Hello again! Sorry this chapter took longer than the previous one. I was away last week visiting a friend (who just had the cutest baby ever!) and I didn't have time to finish writing/proof it until recently and fell super behind! And thanks so much to all of you who've reviewed so far! It's very encouraging to see them and I really appreciate it, especially considering the continuing angst. :) :) :) Just trust me on this, it'll be totally worth it.

Also, there are a few show quotes that I've pulled from The Astronaut Wives Club (episode 1 only, I think) and those have been italicized.

Thanks again for reading and I hope you enjoy this next chapter!

Chapter Three

April 10, 1959

"Susan, George, get in here and brush your teeth please," Mary called into the front room where the children were watching cartoons.

Matthew had already left for Langley that morning, the men always needing to be there early for some debriefing or photo op or something that he rarely shared with her. Not that she could entirely blame him. There was a lot on his mind, she wasn't surprised he didn't feel like telling her things. Not with the way things were between them.

But now she was left to follow behind and finish getting the children ready for the day of more photos, interviews, and their fake lives.

She listened for a moment, but heard no movement from the other side except for the sound of George's football against the coffee table.

"Do it now," she called again, finding her pearl necklace and fastening the clasp behind her neck. "George, Susan!"

The two scampered in at long last, but hesitated as they looked at her.

"Come on, in you go," Mary told them. "We've got to meet Daddy soon."

They looked at one another with uncertainty and after a moment Mary crouched down in front of them, her brow knit together in concern.

"What is it, my dears?" she asked, balancing precariously in one-inch heels that matched her light teal dress. The people at LIFE had requested the wives wear pastels for the shoot and it was the closest thing she had.

"Do you hate Daddy?" Susan asked without warning.

Mary felt deflated as she looked between the two of them, saw the worry in their eyes.

"Of course not, sweetheart," Mary said, feeling the honesty of her words even though she had no way of proving it to him or their children.

"You yell at each other a lot," George said, glum.

Mary wished the walls in the room were thicker. Although she figured you'd need eight feet of solid concrete to block out her shouting matches with Matthew at times.

"We don't always agree on everything," she began, treading carefully, "but that doesn't mean we hate each other. And we both love you two very, very much. You know that, don't you?"

"Yes, Mommy," Susan said and George nodded in agreement.

"Come here," Mary said, gently drawing them to her chest. She pressed a quick kiss to each of their foreheads. "I love you so much, my dears."

"I love you, too," George said.

"Love you, Mommy," Susan replied, clinging to Mary with extra force.

"Now how about you two get in there and brush those teeth so we can meet Daddy at the base?"

"Alright, Mommy," George agreed, heading for the bathroom after Mary ruffled his hair.

"That's my boy," she said with a smile, but Susan's arms remained tight around Mary's neck as her brother disappeared from view. "What is it, peanut?" Mary asked as the little girl sniffed against Mary's neck.

"I miss Daddy," she sobbed.

"Sweetheart, we're going to see Daddy very soon," Mary assured her, pulling back so Susan could see her face.

"I miss him all the time," the little girl cried, crocodile tears pouring from her eyes.

Mary's heart felt as though it was being pulled from her chest and run over by a car.

"Shh, I know, peanut, I know," Mary said, kissing her daughter's forehead. "If you stop crying, we'll get to see Daddy even sooner."

Susan sniffed.

"Do you miss Daddy, Mommy?" she asked, tearfully.

Mary felt caught. She didn't want to lie to her daughter, she'd been avoiding that with every question from her children over the past year regarding their father. But the truth was complicated. And something Mary didn't even understand herself lately was her own feelings for Matthew.

My husband.

One minute she wanted to strangle him, the next they were laughing as though nothing was wrong. And other times she wished she could kiss him, that she could lie in his arms and never be let go.

Did she miss him? God, did she.

"Brush your teeth, please," Mary said, unable to say the words, for if she just kept them hidden, perhaps she could convince herself that they weren't true.

She tapped Susan on the bottom to send her off, the little girl scrambling into the bathroom, tears subsiding as she giggled at something George was doing.

"Quickly please," Mary requested, righting herself in order to check her hair in the mirror above the dresser.

Satisfied that the clips still holding her curls in place, Mary fixed her lipstick, meeting her eyes in the reflection as she secured the cap. She hated how stern she looked and released a sigh in the hope that it would relax her. But her expression remained unchanged and she wondered how she was supposed to do an interview and take more photos like this.

"George! You're not supposed to use that as a potty!" Susan's voice shrieked and Mary tore herself away from the mirror, heels clicking as she stepped into the bathroom to see George using the now bathtub as though it were a urinal. Susan had just flushed the toilet and was looking at her brother with a very alarmed expression.

"George, what on earth?" Mary questioned, but immediately erupted in a fit of giggles that Susan joined in.

"Susie was using the potty and I had to go," he complained, zipping his pants up. He broke into a grin as his mother laughed. "You're not mad at me?"

"No," Mary assured him, her thoughts drifting to who would be using the bathtub as a bed again. "I'm not mad, but try not to do it again, dear."

With a ruffle of George's hair, Mary smiled. She couldn't wait to see the look on Matthew's face when she told him.

The men had yet to arrive at the designated meeting area near Langley, at a spot along the Back River. Susan's blonde curls whipped about the wind, prompting Mary to wish she'd given her daughter a pair of braids rather than the matching bob she'd begged Mary for after seeing her mother's hairstyle. She sat to the side with Susan after straightening the little girl's dress following a tumble that was mostly caused by her brother when he'd kicked his football at her and she'd tripped over it, leading to a scraped knee and a few more tears to punctuate their morning.

George was now playing with some of the other boys and a few rougher girls, although all the mothers were anxious that none of them tear their clothes or cover themselves in dirt.

"Why the men can't be on time like the rest of us is beyond me."

Mary looked up from her seat on a bench, resting her cheek on the top of Susan's head as the little girl watched the game of tag before them. Sybil Branson gave Mary a smile as she sat at her side. The other wives were milling about in small groups, although Mary had found it easier to sit alone.

"Love your dress," Sybil said. "And yours too, Susan," which brought a smile to the little girl's face.

"I'm sure NASA thinks there are more important things to worry about than whether or not they're wasting our time," Mary said with a flick of her eyebrows.

"That's what Tom seems to think. He's not worried at all if my hair falls out before any photos are taken. Were you seeing spots yesterday, too?" Sybil asked with a laugh. "It felt like I was being followed by paparazzi even in my dreams."

"I hardly think it's too much to ask for us to look our best at all times."

Both Mary and Sybil turned their attention to Mabel Gillingham, wife of Lieutenant Commander Tony Gillingham. Mary had disliked her since their first meeting, and she sensed the feeling was mutual. Some of the other wives had already taken to jokingly calling Mrs. Gillingham "Lady Mabel," as she always seemed the picture of elegance. Mary half-wondered why it hadn't been given to herself, although she was sure a nickname from the other wives would be something they would try to keep from her.

"Oh, I wasn't saying that," Sybil said, unmistakable honesty in her tone. "Just that my hair doesn't seem to like this Virginia wind."

Mabel smiled slightly, but her eyes hardened as she looked at Mary, who was now sure of Mabel's dislike.

"Is it really a waste of our time if it benefits our husbands?" she asked.

Mary refrained, somehow, from rolling her eyes. She'd heard enough about Lt. Commander Gillingham to know that if womanizing was a contest, he would have crossed the finish line hours before any of the other men had even left the starting point. Either Mabel didn't know (which Mary found rather unlikely), she didn't care, or chose to ignore it. But she didn't need to add any fuel to someone else's marital troubles. She had enough of her own.

"I meant it was a waste of this gorgeous day," Mary corrected, squinting in the sunlight. She'd forgotten her sunglasses in the hotel. Unfortunately. "I know my son has been aching to get out on the water. Not much of that in Ohio."

"Oh, I'm sure," Mabel said, although Mary could tell she didn't believe her. "You know, my Tony says your husband's the real competition," Mabel said, a bit more gracious now, although Mary wasn't sure why.

This made Mary laugh as Rose and Lavinia approached, apparently interested in the growing throng.

"Oh, my," Mary said, feigning surprise, "actually, Matthew doesn't have any competition."

Out of the corner of her eye, Mary saw Lavinia cover her mouth to hide a smile while Rose coughed to hide her amusement. Apparently arrogance was a Crawley family trait.

"I think you're mistaken about that," Mabel replied, cool.

"Matthew tells me that Lieutenant Gillingham is a desk jockey," Mary said knowingly.

"Tony has a desk at fleet command because he's on track to become an admiral," Mabel retorted.

"Matthew doesn't care about rank," Mary told her honestly. "All he cares about is how many flying hours he gets. He has over 3,000."

"Tony's had nearly five," Mabel replied.

She had her there.

"Well, I think it's just astounding the way that Tom Branson flew across the country at supersonic speed," Rose interjected and Sybil laughed.

"He's not even your husband," she said with a smile, clearly flattered.

"But I still think it's amazing, and you can tell him I said that," Rose replied. "Absolutely amazing."

"Will do," Sybil agreed.

Mabel looked livid. She sauntered off, heels clicking on the pavement and Sybil snorted.

"She's just sore because I heard her husband was chosen last for the program," she said. "And Captain Crawley was first."

"It's not as though they aren't all qualified," Mary said, hearing the sound of car engines roaring. "But who goes up first isn't up to us."

The sight of seven brightly colored Corvettes prompted all the ladies and most of the children forward, Susan jumping up and down excitedly as the cars were parked and the men appeared from the driver's side.

"Daddy!" Susan called out and Mary allowed her to break away this time, as the cars were all turned off. She slowly made her way to Matthew, who had gotten out of the red Corvette. He tilted a pair sunglasses up on his head before catching Susan in his arms.

"Oh, God, new toys," Rose said, casting a look of camaraderie at Mary as she stood.

Mary hated to admit that she couldn't wait for a ride in the new toy.

"I guess this is what you get when you're an astronaut," Mary said to Rose, who kept back with Mary as the others walked to their men. "Fame and free cars."

"I guess so," Rose replied, then beginning in an undertone, "I must admit, Mary, I was rather surprised to see you here. Not that I'm not glad to see a friend."

Mary felt buoyed by that.

"Thanks," she said, sighing as they followed after the others. "NASA wants happy families, so that's what they're going to get from the Crawleys. Matthew may be full of himself-"

"That's why they call them ass-tronauts," Rose teased and Mary laughed.

"But he deserves to be here," Mary said and Rose nodded. "As long as I play nice, maybe one day it'll be me going into space."

Rose scoffed, looking doubtful. "I know Matthew lets you fly around in that little plane of yours-"

"Lets me?" Mary interrupted, but Rose continued.

"-but pigs will fly in space before women do."

"Well, pigs have flown in space...at least dogs have, mice, rabbits, even fruit flies," Mary corrected. "Chimps. Come on, Rose, it's 1959. It's our time."

"Maybe," she agreed, still skeptical, but Mary could tell the other woman was giving in. Rose smiled. "I hope so, anyway."

"What's all this?" Anna questioned as the seven wives approached, Mary and Rose finally catching up.

"Gifts from LIFE," Captain Bates informed them all. "You ladies will have a surprise, too."

Mary approached her husband, admiring his new car.

"Is this what the seven of you have been doing all morning, hot shot? Tearing about Hampton in your new wheels?" Mary asked, laying a hand on the car's hood and trying not to salivate all over it. God, it's pretty.

"Watch the paint job," Matthew said, a teasing note in his voice as he leaned forward to kiss her cheek. Mary's heart fluttered at his touch. "That and talking to a few of the higher ups about what does and doesn't go during the interviews."

"Anything I need to know?" she asked.

"How to drive stick," he joked, setting Susan on her feet. "Go play with the others, peanut," Matthew told the girl and Mary sensed he needed a moment alone with just her.

"I can handle a stick-shift," Mary replied as they watched Susan bound away. "I'm guessing my surprise isn't going to be as fun as yours?" she questioned, wondering what the odds were that Matthew would let her take a spin in his new car.

"Probably something that fits more than just two people," he said, grinning. "Something with four doors and enough room for groceries. But I'll take you out in mine."

Mary snorted.

"And what about the interview?" she asked finally, pushing away thoughts of getting behind the wheel herself.

Matthew looked more serious now, his eyes darting to the others to be sure no one was too close.

"I spoke to Mr. Davis privately and he said that it, our situation, can't get out. We have to be happy, have to be in love," he told her. "Just...pretend like you love me."

Mary rolled her eyes, but her thoughts drifted to the events of the morning, the worries of their children.

"I actually need to tell you something," she said quietly, laying a hand on his arm as she moved closer to him. She hoped the gesture would be taken as a moment of tenderness by the others.

Matthew stared at her fingers for a few moments, perplexed, before finally meeting her eyes.

"What is it, baby?" Matthew asked, the term of endearment causing that flutter again, one she knew would return over and over again the course of the afternoon. Along with her irritation and exhaustion.

"This morning George and Susan asked if I hate you," Mary breathed as nearby a NASA representative called for all the families' to gather up before the people from LIFE arrived. Mary ignored him, instead watching as Matthew swallowed, his expression pained.

"What did you say?" he asked, voice barely above a whisper.

"That I don't," was all she could say as the rep shouted for attention again, louder this time, as the parents called for their children to join them.

Matthew only looked back at her for a moment, as he was then prompted to guide her over to the others, his arm around her waist as the children gathered up after some intense prodding. Susan insisted her father pick her up again, separating him from his wife as he held their daughter. She ignored her disappointment, which she found irrational anyway, placing her hands on George's shoulders as the rep began his speech.

"Who's ready to be seen by the world?" he asked, cheerful.

Mary cast a glance at her husband and was taken aback to discover that he had already been looking at her. She swallowed hard, worried.

More posing for photographs, more mingling with the others, watching them make it through their photos and twenty minute interviews. Somehow, Mary and Matthew were the last pair to undergo the interrogation, Susan and George growing increasingly weary in the course of a few hours. Mary wondered if George or his sister would burst into tears first.

"George, just sit here and hold the ball, don't throw it," Mary said, trying to corral her children for the photographer.

"Why don't we have little Susan on Captain Crawley's lap?" the man asked as Mary sat beside George and flattened out her skirt.

"Sure," Matthew agreed, sitting on the bench by Mary, holding out his arms to Susan.

Susan climbed into his lap, although Mary could sense she was in desperate need of a nap, the activity of the day and a big lunch mixing into a mood that often resulted in a tantrum from the normally sweet little girl. Matthew smiled at her and Susan smiled back, still looking tired but more content in her father's arms.

Thank God, Mary thought.

"Alright, now look at the camera," the photographer said, clearly exhausted by the day himself. "Smile."

Mary plastered her grin on and attempted to make her eyes as non-threatening as possible while Matthew's arm slipped around her waist and he pulled her in close. The shutter clicked a handful of times.

"Alright, um, Mrs. Crawley, why don't you look at the Captain in this shot?" he suggested.

"What would you like my expression to be?" Mary asked, unsure.

"Um, adoring," the man said.

Not at all pleased with this direction, Mary tilted her head to look at Matthew, her eyes fixing on his cheek. She gave it her best shot, her thoughts drifting to the new Corvette she might still be able to wrangle Matthew into letting her drive. The camera clicked some more, the photographer apparently pleased with this shot.

"Now look at each other, kids just keep smiling at me," he directed.

Matthew turned to Mary, shifting back slightly in his seat. He met her eyes with a smile, Mary amazed by how at ease he looked, how real it all seemed. She knew the public would eat it up, stories of astronauts in love, but she was more astonished that she almost bought it too.

"And then, Mrs. Crawley, look here while the Captain looks at you."

Breaking eye contact with Matthew was difficult, with Mary rather confused by the hold he seemed to have on her. After spending so much time apart, she realized there was still a part of her that she'd never gotten back from him and probably never would.

Her eyes stung as she looked at the camera, although she hoped it would be disguised as happiness rather than what it was. Confusion.

The last few shots were taken quickly, one of just Mary and the children and then Matthew with them.

"And a last one with the two of you," the photographer requested as the children sat to the side watching them. "Just look like you're talking about something, having a laugh."

Mary disguised a sigh as she sat by Matthew again, while he took her hands in his without any direction to do so.

"What should we be talking about?" Mary asked, her eyes flicking from the photographer to Matthew, feeling self-conscious as their children looked on. She was so aware of what they must think, what they must be feeling over all of this, she could hardly function.

"Oh, just anything," the man suggested unhelpfully.

"Tell me that one joke you know," Matthew suggested with a roguish grin.

"I know more than one joke," Mary retorted, trying to ignore the sound of the camera clicking. It seemed as though the photographer was bent on taking a thousand shots of this last pose.

"You only know one," he teased, his fingers lightly caressing her skin. "Unless you've picked up a couple more in the last few days. I know Rose is rather witty."

Mary didn't roll her eyes at this, although she desperately wanted to, for fear of ruining the shot. She wanted this to be over as soon as possible.

"Where would an astronaut park his space ship?" Mary asked.

Matthew chuckled, noting that it was in fact a new joke. Or at least a stupid one.

"That's assuming that the craft has some sort of-"

"Matthew," she protested, keeping her own smile in place.

"I don't know, where?" he questioned.

"At a parking meteor," she replied.

After a moment's hesitation, he chuckled.

"Did you see that on a cereal box?" he questioned, leaning closer to her.

"It was in the newspaper," Mary replied, that cloudy feeling returning to her mind while her heart skipped a few beats. "Everyone else seems to be obsessed with astronauts, too."

Matthew laughed again, quickly touching his lips to the tip of her nose while the camera continued to go off.

Pulse pounding in her ears, Mary held her breath.

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