Author's Note: Thank you all so much for the kind reviews!

Chapter 12: Confrontation

Micky inspected the key in his hand to make sure he had the right room before walking up and quietly putting the key in the lock. The door was loud when he opened it, though, so he made sure to ease into the room. He didn't want Heather to know it was him and run. He looked around and noticed that the bathroom door was shut and the light was on. Heather was in there. He shut the door and walked into the room carefully. When he looked around the room, he saw clothes scattered in various places and a shiny aluminum baseball bat by her bed. Micky crossed the room and picked it up.

"Mike?" Heather called from the bathroom. "That was fast. Just sit on the bed. I'll be out in a minute." Micky didn't answer, but gripped the bat in his hand and sat on the edge of the bed. Waiting. Finally she came out of the bathroom, she froze when she saw him instead of Mike.

"Hello, Heather," Micky said standing up. "Long time no see."

"Micky!?" she exclaimed backing away a little. "What...what are you doing here? How did you get in?"

"You gave me a key," Micky said showing her the shiny hotel room key.

"No, I gave Mike a key," Heather said. "Where's Mike?"

"Mike's not coming," Micky said advancing on her a little. "I came in his place. You need to stay away from him."

"I'll do whatever I want, Micky," she argued. "You and Mike are still living together? Weren't you planning on moving out?"

"I was never planning on moving out," Micky said. "I was looking for a bigger place for us. Away from you."

"So protective," Heather said. "It doesn't matter anyway. Leave, Micky, and give the key to Mike. It's his decision whether or not he wants to talk to me."

"I don't think so," Micky said. "You need to stay away from him. Do you have any idea what you did to him?"

"I owe him an explanation; you know with that anger you remind me of dad," Heather said. The rage and anger Micky felt surging through him exploded. He grabbed her shoulder and threw her against the wall. She tried to fight him off, but he grabbed the bat and pushed it against her neck cutting off her airway.

"You were too damn chicken shit to explain anything to him 4 years ago!" Micky exclaimed. "You don't have the right to do it now! You destroyed him and it took everything I had to keep him from killing himself! How dare you walk back into his life now thinking you can make everything better!?"

"Micky!" he heard Mike exclaim as he thrust the door open. "Get off her!" Micky didn't look, but felt three sets of hands around him pulling him away from Heather. When the bat was pulled away from her neck, she dropped to the ground coughing and gasping with her hand grasping at her throat. Micky saw Sarah kneel down next to her to see if she was ok as Mike pulled the bat from Micky's hand.

"Micky, are you crazy!?" Heather exclaimed through gasps. "You could have killed me!"

"Shut up!" Micky roared.

"Micky, sit!" Mike ordered pushing him back towards the bed and taking a stance between him and Heather. Peter and Davy still held firmly onto Micky's shoulders as they pulled him onto the bed. "What are you doing?!"

"Why are you here?" Micky demanded ignoring Mike's question. "You should be at home with Sarah."

"I don't know, Micky," Mike said sarcastically, "I guess I kinda thought you were going to do something stupid like try and kill Heather."

"I wasn't going to kill her," Micky mumbled.

"Fine, whatever," Mike said. "You were just choking her with a bat!"

"She pissed me off," Micky answered.

"Alright, take him home," Mike said to Davy and Peter.

"I'm not going home!" Micky exclaimed trying to jump up only to be pulled back down by Davy and Peter. "You really going to stay here?! To talk to her?"

"I have to, Micky," Mike said. "I'm a big boy. I can take care of myself. I need answers."

"She's a liar, Mike!" Micky exclaimed.

"It's his decision, Micky," Heather said. "He's a big boy."

"Shut up," Micky yelled. "You think I'm stupid? That I didn't figure out what kind of game you were playing?!"

"Micky, stop!" Mike yelled. "Look, I appreciate that you're trying to look out for me, but I can take care of myself. I need this, Micky."

"She's playing with you," Micky said.

"I'm not playing any game, Micky," Heather snapped. "I told you that before."

"Stop," Mike said. "Both of you! Micky, I'm staying and I'm talking to Heather. Take him home, Peter."

"Fine," Micky said getting up. Before leaving, he turned and glared at Heather. "If you do anything to hurt him, I swear to God they won't be able to pull me off you again."

"Not sure I'd want to," Micky heard Davy mutter softly, though he still dragged Micky out of the hotel room nonetheless.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Micky asked when they got to the car. "Sarah is in no condition to be going anywhere!"

"Mike said he was worried you'd do something stupid," Peter said nervously. "We wanted to make sure you didn't do something bad."

"Which you were," Sarah said.

"I had things under control," Micky snarled. "You should have stayed home, Sarah. You need to rest."

"Micky, I'm fine," Sarah said even though she sat down weakly. "I was more worried about you."

"Why did you guys even tell Mike?" Micky demanded giving up on Sarah knowing she was stubborn and he couldn't win. "You promised me you wouldn't say anything."

"Actually we technically didn't promise you anything," Davy said. "You told us not to, but we never told you we wouldn't. You just assumed we wouldn't."

"I really wish you had listened to me," Micky said. "She nearly destroyed Mike. He shouldn't be dealing with this."

"Mike told us what happened," Davy said. "That he felt horrible when she left him."

"Did he tell you what he did?" Micky asked.

"No," Peter said. "What did he do?"

"He tried to kill himself," Micky sighed. "He drank an entire bottle of whisky, got drunk and slit his wrist."

"What!?" Peter exclaimed.

"Where did he even get whiskey?" Davy asked.

"It was mine," Micky said. "Not that it really matters. What matters is that she toyed with him and nearly killed him. And now he's in there alone with her. You thought I was going to do something stupid; I'm more worried for him."

"You really don't trust her?" Peter asked casting a worried glance back at the hotel room. "Mike said she was the one member of your family you could trust."

"Mike told you she's my sister, huh?" Micky asked somewhat surprised.

"Yeah," Davy said. "Said he felt bad about it and that's why you didn't want them seeing each other."

"That's not why," Micky sighed. "I didn't want him seeing her because I knew this would happen."

"You really think he's going to fall back in love with her again," Davy asked.

"I don't know, Davy," Micky said. "But I wouldn't put it past her to try and seduce him again."

"So what do we do?" Davy asked.

"We do exactly what he told us to do," Sarah said. "We take Micky home."

"But we can't just let him do this," Peter said. "We can't let her hurt him again."

"He's a big boy," Sarah said. "Like he said. He can make his own decisions. Besides, I think I need to lie down."

"You ok?" Micky asked rushing to her side.

"Yeah, just tired and a little dizzy," Sarah answered.

"That's because you need to be in bed resting," Micky said.

"Well, I would be if you hadn't gone off and tried to kill your sister," Sarah chastised. Micky felt a small twinge of guilt knowing his friends were just trying to do the right thing. He really shouldn't have come here. He should have just thrown the key in the ocean and never spoke a word of it to Mike. With one last glance at the hotel room, he could only hope Mike would keep a level head and not get hurt again. But he doubted that would happen. His sister was quite the masterful manipulator. She had learned from the best: their mother.

"Ok, start talking," Mike said locking the door behind Micky in case Micky changed his mind and came back.

"Sit down, Mike," Heather said as he turned back to face her. He almost couldn't look at her. Seeing her beautiful face and beautiful eyes. It was just as he remembered her the last time he saw her; falling asleep in his arms the night before they were supposed to get married.

"I'll stand," Mike said wishing this conversation would just be quick. His eyes fell to her neck as she rubbed it gently. He could already see the bruise forming there from Micky. "Are you sure you're ok?"

"I'm fine," Heather said walking over to a fridge in the corner of the room. "Wouldn't be the first time someone did that to me. Just never thought it would be my own brother."

"Yeah, well, he was trying to defend me," Mike said watching her pull a bottle of alcohol out of the fridge.

"I didn't realize the two of you were that close," she said pouring the whiskey into two small glasses.

"We weren't until..." Mike trailed off and forced himself to look away from her. He wanted to tell her that he didn't want anything to drink, but felt a small burning at the back of his throat. He was getting sick to his stomach just standing here. The only reason he'd stayed was to get answers from her on why she left and she was making small talk.

"Until I left?" she said handing him a glass. Despite the voice in the back of his head telling him not to, he took it from her and took a sip. It burned going down his throat, but somehow he felt less sick. "Amazing how that worked. People are brought together in times of great pain. I'm glad you had him, though. To help you."

"He wouldn't have had to help me with anything if you'd stayed, Heather," Mike said taking another sip.

"I suppose not," Heather said falling silent.

"You said you were going to explain," Mike said downing the rest of the whiskey. "Start explaining."

"It's a lot to explain, Mike," she sighed and grabbed the bottle to refill Mike's glass. "Why don't you sit down."

"Fine," Mike said reluctantly letting her refill his glass. Half of him was yelling at him to stop drinking and the other half was saying this was the only way to numb the pain he was surely about to feel. He crossed over to the bed and sat down waiting.

"I'm not really sure how to even start this," Heather said pacing a little. "I mean, I've gone through it in my head dozens of times before coming here, but now none of it seems good enough."

"I don't think it's going to be good enough any way you say it," Mike said.

"Right," Heather agreed before taking a deep breath. "I guess there's really no good way, so here goes. I left because I didn't want to hurt you. I got into some trouble and didn't want to drag you down with me."

"Trouble?" Mike asked. "You know I would have helped you."

"It wasn't really the kind of trouble you could help me with," she said. "I spent several months in jail."

"What?!" Mike asked jumping up in surprise. "Why were you in jail?"

"I got caught on the job," Heather answered. "Lined up the wrong client."

"What are you talking about?" Mike asked confused. "You were a cocktail waitress."

"Micky never told you?" Heather looked at him in surprise. "Well, that's interesting."

"Told me what?" Mike asked.

"Micky said if I didn't tell you the truth, he would," Heather said. "I just assumed that since I couldn't bring myself to do it that he did."

"Heather," Mike warned.

"I wasn't a waitress, Mike," she said. "I was a dancer."

"A dancer?" Mike asked. "Please tell me you were a backup dancer or something."

"No," Heather said.

"Damnit, Heather, you were a stripper?!" Mike yelled feeling weak in the knees.

"Mike, I'm sorry," Heather said. "I should have told you, but I didn't want to hurt you."

"How did that get you in trouble with the law?" Mike sighed and sat back down wanting to move on. He was upset, more than upset, but he was starting to feel a little dizzy and just wanted to go home. He went to take another sip, but realized his glass was empty again. "Stripping isn't exactly illegal."

"Well, um," she said filling up his glass again. "We had this back room reserved for private performances."

"Private performances?" Mike asked a little confused before it finally clicked. "Oh god. You...you..."

"Mike, I'm sorry," Heather said desperately. "Micky found out about it and he told me to tell you, but I just couldn't. I was so ashamed and I didn't want to hurt you."

"If you were ashamed, why the hell did you do it!?" Mike yelled jumping up again. As soon as he did, he almost fell over, but caught himself.

"What else was I supposed to do, Mike?" Heather asked. "It's all I know. It's all I'm good at, Mike. I tried the waitress thing, but I couldn't hack it. I wasn't making nearly enough to support myself. It's not like mom and dad gave me anything when I left!"

"Micky and I managed just fine!" Mike argued.

"You had skills, Mike," Heather said. "Sex was the only thing I knew. It was all I was good at. Hell, what did you expect coming from where I did? Did you expect us all to just be ok? Micky has problems with the bottle."

"Had," Mike corrected. "He stopped drinking after you left. He made a promise to me to get better. It took a lot, but he finally got to a point where he could sleep at night without it."

"Why do you think I'm doing this, Mike?" she asked. "I went to therapy after jail. I worked to better myself. One of the things they said I had to do was make amends. I don't expect you to forgive me, Mike, but I had to tell you why I left. I was terrified of dragging you down with me. I loved you so much, I didn't want to hurt you."

"You actually did a pretty good job of doing that," Mike said. "And no, I can't forgive you, Heather. It would have been easier for me to deal with if you'd told me the truth from the start. Do you have any idea what I've been through? I tried to kill myself. I drank. I haven't been able to have a single relationship with anyone since you left. Every time I think about it, I remember what it was like to wake up so happy and ready to marry the woman I love only to be completely crushed to find her gone. No note, no good-bye, nothing! The night before we were supposed to get married, for Christ's sake!"

"Mike, I really didn't mean to hurt you..." Heather started.

"What the hell did you think would happen!?" Mike demanded advancing on her a little. His head was spinning and it took all the strength he had to keep from falling over. Looking down at the glass in his hand, he realized it was empty again. He threw it against the wall before she could fill it up again. He needed to keep his head clear if he was going to deal with this.

"Of course I knew it would hurt, Mike," she said softly. "But I was scared. I was looking at going to jail and you deserved so much better than to deal with that. Who wants a wife who's in jail for something like that?"

"Yes, I would have been upset, but at least I would have known the truth this whole time," Mike said. "At least I would have had a choice in the matter."

"Would you have still married me?" Heather asked. "If I had told you the truth back then, would you have married me?"

"I don't know," Mike admitted. "It's pretty difficult to wrap my head around the fact that the woman I loved took her clothes off for a room full of strangers and then had sex with them for money in some sleazy back room. The point is, I would have been able to make the choice back then."

"Mike, are you ok?" Heather asked eyeing him. He wasn't really sure if he was or not. His head had begun pounding and he felt like he'd fall over any second.

"I don't know," Mike answered.

"Sit down," Heather said pushing him back towards the bed. "Maybe I shouldn't have given you so much to drink."

"I shouldn't have had any of it," Mike admitted.

"Mike, I really am sorry," she said sitting down on the bed next to him. "I just had to talk to you. My therapist said it was part of the healing process for me. I was scared of hurting you. I was ashamed of what I was doing and I didn't want to drag you down with me. You'd gone through so much and overcome so much. I was scared if I told you the truth, it would only drag you down and that wasn't fair. I really did love you. I still do. I never stopped."

"Heather," Mike sighed.

"Mike, I told you that I don't expect you to forgive me," Heather continued. "I don't expect anything from you."

"You know what the funny thing is," Mike said. "I never stopped loving you either. I've hated what you did to me, but I never stopped loving you." Before he realized what he was doing, he leaned over and kissed her. He half expected her to fight back, but she didn't. She leaned into it further. Since he met no resistance, he pushed her back on the bed and straddled her. His mind told him to stop; that he was making a huge mistake, but he couldn't help himself. He moved to kiss her neck as he unbuttoned her shirt. He moved lower, kissing in between her breasts as she pulled at his shirt to yank it off him.

He messed with the clasp on her bra until he slipped it off and continued kissing her. Again, his mind screamed at him to stop. But it was like there was a disconnect between his mind and the rest of his body. She moaned underneath him as he pulled her nipple into his mouth and worked on undoing her jeans. He finally got her jeans undone and slid them and her underwear down her legs taking her shoes off with them. He returned to kiss her neck before capturing her beautiful lips in his. She moaned again as his fingers found their way between her legs.

He really wasn't sure what he was doing. His body was almost acting of it's own accord. His head was throbbing and he felt like throwing up but he didn't stop what he was doing. His mind was a fog and his vision started to blur. All he saw was her. Beautiful and moaning beneath him almost begging him for more. He obliged and let her unbutton his pants. He stood up and slipped his pants off after pulling his boots off. She had moved further up the bed and lay there waiting for him. Mike climbed on top of her again and kissed her deeply. It didn't have the same passion as it used to. This was more just about getting the job done. Mike teased her a little until he was sure she was wet enough before guiding himself deep inside her.

She cried out in shock and ecstasy as he buried himself deep inside her. His brain was screaming at him to stop now. Screaming at him that this was a truly horrible idea. But again, his body wouldn't listen to his mind. He rocked back and forth against her until he felt a pull at the back of his loins. He didn't even see her anymore. His mind was full of haze and his vision was fading in and out. He barely heard her scream out in ecstasy as she exploded and scratched her nails down his back. He exploded a few seconds later as she tightened around him and threw his head back with one final thrust into her before collapsing on the bed next to her.

Neither of them said a word, but Mike couldn't have understood what she said anyway. The thoughts in his brain started swirling around in a jumbled mess. He couldn't make sense of anything other than the pain in his head, the weakness in his legs and the nausea in his gut. He didn't have long to focus on the feelings, however, as he soon found himself starting to black out. He closed his eyes and succumbed to the darkness.