So, ah, two years, eh? Possibly. It's a long time. Anything could happen...
Rated: Fiction T - English - Angst/Romance - Chapters: 18 - Words: 34,646 - Reviews: 10 - Favs: 1 - Updated: Oct 21, 2001 - Published: Nov 26, 2000 - Status: Complete - id: 123411
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The Journey: Chapter EightSONG LYRIC CREDITS 8: Out Of Tears
(The Rolling Stones)
Chapter 8
Rachel woke up, feeling very sore. She carefully pulled
herself up to a sitting position, wincing. Her new daughter lay sleeping
in a small cot beside the bed. Rachel wanted to go and pick her up, but
her stitches didn't think she should be standing upright just yet.
Begrudgingly, she rang for the nurse.
"Still a bit sore, are you?" the nurse asked her sympathetically
when Rachel communicated her desire. Smiling, she picked up the baby and
handed her to her mother before quietly exiting the room.
The baby stirred in her mother's arms, but she didn't
wake. Rachel gently touched the baby's wisps of blonde hair. She wondered
if it would stay that colour, or darken to a shade more like hers. The
little girl's nose was so tiny it was barely there, but Rachel was sure
the mouth looked like Frank's. "You have a daughter, Frank," she whispered.
"A beautiful daughter."
A discreet knock on the open door indicated the return
of the nurse. "You have a visitor," she announced, smiling, and then stepped
aside.
"David!" Rachel was surprised to see her son here on his
own. She hadn't thought Jonathon would let him visit her.
He smiled, "I told Dad I wanted to ride my bike to school,
and I left early so I could come and see you on the way," he explained.
"Did Grandad call you?"
He nodded. "Can I hold her?" he asked.
Rachel gently gave him the baby, explaining how to support
her head. David studied his little sister carefully.
When she wrapped her tiny fingers around his, he looked
up at his mum and smiled. "I think she likes me!" he giggled.
Rachel smiled back; not having the heart to tell him it
was only a reflex. She'd been worried how David would react, after being
the centre of her universe for the last twelve years, but he seemed quite
taken with her.
"Mum," he began suddenly, "We don't have the same Dad,
do we?" he asked.
Rachel swallowed. She'd known this question would come
sooner or later. She shook her head. "No, you don't."
David nodded, he'd figured this out already. "So who *is*
her Dad?" he asked.
Rachel debated how to answer this question, but she finally
decided that the direct approach was best. "You remember Frank."
David nodded, thoughtfully. "You should have made him
stay, Mum," he said.
Little bugger, thought Rachel. Where had he learnt to
be so blunt?
Silly question.
~~ * ~~
"Rachel!" Felix Friedman greeted as he entered his daughter's
room.
"Hi Dad," Rachel smiled.
Felix smiled back, but there was something about his smile
that put Rachel on guard.
"What is it?" she asked immediately.
He sighed, and sat down by her bed. "I telephoned Helen
to tell her where you were," he told her, "And she told me one of your
friends was killed last night," he told her gently, "A Detective Alex...
St Clare?"
Rachel nodded, dumbfounded.
"I'm sorry, Rachel."
Rachel wiped tears from her eyes. She would deal with
it later, she decided. Trying to smile, she asked her father, "Would you
like to meet your granddaughter?"
~~ * ~~
It was almost as if a shadow fell across the room when
Jack appeared in the doorway. Rachel didn't know what to say to him, so
she waited for him to speak first.
"Alex is dead," he said bluntly.
I can't feel, feel a thing I can't shout, I can't scream Breathe it out, breathe it in All this love from within
"I heard. Jack, I'm so sorry," she told him, knowing words
were inadequate.
He nodded, looking as if his world was coming to an end.
"What happened?" she asked carefully.
Jack sat down heavily in the chair her father had vacated.
His head dropped into his hands, and Rachel saw his shoulders shake from
sobbing. Some minutes passed before he wiped his eyes roughly and looked
up to meet Rachel's sympathetic eyes.
"I turned my back on her," he whispered. "It was only
for a minute, but it was enough. He stabbed her with a piece of glass,
and she died before the ambulance got there."
Rachel felt her own eyes sting with tears as she leaned
forward and put her arms around her grieving friend. She felt his tension
ease a little as he began crying on the shoulder of her hospital gown.
Rachel cried too; for Alex, who was gone; for Jack, who was alone; and
for Frank, who was oblivious to everything.
"I'm gonna get him," Jack vowed. "Whoever he is, I'm gonna
make sure he gets what's coming to him."
"Jack, don't do anything stupid," Rachel warned, sitting
back against her pillows. "She wouldn't want you to."
"I know," he said, looking down. "She said she wanted
to talk to me about something," he confessed. "We never got around to it.
She's been so distant, I thought she was going to break it off. I thought
that was the worst thing that could happen. I could have let her go, if
that was what she wanted. I'd rather she was alive and happy without me."
"It does," Rachel insisted. She resisted the urge to quote
the cliche; it would be extremely unhelpful at this point.
He took a deep breath, and seemed to push all thoughts
of his fiance to the back of his mind. Standing up, he walked around the
bed to the cot on the other side. He stared down at the tiny form for a
few seconds; his face expressionless.
"You can pick her up if you like," Rachel told him.
She wasn't sure if he'd even heard her or not, until he
carefully leaned forward and picked the baby up. She woke up, but she didn't
cry, instead squinting at him as if she was trying to figure out where
she'd seen him before.
Rachel noticed the faintest suggestion of a smile cross
Jack's face. "How would you feel about being her godfather?" she asked
carefully.
Jack looked back at Rachel, his face unreadable. "I'd
be honoured," he answered quietly. He sat down in the chair by the bed,
gently rocking the baby as he did. "What are you going to call her?"
Rachel bit her lip, wondering if now was the right time
to ask. She'd never been definite on a name, until her father had told
her the news that morning.
"How about Alex?" she asked softly.
"I think she'd like that," Jack agreed softly.
~~ * ~~
Rachel awoke from a doze a few hours later to see Helen
carefully placing a package on her bedside table.
"Oh, I'm sorry," she apologised. "I was trying not to
wake you."
"Oh, that's okay," Rachel laughed, wincing as she carefully
pulled herself up to a sitting position.
Helen handed the present to Rachel, who carefully took
off the wrapping. Underneath was a red jumpsuit and a box of liqueur chocolates.
Rachel smiled. "Thank you!"
Helen leaned over and gave her friend a hug. She sat down
next to the bed, and became serious again. "Your Dad told you?" she asked.
Rachel nodded sadly.
"I would have come earlier, but..."
"Yeah, I know," Rachel answered quietly. "You will keep
an eye on Jack, won't you?"
"Of course. He's been to see you?"
"Yeah. I don't know what to say to him. Helen, can I ask
your advice about something?" she asked, frowning.
"You know the answer to that."
"There was something Alex told me, a few weeks ago. I
can't decide if I should tell Jack or not."
"Do you think he should know?"
"Yes... and no. She was pregnant, Helen," Rachel told
her. Saying it made her throat hurt with grief.
Helen's hand flew to her mouth. "Oh no! And Jack didn't
know?"
Rachel shook her head.
"Maybe it was for the best," Helen said. "What good would
it do him to know now?"
Rachel sighed. "Maybe you're right. It just might be the
thing that pushes him over the edge."
~~ * ~~
Jack came to visit her every day, looking like death warmed
up, and they shared more than a few tears that week. Helen and her father
were extremely supportive, and eventually, there seemed to be a light at
the end of the tunnel.
Baby Alex was a charmer. She had everybody who looked
at her smiling and making baby noises in seconds. Even Jack seemed to lose
a bit of gloom when she wrapped her little fingers around his.
A week after the birth, Rachel was discharged from the
hospital, under the proviso she didn't drive or attempt to lift any heavy
objects for the next six weeks, which seemed to her a rather excessive
period of time.