AN: Just a oneshot I churned out after watching tonight's episode. It was certainly a sad one. I was having a hard time watching, despite having read the spoilers. Anyway, this follows on loosely from where the episode ended, and is the first dialogue-free fic I have written for RB. I hope you like it and please review! If you are reading my multi-chapter fic, Grazed Knees, I posted a new chapter a few days ago and have received many less reviews than normal, which has made me a bit worried that people have lost interest. So if you have been reading GK, if you could drop me a review for the latest chapter that would be awesome. Anyway, hope you like this oneshot and thanks for reading! X
Taking Turns
Andy stayed at Traci's that night. The irony was not lost on her. Last time, her own heart had been breaking. This time, it was her best friend's. Of course, Andy knew that the pain Traci was feeling was so much worse than what she had felt back then. At the time, the pain had not felt insignificant. But in hindsight, she realised that embarrassment had been what she had felt most. Embarrassment that she had been hasty, blindly rushing towards a happily ever after and throwing caution to the wind. Shame that she hadn't seen the betrayal coming.
She lay next to Traci on the big bed that took up most of Traci's bedroom. Traci was on her side, shoulders trembling with the sobs that had taken control of her body. They were still dressed in their work clothes, Traci having refused Andy's suggestion that she get changed. The irony, again. Just that morning, the roles had been reversed.
At the hospital, her hand had brushed Sam's and a smudge of Jerry's blood had transferred onto the skin of her left hand. She swore she could still feel it, despite the fact that she had spent longer than necessary in the bathroom, scrubbing her hands - both of them - so thoroughly that they were left dry and raw. Unforgiving hospital soap. She could still smell it on her hands.
Felt dirty.
Smelled clean.
It was a cruel contrast.
Hard to reconcile and a bitter reminder. Not that she needed it.
Traci certainly didn't. Lying on her right side, her left hand gripped a pillow to her chest, the band on her finger visible at the edge of the crisp white pillowcase. Andy lay next to her, facing her friend's back. She didn't touch her, just lay right behind her, as close as possible. There, but not stifling. Not pretending her arms would be an adequate substitute for the ones her friend really wanted. The ones she couldn't have.
Andy couldn't pretend to know what that felt like. There had been times she had wished for one of her mother's hugs. The mother she had known for twelve years, not the mother who had left. But even that wasn't the same. For one thing, her mother had gone, but she was alive. At times it hadn't felt like it, or she had found it easier to pretend otherwise - much to her own shame. But there hadn't been a finality to it. There had been room left for an inkling of hope and belief. For Traci, there was none.
x x x
The next night, Traci insisted that Andy didn't need to stay. Her mother had come home early from a trip she had taken with two old friends, in celebration of one of the friend's 60th birthday. The friend had lost her husband a year earlier. Again, the wretched irony.
Dex was dropping Leo back that night. It had been the plan prior to… this, and Traci had wanted to stick to it. He'd offered to keep Leo longer, considering the circumstances. His offer had been meant and his condolences sincere, but Traci needed her boy.
So Andy decided to stay at Sam's. Like she had been planning to that night that started it all. She wondered if maybe that would have changed things. She wouldn't have been attacked, but that was not important. What was, was that maybe then, Sam wouldn't have felt the need to stay close. To back her up. Maybe he'd have gone with Jerry. Or at least not bowed to her theory.
She hated that her instincts had been wrong.
Even more, she had hated that it had mattered.
Mattered so, so much.
Traci had told her different. Andy struggled to believe her. And okay, every shrink there is would say that thinking of the 'what ifs' is just a quicksand entry into a vicious cycle. But overthinking was what she did best. Sam had once said it was 'talking', but she was started to suspect that overthinking had stolen the title. The day he had said it now seemed so long ago.
Sudbury.
Vacations.
Honeymoons.
If this was the path her own train of thoughts took, it had to be infinitely worse for Traci. And for Sam, too. Over-thinker or not. She stood on the doorstep and knocked. When he didn't appear after what seemed like sufficient time, she wondered if she should use her key.
But then he was there. Tired eyes that seemed to wear heavier dark circles than they had just hours earlier. Downturned lips that didn't seem ready for the gentle kiss she gave him moments later, in the warmth of his bedroom. He said her name like a warning when she tried to get him to talk. She couldn't help but notice that when they slept that night, he didn't let her stay close like Traci had.
x x x
The night after that, she lay in her own bed. Traci had shown up for work, much to everyone's horror. She had said she needed to be there, and who was Andy to argue? Andy hadn't commented on the redness of her friend's dark eyes. Traci had worn a purple shirt that seemed a little too big, far too lose at the waist. Andy hadn't noticed until the afternoon, when Chris - overly helpful - had brought Traci a coffee and nervously sloshed some on her blazer sleeve when he moved too swiftly. Traci had taken the jacket off and gone off to sponge it, telling Chris not to worry. As Andy watched the baggy satin hang against her friend's retreating form, realisation had dawned. Andy had felt sudden tears in her eyes.
She hadn't ridden with Sam, but she'd seen him in parade and at the barn not long after the spills of coffee and stinging tears. He had held her gaze but seemed troubled when she asked if he was coming to her place that night. In the week prior, they had somehow fallen into a routine of alternating whose house they spent the night at, rarely sleeping solo. He had said he would, but that he had promised a drink with Oliver at The Penny first. He had asked if she needed a ride there, but when she had said she just planned to home, he had said he would see her there later. No offer to drop her there on the way. Chris had played cheauffer, Andy finding she was shockingly uneasy by the idea of getting a cab.
Andy had tried to give Sam the benefit of the doubt. On the way home, she had explained to Chris that Sam had probably just forgotten to ask. He'd agreed but Andy hasn't convinced herself.
It was two in the morning when she awoke suddenly, realising she had fallen asleep with the light still on. The space beside her was empty. Cold under her hand and the sheets still crisp. Apparently her body had decided to give up waiting, having given in to the call of sleep. She checked her phone and found a text message from Sam.
Didn't want to call and risk waking you. Stayed late at The Penny - I will just crash at my place. See you at work.
He'd never before bailed entirely or gone back on their plans. Not that they planned more than hours ahead. His way of life, one she was faking but learning to embrace. That was until now, when she was alone in the wee hours, waking just because he wasn't there.
How times have changed.
She rubbed her hand in the cold space beside her.
Heartbreak game.
Round one: Andy.
Round two: Traci.
It was her turn next, and at that moment, Andy didn't find it hard to believe.