If she had only wiped all of the water up. Months later, that thought would flash through Danny�s mind: if she had only wiped all of the water up, so much pain, heartache, tears, fears, cries, lies would have been avoided. If only she had �

It had been his glass of water, but he hadn�t drunk it, not a drop. And Michelle had been in happy homemaker mode, whirling about him, dusting everything in sight, putting everything in place, including untouched glasses of water. And she�d been wearing pink and no matter how often she wore that color, it still managed to get a reaction out of him.

After all, she�d been wearing pink when he�d first kissed her and his wife looked deliciously delectable in pink and even moreso in a tight, baby-soft, baby-pink sweater - just the thing she wore that day. The snug jeans had helped, too.

So he had grabbed her, mid-flight towards the sink to do away with the glass still full of water, and he�d kissed her. A good, long, passionate kiss. As usual, she gave as good as she got. And as the kiss deepened, her hold on the glass lessened, water poured onto the floor and a few drops splashed against her bare feet. Laughing, she�d pulled away. Into the sink the glass had gone, and to the spilt liquid she�d returned with a paper towel. Just one paper towel, not enough to fully wipe the floor dry, but it was enough she�d decided, he�d decided as he wrapped her in his arms again.

They�d been a great couple of kisses, he had to admit.

A few minutes later, she was on the stepladder, dusting the overhead light. He�d been across the room, unable to catch her when she began to slip, unable to keep her from falling. Of course, falling would have been worth only a moment of embarrassment, a rueful laugh, but she had managed to catch herself and unsteadily step off the ladder and right onto the still-wet floor.

She slipped. And this time she had fallen, banging her head on the hard, linoleum floor. Unconscious for four hours, she had awoken with no memory of anything past her twelfth year. All because she hadn�t wiped all the water up.

If only she had �

�Michelle? Come on, baby, wake up. Oh, God, Michelle, it�s just a little bump, I called Rick, I called an ambulance.� He looked up, listening for the siren�s wail. �I�m being paranoid. I know, I know, it�s just a little bump. Come on, come on.� He glanced back down at her, worry crossing his face again. She looked so pale, so young. She was only a few years younger, but sometimes he felt like he was a decade older. Looking at her white, still face, he felt a century older now.

Pressing soft fingers against the slight throb of her throat, he bent and laid gentle lips upon her brow, and he whispered her name - �Michelle.� He whispered entreaties to her - �please, please, baby, wake up, wake up� - , to God - �dear God, let her be okay, let her be okay� -; he whispered curses - �damnit! where is the ambulance.� He whispered her name. �Michelle. Michelle.�

The door opened suddenly with a bang. Danny looked up, relief washing across his features as his brother-in-law strode in. �Is she still out?� Rick�s voice was crisp, to the point, there was no emotion and that scared Danny. He wasn�t listening to Michelle�s brother; this was Dr. Bauer. Before Danny could answer the question, Rick was at Michelle�s side, his fingers at her pulse, pulling her eyelids up, speaking. He was speaking.

�What?� Danny muttered, flustered, his gaze locked on his wife�s still, still face.

�You called 911?� Rick�s voice was steady, emotionless, but Danny knew him well enough, knew the man well enough now to hear the faint strain beneath the words. His fear, which had been hovering above anxiety, spiraled to panic.

�Yes, I called. I called; they should be here. They have to be here. What�s wrong? Why is she still unconscious, it�s just a little bump, right? It�s just a little bump?�

There was a long pause before Rick finally looked up at him, �I don�t know,� and there was worry in that voice, emotions free. Their eyes met and the two men bonded in that instant as they hadn�t in the two years since Danny had married his sister.

�She could come out at any time,� the voice was muted. Michelle heard it as if she was underwater, in her mind she threw her arms out, her legs kicking behind her as she swam towards the surface. She knew the speaker, but he was speaking slowly, so slowly and quietly, she couldn�t place him. She kicked hard. Everything around her was dark and cold and she wondered for a moment why she was swimming at night.

She kicked harder, her legs and arms working to propel her to the surface. �There is no damage, nothing, just the bump. She has a concussion, but � I don�t know.�

�Okay, it was just a little bump, how can she still be out? I don�t understand. Fix her, do something!� That voice she didn�t know, but he sounded urgent, desperate and so she kicked harder. He needed help; maybe she could help. Her mother always taught her to help those in need. But why was he here? Why am I here? Why am I night swimming? Am I in trouble? She tried to open her eyes, to see if Bill was there. Bill was always getting her in trouble. Was Bill the first speaker?

�Danny, I don�t know. There is no medical reason she should still be unconscious. Like I said, she could wake up at any time.�

Rick. It was Rick. She tried to say his name, but her mouth filled with water. She kicked harder and then suddenly in the dank, darkness surrounding her she saw a pinpoint of light. How did I swim so deep that the sun is so far away? She tried to say his name again. Nothing, but she kicked harder and the light grew brighter and brighter and it was blinding and the cold water was gone. She shut her eyes against the brightness, she clutched at the warm blanket covering her and she tried to say his name again.

�Rick. Rick,� her voice sounded so faint, so soft and weak, she wanted to look at him, ask him what was wrong with her, but she was too weak and the light was too bright so she kept her eyes shut and didn�t say another word.

Rick and another doctor, whose name escaped Danny at the moment, hovered over Michelle. Medical jargon flew in the air and he didn�t understand a word. Of course, they could have been speaking in layman�s terms and it still would all be a blur. Michelle was awake; she would be all right. He could tell. That was all that mattered. The tension lines were gone from Rick�s face. The load that had been heavy upon him since the house was lightening with every test they did.

Michelle would be all right. The pressure in his chest began to ease and the awful visions of life without her began to fade from his mind. Michelle would be all right.

One by one, the nurses and doctors left until it was just Rick and himself. He was being patient, holding himself back, but it was taking everything in him not to rush over and pull her into his arms. He needed to hold her, to touch her, to know without a single doubt that she would be all right.

He looked her over. She sat up, the pillows plumped behind her, her hair golden and curly against their sterile white. Her eyes were bright and shining and she was smiling, an innocence radiating from the very core of her. Glancing over at him, her smile dimmed a bit, her eyes lowering slightly. It gave him a moment�s pause, but she would be all right. It had been just a little bump after all.

�Rick, where�s daddy?� The question startled Rick as much as it did him, he could tell. He glanced over at Danny, a shot of alarm in his eyes that he smothered quickly before returning to look at his sister.

�Michelle, dad�s not here. Remember?� There was a hopeful note and just a hint of fear in his voice and Danny wanted to ask him why. What was wrong? But, he didn�t want to upset Michelle. She looked so peaceful.

Well, not at that exact moment. Right then, she was frowning and then recognition dawned on her face. �Oh yeah, he�s off saving the world,� and she laughed and Rick glanced back at Danny, his expression clear once more.

�Right, dad�s saving the world.� And he laughed too. Danny felt the tension loosen and he caught Michelle�s eye, but again her smiled dimmed. And a sense of unease struck him, but he forced himself to ignore it. It was just a little bump. She would be all right.

She leaned over to the Rick, her eyes sliding over Danny again, a question in their gaze and her voice was low, but he could hear her. He could every word she said.

�Who is he?�

The intense guy was gone now and it was just her and Rick. Immediately, she felt more at peace once he left the room. The way he had been looking at her -- like he was ready to run over any second and do � something to her -- had been scary. She cast wary eyes on the door, expecting him to return any second. When the door remained closed, she turned to Rick who looked pretty intense himself right now.

She must have been doing something she shouldn�t have been. She only got �that look� when she was being bad. �What did I do?�

He shook his head slightly and pulled a chair up to the side of the bed. �You didn�t do anything, sweetie.� He looked down for a moment and cleared his throat. When he glanced back up at her, he was wearing a hesitant, nervous smile and his voice was strained, attempting a light tone � and failing. �Why did you say that Dad was off saving the world?�

What kind of question was that? Dad was at that medical conference in New York. Rick knew that. Wait a minute, how could Rick know that? Rick shouldn�t be here in Springfield. Oh God, what was going on?

�Rick, what�s going on? Why are you here? Did something happen to dad? Is that why he�s not here? Tell me. And where�s mom? If I was hurt, why isn�t mom here? What�s going on?!� Her voice rose higher and higher and then suddenly she stopped, noticing something: her voice.

�Rick, why does my voice sound different?� And then she looked down and her eyes grew wide, her breathing stopped for a moment as she just stared and stared and stared. Unable to take her eyes away - no wonder that guy kept staring at her - she spoke very, very quietly to Rick. �Where did these come from?�

Who is he? Who is he? Who is he? Who is he?

No matter how he tried to escape the pain of those words he couldn�t. He knew what it meant, that was all too clear. Michelle had amnesia. She couldn�t remember him, it hadn�t been just a little bump after all. God, she didn�t know - Who is he? - who he was.

When he�d heard those words, when she�d looked at him blankly with just the mildest curiosity and the slightest unease, he�d felt his heart literally plummet to his feet. Rick met his gaze and then said something to his sister. Something, Danny didn�t know, the words had been garbled, gibberish, all he could hear were her words - Who is he? - and nothing else registered.

How could she forget him? How could she forget everything they were together, everything they�d been through together? How? How? And then that word kept repeating in his mind, that and her words - Who is he? - and he�d asked Rick that one word when he walked over to him.

�How?�

Rick had shaken his head slightly and then opened the door, pushing him outside of her room. �Danny, she has some sort of amnesia brought on by the injury.�

�How? Why is this happening? How can she forget me?� He didn�t understand.

�Danny, it�s nothing personal. It just happened. We don�t know why it happens, but it does - it is likely only temporary, it was just a little bump. By this evening, you�ll probably be both laughing about this.�

He�d asked if he could see her.

No.

That had been Rick�s answer, straightforward and to the point. No. He had to find out how far back the amnesia went, what she knew, what she didn�t and Danny would have only interfered.

And so here he stood outside his wife�s room, pacing back and forth, asking the same question over and over again - How? - hearing her question over and over again - Who is he? - and it hurt. Stupid, he knew, but it hurt.

God, it hurt.

Who is he? Who is he? Who is he? Who is he?

The door closed behind Rick. He was off to speak to a resident psychiatrist, Dr. Marlieton, about the best way to proceed with the situation. His words - �proceed with the situation.� Other than that, he hadn�t answered any questions, instead he�d told her that she�d bumped her head and had lost her memory - ten years of her life. Beyond that he wouldn�t tell her anything else - where mom or dad were, why she hadn�t had any visitors and who that guy was � the one with the dark curls and intense eyes, the one who made her feel all funny inside. It was this strange body; that was why she felt so strange when he looked at her.

She found her gaze traveling down to her breasts again. �I have breasts,� she marveled for about the hundredth time since she first noticed their thereness. Michelle glanced over at the bathroom and then at the room�s door, then back over at the bathroom. She had to see them. Carefully, she got out of bed, stood still and waited to see if she would fall. She didn�t.

The walk to the bathroom seemed to take forever, but she was only a little tired by the time she stepped in and locked the door. She stood before the mirror, wishing she was back at home in front of her full-length mirror, but this one would do. Untying the hospital gown, she looked up at the ceiling feeling silly and ridiculous and scared and excited all at once. She wasn�t ready to look at them yet. She took a deep breath �

� and looked in the mirror. She was standing far enough away to see her image from the waist up. The waist up. Wow. They were so � so big. High and full and - she reached out ginger hands and lightly cupped first her left, then her right breast and finally both of them - firm. She shook her head in disbelief, only last week she had despaired of ever having breasts at all. And here they were. They were nice. They were really nice. She giggled and then looked around and then right back to her chest her gaze went.

And then down her eyes traveled � a small waist, womanly hips. She found her lips curving in a smile, �womanly,� she repeated aloud, savoring the word. Nice legs, shapely, long, she looked back up at her breasts and giggled again. Looking at herself naked - and looking like this no less - was the oddest thing. She touched her breasts again, marveling still at their size and she was struck with a sense of d�j� vu � as if other hands had done the very same thing not too long ago.

Suddenly, she thought of him. The man with the dark hair and dark eyes. The one who had stood in the side of the room, desperation in his voice, staring at her as if she were the most important thing in the whole universe. There had been a look in those eyes that she had never seen before - need and love and something more � something more. She thought of him as she looked at herself in the mirror, as she cupped her breasts in her hands and her nipples hardened, a flush of heat ran through her.

Michelle dropped her hands, her eyes flying to meet her own in the mirror and they were wide and so unrecognizable in this face that was older, more mature than the one she saw in her mind. The lips fuller, the cheekbones sharper. This face, this body, these feelings - what were they? what did they mean? - were all so strange, so frightening.

She blinked and turned from her image and with shaking hands she pulled her hospital gown back on. Her legs felt like jelly, but she managed to make it back to her bed before collapsing. The mattress was hard, the pillows lumpy, but she felt immediately better once she lay down.

Bringing her hands to her face, she felt tears prick her eyes. What was she going to do? Her hands fell away and she stared at them, looking for an answer, holding them out in a plea to God, to someone to � �Oh my God!� she breathed the exclamation as she stared at her hand � as she stared at the ring finger on her left hand. �Oh my God.�

He stood outside her door, debating whether or not to obey Rick�s orders. He glanced back at the corner that his brother-in-law had turned around fifteen minutes ago. This wasn�t fair. Rick wasn�t even telling him anything � he hadn�t answered one question, just told him to stay out and then he�d rushed off.

Reaching out, Danny laid his hand upon her door, his head bent. She was his wife, damnit! and he wanted to see her � now. He looked up, determination upon his face and pushed the door open. She was sitting up in bed, her eyes were closed but she was not sleeping. Her hands lay in her lap; she was tugging and twisting her wedding band and tear streaks stained her face.

Shutting the door behind him, he moved towards her. Her eyes opened and he stood still as their gazes locked. The silence hovered in the air, neither one able to break the spell that caught them. Her mouth parted and her tongue dipped out to lick the lower lip, in a heartbeat he was at her side. Her eyes widened as he moved closer.

Then he was before her and his hand reached out, cupping her face. Bending over, he saw shock, confusion and the faintest hint of desire in her eyes. His thumb caressed the curve of her cheek as he clung to that one thread of emotion. Desire. Her eyes fell to his lips. The shock darted away, while confusion and desire raged and then her tongue dipped out again and he was helpless to resist the lure of her lips, parted, moist � helpless to resist. His eyes closed as his mouth descended, a sharp exhalation of breath brushed his face and then his lips were upon hers -

�Danny!� He jumped back and spun around. Rick stood in the door with a doctor he didn�t recognize. Danny turned and looked back at Michelle: her fingers were pressed to her mouth and she was staring at him as if he was a two-headed monster. And there was fear on her face, in her eyes. He staggered back.

�Michelle?� She was afraid of him. Not again. No, she couldn�t be afraid of him. He looked at her face, looked in her eyes. She was afraid. Of the situation, God let it be the situation that was scaring her, not me � not again.

She shook her head slowly and tears began to trickle down her face. �Who are you? Who are you?� And her voice was thick with tears and pain ran ragged through her words. He turned and looked back at Rick - there was sympathy on his face. He�d expected anger, but instead there was sympathy. He swung back to face Michelle, his wife - his beautiful, perfect wife.

�I�m your husband.�

She hadn�t let herself believe it was true. It couldn�t be. This ring, this gold ring could be anything, after all there wasn�t a diamond ring with it, so it couldn�t be a wedding ring. How could it be a wedding ring if she didn�t have an engagement ring? It couldn�t be a wedding ring. It just couldn�t. She was twelve years old, she couldn�t be married. But she was. He had just said it, he just said the words - I�m your husband - and he�d kissed her.

He�d kissed her, only for the briefest of seconds, but he had and it had felt so right, but so wrong at the same time. She shouldn�t be kissing men. She shouldn�t be wearing wedding rings. She shouldn�t have big boobs and womanly hips. She should be at home with her mommy and daddy. She shouldn�t �

�Danny, why don�t you wait outside?� Rick�s voice was so soft as he spoke to the man, her husband. Were they friends? Her brother and her husband?

�My husband,� she whispered quietly and all three men turned to look at her. He looked at her and there was so much pain and so much love, so much love in his eyes - she�d seen dad look at mom like that. It was love. The love a man felt for a woman.

This man, this stranger with the dark curls and angelic face - he looked like a fallen angel - loved her. He loved her like a woman. And she was just a little girl. She was only twelve.

�I�m only twelve,� she said, but her voice didn�t sound twelve and she didn�t look twelve and moments ago when that man, her husband, had leaned over her � when he had kissed her, she hadn�t felt twelve.

�Twelve?� His voice was strained and he turned to Rick. �What does she mean? Why did she say that? Rick, what�s going on?� Michelle stared at him, fascinated despite herself. She had married this man. Did she love him? She must love him. She thought of her naked body in the bathroom, remembered the phantom memory of hands touching her breasts. Were they his hands? Had he touched her? Had she �?

�Oh, God, I�m not a virgin!� She looked at Rick in shock, and felt a flush of red invade her face. She looked at him, and there was a sudden lift to his lips - in the middle of all of this (whatever this was) he was smiling. She found herself smiling back. She felt shy, and silly and scared, but she was smiling back at him. And he spoke, and there was laughter and a hint of tears in his words.

�I know.�

And her smile died as that same warmth that had filled her in the bathroom, that had swept through her when their eyes met, when he leaned over her, when he kissed her, filled her again. He knows.

She thought she was twelve. She thought her mother was still alive, that her father was just away at a weekend medical conference. She didn�t remember growing up, she didn�t remember graduating, or Jesse or sex, or the pathfinder on the moon. She didn�t remember his mother, their wedding, George W. Bush being elected president, Mick. She didn�t remember Titanic or the new Star Wars movie or Ben. She didn�t remember any of it, any of them.

And she didn�t remember him. She didn�t remember him at all.

He sat outside her room, his face buried in his hands and shook his head. �Danny, I told you not to go in there.� Rick said for the third time.

�I know. I know you did.� He looked up at his brother-in-law. �You also didn�t mention why? You could have told me she thought she was twelve. You could have at least told me that, Rick.�

�You knew she lost her memory, you knew that she didn�t remember you - �

�I didn�t think she was twelve!� A couple of nurses looked over at him and he lowered his voice. �I thought that maybe she had just forgotten things after Mick, you know that she had erased the bad stuff.� He laughed and repeated bitterly, �the bad stuff.�

Rick sat down beside him, and leaned back. �Danny,� he sighed and Danny turned to face him, �the bad stuff didn�t start with you.�

�I know, her mother -�

�- no, you don�t know. You were here for the aftermath of Mick and so you know how that affected her. And you were the reason for a lot of her pain after that,� Danny looked away. �You were. The point is, hearing about it and actually seeing her go through it, is different. Dr. Marlieton thinks that she regressed back to before it ALL happened. Maureen and Eve dying, dad leaving, Jesse and the fight to be with him, Abby and Roy, the blindness, and yes, Mick, the first year of your marriage - that�s a long litany of �bad stuff,� Danny.�

�But why? I mean, she�s gotten through it all and she�s okay. She�s happy. We�re happy, why would it all just go away because she slipped and hit her head. It doesn�t make any sense.�

�You�re right, it doesn�t, but there is so much we still don�t know about amnesia, why it happens, why you forget some things and remember others. Why it comes back quickly, in a few months, a few years, never. It�s one of the things that modern medicine hasn�t found an answer for.�

Danny stood up and walked over to her door. �What�s gonna happen now?�

Rick sighed again, �I don�t know. She could remember anytime.�

�Or never. She might never remember?�

He nodded, �right, she might never remember, but she�ll grow up again and �� he trailed off.

�What?� Danny turned to face him, �she�ll fall in love with me again. I�ll have to wait five or six years, but she just might fall again, is that it? You saw the way she looked at me, you saw it?�

�Yeah, I did, but I also saw the way she reacted to your kiss. And I see the confusion on her face when she looks at you. She�s confused. She remembers being twelve in her mind, but I think her body and,� he laughed, �this sounds so corny, but I think her heart remembers you."

�Well, I wish her heart and her body would tell her mind so I can take her home and we can forget all of this ... or is it remember?� Danny walked back over and sat down, his head shaking back and forth, a wry smile curving his lips.

Rick smiled along with him, �it doesn�t work that way, my friend.� Danny turned and looked at him and he wondered for a moment if Rick realized what he had just said. Rick raised his brows slightly and nodded just the bit. He did.

�Why do these crazy things keep happening to us? The last few months have been wonderful, Bill and I are really making a go of the business, Michelle had a 4.0 average and Mama only tried to kill her once.� He paused and met Rick�s look, �a joke.� He shook his head again, �a bad joke.�

�Yeah.� Rick concurred.

�Yeah, sorry. So how long are you gonna keep her here?� He glanced back over at Michelle�s room.

�Well, Dr. Marlieton is evaluating the situation. We�re trying to decide just how much to tell her. I don�t know how she�s gonna take it when I tell her about Maureen.� He sighed, �I don�t how I�m gonna do it.�

�Can we wait on that? I mean, Rick, you saw her, she�s freaking out now as it is. All of this being thrown at her, I -�

�Do you think I want to tell her? But we have to, she�s gonna wonder, she�s gonna know something is wrong. We have to tell her that, that�s for sure. The question is what else do we tell her?� He stood up and shoved his hands in his pockets. �Of course, you�ve already taken care of one of the biggies.�

�I think she�d figured it out already.� At Rick�s confused look, he explained, �the wedding ring. When I went into her room, she was twisting at it. She knew that she was married, she just � she just didn�t understand when or where or how.�

�Well, we�ll figure out how to explain this stuff to her. And we�ll figure out what stuff to explain to her.� Rick offered.

�You and Dr. Marlieton?�

�Yes, me and Dr. Marlieton � and you. Her mind may not remember you, Danny, but she still needs you. She still loves you.�

�Michelle, I have to tell you something. Michelle?� Rick repeated her name, leaning over slightly. Glancing up at him, she giggled and flushed. She�d been thinking about him.

�I�m sorry, my mind was just wandering. What?� She smiled.

�Are you okay?� Brotherly concern filled his voice and her smile grew. She had missed him.

�Yeah, I�m fine, really. I know this whole thing is crazy, but in a way it�s kinda exciting. How many teenagers have a husband? Especially one who looks like that?� She grinned.

�Michelle -� he began, but she cut him off.

�-I know, I know, I�m only twelve, but I�ll be thirteen soon.� At his dour expression, she continued, �Rick, I can lay hear and complain about how horrible this or have fun. And I�ve decided I wanna have fun. I mean, how many people get to grow up twice? Right? Right?� she repeated when he didn�t respond. �Rick �� and she was whining, but even that felt good because she hadn�t whined to Rick in ages.

�Michelle, I talked with Dr. Marlieton and we realized that there were certain things we had to tell you. And they�re not all good things.� His voice was so serious, dead serious. He was acting so strange and she told him so.

�Rick, you�re strange.� That got a smile out of him, but that smile dimmed quickly. And then she realized why he was so strange. He wasn�t treating her like his kid sister; he was treating her like an adult, not hiding his emotions behind a false, happy face. For a moment, she was overwhelmed. The very thing she�d wanted forever - to be treated like a mature person and not a baby and here Rick was doing it.

The moment passed and the fear of the situation took hold again. Too much. This was all too much. Her smile faded, and she wanted to cry. She wanted to cry so much.

�Rick, where�s mom and dad? Did you call dad? Why isn�t mom here yet? I need to see her; I need to see her so bad. I�m trying to be good about his, I am! But it�s so hard. Rick, it�s so hard and,� she paused and swallowed over the tears that were threatening, �I want my mom.�

�Michelle, there�s no easy way to tell you this.� He looked so sorry, so sorry and she had the urge to tell him to shut up, to stop talking now. �Maureen is dead.� Everything came to a stop in her mind. She would not accept it. She would not.

�No.�

�Michelle, it was a car crash, a couple of months from now � for you. It was raining and she crash-�

�NO! Mom is a good driver, a cautious driver � she would never drive without caution in the rain. She wouldn�t, she wouldn�t �� and then she couldn�t say anymore. It was too much. This was too much.

�Go away.� She hated him.

�Michelle, you don�t need to be alone right now.� He protested and she wanted to hit him, she wanted to hurt him the way he had just hurt her.

�I hate you.� And she meant it, God she meant it. She hated him.

�Michelle, you don�t mean that.� She meant it. �Michelle ��

�I said go away,� and she had to look away from his face. �I can�t even look at you right now.� She spit the words out between clenched teeth and for some reason � for some reason those words cut deeply into her.

�Just go away,� and her voice fell to a whisper. This was too much. She rolled over and turned her back on him. She heard the creak of the chair as he stood up, heard the intake of breath as he tried once more, �Michelle ��

�Leave me alone.�

There was silence and then the sound of his footsteps walking out the door.

Danny slowly opened the door and peeked inside; Michelle was lying on her side, her back to the door. She was crying, making pathetic, sniffling noises. Following his instinct, he stepped into the room and walked over to the bed. Without turning around, she spoke, her voice raw and filled with sorrow and anger.

�My mom is dead.� So, Rick had told her. He�d decided it best to tell her himself without Danny there to witness her grief; Danny had agreed. After all, he was only a stranger to her now. Of course, that hadn�t kept him away for long. He was fully expecting a scolding from Rick, but frankly, he didn�t give a damn. She was in pain, she needed him, whether she realized it or not. Another sniffle escaped her.

Danny closed his eyes, his fists clenched as he fought the urge to take his wife into his arms. Instead, he pulled a chair up to the side of the bed and sat down. He wasn�t sure what to say � if this had been his Michelle, he would know exactly what to do, but like this, he didn�t know, he just didn�t know, so he waited for her to speak.

After a few more beats of silence she did. �Did you know her?� She still wouldn�t look at him.

�No, your mother,� he paused, shaking his head slightly, �died when you were twelve. We didn�t meet until you were nineteen.�

�It was a car accident, Rick said.� She was quiet again and then suddenly she turned around and faced him. �What is your mother like?�

His eyes widened and he straightened up in his chair. �My mother?� he looked towards the door, thinking what an excellent time it would be for Rick to pop back in. Or Abby, she said she was coming back. She did say she was coming back. The door remained closed. He looked back at Michelle.

And his heart fell. Tears streaked her face; her lips were red from biting, red splotches stood out against her stark, pale face. Her eyes were wide and luminous with unshed tears and filled with pain, so much pain. She looked as if she were about to burst any moment. When she spoke, he heard the effort in her voice, the control she was exerting to keep the pain inside.

�Yes, your mother. My mother-in-law,� and a slight sneer full of anger filled the word. �What is she like?�

The adult was still there. He saw that then. She didn�t remember the last ten years, but inside of her, the maturity that had developed was still there. A twelve-year old would be hysterical right now - at least a twelve-year old who had never experienced anything worse than a grounding would. And at that point in her life, Michelle Bauer had gone through none of the grief that would dog her in the coming years.

But she wasn�t hysterical. The woman was still there.

He was looking at her so strangely. She wondered for a moment if he was going to kiss her again, with a shock she realized she wanted him to. It would be something new and strange. Something that would take her mind off of her mother. She felt the heat of tears sliding down her face again. Mom. She couldn�t believe it; she had just seen her this morning.

Her eyes closed and she wished with everything in her that it would all go away. But she knew it would not; she knew because he was still here. She didn�t have to open her eyes, she just knew he was here, just like she had known it was him when he walked into the room. When she turned around, she�d wanted to be wrong, wanted it to be someone else, anyone else.

Knowing this man, yet not knowing him was the strangest thing of all.

She opened her eyes and looked at him. He still hadn�t answered her question - what was his mother like - she wanted to know. She needed to know, had she replaced Maureen in her heart? Did she love her? Did they have a good relationship? Did the woman who gave birth to her husband help ease the pain of knowing that hers was gone?

She had to know.

�What was she like?� and then she paused, she had meant to say his name, but she couldn�t remember it. In her mind he was just �her husband,� or more simply and to the point �him.� And not knowing his name made her cry all the harder. �I don�t remember your name. I don�t remember your name.�

She heard him move towards her, felt his arms go around her and it felt so good, so right. He whispered soft words into her hair, made shushing noises as he stroked her back. Clinging to him, she began to cry, letting it out � letting out the pain and the tears and the anger that had been building since Rick had told her.

�I hate Rick,� she cried, thinking of him and this man, her husband - what was his name? - didn�t refute his words. He didn�t correct her, didn�t tell her what she was feeling. He just held her. He just held her.

Danny.

It came to her then, his name was Danny. Right? She tried it out, �Danny?� and she felt him nod and he murmured, �that�s right.�

Danny. She thought then that Maureen would like him, but Maureen was gone. She was dead, in a car crash and she would never meet him. She would never meet him. She was gone.

How could she leave her? Who would she turn to when things got bad? She needed her mother more than ever now � through this, dealing with all of this. She didn�t remember becoming a woman, making love, getting married, graduating from high school and now she might have to live it all over again and Maureen was supposed to be there.

�She�s supposed to be here,� she cried and he nodded against her head. �She�s supposed to be here,� she repeated, her voice small. �What am I supposed to do now? How can I do this without my mom? How can I do this? I don�t know, I don�t know anything. I need her. I can�t do this. I can�t do this alone.�

And then his voice was soft and sure. �Yes, you can. You did it once, you can do it again.� He pulled back slightly and captured her gaze with his own. And this time, I�ll be with you every step of the way. You�re not alone.�

She nodded, wanting to believe him, but in her mind, she saw Maureen that very morning, standing in the kitchen, telling her that she would pick her up after school, telling her that she would be there. She could hear her voice in her head, so clear as if she was standing right there. �I�ll be there.�

She had promised to be there and she had lied � so how could she believe him? How could she believe anyone ever again? As if reading her thoughts, he spoke, the same steady confidence in his voice as before. �Michelle, you are not alone. I will be with you,� and then he smiled and there was the hint of tears in his eyes as he spoke each word clearly, �every step of the way. I will be with you.�

Michelle was at the Bauer�s now. Rick had given her a clean bill of health and Dr. Marlieton had allowed her release. And he was here alone in their house, instead of with his wife at her brother�s place.

Damn! He hated this; he hated the fact that Michelle was alone right now. She needed somebody; she needed him as she grieved something that didn�t even feel real to her. He�d been with her when they walked into the door at the Bauer house; he�d seen the look on her face. Despite what Rick had told her, what Danny had confirmed, she had still believed somewhere in her heart that Maureen was still alive. The empty kitchen, the touch of whatever her mother had brought to the house was gone and the disappointment on her face had been torture.

The tears had begun � but as in the hospital, they were a woman�s tears, a woman�s pain. Rick had tried to hold her, but she had pulled away. Her gaze had turned to Abby, but Abby was a stranger to her now and even Meta - who she knew - Michelle hadn�t seen in years � not in her mind. So she had stood there, needing comfort, needing to feel the arms of someone around her and there had been no one to offer it.

Moments of pain passed, Rick and Abby exchanging glances, Meta holding back her own tears. Finally, Danny couldn�t take it anymore, he�d stepped forward, and before he�d even finished saying her name she had turned to him and flung herself in his arms. She had turned to him and there had been a second where everything had seemed right again, but then his arms slipped around her and she had stiffened at the unfamiliarity of it before relaxing into his embrace.

Danny closed his eyes and released a shaky breath. She�d pulled away soon after, wiping teary eyes and then had gone upstairs with a whispered �goodbye.� He hadn�t seen her since and it was killing him. He missed her. He missed his wife.

She had been home for a day and a half now. He�d called yesterday and today and Rick had said that it was too soon to come over. Too soon, it would upset her too much; she needed to settle down a bit � rushing Danny into her life too quickly might cause more problems.

After he�d hanged up the phone, he�d understood Michelle�s dislike for her brother. He wanted to see her now. He wanted to see her, touch her, kiss her, make love to her. He wanted to hear her voice, talk to her, listen to her. He wanted to lay in bed with her and watch her breathe. He opened his eyes, looking about the room, knowing what he was going to do before he even finished the thought. To hell with Rick, he missed her; he missed his wife.

Daddy was crying.

She heard Lillian�s name. Lillian wasn�t there. There was a picture of mom and dad kept looking at it and crying. Always crying. Bridget was there, she was crying, saying she was sorry. Dad was crying and crying, he wouldn�t look at her, he just wouldn�t look at her. She couldn�t understand.

The house was so quiet, there was food everywhere in casserole dishes filling the refrigerator, on the table, on the counters. Rick�s voice over the phone and he was crying. Bill�s mom crying. Daddy crying � everyone was crying. Roger Thorpe coming by, daddy trying to throw him out, but he won�t leave, saying that Maureen was his friend and then she sees herself for the first time and now she was there. She could feel it.

Maureen was dead. Dad told her what happened. Mom was dead. She was dead and Roger Thorpe was her friend and so she wouldn�t let him leave. Roger Thorpe hugged her and told her that her mother was a wonderful, wonderful person. He cried. Roger Thorpe cried.

Everyone cried and she hated them all because they were alive, they were here. They were alive and her mom was dead. It was his fault, it was all daddy�s fault. She hated him most of all. �Why was she driving so fast? Why was she was driving so fast in the rain? Daddy, tell me! Tell me! Why did this happen? Why?� and then she couldn�t talk, she couldn�t ask any more questions, she could only cry.

Everyone cried. Daddy cried. She cried.

She was on the bed when he opened the door, curled into a fetal position as sobs racked her body. He didn�t even think; he just rushed to her side and pulled her into his arms. She fought him at first, her fists flailing out; she struck his face, his shoulder, his chest before he caught her arms � before he pulled her tightly to him. And then all of the fight drained out of her.

Minutes passed and as each second flew by, the storm grew weaker, her sobs becoming sniffles, the angry tension spiraling about her dissipating. Finally, she was quiet, only an occasional whimper breaking the silence. His eyes darted about the room, wondering what had set her off. She hadn�t been like this even after she�d found out about her mother�s death.

�Michelle,� he whispered her name softly and slowly she pulled away, raising her tear-stained face to look at him. �What is it? What happened?�

�You�re always here when I need you,� she murmured softly and then she looked down and crawled out of his embrace. Sliding off the bed, she walked over to the bureau and picking up a picture frame, she hugged it tightly to her chest. He watched her in silence.

�Michelle?� he said her name again and she turned to face him. Fresh tear tracks stained her face and she slowly fell to her knees, sobs building up within her again. Danny shook his head, feeling at a loss, not knowing what to do, what to say. She spoke for him.

�She�s dead,� and there was such anguish in her voice, the likes of which he�d never heard before. �My mom is dead.� He nodded, still awash in confusion.

�Michelle, you know that,� but even before he was finished speaking she was talking, interrupting him.

�- No, I knew,� and her voice was so filled with pain, �I knew what Rick said,� and his name was a curse. �But I didn�t know. I didn�t know. It wasn�t real, it couldn�t be real. She couldn�t be gone, it was just a bad dream. It was a bad dream.�

His eyes closed and he sat back on his heels. �You remember?� and he opened his eyes, but he shouldn�t have. He shouldn�t have let her seen his eyes, because there was joy, there was happiness because - Thank God! - she remembered. Suddenly, she was back on the bed, the picture on the floor forgotten as she lunged at him, hitting him - her fists hard and angry against him and she was crying, calling him names.

�Jerk! I hate you, you jerk, you mean,� and she paused to stare at him, anger and frustration filling her face as she searched for the words to hurt him. �You, you asshole!� She cried out and a flush invaded her fair skin and then she fell back, her face crumpling. �She told me never to use bad language,� and then defiantly she looked back up at him, �but I�m not sorry, because you are that. My mom is dead and you�re happy -�

� - Michelle, I�m -� but she cut him off.

� - You are! I saw it in your eyes. You�re happy. You�re glad she�s dead.� And then she was at him again, trying to hurt him. He reached out and grabbed her flying fists and held her still.

�Listen to me, you�re wrong,� she looked away, denying his words. �Look at me.� She refused. �Michelle, look at me!� Slowly, she turned to face him, her eyes narrowed in anger and pain. �I am not happy that your mother is dead. I wish that she was still here, alive today. If I looked happy - listen to me,� he cried out as a wall dropped over her expression, �if I looked happy, it�s because you remember,� and then he stopped, unable to keep the disappointment out of his voice, out of his eyes. �But you don�t really, do you?�

She pulled her arms free and he let her. She was quiet for a moment and he could see the debate that was going on in her mind clearly on her face. Finally, with a pitiful sigh and a closing of her eyes, she decided to forgive him. She looked at him again, �I do remember my mother dying now. I remember finding out, the funeral, everyone crying. I know this morning she was still alive in my mind, no matter what Rick said, but it came back a little while ago and she�s been dead for two weeks. That�s all I remember. I still don�t remember you. But I remember losing her.�

She dropped her gaze, silent tears trickling down her face. Reaching out a hand, he pushed her hair back behind her ear and murmured softly. �I�m sorry. I�m so sorry.� She nodded.

�I�m sorry I hit you and,� she paused and a slight pink flushed her features, �that I called you that - that name.�

�It�s okay, I�ve been called worse.� He smiled. �Do you want to talk about it?�

She gazed at him, contemplating his offer and then she nodded. Brushing her hair back and wiping at her tears, she sat Indian style. �It was weird when I first started to remember. It was like I was watching a movie with all of these people that I knew. My dad and Bridget, Roger Thorpe, Bill, Vanessa Lewis, and then suddenly I saw myself and I was there. It was like I was right there in the moment, living it over again.

�It wasn�t a memory anymore. I was there. And I could suddenly feel everything that I felt I suppose when it really happened. It wasn�t like when you remember something and the feeling isn�t,� she paused, searching for an explanation. �You know, when it�s not as strong, cuz it�s only a memory?�

Danny nodded, fascinated and scared at the same time by this. Was this how she would remember everything? Would it all be this real? Would she remember loving and losing Jesse? Mick? Hating him. Fighting him and her feelings for so long? His one-night stand? God, this would kill her � if every memory would be this real.

�This is so real. This is not a memory, this is my life and I�m living it. It�s going in fastforward, but the pain isn�t. How am I gonna do this? I�ll go crazy.� And tears began falling again. He pulled her to him and this time she didn�t fight him and when his arms encircled her, she didn�t stiffen.

�It�s not all bad, baby,� he said softly and then hesitated, not sure if he should continue, but he wouldn�t lie to her. He had sworn to her that he would never lie to her again, and despite the situation, he wasn�t about to break that promise. �But it�s not all good from here on out either. There�s some rough stuff ahead.� He brought his hands up and cupped her face, pulling her away a little so that he could look at her.

�It�s gonna be tough, but you will not be alone. I promise you that. You will not be alone.� She gazed at him, her eyes full of trust. She believed him; she believed in him just like his Michelle and so he did what he would normally do.

He bent down and pressed his lips against hers. It was a short kiss, but soft and it felt right. He pulled away, looking at her, gauging her reaction. Her eyes remained wide and trusting and there was another emotion in the mix now � wonder.

Her bedroom was familiar and yet not. The bed was bigger, but some of the stuffed animals that had lain strewn upon it were still here (although, she�d had to dig them out from the back of the closet). The dresser, nightstand, bureau and carpet were the same, while the curtains and wallpaper had changed. Obviously, all of her clothes were different. Danny had brought over a couple of suitcases worth of jeans, shirts, skirts, and dresses, and while they were a different size, some things never changed. An inordinate amount of her wardrobe was pink.

Some of the items that Danny had packed, Abby had raised an eyebrow at � especially the large number of bras � many (actually a good 75% of them) were black or red or pink (lots and lots of pink) lacy, silky, barely-there brassieres that she couldn�t imagine wearing ever. Michelle had fled the room in embarrassment, but had heard Danny�s sheepish, �I just picked things she likes,� and Abby�s tart reply, �you mean, things you like.� After he�d left, she had tried a few on, but the whole having-breasts thing was already too much to handle, so she had stuck with the plain white and beige ones.

They were really uncomfortable.

Lying upon her bed, she thought that again as she wriggled her back, her gaze locked intently on the date of her Seasons Calendar. Although she had come home from the hospital less than a month in real-time, in her mind, months had flown by. A little over a week ago, she had recalled turning thirteen and had spent three hours digging through her room and the attic trying to find the presents that Holly and Bridget had given her. One of the gifts that she had not looked for had been a training bra. Ha! Like that would fit her now.

She grinned, but that quickly faded and Michelle breathed a sad sigh. Holly and Bridget, two of the three most important people in her life (aside from daddy, and Rick still hadn�t been able to locate him) were practically strangers to the adult Michelle had become. Bridget was gone; she left town with Dylan - Dylan and a baby - five years ago. And Holly � so much had happened in the last ten years. She had married Fletcher Reade, had another baby girl and Michelle barely saw her anymore. Danny had told her that he hardly knew Holly Lindsey when she had asked about her; she hadn�t even been at their wedding.

Thinking of Danny, his name brought a dreamy smile to her face, as always. He was so handsome and so nice and sweet and gentle and wonderful. Rick didn�t like him hanging around all the time, but he was the only one she was truly comfortable with anymore and Rick was doing his best to make her happy.

And Danny Santos made her happy. Daniel Dominic Santos. That was his full name. She had found their wedding album; their marriage license had been on the last page and she had spent ten minutes just tracing his name - Daniel Dominic Santos. He had a beautiful signature. The first page had been their official wedding picture. She�d been relieved to find that her dress had not been hideous. She�d looked pretty good actually and Danny, well, Danny had looked like Danny � except his hair had been longer.

Michelle glanced over at the album, which lay on the desk and with a giggle she hopped off the bed and grabbed it. Sitting back down on the bed, she gingerly, carefully laid it down and began flipping through the pages. Rick and Abby. Aunt Meta. Her maid of honor was someone named Drew Jacobs; she�d left town so Michelle hadn�t met her.

And here was Carmen Santos, her very imposing mother-in-law. She paused and stared at the picture of her, fascinated as always by this woman. She was striking and so commanding looking. Since the accident, Michelle had only met her once. Michelle had barely said �hello� before Danny whisked his mother away, saying that they had an important meeting to attend.

Apparently his mother ran some big business, the family business. Danny didn�t talk much about her or the business; of course Danny didn�t talk much about anything personal. Mostly, he spoke of general things or listened to her ramble on. He loved to listen to her ramble. His words, in that soft voice of his that did funny things to her inside - �I love to listen to you talk � just ramble on. I love -� and then he had paused and laughed, �I love to listen to you talk,� he�d repeated quietly.

He had meant to say something else she was sure. She thought he might have been about to say that he loved her. And that thought brought a fresh smile and blush to her face. She shook her head slightly and looked back down at the album, flipping another page. It was a shot of the two of them; he was smiling and looked nervous. She was smiling � of course.

�Abby?� Rick�s voice suddenly called out from downstairs and Michelle glanced up at the sound, catching her reflection in the mirror. She was smiling, happy � as happy as she�d been on her wedding day. She looked back down at the picture and something struck her. Her smile, it was off somehow, it didn�t look � Turning her head slightly to the side, she picked the album up and brought the picture closer to view. Her smile didn�t look real. She returned her gaze to the mirror, remembering her smile of moments before. That smile had been real, a happy smile.

She looked down at the wedding picture. This smile was fake.

Danny knocked on the door quickly. And then again. No answer, he reached over and turned the knob, it wasn�t locked. Pausing for a moment, he considered waiting for someone to answer. He hadn�t seen Michelle in a week - Rick had kept her with him at the hospital or with Vanessa or Holly or shopping, anywhere away from him. �Too much, too soon, Danny,� he�d warned after he�d walked in on the two in her bedroom.

They had only been talking, but Rick still wasn�t comfortable with the idea, and because he was the doctor, Danny had agreed to stay away. But damnit, it�d been a week now. He missed her. Besides, she had called him, asking him to come over and it wasn�t the first time either. He was tired of making up excuses and he missed her, damnit, so here he was, to hell with Rick. He pushed the door open an inch or two and then with one final thought - I did use to live here - he pushed it open all the way and walked inside.

�Rick? Abby? Aunt Meta?� There was no response, and then came the clattering of footsteps rushing down the stairs. He grinned and tried one more name, �Michelle?� The sound of steps slowed down and she entered the living room, looking every inch the perfect lady. A big smile lit her face when she saw him.

He knew why. It wasn�t because this Michelle loved him, she was too young to understand love, the kind of love that they shared, but she certainly had a big crush on him. It was adorable � and a real turn-on. He figured that Rick was aware of that little detail which was why he was doing his best to keep them apart. He was afraid that Danny would take advantage of her in this state - although, how it could be termed �taking advantage of� was beyond him. She was his wife.

Regardless, he certainly wasn�t going to do anything with her now ... she may look like his Michelle, but in her mind she was still a child. However, her memory was coming along nicely and his earlier fear that he would have to wait years for the return of his wife had faded. She had remembered Maureen�s death and the weeks that followed in less than a week after the accident. Then there had been a dry spell of no memories, but just two weeks ago, months of her life had flooded through her in a matter of days and the last time he�d spoken to her, she had recently remembered her thirteenth birthday.

The week following could have been another dry spell, and this last one another whoosh of memories. He certainly hoped so. There was only so much teenage-slang he could tolerate.

�I�m glad you could come, I, like, missed you,� a slight blush spread across her face and she looked away. �How are you?� She asked the floor and Danny grinned again. She was incredibly cute.

�I�m fine, and you?� He walked over to her, all the while noting the deepening flush on her face.

�I�m good,� she looked up at him and then laughed. �This is silly, I just feel like a different person now then, like, the last time I saw you. It�s always like it�s been forever but no time at all when I don�t see you.� She looked away again, �stupid.�

Danny moved closer and reached out a hand, turning her face to him, �no, not at all. It�s the same for me.� She raised her eyes to him and a smile lit her face, shining in her eyes, suffusing her whole being. �You�re so beautiful,� he whispered, his fingers still pressed lightly against her throat, his thumb caressing her cheek. And her smile faded, deeper pink coloring her skin. Her lips parted softly and she leaned in just the slightest. He stared down at her, fighting the urge to take her into his arms, his fist clenched inside his pocket and he released a shaky breath.

Dropping his hand, he turned away.

�Did you remember more?� He could hear the trembling in his voice and hoped to God that she didn�t understand it � if she even caught it. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw her expression and almost laughed aloud. And he thought his Michelle was terrible at hiding her emotions, this younger version was as easy to read as a flashing neon sign. Confusion, disappointment - a heavy, heavy dose of disappointment - anxiety and yeah, lust flew rapidly across her face in degrees of perplexity.

�Remember? Oh, yeah, I - what�s, like, the last thing I told you that I remembered.�

�You had turned thirteen about two months before.� He reminded her as he settled down on the couch.

�Oh, well, I�m, like, fourteen now.�

Like, Danny thought with a sigh � when would that word fade out of her vocabulary? �Fourteen? Closer to fifteen, or ��

�Oh, yeah, my birthday was, like, seven months ago. I�m almost fifteen, well, like, you know what I mean. I�m not really fifteen, I�m - how old am I again?� There was a hint of nervousness in her voice when she asked the question, hesitancy in her step as she moved to sit down next to him. He looked at her, curious, but decided to put it down to the vagaries of youth.

�You�re twenty-two years old, almost,� he paused and added sardonically, �like, twenty-three.�

�Oh, right,� she smiled, her anxiety seeming to grow. �Danny,� she turned to him and nervously pushed strands of hair behind her ear. �So, I�m really, like, twenty-three, almost, sorta, right?�

�Yes,� he answered carefully; wondering what this was leading to.

�Abby and Rick went to dinner, they�re gonna be gone for another hour or so �� she paused and trailed off.

�And �� he followed her lead.

�Aunt Meta is playing poker with the 5th Street ladies and well, like, you know, we�re, like, alone. Now. You and me. And I�m almost fifteen.� She scooted an inch closer to him.

He retreated an inch away.

�So ��

�I was thinking, you know,� she smiled, laughing nervously again. �Well, you know.� And she giggled softly, looking away.

Oh my God! he thought, she wants to make love. She can�t, I mean, I can�t. Oh, God, Michelle, Michelle, he shut his eyes, thinking of her body, naked, writhing beneath his, her breasts, the taste of her, the feel of her. He groaned and forced his eyes open when her voice interrupted his erotic reverie.

�Are you okay? You look flushed.� Loving concern laced her words. Too loving. Too soft, he met her gaze.

�I�m fine. Michelle,� he cleared his throat. �I don�t think it would be a good idea to,� he groaned slightly and looked away - he had to look away from her. �Do that. Not until you�re older. Much older.�

Her shoulders drooped and she pouted most becomingly, �but, I�m almost fifteen and I don�t how old I was when I first really did it and I want to remember you. I mean, I practiced once with Bill, but that doesn�t count, cuz it wasn�t real.�

Danny�s eyes widened in shock, �practiced with Bill? What?� He fought the sudden urge to beat the living shit out of Bill Lewis.

�Yeah, but it was just one time, and it wasn�t even much at all. I mean, it was just one small kiss and we were just, like, you know experimenting.�

One small kiss. She was talking about kissing. Just kissing. He breathed a sigh, half in relief, half in regret. Just kissing.

�And I was thinking, when I remember everything, it�s like remembering it for the first time and,� she paused and met his gaze squarely, �I want you to kiss me. A real kiss, I want my first kiss to be from you, because no matter what I remember, even though it will seem real, it won�t be the first kiss that I truly remember. Yours will.�

He thought of what she was asking, knowing what Rick and probably Dr. Marlieton would suggest he do, or rather not do � but it wasn�t as if she really was only fourteen. And it would be just a kiss. She was only talking about kissing. Just kissing.

�Please,� and her voice was sweet and her eyes so wide and beseeching and he hadn�t truly kissed her in almost a month. �Please,� she said again, her voice softer, barely a whisper.

Just a kiss.

He was looking at her the way he did sometimes, the way he had in the hospital right before kissed her, the way he had only moments before. He was going to kiss her. Her heart began racing a mile a minute and her mouth was suddenly dry as butterflies did the mambo in her stomach. And still he looked at her, not making a move. He just stared at her, looking into her eyes as his tongue lit out and lightly licked his lower lip. A slight whimper escaped her throat. Her eyes widened, these feelings, this rush of feeling running through her, this, this need � �What is this?� she asked softly and he smiled, a tender smile full of desire. She could recognize that it was desire in his smile, in his eyes.

And there was need playing alongside it. The same need that she felt inside. This is desire, she thought shakily with wonder as his arm rose slightly and he placed a hand against the column of her throat, his fingers slowly caressing the soft skin there.

�Danny,� she whispered his name, trying to find some semblance of normalcy in the sound of her voice. His thumb moved up and circled a gentle massage on her cheek. Normal faded farther and farther away. She swallowed thickly as his thumb drifted again, resting against her bottom lip. Her tongue slipped out - she squirmed in surprise, she hadn�t meant to do that - and gingerly tasted the salty flesh. His smile grew and the warmth spread hotter and faster throughout her body.

�Danny,� she breathed again, and this time his name was a plea, maybe even a prayer to make this feeling last forever and ever. He tugged gently on her lip -- once, twice -- as his head lowered, his eyes still holding her own. Her breath came quickly, her heart racing; racing, running, flying, dancing and then it stopped for a moment. Her breath suspended as he paused before her face, his breath hovering over her lips and then in a rush, she exhaled quickly, afraid to inhale, afraid to move, afraid to break the spell -- his spell.

His tongue came out again and gently touched her lower lip. She turned to liquid inside, held up now by only his hands around her face, his tongue upon her lip. His thumb slipped away as he - oh my God, she thought in wonder, wonder, he is wonderful -- brushed his lips against hers for a brief moment. Her lips clung to his, instinctively knowing the feel of this man�s mouth. And then he pulled away slightly, just slightly; Michelle let out a shaky breath just as his lips lowered again, gingerly touching her top lip, placing a tame kiss there and then on her bottom lip.

Her hands rose slowly, languidly as if swimming in water and rested against his chest, her fingers catching hold of the lapels of his leather jacket and then tightening her grip as he pulled away yet again, his breath once more hovering over her. Her eyes opened slowly and her gaze was rewarded with a beautiful sight - this man, her husband, Danny staring at her with the exact look of wonder upon his face that she felt blossoming within her. There was the hint of moisture around his dark eyes and a dazed joy in his expression.

�Michelle,� he murmured in hushed tones, reverence and love, so much love, filling her name. His hand, shaking slightly, floated over her throat, sidling down her arm; his arm curved about her waist and his fingers splayed across the small of her back. Pulling her close to him, she gladly welcomed the movement, sighing as her body pressed against his � contact that at once felt strange (wonderfully strange) and yet familiar.

And as that feeling arose within her, Danny�s other arm trailed along the curve of her waist before a slight pressure of his fingers brushed against the side of her breast, a breathy sigh emerged from between her lips. The feel of his hand upon her breast - lightly he now cupped the weight in his palm - was so different from when she had done the same thing so long ago in the hospital. And yet, again it felt familiar and she remembered as his finger rose and grazed her nipple, a spark running through her red-hot, that she had thought of him at that moment, before she even knew who he was. She had thought of Danny.

She pressed her body, her breast closer to him, to his touch. Lifting her face, she couldn�t halt the whimper that escaped her once more; she wanted to feel his kiss again. She wanted more, more than he was giving, but still she was afraid, nervous, too shy, unable to make the move. As if reading her mind, his hand rose again, now resting against the side of her face, his hand cradling her head in his palm, his head bending at an angle.

Michelle closed her eyes as his lips parted above hers. Her hand loosened upon his jacket and rose to encircle his neck, her fingers pulling at his dark curls as his lips found hers once more, as his kiss at last deepened, his tongue tentatively exploring the inside of her mouth, gently entangling with her own.

She moaned softly against his lips as she drove her body ever closer to his, as gradually the softness, the gentle loving of his kiss grew more passionate, ardent desire capturing hold. He pulled her to him, his arm firm around her waist as their lips meld and clung, parting to allow desperate breaths to emerge, meeting again in need and pleasure.

This felt right - this man, this kiss.

Danny pulled away, his hands dropping, his breathing coming quickly and heavily. �Danny?� she cried out, but he was already moving away, standing up. He looked dazed, confused, his face was flushed and he kept looking around the room. She tried to stand up, but found that her legs were like Jell-O.

�I need to go, I have to go,� his voice was thick, husky, a tremor running through the words.

�But,� she reached out, laying a hand upon his arm, �Danny �� she trailed off, not sure exactly what she wanted. He looked down at her hand and then his eyes rose to her face and she knew that whatever it was she wanted, he did too. On his face, in his eyes was the desire, the need she had seen earlier but now it was a thousand times stronger.

He carefully pulled away from her touch, looking away with obvious effort; �I need to go. Now.�

She nodded, and then whispered, �okay,� realizing that he couldn�t see her nod, he was looking anywhere but at her. Her eyes fell to the ground, feeling strange and weak and scared and ashamed. She didn�t understand this � him.

�Did I do something wrong?� and her gaze rose, meeting his eyes. He was looking at her now and remorse flashed across his expression as he knelt before her in one quick motion, taking her face in between his hands.

�No, baby, you did nothing wrong. Nothing,� he emphasized. �You�re just you, and I love you and I want you so much. I just miss you and this is so hard, this is so Goddamn hard, but you - you�re perfect, you�re so perfect and I love you. I love you so much,� and he leaned over and pressed his lips to her again, his mouth opening, his tongue inside without any hesitancy, only urgency and need.

She gripped his jacket, kissing him back with everything in her that she didn�t remember, but somehow knew. And then his lips were gone, his words an almost broken whisper, �Ah, Michelle, I love you. I love you.� He stood up again, �and I have to go,� he said again, half-laughing, half-crying.

Michelle nodded again, but this time she couldn�t speak, she could only nod, watching as he walked away. Turning to look at him, their gazes caught as he paused at the door, �love you,� he said again and then he was gone.

Michelle stared around the empty room. Carefully, she brought her fingers to her lips, taking in the slightly bruised feel of them and then a warm teardrop fell upon her hand. She hadn�t even realized she was crying.

Danny was still shaking when he got home. That was a mistake; that had been such a mistake. He slammed the front door behind him and jerked his jacket off, throwing it across the room.

�Fuck!� he hollered. Closing his eyes, he let out a deep breath. She was there, like an angel drawn upon the back of his lids � in his mind, in his heart, in his soul and he couldn�t have her. He couldn�t be with her. And he wanted to so badly - it was a fiery need building inside of him, but it had been a slow build. Just seeing her, talking to her, reminding himself in the moments when she seemed like his Michelle, that she wasn�t - not now, not yet, that had been one thing. He could separate his need for his wife, his desire, his passion, his fucking lust for her and just compartmentalize - this was not she yet. Not yet.

But now, today, kissing her - her lips soft, achingly tender and hesitant. A young woman kissing a man for the first time, a woman grown and in love kissing � kissing him, the feel of her skin, her hair, the curve of her cheek, her breast, her touch - kissing her had been like a match set to flames already rising. It had been a month since he had kissed her, touched her, made love to her.

Had he honestly thought that one kiss would be only that? Just one kiss. That it would be enough to satisfy him, keep him sane while he waited for her to love him again? Was he that stupid? Even now he wanted to get back in his car, drive over there and ravish her senseless, rip her clothes off, make mad, passionate love to her all day long � all night long.

Rick was right. Rick was so right. He should have just stayed away and never been alone with her. He never should have kissed her. Never. Never. She still thought she was fourteen years old for God�s sake and if he hadn�t pulled away right then, he would have done a hell of a lot more than kiss her.

Would that have been rape? Statutory rape? Some form of force, taking advantage of? Would she have fought him, urged him on, been scared, confused � blaming herself because he couldn�t control his raging lust?

This wasn�t fair. This wasn�t right. How dare this happen to them? How many different ways was God or fate going to test them? Their love? Why couldn�t they just be happy, why all of this? Why? He just wanted his wife to love, to be with, to spend the rest of his life with. Was that so much to ask? Too much?

Did he love her too much? Was that it?

�Goddamnit!� he yelled, his arms flying out and throwing the vase off the table, the vase of flowers - flowers that were beyond dead now, flowers that Michelle had picked that day � that day. Remains of the darkened, lifeless petals, withered beyond recognition lay still on the flat surface. Raising a hand up, he wiped his tears away and then reached out for one of the decimated petals. It crumpled between his fingers to nothing.

�Goddamn you,� he whispered, as he fell onto the chair, sobs building, his fist clenching the red tablecloth, pulling it down until it lay puddled at his feet like blood spilt � or passion unspent.

Michelle stood up in a daze. It felt like hours since he had left, but the clock revealed only the passing of thirty minutes. Sighing, she brought her fingers to her lips again and headed to the stairs. Her legs still felt weak and she still felt the butterflies dancing inside of her. The pressure of his lips, his fingers, his hands, his body � the imprint of it remembered burned against her flesh. And she wondered for the first time how she could ever have forgotten that man.

His kiss.

His kiss. What a marvelous, wonderful feeling this was � his kiss had been. Never could she have imagined, dreamed anything could be so wonderful, feel so wonderful. She paused outside her bedroom door and hugged herself in pure joy. And he had told her that he loved her. He loved her.

Of course she knew that he loved her, it hadn�t been the first time that he had slipped and said the words. However, today - after he had kissed her - had been the first time that those words had felt real, as if he were actually saying them to her and not to his Michelle.

He loved her.

Stepping into her room, she had a sudden thought. She had received a diary for her twelfth birthday and hadn�t written much in it then, but she had later. She vaguely remembered writing stuff down, but in the rush of memories and, of course, in the presence of Danny - Danny! her heart sang - she had forgotten all about it.

Curiosity begged her to track it down, perhaps she had written about a kiss and more. Perhaps she has written about meeting Danny. At the thought (and easily ignoring the strict instructions from Rick and Dr. Marlieton that knowing too much too soon wouldn�t be good for her), she began digging through her desk and bureau.

No luck. Michelle then turned to her closet. Reaching inside, she pulled on the light string and pushed some clothes to the side. There was a box in the back full of books and things and she thought it might be in there. Grasping the sides of it, she began dragging it out and as she did, a rolled up sheathe of papers fell down, hitting her foot.

She pulled the box out, clearing it from the closet and reached for the fallen papers. Moving to the bed, she unrolled them and a small gasp escaped her at what they were � drawings of her. They weren�t great, but they were clearly supposed to be her. She set one down and began carefully looking at each one. Whoever had painted these - she could tell somehow, she wasn�t sure how, but she could just tell - had cared about her.

Something stirred at her memory, but it was not as strong as those twinges she felt around Danny. Closing her eyes for a moment, she ignored the drawings and saw his face, remembered his kiss. Another breathy sigh escaped her. Danny. One of the sheets fell from her hands and the rustling drew her attention back. Bending down, she picked it up, her gaze falling upon the name at the bottom of the drawing: Jesse B - something.

�Jesse,� she said aloud, seeing if it brought to mind anything. �Jesse,� she tried again and felt nothing. Shrugging her shoulders, she figured he was probably just some struggling artist. And then a smile lit her face, maybe she and Danny had been walking in the park, sharing a romantic afternoon and this Jesse person had been drawing trees and Danny wanting to immortalize her forever and ever had asked this guy to draw her for him.

It was so the thing that Danny would do.

Danny, she thought with yet another sigh. Danny.

The phone rang. Danny stared at it, debating whether to throw it across the room or politely answer it. Rising to his feet, he grabbed the handle and settled for a disgruntled, �what?�

�Danny?�

It was Michelle. He felt his stomach knot as an image of her erupted in his mind. Lying on the bed, naked, her arms beckoning to him.

�Danny, are you there?� Her voice was soft and sweet and full of concern. He forced his eyes open and let out a breath.

�I�m here, what�s up?� He could just see her in his mind, sitting on her bed, her legs curled beneath her, wearing the same Goddamn pink dress, tight, stretched across her breasts, her nipples pressing against the fabric. Her legs, long and soft. Her legs wrapped around him as she urged him on, harder and harder -

�Danny? Are you okay?� again her voice interrupted his mental meandering, her voice, so soft and sweet. �I just wanted to ask you something, but if this is a bad time �� she trailed off and he felt a flash of guilt as her words �did I do something wrong?� flashed through his mind.

�No, no,� he forced himself to concentrate on the moment. �What do you need?� He strove for normalcy and judging by her immediate exhale of breath and the cheeriness that came across the line in her words, he succeeded.

�I was looking for my diary, cuz, like, I wondered if I had written anything about you -�

�Don�t!� He couldn�t help it, all normalcy faded. God, no, what if she had written about meeting him, about hating him. �Michelle,� he paused and bit his lip, searching for control. �Remember, Rick and Dr. Marlieton told you not to rush ahead of yourself ��

�I know, I know, I just wanted to see, if, you know, like, what I wrote about you. Kissing you. If it was as wonderful the first time as it was, like, today.� He could almost see the blush in her words. In a rush, she continued, �I really loved that kiss today. It was more than anything I could have ever dreamed of �� her words slowed down and in a near whisper, she finished, �and I�ve dreamed of it a lot. Danny.�

�Michelle, Michelle,� he held the phone away from his mouth and lowered himself onto the couch. How could he do this? How could he say this without hurting her? �Michelle, it was wonderful, but it can�t happen again. At least, not until you remember more. I shouldn�t have kissed you, Michelle. I certainly shouldn�t have kissed you like that.�

�But, why not? It was nice and it didn�t hurt anyone. It was just a kiss, Danny. You said that I didn�t do anything wrong.� He had to smile when she said that; he could hear the fake hurt in her voice. She was okay. Fourteen years old and already trying to manage him with her feminine wiles.

�Michelle, if I kiss you like that again, it won�t end with a kiss.� Refute that! he thought.

�How will it end?� She was all naivet�, velvety and smooth - a sex kitten wrapped in a cashmere of innocence. He had to laugh, even as he felt yet another hard-on emerging.

�Michelle, I�m not gonna play games with you. No more, not for awhile anyway.� He waited a beat and when she didn�t respond, he added emphatically, �got it!�

�Fine,� her voice was all silky petulance now. �I did want to ask you something though.�

�What?� he sighed, wishing he were with her, if only so he could see the ever-changing, ever-obvious moods fly across her face.

�As I said, I was looking for my diary -�

�Michelle, stop looking for it!� Now, he really wished he was with her, he could impress the necessity of her not doing so much more thoroughly in person.

�I won�t, okay, I won�t. Anyway,� and now she sounded aggravated and he could just see the rolling of her eyes, �I found these drawings in the back of the closet.�

His back stiffened.

�They were of me, Danny. And I kinda recognized them.�

His throat was tight, he could barely squeak the words out, �you did?� He closed his eyes again, would she remember Jesse? Would she remember him and not Danny? Would she remember loving Jesse?!

�Yeah, and I was wondering, who�s Jesse?�

�Jesse?� his voice was suddenly strained to her ears. She wondered if he was still thinking about their kiss. She certainly couldn�t get it out of her mind. The feel of his hands on her skin, his lips, his tongue; there was an arousal of feelings that she had never known even existed before. And now she knew � because of Danny. Daniel Santos, she thought with a happy sigh.

�Michelle, are you there?� A flush swept across her face and she thanked God that he wasn�t there, she had a feeling that he could read her every thought just by looking at her.

�I�m fine, I�m sorry. So who is Jesse?� She could hear the tremor in her voice, the feathery, breathy rush of air that was her voice whenever she thought of him doing things to her.

�Jesse was, uh, this guy. He�s an artist. He left town about six months ago.�

�Was he your friend?� She twirled a long ringlet and wondered if Danny liked her hair curly. She had never asked him and in a lot of the pictures she�d seen of them, her hair had been straight. Maybe he preferred it that way.

�I thought you remembered him,� and his voice was even more strained this time. She pulled her finger out of the curl and sat up straighter.

�Danny, are you okay? Your voice sounds different. Are you still upset about what happened? If it really bothered you, I�m sorry. I really am, I wouldn�t upset you for anything. You�re the most important,� she paused and bit her lip. �Danny, you�re very important to me and I wouldn�t want to lose you because I did something stupid.�

He spoke as soon as she was silent. �Michelle, I�m not upset with you. Not at all. I�m just- you affect me, and it�s been awhile so I was a little more affected than usual. But I am not angry with you or upset with you at all. Please, please don�t think that.� He took a deep breath and she did as well on her own, relieved beyond measure. The idea that she had pushed him away was more than she could bear. �Now, you asked about Jesse, do you remember him?�

�No, I just saw his name on the bottom of the drawings. I figured he was just an artist, maybe someone I knew though, cuz why else would he draw me? Actually, I thought maybe you had asked him to draw me -�

His short bark of laughter cut her off and he muttered something, but she couldn�t quite catch it. �Danny?�

�No, Jesse was -� and again he paused, �he was a friend of yours.� Another pause and he cleared his throat, �just a friend.�

�Oh, okay.� Well, that solved that mystery. Now, the hair. �Danny, do you like my hair better straight? I mean, it�s naturally curly, but in a lot of the pictures with you, my hair was straightened, so I wondered if you preferred it that way. Because if you do, I can do that to my hair, if you like. I mean, if you want me too.� She was stumbling over her words like an idiot. She was trying to not sound like a stupid teenager, but it was so hard with him, because he made her so nervous � sometimes. And sometimes, he just made her feel wonderful. She giggled, who was she kidding, he always made her feel wonderful.

�Michelle, I love your hair however you wear it,� and the strain was gone from his voice, in its place was a smile.

�So that means you like it straight or curly?� It�s a simple question, she thought, rolling her eyes, why couldn�t he just say �straight� or �curly?� Didn�t he understand that this was important to her?

�My preference is natural with the curls, but you seemed to like it straight, so whatever, you like, that�s fine with me.� The smile in his voice had grown to suppressed laughter and she had a feeling that he was laughing at her. She felt like crying. Didn�t he understand that what he wanted mattered to her? And she didn�t know what he wanted anymore � not anymore.

�I suppose your Michelle always knew what you wanted.� And then she was crying, stupid tears she couldn�t stop. �Never mind, never mind, I�m sorry I asked. Bye.�

He started to say her name, but she clicked the phone off before he could finish it. She just wasn't good enough. Not yet. She wasn�t the Michelle he wanted. She wasn�t the Michelle he loved and there was absolutely nothing she could do to make him love her now � except remember and become that Michelle again.

�Damnit!� he muttered between clenched teeth as he threw the phone across the room. He watched as it crashed into the wall and mentally, indifferently he calculated as to whether it was number twenty or twenty-one. He had a habit of destroying celphones. They were normally the bearer of bad tidings.

Or lousy conversations full of lies and hurt feelings.

Why did he lie about Jesse? Why? Would it have been so difficult to say, �Michelle, Jesse was your boyfriend. He was the guy you pledged your heart to, the guy you first made love to, the guy you swore was the love of your life.� Yeah, what would have been so difficult in saying that?

He�d thought that she�d remembered Jesse. Michelle had forgotten him, but he thought she�d remembered Jesse and that had hurt more than he ever could have imagined. Jesse was the past, nothing to her now, just a guy she once called the Goddamn love of her life. She had never called him that. At least, she�d never said it. He knew that what they had was richer and deeper and stronger than anything she�d had with Jesse, but the words would still be nice.

She did remember Jesse�s drawings. His stupid, amateurish attempts at capturing the beauty of who Michelle was on paper; those she remembered. But she hadn�t remembered Jesse � and still he had lied. When he had sworn to her, gotten down on his knees after she almost left him and had sworn that he would never, ever lie to her again � even if it was for her protection. He would never lie again.

And he had just lied to her.

He had to go see her. Now. He had to tell her the truth and apologize for his dishonesty, and whatever else it was that he had done that made her cry. Grabbing his jacket from the couch, he wondered, what she had meant by �your Michelle.� He�d certainly thought of his wife and this younger version she was now as separately, but he hadn�t realized that in doing so, he had hurt her feelings.

He would never do anything to hurt her, if he could avoid it. �Good job, Danny,� he muttered to himself as he closed and locked the door. �Good job.�

She was fine now. Well, almost fine. She had tried to call him back, to apologize, but there had only been a strange whirring sound instead of ringing and so now she couldn�t even say she was sorry. It wasn�t his fault that he was so madly in love with his wife. And it wasn�t her fault that she couldn�t be that wife anymore.

But it still hurt. She wanted Danny to love her. Her and not his perfect, precious Michelle who didn�t even exist anymore. She was foolish to think that he had meant her when he had said, �I love you� after they kissed. It wasn�t her he loved, never her. How could he love her when he was so hung up on - �Michelle?�

She sat up, her face flushing. He was here. Danny was here. Oh God, he was here. She stood up and ran to the mirror, her fingers moving through the curls, creating some style out of the wild disarray there. Reaching for her lipstick, she rolled on the morning rose pink lipstick, sighing inwardly even as she did so at the babyish color of it.

�Michelle, if you don�t come down here, I�m coming up there!� He sounded angry. Was he angry? Oh, God, what had she done. She set the lipstick down and took a step back, gazing at her image as she ran her hands over her figure, smoothing her dress. At least she still looked like his Michelle.

�Coming!� she called down as she opened the door and flew down the stairs. He was standing by the table, still wearing the leather jacket, still looking as beautiful as ever. Why couldn�t he love her?

�I tried to call you. The phone wouldn�t ring, it just made this noise.� She would not look away from him. She would not. He nodded, his gaze locked upon hers and she searched those eyes, looking for anger, looking for anything that would give her a clue. He looked upset, more than upset. He looked hurt. �Danny, are you mad at me?� And the tears came again. She couldn�t have stopped them if Danny, himself, had asked her to.

She had to look away.

�Michelle,� he took a step towards her; she could hear the sound of his heavy shoes against the floor and then he stopped. �I�m not mad at you. I told you that. I�m not mad at you and I�m not upset with you. I came here,� he sighed and she looked back up at him, relief awash upon her face, �Michelle, I came here to apologize to you.�

�Why?� Why would he possibly ever need to apologize to her? He was perfect. He was everything. She was the one who was all messed up, she was the one who couldn�t remember him, couldn�t be the woman he loved.

�Why? Because I obviously upset you.� Even as she shook her head, he was walking towards her and taking her hand in his. It felt so right. Everything about him felt so right. She wanted him to kiss her again, there had been no confusion, no questions then, but he was speaking. �Michelle, if I�ve made you feel � damn, I don�t how to say this.�

�Just try, I�m listening.� She wiped her tears away and managed a smile for him.

�I - I love my wife. You know that. You know that. And I understand that right now, the memories and the experiences that made you my wife, the woman I love are not there.� She had to look away. �Michelle, even though that is the case, it doesn�t take away the fact that you are still Michelle and I can see in you so clearly the woman that you became.�

�But you don�t love me,� she looked at him straight in the eye, knowing he wouldn�t lie to her. He had told her once that he�d promised that he would not lie to her. He wouldn�t lie to her.

�I can�t look at you � I can�t look at you and say that I don�t love you. That is impossible for me, because I look at you and I see my wife. I see Michelle. But, you don�t love me, you can�t. And right now, I know that this is difficult for you. I know it is, and it�s hard for me too, but we just have to wait it out. Your memory is coming back quicker than we thought it would and that�s good. Less than a month ago, you were barely twelve in your mind. And now, you�re almost fifteen. In a couple more months, you�ll be where you are supposed to be at hopefully and we can put this all behind us. Okay?�

She didn�t want to just say �okay,� and let it be done. She wanted him to love her, but he was being honest. And he was right. �You�re right. In a couple of months this will be all over. It just seems like it is years for me. When I remember stuff, it�s like it�s happening and Danny, I don�t feel like it�s been a month. I feel like it�s been three years. And I know that doesn�t make any sense, but that�s how I feel. I can�t help it.�

�I know. I know, but we will get through it. We will. I promise.� He reached out a hand and brushed alongside her face, �ah, Michelle,� he paused and looked down, but he didn�t drop his hand, �I have to tell you something.�

She closed her eyes, taking a moment to savor the feel of his fingers, soft and supple against her skin, the tip of one finger feathering across her ear. �What?� she managed to breathe through the sensation.

�When we were on the phone, earlier, you asked me about Jesse.�

�Mmmhmm,� she murmured, feeling safe, feeling content. He couldn�t tell her he didn�t love her. That was good. That was true. And she was his Michelle, if not right now, soon she would be. She wouldn�t lose him to another woman. She was the other woman. And she could depend on him; she could rely on knowing exactly where she stood with him. He wouldn�t lie to her.

�Michelle,� again, he paused and her lids opened as she met his gaze, far from clear. �I lied to you.� She blinked her eyes in shock, "Jesse Blue was more than a friend. He was the first man you loved."

Everything seemed to stop. Danny wouldn�t lie to her, he had promised he wouldn�t lie to her � so why was he lying to her now? And he was � he was lying, just because she didn�t remember Danny or their life, or growing up or anything past fifteen did not mean that she did not know herself. She knew herself and she loved Danny, sometime in the future, she loved this man with her whole heart and soul. She knew that, bone deep, somewhere inside of her.

The knowledge of that love was a certainty. She did not understand it, she couldn�t even truly capture it, but she knew it to be true.

She loved this man completely. And she never, ever could have loved another. Ever. Danny was lying to her. Why would he lie? She met his gaze and he looked so sad, as he should, he should feel sad, he should feel horrible for lying to her.

�Why are you lying to me? Why? How can you do this � how can you do this to me?� She pulled away from his hand, still upon her face, and stood up. Shaking her head back and forth, she looked at him and then away. How could she look at him? How could he say such a terrible thing to her? How? Why?

�Why would you say that?� He was silent; unable to refute her words. Yes, he was lying, but why? Why would he lie? She ran her tongue over her suddenly dry lips, automatically remembering his kiss and she knew. She knew why.

�It�s because of the kiss. You�re trying to push me away. You think --�

�No, Michelle, no -� she cut him off. Why was he still lying? How could he lie to her, he promised he�d never lie to her.

�Yes, YES!� and tears were once more falling down her face, unbidden, yet unstoppable. �Yes, you lied. You are lying because you want me to be mad at you. You want me to pull away so that you won�t be tempted. But it won�t work, it won�t work. Because I know �� and now she could look at him, she had to look at him. �I know in my heart,� and she was once more on the couch facing him, her hands around his face. He held her wrists, pleading with his eyes - his beautiful, soulful, lying eyes - to hear him. She would not.

�I know in my heart,� she repeated, impressing upon him the truth of her statement, �that I love you. The woman I am, I will be, I will love you. Completely, totally, I love you. Danny, I love you, only you. I could never love anyone else. There is nothing in me that could allow that.�

�Michelle -�

�It is not possible. No. Only you.�

He shook his head and his gaze was clear. �I�m not lying now, Michelle � Michelle. I�m telling you the truth.�

She tried to drop her hands, but he held her wrists firm. �I don�t know why I lied on the phone, I guess I wanted to erase Jesse. I wanted to be the only man -�

�You are!� She jerked away from him roughly, moving away once again. �You are my only love. You �� she couldn�t speak, the sobs were coming too quickly. This was too much. Only Danny. Only Danny.

He stood up, �Michelle, I�m sorry. I - what do you want me to say?�

�The truth! Danny, I want the truth. You are the only one. You are my only one. I want you to tell me the truth, tell me that you are the only man I have ever loved.�

He sighed and sat back down heavily upon the sofa. �I can�t, Michelle,� he all but whispered, running his hand across his face, �because it�s not the truth. The truth is that you once loved Jesse Blue. You loved him and if given the choice, you would have chosen him over me in a heartbeat.�

This - this he had not expected. Irritation with his lie over the phone, perhaps even anger, but this complete denial he had never crossed his mind on the drive over, not once as he imagined the many different reactions she might have. Never this.

She was staring at him with shock, and with angry hurt. So much hurt on her face, in her eyes, in the stiff way she held herself. He was suddenly and painfully reminded of the day in the lighthouse when she found out about his one-night stand with that pathetic excuse of a friend, Drew Jacobs. He had never thought to see her so hurt again. Of course he had, the night she found out about what he�d done to Nino, the night he�d sworn that he would never lie to her again.

But he had lied again, still this time, it wasn�t his lie that upset her so. It was his truth. He stared at her, not knowing what to say, knowing that he couldn�t say anything more � anything more and she�d know too much. This was already too much. Why hadn�t he or Abby checked her closet more completely?

�What do you mean?� her voice was soft, a low throb of pain in the high contralto. He met her gaze and found himself arrested. Her voice, her stance, God help him, even her pain � this was Michelle. This was his Michelle. This was not a little girl standing before him, this was not a fickle teen-ager rejoicing in her first kiss. This was a woman. His woman.

�Michelle?� He took a step forward, wondering if it was possible. If he pushed her just a little, would his Michelle return to him, was she that close? He approached her, not quite sure what his intentions were � she didn�t know either as she took a step back. He stood before her, �Michelle,� her name was a whisper as he reached out, entangling his fingers in her hair. Instinctively she moved towards him just as he lowered his head, his palm curving about her face.

Before his lips could brush against hers, her mouth was open and upon his, her arms wrapping about his neck as she thrust herself against him. There was no hesitation, no holding back in her kiss as she pushed her tongue inside his mouth, no longer tentative, no longer exploring, but ravishing him, staking her claim as she ground her hips urgently against him.

He couldn�t think, he couldn�t breathe, all he could do was hold onto her. Thoughts of his Michelle, this Michelle faded into the passion she aroused in him so easily. His hands moved from her face, her hair, sliding down her dress, his palms shaping her backside as he lifted her up. �Danny,� she breathed his name as he set her upon the counter, his hands once more swimming in her golden curls, as he took the lead, his lips upon her chin, her throat. He jerked at the straps of her pink dress, his mouth tasting the flavor silk as his teeth grazed her nipple, his tongue luxuriating in the hardened bud through the pale material of her bra.

Her fingers clutched at his hair as a gasp escaped her, �Danny,� she cried again. He forgot everything. Who he was � who she was, what they had been fighting about, where they were; he forgot everything except his desire, his need for her. His hand slipped down the side of her body, his fingers sliding under her dress. Her head fell against his and he could hear sighs as she feathered kisses through the tendrils of his hair. He slid one finger beneath the smooth lining of her underwear, she was wet and perfect � so unbelievably perfect. He could barely remember the taste of her, and he wanted it now, he wanted the scent of her inside of him, all through him, he wanted -

�Danny, what are you doing?� Her voice was high-pitched, her hands pushing at him. �God, Danny, God, what are you -� words seemed to desert her. He pulled away, his finger slipping away, his tongue, his body slipping away from her and he stood back. She sat there, her legs spread with her pink dress pushed up her thighs. Both straps were pulled tight down her arms, the material of her bra was wet and nearly transparent across her nipple. Her hair was tousled, wild curls everywhere, her lips wet and bruised and parted while her eyes were wide, dilated, shocked and scared.

He took another step back. �I thought,� he began and then had to look away, running his hand over his face. �I thought you were back, I don�t know - your tears, your anger, it was so like you.� He spoke then softer, almost to himself, �I thought you were back.�

She arranged her dress quickly, her hands shaking terribly. She was glad he wasn�t looking at her right now, right now she could barely take being in the same room with him � the things she had let him do, the thing he was going to do. She felt her face burn bright red. She knew those things happened, of course, she wasn�t that na�ve � but she had never actually thought of someone, anyone, Danny doing those things to her.

Someone, she thought. Did that Jesse do that to her? That guy Danny said she would have chosen over him? Had she slept with him too? Could she ask him? Could she look at him? He thought she was his Michelle, he thought that she had remembered everything all of a sudden. Why would he think that? This was so confusing, she was so confused. Maybe Rick was right, maybe she should just stay away from Danny.

She closed her eyes in pain at even the thought of not seeing him, not being with him.

�I�m sorry,� his voice was low and she could hear the shame in it. �I wasn�t thinking. I was wrong, I just - Michelle, I just came to apologize, to explain about Jesse. Why I lied. I don�t know why I lied.� He turned to look at her.

A part of her wanted to look away, needed to � but a bigger need in her required that she not lose his gaze. �Danny, don�t be sorry. I know that this is harder for you in a lot of ways.� He didn�t respond, just nodded his head as he sat down on the couch.

She was silent and the moment stretched, growing taut and tense. He looked up suddenly and spoke just as she worked up the courage to ask him, �I�m -�

�Did I � sorry, you first.� She looked away, blushing again. Again.

�I just wanted to say that I�m still sorry. For everything, for the lie, for dropping the whole Jesse thing on you and,� he paused and exhaled deeply, �and for what just happened. Maybe Rick was right. Maybe I should just stay away.�

�I don�t want you to,� she said quickly, ignoring the fact that she�d just thought the same thing. �I�d miss you more than I could bear. Danny,� the thought of barely seeing him was enough to propel her closer to him as she discarded her embarrassment, �you�re the only thing getting me through this. I can�t do this alone and you promised me. You promised me you�d be with me every step of the way. You can�t leave me. You can�t.�

He met her gaze and smiled. The smile he reserved for her, she knew. �Okay,� he whispered softly and then he laughed lightly, �I couldn�t leave you if I wanted to,� he stood up and wrapped her in his arms, his voice husky, �and I don�t want to.�

She reveled in the moment, in the midst of their pain and tears, she rejoiced in their connection, the love he felt for her, that love that never failed to envelop her completely. But it couldn�t last - there was too much pain right now in this moment. He let her go and sat back down, his voice striving for normal. �You wanted to ask me something?�

Nodding slightly, she sat down next to him gingerly, �did I, did I really think I,� she paused, barely able to get the words out - they were wrong! - �did I really think I loved that Jesse person?�

�You did. You knew him before me and you two went through a lot to be together.� He met her gaze steadily, determination strong there. She looked away, able to accept that he spoke the truth now. His words clicked, they made sense. She didn�t like it, but she knew somewhere inside her that he was telling her the truth.

�Did I,� she paused, fighting another infernal blush and failing miserably,� you know, with him?� He didn�t say anything. �Danny, did I? Please tell me you were my first. You said we met when I was nineteen. Danny �� she trailed off, knowing from his expression that he had not been.

�Okay, how long was I with him? A year, two � when did we break up? How long was it before I met you?� She leaned closer, trying to catch his eyes because now he looked away � now he wouldn�t look at her.

�Danny?�

�Michelle, I can�t tell you. I can�t tell you any of that. It�s too much, it�s too soon. You shouldn�t even know about Jesse at this point. I can�t.� At last he looked at her, �I won�t.�

�Were you the reason we broke up?� It was the only thing that made sense, even she with only fifteen years of her life recalled could figure that out. �You were. You took me away from him? Didn�t you? What? Danny, tell me.�

He stood up and headed to the door. �Danny!�

�Michelle! I can�t tell you!� He threw his hands up and took a step back towards her, but he stopped. �Just drop it. Okay?�

�No! I want to know. Tell me something, anything! I�m not gonna let this go, Danny!� she was crying again as she stood up herself, moving towards him. He backed up.

�We weren�t - it wasn�t like that. You - we, we weren�t always in love and happy, Michelle. It�s complicated.� He looked down at the table�s surface and he was in pain, so much pain that she could see. But what would it hurt if she knew just a little bit?

�Danny?� and he flinched. She couldn�t look at him. It hurt too much, seeing him in such pain. Her gaze flitted about the room, finally resting upon the mantle, their wedding picture, their smiles, her smile. Her fake smile.

�We weren�t in love and happy on our wedding day.� It wasn�t a question. She looked at him and he was gazing at her, such pain, so much pain in his eyes. And he said one word before turning and walking out.

One word.

�No.�

�Hello? Danny, are you there? Danny? Okay, maybe you�re not, but I think you are. So how long are you gonna avoid me? Look, I�m sorry I pushed you okay, I�m sorry. I won�t ask anymore questions. I promise. It�s been a week, Danny.�

He bent his head, gripping the sides of the chair, determined to not pick the phone up.

�I remembered a lot more. I�m almost seventeen. I just, some things happened, not all good that I remembered and I wanted to talk to you about them.�

There was a long pause. He raised his head and looked at the blinking light, waiting for her to hang up, wondering if he could control himself until then. Quietly he began the mantra that he had begun to use whenever she called and left messages � �hang up, hang up, hang up, hang up, hang -�

�I miss you, Danny.� Her voice was soft and quiet, the hint of tears in the words.

He picked the phone up. �Michelle?�

�You are there.� Her voice grew quieter and he felt a rip in his heart. �Why didn�t you pick up sooner?�

�I,� he paused and held the phone away, damning himself for his weakness. �I didn�t know what to say to you. I don�t know if I should I talk to you, see you. I�ve already done so much, said so much more than I should have.�

�I see. So you�re breaking another promise?� Now there was anger alongside the pain.

�Michelle -�

�What? You said you wouldn�t lie and you did. And you said you wouldn�t leave me, you said you would be with me every step of the way -�

�Michelle -� he tried again, but she wouldn�t let him.

�-No! Those were your words, Danny. I remember that much. You said that you would be with me every step of the way and you lied, because you�re not here.�

�I didn�t know it would be so hard!� He finally burst out, rising to his feet. She was quiet on the other end and he took a deep breath, forcibly calming himself down. �Look, I just - I�ve needed some time to come to grips with everything. This is a lot harder, a lot harder, than I ever thought it would be. But I don�t intend to break my promise to you. I will be with you, I just - I have to regroup.�

�And how long is that gonna take, Danny? A day, another week, a month, until I�m your precious Michelle again?� And now her voice was bitter. �I feel so alone. Everything is crazy inside my head, my mother dying, Eve dying, everything is crazy. And Rick is trying to help, but he always seems to say the wrong thing.� And now tears were coloring her words. �And Abby is sweet, but I know she�s uncomfortable around me and I really don�t know her. I can�t talk to Aunt Meta about some of this stuff, cuz it�s embarrassing. And Bridget is gone, Holly feels strange around me because of you and our marriage or whatever. And Rick still can�t find daddy. I need you, Danny. You�re the only person I feel truly comfortable with. When everything else is going at half-tilt, you keep me centered and I�m falling apart now because you�re not here. Damnit, you promised you�d be here!�

He closed his eyes and offered a silent prayer. �Michelle, I�m not trying to hurt you. I know this is hard. No, I don�t know what this is for you, but if it�s even half as bad as what I�m going through then you�re probably a wreck.�

�I am,� she sounded so small, so helpless. And he knew that if he were with her, he would be holding her in his arms. And that was the problem. He took another deep breath, but it was his problem. He�d remained celibate through the early months of their marriage - mostly, although that one night with Drew hadn�t been about sex or passion, only control - and he could do so again. She was right. She needed him and he had promised. He had promised her and there were already too many broken promises that lay strewn in their past.

�I know you are, Michelle and you�re right. You�re absolutely right. If you want me to come over now, I will. And I won�t - and I�ll be there whenever you need me.� God, let me strong enough to do this, he begged for the thousandth time.

There was a pause and a relieved sigh came over the line, �okay.� It was one word, but he could hear the happiness that lay in it. He nodded his head, feeling a load lift from him. This would be hard, but it was the right thing to do.

�Okay.� Better to be tortured by her presence, than anguished without it.

She knew that it was wrong what she was doing. She knew it completely and absolutely. She didn�t care; she was still going to do it. She�d fitted the bed with some black satin sheets she�d found, lowered the window shades and lit candles all around the room. The assortment of silk and lace brassieres and panties had been carefully examined and discarded until she�d found the perfect set. A pale pink bra, lacy and mostly transparent that barely covered her nipples and slinky, silky panties the same matching shade of pink lace just felt right.

Ever since the kiss, she�d wanted this - she hadn�t been able to truly understand what the feelings and emotions raging through her body were, but they were there and the need, the hunger was growing stronger. And then last week, when he�d kissed her and touched her, it had been like fireworks going off inside of her body. It had frightened her and so she�d pulled away, pushed him away.

But she couldn�t stop thinking about it, couldn�t stop re-living those moments over and over again and even through the onslaught of memories they were there. She remembered Holly withdrawing from daddy and taking up with Roger Thorpe again, subsequently withdrawing from her too. And inbetween the pain of those memories were images of Danny touching her, his body over hers. She remembered Eve coming into dad�s life, re-arranging everything. She also recalled how much she�d hated her, done everything she could think of to keep her and dad apart and then her gradual acceptance. And through those events, she recreated his lips on her breast, his hands on her flesh. There was Eve�s illness, Lucy�s rape, and then of course Eve�s death � all of it she remembered, all of it racking through her body full-speed, affecting her as strongly as it had then. And through it all, thoughts of Danny were always with her.

And everything that she had been through, the pain of some of those memories were all tempered by his love for her and her feelings for him; she never felt alone. She always knew that he would be there for her. Just one phone call, one word and he would be there. And that had been enough, so she had given him his space, given him his time to regroup.

He had come by yesterday after their phone conversation, only briefly, but he had come by. They had talked about what she�d remembered. They hadn�t touched, they hadn�t kissed but the yearning to do so had been incredibly strong. And she knew that he had felt it too. She could read him now. She knew his desires. She knew his wants. And she knew that he wanted her. And she knew that she wanted him.

He would be here soon. She�d left the door unlocked and Rick was at the hospital - doing double duty. He wouldn�t be home until morning. Abby and Meta were out of town at one of Abby�s hearing lectures. The house was empty, except for her and -

�Michelle?� His voice floated through the door and she closed her eyes. He was here. Danny.

�This is it,� she whispered to herself as she stepped over to the bed. �Up here, Danny!� she called down as she arranged the sheets carefully and then lay down. Fluffing her hair out, she straightened her bra and panties, trying to control her breathing, wondering if she looked sexy enough for him � wondering if she should have done more � wondering if this was a mistake. She heard his footsteps in the hall. Too late.

His jaw literally dropped. His heart literally stopped beating - for a moment at least. And his breath was literally taken away. Almost two months. Two months since he had seen her looking anything remotely like this. Two months. And she was wearing pink lace. He loved her in pink lace.

He loved her out of pink lace.

�Michelle?� his voice was husky, a deep reverberation of want and lust. Lust, raging, hot and fast and furious through his body. He was stiff as a rock, sweat was breaking out on his flesh and he felt hot, so hot. He didn�t even think as he stepped into the room, closing the door behind him. He didn�t think as he pulled his shirt off, didn�t spare a thought as he kicked his shoes off. He was too busy feeling.

He was all feeling. All need.

�Michelle,� he whispered her name again, truly incapable of saying any other word. She was back. She remembered; she had to have remembered everything. Michelle at seventeen wouldn�t do this, wouldn�t be capable of planning a seduction. That pure, virginal girl that the whole town loved couldn�t offer herself like the sweetest dessert for his consumption like this.

He knelt down on the bed, trailing his fingers softly, reverently upon her leg, up her thigh, a slight brush between her legs. She let out a sharp exhalation of breath and his gaze rose and his hand followed along the curve of her waist, the full cup of her breast. Her breasts, he thought in wonder as he cupped both in his hand, loving and hating the pink lace and silk all at once.

The breath left him in a rush when she laid her fingers upon his arms, carefully, slowly, gingerly sliding her hands up until she wrapped her arms around his shoulders, her body pushing into his. He looked down, his eyes centering on her questing form, the juncture of her thighs pressing against the hard heat of him. He needed her now. Now.

Her lips met his in a ravenous coupling, breath escaping between them as his tongue dueled with hers, his mouth devouring the taste of her, the scent of her, the feel of her. Her body rose higher as she met him kiss for kiss, touch for touch, her fingers digging into his back, running through his hair � just as desperate, as needy to have him be a part of her as he was to be with her.

Pulling away, his finger caught in the front clasp of her bra. He loved front clasps. Her breathing was heavy; so was his. He unflicked the catch and watched in hungry joy as her breasts burst from the pink silk and lace material. He brought his hands to capture their satiny fullness, his thumb feathering her nipples as she threw her head back. Running his fingers over her breasts, up her shoulder blades to the rounded curve of her shoulders, he slipped the bra off, catching it between his thumb and forefinger and flinging it to the side of the bed.

Gently he pushed on her shoulders and she fell back. His gaze devoured her body as his hands once more cupped her breasts briefly - too briefly, the span of her waist, his fingers grasping the edge of her panties. With a grin - at last, good things come to those who wait - he slid the silky material off of her hips, down her thighs, her calves, over and off her feet, keeping his eyes glued to their descent.

The panties joined her bra.

He sat back on his haunches, slowly savoring every inch of her naked body. She had to have remembered. This was his Michelle. His wife. He felt a primitive fire swell within him. Mine, he thought, as he gazed at her spread out before him. Her body clothed in air. Her long legs, her thighs, the darker shade of curls begging for his touch. Her breasts full, nipples erect. Her hair, golden curls glorious upon black satin, her lips lush and full and pink. Her eyes, wide, running wild with passion and need and -

Her eyes. Oh, God. No, her eyes.

He leaned over and wrapped an arm about her waist, pulling her flush up against him, staring into her eyes. She was nervous. There was anxiety; there was fear of the unknown in her eyes.

She didn�t know what she was doing. She didn�t know what she was doing. She wasn�t his wife. She wasn�t - this wasn�t - this couldn�t be happening.

His arm fell limply to the side and he pulled away. She almost fell back, catching herself. �Danny? What�s wrong?�

He got up off the bed, his mind in a daze; his body in pain, his heart aching, and grabbed his shirt. �Get dressed, Michelle.�

�Whaa - Why?� He could hear it in her voice. She was seventeen. In her mind, in her heart, she was still seventeen. Goddamn her!

He turned to look at her and he could not contain the rage that was filling him. His voice was steel, �get dressed, Michelle.� He paused and looked away, his head bent. He couldn�t look at her. He couldn�t look at her. �Now.�

�Danny?� She whimpered.

�Now!� He roared. But he would not look at her.

Her hands were shaking as she pulled a robe on. Salty tears fell upon the light blue material, staining it the shade of midnight. She barely noticed as she tied the sash tight around her waist. Her body was shaking � from the aftermath of his touch, his gaze and his anger. He was angry, so angry.

She had never guessed that Danny could even get that angry. He was always so gentle and caring with her. His voice soft, his eyes tender � but just moments before, his eyes had flashed through her like molten steel for the briefest second before turning away and his voice had been titanic in its rage.

She shut her eyes, biting her lip. She could hear him down there, pacing around the living room and for the first time since her accident, she wanted him to leave. She wanted him gone and quickly. She didn�t know how to face him.

She didn�t know how to face a Danny she had never conceived of.

�Michelle, get your ass down here NOW!� She jumped nearly out of her skin, her eyes fleeing to the open door of her bedroom. Oh, God, he was so angry. And he wasn�t going to leave, that was obvious. Earlier, after ordering her to get dressed, he stalked out of her room, demanding over his shoulder that she come downstairs. That had been five minutes ago.

But she didn�t know how to face him. She just didn�t know how. So here she stayed. She wondered if he would come charging up the stairs. She wondered what he would say. Would he leave for good? Had she pushed him too far? She closed her eyes again and saw the look on his face when he realized she wasn�t his Michelle.

That�s what he had thought. She knew that now, the way he�d looked at her, touched her, the grin that had been on his face, the overwhelming joy radiating from him. He had thought that she remembered all of it. How else could she have done what she did? She saw that on his face, and she saw the shock, the disappointment and then the rage, on his face when he realized. When he realized.

Her legs felt weak, weak in a totally different way than before when he�d touched her. She�d felt awe and wonder and pleasure, such intense pleasure. But now, as she fell heavily onto the edge of the bed, she felt ill and sick to her stomach.

What was she going to do? How could she face him? How could she face the stranger that Danny Santos suddenly was to her? Fresh tears streamed down her face and still she couldn�t move. She could still hear the rage in his voice, see the rage in his gaze. It was so the opposite of everything that she knew about him, but she thought as she glanced at the small picture frame that contained a shot of them from their honeymoon, he was still Danny.

He was a very, very angry Danny, but he was still Danny. He wouldn�t hurt her. He could never, ever hurt her and she had been wrong. She had to deal with the ramifications of her actions. She�d known even as she heard his footsteps coming down the hallway that what she was doing was wrong. She had known and still she had done it. And now, it was time to face the music.

Michelle reached up and wiped her tears away, a look of determination crossing her features, standing up, she tightened the sash of her robe. And then throwing her shoulders back, she headed to the door of her bedroom and took a deep breath.

It was time to face her husband.

He was still boiling. It had been ten minutes since he�d walked out of her damn frilly, pink and stuffed animals, redecorated, seventeen-year old bedroom marked sharply by the addition of black sheets and he was still furious. He knew he should leave. He knew that absolutely and beyond a shadow of a doubt. He would say something that would hurt her feelings.

He would probably say something that would have hurt the feelings of his Michelle, but he was so Goddamn furious with her, that he didn�t give a damn. Besides, if he just walked out now, the next time he saw her she might try it again. He might walk into their house, their bedroom and find her on their bed pulling the same stunt.

And that he couldn�t bear. He wouldn�t.

He closed his eyes, trying to control some of the simmering emotions rollicking through him, when he heard her tentative footsteps on the stairs. She damn well better be dressed, he thought angrily.

�I�m sorry,� her voice was small.

He shook his head; it wasn�t enough. That voice, weak and filled with little of the experience that would enrich Michelle�s voice only angered him further. He finally looked at her. She was at least wearing a robe, a thick blue one that covered her head to toe.

She met his gaze and visibly flinched before looking away, tears beginning to fall from her eyes, her body shaking.

He was angry enough that he could look at her in such misery and still say words that he knew would sting. �You are not my wife.� Her gaze fled to his and then dashed away quickly as he continued. �I do not love you,� her shoulders began to shake, �and you sure as hell don�t love me.� Again, she looked at him, a protest ready to fall from her lips, but she met his gaze and said nothing.

He nodded his head emphatically, as if her silence proved his point. �You are a seventeen year old GIRL for God�s sake and what you just did up there � do you have any idea, any idea at all what you just did?�

She bowed her head, her body now shaking uncontrollably as sobs rode through her. He looked away, silently damning his weakness when it came to her. He couldn�t do this. He couldn�t, even when she needed to know, she needed to understand why he was so angry, he couldn�t see her cry � he couldn�t hurt her. No matter how many times she�d hurt him, in a hundred different careless ways in their life together, he couldn�t do the same to her without feeling as if someone had punched him in the gut. He couldn�t.

�Damnit,� he muttered under his breath even as he walked towards her. She fell immediately against him as he wrapped his arms around her. �Why did you do that?� he whispered into her hair. �Why?�

Between hiccups and shuddering breaths she said softly, �I just thought that if I could be your Michelle that things would be easier. If you didn�t have to fight it all the time.�

He pulled away and looked down at her, but she kept her eyes to the ground. Sighing, he took her hand and led her to a chair. �What do you mean?� he asked as he sat down across from her. �Fight what?�

Pushing her hair back, she looked up at him and then away, �this � you know, these feelings, this desire. I see it whenever you look at me, when you touch me and I can tell when it�s getting too much for you, cuz you always leave. And I just thought that if we did it, that you wouldn�t have to worry about that anymore. We could be together more. And,� her voice grew softer, �and I,� again she sent a quick glance his way before dropping her eyes, �and I wanted it too. At least, I think I did.�

�Michelle,� his voice was a sigh and he didn�t know what to say. And that scared him, because he never knew what to say to her anymore. He�d have to muddle through, just as he had in the beginning, hoping that he wouldn�t say the wrong thing that would trigger her � anger, back in the early days of their marriage, and now, her tears.

�Yes, it�s hard for me sometimes and I understand that you � you want this. I know that you aren�t really seventeen and your body seems to remember things that your head doesn�t, which must make the physical sensations confusing to say the least.�

She nodded.

�But, Michelle, before I met you, all I had were the physical sensations.� She looked confused and he let out a sigh and bit his lip, trying to think of what to say, how to make this make sense for her. �Okay, look, I never really loved anyone before you. There were a few women I cared about, there was one my family expected me to marry even, but I never really loved anyone before you. And when I had sex, it was just sex. I always thought �making love� was just a pretty euphemism for sex and that it didn�t mean anything special.

�You taught me differently.� He reached out and held both of her hands, his fingers caressing the flesh of her thumbs, her wrists. �I wanted you from practically the first moment I saw you. It was definitely physical, but as we got to know each other, as I spent more time with you, eventually I realized that I didn�t just want you.

�I loved you. And I didn�t just want to have sex with you, I wanted to make love to you and I wanted you to make love to me. For the first time in my life, sex meant more than the physical sensation and I wouldn�t settle for anything less from you.

�Michelle, when we�re together - we are completely together. It�s not just our bodies, it�s our hearts and our souls and if I had taken you upstairs, it would have just been sex and I don�t want that � not with you, never with you.� He paused, �do you understand?�

�I do, I guess, I just � Danny, I just wanted to make you happy.� Tears began flowing, �I just, you know, I�m just trying to be the wife you love, your Michelle and I don�t know how, I don�t know what she would do, or she would say. I just -- you say that I don�t love you, but I do. You�re more important to me than anything � anything in the whole world. I do love you.�

He let go of her hands and stood up. She followed his movements, still aching inside. �Michelle, you don�t � this is not love that you�re feeling. You - you�re attracted to me, you like me, but it�s not the same.�

�How do you know?� She demanded and he turned to look at her, a spark of anger still on his face.

�I know because I know what you�re like when you love me and this isn�t it. What we�ve been through together, who we�ve become together, has made our love what it is. And you - �

�-so?� She interrupted him; he was wrong. He was wrong. �So I don�t love you like your Michelle does. I haven�t been through what she has, but that doesn�t mean that I don�t love you. The person I am right now, this Michelle does love you and it�s not fair of you to just act like I�m a silly, little girl who doesn�t know any better.�

�Michelle, you don�t -�

�-I do! I do.� She stood up and faced him, tear tracks on her face. �I do know how I feel. I remember who I was at fifteen and at sixteen and at seventeen and I�ll tell you something Danny, I�m not the same. There are thoughts and ideas and memories that I can�t really capture, there are feelings and emotions that I certainly wasn�t capable of when I was this age for real. The woman I am, your Michelle, is still inside me and I feel things that she feels and one of those things is my love, her love for you.�

He turned away from her, his hands running over his face, his head shaking back and forth. Finally, he turned to look at her and his voice was emphatic, �you can�t do this! You can�t keep separating you and �my Michelle.� You are MY Michelle. You are! You don�t remember everything and I know that. But who you are is still Bertha Michelle Bauer Santos. Still. There is no �she� and �you.� You�re one in the same.�

She looked away, denying his words. �No, you can�t say one thing and then contradict it. You told me when I walked down here that I was not your wife. You won�t touch me, you won�t make love to me. You won�t tell me you love me. You don�t talk about our life and you barely talk about you. You distance yourself from me as much as you�re capable of. Is that what it�s like for you and Michelle? I don�t think so, Danny. When you look at me, you don�t see YOUR Michelle.�

He stood still and he was listening, really listening to her. �Danny, you see someone who is wearing her face, and speaking in her voice, but you don�t see your Michelle and what�s worse, I don�t even think you see me, the person who is standing here. You haven�t taken the time to get to know ME and so instead of living my life, I�m trying to live hers because you don�t want anything to do with me. You only want her.�

She shook her head, unable to help the tears that continued to fall. �And I�m not her, Danny.�

�You�re right.� The words came out before he even thought them. �You�re absolutely right, Michelle.�

�I am?� her voice was a practically a squeak.

�Yeah,� he muttered as he began pacing. �I have been expecting you to be Michelle, I�ve just been waiting for the return of my Michelle and that�s not fair to you. I�m sorry, I�m so sorry. What can I do to make it up? What do you want me to do?�

He sat down across from her again, the realization still sending waves through him. He had been so unfair to who she was right now. And he had been separating �his� Michelle and �this� Michelle for so long, it�d become second nature to him.

�I guess I just want to get to know you and you me.� Her eyes met his and a smile played around the corners of her mouth. �Instead of concentrating on remembering what I don�t or what I�m not supposed to know yet, maybe we can just � I don�t know, hang out or go out.�

�Go out?� He had a feeling he knew where this was going. �You mean like a date?�

Now her mouth spread into a big smile, �yeah, we could date. Go to dinner, the movies, you know, just getting to know each other.�

�A date?� She wanted to go on a date. Was that right? Would it be a betrayal of �his� Michelle to go on a date with �this� Michelle? He stood up and began pacing again. �This is confusing, too confusing.�

�Why?� He glanced at her and she looked so innocent, so fresh, the tears gone from her face.

Sighing, he attempted to put his thoughts into words, �I - Michelle, I�m married to you, but it�s not you, not what you remember and you�re right, you are not the woman I�m married to now. You�re the Michelle before you met and married me, so you�re a different person or at least in a different stage in your life.�

�So?� She stood up, winding the long sash of her robe around her fingers. She was nervous now; already he was making her nervous. This would not work; this was crazy.

�If I date you to get to know you now and not help you remember who you are, is that cheating? It�s confusing,� he repeated to himself.

�You kissed me, you�ve done more than kiss me �� she trailed off, obviously deciding that that was not the route to go right now. �I mean, you know �� again she trailed off.

�That was different though, I mean, we were recapturing who you are and you don�t want to recapture or relive us. God, this is confusing.�

He sat down, rubbing his chin. �What if we go out and we have a grand time and then I start to fall in love with who you are now because you are Michelle, you�re just not my Michelle and then you remember everything, will you be mad at me? Will I have � I swore I�d never hurt you like that again. I swore it and I meant it.�

Standing back up, he glanced at her, but then quickly looked away from her hopeful expression. �I don�t know if this is a good idea.�

�Danny, how can it be a betrayal or cheating or whatever, if it�s me? Because it is me, sorta, it is. I�m still the person you fell in love with, so you wouldn�t be falling in love with me, you�d just be falling more in love with me. Right?�

He looked at her again, finding the idea of taking her out on a date one he rather liked. They had never actually dated. And she�d wanted to once upon a time, she�d mentioned it, but they had never gotten around to it. Things had moved so quickly in those early days of their marriage.

�It could be fun.� And her voice was hopeful, as hopeful as her expression.

He let the thought play around in his mind a bit more. Yeah, it could be fun, it could be a lot of fun and it wouldn�t hurt anything � anyone � her. It wouldn�t hurt her.

�Yeah, yeah, I guess �� he trailed off and looked around the room, imagining picking her up, giving her flowers, the smile on her face. �Yeah. It would be fun.� He smiled, �yeah. Let�s do it.�

�Really?� Her face broke out into a wide grin as she threw herself in his arms, �tonight? Can we go out tonight?�

He chuckled and pulled away. Looking down at her radiant smile, he nodded, �okay, tonight. We can go on a date tonight.�

Queen of Hearts was packed when they walked in. A big guy at the door stopped them; requesting I.D.�s and Michelle felt a secret thrill as she pulled out her license. Glancing over at Danny, who was smiling at her, she figured that maybe it wasn�t that secret, but the doorman didn�t seem to notice.

�I�m gonna get some drinks,� Danny said loudly above the music as she stared at all of the bodies packed tightly together, gyrating wildly to the techno music that was playing. This wasn�t exactly what she had in mind for a first date. Looking over at Danny as he headed to the bar, she decided it was good enough. Hurrying over to his side, she kept glancing at all of the activity around her. He smiled at her as she moved near him, but turned away as the bartender brought their drinks. Glancing back at the crowd, she found herself almost mesmerized by the �adults� gathered everywhere. So this is what it was like on the other side of eighteen.

He turned back to her and bent down, whispering in her ear, �let�s go.� She looked up at him. Go? They just got here. Smiling, he leaned down again and whispered once more, �just follow me.� She let out a breathy sigh, her pulse racing and did as he said. And as he began weaving through the crowd, she spoke softly to herself, �I�d follow you anywhere.�

He opened a set of double doors with his adorable derriere, carrying their drinks in his hands. Noting with disappointment the fizzling, brown color, she figured it was probably coke. Sighing, she pouted slightly. He hadn�t even asked her, she would have preferred a mixed drink, maybe one with a little umbrella and a nice frothy pink color. She was technically over twenty-one.

Stepping inside the room, she stood to the side as Danny set the drinks down at a table near one of the six pool tables scattered throughout the room. He motioned for her to come over as he pulled out his wallet and began pulling out bills. �I�m gonna reserve us a table for the next hour, okay?� She could still hear the music, but it was less audible and they could speak in regular tones. Still, she only nodded as she picked up her drink and took a swallow �

� and almost spit out the liquid. �This isn�t coke!�

He grinned, �well, you are over twenty-one. I thought you might like a little something stronger. Rum and Coke.� Turning to pay the attendant, he shot back over his shoulder, �very, very light on the rum.�

Smiling, she took a ginger sip of the drink, swirling it about in her mouth. Her eyes lit up as she watched him across the room.

This was going to be fun.

�Like this?� she asked for what seemed like the hundredth time as she peered over her shoulder, her eyes as innocent as could be.

Danny smiled, �would you like me to show you how to do it? Again?� Her lips curved, a naughty twinkle in her eye now betraying the angelic mien she displayed. Nodding slightly, she offered sweetly, �would you?�

Moving behind her, he leaned into her, wrapping his arms about her as he once again repositioned her hands on the pool stick. She glanced up at him, their faces close, her smile widening. �Have you been playing long?� He nodded. �How long?�

�Since I was fourteen.� He lowered his hands and rested them lightly on her hips as he bent down to murmur in her ear; �about the same age you were when your dad taught you how to play.� Pulling back slightly, he brushed a soft kiss against her throat and stepped back. �Remember?�

She sighed, looking up, and he could just see the blush that was spreading across her fair skin, and the widening curve of her lips. �Caught,� she responded softly and then she began to giggle, peals of her laughter shaking her body slightly as she turned to face him. His own smile faded as he stared at her, lost in the moment of her beauty.

Michelle leaned against the table, seeming not to notice his reverie. Her laughter died to be replaced by a mock groan as Juice Newton�s Queen of Hearts began to filter through the sound system, �not again! How many times are they gonna play this song?�

He shook his head slightly, focusing on the replay of the song. �I think they play it every hour or so, it�s a subliminal message kind of thing. You hear this song more than any other, it sticks in your brain, �queen of hearts, queen of hearts,� people come back.� She nodded, and sighed, turning her attention back to the table.

Walking to the opposite side, she began lining up her next shot, no pretense of ignorance of the game now. Grabbing his drink, he took a sip and found himself admiring her casual grace and effortless beauty. Golden curls fell in wild disarray about her face and shoulders, shiny ringlets tumbling down her back. Her eyes were bright and the cherry-pink lipstick made her lips all that much more kissable. How he�d been able to resist doing so all night was a miracle.

She pocketed her second solid in a row and moved to the opposite end of the table. Bending over, she flung her hair over her shoulder, concentrating on her game. Grinning, Danny lowered his gaze and enjoyed the cleavage now available for his view. After pocketing another ball, she looked up to catch his eye and upon correctly assessing the direction of his intent stare, straightened up sharply, her hand pressed to the top of her blouse.

�Danny!�

His grin only widened as he took another drink, his obvious perusal of her form continuing unabated. She was wearing jeans, tight blue jeans � delectably, deliciously tight. Leaning over, her (also) tight, baby-soft ivory sweater stretched snugly across her chest, and he felt a tightening in his groin. He wasn�t even touching her, hadn�t kissed her but for her throat moments before, his lust was operating purely on sight and memories, but how he wanted her.

�Let�s dance,� he said suddenly, mentally smacking himself once the words were out of his mouth. Was he out of his mind?

�Hmm? Oh, can we finish the game? It�s your play.� She smiled sweetly, completely unaware of the sexual tension surrounding them. He let out a sharp exhalation of breath, �sure,� and walked over, grabbing his cue stick. Waiting for her to pass, he stepped closer to the pool table so she could go around him.

She didn�t.

With the same sweet smile, she squeezed between him and the pool table oh so slowly, her body pressing into his, her eyes shining softly as she gazed up at him, just the slightest flush on her face. He stood still for a moment, his heart pumping a mile a minute, caught completely and utterly by her.

Finally, he glanced over as she settled herself comfortably down, her eyes serene as she met his. And then her lips curved slightly, her mouth parting to allow a slight, sensual nibble of teeth upon that perfect, lush, lower lip, her lids lowering just a bit as she gazed at him through her lashes.

Danny cleared his throat. Nope, he was wrong � she was aware, very, very aware and also very much a player in the creation of that tension. He looked back at the table, noting the three balls he had to pocket to win the game. Win the game and claim his dance.

Grinning, he lined up the cue for the first shot. This was definitely turning out to be fun.

The game was over and without any words, Danny led her to the dance floor, his eyes focused on her. The music thundered around them, stray words brushing against them. She slid into his arms and his hands were loose against the small of her back. They began to sway, moving in time with the throbbing beat.

Michelle closed her eyes, unable to bear the intensity of his gaze for a moment longer. "Hey," he whispered into her ear. Her eyes shot open, he was suddenly so close.

"Hey," she replied, her voice louder than his.

"I remember the first time we danced," he whispered again, bending down to her ear once more. "No," she murmured. "No remembering. This is our first dance. You and me."

"Sorry." This time he spoke up, talking over the music. "So do you like our first dance?" he asked.

"Mm hmm," she answered softly, her voice almost a whisper.

"What?" he questioned, his voice louder. "I can't hear you."

"Yeah, I do," she murmured, her voice higher this time. "I do," she said again, softly again.

He was silent for a moment and then huskily, a thick thread of desire lacing his words, he spoke, "do you know how beautiful you are?"

She blushed and he was silent once more as his fingers began to draw lazy circles on the small of her back. Shivering slightly, she leaned a little away from him, pushing more firmly against the dancing rhythm of his hand. Trying to maintain some decorum of composure, she took a steadying breath, "you play a good game of pool."

"Thank you," he murmured softly and she could just hear the grin in his voice. She glanced up, and yes, he was grinning.

"Proud of your skills?" She smiled.

"Yup," he paused, "all of them."

"What other skills do you have?" She was almost surprised to hear the teasing tone of her voice. Where was this confidence coming from? It was amazing what the subconscious part of herself seemed to know how to do intuitively, but if she actually thought about doing them, she was lost and confused.

His grin faded slightly, taking on the contours of a smile, a lazy, sexy smile that took her breath away and sent her senses reeling in all directions. "That's for me to know and you to find out." His voice was low and intimate, a throaty murmur that sent her remaining senses spiraling out of control.

He held her tighter and she felt the hard heat of his erection pressing into her. Her breathing became shallow and her heart quickened a thousandfold. She wanted him, as much as he evidently wanted her, but this was just a first date, nothing was going to happen.

Nothing.

"Nothing," she repeated intently just as he spoke, his voice a husky murmur.

"I want to kiss you."

A breathy moan escaped her and her words were quiet, "what's stopping you?"

The slightest caress of a smile moved across his face as he slowly lowered his head. He loved her like this, flirty, responsive, so open and joyous. And this he had never really experienced before. This 'getting to know you' phase: the banter, the playfulness, the teasing smiles and actions.

He and Michelle had forged their love out of pain and heartbreak � death and deceit. Vividly, a fantasy he had once had flashed through his mind as he gazed down at her face, her lips parted the slightest, awaiting his kiss. They had been students, no Mick, no Carmen, no interference, just a girl and a boy and love at first sight.

Reaching out his hand, he brushed feather-light fingers against her cheek and for the first time in months, he thanked God. He thanked Him for giving the two of them the opportunity to fall in love the right way. Just a guy, just a girl, just falling in love.

"Danny, any day now would be nice." He smiled, loving the teasing note in her voice, the playful pout on her face, the way she looked at him - no memory of anything darker in their past than a lie about an old boyfriend and a failed seduction attempt.

"Kiss me." Her pout faded as she rubbed her thumb against his mouth. Standing on her tip-toes, she leaned up towards him and took the matter into her own hands and just as her lips touched his, he breathed her name in a heavy sigh, "Michelle."

She was soft and welcoming beneath him, her body pressed against him in all the right places, creating all the right sensations. As her tongue slid into his mouth, engaging his, he marveled anew at how perfect she was for him. The feel of her, the fit of her, the touch, taste, scent, everything of her was so right for everything in him.

The porch light was on and Rick was loudly talking to himself, making it very clear to the both of them that he was still up and awaiting Michelle's entrance. Danny grinned and leaned his shoulder against the door, his focus on her, patently ignoring his brother-in-law. "This was fun. I'm glad we decided to do it."

She sighed happily, "yeah, me too. I had a really good time." Looking away, she inwardly cursed the ridiculous blush that was flushing her skin. His finger slid lightly across her cheek and she met his gaze again. His eyes were warm and tender. Beautiful. He was beautiful.

"I like you, Michelle Bauer," he murmured, a husky edge riding his words and his finger trailed along the line of her chin. Lifting her head slightly, she let out a shaky breath as Rick's voice faded into intelligible sound, mixing in with the crickets and the slight murmuring of the wind.

"I like you too," she managed as his arm casually snaked around her waist, pulling her loosely to him. "So, this is good night?" He nodded, his hand now cupping her face. "Are you going to kiss me now?" Smiling, he nodded again.

"Am I gonna have to wait aga--" he kissed her. His lips were soft, a light brush against her mouth, parting them with just the slightest pressure. He withdrew a breath away from her and met her gaze. "Oh," she whispered as he pressed another sweet kiss against the corner of her mouth, the tip of her chin, the column of her throat -- one, two, three kisses. His arm fell away from her back, his fingers resting lightly on her hips and then slowly they began an upward trail over the curve of her waist and breast, across her collarbone, his finger sliding along the inner edge of the bodice of her sweater, a digit of heat against her flesh.

She felt weak in the knees, her hands gripping his leather jacket to keep from falling. Her mind was a lacy mesh of emotions and feelings and desires, different hues lighting the corners of her heart and soul. She couldn't breathe, but somehow air was coming in and out in faint gasps. She couldn't think, but still a multitude of thoughts ran through her brain, images that she couldn't remember. She couldn't see, but his face clouded her vision.

Pushing the soft material to the side, he lay butterfly kisses against her shoulder, pulling her body closer to him with each kiss. And then back along the flesh of her throat, his drifting fingers lightly, softly over her breasts, his thumbs brushing against her hardened nipples through her silky, downy sweater. She felt a questing heat inside of her; liquid warmth sweeping though her blood as his lips at last, at last met her own once more.

His hands were about her face as he pillowed her bottom lip between his own, savoring the taste of her. His tongue licked at her upper lip, sliding inside, playing touch and go with her. Their breaths were caught, mingling, growing into short pants. Her arms wound themselves about his neck, clutching at his curls as she pushed herself completely against him, her mouth open to him, her heart open to him.

He was hard everywhere but for his hands, but for his lips and for the first time � for the first time, her wanting ache for him was tempered with the sweetest of desires. There was the pleasure of his touch, his kiss, but more than that was the pleasure of the man who wielded them. She felt the words bursting in her heart and found herself unable to contain them as their lips drifted apart in a slow, sensual daze.

�I love you.�

Her lids fluttered open and found his eyes locked on her face. Smiling softly, he brushed her hair back, tucking curls behind her ears. �Yeah,� he whispered softly, �love you too.� She knew he meant �his� Michelle, but just maybe, maybe, a little part of that love was for her too.

�Ahem!� Rick�s overly loud muttering gave her a sudden jump and then the porch light flicked off and on rapidly. Danny glanced up, the intensity gone from his face, and looked back down at her with a grin.

�I think Rick wants you to go inside now,� but his voice was still soft and husky.

�I think so, too,� she replied, but she didn�t step outside of the circle of his arms. A few moments passed as they stood in silence, enjoying the moment too much to end it. The front door opened.

�Anytime now. You know, some of us have to work.� Rick stared pointedly at Danny and then dropped his gaze, focusing on Michelle�s position. �Michelle, why don�t you come inside now. It�s getting cold and it�s past,� back his gaze went to Danny, �late.�

Sighing, Danny unwrapped his arms about her and stepped aside. �Michelle, it�s been a pleasure,� and then with laughter brimming in his voice, he added, �can I call you tomorrow?�

�Oh, come on, just go. Of course you�re gonna call her tomorrow. Hell, you�ll probably be here for breakfast. And no, that was not an invitation.� Rick�s foot began tapping impatiently, but Michelle merely grinned and answered Danny�s question as if her brother hadn�t spoken.

�Why yes, of course. I�ll look forward to it, Danny. I had a wonderful time.�

�Moving along, moving along,� Rick muttered.

�As did I,� Danny responded to Michelle, laughter dancing in his eyes.

�You already said that, will you go? Now.� Rick stepped outside on the porch, halfway inbetween the two. �Go. Goodbye. Leave. Say �goodnight,� Michelle.�

�Goodnight, Michelle,� she repeated.

Danny glanced at Rick, �Goodnight, Rick.� His voice softened, �goodnight, Michelle.� And then he turned back to Rick, �what, we don�t get a little privacy for a goodnight kiss?�

Glaring at him, Rick pointed to the windows, �what were you doing two minutes ago, giving her a prelude to a goodnight kiss?�

�Damn. Oh well.� He smiled at Michelle, �bye,� and ignoring Rick�s continuing glare, he bent down and gave her a quick kiss. �Bye,� he whispered into her ear as he turned and then walked away.

�Bye,� she said softly, dreamily to his departing figure. She looked at Rick, �Isn�t he wonderful?�

Rick rolled his eyes as he ushered her into the house, �yeah, yeah, yeah.�

The day was warm and the sun shone down brightly through the clouds. Michelle sat cross-legged on the red and white checkerboard picnic blanket, her face turned upward to the sky, basking in the warmth. Danny smiled; his gaze arrested by the joy on her face, and thought to himself again that he liked this young woman. He liked her a lot. Seeing her, getting to know her without the angst and the heartache that had plagued them almost from day one, interspersed with days, an occasional week or two, of happiness, was a gift he would be forever thankful for.

Two weeks they had been �dating� and he loved it. He had learned things about her that he hadn�t known before this all happened. Little things like the name of the imaginary friend she had when she was younger and the fact that she had wanted desperately to be a ballerina when she was ten for a whole two months. Michelle was relaxed and comfortable with him in ways that he and his wife were still getting used to.

They had missed so much, so much by not enjoying any of the rituals of courtship. No dates, no sweet first kisses, no divulging of secrets and lives bit by bit, so much they had missed. And this accident, this memory loss, was allowing him the chance to re-discover his wife in ways he�d never dreamed possible. And for Michelle, she was getting to know Danny the man and not as she first had, as Mick�s brother out for revenge, or the mob prince groomed for cold, deadly power.

Whether or not these wonderful, lazy days would affect who they were once Michelle remembered everything, he didn�t know. Just now, he was simply savoring being with the woman he loved and not waiting for her memory to return or for the next disaster to befall them.

And he did love her. He loved �his� Michelle, and he loved �this� Michelle. They were two sides of the same woman, a before and after portrait. In her he could so clearly see the woman that she had become when they met. He also appreciated much more fully the remarkable girl, young woman she had been. He had been afraid that he would fall in love with �this� Michelle, thus somehow forsaking his love for �his� Michelle, but he saw now that that would never happen � could never happen.

She was one and the same and getting to know her like this was a joy. There had been times during their marriage when Danny had thought that it just not could be possible that he could love her, adore her any more than he already did. He was learning differently. Seeing the young woman she had been made him treasure who she was now all the more. And love her more.

He could understand so much more about her, such as her connection to her mother and her father, despite his absence during their life together so far. And in understanding her relationship with her mother more clearly, he could also grasp why her bond with Jesse had been so strong. Jesse Blue did after all have Maureen Bauer�s heart beating inside of his chest.

A part of him couldn�t wait more than ever for Michelle to remember everything, he wanted to talk to her, to tell her what he saw now. He wanted the chance to be a better husband to her, a better man for her - more understanding, less controlling. And yet at the same time, he was loving every moment spent getting to know her so completely. She was so open to him, so completely open and she loved him. Only him. There was no one before him now. He was her center, her universe just as she had been his for so long now.

He loved her. He loved her so much.

Pushing the picnic basket to the side, he stretched out across the blanket, resting his head in her lap. She looked down at him in surprise, the smile still upon her face. Grinning, he met her gaze with a drawling �yes?�

�Are you comfortable?� There was laughter and teasing in her voice. He did love her.

�Very.� His grin faded as her finger began to trace the corners of his mouth, the line of his nose. Her gaze was intent, a softness about her face that was reserved only for him. She loved him, this young woman, still only seventeen, but she did love him and she so wanted him to love her. He hadn�t said the words since their first date, always biting them away when they rose to his lips. It wasn�t fair to �this� Michelle, he had told himself and yet he could see the want on her face, the desire to hear them again.

He hadn�t been ready. Not yet. He didn�t want to hurt her, but he loved her. He loved her now, loved who she was, who she would be. He loved her.

�I love you,� he said then, softly, surely. Her eyes widened a bit and she let out a breathy sigh. The corners of her lips lifted and then settled back into a straight line as her lids lowered in a flash of disappointment. Quickly, she looked back up to the sky.

�It�s a beautiful day.� Her voice was tremulous and he could hear the threat of tears.

�Michelle, I love you.� Her eyes closed completely and one teardrop fell upon his lips. �I love you,� he stressed the word slightly, sitting up. She nodded, but still would not look at him.

Sitting up more fully, he reached out and captured her face in the palm of his hands. �I love you.�

Nodding again, she murmured softly, her eyes still downcast, �I know � you love - �

� - you. I�m not talking about �my� Michelle. I�m just talking about �the� Michelle. The beautiful, wonderful, adorable, delightful, sexy, fantastic woman sitting right in front of me. I love her.� He leaned in closer, �and that�s you.�

Finally, she met his gaze. �You do?�

Bending down, he pressed a soft kiss upon her lips and his breath dancing across her mouth, he whispered, �I do.�

A joy unlike any she had ever known before filled her. He loved her. Her. Not �his� Michelle, but just Michelle, just her. Danny loved her. She looked up into his beloved face, fully aware that her every emotion was visible there for him to see, but she didn�t care. She never had the need to hide anything � anything from him.

�I love you.� It felt so good saying the words, it felt so wonderful knowing he felt the same way. A giggle burst from her lips as she threw her arms about his neck. Laughing he fell back onto the blanket, his arms wrapping about her waist. �Do you have any idea how wonderful it feels hearing you say that?� He nodded before she even finished speaking.

�I think I have an idea,� he added, smiling through his words.

Reaching out, she smoothed a dark curl into place. �I am so happy right now. I can�t remember ever, ever being happier. And it�s because of you. I love you so much, Danny. I love you.�

�And I love you.�

Michelle sighed and tilted her face upward enjoying the warm sun on her skin. Eyes closing, she felt the warmth bursting through her body, exploding in her heart. She heard him shuffle beside her before he once again laid his head in her lap. Still, she didn�t open her eyes. All she saw was the black of her closed lids and then a memory hit her.

The alley was dark. She was in a 5th Street alley and she was hurt. She had twisted her ankle and then there was a guy. He wore a leather jacket. She thought he was going to hurt her, but he helped her. She�d twisted her ankle and he was helping her. And she looked into his eyes. She looked into his eyes and she knew that her life would never, ever be the same again. He told her his name and in her heart, she memorized his name, his face seconds after hearing it � after seeing him, looking into his eyes.

Jesse. Jesse Blue. Jesse.

Michelle�s eyes opened with a jolt. �Jesse,� she whispered.

�Hmm?� Danny murmured softly.

She looked down at his face, her Danny�s beloved face and his eyes were still closed, a contented smile on his lips. And in her mind�s eye she saw Jesse�s face. Jesse Blue. The bad boy in the leather jacket. Jesse Blue. The artist. The one that had been before Danny. The one that she had wanted, had loved before Danny.

He opened his eyes, �Michelle, what�s wrong?� He sat up quickly and turned to face her. �What�s wrong?�

Her eyes rose and she met his worried gaze. �I remember �� she paused and looked away. It felt like a betrayal. This felt like a betrayal. She loved Danny. She loved him, but she could still feel that spark that had lit her when she first looked into his eyes, Jesse�s eyes.

�What? You remember what?� And his hand came out, curving softly against her cheek and she remembered the feel of Jesse�s hand on her face. �Michelle?�

She took a deep swallow and met his gaze. �I remember meeting,� and she paused, trying to keep the tremor of emotion out of her voice, �Jesse.�

She failed. She could tell from the look on his face, a quick shuttering that happened in his eyes. She had failed to keep the feeling of that name from her voice, from her face. And so she looked away from Danny, but she didn�t see the trees to her side. She was still staring into Jesse�s eyes in her memory.

Danny felt as if he had been kicked in the gut. Her voice, the look in her eyes when she said Jesse's name. And to think just moments before he had wanted her to remember everything ... including Jesse. He closed his eyes, looked away from her. He had to look away from her face -- from the emotion that memory had wrought that she was trying so desperately to conceal from him. And failing so miserably to do.

He rose quickly to his feet, her voice a heartless whisper as she called his name. Not even five minutes of happiness. Not even five minutes of the two of them able to revel in their love untainted by anything or anyone. He thought suddenly and viciously of that one. Of Jesse.

"Danny," her voice was soft, but closer to him. He hadn't heard her stand up, move towards him. "Danny, it doesn't mean anything. I just remembered meeting him --"

He cut her off, and spoke, the viciousness still coursing through him, "-- and pretty damn soon you'll remember loving him and hating me." He stepped away from her, not even realizing what he'd just said. "Goddamnit! Did you have to remember him now? Now, Michelle?!" But still he did not look at her. "One day, hell, a week would have been nice, but you remember him now. Now."

"I'm sorry," and there were tears. He could hear the tears in her voice and he ached suddenly for her, for him, for them. This wasn't fair. It wasn't her fault. This wasn't fair to her. "Danny, I'm sorry." And then a pause, "I love you."

He took a deep breath, once more pushing his own feelings, his anger, his pain to the side. He turned and looked at her. Tear tracks marked her face, and she looked miserable and sorry. "I'm so sorry," she whispered again, echoing his thought. He couldn't help himself -- he never could when it came to her. Pulling her in his arms roughly, he buried his head in her golden curls and murmured words of apology.

"It's okay, I'm sorry." I'm sorry, he repeated in his mind, angry with himself for taking his disappointment out on her. It wasn't her fault. "It's not your fault, baby." He sighed heavily as she rested softly in his arms, her body curving into his as if she'd never forgotten a day of their life together.

They stood silently for a few moments, searching for the contentment they'd so recently had. It couldn't be found so easily; she pulled away and met his gaze, "Danny, it was just the shock of it, you know? It's like it's real, but it's confusing because I love you. I do love you, but I can already feel something different. Not from you, I mean, not from the way you make me feel."

He searched her face, his heart thudding painfully against his chest, "what do you mean, not different from me?" It had to be different from him, from what they had, even now, even without all of the hell they'd overcome, what she felt for him now was stronger, had to be stronger, than anything she'd ever felt for Jesse Blue.

"I mean, when I met him, it was, I could feel this stirring, and it wasn't like anything I knew ... then. But now I know. I mean, I already know because of you." She sniffed and blinked her eyes, one lone tear falling from her lash.

"You mean love?" And he knew the hurt was in his voice, he couldn't disguise it, couldn't deny it, but she shook her head and he felt a lightness ease some of the heaviness in his heart.

"No, I mean, I didn't know what it was then. It confused me. Like you did, like the way you made me feel. But not love; it was lust I guess. Desire. But, Danny, it's so weird. I can remember feeling the strangeness, the newness of it, but it's not strange and it's not new because I already feel this. I know what it feels like to want already because of you, but in my mind, in my memory it's new."

She sighed and pulled out of his arms, confusion and frustration on her face. "It's been so long since I had a memory surge I forgot how strange it was. The feeling of remembering, of being, fighting with what I already feel because of this whole crazy situation."

She closed her eyes for a minute, breathing heavily and then she opened her gaze and met his head-on. "I do know that whatever I feel, whatever I remember feeling for, "and she did not hesitate this time, "Jesse is nothing compared to what I feel for you. I know that." A tear slid down her cheek as she pressed her hand against her heart. "I know that I love you. You, Danny and only you."

The heaviness eased even more as the love she felt for him shone so strongly in her eyes, but still he felt fear. He knew her future ... and she didn't. He knew what she'd been through to be with Jesse and how hard it had been for her to let go of him. And if just this first memory could illicit this strong a reaction out of her and this much pain in him ... how in God's name were they going to deal with her regaining the next year and a half of her life? The part of her life that had been so inexorably wrapped up in Jesse Blue.

Despite going to bed early the night before, when she woke up the next morning, Michelle was still exhausted. Sleep hadn't come quickly or easily. The misery that had hanged over Danny like a pallor had been with them as they packed up the picnic stuff and drove back to her house. They had just finished putting away the food when he mumbled "goodbye" and was out the door.

She knew that he was leaving because his despair was bringing her down. She knew that it wasn't because he was angry or upset with her -- although he had certainly acted like he felt both things when she had first told him about Jesse. This remembrance had just hit him harder than he'd known it would. She didn't need him to tell her that, it was obvious.

Still, she needed to talk to him. And the need was growing stronger.

Last night, as she struggled to sleep, more memories had come rushing through her. It was like when she'd remembered Lucy's rape followed closely by Eve's death. The months preceding, during and after that period had just sped through her mind. The same had happened last night. And her body was remembering those surges of lust that had overtaken her upon first meeting Jesse.

And now those surges were already cooling between them, her heart's needs overtaking her body's desires. She remembered staring at his face, recalling the sound of his voice, loving the special way he would look at her when he thought she wasn't aware. She remembered his distance because he thought it was best for her, and her insistence sometimes to him, sometimes to just herself that they could be together.

It was difficult. She could remember so clearly wanting to be with him, wanting him to love her, but knowing that it wouldn't happen. They would just remain friends, teacher and student. And if Danny had not already told her that she and Jesse eventually fell in love (the thought of loving someone else, even Jesse - who she now remembered wanting to fall in love with, still felt like a betrayal to Danny) she would not have believed it would happen. But Danny had said it would. Danny had said that soon she would 'remember loving Jesse and hating him.'

But how could she hate Danny? She wanted to talk to him about that, but then again, maybe she didn't. She wasn't sure. Confusing. Her life, her memories, her heart were all confusing her. Rising from the bed, she grabbed their wedding album and began leafing through it as she plopped back down on the soft sheets. Their wedding photo. The fake smile. Danny's words, a month or so ago -- God, it seemed like years, "we weren�t always in love and happy," even on their wedding day. And now this. He said that she hated him.

She didn't want to know. Her eyes traced the wedding gown, his smile, her fake smile and she knew that if she could take back that question, those words, she would. She had liked the belief that they had loved each other madly on their wedding day. She wished she hadn't known the truth, until she had remembered it herself.

And she didn't want to know this truth now. She didn't want to believe that she had ever been capable of hating Danny Santos. Sighing, she set the album down and reflected that not too long ago, she hadn't believed herself capable of loving another man. But she was. She did. As she sat side by side with Jesse, teaching him to read, seeing the good heart behind the bad boy image, she could feel herself falling in love with him.

"Damnit!" She cried out suddenly. This was all so confusing. She loved Danny. She loved him, truly she did ... but, Jesse, her heart suddenly ached. She could feel in her heart, in her body, her desire, her need for him and it was warring so desperately with her love, her passion for Danny. And it was only beginning, she knew that.

She knew that. She and Jesse were still fighting their feelings, denying the something between then. Those first passionate kisses had given way to absence, but the desire was growing and building. Not just the physical desire, but the emotional desire as well. No matter what Rick said, no matter that Jesse was all wrong for her, in her heart she knew that they were meant to be --

"No!" She jumped up, her hands flying to her face. Not Jesse. She was not meant to be with anyone but Danny. Danny. Danny. "Danny," she cried softly. "Only Danny." Her hands fell, hanging limply at her side as she dropped back onto the bed. Tears were running silently down her face and it hurt.

The need to be with Jesse. The need to deny that need. The feelings that were growing with every memory that ran through her seemed to lessen the strength of her love for Danny. She needed him here, she needed him here to keep her on the right track. She needed him as a living, breathing witness to the fact that this infatuation -- that's all it is, she angrily informed herself -- would pass and Danny would be here.

She needed his presence, his touch, his kiss to combat these feelings that seemed so real, that rushed through her, shook her, controlled her. She needed him here. Her gaze opened and she looked about the empty room.

He wasn't here. There were only memories of Jesse.

He shouldn't be here, he thought for the hundredth time as he paced back and forth across their bedroom floor. He should be with her. He should go back to the Bauer house and be with her, stay with her, talk to her. Anything ... as long as it was with her.

This wasn't her fault. He knew that and he didn't blame her, couldn't blame her. It just hurt, God, it hurt so damn much. He couldn't have guessed, although he should have, but still he couldn't guess at the depth his agony would sink upon her remembrance of Jesse. And this was just meeting him, how could he deal with her reaction when she recalled falling in love with him, kissing him, making love to him, exchanging vows --

He broke off that thought. She was his wife. What she had with Jesse was over, completely and utterly over. Her strongest tie to him had had been Maureen's heart. And those vows were never said before a priest or in a church, but in the lighthouse without any witnesses. Besides, Jesse had probably gone along with them simply to get her into bed. And even that bed wasn't a sacred spot of their love. Danny had lost count of the number of times that he and Michelle had made love, declared their love in that room, on that very same bed.

She was his. Completely. Absolutely. His. Michelle Santos. "My wife," he said aloud, suddenly, possessively, and as such, he should be with her. He needed to be with her.

What she must be going through right now, he didn't want to even imagine. How real those stirring of feelings for Jesse must seem right now. After all, she had told him time and time again that the memories weren't like memories. Instead, it was like living in fastforward, but the feelings the actions, reactions as they occurred in her mind played out as if it was for the first time and not just a memory. And so right now, she could be in her room, remembering Jesse's kiss, his touch, the way he made her feel, the way he made her fall in love with him.

Danny had to be with her. He had to be there to keep her focused on him. Selfish, he knew, but he didn't care. If she only had her vivid recall of Jesse, playing as it did when they first met, then she would begin to distance herself from him. Weeks, hell, even months could have flown by in her mind and here he was pacing the floor and not doing a damn thing. Just because Jesse was only a phantom, a memory of her first great love, it didn't lessen his power or presence right now because in Michelle's mind, in her heart, he was standing right there.

Danny stopped pacing. Right now, his wife was falling in love with another man, and he was here walking the floor. He had to go see her now. Absolutely, positively right now. Even as this thought made its way into his mind he was crossing the room and heading down the stairs. He was not going to stand by and let Michelle wallow in her memories of the bad boy on his motorcycle.

Slamming the front door behind him, he moved to the car, a determined jaunt to his step. She was his wife, damnit, Michelle Santos; she needed him. And she was going to get him ... whether she liked it or not.

The tears had finally stopped coming, but not the memories. And for the first time since remembering her mother�s death, she wanted them to stop. She needed time to deal with these feelings and how they would affect her and Danny. Danny, she thought of him with a sigh breaking her heart. She loved him so much, but now there was Jesse. Jesse saying her name in that certain way, his eyes delving deep into her. The feel of his kiss, the brush of his fingers.

Michelle shook her head and stood up, instinctively heading for the photo album. She skipped past the first picture of them, the fake one and instead concentrated on the many, unposed images. In one shot, she was gazing at Danny, a bewildered affection in her gaze. In another, she was talking to Rick, while Danny stood next to her, his hand firmly on her shoulder, the look in his eyes almost feral in its hunger.

And then there were the shots of them dancing. A light had seemed to infuse them both. These were her favorite pictures. They looked in love, they looked happy, truly like a couple just beginning their long life together. So which was the truth? What did she feel? His feelings were blatantly obvious, there was not one picture where he was not looking at her with love, with desire, with some feeling that defied the two-dimensional image and shot straight to her heart. But what did she feel then for him, truly?

�Danny,� she sighed softly, as she traced his face. How could she have married him if she didn�t love him? It didn�t make sense. There must have been something there, as of the accident they had been very much in love. No one had denied or even questioned that. And in her heart now, she knew that she loved him. She could remember Danny, at least the essence of him, when she could remember nothing else past her twelfth year. And she loved him now. She truly loved him now. But still, there was Jesse in the back of her mind, pushing his way forward. She set the album down, hugging herself tightly, wishing away the memories, the feelings.

Go away, she thought, go away and leave me to my thoughts and dreams of Danny.

Suddenly, there was the slamming of the front door. She looked up at the sharp sound, momentarily glad of the distraction. She waited, hoping against hope that she would hear Danny�s voice. She so needed him here with her now. How could he not know that? How could he not be here? She needed him.

And then her door opened and he was there, entering so quickly that she didn�t have a chance to speak. Within seconds he swept her up into his arms, his hand curving about her face, his lips devouring hers. For a split-second, she was frozen in shock, but the warmth of his touch, the pleasure of this kiss, the feel of him melted her into happy submission as she clutched the lapels of his jacket.

Lowering her onto the bed, one hand caressed the shape of her ear while the other molded her dress to her body. She felt as if she were drowning in a whirlpool of tactile sensation. Flooded with desire, her heart beat at a dizzying pace, her blood streaming through her body with the speed of a screaming bullet. His breath whispered across her face as he trailed kisses from her lips, across her chin, down her neck. All the while he touched her, running fingers through her hair, curving fiercely against her flesh, over and under her dress, his thumb rubbing against her heightened nipple. And as his tongue savored the taste of her flesh, he spoke inbetween kisses and licks and sighs and moans.

�Love you �� A kiss soft and silky against her bottom lip. �Want you �� a brush of fingers against her breast. �Mine. My wife �� a trail of his tongue across the column of her throat. �Michelle Santos.� And then for emphasis, again, �Santos.�

And again his lips were on hers, maddeningly slow at first as if he were tasting her for the first time and in so doing treasuring the feel of her kiss. Hungrily, she pressed for more without thought. This man, this man kissing her, holding her, was all she needed, all she loved. He was here. She needed him and he was here, wiping away memories of anyone before him. He answered her call, his tongue sliding between her lips, his hands holding her close as if he would never let her go. He would never let her breathe, think, dream, want anyone but him. Only him. Only Danny. Slowly, his mouth drifted from hers, his breath falling heavily, mingling deeply with hers.

She opened her eyes and his gaze was locked firmly, completely upon her - he was staring straight into her � straight into her soul. �Santos,� again he said. �Michelle Santos. My wife. You are mine. Only mine.� And then he captured her lips in a soft, sensual kiss. �Always mine.�

And as his mouth once more began a slow and passionate exploration of hers, she could remember nothing but him. Feel nothing but him. He was all there was.

Only him. Always him.

She lay soft and acquiesent beneath him, her breathing labored as she gazed up at him. There was none of the cloudiness, the moodiness that had shrouded them the day before upon remembering Jesse. She was lost solely in him.

He traced the line of her face, his fingers feathering the soft flesh of her ear, pushing back strands of golden hair. Sighing, she curled into each movement like a kitten demanding affection. "I love you," she murmured, "love you, Danny." And he smiled. Her eyes opened and she caught his grin, "what?"

Shaking his head, he still responded, "I'm not going to give you a chance to love him again. You understand that." It wasn't a question. She lowered her gaze, but immediately his hand was beneath her chin, lifting her face so that she had to look at him. "Michelle, do you understand that? You are mine."

"Danny, I --" breaking off, she pulled away and sat up. "I can't pretend that this didn't happen." She turned to face him. "You can't pretend it didn't."

With a smile, he was sure of himself, completely confident in the strength of her feelings for him and his control over her to put aside any fears he'd had regarding Jesse. Her response to his arrival just now had made that vividly clear. "Look, I'm not pretending that Jesse didn't happen. I just don't intend to sit by and watch you re-live falling in love with the guy. I figure, how can you fall in love with someone, if you're already in love with me. Right?"

"Danny ..." she began, frustration in her tone. "You can't change what my life was."

"Damn straight, I can." Her eyes widened in surprise and he continued quickly, "what have you remembered?" He propped his arms behind his back on the pillows and gazed at her. "What have you remembered about him?'

"Danny, you can't --"

He cut her off, "-- what have you remembered about Jesse Blue?" He grinned, proud of himself. Not the slightest whiff of jealousy when he'd said his name.

"I remembered meeting him. And," she paused, but then met his gaze straight-on. "I remember making out a lot. There was a lot of desire, unlike anything I'd felt before. And--"

Again, Danny cut her off. "You've never felt desire before Jesse?" The grin still played about his lips.

She started to speak, but then hesitated, a quick flash of perplexion on her face. "Well, no, I mean, not technically. Then, I hadn't felt it because I hadn't met you. But I'm remembering it now and yes, I mean, of course, I've felt desire. Because of you. You've made me feel the way he does already. And, definitely, it's been stronger with you. But in my mind, in my memory, technically, I hadn't felt it before."

"But, in actuality, desire did not enter your life with Jesse, did it? Not now." He paused, delighting in this memory loss in a way he never possibly believed he could.

"Well, no. I mean, it was with you. It was because of you. You're the first man I've ever felt anything for. I mean, I ever actually remember feeling anything for. I know that it was orginally Jesse, because I remember that, but I already know the feelings."

"Right, so in other words, I've already changed one aspect of your relationship with Jesse. What's to say I won't change others ... including, your love," and he wasn't that good. He couldn't keep the jealousy out of his voice then. Pausing, he cleared his throat. "Including your feelings for him?"

A smile began curving her lips, "Danny, you can't do this. Remember what Dr. Marlieton said?"

"To hell with Marlieton. You're my wife. And I am not going to sit by while you remember some great love you had with that moron on a motorcycle."

"He's not a moron!" Michelle stopped and looked away briefly, before capturing his gaze again. "And, Danny ..." She leaned forward, her face close to his, her voice concilatory. "Just because I loved someone before you, doesn't mean that I love you any less."

The smile left his face. She was wrong. He was going to make sure that she never loved anyone but him. If she never got her memory back, but only remembered things this way, then he was damn well gonna make sure that he was the only man she ever remembered truly loving. Reaching out, he curved a hand about her face, his thumb caressing her earlobe.

"It's not gonna happen. You love me. And everytime you think of him, I'm going to be here, showing you how much I love you ... how much I want you, how much you love me, want me. Everytime you remember wanting him, I'm going to be here, making that memory nothing compared to the fire I will be building inside of you. Everytime you say his name, it's going to be a pale imitation with which you say mine. Every time you think you love him, I am going to be here showing you our love."

He leaned closer to her, his lips a breath away from her ear as his fingers became entangled in her hair. "When you remember wanting to marry him, I am going to show you your wedding ring ... the ring that I gave you. When you think of a future with him, I am going to remind you in every way I can -- with my words, with my body, with my love -- that you are my wife."

He could feel her trembling beside him, her breathing coming in short pants. A smile once more upon his lips, he finished softly. "Michelle, whenever you think of him, I will be there in your room, in your heart, in your mind, overshadowing every single memory of him ... until there is only you and me. Until there is only us."

She found herself literally breathless and as he pulled away, she had to gasp for air. Jesse who? She thought suddenly and it was only half a joke. Fifteen minutes ago she could have described every feature of his face, the timbre of his voice, the way he kissed her, but now it was all a haze. Jesse Blue was only a hazy memory. How could that compare with the flesh and blood man sitting before her?

The answer was simple. It couldn't. He couldn't.

She turned to face him, wonder on her face. Could he do this? Merely erase the love that had surely existed within her heart for another man just by his presense, his willpower to do so? And could she stop him? Her eyes met his, saw the passionate confidence within and she found the answer to that question just as easily as the first. Of course not.

But the real question was, did she want to stop him? Did she want Danny to overpower these feelings, in essence, negate her love for Jesse? She could remember Jesse. And she could certainly remember her feelings for him and how she had so wanted to be with him. But stronger still was the desire for Danny and only Danny in her life. And if she let him ... if she didn't fight him, Danny Santos could make Jesse Blue nothing but a teenager's crush.

"Michelle," his voice was low, breaking into her thoughts, the sound of her name vibrating against her neck. "Do you love me?" he asked softly. She closed her eyes. His fingers began trailing up her leg, over her knee, sliding under her dress, a whisper of sensation on her bare flesh. Again, her heart began beating faster, her stomach doing somersaults.

Her head fell to the side as a moan escaped from her lips. "Love me?" he said again, softer this time, his voice she could hear only because his mouth was pressed so close to her ear, his breath hot and moist against her skin. She found herself nodding without thought as his fingers traced lazy circles on her inner thigh.

"Tell me you love me." He demanded, a husky entreaty captured in the command. Her mouth was dry, her body lost in sensuous sensation. "Tell me," he whispered, his voice so low, so wanting.

"I love you," she managed, her tongue sliding out to lick her lips.

"Danny," he spoke his name.

"Danny," and his hand stopped moving upon her thigh, his teeth which had begun a gentle nibbling upon her ear ceased. "I love you, Danny," she cried softly and let out sharp sigh as he slid his finger beneath her panties. The first stroke upon her sensitive flesh made her eyes shoot open. Vividly she recalled the brief touch he'd laid upon her on the kitchen counter last month, but this --

Her thoughts scattered into a million pieces as his finger slid deeply into her. She couldn't breath, her mind ... she couldn't think as she gripped the sheet tightly between clutching fingers. Her toes curled into the soft pillows and moans and whimpers began falling from her lips with abandon.

"Tell me you want me," his voice streamed honey-soft into her consciousness as he touched her. He touched her. And she couldn't think, she could barely hear him. She could only feel; she was all sensation. And his fingers stilled, his teeth, his tongue once more stationary against the tender flesh of her ear. Struggling, she fought to recall his words. What did he say?

"What?" she murmured softly. What did he want? Want. Want. From the recesses of her mind, it came to her. Tell me you want me. "I want you, Danny, don't," she paused, needing to release shaky breath, "stop. Don't stop. God, I want you."

As if moving underwater, she turned her head and looked into his gaze. His eyes were dark, passion-filled, delving deep into her soul. "I love you, Michelle." He said. His words spoken like a prayer. She nodded her head, her lips parting to speak, but his mouth was upon hers, his touch spiraling, sending shockwaves through her body. And she was lost. His touch, his kiss, his scent, his everything surrounded her, completed her.

She could deny him nothing. She would deny him nothing.

In a distant corner of his mind, he believed that he should stop. Hadn't he told her himself that when they made love it would be only because of love? Yes, but ... his mind argued, they did love. This was love. And if it helped push Jesse Blue into some dim corner in her mind, all the better.

Her hand came up, rushing through his hair as she pushed herself hungrily against him, her mouth against his, her body rising to meet the thrust of his fingers. And that distant corner faded farther and farther away. Between passionate kisses, she whispered his name, she whispered her love. Lips, soft and hungry, trailed down his chin. Fingers, desperate and greedy, jerked off his jacket, ripped open his shirt and all the while she pushed against his touch, drawing him in and out with a rhythm her body instinctively remembered.

"God, Danny," her voice was a hormonal rush of lust and love combined in the sweetest sound he'd ever heard. A sound he'd only ever heard fall from her lips. The corner was turned, the decision was made as he pushed her down upon the bed. A cry ushered from her mouth as his fingers slipped away, as he rose above her.

Her eyes fled open, "Danny," she cried, but whatever she was going to say withered into nothingness as she met his gaze. Again she cried his name, but now with a different note -- that same combination of love and lust and something more, something uniquely Michelle's. Raising herself up, she reached behind her back and began unzipping her dress. There was no hesitation.

His hands moved beneath her bottom as he helped her slide the dress down her body. Her nipples were tight and pushing hard against the flimsy material of her bra. Sliding a hand up her leg, feathering heavily upon her inner thigh, he could see the glistening wetness upon her underwear and felt himself close to explosion. Bending down, he pulled at her bra straps, his fingers slipping behind her to undo the hooks and his mouth was upon her bare breasts, savoring the soft bounty of them within his hands, his lips capturing her erect nipples. Sighs and moans, whimpers and perfect cries rushed from her mouth, enflaming him further.

It was as if she knew, as if she remembered. The virginal seventeen year-old of last month hadn't been able to manage this level of wantonness, but the woman lying beneath him was frantic in her desire to be with him. Between their bodies, her fingers were tugging, pulling at the snap, zipper of his pants and just the feel of her fingers brushing over his hardness through the material brought a heady moan from his lips.

He moved down her body, grasping the waistband of her underwear as he went, pulling away from her questing hands. "Danny," she cried, seemingly incapable of saying another word. His name was all she muttered, over and over again. And then even that seemed beyond her reach as his lips pressed against the core of her, his tongue diving in, tasting the ambrosia of her ... something he'd remembered in phantom fantasies the last three months. But the fantasy could never compare to the reality before him as her juices flowed into his mouth, coating his tongue, his lips. A jolt ran through his body at the mere feel of the wetness upon his flesh.

And the sounds she made, it was a symphony, an orchestra of ecstatic highs and gutteral lows. Her fingers clutched at his hair, clutched at the sheets, grasping the air as he drank his fill, savoring every drop from her body.

"Danny," she whispered softly as her finger curled through his hair. And it was too much, that one sound, that one movement. He rose slightly, one hand jerking at his pants, the other sliding slowly, softly into her, preparing her. He met her eyes and they were shining and there was passion and there was love. No hesitation. No anxiety or fear. Only Michelle and her love for him.

Her eyes closed swiftly as he slid into her and he held still for a moment, longer than he dared possible at the feel of her surrounding him. So long, so long, too long, his body chanted and he could hold still no longer. Moving, thrusting into her, her eyes shot open, awe and shock caught in their gaze as she clutched his arms, her hips rising to meet his thrusts without the faintest hint of awkwardness.

It was as if they had made love a thousand times before. And of course they had. Just as her heart remembered him, so did her body. So did her body remember his touch, his kiss, the feel of him inside of her, the connection that made them one.

She felt so incredibly right. Perfect. She always did, she always was -- perfect for him. And even as he thought this, thought was leaving him. He could concentrate only on the feel of her, the remembered ecstasy of their loving, the look in her eyes. The look of completion as he unleashed his passion within her. The moment when they became absolutely one. His wife. His Michelle.

He closed his eyes, still and silent. And as her breathing came in gasps, satiation emanating from her, he reveled in the moment, treasuring this feeling ... one he had taken for granted in the midst of their countless rounds of lovemaking. He swore then and there that he would never take for granted another second in his life with her. "Danny," she whispered, wonder in her voice and back and forth her head shook as he fell against her, replete, exhausted ... home.

Michelle.