What's a Girl to Do? (Season 6)

Chapter Twelve: With Or Without You

After a week of the interrogation sessions that Nicholas had been forced to be a part of, he finally returned home late Sunday night, looking terrible. I'd already put the kids to bed, and was up and waiting for him to return home, and, as he walked in, I immediately got to my feet and hesitated for a moment before I ran to him, yanking him into my arms, doing my best not to come undone completely in front of him. I knew I had to be strong, and allowing myself to lose control now would be ill-advised.

"Why the fuck are they doing this?" I whispered, keeping a good grip upon him, and feeling even more secure when his arms came tightly around me. "Why are they doing this to us? You served your time, and got on with your life. Why can't they?"

"They interrogated me for seven days straight, Murph," he replied, his hands running up and down my back. "They're fucking killing me with this shit..."

"Any stipulations to your release?" I asked him.

He sighed. "I can't leave town, but it's total bullshit," he replied.

"They must have something significant then," I muttered. "Fuckers..."

Nicholas pulled away from me then, trudging across the living room and into the kitchen. He dragged his hand over his face as I moved to follow him; his eyes were red-rimmed, with deep purple circles beneath them. He moved over to the freezer, getting out a bottle of vodka, cleverly hidden beneath a massive bag of ice, and unscrewed the cap effortlessly, tipping it towards his lips and chugging it for a moment. "Sorry," he said quietly, lowering it at long last, and allowing it to merely hang from his fingertips. "Just feeling really fucked up right now..."

I leaned upon the kitchen island a few feet away from him, biting on my lower lip. "I know," I said quietly, nodding at him. "But alcohol's not the way, Nicholas..."

My husband smirked, bringing the bottle back towards his lips and drinking deeply from it. "Hell of a thing for an alcoholic to say."

I sighed, my shoulders falling then as I struggled to keep my cool. "I don't want to fight with you, Nicholas. I'm tired of fighting."

"Then, why do you provoke me?"

My eyes snapped to his. "I can't help if you're negatively impacted by my own decisions," I tell him, trying my best not to yell. "Sure, I could evaluate my life better—fuck, everyone I know could do that. But I can't make myself responsible for you, too. You're a fucking man! I have to keep myself in check, and our kids. I can't have someone else to worry about, but I fucking do, because I'm afraid you're going to fucking leave me..."

"Why would I leave you, Murphy?" Nicholas asked, staring into the bottle of vodka. "I can't ever see myself doing that, no matter how fucked this all is..."

I scoffed. "Get a clue, Nicholas."

His eyes locked onto mine then. "What?" he asked. "What did you do?"

"Which part?" I whispered, my voice trembling.

My husband looked shocked. "There's more than one part?! Jesus, Murphy. What could you have done this time?!"

"One thing I did, one thing I didn't do," I replied, "but neither thing did I have control over. I lost control of the first situation, and in the second..." I shrugged. "I got caught off-guard, but I may have encouraged it..."

"What did you do?" he asked me, his voice deathly quiet.

"I went to The Alibi after work," I replied, my voice trembling then. "I'd had a really stressful day and we were fighting all the time, and I just wanted to see Kev and V and to clear my head a little bit..."