He lives in a haze for the next few weeks. Of course, he tries. For the most part, he puts on a brave face for Rose, his little Rosie, trying to act at least somewhat like a coherent, responsible parent. And for the most part, he's okay at it. He's long ago perfected the art of masking fear and grief around Rose, and he's not surprised to see it come back in full force.
Of course, Maxine sees right through it, but she's tactful enough not to say anything to challenge him, instead finding excuses to drop by with meals or else take Rose out for girls' nights or shopping trips that leave him free to sit beside Kate's still figure in the hospital and will her to wake.
He meets the rest of the fire crew properly over the next fortnight or so, from the protective Dutchy and Buff, who stand like bodyguards either side of the door, arms folded, and say very little; to the childish and energetic 2Dads' and Spider (seriously, what was up with these names?). Then there was the talkative Nikki, the solemn Chris, the hesitant ET, even the commanding Chief Marshall, and the awkward Robert, who spends his time spewing out statistics and facts about comas and traumatic brain injury until Cal so very bluntly begs him to stop.
But he's glad they're all here for her, that she has that support network, and he can't stop assuring himself that she must know they're there for her.
She has brief periods of dazed consciousness, but it's barely enough time for someone to call for the nurse before she's slipped back into unconsciousness, occasionally mumbling something unintelligable or else twitching her hands awkwardly. He likes it better when it's just her and him though, and he's free to beg her to wake up, and tell her over and over again how sorry he is.
"Hey." Maxine pushes open the door for him to enter, and he obliges, moving towards the familiar living room. "Rosie's just upstairs with Ryan. Playing some playstation game together." She casts an appraising eye over him. "I'll heat you up some pasta if you want?"
"No, I... I'm not really that hungry." He hesitates for a moment, then frowns. "Can I ask you... like a hypothetical legal question?"
"Uh... sure." Maxine nods, taking a seat on the lounge and gesturing for him to do the same. "If I can."
"I... I was wondering about... about if there's a... like a statute of limitations on... things."
"Things?" Maxine frowns. "Uh, you'll have to be a bit more specific on 'things', Mike. What happened?" She catches his gaze. "Hypothetically?" She adds.
"Uh... hypothetically, if there was... like a crime was committed. Years ago. And she- they- wanted to report it now. Could they?"
Maxine looks as though she sees right through his 'hypothetical' situation, but doesn't press any further. "Like... an assault?"
"A... a rape?" He hates the question, hates the word even. And suddenly, he wants to tell Maxine everything, wants nothing more than to see that bastard behind bars, but he knows he can't.
"Well..." Maxine hesitates for a moment, as if she's pondering what to say. "Well, from what I know, up until 2016, child victims had three years from the time they turned eighteen to begin civil action. But now, that civil statutory time limit has been removed."
"But... could he still be arrested? Ah... hypothetically?"
Maxine adopts a pained look on her face. "I... in theory, yes. But... it's hard, Mike. The system is gruelling. Not only does your... hypothetical friend... have to be willing to make a statement, lay charges, but that's just the beginning. Time... it... it fades memories, it destroys evidence. I'm not saying it can't be done, and I'm definitely not saying that it shouldn't be done, but... when there's no evidence, or witnesses, it's... it's extremely hard to secure a conviction." She fiddles with a lounge cushion. "Look, it's... the prosecution-legal side of things isn't really my area of expertise. I mean, I walk around Cairns mostly... breaking up bar fights and making sure tourists don't get eaten by crocs." She looks as though she's struggling with something for a moment, before shaking her head. "When Kate wakes, I can always take a statement. If it's... something she wants to pursue."
Mike doesn't bother to deny the identity of his hypothetical friend - Maxine has never been dim.
"Mike, there's a... a lot of trauma involved. And... and that has lots of long-term effects on people. And the decision to report or not to... regardless of how it seems to us, it's an entirely different struggle in any victim's mind-"
"She's not a victim." Mike interjects, his eyes flashing.
Maxine bows her head obediently. "No. No, that was a poor choice of words." She agrees. "But... she has still suffered. And..."
"I'm not telling anyone they have to. I just..." He drags a hand through his hair. "I guess I just needed to know for myself if she could." He pushes himself up off the lounge. "Look, I... thanks for looking after Rosie. Really, Max, you've been amazing. I-"
"Mike, she... she's welcome to stay if you want to-"
"Max, I just need my daughter."
"Okay." She nods, holding her hands up. Again, he shakes his head.
"Look, I'm sorry. It's-"
"I know." Maxine pats him gently on the forearm, before pulling away. "She's upstairs."
"Did you see Kate today?" Rose asks, running her finger along the zipper of the backpack sitting neatly in her lap.
Mike glances at her for a moment in the rear-view mirror, softening at the genuine concern over his daughter's face. "Yeah. For a little bit." He agrees. "Did... how was Bridie today?"
Rose gives a half-shrug, looking down once more. "She was okay, I guess. Just quiet." Rose falls into silence once more, fidgeting with her zipper. It isn't until they're almost home that Rose speaks again. "How do you know when you're in love?"
"I..." Mike hesitates for a moment, the question completely taking him by surprise. "I... I don't know." He chances a glance over his shoulder at her, rather than the slightly difficult-to-see rear-view image of her, but she doesn't particularly look upset. Just curious. Turning his attention back to the road, he edges the car onto the side of the road and parks, so that he can give Rose his full attention. "Where's this coming from?"
"Well... when did you know you loved Mum?" Rose tries again. And of course, it's natural that she should want to talk about these sorts of things, natural that she has questions, but he can't deny the twinge of sadness and loss he always feels whenever Sarah is mentioned.
"Well... I..." He thinks back. "I knew I was going to marry her the moment I spoke to her."
"You did?"
Mike nods seriously, thinking back. "Yeah. We were in Year 12 at school, and we were both working on our final projects. I was making an end table for my final woodwork project, and she came in to ask about rigging up her own custom-sized canvases. And I just remember watching her sing under her breath as she wrote up all the measurements she needed and I just... I knew. Asked her out to dinner that very night." Rose smiles, and Mike echoes her expression, part-happiness, part-grief. "We got married a year after high school. No point waiting. But... well..."
"She got sick." Rose finishes the story for him.
"Yeah." He agrees. And he knows that, while Rose knows how her mother died, he's never really found the strength to tell her the full story. "We wanted to have kids, straight away. Sarah was working in a garden nursery - she was always so passionate about the environment. Had such a green thumb, your mum. But it was only a year after we got married that they found the cancer. She had surgery, and chemo and radiation and... and it was touch and go for a while. But it looked like she beat it. Only, after that, having a baby was more difficult. She struggled to... uh... to stay pregnant. And it made us both sad but Sarah used to always say that... that things happen for a reason. And I guess they did, because ten years after I first met her, we had a beautiful baby girl." He leans into the backseat as best he can and brushes a thumb against her cheek. "You were the best thing, Rosie. We both loved you so much."
"But then Mum got sick again." Rose murmurs sadly.
"Yeah." Mike agrees. "She... she fought so hard to be with you. To stay and be the mother that you..." He trails off, his voice cracking, and for a moment he has to turn around, has to steady himself, before he can turn around and finish his sentence. "But... by the time they caught it, the cancer had already spread into her blood. And... after that, it was... was all they could do to make her comfortable and make sure it was... peaceful."
"And was it?" Rose presses, and for a moment Mike closes his eyes, remembering nights of Sarah crying out in pain, of her writhing, of her vomiting bile and shoulder-blades that stand out like butterfly wings. The end, at least, had been mostly painless for her, but the middle... that had been nothing but pain. But he can't tell Rosie that.
"Yeah, Rosie." He assures her. "It was."
"So... do you love Kate?" Rose asks, wiping at a tear impatiently on her cheek. "Because... I guess people can love more than once. But... I guess you're also scared."
"I... I don't really know how I feel about Kate." Mike murmurs.
"But... I guess there are different kinds of love, right? I mean, Grandma said she didn't like Grandpa when they first met, and... and Maxine said she worked with Jeff for ages before they got together. And I know that people get divorced. So... love is different for everyone, right?"
"Yeah, I guess." Mike agrees, somewhat dazed.
"Because, I think Kate's nice. And if you did love her, that would be okay, you know? And I guess sometimes adults don't even know they're in love-"
"Okay! So... I might love her?" Mike declares. "I just kind of imagined if I was ever to say those words it'd be to her first and not to my suddenly love-obsessed daughter?"
Rose gives an unabashed smile. "I knew it." She grins.
They arrive ten minutes later at the hospital corridor, Rose and Bridie hugging each other as though it's been years since they had last seen each other, rather than simply a few hours. But it's Cal leaning against the wall that panics him. "Kate?" He asks frantically, dashing up to her and pulling her gently, so that they're facing away from the girls.
"They're just doing some tests." Cal assures him. "She's... she's doing better, actually. She's been talking, a bit."
"Well, that's good." Talking was good, right? Talking meant thinking which meant-
"Yeah." Cal nods distractedly, then seems to come to herself. "Sorry. Yeah, it's great news. It's just..." And without warning, she crumples, sinking to her knees and sobbing. Mike crouches quickly next to her, seizing her arm so she doesn't bang her head on the ground. "I could - have - lost her." Cal sobs. "I - I can't - lose - her!"
"I know." Mike murmurs, rubbing circles on her back. "I can't lose her either."