CHAPTER 14

Monica’s panicked eyes searched the room for an escape and she ran towards the door, but only an instant later he had her around the waist and was pulling her back against him. She started to struggle and he wrapped one hand around her throat as he pulled a long knife out of a sheath at his waist.

"You keep quiet bitch, and I might make this quick and painless," he hissed, hot breath

searing her ear.

The sunlight glinted off the blade and Monica felt her heart beating so hard it didn’t seem possible for her to still be breathing. Suddenly it was pitch black and the reflected light was coming from a dirty streetlight. It was happening again.. It was happening again, but she couldn’t let it. She couldn’t. She couldn’t go through that again. It was too much! She fought against him, kicking and clawing at him, smelling stale cigarettes and beer.

"Oh, that’s the way you want it, bitch? Fine! Nobody’s comin’ back here. We’ve got all day," he growled and then he was throwing her down onto the blood-stained bed but she could feel mud beneath her and tiny stones cut into the palms of her hands and her legs.

His eyes seemed to glow and she could barely see straight. Everything was fuzzy and disjointed. She saw a picture on the wall but then the next instant she saw trashcans stacked up beside her, and the sound of a bottle rolling down the street over and over again, and the whole time she never stopped moving. She had been too scared the first time. Too scared. He’d had a knife and she had been terrified of it, but this time it wasn’t the knife that scared, her, it was everything else. She couldn’t let it happen again.

She squirmed and fought him and he slapped her across the face and wrung a muffled cry from her throat. He hadn’t done a woman in a long while. The last one had gone completely still after one threat and had just laid there sobbing. He’d slit her throat anyway, and he was going to do the same to this one.

Her face stung and the tears streamed down her face. It wasn’t working! He was so strong… so strong, and nothing she could do was enough. It would never be enough… he was going to rape her again, and there was nothing she could do. Her mind started to shut down, the images from that night in the alley overtaking her and becoming all she knew. She could hear herself begging, begging him not to hurt her again, begging him to let her go, the words choked with tears and fear, but even then she didn’t stop fighting, every muscle in her body straining against the man above her.

If he was smart he would just end it… a quick slice across that pale white throat and it would be over, but her struggles only made him want it to last even more. He was going to break her and then he would leave the city and start all over again somewhere else. A sudden move from her and his hand slipped, sending the knife slicing into her arm and drawing another cry from her. His lips drew back into a feral grin, but when he looked back up to her face something had changed.

The sudden burning pain jolted her back to the present, and her eyes snapped open. She wasn’t in the alley. It wasn’t dark and dank and raining. This wasn’t William Grady, and she was not going to let another man hurt her that way. An almost inhuman scream tore from her throat and she redoubled her efforts, taking him completely by surprise.

"Noo! Get off of me! Get off!! You bastard! You bastard! Don’t touch me! Get off!!"

She was screaming over and over again and she drew back both legs and then kicked out, catching him square in the chest and pushing him back far enough for her to hurl herself off the bed. She half crawled and half stumbled into the living room at the same moment that the front door slammed open. Then Alex was there, looking more like a fierce warrior than a mother-to-be.

"If you lay one fucking finger on her it will be the last thing you do, asshole!" Alex shouted as the man burst in from the bedroom.

He was shocked to find himself staring at a gun, but he grinned slyly. "Of course, lady… whatever you say…" He lowered his arm as if to drop the knife but then lunged forward with a growl.

Alex barely flinched as she pulled the trigger. Once, twice, three times into his heart and one much lower. Later she would claim that her arm had wavered, and Monica would never reveal the truth.

Monica watched from where she had slumped against the wall as he fell to the floor as if in slow motion, before she leaned her head back and closed her eyes, soft sobs of fear, relief and pain flowing through her. The pain in her arm was still white hot, though her cheek had subsided to a dull aching throb and besides that every muscle in her body ached. She knew from experience that moving for the next few days would hurt.

"Monica? Monica?" Alex was suddenly calling her name and somehow the angel forced open her swollen eyes, "Stay with me, honey, okay? You’re bleeding pretty badly and I need to find a towel or something," She nearly sobbed with relief when Monica managed a shaky nod of her head.

The next few minutes passed in a blur to the angel as she felt the pain of pressure being placed against the gash in her arm. She longed to thank her friend for arriving when she had, but somehow words just didn’t seem possible to her at the moment. Her heart was still pounding in her chest and shaking had infected every part of her body now that the ordeal was over. But one thought remained a mantra in her mind-she had gotten away.

Alex looked up as she heard the sounds of feet on the stairs, racing in their direction and a moment and much commotion later, Paul and Andrew were there, along with several other members of Paul’s team.

"Oh baby," Andrew’s words were whispered as he knelt down close to her and reached out to touch her face.

The little angel’s eyes opened at the sound of his voice, the tenderness in his eyes calming her heart as she felt it begin to slow at long last. Her reddened eyes searched his before she blinked and more tears fell and then she was reaching for him, ignoring the pain the movement caused her. Feeling him wrap her up as tightly as he dared, she finally felt herself relaxing. He was her safe place, her refuge from any storm and she would not allow any flashbacks to isolate her from him this time or ever again.

"I’ve got you, sweetheart," Andrew whispered, his voice still betraying the immense sense of fear he had felt only minutes before, "I have you, my little angel," He kissed the top of her head and closed his eyes on a prayer of thanks. There would be time later to scold and tell her how badly she had scared him, but for right now, all that mattered was that she was safe and allowing him to hold her. He had felt the emotions coming from her heart off and on while Paul had been weaving his car through the city streets and the fear he had felt had nearly made him feel sick. However, at the same time he had felt a fierce determination rising up through the fear he had felt coming from her.

"She’s going to need stitches, Andrew," Alex said quietly, resting a hand on his shoulder, "We should get her to the hospital soon." Seeing him nod his head, she rose to her feet and felt herself being pulled into her husband’s arms with a strength that nearly took her breath away.

"Thank God, you’re all right," He uttered, not even caring how many of his colleagues were witnessing this exchange, "Thank God, you’re both all right."

"I couldn’t wait, Paul," She started to explain, "She started screaming and I was afraid-."

"Baby," He pulled away and brushed his hand up against her cheek. He could plainly tell by the look in her ice blue eyes that she was afraid he would be angry that she had put herself and their child on the line, and he mused that it could be remnants of the their last real fight. "You were doing your job, and no one does it better."

She smiled tearfully and slipped her hand into his, loving how firmly he held it as he gazed back over at the dead man on the floor, surveying the bullet entries. Turning back to his wife, he asked in complete seriousness, "Hand slip?"

Her eyes widened slightly as she nodded her head, "Yeah, I was trying to make sure Monica was okay."

"We’ll put it in the report," Paul replied, the image of professionalism, until he turned his face back to her and gave the subtlest of winks before turning back to the men who were working the scene, "We got an ID on this bastard?"

"Rick Gowin. Got his address too," Came the reply.

"I’d venture to say we’re going to find all the things that were missing here, there," Paul remarked, watching as a few of the men volunteered to head to Gowin’s place to search it. As they departed, he looked back to Monica and Andrew. The little angel hadn’t spoken a word, but Paul hadn’t missed the scratch marks on Gowin’s arms and face that had been deep enough to draw blood. It told him more than he needed to know. "I should have believed her," He remarked softly to his wife, remorse in his eyes.

"We were going off evidence, Paul," Alex argued softly, "She was going off something much more than that."

"Yeah but still…doubting her…I may have a bridge or two to repair myself."

"And you know she’ll forgive you," His wife reminded him, "We need to get her taken care of medically. Can these guys wrap up here?"

He nodded his agreement and spoke to one of the men before walking back to where Andrew was still kneeling on the floor with his wife in his arms. Monica’s tears had ceased, though she was quite pale and when he spoke to Andrew, she never opened her eyes nor moved her head from where it rested over Andrew’s heart. "C’mon, buddy. Let’s get her out of here."

Glancing down at his wife, Andrew kissed her forehead gently, watching as the gesture caused a single tear to fall. He had listened carefully to her heart in the last few minutes when she had remained so quiet and the things he had felt had filled him with even more relief. Yes, she was hurting, and tired, but not defeated and for whatever reasons, this time her body was aching more than her heart was and for that he was eternally grateful.

He stood up with her in his arms, cradling her close to his chest as he followed Paul and Alex from the little apartment. As he started down the stairs, Andrew felt his heart clench as she finally spoke in a quiet, weary whisper.

"Andrew?"

"What is it, angel?" He replied softly, being mindful of the stairs with such precious cargo in his arms.

"I love you," The words were merely a breath, but the love that wrapped around his heart in that moment was overwhelming.

Chapter 14

The ride to the hospital was nearly silent, with each of them lost in their thoughts. Monica was trying to reconcile herself to the fact that she had overcome her greatest fear, while Alex had both her hands resting over her stomach and was letting a feeling of peace fill her for the first time since the news of the kidnapper reached the FBI. She hadn’t gone in there intending to kill him, but she didn’t have any guilt over the fact that she had.

Meanwhile Paul and Andrew were just thanking God over and over again for keeping their wives safe. Even with Monica injured the worst had not happened. She was still with him. She was still nestled within his arms. He knew that there would be fallout from all that had happened, and yet he was still hopeful that it wouldn’t be as bad as he had first feared. Her words to him and the way she was relaxed against him gave him that hope.

"We’re here!" Paul announced as he pulled to a screeching halt in front of the emergency room exit. He twisted around in his seat to look at the two angels. "Is she still with us?" he asked worriedly.

"Yes, I’m here…" Monica said, the words faint and slurred.

Andrew glanced down at her arm and then gathered her up as Paul yanked the door open. "It doesn’t look that bad," he said as he got out of the car with her. "I think it’s shock as much as anything else."

"The doctors will get you all fixed up," Alex said with the nervous cheerfulness that always overtook her in moments of stress. She was grateful when Paul once again slipped his calming hand around hers. He seemed to know that Monica wasn’t the only one who might have a few nightmares.

"Thanks to you," he whispered lowly.

"No," Alex shook her head. "Monica did it… she fought him off all on her own. I’m just glad I was there to help." Andrew had rushed ahead and neither he nor Monica heard her words but Paul squeezed her hand tightly.

"So am I."

As soon as the admittance staff got a look at Monica they rushed her into a room, not even bothering to keep Andrew from going with her. The doctor at the desk followed them in and started rattling off orders immediately.

"Suture tray, bandages, and let’s get a rape kit started," he ordered.

"No!" Andrew had just set her down on the bed and she sat straight up. "No! I wasn’t raped! I wasn’t!" she insisted, voice rising with each word.

The doctor and nurse glanced at each other, but Andrew’s firm voice cut into their thoughts. "She fought off her attacker," he said, his tone demanding that they believe him. "There’s a couple of FBI agents out there who can verify that."

"All right… all right… I apologize…" the doctor stepped forward and flashed a light into Monica’s eyes. "I just assumed… We’ll take care of all these scratches and that cut on your arm," he said, trying to sooth the now agitated woman. He chanced another look at her and met her eyes. "I’m very glad that you aren’t hurt any worse."

"Thank you," she murmured, beginning to calm down again. She was almost startled by her own reaction, but she couldn’t help it. She just couldn’t go through any of that humiliation… she couldn’t bear the looks of pity.

The doctor left the room to give her a chance to take off her shirt and the nurse handed her a standard hospital gown. "I’d hate to see what he looks like right now," she said with a raised eyebrow as she patted Monica’s knee.

"He’s dead," she replied shortly. "He won’t have the chance to even try hurting anyone else."

Andrew didn’t think that it was pride that colored her voice, but it was definitely satisfaction. There were few people whose deaths she didn’t mourn, and Rick Gowin was one of them. He didn’t blame her a bit. In fact he was positive that if he had beat Alex there he would have finished with him what he never got a chance to finish with William Grady.

Ten stitches later and Monica was given her discharge papers and a sheet of care instructions which Andrew carefully folded and put in his pocket. The doctor had considered holding her longer. Her lack of color and quickness of breath were signs of shock, but she seemed to improve as soon as the last stitch was tied off, and he could tell that she just wanted to leave. The nurse offered her one of the hospital tshirts to wear home in place of her bloody and ripped blouse, but she refused. She had already burned one of those. She didn’t need another. Instead Andrew helped her ease her now aching arms into her coat and led her out of the room.

Paul and Alex were clearly on alert, and as soon as they saw the flash of blue from Monica’s scarf they were on their feet.

"How are you?" Alex was the first to ask when the two angels passed through the swinging doors into the waiting room.

"I’m fine," Monica insisted.

Paul looked her up and down. "Are you sure? You still look pretty pale. Andrew, is she sure?"

"She’s sure," Monica replied before her husband could sneak in a word.

"She just needs some fluids and rest," Andrew elaborated, and his expression told the whole story of how much she hated everything to do with hospitals.

"Well I think we can manage that," Alex piped up. She actually seemed more on edge than the little angel.

"Yeah. No problem there. Let’s get home."

*****

Paul watched with worried eyes as Andrew led Monica upstairs to their room upon returning home, but then he looked over at his wife and his concern deepened. She had sat down on the sofa, with her head in her hands and appeared to be trying to draw in deep, calming breaths.

Sitting down next to her, he wrapped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her close, "It’s all over now, baby. He won’t be hurting anyone else ever again."

But she shook her head shakily, "It’s more than that, Paul…" She began but then her voice trailed off and she stifled a tiny sob.

"Talk to me, sweetheart," He whispered, praying that she would. He knew she had no regrets over shooting that son of a bitch today, so that just left him with wondering what was tormenting her.

"I didn’t know what to do," Her voice was barely above a whisper, "A few months ago I wouldn’t have even hesitated to barge in there, but today, I did. I kept thinking about the baby and about how I couldn’t risk it, but yet it was Monica in there with him. I felt myself hesitating, all the while not knowing what he might be doing to her or what kind of hell he was putting her through. Thinking about that, I keep wondering what kind of friend I am, but to have gone in there and risked our child, it makes me wonder what kind of mother I am… "

As she started to cry, Paul pulled her into his arms and held her tightly, kissing the top of her head, "Baby, you did everything right. You held off as long as you could. You’re a damn good agent, Alex, and when you did go in there, you knew what you were doing and how to handle yourself in order to keep yourself, our baby and Monica safe."

"No…no…she got hurt…she was hurt because I hesitated…because I was afraid…"

"Sweetheart," Paul pulled away and took her chin in his hand so she could see into his eyes, "She got hurt fighting off that bastard…she fought him off, Alex. Don’t you think that in light of William Grady that means something to her? Yes, she is shaken right now, but there is a strength in her eyes that I haven’t seen in so long… I think that God spoke to your heart and told you exactly when to open that door and that was when it was safe for you to do so, and when Monica was able to get something back that has been missing from her ever since that dark alley. If you had gone in there any earlier, she would once again have been a victim to a man that wanted to hurt her. Instead I think she now sees herself, or will very soon, as a survivor, which is something that needed to happen."

"Do you really think so?" Alex whispered, feeling him wipe at the tears on her face, "I don’t want you thinking that I would easily risk myself or our child…"

"I know so. I knew what I was dealing with after you called. I knew you would only put yourself and the baby on the line if it was necessary. I accepted that, Alex. Being married to a federal agent, I have to accept that each and every day, no matter how terrible the thought of losing you is, and I know that you go through the same thing."

She nodded her head and then wrapped her arms around his waist, "I do, but I have to trust that God will keep you safe, and so far, He has."

"That’s all we can do, baby," He leaned back with her still in his arms, "For the record, I’m glad you followed Monica this morning. I wouldn’t have had it any other way."

For the first time since she had gotten out of bed that morning, Alex felt herself relax as she snuggled down deeper into her husband’s arms, content to just let him hold her as she prayed that the two angels upstairs were doing at least half as well.

*****

"Drink some of this, angel," Andrew handed her the glass of juice he had carried upstairs with them, before he sat down next to her on the edge of the bed. She had changed into a nightgown, having murmured something about just wanting to sleep, though her every move seemed pain-filled, "I’d feel better to see a little color back in your face."

Monica took a long sip before setting the glass down on the bedside table and looking over at her husband hopefully. He seemed to know just what she was asking and he moved to the other side of the bed and sat down with his back up against the headboard, waiting for her to take her place in his arms. Once safe in his embrace once more, she let out a sigh, resting her wounded arm across his stomach.

"Are you upset with me?" She asked softly after a long silence.

"Monica, I can’t even think about that right now," He confessed, giving her a little squeeze, "Right now I’m just so damn glad you’re safe."

Another moment’s hesitation and then, "You never asked me what happened."

Andrew closed his eyes for a moment. No, he hadn’t, nor did he plan to. He had pushed her for information once before and he still flinched every time he remembered how badly he had hurt her, "I figure if you want me to know, then you’ll tell me."

"I think I need to tell you," Monica whispered tremulously, "I think I need to tell someone…maybe it will help." She felt him pull her closer and rest his chin on the top of her head and feeling very sheltered and very loved, she began to speak, relating to him all that had transpired since she had walked out the door that morning.

Andrew listened without saying a word, though at times his jaw would tighten and his heart ached when she explained the flashbacks as best she could, but he never moved other than to rub her back tenderly or to lay a soft kiss against her hair. He realized that this had been the way he had envisioned her telling him about William Grady, before he had blown that one by bullying her into telling him. Now, instead of screaming at him, and crying at the anguish she was feeling, she was speaking softly and every small tremble of her body was met with a tender touch that calmed her.

When she was finished, Andrew cupped her chin in his hand and raised her head to meet his eyes. "You got away, little one," he whispered, his pride for her radiating in his eyes.

"I’m not blaming myself for the first time," she began, her voice holding conviction, "but I realized that the knife he held on me… it scared me so much… but this time, knowing what I know now… the weapon didn’t scare me at all… what scared me was what could happen if I didn’t get away." Sudden tears filled her dark eyes, as she held his gaze and her voice trembled and rose an octave on her next words, "I belong to you…and I wasn’t going to let anyone take me from you again…ever."

Andrew closed his eyes briefly at her words, before ducking his head to kiss her tenderly, "I love you so much, baby…and I am so proud of you. We all should have listened to you and I’m so sorry for what you went through today."

"I’m not…not really," She surprised him with her words and she struggled to explain, "I feel better about myself than I have in so long, Andrew. I know that if anyone tries to do me harm, I can at least try to fight them off. I know that I am worthy of having you as my husband, and I know now that fighting with you doesn’t mean you are going to stop loving me. That knowledge, all of it, makes all the difference in the world to me. I’m not saying today didn’t hurt or that I wasn’t incredibly afraid, or that I won’t have nightmares tonight and I don’t think I’ll be able to let you love me for a few days, but I feel more like me than I have in such a long time."

He smiled and kissed her forehead lovingly, "That’s all that matters to me, angel." He took a breath before continuing. "When I was speeding to the apartment I just kept praying that you would be all right. Then, when I saw you those prayer changed, and with everything in me I was begging for you not to shut down… for you not to shut me out again. But your heart was so open to me I could have shouted for joy. You didn’t just get away from him, baby. You got away from all those damn memories that kept you prisoner for so long."

"I told you… I couldn’t let him take me away from you… not in any way…" Her eyes were closed and he gently stroked her cheek.

"All those times I told you how strong you are?" he whispered as he felt her slipping into dreams. "This is exactly what I meant."

It was only two o’clock and the sun was still struggling to break through the clouds but Andrew didn’t care. He closed his eyes and pulled the wedding quilt up over his wife’s shoulder. Even if she wanted to sleep through until morning, he wasn’t going to leave her side.

*****

The clouds never thinned enough for the sun to send more than a few wan yellow beams down into the city, and by six o’clock it was snowing. Alex stared out the window at the fat white flakes falling under the street lamp at the end of the drive. The stark white was quickly covering up the sand and dirt stained drifts, covering up all that had come before. She leaned her head against the cool glass and wondered at how everything could just continue on so peacefully.

That was how Paul found her fifteen minutes later, with one hand over her stomach and one resting lightly against the glass. He walked over to her quietly and wrapped a strong arm around her waist. Pensive Alex was not one he was overly familiar with.

"Everything all right, baby?" he asked her quietly.

"Just thinking."

"Not about what happened…" he was fully prepared to reassure her again but hated the idea that his normally headstrong and confident wife was still beating herself up over her decisions.

"Not exactly," she replied. "I mean… not at all… not about that…" she had tilted her head and guessed his suspicions.

"Then what?"

"Just stuff."

"Stuff? Care to elaborate?"

She gave a little shrug and looked out the window again. "Look at it comin’ down," she murmured. "We’ll be practically snowed in tomorrow. Clean slate. No one’ll remember how gross it looked today before the snow."

He furrowed his brows, trying to catch her train of thought. "Well… no… people don’t usually commit piles of slush to memory."

"And Rick Gowan. A week from now no one will remember his name except the families of those girls and us."

His jaw tightened. "That’s the way it should be. He doesn’t deserve to be remembered."

"Yeah, but someone’s going to come along right behind him. I killed him, and I’m glad I did, but it doesn’t really change anything."

Paul wrapped his other arm around her and pulled her back against his chest. "Sure it does. That’s one less guy we have to worry about, and maybe a few less nightmares for those girls when they find out that there’s no way he’s ever going to touch them again."

She leaned her head back and sighed. "I know. You’re right. I guess I’m just being moody. It’s just that so much happens out of sight. So much that only a few of us know about. We catch a ‘bad guy’ here or there, but does it really matter to ninety percent of the people out there?

"It matters to me," Paul said firmly, "and yes, it matters to them too, even if they don’t know it. In fact it matters more because they don’t know it. There’s a little girl somewhere out there who is eating her dinner with her family right now and is never going to have a single nightmare, because of what we do. Think about Andrew and Monica upstairs. Two angels of God. Some people out there don’t even believe in Him, and half the ones who do probably barely give him two thoughts in a week, but that doesn’t mean He doesn’t matter. It doesn’t mean He isn’t working to make things better for all of us down here."

Alex gave a little chuckle. "So now we’re gods?" she said with a smirk.

He laughed and kissed the top of her head. "I never said that! I’m just sayin that we all work in mysterious ways," he said with a wink.

She rolled her eyes and her lips remained in their half-puckered little grin. "Okay, okay… mood over. Sheeesh. It’s impossible to even get a good melancholia going with you around."

"Yup. That’s what I’m here for. Well, that and making dinner. It’s just about ready. Should we tell Andrew? I’m guessing that Monica’s still asleep."

"She should eat. I’ll go start dishing it out and you can give them the heads up," Alex decided.

"Fine. I already got plates down." He spun her around in his arms and kissed her soundly. "And that should keep any more moods at bay until I get back."

He left quickly and she stood staring after him before softly moving to touch her lips. Yes. He was a definite mood breaker.

*****

Paul gave a soft knock on the angel’s door and heard Andrew call to him quietly to come in, "How’s she doing?" He asked, seeing that the little angel was fast asleep in her husband’s arms.

"Sleeping very soundly, not a nightmare in sight," Andrew replied contentedly.

"And other than being tired?"

"Better than expected…borderline good."

"A blessing."

"Definitely."

"Dinner is ready and she really should eat something-you both should," Paul offered, hoping his friend would agree. He believed Andrew completely, but he wanted to see for himself just how well Monica was doing.

"Let me wake her up and we’ll be right down," As Paul nodded and left the room, Andrew ran his finger down his wife’s cheek, "Angel?" He smiled as she never stirred and he kissed the top of her head, "C’mon baby, time to wake up for a little while." She murmured something that sounded like a protest and he realized just how much today had taken out of her, but he still wanted to get something into her to eat. "I know you don’t want to, but dinner is ready."

Monica forced her eyes to open and gave a little stretch, though her body protested the action. Somehow it didn’t feel as bad this time however; it was a reminder of the battle she had won. Closing her eyes once more, she gave out a sigh, "I am hungry, but you’re so warm and snuggly and moving is not going to be pleasant."

"I’ll help you, sweetheart," He moved slowly, helping her to sit up and being careful of her arm in the process.

She flinched, and then gave a little grin, "Remind me to always work out with Alex when we see them. It’s just a good idea."

He chuckled and helped her slip on her robe, "Maybe a nice hot bath after dinner will help."

"Mmm," She agreed sleepily as he took her hand and led her downstairs to the kitchen where Paul and Alex were waiting.

Dinner was a pleasant affair, though Monica noticed that the two agents were avoiding even mentioning what had happened today, so she elected to break the apparently taboo subject, "Alex, I never thanked you for being there today. I’m not sure of how things would have turned out had you not-."

"I think they would have turned out just fine, Monica," Her friend informed her with a grin, "By the sound of things, you were doing quite well, though I am glad I was there to put an end to him once and for all. Though killing him was not my original plan, he left me with no choice."

"I’m glad you have such good aim," Monica replied, and Alex didn’t miss the undercurrent in the angel’s words. Monica was not referring to the shots to his heart.

"Well, my arm did waver that one time…"

"Unfortunate," She remarked, though her tone of voice said exactly the opposite, though neither female caught the amused glances that were happening between their husbands.

Grinning over at her friend, Alex remarked teasingly, ". I’m not sure if I was more alarmed when you screamed or by the names you were calling him."

Andrew raised his eyebrow as Monica’s face flushed and she ducked her head, "Alex?" He questioned, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"I believe it sounded something close to ‘you bastard, you bastard’, but I could be mistaken."

As Paul threw his head back and howled with laughter, barely able to fathom it, Monica’s blush deepened, though she couldn’t help but giggle at the memory.

Seeing her embarrassment, Andrew wrapped an arm around her shoulders and kissed her cheek, "That’s my little angel girl. Sweet, reserved, with the mouth of a sailor…"

Her eyes opened wider as she protested, "No…I would never…" Looking up at them, Monica saw the teasing looks on their faces combined with the affection they felt for her and she shrugged sheepishly, "I was angry. It just came out."

"I’m afraid I’d have to hear it to believe it as I just cannot imagine!" Paul was still chuckling, "So if you would just humor me and-."

"No!" Monica protested, able to feel the heat in her cheeks even as she laughed.

Sliding his hand across the table, Paul rested it over her wrist, "I’m just kidding, honey. Andrew’s and my opinions of you are still firmly intact."

"Stop teasing her," Alex jabbed him in the ribs and he stopped laughing and struggled to maintain a straight face, "I, for one, am just very glad that today is over."

"Me too," Monica replied. Feeling Andrew’s hand suddenly giving her knee a gentle squeeze beneath the table, she smiled, sure that despite the winter darkness outside that she was able to see the sun bursting forth through the clouds.