How dare you...

Watching Wes remove his hat and outer shirt, Cindy knew her request, on some level, was rather ridiculous. But she didn't stop him. She had yet to work through much buried anger for what had happened and the organization that had taken her husband away from her. 

Her eyes drifted to the scars on his face and her gut twists. Not because she thought they were ugly, but because of what he must have gone through. He not only had been missing, but he'd been hurt. How hurt? How had he suffered? Where had he been? What had he seen and experienced? What horrors had he lived through? 

There were too many words to try and sort them out as they all piled up and got stuck in Cindy's throat. As Wes steps closer, she stiffens, still not knowing what all this was about or if it was even real. He was supposed to be dead. No one had told her he was alive. Would he just be taken away again? Was this a cruel five-minute reunion, just to have him turn and leave again? Was this whole thing a dream? 

Cindy sucks in her breath as Wes touches her face. She knew that touch. She knew that hand. It was his and only his. No other man could spread such warmth through her. And his voice...yes, that was Wes' voice. Her husband's voice. The voice she had longed to hear for so long. If this was a dream, it was all too real. 

Without much time to react, Cindy is drawn to her knees with Wes, suddenly caught in his embrace. She'd seen him cry before...but not like this, and she thought her heart might just crumble right here. Still in a state of shock, some of her walls remain firmly in place, even if this really was Wes. Pulling back far enough to see him, she lifts her hand to his face. Her fingers run over his scars, so lightly as if she thought it would cause him pain. She straightens a strand of hair over his ear and rearranges a few locks above his forehead to look more like "her" Wes. Silent tears fill her eyes and slowly spill over, trickling down her cheeks without her even noticing. 

"How dare you come unannounced," she whispers hoarsely. Amidst the shock and love, fire flashes in her gaze. Her palm still rests gently on his face though, proof of the conflicting emotions she felt."You leave me, never to return... I thought you were dead..." Her voice wavers, matching her tears. "And now..." Her hand slides from his cheek. "Do you think you can just... just waltz back in here and pick up where we left off?"

She swallows hard, looking again at the scars on his face. How hard this all must have been on him. How heart-wrenching to have left his wife and daughter behind, thinking he'd never see them again. She knew how much he'd loved her and Kaylee. She had trusted that love and knew it was true. It wasn't his fault he'd left. But who else could she be mad at? She wanted to scream. Cry. Hit. But she couldn't bring herself to inflict any more pain on this man she loved so deeply. 

Searching his eyes, she could feel her walls starting to lower, and a sob catches in her throat. "I missed you so much," she manages between tears. Her had returns to his face, just feeling him to reassure her he really was real. "Please tell me you're not going to leave again." Her lower lip trembles and her face contorts as she tries to maintain control. "Because if... if you are... then you can just go right now." 

If what Hope said was true, that she was satisfied with just friendship, then why did Scott see in her eyes what he did? Was she just that willing to ignore her feelings just so she could at least be friends with him? While that made him feel good, it was also frustrating. 

Scott's eye focuses on Hope's hand that lay on his arm. Her touch made him feel good, and he didn't like that. "I'm glad you want to be friends, and that's fine. I like being friends with you too." He shifts his arm out from under her hand as he leans his elbows on the table, deciding it was better just to remain seated. "But I still think we outta spend less time together. I can't handle it." There. He'd admitted it. It was because of him, not her. He was the one with the problem. He was the one that couldn't stand being so close to her all the time. 

Trotting over to her two favorite people, Domino carries in her mouth a squeaky rubber bone. Sensing that her master was not in the mood to play, she aims for Hope instead. Putting her front paws on Hope's leg, she looks up at her, her stumpy tail wriggling with excitement.