I know some of the choice in words might seem a bit odd, but this started as a response to a 10 word challenge contest over at Fanlib and I just decided that I had to make it into more than the word count would allow.

Hope you enjoy.

My Way to Another World


To say she was agitated was an overstatement. Anyone who knew her would be able to tell by taking one look at her face. Slamming pots onto the stove, she tried to restrain her chaotic emotions as she poured a box ofspaghetti into the pot that she had set to boil before going to see why her husband had been calling her. Instead of getting to ask him, she had overheard part of his phone conversation: "We made provisions for this," the words ran round in her head as she tried to keep from losing control.

She thought she was ready for this.

That she had adapted to what their life together would be like.

That since the moment she had last spoken to her elitist, know-it-all, younger, adoptive sister that she had left behind the pain of the life they couldn't have.

The pain of not being part of her family's lives and their not being a part of hers and her child's.

She had proven she wasn't fragile. That she wouldn't break at the first sign of trouble, at least that was what she had convinced herself she had convinced the handful of people who knew their secret.
Doctors. Cops. Agents.
A couple friends, but most only people who had a job to do.

Even more importantly she had convinced herself that she had convinced him that she was strong enough to stand next to him no matter what. "Apparently not swooning at him wheeling himself into my hospital room after having Lucas wasn't enough," she muttered as she started to make her sauce the way that Paullina Carlino had taught her. "Hell, I'm even cooking. Who the hell would have pictured this?" she muttered, stiffening as she heard the tapping of her husband's cane across the hardwood floor, only as she cocked her head to the side she realized that the rhythm was off. "So in the midst of all this he brings in a guest?" she muttered refusing to look up when he came into the kitchen.

"I was calling you earlier," he said watching her movements with concern.

Not looking up, she continued with her chopping: "I know. I went to your office. You were talking about 'provisions' you had made," she snapped out through a tight jaw.

Cursing under his breathe he leaned his cane against the counter and placed his hands on top to brace his weight, figuring that standing on his own two feet as he squared off with his wife, especially about this, was prudent: "It's not what you think," he started.

"Oh, so you don't plan on going back to Bay City and finishing your last case Captain?"

"Don't start Lorna," he cut out. "Not before you know what you're talking about."

"And what's that, Gabe? Huh? What else have you made provisions for other than us and this lie of a life we've been living?" she asked hatefully, knowing she was hurting him, but unable to not say the words and still mask her fear for his safety and the safety of the life the had built.

"My coming here," a voice said from the doorway: "and helping me finish a case that I started long before you arrived in Bay City. The one that took me away from Fanny, Jenna, and you, Lorna," the man said simply as he stepped into the kitchen, leaving Lorna only to stare at him while she wondered what realm she had slipped into where her father and Gabe were alive and she was having a conversation with them while cooking dinner, only the fussing over the baby monitor let her know that it wasn't some dream. . .