What Could Have Never Been Expected
By littlelights
New day. New life. A new marriage. Jackie and Pete Tyler begin the strange task of building a new life for themselves in his world. Set in Pete's world in the days following 'Doomsday,' this fic is a precursor to the story 'Middle Aged Mulligan.'
His house was huge. He called it a house, but it was a mansion, really. One of those places she'd seen in the posh living magazines at the market checkout lane. Come to think of it, there was probably a photo spread of it in a souvenir calendar somewhere. The place was a green grass, crown molding extension of what upper-class living should be. Genuine art on the walls. Tasteful, muted colors from one room to the next. Turn a corner and you'll see someone folding, dusting and sweeping with military discipline. There were maids and a cook here for Christ's sakes.
And now, she was living there. Well, squatting actually. That's what it felt like when you were living in a place you didn't really belong.
As she ran her hand along the chair railing of the hallway, Jackie Tyler mentally cataloged the Tyler Mansion for the fourth time that morning. This was the place Pete Tyler, CEO of Vitex Industries, had built from razzle-dazzling the public with flashy energy drinks. He was also the man who ran this universe's version of Torchwood with a strong hand and determined demeanor.
But at the moment, Pete Tyler was sitting at the head of the breakfast table absorbed in a morning newspaper.
They weren't really married. Not to each other anyway. But they were as good as married in her mind. His too, from the way he held his arm around her back when they walked into a room. It was the way he angled his body, not physically pushing her through the doorframe, but rather allowing his body to act as a warm wall of support. Showing her he was right next to her, even if they were parting tempo for a few moments. He knew this whole experience was overwhelming, and he was taking care of her the way he hadn't for nearly two decades.
And judging from the newspaper's headline "Elusive Vitex Wife Returns to Tyler Mansion," the rest of this world's British-speaking population knew her status in his better than she did herself.
Jackie noticed how he always seemed to know when she was entering a room, as if his highly alert mind could anticipate the timing of her actions. It was weird in a way, but according to Mickey and Rose, that keen sense had saved his life on more than one occasion.
He pushed the paper away as stood. "Good morning," he said, a slight smile formed on his mouth and in his eyes, tossing aside the paper quickly and giving her a longer than polite kiss. She greeted him in kind, walking to the seat on his left. He moved to pull out her chair, and as she sat, his hand lingered on her a moment. "Breakfast is on its way."
It was the third morning she'd been living in his house, but he was outwardly acting like they'd been eating breakfast together for twenty years. Jackie was convinced he was playacting for the benefit of the servants, since they'd agreed to conduct most of their private conversations in a private setting.
Well, if she was playacting, at least she had the wardrobe to match the part. Dozens of boxes and bags from Harrods arrived at the house yesterday to fill the empty bedroom closet. Blouses, dresses, and posh ensembles were labeled by designers she'd only heard of in the gossip columns. Then there were a few pieces from others she would have never recognized. The clothes had thrilled her at first, but as she sat at the table in a lovely cream suit and pink silk top, Jackie tried to push away the feeling of being completely out of her element.
But fate had given her another go with this man; so she swallowed her doubts, and reached for the discarded newspaper.
"What's this?" she asked, skimming through the first few paragraphs of the article and trying to keep the bite out of her voice.
"Information leak," Pete replied, attempting to slip the broadsheet out of her grasp. "Some of my people are handling it."
Jackie refused to give up the paper, and began to read the article aloud. "Mrs. Tyler is recuperating from extensive stay in a remote medical facility. Her arrival at the Tyler Mansion conflicts greatly with her death registration from last year's foiled cyberman invasion. Sources close to the family report that although Mrs. Tyler is well physically, she looks as if she is still under intense emotional stress."
"The press is a pain in the ass here." Pete said with little emotion. "They'll take what they can get here, regardless of the real fact of the matter."
She continued. "Our sources also reveal Mrs. Tyler has undergone a extensive surgeries to not only make her appear younger, but to repair physical injuries associated with last year's conflict. It is unknown whether Mrs. Tyler will fully recuperate from her mental and bodily trauma, and no physicians close to her were at liberty to discuss the matter further."
So, this was one of the price tags to wealth, she realized. It shouldn't have bothered her, and any normal day it wouldn't have. But the article and his appraisal of it pushed the little unwanted thoughts in her head to bubble over. Sad, dark thoughts lingering from the moment she arrived in this world.
Jackie raised her head from the type, more than a little angry, at the man who was now, in the overbearing eye of the world, her husband. A husband who didn't properly prepare her for this moment, and then couldn't anticipate how she'd react to the situation.
And so the battle of wills began.
Their gazes met, and Pete's intense look reminded her that this man – this Pete Tyler – was his own person. Someone who had been shaped by measures of determination, focus, and purpose. There were some sharp edges with this one, she thought. He didn't suffer fools and he would not allow himself to be crossed.
It wasn't the first intense look she'd fielded from him, but she'd be damned before she'd let him know it bothered her. She held her ground, her eyes sharp behind the glow of Dior eye shadow and mascara. He held his own frustration in check with an edge born of boardroom practice and professional patience.
Neither and the gleam in his eyes flickered, then relented. A good businessman knew when to swallow his pride and begin anew. Especially if he was falling in love with the person he was calling 'wife'.
He reached for her, the newsprint lay neglected under their combined weight of their hands. "Jacks," he said, his voice tempered by an emotion he wasn't accustomed to voicing, "It's different here. I'm a public- we're people who live in the public eye. By tomorrow there will be a different headline and a new story to fill people's heads. The best firm in London is figuring out how to reintroduce you" he paused, "and me into the society. And none of the people who read this know what we've been through the last few days. But we'll know the real story."
He rubbed her hands, reassuring and tempering the shock and anger in her face. "It doesn't matter, and it will pass. Trust me. It will pass."
Jackie nodded her head, and caved. She trusted him, needed to trust him. They were living off memories from two lives co-existing from two different worlds. This was his world, and he knew it a hell of a lot more than she did. If you had to pass off the football to a teammate, it might as well be Pete Tyler, she reasoned.
"Okay," Jackie nodded. "Okay." She gave his hands a long squeeze, and let the paper fall out of her grip. Pete smiled, and it made her light up inside. He folded the newspaper with efficiency and placed it in a neighboring chair. Out of sight and out of her life.
"Rose and Mickey still asleep?" He asked changing the subject and sitting back into his chair and reaching for his coffee.
"Yeah," she replied. "They were up late talking again. They've got a lot of catching up to do, those two. Two nights in a row and they're not through yet."
"I'm tempted to leave him here again today," Pete said as he poured Jackie a cup of coffee. "I know you and Rose could use a familiar face around the house. He can help you get settled in a bit more."
"And he's been great," Jackie agreed. "We appreciate the company, but given everything, Rose needs him more than I do, I think."
They each sipped their coffee. The silence stretched like elastic, wrapping like a muzzle to their conversation as the breakfast dishes were served.
It was a lovely breakfast, Jackie thought. Two perfectly scrambled eggs with a portion of bacon and little triangles of toast. She could hardly think of eating it. It was what she told herself she had walked downstairs for, and now her stomach felt like it was turning to stone.
The maid left the room, and she looked at Pete's equally untouched plate. "What's wrong, Jacks?" he asked. There wasn't fear in his voice exactly, but a sort of bewilderment that came from unfamiliarity and an empty stomach.
Jackie took a short breath, released it, and said "I know this different, and you're not used to spending a lot of time here. You're busy. You wouldn't have gotten all this" she gestured to the room "without being away doing whatever it is you do. I get that. I really do, I just don't know…"
Mickey's sudden arrival acted as a cut off valve to her thoughts.
"Mornin'" said the younger man. He was dressed and ready for the day, a product of keeping long Torchwood hours. The purpose in Mickey's voice wasn't lost on the other two people in the room. "Is breakfast ready?" he asked. "I need to bring something to Rose. She might not like it, but she needs to eat."
"She's not coming down?" Jackie asked.
Mickey shook his head. "She's in a bad spot right now. Not at her best. I thought I'd give her a chance to breathe for a mo' before bringing her something. I know how she likes bacon. Might tempt her if she could have it upstairs. More privacy, you know."
He looked up from Jackie to speak to Pete. "If it's alright with you, I'd like to stick around here for another day or two. Make sure she's alright."
Pete glanced at Jackie, her eyes tight with a swirl of emotions. They weren't difficult to read. This Jackie didn't have much of a poker face.
He stopped, and made a decision. A better one than the one he'd formulated when he woke up this morning. It might have been the best decision he'd made since returning from the other London.
"You're welcome to stay," Pete said. "In fact, we're both staying here the rest of the week." His hands worked to loosen the knot on his tie. Jackie's teary smile inspired him to crack a lopsided grin of his own. "Tell Rose I'm staying here with her mother, and later we're all having lunch together outside. I'll make a few calls before we go out, but I think we have a few people can hold down the fort for us until Monday."
"Are we going somewhere?" Rose's voice floated from the hall. She was dressed, but her face was splotchy from tears. She had done her best to cover them up with a fresh layer of makeup.
Jackie sprung up from the table and gave her daughter a long hug. "Breakfast first, then we'll talk about what we're going to do today." She guided her daughter to the seat next to her own, as Mickey took filled the space next to Pete.
Two more breakfast dishes arrived, and although what transpired was a less than ideal type of breakfast, it was something akin to a step forward. It was a lot more than Jackie expected. But it worked, thank God.
She was even more thankful when the dishes were cleared away and Pete Tyler slipped his hand in hers under the table.
It wasn't perfect, but it was hers. Today she had a husband. She had her daughter. And she had a friend who had saved her life on more than one occasion. And she didn't let her mind linger on anything other than her loved ones around the table.
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