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
+-Full3/41/2ExpandTighten
The Journey: Chapter SixteenSONG LYRIC CREDITS 16: Shivers
(The Screaming Jets), In These Arms (Bon Jovi), Sweet Child O' Mine (Guns
'N' Roses), All Coming Back To Me Now (Celine Dion), Every Word Was A Piece
Of My Heart (Bon Jovi)
Chapter 16
Frank strode purposefully along the beach. How could she
have done it? His anger blinded him to the restrictions of circumstance.
So what if she didn't have an address! She could have found a way to contact
him.
He heard a voice behind him calling his name. He turned.
Jack. Great, the second last person he wanted to see.
'You don't mean that,' a voice in his head told him. He ignored it.
"Jack, you gotta be the last person I wanna talk to!"
he yelled.
"Do I look like I care?" Jack yelled back.
Frank made a dismissive gesture with his hand, turned,
and continued his trudge along the deserted beach. Jack quickened his pace
to catch up.
"Didn't I tell you to bugger off?" Frank asked, when the
other man began to walk beside him.
"I chose not to hear that," Jack answered.
"What if I tell you again?" Frank asked.
Jack looked at him, pretending to be confused. "Did you
say something, Frank?"
Frank sighed in irritation, but made no more attempts
to get rid of him.
The two men walked in silence for a few minutes, until
Frank finally stopped. Jack stopped too, and turned back towards him. He
raised an eyebrow at Frank and waited.
"Jack, will ya say what you wanna say and piss off?"
"You don't know how lucky you are, Frank."
"Oh, right. And you're gonna tell me, I suppose."
"No, I'm not. Either you'll find it out for yourself,
or you don't deserve to know."
"That all?"
"Not quite. Don't wait 'til they're gone to figure out
how much you want them."
"Them?" The question was out of his mouth before he could
stop it.
"Rachel and Alex."
The sound of her name Sends a permanent shiver Down my spine, down my spine
His emotions suddenly spinning even more out of control,
Frank turned and stared out to sea. Jack stood silently beside him for
a minute. "She's already waited two years for you, Frank," he stated quietly.
"If there's one thing I can tell you, it's not to waste time, because you
never get it back."
Then he turned and walked back the way he had come, leaving
Frank alone with his thoughts.
~~ * ~~
Frank unlocked his front door for the first time in two
years. As it swung open, a stale, musty and slightly sickly smell greeted
him. He walked inside, shutting the door behind him.
"Slightly sickly" turned into "absolute pong" as he walked
into the kitchen. A carton of milk sat on the counter, filled with two
years worth of mould growth. Maybe Rachel was right when she called him
a grot.
The thought of her brought a pang of regret. He threw
the carton in the rubbish bin, thinking perhaps he should have put that
out before he left, too.
He'd definitely have to spend at least this first night
on the boat. Not even he could stand that smell! The utilities were naturally
no longer connected, either.
He wasn't sure what, but something compelled him to go
up the stairs to his bedroom.
The door stood half ajar, waiting for him. He pushed it
open with a creak and walked inside. Everything was as he had left it,
as he knew it would be.
His alarm clock still sat by his bed, no power to light
the numbers up, of course, and next to it sat a half full stubby of beer.
He idly wondered if it had been his or Rachel's. Not that it mattered.
Unable to help himself, he stared at the bed.
The doona and sheets still lay in a tangled mess. He sank
down onto the bed, picking up one of the pillows from where it had lain
on the floor. He buried his face in it, breathing in the scent of Rachel
that still seemed to linger. Perhaps it was only his imagination; everything
about her was burned into his brain.
Your clothes are still scattered all over our room This whole place still smells like your cheap perfume Everything here reminds me of you And there's nothing I wouldn't do
This was where it had happened, this was where it had
all begun; and he had left it behind to fulfil another man's dream.
He had a daughter. Alex. He wondered why Rachel had picked
that name. He whispered it aloud, trying it out. "Mine," he whispered incredulously,
with barely enough breath to give the word life.
Frank wished he had paid more attention. All he could
remember about her, besides a vague impression of wispy blonde curls and
smallness, were her eyes.
She's got eyes of the bluest skies As if they thought of rain I'd hate to look into those eyes And see an ounce of pain
Rachel's penetrating blue eyes, staring at him from that
soft, chubby face. He felt all sorts of things, none of which he could
put into words, even in his own head.
Before he knew it, he was back out of the door and headed
for Rachel's place.
~~ * ~~
"Can I come in?" Frank asked, when Rachel opened the door.
Not quite believing her eyes, Rachel nodded and stepped
aside. "Frank, I'm sorry," she began.
"No," he said, interrupting her, "I'm sorry Rach. If only
I'd known..." he trailed off, looking away.
If you forgive me all this, if I forgive you all
that We forgive and forget and it's all coming back
to me now
"Come sit down, Frank," Rachel said softly
He followed her to the lounge and fell onto the couch
like a tonne of bricks. "Got a beer?" he asked, feeling he'd never needed
one more. He also had a craving for a cigarette, even though it was years
since he'd quit.
"You're lucky," Rachel told him, returning from the kitchen.
"I didn't think I had any, but I found a six-pack in the back of the fridge."
"Cheers," he said, taking a few swallows and clutching
the stubby like a lifeline as he tried to think of something to say.
Rachel sat waiting silently; knowing Frank needed some
time to sort his thoughts out. She watched him gulp a few more mouthfuls
of beer before he finally spoke.
"You know what?" he told her, laughing nervously, "I can't
even picture you pregnant."
She laughed. "I think I've got a photograph if you really
want to see."
"Yeah, I do," he admitted.
Glad of some bridge to communication, Rachel got up and
fetched her photo album from the bookshelf. She opened it to the first
page and put it in Frank's lap.
Frank stared at the photograph for a long time before
he said anything. It had been taken in the meal room, during some kind
of office party. Rachel was in the centre of the picture, and the sight
of her, like *that*, was... weird. Very weird.
When you see me like this, and when I see you like
that We see just what we want to see, all coming back
to me
His eyes travelled upwards to her face. She had a smile
on for the camera, but he could see her eyes weren't in it, and he knew
from the surroundings they had been facing the window, looking out upon
the harbour.
It was a long time before he noticed the unfamiliar face
standing beside her. "Who is that?" he asked.
Rachel sighed, sadly. "That was Alex St Clare," she told
him. "She took over my job when I left, but she was killed in the line
of duty."
A shadow crossed Frank's eyes, and she knew he was thinking
of Louise, a woman he'd been seeing before she was killed by a stray gunshot.
Some wounds never healed.
"That's why you picked that name," he stated, almost flatly.
Rachel nodded. "She and Jack were going to get married,"
she added, and was surprised when Frank's eyes widened suddenly in understanding.
"What?" she asked, confusedly.
"Oh nothing," he shook his head. "Just something Jack
said to me. Now I know what he meant." He continued to stare down at the
picture, until he felt Rachel's hand gently touch his arm. He met her eyes,
and she smiled. Slowly, she leaned over him, and turned the page of the
photo album.
Frank's breath caught as he took in the three pictures
on the next page. Almost mechanically, he turned the pages, looking at
all the photographs in turn. He was almost to the end before one of his
tears dropped onto his hand. He hadn't even realised he'd been crying.
He touched one of the photographs with a rough hand, as
if he could somehow interact with the scene. Ali was sitting in a high
chair, and in front of her was a cake with one candle on it. She had cream
on her face, and there was a rather suspicious chunk missing from the cake.
In other circumstances, it would have been a charming photograph, but it
served to remind Frank of all the Kodak moments he must have missed in
her short life.
Rachel's grip on his arm tightened, and he allowed her
to pull him into her arms. He hugged her tightly, suddenly feeling how
much he'd missed her since he'd been gone.
If he didn't let go now, he never would, so he pulled
away carefully and smiled.
Rachel smiled back, tearfully. "Frank, if there's anything
you want to know, just ask."
"Well, there is one thing I've been wondering," he admitted.
"What's that?" Rachel asked.
"Why you came back that night."
Rachel sighed, wondering if she knew the answer to that
question herself. "Well," she began, "After we were, ahh... interrupted,
and I had to go, I couldn't stop wondering what would have happened if
Mick hadn't shown up when he did, you know?"
Frank nodded; he'd lain in bed that night with the same
thoughts.
"I went home," she continued, "And I tried to sleep, but
I kept thinking about how it could be our last chance. So I got up and
went back to your place." She gazed fixedly at him before adding, "I'm
not sorry I did."
Frank turned away from her and leaned forward, resting
his elbows on his knees and his chin in his hands. "I shouldn't have gone,"
he stated, "Especially after that."
"Frank, you had your reasons for going," she reminded
him. "You were sure about them at the time."
"I wish I still was," he replied.
Rachel sighed and stood up. "I'll be back in a sec," she
told Frank, and left the room, heading for her bedroom.
She returned a minute later, dropping a shoebox in his
lap.
"What's this?" Frank asked.
"Just a few mementos, some letters, all sorts really.
I thought you might like them."
Frank pulled the lid off of the shoebox. On the top was
a pink and blue album entitled simply 'Baby Book'. Underneath was a pile
of papers. Various things, a birth certificate, immunisation records, a
program to a naming ceremony. There was also an exercise book, with his
name written on it.
"Thanks," he told her.
Rachel yawned involuntarily before replying, "Well, it
made me feel a bit better, anyway."
Frank looked at his watch, and stood up. "I'm sorry,"
he told her, "I didn't realise it was this late. I should go."
"You don't have to, Frank," Rachel assured him, her eyes
conveying her full meaning.
Frank swallowed; those eyes were hard to resist. But he
needed time. "D'you mind if I use your phone to call a taxi?"
As he walked out the door, Rachel handed him the photo
album. "I thought maybe you could use some more time to go through it,"
she explained.
He nodded. "Thanks," he told her softly. "I'll bring them
back tomorrow."
There's no love, there's no hate, I left them there
for you to take But know that every word was a piece of my heart ~~ * ~~