A/N: Fair warning, I started writing this just after finishing "Cornerstone" when I needed a change of pace, so this is... not happy! But it will end happily. Fair warning #2: The ship is Rachel/Tom but Rachel & Tex's friendship is central and there's a brief period of "with benefits," but very brief. #3: There will be descriptions of panic attacks.
This will be six or seven chapters in total.
xx
It's all right, it's all right, it's just blood under the bridge.
There is a fragment of light, but it's hiding in the distance.
It's all right, it's all right, it's just blood under the bridge.
Put down the knife and watch the blood under the bridge go by.
xx
It's all right, it's all right, it's just blood under the bridge,
and I'm too tired to fight, and you're sick of feeling sick, and so am I.
xx
Blood Under The Bridge | Frightened Rabbit
Rachel woke up in the hospital groggy, her mouth as dry as if she'd never had a drink in her life, and Tex was in the chair by her bedside.
"Hey," she rasped, and he looked up, laying a hand on her arm as he stood to fetch her a glass of water from the pitcher on the table across the room.
"Hey doc," he said, bringing the glass back over and cranking the head of her bed up so she could drink from it. "How are you feeling?"
She drank, swallowed a few more times for good measure, and said, "Not great, Tex." Her shoulder was sore, her arm in a sling, and her body felt depleted. It was nothing compared to when she'd actually been shot—that memory was crystal clear in her mind, that pain something she hoped she'd never feel again. But, to put it bluntly, she felt like shit.
Looking around the room and then squinting through the window into the hallway, she said in what she hoped was a casual tone, "Is Tom here?"
Tex didn't reply for a moment, and she looked back at him, brow furrowed, to see him staring down at his hands in his lap. "Kara and Bertrise have been here, waiting for you to wake up," he said. "Chandler… I'm so sorry, Rachel." He looked up to meet her eyes, and her heart was starting to race (what if Tom was hurt?). "He found you in the hallway, he got you to the hospital, and I… I haven't heard from him since."
That didn't make sense. "Is he okay?"
Wincing, Tex nodded. "He's been going into work. Arranging flights. He won't reply to my texts."
Rachel was stunned. Letting her head drop back onto the pillow, she stared sightless across the room and tried to convince herself not to cry. Her chest hurt. It seemed impossible to draw a full breath.
When she'd been bleeding out on the floor, tears streaming from her eyes, more scared than she'd ever been in her life, she'd kept thinking, Tom will find me. He has to. He'll find me. And he had. She'd been right.
Then he'd left. She hadn't seen that one coming.
Swallowing hard, she glanced back over at Tex and said faintly, "Thank you for being here."
"Of course, darlin', of course." He leaned forward in his chair. "I don't know what's going on in that man's head, but it's nothing to do with you, and we're not going anywhere. We won't leave you alone."
The tears came then, filling her eyes and quickly spilling over, and she raised her good hand up to cover her eyes, her shoulders shaking as she tried not to sob. It hurt, physically and emotionally both, and she tried to force herself to stop. Tried to still her body and dry the tears. It didn't seem to be working.
Tex reached across the bedrail, rubbing her good shoulder and saying softly, "I'm sorry, darlin'. I'm so sorry."
When she managed to settle down, swipe a tissue across her face and blow her nose, she said, "It's fine. I'm fine. Right?"
Sitting back in his chair, Tex crossed his arms over his chest and nodded. "Doctor said it missed the bone, missed the artery. Shooter didn't know his ass from his elbow, which we're all mighty thankful for. With rest and physical therapy you should make a full recovery."
"Sure," she said, looking across to the window that took up half of the opposite wall, staring out at the cloudless blue of the sky. "Can I be alone for a little while."
The largest part of her time in the hospital was spent the same way, broken up by visitors and attempts at reading that always resulted in her staring back out that window, trying to adjust to her new reality—one where she was physically weak and mentally not much better; one where the apocalypse was over, or at least her part in it; one where she was finally at rest, but not the way she thought she'd be.
The night of the inauguration, she'd prepared to be alone and hoped not to be. She had thought she was ready for the possibility of not having Tom in her life anymore, the probability that they would be leading two separate lives, but the near-death experience had shaken all of her certainties, and the absence of Tom now was… something like a second wound.
She wanted that to not be true, spent her time alone telling herself that it couldn't be true, but even when she accepted Tex's invitation to stay with him and Kathleen until she was back on her feet, she spent most of her time pacing the length of the apartment, a thunderstorm hovering above her head.
She needed a project, maybe, or to be working, but she was recovering and so expected to rest and be leisurely and it was all absolutely impossible. Rachel wasn't built for leisure at the best of times, and her preoccupation and impotence made the cabin fever all the more grating.
It was after weeks of this, on a night when Kathleen was out with friends and Tex was in the living room occupying an arm chair, ostensibly reading but more focused on watching her pace back and forth, back and forth, that she finally stopped in her tracks and turned to him, raising an eyebrow.
"Well?"
He shifted in his chair. "I don't think it would be appropriate."
"Say it."
After watching her a moment longer, he said, "I could help you with that."
Planting her hands on her hips, she said, "What?"
He motioned his hand to indicate the length of her body. "That restless energy."
"You could help me, by…?"
He shrugged, his face blank, and she raised her eyes to the ceiling, lifting her chin. She took in a deep breath, her shoulders rising and then falling again, and shifted her jaw to one side before looking back down at him.
"It would only be sex," she said flatly, and his eyes widened, an inhale catching in his throat and choking him, spurring a fit of coughing. She smiled a little, the first time she'd smiled in what felt like a month, and added, "If we can stay friends."
"Yeah," he croaked out, squashing the cough down into his chest and raising a hand to his face to smooth over his beard. "That—I don't have a problem with that."
She crossed the room, her step a little too quick, a little too eager, but she couldn't help it, her frustration too close to the surface. Without hesitating, she climbed up onto the chair, her knees pressing into the cushion on either side of his legs, her good hand bracing on the headrest, while he practically shoved himself back into the chair, staring at her in amazement.
With a calculated confidence, she bent her elbow, settling down onto his thighs and leaning in until their hips and chests and lips were all aligned, an inch apart, and then she held still.
"Holy shit," he whispered, his breath brushing her lips, and she smiled again, feeling good and sexy and confident and so ready to stop obsessing for five damn minutes. She let her lips brush against his on their way to his ear, her hips shifting forward to meet his, and she didn't mean to moan directly into his ear but it certainly suited her purposes.
"What do you think?" she murmured. "Should I fuck you right here on this chair, in the middle of your living room?"
He groaned, hardening under her, his hands coming up to wrap around her waist as she hooked her arm around behind his neck and ground down on him. He half-laughed, breathy around another groan, and said, "The condoms are in the bedroom."
"Okay," she whispered, pulling back to look at him. "Fuck me in the bedroom, then."
"Jesus Christ, Rachel."
She grinned, pushing back off the chair and onto her feet, reaching her good hand down for the hem of her tank top before she'd even turned around, naked by the time she got to the side of his bed and tossing her wadded-up clothing into a corner of the room. He was hopping from foot to foot behind her, trying to get his pants off without face-planting on the floor, and she kneeled on the bed, her head cocked as she waited patiently for him to put the condom on and lie down so she could straddle his waist.
She felt good, sexy, as she swept her hair to one side and stared down at him, his eyes wide and blinking rapidly, looking up at her in awe, and she felt powerful, felt desired, and if he noticed that she wouldn't kiss him on the mouth he let it slide, pressing his mouth to her breast instead. She was giving him what he wanted, and taking what she needed. It was a win-win.
In the morning, they woke up on opposite sides of the bed to a sharp series of bangs on the door.
"I know you're both in there!" Kathleen said loudly from the hall, and Rachel snorted a laugh before turning her head to look at Tex without moving her body.
He rolled his eyes over his own smirk and yelled back, "What!"
"I'm making breakfast. You'd better have a damn good excuse!" She stomped off down the hall, and Rachel rolled the rest of the way over, holding the sheet to her chest.
"What's our excuse?"
"I mean…" Tex shook his head. "Hormones?"
Rachel laughed, tugging at the sheet until she could wrap it around her body and then picking her clothes up from the corner, poking her head out the door and checking down the hall before hurrying in the other direction to her room.
Kathleen wasn't actually angry; she liked Rachel, and she was a teenager. As long as she could roll her eyes and make snarky remarks, she was satisfied.
For her part, Rachel did feel better. The sex was good, and if Tex was at all bothered that it was just sex, he didn't show it. She could finally think about something other than Tom's absence.
She could even, wonder of wonders, focus long enough to get lost in a book, which was exactly what she was doing one evening when all three of them were camped out in the living room, Kathleen in the arm chair and Rachel with her head resting on Tex's leg on the couch.
Tex's cell phone rang, and he frowned at the caller ID before putting it on speaker. "Commodore."
Rachel froze, her blood running cold and her breath stopping in her chest.
There was a long silence, and then Tom's voice said, "How is she?"
Tex had one hand on Rachel's back, and she could feel his whole body tense up as that hand curled into a fist, next to her spine, before he said tightly, "I don't think that's any of your business."
"Can I speak to her?"
"No," Tex said sharply, not giving Rachel a chance to react, and she sat up beside him, pulling her knees in close to her chest.
"Why don't you let her decide?"
"Why don't you fuck off?" Tex hung up the phone and dropped it on the floor, huffing out an angry breath, and Rachel leaned into his chest, ducking her head under his chin as he brought his arms up to wrap around her. "I'm sorry, darlin'," he said softly, and then there was a banging on the front door and Tex shot a look to Kathleen, who got up to answer it.
"Whoa, dude!" they heard her say loudly, and they were both looking toward the entrance to the living room when Tom came storming in.
He stopped short at the sight of them, his mouth dropping open, and Rachel instinctively shifted closer to Tex even as she stared back at Tom, not breathing.
It hurt to look at him, a sharp jolt of pain first and then that ache, the one she'd almost gotten past that was now back in triple force. She winced, turning her face back toward Tex, and heard Tom say, "You rat bastard."
She looked up at Tex to find him staring down at her, both of them frowning, and she shifted away from him, implicit permission to stand up and face Tom.
"What the fuck, man?" Tex said, and Tom stepped forward, taking a swing that was way wide and threw him off balance, and that's when Rachel realized he was drunk. Tex, obviously, didn't have the same perspective, and fired back immediately with an uppercut to the jaw.
Tom went down, and Tex stood still for a second, confused, before Rachel got up from the couch and murmured, "He's drunk," kneeling beside Tom on the floor and feeling his jaw with her good hand. Kathleen went into the kitchen for a bag of frozen peas, handing it off to Rachel before Tex asked her to please go hang out in her room.
Rachel pressed the bag to Tom's jaw, keeping her eyes focused there so she didn't have to see him staring up at her, just staring and staring. It still hurt—she kind of wanted to cry—and she looked over her shoulder at Tex, her eyes imploring for him to take over. He did, immediately, rubbing her back with one hand as he knelt down and took her place.
Rachel stood up, her chilled hand going to her forehead and rubbing, halfway across the room when she heard Tom say, slightly muffled, "You son of a bitch."
"What the hell did I do, man?"
"Bro code. You knew I loved her."
Well. Rachel wasn't going to make it any further just then, so she sank down into the corner of the couch and curled up into a tight little ball.
"You can't be serious," Tex said bitterly. "You abandoned her in the hospital. You left her alone."
"I didn't. You were with her."
"So you abandoned her with me and that somehow makes it okay? And now you're pissed because after, did I mention, you abandoned her in the hospital, now she's finally, finally actually moving on from you? You're a sick piece of shit."
"No, I…" He sounded confused, and fell silent for a moment. "I actually came here to apologize."
"It's a little late for that."
"Tex," Rachel said, and he looked up at her. She waved her hand, a vague gesture that he immediately knew meant give us a minute, and he got up from the floor, walking over to press a kiss to her forehead.
"Yell if you need me," he said, staring at her with a serious, worried expression, and she nodded. He walked off down the hall, and Tom levered himself up off the floor, sitting heavily down on the couch.
Rachel didn't move from her corner, only shifting slightly to face him. It still felt difficult to breathe. "What are you doing here, Tom?"
He didn't look at her, staring down at his hands in his lap, the bag of peas abandoned on the floor. "I had to apologize."
"You didn't, actually. You could have stayed away. That would have been kinder."
He looked up, then, seeking her eyes with a frown, and she ducked her head, her hand coming up to rub her temple and shield her face.
"You especially didn't need to come drunk."
"I tried it sober. I've been trying for weeks."
She dropped her hand but kept her face down, motioning with her hand for him to continue.
"I'm sorry, Rachel. I'm so sorry. When I found you in that pool of blood, my heart stopped. I thought I'd lost you—I thought I'd lost the woman I loved for the second time in a year. I was terrified, and I know it isn't an excuse—I know that what I did was inexcusable. I just—I thought that you would be safe with Tex, and I would be safe away from you. I thought I would be a better dad. I could give my kids all of me, and—it was selfish, I won't pretend it wasn't. Somehow I thought it was the right thing to do at the time."
Closing her eyes, she swallowed hard, reminding herself to breathe even when those breaths shook and trembled on their way into her chest, probably because she was shaking and trembling, her hand gripping her knee with white-knuckled force. Finally, she said weakly, "Were you?"
"What?"
"A better dad?"
He was silent for a moment. "I couldn't stop thinking about you. I was… no. I was miserable, and every day that went by, it seemed more impossible to fix." He stopped again, and she could feel him staring at her even as she kept her eyes tightly shut. "It was a mistake, Rachel. A really stupid, horrible mistake… spurred by fear. I… I'm too late, aren't I?"
She glanced at him, saw him staring off down the hall, and turned to look longingly in that direction. Tex was safe. Tex didn't hurt her, didn't make it hard to breathe. She didn't love Tex, and not loving someone made life so much easier. She was used to it.
If she wasn't in love at all, maybe she could have chosen Tex. Instead, she turned back and waited for Tom's eyes to be on her before shaking her head. His eyes widened, and she winced. "I don't know if I can ever trust you again."
"Do you want to try?"
Pressing her lips together, she bit down on them, dropping her chin close to her chest. She closed her eyes, and nodded, and Tom exhaled loudly.
"Okay. I'll do what I have to do, Rachel. I won't leave you again."
Funny how empty those words sounded now. She glanced down the hall again, wishing she hadn't been stupid enough to fall in love in the first place. Not that she'd ever wanted to. Not that she could have stopped it if she tried.
"I don't think Tex will ever forgive you," she muttered, and he stood up, calling down the hall, "Hey Tex!"
Emerging from his room at the end of the hall, Tex approached warily, looking from one of them to the other. Rachel kept her head down, and Tom held his hand out to shake.
"What're we shaking on?" Tex asked.
"We both have Rachel's best interests at heart," Tom said, and Tex raised his eyebrows skeptically. "Starting now," Tom added.
Tex looked to Rachel again, and she peered up at him, shrugging her uninjured shoulder. He took a step forward, meeting Tom's hand cautiously with his own, and then said, "We'll see about that."
He walked Tom out the door, and Rachel stayed where she was on the couch, swallowing hard over and over again, waiting for Tex to sit back down beside her so she could curl into his side and cry and cry. He wrapped his arm around her, rubbing her back in silence, and when she'd calmed down a little she said, "I'm giving him a chance." He didn't reply, and she shook with a fresh wave of tears. "Am I an idiot?"
"No, darlin'. We both know Tom's a good man. If you're willing to give him another shot… well, he's a lucky bastard, but no, you're nothing close to an idiot."
"I'm sorry," she said softly, into the fabric of his shirt, and he rubbed his hand up and down her back again.
"You have nothing to apologize for. I will kill him if he hurts you again, though."
She sighed, all cried out finally, and said, "Thank you."
"Any time."
She still slept in his bed that night, needing all the comfort she could get, though it went unspoken that they wouldn't be sleeping together anymore. She kind of wanted to start crying again at that—not that the sex was that good (although it was pretty good), but it had been exactly what she'd needed when she'd needed it, and it still broke her heart a little that she couldn't just be with Tex. Simple. Easy. Reliable.
Her heart was the real bastard here.