AN: Hi everyone! I have completely re-vamped this story, seeing as I wrote it 2 years ago when I had just joined fan fiction and it was oh-so out of character and rubbish lol. Hope it's much better, and will include other pairings if you want as well as my very favourite, Ronnie and Jack! Story is multi-chap, hope you like it! :) Kelly x

Rating: Rated 'T' just to be safe

Chapter One-

Trust

Slouching in the leather chair that was situated in Jack's office, Ronnie Mitchell leant her elbows lightly on the desk and stared straight ahead at the wall; a cold, white wall that reflected her mood. Across the wall were several post-it notes pressed onto a calendar, a board, a brick; each note like a tiny fragment of memory that was woven into Ronnie's own personal mind-map of technicolour messages and thoughts. Some of the thoughts so ordinary that they would have been shared by the majority of Albert Square's inhabitants; a reminder to pick up the dry-cleaning, a guilty streak that said she hadn't stuck to her new year's resolution. However, some of the thoughts were just disturbing and fresh enough to keep such a pain-stricken woman awake at night. Every so often, her shoulders shook a little as if to cry, but each time she managed to keep the ice-queen facade just about in-tact. Music tinkled softly in the background of the room, a personal favourite, one of her 'slit-your-wrist' tunes, as she had called it.

Oh love, don't let me go

Won't you take me where the street lights glow?

I could hear rain coming,I could hear the sirens sound

Now my feet won't touch the ground

A silver chain dangled freely over Ronnie's slim wrist, the locket that was attached to it clasped tightly, protectively even, in her sweaty palm. Her glass, now devoid of vodka, sat precariously on the table- balanced only by her shaking hand. This was her second glass, not of alcohol, but from the bar. Her first glass had been thrown aggressively against the wall -leaving shards of glass scattered over the deep blue carpet- a bottle of Vodka lay on it's side on the edge of the desk, too. She sighed deeply and blew her fringe out of her once-bright blue eyes before rolling them upwards.

Ronnie stayed softly silent for hours and hours. Each minute that passed felt like a second while she was enveloped by her day-dream, if that's what it was. After a while she would wake up and discover that an hour or so had passed. An hour she would never get back. And another. And another.

All of a sudden, it seemed to hit her, and her tough shell shattered. Tiny fragments of mirrored beauty fell to the floor and in seconds she had become the shaking mess she had always despised. Ronnie pulled a knee up and rested her chin on it, wrapping her arms around the leg in the same way a child might clutch their parent's hand in a crowd; desperate, needy. A tear collected in the purple dip of her under-eye shadow, and when she blinked, fell down her wet cheek in what seemed like a hurry.

Forwards and backwards she rocked, steady and slow, almost following the beat of the music yet not quite matching. She was in a daze, tears falling slowly, one by one down her pale cheeks. What do you do? Follow your heart, or your head? You follow your heart, you fly effortlessly up to the pale blue sky with your baby. Both your babies. You'd all be one happy family; your two girls would love you, you'd love them. Danielle and Amy. My Amy. My baby Amy number two. But to follow your head is the smarter option, you have control.. I always liked to have control. It would be just me down here on planet earth with no baby, no Danielle, nothing.

Immersed in her own little world, Ronnie didn't notice when the door of the office swung open and clicked gently shut again. Jack studied the blonde sitting at the desk, she had one knee drawn up to her chin and maintained the position by pulling her knee towards her with her arms. She was rocking much like a controlled version of a mental patient, he dared to compare. Rhythmically moving ever so slightly backwards and forwards, staring ahead of her with her eyes unfocused, she looked different. Her soft blonde hair fell in untamed waves past her shoulders, and Jack wondered when Ronnie's hair had ever grown so long. When she finally looked up at Jack, he caught sight of the red rims around her once striking blue eyes that now held a fraction of fear along with months of untimely stress and pain.

After studying Ronnie, he allowed his eyes to drift around the untidy room, pausing when he noticed the broken glass and sighing. Ronnie's head jerked upwards as she heard the voice she had missed waking up to months on end. "Ron?"

"I just want to be alone, Jack." She looked up and sighed, her mouth moving to form words, but staying silent. "Please."

Ronnie stood up from the leather chair that she'd been slouched in for the past few hours. She stepped carefully around the desk and sat down gently on the edge of it. She was closer to Jack who looked concerned, he could see that she'd been crying. Her eyes were red and she was breathing heavily, she'd had a lot to drink and was shaking, but that was more to do with nerves.

"Jack," Ronnie began, "it was all my fault."

"What was your fault, Ron?" Jack struggled to understand her meaning and walked closer, resting on the desk too, his deep blue eyes brimming with concern.

Taking the locket from her hand, he prised it carefully open and looked at the tiny photo of a newborn Danielle. Ronnie placed her hand to her stomach and closed her eyes, her fringe falling into her face.

"I couldn't even protect my baby when she was inside of me." she whispered, her head falling to his comforting shoulder, her hand not resisting his warm, larger one. Because, at the end of the day; I chose to run with my head, and my heart too I suppose. After everything, Jack Branning still holds half the key to that.

On the radio, I heard
Baby, it's a violent world

Next chapter brings diddy bit of smut. :)