Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 Title: Fever Dream Pt.  03


Summary: Decisions are made, risks are taken, control is lost.


Keywords: inc,fic



   Pt.  3 The First Step

   CH.  12

   An ache, dull and consistent, was what brought Jack's consciousness to
the forefront.  The ache, originating in his trapezius muscles and
radiating throughout his shoulders and up his neck, was at all times
present.  Ever since that fateful day during a deployment to the middle
east in his nightmare the night before, they had caused him pain, and
according to his multiple doctors while in the Army, they always would, and
to top it off, it would only get worse with age.  They were part of the
reason he had been medically retired, but a relatively minor part.  The
rest of the reason was infinitely harder a burden to bear.  The chirping of
birds, waving of trees in the wind, and the unmistakable sound of the
custom-built waterfall pouring water into the pool down below in the back
yard, reminded him of his location in the world.  Home.

   He had apparently been sleeping on his side prior to awakening, and with
a second's hesitation, dared to open one eye to see what was what.

   It was bright, and the sun was clearly shining down on the world in full
strength outside.  He opened both of his eyes and began rubbing them, while
slowly stretching his entire body of the sleep still held within his limbs
and muscles.  What a fuckin' day!

   He laid on his back and stared up at the ceiling, searching his mind. 
Searching for a reason, any reason at all to get out of bed.  Any part of
the absolute nightmare that was yesterday, that could possibly give him
reason to move a single muscle towards the edge of the bed.  The slightest
shred of justification to sit up and start a routine that would only lead
him downstairs, to the real world, with its problems...his problems.  He
had almost finished the search of his life without seeing a single reason
to get out of bed and had just made up his mind that this was where he
would spend the remainder of his day, his night, his entire life, and had
turned his head just slightly towards the rest of his room when he saw it.
A feint glimmer of hope.  Folded as neatly and crisply as he had ever seen,
was a pair of his athletic joggers with a white V-neck t shirt, pair of
no-show white socks and boxer brief underwear, spotlessly clean and set in
a perfectly arranged line on his desk, with his duffle bag closed and put
neatly under it.  It should have been a relatively mundane display, except
for the obvious care it must have taken to put everything in such a
flawless display, right where he could see them.  As he had this thought,
he also noticed a fresh, clean towel, also perfectly folded with his
toiletry bag set parallel on top of it on his desk chair.

   Turning his head back to the ceiling he knew it could only have been one
of two people, and with the ocean sized divide between him and the first,
his money was on the second: Mom.  Such a small gesture suddenly meant the
entire world to him.  This was a reason.  A good enough reason.  An amazing
reason to get out of bed today, if for nothing else, for him to go
downstairs and tell his mother how much it meant to him, to have someone do
something nice for him when he had caused so much pain to such important
people.

   With this renewed sense of spirit, he quickly got out of bed, grabbed
the towel and his bag, and headed for a short but hot shower to wash a long
and fitful night off of himself.  Once dried, he took another second to
look down and smile at the display of his clothes before quickly putting
them on, and slipping his running shoes on, in case he wanted to work out
at some time today.  After getting dressed, he picked up all of his bags
and gear and stowed them in his closet, shutting it.  He casually walked
down the staircase and turned into the kitchen where another display
awaited him.

   At the head of the table sat a bowl on a placemat, with a spoon and box
of Chex, again perfectly aligned.  Above this was a tall glass filled with
orange juice and a small bowl with an assortment of fresh fruit in it. 
Beside the food was the day's paper as well.  As he began to feel emotion
overwhelm him at the sight, he suddenly realized that this spread must be
for someone else, his father perhaps, or mother.  Just as he came to this
conclusion the sound of padding footsteps from behind him alerted him to
another presence.  He turned around to see his mother.

   "Good Morning, Sweetheart!" she said, beaming at him and approaching him
arms outstretched for a hug.  A hug which he enthusiastically accepted.  He
held her tight and basked inwardly at the sensation of someone greeting him
happily.  In itself, not usually something that might stand out to him, but
recently, it was rare enough to bring him close to tears.

   "Morning, Mom." He started.  "...mind if I hold onto you for a few
minutes?"

   The question seemed to be one she would agree to as her hold around him
tightened significantly.

   "Oh honey...You never have to let me go if you don't want to." She
responded, emotion thick in her voice.  After a few minutes, his hold
loosened, and he looked down at her.

   "Thanks, Mom...I know I don't deserve it, but I really needed that."

   "Oh nonsense!  I'm your mother.  You can come to me, day or night,
anytime at all and I'll hold you all you want sweetheart.  I don't care
what you've done, or how long you've been gone, or what we are going
through...you're my baby, and I'll always want to hold you." She said, with
a tone filled with both affection and finality.

   "Ok, Mom." He started.  "...anyways, is this your spread?"

   She looked at the food on the table and chuckled, looking back at him.
"No sweetheart, I already ate earlier.  This is for you!" she said, smiling
and patting his arm, then walking around him to sit in the chair beside the
one intended for him.  With this realization, he was again overcome with
emotion, but did well in keeping it off of his face.  "Well then thank
you...and thank you for setting my stuff out upstairs for me too, you
didn't have to do that...or this." He said, smiling at her, but his smile
was returned with a quizzical look from his mother.

   "Oh honey, I didn't put this out for you...and I'm not sure what you're
talkin' about upstairs." She said, a smile returning to her face as she
watched him put two and two together.

   "Oh...uh...maybe Dad, or Carrie...Carol...Caroline!?  Right?  That's her
name?" he said, feeling more foolish as the seconds passed.

   "Noooo...not them..." She answered melodically, a smirk coming across
her face, waiting for him to say the only logical person after them.

   "Oh...oh." He said, looking down at the food sitting before him.

   As he pictured her setting out everything upstairs, stealthily so as to
not wake him, and taking the time in the fresh hours of morning to put
together not just a hastily assembled assortment of food but a Zagat style
display of breakfast for him, he sat down in his chair slowly with tears
flooding his eyes.  Trying to suppress his eyes response and failing, he
looked to his mother who was smiling knowingly at him.  She simply put her
hand on his and squeezed.

   "She was down here for 45 minutes...setting this up for you baby, making
sure everything was just right.  I didn't dare say anything...you know how
she gets when you 'interfere in her business'..." She said, squeezing his
hand harder.  "You two are gonna be fine Jackson...this is a good sign. 
She still loves you very much.  You just gotta be patient...and be extra
accommodating...let her come to you.  I know how you two are...although
maybe you've changed..."

   "I have...a lot.  I don't let people boss me around or tell me what to
do anymore." He said, with a tinge of defiance, but as he said it, he
realized when it came to Stella, doing what she asked never bothered him.
He never felt pressured into following her lead, not really.  Had he gone
too far in his quest to be an island?  Was the transformation total enough
that he could never get back to that place again?  His thoughts were
interrupted by a question he was less than prepared for.

   "Honey...what'd you mean last night...when you said you didn't know who
you were anymore?" she asked, her face a mask of concern.

   He'd forgotten he said it, and now that some of the dust had settled
from the previous night's explosive homecoming, he was far less inclined to
give her a clear answer.  He was still unsure just what his life was now,
and about the journey that had led him here, but more importantly, he was
unsure of what to do next, with anything in his life.  This meant that even
if he wanted to answer her, he didn't even know where to begin.

   "Oh that...I don't know, Mom...I was in such an awful place last
night...I didn't even know which way was up." He said, not being entirely
untruthful.  "I'm still figuring things out I guess.  Being home...it's a
lot to take in all at once."

   "Of course, baby.  I understand completely.  You just need some time to
get settled, get a new routine going...reconnect with us." She said, sure
of her wisdom.  "I know there'll be some times when things get you down,
and it seems like progress is slow going, but if you ever feel like you
aren't meant to be home again, you just put that out of your mind, baby. 
You come to me, and let me hold you tight, and set you straight...this is
where you have always belonged, baby.  You just come to me, ok?" she said,
with a small taste of pleading in her voice.  It made clear what he already
knew: It was her way of begging him not to leave her again.  She no doubt
had meant it to be comforting to him, but it only served to remind him of
the decade long exodus he'd put himself, and his family through, and the
long road to reconciliation he had ahead of him to make it right.
"I will, Mom.  I promise...I'm not going anywhere." He assured her,

receiving a feeble smile from her.

   "Ok then...well I am off to the office for a little while.  I have to
talk to Dr.  Sloan about taking time off last minute.  Shouldn't be a
problem.  I'll be back in a few hours, sweetheart."

   "Wait, you work at Dr.  Sloan's...since when?" he asked, surprised.  Up
until his 18th birthday, she hadn't worked is entire childhood.

   "Yeah...couple years after you...well, I needed something to do,
something to work on, to keep my-I run his office for him, manage things.
Sorry baby, I forgot there's a lot you need to catch up on.  It's no big
deal, I'll be back in a little while.  Love you!" she said, giving him a
peck on the cheek and heading towards the front entryway.  "If you have to
go anywhere for something, don't forget to grab your key...it's still on
the rack...however don't forget, you're supposed to stay here,
sweetheart...do you need to go anywhere, baby?" she asked, turning back to
him.

   "No, Mom.  I'll be fine.  If I work up the motivation, I might go for a
run around the property but honestly, I don't want to go anywhere, or do
anything." He said, being completely honest.

   "Ok baby.  Bye-bye!" she said, and with that said she was out the door
and off to her office.

   With the house now silent and empty, Jack took a long, deep breath.  The
fact that an exchange lasting less than 20 minutes, total, could take so
much energy out of him was a testament to just how 'over-it' he felt.  28
years of life and still in the 'prime' of his life, whatever the fuck that
meant.  At 'peak' physical fitness, with a knowledge of dozens of ways to
kill a human being, in just about any scenario one could imagine, and all
it took to overwhelm him was a 20-minute fucking conversation with the
person who brought him into this world.  Apparently, this was the life he
was destined for.  To live in a mausoleum of his past, with a family full
of entirely whole people, who both loved and resented him, while he lived
as a breathing shell of a human being.  That was the grand prize he'd
receive for 'serving his country'...more like serving its interests. 
Exactly whose freedom had he ever defended?  Who had he really saved? 
Protected?  What good had come from anything he'd done while wearing that
bullshit uniform?  Was the world a better place, at all, because of
anything he had done?  No.  He'd become a government sanctioned murderer,
and his sentence for the crimes he'd been complicit in?  A 3-month stint in
a nut-house, a lifetime of dependence on pills to function, and a lifetime
of chronic pain.  Oh, and a check for a few thousand a month for life.  At
least he hadn't left empty handed.  None of this took into account that now
he got to spend however long he'd be lucky to get living alongside his most
treasured person, who also despised him, and for good reason.

   But, that wasn't exactly right, was it?  She was angry, sure.  Hurt
beyond measure, no doubt.  But she'd shown him a sign.  It was small. 
Simple.  Almost innocuous, but it was a sign.  There was hope.  However
slim it was, he'd take it.

   Fuck this self-pity bullshit!  She won't put up with that shit, that I
can guarantee.  I can do this.  I can fucking do this.  She is the prize
man, I can't fail this.  I came back for her.  I can fix this.  I don't
give a fucking shit what she wants, what she expects, what she needs, I'll
fucking do it ALL!  I'll take anything.  Yelling.  Punching.  Silence.  She
can remind me of how much I fucked up every hour on the hour, I don't
fucking CARE!  Man up, asshole.  You got this.  She is the fucking prize.
Without her...nothing else matters.  I just gotta...I gotta just suffer and
get through it.  I just don't know how.  How do I show her?  How do I make
her see?  Will she ever?  She loved the old me though.  The softer one. 
The sensitive one.  The gentle one.  The kind and caring Jackson...is he
still in here?  Are you still here?  I thought I killed you...but did I? 
Or did I just tie you up, gag you, and stuff you in a corner.  A deep, dark
corner of me, that I shut up and locked away years ago...to make it easier.
Easier to fight.  Easier to hurt.  Easier to kill.  I hope you're still
there...I hope I can find you...I hope you're still alive...I need you. 
She loves you, not me.  Can I raise you from the dead, and kill 'this' me
instead?  Can I be both?  Maybe we can work together.  If I let you out,
and lift you up, will you help me?  I need you to help me.  Please help me,
because I can't do this without you.  I can't do this without her.  I can't
do this without her.  I can't.  Do this.  Without Her.  I can't.

   With his world a shaking, aqueous blur he finally snapped out of his
self-induced, mental hell.  He wiped his eyes and took a few deep breaths
to calm down and focused on his breakfast.  He wasn't in the mood for
cereal, but the grapes and honey-dew melon slices looked and smelled good.
He downed the entire bowl in minutes and drank the now room temperature
glass of orange juice.  Once done, he cleaned up everything, put the paper
on the kitchen counter and walked over to the window.  The long, sweeping
lawn was just as green and beautiful as it had ever been.  The pool was
glistening, as was the hot-tub, and the pathway was clean swept as far back
as he could see, with it encompassing the length of the pool area and then
traveling off into the large estate lawn, cutting through the middle of the
roughly 800 yards between the pool patio and the back woods, where the path
turned into a dirt trail.

   The one thing that almost always helped him to work through anger,
frustration, even fear was an intense workout.  Be that a long and fast
run, a long and intense set of weights, or hitting the bags.  He was
contemplating on this when a new addition to the backyard caught the corner
of his eye.  It was a set of pull up bars, a fighting dummy, a heavy bag,
speed bag, and a reflex bag, all situated in a great structure, from what
he could tell.  Each bag in the perfect place to move, or dance around,
between them for fast switching.  The entire set up was situated in the
corner of the cement patio and the pathway, behind the pool.

   After assessing everything, he formulated a plan to help him get into a
place, mentally, to better bear what was to come between him and Stella. 
He needed a routine.  He needed to create at least a small sense of
normalcy, some goals, some tasks that he could accomplish, to help him find
steady footing.  If he was ever going to get his mind right and find the
strength and courage to open up to Stella.  To tell her what she demanded
to hear, he needed to rely on anything he could find or think of that might
help him be strong enough.  Steady enough.  Brave enough.  First step, get
in a good work out.  Push the intensity.  Run a full 10 miles.  Then get
those pull up reps knocked out.  Finally, hit the bags with everything he
had.  Make 'em hurt.  Get out all of this anger.  This hate.  This fear.

   With that, he threw off his shirt, tossed it on the counter, grabbed a
bottle of water from the fridge, and without even stretching, he was
through the back door and bolted full speed down the path towards a fast
and furious run.  It was time to push it.

   CH.  13

   "...Alright trouble-maker, let me talk to Sharon, ok?"

   "...ok.  Bye, Mom."

   "...Hello?"

   "Thanks again, Sharon.  I can't tell you how much I appreciate this. 
It's only for a week, maybe two?"

   "No problem, Stel'...is everything alright?  Anything I can do?"

   "Oh no, no, everything's fine...something has just come up with the
whole family and we need to figure some things out, and it would just
be...easier, maybe...to sort them out without John there to share in the
confusion.  You know what I mean?"

   "Oh, of course.  That makes perfect sense...and seriously, don't even
think about trying to sneak any money in here for having him, it's really
no problem at all, we love John.  I wish more of Conner's friends were like
him, actually."

   "Ok, now...easy, I know he can be a handful, but thanks so much for
that. He really is a prince...anyway, ill drop his bag of things by when I
leave work.  Ok?"

   "Sure thing...Stella...are you sure everything's ok?"

   "Yea-...uh...ok, well...Jackson's back."

   "NO...no way!"

   "Yeah, way."

   "Oh my God, Stella...Jesus...when?"

   "Last night...he just showed up...scared the shit out of everybody."

   "...wow...Hun, you are sure you're alright...I mean, where has he
been...how is he?"

   "All questions he has yet to answer...look, I'm sorry Sharon, but-"

   "-No, no, I get it...seriously, don't worry about it, I know this has to
be freakin' crazy on you all...I am assuming you don't want John to know
yet...does he even know Jack exists?"

   "Yes and no...mostly no, and for now, I want it to stay that way...until
I figure things out...he knows I have another brother out there somewhere
but luckily, he's never noticed or thought of it much...I mean he's 10,
so..."

   "Haha, right...well look, forget the two weeks, seriously, its summer.
However long you need him to be here, we got you covered, I mean it.  We'll
keep him so busy with fun, he'll barely notice.  But...do you want us to
call you, or him to, every night or something, or-"

   "No...uh, I'll call at least once a day, when I can.  Jack...also
doesn't know about John, and I want that to keep too, until I'm ready for
them to meet."

   "I know you want to drop it, and we will, but honestly, Stella...he is
gonna be so stoked to have a new uncle around."

   "...yeah...I know, well look...I can't thank you enough for being so
amazing about all of this.  Seriously, once this is all figured out and
settled, John and I will take you all out to the most expensive place in
town, your choice, my treat, and 'no' is not an option."

   "Haha...ok Ms.  Moneybags, you got it...and I'm ordering the good stuff
on the wine list, just so you know...something red, from before we were
born, and from a place I can't pronounce."

   That last one made them both laugh out loud.  Afterwards, they shouted
out "GET THAT MONEY!" their mantra, simultaneously, before saying goodbye
and hanging up.

   With the call ended, she tossed her phone unto her desk and continued to
stare out the window of her office.  She worked for the investment firm
which had been handling her family's estate and money since they first
founded and established the city.  It was the tallest building downtown,
and as the youngest senior partner in the firm's centuries old history, her
office was on the second tallest story...right underneath the floor for the
name partners.  Sure, there had been plenty of rumors and talk of exactly
how she climbed the ladder so fast, but the truth was, it was because she
was just that good.  She graduated Suma Cum Laude from State, and had
gotten not one, but two master's degrees in quick succession right after,
one in finance and one in economics.  Because of her family name, she was
offered mid-level management right away, but she insisted starting at the
bottom.  In just two years' time her unique style, as well an excruciating
attention to detail, and finally due in no small part to her uncanny
ability to make the right picks, which gave the highest possible returns,
even during the recent recession, she was put on the fast track, breaking
the glass-ceiling and about to be 'formally' offered name partner.  She had
been told just 6 months ago about the decision by the board, and in just
over 45 days, it would by officially announced.  Her name would grace the
building, and the future of the firm long after she was gone.

   Her keen skills and near flawless choices in the markets also meant
that, when she insisted to be given control of her family's accounts, she
more than doubled their value, which was already substantial.  Her family
already never had to worry about finances, but now even her grandchildren
wouldn't have to either.  She kept all of this progress in the Carter
fortune a secret from her family as well.  She planned on telling them
eventually, but now...now she wasn't sure of anything anymore.

   Her life had been very singular.  She devoted her entire existence to
two things: work, and being a mother, and not in that order.  As far as she
was concerned, until last night, she would work until she couldn't, then
spend the rest of her twilight years being a mother and a grandmother, and
she was fine with that.  That was before he came back.  She stood in front
of the long, almost seamless window down onto the busy streets below. 
Endless streams of cars, busses, taxis, walking people...women.  Women
either going to or coming from their everyday jobs to their loved ones. 
Their boyfriends.  Their husbands.  When she was 17, she assumed she and
Jack would be living somewhere else, somewhere far away.  That whatever
they chose to do with their lives professionally, every night she would go
to him.  She would take care of him.  She would feed him, clean up after
him.  Please him and have him do the same for her.  They would fall asleep
in each other's arms every night...forever.

   Then, when life decided that the best laid plans were not in the cards
for her, she had resigned herself to a life of working hard and being the
best mother, to the best son, she could be.  It took her a few years to
stop crying over it sometimes, but she was in a place of relative balance.
Almost a pleasant sleep walk through life.  Make money, love John.  Make
money, love John.  She had thought she was in a good place.  But right now,
as she stood here watching the rest of the world leave the ones they love
to work and return to the ones they love after a night of separation, a new
feeling came over her.  Hope.  She shouldn't have been feeling it.  He
abandoned her, and threw their love away, but here he was...back in her
life, and if he was to be believed, for good.  When she boiled it all down;
His mysterious disappearance, his cataclysmic return, all of the questions
left unanswered and the sins and wrongs unatoned for, she had only two real
choices.  She could choose safety in monotony.  She could cleave unto her
boy, and the rest of the family that had not left her, and after a small
adjustment period go back to living her life the way she had been.  She
could tell him it was too late, that the cut he'd made was just too deep.
He would leave, if she asked him to, she knew it.

   Just as she finished this thought, and the tears had started coming, a
smile, completely out of her control, crept on her face, and an unavoidable
conclusion came to her.  There was no way on this earth that she would, or
could, choose that now.  As she closed her eyes to try to process, the only
things her mind could conjure were images; his eyes, his lips, his hair, a
young man consoling a bully, a squeezed hand under a secret blanket, a
steady hand guiding her into a bubbling hot tub, easing her fears and
showing her what true love felt like.  As this last image flashed across
her mind, her eyes opened and she found that she was smiling from ear to
ear, and that she couldn't stop tears from running down her face.  She
wanted to sob, and laugh, but her body, or mind, couldn't figure out which
one to do.  He was going fix it.  She knew he would, that he could.  He was
home now, he had come back to her and he was going to make everything right
again.

   It makes total sense that he would need to find the strength to tell
me...whatever it is he has to tell me, whatever the reason was.  It has to
be good.  I KNEW he couldn't just leave me.  Something happened to him. 
Something bad.  Something that scared him maybe?  Something that was so bad
that he didn't feel he could tell anyone, even...me.  But what could be
that bad...that he wouldn't tell me?  Unless he somehow knew that...what if
he found out about what happened?  What if he thinks I'm...damaged
now...dirty...  tainted.

   Suddenly her hope seemed dashed on the rocks as she was racked with a
sudden burst of self-doubt and paranoia.  Upon deeper introspection, she
came to the conclusion that she really had no idea why he had left, and
that neither the especially positive or dreadfully negative seemed to fit
in this puzzle.  Whatever the reason, she had to choose either to doubt him
until proven good or hope until proven bad.  Her smile returned gradually,
and she realized that, since she had no idea who he had become over the
last ten years, that it had to be possible that the Jackson she loved was
still there, just barely below the surface.  He just needed her to believe
in him.  The anger wasn't gone exactly, or the resentment, but she had, at
the very least, an equal measure of hope and belief in him that if she
could find a balance between these and the anger, she could protect
herself, while still giving them both a chance to find their way out of it,
happy, healthy, and in love on the other side.

   She turned to her monitors, all of which were showing indexes, figures,
markets, percentages, and financial news.  Normally she enjoyed watching
them, formulating things in her mind, finding the right places, but as she
looked at them, all of a sudden, she didn't understand a single thing
happening on them.  Everything might as well have been in Russian.  In that
moment, she had an impulsive idea.  Normally, she wasn't prone to
impulsivity, at least not in a long time.  She needed to not be there.  Not
right then.  Not for...the imminent future.  A leave of absence.  Yes! 
That was what she needed.  If everything she hoped for were going to even
be possible, she needed to be wherever Jackson was, and this place wasn't
it.  She walked over to her desk and pushed the intercom.

   "Donna, I need you please."

   "Yes, Ms.  Carter!"

   Only a second after she answered, a tall, thin black woman entered.

   "Donna, write out a memorandum for me.  Send it to the name
partner's...for a leave of absence, duration: Until further notice."

   "Yes...Ms.  Carter...a leave of absence?" she asked, with a look that
was clearly incredulity.

   Stella turned around, her eyes were still filled with tears, and the
smile that invaded her face was still unwilling to leave it.

   "Yes, Donna...he's come back to me, and I need to be someplace
else...someplace that's not here.  I need it done like...as fast as you
humanly can.  Also, once I walk out of here, call ahead to Mr.  Jenkins
office...tell them I'm on my way up, and we are not to be disturbed."

   "...uh...yes, Ms.  Carter, right away." Donna answered, clearly having
no idea who 'he' was, but having no confusion about the other instructions.


   With that, Stella grabbed her phone and was out towards the elevators to
the top floor, to see the 'top dog.' Walking through the immaculately
decorated halls, lined with office after office walled by semi-frosted
glass, people smiled and greeted her, but their words, and faces, became a
haze.  At one point, a fellow senior put a hand out, a gesture to get her
to halt and listen, but she merely smiled and walked right past him. 
Normally she would work the halls at least once a day, delegating her staff
and gaining up to the minute input, listening to jokes, talking about the
weekend, and of course, enduring the eyes of the men.  It was never her
intention to cause distraction, but if she was expected to try to look less
feminine just to be taken seriously, she would always reject it.  Even if
it had never been for anyone's benefit or enjoyment, she enjoyed looking
sexy, and isn't that all that really mattered?

   The rhythm of life just happened to get her to the elevators just as
they opened, going up.  Alone, she punched the top button, and waited the
short distance between the 'senior partners and staff' floor and the name
partners floor.  The doors opened, and she walked the length of the floor,
to the very last, and grandest, office in the firm, where a small, old
woman sat at a desk, sitting her usual guard.

   "Ahh yes, Ms.  Carter...I just got off the phone with Donna.  I'm afraid
Mr.  Jenkins doesn't wish to be disturbed this afternoon."

   "I know Mondays are nap day Noelle, but I need to talk to him, it's
personal."

   "All due respect Ms.  Carter, but that is a very disrespectful
accusation to-"

   "Noelle...what did you do with my favorite blanket...the merino one?" an
obviously annoyed voice crackled over an intercom from Noelle's phone.

   "It's literally where I put it every day John.  Right behind your
napping couch.  Stella needs to talk to you dear, says its personal."

   "Damnit Noelle, why didn't you tell me she was waiting!?"

   "Don't you 'Damnit' me Johnathan!  You're the one that has a secret nap
day no one's supposed to know about and yack's about it over the damn
loudspeaker!"

   "HEY!  You can't talk to me like that at work, I'm your damn boss!"

   "You're making a scene in front of Stella, Johnathan!"

   "Well!!  Send her in for God's sake...and since when do you call me
'Johnathan'?  Are you Mother?  Am I in some kind of Trouble?  No!  And I'll
tell Mother the next time I go out to see her if you don't stop calling me
that!"

   "Oh, so I suppose a stone in the ground is going to turn me on her knee,
is she?  For heaven's sake...go on in Stella, it seems the jig is up
anyway...and give him a hard knock on the damn head for me...35 years, I
don't know why I put up with it..."

   Noelle's rambling went on, but Stella had already entered John Jenkins
office, and closed the door behind her.

   She stepped into the almost palatial sized office with trepidation.  The
mahogany crown moldings, the green walls, the ornate turn of the century
furnishings and open windows of the penthouse office usually filled her
with calm and comfort.  Today was not going to go how it should have gone
just a day ago.  The uncertainty of her steps betrayed her attempt to be
her usually cool self to the aged, yet tall man before her.  John was late
in his life, but through a personality firmly entrenched in discipline on
the mind and body, and a lifelong regimen to both, he was the most handsome
man of his age she had ever seen.  With the added features of a gentle
disposition, a warm smile and impeccable taste in suits further enhanced
his aesthetic.

   "You're as white as a sheet, dearest.  What's happened?  What is this
memo all about?" he asked, holding the memo she'd sent out aloft.

   She needed to keep it together.  She tried to will her body and face to
cooperate, fixing them into the serene, passive mask and gait she put on at
work.  Her mental effort was futile however.  Jacksons return was sapping
her of her faculties.  She had to exert more control over her mind than
usual just to keep from obsessing about him.  If he'd woken up yet.  If he
had seen the meal she'd prepared for him.  If he was wondering where she
was.  If he was obsessing about her as well, right at this moment.

   "Stella, you're worrying me, dear.  Please tell me what's troubling you
so?" John said, gliding to her side in an instant, breaking her out of her
obsession.

   "I'm sorry, John.  My mind is racing today.  I don't really know what to
think right now.  How I'm feeling...I-I'm lost..." she sputtered out, tears
starting to brim in her eyes.

   John could see her starting to fray at the seams and was suddenly very
nervous himself.  He'd never seen her like this.  Could their upcoming
dinner tonight be this distressing to her?

   "Stella...I'm sorry.  I should never have entered into this territory
with you.  It was selfish and vain of me, and a violation of the trust
you've put in me for so many years.  I-" He trailed, seeing the confusion
in her face now.

   "What are you-oh, no, no, no!  John, no!" She placated, placing her hand
on his and finally finding strength to smile.  "No, it's not about
that...well, maybe it is, but you have done nothing wrong." She said, in
answer to his backpedaling, remembering what tonight was supposed to be.

   It was only 3 months ago that after a decade of being her mentor,
confidant, and best friend he confided growing romantic feelings towards
her.  Even after her assurances that she had no interest or even the
emotional ability to date anyone or be romantically involved, he reassured
her of his unique proposal.  Over a candlelight dinner, he confessed just
how much he admired her, every part of her, inside and out.  He had
unwittingly fallen in love with her somewhere along the way and even though
he was just turning 60 years old and the more intimate parts of being in a
relationship were not what he was asking for, and after his multiple
assurances that he fully understood what her limitations were in that area,
he offered for them to be lifelong companions.  Confidants, Best friends.
He simply wanted someone he cared for to come home to every day.  Someone
to share his joys and regrets.  Someone to hold his hand during the opera,
to hold him when he felt down, someone to kiss his cheek and make him feel
loved.  He wanted to belong to someone, in whatever way they would have
him, and he wanted it to be someone he loved in return.  Someone he wanted
to love and protect, to be all of the things he needed from her, right
back. He wanted to marry her.

   At first, she had been floored and at a total loss for words.  He asked
her to simply think on it and try to be open to giving it a try.  After a
few days, she agreed to spend more one on one time with him.  More
candlelight dinners.  Plays.  Walks in the park.  He was always patient,
understanding, and consistent.  Over time, she realized that it wasn't
actually the worst idea.  She realized that while not romantically so, she
did indeed love John very much.  She trusted him above all others, even the
rest of her family.  She began really enjoying their time together.  She
found herself kissing him on the cheek frequently, holding his warm hand
often, and warming up to the idea of a companion.  He and her son got along
well, and at times, if she disregarded his age, she realized he was still a
very handsome man.  He seemed genuine in his assurance that he would never
press the issue of sex, even saying they could sleep in separate beds, or
even separate rooms after being married, and he wouldn't judge her or
resent her one iota.

   The painful part of where she found herself in that very moment was that
until last night, she had decided to say yes to him.  She was going to
marry him and try her best, in whatever way she was able, to make him
happy, for the rest of his days.  She hadn't confided in anyone, even him,
that she had decided.  Tonight's dinner was to be her surprise acceptance.
She was looking forward to having a partner in her life.  Not the partner
she had desired since she knew how to desire, but since she had given up on
that partner ever returning to her life, John would be more of a substitute
then she could have ever hoped for.

   But her desired partner did return last night, and now she had to break
the heart of one of the greatest men she'd ever known.

   "John, I know that I've thrown you for a loop right now, and there must
be a thousand questions in your mind, waiting to come out, but can I ask a
small favor?" she asked, using a well-rehearsed, even tone.

   "Of course, my dear..." he answered, trying not to sound defeated, and
slightly failing, his voice trembling.  The sound didn't escape Stella, and
her eyes brimmed again with moisture at the thought of what must come.

   "Try not to get ahead of yourself, or me, and just listen to everything
I have to say, and please don't jump to any conclusions.  So much has
happened and I don't know if I can get through it all if you..." she
started, failing at the end for fear of her voice giving out.  As nervous
and deflated as John felt with what he thought was coming, he couldn't bear
to see her in pain.

   "Of course, Stella.  You can confide anything in me...even if you're
scared to hurt me.  Know that nothing can make me cross with you.  I am
always here for you." He said, his voice and intent full of meaning.

   At this, she found some semblance of strength.  She knew, even if it
hurt him, that he would accept anything she said with the utmost respect
and grace.  He always had.  It was what she genuinely loved about him most.


   "I want you to know that I love you...very much, John." She started. 
"...and that I was going to meet you for dinner and say yes.  That I would
be honored to be your wife, John." She took a breath to steady her
breathing, which had started to become staccato through the tears that now
outright refused to stay in.  She shot her eyes up to his face for only a
second, but she saw the pain the word 'was' caused him.

   "I see..." he answered in a quiet voice, so near a whisper.  He couldn't
seem to bring his eyes level with hers.

   "Oh, John please.  Please wait 'til I'm done.  Please!" she begged,
suddenly gripping his arm tightly, panic in her voice now unmistakable. 
This caused him to look at her with genuine concern.  He had known her for
a long time and had only ever seen her betray this level of emotion once.

   "Of course, my dear.  Don't worry.  Take your time and get it all out."
He said in the closest to a soothing voice he could, gently taking one of
her hands and giving her an encouraging squeeze, and she continued.

   "But I can't marry you now, John.  Not after last night..." She said,
and while pausing, she reached her hand to cup his cheek, holding his gaze.


   "...You are the smartest, kindest, wisest, gentlest and most handsome
man I have known these past years.  I want you to know that and believe it
because there is only one thing in this entire world that could ever stop
me from becoming your wife, John."

   His look changed throughout from pain to now genuine confusion.

   "What is it, my love.  What have I said, or done?  Please tell me.  I
truly meant it when I said I would never pressure you to...I meant that I
didn't mind that.  I've never tried to insinuate anything else.  If you've
caught me looking at you at any time in a way that makes you uncomfortable,
I apologize.  I am a man, and of course I notice you for the incredibly
attractive woman you are, and if that's it, I'm sorry, and I will better
behave myself and my eyes from now on.  Truly I will Stella-"

   "JACKSON CAME HOME!" she practically shouted.  She had to stop the
torrent of unnecessary apologies coming from the man she admired.  She had
seen him look of course, felt his gaze on her body at times, and opposed to
feeling leered at, she knew it came from a loving place and always
appreciated it from him, even if she couldn't return the sentiment.  He had
never made her feel anything close to cheap, not ever.  Once they were
married, she would have gladly let him gaze, even stare, at her body to his
heart's desire.  In fact, very recently in her most private and serious
moments, alone with her thoughts, she entertained ideas of ways without
having sex with him, that she could bring him pleasure.  Ways with her
hands or even seductive words of encouragement while other pairs of hands
gave him release, free from the constraints of traditional fidelity
judgement or reproach.  She would wear whatever he desired to see her in,
and always give him a reassuring smile and encouraging words to ease his
conscience while another of his choosing brought him what they knew she
never could.

   But that was before last night.

   "Oh, my..." John said, looking utterly dumbstruck, which almost betrayed
what he alone knew already.  Part of what made Stella admire him so much,
and cemented her lifelong loyalty to him was when, very early on in his
mentorship, she confided the secret she could never tell anyone else.  It
was a moment of weakness, brought on by hearing a song that reminded her of
Jack, back when she hadn't had enough practice in dealing with it.  She
told John everything, and contrary to what she expected, he hadn't judged
her in the slightest.  He just seemed to understand, and she had always
been grateful to have someone else in the world who knew.

   "Last night.  I was out with my family all day, and when we came home,
he was just...there.  Sleeping.  In his old bed." She said, her eyes now
glazed over, staring out the window.

   "Where has he been?"

   "...He joined the Army.  He was fighting wars I guess...for the last
decade.  He married someone."

   "MARRIED?" he bellowed, in spite of himself, causing him to recompose.

   "Yes.  He claims they weren't intimate...that he didn't love her, that
they're getting divorced..." she started, ice suddenly tinging her usually
low, melodic voice.

   "You don't believe him?" he asked, one eyebrow cocked.

   "No, I do.  Jackson might be able to lie to other people now, but at
least he still can't seem to lie to me...he just refuses to answer instead
of lie." She almost snapped, venom now readily apparent.  She brought her
attention back to Johns face now, squeezing his hand with both of hers.

   "I'm just so sorry John.  I know that yo-"

   "Stella, don't.  Truly." He almost commanded, suddenly not as much
pained as resolute with the news.  This was the only outcome he hadn't
mentally or emotionally prepared for.  He would have been overjoyed at the
chance to marry and care for Stella, and sorrowful if she said no, but even
if she had turned him down simply because she didn't want to, he would have
bounced back fairly quickly, knowing it was a longshot.  The one contender
he had for her affections returning wasn't one he saw coming, and knowing
that she was going to say yes, and seemed to return his admiration and at
least part of the affection he felt for her was suddenly almost enough in
the face of Jackson's sudden return.  His initial interest in Stella's hand
was to take care of her, and protect her from loneliness, as much as
himself.  If the man she truly loved was now back in the picture, he would
happily bow out.  He loved her enough to do so graciously, to protect her
from the pain of unwarranted guilt.

   "Honestly, Stella.  I am well aware that Jackson's return into your life
changes the entire game," he said, both gently and yet with a concise
feeling.

   "It also makes more sense of your sudden need to take an extended leave
of absence." He added.

   "Now, please know that I don't ask this out of any feeling of romantic
competition, or jaded ridiculousness.  I've known you both since you were
born, and I care very much about Jackson.  But Stella..." he began,
returning to his seat beside her.  "...a large part of the trauma
from...back than...was the abandoned feelings attributed from his sudden
departure.  Now I know the rest was more the crux of it, but...well I
suppose what I'm asking you is if you are sure you can handle taking him
back into your life?  Are you sure you can reconcile the immense struggle
it will no doubt be?  Can you really just take him back, just like that?"
He asked, in the calm, confident and gentle cadence she had grown used to.

   "Thank you, John, for being worried.  Really.  After everything, for you
to be concerned about that is just...well it is another example of why I
admire you so very much.  No, I'm not just 'taking him back, just like
that'," she said, trying to fully repress the automatic reaction she hadn't
felt in so long; the urge to annihilate anyone who so much as hinted at
Jackson in a negative way.  Mostly, because she knew that John had a
concern.  "He has a time limit...to tell me why he left.  If he doesn't, or
can't tell me, then he will leave again and never show his face here
again." She said matter-of-factly.  John's eyes widened at this.

   "That's very...firm of you, considering what he means to you, but that
wasn't quite my meaning.  Do you still feel...as strongly, as adamantly in
love with Jackson?  Has ten years done nothing to release your hold on each
other?" he asked, now not only concerned, but intrigued.

   The question might as well have been if one plus one still equaled two
to her.  It still caused her eyes to mist and her mind to focus on the
question in her heart.  She didn't wonder if she still felt the same.  The
moment she laid eyes on his dark form, fast asleep, she knew that her ardor
for him hadn't diminished by any possible measurement.  It was like every
other moment she had ever spent gazing at him; He was the only person, the
only thing she saw and would ever see.  She wondered, fearfully, if he
still felt as strongly.

   "No, John.  I love him, and no other." She said, jaw squared and even
though she gave off the aura of absolute seriousness, she felt her spirit
lighten, and her heart raise off the ground at the declaration.

   "Then, of course you have my complete support, my dear.  I only ever
wish for your happiness.  I will be taking over your accounts, personally."
He began, his demeanor entirely business, yet not at all curt.  She was
grateful.

   "I assume that you will address your senior team before you go, and
leave instructions?"

   "Of course."

   "And am I to also assume that you still wish to continue to personally
oversee yours and your families...substantial portfolios?" He asked,
chuckling.

   "Of course," she said, a smile returning to her face.  She was trying to
stay focused on business, but with the heartbreaking part of her business
concluded, she was becoming excited to get home.

   "Good then.  Now let's discuss what's going to happen when you return."
He said, and with that they stood side by side over his desk, poured over
various documents involving her ascendance to name partner, her new office,
staff, company share buy in and even a computer-generated mock-up of the
new label of the firm, with her name in equal size and font with the other
three name that made up their title.  This part above any other business
they went over caused a surge of pride and satisfaction.  Seeing her name
on the side of their building, their stationary, pens, pads of paper, all
of it was almost surreal.  She had given every ounce of her mind and heart
that was not taken by her son, to her career.  She often spent entire
nights until the break of dawn pouring over charts, papers, numbers with
monetary value changing all over the world in real time, perfecting her
craft.  She dedicated herself to making her firm, and her family, money and
she was now one of the best, and most respected in the western United
States.

   "Well I think that's all, my love...oops," he said, bringing himself up
short.  "...I suppose I shouldn't call you such things anymore." He said, a
sad smile touching at the corners of his lips.

   "Oh, John!" she suddenly pleaded, turning to him and throwing her arms
around his neck, holding him tight.  After a second's surprise, he wrapped
her into his gentle embrace.

   "Don't you dare stop!  Darling.  Dear.  Your love.  I am still all of
those things.  Please don't shut me out and close me off because of all of
this...I don't want how we treat each other to change.  I still love you so
much, John." She commanded, her voice cracking through her authoritative
charade.

   "Of course, my love.  I'm so happy you feel that way.  I just
thought...well I didn't want to assume anything-"

   "Stop!" she said, leaning back so she could look into his eyes.  "Don't.
Our dinners, our time spent, are some of the happiest moments of my life.
Truly, and I don't see any reason why you and I shouldn't still have dinner
or take in a play or do whatever you like every now and then.  I love
spending time together, John.  I hope you never suspected that I was ever
just pretending to enjoy your company." She said, nervously searching his
face, waiting for validation.

   "Of course not, Stella." He said, feeling happier than he thought he
could, given the disappointment he'd been handed today.  It seemed like so
long ago already.  Her genuine affection for an old man like him was truly
a ray of sunshine in what he had been afraid was going to be a torrential
downpour of sorrow and rejection.  She still wanted his company in her
life, and it was a shot of light into his heart.

   "Good." She said, and in a surprise move to both of them, she followed a
sudden impulse to cradle his neck with one hand and kiss him softly but
fully on his surprisingly warm lips.

   It lasted only 5 seconds, and then she pulled her lips away, but it was
more than he'd ever dreamt it could be.  He was suddenly overcome with a
warm joy throughout his body.  The most beautiful woman he had ever laid
eyes on, a woman he'd watched grow in many ways throughout her life, had
given him something he had only hoped and dreamt of in his most private and
quiet moments.  A kiss with genuine love.  It might not have been a kiss of
desire, of lust, of romance, or of any other kind he had longed for from
her, but he would accept the token of pure love with glad arms.

   "Oh, Stella.  Oh, my dear." He said, still stunned, with tears now
coming from the corners of his eyes.

   "You deserve so much more than that, John.  I wish I could give it to
you, but that is the best I can do.  I hope, in some way, that it was
enough to show you how dear you are to me." She said, her voice tense with
emotion.

   "Stella, I would have waited until my dying breath for just such a kiss
and it would have been a life worth living.  Thank you, my dear."

   They held each other for a few more moments, both holding on tight to
the happiness of the moment while looking out the windows towards the sill
rising sun over a bustling coastal city far below.  They both knew, in
their hearts, that the kiss had been one of goodbye, although neither would
say it out loud.  Goodbye to a complicated pseudo-romantic relationship. 
Goodbye to a marriage proposal.  Goodbye to one dynamic, and also greetings
to a new one.  One of reverent admiration and deep friendship that neither
would ever betray.  They would always be there for one other, in every way
they could.  It was a promise, sealed with a kiss.  A kiss that for
different reasons for both, and yet with a unison acceptance, neither would
ever forget.

   They parted, John walking her hand in hand to the door of his office. 
As he opened the door and she was about to walk out it, she suddenly
stopped, turning and closing the door again.

   "John...all those years ago, when I confessed about Jackson and I...our
love...why didn't you freak out?  Why did you...take that kind of news the
way you did.  You were so understanding, so open.  How?  Its
incest...people are supposed to think we're sick or twisted...freaks." She
blurted out.  It was a question that had bothered her since the morning
after she told him.  She had told him everything, too.  She didn't hold
back.  She had always wondered.

   He hadn't been expecting the question, at least not at this moment.  His
usual inclination would have been to deflect, but that would be an insult
to her absolute honesty with him.

   "I wasn't always an old man, my love.  When I was younger than you are
now, I had a cousin that id never met before.  She came with her aunt to
visit out family in Zurich, where we spent our summers during my childhood.
We fell madly in love.  We spent a very...passionate summer together, and
ultimately a very short summer.  We parted afterwards, and due to my own
cowardice, I never contacted her again." He told her, regret coloring his
voice.

   "Why don't you contact her now?  If it was true love, it's never too
late to at least reach out, be friends at the very least." She almost
pleaded, a strange hint of fear in her voice.

   "Oh Stella!  Sometimes I forget just how young you truly are...I'm
afraid it is much too late for anything like that." He chuckled, his smile
warm yet sad.

   "Why?" she whispered, her eyes suddenly in tears.

   "She died, my love...cancer.  Almost a decade ago."

   She was about to launch into some semblance of an apology and
condolence, but his hand swiftly reached her lips, stopping her with a
sudden intense and serious gaze.

   "Hush, my dear.  Don't shed tears for my own failures and regrets.  You
are leaving here to embark on a difficult journey of your own.  I know you
well enough by now to realize you expect justice done for Jacksons sins
against you.  But at the same time, you long for his love and affection
again, and to give of your own to him, as he has no doubt experienced some
kind of war induced trauma of his own, not unlike yours, over the past
years away from you.  You will have to decide which is more important to
you now.  Justice for his wrongs, or the love and longing you both have and
crave from each other.  It will be a razor's edge you are about to walk. 
Too far on either side could bring you both to ruin.  Take great care,
Stella..." he said, his eyes somehow becoming more serious, leaving her
rapt with attention.

   "...Do not shut him out, not matter how hurt you are.  If you truly want
to be together again, you both already have a lifetime of secrets and lies
ahead of you.  Don't let the secrets and lies be between you, and don't let
resentment fester in your hearts.  On the same token however, don't lower
your expectations with his explanation either.  He must answer for what he
has done to you.  I know, it sounds like an impossible line, and I don't
envy your position.  Embrace him in your heart...but keep wary mind...at
least until he gives you the answers you need to move forward, together."

   In just a matter of moments, the man she'd turned to, leaned on, and
grown to genuinely care for had given her quite possibly the most important
and meaningful counsel she had ever received.  He had dried her tears,
mentored her through school, hired her and couched her for her entire
career thus far, and yet he had never given her more to think about than
just then.

   She suddenly found herself finally at a complete loss for words.

   "Go now, dear.  Take the time you need." He said, releasing her to what
he knew to be an uphill battle with an uncertain conclusion.

   CH.  14

   She left the room feeling somber.  Her teams were briefed, and she was
out of the revolving glass door of their glass building within twenty
minutes.  As she got into her sleek yet understated BMW SUV and drove out
of the parking structure, the fog of emotions and the weight what came next
moved to the forefront of her mind.  She had been full to the brim with
anxiety and heartache at what she had to put John through, but as it turned
out, he took everything better than she could have ever dreamed.  Not only
was he still her trusted confidant and friend, he told her everything she
didn't know she needed to hear.

   It was perfectly understandable to react the way she had at finding him
last night, she knew.  One second, her entire life made sense.  She had a
routine.  A physical and emotional one.  If she had to describe her life in
word, it would be measured.  She had learned the skill in the psychiatric
hospital those first 2 months after he had left and had since incorporated
it into her entire life.  Everything was deliberate.  She learned to speak
in rehearsed, measured tones.  She moved in deliberate, measured ways.  She
even dressed and did her makeup and hair in moderation.  She always went
for pretty, but not gorgeous.  Alluring, but not outright sexy. 
Form-fitting, but never skin tight; measured.  That measured control had
encompassed every aspect of her life now.  Last night, she had acted
anything but.

   It made her feel alive.

   Suddenly she became aware of something; something sitting deep in the
core of her.  Something that she'd kept buried.  It was like an ember.  Now
that she noticed it, she felt that it had been smoldering, smoldering all
these years.  The more she thought on it, she could faintly recall the
feeling of letting it ignite, of letting it burn freely, like when she was
young.  It was a perfectly content fire, crackling with the steadfastness
of her devotion.  The constancy of their loving dynamic.  His gentleness
and her hardness.  His empathy with her single-minded focus on his welfare.
His acquiescence to her wishes and her control of their doings.

   But then another memory came to her as she drove on.  A memory of a
night she vowed not to remember.  A night when, from somewhere deep inside,
even at her tender age the fire inside started blazing.  The night it
became an inferno, threatening to engulf her entirely.  A night when her
calm, cool control suddenly melted off of her in the heat of absolute
desperation, a desperation that could only be quenched by the physical
passion she had been denied her entire life.  But something in that fire
had only just begun to change her in that distant moment, and it was a
change that took hold not merely in her only.  The gentle, mild boy she
loved had turned hard, rough and fierce.  The control she had quite
suddenly become weary of had shifted in that moment to him, and he had
taken it in mere seconds, wordlessly commanding her submission; a
submission that fed the inferno within her to a titanic level foreign to
her.  She had suddenly wanted nothing more than to obey to anything,
everything he would ask, or charge her to do for him.  But the moment was
just as fleeting in its time as the thought of it was now.  The tender
night they spent was everything to her still, but the nagging thought of
'what if' was now growing, festering like a weed in her mind.

   The thought quickly spread throughout her thoughts, her life.  She had
kept a tight control on quite literally everything in her life; School,
work, money, her family, her son, her spending, her emotions.  The thought
of it made her suddenly sick, and the ember within her core suddenly
ignited into combustion.  She drove towards the east end of the city
towards home, and the flame was a crackling fire, simmering from within. 
She passed more of the city now, and the fire began to rage, igniting her
body now.  Suddenly the image of that night was all she could think about.
The way he had grabbed her.  The way he had torn her shirt.  The fierce way
his eyes bored into hers.  The passion within his kiss and the command
behind it.  The control he had wielded over her suddenly, and within a few
seconds the very word control had become like the most sacrilegious cuss
she could think of.  She was offended by it, sickened by its existence. 
She was so sick and tired of control, of measure.  As she came to this
train of thought a car dealership suddenly came to her attention from her
peripheral view on her left.  She almost instantly slowed, turning to what
was in fact a gallery of expensive luxury and performance cars, some
spinning on a dais in an almost entirely glass structure.  She suddenly
pulled in and parked in the almost empty lot beside it.

   She turned off the car and sat for a few moments.  She was looking
around her in the BMW she drove.  It was quite nice, but it was
too...something.  Too timid, too mild...too measured.  That was the word
that did it for her.  She was suddenly out of the car and slamming the door
like it had burned her terribly to sit in it any longer.  She fumed in
anger at it, barely resisting the urge to start kicking it when she noticed
a young man in a grey suit approaching her with the trademark smile of a
salesperson.  Normally she hated salespeople.  She was self-assured enough
to already know what she wanted before ever stepping foot into any store,
and never needed, or wanted help from anyone inside.  But today, she was
not only glad to see him, but happy to have help with her entirely
unplanned stop.

   "Hello, miss.  That's a beautiful SUV you have there.  I love the new
shade of metallic green they put on that modal this year.  Is there
anything I can help you find for it today?  We have a great selection of
accessories for the newer models, and anything we don't have, we can
definitely special order it for you and install it faster than anyone
around."

   He said all of this as if he had spent weeks rehearsing it from a
script, without sounding at all rehearsed.  Normally she would have been
annoyed, but at this moment she felt like being...flirty.

   "Actually, I do need your help...but I'm afraid it's not with this
car..." she started, giving the young man a demure smile, adjusting her
body language accordingly.  "I don't want to see this car again, after this
afternoon actually.  I want to trade it in for something more...fun," she
said, a mischievous grin spreading across her face.  Its effect was almost
instantaneous, and she suddenly felt a thrill shoot through her as the
young man began the journey to being putty in her hands.

   "Absolutely, miss.  Anything you like.  Do you have a price range and a
particular make, or model in mind?" He asked, his friendliness increasing
by the second.

   "Oh, money is no object.  In fact...take me to where you keep your
fastest and most expensive cars...and I do mean the most expensive,' she
said, playful pretense gone and a fierce look returning to her gaze.  The
change was not lost on the young man.

   "Miss, that will be...very, very expensive." He said, a hint of
confusion coloring his brow.

   "Do you see the street sign out there?" she asked pointing to the sign
across the street from where they stood.  "Can you read what it says?" she
asked, her eyebrow cocked.

   "Yes, we are on Carter street, miss." He answered plainly.

   "...and do you see that building out there, the tallest one, with the
names on it, one covered at the bottom?" she asked, turning them 45 degrees
towards the distant center of the vast city.

   "...yes." He answered, again confused.

   "It says Carter as well," She answered.  "And the name of city hall?"
she asked.

   "Carter Hall?" he asked.

   "Now, here," she said, taking her pocketbook out of her purse, and
snatching two cards out of it before replacing it back where it came from,
handing one of them to the young man.

   It took him only seconds to understand, his eyes bulging, his rehearsed
composure gone, then hurriedly thrust the card back to her.

   "Miss Carter, I am so sorry.  I had no idea.  Please...right this way."
he motioned with a hand towards the glass double doors of the dealership.

   They walked in, the young man walking in front of her in a hurried pace,
stopping momentarily to address her again.

   "Please allow me a moment, we have a very nice lounge over there to your
right.  Can I get you anything?  Water, tea, coffee?  We can order any
food, anything at all that you'd like." He offered.  She appreciated the
effort, but she didn't plan on being here very long.

   "No thank you, ill just...wait over there by the water fountain for
you." She said, smiling at him.

   He practically speed walked towards a hallway filled with offices.  As
she waited, she looked around at her surroundings.  It was quite grand, as
far as automobile dealerships go, she thought.  There was a marble
fountain, bubbling clear water in jets, with a comfortable looking sitting
area which the young man gestured to moments ago.  All around, there were
beautiful cars, some jet black, spinning on their dais, red sports cars
strewn at acute angles, and a rather blocky looking Mercedes she noticed.
It was too bulky.  She wasn't here for utility, or necessarily comfort. 
She was here for extravagance and speed.  It was barely 3 minutes before a
tall, portly man in an exquisite suit made a direct line for her, the young
man from before tailing close behind, both looking just a tad on the
anxious side, which caused the corners of her mouth to tick up slightly, in
spite of herself.

   "Miss Carter, it is a pleasure to have you in our establishment.  Please
tell us exactly what you want, and we will do everything in our power to
make it happen.  Anything at all." He said, flashing her a surprisingly
handsome smile for his rather round husky appearance.  She knew this song
and dance, however, and she didn't particularly want to deprive the young
man behind him of the commission coming to him, especially because it was
bound to be a large one.

   "Thank you for your hospitality.  If it's quite alright though, I'd like
to conduct my business with the gentleman who brought me in.  He has been
very helpful, and I already feel very comfortable with him guiding me
through it all." She said, her voice suddenly all business, yet still
pleasant.  It was the voice she used to get things done.  It caught him of
guard, but like a professional with his obvious years in the business, he
recovered in less than a second.

   "Of course.  He is fairly new here but I've no doubt he will help you to
the best of his ability.  But if you have any questions or issues at all,
please feel free to come straight to my office and I will make sure it is
handled," He said, with a short yet intimidating look at the young man, he
was off.

   "Thank you, Miss Carter, for that.  We've uhh...never had a customer
like you in here before.  I mean, a customer that-"

   "That everything in the city is named after, you mean?"

   "Yes, that." He said, laughing openly.  It was an attractive, unguarded
laugh and it put her fully at ease.

   "Now, there are a number of vehicles we can show you, depending on what
you have your mind set on, there is..." he was saying, but her eye caught
an absolutely gorgeous car, the color of a deep, rich red wine, wheels
gleaming in the sunlight, the shape more akin to an apex predator than an
automobile, sitting in a corner of the gallery and it distracted her
completely.  It was the...sexiest?  Yes, sexiest car she had ever seen.

   "What is that?" she asked, her mouth half open, eyes transfixed entirely
on it.

   "Oh, wow.  You have a sharp eye.  That is the new Aston Martin Vanquish
Zagato."

   "Such a beautiful name..." she whispered, not to anyone in particular as
her body, of its own design, began walking towards it.

   "Well, it's a beautiful car.  It has a V12 engine in it, top speed
is..." he started, rattling off technical specifications most likely
memorized right out of the catalog.  She didn't hear him.  She didn't care.
This was it.  This was her new car.  She could already feel the power in
her hands through the steering column, the speed in her foot, imagine her
hair whipping around her face as she drove at the speed of sound on the
long, rural highway towards her parent's property, the feeling of absolute
freedom coursing through her.  She was at the car now, her hands resting on
the door, looking at the stunning cream leather interior, the trimmings a
juxtaposition of carbon fiber and rich earth tones.

   "...Miss Carter?" he said, clearly just noticing that she hadn't hear a
word he'd said.

   "What?!  Oh...uhh...This one.  I want this one.  Not one like it, this
very one."

   "Miss...this is a lot of car..." he began, but she whipped her head to
face him, her face hard, and it brought him up short.

   "...of course, Miss Carter.  If you'll follow me over this way, we can
get the paperwork started on the financing."

   "That won't be necessary." She said, reaching back into her pocketbook
for her black card.

   "Miss, this car is over-" he began, but suddenly he was holding her
black card, and he instantly understood that this woman had money.  A lot
of it.

   "I'll be in the lounge...and if you can get the title paperwork and such
together and ready for me to sign in less than 20 minutes, ill double your
commission," She said simply, and with all decorum gone, he practically
sprinted towards the back offices.

   He was back in 15 minutes, and she signed everything.  It took only 10
minutes for additional people to get the car to the front parking lot and
the keys into her hand.  As she was about to get in the car, she suddenly
remembered her BMW sitting parked 5 spaces down.

   "Damn!  I meant to trade that in.  I don't suppose you have nighttime
security people here, after closing, do you?" she asked the young man.

   "Absolutely we do.  In fact, we have a contract with the local police
department.  They send us a patrol car that just basically sits here all
night until sun up," he answered.

   "Could I just leave that here then, until I send someone to pick it up?"
she asked, pointing to it.

   "Absolutely, Miss Carter.  Anything for you." He said, his voice full of
genuine appreciation.  His commission still running his mind in circles of
excitement.

   "Thanks.  You're a darling." She said and gave him a teasing wink and a
wide grin.  She put the key in, turned it, and the engine roared to life
sending chills up her spine.

   Just like she imagined the rumble of the engine ran through the car,
into her hands and through her entire body, but not in an overly loud or
vibrating way.  It was ferocity restrained by clockwork design and
engineering.  It would roar and scream, but only the moment she pressed the
pedal down; which she did and it didn't disappoint.  It sent a fresh thrill
through her, causing her to turn to the young man, who was staring at her,
grinning from ear to ear.  She knew it was shameless, but she couldn't stop
herself from giving him another seductive wink and blowing him a kiss.  She
then cackled at the stunned look on his face and pressed the pedal down,
tearing from the parking lot and unto the street.

   The tires gripped the road like they were made of super glue, and the
entire car responded to her so perfectly it was as if the second her brain
had sent the signal to her hand, the steering wheel barely had to move, and
it went exactly where she wanted.  She sped past the remainder of the city,
Carter Street turning into the highway towards her families' estate.  She
wanted to put distance between her and her BMW as fast as possible. 
Distance between her and control, because at this moment, she knew she was
out of control.  She couldn't get enough of the reckless speed.  She
couldn't get the smile off of her face.  Her windows were down, her raven
hair whipping around her.  She couldn't douse the fire that was consuming
every inch of her body.  She couldn't get to Jackson fast enough.

   She had acted rashly last night, she mused.  John was right, she had to
put her faith and trust in Jack, in his explanation.  How was she supposed
to get him back if she scared him away the first moment he came back to
her, and he had come back to her.  It was to leave his situation, sure.  It
was because he needed home, and family, ok.  But she knew the truth: He
needed her.  He couldn't stay away from her anymore, any more than she
could from him.  Suddenly the fire inside flashed even hotter, and then all
rational thought melted away.  She had to get home, had to get to him. 
She'd leave the damn car running, she'd break down the door and run up the
stairs.  Her entire family could be in the room, she didn't care.  She was
going to throw herself in his arms and beg him to kiss her if she had to,
although she doubted she'd need to.  All she knew was that she needed his
lips on hers, his hands all over her, she needed him to take control, to
take her however he wanted.  She'd kneel, she'd beg, she'd bow, crawl for
him.  Did he want tears to show her desperation?  Did he need to bring her
to heel?  She didn't care, as long as he took her.

   She was lost in her licentious needs when she noticed blue and red
lights behind her.  Fucking Paul!

   She snatched her phone and paired it to the media console of the car and
touched Paul's name in her favorites.  It rang 3 times.

   "I can't talk right now, Stella...I'm chasing this fucking INSANE car
right no-"

   "Yeah, I know...just give it up, you'll never catch me." She said, at
first trying to sound authoritative but the idea of running from Paul's
police car sent another flash of fire from within her.  It was reckless,
dangerous...and an absolutely perfect idea.

   "That's YOU?!...You're a liar!" he practically shouted in the phone.

   He was slowly gaining on her, but she was only barely pressing the pedal
down.  A game of chase sounded like more fun than she had ever had.  She
grabbed the handbrake and yanked the wheel, squealing around until she was
facing Paul's cruiser, and without missing a beat, released it, gunning the
accelerator, heading straight at him.

   "Stella!!...What the hell are you doing?  Stop the car!" he shouted.

   "Stop what?  I thought it wasn't me.  I mean...this couldn't possibly be
me, driving this gorgeous wine red Vanquish, could it?  I couldn't possibly
be driving right at you, practically begging to be chased, could I?" she
teased, her voice melodic.

   "Stella, Stop this!  Are you insane?  Where in the fuck did you get
that?"

   "Come on, Paul...play with me!  Chase me...ill even slow down for the
first 5 miles before I leave you eating my fucking dust!" She challenged,
throwing her head back laughing.

   "Seriously?  Stella, what's gotten into you?  What the fuck are y-"

   "TAG, YOU'RE IT!" she shouted, shooting past him.

   "Stella, I'll pull you the fuck over and impound your new car, I swear
to fucking God!"

   "Oh, come ON!  Just one game!"

   "Stella...you really have me worried.  Please slow down.  I'm off in
like 20 minutes.  When I get there we can talk about this-"

   "Wow!  So, when I'm basically an unemotional robot, everything is fine
but if I'm the least bit impulsive or alive, there must be something wrong
with me?  No...you know what, Fuck You!  Go home after you're off,
seriously.  You and Tillie have a nice, boring night in...and when I say
'go home' I mean you're home!  Bye!"

   With the call ended at the touch of a button, she pulled another
whipping turn back towards the house and put the pedal to the metal.

   She could feel the recklessness permeating throughout her entire being
and for the first time, it started to scare her.  This feeling was so
foreign to her now.  There was a day, a moment seemingly a lifetime ago
where she let herself feel these things, but it seemed that her body, mind,
and soul were so thirsty for it that the fear could barely touch the
surface of her.  She saw Paul's cruiser directly in front of her, but just
as his lights switched off, she sped past him faster than she thought
possible, watching him pull to the side of the road in her rearview. 
Trees, grass, open sky rushed past her faster than she could process, but
it mattered little.  She was looking at the road in front of her, but she
didn't see it.  She saw Jackson.  His face.  His body.  His eyes.  Into his
soul, or at least what she knew of his soul now.  The fire was raging
within her, all around her and when she thought she couldn't breathe
anymore, the estate crested in her view and she pressed the gas as far down
as it would go.

   With a precision that honestly surprised her, she hit the brakes while
turning the wheel just as she entered the driveway to the house, stopping
crookedly in front of it.  She put it in park, turned and took out the key,
opened her door and tossed the key unto the passenger seat in one fluid
motion.  She was running to the door and throwing it open within seconds.

   She strode through the entryway and into the living room, her hungry
eyes scanning for her prey and finding nothing.  She craned herself enough
to see into the kitchen and, while seeing evidence of his meal being eaten
and put away, Jackson was not there.  Upstairs.

   She kicked her heals off into the room and jogged to the staircase,
hoping in her mind that she could be lucky enough to find him in the
shower, undressed and practically giftwrapped for her.  She took the steps
three at a time and walking into their room.  When she got into their
entryway, she veered right into his room, and stopped on the spot. 
Something wasn't right.

   "Jack!?" she called, panic starting to set in.

   The water wasn't running in the bathroom, meaning he wasn't in there,
but that was the least of her worries.  As she surveyed the room, she saw
no trace of his things anymore.  His bag, his toiletries, any sign of him
still being there was missing.  The bed was made, just as it had been
before he came home.  In fact, the entire room screamed at her the fact
that it looked like he had never been there in the first place.  Her
thoughts and feelings were jumbled, save for one: panic.

   "JACKSON!?" she yelled, her voice cracking.

   She turned to run downstairs, tripping over her own feet and falling
unto her hands and knees.

   "No...no, no, no.." she mumbled to herself in desperation.  She climbed
to her feet and ran downstairs, almost falling down them halfway down.  She
frantically walked the entire house, round and round in circles, tears
completely blurring her vision, her entire body trembling and shaking
despite her.  Her mental autopilot finally stopped her circuit throughout
the house when she reached the kitchen, coming to a halt at the sliding
glass door.

   He'd done it again.  He'd been in her life.  He'd made promises to her.
She had given him her trust...and he had disappeared again, breaking them
all, and her all over again in the process.  She involuntarily found
herself falling to the floor, sliding down the glass and wrapping her arms
around her knees, rocking back and forth without really meaning to.  It was
déjà vu of the worst kind.

   "No, please...please no..." was all she could seem to mutter as her
entire body trembled and hear tears turned into sobs.

   "Oh my God, Stella!  Honey, what's the matter?" the voice of her mother
said, causing her to jump in surprise, whipping her head towards it.

   "Oh, Mom!" she cried out, throwing her arms out towards her mother,
outstretched in a desperate plea for consolation, something she hadn't done
since she was a toddler and causing her mother to rush to take her in her
arms, despite being stunned at the gesture.

   "Oh, honey!  What happened!?" she asked, tears now choking her own
voice, being genuinely frightened for her child.  Minutes passed by, Stella
unable to utter a word, and her mother holding her tight through her sobs,
waiting patiently for her to regain the ability to speak.

   "He's gone...and it's my fault." She stammered through sobs.

   "Gone?  But...his shirt is right there on the counter, sweetheart. 
Before I left for the office a little while ago he said he was going for a
run or something.  He's probably still out on the paths."

   "Really!?" she suddenly exclaimed, excitement replacing her sorrow. 
"Oh, Mom!  Thank you!" she said, squeezing her mother before trying to get
to her feet.

   Once on her feet again, she found she could barely look at her mother
out of the sheer embarrassment she felt at someone seeing her like that.

   "Don't be that way, honey.  Its...a completely understandable reaction
and assumption, given his track record, and how close you two are...but you
don't have to worry about that, I don't think.  We had a little talk this
morning."

   "You did?  What did he say?" she asked instantaneously, her usual cool
exterior stripped bare.

   "That he is back...home, for good.  That he loves us, and that he wants
to make everything right.  Your display for him this morning really touched
him, I think.  It looked like it practically made his year, actually." She
chuckled, getting a small smile from Stella.

   "See, speak of the devil...and he shall appear." Martha said, pointing
her head and gaze out the sliding glass towards the back grounds where from
the far end of the property that was visible out of the woods, came a
shirtless running figure.

   Stella turned on the spot, placing her hands on the glass, her face
inches from the door, watching the object of her undying love sprinting
full speed down the sloping grass towards her.

   He was running much faster than she thought should be possible, given
her memory of his athleticism, or lack thereof in their younger years.  His
gait and cadence spoke only of two primal aspects of man; speed and power.
Just as her full attention was drawn to the figure outside, sounds from the
front entryway signaled that others had entered the house behind her.

   "STELLA!" a commanding voice called out from well behind her as her eyes
drank in the man now almost to his goal: her.

   "Stella!  You had me seriously worried back there Stella!  What is going
on with you!?  Stella!!" the voice said, now in the kitchen behind her, but
she barely heard him.

   "Stella, honey?  Are you ok?" a softer, more timid voice asked behind
her.

   "Huh...oh, hi Tillie..." she answered behind her, barely registering
them as she looked on at the topless, sweaty figure that was feet away from
the front steps, about to crest them towards her, at least until the moment
he didn't.

   She watched in confusion as the figure who should already be running up
the stairs and into her arms had instead made a beeline for the pull-up
bar, leaping directly unto it in one bound, pulling himself up and down
with complete and utter control, over and over again at a speed that she
wasn't sure she could truly understand.  She couldn't even count how many
repetitions he was doing because of the distraction his chiseled muscles
made as they stretched, tensed and moved with his efforts.  30?  40?  Maybe
50 was the number he was counting to, but just as she was becoming sure
that she never wanted to do anything else in life other than watch his
impressive form do pull-ups, he swung himself forward off of the bar, and
within two strides, was in a boxing stance, throwing blow after blow at the
training dummy in front of him.  One-two punches and jab-to punch
repetitions, one after another, tirelessly came from his aggressive form
with a strength she could clearly see, and a fury she was scared to ever
understand as the wooden post the dummy was attached to shook and shuddered
under his blows.

   What finally brought her out of her lust filled trance was the sudden
realization that his back had a large tattoo, or perhaps a serious of
tattoos she couldn't exactly make out across his upper trapezius and across
his entire shoulder blades.  Just as she was beginning to see some shapes
in them, he turned away from the dummy, and in 2 steps was in front of the
large punching bag across from it, raining blows to it with the same power,
technical precision and unbridled rage he had before.  This spin move also
showed her a large tattoo across his chest.  She would have been stunned at
the surprising, transformed figure of a man physically foreign to her if
she wasn't absolutely hypnotized and gravely apprehensive by the rage
before her from a person she'd never seen step on a single flower.  Blow
after blow he rained down, and with each one he threw, his face seemed to
contort in increasing anger as the bag refused to come off of its chain.

   "...Jesus Christ..." whispered Paul's voice, behind her as she suddenly
became aware of him, Tillie and their mother watching the same display
alongside her.

   The tension had reached a fever pitch from within her, with so many
intense emotions and desires, the one that was winning out within her was
concern.  Something instinctively told her that he was feeling just as out
of control as herself, only instead of desperate need and lust, all she saw
was anger...rage...and all-consuming fury.  It was this thought that hit
her at the precise moment they all heard his cry.  A cry of desperate rage,
a torturous roar as he rained his last blow, finally breaking the hinge the
bag chain was attached to, throwing the bag flying and Jackson with it, on
his hands and knees, trembling.

   "JACK!?" Stella cried, knocking Tillie to the ground and her mother
aside in a frightened bid to the sliding door, throwing it open and flying
down the steps as fast her body could take her.  Within seconds, she flung
herself to him, grabbing him from behind around his chest, wrenching him
up, his own sobs now drown out by hers as he grasped unto her hands.

   "I've got you, baby!" she said, pulling him with all of her might with
her as she slid her now almost sitting body towards the post holding the
dummy, leaning them both against it, holding fast to his trembling form for
dear life.

   "I'm sorry, Stel!  Please...I'm so sorry...I had to, I'm sorry..." he
cried, emotionally and physically spent to the last ounce of strength.

   "I know, baby!  I know.  Its ok.  I didn't mean it.  I swear, I didn't
mean it.  I love you!  You're here and we're together, and I'm gonna make
it better.  We're gonna fix it!  We're gonna fix everything..." she
whispered in his ear, holding his head still to her chest.

   "Please don't leave me, Jack...don't ever leave me again, baby!  I
promise I'll make it all better, just...just don't leave me!" she whispered
through fresh sobs, trying to comfort him while in need of equal comfort in
kind, the emotionally blind leading the blind, both caught up in the love
of their own little world as three loving family members watched on,
clueless and helpless to do anything except watch, hope, and love.


   For pics visit ---->> https://bit.ly/2ReHUJI