This story begins six months after Mail Order Bride 1 ends. If you haven't read that one, turn back now and read it, else you will be lost here. Trust me. Also, this story is longer than the first.

As before, this story is an edited (around PG-13) version of the more explicit original. If any scenes end abruptly, if allusions are made which make no sense, if dialogue or actions appear choppy, this is why. Please let me know if you find any of these problems. The uncut version is available on another site.

This story contains nonexplicit consensual heterosexual sex between adults, adult situations, alcohol use, coarse language, violence, and angst. If you find any of these potentially offensive, turn back now.

---

Nancy took off the nightgown and carefully folded it, slipped it back into the bag, and put it away. She changed into a peach set trimmed in antique lace, spaghetti strap camisole and silk shorts, and walked back downstairs, her polished toenails gleaming against the carpet. Distracted, she checked the front and back door locks and peered through the front windows, into the darkness. Ned's Jaguar was still not there.

She put on the first CD off the stack in the living room and headed back to the kitchen table. Her papers were spread all over it, phone records of a conversation she only suspected had happened. She uncapped her highlighter and swept back her hair, which now fell past her shoulder blades, and set back to work.

Thirty minutes later she cast an annoyed glance at the clock on the microwave. "He knows he needs to be awake in the morning," she muttered. She kept up the appearance a few minutes more, then peered through the front blinds again right before the phone rang.

She picked it up and swept her hair over her other shoulder, walked back toward the kitchen. "Hello?"

"Nan?"

"Where are you?"

Ned cleared his throat. "I need you to pick me up."

--

She recognized a lot of the same people from poker nights at their house. Faces smiling up at her, lifting beers, asking her to get a drink for herself. She pulled the beige trenchcoat tighter around her and lifted her chin when she found the most familiar face.

He was grinning. His collar was unbuttoned, tie loosened, his suit coat folded over his arm. Saying goodbye to the guys at his table, lifting his voice to be heard over the music.

She smiled up at him when he reached her side, then pulled on his tie so he'd lean over to her smiling lips. "Give me your keys," she murmured, keeping the smile on her face.

He found them as he walked out of the bar with her and dropped them into her open palm. "Thanks," he said.

She turned the air on full blast and shifted the car into gear, and Ned fell back against the seat with the force of her acceleration. "Um... I'm sorry."

She shook her head, the coat falling open to reveal the silk beneath. "Hey, you don't need to be."

"You didn't need to come out here. You could have just told me to get a taxi."

She glanced over at him. "I could have," she said. "But I wasn't sure I could spend another minute alone in the house."

He squinted through the windshield, into the darkness. He opened his mouth and then closed it again, thinking better of saying anything.

"You were waiting up for me?"

"Even packed a suitcase for you."

He couldn't read her tone. "Why didn't you call me?"

"Because you're a big boy."

"And you're a big girl who decided to prove she didn't need to call me?" He reached for her hand. "I would have come straight home."

"We'll never know."

"I would have." His voice was hard. "Dammit."

They walked into the house. Ned headed upstairs immediately, Nancy sat down at the kitchen table and started going back through her phone records with the highlighter. After a few minutes she glanced back at the stairs and took her coat off. Her mouth was tight as the floorboards creaked above her head.

Ned came back downstairs and she didn't turn her head, but she caught sight of him in her peripheral vision, wearing black boxers. He came up behind her and she felt his hands resting on the back of her chair as he looked at the papers on their table.

"So what's this?" His voice was rough, but conciliatory.

She explained, and halfway through her explanation his hands moved to rest lightly on her shoulders. He started kneading them and she let her head drop down and her body slump against the table.

"You need to get some sleep," she mumbled to him.

"Come to bed with me."

--

She flashed her FBI badge at the security guard and he let her pass, her heels clicking on the floor, her hair loose and tumbling past her shoulders. The hallway to his cell was a depressing shade of gunmetal grey.

He was waiting on the lower bunk when she turned on her heel and slowly let herself meet his eyes. Chocolate brown eyes. Long lashes.

She felt a familiar warm rush in her belly.

"I didn't expect to see you here," he said, and even now there was a touch of humor in his voice. Even now. Her heel rasped across the concrete floor as the soles of her shoes slid closer, toward him.

"I didn't expect it either," she said, her voice toneless.

"And yet, here you are."

"Here I am," she agreed. She lifted a hand and rested a finger on the barrier between them.

"So you're FBI now." He nodded at the badge resting on her coat.

She looked down, following his gaze, and then met his eyes again. Unwilling. "I am."

"Isn't this violating the restraining order you had put in place against me?" He gestured between them.

She raised an eyebrow. "You know about that?"

He smiled, slow, feral, and she felt her heart clench a bit more tightly, saw the edges of her vision throb with her quickened pulse. "I know he had a security system installed to keep you feeling safe," Jean said. "I know that a week later you figured out how to disarm it and he found you in the panic room, door bolted and shaking on the floor. I know sometimes when he's inside you, you see my face, because you've started remembering."

Nancy shook her head. "No."

Jean lifted himself off the bed, his gaze never breaking from hers. "Do you remember the weeks you spent with me? You didn't fight it. You wanted it."

Her voice shook. "No."

He deliberately trailed his gaze down, down below her navel. And, incredulous, she felt her body answer the promise implicit in his glance. With an effort she cleared her throat, fighting the urge to tug her jacket down and block his vision.

"Don't tell me" Jean's voice dropped "that he's better than I am in bed." He glanced over at her hand. "What, you've given up the ring? I thought that was how he brought you back to him."

She looked down and her hand was ringless. No diamond, no wedding band.

"You're still mine," Jean continued. Her startled eyes returned to him, and she watched him unbutton his jumpsuit, almost hungrily. "He might have been able to put a ring on you but he can't change the ink I had drawn onto your skin." He pulled back the fabric and revealed a larger version of the flowers she had found scarred into her hip, there on his own.

"It's not there anymore," she said to him, defiantly, and drew her skirt up so he could see her tattoo, unmindful of the black lace thigh-highs and garters she was exposing. The hairs on her limbs and the back of her neck stood on end as she felt his gaze on her bare skin.

"You had it covered up," he said softly. "But I can still see it there. I told you. You were right to leave him the first time," he said, his eyes meeting hers again. "You coveted me from the first time you saw me, and I wanted you the first time I saw you. You're just trying to hide what you are, what you want." He nodded at her hip and she dropped her skirt back into place, a shudder creeping over her.

"He wasn't good enough for you then, that apartment... I gave you what you wanted, Nancy. Gave you everything. Right now we could be there on the island, where I promised to take you. Where you wouldn't be mine for only a week out of the year."

"No."

"Where we could be together right now." He stepped completely out of his jumpsuit, and God help her, she could remember the way the light would fall over his skin, the way it would smell, the way he would taste...

"Shut up!" she screamed, half turning away from him. "He loves me. You never did."

"You'll never know that while there are bars between us," he said, and she could feel it by slow degrees, pulling her back as she tried to stare at everything, anything else, anything other than him. The promise of power and violence in his taut, gleaming muscles. Her mouth opened slightly. "You'll never let yourself know what might have been, what could be again."

The guard sounded the buzzer

but the buzzer was Ned's alarm, which he slapped. He mumbled something which turned content as he settled back against her.

She let herself linger there, below his arm, in the warm nest of sheets. Letting her heart slow as she realized that it had all been a dream, that she hadn't gone to see him.

"I have to take a shower."

"I'll take one too," she said, careful to not make it too eager.

"You sure? You could get some more sleep." He stroked a hair out of her fac.

"After that?" she laughed. "I have a few things to take care of before George gets here, anyway."

He leaned down and rubbed the tip of his nose over hers. "I love you," he murmured. "I'm going to miss you."

"I love you too," she said, and she was unable to do it this time, unable to keep it casual. "And I'm going to miss you so much..."

He took her in his arms and rocked her back and forth slightly as she buried her face against his chest. "Hey," he whispered. "It's gonna be all right."

She pulled back and forced a smile. "I know," she murmured. "Though I don't know if I can last a week without you in bed. Maybe I can rent a husband to keep me satisfied until you get back," she laughed weakly.

"Phone sex," he told her sternly, a smile in his eyes.

--

For the eight hours she was alone between, through the task force meeting and phone canvas and digging in the basement for a file, she forced herself to daydream about the pregnancy test she bought over her lunch break. The early warning one promised to tell her what she needed to know, that for the nearly six months they'd been trying this was it.

If not, then maybe her dream, it was only a dream, had just been brought on by hormones and mood swings and the egg roll she had eaten with dinner the night before. She refused to believe anything else; it had all been a dream, she hadn't been in control of what she was doing, because she knew that if she had the first thing she would have done was run away.

She didn't think about Jean when Ned was in bed with her. If anything, Ned was a distraction from thoughts of Jean, not the other way around.

Because that was one thing she couldn't control.

Despite their optimism on their honeymoon, Jean had indeed followed them. She had started remembering, outside the sessions, while at work, while at the grocery store, almost anywhere. Before the memories even started playing in her head she would start to hyperventilate, and unless she did something they would begin.

Something was what she had to do when Ned wasn't around. She had tried to hide it from Ned, despite the warning of her therapist. To admit it, she had felt, was not so much a failure in herself as a failure to trust what they had said was true, that Jean had no place in their house.

"If I tell him he'll just be disappointed and hurt and upset, and if I can just get past this-"

"Do you realize he's going to feel those things when he finds out you've kept this from him?"

"But you're not going to tell him, are you?" she'd asked her therapist.

Dr Strathman sighed. "No," he responded. "That's up to you. All I can tell you is that your putting this off..."

"I don't want to be running away from him the rest of my life," Nancy replied.

"It hasn't even been a year."

Nancy grinned. "So it'll only be what, four more years to get over it?"

"It might be longer than that if you can't even tell your own husband what's going on."

She looked down at her hands. "He didn't sign up for this. And I don't want to be broken the rest of my life."

"Has he said that, that he doesn't want to be with you if it takes you a while to get over this?"

"Quite the opposite." She drew a breath. "He said what it took to get me back. And I'm sure he meant every word of it. But I think about how it must feel to him. And I can't say that I'd have the patience to do it, if I were him."

"Why is that?"

Nancy shook her head. "I don't know," she replied. "I must have done something that made Jean think it was okay to do that to me. Something that made me deserve it. And I don't deserve-he doesn't need to wait around for me to be whole again. He doesn't need to know. Because it will only be for a little while, I know, you can give me a pill or a hypnotic session and it will be all better again. I'll be all better again."

"When was the last time you felt... whole?"

"You mean... not broken?" He nodded. "Before I ever met Jean. Before then. I felt so restless after I left Ned--after I left him for Jean." She laughed, and the sound was bitter.

"You didn't leave him for Jean."

"I just didn't know I had."

"How has your sex life been?"

She shrugged. "Normal. Nothing unusual."

"Have you experienced any change in your feelings over it? Are you resistant where you weren't before, or maybe initiating more?"

She looked away, then said calmly, "No. I'm not, he's not."

"Are you afraid that if you told him what you're experiencing, that he would... hurt you again?"

"No. I'm not afraid of him. That was a one time thing, he swore he'd never do it again, and I believe him. A lot of time has passed, a lot of things have happened since then."

"If Ned were in a terrible accident, and the doctors were pretty sure he would be able to walk again but only after a lot of hard work, would you leave him?"

Nancy sat up straighter in her chair. "No. Of course not."

"What if he decided that he'd only use crutches when he wasn't around you, tried to be strong when he was around you so you wouldn't know he was still hurting?"

"I'm not hurting," Nancy said. "I'm just... I don't know what it is but it's not hurt."

"You hyperventilate, your heart races, you break out in a cold sweat, and you stop seeing what's around you. The things you see in your head, you can't control. It's very possible they are memories," Dr Strathman said. "Brought on by the regression I did for the trial. If Ned were stumbling around without his crutches, without even asking for your help, you'd say he was an idiot."

Nancy half-smiled. "Am I being an idiot?"

"You wouldn't have the patience for or tolerate this behavior in him, because you're his wife and you love him. And you have no right to blame yourself or say you were responsible for what Jean did to you, any more than you'd be responsible if you were walking on the side of the road and a car hit you."

"It was my choice to go walking there."

--

Ned had been with her the next time it had happened. They were in the frozen foods section of the grocery store when she had sucked in a sudden breath, and he had been looking directly at her, asking which sour cream she wanted.

"Nan?"

He had seen the expression on her face, she couldn't hide it. The terror was filling her brain like black ink, black, the room--

"Talk to me," she gasped, feeling his hand on hers. "Talk to me about something."

"Like what?" His eyes were wide. "Like sour cream?"

"Anything," she said, panic rising in her voice.

"I was wondering if you'd want to go with fat free since you tend to like that, but we're probably going to use it on potato skins on poker night and the guys don't really care about fat free."

"What night is poker night this week?"

"The usual, it's Thursday." He had taken her into his arms and was whispering into her ear, his hand stroking up and down her back. "Nan, it's all right. What's going on?"

She closed her eyes, feeling them well up with tears, holding onto the trembling that had skated down her spine when his breath had touched her skin. Holding onto what was happening instead of what had happened, behind that heavy locked door in her head.

"Hey," he whispered.

She opened her eyes. "Okay," she said. She reached up to wipe her eyes and he was staring at her. "I'm all right."

--

So he knew about the... whatever they were. Waking dreams, repressed memories. She had never experienced one in their house with Ned. With him, in his bed, she was safe. When they were out, elsewhere, and it happened, all he had to do was touch her, take her in his arms, and she was fine again.

And he had been hurt that she hadn't told him, even as she told him all the reasons why she'd kept it secret from him she'd seen the pain in his eyes, the way he didn't understand why she hadn't wanted him to even help with this. He'd said that her problems were his now, that he'd sworn to stand by her even if she never could overcome what had happened to her. He knew everything the shrink was saying to her. He knew how she felt about what had happened, that she had somehow caused it, that she was responsible. That she didn't deserve any help because no one other than she had been responsible.

"Are you going to punish me?" she'd asked.

"You don't mean this in some weird sex fantasy way, do you?" he'd asked. "I think you've punished yourself enough for both of us. And you know you shouldn't have. You know he picked you out because of what he was, not what you are."

"But--"

"There are no buts. No excuses." He kissed her. "Shut up about it or I will punish you."

She was sure the dream was just a dream and nothing she needed to talk to him about. It wasn't a memory. In fact, she never dreamt about what she remembered, during the terrible time between being sucked behind the heavy locked door and when she found someone to drag her back. And she had had nightmares about Jean before, this was just another one.

She heard George's steps on the stairs and brushed her hair back. She had changed into a long sleeved henley and a pair of loose jeans after work, and now she pulled the sleeves down below the heels of her hands and stared at her purse. It was still sitting on the kitchen countertop and within it, in a crinkling white paper bag, along with a bottle of aspirin to help with the results, was the pregnancy test.

She was late, by barely twelve hours, but she was.

"All settled in?" she asked George, who nodded.

"I like your guest room," she said. "So, what are you up for? Movie marathon, maybe a little of me kicking your butt at some video game? Inviting Bess over and braiding each other's hair?"

Nancy smiled. "We're gonna hang out with Bess tomorrow night. She has a babysitter then."

"She's put enough toys in your nursery that they could practically babysit themselves."

"I know." Nancy laughed. "Now she's talking about turning her back porch into a playroom."

She ended up turning on some music, and she and George set to work in the kitchen. While they waited for a chicken to roast George taught her a new card game.

"We should do couples poker night again," George said. "That was fun."

"Yeah," Nancy sighed. "Last time they did it, I was upstairs in the study while someone spilled an entire glass of red wine on the carpet. Ned was so afraid of what I'd do that he went out immediately and rented a steam cleaner."

George had been looking at the carpet. "Good for him," she said. "I can't even see a mark down there. So did you ban poker night after that?"

Nancy shook her head. "I'd never do that."

George tilted her head. "Didn't you want to?"

Nancy smiled. "He likes getting together with his buddies. And they're not bad guys, but at least if they're here they won't be going out to a strip club or getting arrested in some bar. And we call them cabs if they can't drive home after."

"You think Ned would go to a strip club?"

"No," Nancy replied slowly. "I think he might go to a bar and get drunk with his buddies and one of them might suggest it, and he might end up there. And then I think he'd come home and tell me what had happened and promise to me that it wouldn't happen again."

"So it hasn't happened yet."

"I'm not saying it ever will. I think it could happen that way. I'd rather it never happen, and if that means being sequestered upstairs once a week and then having really good sex as his apology, I'll take it."

--

She woke up in the middle of the night and went to the bathroom, bleary eyed, staring at the test box she'd put on her bathroom sink as a reminder to take it first thing in the morning. She suddenly felt her stomach clench, and she tried to remember what they had eaten for dinner, in case it could have been bad.

Then she saw the blood on the tissue.

"Oh God," she whispered, rocking back and forth. "Oh God."

--

"You can stop buying the tests," Jean said. "You can stop monitoring your temperature and buying cute little outfits to wear for him. You can't have his child."

She was sitting on the cold concrete floor, back against the opposite wall, legs drawn up to her chin, hugging them closer to her body. Her hair was loose again, and she was in pants now, so her pose was not provocative. He was dressed again, sprawled on his stomach on the lower bunk, propping his chin up to look at her. "Why?" she asked.

"Because I broke you," Jean said. "You're cracked, you will hold nothing. I'm the only one who can fix you."

"I hold him."

"You hold him like a sieve holds water. It all drains out. He can give you everything he has but it won't be enough to seal up the scars I left in you."

She shook her head, slowly. "I'm so tired," she whispered.

"You're tired because he passes through you. It takes so much out of him to fill you up again every day. One day he will find someone who can do what you can't, who doesn't have me to distract her."

"He loves me," she said. "You don't love me. You don't understand what it's like, you don't know what you're talking about."

"You don't need love," he said. He rose off the bed and sat down facing her, against the barrier of his cell. His legs were folded in front of him, and as his fingers stroked down the wall between them, she followed the movement without conscious decision to do so, without thought. "You need someone to need you, not the other way around. You need me to fill the holes inside you, the empty places, the broken places. The parts of you you've had to hide behind that door, the parts that scare you so badly you can't even breathe. I'm there, behind that door. I'm behind that room, I'm in every single part of it, I'm part of you now. To be with him you have to hide what I made you."

"No," she mouthed.

"What I can make you again. What you can become. You wanted to belong to me so badly," he said. "You wanted me to take you to the island. You wanted no way to hide from it."

"No."

"You're afraid of what you feel for me. It's that strong. You can feel it now." He slid his fingers down again and she followed again, mesmerized.

"I don't," she said, and she leaned forward, onto all fours, and crawled toward him. Their bent knees would have touched if they had moved the last inch.

"You want me."

"I want my husband," she whispered, and a tear traced down her cheek.

"He wants a child but he can't make one with you. He'll figure that out."

"Why?" she asked. "Tell me why."

"Because you carried my child," he said. His eyes were glowing. "I had to stop it; things weren't ready yet, I wasn't prepared to have you all to myself yet."

"You're lying." Nancy was shaking.

"I had to kill our child, and it killed me to do it."

"You didn't," she said. "No. I was on birth control. Every time. Every time."

"A week with me, and you conceive. This much time with him and still you bleed?"

--

She woke up crying. Quietly, though, because George wasn't too far away, even through the closed door. Nancy's bear was on the other side of the bed, looking lonely. She looked over at her cell phone and before she could think better of it, she punched in the numbers.

"Good morning," Ned answered the phone. "Did you call for the phone sex?"

"No," she replied. Then she sniffed, and rolled out of bed looking for a kleenex. "I just wanted to hear your voice."

"Hang on a sec," he said, and a minute later the background noise dwindled. "Are you all right?"

"Yeah," she said. "I just had a nightmare."

"Is George there? Can you talk to her about it?"

"I don't want to wake her up."

"Do you want me to come home early?"

"No," she responded, wishing he would say he would. "It was just a nightmare. Nothing's wrong. I'll be fine. I'll just go downstairs and make some breakfast, and I'll feel better."

"Did you have a nightmare before I left, too?"

She paused. "Yeah."

"Same one?"

Not really. "No, it wasn't the same."

"You're gonna go see Strathman today, right? Maybe he can give you a pill or something to tide you over until I get home."

"Maybe he can."

"Don't skip your appointment."

"I won't."

"Are you feeling better?"

She took a deep breath. "Yeah, I am."

"Cause if you're not I can bore you to death with a summary of yesterday."

She smiled, despite herself. "No, it's okay. I'm fine. I'm not interrupting anything?"

"No, no. Call back whenever you want. My German is terrible. I'd rather be listening to your voice, anyway."

--

"What do you think it means?"

Nancy had kicked off her shoes. Her stockinged feet were hanging over the arm of the couch, and she'd propped her head up on a cushion at the other end. "I think it means I'm gonna be in therapy forever," she said, her eyes closed.

"More specific than that."

"I still don't feel like I'm good enough for Ned. Maybe some part of me thinks I still have a chance with Jean, that he's more on my... lower level." Nancy opened her eyes and looked up at the ceiling. "But I hate Jean. More than anyone else I've ever known."

"Hate can easily become love."

She looked at Strathman, incredulous. "How could I ever love him?"

The doctor shrugged. "I didn't say there was a reason. But the language in your dream... both times, you said 'You don't love me, he does.' Why do you think you said that?"

"Ned does love me."

"So it qualifies Ned as a better suitor."

"Suitor...?" Nancy repeated.

"This isn't conscious, Nancy."

"How could it be? How could it exist at all? I come close to him in my dreams, I feel... he makes me..."

"How does he make you feel?" the doctor asked, when Nancy flushed and didn't continue.

"The way I should only feel with my husband," she muttered.

"Sexually aroused."

"Yes."

"Do you remember Jean raping you?"

"No," she whispered.

"You told the police you did."

She closed her eyes again and rubbed her forehead. "It doesn't seem like it counts as rape when I didn't fight back."

"Did he drug you?"

She nodded. "But he... had that affect on me before he ever drugged me. The first time I saw him."

"Are there other men you've met who could do that, besides your husband?"

"To some degree," she admitted. "One other in particular."

"Do you have a relationship with that man now?"

"He's a friend. To both Ned and me."

"Was he ever anything more?"

She shook her head. "He kissed me... a few times. We saw each other a few times when Ned and I were separated. But nothing happened."

"Do you feel the same about him now?"

"I know whenever I see him, I might get that little twinge. But I also know that nothing is going to happen. And like I said... we're friends now. We were friends before."

"But you were never friends with Jean."

"No. And... Ned is the only other person I've felt that way about, really. The immediate attraction."

"Not with this other man?"

"No." Nancy sat up and leaned forward, toward the doctor. "This might sound weird, but... Ned's the only guy. He's always been the only guy. When we were apart I felt terrible because I knew that I wanted to be with him, and it would take me forever to get to a place where I could even think about anyone again. I can see other guys, be friends with other guys, think they're cute... but it goes no further than that. If they asked me if I wanted to go out, I'd start hating them. Because that just wouldn't be right."

"And is that the way you felt about Jean?"

She shook her head slowly. "No, and that's what's weird. He's the only other one. The first time I saw him I imagined..."

"What it would be like to be intimate with him?"

Nancy nodded. "Yeah," she whispered miserably.

"Did you want to have sex with him?"

"I didn't know what I wanted. It never... the imagining never went anywhere. It never transferred from fantasy into me trying to put myself in situations to see him, that sort of thing. I don't think."

"What makes you unsure?"

"It was the case. I had to spend time around him. And every time I'd see him it was like this... thing. Like being drunk. That was how being around him felt. Lower inhibitions, everything."

"Did it feel good, to be around him?"

"He wanted me, and he let me know it. And that felt good. And I'd been with Ned a long time, and he was different... but I didn't, I couldn't--"

"Don't make any judgements on it."

"How can I not?" she asked. "Even as the words come up in my brain I know they're wrong." Nancy was flushed, and the edge on her voice was dangerous.

"Calm down, and just breathe," he said. "Calm down. Don't... look, maybe we should talk about something else for a minute?"

She nodded. "All right."

"What about the part about having his child?"

Nancy's stockinged toes gleamed as they dug into the carpet. She knew exactly how she felt about it; she'd scheduled an appointment with Dr April Callahan the next day to see if she could help confirm or deny. "I have no idea if it happened," she said. "I only have Ned's word for where I've been and what I've been doing. And that of other people. And for all I know I did spend a month that I said I was in France or something, but that I actually spent with him somewhere. There are gaps in what I know. But I only know that now, now that you've helped me go back and see the things I thought were true that never happened."

"Do you believe that it did? That he got you pregnant?"

Nancy looked up, and her eyes were gleaming with tears. "No," she whispered. "But I don't know for sure. I don't know why Ned and I haven't been able to get pregnant."

"Are your feelings still ambivalent about having a child?"

Nancy let her eyes wander away from the doctor, to some of the framed certificates on the wall. "I guess so," she replied. She bit her lip. "I really want to get back on the pill."

"Do you know why?"

She squinted, trying to read the Old English script on the parchment. "Ned's going to be disappointed. Again. He wants a child so badly. I don't think I'm ready for it."

"But you said, watching your friend's children..."

Nancy shrugged. "I think I like the idea of having a baby. But every time we have sex, it's not just... it's not just sex anymore. It's a way to... I don't know."

"Do you feel like it's a test?"

She nodded. "Kind of. And every month I don't pass."

"You know that if you're stressed it doesn't help with conception."

"I know."

"So he's told you, when you tell him again that your efforts have not succeeded, that he's disappointed in you and your relationship?"

"No. Not... no."

"He pressures you into having sex when you don't want to, during the peak times in your cycle?"

Nancy shook her head.

"Does he give you a subconscious guilt trip?"

"I feel like I'm supposed to be performing and I just can't. Like my body's not up to doing what he wants. Like I'm... I don't know, like I'm stupid, it's something everyone else can do, even the first time they have sex. And here I am--"

"You know that's irrational. Yes, some women can get pregnant the first time they have sex, some women can try for years and not get pregnant at all, some can have miscarriage after miscarriage. Some guys have low sperm counts. Some women take fertility drugs. You've been trying for barely six months, and you're young. But I'm not saying you should keep trying if you've been feeling like you should go back on birth control."

"I just feel like I won't be under the pressure," she said. "Every time wondering if it's finally happened. Or not."

"Have you asked him how he would feel about your going back on the pill for a month or two?"

She turned her head and stared at the doctor. "Hell no," she replied. "He'd be heartbroken, devastated--"

"So it's better for you to worry and be unsure and have a child even if you're not sure you're ready to do that."

"Of course not." She sighed.

--

"Come on, get in the bathtub," Ned said. "Just take your clothes off and get in the bathtub."

"How many beers did you have?"

"Everyone drinks beer here," Ned said. "Tons of them. I'm not drunk. But it's late here and I really really think you should get naked and get in the bathtub and then let me tell you what I'm imagining I'm doing to you right now."

"And then you're gonna get naked and get in the bathtub and let me moan into your ear?"

"Sure."

"But I'm in bed."

"A few slight details may change," he said. "Nothing major."

Nancy laughed. "I'd rather tell you exactly what I'm going to do when you get home."

"Does it involve that hot red lace number you left a polaroid of in my suitcase?"

"Maybe."

"That nightgown has inspired three separate fantasies. And that's only so far."

"Glad I could provide a little help."

"It helps. When the guys are on break drinking beer and I'm wondering exactly how I'm going to spend the next hour, when my German is still not good enough to do anything other than order a bratwurst..."

She laughed and wrapped her other arm around her bear. "Silly boy," she said.

"Oh, I think that's the last thing you'll be saying," he said in a low voice.

"Bess is here!" George called from downstairs.

"Look, I have to go. Can that polaroid tide you over?"

Ned sighed. "I guess," he said. "God, I wish you were here."

"Me too," she said.

She hung up the phone and buried her face in the bear's fur for a minute, then brushed her hair out of her face and headed down the stairs.

"I'm not playing poker with her," George announced, pointing at her cousin.

"What, are you scared?" Bess asked, grinning.

"You did take a cab here, didn't you?" Nancy asked Bess.

"Sure. Why?"

Nancy walked over to the cabinet and took out a bottle and three shot glasses. "Cause I don't think I'm gonna be able to drive you anywhere."

--

"That jerk," Bess announced, slamming her shot glass down. "Why isn't he home early?"

"He offered to come home," Nancy said, timidly. "And he doesn't know about the dreams."

George took two more cards and a sip of her drink. "So... what did the shrink say about them?"

Nancy poured herself another shot. "Not a lot."

"Does the same thing happen? With the... you know. The fast breathing."

Nancy shook her head. "I don't think they're the same. And to be honest I'd be glad if it all went away before Ned comes home."

Bess took a card and gestured for Nancy to refill her glass. "Why? I mean, Nan, maybe a part of your brain is trying to tell you something."

Nancy looked down. "I don't want to hear it," she said. "I'd just as soon keep the door shut, keep the memories buried. I don't want to know. I feel so terrible now, even without knowing."

"Maybe you can't feel any worse," George said gently. "Maybe you should just get it all out now. I'll go with you if you want."

"Me too," Bess piped up.

Nancy opened her eyes wide, looking between them. "No," she said, a smile creeping over her face. "Thanks, I mean that. You guys are great."

"At least think about it," George said. "And it's your turn."

After she'd invited Bess and her husband to the next poker night, she found George had fallen asleep in the five minutes she'd left her alone, sprawled and looking pretty comfortable on the couch. She didn't respond to light touches or her name, so Nancy tucked an afghan over her and headed upstairs. She had to hold onto the rail the whole way up, and walked slowly, concentrating hard.

She found a paper cup in the bathroom and filled it with water, and found herself unable to look away from the bathtub. She glanced over at the bedside table and her cell phone.

"Hey," she said a few minutes later. "I'm in the tub and I'm naked. Where did you want to start?"

--

Nancy woke the next morning to the smell of coffee and toast. She wrinkled her nose and buried her face between her bear and the pillow just before her alarm went off.

Yawning, she descended the staircase and found George in the kitchen, sipping a cup of black coffee. She poured one out of the coffeepot and grunted a greeting to her friend.

"Hi," George replied, her voice rough.

"How'd you sleep?" Nancy asked.

"Okay." George parted her toast from its crust and took an experimental bite. "You?"

Nancy rubbed her forehead. "I don't remember," she admitted. "I have no idea when I went to sleep, and I have a meeting first thing this morning about some paperwork I haven't even looked at."

George smiled. "Sounds like you're getting behind on your homework."

--

Nancy glanced at her watch as April walked back into the examination room, eight hours later. Her elegant suit was in a neat pile on a chair, and she was shivering in the light hospital gown, kicking her feet in the air like a child.

"I'm sorry," April said.

Nancy felt her breath catch in her chest, and everything in the room became sharp, hard. Heavier.

"Sorry about what?"

April shrugged and sat down in a chair. "Nancy, can you tell me anything about what you think may have happened?"

Nancy shook her head. "I don't know."

April furrowed a brow. "I just... are you saying that Ned...?"

Nancy filled her lungs and expelled the breath. "No. It wasn't Ned. And it was probably a long time ago, I don't know. It could have been..."

April tilted her head. "Nancy, I didn't find any evidence one way or the other. If you've had an abortion it was well performed. You're entirely healthy."

Nancy looked down at her stilled feet. "Okay."

"Can you tell me why you think this happened? Why you don't know?"

Nancy shook her head. "I can't really explain it," she said. "It's stupid. A dream, a stupid dream."

"I know a lot of women who have had them done. It's not like I'm going to run to Trevor and--"

Nancy looked up, gazed at April until she had the older woman's attention. "If I had an abortion," she said, "it was against my will. I don't even know that I was ever pregnant."

April opened her mouth and closed it. "Oh."

--

Back in her suit, her hair in a hasty bun, Nancy climbed into her Jaguar and started the engine. She pulled up to the gate and handed over her ticket. The guard smiled at her.

Nancy glanced down at her passenger seat and the cell phone there.

the abortion was against my will

Nancy smiled back at the guard and pulled out of the parking lot, racing her car to make it to her dinner appointment with George on time. She thought about the words. She hadn't even been thinking, hadn't wanted April to ask any questions. But then she had said that.

The way she felt right now, any abortion would be against her will. She might not want a child with her whole heart, but she wasn't totally opposed to the experience. Not with Ned. She could see the way he would look, how he would act with their child.

But Jean's child.

Nancy slammed her hand against the steering wheel. How could Jean have done that? How would she have even known to call him, if for the other fifty-one weeks out of the year she didn't even remember being with him?

"I had to double-check when I pulled up," George said, smiling. "A sports bar?"

Nancy swallowed, everything, buried it and smoothed the covers over, and smiled back at her friend. "I knew you didn't want to miss the game."

"Thanks." She held up a beer. "Want anything?"

--

She put off her phone call to Ned. George was downstairs on the couch again, watching a movie she had rented after the game had gone badly for her team. Nancy left the phone on the bedside table and stared at it, hugging her bear, afraid of what would come out of her mouth if he said he loved her and that he couldn't wait to see her again.

The days stretched ahead of her until she could see her doctor again, so she thought of the words he might say, if she could lay bare everything, everything she feared and wished and hated, in front of him, if she could even admit it to herself. Projection, hysteria...

that she had enjoyed it, wanted it, wanted him, wanted to keep his child.

She placed a hand over her belly. That child would have had--

"No," she said. "There was no child."

That was true, wasn't it? No evidence of a child, no child. No mistake. No proof that somehow her relationship with Jean bore more fruit than that with her husband.

She jumped when her cell phone rang. Her stockinged feet pushed the comforter into ridges as she rolled over and picked it up. "Hi," she answered.

"Hey," he said, his voice gentle. "I didn't wake you, did I?"

Nancy reached up and brushed an errant strand of hair out of her face, was surprised to find moisture on her cheek. "No," she answered, staring down at the salt water glistening on the side of her hand. "No. Shouldn't you be asleep?"

"Nah. I figured out what I want to do for our anniversary."

Despite herself, she smiled. They had been celebrating their anniversary every month. "Yeah. It is quite a milestone, isn't it. So what do you want to do?"

He chuckled under his breath. "It's nothing," he said.

"Then you can tell me, if it's nothing."

"It's stupid. And casual. And nothing serious."

"And you want me to stop asking."

"If you do keep asking I'll have to figure out something else to do, something impressive and stunning."

"All I want is you home," she told him. "We can go from there."

--

Bess closed her menu. "I hate to ruin our last night of fun, but I need a babysitter."

George and Nancy exchanged glances. They were both on their second drinks, and had taken a cab to the restaurant in expectation of the excesses of the evening. Bess was sipping her iced water.

"Oh, not right now. Next month."

Nancy giggled, then covered her mouth. "Damn, you scared me."

George nodded. "I thought you meant the kids were home alone."

"Nah, but I'm really gonna owe Nate after Ned comes back." Bess smiled up at the waiter.

"So... when, tomorrow?" Nancy sipped the remainder of her long island iced tea and gestured for another.

Bess cocked an eyebrow. "Not at the rate you're drinking those down. It's in about a month, my sister in law is getting married. In California."

George handed over her menu and picked up her own drink. "She doesn't live there, does she?"

Bess shrugged. "Don't ask me, I don't quite understand it either. But she's his baby sister and we have to go. I'd rather not drag the kids along."

"Okay," Nancy said, shrugging. "I don't mind. It's not for too long, is it?"

"A long weekend," Bess admitted, quietly. "I just feel bad always having parents do it. They need a weekend off too."

Nancy propped her chin on her hand. "You two didn't have any problems getting pregnant, did you."

Bess shook her head. "Not really. It didn't take that long. It was nerve wracking when we were waiting, though. He was about to transfer, I was taking some classes... but it all worked out fine."

"I guess."

"Hey, cheer up. No unhappy drunks here." George nudged her friend. "Besides, you two haven't been trying that long."

"Yeah," Nancy said. "Maybe I should just go back on the pill, relax a while..."

Bess and George exchanged glances. "Relish your time while you have it," Bess said. "Once you have a kid, it's like your time isn't your own anymore, your life isn't your own anymore."

"But you wouldn't trade, would you," Nancy asked her friend.

Bess shook her head, her eyes glowing. "Nope," she said.

After dinner Nancy and George took the taxi back to Nancy's house. They changed into flannel pajamas and sat in the spare room, playing video games.

Nancy tossed her controller down after she lost the third race in a row. "Wow. I didn't know it was getting to me that much."

"Hey, if you're gonna blame it on the alcohol, I'll challenge you to a rematch when we're both sober," George said, laughing.

Nancy half-smiled. "The screen is making me dizzy," she admitted. "Otherwise I'd be kicking your ass right now."

"Want to go downstairs and watch a movie?" George asked.

Nancy shook her head, letting it roll back and forth on her shoulders. "Nah."

"Is there anything you do want?"

Simultaneously they both looked at Nancy's cell phone, which was beside her bean bag, on the carpet. "Yeah," she mumbled. A half-smile rested on her face. "I want my husband to be here."

George smothered a yawn with the back of her hand. "He'll be in pretty early tomorrow morning, right?"

Nancy nodded. "Go to bed, George."

"Are you gonna be okay?"

Nancy smiled. "Yeah. I'll just get a glass of water and go to bed."

"Can't you give him a call or something?" George was sympathetic.

"I think he's on the plane already. Otherwise I'd do it, trust me."

"All right." George stood and shook out her hair, stretched her long legs. "Thanks."

Nancy smiled. "For what? I was the one who practically begged you to stay over this entire week. I'm sure you had plenty of other stuff to do."

George shrugged. "You're my friend," she said.

--

"Hey beautiful."

Nancy's eyes opened slowly and she drew in a breath, then met Ned's gaze. "Hey," she said, happily, throwing herself into his arms.

He let out a startled laugh as he lost his balance and collapsed with her back onto the mattress. "Good to see you too."

"You must be so tired," she said, her voice muffled by his shoulder. But she didn't let him go.

"Yeah," he admitted. He nuzzled her neck, then loosed his hold on her, but kept his arms around her as he rolled over. She stared into his eyes for a moment, then smiled.

"I missed you," she whispered.

"Ich vermißte Sie auch," he responded.

She smacked his arm. "You big faker."

"I picked up a few things." He leaned forward and kissed her cheek. "How long until you have to get up?"

Nancy glanced at the clock. "Forty-five minutes."

Ned reached down and loosed his tie. "I can do that."

--

An hour later, George rolled over and groaned. "No way," she said.

Nancy nodded, smiling. "Sorry."

George sat up and ran a hand over her tousled curls. "He must already be home. You're grinning like an idiot."

"Oh thanks," Nancy said, but didn't relax her face. "Come on, let's get some breakfast."

"Is he coming with?"

Nancy shook her head. "He's out cold."

--

"Our newest interns," Agent Roberts said, gesturing to the three agents standing in front of Nancy. "Stone, Ellison, and Critcher."

Nancy shook hands with each of them. Stone was a rather mediocre-looking sandy-haired guy. Nancy was impressed with him if only for that reason; in their job, mediocre meant nonmemorable meant a good operative. Ellison had her auburn hair skimmed back into a ponytail and looked strictly professional, from her sensible earrings to her flat-soled shoes. Critcher looked like he'd be more at home in their computer crimes division, and for a moment Nancy felt a pang of regret. If she and Ned had only pursued similar goals, he could be there by her side, breaking through firewalls and decoding encryptions with her. If only. Instead he was sleeping off German jetlag, in preparation for the night he had planned.

"Okay. You guys will be helping me on the Phillips case." Nancy snuck a glance at Ellison's face and noticed the faintly disapproving raised eyebrow. "This morning we'll go over the file, and any suggestions you might have would be much appreciated. We've pretty much hit a total standstill..."

--

"I'm almost ready," Ned called from the kitchen.

"Did you sleep well?" Nancy placed her briefcase by the door and shrugged out of her suit jacket, revealing a collared white shirt and a pinstriped graphite skirt.

"I slept like a baby," Ned admitted.

Nancy glanced around and walked over to the enormous bouquet of dark pink and violet flowers standing on the hall table. "Is this what you had planned?" she called, burying her face in the blooms to inhale their scent.

Ned appeared, smiling, his hair still slightly damp from a recent shower. "Part of it," he said. "Why don't you go upstairs and get changed? I just need a few more minutes."

Nancy gestured down at her outfit. "You don't like? Not even the garter belt I'm wearing?"

Ned laughed. "Oh? That's comfortable?"

"No, actually," she replied. "Not really. I'd love to go put some jeans on."

"Go ahead," he said.

A few minutes later Nancy came downstairs, skimming her hair back into a ponytail. Her bare toes gleamed with unspoilt red paint. "Smells wonderful," she said, taking in the candlelit dinner spread on their table. "I thought you were going to catch up on your sleep today. This must have taken forever."

Ned smiled. "Not forever. I don't know about you, but I'm pretty well rested," he said.

"Thanks," she said softly. "This is great. You're great."

"Oh, I know," he said lightly, and she laughed at him. "Look beside your plate."

He took a sip of wine as she pulled the thin silver strand between her fingers. "It's gorgeous," she breathed. Then she darted a glance at him. "I have yours in your purse, but I'm going to wait--"

Ned filled her wine glass. "That's fine."

"It's just that if I give it to you now, you won't even want to finish dinner."

"Is it some scandalously small nightie?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

She laughed. "Nah. You're not bored of that new red lace one yet."

"Nor will I ever be," Ned said, "after the hours it and I have spent together, daydreaming about how you will look with it on the floor."

Nancy tapped her wine glass against his. "Later, darling."

After they were fairly stuffed with food, Nancy put the leftovers in the fridge while Ned loaded the dishwasher. "I hate the cleaning up part," he complained.

Nancy smiled. "My charming French chef," she giggled, framing his face in her hands and kissing him lightly.

"Okay," he said, after they had dimmed the lights and adjourned to the living room. "Romance or action?"

Nancy snuggled her chilly feet under the afghan she usually left spread over the back of the couch, and looked back and forth between the nondescript rental boxes in his hands. "Drugrunners in the Florida Keys?" she asked him, a smile tugging her lips, as she tugged the ponytail holder out of her hair and shook it out.

He shrugged. "May as well be."

After he loaded the movie into the player he sat down on the couch with her, and she leaned forward so he could rest with his back propped up on an arm. She leaned back, her back against his chest, and relaxed into his arms.

"Think you can make it?" he asked, his voice soft, into her hair.

She reached down and adjusted the afghan so that it covered her feet, and when she leaned back Ned's hands slipped beneath the hem of her sweater, to rest on the warmth of her abdomen. "Um, yeah," she responded, resting her hands over his.

The movie was utterly forgettable in itself, though Nancy liked the love interest. Half an hour into it Ned went to the kitchen to make a bowl of popcorn, and when he returned he slipped out of his shirt and sat down next to her again.

"You're not cold?" she asked.

He shrugged. "Not with you on top of me keeping me warm."