The Memoirs

It was hot. Really... really hot. Like, unspeakably hot. Pete had woken up that morning drenched in sweat, which was probably the grossest way to wake up after all, and had climbed out of his slimy sheets to find the rest of the house in the same fashion. He'd flicked the AC on but it hadn't really helped--apparently it was busted or filled with dust or God knew what else, so Dogwood and his dad would be looking at it.

Until then, Pete pulled his jeans on, tugged a t-shirt on, and at six thirty in the morning found himself in the deliciously cool, drafty old castle under warm covers and around his warm, toasty little girlfriend. Which actually felt fucking fantastic.

He hadn't woken her up, for which he was grateful, and he was completely passed out asleep, snoring softly against her neck.

Shayla's room had been a little worse for wear since the last time Pete had seen it, but that was okay. Her clothes hadn't been put away quite as neatly, her dresser drawers were crammed to overflowing and she didn't quite care.

What she did care about is that Pete was in bed with her, which felt really good, and that the liter bottle of Mountain Dew was within fingertips' reach, which she also liked. She moved carefully, so that she didn't wake her boyfriend up, and picked up the one-liter bottle, chugging it just as fast as she could, then tossed the empty plastic bottle over towards the trash can, snuggled back down, and cuddled up against Pete.

Pete made a quiet sound in his sleep and shifted, grasping Shayla closer to him and sighing as he rested his head against something soft and squishy... probably her boobs. Which was nice, and cozy feeling. And it was warm, not sickly hot weather warm but hiding-from-the-AC warm. Very nice.

He heard the fizzy sound of soda, and opened his eyes a little to peer upward.

"Morning," she said softly, wincing as the bottle clattered onto the floor, but making no move to pick it up. "Didn't mean to wake you up," she continued. "I just got thirsty."

"Mmm. S'rry didn' w'ke y'up." Pete muttered back, clearing his throat a little as he stretched and then gave a long, hard yawn. He opened his eyes again after and peered up at Shay, lifting his head a little to kiss the bottom of her chin. "Okay?"

"Yeah, I'm okay." She grinned down at him. "I'm actually more okay than I've been in a while." Her stomach gurgled a little. "Ready for breakfast, or is it still too early?"

"Uuuh.." He lifted his head to look at the watch on his wrist... blinked and squinted, then brought the watch close to his face. "Eight fifteen. Shay, its like, hotter than hell outside."

"Which is why Lex and Big Daddy paid tons of big bucks for central air conditioning in this heap," she teased, tickling his ribs lightly with her nails and grinning.

He grinned back, pressing her hands against his chest. "I mean, the AC at the house broke. I came over a few hours ago… too hot to even sleep."

"Wondered when you'd showed up, but was too glad to see you to care." She snuggled against him. "Hey!" She suddenly perked. "Call Graham!! I betcha he can fix it for you easy! And? You'll be helping with his new business. Cause it's all in the family and shit, you know he won't cheat you."

"Shay, Graham wants to castrate me. Ain't calling him. Dads getting in touch with Fordman's this morning." Pete grinned at her, both delighted and wary to find her so cheerful. He kissed her nose, gently, and stroked her cheekbone. "Missed you, baby."

Shay just grinned again. "Graham's not going to castrate you. I'm dating you, your brother is dating my sister, and your other brother is dating the OBGYN who's looking after Toni, who just happens to be my dim-witted brother's fiancée! So when I say it's all in the family, baby, I mean that it is all in the family." She giggled.

Pete grinned at that. "Bobby's cool. He and Berluce get along nice...it's sweet." he pretended to sniffle dramatically, and winked at her to make her laugh. He also rolled comfortably onto his back, arm up under his head, to watch her. "How're you feeling?"

She stretched as he rolled over, and she straddled his waist, sitting on his stomach as her own gurgled. "Hungry."

"So I've heard." Pete smiled up at her and gently rubbed her pajama clad hip with his free thumb. "Want me to take you to Denny's?"

"Ooooh. That'd be good. Then you can take me over to Fordman's because I need to buy a new pair of sneakers, because mine's being held together with bubblegum, duct tape, and prayer, and there's this pair of pretty pink and white shorts with the stripes up the hips that I want to try on and possibly buy, and then... after that, the coffee shop for latte?"

"And then to the hospital, for a shot of adrenaline and a stomach pump." But Pete smiled anyway, the smallest bit. "Seriously, Shay. You okay?"

She bounced just a little on his tummy and tossed her hair, which was growing out longer, over her shoulder. "Yeah, I'm okay."

"Don't think so, baby." He calmed her jumping before she squashed vital equipment with a hand on her hip. "Been acting mightily strange."

She stopped bouncing when Pete stopped her and she blinked down. "Me? No. I've actually been acting close to sane, or as close to sane as I ever am. It's the rest of the family that's been acting insane."

"Sweetheart, your brother almost died." Pete frowned up at her and sat up, shifting back to lean against the headboard and hold her straddled in his lap. For once in his life, the position didn't turn him on. "Seriously, Shay."

"Yes, he did, but he didn't. Mama tried to kill him, and that didn't work either. Therefore, my brother is still alive, getting better, and the rest of the family is acting like bloody lunatics."

"No, honey... they're acting sane." Pete stroked up her back to gently catch in her longish hair, stroking the pale blond strands through his fingers. "You'd tell me if something was up, right?"

She nodded brightly. "You know I would, baby." She ran her hand down his arm, squeezing his bicep. "You're my big strong man. You're the guy who makes everything okay for me, fixes everything in my world. Course I'd come to you."

Yeah well, Pete caught a whiff of bullshit, but didn't say anything. He just stroked her hair softly, watching her face for any signs of distress, even if he was distressed himself. "Love you, Shay."

"I love you too, Pete," she said seriously, leaning over to kiss him, then rub her nose against his.

He frowned as she kissed him but he kissed her back, still watching her warily. "Well... I guess... I mean, alright." Another frown and he stroked her hips softly. "I missed you."

"I missed you too," she said, sliding off his hips to cuddle up to his side and let her head fall on his shoulder.

"You didn't talk to me for a while, Shay. Not really. I don't want it to be like that, okay? I want to be here for you, if you'll let me." Pete pressed his lips to her forehead and frowned, softly. "Wanna maybe go out with me this weekend?"

"I always want you to be here for me." She slid her hand down and slipped it into one of his, squeezing it gently. "I'd love to go out with you this weekend," she said with a smile. "Anywhere you want to go, I'm up for it."

"Cool. Whit and Chloe are thinkin' about having a barbecue on Saturday... we could maybe go out with them miniature golfing or something after? Lex and Clark too, if they're up for it." Pete suggested, running his larger fingers over hers and keeping them close to his chest.

"Oooh, mini golf. I suck at it, but that's not a bad thing." She wrinkled her nose. "Graham? Is good at mini-golf. I told him that's not something to brag about." Another wrinkle. "That's a yes, by the way."

"Cool." Another small smile, as he ran his thumb over her fingernails. Something just didn't feel right, and he hated not knowing what it was. So he frowned, and shifted around. "You aren't... mad or anything, right? From Whitney's party few weeks ago?"

She frowned. "Why would I be mad about Whitney's party?"

"Because of the underwear thing. Trading them. You were okay with that, right?"

She waved her hand. "Outside of Steven and his girlfriend? I've seen you down to your bare ass, I've seen Clark and Lex in dresses, Chloe has two pairs of my panties for after the baby is born and she's worn Whitney's boxers three times since I've known her as sleep pants. Baby, I've seen everybody's underwear."

He smiled a little at that, but shrugged as he rubbed his thumb over her lower lip. "I'm just making sure. I know something's not... okay. I wish you trusted me enough to tell me."

She kissed his thumb, smiling, but then it fell a little as he pulled his hand away. "Pete, nothing is wrong. My brother's awake, he's going to be getting better, Clark and Lex don't seem to be freaking out over anything, which as we both know is like, a minor freakin' MIRACLE, Chloe and Whit are settling into the new house, their baby is fine... I don't know what else to reassure you about."

"Its not about your brother, or Clark and Lex, or the Assketeer and his girlfriend. Its about you, Shay. Nothing else." He stroked his fingers through her hair. "I know you. I know something's up. But I won't push, I promise."

She gave him a grin. "Nothing's up," she said, and kissed the tip of nose.

Yeah, well, that kind of made Pete a little angry. Cause he knew something was up. He frowned at his girlfriend, but knowing she had the stubbornness of a mile, just… sighed. "Alright."

"Don't get mad," she pled softly.

"I'm not. Promise." He turned to press his mouth against hers. "I promise."

"Good," she said quietly, kissing him back softly, letting their fingers stay clasped together on his chest as their lips met. "I'd really hate it if you were upset with me."

"I'm not. Well, a little. But I'll survive." A little smirk at her as he kissed her again, softly, then once more. "Gotta find a time this week to make out, Shay."

She frowned when he said he was a little upset with her, but grinned as he kissed her again. "I'm all for making out. Whenever, wherever we can." She looked around. "My calendar's clear all this week, in fact, and? Nobody's here right now but us chickens."

Pete wanted it. No doubt. But he was in no way going to use her, and that's what taking her now would be. So he just grinned and shook his head softly, as he stroked down her side. "Naw. Maybe on Saturday."

Her lower lip poked out, just a little.

Oh, dear God! He stared at her little lip, horror stricken, and blinked. "You want now?"

Her lip came out a little more. "You don't?" she asked plaintively. "I thought you wanted!"

"I… I just don't want to take advantage, baby, when all of this is just blowing over." Yes. Pete had become quite reacquainted with his hand, in fact. "And I won't. Until I know you're alright."

Shayla just burst into tears at that.

"Oh, God! Shay!" Dear God! He grasped her and hugged her close as she sobbed, feeling like a heel as he held her. "I'm sorry! I love you! I'm so sorry!"

"Noooooo," she howled through the tears. "You're just so niiiiiiiiiice and won--nn--nnderfulllllll!!"

"I'm not! Baby, I'm not! Just please, God, stop crying!" Pete cried, holding her to his chest and rocking as she cried. "Please, God, anything, just stop! Don't cry! I'm sorry!"

"Yes you arrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrre!" she bawled. "You've been thinking about meeeeeeeee this whole time and I... I... I... I love you so muuuuuuch!!!!" She was just crying her little heart out.

Pete felt kind of queasy. He hated making Shayla cry, loathed it, and he just held and rocked her as she sobbed. "Okay, baby, please, shhh, calm, breathe, I love you, shhhh."

"I am breeeeeathing!" she cried, gulping in great huge chestfuls with every sob.

"But..stop..crying! Please!"

"I caaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaan't!!!" She buried her face in his shoulder and just howled as she grabbed onto his waist.

Dear God. Alright. Pete just held his sobbing, screaming girlfriend and waited until she died down. Nothing else TO do. She would scream herself out eventually. Yeah, nothing wrong with her. BULLSHIT.

After about five or ten minutes, the tears and the screams and sobs died down to just the occasional sniffle, and Shayla was going through tissues like they were... well, tissue.

"Just fine, Shayla?" Pete rose a brow down at her, and handed her another tissue from the box in hand.

"J-j-j-just fine!" she wailed.

"You're not fine. Stop crying, now." Pete ordered, taking command so she wouldn't have to. he dried her face gently with a tissue and held her shoulders, firmly. "You're a wreck, Shay. You're crying over sex baby. Okay? Just talk to me."

"I'm not crying over sex! I'm crying because you're too niiice to have it with meeeee!!" She almost started to bawl all over again, and then grabbed a second tissue and blew her nose loudly.

"Shay! I'm not too nice to have it with you!" Pete cried, and gave her a little tiny shake. "Baby, I've got cramps in my hands from wanting you so bad! How could you ever say that? I love you so fucking much."

"SEE!!!!!!" she yelled. "You were too niiice to aske me to have sex with you cause I was worried about M-M-Morgan!"

"You're talking like a crazy person!" Pete cried, shaking her again. "Your brother was dying! I wasn't about to ask you for sex! Are you mad?! I needed you to be sane, not spread out!"

The bawling just started back up again, and she flomped down on the bed, her face falling smack into his hip as she cried.

Pete wasn't great with girls, had he ever mentioned? He sucked, in fact. So he just slid down and pulled Shay up, so her arms were around his neck and his arms were around her back and she could cry properly. He felt terrible over her sobbing though he knew it wasn't all for him, just the stress she'd been under.

Shayla clung like a burr to her boyfriend as she cried herself out the second time, and she sniffled into his shoulder as she rested her cheek there. "I love you!!"

"I love you, baby." Pete winced, hugging her gently and stroking her hair back from her splotchy face. "I really do. But I need you to calm down, okay?"

"I'm calm, I'm calm," she panted out, still holding onto his shoulders. "I'm calm. I'm okay."

"You're not calm, baby. But you're gonna hyperventilate." Pete kept stroking her hair as he felt her trying to breath, and carefully soothed with warm touches of his hands and loving kisses on her head. "Shhhhh. Shhhh."

She drew in slow, deep breaths, kissing his neck every so often as she hiccupped, trying to make her body calm down so that she could breathe and talk. "I'm getting there."

"I know. I want you to just be calm. I'm here now, right? I'm here, I'll always be here, sweetheart." Pete did all he knew to soothe the sobs from her, listening to her calming, her breaths forcing in, and her little body wracking with trembles in his arms. "I love you so much. Shhhh."

"I know, I know." Deep, cleansing breaths. "I love you. I'm here. I'm calm." More deep breaths, even as her shoulders shook. "Okay. Okay. I'm okay."

"If you're calm, you wouldn't be shaking, baby." Pete murmured, kissing his girlfriend very, very, very gently as he tipped her chin up. Her face as a mess but he just kissed the dampness on her cheeks away, and held her with all the tenderness in the world.

"I'm kind of calm?" she asked waveringly. "I'm at least not hysterical?"

"That's true. Though you're kind of cute when you're hysterical, you know, like an agitated pixie." Pete gave her a little smile, hoping to lighten her mood. "Barely understood any of what you said."

Her nose wrinkled. "Yay. Just what I needed to hear. Shay, sweetie, when you're upset, you sound like Tinkerbell on acid." She stuck her tongue out at her boyfriend.

"You do. An Irish Tinkerbell. I bet you'd look hot with the wings." Pete answered, as he gently kissed the wrinkled nose. "You look like hell baby. I'm glad you got some of it out though... want to tell me just why you flipped out just now?"

Shayla snuffled. "I didn't flip out," she said stubbornly. "I just had a crying fit. Cause you were being all nice."

"You flipped out." Pete said back, just as stubbornly, but much more gently. "I wasn't being nice... just rational."

"You were too being nice!!!! You were being all nice and sensitive and not-jerky, and being sweet, and not wanting to have sex with your girlfriend cause she's a psychotic sociopath cause her mother was trying to kill her brother!"

"No... again with the rationality. Honey, you've been through a lot. Don't you think so?" Pete rose a brow. "Your moms crazy dude."

Shay sniffled again. "Rational or not. It was still nice."

"You're my queen, baby. I'll do anything for you." Pete said softly, and gently kissed her lips, chastely, before letting her go and rising up to his feet. "Come on. Lets hit Denny's, what do you think?"

She got up after him, sniffling and dragging her hand across her face. "Got time for a shower first? You can get unsticky, I can get clean?"

"Sure." Pete said carefully, casually. "You go first. I'll clean up out here while you're in there, alright?"

She pointed. "You go first. Guests and all that. I'll clean up in here, don't worry. I've still got some of your clothes in the closet, I'll lay them out for you, kay?"

Pete arched a brow. Was he sure Shayla wouldn't come into the shower and try and get her nookie on? No, he wasn't. And since he'd busted the lock the day she'd first tried to fuck him, he couldn't lock her out.

Fuck.

"No funny business," he warned, eyebrow up high.

"No funny business," she echoed, holding her hand up.

"Don't believe you. You're as believable with the pouty eyes as a sack of worms." Pete shot back, eyebrow arching.

She stuck her tongue out. "Seriously, Pete. I promise that I won't come into the shower with you."

He still didn't believe her but he nodded anyway. He grasped one of the spare boxers he kept in the drawer at the bottom of the dresser and went into the bathroom, firmly closing the door behind him.

He stripped out of his slightly stinky clothes and got a towel and some shampoo, before climbing into Shayla's incredibly *girly* shower and turning it on.

As soon as Shayla heard the shower running, she let out a huge sigh, and bolted for the closet. In the floor was a largeish box with a hinged lid, and she threw it open with a grunt.

Sweets, candy, and non-perishable foods of all kinds filled the little chest, and she dug frantically under the bed and pulled out the shoebox that she'd crammed under there in the middle of the night, and dumped it into the box as well. Bottled cola, bottled water, a bag of chips, and half a Ziploc bag of pretzels, and she slammed the lid down again, sitting on it to get it to close.

She shoved the closed box back into the closet, and heaved a sigh of relief when a quick search of the room showed none of her other stash sitting out, and she tidied up the room as she went along. She made up the bed, picked up all of her dirty clothes, made sure all the food wrappers and bags were thrown away, and laid out Pete's clothes over the foot of the bed before she dug out clothes of her own.

Pete had I Will Always Love You stuck in his fucking head. He knew he would. He knew it. And since his voice wasn't terrible, whenever he used it, he sang it. Because if he had a good session with it, it would eventually unstick. So he was singing his handsome little heart out, scrubbing his chest and garbling through the water dumped on his head, washing until he felt tight and cozy with warmth and cleanliness.

He climbed out, wrapping himself up in a big towel, and stepped out, rubbing a palm over raspy cheeks.

Shayla was piling her own clothes on the edge of the bed when she heard the shower stop, and she panicked, making sure that the box in her closet was covered with stuffed animals and other junk and that the door was closed securely. She tossed her clothes down and knocked lightly on the door when she heard the shower stop. "Pete? Your clothes are on the bed, are you done?"

"Done!" He called back, gaze himself a glance in the mirror, and opened the bathroom door to peer at her. "I'd have hit you with the shampoo bottle if you attacked me, you realize." He said, with a little smile, as he stepped out of the bathroom, towel firmly around his hips.

She nodded. "Course you would have, and I told you I wouldn't, so there. You can, however, attack me if you want." She wiggled her butt, then stopped abruptly as a thought hit her, then she grabbed her clothes in a flash and fled into the bathroom.

He blinked as she grasped her stuff and ran like the devil was on her hells. When the door slammed he rolled his eyes, grinned to himself, and dropped the towel to begin getting his things on, including the forgotten boxers.

Shayla leaned against the door, panting as she realized that shaking her ass might not be the best thing to do, especially when her ass had probably grown three sizes lately, and she dragged the clothes hamper over to block the door.

All she had to do was think of the bare whiff of odor that she'd gotten a month ago, when she'd paid a visit to her brother and they were cleaning him up from where the colostomy bag had backed up and sprayed her brother's waste all over his body, and she was on her knees in front of the toilet, vomiting as hard as she could.

Pete stopped mid dress as he heard his Shayla retching, and he yanked the shirt on over his head and rushed into the bathroom. It was blocked with something but he didn't give a fuck, shoving at it until it gave. He thunked to his knees beside her as she wretched, wincing as she did and carefully pulling her hair off of her face as she threw up. "Shh... baby, shh. I know, I know... baby, Christ."

Shayla was trembling hard as she retched, bracing her hands on the toilet bowl and she barely registered Pete being there beside her as she finished, and then relaxed slightly as she flushed it away. "Would you... open that window," she said, pointing weakly towards it. "Get the smell out."

"Course." He got up from his crouch and threw the window open, bracing it carefully against the wall before leaning down again. "Won't help much, its like hell out there. Breathe, baby. Why'd you throw up, honey? Come on... let's wash your face, you're shaking like a leaf."

She shook her head. "Don't know," she lied easily. "I just... I had come in here to shower, and all of sudden, I felt like I was going to be sick, and then I was. Must have been all the crying, it always makes me horrible."

"May've worked on your crazy momma, baby, but lets try again. What's the deal?" Pete asked her, stroking her face carefully as he helped her stand, so she could wash some of the cold sweat away. "Been acting weird, baby."

"Really don't know," she said, burying her face in the sink, letting Pete help balance her as she washed her face off. "But I feel better."

"Alright." it'd jive for now. Not next time. Pete glared down at her little blond head as she washed her face, and carefully helped her straighten after she was done, handing her a towel. "Dress light, kay? Shorts or whatever. Way too hot for anything else."

She nodded. "Yeah. Never used to get this hot in BC--maybe that's what it is." She frowned. "Stupid weather. But, yeah. I've got a pair of white shorts, one of my pink Blossom t-shirts and a pair of white sandals out, I think that's cool enough."

"Definitely." Pete stroked her face again, and nodded to the door. "Don't have to barricade yourself in. I won't peek. Get dressed and all, I'll wait for you, alright?"

"Didn't mean... to barricade," she said, keeping her eyes cast down. "Just... shoved it out of the way. Didn't know it went in front of the door, sorry." Then she gave him a little smile. "I'll be okay. I feel better, I just need to get washed up and everything."

"Its alright, baby, I don't mind, I'm just worried." Pete answered softly, gently stroking her hair back from her eyes before kissing her forehead. "I love you honey, its alright."

"I love you too, Pete." She hugged him as tightly as she could around the waist, squeezing and resting her cheek on his shoulder. "You mean so much to me, you know."

"I know it, baby." Pete kissed her again, gently, and hugged her tightly. "Come on. Shower, and we'll go out and get some food, if you're up for it. Maybe go see Chloe and Whit for a while. If you like, too, you can go see Dominic... I'm sure he wants to see you."

She froze, at the mention of her brother. "No... Lionel's there, he's been there with him since he woke up, and says he's having a hard time talking and all.. I think it's better if I don't confuse him. If I go, he won't be able to understand me talking a mile a minute like I do when I get nervous, and I'll just wait until he's feeling a little better before I go and bother him like that."

Hah. Pete knew it had been about Dominic, all the while. "Shay, why're you scared of him?"

"I'm not scared of him, Pete. I just... that's not my brother yet. Looks like him, yeah, but that's not him. Not until he can laugh and smile again, and call me a skittle."

"Well, Shay, I went with Dogwood 'n Lindy the other day to see him, and he's looking alright to me." Pete said, quietly, looking down at her hair. "He's just not well, now. But you know, I'll bet? Seeing you would make him really happy."

"Yeah, but that's you. You didn't grow up with him around, at least for the first part of my life. He was around, more often that not, and I just... I can't stand the thought of my brother lying there all tired and helpless and not able to speak much and not happy and laughing and full of energy. Because that's not who he is. And I know that if I see him like that, I'm always going to see him like that, and I don't *want* to. I want to see my healthy, happy, brother."

Pete just nodded. He didn't say her brother might never be like that again because the last thing he wanted to do was devastate her. So he just nodded in understanding and stroked her cheeks softly before letting go. "Get on ready. I'll wait for you outside."

She nodded. "Kay. It won't take me long to shower, I promise."

"Take as long as you need." Pete answered, and with a firmly heavy heart, closed the door of the bathroom behind him.

= - = -

Lionel was pacing the study. He'd left Dominic at the hospital, been shooed out by Crystabel, her husband, and Gideon, and he'd done the first thing that came to mind.

He called Elaine. He knew she knew he was awake, had been by once to see him and drop off flowers and a bottle of chocolate milk, and laughed at his plea for a cheese sandwich. She'd given Lionel himself a good once-over, cocked her eyebrow, and told him to call at the first moment he had.

This was the first moment, he'd called, and she was on her way over. He knew, from past experiences, that this was going to be a pain in the ass to deal with, but he just sighed, making sure there were aspirin in his pocket as he paced in the tiny room, waiting for her to show up.

"Paces. Nervous agitation, probably causing an enormous spike in his blood pressure."

Elaine raised a brow as she studied her patient. He looked both exhausted and high strung, probably on caffeine, and strolled into the office on her heels to stretch out her hand for him to shake. "Your housekeeper showed me in. Lets find a place to get comfortable, shall we? And if I can say it, Lionel, you look like hell."

"The only thing causing a spike in my blood pressure is you, doctor." Lionel rubbed his temple with his left hand as he shook her hand with his right. "And no, you can't say it."

"As your psychiatrist, Lionel, I'm allowed to make a prognosis. And you, Lionel, look like hell. Its nice to see you anyway." Elaine answered, lips twitching. "Where do you want to have our session?"

He was trying to remember why he ever thought seeing this woman was a good idea. "There are over seventy rooms in this house, Doctor. I am sure we can find one that is suitable for your needs," he said acidically.

"It's up to you." Elaine said serenely back. "Wherever makes you comfortable." Was being difficult enjoyable? Yes, yes it was.

Lionel gave a bare snarl and gestured around to the study. "Do you have a particular problem with this room?"

"Not at all." Elaine chirped in response, and made her way around the small coffee table to sit down on the couch and set her brief case on the table itself. She clicked it open and rifled inside, hiding her grin behind the upraised lid as she searched for her things. "Is Dominic still asking for a cheese sandwich?"

"Of course he is, and if he can keep gaining throughout the week, he can have one come next Tuesday." He dropped heavily into the chair across from the coffee table.

"Mmm. And how about you, hmm? You look like you need a cheese sandwich." Elaine got out her notepad and set up her recorder, clicking it on and crossing her legs comfortable as she settled back to watch Lionel.

"I have never had a cheese sandwich in my entire existence and I do not intend to begin now," he answered regally, glaring.

"Pity. They're delicious." Elaine answered easily. "Maybe something a little more appealing to your palate. You're too thin, Lionel."

He glared. "Don't you start. I've had every woman in this family, both belonging to me and not, bitching at me because they think I'm too think."

Elaine's lips twitched. "Don't tell me you're too manly to consider that what they're saying holds merit, Lionel. Not even I could call you a sexist."

"I think they're merely too concerned with my weight and not concerned enough with other things," he growled in answer.

"What other things are there to be concerned about?" Elaine scribbled on her notepad even as she spoke, tapping her crossed leg slightly.

"Their own affairs," Lionel said shortly. "The fact that Lex is more underweight than I am. The children of their friends. They have many other things in their lives to fulfill them, I am sure, rather than irritating me."

"Of course. Maybe you're a priority in their lives too, have you thought of that? To Lex, or Clark, for instance. Lex seems like he's a skinny boy to begin with, so don't change the subject."

"Lex's ribs nearly poke out of his skin," Lionel pointed out.

"So do yours," Elaine pointed right back.

"You, madam, have not seen me without my shirt lately, nor are you likely to. Therefore, you have no way of knowing what the state of my ribs are. You may, however, take my assurances that I am not malnourished."

Oh, so many comebacks, so little time. Elaine bit her lip to keep them all back, instead raising a brow at Lionel as she tried a different tactic. "Dominic's doing well, isnt he? Whats he said to you?"

"He's worried that he's to be fired, which I've tried to assure him that he's not. He wants to eat, which he can't do yet, and he's afraid that when I leave, he won't come back. That he hasn't said, in so many words, but I can see it in his eyes, every time I say goodbye." He slumped just a little in the chair, relaxing his shoulders. "I can see it too, when I come back the next morning, a kind of shock that I'm there."

"Mm. Why do you think that is?" Elaine asked, looking up at her patient as she said it.

"I have no idea," Lionel answered honestly.

"Neither do I." Honesty for honesty. "Maybe just feeling a little bit vulnerable. Which is understandable, right?" She studied Lionel as she said this. "I think so, anyway. How do you feel now that he's awake?"

"Thrilled," Lionel said. "No little bit shocked, as you can guess. Relieved, too, but still frightened for him. There's... so much that could go wrong. So far he's got to come until he's back where he was." His hands clasped tightly in front of him as he leaned forward.

"What could go wrong?" Elaine asked, as she wrote again, noting his posture and his face, as well as the way he'd responded, on her notepad.

"He could still get sick; his body's not up to fighting off any infections. His lungs are still weak, and the doctors are watching closely for pneumonia. They don't know the extent of any muscle damage or loss of motor control until they start him on therapy, and while Dr. Bryce is very optimistic, I gather Dr. Jaheel has been less than gentle with telling Dominic his prognosis, and I worry what that might do to him mentally, to that... well, drive he has to return." His shoulders slumped even more dejectedly, and he just... sighed.

Elaine watched him, quietly. "Brahm Jaheel is a bastard, and I would say have him removed, but he's the best doctor in the Metropolitan area." Another raised brow. "Do you believe Dominic has no drive to return?"

"Yes, he is the best, and it's why he was called in on this case." Lionel let his fingers run through his hair before dropping them limply. "No. I believe he has a drive to return; I know him, Doctor, and he's far too stubborn not to. I also know how easy it is for despair to overwhelm stubbornness, and I believe we both know that I am speaking from experience." He sighed again. "I don't want that happening to Dominic."

"Nor do I want it happening to you." Elaine answered to that. "Because you and Dominic are very much alike in that aspect. I don't want your despair over what happened to overwhelm your common sense. You're a strong man, Lionel, and it will pull you both through. However... I suggest you don't let Jaheel talk to Dominic anymore, mmkay?"

"I am not an idiot, Elaine; that order's already been given, but as he's the doctor, I cannot stop him from coming in whenever he likes to check on his patient, and unless I physically sew his lips together--which, believe me, I briefly considered--there's not a lot that I can do in that respect."

Because Lionel was getting defensive again, Elaine danced around the subject and subtly changed the subject. "Have you been sleeping?"

"Yes, I have," he answered, sitting back in the chair and letting his shoulders relax from their tight bunch. "I come home and sleep every night, and shower before returning to the hospital."

At that she smiled. "Now that's what I like to hear. Any dreams?"

"None that I can remember, no."

Elaine set her hand on her notepad and studied the man in front of her. "Aside from a case of anxiety over your partner, Lionel, you're perfectly fine. Why did you call me here?"

"Because you told me to," he reminded her.

LIAR. "It would have been easy to cancel on me." Elaine pointed out carefully.

"And I would not have heard the end of it. You would have hounded me endlessly, to the ends of the earth, until I submitted to whatever questions you had of me."

"Of course I would have. I'm so glad we finally understand one another, Lionel." Elaine chirped ever so cheerfully, as she bopped her leg.

"I understand you better than you think, Doctor," he growled back.

"Normally I'd be rapt with attention, but this is your dime, Lionel." She tipped her head. "How are you dealing with him not understanding as quickly as he did?"

"It makes me sad," Lionel admitted. "It makes me very sad, because his quick mind was one of the things I prized about him so much. And it makes me even sadder because I can tell, he knows he has a problem, and I can't begin to comprehend what it must feel like for him, trapped in the way that he is."

She considered the way she was going to phrase her next words, and thought for a moment before speaking. "Do you believe that will be a problem for you down the road, if it doesn't go away on its own?"

"I noticed that you said, 'prized', instead of 'prize'. Do you believe it to be permanent? Tell me what you think without getting defensive."

"What I think? Is that I don't know what's going to happen. Is it going to be a problem for me? No. Will it be a problem for him? Yes, I think so. He knows, Elaine, that he isn't what he used to be. He's frustrated with it already, and if he has to live with it for the rest of his life... I can't bear to think what that might do to him."

That's what she was worried about. That Lionel couldn't bear it. She kept mum on that, though, just nodding quietly. "You're frustrated for him."

"I'm frustrated for him, and for myself." He rocked back in the chair, then got to his feet, pacing. "I'm frustrated that he doesn't believe me when I tell him he's not going to be fired. I'm frustrated that he doesn't believe in me because he thinks I'm going to leave him. I'm frustrated because he knows something's wrong with him that he can't fix right away, and I'm frustrated because I can't know how he feels."

"No, you can't. But you can try. And that's what makes you a good person, Lionel." Elaine looked up, no nonsense. "I see a lot of very stupid people come in and out of my office, who can't see head from ass and need therapy. You, Lionel, just need someone to talk to. So let me give you some advice, from friend to friend, psychiatrist to patient. Don't beat yourself up over this. Dominic is going to be fine--believe me. He's pulled through worse, without a broken spirit. And he has the love of both his life partner and his friends around him this time. He's going to be fine. I don't want you to panic, or worry. For once, Lionel, just believe in that things are going to turn out well."

Lionel chuckled softly at that. "If you knew the number of times Dominic told me to get my head out of my very puckered old ass, you'd rescind the comment about not needing therapy. As he once told Lex and I, this family needs therapy like we need air to breathe." His fingers dragged through his hair again, and he sighed. "I can't have that faith, Elaine. I don't. I want to help him. And I can't."

"Sure can't. Only his doctors and he himself can help. What you've got to do, Lionel, is be right where he needs you--by his side. You can't fight this battle for him... this has got to be all on his own. And I know how terrible that sounds to you, because you love to help everyone your own way, but honey, believe me. Alright?"

"No. It's not all right. You're telling me to sit by and be helpless while someone I love more than anything is fighting tooth and nail. I can't be this helpless."

"No, but you've got to be. That's how its going to work this time, Lionel. You can't make him move again just because you want him to. He's got to do it. Sucks, I know." Elaine offered, and watched him stalk.

"Yes, it does, and I won't accept." He slammed a fist down on the corner of the coffee table and leaned in.

"That sucks for you, then. You're going to have a hell of a time."

"I despise you."

"I know." Elaine answered back lightly.

"I cannot be helpless again."

"You've got to be. Though this time, you'll have the ability to talk to him, and coach him through it. Don't think of it like helplessness, Lionel... you're just on the sidelines, cheering him on."

"It's helplessness. It's the inability to do anything useful to alleviate the suffering of someone dear to me. I don't care if you put it in a short skirt and give it pom-poms to call it cheering, it's damned well being helpless." He stressed it.

"Well, explain to me how you aren't helpless in this kind of situation." Elaine shot back, brow up. "What are you going to do, Lionel--move his left leg for him for the rest of his life? Make him understand you? What?"

Lionel glared at her for a long moment. "Get out."

"No." Elaine shook her head. "Answer me, Lionel. Don't run away."

"If you've nothing of use to say to me, get out."

She'd gotten to him. Good. She rose a brow and sat up, setting recorder and writing pad in her briefcase.

"I listened to you before," Lionel pointed out. "I listened to you when you told me there was nothing that I could to help my son through his heartbreak at losing his son, and because I didn't act, my son nearly lost the best relationship in his life. I won't sit by and let that happen again, do you hear me? I will not listen to you. There will be something that I can do."

"You listened to me because you understood the merit in my words. I'm a forty year old woman, Lionel, with two medical degrees from Harvard under my belt. I know what I'm talking about." She snapped her briefcase close, and rose to her feet. "I'm not telling you what you should do, or even what you could do. I'm telling you the cold, hard facts, Lionel." Frankly, she was tired of playing run-around with him. She walked around the coffee table and stood before him for a moment. "Dominic is paralyzed. He's going to need all the support and love you can give him. But you can't be there to move his body for him. Only he can do that. I know Dominic, Lionel, very, very well. Don't baby him. Don't assume he can't do it on his own. Don't deball him."

"I pride myself on the fact that I have never hit a woman. Between you and Dominic's mother, you are making me question that." Lionel's hands clenched into fists at his side. "Get out. Go back to Metropolis. I don't care."

"No. I won't. I'll be exactly where I've been for the last three months--here." She answered back, firmly and frankly. Lionel had ignored everything she'd said--which meant she was getting somewhere. "You love him. I know you do. Do you think he could honestly withstand you trying to do everything for him, Lionel? He's horrified he has to ask for assistance in the first place. He can barely use the catheter, and that alone is taxing him his dignity dearly." She took another step forward, and crossed her arms across her chest.

"Don't presume to tell me about Dominic. I've known him longer than you have, and I know better than anyone how he is." His arms were still locked by his side, as though moving them would actually cause him to choke her.

"Than if you know him so well, why are you telling me you don't want to be in a situation again where you have... what was it? The inability to do anything useful to alleviate the suffering of someone dear to me. Lionel, listen to yourself. He's gay, not a woman. Do you think his dignity and pride can take you babying him? They're going to remove all the tubes soon... are you going to carry him to and from the bathroom?"

"I have done it before, and I will do so again, should the situation require it," he snapped.

"Then you risk alienating the one person on this planet who can put up with you." Elaine snapped back.

"Get out," he said, for what felt like the hundredth time that day.

"No. Not until you talk to me. So far you've avoided all of my questions, changed the subject, and told me everything I already know. I know something is bothering you, Lionel. I understand you, and I know its hard for you to talk to anyone, let alone me. But you need to. I need you to tell me what's wrong."

"Everything that is wrong with me is lying in a hospital bed in Smallville Medical Center right now!" he shouted.

"Why? Why is he what's wrong?" Triumph! Thank God she hid it well.

"Because I can't help him!" he thundered. "Because I can't do anything but watch him suffer and know that because of a moment's inattention, he may never be the man that he was, and that scares me, Doctor. Because before, he had problems believing he was worthy of me and nothing was wrong! Now, with this, I face losing him all over again as he tries to pull away from me!"

Elaine wanted to throw her arms around him and hug him. But she didn't. She wanted to hold him until his terror passed. But she couldn't. So instead she took her seat once more, across from him, and leaned forward so they could talk in an almost private ensconce. "You're afraid to lose the man you married. When things like this happen, we all do. Talk to him about this fear... explain to him what you feel. If you do, I believe you will be surprised."

"Yes, explain to him what I feel, when he is already having problems comprehending things, and will likely translate this as me searching for an excuse to leave him. Yes, Doctor, that's quite a brilliant strategy. I can't imagine why I didn't think of it before."

"No, Lionel. Don't underestimate him. Explain to him why you're frightened for him, and the way you feel. Talk to him like an adult, not a child to be pet and put aside to get better."

"I do NOT treat Dominic like a child!" he thundered, face clouding up darkly. "You have no idea what goes on between us."

"I know you put him on a pedestal. I know you adore him, and in your adoration, protect him. I know you know he's a sweet person with a very gentle spirit. I know you love him. Shall I go on?"

"And as I say it again, you know nothing of how we deal with one another, how we interact on a daily basis, what problems we have and do not have. You don't know and you have no way of knowing because you, doctor, are nothing. You have no idea what it is like to watch someone you love dying in front of your eyes, helpless to stop it, then have them by some... some miracle come back to you and still be unable to do anything to help reassure them that you love them, no matter what, that you won't leave them, that the thought never even crossed your mind. You do not know, doctor, and do not presume to tell me how to deal with the situation."

Oh. Getting personal now. Elaine wouldn't stand for it. She climbed to her feet and picked up her briefcase, walking to the door.

When she turned back, it was only to say, "I do know what its like, Lionel. I lost my husband of ten years to bone cancer. I know more of what its like than even you do. I understand perfectly just what you're going through."

And she turned, and left.

Lionel didn't bother to stop her; good riddance to the woman and may she never darken his doorstep again.

 

-fin-

go on to the next part