The problem is, I always saw the anxiety, the pain. What I didn’t notice was what the anxiety produced. It led him to try to control, and when he couldn’t control, he tried to manipulate, and when he couldn’t manipulate, he tried to coerce, and when he couldn’t coerce, he attacked.

I tried so hard to soothe him

But when you try too hard to soothe the savage beast, you don’t tame him. You just appease a savage. – Felicity’s journal, April 5

When I look at you, I don’t see an evil man. I see a man more desperate to convince everyone he is good because he knows he is not. And I see a man who knows he is powerless and will do whatever he needs to take back power – out of your fear. I believe people can change, and maybe you are trying, but the flourish, the façade, the show say otherwise. So, understand that you will always have my compassion, but you will not have my complicity. Don’t expect me to pretend with you that you are something you are not. – Felicity’s letter to Brendon, April 5

March 14

On the day of their flight, Felicity tried to bring her world in order before she left it. She

finished and folded all the laundry, placing it neatly in its proper locations. She made sure the sink was empty and the counters clean. She even swept and vacuumed the floors, finally assured that her return home would feel peaceful and pleasant before the rush of the kids’ return. With Brendon out doing whatever he did when he didn’t work and wasn’t home, Felicity pondered the late morning and the remaining several hours before she and Brendon had to leave. She didn’t want to start a new TV series and have to put it aside for vacation, she didn’t have any current books to read, and she wasn’t the type to call up her friends and gab. So, she did the last thing she ever thought she would do – she drove to the book club.

Apparently, her instincts to avoid the group had served her well. As she parked on the street a couple of houses over, she glanced up at the too-familiar strawberry hair of Brendon’s assistant. How could she possibly be here? Felicity fumed. From what Brendon had told Felicity, the assistant lived south of downtown; what would bring her thirty minutes away to Felicity’s book club? Felicity had no reason to avoid the woman specifically, but Felicity had only one reason to go to a book club. It was the one safe place she could give free vent to her opinions. She knew about books and the ideas that flowed out of them. She could speak intelligently on most topics, and book-readers tended to appreciate her insight more than a stranger on the street ever could. But if Brendon’s assistant were there to report back what Felicity said? Felicity would never open her mouth. Add that to the fact that the woman had always just grated a little on Felicity’s nerves, and the book club could not happen.

Felicity returned to her car, grateful that she had parked half a block away. She gripped the steering wheel and waited for her breath to still. Once it did, she leaned her head back and closed her eyes to think. Everyone in her book club had met at a local mom’s playgroup. How would Aimée have found out about Felicity’s book club? The only answer was Brendon. Guess since I wouldn’t network, he sent a proxy. She looked back at the house, her chest clutching with a mix of hurt and guilt.

Why did it bother her so much that a person she held no particular animosity for had attended and event Felicity didn’t even really care about? Everything in her wanted to excuse Brendon for it – that was her general habit after all. Another part of her, though, recognized the overstep. For Brendon, there was no Felicity. There was just Felicity’s contribution to his agenda. Most of the time, he didn’t care what she did – he wasn’t controlling in the traditional sense. But apparently, if she didn’t step up, Brendon would find someone who would.

This wasn’t Felicity’s book club. Felicity had no claim to anything, and Brendon felt no impetus to guard Felicity or her interests. Instead, if he wanted something he would take it – regardless of how it affected Felicity. Before the accident, when their interests had aligned better, she had not noticed. Now time had revealed what Felicity should have seen before, a mantra that Brendon apparently lived by but had stop verbalizing. When they were young, he had adopted cliches as tools to have something to say in a social group. The habit created a stilted speech pattern, but someone at ProtoComm had finally broken the habit, educating him on the fact that the tendency hid his intelligence. Still, Felicity had known him so long that she recognized the phrases that ran as an undercurrent to his beliefs.

“You snooze, you lose!” was one of his favorites, and though she had not heard the words in probably five years, she knew full well that Brendon still lived by them, cliched or no.

Felicity had accepted his justifications when he had to fire someone at work or had complained to management about a waiter, Was marriage supposed to work the same way? If a spouse failed to live up to levels of competence, was a partner justified in seeking other avenues to meet his or her needs?

Maybe for the peripheral needs, but how was the book club one of Brendon’s needs?

The logic did not hold. He could have sent his assistant to a thousand other social group events, but he had chosen Felicity’s group, almost as if he wanted to show how ridiculous she was for refusing to do something so simple. Aimée would meet Felicity’s friends and make Brendon look good, and Felicity would stay in her hole and be pathetic.

In all their lives together, Felicity had never proven herself overly sensitive, but she felt it now. Not jealousy of Aimée, really – Felicity sensed no real judgment of or dislike for the woman. It was Brendon’s transgression into one of the only things that Felicity had claimed for herself. She gave him everything, shared everything, and he took not only that, but anything else that served his agenda.

More than anything, though, Felicity Miller knew how to silence her own complaints, to shove them into an impenetrable little compartment where they endangered nothing but her own contentment. She directed her SUV to the artesian coffee shop that stood halfway between the book club and her fancy new home, and she pulled into the drive through for an extra-large latte. Who needs sleep? she reasoned.

The sight that greeted her when she made the turn around the front of the little building sent Felicity’s foot to the brakes. Why was her nanny, Briel Cortes, stepping out of the local police station? If Felicity hadn’t recognized the diminutive European car, she would have driven right by. Certainly, the slight form of the just-below-average height Briel did not draw too much attention, but her apparent conversation with the chief detective at the neighborhood PD could not escape notice. Was this the Briel who had complained about corruption at all levels of administration, including police?

When Briel reached her hand to squeeze the detective’s with familiar affection, Felicity had to wonder. Briel seemed unusually casual with the police in a district she did not reside in. Who was this woman? Felicity watched for a few more minutes, but when the phone buzzed, she realized she needed to head home. No time to obsess over Briel’s identity at the moment. As Felicity had celebrated before, the kids would remain far from Briel until Felicity had found time to investigate. In the meantime, she needed to head home so she could beat Brendon and prep his things for travel.

His text informed that she should expect him in twenty minutes, and Felicity needed fifteen for the trek home. Fortunately, by the time she heard the front door open, she had made her way to the primary closet and had pulled out the two large suitcases.

Brendon arrived home from the office in rare form - charming and entertaining, and obviously pleased with himself as a whole. He strode into their spacious bedroom, immediately intent to tease her. She didn’t know whether to be hopeful that his mood boded well for their trip or to be concerned that he seemed on some weird high. As usual, she just suppressed everything and followed his lead.

“What should you pack?” Brendon tapped his chin, staring into her closet as if he cared about its contents. Without warning, he turned on her with a grin, stepping directly in front of her and pinning her between the dresser and the wall. “Why don't you let me make that decision?”

Rolling her eyes, Felicity feigned boredom. “I prefer to wear clothing,” she snorted derisively. Then, she lifted on her toes and raised her face to challenge his. “I think I'll go with comfort. Maybe 14 pairs of sweat pants.”

Suddenly, he placed his hands firmly against the wall on either side of her face and kissed her. “So, no tops?” he smirked as he pulled back before leaning in to kiss behind her ear.

“Get off me.” She shoved him, smacking him lightly on the arm as she slipped out of his reach.

He burst out in a laugh, obviously amused.

Despite her misgivings, Felicity tried to go along with Brendon's playful attitude. She could never resist him when he teased her, especially in a way that included himself in the joke. If anyone else had acted dominant with Felicity, the tactic would result in mule-headed resistance.

With Brendon, though, they both knew the joke. He would never actually strong-arm her, and she really would never resist him.

How could I? she half-lamented, half mused. When he wanted something, he made it the only option. Usually by charm and persuasion, but occasionally by manipulation and coercion. Felicity always ignored as much as she needed to see the charm; the practice kept her from too often encountering the less pleasant options.

The crisp, clean smell of Brendon’s newly-pressed shirt entwined with the scent of his own musky skin and caught her up in past and promise. When he stood above her, she let the warmth of his body envelope her, a heady sensation even on his worst day. Everything familiar and alien combined in him, the intimacy of established relationship and the foreignness of the masculine soul, and Felicity relished the rare moments when she could enjoy him as she knew him best. The heart of a boy, the mind of a man. Suddenly sentimental, she spun back to him only to find that he had turned to follow her. Now their faces rested only inches from each other. She reached up on her toes, decreasing the distance.

“You really should pack warm clothes,” he stated nonchalantly, leaning away from her. “You'll get cold otherwise.”

Ugh! Had he just teased her like that to walk away? She knew he didn't always catch on to her subtle emotional cues, but seriously? How could he miss that one?

Before she could form her complaint, the mad buzzing of her thoughts evaporated. In their place stood Brendon, his arms around her, his mouth on hers. His intensity startled her, and Felicity found herself lost and confused for several seconds before Brendon released the kiss, though he moved his mouth only a whisper away to her cheek, his breath erratic and his grasp almost uncomfortably tight. Whatever he had played before, he had passed through some veil to the holiest of intimacy in an instant. Felicity tried to find his eyes, but he seemed to stare vapidly at a wisp of hair on her cheek for several seconds, and by the time he finally looked her in the eye, his breathing had calmed and the smirk had returned as if it had never left.

“If you don't get moving, we'll miss the plane,” he teased in a low voice. “I don't think you actually want that, though it's hard to tell right now.” With a full-out grin, he stepped back, leaving her leaning against the wall that kept her aloft for the moment. He spun on his heels and strode toward the door. “I'll be in the car.”

Jerk, she pursed her lips, wishing she could punch him. His tension still ran through her, and she found herself irritated. Leaning across to the nearby chair, Felicity grabbed a pillow and threw it at him. The soft velvet cushion hit him squarely on the back of the head. “I’ll be there when I’m ready!” she yelled after him.

Without warning, he had reached her side once again and wrapped his arm entirely around her waist. “Promises,” he leveled wickedly, then delivered the encore of the previous kiss to devastating effect. She hardly breathed, wishing to prolong the contact as long as possible, and Brendon seemed in no hurry to turn away from her. As the heat of the kiss faded, the corners of Felicity's mouth turned up in a smirk, finally breaking the moment and softening the intensity of the contact. The second kiss retained the teasing sense even through the heat, and Felicity found herself relaxing from her earlier suspicions. Whatever had bothered Brendon before, he had released it for the moment.

He leaned to his right and reached casually over her shoulder, retrieving his dopp kit from the nightstand beside her before gliding away without ceremony. For a few seconds, she stood examining her nails as if bored by the whole interaction. Her knees had weakened slightly, and she would not risk tripping and looking clumsy in front of him. Once she felt cool enough, she strolled back to her suitcase, smirking internally. It had been a while since they had played together. It was almost as if he still liked her.

Since she still had no idea what to pack for the trip, Felicity tossed in enough clothes for three weeks. She added a few dresses to a garment bag, making sure to include the backless dress she had bought several years before but had few opportunities to wear. Surely, he would take her to a fancy dinner at some point. A pair of tennis shoes, her snow boots, her lace-up stilettos to match the backless dress, and a couple of less ostentatious pairs of dress shoes to wear if Brendon had less formal plans.

She stared at the backless dress for a second, a wicked grin returning to her face. When Brendon caught sight of her in the blue sheath, he would be the one weak in the knees. After the exchange of the past few minutes, she would relish the thought of dishing out a little torment.

Interrupting her thoughts, Brendon returned to the room, smiling his best salesman's smile, and announced that the limo had arrived. Limo just for me - not to show off at a party. Nice. Brendon pulled her luggage to the front door where the limo driver took over and stowed the bags into the storage compartment at the back of the SUV. Felicity had foregone her comfy jeans in favor of a nicer, straight-legged pair. She wore a short-sleeved, melon-colored, cashmere sweater with a low scooping neck, and she had clipped her long brown hair into a sloppy knot on the back of her head.

“Nice sweater,” Brendon quipped, expressively glancing at her bare collarbone.

Felicity's skinned flushed. “I think I'll go change,” she replied petulantly.

He grabbed her by the waist and held her, “Don't you dare!” he laughed, pecking her cheek.

As Brendon began to drag her to the car, Nick showed up to demand the key to the house.

“Oh, I forgot!” she apologized. “Let go, Brendon,” she chastised, unsuccessfully trying to pry his fingers off her waist and squinting at him with an exasperated expression. When Felicity turned to Nick, he rolled his eyes and feigned gagging.

Laughing, Brendon mussed her hair, then released her from his grasp.

“Relax!” Felicity complained to Brendon. “You'll have me to yourself an entire month. Two weeks before you have to go back to work.”

Such insignificant words, but her husband reacted to them with a moment of that intensity that had tensed the earlier kiss. His eyes burned, and a muscle in his jaw twitched with an unexpressed stress that he pressed into a plastic smile.

Felicity had spent the last hour convincing herself that she should relegate all of her irrational emotions to the graveyard, burying them and declaring them dead. She had succeeded only moments before. So, what had that expression meant? Nothing, she insisted silently. No, nothing at all. She would not let her unfounded worries ruin her vacation. She would prepare herself for a typical journey with Brendon, with all of its glories and all of its pitfalls. As she knew, such a trip would present enough real stresses without her formulating pretend ones. Brendon had never kept secrets from her. If he seemed to now, she had to trust the past decade as evidence that she was wrong.

Turning quickly back to her brother, Felicity pushed the thoughts out of her head. She remembered Nick's little escapade of the day before. “How was coffee?” she pried.

“Well, it wasn't a complete bust.” Something like a sheepish grin spread across his face.

“With you, that could mean she didn't slap you!” Another vision from a hallway entered Felicity's mind involuntarily.

“Really, we had fun,” Nick returned. “There's something about that girl.” He gazed at some nebulous object over Felicity's head.

“I think it's called anatomy,” Felicity retorted, trying to keep things light.

“No, I mean it. I like her a lot, Lissie. How serious is this boyfriend of hers?”

Felicity flitted around the kitchen, pulling out the dog food and bowls for food and water, and retrieving a watering can, then handed them to Nick. She pondered his question a moment before answering.

“Well, I honestly don't know. She doesn't talk about him much, which probably means it's not that serious. Plus, they don't live together or anything, but I don't know if that's a reflection of her commitment level or her morals. Actually, Nick...” Felicity cut off, turning to face him, “I don't think I want you hanging around her too much.”

The picture of Briel as she held a man's arm pinned behind him intruded into Felicity's memory.

Nick literally guffawed, unconvinced. “Still looking out for your baby brother?” His shoulders rolled with silent chuckles. “Seriously, Lissie, I'm not worried about getting my heart broken.”

“More like your arm,” Felicity muttered under her breath as she turned her back on him. “Look,” she said aloud, “we don't know her at all. Just do me a favor and proceed with caution.”

Still amused, Nick took the house key from Felicity and saluted her. “Ma'am, yes, ma'am,” he replied. “I'll make sure that I don't fall prey to all 5' 3” of her. By the way, Lissie, if she wants to have another date, could I cook for her here?”

“Do you seriously think she would go for that?” Felicity asked incredulously, her concern increasing.

“You never know. I can be pretty charming,” he smirked.

“Charm is overrated,” Felicity muttered. She considered his request, unsure of how much she could protest without eliciting more questions from him. Since she figured the chances of Briel's going along with Nick were slim, Felicity acquiesced to Nick's request. “Just don't do anything I wouldn't do if I were single,”

“That pretty much rules out anything fun,” Nick snorted, eliciting an eyeroll from Felicity.

She stuck her tongue out at him - he sure could bring out the three-year-old in her. “Go ahead, but don't say I didn't warn you.”

“I would never withhold credit from you for one of your brilliant ideas, dear sister. And just to show my gratitude, I'll fix your computer for you while I'm here.”

Grinning, Felicity spun in feigned shock to gaze at her brother. Though Felicity would have described her brother as kind in general, he rarely offered his computer expertise for free. He didn't mind answering the occasional question, but he didn't want to act as anyone's technical support. Coincidentally, Felicity's computer had run very slowly of late despite two firewalls and a daily spyware/antivirus treatment – maybe because of them. For such simple work, Nick had always insisted that “it's below my pay grade.” Felicity reached over and grabbed him around the neck, unloading a quick hug on him.

“You're awesome, Nick! Thanks!” Felicity gushed. “I'll have the most competent tech-support on the planet.”

“No, prob,” he said, and shrugged. “It's the least I could do.”

As soon as she released him, Felicity made her way to the door, ready to wave goodbye to her brother and join her husband in the car. Brendon, though, had obviously grown impatient waiting outside. The door swung open and Felicity turned quickly, prepared to answer a reprimand. Instead of irritation, however, Brendon's eyes sported that same strange expression they had worn several times in the past two days, an ambiguous nervousness which sent a chill down Felicity's spine.

What on earth could make Brendon Miller nervous? Felicity wondered. Brendon feared nothing, at least as far as she had ever seen. Yet, some sort of anxiety had tightened his jaw and hardened his eyes.

Turning to wave at Nick, Felicity said a hurried goodbye before letting Brendon lead her, or more like shove her, into the waiting limo. As Brendon sat down next to her and the door closed, she felt his breathing return. He seemed to have been holding his breath.

“Are you alright?” Felicity finally braved as the limo rolled out of the circle drive.

A look of irritation flitted across Brendon's eyes before he smoothed his expression.

“I'm fine, why do you ask?” His tone was casual, but his muscles remained taut where her hand brushed his arm.

“No reason,” she equivocated, beginning to wonder if Brendon really told her everything.

He leaned over to kiss her hair and assured her. “This is going to be great.”

“Um, yeah” Felicity stuttered, “great.” She hadn't intended her tone to sound so much like a question, but her consternation had escalated.

His head swiveled to look at her, suspicion in his gaze.

“You just look stressed,” she explained, returning his stare.

“No, it’s fine,” he mumbled, shifting his eyes to look out the window. “It's nothing. A situation with work that I'm anxious about.”

His explanation seemed plausible enough for a normal person, especially since he intended to leave work for several weeks. And there had been the heated discussion with the CEO. Of course, Brendon wasn’t a normal person. He seemed energized by difficulty, as if he lived partially dead until things escalated, at which time he became preternaturally alive.

Still, it was not normal that he avoided her gaze as he spoke.

Watching the Phoenix skyline whir past, she tried hard not to think about Briel's strange behavior recently or the tension in her husband's hand today. The sun rose higher in the east, painting the low hanging clouds on the horizon varying pastel hues which melted from the shimmering gold of morning into the purple shadows of the desert sand.

Only when the glaring lights of the airport appeared over the horizon did the couple stir, and, though she still held doubts, Felicity prayed that she could spend the rest of her vacation in equal tranquility. Something inside her warned Felicity, though, that her misgivings so far were only an omen of things to come.