Chapter eight. It was just after 6 am, and Sloan didn't expect anyone to be in at Lassiter and Lassiter for several hours

IT WAS JUST after 6 AM, and Sloan didn't expect anyone to be in at Lassiter and Lassiter for several hours. She preferred to work before and after business hours when there were fewer interruptions, and more privacy. She had spent the better part of a week working on changes in the main system at Michael’s firm, and had decided to take another look at Michael's personal computer. She turned from the console in surprise when the door opened behind her, her automatic smile of recognition turning swiftly to concern when she saw Michael. She rose quickly and took several steps forward, her heart pounding. Michael stepped into the room, then faltered to a stop when she realized she was not alone. She looked like she hadn't slept in days. She wore no makeup and her face was pale, the shadows under her eyes dark and hollow. From across the room Sloan could see the haunted expression on her face. She had clearly dressed hastily, her khaki suit too rumpled for her usual impeccable taste.

" I'm sorry, I didn't expect anyone, " Michael said in a voice hoarse with fatigue. She smiled weakly, one hand reaching to the sofa back for support.

Sloan saw her shudder, and she had to force herself to move slowly. Every instinct demanded that she go to her, touch her, assure herself that Michael was not hurt. Her stomach churned in a liquid state of near panic. Her own voice was tight as she said, " Are you all right? "

Michael looked as if she had just emerged from a dream and was still uncertain if she were truly awake. She sat hesitantly on the leather sofa, her hands clasped in her lap, and stared around the room in confusion. Sloan went to her side and knelt on the carpet in front of her. Slowly, afraid that she would startle her, she took Michael's hand.

" Michael? " she said very gently. A muscle twitched in Sloan’s neck with the effort it took for her to be calm when her mind was screaming with anxiety. " Are you hurt? Can you tell me what’s happened? "

Michael ran a faintly trembling hand through her hair and fixed on Sloan. Slowly, her blue eyes grew clearer, and she managed a small smile. " I'm so sorry. This isn't like me. I didn't get much sleep, and I can't quite seem to get my bearings this morning. I'm really fine. Thank you for your concern, but I'm quite all right."

It was a valiant lie, and Sloan respected her for it. But she couldn't accept it. There were too many possibilities coursing through her mind, not the least of which was that Michael's husband might have something to do with her current state. She forced herself not to imagine what might have happened, because the mere thought of anyone harming Michael was physically painful. " What happened last night? "

" I'm afraid I made your job a great deal more difficult, " Michael said slowly. Her face became almost expressionless, and Sloan knew that she was drifting in some memory.

" Michael? " Sloan tried again, hoping to bring her back.

Abruptly, Michael stood and began to pace agitatedly in front of her desk. She glanced at Sloan, and then her eyes surveyed the room as if seeing it clearly for the first time. " He wants this, you see. I knew he would, but I didn't appreciate just how much. Not this space - I don't care about that. It's not this room, this building, " she said vehemently. " It's not anything that you can touch. It's the ideas, the plans, the hopes and dreams I've spent my entire life putting into form. It's not me, or the money. He wants the things that I've created, the very best part of me. He doesn't care if I leave him, as long as he takes what's most important to me."

She stopped pacing as abruptly as she had begun, standing in the middle of the room, disoriented again. She began to tell the story, her voice a dull monotone, as if recounting someone else's experience. Sloan clenched her hands in her pockets, willing herself to silence, trying to ignore the almost irrational fury that pounded in her head. God, if he had touched her...

She had been asleep, Michael explained, when he returned the night before, close to midnight. She hadn't expected him, and was startled awake by a light in the hallway. The next instant, he was in the room, his presence seeming to dominate the space. As she recounted the tale, the memory was sharp and clear and razor-edged, each word etched in her mind. Suddenly, she was there again.

" Are you awake? " he asked.

" Yes, " she said. " I thought you were still in L.A."

He dropped his raincoat over a chair and began to undress. " I finished up earlier than I expected, and I’m damned tired of hotel rooms. I want to sleep in my own bed."

As he approached, naked except for his briefs, she could see enough of his face in the dim light slanting into the room to read his expression. Her heart sank. She recognized his intent, although she hadn't seen that look in his eyes for months. It wasn't something she had given any thought to previously. It was simply part of their life, part of what had become the routine of their existence together. She rarely thought about it until it happened, and then gave little thought to it after. Perhaps it was because she had decided to leave him, but suddenly she knew with absolute certainty that she could not sleep with him. She slid from the opposite side of the bed, and reached for a robe from a nearby chair. He stared at her across the bed, clearly surprised.

" What are you doing? " he had asked.

" I'm going to sleep in the guest room."

" What? " he said in astonishment. She had never refused him before.

" I meant to tell you when you returned from this trip, because it wasn't something I wanted to do on the phone. I want a divorce."

He stared at her open-mouthed for what seemed like an interminable length of time, his expression frozen. Then his body went rigid, but whether it was anger or shock she could not tell. Eventually when he found his voice, it was even, controlled, and exceedingly cold.

" And is this something open to discussion, or is your decision final? "

" I'm certain, " she said in a steady voice.

He nodded once, and walked across the room, slipped into his trousers, and pulled a shirt from the closet. She watched him, waiting for something to happen, realizing that she had no idea what he would do. How strange, to be witnessing the beginning of the end of their marriage, and to discover that her husband was a stranger. Why had she not known that before? How could she have been blind to what had been missing for a decade? They had been sexual, but never intimate. Why had it never mattered before this?

When he was finally dressed, he walked to the windows that overlooked the gardens in the rear of their estate. His profile in the moonlight was sharp and might have been carved from stone. His voice was as cold as winter. He proceeded to make it clear to her that she could divorce him if she desired, but he would fight for control of the company, despite the legal agreements they had made previously. Throughout his entire discourse, he barely raised his voice as he outlined with cold calculating precision exactly what he intended to do if she made any attempt to fight him.

She said almost nothing as he spoke, not surprised by what he said, but by the way he said it. He might have been talking to someone of so little consequence to him that he couldn't bother to be upset. It was almost as if she weren't human, and she realized that she probably hadn't been a person for him in a very long time. She was surprised that it didn't hurt, but it had been years since she had needed him or expected him to be more than a business associate.

Nevertheless, when he finished his ultimatum, she was shaken, not by what had transpired, but by the knowledge that she had spent 15 years of her life with someone whom she did not love, and who did not love her. What had begun as mutual need had slowly dwindled until they had little more than their name in common. She realized how truly alone she had been and wondered why she had never known.

Michael stopped speaking and stared at Sloan, her expression a mixture of anger and bewilderment. " He informed me he had no intention of leaving the house, and I knew I couldn't stay there another minute. He didn't bother to ask if there was someone else – he must have known there wouldn't have been. He was kind enough to inform me that I had no worries about any of his activities. He had always been careful and had even been tested. For his own safety." She shook her head in disgust. " By the time I had packed and found a hotel, it was six in the morning. I couldn't think what else to do, so I came here." She laughed harshly. " This is the only thing I know how to do, I guess."

Michael walked around behind her desk and slumped into the chair. When she tilted her head back and closed her eyes, Sloan felt the desire to comfort her constrict her chest so tightly she couldn't breathe. She swallowed the urge to smooth the furrows from Michael's brow with a caress, steadfastly ignoring the buzzing deep in her belly. Uh uh. No way. Do not even think it.

" Let me make you some coffee, " Sloan suggested when she could get the words out without tripping over her runaway hormones.

Michael shook her head impatiently, but she smiled gratefully when she said, " No. Go back to work, Sloan. I'm all right. I just feel like my entire life has been a charade and I never realized it." She rubbed her hands over her face. " God, I sound pathetic. I'm sorry."

Sloan gritted her teeth until her jaws ached, willing herself to stand still. She wanted so badly just to touch her hand.

That's what you need, but probably not what Michael needs.

Desperately, she sought the words that would help ease the terrible pain she saw in Michael's wounded eyes. " You're not pathetic, you're just hurt. That's human."

Michael stared at her, her expression softening. " It's not what you think, Sloan. I'm not mourning my lost marriage. I'm just so angry at the mess I've made of my life, and how foolish I was not to see it. What's wrong with me that I could spend all this time in some charade and not even know it? "

Sloan went to her, finally trusting that she had her own emotions under control. She grasped Michael's hands lightly, gazing intently into her face, praying that her words would somehow penetrate Michael's anguish and self-doubt.

" There's nothing wrong with you! You've accomplished remarkable things in your life, and you're not the first person to make a mistake about a relationship. It took a lot of guts to face him, and tell him, and to walk out of there. Don't beat yourself up like this, " she said, her voice thick with feeling.

God, she's magnificent and she doesn't even know it!

Helpless to stop, Sloan lifted one hand and brushed strands of blond hair from Michael's cheek. Her hand was trembling; she wasn't certain why. She stroked a thumb across the bruised shadow on Michael's cheek, wishing she could soothe the pain from her soul.

" Don't be so hard on yourself, " she whispered again.

Michael fell into Sloan's deep violet eyes, almost floating on the comforting sound of her words, not really hearing them, but sensing the caring behind them. She had no idea why it felt so good for this woman to touch her hand or stroke her cheek, but she felt soothed somewhere beyond words. " Thank you, " she said softly.

They were so close, if Sloan dipped her head just a fraction, their lips would meet. She wanted to, more than she had wanted to kiss any woman in longer than she could remember. She wanted to so badly it was a pain in her chest, and a hunger that went deeper than anything she had ever thought to feel again. There was such innocence and tenderness in Michael's eyes that all she wanted was to cherish it. She stepped back abruptly, more frightened by her own feelings than she could stand. She dropped her hands to her sides, fists so tight her fingers cramped. Her throat was so thick she wasn't certain she could speak. She stumbled back another step on legs that shook, swallowed painfully, and finally managed, " You don't need to thank me. You're incredibly brave."

Then she grabbed her jacket, made an excuse about needing to check in with her office, and left hurriedly, leaving Michael to stare after her with an odd sense of loss.

When Sloan got to the gym, she wrapped her hands and pounded the heavy punching bag until she couldn't lift her arms, finally sagging to the floor, her arms around the gently swaying bag, her sweat-drenched face pressed to the rough canvas cover, holding onto it with all the desperation of a lover betrayed.