Aftermath.
By Jaye Reid.
Written: 21/12/1999
Disclaimer: please mark the correct box
- [ ] Jaye owns them.
- [x] Hal. and Southern Star own them.
- [ ] No-one owns them.
DAMN! g
Authors Notes: A few weeks ago, I actually set a New Years Eve Challenge… Well finally I have found time to write one myself! Actually I have another one on its way too….
~*~*~*~
"…For what is one of Venezuela's worst natural disasters…"
Rachel grabbed at the remote control and turned the television news off. She was sick of hearing the same thing.
Flooding and landslides…. Why the hell did Frank have to go to such a godforsaken place? It was all that had been in the International news for days. So many thousands dead, countless hundreds - thousands missing And she knew they would almost *all* turn up dead as well… if they were ever found.
Rachel wondered just how many would have been swept out to sea, never to be seen again.
The sea.
At first she thought that he would still be sailing around, having a great time out on the open seas. She thought about the bloody mess that would greet him when he actually made it to Venezuela.
Perhaps he would go elsewhere.
But then today… as if fate was playing another one of its cruel tricks, a postcard arrived.
Her heart dropped when she saw the sunny vibrant picture and 'Venezuela' marked clearly across the bottom.
She scoffed, they would have to change *that* picture. Mud and muck would be more appropriate these days.
It was sent two weeks ago.
Before the floods and mud turned the carefree lifestyle of its inhabitants to one of total chaos.
He would be there, and he would be in the thick of it.
She tried to convince herself that if anything happened to him, being a foreigner, they would get word back. Someone would tell them. But if he was one of the countless missing…. Shit, even Frank Holloway would be hard to pinpoint amongst all that mud.
She laughed gently to herself… he would blend in so damn well…
"Stop it!" she chastised herself out loud. Who said that anything was going to happen to Frank? Stop thinking like this. Christ, Frank had been through so many scrapes, this would be a piece of cake she told herself. It would require more than a bit of mud and water to take him out.
Nah he would be fine, she told herself as she got up from her chair and decided to get herself a drink.
Rachel wandered into the kitchen and opened the fridge.
No beer.
That was okay she thought, didn't feel like drinking beer anyway. She opened the freezer door and grabbed the ice tray before nudging that door closed with her shoulder and closing the fridge with her foot.
She grabbed a glass and the bottle of Scotch with the one hand from the cupboard. The ice clunked into the bottom of the glass and then cracked as the warmer liquid flowed across it. She swirled the drink around, making the ice spin before taking a mouthful. She screwed her face up as the drink kicked her on the way down.
Rachel looked at the glass, topped it up and moved herself and the opened bottle back to the couch. She put her feet up and stretched out. There was a rug thrown over the back of the couch. She pulled it down over her body.
Rachel lay there staring at the black television screen… thinking.
She could still see the images from the news reports playing out in her mind.
It was so damn far away.
She wished there was something she could do.
Hell! Why did she always ended up feeling responsible when ever Francis bloody Holloway got into strife?
What was it with them?
Maybe it was the mothering instinct in her?
Ha!
As if Frank needed mothering…
Rachel looked down at her glass, it was empty. Well except for the half melted ice in the bottom. She filled the glass again and took another mouthful. It tasted smoother now. No more kick. She gazed up at the ceiling.
"Damn you Frank…" she said out loud again. "Where the hell are you?"
She took another mouthful and then suddenly realised that she was sitting in her house, drinking some very good Scotch… alone.
Drinking beer alone was okay… she'd done it so often that it didn't matter. But spirits? Damn, how did she let that damn man get to her again? He was half way across the world.
Well she hoped that was where he was.
She wouldn't even mind if he was curled up with one of those bloody 'Miss World' types that they had joked about. As if *she* had any right to care one way or another.
As long as he was okay.
Two more mouthfuls and her drink was gone. "Bed" she told herself and she dragged her now weary body upstairs.
A week passed and still no word. She thought maybe he would phone for Christmas, but then realised that was stupid. He knew she was Jewish and didn't celebrate Christmas. Why would he ring?
Each night she found herself once again staring into the bottom of an empty glass, wondering where the hell he was.
~*~*~*~
New Years Eve and Rachel finished her shift at 11 p.m. Jack and Mick were doing the graveyard shift. She was on call just in case they really needed her. But they would have to be fairly desperate to risk her abuse for dragging her back out there. They were hoping for a reasonably quiet night, but with so much and so many focussed on the Harbour… Unlikely!
Rachel was woken by the sound of her mobile. She had arrived home by 11.30 p.m. and decided that sleep was more inviting than seeing in the New Year. Even if it was the beginning of the next century.
And besides, she was out of Scotch.
She rolled over and looked at the alarm clock. 11.58 p.m.
"Crap," Rachel said to herself. She'd obviously fallen asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow. And now, less than half an hour later she was awake again. She mumbled to herself as she reached for the noisy intruder to her evening.
"This would want to be good," she said to the darkness.
She pushed the button.
"Goldstein."
"Hey Rach!"
"Oh shit… Jack. What have we got?" she asked as she sat up.
"Ah nothing to worry about. I just thought… well it's about to go midnight… thought I would give you a call and say Happy New Year."
"Oh… um yeah… okay. Happy New Year to you too," she replied.
"Were you asleep?"
"Yep."
"You tired?"
"Yep."
"Oh… sorry, I'll let you get back to it."
"Ah look sorry Jack… thanks but I am really stuffed… I'll catch you tomorrow some time, okay?" she apologised as she tried to keep her eyes open.
"Yeah, goodnight Rachel."
And then click.
Rachel dropped the phone back on the cupboard, punched her pillow into shape, pulled the doona around her and went back to sleep.
~*~*~*~
Rachel made it to the office late the next morning. It took forever to make her way there through all the traffic. So many people trying to make their way home. She wondered whether it would have been quicker to walk.
Helen looked pretty pleased with herself as they passed each other. Helen was heading home after a night shift, Rachel was on her way in.
They spoke briefly.
Rachel headed upstairs and looked at the report that she had started the night before. Paperwork, ugh… she hated paperwork. But then again, find a copper who liked it.
Coffee… she needed a hit of caffeine before starting this. Wandering into the tea room she flicked through the morning paper. Not as much about Venezuela now, it was old news.
Coffee made and back to the paperwork.
The morning dragged on. She had half the report done when her laptop did a 'there has been an error in the program' message and promptly shut itself down.
Was her file saved? Nope.
"Awww shit!" she exclaimed as she slammed it closed in anger.
"Stupid friggin' thing," she muttered.
Then a thought crossed her mind. "Wonder if it is that bug thing?" she said to herself out loud. Ah hell… everything was supposed to be tested. She tentatively opened it up again and hit the power. Okay, that was working she thought. Now… waiting… double click on icon…. Yep that worked too. So far so good. File… Open…. Ahh… there it was. Well the part that had been saved from the night before. No bugs here, thank goodness. Rachel retyped it again. Going into properties first and setting the auto save to every two minutes, just in case it happened again.
By the time she finished and actually took the time to notice… the clock in the corner of her screen said 2. 37 p.m. Damn no wonder she was hungry she thought. Past lunchtime. It was afternoon tea time… well it would be if she ever had the luxury to indulge… which was never.
Save…. File… Exit…. Start… shut down…. yes…. "Lunch!"
She took the stairs two at a time.
Rachel didn't know the uniformed officer behind the counter. Extra staff from other stations were rostered to the Water Police for the couple of days either side of New Year.
"If anyone wants Goldstein, tell them to phone me on the mobile," Rachel said as she walked past.
Out into the sunshine. Sunglasses on.
The traffic would still be mad she decided as she set off on foot. It was a nice day for a walk and was better than sitting in that damn office in front of the computer.
There were people wandering everywhere. Some of them looked pretty sick she thought… bugger that. She was glad she slept.
Wandering into her favourite deli. she ordered her standard salad sandwich… without beetroot. Actually these days she didn't need to specify, they knew better!
She grabbed a coffee too and wandered back outside to find somewhere to sit in the shade and eat. The sun was starting to bite.
Sandwich unwrapped, coffee opened and sipped once, and then the sound of her mobile ringing destroyed her picture.
"Damn!" she said as she grabbed it from her pocket.
"Yeah… Goldstein!" she said annoyed. Why couldn't she just have lunch in peace, just once?
"Rachel? That you?"
Oh that voice!
"Francis James Holloway… you bastard!" she grinned.
"Yeah… I miss you too!" he laughed. "You'll have to speak up it's bloody noisy here."
"Where the hell are you?" she quizzed. She could hear the noise.
"I'm in Jamaica. Venezuela got a bit wet."
"A bit wet!" she exclaimed. "Shit Frank… all the news and papers have been full of the reports of the mess over there. Thousands dead and missing… and then I get a card from you to say you arrived there… and then nothing… shit what took you so long to call?"
"What's wrong Rachel? You weren't worried about me were you?"
She knew that tone.
She could play this game.
She had so many times.
"Who me? Why would I be worried about you?"
"Yeah, not like you miss me or anything eh?" he replied.
"Nah.. of course not. Why would I miss you?"
"Didn't think so… coz if you did… well then I could perhaps start sailing for home you know."
"I thought the boat *was* home these days?" Rachel laughed.
"Yeah… of course. Well it wasn't sounding too good in Venezuela so I was only there for a coupla days before heading further north. Arrived here in Jamaica yesterday. Just in time for the most amazing New Years Eve. Hell you'd love it."
"Ah sounds a bit crowded there for me Frank. I'd prefer something a bit more subdued I think."
"Maybe next year we could do that," he replied.
Rachel wasn't sure if that comment was meant as a question or a statement. She could hear a countdown in progress in the background and looked at her watch. Three in the afternoon in Sydney.
"Hey Frank… is it only going Midnight there?" she asked.
"Yep… THREE… TWO… ONE… Happy New Year Rachel…. I love…"
Click.
The mobile cut out.
Rachel looked down at her phone.
He was gone.
"Yeah… Happy New Year to you too Francis."
She smiled to herself as she put her phone back in her pocket.
Maybe next year…
THE END