When The Rain Falls

CHAPTER 14

She was a vision with long, blonde hair, wet from the rain. Mascara poured down her face, along with the tears she shed, pretty lips trembling. She gazed at him with swollen red eyes, the color of burnt glass and honey, as her hands clasped under her chin. Her thin form was hugged by her expensive suit, which he immediately recognized as something from Harrods, and she was shaking. Ice-cold rain pelted her body and she shivered, breathing deeply.

"Callen" Arya said, her voice shaking. "May.. may I come in?"

Snapping back to his senses, Callen nodded, and stepped aside. Arya walked passed him, looking at the house she had once called home. It was warm, inviting, rich in color and gave her a sense of ease. The fire that had recently been started cracked logs of wood, further easing her into a joyful, relaxed state. She turned to him, and removed her jacket, her silk shirt sticking to her skin. Callen's eyes reluctantly drew along her form, clung to by translucent silk, and then back to her face.

"You'll catch your death of cold, Arya." He said. "I can get you something else to wear."

"Yes, please Callen." She asked. "One of your shirts would be fine."

He nodded. "I can also find a pair of Amelia's trousers-"

"Your shirts were always too large for me, Callen," Arya responded with a smile. "I think that will do."

He stared, and pressed his lips together into a sharp line. "Sit in front of the fire. I'll be right back."

Arya did as he asked, watching as he disappeared into his room. Carefully she peeled off the cold silk shirt, and threw it to the floor. When he returned he did not make a sound, but she felt his eyes on her. She turned to him and saw the flames dance in his eyes, and tried to decipher his look as he stepped towards her and handed her an old button-up work shirt, along with a pair of drawstring trousers.

"Are these Amelia's?" Arya asked, looking at the black pair of fleece sweats.

He gave her a curt nod. He set a towel behind her on the table. "She won't mind. She left them in my room when she did her washing."

Arya looked stricken, picking up the towel. "Your... your room, Callen? Do the girls know?"

"Does it matter, Arya?" he replied. When she turned her head and faced the floor, he felt his chest hurt. "I'm sorry. I'll leave so you can change."

"You've seen me bear your children Callen." She snapped at him, unclasping her bra and letting her breasts spill from the cups. She wiped the ruined make-up from her face with a towel, and dried her hair. "You can watch me change."

Arya pulled down her trousers and underwear with it, kicking them aside. She stood naked in the sitting room, in front of him, while her slim curves were illuminated by the licking flames from the fireplace. She looked like an ethereal Goddess, nubile, warm, and welcoming. She tilted her chin and c****d her hip, beckoning him with her eyes.

"Callen," she whispered, walking towards him, her steps as light as a feather. When she came close, he walked behind her to pick up the dry clothes and push them into her chest, and her hands came up to grab the articles.

"Why are you here Arya?" He asked, his voice a hoarse whisper. She recognized the tone of his voice. Years of being his wife had shown her different sides to him, and she knew them all well. He was enjoying what he saw, and she knew what he liked.

Letting the clothing fall to the floor, she ran her hands up his chest, letting her lacquered nails scrape lightly across his neck. She felt his hair stand on end, as he gazed into her face with hooded eyes.

"What are you doing, Arya?" He asked quietly.

"Isn't it obvious?" Arya replied, her voice low. She pressed her lips to his, and was pleased when he responded. Pulling away, she ran her soft palms against his cheek. "I want us, Callen. I want us."

Kneeling down, he picked up the clothing she had dropped and handed it back to her. "Just get dressed, Arya."

"Callen, please," she wrapped her slim arms around his waist. "When I saw you and my children at the party, I knew I made a mistake. I knew I never stopped loving you before, but I wanted to move on. But seeing you, looking the way you did, with our children, Callen-"

"Arya, you left us." Callen said softly. Throwing the fleece sweats over his shoulder, he pulled the shirt over her shoulders, and she reluctantly shoved her arms through the long sleeves. Carefully he buttoned it, avoiding touching her all together, and then handed her the trousers. "If you want to talk, we can, but you need to get dressed."

"Is it because you can't resist me when I'm ready for you?" She asked softly, pulling the sweats on one leg at a time. She held his eyes while she tied the drawstring. "I know that's a turn on for you."

"Go sit down, Arya. I'll bring you a tea."

Disheartened, Arya nodded, and sat on the large sofa, closest to the burning fire. As Callen left towards the kitchen, she unbuttoned the shirt, revealing some cleavage for his awaited return.

When he came back he didn't seem to notice, instead setting a tray down in front of her on the table, sitting on the other side of the sofa. She picked up her cup and took a sip, a small smile forming.

"You remember how I took my tea," She said sweetly. "Oh Callen."

"Easy enough." He shrugged. "Arya, why are you here? I signed the paperwork. You're free to marry Jason in six months."

"I know." She replied wistfully. "But Callen, something happened. At the party."

"What's that Arya?" he asked quietly.

"Callen, I saw you, saw my family, saw how beautiful you all were, and so happy. I missed you. I missed that man smiling. Missed that man dancing." Arya smiled, her pretty lips curved at the memory.

"With Amelia."

She paused for a moment, before nodding. "Yes. With Amelia. I remember how I made you that happy. I remember how you used to look at me that way."

"Like what?"

"Like a man enamored. Like you would destroy the world for me if it caused me a bruise." Arya sighed and placed her cup on the table. "I told Jason I wanted another chance. With you."

"I don't feel-"

"Don't say you don't feel the same as I do, Callen." Arya crawled across the cushion, and stroked his arm. "I know you do. I know you feel me with every heartbeat, every breath, every look our children give you. I know you still care for me, Callen."

He looked towards the fire that crackled behind her. "You're not wrong."

"Then why don't we try?" Leaning against him, Arya pulled his arm around her, and curled into his chest. "I missed this, Callen. This. You, me, our children. I'm tired of wanting you constantly. I'm tired of second guessing myself and my life when I truly know what I need. And it's you, Callen. It's you. And Ainslee and Fiona."

"But what of Amelia?" He asked, adjusting so she could pull herself closer.

"She's young, Callen. Too young. She could be here, still, but eventually she will move on from you. You are but a stone in her path of life. You are not her end game." Arya pulled his face, and brought his near ice-colored eyes to meet hers. "You're mine."

Callen looked down at her. She was beautiful, with her fire-dried hair and make-up gone from the rain. He saw the woman he fell in love with years and years ago. His heart skipped a beat when she leaned against him, tugged at his shirt, and brought his mouth to hers.

He wasn't thinking when he kissed her back. All he could do was remember. She still smelled the same, her hair still just as soft.

Her skin still tasted the same, from the tips of her breasts to the apex of her neck, she tasted the same. She had pushed him onto the sofa, and straddled him, moving a leg on either side of his thick thighs, her slim ones dragging against the denim of his jeans. Yet when she tried to mount him he stopped her, pushing her hips away from him.

"No, stop." He pushed her off of him and she fell with a graceless thud to the floor. "No, Arya. I can't do this."

Arya sat on the floor, stunned. "You are my husband, Callen, of course you can do this."

"No, Arya. I was your husband. That doesn't give you the right to me body when you're gantin." He spat the last word like a curse. "Amelia has me girls love, me girls trust, and me girls' hearts. How can I do this" he waved, motioning to her confused form on the ground "to them? What kinna father would I be?"

Arya glared at him from the floor. "A good one. Who wants his family back together, Callen." She pulled herself up and straightened the tshirt, her shoulders square on the sleeves. "Do you realize what a gift it would be to our children? To be able to depend on both of their parents under the same roof? It will no longer be like when you were a child, Callen. They will have both of us."

Callen looked at her coldly. He reached behind him and grabbed the fleece sweats, and threw them at her a little harder than he had wanted. "Get dressed."

Quickly, Arya pulled her slender legs through the trousers, tightening the drawstring at her waist. They hung off her body, and draped her waist like a blanket. She re-tied the drawstring, and gave him a pleading look. "Alright, Callen, I understand. But I need you to see where I am coming from. I want us to be a family again. I've left Jason, and am cutting ties with him if you would only agree to try again with me. We are a family, Callen."

"A family you decided wasn't good enough, Arya." He let out a breath, and sat back down on the sofa, wringing his hands. "I can't lose Amelia. We have something great, something that feels good."

"You have this for now, Callen. But what when she wants more?" Arya sat next to him, close enough for their bodies to touch. He almost recoiled. "How old is she?"

"Twenty five."

"Do you remember me at that age?" Arya asked softly. "What did I want, desire from you? I wanted marriage, children. I wanted us to be a family. Are you willing to give her that?"

"If Amelia wanted a child-"

"And will you raise a child with someone thirteen years your junior, and only if you impregnate her this year?" She interrupted his thoughts. "She's young, eccentrically beautiful, smart, but she's a child herself compared to you and I. She will eventually tire of you Callen, and leave you. Is that what you want?"

He hated how she made sense. Hated how she had read his mind, his heart, the words he wanted to ask Amelia, but couldn't bring himself to. Arya's familiar scent enveloped his nose and he sighed, relishing the past for the briefest of moments. Her fingers traced his palm, before lacing them with his. She leaned forward and kissed his neck, softly, sighing against his skin.

"I want you to make love to me, Callen," She whispered in his ear. Her other hand slid up his chest, and gently pushed him backward to lean against the sofa. "I want to feel you again, I want you to feel me. I want you to understand how truly in love I am with you."

When she climbed him, and kissed him deeply, he felt her then. Felt her body move against his, felt his own body respond to the familiarity. Her clothes had fallen aside, as did his, and when she once again attempted to mount him, he stopped her. Not in the same place that held someone else's virtue within its folds.

Arya took it as a romantic gesture, and smiled, taking her husband's hand in her own.

-----

When Amelia returned home with the girls, the air felt wrong. It felt warm, as the heat was on and the fire was burning, but the logs had long gone from flames to embers, and any sign of Callen was nonexistent. She bit her lip and looked down at Ainslee and Fiona, motioning towards the sitting room as she set some bags on the counter. While Fiona jumped on the big settee one seater her father loved, Ainslee stopped cold in her tracks.

"Amelia," she called. "Can you look at this?"

Amelia walked to Ainslee, and stopped as well. Ainslee was holding up a bra and shirt, dry now from being in front of the fire, and was comparing them to Amelia's chest and shape. She shook her head and threw them down, stomping passed Amelia's frozen form down the hall.

The screaming fell on deaf ears as Amelia slowly gathered all the articles of clothing that littered the floor. She went to Fiona, and asked her to stay before she turned and walked towards the noise. Ainslee was swearing, screaming at her parents, and grabbing things to throw at them from Callen's workstation.

"You're a bastard!" She screamed at her father. Pens and highlighters flew from her hand at them.

Arya held her arm out, shouting "Ainslee, it's me! Your mother, please, it's okay!"

"Okay? Okay?! This is not okay!" She screamed at her parents. Picking up a stapler, she flung it at Arya, narrowly missing her shoulder. "Why are you here!? We f*****g hate you! You f*****g hate us!"

"Ainsley Lourdes Fraser cease this right now!" Callen yelled at her, his voice booming. He gripped the top cover to his stomach, and pointed to the door. "Leave this moment, I will contend with you later!"

"Contend to me now, asshole!" Ainsley grabbed his laptop and pulled it behind her head, about to fling it at Arya. Amelia shook herself out of her stupor. She dropped Arya's clothing and grabbed the computer out of the young girl's hands and pulled it free. Ainsley screamed and tried grabbing for it again, begging Amelia to give it back.

"Ainsley, no!" Amelia said, trying to calm the young girl down. "Please honey, listen to me. Please? Please calm down honey."

"Calm down? Are you shitting me Amelia?!" Ainslee snapped. "He's there, with her, and you're telling me to calm down? Amelia, that's my father there with some sour slut-"

"Ainsley, enough!" Amelia cried out, gripping the young girl by her arms. "Enough, honey. Please. Go on out. I'll take care of this. Get your cake ready to be cut 'kay?"

Ainslee stood, breathing deeply through her nose. She gave Amelia a curt nod and exited the room with out glancing backwards at the two nude people in bed. Standing silent, Amelia stared at the ground, and slowly kneeled, picking up the bra, trousers, and silk shirt. She stared at the expensive clothing. At one time, she used to adore wearing these brands, these names on her body. But now they felt as useful to her as clay.

Callen took a deep breath. "Amelia-"

"It's Ainsley's birthday Callen. I know you didn't forget." A small sarcastic smile played on her lips. "But I'm sure your wife needed a reminder."

"Amelia, please-"

"We don't need to speak Callen," she replied, her voice remiscent of ice. "I'll be in my room."

She turned her gaze to Arya, completely avoiding Callen's desperate looks. "Decided to try motherhood again?" The venom in her voice made Arya wince. Giving her a small smile, she threw the clothes on the bed. "Put your f*****g clothes on."

She left the room and slammed the door behind her.

Arya stared at the closed door, and clutched the sheets to her chest. Callen reached for her and gave her hand a tight squeeze.

Pressing his lips to her shoulder, he whispered in her ear. "It's just for now Arya. Just for now."

"Oh Callen," Arya wailed softly. "What if it's too late?"

He didn't have the heart to tell her she was most likely right.

-----

Callen needed a shower. And he did not want one with his wife. He wanted to be alone, with water hot enough to burn.

Arya accepted this, and quickly dressed, allowing her husband to walk dejectedly towards the restroom with. She went to the kitchen, and saw her now thirteen-year-old daughter setting a special Jules' cake on the table. She took one look at Arya, and with a gaze that resembled her father on his worst day, turned on her heel and went back to the cupboard. She yanked down another plate and slammed it down on the table.

"I'm assuming you're staying." She snarled. "Against my own choice."

"I am your mother, Ainsley,"Arya said softly. She sat next to Fiona, and pulled a plate closer to her. "I deserve the chance to be with you."

Ainsley suddenly stabbed a knife in the middle of the cake, the handle teetering lightly. She looked at Arya as if she were a spec of mud on a pristine white floor. "I came through you, Arya. Not from you. I don't belong to you. You made that clear."

Arya closed her eyes and mentally counted. She took the knife and cut into the cake. Picking up a fork, she tried to serve Fiona a piece. Fiona immediately shook her head and cried until Ainsley snatched it from her hand, and gave it to her instead. "She doesn't know you." She snapped. "We should all be so lucky."

Arya shook, her breathing shallow. "I'm your mother-"

"No, you're just a womb donor." Ainslee said back. "Why are you here, Arya? Did Jason kick you out?"

"No Ainsley, I left Jason." She sat in one of the chairs, and looked at her daughter in her rage-filled face. "I missed you. I miss your father. I miss our family."

"I missed you too, Arya." Ainslee replied. "Then I realized I didn't need you. Then I was okay again."

Arya opened her mouth to speak, until they both heard Callen's heavy footsteps wandering down the hall. He was pulling on a shirt when he came to the scene before him. Fiona mindlessly ate her cake when Ainslee urged her to. Ainslee was about to throw hers at her mother, while Arya sat pensively. Normally, this was a dream of his, to see his family together, starting anew. However, the scene didn't look, nor feel right.

"Ainsley, we will need to talk about what happened in there," he said hotly.

His daughter looked up at him and gave him a smile. "Of course father! Let's discuss how you invited the one woman we all detested back in our lives and ruined anything good you had going for you."

"God help me. Later then, we will discuss this later. Child, When I'm through with you..." He interrupted her. Bringing his gaze to the staircase, he took a deep breath. "I-I need to handle something."

"Amelia is not a 'something', dad." Ainslee raised her voice. "She's more of a mother than this hag ever was to us."

"Ainsley," Callen said softly, feeling defeat. He looked at Arya and his heart broke. She was desperately trying not to cry, which sadly did not go unnoticed by her eldest.

"If you're going to sit there and sob like the sad w***e you are, don't bother to in front of me. Just leave." Ainslee said to Arya. "You're good at that."

"Ainsley!" Callen shouted.

"Don't you start, Dad. Don't you dare." Ainslee stood up and grabbed her plate. "You're part of this f*****g problem."

She walked to the kitchen and slammed her plate, half full of her cake, into the sink. "Happy f*****g birthday to me."

"Ainsley, get back here and sit with your mother." Callen bellowed at her.

She snarled, walking passed her parents. "I would, but my mother is dead and has been for four years." Taking Fiona from her chair, she stalked back to her room and slammed the door.

Callen looked at Arya, who buried her face in her hands. "I need to speak to Amelia. Will you be alright here?"

Arya nodded, sniffling. She looked up at Callen and shuddered a sigh. "I've ruined things, haven't I?"

Callen shook his head. "I need to talk to Amelia, then we will sit down and talk to the girls. Alright?"

He turned to the staircase, and found himself climbing the steps slower than normal. He wasn't looking forward to this. At all.

-----

She had already thrown her closet into her luggage, and had amused herself with how little she truly owned. She purposely left everything Callen had bought her, including the beautiful dress that was her 'bonus' in the closet, wrapped in a garment bag. She almost spat when she came across it, but shoved it to the side to gather her other essentials instead. Callen can give it to his wife.

Amelia went to the bathroom, and started throwing her make-up into a separate bag. She had sent a text to Jules, citing that she had to leave, and asked for the apartment again. The man advised he would close early and he would rush to come pick her up. The apartment was ready, he confirmed, and she promised she would explain on the ride back. She smiled at how trustworthy he was as she laid down on the bed, turning on her side. She was only half packed, but needed a solid cry before she could go. Once that was done, she could finish everything within ten minutes. Now it was just time to wait for Jules.

Then the knock on the door happened, and then it opened and shut behind her. She heard the click of the lock, and fear gripped her spine. Turning, then sitting up, she saw Callen pocket the master key, as he stared at her. His face was stoic, cold, no emotion glittered on his features. Cope face, she thought, and mentally laughed at her own joke. Always the stoic one.

"Amelia," his voice broke as he said her name, but no tears fell.

"Callen." She said quietly, folding her arms under her chest, rubbing her biceps. "Why did you lock the door?"

"Because we need to talk, and I know you said we didn't. I can't have you storming out with out at least hearing me out." Callen choked, his throat filled with emotion he tried to shove down. "Amelia, I'm so sorry."

"So am I, Mr. Fraser." She gave a soft, curt response. It wasn't viciously spoken, just defeated.

Callen hung his head, feeling shame creep his face. "She's me wife. The mother of my kids. They need her. They need their mum. She... she wants a second chance, Amelia."

"I see." She whispered. "And so do you."

Callen took a deep breath, and spoke through gritted teeth. "I have to think of my children's future. I have to see how this goes."

"Huh," Amelia said. "And here I thought we had a future. f**k me, right?"

"I don't... I don't think..." Callen coughed, trying to speak. "I don't feel I can give you a future Amelia. You're so f*****g young, and I'm so much older."

"I didn't care Callen!" Amelia yelled, then softly said "I still don't."

"We never spoke about being exclusive. You only wanted to see where this went," he wrung his hands in front of him, and palmed them upwards in a pleading motion. "It had to come to this, Amelia, it had to. You have no future with me, and we have to understand that. I can't promise you a marriage. I don't want any more children, so I can't give you a child-"

"I can't have children, Callen!" Amelia choked out, stopping a sob in her throat.

He stopped, staring at her, his jaw slack. "Amelia, what-?"

"There's no chance," she said. Sitting down on the bed, she leaned forward and wrapped her arms over her shoulders. She stared at the floor, gripping her toes in her shoes. "I can't have kids."

"My God, Amelia," Callen breathed softly. He carefully walked to her, and put a hand on her shoulder. "You love children, how? Is there any possibility?"

"No!" She shouted, standing. Pushing his hand off of her, she said "You have no right to my life anymore, Callen Fraser. No right."

He stepped back, nodding. "Me girls. They need you to stay, Amelia."

"No."

"We can figure this out," Callen said softly. "Me girls, they're hurting. Losing you would kill them."

"I can't stay Callen. I'm leaving." Amelia said. She grabbed her suitcase, amazed at how light it was. Nothing was left behind to remind her of him.

Callen looked as if she had struck him. "Arya won't be moving back in for two weeks. She's staying with her mum. We need time to reestablish our marriage, figure out what we want-"

"Do you realize you haven't once considered how I feel?" She pulled her suitcase off the bed and sat it on the floor. "You're asking me to stay here and watch as the man I'm in love with leaves me."

Callen's face went pale. "What? Amelia, I...what?" He replied, confused. "Wait. Come again?"

She rolled her eyes. "You get confused far too f*****g easily. What the hell now?"

"You're in love with me?" He asked softly. When she turned her back to him, he felt fire in his veins. "Don't turn away from me. I don't-"

"Don't what?" She asked softly. "Don't want me? Don't care about me? Don't love me? I know all that. Tell me something new, Callen."

Callen stepped closer to her and took her face in his hands, his eyes wide. " I love you, Amelia."

"Do you? How sweet." She smiled, as fake as plastic. Amelia shoved him aside and went to the last dresser in the room. She opened it and began throwing the few belongings in it onto the bed. "Did you honestly expect me to stay here and play haus fraus while you waffle in and out of a marriage that ended years ago?"

He stared at her in disbelief. "Amelia, I need you here."

"Callen, you don't get it."

"I'll double your pay," he said desperately. "You can't leave. Not yet."

"You have your mom," Amelia replied. "She loves the girls and you know she'll be happy to be here with them."

"Triple." He said, near desperation. "Quadruple, I don't care what I have to pay you."

"Damn it Callen!" Amelia yelled. She pulled her sweater on over her head, roughly shoving her arms through the holes. "Knock it off! Stop insulting me. I'm not a w***e!"

"Then just tell me what I can give you, Amelia!" He shouted at her. "What will it cost? What do you want?!"

"What I want is for you to leave me ALONE!" She all but screamed at him, slamming her fists on the dresser. She sobbed and hated herself for it. "Please, my God, Callen, if you care about me like you claim you do, just please, leave me alone."

He snapped. Taking wide steps, he grabbed her face and pressed his mouth to hers in desperation, his tongue gently opening her lips to deepen his kiss. She sobbed into his mouth and wrapped her arms over his shoulder and waist, pulling him close before shoving him away.

"Don't do that. I don't want your mouth on me." She said.

"Amelia, please," he grabbed her shoulders and pulled her close, attempting to kiss her again. "Don't leave me Amelia, please."

"Stop it." She said, trying to push his arms off her.

"Amelia-"

"Stop it! You taste like her!" She choked out, and then the tears began to fall as he let her go. Amelia folded an arm over her chest, and wiped her lips with the back of her hand. "Oh God, you taste like her."

Callen closed his eyes, swallowing hard. "I need two weeks, Amelia. Two weeks. Please." He took a deep breath. "I need two weeks to try and fix this."

"You can't. You broke it enough that there's no f*****g fix for this." Amelia grit her teeth, and hugged herself harder. Her body shook. "Now get out."

She half expected him to fight her. She was willing to take on that pain. The anger she felt made her want to fight. Instead, she heard her door open, a key placed on the table, and that same door slowly shut behind her.

She realized once the click of the knob occurred, it hurt worse than if he had stayed.

----