This originally was going to be a one shot but then it got long and so I've split it in to two (part 2 is shorter though - and already written). This somewhat retcons from the end of Divided We Fall. I hope it's ok :)
The change in her is subtle. He can't quite pinpoint the moment it occurred, having become interested in the strands of conversation that were carrying on around him in the operating theatre. He had felt relieved, having seen the hint of a smile play on her lips before she had made that first incision. For a moment, he had allowed himself to think that perhaps this would all work out, that things would be alright because she seemed happy and he had smiled back at her in return. Then he had become aware that she had grown quiet, not the usual quiet that came with her concentration but a quiet that unnerved him. That was when he had turned to look at her properly once more, and seen how the smile had turned ghostly like she was desperately trying to keep it up but it felt like a shadow of the one before. It was when she had glanced up that he had felt his heart drop. He could see it in her eyes, the panic. There was an argument raging in her mind – fight or flight – though for what she would be fighting he wasn't sure, most likely against herself more than him though it would project itself his way. And yet looking at her, taking in those changes, it seemed to him that fight wasn't winning. He could see it in her, and that scared him. Because he knew – she was going to take flight.
She disappears quickly from the operating theatre. As soon as her work is complete she is gone, but he is very much expecting that. He watches her, keeps tabs on her until their shifts have ended as he tries to work out what he is going to do. Though he is near certain that she is plotting her escape – though he suspects this is not quite a conscious planning effort, he cannot be sure of her true intentions. Whether she plans to disappear for eternity, taking with her their child or whether she just needs sometime to herself. He is not sure which scenario scares him most. To lose his child when he has just learned of its existence is painful; to think of his son or daughter growing up away from him, never to see their face or hear their laughter. He would search for her, for them he is certain of that but he knows that if she didn't want to be found, he would never do so. But the other option is equally frightening, to leave her with time to think, to dwell. He knows so little of her, of what made her the woman she is today but he knows enough to know that within her head exists thoughts and places so dark that they could swallow her whole, sucking her in to the void. Time alone, with her thoughts, could be enough to do that, for her to become lost within those places. For those voices to convince her of half-truths and lies which she'll come to see as concrete facts. He saw it as she had stood over the girl on the table, their work starting. He could lose them both in this way. And yet he knows he could be jumping to conclusions, panicking when he has no need to but the hammering of his heart tells him differently.
"We need to talk" he catches up to her outside of the hospital, both of their shifts now finished. They are both tired from the long day and yet she moves quickly towards her car. His movements are more sluggish and he finds it harder to keep up with her, though he forces himself to do so. He cannot let her go and yet he does not know how to get her to stay. Already he sees barriers have once again risen against him when earlier he had seen them tumble.
She barely acknowledges that he has spoken, though there is nothing in the still night to steal his voice. She keeps her eyes fixed ahead, focused on her destination. She is unsure, her mind a tumultuous jumble of thoughts and ideas that she just cannot make sense of. Thoughts move too quickly, and yet despite never settling they unnerve her. She can recall only snatches of the things that pass through her mind, and yet these are enough to panic her, to cause doubt to constrict her chest making breathing so much harder. She feels walls pushing in on her. He is not overly close, and yet his presence is overbearing in her ever shrinking world. There is too much, and she is tired. Too tired to fight, though that is her usually her natural instinct but to fight means things she cannot quite accept nor is she certain who or what she would even be attempting to fight. Still she knows they are big, too big within the decreasing space. She needs an escape, though she doesn't quite know what that means or how to get it. It is instinct that she has to follow, though instinct, she knows, cannot always be trusted especially her own.
He repeats the words and watches as she shakes her head, hair swishing as she does so. She knows he is right, but now she cannot face it, not in this moment at least. There is so much which needs to be said, but she can't trust herself to say them, doesn't quite know what needs to be said or done if she is honest. She gets to her car, doesn't speak to him just gets inside and drives leaving him watching.
He isn't sure what makes him do it, but in spite of his tiredness, of wanting nothing more than to slip in to his bed and sleep, he follows her. Follows her on the drive to her flat and watches as she slips inside the building. So much of him is telling him to leave, knowing she is within her home, that logically she is as tired – if not more so due to the child she is growing – than him and that she will be headed straight to her bed as he should be. And yet something makes him stay. Some part of him refuses to pull the car away from the kerb, instead switching of the engine as he watches the building door.
He knows he could go and knock on her door, but he worries what the effect of doing so will be. The idea of facing a door slamming in his face, when things had seemed so positive earlier he isn't sure he can face the complete demolition of that ideal. For now at least he can hang on to the tiniest remnants of those feelings, as he sits here contemplating.
He doesn't know for how long he sits there, only that the opening of the door to her building causes a rush of adrenaline through his veins. The sight of her emerging causes his heart rate to increase, and despite his tiredness he shifts himself more upright in his seat. She doesn't appear to notice that he is there watching. His eye is drawn to the fact she is toting a bag with her, that she seems to struggle with it and he has to force himself to stay still rather than rushing to her aid. She wouldn't appreciate that, though he longs to help her. It is a relief – though minor – that the bag is small. It cannot contain her entire life – or even enough for her to start a new life elsewhere. But it does mean she is leaving, even if it is only temporary. He wonders how she could have arranged to do so at such short notice, whether she has called in sick or simply won't turn up. She so rarely seems to take leave that she is probably owed a great deal but the amount of notice she will have given makes this seem unlikely to him. He watches as she gets behind the wheel of her car, and pulls away. He finds himself pulling away after her, following her to wherever it is she'll go though what he'll do when they arrive at her destination he has no idea.
She drives without really knowing where she is going to end up. She doesn't really pay attention to the road, or the change landscape around her. She drives while her mind continues to race, her body weary and unable to keep up with it. She knows she'll have to stop soon because it's getting dangerous to continue with eyes trying desperately to close and submit to sleep. She doubts though that she'd sleep, or at least not restfully, not with a mind acting as hers is. Still it would be just her luck to end up falling asleep here, on a motorway in a place she cannot quite identify.
Finally he sees her car pulling to a stop. He has little idea where they are, and he doubts he has ever ventured this far south in the country. He has spent his time with eyes fixed on her car, driving to keep far enough back that she won't spot him but close enough that he wouldn't lose sight of her. Something which was easier when she'd been driving along the motorway but became much harder when she'd pulled off and ended up on twisting country lanes. He knew at the very least they were somewhere near the sea. He had seen it out of the corner of her eye while pulling over a bridge near a pub but his gaze had not lingered long on the still waters under the black sky.
She makes her way in to a B&B. It has a sign in the window stating they have vacancies and for that he is grateful though he wonders if perhaps he should choose another but he is beyond exhausted now and just wants a bed rather than traipsing this darkened street to find another place in which he can get a room. He waits what he presumes will be long enough for her to get a room. He is grateful that he has a change of clothes in the back of his car. He grabs the bag along with the one containing his things from work and makes his way in to the building where he is greeted with a tired smile, and a comment about how it is rare to have two late night visitors so close together. He is almost certain he sees a cheeky twinkle in the woman's eyes and he wonders what is going through her head about the man and the woman who have arrived so close together and yet seem to be separate.
They don't make small talk for long before she hands him a room key and gives him directions to the place where he can finally rest his head. He needs to sleep in order to prepare for whatever will come tomorrow or perhaps even today; he doesn't have his watch on and cannot see whether the clock has flicked passed midnight though he has little doubt that it has. Unlike the prince he has managed to chase his Cinderella though he has no glass slipper. The woman calls breakfast information out to him as he walks away.
He awakens disorientated and unable to work out why he is sleeping in the clothes he had been wearing the previous day and why he is in an unfamiliar room. He is certain he hasn't found himself spending the night with a woman, partly due to his body still being clothed but equally he hasn't had much time for women over the past few months – or women other than the red headed consultant who haunts his thoughts. His mind settles on her, and memories slip back in to his mind. The drive in the dead of night following her car, and this room is in a B&B. She is somewhere here too. He hopes she hasn't stepped outside, that she won't have noticed his car. He moves his head to look at the clock, blinking slightly in disbelief at the hour and knowing he needs to move if he wants to grab himself some breakfast. He is grateful for the fact he was never scheduled to work today and that he won't look at his phone to find numerous messages asking why he has not turned up for his shift. He isn't sure how he would explain this.
He shifts his body, and moves in to the small ensuite where he freshens himself before changing from the bedraggled clothes in to those which are only slightly less crumpled having been stuffed in a bag in his car for a length of time he cannot quite determine.
He finds himself sitting in a little room. It is cosy, and he is certain for those looking for some sort of retreat it has a special sort of charm but he is on edge. He wonders if she has already been down but he daren't ask, for the question would probably get back to her – and even in a place where they are anonymous he is sure it would rouse her annoyance. He has positioned himself, so that he has a clear view of the entryway. He pays little attention to the actions of moving food from the plate to his mouth.
He hears a soft voice, he thinks it may be the same woman he had met last night though he isn't certain. She is enquiring gently as to how one of the patrons feels, remarking on their pale skin though he thinks he can hear the hint of something more in her tone; a suspicion. His heart quickens at the voice that responds, the voice that offers little to the woman but now he understands. The woman has guessed though he is unsure as to how. He wonders if she knows it, whether it's irked her that her secret isn't quite as secret as she would like.
Time appears to freeze as he waits for her to appear. He doesn't know how she'll react, or how he'll react either but there isn't nothing he can do now to prevent this moment. He hears the sound of footsteps, and then she is there. She looks tired, with bags beneath her eyes and her pale skin. She appears vulnerable.
It takes her a moment to realise she is not the only person in the room, even longer to actually realise the man sitting there is him and not his doppelganger. She doesn't quite understand how or why he is sitting there, eating and seemingly looking like he has no cares in this world. She doesn't quite want to face him and yet she cannot seem to pull away either. He offers her a small smile, and she thinks, wishes, she could give one in return but smiling is not something she feels capable of right now. She moves that little bit closer in to the room, though she is suddenly aware that she is not hungry.
He indicates for her to sit, and aware that her head has chosen to spin – and not just with thoughts chasing around – she does so. She can feel his eyes on her, and it makes her uncomfortable. It makes her uncomfortable to know he has followed her here, and yet there is something about that, that makes her feel something she doesn't quite understand.
He takes a sip of the coffee, and the smell assaults her nostrils. It is a smell she normally found comforting and yet today is causes the churning in her stomach to increase its intensity. He puts down his cup, and she can see the concern painted on his face in the instant before she closes her eyes and tries to push away the feeling of nausea that has settled over her.
She knows she cannot sit with him, not now that smell appears to have filled the entire room. She pushes away from the table without a word, turns and walks back in to direction of her room and hoping that the churning does not reach its peak before she can hide herself away. She moves almost blindly, one hand snaking back to grab her hair in to a ponytail, to contain it. The other poised with the key to unlock the door.
He pushes on the door having followed close behind her. He isn't surprised that she hasn't quite managed to close the door over properly. He enters the room cautiously, but fuelled by his need to check that she is alright. He steps in to the room, its layout so very similar to the one he himself had slept it. In fact he is fairly certain it's the room next door to his. He steps towards the little ensuite, and finds her huddled against the toilet; body shaking and face pale. At the sound of footsteps, he sees her face colour with embarrassment at having been found in this state. He comes to a halt by her side kneeling so he is level with her. Tentatively he places an arm around her, guiding her body until it falls against his, surprised by how she allows this to occur without resistance. He is sure that one her strength is recovered she will push away from him once more but for the moment her relishes the feel of her body so close to his.
"When did this start?" he speaks quietly, not wanting to jar her, but wanting to know all the same. He wants her to know that these are the things she should tell him, so that he can support her. In many ways he needs her to know that he cares about her.
"it's nothing" is the answer that comes in a hoarse voice, "the smell of your coffee, it was just" she struggles to put in to words what he had done to her senses. She doesn't want him to think it's anything more than this, doesn't want him to think it is the start of something because she herself doesn't want to accept it. She is ill so rarely that the prospect of becoming familiar with porcelain toilet bowls scares her.
"But you love coffee" his own words come out almost childlike, a statement to disagree with her own assessment. She shifts now, pulling her body away from his and turning herself so that she is able to look at him.
"Well I guess I don't anymore" her response is harsh, probably harsher than she had intended. He sees that look in her eyes once again, the flash of panic, of fear that he does not understand. She grabs paper and wipes her mouth, "I need air" he thinks this is his cue to leave her but he isn't quite prepared to do so. He stands, knowing that at the least she will want to freshen herself up and trusts that she does not need his watchful eye but that so he leaves the ensuite but does not exit her room.
He waits for her. When she emerges, he sees a strange expression pass over her face on realising that he had not left as she had expected.
"I thought you'd left" she has regained her sense of self in those minutes apart. She steps closer towards him, trying to give him a look that tells him that this is what she wants, that he needs to be gone. Only he doesn't see it that way, he knows that would be the last thing either of them needs and so he tries to stand strong.
"I was thinking maybe we could go for a walk, maybe explore this place a bit" he gives her a smile, it's a hopeful smile which is hard to resist. The Maconie charm in full force, "You said you needed air" he adds, and she regrets her words. She isn't sure a walk by his side will quite bring the air she needs, that it won't deliver enough to her constricted lungs.
"I don't think that's a good idea" she doesn't want this, not now and yet he is still giving her that look. His smile brightens as he takes in her words.
"You're right, it's not a good idea" she cannot quite hide her surprise at this, given the words confliction with his expression, "It's a brilliant idea" he concludes and she cannot stop herself from rolling her eyes, "I'm gonna go grab some stuff from my room and we'll go" he doesn't give her chance to argue before he disappears.
They find themselves walking passed amusement arcades that they had somehow managed to miss the night before along with what appears to be a fairground of sorts nestled behind a railway tunnel. It's something that stirs the slightest of memories in Jac's mind as they pass by a large expanse of grass with posts which she imagines are used for tethering donkeys in the summer while up ahead she can make out a brick wall behind which she is certain the sea lies. They walk further towards the beach area, catching sight of a souvenir shop and another amusement arcade with numerous ride-on things outside. She thinks for a moment how in a couple of years, their child would dash towards these rides, begging them to let him or her on, dashing to the next almost before the first has finished. She desperately tries to push the thought away, not wanting to let herself dream quite yet.
"You seem to know where you're going" he speaks to break the silence, though it is a comfortable one. He needs to talk and this at least seems to be a way of breaking the ice a little. She comes to a halt by the stone wall, gazing out towards the sea and trying to take stock of his question.
"There's not really any other way to go" she answers, trying to sound convincing as she turns back to indicate the path which they have taken. She watches as he does much the same, before he turns to look at her. She knows he doesn't believe her though she doesn't quite get how he knows. She sighs, "I think I've been here before, a long time ago"
"Really?" he sounds surprised, although not knowing much of her life he cannot see her as having been brought to the beach as a child, or even having chosen to explore such places as an adult. She isn't the type of person to do that, and yet her vague familiarity with the place makes him think differently. She turns back out to the sea.
"A school trip, when I was maybe 7 or 8" she tries to think back to date it, but it's difficult. It's one of the few trips she went on, it must have been cheap because there was never money to pay for excursions not that the school had many. Still she had always felt left out being the child who had to stay behind at school while her classmates went off on outings. There is something about her tone, the way she says it that causes his heart to drop.
"Was it not a good trip?" he tries to question gently, not certain of what response he will gain or even whether she would talk. He thinks of school trips he had taken over the years, how they had larked about, caused havoc due to the exhilaration of being free from the confines of the classroom. He isn't quite sure how he managed to get through so many trips without letters being sent home due to their riotous behaviour.
"Depends how you look at it" it's a non-committed answer, and he knows she wants to leave it there but knows too that she needs to talk, that revealing even a little could help her in the long run. He turns out to look at the view as she does, sneaking a hand to rest on hers on the brick wall. He hopes he's done it in such a way it appears accidental.
"and how could I look at it?" there is a deep sigh as she realises that she isn't going to get out of this, though she is mildly grateful that it is this conversation and not another. They could be discussing other things, things that could bring up far worse memories, make her acknowledge far harder thoughts.
"For one it's the only trip I went on, so I have nothing to compare it too. I suppose it was fun" she doesn't remember much of the day's activities though she is certain she remembers those around her laughing, enjoying themselves as they ran about, getting wet in the sea – their feet sandy as they ran up the beach, "but there were difficult things too" while it was hard to be the child left behind, her school trip experience was almost as hard.
"How so?" he wants to turn to look at her but knows if he does she will probably freeze, it is safer to gaze out and watch the waves. There are few people on the beach, not surprising given children are in school and adults, for the most part, in work. Still there are a few individuals dotted around.
"Remember I told you at Christmas how we never had much money?" it's a rhetorical question and she cannot see him, but he nods all the same. He remembers so much of their time together, "well somehow she must have had enough for the trip but there was nothing left over for spending money. It's ridiculous, stupid, but watching the others buy things – sweets, little gifts, rides whatever – was hard when I couldn't and of course everyone noticed, asked why I wasn't having an ice cream and having to lie because I didn't want them to know the truth"
"Oh Jac" He tries to think of her aged seven. It's difficult to imagine her as anything other than a grown woman, he imagines that even as a child she probably had the manner of an adult forced upon her by life. He cannot imagine her acting as his sisters had done.
"It's stupid" she shakes her head. It's a ridiculous thing to remember, and she feels stupid for having told him. It's one of those things she had almost forgotten, and yet she remembers the feeling so clearly. She pushes away from the wall and starts to walk again, following the path around. They are flanked on one side by sand dunes, on the other the stone wall and it's beach background.
He follows her in silence. Eyes looking out towards the beach, he sees a young man and woman and he smiles watching them. The man carries with him a baby, whose age he cannot quite predict. He watches, his pace slowing. He reaches hesitantly out and takes Jac's arm, forcing her pace to slow until they both come to a halt.
"You know our baby will never feel like that right?" he thinks now that he can hear the laughter of the young child. It's like music to his ears, and he wonders if the younger version of the woman stood beside him had ever laughed in such a carefree manner.
"You don't know that" a shake of her head tells him that there is so much more going on in her head than he'll ever understand. Her eyes had come to rest, like his, on the young family; the way they interact, the love between them so evident even from a distance. She sighs, "You're probably right that the baby will want for nothing physically, I earn enough to buy it more than it'll need but it isn't just that .. just as for me it wasn't just not having the money, the physical things that came with it"
"I'm not sure I understand" she closes her eyes, blocking the sight of the young family. She knows his eyes are on her now, waiting for an answer which is unwilling to come. She knows too that he will not give up until she talks, that even if she walks away he will follow expecting more than she feels quite able to give.
"What if I can't love it?" she asks the question finally, eyes still tightly closed. He considers the question thinking of the woman he knows, how he had once referred to her as one of the least maternal women that he has known and yet there is something about her now that tells him his assessment wasn't quite right.
"You already do" the answer comes finally, and he thinks of how she had reacted when he had read the result from the plastic stick. The relief in her face as she'd discovered that it wasn't over, that their baby was still very much alive within her. She shakes her head, once more and he doesn't understand. So much appears to have changed in her head since that moment and he cannot comprehend it.
"I don't know that I do" her voice is small; sad and desperate.
"I saw your face, Jac, when you told me you'd been bleeding and again when I told you the result" he wants her to understand what he sees and yet she wears a mask so often it scares him that he could have been mistaken. He had thought in those moments he had seen the real Jac, that she had for once let him get closer to her.
"I don't know how I feel" the desperation lacing her tone tugs at his heart, "I want to love it, I think, I want to feel something towards it because this thing exists when I thought it never would and yet I don't want to feel because chances are something will happen, and then I will be left once more with nothing – just more pain and I'm not sure I can cope with anything more. Being a mother is something I don't think I've ever wanted – or not let myself want – and yet I was hoping that I still had it within me and that is stupid, idiotic because even if I did want it, I know I am not cut out for this"
"It's normal to be scared, Jac, scared that you'll struggle but when our baby is placed in your arms" he smiles at the thought of it. He isn't certain she'll let him be at the birth, but already he is thinking of the moment he will gaze at his baby for the first time, seeing him or her rested on their mother's chest.
"If I even get to that point" the words are whispered, she has opened her eyes and she has turned back to look at him. He blinks rapidly trying to make sense of that comment, "I'm not saying that I'd have a termination Jonny if that's what you're thinking, even with everything I don't think I could do that not when …" she pauses not quite sure how to finish that sentence so instead she takes another tact "but that still doesn't mean at the end of this there will be a baby"
"That's natural too, to worry but that doesn't mean you can't get excited because of the what ifs" he thinks for a moment, wracking his brain for information, anything that he can use, "Your risk is what 2 in 10 for a miscarriage, that means the likelihood of everything being absolutely fine is 80%, and I know we've had a little scare today but that's all it was a scare and our baby is still safe and secure inside of you and in what 8 and a bit months it'll be placed screaming in to your arms and despite hours of pain that labour has caused you, you will love that little person"
"It's not quite that simple" she wishes she could have his faith, his optimism for a future he already appears to have mapped out for them and yet she cannot allow herself that, not until the baby is in her arms can she allow herself to feel and by then she worries it will be too late. Months spent forcing herself not to bond with the child, will be detrimental when it is here and needs her love.
"Why?" his question is simple and yet it is one of the most difficult for her. There are so many ways in which it could be answered. The why for her risk factors, the why she cannot bring herself to feel, the why she has no belief in herself and her abilities. There are so many answers for one question, and he deserves them all.
"Nine weeks ago" she starts slowly wondering if his brain will allow him to twig the dates she is talking about, she turns back out to look at the sea. The young family have now retreated up the beach, building sandcastles which the baby destroys with glee, "I was told that my chances of conceiving were greatly reduced because I have endometriosis. I'd referred myself to gynae after those stupid pains, though I doubted anything was really wrong. I suppose I didn't want to think about the possibility that something could be and yet in the moment that word was spoken, so many things seemed to crash down around me. A fledgling relationship with a man who I had started to imagine a life with no longer seemed viable because I couldn't give him something he wanted, suddenly a desire I had denied having – or perhaps hadn't actually had – flared up because it was no longer as possible as it had been moments before. Suddenly those pains weren't just an agonising annoyance but a painful reminder of things lost that I hadn't even wanted"
"Jac, if I'd known" he hates that she went through this by herself, that he hadn't pushed her more to let him in though that would probably only have sped up the demise of their relationship. Still if he had known he could have tried harder to prevent it, wouldn't have said what he did though he would still have defended Tara. Poor Tara who had been the unwitting target of all the hurt the consultant had felt but been unable to share with anyone, so it had bubbled away inside of her until it had burst forth in anger projected at somebody who didn't deserve it, "children aren't everything, there are other ways of having a family. We could have worked something out"
"And then two weeks ago everything changed. A phonecall told me that in spite of that diagnosis, I was pregnant. That night you had called a mistake, had resulted in something that could be considered a miracle and I just didn't know how to react" she thinks of how she had been. The shock she had felt, that had numbed her to her very core, "I thought that I should protect it, did little things like not riding my bike and eating vile things that it seemed to want because that seemed right – like it was the normal thing to do but even then I was confused about how I would do this, because although I felt I had lost something there was a part of me that thought maybe it's for the best that I couldn't be a mother because – like you had said why would anyone want me for a mother"
"I didn't mean that" he shakes his head. His words coming back to haunt him, though he realises now that they have been tormenting her since the moment he had spoken them. That they added to the compilation of ideas in her head that have caused the distortion in her logic.
"Still said it though" the words come out childlike and she sighs with a shake of her head as the realisation of that dawns on her, "You had a point though, even if you claim you didn't mean it. I mean look at me Jonny, look at the way I am with people – no child deserves that. I should know"
"That's the person you pretend to be Jac, not the person you are"
"It's the person I am" she bites her lips, and clenches her fist, "I don't know how to love, how to feel. All I know is how to abandon and reject, how to push people away because I reason it is better for them that they are not tarnished by me. It's better that I hurt people before they hurt me, because in truth that is what they will do, but it isn't their fault not really because I force them to do it, because even the good in people can be turned by the bad in me. And the end result in all of this, even though I had tried to prevent it, is that I get hurt all the same. And I know that if I have it, that it will turn out the same way. I will hurt and pain the child because of my inability to love without conditions, in time the child will come to resent me but at the very least I hope that he or she will have you. That they will have the safest of your arms to run in to and all the love that you possess, eventually I presume the child will chose to stay with you – perhaps it would even be for the best if you were to take them from birth. I could have visitation maybe"
"No Jac, we raise our child together – even if we are not" he swallows hard "a couple we are still going to raise our baby together, not just visitations every so often but proper co-parenting. It might be difficult but we'll manage and our baby will know what it is to be loved by both their mother and father" in truth he would rather they raised their child as a couple, that is his ideal but he fears that it is never to be, not the way things are between them. He is not sure how any arrangement is going to work between them, and that scares him but he tries not to think of that. He only wants to think of the positives because there are enough negative thoughts already in her mind, without adding any of his own. She is shaking her head and he wishes he could stop her from repeating the motion.
"If I muck this up Jonny" he sees the fear in her eyes, knows in that moment that she feels so much more than she is willing to accept, "when I muck this up, what then?"
"You can't live each day, thinking you are going to destroy this" he risks placing an arm around her shoulder, "it'll only end up destroying you and the more you think it, the more likely it is to happen because you'll make it happen because for some reason in your head that seems 'right'. I don't mean that you see it as a good thing but you see it as the only option, the only thing that can happen and if it doesn't happen today then it will tomorrow or the next day. We all make mistakes, I'll make mistakes but I can't think about that now, they'll happen but I'm not going to dwell on what mistakes are to come because I cannot learn from them, I can only learn from the ones I've already made. You probably think I sound like a babbling idiot, but I need you to see this"
"For once in your life, you seem to be talking something resembling sense" a hint of a laugh in her words, as she allows herself to nestle against him, "but don't make a habit of it Maconie, I may have to start to actually listen to the crap you say"
"Ah I have my moments" He grins, the young man is now carrying his sleeping baby up to the pathway, the woman a few steps behind. Almost unconsciously, he feels his own hand sneak down on to her still flat abdomen and he smiles, "you know I'm happy about this don't you?"
"I think I do" she answers, raising a hand to push away a tear that decides to fall before he notices, "before I was so panicked that you're immediate response would be to deal with this, that you would reject the child just as I feared myself doing. I thought if you said that, that I would do it because with two parents already rejecting it at this early stage what hope did the child have. I barely entertained the idea that you would want it, because after all that night was a mistake and we … our situation is far from ideal"
"Maybe it isn't ideal, but we're having a baby together Jac" he smiles, and holds her just that little bit tighter.
"We're really going to do this aren't we?" she whispers, suddenly not quite believing this is real, that this reality only exists in this place and not the place to which they will return.
"We're really going to do this" he confirms before guiding her away from the wall edge and walking back towards the amusements and the shops, determined at the very least to get some food in to her and to keep her out of her head for a short time, long enough for her to enjoy herself and to relax in his company. For them to take advantage of the place in which they have found themselves, he wants to prove to her that they can still be happy together even if they aren't a couple.