A/N. Thank you. Simple words to convey my gratitude for all of the suggestions and reviews.

Perfect

By: Syn

Epilogue

Beside her on the couch, Mike stirred drowsily, and Bree shifted carefully before tucking herself back comfortably against his chest. He was sleeping fitfully, his outstretched leg propped on the low ottoman she'd bought solely for his use.

She watched him quietly, his brow furrowed even in sleep. Weeks after the accident, his injuries still pained him, and he was exhausted much of the time. He was miserable at being kept from his usual workout and jogging, and his work schedule was incredibly limited; in reality, he really couldn't do much of anything. Mike was mending as well as could be expected, but the inactivity was wearing on him. In trying to cheer and occupy him, Bree was reminded of Rex's convalescence after his heart attack, but she didn't look at it this time as a chore, as a duty she had to perform. The thought that all of her effort at caring for her husband had ultimately ended in his believing she had murdered him still burned her, and as she reflected on it in irritation she was reminded of a conversation about Rex she'd had with Mike the morning a few short days ago that he'd shown up on her doorstep.

"I think I can do that," she'd said with a smile, feeling truly radiant for the first time in a long while.

"Good." He'd hugged her tightly, and she'd relished the feeling of the simple gesture. "There's just one thing I want you to consider doing for me," he said seriously.

"Oh? What's that?"

Mike had leveled a serious gaze into her grey eyes. "Try to forgive him."

"What?" Bree shook her head immediately, not even giving it a second thought. "No, I can't. I refuse," she stated primly.

"You can." He touched her chin, tilting her face toward his. Bree's lips twisted in irritation.

"Why do you care?"

"Because I care about you," Mike had replied honestly. "And it's eating you up. Please just try? I know it's not easy, I just think you really should try it."

"Very well," she huffed, but mostly for show and to quiet him. It had ended that line of discussion, but she'd known he wasn't convinced.

Now, as she watched him shift restlessly, Bree actually thought about what he'd said. Forgive Rex? She shuddered. Forgive him? Clearly, Mike wasn't as informed on her psyche as he'd claimed; saying that her drinking problem and all that had followed had begun with Rex's desire for a divorce. It had to have been precipitated by something else. George, maybe … although, she had only starting seeing George socially to punish Rex for his betrayal.

Er, was Mike right?

Bree thought about it for a minute more, then, making a decision she gently disengaged herself from Mike's arm. She dropped a gentle kiss on his forehead, lightly tracing the thin scar that ran through his right eyebrow. "I'll be right back," she whispered, unsure if he heard her or not. He nodded wearily, eyes still closed, and she ran her thumb across his cheek with a smile. She just loved to touch him, to hold his hand, brush his cheek, kiss his tanned skin; it was like a thread of happiness gently winding its soothing way through her soul.

Slowly, Bree made her way upstairs to her bedroom hesitantly, closing the door behind her with a soft click. Forgive Rex. How hard could it be?

Bree began pacing, trying to think. She really wanted to crawl back onto the couch with Mike and watch more horrible Godzilla movies. Forgiving her late husband seemed unnecessary and slightly degrading – but for some reason, Mike deemed it important, and she hated to admit that he might be on to something.

Bree sniffed disdainfully. Ridiculous. She could get on just fine without Rex. The bitterness she felt for him was her companion, the remnant of her late husband she carried in her head to darken any fond memories of him she may have had left. Bree continued pacing, out of nervousness rather than habit, trying to think of the proper way to go about forgiving someone you had no intention of forgiving.

Alright. She would try. Sooner tried, sooner completed.

"Rex, I forgive you," she said brightly. There, done.

Now, just about time to think of what to make for dinner. She tried to imagine Rex nodding graciously as he accepted her forgiveness gratefully. "I appreciate it very much, Bree," he'd say, "but the fault is all mine. What was I thinking? You could never do anything to hurt me, I know that."

Bree's cheery smile faltered, an unexpected kink in her plan. What had we become in the end, Rex? she mused. I loved you so much, once. I loved you for so long.

The redhead closed her eyes and tried to remember her husband when they'd been happy, how she'd felt when he'd promised to love her forever, the joy they'd shared at their beautiful children, the simple feel of his arms around her when she'd believed she was his only one.

"I forgive you," she said again simply, but she knew her heart lacked the conviction to truly mean it. As she considered, something Mike had said to her months ago about talking to his late wife drifted through her mind. Bree had never been possessed with an overactive imagination – too untidy – but it was worth a try to exorcise the hatred and salvage the good memories she'd been trying to forget.

Bree thought for a moment, trying to imagine the perfect scene. She smoothed down the already neat bedcovers and after some initial uncertainty pulled from the darkest corner of her closet Rex's second-best suit – the only thing of his that she hadn't packed away – removed it from the dry cleaning bag and laid it out carefully on the bed.

She tried to envision her husband sitting before her, wearing that amused smile he often had when around her. It was amazingly hard – she'd spent so long trying not to think of him – but she was fairly pleased by the end result. She could picture him looking at her with his eyes crinkled in a smile, surrounded by the faintly impatient air of a doctor who had clients to see or a game of golf he needed to get to.

"Hi," she said softly, tucking her hair behind her ear self-consciously. She was wearing Mike's grey t-shirt again today and she wondered what Rex would think if she appeared less than kempt. She wasn't even wearing her mother's pearls.

"Hi," he replied, sounding slightly surprised to see her.

"Are you … well?" she casually asked her manifestation of her late husband.

Rex shrugged. "I'm dead, so as well as can be expected. You?"

"Fine, fine," she said cheerfully, twisting the hem of the t-shirt just enough to keep the nervous energy in her fingers occupied without wrinkling the cotton fabric.

Rex's mouth twisted in wry disbelief at her too-bright demeanor. "Are you lying to me?" he asked bluntly.

"Yes," Bree admitted. She sat down on the bed and impulsively imagined that he put his arms around her tightly, something he hadn't done in a long time – even when he was alive, she amended to herself, so as not to sound silly.

"I miss you, sweetheart," she admitted.

"I miss you too, Bree. How are you holding up?"

"Fine, fine," she said again. "The kids are fine. Well – Andrew ran away, and I think Danielle almost ran away with the neighbor boy, but they moved … abruptly. I don't know why." She sighed. "Every family has its secrets, I guess."

"I guess so," Rex agreed, his arms tightening reassuringly around her slim shoulders.

Bree sighed, took the plunge and released the bitterness that had been consuming her: "Well, I just wanted to say that I forgive you for thinking I murdered you."

"I know that you didn't," Rex admitted. "I was just so confused at the end. I wouldn't have blamed you for doing it, though, with the way I acted."

Bree smiled tightly. "I guess you underestimated how much I loved you." She turned to look at him, to drown in the love they'd shared for so many years before their lives had changed, before he'd strayed, and before she'd been perfect.

"Yes," he said honestly, "I did."

"I forgive you," she said simply, and this time, knew she meant it. The brick of pain in her heart crumbled into tiny pieces and blew away, as if a warm wind had swept through the dark corners and routed out the remainder of her unwillingness to forgive her husband. It felt good, and Bree smiled as warmth flooded her as the tension in her chest dissipated.

Rex smiled, already fading away before her eyes. "Thank you, Bree."

Bree sniffed smally, reaching out toward him. There was one more thing she wanted to say. "By the way, Rex, you'll be pleased to know that I burned the toast this morning."

Rex grinned back, phantom fingers entwining with hers. "Good."

Bree sat quietly on the empty bed for a moment longer before rising and re-hanging Rex's suit in the closet. Feeling oddly light-hearted, she slowly descended the stairs and made her way back to the living room. Mike was awake and waiting for her, and without saying a word she tucked herself back against him, sighing in relief when his fingers drifted through her hair.

"You okay?" he asked.

"Yes. And thank you."

His brow furrowed. "For?"

"Taking care of me." She nestled against his strong chest carefully; dear Lord he felt good. She wanted to cry, laugh, and sigh, all in joy and contentment she hadn't thought she'd feel again. "Choosing me. Helping me to be better."

"Oh." he said, and she felt him smile into her hair. "It's my pleasure."

Fortunately for Bree, the Road is filled with many surprises, one of which is that sometimes when we stumble off of the safe path, when we bite off more than we can chew, and when our dreams of being flawless come crashing down around us, the most unlikely people, those who in the beginning barely know us at all but somehow know us better than we know ourselves, are the ones who reach out a hand to guide us back.

-- finis