Francesca's Story
    Francesca's Story
    by Camilla Sandman

    Disclaimer: All repeat after me: "Frank and Rachel and the rest of the cast of Water Rats belongs to Hal McElroy. We will listen to Hal. We will not steal Hal's characters. Hal is God. And if we try to steal Hal's character, Hal will personally rip your lounges out."
    Then repeat after me: "Everyone else is in this story are Cam's creation. So leave them the smeg alone, or she'll send bazooka on ya!"

    Author's Note: Yeah, *another* long story from Cam, this one around 15,000…

    To Aquiel, cos you rock, and cos I made you see the light! To Sarah, cos you were a great beta-reader and for your general coolness!! (Damn that was/were!! Full speed ahead!!!) And Jules of course, I think you were right in giving me that tiara…

    **Warnings in order, I guess… This story contains the usual amount of steam you have come to expect from me!!**

    *****

    I can't believe I hadn't heard the name before. Francesca Rachel Holloway. Mother of my father. My grandmother, yet two weeks ago I didn't even know she existed.

    And now..

    It was an impressive name for an impressive lady. My grandmother, reaching the age of 80 when I first met her. She seemed to have a never-ending will to fight whatever life brought on, and a warped sense of humour. They say I have a lot of her in me, maybe that's why we were so close. I felt more related to her than I have to anyone else in my family. That is, until she began telling me the story of her parents and I began understanding my own.

    Francis James Holloway and Rachel Goldstein. I have never met them, I was born long after they were dead, yet I feel a special bond to them. I know them, as I know myself. I can feel their blood in my veins, just as grandma did. Just as my father does.

    Though I wondered at the time if the genes skipped a generation. My parents.. were strangers to me. I didn't feel at all related to my father, son of Francesca Rachel Holloway and John Anderson, who was tragically shot in the line of duty. Grandma named her son James Holloway, and he married Lisa Jones, my mother.

    I am Emily Jones Holloway, but I feel more like a Holloway than a Jones, to tell the truth.

    My parents never told me about grandma until a few weeks ago. They seemed pretty estranged, what fight and bitter words lay behind that I could only guess at the time. Something unspoken, and in many ways it related to me. I see it all now so clearly, their fears and dreams, disappointment and hope.

    I didn't see it then, hurt as I was, hurt that they had never told me I had a living grandmother. Strange to think it has only been 2 weeks since they told me, two weeks since I had to take a good long look at my life and rethink what I thought of it before.

    I went to see her when they told me. I had always felt so out of it in my own home, like I didn't belong, like I wasn't truly the daughter of the computer engineer and leader of the board of a successful construction company. I didn't even resemble them, mom with her thick blonde hair, and dad with his curls.

    Grandma was the mirror image of me. Dark hair like me, only streaked with gray. Strong sparkling eyes, same warped sense of humour. She had a face of character, one you would remember even if she just passed you on the street. Beautiful in an intriguing way. The years had put their mark on her, but not too hard, the lines would soften when she smiled and vanish when she laughed.

    The first time I saw her, she looked up at me with a gaze so strong it matched my own. We locked into a gazing match that seemed to go on forever, until she pointed her finger at me, and said with the clearest voice I have ever heard.

    "You're a Holloway."

    I knew then I had found my family.

    We chatted for what seemed like hours, she was interested in every aspect of my life, every detail. I spoke and spoke till my mouth felt dry, she listened with a fascination that kept me going.

    Finally I fell silent, and she looked up at me with that keen eye of hers.

    "You are so much like them," she remarked.

    "Them?" I asked confused.

    "My parents," she said slowly, her gaze fixing on something I couldn't see, "Rachel Goldstein and Frank Holloway."

    "You're named after them?"

    "Yeah. They were so happy when I was born, they almost fought over who I was most like of them. My name reflects I'm both's."

    Her voice had got a dreamy quality to it, as if she was reliving some old scene, hearing echoes of words long spoken.

    "What were they like?"

    She fixed her gaze on me, seeming to get back from where she had travelled to.

    "They were.. stubborn, pig-headed, refusing to see love when it fell into their laps literally, obsessed by the job.. but in the end.." she trailed off, then looked at me intently, as if gazing into my very soul.

    "Do you want to know them?"

    "Yes," I said honestly. She sent me a smile, knowing my answer before I spoke the word, already travelling back in time, to long before my time, and even before hers.

    To 1999.

    "They had been partners for four years, Rachel and Frank, at the Sydney Water Police…"

    ~~~~~~~~

    Sydney Water Police HQ

    The sun was giving off its last warm rays of light as Sydney was beginning to light up with lights of its own. A light breeze was touching the treetops, otherwise the air was still and warm.

    Inside the Sydney Water Police HQ, only a few lights were left on, most people were heading home. But in the Detectives Office, the light was still on, and its occupants still there.

    "I'm bored," Frank Holloway declared, proving it by throwing a paper ball towards the trash can and missing badly.

    "Bored?" Rachel Goldstein repeated, looking up from the report she was doing, "We're not paid for having fun Frank."

    "We're not??" he said, faking surprise. She gave him a quick glare, before returning to the report.

    "Is that thing so much more interesting than me?" he complained sourly.

    "Yes," she said absentmindedly. Making yet another paper ball he tossed it at her, but missed with a couple of centimetres. She didn't even seem to notice. Quickly getting out of his chair, he sneak up behind her, peeking over her shoulder.

    Reading a couple of words, his forehead frowned.

    "Knocker's file?" he declared, equally surprised and hurt. Even though Knocker was a closed chapter between them, the name always reminded him how close he was too losing her to a man who in the end had betrayed them both. His friend, and Rachel's fiancée, whom she had been forced to shoot to save her own life. The scars were still there, not as visible as they once were, but he could always feel them.

    "Do you mind!!?" she said annoyed when he kept peeking over her shoulder and closed the file with a snap.

    "Sorry.. Just curious as to why you would be reading that old file." She hesitated visibly with the reply.

    "Just.. closure I guess," she said after some seconds thought. Not completely buying the explanation he nevertheless dropped the subject, mentally archiving it for later use.

    "Wanna head out for a beer?" he suggested, and her eyes lit up.

    "Yeah… a cold one!"

    "Of course," he grinned, picking up his jacket. She turned off the light as they walked out of the office, it was Monday night, and even the crooks seemed to have taken a rest in the heat. The heat was breaking all records, threatening to put the whole city into a lazy trance. No one wanted to do anything more than they had to, preferring to cool off in the sea or pools.

    Of course the Water Police had to stay on duty, even if the crooks seemed to have melted away for a while.

    "If this heat lasts much longer, I think I'll take a few days off sailing," Frank remarked, "a mate of mine offered to let me borrow his boat for a few days. Wanna go along?"

    "A few days off sailing with you?" she said, doubt shining through.

    "Yeah… it'll be good for ya! Just the wide, wide ocean, wind in the sails, cold beers.."

    "And you," she added with a smile.

    "Guys.. I hate to do this to you, but could you possible check out the report about a floater? Nemesis is ready to pick you up," Helen Blakemore announced as the two were passing the counter. Both groaned.

    "Damn, we were almost out," Frank cursed, before trotting after Rachel down to the pier. He didn't think his brain could take the strain of solving a case in this heat. A boat trip would be refreshing though. Cold waves, wind against his face.

    Yeah, a boat trip was just what he needed. And maybe they were lucky and the floater was just a branch being confused for a body.

    "Frank? Frank??"

    He tuned back to reality, realising Rachel was trying to get his attention.

    "Yeah?"

    "I said 'looks like that sailing trip will have to wait'."

    "Yeah.. why, were you getting tempted?"

    "Maybe," she said with a smile as they jumped aboard the Nemesis. "So what do we have, Tommy?"

    "Possible floater in the water north of here. A girl called it in," Tommy explained as he started the boat up. Speeding up, the Nemesis quickly left the sight of the HQ, diving through the waves.

    Closing his eyes, Frank felt the wind in his face as a cool relief. The last couple of weeks his body had been itching, he had to do something to quell it, problem was he had no idea what. Maybe it was just the heat getting under his skin.

    Rachel gave him a funny glare. She seemed to be a bit impatient of late as well, and this reading of Knocker's file.. Why the hell was she reading it now? He suspected she had been having troubles sleeping lately as well.

    "This must be it!" Tommy shouted over the roar of the engine as they could see a young girl waving frantically at them from the deck of a sailing boat.

    Pulling up, both detectives gazed intently at the water, and indeed, something was floating there, but not a human.

    "A dead dog! We got called out for a dead dog??!" Rachel ignored Frank's sour remark, and turned her attention to the girl.

    "Are you the owner of the dog?"

    "No."

    "Do you know where the owner is?"

    "No, I just saw something floating and.. I just panicked I guess."

    "Tommy, get some divers in the water." Frank looked up at her.

    "How many dogs do you know that get just shot like that and dumped in the sea?" she pointed to a hole right between the dead creature's eyes.

    "Shit. You think the owner suffered a similar fate?"

    "Maybe they didn't want the dog to alarm the owner," Rachel suggested, gazing at the dark water intently, as if it held the answers.

    ~~~~~~~

    "And that's how it started really.." Grandma trailed off.

    "And you're trying to tell me that before that, in four years of working together, nothing ever happened between them?"

    "Depends what you mean by 'nothing' my dear. They certainly had their moments, and he was clearly interested in more. She was more careful I think, and held back."

    "But they were in love?" I cut in impatiently. She gave me a reassuring smile.

    "Would I be telling you this if they weren't? I am proof they did more than just hold hands. Don't they teach you this in school anymore?"

    I blushed slightly.

    "Oh, I see they do. What I'm trying to tell you is that there's a fine border between friendship and love sometimes. They were afraid to cross that line, not realising they already had. Yes, they had relationships with others, they fell in love with others, but they always held back somewhat. They were tied to each other, yet afraid to get too close."

    "So what made them risk it?"

    "Impatient, eh? Well, I know where that family trait comes from. What makes us take risks in the first place? Hard to say sometimes. It can be just on impulse, or we work up the courage.. or sometimes we take risks because we think we have nothing to lose. This case brought them to the point of that.. but not before they got in over their heads all by themselves. But I'll get to that. You see, the dog belonged to a man who had been missing for four years, wanted for murder…"

    ~~~~~~~

    "Lloyd Stevens," Helen declared, tossing the file on Frank's desk. It was past midnight, the heat had somewhat cooled off, but was still pretty insistent.

    "Lloyd Stevens?" Frank asked surprised, "you're kidding?!"

    "No, the dog had been ear tagged and also it had a collar with its name and the old address for Stevens," Helen informed him while Rachel opened the file to have a look.

    "Four years this guy has been gone, wanted for the murder of his wife. No trace of him whatsoever, and now this. I don't suppose the divers have found anything?" Frank asked hopefully.

    "No, nothing yet."

    "He was assumed to have sailed off to New Zealand.. why would he come back?"

    "If he is back," Frank shot in, "all we have is a dead dog."

    "Shot between the eyes.. almost execution style," Rachel remarked.

    "Well, guys, get a good night sleep, I'm off, so c ya!" Helen declared, heading downstairs.

    "In this heat I'll be lucky to even get an hour in dreamland."

    "Complaining doesn't suit you Francis."

    "It's just.. I have this feeling lately, like I'm waiting for something," he said, pushing his chair over to her desk.

    "Like what?"

    "I dunno.. I'm just tired, of this job, of this office.." he waved his hands around, indicating the half lit up room.

    "Of me," she shot in.

    "No," he replied softly, "never of you." She met his gaze, and they stared at each other. There was something in his look that made her a bit unsure. She had seen that look before, and then she had told him it wasn't such a good idea. Now she wasn't sure.

    "When are we gonna stop playing this game Rach?" he suddenly asked.

    "What game?" she quickly countered.

    "This game. You, me and the people we use to create distance between us." She opened her mouth to reply, but closed it again, unable to think of anything to say. He took her silence as encouragement to plunge on.

    "I don't approve of your men, you don't approve of my women, yet we never.."

    "Frank," she cut in, "we shouldn't cross the line."

    His gaze was like laser beams on her, cutting through every defence.

    "So tell me, where does this line go? Cos I don't know anymore, and I tell ya, it's driving me nuts. I wonder, do I cross it when I look at you like this, or maybe when I do this.." he picked up her hand, letting a thumb stroke it slowly.

    "Or maybe when you look at me like that, and I lean forward.."

    She knew she should break the gaze off at once and march downstairs and home to an empty bed. She should tell him it shouldn't happen, like she had once before, a long time ago. But her body didn't listen to that ear, leaning over the desk as it were to meet him.

    He tilted his head slightly, closing his eyes. She kept hers open, focusing on his face as their lips met. Once, twice, three times until their tongues met, tangling in each other. His mouth felt so warm against hers.

    "This is.. far beyond the line," she muttered when he left her mouth to feast on a particular point of her neck. She felt strangely aware of her own body, it was the heat, the heat was causing this. At any time could she break it off, and nothing would be changed.

    She tore away from him for a brief second to cross over the desk, dropping down on his lap. Their mouths locked again, this time she got the initiative, using her tongue to trace the inside of his cheeks, his tongue, the strong taste of the coffee he had just had.

    Her knee nearly knocked him in the ribs as she tried to find a comfortable position. Without breaking the kiss off, he shifted so she was straddling him.

    His hands wandered from her stomach up to her breasts, and he started to slowly stroke them through the fabric. Her breath grew more rapid in his mouth as a response.

    "I just heard.." Helen said as she entered the room, trailing off when she saw exactly what the detectives were doing. The room was dark, but she got a fair idea.

    Both froze dead, then Rachel rose slowly, disentangling herself.

    "Yes Helen?" she said with all the professionalism and cool she could muster. She didn't dare look at Frank. What the hell had come over them? It was the heat, it made everyone crazy. Yes, the heat, that's what it was.

    Helen seemed to momentarily forget what she meant to say.

    "Umm.. yes.. right, the boat. They found the boat Lloyd disappeared with floating in the harbour, but no sign of him."

    "We'll have a look," Frank shot in, getting up as well. He avoided looking at Rachel.

    "Of all the places to blurt that out, you idiot!! Stupid, stupid, stupid!!" his mind told him.

    "Yeah, do that. Better get that lipstick off your face first," Helen suggested, giving him a pat on the cheek, "It just isn't your color Frank."

    ~~~~~~~

    "So they didn't…"

    "No, not then, and I'll never get to that if you keep interrupting!"

    I couldn't hide a yawn, and she gave me a firm glare.

    "I think that's enough for today. It's late and I'm old."

    Looking at the watch I realised with a sudden horror that it was past midnight, and I had a long way home.

    "Send your parents my regards," she said as she got up, I could almost detect a hint of bitterness in her voice. I had forgotten to ask her about them, totally engrossed as I had been in the story of her parents.

    I drove home with a thousand things on my mind, a thousand scenarios in my head. There was so much new information to digest. My parents seemed to understand it, not trying to get me talking to them. I wasn't sure I was ready to without shouting.

    I felt adrift towards something and I didn't quite know what it was. Something was trying to emerge from the back of my mind, but couldn't quite. Not yet anyway.

    I lay awake until the early morning hours, gulped down breakfast and headed for the home. She was expecting me.

    "Take me to the beach," she demanded, and so we drove off into the morning. She took in the air, the smells and the sounds like a starved person gulps down a meal. I took her to a rather fancy restaurant at the pier.

    "You know, I think this isn't far from the spot where Frank and Rachel once had a date," she remarked halfway through the salad.

    "They had a date?"

    "Oh yes, two years earlier than the time I'm telling you about. Work interfered though. That always seemed to be the case. Like Helen did in the office, and they didn't have time to discuss the matter then and there. So off they headed to the harbour.."

    ~~~~~~~

    "So no sign of any struggle of any kind?" Frank repeated to the officer.

    "No. The boat was just drifting there, dead in the water, no sign of any life."

    "No signs of this boat being used for anything but weekend sailing," Rachel reported, ascending from the boat's interior.

    "Looks like someone bothered to clean up the mess," Frank remarked.

    "Yeah. But that still doesn't tell us what happened to Mr. Stevens, though everything points to him being dead," Rachel said, rubbing her flustered cheek, avoiding looking at Frank for too long at a time. The young officers were staring at her though, or at he neck more precisely. She felt more than saw the bright red mark on her neck, a mark that would turn purple in a few days. Damn him! The arrangement they had had for the last 4 years worked perfectly, so why did he hafta start fiddling with it?? Well, it didn't work exactly perfectly, but it had worked at least, more than she could say about any relationship she'd had.

    "Let's go home, there is nothing more to see here," she declared, heading for the car. Her head was pounding. Frank followed her with only a slight hesitation. Both got in without comment, and the same tense silence that had filled the air on the way down, filled the car now.

    "Just keep driving," a hoarse voice by her ear suddenly declared, and something cold was pressed against her temple. Frank glanced over to see a pistol pointed at his partner's head. He froze in his seat, trying to eye whomever was hiding in the backseat.

    "Don't do anything stupid, or I'll be forced to do something stupid. I don't want to hurt either of you, I just need a drive out of town. Head for the Blue Mountains, don't play heroes and everything will be fine."

    "Mr. Stevens is it?" Frank asked. Rachel kept her gaze on the road, trying to calm her breathing.

    "You're smart. Yes. I managed to sneak out of the boat while the officer was looking somewhere else. The place was so crowded I didn't risk trying to run, and cars are so much more comfortable."

    "We were expecting your body," Rachel conversed. The pistol didn't move an inch from her head though, it stayed pressed firmly against her right temple.

    "If it hadn't been for my dog, you would have found it. They may have shot him, but I shot them."

    "Them?"

    "You wouldn't believe me even if I told you, so just drive and shut up."

    And so they drove out of the city as the sun was beginning to show its red face just above the horizon. Less and less houses, and more and more vegetation filled the roadside.

    Rachel silently cursed herself for having a nearly full tank. If they had to stop for gas, then maybe.. but now they put more and more miles between them and the city with people. Finally, he directed them to a remote cabin, as they pulled up, the stars had vanished from view and the sky was colored dark blue.

    "Get out of the car slowly.. remember, I still have a gun pointed at you.. that's it.. now your partner.. nice and slow," Stevens directed, "I assume you are armed? Take it out and drop it on the ground…"

    Frank did as he was told, all the time keeping a firm stare on Rachel, and on the gun pointed to her head. Just one light squeeze, and he would lose her forever.

    "Now let's go inside," Stevens continued, and indicated that Frank should go first. The cabin was small, a single bed, a fire place and some shelves.

    "I'm sorry, but I just can't let anyone find out where I'm going just yet, so if you will.."

    He pointed toward a hatch in the floor, and Frank opened it to reveal a small ladder down to a moist, dark cellar.

    "Down!"

    They climbed down slowly, step by step, as soon as they both were down, the hatch closed over them, shutting out all light. Sounds of shuffling came from upstairs, probably something being put on the hatch. Then it got quiet before they could hear a car driving off into the distance. Feeling his way forward, Frank reached up to the hatch, trying to open it, but it wouldn't budge.

    "Rach, give me a hand!"

    She joined him, both using all their strength to push. It didn't budge a centimetre. Finally they had to sit down, out of breath, no strength in their arms left.

    They were trapped.

    ~~~~~~~

    "Really trapped?" I asked grandma, feeling out of breath like they must have done.

    "Yeah.. they probably felt a bit like mice caught in the mousetrap. Vulnerable, scared.. It's something you have to experience to understand. How it's like to be threatened on your life."

    "It has happened to you, hasn't it?" She put the fork down, she had been twisting it while talking, probably without realising it.

    "Yeah.. is it that obvious? It happened to me once just before I met your granddad, and once…" she trailed off, looking at me intently.

    "You don't remember, do you?"

    "Remember what?" I countered confused. She shook her head.

    "It's probably just as well. It's a terrible feeling, that of utter helplessness, waiting for a rescue that may never come. Frank and Rachel discovered that in that basement…"

    ~~~~~~~

    "No way out, no mobile phone, no one who knows where we is except a man wanted for murder. Great, just great," Rachel muttered, leaning against the wall.

    "At least it's somewhat cool."

    "Very funny," she hissed in his direction.

    "Rach.."

    "Shut up Frank, just shut up!"

    "Okay, but it'll be very boring." Silence settled. She shifted a bit, then paced some. Frank seemed to have settled in a dark corner, she couldn't see, so she had no idea. Feeling alongside the wall she looked for any escape route, but it was all wood, until she encountered something soft.

    "That would be me," Frank's voice was so close she could feel it against his cheek.

    "Damnit, damnit," she cursed, "we can't be trapped, we can't, we can't!"

    "We are," he said calmly, "but if he wanted to kill us, he could have shot us then and there."

    She grunted something in response.

    "Can we talk? Like you won't snap my head off when I speak?"

    "Yeah.." she muttered.

    "About what happened earlier today… or yesterday actually.."

    "Frank.. we got caught up in the heat of the moment so to speak. It's okay, it just happened."

    "No it didn't," his voice was intense, "it was something I've wanted.."

    "Don't say it Frank," she interrupted, "you wouldn't be saying it if you didn't think we were in big trouble."

    "Oh yeah.. so I better not say it then."

    "Yeah."

    Silence fell again.

    "If you want to sleep, I can keep watch, just in case he gets back," Frank offered. She hesitated, but 24 hours without sleep were leaving its mark.

    "Okay," she muttered, accepting the jacket he handed her, using it as a pillow. A few minutes later she was firm asleep. Frank sat down beside her, listening to her sleep. It was the only sound in the room.

    They had no water, no food, and no one knew where they was. But what trouble him most of all was how cramped the air in the room felt already.. were they getting fresh air at all?

    He must have dozed off, the next thing he remembered was her sob. She was muttering something in her sleep, then several large sobs made him almost jump.

    "Rachel?" he asked lightly, touching her shoulder. She twisted violently.

    "No, John, no!"

    "Rachel, Rachel, it's just a dream!"

    She was shaking, and he wrapped her in a hug without thinking, whispering soothing words as she slowly stopped shaking.

    "He shot me," she whispered, "this time he shot me."

    "Who.. John.. Knocker?" he asked, trying to make sense of her words.

    "Yeah.. I was at the graveyard again, and this time he shot me and.."

    "It was just a bad dream, you're safe." The irony of the words struck him. She was hardly safe at all.

    She leaned against his chest, feeling his arms around her waist and shoulders, realising it was indeed just a dream.

    "You've been having dreams about Knocker?"

    "Yeah.."

    "Why didn't you tell me?" She didn't say anything, and he rubbed her shoulders slightly. "You know you could have told me."

    ~~~~~~~

    "Why didn't she grandma?"

    "She felt weak, Em. We all do sometimes, but Rachel Goldstein was never one to show it. Even longer after she and dad… well, my dad, your great-granddad had settled down, she still sometimes held back on her inner fears. But he knew it, and even though he respected her ways, he became a master of sneaking it out of her."

    "So they did settle down?"

    "I'm getting ahead of myself, it seems. Happens when you get old. Be patient young lady, I'm getting there. Come on, walk with me."

    I got up from the chair, leaving a tip at the table and walked with her down along the seaside.

    "They were trapped in that basement, and Frank was feeling very protective.."

    ~~~~~~~

    He could just about make out her features in the dark, he thought he detected tears in her eyes, but he couldn't be sure.

    "Hold me," she simply replied, and he dead, stroking her back. His eyes were getting used to the darkness, he could see the damn wooden walls surrounding them. It was a pretty small room, the only source of air would be the hatch, and that was firmly closed. Whatever came through it couldn't be much.

    "Shit," he said more to himself than to her. She still heard it, and straightened up a bit.

    "We're running out of air, aren't we?"

    "Yeah, I reckon," he admitted. She pulled his face to his, close enough to see his deep brown eyes. If this was her last day, damned if she was going to live it without knowing how it felt. He lifted a finger to push away a strand of hair from her cheek, and she planted a slow kiss on it. No words were spoken, but they both knew what the other wanted.

    His cheek felt warm under her palm, his whole skin seemed to radiate with a sudden sexuality, causing something deep in her stomach to wake up and warm her whole body, all the way to her toenails.

    His hand had moved to the base of her neck where it were tracing slow circles. This time he waited for her as she leaned in the few centimetres it took.

    Her lips was as soft as he remembered, feeling so sweet on his. Her tongue took his breath away, so possessive as it rediscovered familiar territory. The little noises she made he found very much a turn on. A small sigh, a soundless moan as he pulled her body close.

    His hands found the zipper of her skirt, and she showed no sign of protest as he pushed it down. Her hands had already began tearing at his shirt.

    ~~~~~~~

    "And then…?" I asked, almost tripping over my own feet, so into her story.

    "Oh, you know.." she smiled

    "They did it??"

    "Yep. 3 times, too."

    "Really? So how.."

    "If you think I'm gonna give you details, think again young lady. They were my parents, and besides, I'm sure you know the basics."

    "But it was good? I mean.." She laughed at my obvious interest in the subject.

    "Yeah, words like "fantastic" and "amazing" could be used, and still not do it justice from what I have heard. Once you release four years of bottled up passion… Well, enough about that. What they didn't know, was that Lloyd Stevens had called their colleagues as soon as he felt he was far enough away and help were on its way…"

    ~~~~~~~

    "Frank.. can you hear something?" Rachel asked, as she laid lazily in his arms. Her head felt heavy, but she could still swear she had heard an engine and a door shutting.

    "No…" he muttered, resting his head on top of hers, his arms around her waist. He had an overwhelming urge to sleep, just like this, warm, comfortable, happy. There were worse ways to go.

    "It's just your imagination," he added after a while, placing kisses along her shoulder.

    "Hmmm.. yeah.. that's nice.." she muttered, lifting a hand to rest in his hair.

    "FRANK!! RACHEL!!!" came voices, and they both jumped, then began a frantic search for clothing.

    "Down here!" Rachel yelled a second later, pulling her skirt on, and she could hear several running steps, something being pushed away and at last the hatched opened. Fresh air and bright light streamed down to them.

    They climbed up slowly, blinking in the bright light after being in the dark for so long.

    Several worried faces awaited them once they got up, among them Hawker's.

    "We're fine," Rachel assured him. She still felt light-headed and dizzy, but the fresh air felt wonderful in her lounges. Gazing at Frank, she noticed how dusty and messed up his clothing were. If the rumours weren't flying already, this would certainly do the trick. She was too tired to care, all she wanted were a bed with cool sheets that she could sink into and sleep for a month.

    "Lloyd Stevens gave us a call, and told us you two probably wanted a lift. He sends his apologies as well."

    "First time someone has abducted me and apologised," Frank remarked, sneaking a quick glance at Rachel. He wasn't sure exactly how she would view this new situation.

    "Doesn't sound much like a murderer on the run," Rachel noted, brushing off the worst layer of dust on her clothing. She was aware of Frank's gaze on her, it was practically drilling holes in her back.

    Hawker gave them both a look promising a long talk about butting out of cases that wasn't theirs as they walked out into the sunshine and the heat.

    They were alive.

    ~~~~~~~

    "So the Stevens guy was nice after all?"

    "Yes.. he was desperate, but he never meant to really hurt them. They realised this of course, and dug their teeth into the case no matter what Hawker told them."

    "But what about that fact that they had sex?"

    "They were silly.. Because if you look at it rationally, you could say it was comfort, not an unusual reason to have sex at all. But of course, with them it was much more.. That doesn't mean they saw that… In fact.."

    ~~~~~~~

    Frank stepped into the hospital hall just as Rachel did the same from another room. Despite protest that they were alright, Hawker had insisted that they both got checked out at the hospital.

    "Doc given you an all clear?" Frank asked as he crossed the hallway, and she nodded.

    "You?"

    "Healthy as a prime bull!"

    "Good-o…"

    An uncomfortable silence settled, both shifting a bit.

    "What do we do now?" he finally asked.

    "Head for bed?" she suggested, and he gave her a look.

    "You know what I mean.."

    "Yeah.. Listen Frank, it was comfort.. you know, we thought that was it, and needed something else to think about.. just a bit of comfort…between friends."

    "Comfort?"

    She nodded, searching his brown eyes for any clues what he felt about that.

    "Right, comfort. Between friends," he agreed.

    "Yeah.. so, see you tomorrow?"

    "Bright and early!" he promised, and watched her as she walked away. She didn't even look back. Closing his eyes, he leaned against the wall. He was tired of playing this game.

    *****

    "Frank, someone named Simone is looking for you," Helen informed him as he entered the Water Police HQ the day after.

    "Yeah?"

    "Yeah, she's waiting outside."

    "Tell Rachel I'll be a little while, will you?"

    "Sure," Helen exclaimed, heading upstairs. "Frank will be a little while, he had a guest."

    "Right… any sign of Lloyd Stevens yet?"

    "No, but they are looking."

    "Don't you think it's just a little bit odd that he reappears so suddenly after four years? I mean, why risk it? He had got away, he had nothing to win by coming back. Unless he did it for some reason we don't know."

    "Rach.."

    "He kept talking about 'them' and how they would kill him. I'm wondering if he was framed, and maybe 'them' are those who framed him.."

    "Rachel!" Helen shot in, "it's not your case .Let it go. You and Frank were lucky. Take some days off. Maybe think things over a bit.. like how to be more discrete.."

    Rachel looked up at her, a small blush crawling up her cheeks.

    "It's not what you think Helen.."

    "It certainly looked like that from my point of view. Don't tell me you were just trying to help him get something unstuck from his throat using your tongue!"

    "Using your tongue for what?" Frank asked, getting the last part of the sentence. He looked horrible, Rachel noted.

    "What's up?"

    "An old mate of mine is dead."

    "Oh Frank," Helen said, her voice filled with sympathy.

    "Turns out he left me the boat.. 'Footloose'. I can't believe he's dead," Frank declared, almost falling down on his chair. Rachel got up from hers, giving him a sympathetic pat on the arm.

    "He wasn't much older than me…"

    "Frank, Rachel, they're apprehended Lloyd Stevens.. and he insists on talking with you two. I'm not happy about it, but get going!" Hawker declared, poking his head in.

    "What's up with Holloway?" he asked Helen as his two detectives marched downstairs and out of hearing range.

    "He lost an old friend."

    "I see."

    "Are you alright?" Rachel asked concerned as they quickly went downstairs. He shrugged his shoulders.

    "It's just a bit of a shock.."

    ~~~~~~~

    "…a bit of a shock indeed," grandma added, sitting down on a bench. "A shock that would cause my dad to reconsider his life and his career. A bit of a midlife crisis, you might say."

    "So he quit the Force?" I asked, sitting down beside her.

    "Well, that week he and Rachel did several inquiries and found several things pointing to Lloyd Stevens being framed, like he claimed to have been. Frank, who had been sure the guy was a killer, began doubting his own judgement. He felt tired, stuck in the office, and his relationship with my mom seemed to be impossible as well."

    "But.."

    "Patience, young lady, patience. So he decided to gamble, and had some shocking news to deliver to Rachel a week after their abduction…"

    ~~~~~~~

    There was a knock at the door. Sighing, Rachel got up from the book she had been engrossed in.

    "Frank?" she said as soon as she opened the door and saw him standing in the doorway.

    "Yeah.. can I come in?"

    "Sure.. You weren't at work today."

    "I came in after you had left.. I've been thinking.. and I've decided to go."

    "Go?" she asked confused

    "Yeah.. you see, 'Footloose' were bought because me and my mate were going to sale to Venezuela, to the islands, see the world.. He was gonna do it when he died.. so I'm gonna go in his place."

    "To Venezuela?" she repeated, the real meaning of his words just beginning to sink in.

    "Yeah, or Peru, New Zealand.. you know, the world. Two years sailing on the wide ocean, where we're going doesn't matter.."

    "We?" she shot in.

    "Yeah, you see, I was thinking, we could do a whole new start out there, you and me. No work always interrupting. Just you and me and the wide ocean."

    "I don't think that is such a good idea," she said slowly.

    "Just think about it… We could work it all out, and maybe even be happy."

    She closed her eyes, feeling overwhelmed with emotions. A part of her was screaming to say yes, but she couldn't.

    "I can't…"

    He smiled ruefully.

    "I know, but I had to give it a shot.. I cleared it with Hawker, I leave in a few days, when I got it all set up."

    "So fast?" she asked dazzled, trying to realise she was loosing him.

    "Got no reason for delay.. do I?"

    "No.."

    "Yeah.. I better get going, got maps to study and such.. yeah, I better go."

    And with that he was out the door, leaving her to stand staring after him into the night, trying to comprehend the sudden turn her life had taken.

    ~~~~~~~

    "She turned him down?" I asked breathlessly.

    "Yes.. she had her reason, David probably being the main one as well as work."

    "But.. but.." I felt my heart sink, "he just sailed off and left her?"

    "I didn't say that."

    "But he asked and she said no and…" I closed my mouth, realising I was babbling.

    "She said no indeed, but fate had more aces up its sleeve…"

    ~~~~~~~

    "I'm telling you I have been framed!" Stevens shouted for what had to be the 100th time during the interview.

    "You keep saying so, but by whom? And why?" Rachel asked impatiently. She was still tired from tossing in bed all night, thinking and rethinking her decision to stay from the night before. It was the right choice, but it still felt so.. so..

    "Cowardly," a small voice told her.

    "My colleagues.. I had discovered a large embezzlement in the company, and they needed to get rid of me."

    "I need some names!"

    "Jason Cunner, Charles Lincon.. maybe Carla Johnson as well. I was with her that night, yet she told the police she had seen no sign of her."

    "Why did you disappear?"

    "I had no choice, things weren't exactly looking up for me, were they?"

    "Why did you come back then?"

    "Carla gave birth to my son, damnit! I just wanted to see him.. of course Jason and Charles were waiting for me. If it hadn't been for Pusher.. my dog, I would have been just a corpse on the bottom of the sea. Instead I managed to hurt one of them.. Charles I think. Why don't you go ask him??!"

    "I will," she snapped back, "after pointing a gun to my head you're lucky I'm bothering to listen to you." He hung his head.

    "I'm sorry… really, I am, I was desperate. Your partner isn't as forgiving I gather, since he has stopped coming?"

    "Frank.. is otherwise engaged," she replied, heading out. Her head was pounding fiercely.

    "Shall we have a talk with Mr. Lincon then?" asked Michael Reilly, the detective she had got as replacement for the time being. She wasn't sure how she felt about him yet, he seemed sharp enough, but..

    "He isn't Frank," the little voice told her.

    "Yeah, right. I'm driving," she replied.

    She listen to him drone on for the trip to 164 Abbey Street where Charles Lincon stayed. She wasn't in the mood for chit-chat herself.

    "Let me handle this," she told him firmly as they pulled up in front of the very expensive looking house.

    "Sure, Goldie. That is your nickname isn't it?" he asked with a smile. He seemed to have a very cheerful personality.

    "Yeah, Goldie's fine," she replied, sounding the doorbell. After a while, a maid opened.

    "I'm detective Goldstein, this is detective Reilly. Is Charles Lincon here?"

    "I'm here, what's this about?" a man in is 50s asked as he came down the stairs, limping visibly on one leg.

    "What's happened to your foot?" Rachel asked. Charles seemed to consider several replies, before deciding he didn't want to reply at all and ran.

    "Hold it!!" Mick cried as both detectives ran in pursuit. A shot answered them, echoing back and forth in the great hall. Mick whipped up his gun, so did Rachel, when she felt something explode in her abdomen.

    Pain, her mind registered. Overwhelming pain.

    "Shit, shit, shit!" she heard a distant voice calling out, "officer down, I repeat officer down!!"

    And everything went blissfully black.

    ~~~~~~~

    "Oh my God, she was shot??"

    "Always a danger in that line of work, my dear. We know the risk, and the price we pay…"

    "We? You were in the cops as well?"

    "With those two as my gene pool, how could I avoid it? I don't think they would have been happy if they knew though."

    "If?" I asked puzzled.

    "Getting ahead of myself again.. well, Rachel had been shot in the line of duty and were taken to the nearest hospital. Meanwhile, Frank was loading stuff onto his boat…"

    ~~~~~~~

    Tossing one last box onto the deck of Footloose, Frank paused to wipe sweat from his brow. It was a beautiful day, a mild breeze taking away some of the worst heat. He was feeling quite content, now that the decision had been made, and there was no turning back.

    Steps on the pier made he turn around, for a second he hoped it was Rachel, but it was Helen, almost running towards him.

    "Helen?" Frank asked worried when he saw the look on her face, "what's going on?"

    "Rachel has been shot.. she's on her way to the hospital."

    "What?!!? Is it.." he didn't dare say the word.

    "Fatal? They don't know, she's being taken to hospital now.. I'll give you a ride.." He just nodded, feeling dumbstruck. She couldn't die. Not now. She couldn't.

    Yet all the way to the hospital he was gripping the dashboard so hard all blood left his hands. He was afraid to breathe, as if he would be taking air away from her.

    It was living a nightmare.

    When Helen pulled up in front of the hospital, he didn't bother waiting till the car came to a stop, just jumping out of it, running for the entrance. Hawker was standing by the admittance counter.

    "How is she?"

    "In surgery. They don't know yet."

    "Frank? I'm Michael Reilly, I'm.." Frank turned his focus to the young man speaking, grabbing hold of his shirt and pressing him up against the wall.

    "Why didn't you protect her???!!"

    "FRANK!!" Hawker shouted sternly. Taking a deep breath, Frank let go, leaning against the wall.

    "We were looking into Stevens' claim that he was set up, when one suspect opened fire on us. Charles Lincon. We have a warrant out on him," Mick explained, "Goldie was shot in her abdomen. I called for an ambulance at once. They are doing what they can."

    Frank just nodded miserably. He should have been there. He had failed her.

    "We'll just have to wait," Hawker said, giving Frank a pat on the back, "she's tough. She'll pull through."

    Helen ran through the doors, joining the small circle of waiting officers. Embracing Frank, she could barely withhold tears. They couldn't loose Rachel.

    "Excuse me," one doctor called out.

    Everyone turned their attention to the young guy at once.

    "I'm Dr. Leo Fanning. I've just come from the operation table. Your detective is one lucky woman, the bullet missed and vital parts. We managed to stopped the bleeding, and had to remove some part of her liver, but she will make a full recovery."

    4 smiles beamed towards him.

    "Thank God," Helen breathed.

    "She is unconscious at the moment, but you can see her if you like."

    "Thank you Doctor," Hawker replied, "I'll go tell everyone the good news back at the Station."

    "Okay Jeff, I'll be over there later," Helen replied as she followed Mick and Frank into the hospital hallway.

    Jeff looked after the three, before heading out. Well outside, he muttered a silent thanks to a God he didn't really believe in.

    "Here," the Doctor indicated, opening a door.

    She was so pale, was Frank's first impulse. But her breast were rising and sinking, meaning she was breathing.

    "She should be waking up soon."

    "Can I stay?" Frank asked, his gaze never faltering from her face. The doctor exchanged looks with the two others.

    "Sure," he replied after a few seconds thought.

    "Get well Rach," Helen declared, giving Rachel's hand a squeeze.

    "I'll find the guy," Mick promised, as much to Rachel as to Frank. Then both walked out, leaving only Frank, the Doc and Rachel.

    "She will be fine?" Frank asked, needing to know it for sure.

    "Yes," the doctor assured him, then turned his attention to the nurse walking in, "let me know when she wakes up."

    With that he left. Frank barely noticed, pushing a chair to the bed and taking a seat. He took her hand in his, caressing it slowly.

    "Geez, Rach, what would I do if you died on me?" he asked. "I need you, you stubborn woman, so come back to me. I'm gonna talk till you tell me to shut up, so unless you want to listen to my jokes, you better wake up."

    He stared intently at her. No response.

    "You must be out, otherwise I would get thrown a 'You're a jerk Holloway' in my face. I miss you calling me a jerk. Hell, I miss you. I miss us. That was the point of sailing, giving us a chance, you know…" he trailed off, looking out the window at the dark sea. It didn't seem as enthralling anymore, not when she was lying in a hospital bed.

    "Ouch."

    He turned quickly, seeing Rachel's eyes flung open and looking at him.

    "Hey you," he said softly.

    "Hey.. God, it hurts."

    "You've been shot, no wonder." She considered that a second.

    "Charles Lincon," she muttered, "bugger. Shouldn't you be off packing?"

    He stroked her cheek affectionately.

    "You'd just do anything to keep me here, wouldn't you?"

    "Don't make me laugh Francis, it hurts too much." He grinned, squeezing her hand lightly.

    "Miss Goldstein, how are you feeling?" the doctor asked with the nurse in tow.

    "Like hell."

    "You were indeed very lucky, that bullet could have done a lot more damage. You'll have to take it lightly for a while, maybe take some time off work."

    "Yeah.." she muttered, before closing her eyes and drifting back to sleep. Frank disentangled his hand and walked out softly. His heart was practically leaping with joy.

    ~~~~~~~

    "So Frank postponed his trip?" I said, giving grandma the cup of coffee she had request from the small sales wagon.

    "For a while.. he didn't want to sail off with her still in hospital."

    "But in essence, they were back were they started, I mean, he was still going…"

    "Oh yes. But…"

    ~~~~~~~

    "Knock, knock!" came Frank's cheerful voice and Rachel looked up to see him standing in the doorway, his hands hidden behind his back.

    "You just missed Tommy, Emma, Tayler and Syksie," she told him.

    "Nah, I waited till they were gone," he declared, holding up the biggest bunch of flowers. She grinned.

    "With all the rumours going I thought I shouldn't given them even more to gossip about."

    "How considerate Frank."

    "Not really, I just don't want them to think I was growing soft."

    She shook her head as he popped down on the chair beside her, putting the flowers on the bed.

    "How are you doing?"

    "Had better days. But I talked to Jeff, and I have taken some leave."

    "Good."

    "So I was thinking, you know, maybe Venezuela.."

    "Good to get away for a…" he paused, her words sinking in. "Venezuela?" Her eyes glittered with humour.

    "Or maybe just Brisbane or New Zealand.. doesn't matter where we go, right?"

    "We? We're going?" he asked incredulously.

    "Yeah.. unless you've withdrawn the offer."

    "No, no, no," he stuttered, "how long leave took you?"

    "A year," she grinned. "I just realised.. I could die, and I didn't want to.." She didn't know quite how to explain it, she wasn't sure herself what possessed her to do it, but it was done.

    "Yeah.. so David?"

    "Still here in a year," she replied, "I'll miss him, but he can come on vacation, he loves the sea."

    Frank nodded, still not completely believing his ears. On the other hand, if it was a dream, he never wanted to wake up. He'd be happy living in it.

    "I'd hug you, but I'm afraid I'd hurt you," he declared, then planted a kiss on her hand. Of course, that was the moment Helen chose to walk in.

    "I have to start working on my timing," she muttered, the raised her voice, "hello guys!"

    "Helen!" Rachel smiled, "you want to tell her, or should I?"

    "You have got more tact than me, remember?"

    "Tell me what?" Helen asked.

    "You better sit down…"

    ~~~~~~~ Continued in Part Two



    Part Two

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