Jason Rowan couldn't think of a better fraise than 'stir crazy' to describe the way he was feeling in his own home. He couldn't go anywhere; Jason had lost almost complete use of his legs and was wheelchair-ridden until…well, until he died. Miserable didn't quite cover it. His wife paid too much attention; he could hardly blink an eye without her constant worry. It wasn't that he blamed her, she had every reason to be concerned and scared. But Jason wished just once he could use the bathroom on his own again.

He was grateful for his family, especially his wife. But his bitterness was starting to get difficult to hide. This was a rare time that Jason found alone. His wife and son were sleeping but he sat awake. He couldn't stop thinking. His life had changed quickly, far too quickly. His illness had taken over his life and if Jason Rowan hated anything, it was losing control.

And he simply couldn't take it anymore.

"I don't understand." After just staring at her until she shook his arm, Michael found the strength to actually speak. She chewed her lip for a moment, her eyes wide on her face. This must have been a vital secret she hadn't meant to share. "Christine!" She flinched. Why, he wasn't sure. It wasn't like he'd hurt her.

"It was a long time ago." She said, her voice barely above a whisper. Michael had to strain to hear her. She was taking deep breaths, trying to steady her nerves so that she didn't fall apart in the middle of her story. He deserves to know.

"I was nineteen. Don't look at me like that, I know I was stupid. I was with someone I thought I loved. I didn't know what love felt like. To be honest, I still don't… I thought he loved me, but…when we found out that I was pregnant, he bailed…the bastard." She scoffed and made a face out the window, crossing her arms tightly against her stomach. "I was going to keep it, but I miscarried. I was into my second trimester and I don't think I've ever felt something as horrible as that. It was like my insides were ripping themselves out." Michael cringed and took her hand. She didn't seem to notice.

"Anyway," She continued, seeming to snap back to reality. "That's how I know. So, rest assured, I'm not pregnant." A sort of sick smile spread across her face and Michael found himself shuttering. She patted his knee and started the car back up and remained perfectly silent until they got back to the Ranch.

There really wasn't any particular reason why Paris despised Christine. She was a nice person. She's too pretty… But Paris knew that wasn't it, either. She sat alone in her room, a book in her lap but she didn't read it. She'd only had to share her father with her brothers and on occasion, his crazy fans. God, were they crazy… But she'd never had to share him with another woman. It was obvious what was going on between them, they weren't very good at hiding it. And Paris knew she was wrong when she said that Christine didn't deserve him. It was very likely that she did, but Paris was in no hurry to find out.

"Stay with me tonight." It wasn't a question and Christine noted the tone immediately. Looking up at him, she nodded curtly and accepted his hand. He led her down the hall and two more and unlocked double doors. She didn't speak and neither did he. But the silence was oddly comforting.

She borrowed a T-shirt to sleep in and they both climbed into bed. It wasn't until her head hit the pillow that she actually realized how exhausted she was. Michael's arm wound around her waist and she held onto it like a lifeline, surprised at how much she actually needed to be held just then. I'm only human, after all…

It had taken a fair amount of time and strength to block out that particular memory, but she'd managed it with some difficulty. She never did see Gerry again after that; she figured he'd moved out of state and hoped he'd moved out of the country. Although Christine had hated him for leaving, his absence made the situation much easier to deal with. One person's emotions were enough. She'd been stupid and dealt with the consequences. And she thought she'd dealt with the consequences of her consequences admirably. Christine made it through Pre Med and Medical school with flying colors.

The arm around her waist tightened and she felt him burry his face in her hair. Her horrid, unruly hair. And he sighed. Her fingers wound into his. He leaned over, pressed his lips to her cheek and along her jaw, up to her ear where he stopped and whispered so softly she could hardly here him:

"I wouldn't leave you."

And she let herself cry over her lost child. She let herself dissolve quietly over her body's failure and the father of her lost, unborn child. Christine allowed herself to mourn them and by doing that, she allowed herself to accept what was to come.