TWENTY-NINE: Drowning, Part I [FLASHBACK]

The last two weeks had blurred together in the worst way – she felt like she was drowning. Charity McLeod's marriage had been on the verge of destruction for a while and after catching her husband in the act of an orchestrated and filmed act of infidelity, she felt like the final nail was already in the coffin, ready to be driven in. They were hanging by a single thread and it killed her to know that the majority of it was solely her fault.

If anyone had told her a year before that she and Bruce would become so distant and angry, she would have and laughed and called them insane. When they'd come home from Hell's Kitchen that night, while she'd tended Bruce's wounds while he slept off the stupor, she'd vowed to herself that things were going to change.

They hadn't and she could feel the distance growing greater every single day since.

She'd loved Bruce from the age of sixteen and the thought that she could wake up one morning alone was inconceivable. He'd been a constant for so long that to even try to wrap her head around what she would do without him was unfathomable. The blonde had decided it was time to get her shit together and fight for her family. There were things that ate at her, such as finding Bruce with a woman he claimed to despise, but she'd have to get past it. At this point, she didn't have a choice. She could either accept it and move past it or let it continue to eat at her forever. It was easier to try and put it behind them, to pretend it was nothing more than another of the nightmares that had plagued recently.

She'd made an effort to make their house feel like a home again, paying no mind to grief that wanted to rip her to shreds. When she felt as though she wanted to fall apart at a moment's notice, she swallowed all of it back and forced a smile on her face. By the time the sun had gone down, she had almost managed to trick herself into a more positive mood. A few hours later, she was struggling again, when the time that Bruce was usually home had come and gone without a phone call or even a text message that he was running late. That silence only caused Charity to internalize her fear that he was with Shirlea. Honestly, she'd known that she'd driven him into the other woman's arms. Ever since they'd lost the baby, Charity hadn't wanted to be touched. She and Bruce had always been quite physical and the fact that she'd denied him that sort of comfort was unfair. She'd resolved that she wasn't going to do that any longer; her arms were open for him whenever he needed or wanted it. Bruce was her other half and she would do whatever it took to show him that was still true.

The television was turned on and the blonde was trying to enjoy a glass of Jack Daniels and Coca-Cola, but the only thing she enjoyed about it was the buzz it gave her. She'd planned a night in bed for the two of them and had dressed in a red lace chemise and matching shortie robe. When he came through the door, there would be no questions about why he was so late or who he was with – she wouldn't even comment on the time. She was going to have a loving smile on her face and nothing but tenderness to give him. She'd warm up the grilled chicken dinner she'd made hours before and pour him a glass of whatever he chose.

As she sat on the couch, she twisted her wedding and engagement ring set on her finger, a nervous habit. Upon hearing the sound of his motorcycle pulling into their driveway, Charity straightened up and immediately pushed herself to her feet, throwing back the rest of her drink. By the time she heard his heavy tread on the porch, the smile was on her face, ready.

"Hi, Love." The two words were out of her mouth almost as soon as he opened the door. A little wave accompanied it as she started to close the distance between them. "Welcome home."

His eyes widened as he took in what she was wearing. She expected a smile, that old wry smirk of his. Instead he looked almost wary. "What's this then?"

"Just waiting for my husband, that's all." She was standing in front of him. "Now that you're home, how about some dinner?" The look on his face wasn't what she'd expected from him. "Or we can skip to dessert." She let her smile become a playful one as a hand came up and played with the buttons on his shirt.

Staring at her for a few seconds, Bruce shook his head and let out a low whistle, taking a moment to actually look her up and down. "Not that am complaining..." he murmured, reaching out to catch her by the wrist, "but what else is on the menu?" He needed to gauge where this was going. She'd been giving him the stone shoulder for months, pushing him away until it felt like they were strangers.

"For dinner; grilled chicken, steamed veggies, little red potatoes." Her other arm came up and slid around his neck. "And me."

"Ah, love... yeh got me at the wee potatoes." He chuckled and for a moment it almost felt like things could be salvaged. Here she was, touching him as though she meant it, as though she'd actually spent the hours missing him rather than barely aware that he'd even been gone. "Do feel a little peckish, now that I think about it." He pulled her in closer, that smirk she missed so much crossing his lips for an instant.

Leaning in, Charity gently kissed his lips, a palpable sense of relief washing over her when she tasted nothing but tobacco there. He didn't smell like anyone else's perfume. He didn't look drunk and he certainly didn't seem high like he had so many nights over the past few months. She drew back, her hand resting gently on his cheek as she looked into his eyes. "I could heat up a plate."

"That'd be marvie."

She took a step back, her smile feeling genuine for the first time since he'd walked through that door. "If you wanna go take a quick shower, there's time. I thought you'd be home earlier, but it'll still be delicious."

He stiffened as though he caught something in her tone even though she sounded so pleasant. Maybe it was his guilty conscience eating at him thanks to what he'd allowed himself to get into with Shirlea. Tonight, he'd simply been late because he was doing his best to make up for the lost and damaged footage that had been stored on the cameras that Charity had trashed. It didn't help when their biggest star hadn't been in since. Nobody had seen hide nor hair of Shirlea Frost in days and he hated that it was eventually going to boil down to swallowing his pride and begging her to come back. "So that's how it is then, hmm?"

Charity had started to move towards the kitchen but she turned back when she heard that coldness in his tone. "What?"

He stared at her; his expression was unreadable. "Yeh heard me."


Her brow furrowed as she studied him. "What're you talking about?" He wasn't an idiot, she knew. Mentally she was cursing herself for being even the tiniest bit transparent. "I didn't mean anything by it. I..." her voice faltered and she forced that bright smile back into place, "...can go warm up your food."

"Fine." He shrugged, brushing off her defensiveness along with the question. "Go on. Do it, then." He turned away, taking his wallet and keys from his pockets before tossing them on the table by the door.

"Just make yourself comfortable." She couldn't help but feel a certain amount of déjà vu from that first night he'd come to her place when she was sixteen, under the guise of collecting the jacket he'd let her borrow. She'd felt the same nerves then, the same feeling as though they weren't speaking the same language even though the words were familiar.

She heard him step into the half bath off the hallway, heard the water running as she made her way into the kitchen. His plate that she'd made up for him had been put into the oven to keep it warm. She hated how on edge she felt, as if the other shoe was about to drop. With the plate in hand, she took it to their dining room table.

"Can I get you something to drink?" She was acting the part of a stereotypical 1950's wife and homemaker. "Whatever you want, just name it." She stood next to the table and waited for him. In a way, she felt as though she was starting to drown and she desperately needed a life preserver.

Bruce paused in the bathroom doorway, eyes slightly narrowed as he watched her. He couldn't help the nostalgia welling up, the old familiarity he found in seeing her getting things out on the table like she had when they'd first played the dating game – she'd still been a teenager then, desperate to please him. He'd been awkward, unsure of where he was supposed to step because everything felt like a landmine. The ease of the last decade seemed to have evaporated and he was left feeling the rumbling under his feet with every step, as though he was the one causing those tectonic plates in their relationship to shift. Her career had all but stalled out since the moment she'd found herself with the news of the surprise pregnancy. She hadn't gone back to work in the months since and he carried the guilt of that truth around daily. It was breaking his back, making him resentful and bitter.

"Something strong," he muttered, "doesn't matter what." He felt like he needed to clarify, to let her know he wasn't baiting a trap for her to ultimately choose the wrong thing.

"You got it." She favored him with another smile before walking over to what had been her father's liquor cabinet. She opened it and grabbed a bottle of his choice whiskey. After getting a glass, she placed a few ice cubes in it and placed it on the table. "After you eat, I could run you a bath, scrub your back..." Taking the seat across from him, she ran a hand through her hair. "Other places..."

As he was sliding into the chair, Bruce looked up, catching her eye. "Implying I'm dirty, hmm?" The way he said it made it sound like a joke, but there was something off about it, some undercurrent that flashed through his eyes light lightning.

The look in his eyes caused her to straighten up in her chair as she felt the need to be on guard. "That's not what I said, Love." Still, she smiled at him as she reached over and placed a hand on his arm. "It's just been awhile and I thought it might be nice." The tension between them was thick and she wanted to cut through it. "If nothing else, we can get each other dirty and get clean together."

He ignored her touch, picking up one of the little potatoes and tossing it in his mouth. Chewing it, he reached for the drink and chased the mouthful of food with the cool liquor, feeling its warmth work its way through him as it slid down his throat. He closed his eyes, taking a slow inhale before lowering the glass to the table. "Suppose I shouldn't knock the opportunity, aye?" The words came out hollow, stripped of any sort of feeling before Bruce's eyes opened and fixed on her. "May be another six... eight months before the next time you're in a mood like this."

The smile faded from Charity's made-up face as she removed her hand from his arm. "That uh..." stung. She couldn't get that word out to tell him how she felt. Instead it got stuck in her throat. "I guess I deserve that." She tried to force a smile, but that was difficult. "I meant what I said about things being different." She could feel the prickle of tears that caused her to focus on the ceiling as she blinked them away and then focused on him. "If tonight you don't want to... then when you do... I'm here."

"Oh are ya?" He couldn't keep the sarcasm from his tone, "well there's a fuckin' novel concept. Gonna be here... tits in my face, ridin' my dick like the good ol' days while your head's a thousand miles away? While you look right through me?" His lips curved in a cruel smile as he shook his head. "What's changed then, hmmm? Tell me, 'cause this just feels like a deeper, hotter level of purgatory – when do you stop lyin' and admit we're in hell?"

She could feel her jaw tighten as she just stared at him trying to figure out how to counter what he'd said. "I'm not lying when I say that I love you and I want to try to fix us."

He stared at her for a good half a minute, trying to bite back the anger and the venomous words that were on the tip of his tongue. All of the hurt and pain he'd bitten back, had swallowed back and stuffed down deep for the last year was bubbling up, choking him. She thought dressing a little sexy and coming onto him was going to repair the damage done? He didn't know whether to laugh at the absurdity or lose his shit completely but he was leaning dangerously close to the latter. "Aye. 'Til death, right? Just never agreed upon which one that was referring to, die we?"

After the other night when they'd found their way back to each other, Charity thought that they were starting to mend. She'd been stupid to think that they'd both said what had to needed to be as well. Bringing her hand up, she rubbed the back of her neck. "I'm trying here!" The exasperation bled into her tone, "I don't know what you want me to say, Bruce."

"The truth?"

"I love you and I'm sorry that I shut down on you! Is that what you want to hear?"

He chuckled ruefully, shaking his head slowly. "It's easier tae hurt me, isn't it?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Aye, that's the rub, isn't it?" Bruce's eyes were dead black, boring into hers. "Thirteen years down the shitter – can't even remember the way back."

She felt the tears threaten, "I wish that I could undo the damage, but I can't." Her baby blue eyes were pleading with him. "All I'm asking is to please let me try."

Bruce's eyes dropped from hers to the plate in front of him, feeling sickened now at the sight of it. "Sure," the word came out hoarse as he pushed the plate away with one hand and lifted the glass of whiskey with the other. He drained the rest of it, ice cubes rattling when it slammed back down on the table a bit too hard.

She jumped at the unexpected sound, but her eyes stayed on him. "We can try?"

"We? Nae," he shook his head, "have been tryin' too hard for too long. I'm tired, Cherry. So fuckin' tired."

It sounded too much like he was trying to say goodbye and she felt a rush of heat over her skin and she reached for him again, only to have him pull away. "Bruce... let me. Just me, okay? Let me try to fix this, please?" She felt as though she was running out of straws to hold onto. "I can't turn back time, but I will do anything."

"Can't turn back time." He pushed his chair back, getting up and bumping against the edge of the table. He wasn't drunk, not even buzzed but he still felt unsteady as he made his way over to the liquor cabinet, pulling out the half-full bottle of Jameson. "Suppose not. If that were possible, would've done it long ago, wouldn't you? Undo this whole sorry mess."

Charity pushed to her feet and folded her arms against her chest. "No; not us, not our daughter, not even the baby." The tears that she'd tried so hard to stop and finally started to stream down her cheeks, her eye makeup running. Still, she walked over to where Bruce stood. "How I handled everything? Yes. That is what I would change." Looking at Bruce and how much he'd been hurt by her inability to move past her own grief, hurt. It was a pain that rivaled the loss of the baby. "Bruce, I love you and I can't change the hurt I've caused you, but please let me try to mend this." This was her, dropping the dutiful wife act and showing him what she really felt.

"It would've been nice if you'd turned to me." His voice shook a little and he covered it by taking a huge gulp of whiskey straight from the bottle. "That's what hurt the most. Not the silent treatment. Not the poison 'twixt us. The fact that something so awful happened an' instead of banding together against it, yeh fuckin' threw me off the cliff... what's that say about us, hmm? If you're only... if we're only a unit when times are good?"

"You're right." She nodded, her bottom lip starting to quiver. "We've always been a team and I should have held onto you. Maybe then I wouldn't feel like I was drowning." Her hand came up and wiped at her face, smearing the makeup further.

She felt like she was drowning? He'd gone under months ago, giving himself over to the darkness and the repetition of his shallow little world. He slept a few hours at night, mostly aided by liquor or weed – he worked far too long, until his hands were stiff from turning knobs and his eyes felt like they'd dry up and roll right out of his head. He wanted to backhand her so badly. He wanted to hit her again and again and again until the hateful, half-assed apologies stopped falling from her lips. Instead he turned away from her, looking down at the collection of bottles, some covered in a layer of dust because they'd been there so long. "I know yeh blame me," he muttered, unable to keep the words in, "that's been painfully obvious from the moment we had tae make that choice."

Falling silent, Charity stared at him for a few seconds before finally blurting, "what?"

"Your life or his – which one was expendable?"

"It wasn't..." she faltered, trying to contradict him but the words wouldn't come. He was right. A part of her had resented him then, had hated him for speaking up so quickly.

"I didn't wanna lose you, Cherry. Didn't matter though."

"You're not losing me, Bruce. I'm right here." Her voice shook, "I won't turn away from you again. I'm so sorry, Baby."

"Damage's done." Bruce's smile was sad as he tilted the bottle and took another swig. "Am sorry too. Does that make ya feel any-" he stopped talking when he heard the sound of a cell phone going off.

Charity glanced at her phone that had notified her she had an incoming message. Choosing not to check it, her focus was back on Bruce. "Even though a lot of damage has been done, it can be fixed. It's going to take time, but I know we CAN get back to us." The phone had continued to go off, letting her know she continued to get messages. "Just a minute."

She left his side only to take a few steps to grab her phone from the kitchen counter. Unlocking the screen, she opened up her text messages and saw she had numerous new ones. The messages, which were around ten in total, all came from the same number – an unknown number. When she opened the first message all she saw was a link. She went to the next message and it was the same thing – a link. The other messages all had the same thing, that link. Relenting, Charity opened it and upon seeing it, she instantly regretted it.

The link had taken her to the Hell's Kitchen Studio's website. Specifically, the link was for preview of their latest video; clicking the thumbnail revealed a video she'd never expected to see. It was from the night she'd caught her husband having sex with Shirlea Frost. The current video showed Bruce and Charity reconnecting physically, every naked inch of her visible for the sixty seconds of the preview before the 'purchase to view more' button popped up on the screen. She also noticed the video already had over two hundred and fifty thousand views.

Looking up from the screen, she stared at her husband and shook her head. She didn't have any words for him or what she'd seen as her phone fell the short distance from her hand to clatter on the counter. She left the room without making a sound, feeling as though she was going to be violently ill. She felt completely numb as she got into bed and threw the covers over her body, wanting to block everything else out.

She heard the floor creak outside the room, knowing that Bruce was there before he said anything. He watched her huddling under the covers the same way their daughter did when she'd been six and was convinced monsters were hiding under the bed, ready to devour her the moment she closed her eyes. There hadn't been any volume to the video, no real indication for him to know what she'd seen but that look she'd given him had cut right through – he knew. He also had a pretty good suspicion as to who might have tipped her off, as well.

"Cherry," he leaned against the door, slipping a cigarette between his lips. He hadn't smoked in the house since Siobahn had been born but he was damn well going to do it now. He needed it. Drawing the acrid smoke into his lungs gave him a moment of peace but he knew that wasn't going to last. "It wasn't my call. The footage was good. Usable with a few minor edits. It was one of the best things the studio's put out in years. Hell of a plot-"

She made a sound that was halfway between a laugh and a sob but said nothing.

The truth was, he could've put a stop to it. He could have destroyed the recording before his boss had seen it – instead he'd watched it over and over, unable to keep himself from reliving the moment, from finding a sort of sick satisfaction in how she'd lashed out at him. His boss had walked in on him jerking off to it, had immediately seen the promise in the story and had praised him for shooting something so raw, so real. He should have corrected the man, explained that it wasn't art. Should have explained that his own life's drama wasn't for sale – instead he'd handed it over. Had glossed over the damage to the equipment as a casualty of the heat of the moment.

"Already made enough tae cover the loss of one of those cameras."

Charity didn't respond. She was still trying to wrap her head around the betrayal she felt. When it came full circle, she was the one who'd put everything in motion with her coldness to him. With that realization, she pushed back the covers and sat up. "I understand." She looked up at him, contrite as she accepted her punishment. "It's fine. You needed the footage and it's... it'll be okay." She nodded as if trying to convince them both. "We just have to protect Sam if her friends find out." She didn't care what people thought of her, but when it came to their daughter, they had to keep her safe. She got out of bed and approached Bruce. She was numb but she could feel herself shaking, could feel something deep inside her breaking and it made her want to scream in the worst way. "I've just-"

"Your face is barely visible," he muttered, "mostly the back of your head. If that makes it any better."

The subject had shifted so quickly that it left them both feeling disoriented. It just drove the point home a little deeper, just how broken they'd truly become. She would have never agreed to this before, would have never swallowed such a betrayal so readily. "It's okay. Just gotta work through it all – I need time to process. We can deal with this, though. It'll be okay."

"She's not even a teenager yet," Bruce replied, confused by her train of thought, "if her friends're findin' the footage that young, Lord help us all." He shook his head, wanting to reach out and give her the reassurance he knew she desperately needed but a part of him held back, afraid that he'd only be rejected and rebuffed once again. "Gotta pay for those busted cameras somehow, aye?"

"Yeah." She couldn't help but feel as though he'd slapped her in the face, but it was deserved. She was desperate to fix everything and knew there was a good possibility that none of it would ever be fixed. The least she could do was put the offer out to help with the cameras she destroyed. "If um... if the footage does well?" She swallowed hard, "I'll do more. If that's what you want. To pay for what I broke. Pictures, video, whatever..." It was a crazy idea, but that seemed to be where they were.

"You think that's what I want?" Bruce snapped, his anger back in an instant. "You think I want every horny motherfucker from here to Timbuktu tae be wankin' it over-" he took a step back from her, shaking his head violently as if he wanted to banish that thought. "Jesus, Mary an' Joseph... it's like I don't even know you anymore."

Her eyes welled with tears as her bottom lip quivered. She needed to be reassured more than anything else. She needed to know that disgust on his face wasn't what he felt for her now. "Please tell me you still love me... still want me..." Her hand rested on his chest as she pleaded. "Please, Love... please?"

The silence that crashed down around them was more of an answer than any words could have been, his hesitation serving to drive that paranoia in deeper. He licked his lips after plucking the cigarette from between them, finally breaking the silence. "I don't know what I feel anymore – God's honest truth. I don't fuckin' know."

Charity stared at him for almost too long before she finally spoke. "Oh." She turned away, forcing that smile back into place. "Look at me. I'm a mess." She nodded as she stared at her reflection in the mirror over the dresser, the look on her face unreadable. "I think I'll go take a bath, get cleaned up." Her tone was level, her body had stopped shaking and her lip had stopped quivering. "You should call Sam – she called earlier and I told her you would call her back when you got in." Her brow furrowed as it seemed as though she was trying to come to some sort of conclusion. "I'm just gonna go take a bath. Call her and tell her I love her, okay?"

"You do that," he turned away from her, moving towards the doorway. Suddenly he felt like the air in this place was trying to choke him. He needed to get out of here, go somewhere to clear his head. Ashes fell from the cigarette like snow, scattering down the front of his shirt as he put it back between his lips. He didn't notice. Didn't care and didn't look back to see the expression on her face. She heard the door slam a few moments later, heard the unmistakable sound of his bike starting and then he was gone, without a word as to when he'd be back or where he was even going.

Charity watched him go and when the door slammed, she made her way into their master bathroom. Things had gone so horribly wrong so quickly and it had pushed her to a place that she couldn't see past this evening. Her movements were robotic as she turned on the bath and went over to the bathroom counter, picking up the washcloth she'd left there after she'd finished getting her face on. Something fell, clattering to the floor and she saw it was the old relic of a razor that Bruce preferred to use. The blade had come free when it fell and she carefully picked it up from the floor, cupping it in her palm as an idea cemented itself in her mind. She didn't even bother to get undressed as she stepped into the warm water, letting it wash over her as though it was a baptism that could cleanse her of her sins.

She couldn't see what the future held. She couldn't even see a future now that everything had been splintered and torn to pieces. All she could see was the past and it was full of nothing but pain and loss, darkness and sorrow.......