Hello! I'm not really new here on this fan fiction site, but I am a fairly new fan of Reba. I just got into it after they started airing it on Lifetime, and now I can't get enough of it. But anyway, here's my first Reba fan fiction. It's not much, but it was just an idea I had had for a while that I just decided to finally get out of my head! Here it goes!
Disclaimer: I own nothing!
After being told the overwhelming relieving news of not having to be operated on, Reba spent the night in her hospital room just as a formality before she was allowed to leave the very next day. So, the Hart clan gathered up a few of Reba's belongings from her room, checked her out quickly, and still dressed in their wedding outfits, the five of them happily headed home. When they arrive, Van quickly picks Reba up from the car and carries her into the house with Cheyenne following close behind him.
"Welcome home, Mrs. H," he announces loudly as he kicks the door open and carries her over the threshold. "Glad to be back?"
"So glad," Reba admits as she gazed around her living room, amazed at how much she actually did miss it even though she was only gone a day. "One question, though." She turns her head to where she is looking at Van straight in the eye. "Why in the world are you carrying me!"
Her tone was a bit harsher than she meant it to be, so Van was taken a bit taken aback. He gave her a questioning look as if the answer was obvious.
"Mrs. H! You were just in the hospital for collapsing," he told her as he carried her over to the couch and set her gently down to a sitting position.
"Yes, I am aware," Reba replied, sarcasm dripping from every word. "Care to explain any further?"
"Well, Cheyenne and I had a long talk," Van began to explain as Cheyenne joined his side, "and we realized that you being in the hospital had a lot to do with what we put you through."
"Yeah," Cheyenne piped in, "we realized that with your high blood pressure, we shouldn't put you under too much strain anymore."
"So we decided that we're gonna be a lot more helpful around the house," Van announced proudly.
"We're gonna help out with the chores and cut back on how much you baby-sit Elizabeth, and I'm even gonna cook dinner some nights. Shut up, Van," Cheyenne added quickly before he could make a clever comment about her cooking skills. Reba chuckled a bit and shook her head.
"So because I had to go to the hospital, you guys decided to be more helpful around the house?" Van and Cheyenne nodded enthusiastically in affirmation.
"I always wondered what it would take," Reba added sarcastically with a smile.
"This is serious, Mom," Cheyenne quickly argued as she sat down on the couch and took Reba by the hand. She looked up at Van for support before staring straight into her mother's eyes again.
"We don't want to lose you," she said, not a trace of humor in her voice. Reba stared somewhat distrusting into her daughter's eyes, and then into her son-in-law's, before realizing that they weren't joking and enveloped Cheyenne in a hug.
"You won't," she said, trying to reassure her. She released her daughter from the hug to look her in the eye again. "And I really appreciate the gesture. But I don't think carrying me around is gonna help anything."
"It couldn't hurt any," Van told her with a smile, as he took a seat in the armchair. Reba smiled gratefully in response before hugging Cheyenne once more. When she looked away, Van's smile disappeared and he began to rub his lower back.
"Except for maybe my spine," he added as quietly as he could, but a look of disdain from Reba told him that she heard.
"I'm just kidding, Mrs. H.! You're as light as a feather," Van assured her with a smile. Reba smiled wanly in response and looked away once more, allowing him to share a look of wariness with his wife.
"My, it's awfully quiet in this house," Reba remarked. "Where is everybody?"
"Well, Jake and Kyra are staying with Henry and Elizabeth over at Dad's house," Cheyenne explained. "And Dad and Barbara Jean…." she looked around, confused, "hey, where are they? They were following us home from the hospital; they should have gotten here when we did!"
As if on cue, Barbara Jean burst through the front door and ran over to the couch to envelop Reba in a tight hug. Brock entered soon after her and closed the door behind him.
"Oh Reba," Barbara Jean gushed into Reba's shoulder. "I'm so glad your home! I missed you so much!"
"Barbara Jean, I saw you at the hospital twenty minutes ago," Reba replied in a somewhat strained voice, "and I can't breathe!" Barbara Jean released her death grasp on her immediately and smiled sheepishly.
"I'm sorry, I just get so emotional when it comes to homecomings," she explained, prompting an eye-roll from Reba. Barbara Jean gazed upon her for a moment before bursting into tears.
"Excuse me," she cried in a high-pitched, emotional voice before running over to Brock and burying her face in his shoulder. He patted her on the back in a comforting manner, rolling his eyes himself.
"Well, I think I'll go into the kitchen and fix me a Van-wich," Van announced loudly as he stood up from his seat. "Care to join me, Mrs. Montgomery?" He offered Cheyenne his arm, for which she stood up and proudly took.
"Anything you say, Mr. Montgomery," she beamed at him. Then after a quick kiss, they headed arm in arm over to the kitchen, obvious to the others that the romance of the vows recited in Reba's hospital room still hadn't worn off. Reba smiled fondly at them, glad to see her children happy and back together again.
"Reba," she heard an annoying voice call from behind her, bursting through her happy reverie, "is there anything I can do for you? Anything you want or need?" Reba turned around and gave Barbara Jean her a fake smile.
"You never did get the Frisbee down off the roof, did you," she asked her, fighting back the smile that tugged at her lips. Barbara Jean thought for a second before it finally came to her what Reba was talking about.
"I'm on it," she announced with determination. She turned around and was about to head out the door when Brock called after her.
"Barbara Jean," he said in the exasperated tone he saved for when his wife was about to run off and do something stupid, one that Reba would never get tired of hearing. "Just go on home. I'll be there in a minute."
"Um, excuse me," Barbara Jean replied hotly. "I believed I had asked Reba if there was anything I could do for her. Not you!"
"Go home, Barbara Jean," Reba piped in quickly.
"Okay," she complied, turning around and heading for the door. But as she was about to turn the knob, she turned around and addressed Reba.
"But if there's anything you need, and I mean ANYTHING," she told her, her eyes growing wide with seriousness, "I'll just be a phone call away!"
"I appreciate that Barbara Jean," Reba said that sincerely. "Now go home."
"Right," Barbara Jean nodded. She then turned back around and walked out the door. Reba scoffed a bit and shook her head in amazement as the blonde walked out. She would never understand why that woman was so loyal to her! All of a sudden she remembered something.
"So, is it true that she ran after my ambulance," she asked Brock, he looked down at her as if the answer was obvious.
"For three blocks," he replied. "The cops had to chase her down."
"Cops? What in the world were cops doing there?"
"They had to be called after Barbara Jean and Van tried to hop into the back of the ambulance with you."
"What," Reba asked with a laugh.
"Yeah, they wouldn't let any of us ride with you because none of us were 'immediate' family…well, except Cheyenne, but we couldn't find her at the time. So Van and Barbara Jean came up with this elaborate scheme to sneak in while the paramedics weren't looking. And of course, it didn't work and the cops came, and well, you get where I'm going with this," Brock explained with a smiled. Reba giggled delightfully.
"I cannot believe those two," she remarked, but then she thought about it for a second. "Wait, yes I can." Brock chuckled.
"Well, they were just concerned for you," he tried to justify. "We all were." Reba smiled at him.
"You know, I heard that you were the one that kept it all together while I was out like a light," she told him, causing him to smile a bit. "Thank you." Brock looked her straight in the eye.
"I'll always be there for you, Reba," he assured her. "Always." A moment passed with the two just staring deeply into the eyes of one another, communicating a million thoughts and feelings without words. But soon, Reba began to feel uncomfortable, feeling so close to Brock again. She broke eye contact and stood up slowly.
"Well, I don't know what they served at that hospital, but it sure wasn't food," she said, making Brock laugh once more. "I think I'll go get me one of those Van-wiches. I'll see you later, Brock." She turned and was about to walk to the kitchen, but before she could take more than two steps, Van came running out from the kitchen with a half-eaten Van-wich in his hand and scooped her up into his arms.
"Oh Van," Reba cried as he carried her off, her voice cracking up a bit with laughter.
"Relax Mrs. H, and enjoy the Van Express," he told her as he began to make elaborate train noises. Reba laughed her delightful laugh all the way to the kitchen, where Brock watched Van set her down onto the kitchen floor from his place in the living room. He smiled a bit as all three of them started laughing at Van's antics.
"See ya, Reba," he said softly to no one. Then, seeing as how as he wasn't needed anymore, Brock reluctantly turned around and headed home.
Later that night, Brock stood alone by his bedroom window, gazing up thoughtfully at the starry night. Barbara Jean had tried to convince him to watch some Beanie Baby Expo on channel, like, a thousand, but he quickly excused himself with a lame story about having a headache and retreated to the sanctity of his bedroom. No matter how long he would be married to that woman, he promised himself he would never watch anything that had the word "beanie" in it.
Now, as his thoughts began to drift back to the events that had taken place that day, Brock instinctively leaned a little to the left and gazed over at his ex-wife's house. Some months ago, he discovered that if he leaned at just the right angle, as he was doing now, he had a perfect view into Reba's bedroom window. Of course, he would never tell Barbara Jean that...staring into your ex-wife's bedroom was just not something you share with your new wife (plus, knowing Barbara Jean, she would probably end up staring into Reba's bedroom herself, considering the rather odd obsession she had with her).
But anyway, it seemed that Brock looked over just in time, for at that very moment Van burst in through Reba's bedroom door with Reba in his arms. He could see that his ex-wife tried to appear upset with Van's over-zealous attitude towards keeping her healthy, but he could tell that she couldn't help but find it adorable. Honestly, Brock found it to be quite a relief as well. Since he couldn't be around to protect Reba all the time anymore, he was glad that at least Van was around to take his place in that department. He watched with fondness as Van gently set Reba down on her bed, said something to cause her to laugh, and then exited the scene. Reba herself proceeded to head over to her bathroom to change into her nightclothes.
Brock felt a pang of guilt as he averted his eyes while no activity was going on in the bedroom. He was beyond disgusted with himself, not only because he was peeping in on his ex-wife like some sick, twisted spy, but also because of the horrible feeling that stirred within him as he did so; a feeling that should have died when he and Reba got divorced.
Longing. That's what it was. Whenever he would gaze over at the life he left behind, he longed to go back, to be apart of that life again. He wanted to be the one carrying Reba around to make sure her health was never put into jeopardy again. He wanted to be the one eat breakfast with her every morning, eat dinner with her every night, and laugh at the ridiculous antics one of the kids pulled. He longed to lie down beside her in their bed at night, to hold her in his arms once more…
STOP, his head suddenly screamed, and for good reason too. He shouldn't be feeling that way. He shouldn't even be thinking about feeling that way. He was with Barbara Jean now. They had a son together and a wonderful house and steady jobs and even an annoying hamster that had mysteriously survived Brock's attempt at flushing it down the toilet. Their lives were complete. They were happy. There was no reason for Brock to long for anything else.
You made your choice, he heard in his head, only this time, it wasn't his own voice saying it, but Reba's. He remembered very clearly the day she had told him those very words and had topped it off by telling him to go home. It had nearly killed him. He knew it shouldn't have, but it almost did.
But why? How could he be feeling this way? He loved Barbara Jean, there was no doubt about that, but he also knew he could say the very same thing about Reba without a moment's hesitation. How was that possible? You can't be in love with two very different people at the same time! Or could you?
No, no, it wasn't possible. Brock was just being selfish again, and he knew it. Selfishness. That was his greatest downfall. He had had it all with Reba as well, but that greediness within him drove him into the arms of Barbara Jean, breaking up Reba's happy little home and causing her heartache he couldn't even begin to imagine…or even want to imagine, for it would surely drive him mad with guilt.
Now that same greed was trying to get him to do it again, except vice versa. No matter what his feelings were for his ex-wife, he couldn't hurt Barbara Jean like he had hurt Reba. He had vowed a long time ago that he wouldn't make the same mistake twice. Barbara Jean didn't deserve that kind of pain, and Brock surely didn't deserve Reba back in his life again anyhow. His lingering love for Reba would have to go unrequited and take a backseat to his love for Barbara Jean. That's just the way it had to be.
Reba reentered her bedroom wearing a dark blue nightgown that was one of Brock's favorites, one that clung to her in all the right places. It was as if she was doing it on purpose just to torture him. Well, he couldn't say he didn't deserve it.
Brock continued to watch as Reba sauntered over to the window and opened it up about halfway. As long as he had known her, she had liked to sleep with the window open, especially on cool nights as that one, and it had driven him absolutely mad when they were married. But now, he would give anything to be there by her side, arguing over the matter like they had used to, for afterwards they would lie in bed and make up (Reba had a rule about not going to bed angry) with sweet, tender kisses.
He shook his head as if to clear those forbidden thoughts, guiltily replacing them with an image of Barbara Jean, yet that didn't keep him from continuing to watch Reba ready for bed.
As a soft wind blew, Brock suddenly heard a sweet melody carry over from her bedroom. He realized for the first time that she must be singing as she folded back the covers of her bed. God, did her love to hear her sing. It was such a pure, beautiful sound, sometimes filled with so much emotion that he could hardly stand it. He recalled the days when he would stand outside the kids' nurseries, listening to her sing sweet lullabies as she rocked them to sleep. Why those were the only times she ever used her incredible talent, he would never know.
As he continued to mull over that thought, Reba's room suddenly plunged into darkness. Brock realized that without him noticing, she had finished her nightly ritual and retired to bed, something he should have done quite some time ago. He knew had better hurry before his wife came upstairs and questioned him on why he still wasn't asleep.
As if on cue, he began to hear the distinctive clicking of Barbara Jean's night shoes on the staircase. He heart nearly jumped up into his throat with panic as he shot across the room to turn off the lights. He then proceeded to jump, or rather take a flying leap into bed and arrange himself to where it looked like he had been there for a while now. He finished just a millisecond before Barbara Jean stepped into the door. He kept his eyes squeezed shut as he heard her shuffling around in the dark, preparing to join him. After a while, he finally felt the bed jostle as she climbed in beside him. She leaned over his shoulder and gave him a light kiss on the cheek.
"Good night Brock," she whispered into his ear, obviously believing that he was asleep. "I love you." He then felt her roll over on her opposite side and heard silence follow as she almost immediately fell asleep.
A wave of shame passed through Brock again as he listened to Barbara Jean's steady breathing. She was such a sweet person, and obviously loved him a lot, which made the guilt over what he had been doing a while ago about ten times worse. Why did he have to be such a selfish person? Why did he have to love her yet long for the one he left behind at the same time? He felt like kicking himself, he was so disgusted with the notion.
Maybe it's just the price you have to pay, his logical side reasoned with him. After all, his life with Reba had been just as wonderful, but his selfish side just kept him wanting more and more until it eventually broke up their happy family. Now, he just had to suffer the consequences.
Brock sighed half out of depression and half out of contentment as he turned over on his side to face Barbara Jean (or her backside, rather), realizing what that really entailed. If his lot in life was to have to great homes, two great families, and to be in love with two beautiful, wonderful women at the same time, then so be it.
Well, that's it! Hope it wasn't too much of a disappointment! Reviews are greatly appreciated, and who knows? If I get enough good ones, I might even write more! If I'm welcomed that is! I don't know! We'll see how it goes! Bye!