Chapter 9. Author's note - sorry for the extremely long wait! I hope this chapter is worth it, and I hope that those of you who like Jack are happy that this one's in his point of view....

It was Monday afternoon, five minutes until five o'clock, and Jack was staring at the clock that hung in his office. As he watched the second hand ticked by, but it seemed as though the minute hand refused to move.

Perhaps that was the reason why time felt as though it was moving so slowly. As he sat there, listening to one of his patients, a long-winded woman by the name of Miranda Parks, dither on and on, he wondered if he would ever get out of his office.

As he watched the well-bred, filthy-rich, perfectly-groomed, bleach-blonde Miranda yammer on, he realized that he hated his job.

That was strange, considering that he ordinarily liked his job. Not only did he enjoy the feeling of pride he got when his patients referred to him as "Dr. Graeme", a title he had worked hard to attain, but the gentle, compassionate side of him enjoyed working with patients and helping otherwise hopeless people have children.

Miranda was a different story. Regardless of the fact that he had explained the concept to her multiple times, all with exceeding amounts of patience, she was still on about it.

He zoned back in to what she was saying only to hear:

"And I'd like my daughter to have violet eyes, not just blue, you know, that's ever so boring. Her hair should be straight as a pin, and she should be tall when she grows up. I'd like her to have a talent for the piano-"

"Miranda!" he said sharply, rapping his hand on the desk and cutting the foolish woman off mid sentence.

"Yes, Dr. Graeme?" she said, looking a touch affronted.

"Are you aware that my clinic will not be able to genetically engineer your child into everything you have in mind?" he asked, marvelling at the lightness of his voice. Damn, he was a fine actor.

"But Dr. Graeme-"

"There are some features you can select. The ethnicity of your donor, for example, and his eye colour, and face shape. But once his donation is made, it's pretty much up to chance what your child looks like," said Jack.

"Then you can't get me all that?" she snapped.

"No, Miranda."

"Fine. Can I at least settle for having a girl and not a boy?" said Miranda, crossing her legs and glaring at him from under her perfectly-plucked brows.

"That's only possible through selective termination," said Jack.

"Which is?" asked Miranda.

"We implant multiple embryos. Then we...terminate the boys and leave the lucky girl," he said.

"That sounds-" began Miranda, looking pleased, but Jack cut her off.

"It's not something I like to do, unless it is required," he said coolly. The thought of terminating an embryo's life, just because it was not a girl, was repugnant to him. Perhaps it was Anne's miscarriage, three years ago, that made him feel that way...

"Well, it's required now," said Miranda, equally frostily. "That's what I want."

"Very well," he said softly. "Come back in a few days, Miranda, and we'll start treatment."

He stood and, having shaken Miranda's limp, dead-fishlike hand, snatched his coat from the hook and darted out of his office.

As he made his way down the short hallway and out into the waiting room, he breathed a sigh of relief. The room, with its stark white furnishings and air of medical efficacy, was blessedly empty. Sometimes, just before he left, there were one or two people waiting with emergencies or with pressing questions. Now, the office was empty except for one woman, who looked up and eyed him appraisingly.

"Maria," he said to her, his trusty, motherly secretary as he passed her teak-panelled desk on the way to the elevator. "I'm off."

"Of course," she sighed, getting up. As he made his way over to the elevator she bustled over to him and straightened the lapels of his coat with a careful hand. He smiled internally as he watched her fuss over him. It was strange; she could be so cold with some people, and so gentle with everyone else.

"Maria," he snapped, not entirely unhappily, as he swatted at her.

"Just making sure you look your best, Dr. Graeme," she said, smiling dotingly.

There was a small bing and the elevator doors slid open. Jack stepped in and turned around. As he did so, he saw Maria hesitating, biting her lip in a way so reminiscent of Anne that it made him grin broadly.

"Are you going to tell her?" asked Maria softly.

Jack heaved a sigh, the grin sliding from his face. "No. I quite like having my nose in its proper shape, and so I'm going to stay quiet about it, at least for now."

The elevator doors began to close, aided partially by the fact that Jack had started to hammer on the "close door" button in an attempt to get away from the third degree he was experiencing from Maria. However, she punched the "down" button on the other side and glared insistently at him.

"You really think she's going to hit you when you say it?" said Maria.

Jack chuckled acerbically. "She does so love my handsome face, but I'm sure she'll have no qualms breaking it when I tell her this."

Maria sighed as deeply as Jack had earlier. "Then I'd guess you'd better keep quiet," she said grudgingly.

"I'd guess I'd better," he retorted. "Good evening, Maria."

"Good night, Dr. Graeme," she sighed.

Jack made it home in good time. Surprisingly, the rush-hour roads were not clogged with traffic. And so he pulled into his driveway fifteen minutes earlier than he normally did. He sprang out of his car, marvelling at the fact that he was always pleased to see Anne, when something caught his eye.

There was a Mercedes parked outside his house. That was not particulalry strange in and of itself, as many people in his neighbourhood owned expensive, flashy cars. Often, due to the lack of driveways and parking spaces on the street, he'd see a very nice car parked outside his home.

But this car was different. It unsettled him because, deep in the back of his mind, he'd seen it somewhere before.

He shook off his superstition as he made his way into his house.

"Anne! I'm home, where are you?" he called. He continued to speak as he dropped his keys on a table by the door, hung up his coat, and kicked off his shoes. Still calling to her, he made his way into the living room.  "I should tell you about this one patient I-"

The moment he set foot in the living room - his living room - he stopped dead.

Because when he walked in, he saw there were three people in his living room, not just Anne. One of those of ther people was Marta, that childish-but-charming little brunette and the other was-

"Aaron," he growled softly. He felt rage bubble up inside him as he eyed the tall man. It did him good to see how the lines of misery in his face seemed to have been carved there.

She's made you like that. Well, too bad, he thought. If you'd wanted her, you shouldn't have neglected her.

Anne sprang up immediately and went to his side, eyes wide with worry.

"What the fuck is he doing here?" he snarled at her, gesturing to Aaron with an angry hand. A little part of him was feeling guilty for his previous thought. Of course he didn't enjoy Aaron's pain, but he did resent him being in his house.

"I swear I didn't know he and Marta were coming over. They dropped in," she said. As she said it, she gave Aaron a sidelong glance and the leaned forward and kissed Jack.

He very nearly purred with pleasure at the gesture. Not only did it do his heart good to see how Anne showed her loyalties before Aaron, but he also got some satisfaction out of how Aaron's eyes bulged upon seeing it.

"If you're not prepared for that, then you shouldn't have come here," he snapped at Aaron.

The man leaped up, his hazel eyes - it had always unnerved Jack how similar their eyes were - glowing with fury as his lip curled into an animal snarl. Jack eyed him contempt. A man like that didn't scare him.

"I didn't exactly want to come here and see you gloating about how fucking happy you are," he spat in response. "Did you honestly think I would want to hang around your perfect home and see how happy you've made her?"

Out of the corner of his eye, Jack was aware of Anne standing at his side on her tiptoes, arms behind her back, looking for all the world like a bird about to fly. He could feel her nervousness in the air about her. And a little ways off, sitting perched on the sofa with legs crossed so tightly it looked as though she would never be able to get up, he saw Marta. Based on the distress on her face - something that wounded Jack, as poor Marta deserved no distress for how innocent she was - he assumed that she was the one who'd brought Aaron.

"You're a big boy, Aaron," he retorted, letting a sneer curl over his face. "You don't have to go anywhere you don't want to, so I don't buy that excuse."

"I was trying to make Marta happy," growled Aaron.

"Well, obviously based on how unhappy she looks, you've failed at that," snapped Jack, his anger over Marta's distress not allowing him to restrain himself as he ordinarily would.

"Because you're so proficient at that," laughed Aaron derisively. His eyes flashed and his smile became cruel as he said, "Where's that kid you were able to provide? How's that for making Anne happy? You can't even give her a child. You're as fucking useless as me."

Jack shuddered, containing his desire to rip Aaron's throat out. Meanwhile, Anne sprang forward and put both hands on his chest, as though afraid he was going to hurt Aaron.

"How dare you," he spat, leaning around Anne's slender frame.

"It's true," taunted Aaron.

"Aaron! Stop it!" cried Anne. Jack watched as her body quivered, too, a sign of anger and distress.

Aaron immediately obeyed, going quiet. Jack gaped a little at how much control Anne's words had over him. He'd seen Aaron and Anne interact before, all those times at the clinic. Never then had her words had so much sway. He'd always been stubborn, but now, he was like a dog in the way he obeyed her.

"How dare you come here and say that to him?" she cried. "You promised me you wouldn't involve him, Aaron!"

Now Aaron rounded on her and she seemed surprised by the fury of his reply. "You-" he began, but Marta quickly cut him off.

"This is my fault," she said, her voice remarkably commanding for someone so tiny. "I brought him here, though he didn't want to come. If you all want someone to be angry at, get pissed at me."

"No one's angry with you, Marta," muttered Jack.

"It's not actually physically possible to be angry with someone so weak," sniped Anne.

 Only Aaron was silent, for he was alternating between glaring at Jack and giving Anne such devoted, soppy looks it made Jack sick. Jack, the man who often proclaimed his love for Anne in nauseatingly affectionate ways, was very nearly ill from the sight of Aaron staring at Anne.

And not because the depth of Aaron's affection was so revolting, but his desperation. It was, shockingly, pity that drove Jack's emotion. He pitied Aaron, that poor, broken man, utterly ripped to shreds by Anne's betrayal.

And so, in a voice he never thought he'd ever use towards Aaron, that rival of his Anne's affection, said:

"Aaron, I'm sorry for you, really, I am. But you can't come here."

"Bullshit," snapped Aaron. "You're not sorry for me. If this happened to you, I wouldn't be sorry for you, I'd just be happy for me."

Jack flinched. Then that makes me the better person, he wanted to say, but refrained.

"Maybe you should go, Aaron," suggested Anne, voice seething with fury, and Jack could see that she was angry. He knew where her anger was directed.

Aaron seemed to know it, too, for he gave her a crazed stare and pleaded, "No, please don't send me away. I don't want-"

"Just go," she snapped. "You came here, you insulted Jack when he had not provoked you other than coming back to his own house, and you're hurting Marta."

All three of them looked at Marta, who was desperately trying to conceal her pain under a guise of impertinent annoyance. It was working poorly, as her sorrow was evident in her wide-eyed staring at Aaron.

"I don't need your pity, Anne," she said, attempting an air of independence and only sounding pathetic instead.

"Bullshit," she retorted, sounding remarkably similar to Aaron when she said it, similar enough to set Jack's nerves on edge. "Considering this whole fucking situation is my fault I'm going to try to make it better in whatever way I can, including pitying you."

"It's not your fault," said Marta, Aaron, and Jack in perfect unison, all with the same level of vicious, affectionate aggression, a desire to defend the woman all of them so loved from any blame.

"Of course it is!" she cried, and Jack could hear the tears in her voice. He knew the source of it - even after three years, her guilt over cheating with Jack still caused her pain. He caught her waist in his arm and hugged her to him, unable to watch her beautiful blue eyes fill with tears, or her perfect lips quiver with sadness.

"Please leave," he said, with a pitying look for Marta and a glare for Aaron.

Marta left immediately, pausing only to kiss first Anne's cheek and then Jack's. But Aaron stood there, twisting his hands and looking awkwardly at Anne. Jack immediately tensed with primal, chauvinistic aggression as he saw Aaron move forward in an attempt to comfort her.

"Please go, Aaron," murmured Anne. "Your pity is the last thing I deserve. Please go, and try to make Marta happy."

Aaron's eyes flashed and he looked down. "Do you mean I can't see you anymore?" he whispered.

"No. Call me, but just leave now, please!"

Aaron obeyed, but not before he, with such a gentleness that it was impossible even for Jack to be angry with him, kissed Anne's forehead.

"Cheer up, sweetie," he murmured.

With that, he was gone.

The moment they heard the front door shut, Anne pulled away from Jack and wiped her eyes. When he looked at her in concern, afraid of an onslaught of grief, she smiled at him.

"I'm fine, really, I am. Thanks for being so decent to Aaron," she said. With a smile she bounced back over to him and picked up one of his hands, twining it in both of hers.

He chuckled. "It was difficult, but I did it for you, sweetheart."

Anne smiled and Jack was rewarded for his relative civility toward a man who had insulted him with a very passionate kiss. When she pulled back, Jack smiled as charmingly as he could, and was pleased to see Anne's eyes widen in dazzled, besotted affection.

"Don't you think I deserve a bit more of a reward for my good behaviour?" he purred in her ear.

He watched as Anne shuddered deliciously, her entire frame quivering with delight and trepidation as he kissed her neck, her shoulder, and began to undo her clothes.

"Then come upstairs," she entreated him, using her own seductive powers on him. With that, she turned and led him away.

Jack was not surprised they never made it there. He was not surprised at all when Anne, mostly undressed and groaning with pleasure under the winsome kisses he planted all over her skin, yanked off all his clothing and hopped up onto the hall table, the first place they had ever made love.

And in that moment, Jack forgot everything else - forgot the secret he was keeping from Anne, forgot Marta's sadness and his pitying anger with Aaron. All he remembered was the most important thing - how much he loved Anne.