Author's Notes: Decided to go back to the neglected characters, though I know I don't write them as well as I write some of the others. I'm sorry if this chapter is a bit lame, and I'm sorry it's taken so long. I'm a very busy girl! Currently working on chapters I know most of you D/JM fans will like...should be posted sometime soon...This series isn't flowing like it used to, and was thinking of winding it down soon. Please r/r and let me know what you think.
Chapter 25: "Rising June"
Dr Peter Benton
I had spent the last three months missing Cleo. Missing having her to come home to, her soft caramel skin in the evening light, her curls lying next to me on my pillow and tickling my face as I woke up in the morning. I had spent the last three months making daily visits to her graveside, not always by choice, just to talk to her as if this hadn't happened, and avoided thinking about her family – her devastated, hysterical mother and staunch yet broken hearted brothers. I had avoided thinking about the others who had died – my protégé, a man who had come through so much to die such a futile death.
There had been such dark times in those months, that walking had been my only solace, feeling the early morning Chicago sunshine on my face as winter broke into spring, and hearing the sounds of a stunned city rising to its feet after devastation. And while walking, I have had time to think. Not just about my loss, but about life. My career, put on hold by County's destruction, my son, my sister.
It was June, the clearest and most vital morning I had seen in a long time, that I decided it was time to take my life off pause. Time to bring colour and life back, to start working and the slow process of moving on.
I jogged home, eager to tell Jackie. My sister had been so strong for me. I remembered how she cried when I walked through the front door, how she threw her arms around me as if she never wanted to let me go. The way I felt that evening, sick to my stomach with grief, shock and fear, I hadn't wanted her to let go.
That day had been completely out of my control. I had acted completely on instinct, and in those minutes in my sister's arms, all of what I had seen and done hit me.
Jackie was stood with her back to the door. I watched her momentarily, so busy and absorbed. Outwardly, she showed no sign of the trauma she had seen in her life.
"Jackie,"
She jumped and turned to face me.
"Oh, it's you. I didn't think anyone else was in,"
I opened the fridge and grabbed the OJ.
"Rees is outside,"
"Yeah, I saw them,"
"She's good with him,"
Jackie said, gazing across the back garden to where her daughter and nephew played on the grass. I followed her gaze, sensing she was attempting to avoid me with hollow conversation.
"Yes, she is,"
I was impressed with my niece, a girl who had lost so much but expected so little and gave so much.
"Jackie…"
"Peter…"
She said my name with more than a hint of suspicion, arching her eyebrow in that way she has.
"I'm going back to work,"
"What? Why?"
I smiled at her shock.
"You know I can't do nothing for long,"
"She's only been gone a few months,"
"I miss Cleo, Jackie, but I think going back is what I need,"
She shrugged, knowing from experience I was too stubborn to argue with. Her role was not one of reason, but to be there to pick up the pieces when my pride fell apart again.
"OK. Whatever you want,"
Chapter 25: "Rising June"
Dr Peter Benton
I had spent the last three months missing Cleo. Missing having her to come home to, her soft caramel skin in the evening light, her curls lying next to me on my pillow and tickling my face as I woke up in the morning. I had spent the last three months making daily visits to her graveside, not always by choice, just to talk to her as if this hadn't happened, and avoided thinking about her family – her devastated, hysterical mother and staunch yet broken hearted brothers. I had avoided thinking about the others who had died – my protégé, a man who had come through so much to die such a futile death.
There had been such dark times in those months, that walking had been my only solace, feeling the early morning Chicago sunshine on my face as winter broke into spring, and hearing the sounds of a stunned city rising to its feet after devastation. And while walking, I have had time to think. Not just about my loss, but about life. My career, put on hold by County's destruction, my son, my sister.
It was June, the clearest and most vital morning I had seen in a long time, that I decided it was time to take my life off pause. Time to bring colour and life back, to start working and the slow process of moving on.
I jogged home, eager to tell Jackie. My sister had been so strong for me. I remembered how she cried when I walked through the front door, how she threw her arms around me as if she never wanted to let me go. The way I felt that evening, sick to my stomach with grief, shock and fear, I hadn't wanted her to let go.
That day had been completely out of my control. I had acted completely on instinct, and in those minutes in my sister's arms, all of what I had seen and done hit me.
Jackie was stood with her back to the door. I watched her momentarily, so busy and absorbed. Outwardly, she showed no sign of the trauma she had seen in her life.
"Jackie,"
She jumped and turned to face me.
"Oh, it's you. I didn't think anyone else was in,"
I opened the fridge and grabbed the OJ.
"Rees is outside,"
"Yeah, I saw them,"
"She's good with him,"
Jackie said, gazing across the back garden to where her daughter and nephew played on the grass. I followed her gaze, sensing she was attempting to avoid me with hollow conversation.
"Yes, she is,"
I was impressed with my niece, a girl who had lost so much but expected so little and gave so much.
"Jackie…"
"Peter…"
She said my name with more than a hint of suspicion, arching her eyebrow in that way she has.
"I'm going back to work,"
"What? Why?"
I smiled at her shock.
"You know I can't do nothing for long,"
"She's only been gone a few months,"
"I miss Cleo, Jackie, but I think going back is what I need,"
She shrugged, knowing from experience I was too stubborn to argue with. Her role was not one of reason, but to be there to pick up the pieces when my pride fell apart again.
"OK. Whatever you want,"