The Way of the Wolf

This is in the LW category, has no sex, and is a RAAC, so you are warned. It has as its core a method which has been used in some LW stories, but is herein 'codified,' explained and named.

Characters:

Bob Williams (Husband divorcing cheating wife)

Venus Anderson (Bob Williams' lawyer)

Jennifer Williams (Cheating wife)

Steve Wheeler (Jennifer Williams' lawyer)

The conference room was quiet, with the strained quiet that only repressed raw emotions can generate. The only thing that it lacked for a classic Hitchcock-style movie tension was the ticking of an old clock.

Two people sat at one side of the table. The woman had straw blond hair of shoulder length and intense blue eyes which seemed skeptical of everything, even the dust motes drifting in the beams of sunlight sneaking through the small gaps in the shades. Her makeup was restrained and professional, and perfectly in keeping with her classic business dress in a mix of black, grey and white. She had a folder on the table in front of her and occasionally glanced at the silent electric clock on the wall opposite.

The man was in his early thirties, but with the worn edges of someone who had aged several years in less than a month. His hair was chestnut brown and a bit long and ragged; like a preoccupied man without a wife to remind him about going to the barber. His eyes were brown and his lips drawn back tightly, like a man being forced to watch his child's autopsy -- desperately wanting to be anywhere else, but resigned to the pain to come.

At precisely two minutes before the appointed time, the door on the opposite side of the room opened and a tall, broad-shouldered man walked through, followed closely by a woman. He held a chair for her, and then sat down himself. The door shut slowly behind them with a dragging 'click'. The man was tall and had an indefinable air of determination, a sense of purpose akin to a Roman gladiator before the gate opened into the coliseum. His red hair was trimmed perfectly and could have been mistaken for a hairpiece. His green eyes were wary and his glance appeared to weigh up and account for everything and everyone in the room. His grey suit might have been chiseled from stone, for it lacked the slightest wrinkle.

The woman next to him was slight and slender, with long black hair pulled severely back and restrained by a plain, heavy clip. Her eyes were normally a pleasant blue, but they were now set in a crazy web of redness that spoke of copious tears, shed and yet to be shed. She looked like one who had not slept at all well in more than a month, and had to be forced to eat by an unsympathetic mother. She was wearing a black dress, as one might wear to a funeral, and had the one-step-from-death air of a parent picking out their child's coffin. She was desperately trying to catch the eye of the man across the table from her -- whose eyes were riveted to a knot in the faux wooden paneling above and behind her.

The tall broad-shouldered man stood and extended a hand to the blond woman, who stood and shook his hand.

"Steve Wheeler. And you are ...?"

"Anderson. Venus Anderson," she responded, letting go of the firm, steady grip and sitting down, looking at him suspiciously for a moment. The grip had not been overly familiar, nor intimidatingly firm. His was not overtly pressing his height or obvious physical strength advantages but treating her as a fellow gladiator. This was unusual enough to cause a flicker of puzzlement which she quickly dismissed. She opened the folder in front of her and lifted the neatly typed death warrant for a marriage and said, "I believe you will find my client's offer to be more than fair."

She did not have to actually read the paper, since she had typed it up herself from her interview notes with her client, one Bob Williams, who was stoically sitting beside her, but used her best, most reasonable voice to try and sell it, with the footnote that the pain would start fading the quicker the stitches were yanked out.

"The house has little equity and neither can afford to really buy the other out or assume the mortgage, so it should be sold and any profit or loss equally split. Each will keep their own vehicle and be responsible for their own insurance and other customary expenses. Each party will keep their own retirement accounts. Any and all saving, checking, stocks, bonds, or other assets to be divided equally. My client is offering a maintenance of $1000 per month for one year or until your client gets remarried or moves in with a significant other. In exchange your client will revert to her maiden name, cease wearing her wedding ring, and return the engagement ring, which is an heirloom of my client's family. Until the divorce is final, your client will remain on my client's health and dental plans. Your client will be removed from my client's insurance policies as beneficiary upon acceptance of this offer." She glanced at the distraught women, suppressing a passing wave of sympathy, and gently slid the paper halfway across the table. "There isn't any fairer offer, my client just want this to be over quickly and hopes your client won't draw it out."

The woman, Jennifer Williams, gasped slightly, bit her lip and exchanged a look with her lawyer. She nodded jerkily and nudged his arm. He gave her a brief look that said to any experienced poker player in the room, "Are you really sure about this?" She nodded again. He gave a barely audible sigh. Turned to his opponent and said. "That is indeed a very fair settlement, and more than she says she deserves." He reached across the table and pushed the paper back and inch or two. "However, she respectfully and hopefully requests that your client consider her counter-offer." He pulled out a folder, laid it on the table and pulled out several sheets and started to read. Opposing council maintained a look of utter neutrality while her client glared at him with a look bouncing wildly between disbelief and downright hostility.

"My client will sign away any and all rights to the joint residence to your client. His name will be the only one on the title, deed and mortgage. She will sign over to your client 100% of all joint assets and make no claim upon his retirement or any other benefits. She will return to her maiden name, return the engagement ring, but will wear her wedding ring on a necklace in the hope that someday your client will place it back on her finger. While she has quit her job, she requests no maintenance. She will have no further contact or dealings of any kind with ...," he eyed his client and then continued, "her seducing bastard former co-worker. She will seek new employment and your client will have approval rights over the position. Any and all income from said job will be directly deposited into an account over which your client has total control. Any allowance my client has will be totally at your client's discretion. Upon enactment of this dissolution of marriage, your client will permit my client to reoccupy his home, his bedroom, and his bed and resume sexual relations with her," she elbowed him and he eyed her again, "frequent sexual relations, so that she may make her transgression up to him. In support of this you will find attached a medical report indicating that she has no sexually transmitted infections. She requests marital counselling with your client having veto over the counsellor with sessions when it is mutually convenient. She consents to wearing an ankle monitor if your client so wishes. She will turn over all passwords to any and all electronic devices and consents to your client having unlimited access to all such devices at any time. In the case of any proven future infidelity she will leave with only her car, clothes and jewelry which was owned prior to the marriage. She voluntarily gives up all custody of future children and any and all visitation will be at your client's discretion. She also agrees that your client may have, at any future time, an outside sexual relationship lasting no more than three encounters, and my client will say not a word about it nor take any negative or detrimental actions against your client, as she views this as her just punishment for letting lust overcome love, honor and good sense. She asks only that she be informed when the encounters are over ...," he paused, and his client nudged him again sharply with her elbow. He cleared his throat and continued, "... so that she can prove to him that he will never be able to find a better partner anywhere; nor someone who realizes so bitterly that she is on the brink of losing the best friend she ever had." He looked up and slid the paper a few inches toward his counterpart. "She has already signed off on this. And your client will probably never get a more remorseful, repentant and loving counter offer."

Bob's face had gone from stony, to disbelieving, through incredulous and was now firmly set into rage.

"Damn you, Jennifer! Damn you!" he grated between clenched teeth, and with the body language screaming of a man barely keeping himself under control, stood, knocking his chair back, and strode into one of the small, side conference rooms and slammed the door behind him. Neither room was completely sound-proof, and the scream of primal frustration was clearly audible but not deafening. Jennifer started to stand with obvious intent to follow him, but Ms. Anderson was even faster than Mr. Wheeler and leaned across the table, palm open and up, and said, quietly, "Let him work it out himself."

For several minutes the sound of walls being punched, furniture being kicked and profanity being shouted was clearly heard in the large conference room, but not reacted to, as the two lawyers avoided looking at each other while Jennifer stared at the door in obvious distress.

After a little less than five minutes the thumping and invective stopped, and the imagination had to fill in a minute or so of shuddering breaths. The door opened -- normally. Not thrown open or thrust open or pushed open, but opened at normal speed and with no more or less than the amount of effort necessary. Bob, refusing to look at anything other than the paper on the table, pulled his chair up, sat down, and pulled the paper toward him. "Pen," he said. After a startled moment his lawyer handed him a pen. He rapidly started drawing lines through text and printing other words. "Jennifer has to initial all changes, right?" he growled to no one in particular.

"Yes. Having already signed, she would need to initial any changes," Steve agreed, mildly.

"I hereby withdraw the petition for dissolution of marriage," he said between gritted teeth, forcing himself to write slowly and legibly. "Upon the following conditions. I accept sole ownership of the house but only until the birth of the first child, at which time ownership will be joint. All assets remain joint but any transaction in excess of $500 other than a deposit will require both signatures. If the seducing bastard co-worker attempts any further contact of any kind, Jennifer will cut the contact, inform me at once and we will jointly file for a restraining order. I agree to counselling and we will start looking tomorrow. I accept the penalty for future infidelity, but it will apply to BOTH of us." He looked up and glared at his wife's tear-stained face, then went back to writing. "How you could be married to me for three freaking years and think that I would EVER deprive children of their mother is beyond me. Unless there are medical, mental or physical safety issues to consider, custody of children is to be joint and visitation unlimited." He scribbled some more and then spoke, his voice choked with tension as he looked up again and barked, "And how could you offer revenge sex?! I never wanted anyone but you and I am in no way settling for second best. You got that?!" He broke out with a single sob, but managed to swallow it. "You hurt me. You ripped my heart out. I didn't think there was that much pain in the world until it happened to me. And you can damn well bet you will be making it up to me."

She nodded and ran around the table and threw herself into his arms. Ms. Anderson braced the chair so it wouldn't fall over, and the husband and wife curled up into a ball of misery and relief and cried in each other's embrace and babbled promises and apologies and threats while their lawyers passed the modified document back and forth. When the urgent kissing started, Mr. Wheeler cleared his throat, loudly, to get their attention. They looked at him but refused to relinquish their hold on each other.

"I would recommend that you do NOT go home tonight. Neutral ground sounds like a good idea, since you will have a lot of talking to do, as well as other things. Hopefully a lot of other things. The Ramada is across the street and they have reasonable room service and a full arsenal of free toiletries." He reached into his inside jacket pocket and handed three business cards to Bob. "These are well-respected and very successful religious-based counsellors who specialize in fixing relationships rather than easing people into divorce. They come highly recommended." He smiled fleetingly. "I get no kickbacks and have no financial stake." He looked at Ms. Anderson. "I will have this post-nuptial modified officially and send it to Ms. Anderson's office for her approval. She can let you know when it is ready to sign." He took a deep breath. "I am a lawyer, not a counsellor, but I will say that the two of you have been through a really rough time. The euphoria and relief at dodging the immediate bullet of divorce will wear off, and there are some obvious issues that need to be addressed with love, patience and understanding. So get that professional help as soon as possible and work on it. Work hard on it. I don't want to make any more money off of your conflict, but am available for wills, trust funds for children, and other such services," he finished with a crooked grin.

The couple nodded, managed to stand up, and hands were shaken all around. "The Ramada?" Bob asked. Jennifer nodded. "I have a lot of making up to do, and the sooner I start, the better." They walked out of the conference room holding hands, and their lawyers watched them go.

"That was unexpected," Venus said.

"But the best possible outcome," Steve sighed. "It was obvious he still loved her, he was just so wounded that he had to wound back. I know that she was remorseful. Actually one step away from suicidal; her parents were frantic. And she knows that she is very much on probation. Doing something that thoughtless is egregious; but almost losing everything is supremely sobering." He looked at her squarely, with some amount of determination. "I personally think that 'once a cheater, always a cheater' is too absolute. After all, if there is no such thing as redemption, then what can the rest of us hopelessly flawed human beings hope for?" He shook himself. "Sorry, deep dive into philosophical."

"I haven't heard much about your practice," Venus said in measured tones.

"Sizing up the opposition?" Steve grinned back. "I admit I haven't heard much about yours either."

They looked at each other, like two samurai, professionally curious as to who would make the first move and how that move might come out.

"Well, I only have a freezer full of microwave meals back at my apartment, and feel like celebrating. Would you care to join me for dinner? Separate checks to avoid any appearance of impropriety, of course," he added.

Venus laughed, considering his open expression carefully. "Well, since I only have three-day old soup waiting to be re-re-reheated back at MY apartment, dinner somewhere else sounds good. Suggestions?"

"Walker's," Steve said immediately.

Venus raised an eyebrow. "I haven't been there."

"It's relatively new, reasonably quiet, has a varied menu, is quite reasonably priced, and, most importantly, is within walking distance."

"Lead the way."

Walker's was all that was advertised and a matronly waitress with a calm smile and professional demeanor took them immediately to a quiet booth in the back. "I am Marlene, and I will be taking care of you. What will you have to start?"

Steve raised an eyebrow at Venus, and she said, "House Chablis and a glass of water, please."

"VO and Seven, and water also for me, please, Marlene."

"You got it. Specials tonight are lobster bisque, crab rolls, Tuscan ratatouille, and lemon mousse with maraschino cherries and whip cream. Be right back."

They looked at each other for a minute, the two samurai still wary of potential opponents. The expression on Steve's face shifted as he deliberately chose to be vulnerable first. "University of Pennsylvania. Carey Law School. Got married to Janice when she graduated from Perelman School of Medicine. First memorial hospital here was her internship, so we moved here. I didn't want to have a marriage with the craziness of me pursuing a partnership while she pursued her internship, so I took what was left from my legacy from my parents and grandparents, which had gotten me through school, and set up my own practice." He had a hard time reading the rapid parade of expressions which flickered across Venus' face when he said that, but decided to press on regardless.

Marlene breezed by with a circular tray with four glasses. The tray swirled through a complex series of curves as it moved from head height to waist height, and four glasses were deposited on the table, landing a lightly as feathers. "I am guessing that you need a little more time on the entrees; how about any appetizers to buffer the talk?"

Steve chuckled. "Do you like mozzarella sticks, Venus?"

"Very occasionally. But only with raspberry sauce." Her expression was one of grudging amusement.

"Two orders of sticks, then Marlene. I'll take marinara."

"Oh," Venus cut in, "and separate checks, please, Marlene."

"You've got it." She bustled away.

"Well, where was I, "Steve continued. "Oh, yes, my practice was small, but successful. Plenty of work. A lot of people couldn't afford big firms and didn't want to feel like a number. But it let me be home, well, at the apartment, when Janice was off-shift. Got her fed, entertained and rested and then sent her back into the fray. At times I imagined myself as the trainer of a fighter, jumping up and down in the corner of the ring, having to send my wife out into the next round when the bell rang. The hospital is the regional trauma center, and she won some and lost some. I did my best to piece her back together when there was a loss. Being a doctor wears on you. Being a doctor's support system isn't too easy either." He sipped his drink and stared, brooding, into the amber depths.

"You're divorced, aren't you?" Venus suddenly spoke -- and spoke with an assurance which others might have found disconcerting.

Steve had a fleeting sad expression, started to settle into a guarded glance, but one could almost see the conscious decision to stay open. "How can you tell?"

"No ring. And you are definitely the kind of man who would wear one. You called your wife 'Janice' rather than 'Jan' or some other form of endearment, and you were using past tense."

"Yes. While I was working to keep a marriage going at home, there was a well-established, well-heeled anesthesiologist who was persistently trying to make time with Janice at work. She finished her internship and got hired permanently. But the celebration I had planned for completing her internship saw me served with a Dissolution of Marriage petition. She moved out that day. He served his wife the same day, and moved out. They moved in together. Barely caused a blip at the hospital. Not wanting to have a fool for a client, I got my own lawyer. Jack Hardesty of Hardesty and Hardesty. He was good, and I learned some tricks from him, but it was brought home that law is not about justice, it's about money."