Eddie was, he admitted, the type of person who usually made plans and stuck to them. It came with being a mathematician, all logic and numbers and solving problems. The problem he had right now, was that although he'd made progress in solving what was going on with Rachel, he hadn't actually planned what to do next.

The simple reality was, he didn't know what to do. This wasn't something he could fix, nor was it anything he had experience in and part of him was terrified he'd made things with Rachel worse with his confrontation the evening before.

Which is why he was so surprised to find her on his doorstep first thing the next morning. Her arms were wrapped around herself, cardigan pulled tight against the cool Rochdale air, tendrils of hair falling out of her ponytail. She was turned away from him, and automatically Eddie found himself stepping towards her in concern even as the sound of the opening door had prompted her to begin twisting towards him. He was greeted by red-rimmed eyes and an expression that told him she hadn't slept well, her weight shifting from one foot to the other as she hesitated, mouth opening and closing as she tried to decide what to say.

Eddie softened despite himself. "It's okay..." He held out his hand, and it took only a moment before she slid her fingers into his, allowed him to lead her inside.

It was with an odd, peaceful kind of ease that they began making tea in almost complete silence, the only sound the boiling kettle and faint clink of cups. It was Eddie who stirred in a healthy helping of sugar into Rachel's, unusually not even gaining a reaction from her. And even though every instinct practically screamed for him to comfort her, to reach out in some way even if it was only through words, he refrained. This needed to be her move, he recognised. For the sake of both of them.

They sat at his kitchen table, hands curled around mugs in the quiet of the early morning. It seemed an age before Rachel spoke, but in reality the drinks had barely cooled.

"I'm sorry I hurt you."

Eddie tilted his head at her. "Which time?"

She flinched. "All of them," she said softly, eyes never rising to meet his and now Eddie was torn, because he desperately wanted to comfort her as much as he wanted answers. "You were right last night," Rachel continued shakily, "I just... Eddie, I don't know what to do."

Her voice cracked, arms wrapping around herself and all of Eddie's plans to remain aloof promptly disintegrated. "Amy..."

"I'm so sorry. Eddie, I'm so sorry."

He slipped his hand around hers, glad when she didn't flinch away but it wasn't enough to stop her tears, to prevent her trembling and Eddie could only watch helplessly as she shattered in front of him, her pain different to that he'd seen before.

He couldn't just sit there. He reached out carefully, moving slowly, motion by motion until he was embracing her. And she was tense even as she cried, but she didn't push him away. He took it as progress. He held her gently, arms around her and gradually her head fell against his shoulder, tears soaking through to his skin. He didn't even notice.

Rachel's fingers clutched at his, her eyes tightly closed. "I can't get him out of my head."

He didn't need to question who she was talking about.

"Everything he did, everything he said. It keeps playing in my head over and over, and then everything with you and your sister, and I don't deserve it, Eddie, not when I can't even bear for you to touch me properly. And now I've hurt you again, when I swore to myself I wouldn't but I did it anyway. And I don't know how to- to-" Her breathing was coming in gasps, too fast, too rapid, Eddie realised with some alarm

"Rachel, look at me. Look."

She did as he asked, panic barely hidden in her gaze. Eddie stroked his thumb over her cheek. "Breathe," he murmured. "Nice and slow. Just... just breathe."

She did so, but the tears didn't abate any. "What is happening to me?"

Eddie had some idea. "When was the last time you relaxed, Rachel? I mean properly? For longer than an hour or so?"

She blinked at him uncomprehendingly, and he couldn't help but smile faintly at the expression. "You're tired, Rach." He brushed his fingers across her jaw. "And I don't just mean sleep-wise. You've been burning the candle at both ends for so long, I think Hordley and the explosion was the final straw. You've hit your breaking point."

"That's ridiculous."

"Is it?"

Rachel was calming, her tears still visible but no longer falling at the rate they had been. "Eddie…"

"You're tired," he repeated, "and you're overwhelmed. And what he did to you… there is nothing wrong with you, Rachel. You're just trying to cope. Trying badly, I might add," he quipped, "but trying."

She didn't smile. She was studying him, eyes tired and pinched. "I'm sorry, Eddie."

"I know." He pressed a kiss to her forehead. "It's okay."

"No, it isn't. I hurt you again."

"Because you were hurt. Rachel, if you're trying to find condemnation, you're not going to. Didn't I tell you last night that you're already forgiven?"

He had, she remembered, but she hadn't quite been able to bring herself to believe him. "I don't deserve you."

She hadn't meant to say it aloud. But he gave her a half-grin, entwining their hands once again. "And yet you have me. You should get used to it."

It wasn't quite a smile he received. Something close to it, thought, small and tiny, but there. Rachel rested her head back onto his shoulder, grateful that this, at least, she could have back. "You know, despite everything, the entire time I was gone the only person I really wanted was you."

Eddie took a risk, tightened his grip around her and repeated his previous words. "You have me."

Eddie had been fourteen when he realised that he liked Amanda as more than a friend. It had been summer, the end of school and they'd been walking home with friends, friends who apparently knew all about the fact that one of the boys in Amanda's year group had asked her out. Eddie had been stunned at the instant clawing knot in his stomach as Amanda had laughed, shrugging off the teasing and never noticing that her best friend didn't look nearly as amused.

The problem was, Amanda was in the year below him, and was barely thirteen. He would never hear the end of it if he did anything about his feelings, and so he acted as a typical teenaged boy and pretended nothing was happing. He dated other girls and acted like it was perfectly normal to warn off anyone showing interest in Amanda, pretending it was all part of his role as her best friend.

It never worked. Inevitably, he would end up comparing his girlfriends to the younger girl- they weren't as clever, weren't as funny. Their complaints about unfair parents seemed to pale in comparison to what he knew Amanda was going through with her father, and all manner of other things that he would only admit afterwards were glaringly obvious to anyone but him.

It took a few months to admit it. When he did, it was no special occasion. It was an ordinary day, walking home from school together in the English sunshine until they'd reached the point where they usually parted. It had been a rare occasion where Amanda had been smiling unreservedly, joking about something he hadn't been paying attention to and light hearted in a way that even at that age, she so rarely displayed. And Eddie hadn't been able to breathe.

She'd called goodbye and started to walk away, and he hadn't even thought it through before he was calling out her name, closing the distance between them as she'd turned, looked at him curiously. Whatever she'd been expecting, it wasn't for Eddie to swoop forward and press his lips to hers.

She'd been so angry as she pulled away, furiously telling him that he couldn't just go around kissing people. Her cheeks had flushed pink and eyes seemed to deepen in colour, and Eddie hadn't regretted a thing. He'd caught hold of her hand, murmuring her name and she'd fallen silent, wide-eyed and uncharacteristically uncertain as Eddie had shuffled awkwardly. "Do you wanna be my girlfriend?" he'd blurted out and her eyes had grown even wider.

"We're friends, Eddie!"

He'd shrugged.

"You're being ridiculous." She'd pulled away from him, scowling as she spun on her heel as if to leave.

"Amy!" Eddie had darted forward, stepped in front of her and saw her face darken. "I'm not joking," he said hastily. "I... like you. I want you to be my girlfriend."

She'd snorted. "Until next month. Really Eddie, you go through at least two girls every term. Why would I want to be another in a long line?"

"Cause I broke up with them because they weren't you!"

Amanda had stared at him, as he felt his face grow hot. "You're my best friend," he said awkwardly, "and I didn't want to... but I always end up comparing them to you. And I don't... hell, Amy, stop looking at me like that."

"You're insane," she'd said finally.

He had shrugged again. But she had no longer looked angry, or irritated, and he took that as a good sign. "Be my girlfriend, Amy?" He'd asked again. "You won't regret it."

Amanda swallowed. "You might."

"Not possible."

They had stared at each other, before finally, she nodded. "Okay."

"Okay?"

"Okay."

Eddie blinked, before his jaw dropped, right before the widest grin he could manage had spread across his face. He had let out a whoop, scooping her into a hug and Amanda had laughed despite herself, barely able to reach the ground with her toes.

There was little trace of that laughing girl left, Eddie thought, staring down at Rachel. But like this, curled up asleep against him, he could almost see her again. Almost. The way her hair fell around her face- it was shorter now, it had fallen to her waist when he'd first known her. She'd cut it the next year, immediately grown it out again. She'd even spoken of dyeing it a couple of times, but had never had the money for the dye. Eddie had secretly been glad- he liked her hair.

He wondered if she'd ever gone through with it. He reached out without thinking, brushing an errant lock of her hair from her face. Ever-troubled, even that tiny movement had her stirring and he froze, praying she wouldn't wake. She needed this sleep, he could see it in the bruises under her eyes. But there was no such luck, and her eyes flickered open.

He cursed silently- to her, attempted a smile. Curiously, it was relief that he saw in her expression, before she blinked and seemed to realise where she was, shifting her weight as if to sit up. Before she could do so, or apologise, Eddie's hand landed on her shoulder. "You're fine. Stay where you are."

She looked uncomfortable for a second, before her expression went carefully blank and Eddie had to resist the urge to sigh. "Talk to me, Amy." A demand hidden in a request. Rachel's gaze flickered to his, her careful mask not quite quick enough to hide the various emotions that rant through her in quick succession. But Eddie knew her, well enough that mask or no he could tell the moment she was leant towards refusal, towards flight. He grabbed her hand. "Amy."

She swallowed thickly. "I'm scared."

That, he hadn't been expecting. "Scared? Of what?"

"This. You. Everything."

This time, when she pushed herself upright, he made no move to stop her. She curled into herself, bringing her knees up and for a split second she was superimposed with an image of her from their teen years, from when Eddie had first discovered the cause of her many bruises. He blinked, rid himself of the image even as he reached for her hand. "Why?"

But she faltered, mouth opening and closing even as a lost, helpless look entered her eyes and Eddie hated it, hated that she could ever feel that way.

"I need to go back to school."

Rachel's words had Eddie blinking in bewilderment. "What?" She'd broken down the day before, panicked at walking through the building. And now she wanted to go back?

"Will you come with me?"

"Of course I will. But Rachel..."

"I need to." She cut his sentence off, resolve in every syllable. "But I don't want to do it alone."

"You won't have to."

She smiled then, one nowhere near as bright and as warm as he would have liked but genuine nonetheless. He was a sucker for her smiles. "But Rachel, why?"

"I have to go back sometime."

"But so soon?"

"I can't very well leave it till September, can I?"

He could have argued a thousand ways. The way she was at the moment, he might have even won those arguments. But instead, he sighed. "You're impossible."

"Would you have me any other way?" Her words were teasing- her tone more uncertain.

"Not a chance."