I'm still not sure how this part came to be so long - I knew I had lots of little bits of scrappy notes and half typed sections; at one point it even had an in-text reference in it :-/ but hopefully this is ok. Thank you to anyone reading.
He finds her leaning on metal rails, body slouched with her hair falling forward in to her face. She looks small, vulnerable as he approaches her and it strikes him that he has seen so many different sides of her and yet still he knows so little of her. He approaches her cautiously; joking a little that he has visited corners of the hospital that he had never known existed. He is near certain that this will do little for her but he hopes that perhaps it will draw even the smallest smile to her lips. He comes to a rest by her side, mirroring her position against the rails, and taking a glance at her in profile. If she'd have allowed it, he have liked nothing more than to wrap his arms around her, to pull her in to the safety of his arms and whisper words of comfort to her. She looks like she needs it. He watches the way she breathes in deeply, not bothering even to turn towards him, instead gazing outwards.
"Go away Jonny" the words come wearily to her lips, and he glances out to study what she is viewing. He sees nothing of interest, but he can see why she has chosen here, a place where nobody is likely to bother searching. He heaves a sigh.
"Why's Professor Hope's name on the board?" the question feels natural and he is curious as to how she will respond. He glances towards her, and then down at his own hands, a small smile playing on his lips as he realises how very alike they are, positions so similar and yet their outlook so different. She is drawn and weary, with her face pale and while he is suffering still from a heavy night, he knows that his issues right now are self-inflicted and for the most part physical. Her own suffering runs much deeper.
"I'm feeling a little under the weather, it happens" her body slumps slightly as she says the words, and once again he wants nothing more than to place his arm about her, to support her but knowing she will not take kindly to this, will see it as a slight of her ability. He feels his own eyebrows rise at this, wondering if this is her way of letting him know that she knows now. Perhaps she had disappeared off and done the test after the moment in the bay, realised the truth in that instant. He feels her eyes on him, and looks down to catch the slight roll of them as she speaks "Don't go getting ideas Jonny"
"Ideas?" the word is whispered in confusion, until he twigs her meaning that she doesn't want him to assume the cause of her illness. To him it is not an idea but a reality; it is as real as the two of them standing here. And yet she still can't see that, despite it growing within her.
"Y'know it isn't what you think it is" her voice is so weary, so tired that it almost kills him to hear it. She shouldn't be here, if he had his way he would bundle her up and drag her to her bed, tucking her in beneath the duvet and sitting with her in the dark until she slipped in to sleep. But he is unsure that even sleep would be restful to her, he has seen how some nights she sleeps fitfully though she claims upon waking that he is mistaken, painting on a mask to hide the evidence. Only he can see through that.
"The test" he starts his sentence, and watches as she raises a hand indicating that she wants him to stop. He can see in her eyes the desperation, the need not to have this conversation and yet he knows it is needed, that until they talk things cannot get better for either of them. He is doing this for her own good, though it pains him to do so. Pains him to know that this is going to be hard for her, wonders if she realises how difficult it is for him.
"Was negative" she concludes his sentence a finality to her words and she draws in a gulp of air to try to steady herself. She is still watching him, and he shows no sign of giving up. He knows she is waiting for the moment he does, the moment he will walk away only this time he won't. He stands, though he does not know what to say. "I can't deal with you today"
"Jac" he speaks her name gently, and he feels her eyes being drawn to his, locking their gaze on each other. There is so much pain, so much he doesn't understand in those eyes. They are eyes which intrigue him, they are startling and strikingly beautiful. They tell so much of her truth and yet hide so much more. They are eyes in which he can lose himself for hours.
"It's for the best Jonny" she whispers the words, pulling her gaze back out to the evening sky, watching as its colour gradually change to become darker more inky. If she has to talk she cannot do so while looking in to his face, and so she gazes outwards, knowing his eyes are still very much on her, "you'll get a clean break, from me and the wreck that was us" he can hear the hitch in the words, knows how very hard she is trying to convince herself that they are the truth that this – them – has never been what she has wanted, needed even. Still though she cannot turn back to face him, and he thinks it's because her eyes will betray her, contradicting the words which she forces herself to say.
"You can go and find the woman who will love and respect you, who will give you want you want. You'll get married in the church she has dreamed of since she was a child in the princess gown of white fabric that she has spent weeks searching for. You'll wear a kilt because she has begged you to do so and you'll fight tears as you see your angel float down the aisle towards your side. She'll give you children – curly haired children with your cheek and her beauty. You'll shop for wallpaper and borders to create the perfect nursery even though you'll have the baby in with you for the first few months. You'll cry at scans, give her bump some ridiculous nickname that you coo to it each night before you sleep placing kisses on taunt stretched skin, you'll cry as the baby is place screaming in to your arms. You'll end up with a Labrador, who will be your best friend and your child's protector. You'll have a house filled with mess but overflowing with love and laughter. You'll have a garden with flowers and probably gnomes. A rabbit for the child though care falls to you and the wife. It'll be chaotic and messy and unordered but you it will be perfect. Everything you have wanted, everything you have dreamed of within four walls and a square of grass" she tries to make it sound distasteful, like it is the worst thing she can imagine only he hears something more. Knows how secretly this is what she wants for herself only she tries so hard to convince herself otherwise, that this is the life that others deserve but not her. It is a dream, he fears, she has harboured for a lifetime though she has told herself it was never for her. He wishes she would look at her, though he fears seeing the look in her eyes, knows it will be something fit to destroy him just by seeing it.
"Everything but you" the words slip unbidden from his lips, without conscious thought and yet he knows they are the truth; that they are words that need to be said. Things though are slipping in to place in his mind, pieces of a jigsaw although he does not see yet the full picture. She had just said something along the lines of she'll give you children, like it is something she herself cannot give him and that makes no sense when he knows she has held his child in her womb; knows that she still does though she won't accept it herself. The other day when they had spoken she had talked off how he made her think her one chance had been taken away; which implied that this conception was something of a miracle, something she had believed impossible and yet she had had previous scares so that too made little sense to him. Her eyes looking back at him outside of the theatre when he had used those words about who would want children with her, and those children being the antichrist slip in too, fighting their way in to the puzzle that has lead them to this point. Those pains too slot in along with the fact she has slipped off for mysterious appointments. So much is coming together in his head, and yet still no answers.
"Don't make this harder" words torn from her throat with a hitch as he hears her trying to control her emotions. He doesn't know what to expect, a showdown like outside of the theatre – an outburst where she tries to push him away – or she'll walk herself like she has more recently. He wants neither, he wants to understand what is going on in her head and that it appears is the hardest option for her. She would rather destroy them both than let someone in – and that frightens him. Someone who would rather hit the destruction button on something good, than reveal the bad that has come before instead she'd rather add to the negative of her life.
"Make what harder?" his word sound desperate, a plea though he does not quite knowing for what he is pleading. He wants nothing more than to cup her cheek in his hand and turn her face towards him, to talk properly but he cannot instead he follows her gaze outwards, wonders if it'll be easier to talk if he too looks away, "because I'll be honest Jac, I don't know how this can be any damn harder"
"I can't"
"Can't what? Jac, being a part from you is one of the single hardest things you have forced me to do. Every day I struggle to be on the same ward as you because for some reason I can see through this act of your enough to want to pull you in to my arms at any given moment and just hold you, not just to drag you in to the nearest free cupboard for a quickie but because I simply want to hold you and love you" words tumble free in to the darkness and he hears her intake of shuddery breath, that he thinks is combined with a slight sob though he cannot bring himself to look.
"Please don't do this" her own plea reaches his ears though they are deaf to the words, he cannot stop this now. Has to let her know how he feels, even though it may mean another rejection. He has to do this while she is stood here, while she appears to be listen though he knows that in reality she only stays because she does not feel up to moving.
"Do what? Tell you the truth?" he asks the questions not wanting an answer, not giving her chance to give one either. More words are on his lips waiting to be freed, to be received by her ears, they are ready having been forced back for so long, "You are single-handedly the most infuriating, frustrating person I have met in my life – you fight against me at every turn, push me away at any opportunity and yet I cannot get enough of you. I was attracted to you that very first moment I saw you, addicted to you soon after. I needed you like I needed a fix, I craved you and suffered when we were a part, and then the feelings changed. What had been lust, a passionate all encompassing lust became something much more special, a feeling that perhaps you could be the one, the woman I had spent my life searching for – you weren't the woman I had expected her to be, you are so much more than that uncomplicated woman of which I had dreamed. You are real and beautiful, incredibly complex and yet there is a simplicity to you – you are a contradiction in terms; difficult to know and yet impossible not to. If I could live without you would my less be easier, less complicated? Almost certainly but it would be so much more empty, my heart having been well and truly stolen by yours truly save for a small portion which currently resides in your womb"
"You're making this worse" her words are low; bitter and sad, "there is nothing within my womb as you put it and there never will be" he thinks he hears the unspoken words, not with you. Hears them echo in the night air though she did not speak them audibly.
"You once told me you loved me" he draws back the memory of that day, he had run to her, needed to know that she was alright. Despite everything he had cared for her then, and despite everything he still cares for her now and still she pushes despite knowing this.
"And you have never said the same to me" she leans forward heavily on the rails, and gasps slightly though she forces herself to recover quickly before he can do or say anything in response, "you say these things about us, and yet you could walk away from me – you couldn't say those three words that I said to you" he thinks back now, thinks of the times when he could have said the words, remembers shouting them jokingly at her but never having said them seriously.
"Would it have made a difference, if I had told you I love you?" he doesn't know why he bothers, asking. He cannot go back and say those words to her, he cannot revisit those moments and yet for some reason it matters to him. He feels her eyes on him, finally she has turned to him. He turns to look at her, sees pain etched in her face though he doesn't know if it is physical or emotion or a combination of the two. She looks fragile before him.
"I don't know"
"Did you not know it – that I loved you?" he watches her face change considering the question he has asked, the way her eyes flutter closed for the briefest of seconds before they open and she returns to looking at his face. He sees her torn between the truth and a lie, trying to decide which is the easier option and the confliction between what she actually thinks it easy.
"I thought I did, hoped maybe but I've been burned" she shakes her head, he wonders what memory has slipped in to her mind that she wants rid of, "this is pointless Jonny, chasing in circles for no reason, rehashing things that don't need going over. It didn't work out like so many things and we just have to accept it, move on rather than keep going this, I can't keep doing this" she sounds so small.
"Tell me Jac, tell me what brought us here because I sure as hell don't understand what went wrong?" he sounds harsher than intended and sees her recoil slightly, he tries to steady his breathing. He doesn't understand where that came from, or why it came out as it did, "I thought things were going well, we had plans – albeit tentative ones – for some sort of future together and then suddenly you were pushing me away, first with words and then the palm of your hand and for the life of me Jac I don't understand how we got from a strong maybe for moving in together to not being together at all – to me having lost everything while you seemingly had everything that mattered even though you no longer had me" he cannot disguise the hurt in his voice as he remembers the incident, remembers how his cheek had stung from the force of her blow. He understood certainly what he had done to cause her to reaction in that way, but he didn't quite understand what had caused her to strip him of everything before that, to force the retaliate and yet he sees the puzzle in his mind and knows the answer she is scared to give is the final piece.
"Don't make me do this" she pleads, so small, so desperate. Fears tinged with hurt and sadness lacing the words. "I can't deal with this today, now" she repeats the words she had said earlier. He can see in her face, the way she is feeling and yet he cannot stop. Slowly, cautiously he rests his hands on hers on top of the metal. She doesn't pull hers or push his away.
"Just tell me" he sees a sheen of tears in her eyes, glistening in the dark making her eyes all the more striking.
"And then you'll walk away" she makes it sound like such a definite, like there is no chance of anything else occurring, "it's better this way. You can go away from here, unburdened to search for the perfect woman who you once dreamed off and I can get on with my life and try to forget what could have been" she is trying to sound stronger, though he can see how much she struggles to do so, the effort it takes.
"I need to know Jac" his own words are pleading once more, and he thinks perhaps he sees a softening in her, the words building though she tries to push them back. Finally she nods her head slightly, eyes locked on his.
"Those words you said to me, outside of the Darwin theatres – that essentially I am so very evil that this aspect of me could infiltrate even the innocent unborn within my uterus – those words destroyed me. I was already hurting, hurting with a pain that seeped in to every part of me and which I saw no way of easing. I have known pain, known it my entire life but this was different; this was the loss of a dream, a future which I had only just started to consider" the words spill forth and she wonders where they came from, they come easily and yet they hurt so much to speak. He blinks rapidly.
"I don't understand Jac"
"I need to go back further. The food poisoning I had, when I was dying from it from what you knew was in fact a laparoscopy performed because of those pains I told you were simply from having my period. I wanted to believe it was only that, rather than facing that something was actually wrong with me, that I am physically damaged as well as emotionally. Endometriosis they told me, my chances of conceiving they said was dramatically reduced now and suddenly that dream I had thought of, considered as something that could happen in my – our – future suddenly seemed much more impossible because why would you want somebody who couldn't give you children when a family is something that you want so very much"
"Oh Jac I" she holds up her hand to halt his words, she still has more she needs to say and she cannot deal with his interruption, knows if he starts to talk her own words will dry up.
"Those were the things I came to realise that morning, the morning before we went in to theatre. I let Tara clip the bleed because my abdomen chose that moment to cramp, and I couldn't trust myself to do it without causing damage. Only that is what happened anyway. Tara was unlucky, in the wrong place at the wrong time. Everything I had been feeling, every emotion I had tried to squander burst from me and directed itself at you – I think Freud would call it displacement. For once in my life I had no control over something, and felt I had no way of regaining that control. I was terrified of you rejecting me – because to me that was the only option, it was the action you would take and I couldn't face that. So rather than face the hurt and the pain of rejection, I chose to hurt you instead. Chose to strip you of everything that had been stripped from me, only my way was harsher and more without warning – you had done nothing deserve it outside of my own head. For when you questioned me in theatre, I felt more of my control slip like I was no longer the person in charge, who knows what she is doing. Already weakened and struggling, I couldn't cope when threatened in what is usually my domain, my safe haven as it were where my pointless uterus doesn't matter. And then you spoke those words, those words that any other day I probably would have brushed away, come up with some sarcastic retort but I couldn't then not when I was already hurting so badly, those words were the final daggers in my heart and my action was a reflex in response to that. I felt guilty, so guilty so hurting you, for physically abusing you – for that was what I did, my words emotional abuse too if we're honest – and how could I make that better? Even if it wasn't for my stubbornness and my pride how on earth could I make that better when I had seen the shock and hurt and sadness in your eyes when the realisation dawned over what I had done to you – so it was fitting that I ended up alone once more. The words you used were designed to hurt me, to make me see that I was wrong in belittling your dream – a dream I had shared with you, still share with you though it pains me to say it. But I couldn't tell you that, because it meant telling you the truth and facing rejection so I chose what I thought was the safe option. It hurt so much what I had done – hurt you too but it felt safer" she forces herself to breath, unsure if there are more words, or if she is finally done.
"Jac, I" he cannot find the words, how to respond to what she has said when it is so much to take in.
"and then that night, when we came together when we created a child. I thought it was a miracle. It was a shock to me, to conceive when I had believed it impossible and I feared that because you said that night was a mistake that you would want rid of the accident, the mistake it created. I couldn't face that either, my one chance being sweep away at my own hand – though I am not sure I could have done it even if you had wanted it; but to know you rejected our child is something I couldn't cope with"
"Jac, this" words seem to make no sense to him now, they come to his lips but he does not know how to make them in to sentences.
"This what doesn't make any sense? I was a rejected child Jonny and I didn't want that for my own baby, couldn't face the idea that it could happen so early in its existence and then that morning there was blood and I knew it was over, gone before it had really begun. It was unlucky you ever came to know, that it has lead us here to this, unlucky too that I knew. It was so very early and I had known my chances of" she swallows hard, facing the words she has dreaded speaking "miscarrying were so much higher, that in reality so many pregnancies are lost anyway so early, before anyone knows it even existed. That's what we have to pretend now" she whimpers slightly and he feels her grip tighten on the rail beneath his hand, he sees the pain pass over her face and the way her body sways.
"Jac" there is panic in his tone and she shakes her head, waiting for the moment to pass. She straightens when it passes and looks at him.
"A cramp, Jonny, endometrial" she says it almost clinical though he sees how much if affects her, how she pulls away one hand to rifle in her pocket and the fall in her face as she fails to come up with the item she desires. She swears softly as she withdraws her hand, and he raises an eyebrow, "my painkillers, I've left them in my desk draw" she offers by way of explanation. She tries to breathe through the pain, whimpers again when another takes her by surprise.
"I want you to get checked over" he tries to sound calmer than he feels, thinking now of what brought him here to her, the line of the stick and now the pain she is in. His brain is flicking through all he knows about endometriosis, he thinks pregnancy is supposed to ease the pain though he isn't certain and this pain she is experiencing most definitely isn't an easing of what he had seen before. He panics that she is miscarrying for real, that again his child is lost.
"Don't be ridiculous, I know what this is and there is nothing they can do" the words are harsh, bitter on her tongue. He frowns, and watches her.
"Let me do it, let me scan you just to check you over" he looks at her with puppy dog eyes, a sincerity in his words, a concern which touches her.
"Because being confronted by the image of my barren useless uterus is something I want to see?" she questions him and he thinks for a moment that she has a point, but he needs to know that they are ok, that there even is a they, knows that even if there isn't he still wants to be there for her.
"You don't have to look, I just need to check" he pauses, knows he has to word this correctly or she'll baulk "you're ok" he adds, and he sees her consider.
"There's absolutely no point but if it'll shut you up and get you off my case, and you promise that no-one will know" the words come finally. A way of getting rid of him, though he knows that is futile. He is here now to stay, he just needs to prove it to her regardless of what the future holds for them.