Chapter Four
Daylight began to dwindle and twilight set in, as the day went to battle with the evening and lost. The sun vanished below the horizon to create a new day somewhere else. And slowly, the stars would become visible, their never-failing light a distant reminder that Earth was not alone.
It just felt that way because the distances were so great.
The moon smiled sadly, hanging its face in grief as Sydney prepared to face the nightmares at night. The only comfort was they could not possibly be worse than the ones the day had brought.
The worst had already happened.
The official death toll had been counted to fifteen hundred and eleven, fourteen hundred and sixty-three on the train. Eighty-four on board the train had survived. There had also been several car crashes, and many dead police officers. Thousands had got light injuries of some kind.
Fifteen hundred and eleven was a staggering number, and if that wasn't enough, there was a dead prime minister as well, and now the US president had died too, in the hospital. The media had so much to cover they had to bring in journalism students to cover some angles. There was nothing but news on the telly, all channels screaming headlines.
The hospitals were still overcrowded, so after a through full check, both Alex and Mick were released and able to go home.
But the aspect of being alone was not too comforting.
Walking out into the crisp, clear air, they stood in the parking lot a while, both not quite sure what to say. The parking lot was crowded, people rushing in and out of the hospital, some crying, some relieved.
"So.." Mick said, searching for anything to say.
"Yeah."
"Headache not too bad?"
"No, they gave me some painkillers. How's your throat?"
"Sore."
Silence ensued again.
"I should probably get a cab home."
"Traffic will be chaos," he replied, trying to sound as light as he could.
"Yeah.." She hesitated, throwing a glance at him. He looked so tired, so utterly exhausted it was a miracle he was standing. It was a miracle she was standing. She wanted to fall into bed and just sleep, no dreams, no feelings. Just sleep.
The thing was, she didn't want to sleep alone.
"Michael?" He glanced up at her. "My place?"
The look he sent her was answer enough.
II
His steps echoed through the hallway, as Jeff walked as silently as he could towards Helen's room. The hospital seemed silent, and not in a good way. It was a strained silence, clinging to the walls like mould.
He'd seen pictures from it on the telly earlier in the day, when the hallway had been full of people screaming, dying. The screams were still in the walls, and if you listened real hard, you could almost hear them.
Jeff shrugged off any thoughts like that, finally reaching the room where Helen was. He took a deep breath before entering, not sure what to expect.
"Hey Helen."
She didn't acknowledge him, just stared distantly at the ceiling. The shock had caused her to be almost catatonic, the doctors had reported. Traumatised. How long it would last, they weren't sure.
But she was alive.
He walked over to the bed, and took her motionless hand in his. It felt so cold it was hard to believe she was really alive.
He opened his mouth several times, but closed it without saying anything. He had no idea what to say. It all sounded so trivial, so..
"Mick and Alex are fine," he said after a while. "They sent their regards. Everyone in the Station did."
The only movement he could detect was her chest that rose and fell as she breathed. There were several nasty bruises along her arms, one had been broken and was bandaged. He could only imagine what damage had been done to her legs.
Just how she had survived, was a bit of a miracle.
"Hang in there." God, he sounded like an idiot. He had a nagging feeling he could get her to respond, if he just knew the right thing to say.
But what the hell was the right thing to say?
II
David was asleep in Rachel's arms as they walked into Rachel's house, Frank holding the door open. The boy had been given a light sedative, but there wasn't much physically wrong with him.
"I'm going to put him to bed," Rachel muttered, walking towards the stairs. Frank just nodded, walking into the kitchen and turning the lights on.
He turned the radio on low, listening to the exited voices practically screaming about terrorists and the fact that George Bush was dead too now.
Frank didn't care that much, his mind was more on the fifteen hundred people other people. Gavin.. Sheesh.
Rubbing his temples, he wished desperately for a beer. Of course there wasn't any, and it was probably just as well. It wouldn't do him much good anyway.
He could feel Rachel looking at him, and surely, he turned to find her standing in the doorway.
"You'll stay tonight?"
"Of course," he replied softly, walking over. "I'll stay as long as you want."
"I called dad," she muttered. "He's fine, I told him I would be by in the morning. I also called Jonathon's mum. She cried, and she accused me of being happy he was dead."
"She doesn't know you very well," Frank rubbed her arm, fighting an urge to kick the lady's ass. It wasn't a nice thing to do to someone grieving, but it wasn't a nice thing to say to Rachel either.
She was the most caring woman he knew.
"God, what a day," she let out a sigh, feeling too tired to think about it all. Tomorrow they would wake up to the reality of it, tonight, in the dark, she wanted to think of something else.
She slipped into Frank's embrace, resting her head against his chest, listening to his heartbeats. It occurred to her she could stay like this forever, tomorrow never coming.
He kissed her forehead, a long, warm lingering touch, and she glanced up at him.
"That's all ya gonna kiss, Francis?"
"No," he whispered, kissing her temples, her cheek, her jaw, her lower lip, her nose and, as she closed her eyes, her eyelids.
God, it felt good. And it felt simple. She had used to think getting together with Frank would be so complicated, but it hadn't been. Maybe because there hadn't been work to interrupt.
And maybe because after Jack anything would look simple in comparison.
She opened her eyes again, glancing into his deep blue eyes.
"You're not second choice," she whispered, and he seemed to understand. Putting his hand on her chin, he tilted her head upwards and kissed her gently.
Her breath quickened, and she flung her arms around his neck. His own hands had already sneaked inside her shirt, noticing to his delight that she was not wearing a bra. She shivered as he traced the underline of one breast with his fingers.
"David could wake up," he muttered, breaking of the kiss to assault her neck instead.
"That's what locks are for, Frank."
He chuckled, then lifted her feet of the floor and carried her towards the stairs.
"If you drop me, you're a dead man."
"Well, you're bloody heavy, Goldstein," he complained, getting a thwart on the arm in reply. He pretended to loose balance half way up the stairs, knowing it secretly amused her he was so.. Jerkish.
As soon as they entered the bedroom, he dropped her on her ass on the bed.
"Hey!"
He just grinned, closing the door behind them and lunging onto the bed.
"Eager are we?" she couldn't help but grin herself, but it quickly turned serious as he wrapped a leg around her, their bodies glued together. He was careful not to touch her bruises, which were beginning to turn purple and looked so nasty he winced.
Lifting her arms, she let him lift her shirt off, shivering as her skin were exposed. The room was cold, but Frank's hands were warm. It didn't take him long to set her whole body aflame.
And then she let herself not think, only feel. There were no tomorrow, no today, just a brief moment of escape from time.
Outside, the wind lifted and stirred through the leaves as quietly as it could, as if trying not to disturb.
II
At last he had managed to get to where Sophie was staying. Jack still hadn't been able to reach her by phone, and quite frankly, panic was starting to rise in him. He knocked on the door, waiting impatiently for an answer. There was none.
He knocked on the door again, heart pounding. What if she..
"Sophie!"
And finally, there were steps heard from inside, and the door was ripped open.
"Jack."
He nearly staggered in relief. She was fine, and despite dark circles under her eyes, she looked beautiful. He just stared at her for a while, then, to his surprise, she fell into his arms. He held her gently, feeling his own heart finally settle into a normal pace. He wasn't sure what he would have done if he had lost her too.
"Phone line went dead," she whispered, "I was afraid.."
And despite the nightmare of the whole day, Jack Christey smiled. She had been afraid. She had cared.
That, at least, was something.
II
George walked into the hospital room so softly neither of two inhabitants looked up at first. Tommy was sitting in a chair beside Emma's bed, clinging to her hand. The two seemed to be having a silent conversation, and for a moment, George wondered if he really should interrupt.
But then Emma spotted him, and he really didn't have any choice but to walk over to them.
"George," she said, and he gave her a smile. He was truly happy she was alive, not just because she was a colleague, but well, because she was who she was.
"Hey Emma. How are you feeling?" Okay, better not sound quite so strained cheerful, he decided.
God, he'd known her a few days and he was already being a dork.
"I've had better days," she grimaced, just as Tommy got up irritably.
"I'll be back," he muttered, and exited the room, brushing past George without any comment.
"What's eating him?" George asked, taking the now vacant seat next to her.
"Gavin," she replied softly, feeling a surge of tears assault her again. She blinked them hurriedly away.
"I didn't really know him."
"He was a bit of a dork," she smiled fondly. "God, he is.." She caught herself using the present tense, and for a second she couldn't breathe again. Her vision went blurry. Then the feeling passed, and she managed to steady her vision too.
"Eva and the baby. It's not fair. He shouldn't be dead. It had been better if it had been me."
"Don't say that," George said forcefully.
In the hallway, Tommy heard. 'It had been better if it had been me.' God.. It was his fault she felt like that, his fault she had suffered. All of it, his damn fault. He leaned against the wall, steadying his breath.
She was alive, and he was going to look after her. He had to focus on that. He would make it all right, somehow.
II
The lights of the city seemed dimmer than usual, almost like shining too brightly would intrude on the grief. Traffic was strangely non-existent and in the Harbour, rescue crews were still fishing bodies out of the water.
It wasn't exactly an average Tuesday night.
Alex's house was dark, and she didn't bother turning on many lights as she walked in, Mick in tow. They had said very little on the way over, but their hands had kept on touching.
"Want some coffee?" she asked nervously, walking into the kitchen. He followed her, she could feel his breath on the back of her neck.
"No," he replied hoarsely, turning her around to face him. "No, I don't want coffee."
She looked up at him, and felt her skin being to tickle. He was practically undressing her with his eyes, his gaze wandering from her neckline, over her breasts (being a true man he took a break there), then further down to her abdomen, down her legs and all the way to her toes. Then he lifted his gaze to her face.
Her lips were slightly parted, and he remembered just how soft they were. Unable to resist temptation, he leaned forward and she let out a sigh just as their lips met.
His hands moved to her hips, pulling her so close he could feel her breasts against his chest. He kissed her teasingly at first, brushing his lips against hers, then pulling back a second, before repeating the touch. She let out a frustrated groan, and pulled his head down to nearly crush his mouth against hers.
The new pace was frantic, the kiss deep and hard. She eased his jacket off his shoulders, letting it fall to the floor. It wasn't enough. She wanted to feel skin against skin, and fast.
Mick too, seemed rather impatient, his hands wandering to her back and struggling to unhook her bra. It took a few seconds before he managed, and she could barely suppress a giggle. She could feel his lips curved into a smile against hers.
God, it felt good to have something to smile about.
Without breaking the kiss off, she led him towards the bedroom. They made it halfway there, before he pushed her up against the wall and pulled her shirt off. He lowered his head to her breasts, and she couldn't withhold a moan.
Her body arched against his as he continued the sweet torture.
"Mick..!"
As long as she said his name like that, he reckoned he would be the happiest man in Australia.
II
Sophie had fallen asleep on his lap, and despite his feet being asleep, Jack didn't dare move in fear he might make her wake up. She needed her sleep, a brief escape from reality.
One of her best friends had been on the train.
Pushing away a few strands of hair from her face, he felt a surge of happiness. They were bonding. As horrible as this tragedy was, they were bonding. She had confided in him, and even cried a bit on his shoulder.
All those years he had been – well, unaware of her existence - had been a bit of an abyss in their relationship, and he had never been sure if they could overcome it. He still wasn't sure, but he felt closer to her than he had.. Well, ever.
She shifted a bit in her sleep and he managed to stretch his left leg somewhat, and it tingled as the feeling returned to it. It wasn't very comfortable position, but he would stay until she woke up. He hadn't been there before, but he was here now.
He smiled gently in the darkness. She would have to kick him out to get rid of him now. His smile faded as he remembered she had half of his genes and wouldn't be beyond kicking him out.
His genes. His daughter. When he died, she would live on. The way Rachel had looked at her son so many times suddenly made very much sense.
His Sophie.
And he smiled again.
II
Emma finally drifted into a painless sleep, the nurse having administrated some sedatives. She looked almost peaceful, like an angel, and George couldn't resist kissing her gently on the forehead as he got up to leave.
When he turned, Tommy was standing in the doorway with an unreadable expression.
"Hey mate."
Tommy didn't respond, and it suddenly occurred to George just how large the guy was. He could just about flatten anyone he decided to. Not a very comforting thought.
"She's asleep," George continued, but he still got no answers. It was beginning to make him rather uneasy, and he decided it was probably just best to leave. But as he walked past Tommy, a hand shot out and blocked his path.
"If you hurt her.." Tommy said in a low voice.
"Same goes for you," George snapped back, feeling rather annoyed and a little bit alarmed.
The two men stared at each other for a long time, after a few minutes Tommy let his arm fall and George walked out.
The room was silent for a while, only Emma's steady breathing and the instruments verifying that she was alive could be heard. Finally Tommy let out a sigh and walked over to Emma's bed. He had an urge to wrap her in his arms as she slept, so if she woke up in the middle of the night she'd know he was there.
And if he woke up in the middle of the night, he'd know she was there too.
The hospital workers probably wouldn't approve, and she was badly hurt...
He stood undecided a while, then he pulled the chair so close he could rest his head and upper body on the bed next to her, and the rest of him in the chair. It was a compromise, he figured.
Finding a comfortable position was a bit of a hassle, but eventually he too slept, as peacefully as could be expected.
Outside, the wind picked up its pace.
II
A tree branch was shrieking in the wind, tapping against the window. Resting on Frank's chest, Rachel regarded the scene outside her window distantly. It was a calming sort of sound, as was Frank's steady breathing.
It occurred to her this was actually the first time Frank had slept in her bed. Even though they had slept together more or less for a year, it still seemed like a dream sometimes. She just hoped she didn't wake up from it tonight.
"Hey Goldie?"
"Hmm..?"
"I've been thinking.."
"Oh no," she said in mock worry, unable to resist. Bantering with Frank was so much like old times she could almost convince herself everything was back to normal again, even if just for a few seconds.
"My house is such a mess, and I hate cleaning. So I figured, you know, bring my toothbrush, move a few clothes here.."
He sounded so hopeful it was endearing.
"Yeah, Holloway, you can. But this is not the Footloose and don't you dare make a mess!" she warned, even knowing it was hopeless. Frank always made a mess.
"Of course," he swore, knowing he would anyway. "Besides, the boat's a bit wrecked after.. Well, you know." He couldn't make himself say 'the bridge blew up and fell down.' If he said it, it would seem more real. It wouldn't make it more real, but it would seem more real.
She shivered slightly, and he wrapped his arms tighter around her. It hadn't been a nice scene they had witnessed this morning, and he wondered just how much David had understood of it. The kid was smart, much like his mother.
"Dad wants to meet you," she suddenly said, and he lost his trail of thought.
"Eh?"
"Dad wants to meet you," she repeated.
"Um, yeah.. Wh-why?" he stuttered, a bit alarmed. Felix Friedman, Rachel's dad.. Meeting the parents.. It was like high school all over again.
"I went away with you for a year, Frank. Besides, I told him what you had done for David."
"Good-o." Shit, he would have to behave himself. It wasn't like he hadn't met Felix before, but that was when he and Rachel had been partners and before any sex had got into the picture. Best behaviour was definitely required, he wanted to make a good impression on the man after all, in case he and Rach.. Stuck together.
She snuggled closer, and he let a hand trace patterns on her bare back. They should probably get some sleep, but with sleep came nightmares. It was so much easier just to lie like this and pretend.
Pretend it was just another Tuesday night.
II
The wind was sighing in the trees, but for what, Alex wasn't quite sure. It sounded almost sad to her, like the sighs of so many that had seen Tuesday morning, but wouldn't see Wednesday.
Mick had fallen asleep on his side, an arm loosely around her waist. Their bodies were still very much entwined, passion spent, but the need for closeness still there. It felt good to be so close to him, feel and hear his breath in the darkness of night.
Michael Reilly. She regarded him in the dark, wondering just what the hell she had managed to get herself into. They had toyed with the idea of getting together once before, but there had been work, and Jack..
There was still work and Jack, but something more primal had come into play. Surviving this day had created a terrible urge to feel alive and both her and Mick had just ignored everything else and plunged into uncharted territory.
She sighed. Jack would have a fit if he found out, but she wasn't sure if it would be because he would have preferred it to be with him, or because he genuinely thought work relationship was a bad idea.
He shouldn't really use that last argument, seeing how he and Rachel had been a thing. Just Jack to think that was a totally different situation though. The man was impossible sometimes – hell, not just sometimes. Still..
She had noticed his reaction when Rachel had come to the Cutter bar last night – God, was it only last night? It felt like an eternity ago. So much had happened it was an eternity. It had been the longest day she could ever remember.
So many dead. The numbers had no meaning, but in the weeks to come, she was fairly certain many stories would be told about the dead. And slowly, very slowly, everyone would realise what a tragedy fifteen hundred dead truly were.
She didn't look forward to that day.
Hell, she didn't look forward to this day being over either, in a strange way. Tomorrow would bring consequences and endless discussion why it had happened. Australia would have a new prime minister, the US a new president, and the two would probably argue just who were to blame.
The terrorists were American, but it had happened in Australia.
God. The news would contain nothing else for weeks to come. It would be easy to drown in all the despair and never emerge again.
She looked over at Mick again, and couldn't resist brushing a light kiss against his lips. Whatever the days to come would bring, they had needed this and Jack could scream about it till he was blue in the face for all she cared.
Mick smiled faintly and opened his eyes. Tracing her jaw line with a finger, he leaned down and returned the kiss.
II
The wind rattled the windows slightly, like it was trying to get the attention of the woman in the bed. But Helen didn't listen to it, trapped within the walls of her own mind, nothing from the outside mattered.
No more auntie Helen. No more family. No more Tayler. No more..
She should have died on that train, with so many others. She didn't even know how she had survived, it was all blurred and so filled with pain her mind refused to go there. And why she had survived was even more of a mystery.
There was no good reason, there was no logic. Kids had died on that train, if anyone should have lived, it should have been them. Not her.
Someone slipped into her room, but she barely noticed until a soft voice spoke her name.
"Helen?"
Her breath froze, her body tensed and her heart seemed to slow too. It sounded just like..
"Tayler?"
She finally looked up, but it wasn't Tayler standing in the middle of the room, looking somewhat spooked. It was Donna.
"I'm sorry, I.. I didn't mean.." Donna fumbled, "Cripes."
Behind her, Jeff came walking in, worry painted across his face.
"She thought I was Tayler. I didn't.." Donna muttered, eyes downcast.
"It's not your fault, Janevski."
Helen heard their conversation, but she couldn't make herself reply even if she had wanted to. It all felt so very distant, like a world she didn't belong in anymore. The thought should have scared her, but she couldn't feel fear anymore
The worst thing that could happen to her already had, so what was there to fear?
Nothing.
II
The wind faded again, becoming a soft touch, barely stirring even a leaf. Even the waves in the Harbour seemed to have died, the water being so still a perfect image of the sky could be seen reflected.
The stars could be clearly seen, almost as if the water hid jewels in its depth. It was of course just a trick of light.
But if anyone would have tried to dive for those jewels, they would have found something else in the water, something far more sinister.
At the bottom of the Harbour lay the remains of the bridge and the train. Divers had been there all day, bringing up most of the bodies from their watery grave.
But the bridge would rest there, until mould grew on it, until it became a popular diving place, until it was declared a graveyard, until.. Until it was forgotten.
That, however, was a long time away in human term, and in the blink of an eye for the Universe.
The wind moved again, and the perfect reflection on the water was broken as the wind stirred up waves. They washed quietly against the shore, barely audible at all.
And Tuesday became Wednesday, silently, in the dark.