The Secret.
A/N. Good Morning. This is just a little (rather unseasonal!) 2 parter for y'all. It was fun to write so I hope you enjoy it, next bit in a couple of days. XX
Part 1.
The summer had been long, and hot, and punctuated by confusing fluctuations in her body. The autumn brings her comfort, and clothing to hide behind, and a newly found equilibrium within herself. Then with winter comes the cold, and the red noses, and the ever ballooning abdomen. With winter comes the stirring of the secret that turns her core to ice.
There's a whole ocean of things that nobody else knows about. A yarn that she'll never unravel, and no sentimental relative to do it for her. There are happy memories and sad ones. Memories that make her laugh aloud in solitude, and ones that hurt to stumble over. Some memories are so dark that she's banished them away to a place she's no longer sure how to access. Now, though, she has a confidante. She has her baby; Her bump, with whom she shares everything from the tears in the shower to the endorphin rush from a bar of chocolate. All that has been locked away is opened up a little, now that even her solitude has company. Even the words that will never cross her tongue are no longer only hers.
The crack is a horrifying, hollow sort of sound that stills the atmosphere and momentarily halts the passing of time. She looks down and sees it beneath her feet, a clean line in the ice that crosses under her left shoe. Nobody moves. She slides her toe ever so slightly away from it, gingerly shifting her weight from one foot to another. For the next bit her eyes are closed and her breath stilted, as if she already knows it's coming. She doesn't see the lake surface shatter, nor does she register that she's falling. The first sensation is one of weightlessness, elation, before the cold engulfs her body and sucks away her ability to think at all. It's suffocating and gasping all at once. The icy water rips at her skin and paralyses her struggle whilst the rest of her, the instinct, causes the frantic splashing that she's only aware of because she can hear it. She doesn't know which way is up. Her flailing limbs reach out but collide with nothing. She needs air. She needs to breathe. Somebody's telling her to breathe.
ooooo
Jac leaps from one reality to another. Leaps up, almost right off the bed, her eyes wild and her lungs screaming out for the air that she takes in huge gulps, chokes, hiccups. She blinks a few times, so that the inky black of her bedroom morphs into grey, and familiar objects reveal themselves around the room. She places a hand over her racing heart and finds herself drenched in sweat, her skin greasy with it. She shivers. The ice is internal, emanating from her core, and she gathers the duvet more closely around herself then jumps all over again as the door to the bedroom flies open. It practically slaps back on its hinges and reveals the horrified face of the annoying nurse who's taken up permanent residence on her sofa.
"Bloody hell, Jonny!"
"You screamed!" He bounds across the room and sits on the bed, drawing his face up suffocatingly close to hers and placing one hand on her enlarged stomach. From this proximity she can feel his heartbeat and it's racing even faster than hers.
"No, I didn't." She's indignant, squirming away from him.
"Yes you did." He's ratty, he always is at this hour. "Sounded like you were being... Murdered or something." He gesticulates dramatically and she rolls her eyes at him.
"Sorry Taggart, still in one piece."
"Not funny. Jesus." He starts taking her pulse, feels her forehead, and she shakes him away firmly. The baby gives her a sharp kick to the diaphragm and she grunts in discomfort. She's being scolded for causing a disturbance by both Jonny and foetus simultaneously, and it does nothing for her mood. "What was that?" He snaps. "Pain? What should I do?"
"Kick, you idiot. Go to bed."
"Pain here?" He puts a hand back on the top of her bump and she practically growls under her breath. "I should take your blood pressure."
"It was a kick!" Jac exclaims, shifting onto her side as it happens again. Then, "Just, do something useful and get me a glass of water." He vanishes obediently and she heaves herself up in his wake, pressing her bedroom door firmly shut and twisting the lock. True to form, he's unimpressed when he returns moments later and finds himself banished.
"Very funny, open the door."
"Go to bed." She speaks slowly, mock patronising, and he pauses for just long enough that she dares to hope he's left her in peace.
"Then you'll open the door?"
"What?!" His logic is baffling.
"Just unlock it, Jac!"
"No."
"What if something happens?"
"Something has happened. I've had to barricade myself in my bedroom to get away from a Schizophrenic nutter. For the second time this week, might I add."
"You are such a child. Open it."
"Listen to yourself, why would I open it?"
"Open it, or I'll call the Police!"
"Oh for god's sake. Good. Do it. With any luck they'll take you away and leave me in grave danger of actually getting some sleep." Jonny kicks the door in juvenile frustration, then retreats back to the lumpy bloody sofa to sulk and stare at the ceiling. He hates her. In an instinctive sort of way he cares about her more than he does anybody else in the world. He's sure that's not just about the baby. He loves her. He hates that he loves her. Jac Naylor is a drug. With all of her hard edges, slippery nature and allusive turns of phrase she's impossible to penetrate. She'll evade anything, wriggle from your grip and make herself untouchable. When you do get a grasp on her though, even if only for a moment, you're hooked in for the long game. She'll crawl right into your subconscious and infect every thought and action. She'll make you so angry you could punch drywall until you bleed. He lies on his back as if he's in suspended animation and waits impatiently for sunrise.
ooooo
It's morning, and as usual Jac pads into her kitchen to be greeted with the smell of coffee she can't drink and mess she has no energy to clear away. She eyes his greasy toast crumbs with particular distaste as he hands her a glass of orange juice. She can tell before he opens his mouth that he's still smarting from the events of the early hours.
"Can we talk?"
"No." She snaps, wondering how he's still stupid enough to give her the option. "I'll be by the car." My car, she corrects herself internally.
Once outside Jac takes great gulps of icy air, letting the sensation prickle her lungs as if it's proof that she's alive; It's a thought that makes her shiver. It's unnervingly familiar, like there's a piece of information that's just out of reach. She ambles to the quayside, a few metres from the car, and steps right up to the side of it with her toes poking over the edge. She tests the green winter slime that coats the stones with her foot, rubbing absent mindedly at it until it's a wet, shiny surface. She looks down at the water below. The drop must only be a few feet but it looks further, perhaps from the grotesque appearance of the bare harbour wall or the dark hue of the murky water on a cloudy day. It's an opaque black, and she wraps her arms around herself and closes her eyes for a moment, shuddering as she considers how cold it must be, how it'd burn your skin, how you'd writhe in helpless agony. How quickly you'd stop moving at all.
"Jac!" She's dragged from her reverie with a start, and she spins on her heel to face Jonny. He's stalking towards her with a frown emblazoned across his features. There's a flash of something in her head as she turns, and the world spins. It's an image; A splash, a scream in the dead of night that nobody's around to hear. Suddenly she's being pulled forward roughly by the shoulders. He's calling her name again and she shakes herself back to reality. "What the hell were you playing at?"
"Get off me!" She shrugs out of his grasp and stumbles back a little, one foot sliding on the slimy stones. The image is white, blinding, sunlight on frosty grass and reflecting off the ice, burning into unprepared corneas. The image is black, cold and bottomless without direction or guidance. Jonny's hands grab her wrists more forcefully, and he tugs her urgently away from the edge. This time he doesn't let go until he's deposited her onto the bonnet of her car, pushing her into a sitting position by her shoulders.
"You look like shit, I'm calling in." He informs her of this in a low voice as she avoids his scrutinising eyes. He pats down his pockets for his phone then swears again under his breath. "It's upstairs. Come on." She pouts at her shoes and holds her tongue, with no intention of moving from her position on the car. He's already irate so it only takes seconds for him to abandon the idea of cooperation and stalk back up to the flat alone. Jac turns her head to watch him walk away, then takes another deep breath of winter air and looks wistfully out over the dock. She bathes in the calm silence and the soft clinking of unclipped halliards against yacht masts. She lets one of her hands softly rub her bump, which is still sleeping despite the volatile atmosphere and raised voices around it. She ponders the strange feelings that have been surfacing lately, and she frowns. She can't drop her curiosity over the dreams about being plunged into icy water. She tries to rationalize it and analyse it but comes up with nothing each time. It feels so real.
"What's this all about, baby?" She speaks in a soft, humming tone, and her child responds by moving gently underneath her hand. The baby's starting to shift into position for the birth, Jac knows this. It puts a time limit on the pregnancy, and gives her an acute sense of urgency for getting to the bottom of the dreams. She knows that once she's no longer pregnant they'll snuff out, hide away again like forgotten memories, and instinct says she can't let that happen. Suddenly she has a snap of inspiration, and she dives into her handbag for the spare car key she's been hiding from Jonny.
ooooo
He could strangle her. In fact, it's probably a good thing that there's no sign of her for dust, because if she was here to witness his fury he's not sure he'd control his actions. He'd been gone five minutes, less even, and in that time she's taken it upon herself to get behind the wheel and vanish on her own when she can barely control her bladder, let alone a vehicle. He's left spinning around the empty parking space, exasperated, with nothing left to kick. Then, he catches a glimpse of something out of the corner of his eye. He dithers for a moment, because she really will kill him when she finds out, but as ever he springs into action on impulse, and puts all thought of repercussions away for later.
ooooo
Jac pulls up in a deserted car park and cuts the engine. She surveys the scene before her with a critical eye; It's a large reservoir on the outskirts of Holby, and it had sprung to mind simply because of a BBC news article about green-blue algae she'd skimmed past a few days ago. It isn't the scene she imagined. The odd dog walker strolls past, hands stuffed in their pockets and misery at the cold contorting their determined faces. A few hundred metres away a group of school children are being subjected to a canoeing lesson, and she can just make out their excitable screeches and splashing. She sighs and climbs out of the car, then parks herself on the table of a picnic bench a few feet from the water's edge. She closes her eyes and tries to concentrate, stilling herself and letting the waves of cold wash over her. She's exhausted, and strongly suspecting herself of insanity, but she hadn't been able to sleep at all after last night's disturbance and she fears she won't until she gets to the bottom of all this. The problem is, she has no idea how to do that. She tries to listen to the water lapping against the shore, because that has to be significant, but she can only hear the splashes and the laughter from the children, who are paddling closer. She opens her eyes again and looks over to them.
The image is a child's face. It's a wide eyed look of terror, a look that should never have to cross the features of one so young. It's a white face, with parted blue lips, and jet black hair that floats around it like a halo, untamed by gravity. It's submerged in the water, where there's no sound and nobody's breathing. Then somebody's telling her to breathe.
Jac gasps, yelps almost, then looks away from the group of children and has to shut her eyes tight to banish the image. It's impressed onto the back of her eyelids though, too, and it makes her want to cry. Her hands cradle her bump and her child wriggles energetically inside her, sensing the distress. "It's okay baby." She manages, in that soft whisper she saves only for it. "Sorry." She concentrates, probably pointlessly, on rubbing circles and shushing her unborn child. Perhaps just to take her mind off the unnerving image. She wonders if her baby feels the cold like she does, and she hopes not. The cold comes from within, and it feels like it's taking over her body. Soon it'll reach to the tips of her toes and she'll be frozen to this bench forever. Stuck in time.
The image is of the sky. The brilliant white sky that looks blue and and green and purple and mottled in confusion as she blinks. She's cold. She's so cold and the sky is the least comforting thing in the world with all is bracing infinity. She's stiff and her body is jerking around out of her control and she's breathing but only because they tell her too. She's so cold she thinks she might forget otherwise. There's shouting, and a glimpse of something silver and reflective. She doesn't know where it's come from or why it's pinning her down on the ground.
Jac frowns. Some things seem clearer, some things seem further away. She knows that something happened, and she knows it was her fault. She hops off the bench and walks closer to the water's edge.
The image is of the black hole in the shiny lake surface that blends into the frosty grass like a cruel trick. It's flying towards her as she skates out to it, slipping and sliding and crashing through thin ice. Her feet are numb already but she fights forward and shrieks for help and only when she falls down through the shattered surface and she can't touch the bottom anymore does the world stop turning. She has a job to do. She has a life to save. The icy water rips at her skin and paralyses her struggle. It doesn't feel cold anymore because it's engulfed her every pore and there's nothing else to compare it to. It's all there is.
Jac lets out a soft choke of surprise and lets her legs give way beneath her, sitting down hard on the ground. It was real. It was her fault. It's all painted across her mind in technicolour now, every last awful second. She brings a hand up to her face and squeezes her eyes shut. "I can't do this." She whispers to her bump. "I'm sorry. I can't." She's breathing heavily as she scrambles back onto her feet and makes a beeline for the car. Suddenly she needs to be as far away from the reservoir, from the icy water, as she possibly can be.
Inside the car she whacks the heating up to max and pulls away in a hurry. The warm, dry air evaporates her tears and makes her eyes feel sticky and hot. She tries to steady her breathing as she heads back towards the centre of Holby, cruising up the A38 and forcing herself to concentrate on the road. She pushes her thoughts of the past to the deepest recesses of her mind, wishing she could just banish them again and not remember. But now she knows and there's no turning back. What ever possessed her to buy into this fairytale? Why did she ever think she could be a mother? She closes her eyes for a split second and there's a loud clunk from somewhere inside the car. It startles her heart into her throat and she slows her speed, glancing around for some indication of the root of the noise. It happens again, twice in quick succession, and she holds her breath. She's not too far from the city now and she makes the snap decision to keep going, just as the engine chokes at her defiantly and she's forced to coast to a standstill half on the verge. She rests her head on her hands for a minute; This would have to happen now, just when the last thing she needs is further time alone with her inadequacies. She knows Jonny will have a field day when he finds out.
She allows herself a quick sulk before fumbling in her bag for her phone, only to be further irked when she finds there's no signal. She glances to her left and eyes up the tall grassy verge. She's tired, and she's not really wearing the footwear for this, but nevertheless she climbs out from behind the wheel with the determination to prove to herself that she's as strong and independent as she ever has been. Jac takes approximately three steps up the sodden, uneven verge before she turns her ankle in a hidden rabbit hole and crumples down onto the muddy grass with a yelp. She lands on her left side, and it's a searing pain across her shoulder that causes her to call out. She rolls urgently onto her back and gingerly clutches her arm, and the movement sends fresh shooting pains right to her fingertips, confirming her suspicions. "Fuck!" She exclaims at a roar.
"You alright, love?" She hadn't noticed the second car that's pulled up behind hers until now, and she looks over at the source of the voice and sighs. A baby faced Community Support Officer stands a few metres away from her, fiddling with his hat and staring at her with wide eyed trepidation.
"What does it look like?" She barks, thankful that this man is obligated to help her out, which at least lessons the possibility that she'll scare him away or piss him off enough to abandon her. A second Officer climbs out of the car and stalks straight up to her. He looks far more weathered than the first, and he crouches next to Jac with a hint of a smile on his face.
"Well well well. This is a new one on me. Hi love, my name's Paul. Are you going to tell me how exactly you got yourself in this little situation here?" Jac lets her head fall back against the grass, mortified. She's covered in mud, and pinned to the ground by the pain from moving and the weight of her bulging abdomen. She huffs and pouts at the man, who chuckles gently as he slides his arm underneath her and helps her sit. "Don't worry. You're lucky we were passing."
"Lucky?" She questions, unconvinced. She can think of luckier turns of events than finding herself beached on a grass verge by a busy A road with mud in her hair and an audience.
"Okay love." He takes pity on her wretched grimace as she holds her arm. "Why don't you let me drive you to the hospital? Dave here," he indicates the young one, "can wait for the AA."
