Disclaimer: (Haha, first time I remembered to include one of these in a story! I better fix that eventually.) I don't own As The World Turns. Or CBS. Or the awful commercials that I fast forward through on a daily basis during the show.

Note: This is from the point of view of...John Dixon?! That's right. Not that I can write from a male POV at all. I can't quite get a handle on how Barbara might think, though, so I had to write this from someone's perspective.

I wrote this in school in my head while walking to first period when it was snowing last week. Yeah, when your high school makes you think of a court house, it's a bad sign.

Anyway, my thoughts tend not to translate well into words. So here goes nothing.

~*~*~*~*~

Barbara is sitting stiffly next to me on the supposed couch in the courthouse hallway. Bob is at the hospital. Kim is at the station. Even Lisa is at Java Underground. The trial has been going for weeks now. Sadly, it's not looking good for Barbara.

It's been amazing being in her life again. I know she has made her mistakes, but there's not a person in this town you can't say that about.

Her son Paul just walked by with Jack Snyder, and I could see her heart break when he refused to meet her eyes. She's become so fragile. Like she was after our son died. And it hurts to see her this way again. I wish I could hold her. I wished for the same thing then.

It's really early in the morning. We left Lisa's early planning to stop for breakfast at Al's, but she decided in the parking lot not to go in. The sun's coming in the window by where we're sitting, and her hair is shining beautifully. I can remember waking up next to her more than once, watching her sleep. She has always been so beautiful and confident. She's still beautiful, I can see that at this moment.

A few minutes have gone by, and I notice her shiver.

"Would you like my jacket, Barbara?"

She offers me her new smile, tight and nervous. "No, thank you, John."

Every morning this week I have done my best to make her feel better. We start every morning on this cushioned bench, in a fairly out-of-the-way hall. I have no idea why Paul and Jack ended up here today. Almost seemed planned. It bothers me.

Every morning she looks crushed. I want to hold her, and a few days ago I took it upon myself to do so. We sat on this same bench for twenty minutes with her head on my shoulder. I could feel her crying. And it bothers me. I never know what to do.

I wonder sometimes if she's guilty. She would not be the first person to do something awful. But, as I know too well, she would not be the first to wrongfully accused either.

It's time to go into the courtroom, time to watch Jack and Jessica and ninety percent of the town tear my Barbara apart while her own family is either too busy to be here or are leading the attack.

I keep one hand on the small of her back, and this contact that bothered her on Monday is okay today. We pass a low window and I notice that it is snowing. I show her and she smiles at me again, the same expression.

"It's beautiful, Barbara," I say to her.

"I know it is, John. There's just so much more going on." And she turns away from me and continues walking.

So another day of total hell for both of us begins. And I just want to hold her.