2:10 AM

Monday, December 25, 2006

The nurse stopped Nolan's chair outside of the door. He looked up at her, annoyed but not in a negative sense. It was more like the tension before a toddler runs down the stairs on Christmas morning: right now, seeing his niece was what he wanted more than anything in the world, and he wasn't going to let this old night nurse get in his way.

She wheeled him to Rachel's bedside, where the girl was still asleep. Nolan would have called her peaceful, if it weren't for the expression on her face and how she was resting on the bed. Her face was twisted up, like she was ready to scream or hit something, and her fist was curled up next to her face. He frowned at her but grateful tears rolled from his eyes as the nurse left and he gently caressed her cheek.

Her eyelids fluttered open, which he understood was for only the second time since she'd been rescued. The first time had allegedly been in the squad car on the way to the hospital when she'd awoken, screamed, and flailed madly only to fly from her mother's arms. She'd spoken frantically, asking where she was and why. What was going on, where was Alec.

Now, Rachel's eyes were flooded with tears and her face flushed as she blinked at him and came to. "Uncle Freddy?" she whispered, the salty liquid rolling down her cheeks. "I thought—I thought—you died…didn't…"

He grinned weakly at her. "No, I'm still kicking, unfortunately for your cousins."

"But what…?"

"I survived. When that bastard Rocher shot me an--"

"But he said he didn't…" she appeared upset, so Nolan touched her head to attempt to comfort her.

"Sh. I should be more careful. He didn't shoot me, he had somebody else try to kill me, the coward. But some kids found me, and here I am."

Rachel whispered something inaudibly, and Nolan nudged her chin.

"What was that, angel?"

"He's not a coward," she murmured. Nolan frowned at her and couldn't avoid the words that came next.

"Are you afraid of him?" he regretted it, but he needed to know. He needed to know if that monster had hurt his little girl in anyway. He slapped himself for his coarseness when she'd be getting enough of that from paparazzi and detectives in due time.

Rachel replied instantly, which shocked him. She sat up and brushed the hair out of her face, looking away as she spoke. "Not in the way you would think."

"Babe," he began, sticking his foot in his mouth with every syllable that escaped his lips, "I need to know. Did he hurt you? In any way at all? Or do anything that wasn't…normal?"

What came next was so uncharacteristic for Rachel that Nolan wondered if he were in the right room. Her gaze suddenly snapped to his and although her chin trembled slightly she managed to sneer, "I'm not stupid, Uncle Fred. I know what you're implying and no, he didn't hurt me any more than I hurt him."

So that's what it was. Guilt. She was feeling guilty for hurting someone. Nolan smiled reassuringly at her and touched her elbow. She flinched and scooted to the other side of the bed, clinging helplessly to her pillow as tears cascaded down her cheeks. "Rach, honey, whatever you did to him was in self defense. You're not going to be in trouble for--"

"I know," she moaned. "I know, okay? But I'm fine. I just don't want to talk about it."

He sighed, and rubbed her shoulder. "It's over, sweetheart. It's over."

He wondered if it was relief, or maybe regret, that laced her voice as she whispered back, "I know."

5:00 AM

Monday, December 25, 2006

Alex didn't stop with the first bottle. Nor with the second, or the third. The glass covered the ground as he felt himself grow more and more intoxicated. He wasn't planning on quitting this routine until he died or passed out, one of the two.

His future was brutally halted as Jackson stumbled from the car, rubbing his eyes as he observed his friend in the dim lighting.

As the fourth empty beer bottle smashed against the tree, Jackson hissed angrily and slammed Alex against it.

"What the fuck are you doing, man?" he growled at him, gesturing grandly behind him. "I leave you alone for a few hours and you almost get us arrested!"

"Don't care," Alex slurred stubbornly. He really didn't. If he got arrested, he'd get death penalty. He hadn't realized it when he'd made his mistake, but death would be better than living without his Rachel. "Better than this."

"Then let me rephrase myself," Jackson snapped, shaking his friend by the collar. "Do you want me to get arrested? I'll answer that for you: no, you don't."

"This is your fault, Jack," Alex snarled. "You took her away from me twice. I should kill you."
"You have such an advantage being inebriated," Jackson snorted. "You can't even land a punch on me sober, I'd hate to think of you when you've pounded at least four drinks into your system."

He was wrong, as Alex lunged out and managed to bite his arm, drawing blood.

I bit him, Alex found this strangely funny for some reason, but before he could laugh, he felt the too-familiar slamming of Jackson's skull against his and then a blissful sleep welcomed his thoughts.

5:10 AM

Monday, December 25, 2006

Jackson swore quietly as he set Alex's limp body in the backseat of the Sedan and shut the door, turning on the car. He hated how unpredictable the damn kid was. One minute he was sleeping peacefully next to him and the next he was getting drunk with mystery beer and throwing his anger against trees.

He must've walked to a store and bought some while Jackson had been sleeping, the dumbest and riskiest thing Alex could have done. If he'd been recognized—it didn't matter that they weren't in Florida, by now 'Alec Rocher' would be a household name, and that scar stuck out like a sore thumb—he'd be as good as dead. Jackson hated the brat sometimes, but he didn't want to see him dead.

Jackson pulled out from the cover of the trees and urged the car up the small dirt hill to the main road. He hightailed it out of that county as quick as he could, periodically glancing back at Alex in the back.

That sort of depression was abnormal, even for the kid. Jackson missed Lisa, sure, but it wasn't like he was never going to see her again. As soon as he could get Alex into hiding and get word to the other members of the organization that there'd been a breech, he'd be back in business. He'd get on a plane to Miami and bust Lisa out, as sure as day. There was no 'if' involved in his plans whatsoever.

It would be the same with Alex. If his desire beat out his morality, Jackson would sure that he'd get Rachel back. He would pay no heed to her own will—though Jackson had a feeling she'd be pretty damn willing to return to her boyfriend—or her family, or even the law. It wasn't over yet.

Not for anybody.