Thank you so much to everyone who's reviewed- schefflera, Mrs Carmichael, wrprincess, LittleH12, Lynny, RachelMasonFan39, hannah5240 and Guest, you're all wonderful! And thanks to everyone else reading :) x

Saturdays were the one day of the week that Rachel allowed herself to do absolutely nothing. She did as little or as much as she pleased and refused to feel guilty about it- sleeping late, eating whatever she pleased, not even getting dressed sometimes if she wasn't planning on leaving the house. Mondays through Fridays were devoted to school, and Sundays often involved the boring bits of being a grown adult, such as cleaning and shopping but Saturdays? They were hers.

This Saturday, Rachel spent hollow and achy. Her very bones felt tired and exhausted, the world around her just a little disjointed, out of sync, and she slept for as long as she could in the morning for the simple reason that she didn't want to return to full consciousness and so fought against it as hard as she could.

Of course it didn't work, and she finally rose late morning, wincing at the ache in her muscles. The benefit of being by herself was that no one could judge her for having a bath at what was effectively lunch time- the water was almost scalding, and she quickly ran some cold into it as she stripped off, pausing when she caught sight of herself in the mirror.

The bruises that stained her body were almost all yellowed and faded now- the ones on her back were still green around the edges, deeper than the rest but her hips showed barely a dusting of colour, and she wasn't sure how she felt that the reminders of that night were almost vanished. Well, most of them, she thought, lifting her fingers to the mark on her collarbone.

It was a deep red once again, re-bruised by Eddie's lips the night before. Her throat constricted at the sight. She wasn't sure how she was supposed to feel or act and so she did her best not to, hastily turning her back to the reflection and climbing into the bath where she welcomed the searing heat, forcing herself to concentrate on the feeling instead of what had happened the previous evening.

But that only worked for as long as the water was hot and when she was curled up on the sofa, the night before played over and over in her mind, what ifs and should haves running circles around her until she felt like screaming. She longed to reach for a glass of wine, but the alcohol she'd already consumed the night before had probably been more than advisable, so she refrained. Ice cream it was, and if she dug the spoon a little too viciously into the pot, then who was going to judge her?

By the time Sunday came around, however, she was thoroughly fed up of feeling sorry for herself, and determined to carry on her life as normal. Not long after she'd moved to Rochdale, she'd discovered a small, traditional farmers' market held on the outskirts. Meat, fruit and veg and other random items were all on sale and she preferred them over supermarket products, and so an hour or two every Sunday was spent there, with the rest of her necessities being bought in an actual shop on the way back home. It was normal and boring and oddly satisfying, but distracting enough that she didn't have to think about Eddie or school or anything but whether she wanted apples or oranges that week.

It was early afternoon when she eventually got home, and she was so distracted that at first she didn't notice the bouquet of flowers sat on her doorstep until she was three steps away and the colours finally caught her eye.

They were beautiful, she could admit as she carried them into the house. There were precious few people in the world who knew she loved flowers. Only one person, in fact, as she wasn't sure even Melissa knew, let alone anyone else. So she was unsurprised to see Eddie's name on the bottom of the card, signed underneath a tiny hand written note.

I don't remember everything, but there's enough to know I need to apologise. I'd do it in person if I thought it wouldn't upset you. I am sorry- forgive me? Eddie x

Rachel sighed, sliding into a seat at the counter and twirling the card in her fingers. One part of her, her head was telling her it was a bad idea, to run and stay away. But there was another, longing part of her that remembered what they'd had a few months before and desperately wanted it back, no matter the cost.

With the tip of her finger, she traced the petal of one of the flowers. She suspected that the next move was up to her- if she did nothing, Eddie would probably stay away, rightly taking her silence for rejection.

She sighed again, and went to fetch the rest of her shopping from the car.

She spent the day torn and by the time evening ticked around, she still hadn't decided what to do. She had picked up her phone and put it down again dozens of times, had crossed to the fridge and withdrawn a bottle of wine only to hesitate before even opening it, unwilling to risk a headache before the craziness of school the next morning. And it was bitterly ironic, that in any other situation like this it was Melissa she would be calling, asking for advice.

On that sour note, she went to bed.

She slept fitfully, waking frequently before she could fall into a deep sleep. She turned her pillow over and over, hoping it would help, grabbed more blankets only to wake up too warm, chucked them off only to start shivering. All she actually wanted was to go to sleep, she thought in frustration.

She sat at her desk, chin propped on her hand as she watched the clock tick around to 8.45, the bell ringing exactly on time. Thundering footsteps sounded as the last few kids raced to get to class, but one set sounded different, coming closer and closer until the door to her office was flung open and Eddie stood there, a beaming smile on his face.

"Eddie, what-?"

"She's mine after all!" He bounded into the room.

"Sorry?"

"The baby! She's mine after all! Isn't that wonderful?"

She stared at him in shock. "I don't understand..."

"What's to understand? She's mine! I have a daughter!"

She felt like she'd been punched, legs turning to lead. "I see."

"It's going to be great," he continued excitedly. "We're going to give her a proper family. A house, her two big brothers, the whole package."

Movement in the doorway attracted her attention. Melissa was stood there, a bundle of blankets in her arms, smiling affectionately at Eddie. He crossed to her, and the two stood cooing over the baby, apparently forgetting Rachel was in the room.

Unable to help herself, she stood and moved closer. As she did, the bundle squirmed, some of the blankets falling away and she felt like she couldn't breath as the little girl with Eddie's eyes gazed back at her. "But… that's not the baby from the picture."

"Well of course not." Melissa rolled her eyes. "This is Eddie's baby. Eddie's and mine."

"Problem, Rachel?" she spun, stunned to find Max behind her, sat in the chair she'd just vacated. As she watched he leant back, smirking as he adjusted the sign on the desk. Executive Headteacher.

She couldn't quite catch her breath, one hand rising to her chest as she gasped in breath after breath. She was hot, too hot, the room too warm. The air was too warm, burning her throat with each inhale.

Only… the room was no longer a room. It was a corridor, the corridor by the canteen and she could hear the creaking of the building around her, could smell the smoke and the burning of wood and plastic as the flames licked up the corridor towards her. She tried to stumble back, but her legs were frozen in place and in desperation she looked back, just in time to see Melissa and Eddie walking away from her. "Eddie!"

He paused, didn't quite look back at her. "Sorry, Rach. But Mel and the baby… you were the one who said you didn't want to be involved."

The flames were closer now, rising around her. "Melissa!"

Her sister turned, tilted her head. "You're my big sister, Rachel. Can't you be happy for me?"

"Happy? Mel…"

"He loves me as well, Rachel. And let's face it… you're you." Her gaze flicked to the ceiling above Rachel. She followed her gaze, just as a crack resounded around them and the parts of the plaster and metal fell towards her. She raised her arms on instinct, crying out just as heat seemed to explode around her.

She gasped, eyes flying open. Her duvet had twisted too tightly, pinning her legs and it was too thick and warm around her, the room stifling. She scrabbled at the covers, breathing easier only once she'd freed herself from them, immediately swinging herself out of bed and out of the room.

The hallway was thankfully cooler, and she leant against the bannisters, sucking in a few deep breaths. She pressed her fingers against the scar she didn't need to look at, feeling shaky from the aftereffects of the dream. She didn't even know what time it was, knew only that it was still pitch black outside the window, she noted as she looked to the end of the hall.

Only to freeze. The direction meant she could see downstairs as well, to the front door where the light of the streetlamp spilled in through the glass. Or normally did, anyway. Now, the figure of someone standing outside her front door blocked most of the light.

For a moment, she couldn't move. The figure raised its arm, and she thought for a second it would smash the glass but instead, three loud knocks sounded.

She moved towards the top of the stairs, bare feet silent on the carpet. Her breathing was loud- too loud, shaky and uneven, the only sound she could hear as the night air raised goosebumps along her arms. She slowly descended the first few stairs, almost falling down them when she jumped at another three knocks. "Rachel? Rach, it's me!"

She blew out a breath at Eddie's voice. The rest of the stairs she took more quickly, grabbing her keys to unlock the door. "What the hell, Eddie?" she demanded as she threw it open.

He stepped in, hands landing on her hips to push her backwards against the wall. She yelped, grabbing his shoulders to steady herself but there was no need- he'd pinned her completely, lips landing on hers.

He kissed just as he always did, but she could smell the beer, taste the alcohol and pushed at him. "Eddie, stop. What are you doing?"

"Want you."

His lips attached themselves to her neck when she turned her face away. She couldn't move, couldn't gain any leverage as she shoved uselessly at his shoulders. "No. Stop it, you're drunk."

"I only had a few."

"You've had more than a few. It's the middle of the night, for God's sake."

His hand came up, sliding through her hair and forcing her mouth against his. Only now, she tasted the bourbon on his breath and gagged. She couldn't stand that taste, not since she'd been nineteen and…

"Stop!"

It was no longer Eddie pushed against her, but a faceless man from her past, too drunk to take no for an answer in an alley one winter. She remembered, vividly, the ice-cold concrete behind her, the scrapes it had left against her skin as she fought to get away.

She remembered the moment she had stopped fighting. All night in the cold, with too little clothing and no hot food in days had left her too exhausted and she'd simply let him do as he pleased, tears running silently down her cheeks.

The man in front of her pinned her by the throat and drew back enough for her to look at him even as her fingers scrabbled against his. Bloodshot eyes and broken blood vessels stared back at her, whites of the eyes tinged yellow. No longer Eddie, or that man in the alley, but her father.

A noise had her looking round, finding the source from two little girls huddled on the stairs. One blonde, too young to remember this and the other brunette, eyes wide at the scene. Melissa and Amanda.

"Daddy, stop!"

Had she spoken, or that little girl stood on the stairs? She remembered this scene, only it had been her mother stood where she currently was, with a black eye and bruised ribs the next morning. It had been her fault, she knew. She'd been telling Melissa a story, a fairytale, where Prince Charming had come and rescued his love, carrying her off to his castle. Melissa had been entranced, asking if one day, a prince would come and fall hopelessly in love with her as well. Their father had overheard, and flown into a rage.

Rachel had stepped in front of Melissa, had taken her father's wrath. "There's no such thing as Prince Charming," he'd hissed, what she now knew to be Guinness on his breath, "and if there were, who could ever love a little brat like you?"

Which was when her mother had come in, pulled her husband away and suffered for it.

But her father was gone, and she wasn't a little girl who believed in fairytales or monsters anymore. She thrashed in his hold, nails scratching and feet kicking, sucking in air through his grip. She raised her hand up, intending to bring it down against his face…

Only to wake with a gasp when her knuckles met the wood of her headboard, stinging at the whack she'd inadvertently given them. For a few seconds, she merely lay there, stunned and breathless.

A glance at the clock told her it was 5am, and she groaned. She was never getting back to sleep now, she knew, her heart still threatening to beat itself right out of her chest.

Instead, she climbed into a shower turned as hot as she could stand, chasing away the chill of her dreams and wandered downstairs in her dressing gown, turning on the radio and the television to fill the house with noise. But in the kitchen, she paused, the bouquet of flowers standing proudly on the island and she found herself drifting towards them, her father's words echoing in her head.

Who could love you?

Only Eddie did. Or at least, had. Somehow, he'd seen past every barrier, wormed under her defences and never seemed to care about her idiosyncrasies, only about her. He'd never been particularly caught up by what she looked like, had seemed to be more in awe of her herself rather than her body or even her scar. Her past had just been an element of her, to him, part of what made her Rachel.

She didn't even really think about it before she grabbed her phone, typing out and sending a message and pausing only afterwards to hope he had it turned to silent while he slept.

Thank you for the flowers. They're beautiful.

W.R.

The school day seemed to be dragging, the clocks purposefully ticking slow. Rachel hated that she had come to this, counting down the minutes until she could escape from her office.

Well, from Max, she corrected herself.

The truth was, when the breaktime bell rang, she headed down to the canteen not because she was hungry, but because it gave her an excuse to leave the room. She grabbed her usual apple, spotted Steph waving at her from near the back and joined her with a curious expression. "Morning."

"Good morning." The blonde had a smirk on her face. "Have a good weekend?"

Rachel eyed her suspiciously. "It was fine, thank you. Yours?"

"Oh, fine, fine."

Steph continued to have the strangest expression on her face, and Rachel raised an eyebrow at her. "What is it?"

"Nothing."

It definitely wasn't, but Rachel was saved from prying further by the appearance of Kim, who grabbed her shoulder. "Sorry Steph, but I need to borrow Rachel." She caught her arm, tugged her out and Rachel barely managed to keep her feet beneath her. "It's about Zara, the year nine girl?"

And so once again her day became complete chaos.

At least until lunchtime, when Zara had been sent home for the day and Rachel was attempting to unenthusiastically force down a dry sandwich, pointedly ignoring the whispers from Steph and Ruby a few seats down. Something was up, she knew. By this point, she knew she wasn't imagining the covert glances and hastily paused conversations, but since the kids didn't seem to be involved she couldn't bring herself to care that much. She had no doubt that if it were actually important, Chris or Kim would raise the issue.

"Hi Rachel," Tom greeted as he sat down across from her. She managed a weak smile, murmuring a greeting back. After small talk, and no end of off-glances from him, she finally landed on a topic that seemed to make him smile.

"How are the girls?"

"They're great!" he beamed. "Mika's involved in every society she can be- she's throwing around the idea of being a teacher eventually. And Chlo is loving being a mum- Izzie's so sweet, she and Donte are really doing well."

She carried on asking questions, which had the joint bonus of bringing her up to date on her three former students, and deterring the rest of the staff from butting in. Not that it stopped the glances and murmurs.

Eventually, however, conversation about Chlo and Mika tailed off, and Tom suddenly looked very uncomfortable. She raised an eyebrow at him as he seemed to hesitate, wavering for a few seconds before apparently coming to a decision. "Look, Rachel… I think you should know… last Friday…"

"Rach?"

They both looked around at the voice, Rachel unable to hide her surprise when she saw Phillip standing behind her. The boy looked even more awkward than he usually did, shifting his weight constantly and playing with his clothes. "Do you have a minute?"

Her surprise grew, but she quickly tried to shove it down. "Of course."

He glanced at Tom, and a few of the other teachers who were watching in undisguised curiosity. Rachel followed his gaze, and her own softened slightly. "Somewhere private?"

He nodded, and she stood up, grabbing the remains of her lunch and chucking them in the bin. "See you later, everyone."

She guided Phillip out, to an empty room not far from the canteen and closed the door behind them, before shooting him an expectant look. "What's up?"

The poor boy looked utterly uncomfortable. That was hardly surprising- he'd gone from staying with her for a few days, to abruptly living with her permanently for months, only to then unexpectedly move out again and they hadn't really spoken since. His choice- she'd text him a few times to check on him, but eventually given up when all she'd received was short, obligatory replies.

"It's just… I'm don't know if… I mean… he said that he would… but I'm not sure if…"

"Phillip," she said gently. "Are you trying to ask if Eddie has spoken to me?"

He looked so blatantly relieved, she had to fight to keep the amusement off her face. He nodded at her. "He has then?"

"Yes. He told me, as much as he knew, anyway."

He swallowed thickly. "I'm sorry."

"What on earth are you sorry for?"

He shrugged, looked down at his feet.

"Phillip." A hand on his chin had him looking up at her properly, her gaze kind. "Listen to me. You are not responsible for your mother's actions, and absolutely nothing that has happened is anything you should feel the slightest bit guilty about. Do you understand?"

"But… what she did…"

"Has nothing to do with you." Her hand had slid around to gently cup his face, forcing him to continue to look at her and see the truth in her eyes. "You have nothing to be sorry for, and it is not your place to apologise for her."

He couldn't believe she wasn't angry with him. He swallowed thickly, nodded. "So… we're alright then?"

"Of course we are." Her other hand rose to frame his face for a few seconds, smiling at him and he couldn't deny the sense of relief, tension easing out of his shoulders. "You're a good boy, Phillip."

"Thanks Rach."

He grinned brightly at her, and she shooed him away to enjoy the rest of his lunchtime before collapsing into a chair and burying her face in her hands. She'd never gone for mediation or breathing exercises- she was beginning to think she should start. She'd meant what she said, none of this was Phillip's fault. It didn't stop a pang from hitting her every time she looked at him thought. But regardless, she couldn't stay in that room all day so with a deep breath, she stood, choosing to return to her office rather than face whatever was up with the staff that day.

Not that that lasted- another fight, this time less physical, thankfully, and an entire history class who had turned on their new teacher, locking him out of the room. A former John Foster's teacher.

By the close of day, Rachel was thoroughly exhausted with everything. Max Tyler seemed determined to make every ones' lives more difficult, she thought as she drove home, and right now she was having a hard time seeing how the two groups of students would ever unite, especially when their teachers seemed unable to.

She was so caught up in her thoughts, that she almost didn't see the figure sat on her doorstep. Probably wouldn't have, actually, if he hadn't stood up, the movement attracting her attention. She put the car in park, climbing out with a small frown on her face. "Eddie?"

"Hi."

She came to a stop in front of him, head tilting slightly. "What are you doing here?"

"I wanted to apologise in person," he said softly. His hands were shoved into his pockets, so she couldn't see them tapping anxiously against his legs.

"You already sent the flowers."

"They were just part one. I am sorry, Rachel. I went too far."

She shook her head slightly. "We'd both had a bit too much. Again."

"That's no excuse, not for all of it." His eyes flicked to where her collarbone was hidden under her blouse, and she felt her cheeks heat at the allusion.

"Why don't you come inside?" she suggested quickly, willing the blush to die down quickly. She led the way, dumping her bags down before she headed into the kitchen and flicking the kettle on. "Your normal?" When he didn't reply, she turned around, found him staring at her incredulously. "What?"

"How are you not angry with me?"

She sighed. "I spent a large part of my afternoon angry. I'm too tired to carry on now."

"You should be angry." He sounded miserable.

"Why?"

"What I did? What I said?" He received an odd look from her- out of everything she'd been expecting, to be told she wasn't reacting strongly enough hadn't really entered her mind as a possibility. "Rachel, I had you pinned against the wall and said that-,"

He cut himself off, looking unspeakably guilty and disgusted with himself and she sighed. "Eddie, you didn't do anything wrong. You might have had a bit too much and come on a little strong, but I didn't react well. That's on me."

"You should have slapped me."

"I'm not going to hit you!" she sounded outraged, but he merely looked at her morosely.

"I would have deserved it."

"Would you stop?" Impatience entered her tone. "Pity parties don't suit you."

"Rachel-,"

She cut over the top of him. "Eddie, enough. I've told you- it's forgotten."

He fell silent, and she turned back to making tea. She'd just poured it out when he spoke again. "I am sorry."

"So you've said." She turned to face him, looking at him plaintively. "Eddie, I mean it, let it go. It was late, we'd both been drinking and were both emotional. End of."

"Seems to be becoming a recurring theme with us," he mumbled and she huffed out a half-laugh.

"Isn't it just."

She turned back around, stirring the cups when he spoke again. "You know you were wrong, right?"

"About?"

"What you said. About… how I see you," he said delicately and for a moment she was baffled. Until she recalled the words she'd said to him, and swallowed thickly.

"I thought you didn't remember everything?"

"I remember that. You know I've never seen you like that… never will see you like that. You know that, right?"

She gave a jerky nod, still not turning around as she busied herself with taking the tea bags out. Which meant she jumped when Eddie's hand landed on her arm, and was this going to become a new thing he did?

"Rachel. Tell me you know I don't see you like that?"

"No?" she looked at him, eyes meeting his and couldn't deny that she was relieved when a look of unmistakeable horror crossed his face.

"No," he emphasised. "Never."

It was a fear she didn't even fully realise had been festering inside her. Although, she thought, perhaps she should have, given her outburst at Eddie the other evening. Something tight inside her chest eased, and she gave him a small nod, a small smile playing across her lips as she turned back to her task.

She handed Eddie his cup, going to sit at the island, fully expecting him to join her. Instead, he hovered where he was, looking uncertain. "I need to tell you something."

Her gaze flicked across to him, something in his tone causing ice to trickle down her spine. He rocked on his heels, eyes shifting to her and immediately away every few seconds. "Are you okay?"

He shifted uncomfortably, leant against the side. "You asked me the other day if you needed to be concerned about the drinking."

She froze, slowly put her cup down. "Yes?"

"I didn't lie. It's not a problem, not yet. But… but I think it easily could be," he admitted. She swallowed thickly.

"How so?"

"Friday night… after, I went and drank more," he confessed, and she couldn't quite hide her wince. "And when I woke up Saturday and remembered- sort of- what had happened… my first instinct was to reach for a bottle."

"Did you?"

He shook his head. "No. I wanted to though."

She wasn't entirely sure what to say to that. Did that count as having a problem? It was a bit hypocritical- she'd certainly had days when she woke up and longed for nothing more than to jump straight back into oblivion through any means necessary. Hell, she'd felt the same on Saturday.

"I tipped them all down the sink when I realised what I was doing," Eddie had continued, an unhappy expression set on his face. She stayed quiet, just letting him speak and he managed a tiny smile for her, recognising what she was doing. "My point is, it's not going to happen again. And I'm not just saying that, I mean it. Friday… it bought some things home to me." he came over, leant on the side in front of her.

"You're grieving, Eddie. That's natural."

"Is it?"

She frowned, tilted her head. "Of course it is! Eddie, you lost a child. Perhaps not in the same way as before, but you've still lost her. You're allowed to grieve for that."

"Don't you see? That's half the issue!" Pain was etched across his face. He pushed himself upright, beginning to pace whilst she watched him with wide eyes.

"I don't see," she admitted, bewildered.

"Rachel, I didn't want her!" he burst out, looking miserable. "I'd accepted she existed, promised myself I was going to be a good father, that I'd make sure I never blamed her for what happened. But every time I looked at Melissa- I did blame them both. I lost you, my job, and it was their fault. I loved her, I was so excited to have a daughter… but there's a part of me that's relieved she isn't mine."

He looked utterly desolate and guilty and even if she had wanted to, she couldn't have stopped herself from crossing over to him, reaching out for his hands, which had the added effect of stopping his erratic movements. "Eddie, that's normal," she said gently. "So many things were happening- of course you had mixed emotions. I know you, you're a wonderful father and I have no doubt you would have been to the baby as well."

"I'm not so sure."

"Well, I am."

Something in his expression softened. "I've missed you, Rach."

She just knew she was blushing again, head ducking as a small smile grew. He'd said it before but it was nice to hear it again, when it wasn't part of a drunken, lustful haze. "Missed you too."