Hello!

I'll admit that I entirely re-wrote this after finishing the initial draft. I realised that what I HATED in Series 5 is that they scratched the surface of the whole 'relationship vulnerability' thing but never dived into it properly. I guess they didn't have the time, and that the entire Rachel-Adam arc was meant to be straightforward and happy as a result. But hey, to hell with that! I'm here to make things uncomfortable… lol.

Please read and review as ever. Your feedback makes my day!

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8. Child of Mine

September 2010

"We need to talk about something." It was barely a whisper that came from her, filled with apprehension. She shut the patio door and wandered over.

"I think we do, yeah."

Rachel wasn't quite expecting that response from Adam. It wasn't inquisitive nor flat, just knowing. A little taken aback, she slowly perched next to him, a cushion pulled onto her nap for nervous comfort. A dark, clear evening outside on the decking was the chosen spot. The light was dim, with the two figures only illuminated by the gentle glow of a few patio lights and the small fire pit. It felt shrouded in secrecy - a perfect condition - but offered her no place to start. Thankfully, Adam started for her.

"What's going on?" It was a simple ask, out of love not suspicion, washed down with a sip of beer. He was well aware that she had been preoccupied the last few days, somewhat out of sorts, and he wanted to chip away at it. Only now was their first opportunity. Rachel gave a muted sigh, wondering what to tackle first. Gentle silence fell upon them; comfortable, but with bated breath.

"Do you want the good news or bad news?" She sounded defeated, slightly cautious. There was always some sort of bombshell to deliver as of late, whether it be Kim, Melissa or otherwise. It had reached comical by this point.

"Oh hell," he responded with a small mutter; a reluctant, humoured smirk. God knows what unsuspecting drama she would be unwillingly feeding to him next. He weighed up the options. "How bad are we talking?"

Rachel pursed her lips - it was fairly bad. More so, the greatest concern being that fallout was going to be astronomical. "Melissa is likely to lose custody of Sophie."

Adam knew what this meant - or what it was going to mean. It was going to be catastrophic, with the two of them helping to pick up the pieces no doubt. Melissa was a pressure cooker at the best of times, and this was going to tip her. He blew out a steady stream of air as he contemplated this, in thought yet knocked by the revelation. Melissa was going to fall apart. "And does she know this?"

"She will do, tomorrow. Solicitors are going to drop off the paperwork," the first of the news fell. "It's gone beyond mediation and it's going to court." It was empty, almost monotone from Rachel, who was also saddened but unsurprised by the revelation. She felt an inherent duty to protect her sister but also a lifelong reluctance to fight her corner. Over the last few months Rachel's confidence in Melissa had waned even further each time Sophie was dumped on her. Frankly Adam was a saint for putting up with it, but he knew no different from Melissa's erratic teenage behaviour all those years ago. She hadn't changed. "With her track record, I don't think anything is going to fall in her favour either." It was a cue from Rachel that they were going to need to brace themselves.

"Christ," he sighed. He observed how this clearly affected Rachel, morally split by Sophie's best interests versus the ultimate betrayal of her sister. In Sophie's short life she had been surrounded by chaos from her mother, just as Philip was all those years ago. History on repeat. Thankfully Sophie had a father who cared and who - reluctantly - wanted to take swift action. Eddie was adamant he wasn't going to subject Sophie to this long term, despite the consequences it would bring. He recognised how this was going to strike Melissa and Rachel's family apart and, in particular, he carried a hurtful pang of guilt for Rachel who had done nothing more than support the best she could, as impartially as possible. Of course he still held a deep, unspoken love for her - an undying appreciation - that she still had his back, despite the obvious conflicts she now faced. Secretly, it broke him; his daughter now being his only light.

As the news settled, Rachel felt a reassuring hand brush her leg, a gentle squeeze of sympathy. "How did you hear about this?"

"I had a text this afternoon… from Eddie," she began - a contentious topic. She clocked a minor unenthusiastic glance from Adam. He was well aware of the history and trusted Rachel wholeheartedly, but dutifully kept an unsuspecting close eye; protective of his wife. It was a complex situation and with the circumstances, Rachel was never going to fully escape it. She inoffensively came to his defence: "In fairness, he apologised for the other evening and said that it had been sorted via the solicitor." It was reasonable enough; deuce. Adam had never met the guy yet despite the history, he did feel some degree of sympathy for any poor soul needing to tackle Melissa.

Adam digested what she had said, deep in thought. In a sense he pleaded that this would be the end of it; a burden lifted from Rachel's shoulders more so than his own. He was just there; the dutiful supporting act. This had worn her down, forever sat there on her shoulder; a voice - she being the backup guardian. The situation had been messy and conflicting, and Adam and Rachel both mutually agreed it was time they needed to step away despite the difficult fallout to come. Lifeline cut.

"This isn't going to be good, is it?" It was an obvious statement rather than question from him - Adam was already well aware of the answer.

"No."

Not a lot more could be said. They sat steady on this declaration, awaiting the impending crush. Silence fell.

"Ok," he said, swallowing the first revelation and preparing himself for the next, thankful for the beer in hand. It was needed. "And the good news?"

A small smile came from her; apprehensive - she was still unsure, at this very moment, whether it was good news at all. It was uncertain news. Undecided. A gentle sigh delivered, seemingly in mild hesitation. This was another bombshell, but now, thankfully, the mood was lifting a little - the worst of the updates had been delivered. She subtly gestured towards the beer in his hand, offering a subtle nod of the head. "You might need another one of those… or five."

"Oh god, ok…" he gave a nervous chuckle, gently closing his eyes in mock despair, now somewhat apprehensive of her next lines. "Is this good or not good?" he scoffed, playfully, hanging onto her last statement. He took one look at her. His knowing, somewhat sympathetic smile pleading with her to put him out of his misery. "Just say it." Nothing would shock him anymore, he was certain.

"So…" A deep breath, a nervous smirk. She couldn't believe they were about to have this conversation. She'd let him decide if it was good news or not. "I'm pregnant." It was barely a whisper.

The beer he was drawing closer to him for a swig had suddenly stopped half way, and now sat back on his lap as his eyes met with hers. There was a momentary pause, both planning their next moves. A sense of disbelief came at what Rachel had said. He couldn't process it quickly enough.

"What?" It was all he could muster under his breath. She observed him take this in and gave a gentle nod, confirming what he had heard. Her nerves were gradually rising within her as she silently - desperately - tried to gauge his response. Adam wasn't sure what else Rachel was going to break to him this evening, but this wasn't on the cards. Curveball. She watched him process this bit by bit, awash with different emotions; mainly of confusion and surprise.

"But-..."

"I know, I know…" she interjected in agreement, aware of the narrative that was about to be spoken. She didn't need telling and, alongside her own shock, couldn't offer an explanation. She dismissed her statement with a coy and mildly nervous smirk, a gentle shake of the head that mirrored his similar feelings of disbelief. She couldn't find any more words. If she didn't humour it at this point she'd cry - again. This had caught her off guard, too. Red handed.

"Well…," he began, bringing himself back in an attempt to look composed. "I wasn't expecting that." He gave a light chuckle in disbelief as he placed the beer bottle on the table. He offered up one more serious question: "Are you sure?"

He immediately scolded himself for asking - it made total sense, accounting for at least one strange occurrence in the last week. Rachel had already burst into a puddle of tears for no clear reason. The stresses of Melissa and Kim were exhausting, but not to that degree. Usually full of independence, confidence and self-assurance, her usual self had somewhat fallen into the shadows. Clingy. Reliant. Out of character. He kicked himself - it was clear as day that something significant was buried. Obvious. Idiot.

"Yup," was all she could dish up in response, uncertain; hushed.

He observed her quietly on edge, awaiting a response from him that told her everything was going to be ok. In what felt like a split moment her brave, somewhat nonchalant front was beginning to melt; he clocked the tears prickling, her fingers gripping one another in an attempt to keep control. She desperately needed reassurance. It had been weeks of bombshell after drama and by now, it had done its damage. The darkness of the evening felt heavy, cooling. He reached out and clasped her hand before it was too late, pulling her to him and offering a protective, comforting hug.

"Hey…" he whispered into her hair. She tucked into his shoulder and offered a small sniffle in response. She had cracked, though only with silent tears. This was huge, life changing news for the two of them that he was still attempting to process himself. Seeing her fragile forever broke him, and he clasped her that little bit tighter in an attempt to make it go away. Shit.

They had only broached the subject once or twice in the past - all part of the official checklist of life goals shared before the huge commitment of marriage. Rachel had always felt somewhat indifferent on the topic up to this point. Taking daily charge of hundreds of unruly teenagers was more than enough and anyhow, circumstances never changed enough to bring that decision into question. In simple terms, she gave so much of herself away each day that she was selfish with the remaining fragment that she had left. Admittedly she had felt a little differently since Dexter had been born; small pangs of longing that weren't significant enough to act on. They were whimsical feelings, temporarily broody ones that simply sprung out of the happiness she held for her close friend and the lust of a new relationship. Rachel had cautiously pulled herself up on it; an internal slap on the wrist. She had never been the type of fuss over babies with a sparkle in her eye. Rather, she loved the company of Dexter; the idea of him. Those precious little breaths and dinky little fingernails. Out of the dream state the practicalities were, of course, very different.

They had both reached a point in life where huge - but exciting - life changes could be made. They were so excited to just be together. Rachel had also made it very clear that there would be much for her to dig up and work through before plans changed to consider a child. There were things to confront, still buried deep. Truthfully she was put off by the thought that it would dig up too much. Emotional turmoil. She recalled the difficulties of Melissa and a young Philip, as well as the failings of her own mother that still had an impact on her, dishing up occasional pangs of hurt. It was a decision not to be taken lightly, if at all. A warning.

What she longed for was the sense of close-knit commitment that she had instead gained in the form of Adam. He, on the other hand, was great with all kids - the nearly grown-up ones with attitude and the cute, dinky ones. But he understood her position, and was - albeit reluctant - accepting of her feelings. What brought an antidote of joy was that he finally had her - and to himself. This understanding was the condition of their relationship: just them, together, with no expectation of a big brood or a stay at home wife. It probably wasn't going to happen. After all, despite Dexter's angelic looking appearance, he was hard work and their own child would have implications on their entire lives, plans, careers and of course, a relatively new marriage.

But by this point, it was too late. A flurry of emotions were snowballing - it was happening, and now. As he held her tight Adam knew he had a challenge on his hands, regardless of his feelings. Now he had to shelve those to one side in favour of his duty to protect her; to keep her steady. Under the persona of unfaltering strength, independence and confidence lay a far more sensitive, vulnerable side. What he did know was that this was going to be one hell of a wobble.

"Everything is going to be okay," he hushed, with a longing kiss to her hair. He desperately tried to think of what on earth he could say. His feelings conflicted with her outpouring.

A minute or so later, she pulled back. A deep breath and brief dabbing of her eyes made it clear this was a huge relief she had been freed from. Adam watched on, studying her with mild curiosity at her somewhat panicked response; he delicately brushed a few stray hairs from her cheek in loving concern. He recognised that she wouldn't be filled with ecstatic joy - that was a given, in light of their previous discussions - but he hoped it wasn't all bad news. In his eyes it wasn't, but these weren't the circumstances to be selfish. Now, she knew, was the time for questioning.

"When did you find this out?" he asked, aware that this had clearly been consuming her for some time; a gentle ask, understanding of her state. He caught a stray tear with his finger, before taking her hand in his.

"About a week ago…" she trailed off, emptying the last fraction of energy she had. He couldn't help but subtly narrow his eyes in muted surprise at this response - it wasn't quite the answer he was expecting and she saw he needed colour. "When you were away," she added, dabbing her cheek again in an attempt to compose herself. Adam recognised this wasn't the time to push it too far, as much as the questions were killing him. They drew quiet for a moment, giving her the vital space to add context without prompt. "I felt off and… I just knew." It was genuinely all she could detail - it was gut feeling. Exhaustion. One evening lying on the sofa the realisation hit her like a ton of bricks. Two hours in the bath followed, occupied with a clouded mind. She fretted over every detail. There was nothing more to it.

Adam recalled how this would've eaten her up. He wished she had said something to him; anything. In those moments in darkness on the edge of falling asleep, or via a passing comment where she blurted out her suspicion. Any moment would have been better, but instead, it lay secret; tense. Bottled up.

"We'll work this out," he began, fragile, in hushed tones so as not to cause alarm. "It doesn't have to be all bad…". With a small smile he delicately planted the thought; an attempt at rational reasoning. They were fortunate to have everything they wanted - them together, and the comfortable financial means to back it all up. He studied her as she took this in, and he gave her a minute.

As he did so he reflected on this news himself - it was sinking in. The reality for him - after the initial shock waned - was that this was exciting. Precious. He wanted to shout about it, cry, bask in total happiness, and celebrate this news together like it was the best thing on Earth. Then, in a few months' time, it would be them, the three of them, together. Happy and content with this idyllic little life. On the other hand he wanted to shake her, make her see sense, knock away her irrational fears to instead see the gift of this. Their baby. It was all out of protection, deep rooted love, but he couldn't ignore that she had been clouded by the circumstances that surrounded them. They had been detrimentally close; toxic even. Melissa. Kim. They were all things that Rachel - personally - wouldn't have to experience. He wanted to wrap her up, protect her, and hope to the gods that all was going to be ok.

"I know," she began. Adam hoped that this was the beginning of a turning point; the answer to his prayers. "...and I'm sorry."

"It's alright-"

"No, it's not," she cut him off, softly, irritated at her conflicting feelings. Silence fell as he gave her the room to confess. She was torn. Here she had this wonderful guy who'd walk the earth for her, yet all she wanted to do was cry. She felt wrong; fraudulent. Any normal woman - she thought - would be so grateful of the circumstance. A great husband, a lovely life, more money than they could blow, and now, a child. Instead she felt betrayed by herself. By her deepest feelings. Guilty.

He was mildly surprised - once again - at her response. It was taking every ounce she had left within her. Something in the wind had changed, and he could tell she was contemplating. It felt quieter. Not fragile this time, but brittle.

"… I know this is what you want." Her words, gentle, called true - it was. Their long conversations full of 'what ifs' had brought her to this point. It etched away at her, the source of her sin. He observed her with sympathy, her hand still in his. She was never one to lay cards on the table - vulnerable emotions rarely sat on her sleeve. She took a deep breath in an attempt to keep herself going, though she struggled to produce her next words as she anticipated his answer. In this gap she had prompted him - her eyes had caught his. Now it was his time to lay down the cards.

"Well… yeah," he trailed off. It was delicate, almost a hush as he admitted this aloud, somewhat saddened that he and his wife clearly sat on two different sides of the fence. It wasn't how it should be.

For a moment, it was uncertain where they were to go next.

"If I'm honest, I don't know how to feel yet." It was a line full of honesty, culpability. It sat on a tightrope, balanced yet still unsteady. Adam wasn't quite sure which way this was going to go, but all he could do was quietly hold firm; bracing as he listened, receptively. There was still a slither of hope for his prayer - a tiny glimmer. He offered a gentle nod in understanding as he looked at her. In her eyes he could see the conflicting thoughts running at a million miles per hour.

'And I have never been more scared of anything in my life."

It was one of the most honest things he had ever heard her say. A confession, almost, that fell upon them in the darkness. As the small fire crackled, words weren't needed. Adam gave her a muted sympathetic smile as he brushed the same piece of hair from her face again. He felt for her, and how this had torn at her for the last week. He looked at her with complete adoration - she was, truly, her own worst enemy.

"You don't need to be scared, Rach," he responded, with tender compassion. He saw how her eyes now met her lap; foolish. The cushion sat there was the perfect distraction - an escape - as he offered her some truths. "It will be you and me, and we can take it day by day."

As she took this in, she drew her eyes to his again. His groundwork was paving a way. She gently squeezed his hand in acknowledgment, thankful for his words. She knew he was talking sense, and she loved him deeply for it. Adam recognised that this was going to be no mean feat with her, who needed more than just warming up to the idea. Faultless reassurance and unwavering support - in any shape and form - was going to be necessary.

Adam knew what her response meant - the gentle squeeze of the hand stated she understood, but couldn't say any more at this moment. It was almost pleading, yet also thankful, as he told her what she needed to hear from him. It was a conversation to be picked up again come morning once they had slept on it. Rachel was emotionally drained, and rational talk was going to be scarce. Adam saw this as his opportunity to close.

"Come on, you're exhausted," he said, as he pulled her into him, tucking her under his arm. They sat there cuddled together, leant back into the seat. "Let's get some rest, and then we can talk properly tomorrow." Adam always knew what to say, and how to say it. His words were met with a gentle nod and a gentle kiss in appreciation.

Here she now was, held by support and destabilised by fear. All Adam could do was sit tight and hold her even tighter, in the hope that all would be okay.

This was the hand they had been dealt.