*******Roadapples 53******* "Here's to you Mrs. Robinson."

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The boy sat in the grass under the shady oak and watched his mother. "Yes, Mama..." He said softly. The black soft cotton dress hovering over her cocoa butter skin, as the warm summer breeze that rustled the leaves played with the hem of her skirt. "I will Mama..."

***

"Dammit... You're not going to die on me..." Peter muttered, his hands deep in his nephew's chest, his thoughts racing, his mother's teary voice ringing in his ears. "You promised me Peter.. You said you'd watch out for us.. You said you'd take care of your family. You lied Peter... You lied.." The heart monitor blaring as he yelled at his colleagues to shut it off. Dammit. "You lied to me Peter..."

His gown splattered and smeared with Jesse's blood. Peter hung his head and leaned up against the door frame. "No Mama... I tried.. I tried Mama.."

****

"Peter?" Elizabeth's hand jostling him slightly as he snoozed on the couch, his face wet with tears. Peter's long legs tucked up to his chin as moaned softly. "Peter, wake up..."

As the man tossed fitfully on the couch, his hand flew up against Elizabeth's touch. "No. D-don't.." He murmured almost childlike as he recoiled from her and scrambled off the couch. "What do you want Elizabeth?"

"You were having a nightmare..." She said thoughtfully. "Are they about Gant?" Elizabeth murmured softly. "I thought they stopped."

"Well they haven't! Okay? They're not about Gant. How in the hell would you know anyway?!" Peter snapped, grabbing his shirt off the floor and pulling it on. "It's this place... It's weird... Full of ghosts, hard to sleep in a place like this."

"Let's go for a walk then..." She urged, grabbing the crook of his arm. "Come on, we'll go for a walk."

"I don't want to go for a walk, Elizabeth. I just woke up," Peter grumbled sleepily. Rubbing his eyes with the heel of his hand and glaring at her. "Why don't you go for a long walk off a short pier..." He muttered semi-jokingly as she swatted him.

"Peter. Are you sure you're okay? You've been out of sorts lately. I do still worry about you," Elizabeth replied softly as she sat herself on the coffee table in front of him, her hands clasped on her lap, sleep tousled hair, falling in her eyes. It had been a long night, Mark coming home drunk with the rest of them, stumbling about and yelling at the top of his lungs. She'd tried to get him to calm down and gave up, figuring she'd sleep on the couch, but Elizabeth had found Peter there instead, tossing and moaning and nearly punching her in the head.

"Oh you do, do you? You've found happiness. Don't worry about me. Reese and I are fine," Peter said bitterly as he rubbed his face over with his hands. Leaning forwards and standing beside her, he sighed. "If I go for a walk with you, will you stop asking me stupid questions?"

Elizabeth sighed. He wasn't her lover anymore. He wasn't her soul mate and he wasn't her confidante... He wasn't going to confide in her. They didn't have that anymore. Suddenly, she wished she was upstairs now with Mark, fighting over the covers. "If you want," she said disinterestedly as possible.

"No. I don't want to go for a walk. I want to go back to sleep! So if I have the option then... I'm going back to bed," Peter grunted, flopping back onto the couch.

"Why aren't you sleeping upstairs, Peter?" Elizabeth said worriedly as Peter rolled over onto his side, away from her.

"Cuz..." He muttered irritably. "Now let me sleep... PLEASE!" Peter turned his head slightly, to glare at her, then flopped back onto the couch.

"That's not good enough, Peter... Something's troubling you... What is it?" Elizabeth murmured, crouching beside her friend and laying a hand on his shoulder.

"Why aren't YOU sleeping upstairs, eh? What gives you the right to give me the third degree?!" Peter growled, sitting up and scowling at her.

"I wanted to sleep down here because Mark is being an arse as usual, he's drunk. He won't let me in bed. He says he wants it to himself. Which is okay with me, because he smells like vomit," Elizabeth grumbled. "So why are you here, then?"

"Carter's having nightmares again. It was keeping me awake... So I decided to crash down here. Satisfied?" Peter sighed, laying on his back, his arms beneath his head.

"Why didn't you wake him?" Elizabeth stood from her perch beside the couch and paced the room. "It seems we aren't the only ones having trouble sleeping."

"Well, I'm not Carter's keeper... What? Did you expect me to wake him up, like you woke me up? Have a little heart to heart with him? It happened years ago, Elizabeth. It's water under the bridge. Old news. He should learn to move on with his life," he looked at her carefully. "Is Mark still having nightmares?!"

"So, Carter's stabbing is old news.. But you can hold onto old memories and let it turn your life upside down?" Elizabeth shook her head hurriedly. "No, no.. Nothing like that... Mark's fine. He got the help he needed. He's 100%. No tumours, no muggers... He's fine. I'm not talking about Mark."

Peter scowled at her first remark and then cocked his brow slightly. "So if it isn't me... It isn't you, it isn't Carter.. Who are you talking about? Malucci? You have to be kidding me. If you're talking about all the screaming you heard, it's probably from her tying him up again. That's the only time I can ever truly say I feel sorry for the bastard. Being stuck with her..."

He shuddered and looked up at Elizabeth who was scowling at him like his Mom had when he'd called his math teacher in 6th grade a smelly old fart. "What? Are you telling me you actually feel sorry for the bastard? I thought you were on my side?"

"I was... But Kerry talked to me. Malucci's not the man you think he is. It's complicated Peter. He was married-" Elizabeth sighed, Peter interjecting.

"Oh... and what? He cheated on her, slept with another woman? You want me to feel sorry for that?" Peter scoffed, rolling his eyes. "Fat chance."

"Seems to me, you were sleeping with Jeanie while she was married to Al... But that doesn't have anything to do with it. She died. Massive stroke while she was driving. Brain tumour. He still blames himself. All this time we figured he was some goof-off with no worries. She was pregnant too. Kerry told me. Dave would be a father now... A father and a husband." Elizabeth sighed heavily. "So... There, we can't judge him, he's had it rough too."

"So he's not a single father trying to deal with a deaf son. He doesn't have any responsibilities. His responsibilities are gone. Lucky for him," Peter spat in return as Elizabeth lunged at him.

"You always were a horrid pig, Peter. He loved her. Malucci isn't as shallow as you might think. His wife? She'd lost her leg to osteosarcoma. It happened in college. They were married for years after that. Apparently they joined some environmental humanitarian organization. That's how Dave knows about land mines." Elizabeth snapped angrily. "If you're not going to listen to me fine. But just remember this. You're not perfect Peter. We all have made mistakes in the past. Even you."

Standing, Elizabeth wrapped her housecoat around herself, and strode to the stairs. "Good night Peter." She said simply. "No man is an island. You're not alone, Peter... Remember that," she smiled uneasily, jogging up the stairs, careful to not creak the old floorboards as Elizabeth walked into her room and crawled in beside her husband, wrapping her arms tightly around his smelly body. Snuggling in, she hugged Mark, hoping he'd be there forever.

Moving a hand up, she trailed a finger over his head, touching the faint scar on his skull. If she had lost him, if Mark had died of that tumour... Elizabeth shuddered, her cheeks damp and sticky as tears trickled down and she hugged him closely again. They were luckier than most. Lucky that fate in this lifetime had spared her husband. Unlucky that it had taken the wives of Malucci and Kovac... Unfair that it'd taken the life of Peter's young nephew, unkind and brutal that it'd taken Kovac's children too.

Sighing softly, she pressed her head against his smooth back, hearing the thump of his heartbeat, as she drifted off to sleep.

***

Nightmares... He had been having them earlier. Chase, Kerry, Lucy, swirling in his head, over and over, it was hard to stomach. But he was okay now. Peter might have been having trouble sleeping, but he was sleeping just fine now. Now that she was here with him, he was safe. She was here to hold him close and do the splits while hanging by her toes from the rafters. She'd taken a cab up after her shift, snuck in the backdoor.

It didn't seem to matter that she was his Mrs.Robinson, but he hadn't said anything. Why would he? He was having the time of his life, the troubled look in his eyes as he'd answered the door. His expression confused and slack with sleep as he'd leaned on the door frame, the realization sinking in, who she was. He'd been having trouble sleeping, she could see, but she hadn't said anything, she'd make that right soon enough. She'd have the doctor sleeping like a baby. Charlene had what the doctor ordered.

Carter smiled tiredly now, his arms wrapped around the warm body laying beside him as he kissed her and snuggled into her hair. The little things that announced her prescence like her crotchless panties on the floor beside the golden bra or the springs in the old bed, shot from too much sex. "You were good..." He panted happily, brushing a lock of hair behind her ear, "You're so beautiful, Charlene.."

The stripper smiled, the bottle blonde hair, a contrast to her dark eyes. Eyes I can look straight into her soul with... Carter thought to himself. Her hands moving up the headboard, her fingers wrapping around the smooth wooden supports that held up the canopy overhead. Turning, swiveling, gyrating and thrusting her naked body against the wood, she grinned at him. "We can go again, Dr. Carter..." She murmured as he nodded. His hands moved up following her every movement, stroking her hips, fingers trailing up her chest as she arched her back, tilting her head as Carter started kissed her soft flesh. His lips tugging and his tongue leaving soft, moistened trails.

Locking her ankles around the headboard, she arched her back, her hands traveling down his abdomen, stroking his penis firmly between her fingers as the man started to moan happily. Standing nearly on her head as she took him in her mouth and rolled it over her tongue, Carter's knees nearly buckling, his fist jammed in his mouth to stifle the orgasmic screams. The tongue pulsating against the tip as she sucked, humming a tune that had stuck in her head and watching as it drove her doctor-man wild.

"And when you said I could not stay with you, that's not the way you would have wanted to be, convince yourself that everything is alright, 'cos it already is. Don't sell your heart and break just anyone, I want to run with you through moorland fields, convince yourself that everything is alright 'cos it already is..." The song still pulsated in her head, damned Yuri playing Peter Yorn tunes all the time in the club.

He smiled at her happily, helping Charlene unlock herself from the headboard, and come crashing into his arms. Carter laughed, his eyes dancing, no longer leaden and sad. She watched him carefully, wondering if those words would come soon. Words that didn't really mean anything. Words that were fueled by lust not actual love. The words that were really hollow, even though the men never knew it at the time. They always thought they meant it, but then they all went back to their wives and girlfriends, leaving her alone again. Her boss, Yuri told them all that it was policy for them to not have boyfriends or husbands. "It gets in the way... You don't want your husbands coming into my club and hurting my patrons because they're jealous. I don't want that. You ladies don't want that either. If that happens, you're fired. This is your job. It is your first priority. Love gets in the way. Remember that."

The profession, it was for women who would never find love. Because once a person found love, it didn't matter what profession they were in, only love mattered. It didn't matter where a person lived or how much money they made... She smiled back, kissing his warm lips, and avoiding his kind eyes. She wouldn't let it get that far. She wouldn't let him say it. It wouldn't be fair to him. Charlene had seen the scars, the jagged pink faded scars that marred his smooth tender skin. She'd seen wounds like that on other men, but they weren't from rich backgrounds. They were from alleyways, drug dealers and factory workers hanging around in the wrong part of town.

She'd touched it, kissed it, caressed the scars and he'd flinched at first, brushing her away and turning on his side, to get her away from them. The happiness that had danced in his eyes was gone. The dead look remained and she sighed. It wasn't from a knife fight in an alley. Those scars meant so much more than that. Charlene sighed again softly, her lips moving away from his back, trailing up his side, up his chest as her hands wrapped around his penis and stroked it fondly. Kissing him as his fingers moved to the inside of her thighs, rubbing her labia ever so slightly, watching her tremble as his fingers rubbed over the swollen nub and slipped inside her as she moaned in satisfaction. Their lips met and explored each other, warm and wet as the two of them moaned, causing bone shaking vibrations to course through the meshed bodies.

As she mounted him like a jockey on a prized stallion, she bent over him, kissing his lips, jawline, neck, shoulders. Rocking slowly, maneuvering him inside her, a blissful smile as her lips parted and whispered sweet words in her mother tongue. The sensations increased with the gentle steady motions, peaking to a ferocious intensity as she started to moan and scream, rocking harder and faster, panting, moaning and screaming. Her long painted finger nails imbedded in his hair, wrapped around each light brown strand in a white knuckled frenzy as both doctor and dancer orgasmed and collectively woke the whole house.

Chapter 43 Chapter 45

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