Sorry guys, I know this has been a long time coming...some personal things had come up and I needed to take time out to deal with them :/. This isn't quite as long as I wanted it to be, but I think it does the job...and don't worry, chapter thirteen is already in the mix ;)
When the shrill sound of her alarm pierced the quiet of her bedroom the next morning, Sharon wished she could have said she'd slept. At least a fitful sleep would have been nice; but as she had climbed back into bed earlier that morning, she had known she wouldn't be so lucky.
As her bleary eyes stared at the neon numbers on the contraption next to her bed, she couldn't help but let a frustrated moan escape her lips. Gently pinching the bridge of her nose, she shook her head from side to side cautiously, willing the beginning of the headache she felt, to disappear. She wished she could just lie back down next to Rachael and use this day for her emotional recovery, but she knew she couldn't do that…no matter how much she needed it.
Not only did she have to make the formal introductions of Detective Daniels to her team but there was also a speech that needed to be made…if she didn't address her team before hand it would be like feeding the poor detective to the wolves.
Hauling herself out of bed seemed to be a super-human effort, but as she walked into the bathroom her movements seemed to become mechanical, no feeling and without purpose.
She gingerly turned the knob in the shower, checking the water temperature while reaching into the drawer to the right of the sink. As she waited for the water to warm, Sharon extracted a toothbrush and tube of toothpaste, squeezing a generous amount onto the bristles. She began a gentle circular motion, clearing away the sleep and morning breathe from her teeth, her mind drifted in other directions.
All too soon she was thrust back into the scene she had been reliving and reviewing in her mind. Her chest clenched as she remembered the sad longing in his russet eyes, the barely veiled hurt as she scrambled away from him in panic, the only thing registering was to get away.
Sharon knew that Andy had no idea, not really, and probably couldn't even fathom what she had been through... He knew bits and pieces, things that he had questioned her about and she had been honest as possible in her answers. She told him all that he needed to know, not all that had happened; she suspected that she had seemed outrageous in her fit last night, bewildering him if not scaring him away completely.
Sharon rinsed her mouth in the sink, breathing in deeply as she looked at her reflection. The person staring back at her looked nothing like the blissful woman who's make up she had retouched last night. The gleam of excitement that was in her eyes last night was now replaced with a flicker of discontent, complete with dark circles courtesy of her lack of sleep. Her cheeks that just last night seemed to be ripe with a rosy color were pale and drawn in the harsh light of her bathroom.
No longer being able to stomach what she saw in the mirror, Sharon turned on her heel walking towards the shower, not stopping as she reached the glass door. Then without a second thought she stepped through the steam and under the warm jets of water, completely submerging herself. Standing completely still she let the scalding water run slowly over the top of her head, down her cheeks, and over her torso…cleansing as it went. Slowly she turned away from the stream stopping when she reached the tiled wall, pushing her hair and the water out of her eyes, contemplating exactly how to avoid someone for the rest of her career.
When Sharon emerged out of the bathroom, her body wrapped in a plush, white towel and damp hair hanging loosely about her shoulders, the last thing she anticipated to see was a very wide-eyed and pissed off Rachael. Quickly taking in her daughter's body language, arms wrapped around her folded knees and Raydor scowl firmly in place, Sharon deduced that they were in for one of "those" conversations.
"Hey Little One," she greeted, "how did you sleep?"
Rachael sat stiffly, not responding, leant against the pillows just staring heatedly at her mother. Sharon stared back expectantly, wondering where the sudden irritation had come from. It was a good five minutes before her daughter haughtily threw the covers back and off of her legs, crossing determinedly towards the closed bedroom door.
"Rach!" she called out urgently, "What on Earth has gotten into you?"
At that the young woman's hand froze, hovering over the doorknob, seeming to pulsate with anger until it finally clenched with determination. Unable to control her emotions just yet, she spoke without facing her mother, barely concealed loathing in her voice.
"You're doing it again."
Sharon shook her head, genuinely confused, "What are you talking about?"
Rachael sighed in irritation and turned around to slowly face her mother. Sharon noted the defensive stance, arms crossed protectively across her chest and legs slightly apart as if she was ready to do battle. She tensed slightly as she gripped the towel tighter around her body, feeling somewhat exposed and defenseless.
"You are running away, YET again." Rachael concluded dejectedly.
Sharon automatically drew her shoulders up and slipped the Captain's mask into place. Shielding her self as she regarded her eldest child closely.
"How so?" she enquired uncertainly.
Shaking her head disbelievingly, the younger woman snorted as a mocking smile spread across her lips.
"This situation seems eerily familiar doesn't it?" at that Sharon's eyebrow rose to her hairline.
"I mean this whole thing with Andy…its happened before hasn't it?"
Sharon's eyes locked with those of her seemingly defiant daughter's; neither it appeared, was willing to back down from this particular fight.
Although Rachael resembled her father, one thing that she indefinitely inherited from her mother was her temper. Sharon knew exactly how volatile and nonnegotiable her daughter could be in these instances…it was like looking into a mirror.
The older brunette took a deep and calming breath before addressing her daughter, carefully choosing her words.
"Rach there is more to this situation than you could…" but she was swiftly and succinctly cut off.
"Don't patronize me!" the younger woman all but growled.
"…ever understand," but Sharon kept talking as if Rachael had never said a word, "There are things…you shouldn't have to deal with."
The last few words were whispered as Sharon stared down at her bare feet, pale against the dark wood of the floor. Although they were said in earnest, the words only fueled Rachael's anger.
Rachael began to pace in frustration, her arms not quite knowing what to do with them selves, constantly changing position. Suddenly she stopped and stared decisively at her mother, her ire evident in her voice.
"Why do you treat me like a child?" she questioned heatedly.
Sharon could only stare at her daughter in astonishment; she had never seen Rachael's temper go quite this far. Making the sound decision that perhaps it was time to end this particular conversation before it got out of hand, she ignored the question.
"Rachael Kiernan, you are acting like a child and frankly I don't have the time or energy for it this morning,"
Mirroring her daughter's early stance, Sharon folded her arms fiercely over her chest, just above the edge of the towel; a challenge that the younger brunette readily accepted.
"You never do…you just push it back into some forgotten corner of your subconscious, hoping it will never rear its ugly head!" exasperation was evident in Rachael's voice.
All Sharon could do was gape at the sudden outburst, and her daughter took that as an opportunity to keep the truth flowing from her lips.
"You NEVER let us help you!" she cried in desperation, "When all Jess and I ever want to do is hold you and offer at least a fraction of the comfort you deserve!"
The older woman stood stricken and helplessly watched as the angry tears ran down Rachael's cheeks. They flowed unchecked and seemingly caused her daughter no pause in her rant.
"I deserve that at least!" she was sobbing now.
"I deserve to be able to talk to you about it, offer you solace…after all do you forget who, besides yourself, was put through this nightmare as well?"
Sharon watched as her eldest child's shoulders sagged in defeat, itching to reach out and pull her into a tight embrace. Yet she was unable to move, paralyzed by the truth and anguish in those words.
Rachael gave a shuddering exhale, "Do you forget I was the one that found you…that I was barely old enough to call 911?"
Sharon sucked in a sharp breath, her chest constricting.
"Or that I was the one who sat by your side, crying uncontrollably as the paramedics performed CPR on your lifeless body!"
She was shaking now.
Sharon took a few steps towards toward her daughter, hesitantly. She reached forward, laying a tentative hand on Rachael's trembling arm, but the younger woman roughly shook off the comforting gesture.
"Your lips were blue, Mama," she enunciated, "as in no life left in your body…your skin had already begun to turn cold for goodness sake!"
Finally Sharon had seemed to find her voice.
"I know baby," she her voice breaking as she cooed soothingly, " and I'm sorry you had to go through that…"
"My point is…" Rachael continued with a trembling lip, "that I wish you would talk to me…"
She wiped furiously at the tearstains on her cheeks, "I know what you've been through, and for all intents and purposes I understand."
"I just want to help," she reiterated miserably.
Sharon stood in the middle of her bedroom, dumbfounded and lost. She had no idea that her daughter had ever felt this way; she had always thought they shared everything, a bond that went deeper than anything else. Apparently she had been horribly and irrevocably mistaken.
Rachael seemed to pull her self together slightly, taking in deep breaths and slowing her heart rate. She straightened her back, pulled her shoulders back, and let a shockingly familiar mask slip down over her features, effectively closing off her emotions.
Locking eyes with her mother again, purposely showing no trace of emotion or weakness, wanting her last statement to be heard loud and clear.
"Or at least talk to Andy, he deserves honesty as much as I do."
With that last parting jibe, she spun on her heel and yanked the bedroom door open viciously. Taking one last dismayed look at her mother, the door slammed shut with a crack that reverberated through not only the house, but Sharon's body as well.
