A/N: It's been too long. Thank Zinzi for kicking my butt into gear. Think this story is slowly wrapping up now but there's a few more chapters coming. And then some new stories! :P Thanks to everyone who's been taking the time to read my rambling words. I love to hear what everyone is thinking and it truly means a lot
The sun is well and truly up when she wakes. Kate had tossed and turned until nearly four in the morning, plagued with the scenes of the previous day until finally, mercifully, she had drifted into an uneasy sleep. She doesn't rise though. Instead, she tugs the doona over her head and closes her eyes once more, willing her body to return her to the blissful state of unconsciousness so she doesn't have to think about how unfair the world is.
She hates that this is the world that Bridie will have to grow up in - one where she has to constantly watch what she wears, or says. Where she can't go out after dark alone, or feel safe catching public transport. Where people like Patrick get to live happy, normal lives and good people are left with... this.
But no. It's wrong to think of herself as 'good'. Kate's never been good; has been damaged goods from the moment she was born. A porcelain bowl, continually fragmenting and never quite glued back together correctly.
Bridie deserves better than this wreck of a family tree. She deserves a loving father, grandparents, brothers and sisters and aunts and uncles and cousins galore. But instead she'd gotten Kate, the barely-nineteen year old girl who had shut herself off from everyone but Cal.
"Katie?" As if on cue, there's a knock on the door and a moment later tentative footsteps and a light clinking on her bedside table. "Kate, I got you some toast. And a coffee."
"I'm not hungry." Kate mumbles into her pillow, willing sleep to just claim her again. Her whole brain feels foggy, dim and slow, a lethargic loop of blood and screams and death. She squeezes her eyes shut, willing her mind to rid her of that image.
She hears a shuffling of feet, and then Cal's voice once more. "Kate, you... you need to eat something."
"I'm not hungry, Cal." Kate repeats, her voice more forceful.
There's silence for so long Kate wonders if her sister has left. She knows, deep down, she's being unfair. That she's just left Cal to raise Bridie and hidden herself away from the world but, fuck, can't she just have a day? Can't she just try to forget for a little bit? And then, just as Kate is about to lift her head, Cal speaks again. "Okay. I'll... I'll take Bridie out."
Her limbs are too leaden to drag herself out of bed. Her arm, recast by a doctor yesterday at the police station, feels stiff and itchy, but Kate ignores it, keeping her eyes closed and willing sleep to take her over.
She's tainted. Broken. Damaged goods.
For most of the day she dozes, hanging in that state of confusion between sleep and consciousness, interrupted every few hours by Cal, depositing another fresh cup and plate on her bedside table and dutifully taking the cold and untouched leftovers. Once or twice, she hears lighter feet and uneasy breathing, and knows that Bridie has entered the room, but she knows if she was to try to talk to her daughter right now, it would make everything too real, so she lies shut and hates herself the moment her daughter retreats.
She hates herself. Hates herself for being this weak, for being the shell of the person the girls need right now, for being selfish and maudlin just like her own mother, but every time Kate raises her head and plans to face the day, her pulse quickens and her head spins, and really, it's easier just to lower her head once more.
The sky darkens outside. Kate has no idea what time it is, or what is going on outside, but she catches snippets of conversation and noise outside; Cal's low murmur, Bridie's excited chatter. When she catches a deep, male voice, Kate slips even lower into her doona, knowing all too well the only man who would drop by now.
Sure enough, barely a minute later, she hears heavy footsteps and Mike enters her room, closing the door behind him and, rather abruptly, perches himself at the edge of Kate's bed. She tenses, waiting for the smartarse comment. Instead, Mike just lies there, and it's Kate that breaks the silence. "I'm not in the mood, Mike." She mumbles. "Go away."
Of course, Mike doesn't go anywhere. Of course he wouldn't, when he's suddenly decided she is his pet sympathy project, or his own personal punchline for his hundred-thousand jokes, or whatever other perverse, selfish reason he wants to know her. But when Mike does speak, his voice is serious and low. "When Sarah died, I... I hid myself in my room for hours. I left Rosie with Mum and I just... hid. And it was excruciating. Because the silence only left me with the sound of my own head and my grief."
Kate swallows hard. Mike doesn't make to touch her, or move forwards any more, instead keeping to his corner of the bed. "I'm not grieving." It's the only thing she can think to say. No. She would never mourn the loss of Patrick.
"Aren't you?" Mike challenges. "Because it seems to be you could be. Just not in the way you expect." Kate tugs the doona from her face and stares at him. He shrugs. "Let me just... assume some things for a little. And I could be way off base but... the way I see it, when you got hurt, you lost your innocence. It drew a line between your childhood, your naivety, and a future where you knew first hand how cruel the world was. And all these years, despite everything that you've said and done, there must have been a part of you that believed one day you could see justice. And now... now that's gone, and you're grieving your innocence, the girl you were, the woman you've become. You're grieving the lack of justice and the life you lost. And you're also grieving the loss of their innocence. Maddie and Claire and Savannah."
Kate looks away, because she doesn't want to admit he's right. It's odd, that he can put her thoughts into words so easily.
"When Sarah died, I wasn't just sad for myself. But... how fucked up it was that I was all Rose had. That she deserved to have a Mum who was there and loved her and... alive. And I guess you feel the same way about Bridie. But... eventually I learned it was better for Rose to have me just... be the best I could be... rather than feel sorry for myself all the time dwelling on what she should have had. And it was hard. But I talked to people. And it helped. And maybe it won't feel that way right away, but... but what I'm trying to say is it helps to... to talk and get up and... and it will get better, Kate. You've got to believe me."
"I... I just don't think I can face the world."
"I get it." Mike nods. "But how about, today, we just face your family? We'll get you up, you can have a shower and feel a bit better. Have a bit of food, even if you don't want it. And then we'll watch a movie with Bridie and Cal. And maybe tomorrow we'll... I don't know... walk around the block, and then come back and hide. We'll take baby steps, and things... things will feel better, Kate."
Kate turns to him, tears in her eyes. And then she nods.
Mike breaks everything down into tiny steps, and it's easier by far to focus on one little task at a time. She has her half a piece of toast, focuses on chewing each mouthful and nothing else. And after that, she showers, one hand encased awkwardly in a plastic bag. But focusing on one thing at a time helps, and by the time she's made it into the lounge room and found Mike already waiting with a movie lined up, she realises she's managed to do a dozen small tasks without breaking down.
For the most part, they sit in silence, and although she can feel Cal's worried gaze on her more often than not, she's able to find the strength to smile reassuringly at her sister, to hug her daughter, and to think about something other than her grief for the first time since everything had happened.
The next morning, Kate forces herself out of bed, much in the same manner as the day before. She finds it's easier to breathe somehow, taking her day one step at a time, and even though she's still exhausted and jumpy and wrung out, she manages to make her way into her daughter's room. Bridie is flung out in the middle of the sheets, and she finds herself marvelling at Bridie much in the same way as when she was a baby, that this is Kate's girl, her baby.
"Bee?" Kate murmurs, brushing a clump of hair back from Bridie's face. "Bridie, Sweetie, it's time to get ready to school." There's an unintelligable mumbling, then Bridie stretches and sits up, frowning.
"You're... you're taking me?" She mumbles.
"I am." Kate agrees. "If that's okay with you, I... I really just want to spend some time with you."
Bridie grins. "I'll be ready in a bit."
"Run, run, run, run, run!" Kate laughs, dragging Bridie's hand as they dash across the intersection just as the man flashes red. And it feels good, just to be carefree, with the cold ocean air stinging their cheeks, early-morning commuters staring and Bridie's hair flying in all directions. They slow to a walk as they catch up with the rest of the pedestrians, both laughing. "Oh, I totally should not be teaching you to jaywalk."
"It's okay." Bridie grins, tucking the hair behind her ear and readjusting her bag so that it's sitting better on her back. "It's nice just to see you."
Kate smiles sadly, but tries not to see the confession as her own failure. "Well, I'm sorry it hasn't been more lately. I know I've been... busy. And that's not okay. I just..."
"It's okay." Bridie repeats. "You had a lot to worry about." She hesitates for a moment, opens her mouth, and then closes it once more. Kate, knowing her daughter is holding something in, nods.
"Tell me." Kate encourages, smiling at Bridie. Almost unconsciously, she reaches out and untucks Bridie's collar from where it has flipped underneath her bag strap. "Remember. You can always tell me anything."
Bridie nods. It looks as though she's squaring her shoulders ready for battle. "It's just..." She begins, fidgeting with her bracelet. "I... well, he's dead, isn't he?" Kate doesn't have to ask who 'he' is. She nods, and Bridie continues. "Do I have to go to his funeral?"
The question takes Kate so by surprise she flinches, but forces herself to recover. "I... well... um..." She leans closer. "Did you want to?"
"No." Bridie shakes her head, then winces, as though she's worried she's upset Kate. "I mean, if I have to. I mean, we went to Mrs Nell's funeral but that was because she was our neighbour, but... I didn't know if I had to. I don't know... what's usual. What's expected."
"No." Kate shakes her head. "You don't have to go. And neither do I. We don't... we don't owe him anything. But if it's something you want to do, I... I can come with you. It's your decision, okay?"
Bridie slows, her fingers pressing another crossing button over and over again. "He's not my dad." She spits eventually. "I mean, he is, but... he's not, you know. He was a monster and now he's dead and I... I should feel bad, but I don't."
"You don't have to feel anything. Okay? You're... you're allowed to feel however you want. It's... it's hard. But Mike's been trying to make me see there's... there's no wrong way to feel."
"So... am I a bad person if I'm happy he's dead?" Bridie's voice is barely more than a whisper, and Kate can tell this has been weighing on her.
"No." Kate says. She stops, pulling Bridie aside and crouching so that she can better look into her face. "You, Bridie McGregor, are not a bad person. You have never been a bad person. And there is nothing you could do that could ever change who you are inside."
For a moment they look at each other, mother and daughter, and then Bridie nods, and she seems to relax a little more into herself. "That's what Rosie said." Bridie murmurs. "When I talked to her."
"She's right."
"It's... it's funny." Bridie shrugs, and Kate finds herself wrapping an arm around Bridie. She'd been getting older, and Kate found she did this less often, not wanting to embarrass her ever-growing daughter. However, now she finds all she needs to do is hold some part of this miracle. "Because I can talk to her and so many of the things we're feeling are the same but... but different, you know? But it's nice to talk to her." Bridie looks up. "Does it help you too, having Mike to talk to?"
"Yeah." Kate agrees. "I mean, he's annoying, but... but he's good."
Bridie smiles. "He's funny." She agrees. "And... and he likes you." Bridie fiddles with her nail polish. "Mum, if you wanted to... to be with Mike and... and have a normal family, that's okay. Or with anyone, really. You... you deserve to be happy."
"Hey," Kate grins, pulling Bridie slightly closer to her. "I am happy, with you and Aunty Cal. You are my... unnormal, normal family. Never forget that, okay?"
"I know, but... but if you wanted... I'd be okay. He's a good guy, Mum."
Kate nods, squeezing her daughter's hand. "Yeah, he is." She agrees. "And I love you, kiddo. More than anything, okay."
For the next few weeks, Mike and Rosie seem to spend almost as much time at their place as they do out of it, the camp bed permanently set up in Bridie's room and Mike occupying the lounge. And it helps, to have him there, especially when Cal goes back to uni and the girls are at school. He's by her side each step of the way, as she is called in to make follow up statements at the police station, or to wait outside as she visits Maddie in remand, or else to be there by her side as Kate goes to visit Claire and Savannah. And even though she's still overwhelmed by the injustice of it all, she can't help but be glad he's there.
When Kate emerges from the police station once more it's to see Mike, dutifully waiting. He stands when he sees her, raising a cup. "Got you a coffee." He smiles. "Not as strong as your usual, but still..."
"Thanks." Kate nods and takes a gulp, more for something to do than any real thirst. "They've offered to reduce her charge to manslaughter if she pleads guilty. Something to do with voluntary manslaughter by provocation. She's... she's going to take it."
"And... and what does she get?"
"Ten years. Possible parole in five." She aims a kick at a rock on the ground. It skids away. "She told the girls yesterday she was going to take it. They're staying with her sister at the moment. In therapy. I..." Kate trails off and squeezes her hands into a ball. "It's... it's unfair. And I know me saying that means nothing, changes nothing. But... it's unfair. She did the wrong thing but... but she did it for the right reasons and she's suffering and he never had to."
"I know." Mike agrees. "It seems so wrong that someone like her has to suffer when someone like him..." He trails away. "I used to think the same thing. Like why do these... these scumbags who murder and rape get to live, and Sarah didn't. But... but I know that's not the way the world works, as much as I want it to." He turns to Kate. "And... and I like to think things happen for a reason. Even if we don't quite know what those reasons are. It helps, for me, to think there's some... cosmic plan or something. Or stars aligning or... or something."
"I never used to believe in fate. Or destiny or any of that bullshit. But... I think it would be nice for there to be a... a plan." She smiles at him. "And... if I hadn't have had the life I had, I wouldn't have Bridie. I wouldn't have Cal and... and I wouldn't have met you."
They walk down the street, with no real destination in mind, and Kate's sure his thoughts are probably just as faraway as hers are. "Mike..." She begins. "I... I want to say thank you. For being here. And for trusting me with your... your family and... and your memories of Sarah. She... well, I would have loved to have been able to meet her. And Rose is very lucky to have you as her Dad."
Mike turns to look at her, nodding intently. "Well, I'd... I'd say that was almost a compliment." He grins, before reaching out and squeezing her hand. "Any time." He says, in a more serious tone. "And I just want to say... I don't take it lightly. It's... I feel honoured that you've trusted me by letting me in. And letting me spend time with Cal and Bridie. They're... they're amazing. And just so you know... well, you are too."
"Mike?" Kate begins again. "When all of this is over, and... and I've figured out my head... would you... do you think we could try the whole us thing again?"
Mike's smile widens, but he keeps his gaze fixed ahead. She rolls her eyes, wondering vaguely what smartarse comment she's going to get back this time, but she finds she doesn't really feel the embarrassment she predicted she might. A moment later, Mike nods. "I'd like that." He agrees, and his hand still clutching hers, they walk back down the street.