Again And Again
Author: UTsSQ

Rated: M for a bit of smut and violence

Notes: Another slightly older story that never made it onto my site - until now. Lost it for a while, was lucky enough that a friend had a copy. So here - my twisted take on Ground Hog's Day (kind of - loosely), and further proof of how much I love to torture Taker.

1

The sound of humming brought Mark up from a deep comfortable sleep. With a groan, he rolled onto his back and winced as sunlight fell on his face. He risked cracking one eye open to peer blearily at the alarm clock next to the bed. Not quite nine in the morning on what appeared to be a bright Sunday.

Mark heaved a sigh and tossed the sheet that covered him away. The humming continued, only now it was joined by the hiss of water as the shower started in the bathroom. He glared at the bathroom door, unreasonably angry at being woken up. He only got one day off a week, and when he made it home all he wanted was to sleep in his own bed until he was damned good and ready to get up.

He got up and stretched, resigned to being up. It would be impossible for him to go back to sleep. He walked naked to his dresser and yanked out a pair of work out shorts. He tugged them on and shuffled out the door and down the hall to the spare room he'd converted to a home gym. He didn't notice Eve stop in the doorway half an hour later, nor did he hear her preparing breakfast in the kitchen.

By the time Mark finished his work out and had a shower, it was nearly noon. He entered the kitchen and made himself a sandwich, barely looking at the plate of leftover bacon and eggs that was on the stove.

He ate standing by the sink, staring out the window into the backyard. Sunlight glinted off of small waves in the pool, making him squint. Eve was outside, lying on a lounge chair, body glistening with recently applied oil.

He gave her an indifferent once-over. They had been married for nearly ten years. The first few years had been the proverbial wedded bliss. Eve had gone on the road with Mark. They were best friends as well as lovers, and getting married had not changed their relationship. It was near the fifth year that things had changed, that it seemed Eve had changed. She got tired of traveling, of living in hotels. He had understood. Life on the road was hard on anyone. They'd found a house that they both loved, and had settled in easily. And that was when the slow drift apart had started. Their long heart to heart talks
dwindled, and their lovemaking became a rare occurrence. Now they were like two strangers who occasionally passed an hour or two together.

Mark realized that he was to blame for some of it. He didn't like traveling alone. He didn't like sleeping alone in a cold hotel room. But he loved his job, he could not just give it up, not when he still had a few years left in him.

He shook his head and finished his sandwich, washing it down with a cold beer he'd pulled from the refrigerator. He glanced one more time out the window, watching as Eve sat up and adjusted the top of her bikini. A shadow of the lust he felt for her twisted through his stomach, making him pause mid drink. He smirked at himself. He had to be on the road again by eight that night, and that would not be nearly enough time to woo his wife into bed for a quick release.

He finished his beer and tossed the bottle just as Eve came in through the kitchen door. She looked at him, her grey eyes meeting his green. She gave him a fleeting smile and adjusted her towel around her hips. "You got in late last night."

"I missed the earlier flight." He said gruffly, brushing crumbs from his sandwich off his hands.

"I figured as much." She smiled again. This time he noticed that it was not her usual grin. She looked distracted.

"Something wrong?"

Eve hesitated then shook her head. "No. Just…busy with work and Mom…" She trailed off. Mark knew there was more but he wasn't going to push her. He didn't want to rock the boat, so to speak. Things between them were on an even keel, and he didn't want to risk shaking things up. Eve had gotten a part time job as a drug and alcohol counselor for teenagers. It was tough work. And her mother had been sick for some time. Eve took care of her as much as she could. "I'm going to get dressed." She said as she moved from the room. Mark grunted a response and eyed the pool again. He had a vacation coming up, an entire month off. He thought maybe he'd spend it at home, making use of the pool. He hadn't even told Eve yet about his time off. He hadn't told her about the last two weeks off either. He sighed, thinking of how he'd used those fourteen days.

An hour later he was sitting at the kitchen table, newspaper spread around him. Eve hadn't reappeared, and he hadn't noticed. He would have to exchange some clothes soon, taking the dirty things from his bag and replacing them with clean. For the moment he enjoyed the peace and quiet.

A noise from behind him alerted him to the fact that Eve had reentered the kitchen. After a few minutes, Mark glanced around, wondering why she hadn't said anything.

Eve stood there in a pair of cut off jeans and a white t-shirt. Her long chestnut hair fell in waves to nearly her waist. Her casual clothes did not match the look on her face. He could not remember a time when he'd seen her look so serious. There was something in her eyes, something cold.

She held his cell phone in her left hand.

Mark looked at it the way a person would look at a poisonous snake. He hadn't heard it ring, and there was only one person who would send him text messages.

Eve didn't say a word. She merely held the phone out, waiting for him to take it. Mark took a deep breath and reached for it, noticing that she was careful not to let his fingers come into contact with her skin. She stood there, unmoving, while he slowly looked at the small screen. There were only a few words there, but that was enough. Mark licked his bottom lip and dared to look up at Eve. She still didn't say anything. After a moment of silence between them she spun on her heel and left the room. A few seconds later she slammed the bedroom door loud enough to rattle the windows.

Mark looked at his phone again. 'Sharing your room tonight-I'll be waiting, Amber'. He had told her repeatedly not to contact him while he was home, but apparently it hadn't sunk in. He slowly rose from the table, meaning to go to Eve and find some way to smooth this over. Before he had gone a step, the bedroom door slammed again. He heard her footsteps as she all but ran toward the front door. Another slam was followed by the revving of her car's engine. Silence descended once more. His cell phone trilled in his hand, making him jump slightly at the sound. "Yeah." He didn't to sound friendly to whoever
was calling.

"You didn't answer my message." Amber's smooth voice purred in his ear.

"I told you not to bother me when I'm off." Mark said gruffly, moving toward the front of the house. Eve's car was already out of sight. He turned and headed for the bedroom.

"Well you promised that we'd share a room tonight…I just wanted to make sure…"

"I think…" Mark didn't finish what he had been about to say. In the bedroom Eve's dresser was open. There were clothes strewn across the bed. The closet door stood open, and he noticed that two of his travel cases were gone. Eve had apparently packed some things and left, without an explanation, an argument, anything. Amber was talking but Mark had stopped hearing. He hung up on her and turned the phone off, numbly staring at the left-behind clothes. She'd left him. One mistake and she'd left him.

He felt anger filling him. He was mad, not at Eve, but at himself. For being so stupid. He didn't know if it was because another woman had contacted him or because he had been caught at it. His cell phone rang again. With a wordless growl, he threw it against the far wall, getting no satisfaction when the small gadget shattered and fell to the floor, silencing the ring. He cursed and swiped his hand out, knocking a bedside lamp to the floor. Heaving another growl, he sat on the bed and cupped his head in his hands, feeling his temples throbbing. He slowly stretched out on top of the blankets, staring bleakly at the ceiling.

Time passed. He had no idea how long he lay there, just staring. The house phone rang, the extension next to the bed jarring him from his thoughts. It couldn't be Amber, she did not have his home number and it was unlisted. He sat up quickly, and thinking it might be Eve he snatched the phone off the cradle before it could ring a second time.

"Hello?" He said it before he even got the phone near his ear.

"Mr. Calaway?" It was a man's voice, and one Mark did not recognize.

"Yeah?" Thinking it was work related, feeling his hope deflate, Mark morosely stared at the bedside clock. It was past four. He would never make his plane if he didn't get his ass in gear.

"Mr. Calaway, I'm sorry to have to call you. I'm Officer Doug Daniels with…"

"Officer?" Mark asked, breaking into the man's introduction. "As in police?" A knot formed in his stomach even as he asked.

"Yes sir. I'm afraid there's been an accident…"

"Eve." Mark said, once again cutting the man off.

"Yes. I'm at the scene. She's being taken to the trauma center."

"How…where…"

"SIr, I'll be happy to answer what questions I can, but you may want to head on to the hospital." The policeman's voice took on a grave note. Mark swallowed audibly.

"It's bad." It wasn't a question.

"Yes sir." At least he wasn't getting lied to. Mark made a noise in his throat and hung up the phone. He grabbed for his keys and rushed out of the house, his mind spinning.

Twenty minutes later he strode through the emergency room doors at the hospital. There was a police officer near the desk, talking quietly with a man Mark assumed to be a doctor. He was wearing green scrubs and a white coat at any rate. He caught the doctor's eye and joined the men, standing uncomfortable between them.

"Are you Eve Calaway's husband?" The doctor asked. Mark nodded. The doctor and officer exchanged a glance. "I'm Doctor Johns. I'm afraid I have some bad news. Would you like to take a seat?"

"Just tell me." Mark said gruffly. He felt his throat closing as tears threatened to fall.

"Your wife was in an accident. She was driving. Another car crossed the center line and bumped her off the road. She wasn't wearing a seat belt, apparently. Her car hit a rock wall that ran along the road. I'm afraid she sustained massive trauma to her brain and spinal cord. I'm sorry Mr. Calaway, but your wife passed away before they got her to the hospital."

Mark said nothing. He was in shock. Had this man just coldly and clinically told him that he'd lost his wife? "Where is she?"

"Mr. Calaway…" The police officer finally spoke.

"Where is she?" Mark's voice dropped into an even lower tone. The officer and doctor shared another look.

"We'll allow you to see her for a few moments before we make the…necessary arrangements." The doctor finally answered. He motioned with a hand, and Mark followed along behind him as he led the way down the hall. The officer followed along, just in case Mark got out of hand. "The paramedics did all that they could. With that kind of trauma…"

"I'm not lookin' for a lawsuit." Mark said hoarsely. The doctor stopped at a door and hesitated before opening it. The only thing in the room was a stretcher. The body on it was covered with a sheet.

Mark took a deep breath and stepped forward, looking down at the face of his wife. No doubt that it was her. He remembered the first night they'd slept together, and how she'd fallen asleep in his arms. He'd spent an hour just watching her, studying her face without her realizing it. She looked the same as she had back then. As if she was deeply asleep, waiting for him to wake her up.

He had no clue how he got home that night.

Eve's mom had been kind enough to make all the necessary phone calls. Mark walked into his…their…bedroom, a fresh bottle of whiskey in his hand. He'd finished the first bottle in the kitchen. He stretched out on the bed and drank deeply from the glass, feeling it burn a hot path down his throat and into his stomach. He wanted nothing more than to get drunk. To get drunk and pretend that none of this had happened. He wished he could go back and do it over again. Without realizing he was crying, tears dripped from his eyes. He blinked, finally feeling the alcohol working in his system. His eyes grew heavier with every drink. He finally fell asleep when the bottle was as empty as the house. He fought it as long as he could, knowing that every dream that night would feature Eve's accusing eyes as she held out his cell phone. Mark made a choked, sobbing noise in his sleep and curled up on his side, cuddling Eve's pillow to his chest.