His name was always on her lips when she dreamed. Soft, soft words when she mumbled and turned over, imagining it was his body pressed up against hers, his hands on her waist and his smell she breathed in. But it wasn't him. She'd ran away ten years ago and couldn't make up that time no matter how hard she tried.

Chloe wasn't asleep. Even though her eyes were closed and her breathing even, she was still wide awake. She could feel the heat coming form her husband as he slumbered soundlessly. Figured. Typical man, could sleep through anything. While she was busy listening to noises she didn't want to know the origin of, he lay there like a baby.

She could always count sheep. Scrunching up her nose, she almost laughed. Almost. There it was again, that noise. It was coming from below them it seemed. The garage was below their bedroom and in the garage there was a door to the house. That door was unlocked, she realized with shock. She heard the click of the door quietly opening and immediately she sat up in bed.

"Hey, wake up!" Nudging her husband, Chloe stumbled in the dark to find some sort of weapon.

"W-what?" Rolling over, with eyes unfocused her husband struggled to see her in the dark.

"Someone's breaking in!"

"Don't be stupid," he laughed and then rolled over on his stomach, hugging Chloe's extra pillow to him.

"This is no time to sleep! There is someone down there and either you go see who it is or I'm calling the police." She was panicking now. She could hear someone head for the stairs. Large, chunky boots. A man.

This seemed to grab his attention and he was up and on his feet while Chloe was still searching for a weapon. In the drawer she found a book, some tissues and a pen. The pen would have to do unless she planned on reading the intruder to sleep or blowing his nose to death.

She moved behind her husband as they eased their way out of the bedroom and started down the hallway. He grabbed the autographed Babe Ruth baseball bat from the wall and held it protectively in front of him. Somehow he thought the Great Bambino wouldn't mind given the circumstances. "Stay behind me," he whispered over his shoulder to a petrified Chloe.

"Oh don't worry, I wasn't planning on being the one to save the day." She grabbed her gold pen tighter; felt safer holding it. Even though she knew in the end it wouldn't protect her, she liked to dilute herself to believing it could. As they reached the stairs Chloe saw the shadow come off the wall from the guest room. "Philip look out!" Chloe cried as the man punched him mercilessly in the stomach, then grabbed the bat.

"Oh God!" she cried and tried to run, but by then he had a handful of her hair and he was pulling her towards him. "Don't touch me! Philip help me!"

Philip was slumped on the ground grabbing his side and fighting for air. She didn't even see the blow that knocked her cold on her feet.

_____

The wind ripped through the open window sending icy shivers down Chloe's spine. She took a puff from the cigarette she held between shaky fingers. The stars were out in full force littering the sky in punches of light. Taking the ransom note once again she read it over. Philip had really done it this time. How had she not known? He'd said he'd given up his habit; that he could quit at any time. But that wasn't the case when she found him syringe in hand, elastic band above his vein, pushing heroine straight into his system.

They had no money left from his trust fund that daddy dearest had set up after he was disowned. Debts mounted, bills stacked sky high, but he still had to fulfill his need for the drugs that had destroyed their marriage and now he was gone. Kidnapped. She almost wanted to laugh at the demands. Whoever had taken him hadn't done their research or they'd know they were in no position to pay.

The only money they had left was from Chloe's brief career on stage as an opera singer and that was locked up so tight Philip couldn't get his grubby little hands on it. For once she was thankful for listening to her mother -as overbearing and protective as she was.

There was only one person that could help her now. Extinguishing the butt, she flicked it out the window and wirily drew the drapes closed. The phone mocked her when she picked it up; dialling a number she still knew by heart.

"You said if I ever needn't you to give you a call. Well, I need you now."

__

Brady paced the expanse of his living room; sipped the brandy that he'd warmed in his hands through the crystal glass and watched the door. He checked his watch again. The knock was unexpected. She was early. Chloe was never early for anything. Except when it came to her husband, Brady snarled viciously. Jerking open the door, he took her arm and pulled her in.

"Did I or did I not say midnight?" His eyes were blue flames of anger and Chloe shuddered under his gaze.

"I-I..."

"You're early." His grip loosened on her arm and she was grateful.

"I didn't see the harm."

"What if there were people here? Hmm? What if someone saw you?" Stepping away he put the expanse of the room between then, sipping his brandy casually as if they were talking about the weather.

Chloe absently rubbed her arm, looking everywhere but at him. "I guess I didn't think."

"Fine. Now what is it that you need. You sounded shook up on the phone. Am I to assume this has something to do with the bastard you call a husband?"

"If you're going to be a jerk, I might as well leave now. I don't know why I even came here, I'll go." She stalked to the door and was surprised when he reached out to grab her, this time his touch was gentle. Moving his hand to the small of her back, he guided her to the couch.

"Sit," he commanded in a rough, husky tone.

Chloe complied, crossing her legs and pulling her jean skirt over her kneecaps. "I... They left this."

Brady took the piece of notepaper from her trembling hands and threw it on the mini-bar. His back was turned towards her as he poured her a drink in the same type of flashy crystal glass. "Drink this. It'll calm your nerves."

"No, I-"

Rolling his eyes, he pressed the glass into her hand. "Take it."

"Thanks," she said meekly, taking a drink of the liquid; flinching when it burned her throat on the way down.

"You sounded upset on the phone. Tell me how it all started."

It had been a long time since she'd been to Brady's apartment but she found the walls whispering to her; heard the faint remnants of laughter from years ago. But now, as she looked around, she realized it was no longer that magical place. That somehow the place that had been a refuge for her, had turned dull and bitter and so had the man. No life resided here. It was all gone now, the laughter, the tears and maybe even the love. The laughs they had shared faded from her ears like every other memory.

There was no humour in Brady either as he eyed her with a cold glare she recognized as malice. Or was it disgust? Either way, it was as unfunny as a three alarm blaze in the dead of winter. The atmosphere was as frigid as her skin would be standing outside watching the destruction of the fire.

Brady was not a man that did things half way. So by calling him, she'd opened the floodgates to any sort of information. Her personal life was his to pick apart, and he would. Her marriage--the sham that it had become--would surely be one of the finer points of interest, she supposed. All would be exposed and they would sit there acting like polite company, or at least she would, while she divulged secrets and he took them in with an air of arrogance.

"Philip lost his job. Then when his mother died-it was just so unexpected. He got depressed, like anyone would. -and before you say anything I'm not trying to make excuses for him. He tried to get back in his father's good graces, but Victor wouldn't have it. He started to stay out late and then he'd come home in the morning drunk. I ignored it for a while but-" Her eyes remained downcast unable to look at Brady as she told him what a failure her husband was.

"But," Brady pressured.

Taking a deep breath, she continued, "but then I was doing laundry and I found a needle. He said it was just to help him relax; that it was no big deal and that all the guys at the office used to shoot up and snort coke during their lunchbreaks."

Brady laughed bitterly, interrupting her train of thought.

"I told him I'd leave him. That I couldn't be married to a drug user. I thought he'd changed."

"But he hadn't?"

"No, it just got worse. Men would come to our house that I didn't know. Philip would sent me to our bedroom. Brady if I had known-"

His hand shot through the air and he waved away her comments. "Save it. You don't owe me anything."

"I do. I want you to understand. He was a good husband for a while, real loving and sweet and then things-well things just changed."

Brady ran his long, lean fingers through his messy blonde locks and let out a frustrated sigh. "What were the demands?"

Her eyes welled with tears and she sniffled back a sob. "A million."

Brady's brows furrowed up in confusion. "What's the problem?"

"I can't get it. Philip has no money left and what I've got, I can't get out. At least not without Nancy knowing."

Rubbing his hands together Brady stood, offering what seemed like a simple solution. "All you have to do is call up your mom, get her to the bank and the problem is solved."

"I wish it were that easy. No one can know. And even if we get them the money, who's to say they won't kill him anyway?" She wiped the tears from her eyes absently and combed her fingers through unkept hair.

"So you want my help." His jaw twitched. "Hypothetically now, say I help you... What do I get out of the whole deal?"

"Anything you want!" She surprised him by grabbing his hand.

Withdrawing from her grasp as if it burned him, he framed her face, washed his thumb down her jaw, catching a falling tear. "You love him that much?"

"He's my husband."

Brady sobered, pulled his hand away and dug it deep into the pocket of his faded jeans. "Right."

Chloe's eyes were huge when she stood and faced him. "Whatever it takes Brady, just get him back."

"Whatever it takes?" His eyes roamed her body, sweeping down the line of her jaw to the slope of her breasts, and then back up to her lips. She could feel it as if he'd touched her with his calloused hands and it made her shiver.

"Yes, anything.."

Brady's eyes were cold. "I will hold you to that."

"Where do we start?" Chloe's eyes softened. She wrapped her arms around herself and peered up at Brady.

"Go home, Chloe. Sleep on it."

"Thank you, Brady. You don't have any idea how much this means to me." Chloe took a step forward and before he could stop her, she wrapped her arms around Brady's neck.

Instead of holding her and comforting her as he would have in the past, he roughly pushed her away. "I'm not a saint, don't ever put me up on a pedestal!"

"That's not what I'm doing to you. I'm just trying to thank you."

"I'm doing this because it's my job; what you'll paid me to do, nothing more."

"I don't believe that."

"Believe what you want honey, as long as you pay me, you're free to have these silly little thoughts that will never ripen. I'm not who you want me to be, so stop trying to act like I'm someone I'm not."

"Has the world been that cruel, Brady? Are you really that unfeeling?" Chloe's hand automatically reached for his stubbled cheek, but his hand darted out and he grabbed a hold of her wrist, pulling her against him. The pressure was tight, bordering on painful and she wasn't sure if it was coming from her wrist or her heart.

"Don't try to make yourself feel better sweetheart. I am who I am. You know I lost everything when-" His eyes softened, his grip relaxed. "It doesn't matter now. What's done is done."

"Goodnight Brady." Chloe whispered softly before she left his apartment. Brady watched her go and then closed his door, turned back to the couch and finished the rest of his drink.

Hadn't he wanted her to come to him like this for years? Desperate and afraid. Hadn't he wanted her to need him? Yes. But not when all her efforts were for another man and when it was all over that wouldn't change. Still holding the shiny glass in his hand, he stood and threw it against the door. "Dammit!" It would be just like before. She'd get what she wanted and then leave him all alone again.