followed Edith to the bar.

"Here," Edith handed Matthew one of the two beers and a shot glass overflowing with a orange liquid, "I bought the first one."

Matthew sniffed the drink and it was summer time again. It smelled of overripe peaches, juicy oranges, and a sticky sweetness that reminded him of melting ice pops.

He lifted the small glass to her, "Cheers."

Edith glanced at the group of men by the door, and Matthew saw her wink at a dark haired man standing closest to them, "Once again, here is to a night of bad decisions. Cheers."

She clinked her glass to his and, just as Matthew lifted the moist cup to his lips, he heard Edith say, "I hope you like sex on the beach."

About half of the burning liquid went down the wrong pipe and Matthew's eyes watered as he tried to swallow what remained. His lungs and nose were on fire and his coughs were wet with alcohol. Eventually, the liquid heat slid the rest of the way down his throat and Matthew sputtered his response, "What?"

Edith was laughing, and the action made her more beautiful by degrees, "Relax Boy-Scout…it's the name of the drink."

Matthew blushed, feeling foolish, "Oh, right."

"Alright, now it's your turn to give me a slippery nipple."

He felt his face fall again.

"The shot! I'm telling you to buy me the shot!" She laughed harder.

"Oh…yeah, OK."

Edith jumped up and leaned forward, resting her entire upper body on the bar's sticky surface. Her legs were off of the ground, balancing her weight, and she turned her head to shout down length of the bar.

"Bates!"

Matthew leaned forward too, curious to see whom Edith was shouting for. He saw a man at the opposite end of the bar turn and give Edith an affectionate smile, before leaving a small group of other customers and making his way towards her. Matthew realized that this was the same man that had smiled at Anna earlier in the night. The man had a round and tired face but his eyes held a certain wisdom and warmth. His walk towards them was slow and heavy, portraying a slight limp in his gait.

When he reached them Bates gave a small nod to Matthew before turning to Edith, who had regained her normal seat, and spoke to her in an amused way.

"Yes Ed…what can I get for you?"

Edith turned in her seat and slapped Matthew, hard and square between his shoulder blades, "My friend here, Matty, will be buying the rest of my drinks," she turned and pointed over at their small party before turning back towards the man behind the bar, "…and everyone else's drinks at our table for the rest of the night…no matter the cost."

Matthew's back was still stinging from where Edith had slapped him and he saw Bates turns towards him, questioning Edith's words, but she spoke again before Matthew could respond.

"Isn't that right, Matty?" Her head was tilted slightly to the side, humor and challenge brightening her light-brown eyes.

Matthew rose to the challenge, "Yeah, that's right." He reached into the inside pocket of his jacket, his fingers brushing over the notebook that carried his love for the woman behind him, before retrieving his wallet.

Matthew pulled out a credit card and handed it freely over to Bates, who studied it for a moment before finding an empty black booklet and placing it on the counter behind him.

He turned and looked at Matthew, "What's it going to be?"

Matthew motioned toward Edith, deferring to her.

She spoke quickly while pulling the cigarette from behind her ear, her eyes, once again, on the dark-haired man, "How about three Slippery Nipples, three Blow Jobs, and three Royal Fucks."

Bates nodded and turned around, searching the shelves for the right bottles.

Matthew laughed, "How can you say those with a straight face?"

He saw her smile grow wider, her eyes still focused on something to their right and Matthew turned just in time to see the dark-haired man start walking towards them. Edith's eyes were on the approaching man and her voice was far away, "Oh, Matthew, I can do a lot of things with a straight face."

The man came to stand next to Matthew, towering over Edith whose bright smile turned dark and mysterious. Edith's suitor spoke, his voice deep but plain, "Could I bum a cigarette off of you?"

Edith spoke to him from under her lashes, and Matthew noticed how Ed was trying to give her voice the same mysterious purr that her older sister naturally had, "Sure. I was just going outside if you'd like to join me."

Ed's words were smooth and resent, but they didn't touch the power of Mary's spoken tongue. Mary's voice had the power to crawl under your skin and make your bones settle with a warm, delirious comfort. Mary's voice was all cords, and air, and lungs, and lips; a siren's song.

But Edith's invitation still had its desired effect on the unknown man and though Matthew didn't see him smile, he heard the poorly hidden excitement in the man's response, "I'd love to."

Edith stood, "OK, I'll meet you outside in a minute." And the man turned away from them and started walking towards the back exit of the bar.

As soon as he was out of earshot, Edith turned back to Matthew and all of the warm sexiness in her voice was replaced with her normal tone. "Right, I'm going to go have a smoke. It'll take Bates a few minutes to get those drinks ready, so I'll be back before they are all done." Edith motioned to the two beers she brought with them from their table, "And don't start in on those before I get back."

Matthew asked curiously, "Who is that guy?"

Edith shrugged absently, her eyes and hands searching in her purse, "I don't know…but I've gotten pretty good at telling how someone is in bed just by looking at them." She pulled out a second cigarette and a small, silver lighter, "It's something in the way that they carry themselves, something in the back of their eyes, and he looks like he could do the job fine for the night."

Matthew's head was spinning in his state of disbelief, "You're going to sleep with him, even though you don't know his name?"

Her response was prompt, annoyed that she had to state the obvious, "I'll learn his name before I go to bed with him."

Matthew felt his shock and bewilderment and Edith must have seen it too because she placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder and explained with a casual laugh.

"I'm in control, Matthew. I'll get good and buzzed and then stop drinking so that I'm in my right mind when I take him home." She shrugged her shoulder nonchalantly,
"It's just a hook up. I've done this before and, after tonight, I'll do it again." She lowered her hand from his shoulder, "For lack of a better explanation, I just need to have some fun and he seems to be the second best candidate in this place for the…" She searched for the right word before finishing with another light-hearted laugh, "… services that I require."

Matthew picked up on the causally spoken assessment, "Second best?" He looked around the bar wondering, "Who was the first?"

Edith laughed loudly and then punched him in the shoulder playfully, "It was you, Matthew."

The exclaiming and questioning 'what' that came from him was a reaction to his shock, but, quickly after, Matthew let his eyes fall to his feet. He knew that Edith wasn't coming on to him, but he still couldn't hide his blush.

Ed continued, now laughing at the scarlet spreading across his skin, "From the moment you walked in here tonight, I knew that you could make any woman extremely happy, and I immediately wanted to take you home. But…"

Matthew heard her pause and he raised his eyes to hers again. Her thin face grew thoughtful, a new seriousness highlighting her eyes and she spoke with a softness that he barely caught over the music, "…but then I saw…and I knew..."

Matthew understood her broken sentences.

But then I saw how you looked at my sister. And I knew you were unavailable.

Matthew kept his secret on a leash. He kept it close, reined in and tamed, desperate to keep it hidden and safe. But, earlier in the night, Matthew was made aware that his leash was fraying, splitting and dividing, and the great secret of his love for Mary was being passed into the possession of others.

So, under the weight of Edith's knowing eyes, Matthew felt himself give his precious secret more slack. The restraint came lose and he split it again, dividing it once more, passing the truth of his affections to Mary's sister.

He matched his thoughtful tone to hers and looked her straight in the eye, unashamed, "You're right. I couldn't possibly go home with anyone."

Matthew realized that his mind had automatically chosen the word couldn't over the word wouldn't. Though the two words often seem interchangeable, a distinct difference embodied them when the prospect of being with someone other than Mary presented itself. Wouldn't reveals a decision based on a choice; Couldn't tells of an impossibility. Matthew knew that he physically could not be in the arms of another. To be with someone other than her would have been a crime against nature; like flesh on flame, water in the lungs, a bullet to the brain.

Edith smiled kindly at him, "I know."

Another moment passed before all seriousness and thoughtfulness vacated her expression and she suddenly become very threatening. She leaned forward, pointing a purple painted nail directly at his nose, "And I'll kill you if you tell Mary I'm smoking." She turned and started to walk away, but Matthew heard her say, "I can't handle a lecture tonight."

Just as Edith left Bates returned, his arms overflowing with bottles of liquor, cans of juice, steel shakers, and a variety of garnishes; and Matthew watched with a curious eye as Bates started pouring different bottles of liquor into one of the shakers.

Bates spoke to Matthew over his work, "So, I saw your name on your card—Matthew Crawley." He scooped ice into the steel cup "I'm assuming you are the Matthew Crawley that Mary and Anna Smith work for?"

"I am. I know that Mary lives near by, but how do you know Anna?"

Bates quickly shook the container before taking off the lid and pouring a sickly brown liquid into three shot classes. The horrendous color didn't match its pleasant scent of sour apples and sweet spices.

"Only through Mary. She's brought her in a couple of times in the past few months and we've always chatted then…Anna seems like a marvelous woman."

Matthew nodded as Bates poured three creamy liqueurs into three different metal shakers, "She is. I've had the pleasure of knowing her for a long time and I can attest to her…marvelousness"

Ice followed the opaque liqueurs and Bates shook each container furiously before pulling out six more shot glasses, "Well, I've known Mary for a long time. I first meet her when I caught her with a fake ID when she was twenty. I took it away from her but I let her stay and drink pop." Bates smiled at the memory and looked in the distance behind Matthew shoulder, "I couldn't throw her out; she was too entertaining. She passionately argued with me for about twenty minutes, trying to convince me that she really was a forty-two year old from North Dakota."

Matthew laughed, envisioning the scene perfectly, "That sounds about right."

He followed the line of Bates' eye, turning to look over his shoulder. Mary was leaning towards the other side of the table now, laughing loudly in response to something Jimmy was saying.

Matthew heard Bates speak over the crowd and music, "She's got spirit, doesn't she?"

He responded softly, his heart tender with love, "Yeah..."

He turned back towards Bates and saw the man looking at him knowingly. Bates spoke again, his voice gravel and honey, "I'd like to see her happy, really happy."

I'd like to be the one that makes her happy.

Matthew didn't say the words allowed, but he thought that Bates saw the truth underlining his eyes.

Bates watched him, closely examining him in the muted light before eventually nodding. A quite understanding passed between them, and Matthew felt his guarded secret split and divide once more as it was passed to include another soul.

Over the next couple minutes Matthew watched Bates layer the shots, just as he learned to do years ago, gingerly using a teaspoon so as not to disturb the density. The process was time consuming, but the visual effect and smoothness of the drink were worth it. Bates topped three with whipped cream and he used a small eyedropper to place grenadine into the middle of the last three.

Edith returned, bring the night air and the smell of tar and smoke with her, just as Bates slid the nine finished drinks towards them.

She spoke, her voice a little breathless from the crisp night, "Oh good, you've just finished."

Matthew smirked at her, "That was quick Ed."

She delicately wiped her lips and straighten her top, "Yes, but I'm incredibly satisfied."

Matthew was at a loss for words.

Edith laughed again, "Would you relax, Matthew! I haven't screwed him… yet."

"Did you at least find out his name?"

"Yes. It's Chad."

"And what does Chad have to say about your plans for him?"

Edith picked up one of the beers and spoke in a nonchalant manner, "He seems keen, but I told him to keep his distance for awhile. He knows that I'm out celebrating my lovely sister's birthday and I need to make sure she's happy and drunk before I leave her."

Matthew rolled his eyes, "Oh, how thoughtful of you Ed."

Edith met his sarcasm, "Haven't you figured it out yet, Matty?…I'm a fucking saint."

He laughed loudly and picked up the second beer, "What should we toast to?"

Edith opened her mouth to speak but Matthew cut her off again, "Wait! Let me guess," he rose his bottle to the heavens, "Here is to a night of bad decisions."

Edith raised her beer to his, "Amen."

They both drank before Matthew asked her, "Do you always toast to that?"

Edith lowered her bottle, "Only when I'm out looking for a shag… But I guess I shouldn't have included you in my toasting."

"Why not?" Matthew pressed his lips to the bottle again, drinking deeply, and he felt his mind drift.

The night was hushed and black and their skin was naked except for moonlight. Matthew lowered his head to Mary's neck, his lips tracing the beauty of her exposed flesh, his arms supporting the weight of them both as he slowly lowered her onto his bed, and they were each unable to speak a word that was not the other's name.

Matthew lowered his beer and spoke again, feeling the memory of Mary's scent in his lungs, "Perhaps, I'd like to have a night of bad decisions as well."

"Bull shit."

Matthew paused and pulled his unfocused eyes to Edith, "What?"

She repeated herself with the same cool emphasis, "Bull shit."

Ed held her beer in suspension between the bar and her lips and Matthew was silent with his bemusement. Ed eventually explained with a heavy sigh and an eye-roll, "I'm calling you out on your bluff Matthew—Bull shit."

Matthew eyes challenged her but his tone remained light, "And why can't I have the evening I desire? "

The bar was getting more and more crowded by the minute, the noise level reaching a new high and Edith leaned in closer to him, her eyes holding a knowing gleam, "I know what you are thinking, Matthew; I know the evening you're envisioning involves my sister and perhaps the absence of clothing. You claim to want a single night involving a lot of poor decisions." She leaned back again and shouted to him, "But you don't really mean it."

Matthew didn't back away from the truth of her words, but he pointed out the obvious mistake, "I'm not looking for only one night with her, Ed…She's more than that."

She rolled her eyes again, losing her patience with him, "I know that. Watching you watch her for ten seconds and anyone could guess that you want more than a fling, but trust me Matthew, it wouldn't be right. It's not the right time." Edith emphasized her next words by pointing her finger at his nose, "You don't want the consequences of the night you long for."

Matthew only heard her first words, paying little attention to the one's that followed, "You don't think I'm good for her?"

Ed sighed heavily, "It's not that necessarily, although, obviously, I don't know very much about you." She fluffed her hair and then sipped her beer, "I hated everything about you when Mary first started working—you were selfish and cowardly, and needy, and, despite the stuffed bank account, a real dead-beat." She turned towards him and added quickly, "No offense of course."

"None taken." There was nothing that anyone could say about him that Matthew hadn't already called himself on numerous occasions.

Edith continued, "But Mary has kept us very abreast with how things are progressing in that glass tower that you call a home, and, truly, Sybil and I are glad to hear it." She paused and looked deeper into his eyes, "Everyone has a past, something that they are ashamed of or wished hadn't occurred, but it seems that you are waking up and trying to move on from the things that have drug you down for so long." She smiled at him kindly, "And I respect that you stepped up and admitted your flaws. I think that swallowing your pride and owning up to your mistakes shows great character."

Matthew returned her smile and watched Edith drink from her beer before she spoke again, "But, nonetheless, sleeping with my sister would still be an enormous mistake."

"Why?"

Edith tilted her head and gave him a knowing look, "You know why, Matthew."

And he did know.

Matthew didn't turn, but he could feel the constriction of Rick's arm around Mary's back, pulling her closer, claiming her as his own.

Edith continued on, "Unfortunately, she's in a relationship with Professor Dick and Mary is not a cheater. I know how she talks about you and I've seen how she looks at you, so I know that she's shares in your attraction but…" The tone in Ed's words changed and her next words came from her as if they tasted bitter on her tongue, "…Mary is faithful and unwavering."

Matthew lowered his head, ashamed of himself for his desires, "I know."

"Can I offer you some advice?"

Matthew responded in a distant manner, knowing that any advice would be pointless in the hopeless matter, "Sure."

"Don't push yourself at her. If she leaves Rick, which, by the way, is something we are all pulling for, it needs to be her decision. She needs to see for herself how unsuited they are."

Matthew rubbed at his brow, a sudden fatigue coming over him.

Ed pressed on, leaning towards him, trying to physically impress her words on him, "So if you really desire more than a single night with my sister, don't push yourself at her too strongly. I know Mary and I know that, without too much thought in the moment, she would make the mistake that you claim to want so badly." Ed put an open hand on Matthew's shoulder, forcing him to look into her eyes, "But it would still be a mistake. A night with you, a slip up with you, would cause her a lot of grief. She wouldn't be able to look at herself and she certainly wouldn't be able to look at you. She'll look at you and only see the person she cheated with…and nothing more. Is that something that you want?"

His eyes echoed his honesty, "Of course not."

Edith leaned away from him, "I know. So, you don't really want a night of bad decisions, Matthew." She picked up her beer and finished it in with a long pull, before adding quietly, "So, let's leave the poor judgment to me for the remainder of the evening."

Matthew knew that Edith was right. He wouldn't risk Mary's friendship and presence in he and his daughter's life just for a single night with her.

So he would take simple moments with her instead; a brushing of their fingertips when he handed her a glass of wine, feeling the vibrations in his chest when listening her speak about her passions, the pleasure of waking her when she fell asleep on the couch, breathing in her molecules when he helped her into her coat each night, witnessing the smile that could heal his broken soul. Matthew loved those stolen moments, and if they were all he could have of her, then he would have them gladly. He would gather them up and hold them close, continuing to live only for the next.

He saw Edith's eyes traveled to the shots in front of them, and Matthew's gaze followed, noticing how the whipped cream was starting to melt, leaving a milky ring on the bar's surface.

Edith glanced down at her oversized wristwatch and turned to look at the table their party occupied before speaking in an aggravated tone, "I should have had Bates wait a bit longer. It's still a couple minutes before ten o'clock."

"And what happens at ten o'clock?"

Edith gave him a hard look, aggravated once again that she had to explain the obvious. She indicated the nine shots in front of them, "We get to take the shots."

Matthew suddenly noticed the odd numbering, "Who are the third shots for?"

Ed repeated her previous look of annoyance, "Mary of course."

Matthew laughed once without humor, "I don't think Rick is going like the idea of Mary doing a line of shots with me."

Edith mimicked his humorless laugh, "That's the understatement of the century, but what Professor Dick doesn't know won't hurt him."

Matthew felt a sudden fluttering of excitement in his chest, "What do you mean?"

"It's all about the timing, Matty." She glanced at her wristwatch again, "And at any moment now," Edith spat his name, "…Rick will be leaving our company for the evening."

The flutter turned into a humming and Matthew felt his eyes brighten, "He's leaving?"

Edith smiled at him, seeing his excitement, "Yep. He's flying to Boston tonight on the Red-Eye. He's got to speak at a seminar, or something, tomorrow and the next day." She rolled her eyes and continued explaining, her tone now bitter, "The good Professor only stayed in town for as long as he did because it's Mary's birthday...He'll probably hold this one act of decency over her head for the rest of the year."

The humming in his chest picked up again, turning into a heavy bouncing and Matthew rotated in his seat just in time to see Rick rise from his.

Edith turned to watch as well and, together, they saw Rick make his goodbyes to rest of their group before Mary stood as well, intending to see him out of the bar and make a private farewell outside. For a moment, Matthew wondered if Rick would come over to say goodbye, but as Mary passed in front of him heading for the entrance, Rick only raised his eyes to meet Matthew's across the room. Rick's expression was a loaded warning in a single glance, and just as Matthew felt his own blank expression turn into something more fierce, Rick broke their twisted glaring, turning away and following Mary outside.

Matthew heard the distant murmuring of Edith's voice, "Remember Matthew, don't do anything too stupid."

His mind registered her words but they got tangled, and thinned, and smeared somewhere beneath his ribs.

The minutes that passed were the longest in his lifetime and he tried with all of his might not to imagine what was passing between Mary and Rick on the shadowed street outside. He focused all of his attention on the sounds of the room, anxiously waiting for the slow moan of an opening door. There was laughing and shouting, the low base of the track blasting through the speakers, the scuffling of drunken limbs over the sticky hardwood, the movement of clothing against tightly compressed bodies, the trickle of bottles and glass being emptied and then filled again, and finally, there was the call of the ancient door.

Then, just as easily as he focused on the din around him, Matthew tuned it all out, muting the world as he turned towards the door.

He did not have to search for her. Her pull was magnetic, a greedy tug that he effortlessly fell into. She had discovered him easily from across the room and it was wonderful to be at the center of her eyes. Her gaze was hungry, making up for lost time, and he devoured her as well, trying to satiate his never ending hunger. Her stare softened, her lips turning up, and Matthew's body ached at her beauty. She sauntered towards him on a pair of impossibly high heels, her movements full of purpose, and the bounding in his chest turned into the most pleasant throbbing imaginable—hot and full.

She came to stop before him and her smile grew wider, bleeding across the short distance and etching into his lips. He could feel her movements, the twitching of her fingers, the rise and fall of her chest, just as if there were an invisible string, tied somewhere beneath their ribs and comprised of shared nerves and shared vessels, linking him to her. They were one body occupying two spaces. Did she feel it as surely as he did? Could she taste the breath on his tongue? Did she feel the blood surging in his veins? Could she see herself through his eyes?

"Hello again." Her voice was warm water and soft cotton.

"Hello." His response was dry but, with it, Matthew told her that he was forever hers.

She smiled again, "Sorry we haven't got to spend much time together," Mary looked to his right and Matthew suddenly remembered Edith by his side, "I hope Ed's been keeping you company."

He waved her off, "No worries, truly." He saw himself in the reflection of her eyes, "It's your birthday and you should be socializing with your friends. I get the pleasure of your company nearly everyday and I can't be selfish." Matthew nodded in Ed's direction, "And your sister has been wonderful company."

Mary's face fell into a hard look as her eyes locked on Edith, "I hope she's been on her best behavior."

Edith's response was prompt and as cold as ice, "I didn't get naked or set fire to anything if that's what you're asking."

Mary sighed and the tension between the two was palpable. Matthew was about to speak and attempt to break up the heaviness of the moment, but quiet unexpectedly, Mary started laughing. It built in her slowly but her body was eventually shaking with her hysterics, causing Edith to break into her own laughter as well. And with that short interaction and corresponding response, Matthew realized that the sisters before him had a long history of bickering and of love in equal measure.

Mary then caught sight of the shots in front of them and her tone was light, "Oh. It looks like I've been missing out on your fun." She tilted her head and looked deeply in to Matthew's face, trying to judge just how inebriated he was, "How many have you had?"

Edith spoke before Matthew got a chance, "Only one, unfortunately. We've been waiting on you, but you're here now so lets get started."

And with that, Edith quickly handed Mary one of the shots topped with melting whipped cream before sliding its twin to Matthew and saying, "Here Matthew—have a Blow Job."

Matthew laughed uncomfortably and looked up to gage Mary's reaction, but Mary only shook her head in a bemused manner.

"Am I right to assume that you've been torturing Matthew all evening with similar jokes?"

Edith picked up the remaining shot, "You know me well." She rotated in her seat and raised the small glass in the air, causing Mary and Matthew to mimic her actions, "Now, here is to my wonderful big sister, who lives a far less interesting life than I do but probably won't ever have to do a walk of shame on a Tuesday morning with only one shoe," Edith winked at her sister, "Happy Birthday Love."

There was laughing, the chiming of glass, and the downing of sweet and burning alcohol.

"Yummy." Edith said with an appreciating smacking of lips.

She wasted no time distributing another round, "Slippery Nipples for everyone." And Edith locked eyes with him, "Matthew, would you do the honor of the next toast?"

His laugh was uneasily as color rushed to his cheeks, "Of course." Matthew raised the small glass in the air, "Here is to Mary, who…" he caught her eye and he was suddenly at a loss for words.

How could someone glow in such a muted shadow?

"Who…"

There were so many things that he wanted to say to her, but nearly all of those confessions he couldn't let slip from his lips.

"Who…"

Mary's eyes soften and her face broke slightly and he knew that she understood his struggling mind.

The seconds that passed were lifetimes, but she remained before him, their eyes fused, their hearts tangled.

Matthew breathed for her and he finally found the words, "Who helped heal a broken family…" Mary's smile was true but sad, and he knew that he had to lighten the mood, "…and who can drink most men under the table." Her smile brightened with her laugh, "Happy Birthday Mary."

The clear bell of ringing glass echoed around them once more and the burn of the drink was not quite as strong.

The third and final shot was in his hand before the empty one was placed on the bar.

Mary held her final drink in the air and said, "I get to do the honors this time."

She flipped her dark hair over her shoulder and cleared her throat, "Here is to Ed and Matthew…" His heart was warm from the alcohol and the sound of his name on her lips, "…the first will get me very drunk and the second will make sure I don't do anything too stupid."

And the echo of 'cheers' was around them and their glasses were empty.

The alcohol was slowly making its way into his blood; his head becoming a little light, his eyes becoming a little hazy, and his body becoming a little brave. Matthew looked to the woman he loved; her complexion slightly flushed, her eyes slightly heavy, and her movements slightly delayed. They were both still in control of their bodies, but as the hours ticked by and the drinks continued added up, who knew what could become of them.

As soon as Edith finished her shot, she motioned for the nearest bartender and an unknown young man walked towards them.

"Hey Branson. Can I get…" Edith turned back to Mary and Matthew, "Would you two like another one?"

Mary laughed and said, "I think I better give it a minute or two."

Matthew agreed and Edith turned back to the bartender, "Alright, can I just get two Lemon Drops?"

The young man nodded and turned to make her drinks and Mary spoke again, "Ed, we said we didn't want another one yet."

Edith scrunched up her face and defended herself, "I know. I wasn't getting one for you."

A bit of haughtiness edge itself into Mary's voice, "Doubling up again?"

Edith rolled her eyes, "No, I'll be leaving you two alone for a bit." Edith moved to look over Matthew's shoulder and he didn't have to guess at who was somewhere behind him, "I plan on enjoy your birthday evening as well, and I've already picked myself out a very nice present."

Edith gave a small waved into the distance behind him and Mary turned just in time to see Ed's new friend wave back.

She turned back around and this time it was Mary who sighed dramatically, "Good Lord Ed! You've already got one picked out for the night?"

Edith was unashamed, "I have."

Mary's retort was quick, "Don't you know that it takes more than fucking a stranger to keep yourself warm at night?"

Matthew experienced whiplash from how quickly he turned to look at Mary. It's not like he'd never heard or inflected the four-letter word before (he often used it in times of anger or when the right adjective escaped him), but Matthew certainly had never heard it spoken so eloquently as it just was from Mary Crawley's mouth; Her velvet lips did the simple word a great service.

It took her a moment to register what had just slipped from her, but as soon as it did, Mary turned a wonderful shade of red and clutched an open palm over her mouth. She looked at him sheepishly and Matthew felt his eyes sparkle with humor.

Edith laughed loudest, standing as the young bartender returned with her drinks, "You see Matthew, when alcohol is involved, Mary becomes a bit more like her middle sister—honest and vulgar." Edith picked up the shots with another laugh, and planted a quick kiss on Mary's exposed, pink cheek, "But don't wear my personality for too long, Love," Ed gave Matthew a knowing look as she walked away from them, "…it'll get you into trouble."

In the absence of Edith's large character, the room around them suddenly felt very empty. There was a lingering moment of awkwardness as Mary passed in front of him to occupy Ed's vacant stool. Their knees brushed at their close proximity and Matthew could see the individual golden links that made up her necklace.

A cough issued from Matthew's side and he and Mary both turned to see the young bartender looking at them shamefully as he shouted over the music, "Umm…is Ed coming back to pay for those?"

"Oh, Branson. I'm so sorry…"

Mary started to apologize but Matthew cut her off by placing an open hand on her thigh, "No it's ok." He then turned to the young man, "Sorry about the confusion, but all of her drinks will be on my tab. It's up there already under Matthew Crawley. And while you are adding on Ed's drinks, could you please add on a couple more rounds of shots and take them to that table back there?" Matthew pointed over his shoulder to the rest of Mary's friends and family, before concluding, "You can make whatever you like just as long as it's smooth and strong."

Branson nodded and left them, and Matthew turned to find Mary looking at him in a bemused way, shaking her head slowly, "I knew that you would do this. You don't have to buy everyone's drinks Matthew."

The alcohol is his system was making his lips feel strange, "I know I don't have to, but I want to."

Was he talking loud? It seems like he was talking loud.

"Most of you are students and I remember what it was like going out and trying to have a good time while being in school." He laughed at the memory, "Some times I had to choose between alcohol and food…Alcohol often won out."

Her smile was shy but lovely, "Well thank you. It's very sweet of you."

Matthew suddenly became aware that his open palm was still on her leg. It was flushed and splayed, hot and needy, telling her of a desire that could not be spoken aloud.

Brave. The alcohol was making him feel so brave.

Mary did not lean away from his touch nor did she seem uncomfortable by their contact; she only remained still, breathing and holding his eyes, consenting to be with him amongst the crowd. He left his outstretched hand on her body for a moment longer before slowly pulling it away, his finger's tracing against the fibers of her clothing that shielded skin from skin.

His hand fell stiffly into his own lap and never had an open palm felt so entirely empty.

Matthew spoke against his disappointment and offered her another smile, "Don't thank me yet. I haven't given you your birthday present yet."

She sat up straighter, her interest peaked, though she tried to hide it, "You got me a gift?"

He looked at her disbelieving, "It's your birthday, Mary…Of course I got you a gift."

"I really hope it's not expensive."

He skirted around her question and only answered by saying, "I didn't spend a dime on it," He stood and edged around her, "but I left it at the table so I'll be back in a minute."

Matthew was back in thirteen seconds.

He resumed his seat across from her and the small package suddenly felt very insignificant in his grasp. He wanted to give her more than the material possessions of his earth; he wanted to give her passion and love, he wanted to give her the sands of time and the breaking heavens, he wanted to give her the sensation of being barefoot in soft grass and bottle up the warmth of the morning sun, he wanted to give her memories that would fuel nations and outlast life, he wanted to give her the exaltation of a life reborn…the same gift she unknowingly gave to him everyday.

But all Matthew had was the package in his hands, "This was given to me a couple years ago. I don't know its monetary value, but its true value is wasted on me…It's better in your keeping." He extended the gift bag towards her, "Happy Birthday, Mary."

The smile she wrought was his favorite and she fashioned it just for him.

"Thank you." She gingerly pulled the bag from his grasp and gave him small peaking looks of wonder as she started to remove colored tissue paper, a wide, curious smile stretched across her face.

Loosely crumpled balls of paper were tossed across the bar and littered onto the floor, and the beautiful smile fell quickly from Mary's face.

Wonder turned to shock in a moment and her wide eyes told of her disbelief. Her trembling hands pulled the gift from the bag, which fell, joining the forgotten tissue paper on the floor. She looked at the old book hungrily and handled it delicately, and Matthew knew she was controlling her breathing, afraid the simple push and pull of oxygen would damage it somehow.

She continued to occasionally glance at him from over the worn canvas cover, and her eyes traded astonishment for doubt, shock for uncertainty, and Matthew's only response was a growing smile. He had hoped she would react in this way. It was amusing and heartwarming to see her so blindsided and thunderstruck, but most of all, it was wonderful to be directly related to the source of her fascination and joy.

"Is…" her voice was broken, trembling with her excitement, "Is…Is this a first edition?"

Mary answered her own question as she turned over the aged stained cover and the first yellowing pages, revealing an elegant script and a date that read 1922.

"Oh my God." The statement was quite, breathless with her returned wonder, "I can't accept this."

His smirk went unseen by her, "I'd be incredibly offended if you didn't."

Mary's lips pulled into a smile, but her eyes were still wide with wonder, "I know you're lying…but I just don't care."

Matthew continued to watch her as Mary flipped through the pages, discovering the original illustrations, the occasional smug created by its first adolescent owner, and the wrinkles and creases that came with being nearly a century old. He sat before her, mesmerized by her lips as they moved against unheard words, and Matthew read the story of how a toy rabbit became real by witnessing the simple expressions on Mary's face.

The alcohol was continuing to inch up on him, slowly substituting desires for realties, and the space between himself and the woman he longed for suddenly seemed far too great.

He moved towards the edge of his seat and leaned in closer, tasting sugar and roses, and spoke over the crowd around them, "It seemed right that you should have this… and Quinn quite agreed."

At the mentioning of his daughter's name, Mary tore her gaze away from the children's book in her grasp, and fixed her eyes upon him.

And the earth opened up, the crowd of people around them fell away into a hazy mist, and they were completely alone.

They were so close; only inches separating heated eyes and parted mouths.

And in that moment, in that beautiful flash of time, with the light trapped in her eyes and the shadows at play across her skin, Matthew was overwhelmed by love.

The love in his chest broke free. It over overpowered him, extending to his limbs, to his vital organs, to his bones, to his brain, and he forgot the reasons to keep his distance. Love had beaten him. He should just give up and subside, cross into the short distance and bury his lips in her neck, her hair, and never would defeat feel so wonderful. He was captured and claimed, occupied and possessed, conquered by the gleam in her eye and the watercolors that bled from her cheeks.

The love was devastating and his lips trembled with the truth of it, and Matthew suddenly realized he could not hold back any longer.

He could blame it on the alcohol.

He could surrender to his desires, grasp her porcelain face in his burning hands and kiss the pain away.

And Mary would let him.

Matthew saw that clearly now. He saw the truth in his chest reflected in her dark eyes. It was buried deep, hidden behind words that were spoken long ago, covered with promises she longed to break, but he saw it so clearly now.

She couldn't hide it from him.

And she could blame it on the alcohol.

They could hit fast-forward and allow for the truth between them to be sped up. They could leave now and chase the moon outside of their windows, searching for a place to begin a life shared. They could fall into empty bed, tangle the sheets, tangle their limbs, tangle their hearts until it was impossible to separate man from woman, impossible to tell he from she.

They could face their inevitable future.

And they could blame it on the alcohol.

Mary moved towards him first, the toxins in her blood perhaps hotter than his, clouding her mind and making her brave.

Her eyes were heavy, weighed down by certainty of what was about to pass and Matthew closed his own, focusing all of this alcohol-muted senses to his lips, wanting to truly feel the untamed bliss of her.

His heart was pumping burning chemicals and water, and passage of time was beautifully slow.

And Matthew loved Mary more in those moments between seconds than most men did in a lifetime. How could his heart still possibly manage to beat when it was this consumed by love? Surely, it could not manage to pump life and also love this completely; surely, it could not do both. So Matthew would take the later. He'd take the consuming worship, because who needed something as minimal as a simple rhythm in your chest when there was the option to have love instead?

The warmth of her ascending body hit him like the first rays of sunlight and he was dowsed in her glow. Millimeters of air only separated them now and in the closing proximity she filled his nose and his lungs, and every breath that he breathed was done in her name.

Loving her was like being filled with everything that had ever spilled from him, and Matthew was over-flowing, bursting at the seams, happily drowning in his saturated heart.

Then there was the contact.

Then there was the meeting of flesh; the connection, the touch, the press.

Then there was the joining of the past and the future, creating a life changing present that transformed them both.

But something was wrong.

Something was off.

His lips remained tragically alone and unoccupied; she had missed her mark, landing too far to the right.

Her exhale was in his mouth but it had traveled across his skin, originating from his cheek. Mary's lips stayed there, soft and telling across his skin, leaving them both hopelessly unsatisfied.

Matthew opened his eyes and saw her dark head tilted, craning around to reach his profile, and the disappointment rained down on him, beating him to the ground.

His hopes and expectations mocked him afar and the world returned in an instant. The crowd assaulted his senses with deafening sounds and the sticky heat of unfamiliar bodies. The cruel world returned and it was painted in shades of gray; Matthew's surroundings were cinders, his body a pillar of ash.

Matthew gently leaned into the kiss that had thwarted him, pressing himself ever closer to her, trying desperately to cling to the fact that Mary's lips were on his flesh.

Her kiss lingered longer than it should have and they paid no attention to the effort used to lean away, and once they were apart, Matthew found that he could not look her in the eye.

Mary's voice was quiet in their mutual defeat, "Thank you for my gift Matthew."

He could still feel the ghost of her lips across his cheek and Matthew was choking on the things he could not say to her, but eventually he heard himself reply, "You're welcome."

"Matthew?" she called to him across the short distance and, because he could not deny her any wish, Matthew slowly dragged his defeated eyes up to swim in the depths of her gaze.

His torment was echoed back in her darkened eyes and Mary spoke with conviction, "We really need to talk." He felt his stomach drop, "Not tonight of course, but soon. There are certain things that we really can't leave…"

Mary's words were cut off as she was wrapped in the arms of another and Matthew felt another set of limbs reach around and grasp his chest and arms from behind.

"Hello!" The voice in his ear was familiar but it was slurred and wet with alcohol.

He turned and discovered Anna at his shoulder, noticing that her jacket was back on and her purse was in hand.

Across from him, Mary had extracted herself from Sybil's embrace and was now trying to understand her sister's broken speech, "We're ready to dance now. Let's go down the street and dance. Because it's your birthday and we should go to dance. Don't you want to dance on your birthday, Mary? But we don't want to wait and dancing is what we should do instead of waiting."

Matthew couldn't help himself from laughing at Sybil's drunk rambling and he and Mary both turned towards Anna, who was obviously in a better state for explanations.

"What Sybil is trying to say is that, if you're ready Mary, the rest of us are ready to go to the dance club. If we leave soon, it'll be nearly eleven by the time we get there and it'd be nice to beat the crowd so we don't have to wait outside."

Matthew looked around Anna and saw that their table was now occupied by another group of people.

Anna continued, "I've got your coat and the boys have your gifts, so, if you're ready of course, we are all ready to go."

It was quite obvious that everyone else was eager to get to their final destination and Mary wasn't going to disappoint them, even on a night that was suppose to be about her. Mary rose from her seat, "Of course I'm ready. We need to find Ed first but then we can get going."

Anna spoke again, "Why don't you two take Sybil out front, the other's are already out there, and I'll find Ed."

Mary nodded in agreement and turned towards Sybil. Mary spoke loudly to her sister, her words simple and her sentences concise, like she was speaking to a small child, "Alright darling, we are going to go dancing; just like you wanted. But as soon as we get there, I want you to drink two bottles of water. Can you do that for me?"

Sybil nodded silently, her eyes glazed over with alcohol and threw a loose and heavy arm over Mary's shoulder and, together, the sisters started walking towards the front entrance.

Matthew remained by the bar and before she got more than a few paces away, Mary turned back and looked at him questioningly.

He spoke over the thunderous crowd, "I'll be behind you in a minute. I just need to close my tab."

She smiled at him, "OK. Please tell Bates I said thanks and, Matthew…" the sound of his name on her lips stole the breath that he freely gave, "…I know that Ed will soon succeed in getting me very drunk, so I don't mean tonight, but sometime soon, we really need to talk about some…things."

And Matthew nodded wordlessly, knowing exactly what those 'things' were.

She was the fuel, he was the match, and the unsaid words and the unfulfilled actions that constantly hovered around them were a million different sparks that could ignite them in an instant, and it was only a matter of time before one caught, and it was only a matter of time before their world would be engulfed in the flames that they smothered with realities but fanned with longings.

Mary spoke again, "I'll meet you outside."

And before she turned away from him, Sybil still hanging off her body at an awkward angle, Mary held him in her gaze for a moment longer and Matthew's eyes reflected off of her porcelain skin, showing her the color of love.

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I hope you enjoyed this chapter and, again, I apologize for errors and for the epic length.

I know that the beginning (Anna and Quinn helping Matthew with his outfit) was an event that didn't really need to be told but when I started writing this chapter (over 6 weeks ago) the idea came to me and I enjoyed writing it so much that I left it in.

I also really enjoyed creating Edith's character. I envision Ed to be the type of person that says what she really thinks and it was fun to write her dialogue. Having that said, I wouldn't suggest for people to practice Edith's sexual looseness, but, nevertheless, there are people who actively partake in the "hooking up" lifestyle and I decided to make Ed one of those people. It's not for me, but, to each his own.

Part 2 will include everything else that I promised you last time, including sexed up, but not pornographic, dancing and an early morning confession of desires.

Thank you so much for the continued support on here and also on tumblr. For reasons that many of you know, it's been difficult to continue writing this story, but as long as there is someone out there to read it, I'll keep on writing.

Leave me with your thoughts. Thanks again.

Cheers.