NOTE: This was originally listed as an individual story/a sequel to the first chapter and was uploaded in June 2005. I don't know if I'll ever continue it, but the two chapters work better as one story than two separate ones.

(See first part for disclaimer, notes spoiler, etc.)

Chapter 2: "A Hell of Heaven"

The mind is its own place, and in itself, can make heaven of Hell, and a hell of Heaven. - John Milton

Night clung to Dallas as I drove through the downtown streets slowly, the haste of earlier exchanged for the promise of relief. Eyeing the buildings on either side of me, I pulled the Mercedes into the first available spot I saw.

The air here is warmer, pulsing with the energy of the nightlife and the throngs of people on the sidewalk. I forced half a dozen coins into the parking meter and turned my back on the car. Animated conversations and occasional laughter surrounded me as I set off down the sidewalk. Inviting light and noise spilled out from the restaurants, but I bypassed them all and instead turned down one of the narrow side streets.

The hustle of the street faded away as I continued to walk, the heels of my shoes clicking on the concrete. Streetlights are rare here, golden pools that I passed through sporadically until I saw it. A dark façade, the only brightness came from the nearly burnt out neon sign advertising its merchandise. Beer never quite did it for me. It took too long to take effect and even then, I could still feel the hurt trickling out from my heart in stinging waves and washing over my body.

The wooden door is heavy as I pulled it open and stepped inside. The darkness from the street doesn't compare to the interior and my eyes rapidly adjusted to the change. I glanced around quickly but the bar is nearly empty and no one looked back at me, too concerned with wallowing in their own misery. Perfect. The only source of light it seemed came from the illuminated wall behind the counter and I made my way to it with a purpose.

A silver mist hung in the air, the cigarette smoke stinging my eyes as I slid onto the stool. It wobbled slightly but settled as I pulled my purse off my shoulder and laid it on the surface in front of me. The light in the bar may have been dim, but it stilled managed to get caught on the opulent diamond of my left hand. It flashed at me before I twisted the ring and tucked the stone into my palm.

"What can I get you darlin'?"

Darlin'. Only JR called me that. That term of affection always rolled so easily off his lips in that deep drawl that was his alone. Too easily. He called every woman "darlin'."

I raised my eyes and folded my hands over my purse. "Vodka rocks."

The bartender's head bobbed once before he reached under the counter for a glass. He sat the thick bottomed tumbler on top of a square cocktail napkin. The ice cubes clinked together as they hit the sides and bottom. The sound of the liquor splashing against the ice was soothing and I watched as they floated to the surface. He pushed the drink to me and turned away to service another patron.

I stared down at the drink. The vodka swirled lazily in the glass before it settled into stillness. My hand inched off the purse and closer to the glass. The quiet sounds of the bar faded away as my eyes zeroed in on the full glass in front of me. Like the diamond before it, the glass caught the light and it winked.

My index finger traced over the rim several times before I wrapped my fingers around the body of the glass. It fit perfectly in my palm, the warmth of my skin molding to the cold of the smooth glass. My left hand balled into a loose fist as my mouth grew dry. I licked my lips anxiously, my tongue finding the fresh cut from earlier. It doesn't compare to the cut in my heart.

JR.

It vaguely registered in my mind that this situation was not new. Seems that he's made it his mission in life to be as unfaithful to me as he can. Countless women have enjoyed the company of my husband. And each time, the pain crushed my heart…though it was never as bad as it was the time before. When did that happen? When did the pain become second nature?

And yet, he always comes back to me. When he's done fucking his latest whore, it's my bed he returned to. My back he pressed up against and it's the back of my neck that he kissed, brushing my hair away with gentle fingers.

And I let him.

He always comes back to me. That should tell me something.

Beads of perspiration formed on the glass, running down the side and dampening the napkin. It slipped a bit in my hand and I tightened my grasp on the slick surface. The crystal sparkled, the only brightness in my dismal surroundings. Partially melted, the ice changed from cubes to deformed shapes. They floated sadly on the surface of the vodka, shrinking faster as the heat from my hand warmed the glass.

The one thing that hasn't shrunk is my love for him. It's still there, as strong and as powerful as it always was. I fostered that love, even in the dark days when he never touched me and came home smelling of cheap perfume, a smudge of another woman's lipstick in the corner of his mouth.

When I divorced him and ran from Southfork, I tucked that love away and buried it deep within myself. Part of me hoped it would never resurface, for as wonderful as it was, it hurt that much. I tried to move on, substituting other men and hoping that they could replace the hole that JR burned in my heart and soul. But they couldn't. No one was ever enough. No man fulfilled all my needs the way he could. And I never expected that he would manage to make me forget more than a decade's worth of hurt and loneliness.

But he did.

He promised things would be different this time. This time, things would be great. All he needed, he declared, was me and our son. This time, I would be enough. I watched him in silence, his hands gesturing excitedly and his eyes brimming with hope. Finally, I thought, I would become the center of his universe the way he was mine. A tiny voice in my head whispered that I always was and always had been his center. When he asked for a new beginning, I smiled and said yes.

And all of it went to hell again as I stood in the doorway of that whore's bedroom, HER arms wrapped around HIS neck. The vodka trembled within my hand as I squeezed the glass and raised it slowly to my lips. THEIR bodies moving together on top of her pale pink silk sheets. As the glass moved closer, the odor of the cheap vodka filled my nose with the force of an army. MY heart breaking as I stood, a silent witness to their fucking. My lips parted as the rim touched my bottom lip, the vodka so close my tongue could slip out and lap it up. Welcome home.

A sharp pinch in my left hand shocked me and I dropped the glass. It hit the bar and exploded with a sharp pop. The vodka rushed across the surface in all directions and dripped off the edge.

"Jeez lady! What the hell's the matter with you?" The bartender threw a dirty rag on the counter and wiped up the spilled liquor.

As he shook his head and muttered a curse under his breath, I uncurled my tightly clenched left fist and looked down. There, within the soft flesh of my palm, was the deep imprint of my diamond. The red outline stood out harshly against my pale skin and I pressed my right index finger to it before turning the engagement ring right side up.

"You want another?" The bartender's face was weather beaten, as if he had worked outside for many years. His bushy beard reminded me of Daddy and the way he looked one time when he came home after a week long disappearance. The harsh odor of liquor surrounded him and he looked like death. "Lady?"

Do I want another? Another what? Another drink? Another chance to become the laughing stock of Dallas society? Another chance to become the one that people whispered about?

What I want is my husband. I want to be the center of his universe. I want the marriage I dreamed about as a child, while my parents attacked each other with words. I want my son to grow up with better parents than I had.

Do I want another?

I shook my head and reached into the folds of my purse, finding my wallet and passing the bartender a fifty dollar bill. "Keep the change. For the damage," I explained softly. Setting the strap of my purse high on my shoulder, I felt the bartender's eyes on me as I turned away and headed for the door.

Outside, the narrow street was just as grungy and desolate as it had been when I first encountered it. Time stood still while I stared down the barrel of what could've been a loaded pistol. A warm sense of relief washed over me as I walked further away from the temptation that had been my downfall in the past. The bright lights from the busy street up ahead beckoned me.

The light at the end of a dark tunnel.

And I emerged, still reeling from the familiar betrayal that stung my core. The future was no less certain than it had been before. All of his promises for a new beginning were dead. My heart hung in two and the imprint of THEM was burned into my memory.

I blinked away exhaustion and my head swam with many thoughts. Tomorrow, I'll deal with the ramifications of this newest hurt. And I'll do it sober. That'll be one card he won't be able to use. But for now, the Mercedes is in sight and the promise of home loomed. An escape from today's nightmare. A warm bed with soft pillows.

And JR, wrapping his arm around my waist and kissing the back of my neck.