This was written last weekend and is intended to be part of what we did not see while Eastenders focused on the wedding. I originally planned to write something on the odd situation with Ronnie and Roxy both staying round Jack's. It turned into more of a Ronnie/Jack story so for a while I was fustrated by not being able to write what I wanted. Looking at it now, I don't mind so much. Please let me know what you think.
Without Speaking, Confess
How many people can sleep in a one bedroom flat? Apparently himself, the woman he loved, her little sister and her child that he had fathered. It sounded like the start of a bad joke. Jack can't help but think that there might be room for Phil as well, even though he doesn't say, sarcasm was not appropriate and since the oaf of a man is currently constantly drunk it is probably for the best that he is not around.
Things are complicated enough.
Or maybe things were simpler he could not quiet work it out. The atmosphere in the flat was dull and heavy. It seemed odd, looking out the window and seeing the colourful wedding preparations taking place. None living in his flat had been invited, possible murder suspects would distract from the happy couple, not that the girls were up to going anyway.
Jack lifted his glass of whiskey to his lips, listening to the hush through the darkness of the night. There was the distant rumbling of the fridge, the clicking of a clock and the roar of passing cars all combined into familiar white noise. He was used to the quite, used to being on his own.
Only now he wasn't on his own. He stood in the doorway to the bedroom watching the still figures huddled under the covers in the double bed. Roxy lay with her arm wrapped loosely around Amy and a slight snore escaped her lips when she shifted in her sleep. Ronnie slept the other side of Amy, the covers fallen down around her waist, she looked cold.
Ronnie did not move in her sleep. Of all the nights they had spent together as a couple she had always been as distant in sleep as she had been while awake. The way she laid now, on her side almost in a foetal position, her back turned to his daughter. He suppressed a wave of hurt at the sight. He understood why Ronnie was so uncomfortable around her niece, he saw the way she winced every time the little girl cried, how Amy was a constant reminder of both the children she had lost.
Ronnie never said a word about it.
She barely said a word about anything and no matter how disappointed Jack was he was not surprised. As a rule she rarely mentioned her feelings, she was just blank and impenetrable like smooth marble until she could not hold it in any longer and it burst out in irrational anger or sometimes violence.
It was something he found emasculating and frustrating. He had hoped that after the night in the hospital that they could at least start to move past shutting him out. In the hospital bed she had seemed pale and solemn, silent because she did not have words to express the brittle pain in her eyes. She was like the sun, so open it hurt him to look at her but he could not turn away.
That night he had held her while she slept spending hours just listening to her breath. With his arms around her he made a silent promise that he would be there for her. He had cherished the fact that she let him hold her even in such unpleasant circumstances.
It never ceased to amaze him how well they fit together in the quiet moments.
It never lasted, there was always the next morning, there were always complications, they never could seem to stop sabotaging whatever it was that was between them.
The ice cubes clinked against the side of his glass and it occurred to him that he was naïve to think things would be different between him and Ronnie, why should they? He was not her boyfriend anymore and they had never tried to be friends. He was nothing to her.
For the past two nights all four of them had sat around pretending to watch the television. Jack knew that it should not feel so comfortable. They did not laugh at clichéd comedies and Roxy turned the TV over at the start of a murder mystery. Ronnie had made them all tea and hugged her sister when she dissolved into quiet sobs. They were not happy, but they were at ease, more so than they had ever been.
A strange sense of peace had fallen over the overcrowded flat. Roxy and Ronnie would always forgive each other, their lives entwined for eternity and now it seemed that he had been accepted into the fold.
He is relieved to see the slow gentle pace of Ronnie's breath matching her sister's. It was the first time he had seen her sleep since she was in the hospital. The pervious night he had found her perched on a high chair in his kitchen eyes bright and feverish with lack of sleep. She would not tell him what was behind her haunted expression, he could guess so he did not push.
Jack returned the now empty glass to the sink before climbing into the piles of blankets that made up his bed on the sofa, alcohol lulling him quickly into a deep sleep.
***
Jack stirred hour's later feeling the presence of someone nearby. He opened bleary eyes to see a figure standing over him.
"Ron." He croaked, voice rough with sleep and alcohol.
She stood very still staring at him. The first rays of sunrise entered the window behind her and bathed her in warm light. It made her seem all the more ashen and ethereal. He wanted to touch her but was frightened she would flee or disappear as a figment of his imagination.
She barely blinked and seemed so uncharacteristically unsure. The satin of her dressing gown pulled down over her hands. He did not speak any further feeling like he would break the spell and she would run like a frightened animal.
He had spent years learning her, the walls she made to keep people out and the glimpses of the troubled woman beneath them. He might not be anyone to her anymore but he knew her better than she knew herself.
"I'm sorry," She finally whispered pushing a gentle wave of hair behind her ear. "I couldn't sleep."
She did not mention the nightmares even though she was terrified that he already knew. But she was not ready to tell anyone about how she prayed for darkness every time she closed her eyes only to be met with images of herself doing awful things to her father, to her children. How she woke up with her heart hammering in her chest and tears running down her cheeks. The worst thing was that in the darkness of night she almost believed that her dreams were true; she could not bear to look at the tiny child asleep next to her.
So she tried not to sleep, tried not to let her thoughts drive her insane. She could have drowned her sorrow in drink but the hospital said it was too soon to drink, not that she would have normally minded but her sister would be even more upset.
She did not know how to tell him that she was holding on by her fingertips.
Jack sat up and gave her a gentle smile of understanding even if it did not reach his dark eyes.
"Come here." He mumbled throwing back the covers to make space for her.
She hesitated for a long beat searching his expression for any hidden motive before mutely moving to sit besides him.
Jack pulled the covers back over them thinking that maybe they could trap in more than warmth. He lay back down against the semi comfortable sofa and encouraged her to lie next to him. It did not matter that there was barely enough room for one person.
She stifled a yawned as he wrapped his arms around her waist; her hair was soft against his naked shoulder. They stayed silent watching morning arrive, hoping the new day would be better than the last.
She was not telling him everything and maybe it did not matter because it was him she was turning to.