A/N: We all need more Katie, Gina, Kieran and Cook in our lives. =D Thanks so much to all of you who have been review, and those of you that haven't, again... I TEMPT YOU WITH COOKIES. AND HOT GIRLS. AND. AND. My infamous puppy dog eyes. *pouts* At some point I'll go through and break everything up the way it should be. Maybe later today.
::Katie::
DAY TWENTY-FOUR
Emily's quiet as I drive her into London, the window down and her hand out of it while we still have pleasant countryside around us before it's replaced by the smog and bustle and noise of the city. I've been trying since she got that stupid invitation to persuade her not to go, but she's too stubborn (a feature I overlooked while growing up) so here we are, about to put her on a plane so she can officially secure her soon to be miserable future.
"Are you sure you want to do this, Emsy?" I ask her as the traffic gets a bit thicker and I can afford to look at her. She turns her head to look back at me and smiles. It doesn't reach her eyes. They're dim.
"Yes." Her tone warns me not to keep pressing the matter so I drop it. Reluctantly. I still don't understand why she's putting herself through this. Ever since I caught them kissing, and possibly before that, Naomi has ended up doing nothing but hurting my sister. I'm sure not all of it has been intentional, but she's my twin, my blood. Emily doesn't deserve to be constantly heartbroken and depressed. She deserves happiness. Which is difficult when she's such a glutton for punishment; as faithful as a fucking puppy dog, no matter how many times she gets kicked to the ground.
Emily's always been like this; selflessly sacrificing herself for the happiness well being of others. I know that's what she's doing now, although from the article on her and Naomi I don't think it's going to work. Emily jumps violently as some twat in a sports car whips in front of us and I slam on the brakes to avoid an accident.
"Arse," I mutter under my breath. Ems pulls her hand inside the car and rolls the window up, the car suddenly quiet save for the soft noise drifting from the radio. It's not an awkward or heavy silence (they rarely are between Ems and I) but I wish she would say something to me. I haven't seen her look so dead in ages.
She holds my hand in the airport, not too tightly, but firmly enough that I know she's glad I'm there. I don't let go until Gina and Kieran show up in the distance and even then I'm pulled into a tight hug until they're close enough that I can see the disbelieving look on Kieran's face. I must look much different than he remembers since I'm pretty sure the last time he saw me was the week before I had my head bashed in. He waves anyway and Gina smiles cheerfully at me as I try to pry Emily's hand off the back of my shirt before it wrinkles.
"If you need me, I'll be up there in a fucking second," I tell my sister, who gives me another sad smile and looks at me with those sad eyes and I almost drag her back home right then.
"Okay," she says, a silent thanks hidden in the word. She wanders off with Kieran to printout their tickets and check the bags, leaving me with Gina. She looks as concerned for Emily as I am.
"Don't let Naomi hurt her," I tell the woman, who smiles at me and lays a hand on my arm.
"I will do my best," she reassures, "but they're both grown women now, not angsty little teenagers throwing fits over spilt milk." She pauses, watching my sister chatting easily with Kieran. "They've both been hurting for a long time now. Naomi loves Rinry, but a part of her died the day Emily left."
"And a part of Emily died when she found out Naomi cheated," I counter. Gina sighs and pats my arm.
"Our girls are a mess, but they need each other more than they realize." I stare at her curiously.
"I think I understand why you annoy Naomi so much. That was irritatingly insightful," I tell her. And probably true. All she does is smile. A lot like Effy always did.
"Take care of yourself, dear. I'll do my best to look after Emily," Gina says, squeezing my arm and moving to join the other two. I stand in the same spot until they disappear into the throngs of people.
I shut the door softly when I get home, unsure if Cook has put Jamie down for a nap or not. I'm grateful I was quiet when I find them both sleeping on the sofa, Jamie curled up against her father's side with cartoons playing on the television. Dropping my bag and keys on the table by the door, I walk into the lounge and gently shake Cook awake. He blinks his eyes open rapidly, then helps hoist our sleeping daughter into my arms without a word. I rock her gently, settling her against my hip once she wakes enough to wrap her arms around my neck. By the time I'm upstairs and laying her in bed, she's dead to the world again. I pull the blankets up to her chin and kiss her forehead before quietly closing her bedroom door and heading back downstairs.
Cook is still on the couch, awake though, with the telly remote in his hand as a football match shows on the screen. Without a word I stretch out along the length of the sofa and lay my head against his thigh. Immediately, his arm drapes over my waist and strokes my stomach with his thumb.
"Alright, love?" he asks me, turning down the volume. I shake my head, placing my hand on his knee.
"Just worried about Emily," I admit, moving my hand to search for his and grip it tightly.
"She's a fighter, Katiekins. She'll get through it alright. Besides, she's got you on her side, yeah?"
"I guess, but I'm still worried."
"She's a grown woman, babe. Gotta let her make her own decisions now."
"You do the same thing if she were Jamie," I tell him, staring at the TV. I feel his body shake with silent laughter.
"Too soon for me to be thinkin' 'bout that, love. Try not to give me a heart attack," he teases, his hand slowly making its way up my stomach. I squirm and swat it away with the fingers not wrapped around his.
"Yeah, well, what if it were Jamie willingly resigning herself to a life of misery? You'd be worried about her doing something like this. We both would be and you know you'd do whatever you could to keep her from hurting herself."
"Yeah, but Emily is still an adult," he reminds me. Christ. I know that. I push his hand out from under my shirt again.
"That's not the point. The point is she's my little –Cook, stop that – sister and I have to – stop! - look out for her. For fuck's sake, James. Now's not the time!" I snap, pulling Cook's hand out from under my bra.
"Just trying to ease the tension a little bit, Katiekins," he says. "Let the Cookie monster give you a good seeing to, yeah? Take your mind off all this business for a while. It's been bugging you ever since Emily got back." I roll my eyes, sitting up straight and crossing my arms. He grins at me and before I know it I'm pressed against the side of the couch with his body half on top of mine.
"You know," I mutter in between kisses, "we have a nice – oh – warm bed. This is making me feel like a horny teenager."
"Always good to feel young again for a bit," he counters against my neck, somehow having managed to already unbutton my shirt. I sigh breathlessly and push back on his shoulders.
"Take me up to fucking bed you wanker," I tell him, fisting my fingers in the fabric of his shirt as he lifts me up off the couch and wrapping my legs around his waist, letting him carry me up the stairs into our bedroom.
Turns out a good fuck was needed; I feel monumentally better afterwards. For a while at least. And Cook is finally willing to actually fucking talk to me. Tosser.
"It'll be okay, Katie," he tells me, stroking the back of my hand. "Emily will be fine. You know how she is. Strong, stubborn, and really fucking smart."
"This doesn't seem very smart to me."
"Maybe this is her way of finally getting over everything; that last push so that she can find some new bird to fall madly in love with," he suggests. I shake my head and sigh, shuffling back against his body.
"It's not that simple. You don't know her the way I do." Cook shrugs and kisses my shoulder.
"What I'm saying is you have to let her do this herself. She won't listen to you anyway; she never has. All you can do if be there for her if things go tits up." I don't say anything and eventually I hear his breathing even out against the nape of my neck.
It takes me a while to fall asleep, my thoughts plagued by a thousand different scenarios as how this wedding could turn out and a thousand more about the aftermath, most of them not happy and sending a chill down my spine.
Jamie crying wakes me up at half 4 and since Cook sleeps like a bloody log, I drag myself out of bed to go see to her.
"What's the matter, love?" I ask as I flip the light switch and sit on the side of her bed, drying her cheeks with my thumbs.
"I had a bad dream, Mummy," Jamie answers through her tears. I reach for the tissue box by her bed and hand her one, telling her to blow her nose. "There was these huge.. t-tarantulias chasing me." I stroke her hair and hold her head against my chest, closing my eyes.
"Tarantulas aren't dangerous, darling. Uncle James had a pet one when he was a bit older than you."
"They're icky!" Jamie complains, her little hands balled up in my t-shirt.
"Get back under your blankets, love, and I'll read you a bedtime story, okay?" She nods and wipes at her nose with her knuckles, staring up at me with her big, blue eyes as she waits for me to tuck her in and hand her the stuffed rabbit Emily had bought for her when Cook and I married. "There, let's pick out a story, yeah?" I hold up two books from the small collection beneath her nightstand and let her pick which one she likes before pulling the rocking chair up and settling down to read.
As soon as I'm sure Jamie's asleep, I put the book in my lap, gently rocking back and forth and just looking at her. Mum used to read stories to Emily and I up until we were both six or seven. I remember sometimes, after she'd turned off the lights ,I'd make Emily read another one to me (because she learned to read faster than I did and she'd make up words and was generally better at storytelling) when I couldn't get to sleep. She even put up with me having to sleep with the bedside lamp on after a particularly terrifying nightmare left me traumatized for about a week. I can't even remember what it was now.
Emily was always like that, taking care of me whenever I needed her to, despite me being the older twin. I still feel horrible for treating her like shit for so long. She's had her share of abuse from me as well as Naomi and that stupid fucking blonde giant better not fuck her up again, or she'll have me to answer to. I don't care if she's the Prime Minister, my sister is more important to me than the bloody country is. My protectiveness of her hasn't stopped because we're both adults, I've just gotten better at controlling it.
She was torn up after her and Naomi broke up. I didn't learn for months that it was her who ended it and by then she'd successfully drunk herself into a depression. It was hell trying to pull her out of that hole and keep her from tottering precariously back over the edge. Mum certainly didn't help at all, telling Emily to move on and find herself a fit bloke. It was heartbreaking just to see my sister give up. She stopped fighting with Mum, stopped trying to defend her sexuality, stopped everything. I know she's had girlfriends since then, but she didn't bring a single one of them home.
"It just didn't feel right," she'd always say when I asked why she broke up with the latest one (some of them were quite lovely, certainly better than Naomi).
With a sigh, I put everything back in its place and check to see that Jamie's tucked in properly, flicking on the nightlight plugged into the wall by the door on my way out and shutting off the hall lamp as I meander back to bed. Cook's rolled onto his other side, away from me, and has taken the covers with him. I roll my eyes. Men. I tug the blankets from around his body and slip beneath them, pressing myself against his warmth. He doesn't respond in any way, but I curl into his back anyway, drawing comfort from his presence. He's right, Emily needs to do this on her own, as much as I detest the idea.
