Hello! I'm back! Now settled at university, I am ready to get writing again. I will be continuing the story of Chase and Etta, and adding a few new characters (one of whom might satisfy the Greg fans). The first chapter is more of an introduction and very heavily reliant on dialogue. But the story should take off soon.

Its good to be back...and I know you all know what to do....that's right...REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW.

Love y'all., asha x

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The screams ripped me from my sleep. Terrified, panicked, broken screams-a child’s screams. Screams, I realised instantly, that were being ripped from the man lying next to me.

‘Shh,’ I edged closer as he flailed, ‘shh…my love…Chase, darling, please…I’m here…it’s all right…’

He whimpered once, twice and then gave a shuddering sob as he returned to consciousness. I did not release him but continued by quiet comforting,

‘Shh…shh…it’s okay now…’

He opened his eyes suddenly, fixing them on mine with a desperate intensity,

‘Etta…’

‘You’re okay now,’ I kissed his forehead, ‘you’re okay.’

‘What?’ I could feel the physical change as he emotionally separated himself from me, ‘I had a nightmare?’

‘Yes,’ I said quietly, ‘you screamed.’

He took a deep breath and sat up, moving away from me,

‘I’m sorry,’ he said stiffly, ‘to have woken you.’

‘Don’t be an idiot!’ I sat up, my eyes narrowing, ‘Chase, sit still. I’m just going to turn on a light and get you some water.’

‘I don’t need water.’

‘You screamed yourself raw. And it’s too warm, I’ll open a window…’

‘Don’t make such a fucking fuss,’ he snapped, his icy tone holding me still, ‘I’m fine now. I don’t need you to…’

‘Chase…’

‘I just need some space,’ he slid out of the bed, ‘go back to sleep.’

‘Chase, don’t shut yourself…’

‘Go back to sleep,’ he repeated, icily, and left the room.

I lay down, troubled. This was not the first nightmare he had had. This was not the first time that he had refused to confide in me afterwards, instead disappearing off alone. I could not possibly imagine what he dreamt of, what he had suffered. But I had noticed one thing, that the dreams had only appeared since he had learnt of my pregnancy.

---

I went into the kitchen the next morning, bleary with lack of sleep. Although I had waited up, Chase had never come back to bed and I had not had the courage to seek him out. Chase was sipping coffee and reading a newspaper, perched at the breakfast bar.

‘Good morning.’

He glanced up,

‘You’re up early.’

‘I was hungry.’

He watched as I slipped bread into the toaster,

‘Sick?’

‘A little,’ I shrugged.

He nodded,

‘Have a word with Saul, he might be able to help.’

He finished his coffee and stood up,

‘I’m out today. Should be back for dinner.’

‘Okay.’ Touch me, please, please just touch me.

He studied my face,

‘Take a nap. You look pale.’

‘Later. I wanted to paint some more of the nursery.’

He frowned slightly,

‘Fine.’

‘Chase…’ Kiss me, Chase, just touch my hand. Just brush back my hair. Chase…

‘I’ll see you tonight then,’ he slid his gun into his holster. Took a step forward. Stopped.

‘Be careful,’ I smiled faintly.

‘You too,’ he smiled back.

‘I will.’ Now! Now! A kiss, a touch…

‘Have a good day,’ he winked at me and left.

---

Greg bounded in a short while later,

‘Morning, sexy,’ he kissed me easily, ‘we still painting?’

How could this man touch me, kiss me, when my own husband could not bring himself to do the same?

I nodded, distractedly,

‘Yes. Thanks.’

Greg frowned,

‘You okay?’

‘Yeah,’ I shuffled towards the nursery, ‘I am. Just tired.’

He grinned,

‘Chase keeping you up?’

‘Something like that.’

He chuckled,

‘I don’t blame him. You’re fucking sexy pregnant.’

‘I look fat.’

‘No,’ he grinned, ‘you look even curvier. Your tits are even….’

A single glare quelled his remark and he just laughed instead, ‘you look hot, that’s all.’

‘Thank you,’ I kissed his cheek suddenly, ridiculously grateful to hear it.

He glanced around the large room we’d designated for the baby,

‘When you gonna get all the furniture?’

‘When Chase is free, I guess.’

‘Yeah. He’ll want to help choose. He must be nuts about this baby coming. You two decided on names yet?’

‘Chase hasn’t said anything;’ I confessed, ‘but I have a couple of ideas. I really like Isabel and Marianna.’

‘And boys names?’

‘It’s a girl.’

Greg blinked,

‘How do you know that?’

I shrugged,

‘I just do.’

‘You haven’t checked?’

‘Nope. I just know.’

He frowned,

‘Weird.’

I shrugged, smiling,

‘Yeah. I’d bet on it.’

‘Go on then,’ he held out his hand, ‘I’m reckoning it’s a boy.’

‘A girl,’ I took his hand, ‘what’s your…’

‘A hundred.’

‘Deal,’ I laughed as we shook on it, ‘you’re gonna be really sorry.’

‘I don’t think so,’ he crouched by the paint, opening the can, ‘ready to get started?’

We painted in companionable silence. The clinically white walls slowly developing into a rich cream.

‘Greg?’

He looked down from his precarious perch on the ladder,

‘Yeah?’

I took a deep breath,

‘I don’t think Chase is happy.’

Greg looked quizzical,

‘About what?’

‘The baby. Us. Our marriage.’

Greg moved so suddenly that the stepladder wobbled violently. I grabbed it quickly,

‘Greg!’

‘Sorry,’ he hurried down, ‘Etta!’

‘What?’

‘What are you talking about?’

‘It’s true,’ I put the paintbrush down, ‘he doesn’t…touch me anymore.’

Greg’s face relaxed,

‘I always knew you were obsessed. He’s probably just scared sex will…’

‘I’m not talking about sex,’ I snapped, ‘I mean….he doesn’t touch me…ever.’

‘Like what?’

‘He doesn’t touch my hand or my hair or my cheek. He doesn’t kiss me. He doesn’t ask about the baby. He spends most nights on the couch. He…’ I gulped as my voice grew choked, ‘Greg…’

‘Baby,’ he hugged me tightly, ‘baby girl, shh.’

‘I just….I want him back, Greg, but he…he…’

‘Shh,’ he kissed my forehead, ‘Etta, hon.’

I sniffed,

‘You don’t believe me.’

He frowned,

‘I can’t. I know how crazy he is about you. I know how excited he was about the baby.’

‘You think I’m paranoid!’

‘You’re pregnant, sweetheart, you’re allowed to be emotional.’

‘Fine,’ I stepped back, wiping my eyes.

‘Don’t be mad,’ he sighed, ‘I…’

‘I’m not mad. Stay for dinner.’

‘Huh?’’

‘Have dinner,’ I said stubbornly, ‘and then tell me if I’m just being emotional.’