TWENTY-EIGHT: Like Toy Soldiers [FLASHBACK] *explicit*

Charity had always been partial to the little house that she and Bruce had raised their daughter in. It was a three-bedroom ranch style with a basement and attached garage. There was a nice little backyard that Sam had spent many days playing in. It had become her dream home and she had been looking forward to bringing their little boy home. As it was, that wasn't to be.

At twenty weeks pregnant, Charity and Bruce had been informed that they were indeed having a son. The news had put them both on cloud nine and even had excited their almost twelve-year-old daughter at the prospect of having a little brother. They picked out a name and settled on paint for the nursery. By twenty-four weeks, Charity had been feeling pretty lousy. Not only was she getting constant headaches, her vision had started to get blurry, and she'd started throwing up almost constantly. After this had been going on for a few days, Bruce had taken her to the doctor. After some tests, she was diagnosed with very high blood pressure and not long after, preeclampsia. She was admitted into the hospital immediately and after more tests, it was determined that they could induce labor and the baby would be born at twenty-four weeks. His chance of survival was minimal but it was the best chance for Charity to survive. The second alternative was for her to try to carry the baby as long as she could, but her own chances of survival weren't good.

In the end, the decision was made to induce labor and hope for the best with their son. He lived for two hours outside of his mother before taking his last breath. The dreams they'd had for that next phase in their family came crashing down hard.

That had been eight months ago – it seemed like an eternity and the months that had passed since had been downright excruciating. Losing the baby had caused Bruce and Charity to grow distant, something they had never thought would happen. With both of them grieving and Charity still dealing with health issues, their daughter was taken to Chicago to spend the summer with Charity's sister Hannah. This was to give the two of them a chance to heal and try to get back to some of what they had before. Bruce was spending all of his time away from home and on the rare times he did appear, all they did was fight. Most of Charity's time was spent in their bedroom, trying to sleep or watch television. Sometimes she'd try cleaning or doing the dishes, but she rarely ate so the dishes were few and far between.

There was a gnawing loneliness in the pit of Charity's stomach and she knew it was partly because their daughter was gone. The house felt far too quiet and it gave her far too much time to dwell on the distance between herself and Bruce. On the rare occasions that they were together, he almost seemed resentful, treating her with the same sort of casual sarcasm that he usually reserved for his opponents in the wrestling ring. Despite the distance, she still loved him more than anything. She had no idea how to fix the rift between them but she was desperate to do anything to get back on track. Bruce was the only man she'd ever loved and the thought of losing him was more than she could bear. He had tried so hard to bring her back from her depression and she'd done nothing but fight him until he'd completely given up. She had to make changes and there was no time like the present.

It was a late evening when Charity had tried calling her husband to ask him to come home. After an hour or two after calling and sending a few texts only to get no answer, she opted to take matters into her own hands and go down to Hell's Kitchen Studios to talk to him. The last thing she wanted was a fight and she had no plans to pick one. Instead, she got herself a shower and got herself ready to surprise him.

By the time she'd left the house a few hours later, Charity was dressed in a lacy pink and black chemise with matching stockings with black stiletto heels on her feet. She'd added some beachy waves to her blonde hair and expertly applied some makeup. Over her ensemble she threw on a trench coat to hide what she was wearing. Her sole focus was on reconnecting with Bruce. Pulling into the parking lot, her hands were trembling when she saw Bruce's bike and another car. At least she knew he was there. Getting out of the car, she made her way into the studio and let the door shut behind her. Listening, she didn't hear anything right away. She walked past the offices, finding all of them dark before she reached the end of the hallway where it opened up into the studio space.

"Bruce?" She called out his name, walking towards the light she saw, passing a few darkened and half-constructed stages before hearing the murmur of voices. "Bruce?" She called his name again and continued on until she could pinpoint the voices she heard. At least one of them she recognized as the gruff and accented tones of her husband – she picked up her pace, a bright smile on her face. The moment she rounded the corner, Charity was certain she'd throw up on the spot.

He didn't seem to be aware he had more of an audience than usual. He was wearing nothing but a leather vest and a red bandanna tied around his neck like a damned ascot. The first thing she saw was his bare ass, muscles flexing as he pounded into the blonde that was on all fours on the metal desk. The space was set up like a garage, complete with some engine parts and a large red tool box on wheels pushed into the corner – she could only imagine what the loose plot of this story was. The fact that Bruce was starring in the production wasn't the worst part, though. The fact that he was burying himself in the blonde psychopath known as Shirlea was even worse. Apparently, he'd lied to her when he'd said that he'd finally fired the woman the moment he'd taken over majority ownership of the studio.

"Jus' like tha', baby," Bruce murmured, slapping the blonde's ass for the camera's benefit.

At that moment it felt as though something inside of her broke. This betrayal coupled with the grief over the loss of their son and she saw nothing but red. Her first instinct was to scream and rage but she felt a strange sort of disconnected calm wash over her. Narrowing her eyes in the direction of the two of them, she forgot about her nausea and charged over silently. Before either Bruce or Shirlea knew she was there, Charity already had her fingers wrapped around huge hunks of the other woman's blonde hair close to the scalp. Roughly, she pulled Shirlea off of the desk and onto the floor. Still, she didn't say anything, focusing on Bruce and staring him down. The expression on her face was unreadable, which for Bruce was different. He could ALWAYS read her. Walking over to where some cameras were mounted, she slowly knocked them over, one by one. Turning, she focused back on Bruce and smirked. "Oops, sorry."

He stood there in shock, ignoring Shirlea's wailing cries as she held up her hands, filled with huge tufts of hair that had just been torn from her scalp. "Cherry-" the rest of whatever he intended to say died on his lips as he realized she'd completely destroyed the equipment. "Jesus... what the fuck?!" It didn't seem to dawn on him at all that he should be ashamed of the fact she'd just caught him in the act of cheating on her, even if it was just for the site or the ratings or whatever nonsense he was going to try to sell her to explain that betrayal. He took a step in her direction, unsteady and that was when she realized he wasn't sober. Not by a long shot.

Staring him down, she welcomed him to come closer. Her feet were planted firmly as her fists clenched and unclenched. Sober or not, she didn't care what his reasoning was for going back on the promise he'd made. "What's the matter? You need a recap?" A caustic smile crossed her lips, "you fucked Shirlea... again... and I broke your fucking cameras." It was a wide smirk now, almost cruel. "Seems like you're getting off easy." The hurt she felt was unimaginable, but for the time being she was amped up on her anger.

"Those fuckin' things weren't even paid off," he snapped, oblivious to the threat she posed. What she was saying didn't even make any sense. "We need new content... fresh... an' this is-"

"MY HAIIIIIIIIIIIIRRRR!" Shirlea screamed as she staggered to her feet. She started towards Charity and then stopped the moment the woman's gaze snapped in her direction. "I'm gonna kill you, bitch." She snarled the idle threat under her breath even as she fled the scene.

Bruce seemed to realize he was still standing there without any pants on, his dick still halfway hard inside the condom he at least had the presence of mind to put on. A hint of a smirk curved his lips for a moment as he tilted his head, looking at Charity and the wreckage she'd wrought. He saw that the one digital feed was still going, that little gem tucked away next to the sound rigging and, in his inebriation, thought maybe he could still salvage this. "C'mere, love," he murmured, "bring the bike in here... have a nice little ride like old times. Wouldn't that be nice?"

Narrowing her eyes with that smirk still on her face, she took a few steps towards him. "A nice little ride, huh?" Her words came out smoothly as she bit down on her lower lip and leaned in, her lips next to his ear. "You wanna take me on a little ride?"

He chuckled and reached out to pull her in closer. His reaction time was shit and she had already started to pull back so he only caught the edge of the coat she had on. "Aye, love. I would. Hard an' fast."

The smirk disappeared from her face as she stared him down. "Not a fucking chance, you asshole."

"Well... there she is. The fuckin' ice Queen of Narnia." He snapped the words, eyes narrowed as he glared right back. "Welcome back, yer Majesty." His words oozed scorn as he turned his back on her, grabbing his pants off the nearby chair. She could hear him muttering under his breath, mostly swearing and then the used condom hit the floor with a splat. He did up his pants, not bothering with the buckle on his belt before turning back to find her standing in the same spot.

"Ice Queen, huh?" She undid the belt on her coat she was wearing and slid it off. "Yeah, I'm a real stone-cold bitch." The coat dropped to the floor, revealing the lingerie she'd worn. "If you'd have just held off an hour, you coulda had me instead." She couldn't even begin to admit to herself how humiliated she felt and refused to let it show. "No sense in letting it all go to waste." She sauntered over to the desk and sat on top of it, crossing one leg over the other. "What do ya think?"

He blinked, staring at her as if he was trying to figure out where her head was at. "I..." He shook his head. "Stop it."

"What's the matter?" She bit down on her lower lip and played with the strap on her nightie. "We could call Jax and he could take me from behind while I say 'just like that, baby'. What do you think?" She wanted to hurt him so that he felt how she did. "Could give you and Shirlea a run for your money." She grinned at him, feeling sick as the words left her lips. She felt like she wanted to die.

Dark, furious anger filled his features as he stalked over to where she sat. His hands were curled into fists but he stopped just short of swinging at her – he had enough presence of mind not to cross that line, even though he'd already done enough damage to their relationship to last a lifetime. "Have at 'er... then we'll just take you out back, hose all the diseases off after. Let everyone but ol' Brucie have a go at ya. Why the fuck not?!"

Her anger matched his as she hopped off the desk and stood toe to toe with him. Because of the heels she was almost at eye level with him. "Why do you think I'm here, in this?" She wanted to hit him more than anything. "I know I've fucked up, Bruce. Shit, I'm sure I drove you to her.... You actually fucked her." Wincing hard, her fists clenched at her sides. "You lying son of a bitch!" Before she could stop herself, her hands came up to his chest and she shoved him, hard.

"You goddamned crazy cunt!" He shoved her right back, spittle hitting her face like rain as he snarled, "come here... tonight of all nights... like this, ready tae catch me in the act, hmm? Which one of those lousy fuckers tipped yeh off? Which one of 'em are you bumpin' uglies with, Cherry? Sure as shyte don't wanna have anythin' tae do with me. Think I don't see the way you look at me? Think I don't see the disgust writ all over yer face... an' yeh come here like this... like some street corner skag?"

In all the fourteen years they'd been together, he had never said anything to her so ugly or hurtful. When he shoved her in return, her lower back connected with the edge of the desk. Without a second thought, she brought her left hand back and smacked him across the face. She'd never ever been this angry or hurt in her life. "Piece of shit!"

He didn't even think about it. The moment her hand impacted with his cheek, his was in the air and he backhanded her hard enough to make her head spin. He saw red, livid now that all the bottled-up hatred and anger and frustrations of the last eight months had boiled to the surface. "Goan then." He snarled, his fingers grabbing her shoulders and digging in hard. "Tell me how yeh really feel. About damn time for a little fuckin' honesty! Tell me how much of a hateful piece of trash I am."

Her hand had cupped her cheek for just a moment as his fingers went into her flesh. Starting at him for a split second, Charity pressed her lips against his, hard. Her hands rested on his arms as she forcefully slid her tongue in his mouth. She needed him, probably more than she ever had.

He growled like an animal, shoving her back against the desk as he tore at the nightie's straps, kissing her back just as hard. His teeth dug into her lip and he broke off, panting, his eyes wild as they bored into hers. "Fuckin' bitch," he muttered, his tone still angry and ugly.

She pressed her forehead against his as she worked on getting his pants down. Once they were, she quickly slid off the nightgown and her lips moved to his neck, going to that spot she knew so well. Her hands worked on getting the vest off of him as her fingernails raked his bare back. "Cheating prick." She muttered back as she left long gouges down his sweaty back.

"Goddamn..." his fingers dug into her thighs as he spread her legs before grabbing her by the hips, pulling her into him. "Fuckin'," he slammed inside her, hard and rough as a guttural groan passed his lips. He was still hard, unbelievably turned on.

When he entered her, he did it with such force that it was painful at first, but it was a pain she craved. She found his lips and kissed him roughly before pulling back to bite his lower lip. Her legs wrapped tightly around his waist as her arms went around his neck.

He needed this just as much as she did, giving release to the pent-up resentment that had been festering for months was almost cathartic. He tasted blood and he wasn't sure if it was from his lips or hers or a combination of both as he kissed her again, grunting and groaning as he shifted into a faster rhythm. The pain and the anger made it so much more intense and he couldn't get enough of how good it felt to be inside her again – Shirlea was nothing compared to this. Charity had always been the best he'd ever been with. They just clicked perfect from the first touch.

Charity held onto him as if her life depended on it and in many ways, it did. Whatever hot anger she'd felt about Shirlea didn't matter. What mattered was that she was with her husband and maybe they could find their way back to each other. Pulling back, she looked into his eyes and put a hand on his cheek. "I love you." She murmured before going back to that spot on his neck.

"Nobody..." he couldn't keep the words in his head, "feels as good as you, Babylove. Nobody. Gods... it's so good. I can't... fuck... I can't...." He was so close to the edge, he didn't even register that she'd stopped saying hateful things, stopped trying to hurt him. He was still going hard and fast but his fingers weren't digging into her skin so hard anymore and he lifted one hand to stroke up her side, cupping her bare breasts before he bent his head to suck and nibble on her nipple.

Her head went back as she hit that moment of climax that was more intense than any she'd ever experienced before. Her hands went to his head as her fingers massaged his scalp. "I'm not gonna..." She trailed off with a moan and then lifted his face so she could kiss him again. It wasn't as aggressive but it was desperate. She needed him.

That moan did him in, making him quicken his pace as her lips found his again. He kissed her hard, groaning into her mouth as he came. He wasn't thinking about whether or not he'd just been fucking Shirlea or what they'd said to each other in anger. He was just so damned happy to feel something other than cold indifference from her. When the kiss broke, he was breathless and almost dizzy with euphoria. "Jesus..."

Charity still clung to him, her head on his shoulder. Her hands were on his back, but they were gentle and she could feel the stickiness of blood from the furrows she'd made. "I think I tore your back up." Lifting her head, she kissed his cheek. "Do you want me to clean it up?" Despite how the night had started, she felt a sort of peacefulness deep down.

It took him a moment to find his voice when his eyes met hers. "Nae... am sure it's..." he shrugged, wincing when he felt a twinge of fiery pain. Looking down, he could see red marks on her shoulders and thighs, "think I bruised yeh pretty good. Guess we're even, hmm?"

Pulling her head back, she looked up into his eyes, her hand going to the side of his face. "Are we?" The resentment she'd had in her eyes before was gone. There was just love there.

His arms wrapped around her and he pulled her close, pressing his lips to her forehead. If he'd just held out a little longer, if he'd just been sober enough to read the signs – he felt clear-headed for the first time in months now that his blood had been pumping so hard. He pulled back, his eyes locking on hers and now she could see the shame and guilt reflected there before he looked away. He wanted to apologize but he wasn't sure that words were going to do any good. "Lemme take yeh home."

"Only if you're gonna stay with me."

Bruce closed his eyes, nodding even though he felt as though something between them had been irreparably broken – it wasn't just the cameras, the things that could be replaced with a simple insurance claim. Something had just happened that they could never come back from. He felt that down to his bones, but he forced himself to lie. "Aye, 'til the seas gang dry." Once he had his pants back on and she'd donned that concealing coat again, he led her towards the back door, not even bothering with the locks. If the place got looted, there was nothing of great value left to take – his whole life was starting to feel that way. Nothing valuable left. They kept getting hit, kept getting back up and trying again, kept trying to march to that old familiar beat only to end up falling down again, just like toy soldiers.