Warning! Beware! Caution! ODW Spoilers!

Beyond This Place There Be Major Spoilers

Takes place an indefinite time after ODW

Title: Comfort

Trent/Rachel fic

Rated M for a reason honey bunnies, just give me some time to get you there…

Much love to KarasuK, your awesome Trench fic totally inspired me to try my hand at a longer Trench story.

The sun was still warm on my shoulders but the air was becoming crisp as evening shifted towards night and the shadows lengthened to smother the remainders of the day. I sighed and tucked a stray curl behind my ear, estimating I still had another twenty minutes or so of sunlight. Eden Park was beautiful in the setting sun, the stillness of coming night coupled with the light dazzling on the pond's surface; the woodsy smell of the scattered groves of trees and the sharp whiff of freshly mown grass tickled my nose. There were two young children still trying to get a kite up, but for all their exuberance they couldn't run fast enough to make use of the sluggish breeze. I felt the grass under my palms, warm but cooling in the setting sun, and felt slightly sick at the thought of the dark, wet earth underneath. He wasn't in the ground yet, but he would be, and grass like this would cover-up any trace he had been there. I drew my knees up to my chest, trying to ignore the cold in me that the sun couldn't seem to touch today. The light scintillating on the pond's surface like a crystal web fragmented then shattered when the moisture rose in my eyes. I closed them against the brightness, unable to fight the tears any longer.

I still wasn't completely sure how it had happened. But it was my fault, like most things. He came to Cincinnati, and I wasn't arrogant enough to think he had come only for me, but I'd definitely been a factor in his decision. Really, he couldn't have stayed in Michigan after what the Weres did to his business. Maybe he thought I could protect him, but he thought wrong. I had failed. What was it all for if I couldn't even protect my friends?

The chill in my chest was growing, expanding and with a sharp, bitter bite that made me wrap my arms wrap around myself all the tighter. I felt the sobs in my chest, but those at least I could stop. I moved one hand up to my mouth and let my own flesh stop the small, pathetic sounds that were welling up inside me.

I didn't want to go back home. Jenks was with Matalina; she still wasn't feeling her best and I couldn't tear him away from his wife and kids to comfort poor, worthless me. And Ivy wasn't due back home for another week. I recalled our last phone conversation and felt even sicker with longing. I hadn't told her what had happened. I didn't want to ruin her vacation, her chance at happiness with a man she respected, maybe even loved. I shook off my thoughts about Cormel; I wasn't that taken by him, but I didn't want my distrust to contaminate Ivy's affection for him. If things were back to normal at our church, then I could face it, go back home if I knew Jenks and Ivy were there, I could fix some hot cocoa and collapse into bed. But alone I didn't think I could stand it. We hadn't been serious; it was still too soon after Kisten. But he had been a friend and possibly, when we both were able to move on from our past relationships, he could have been more than a friend. For such a short time knowing him, his presence was too thick at the church. The couch where we had eaten our take-out and watched Kung-Fu marathons, the garden where he had helped me thin the new seedlings despite Jenks's disgust at our gardening skills, the scuffed floor in the hallway where we had gotten into an impromptu wrestling match. The thought of being near all these places caught my breath, jagged and desperate in my chest. It was just too soon to add another ghost to the church while Kisten's presence still lingered like the smell of cigarette smoke on his pool table.

I wiped at my eyes, only blurring my vision more. The kids were walking dejectedly towards a calling figure, their kite, just a yellow colored blob to me, trailing behind them in the grass, broken and useless.

God, I wish Ivy were home. Just having her there would somehow magically make it all seem more bearable. I thought about calling her, but it would be far too early in the morning in Europe, and I doubt she, or Cormel, would appreciate a wake-up call.

The cold retreated slightly, almost freeing my limbs just at the thought of her voice.

"We just checked in, it's amazing here," she said, and the genuine excitement in her voice was too precious, I couldn't smoother it with my bad news.

She paused, waiting for my response while I tried to regulate my breathing and not sob like a child into the phone.

"Is everything okay there?" she asked.

"It's fine," I lied, then amended, hearing her intake of breath and knowing she'd caught on to the slight tremble in my voice, "Matalina's still not feeling well. Jenks is worried, so they're all staying in my desk tonight, just incase we get a late frost."

"I thought the warmer weather would help?" Ivy asked, but another question was still there in her voice.

"Better, she's better, just not a hundred percent." I felt like scum, but I knew I'd feel worse if I ruined her vacation. She needed this, a rest, a break, and a chance at something new, which I knew being with me all the time, enveloped in my fascinating and screwed up life, wouldn't give to her.

"Rachel?" she asked, and the genuine concern in her voice almost brought back the tears.

"Yeah, Ivy?"

"Are you going to be there when I come home?" she asked quietly.

"Yeah, of course," I said, knowing I could never lie to her about that.

"And is the church going to be standing next week?"

"What? Yeah, why wouldn't…"

"And you won't let Jenks's kids raid my underwear drawer anymore?"

I laughed, even then, I couldn't help it. The days had been so bleak, and to hear her voice again…"I'll try and keep them out of your room," I promised.

"Then I'll see you next week," she said.

There was a pause and I breathed easier, somehow feeling better, knowing she would come back. I'd had terrible daydreams of her calling, declaring her intent to stay abroad for weeks, or worse, months.

"Take care, Rachel. I…" she said, and the pause weighed heavily on my heart, this new painful suspense almost banishing the ache of loss. "I'll call you tomorrow night," she promised, and I hastily agreed, saying my goodbyes quickly so I could get off the phone and find a dark corner to cry in.

Had it really only been six hours since I'd spoken to Ivy? It felt like a lifetime. Well, it had only been this morning that I'd learned of Marshal's death, and that memory felt like it belonged in the life of a stranger. Glenn had come over, hadn't told me the details, but I could imagine. I'd seen enough that I could picture quite clearly his glazed eyes, his mangled…stop Rachel, stop thinking like this. I had kept the tears at bay in Glenn's presence, convinced him I'd be okay alone, that yeah, I know, knew, Marshal, he had been a friendly acquiescence, nothing more…Glenn probably saw through my façade, but was kind enough to pretend to believe me. Maybe I should have let him stick around, taken him up on his offer for coffee.

But somehow I had known the park was the place to come. Without Ivy and Jenks there to lift me up, the simple beauty of this place could still act as a balm for my many wounds. I remembered my dad, or the man I had thought of as my dad, would bring me here when he got in a fight with mom. It hadn't been very often, but still, this was a calming place, filled with great memories of him and me and…Trent?

I saw the elf standing on the bridge and had to blink my eyes several times to make sure it wasn't just a trick of the light. But it was really him, and he was standing nearly with his back to me, looking over the water, apparently scanning the opposite edge of the lake. I glanced around, looking for Quen or his loathsome lackey, Jonathan. But the freakishly tall bastard wasn't around, neither was Quen that I could see, but that didn't mean anything for Quen; he could be playing ninja in the trees again.

I glanced up uncertainly, then decided to just ignore it. So what if Trent was here? It could be totally unrelated. But as I watched him on the bridge, it became more and more obvious he was looking for something, or someone, probably me.

I sighed, wondering how long this would take. It had been awhile since I had seen Trent and…well, I didn't know where we stood. I had saved him, had helped bring about the hope of a resurrection for his species, I had risked everything and lost quit a bit to pull his ass out of the ever after, he had tried to strangle me, twice…It was complicated. I still remembered our conversation in the ever after, before it got real nasty. He had said some things, and as much as I wished to forget it all, I couldn't. Trent had confided in me his desire to be something more than a sleazy politician and murdering drug lord. I wanted to believe him, but…

As I watched him on the bridge, another memory came back to me. The memory of his strong arms holding me, trying to comfort me, as the imbalance from a demonic curse ripped through my entire body and aura. He had been there to help me through my pain. I dropped my eyes to the grass, preferring to look down on the soft, impersonal greens and trying not to compare it to his enchanting eyes. It was enough of a task trying to figure out how I felt about Trent, and it was impossible to do it with the aching uncertainty Marshal's death had left in me. Everything felt muddled, sharp and distant, unreal and all too brutal.

"Rachel?" said a voice I knew all too well, and I was jerked out of my reverie to stare at eyes as green as the grass, but much more beautiful, vibrant, and filled with something that appeared to be concern.

"What the hell are you doing here?" I grumbled, trying to be more difficult than I felt. Just having someone here, even Trent, maybe even especially Trent, it was better than being alone right now.

"I thought you would be here," he said simply, still standing a safe six feet away and staring down at me.

"Why did you think that?" I asked.

"You seem to like this place, it's comforting to you, and after…what happened, since you weren't at your church, this seemed the most likely spot," Trent said. I sat there in silence, looking up at him, wondering how much he knew and terrified how he knew. God, I don't think I could handle it if Trent had anything to do with Marshal's death.

"Why were you looking for me?" I asked, and the despair and loss were quickly being replaced by anger. If he had ANYTHING to do with it, I'm not sure what I'd do to him, but it wouldn't be pretty.

His eyes narrowed when he saw my hands clenching into fists, but he quickly regained his composure. "I wanted to make sure you were okay," he said, his voice beautiful and rich despite his clipped tone.

I wanted to laugh, but knowing it would probably come out a sob I remained silent. I'm not sure what was more messed up, Trent saying he wanted to me sure I was okay or the fact he could be referring to so many different things since my life was so damn peachy keen at the moment. This year, I'd lost Kisten and nearly been bound to his murderer, found out my father was in fact not my biological father, learned I was kin to demons and could never have children unless I wanted to risk being the first demon momma in over five thousand years. And now Marshal…

"Hmm let's consider the last few months…why again wouldn't I be okay, Kalamack? " I said snidely, enjoying his apparent discomfort. Maybe Quen wasn't around either, else he'd be acting more like his usual, arrogant self.

"I was referring to the man at the skating rink, Marshal, but I can understand how the culmination of…so much distress over the months could be more upsetting than the actual events," he said carefully, his eyes holding mine. But I wasn't falling for it, he could never know how I felt, and even if he could sympathize or pretend to, that didn't explain how he knew about Marshal, and it sure as hell wouldn't excuse him if he'd had anything to do with it.

"What about Marshal ?" I asked sweetly, but the vindictive glee was quickly banished when his face turned nearly ashen under his tan and he sucked in his breath quickly.

"No one told you?" he asked quietly, and the pain and worry in his eyes was like a slap to the face.

"I know he's dead," I practically whispered, but I knew his sensitive elf hearing would catch the words. I tried to hide a shudder that rocked through me, feeling sick and cold all over again as if just saying the words had made the pain more real.

"Damn it, Rachel," he swore "that's not funny."

"You're right. It isn't," I said bitterly, but he ignored it.

"I thought I was going to have to be the one to tell you," he said angrily.

"Well, why don't you tell me how the hell you know about it?" I said, matching his anger with my own. He glanced down at me almost dismissively, and I fought the urge to jump to my feet and kick his ass. Really, he was only a few inches taller than me, and with my kick-ass-boots, we were nearly the same height. Having him standing over me like this was starting to piss me off.

"I know about everything that happens in my city, Rachel," he said coldly, and I was really ready to smack him. If Quen wasn't around, landing a hit on him was a real possibility, and even though I knew it wouldn't make me feel better about Marshal, it would be so damn satisfying. Looking up at his smug face, I thought smacking off that haughty little grin of his might almost be worth the consequences. But then I might lose out on valuable information. He was an arrogant prick, but he had a point. He knew what happened in Cincinnati as a member of the city council, but he knew even more as a drug lord and murdering bastard that played the underworld like it was his own personal chess board. And if I smacked him up, I doubt he would be very forthcoming with the details. I hadn't been able to avenge Kisten, yet. But that didn't mean I had to resign Marshal to the same fate. Sure, he hadn't been my boyfriend or lover, but he still deserved justice, and if Trent knew anything about it, then I was one step closer to tagging the bastards responsible and sending them to rot in a jail cell.

"And what do you know about Marshal's death?" I asked stoically, holding his eyes and watching carefully, waiting to read his expression and gauge the truth or lack of.

He dropped my gaze, then looked back at me quickly, his green eyes cool but with hints of emotion haunting the depths. "Rachel, don't hurt yourself over this. He wasn't your responsibility. It was not your fault," he said quietly but clearly, each word filled with a definite force. Although I hated him for evading my question and withholding information, I felt tears burning in my eyes as the beginnings of relief washed over me. It didn't matter if it was Trent; I needed to hear it from someone. I needed to believe that Marshal's death wasn't my fault.

I looked down, not wanting him to see the tears starting to spill from my eyes. I was surprised when I felt a warm hand come to rest gently on my shoulder. "Rachel," Trent said soothingly, his breath warm against my skin now that he was kneeling beside me in the grass. I kept my eyes down, uncertain what I would find now that his face was only inches from mine. I thought of the grass and mud stains on his tailored pants and it nearly brought a grin to my face. Here was Trent Kalamack, dirtying his dress clothes trying to comfort me over the death of my not-boyfriend.

"Rachel," he repeated, and I fell back into his amazing voice, letting his soft yet strong, harmonious tones fill me. My eyes might have fluttered shut for a moment, I'm not sure, but the warmth of his hand on my shoulder was suddenly more, coursing through my body, banishing the cold and hurt that Marshal's death had filled me with. As if sensing my response, he sighed lightly and rested his other hand tentatively on my waist. "It's not worth it Rachel," he whispered into my ear, and I shuddered slightly but did nothing to stop him when he pulled me closer. It was amazing; in his arms I felt safe, warm, and cared for again. I had to fight not to bury my head into his neck and breathe him in.

"Just let it go. There's nothing you can do. You're only hurting yourself by holding onto the pain," he whispered to me, one hand stroking my back in slow, rhythmic strokes.

And my anger made it all come crashing down. I jerked away from his arms, doing my best to stare a hole into his surprised face. How dare he try and tell me what I could and couldn't do. How dare he tell me to let it go, just surrender and move on. He knew nothing about it, and I told him so.

"You bastard!" I nearly shouted, slapping away the hand that tried to regain my waist. "You have no right…how dare you try and tell me what to do!" I said between gritted teeth, once again burning with the urge to hit him, and his astounded face, so conveniently close, was making it a hard urge to resist.

"Rachel…" he began, but I cut him off.

"No, you've said enough," I said, stumbling to my feet and glaring down at him. I could feel the nearly drowned ley line in the park humming weakly, but it was enough, and I tapped it without a second thought.

"You're being irrational, if you'd just…" but he shut his mouth on his own this time, sensing the power coursing through me. All the regret from the past few months came pouring back. Kisten, gone. Marshal, gone. Trent had gotten out of the ever after with his sample in one piece, but I'd learned I was kin to demons and could never have children, and even lost a chunk of my hard-earned freedom becoming Al's student. The energy from the line was waiting to lash out, warm and impatient inside me, and I stared down at his beautiful, frightened green eyes, wanting to make him just as miserable as I felt. I wanted to make him pay, to make him feel even one ounce of what I felt.

And I couldn't do it.

I fell back to the ground, my arms wrapping futilely around myself as the cold set back in. My entire body felt like one giant wound that would never heal, and the tears streamed down my cheeks faster. I couldn't stop the raw, desperate sobs that came spilling out of my mouth, shaking my entire body.

"Rachel?" he asked quietly, reaching out slowly and trying to pull me up to my feet. I didn't bother trying to keep the line's energy from jumping him, and he got a solid shock when he touched my arm, making him recoil and swear softly. He didn't back away though. He was once again kneeling next to me, but keeping his hands to himself this time as I sobbed, feeling alone and broken as the sun was finally finishing its descent and true night began to embrace the park.

"Rachel? Rachel, stop this, please," Trent said, and the uncertainty, perhaps even fear in his voice reached me. Maybe it was also the "please", but my sobs became less violent, and this time I let him help me to my feet.

"Let's get out of here," he said gently, and if I hadn't been so busy crying my eyes out I would have agreed with him.

Sorry for any Marshal fans, I just don't like him. He seems like such a stock character. Or evil…probably evil! So I've totally done the world a favor.

Also, my apologies for the length. I'll try to get these chapters into tasty bite-sized chunks.

Please leave a review; if I feel appreciated, it might just help me write faster!