Author's Note: The big chunk in italics is a memory
The pain in her words made Jack want to wrap her in his arms and pull her close to him, to warm her frozen form with his. But he didn't. He didn't move. Because he knew that that gesture wouldn't help her. At least not right now.
She's somewhere else. Somewhere I can't reach right now.
Jack looked at Ronnie, watching the way her lips were pressed tightly together; as though keeping all of her secrets locked inside and if she were to ever part them they would all come spilling out. She turned to him and their eyes caught for the briefest of moments. Jack felt his heart leap into his throat, almost choking him. There was something there, something behind the blue that he'd never seen before. And he had memorised those eyes, knew every speck of colour that flecked the iris', and he knew there was something different there now.
"How's Max?" Ronnie asked, even as though the words slipped out of her mouth she knew how inane her question sounded. Jack shrugged in reply. "Yeah," she breathed, knowing all too well the familiar feeling of loss.
"He won't leave the house. Carol, she's er, she's looking after him." He paused for a moment, unsure whether he was ready to voice the question that had been on his lips for the past three weeks. "Will you go and see him?"
Ronnie frowned, bemused by Jack's request. "Me? Why?"
Jack lowered his eyes, focusing on his gloved hands.
They both knew why.
Max stood at the bar in the Vic, clutching hold of the glass of whisky he'd been nursing for the past half hour. The atmosphere was subdued, like someone had blanketed the pub with a blanket that had muffled all the sound.
People had come up to him, offering kind words and their condolences, but Max would rather they stayed away. He didn't need those things, words and kindness. He needed his son. And no amount of "I'm sorry's" would ever give him that.
He brought the glass to his lip before throwing the contents to the back of his throat, so used to the burning sensation, he didn't flinch. He placed the glass back down on the bar top and pushed it away from himself. "Stick another one in there, will yer Ron?"
Wordlessly, Ronnie took the glass and refilled it before gently placing in front of Max. He looked into the depths of the drink, his eyes searching out the answer he desperately needed. A noiseless sigh slithered from between his lips. Max closed his eyes, trying to make everything around him fall away, forcing himself to go back to Bradley's wedding day. Back to the day that had changed the course of his little boy's life.
"I can't cry," Max breathed.
"I know," Ronnie whispered.
"Do yer?" He answered automatically before opening his eyes. Ronnie had been watching him all that time. He looked into her face and saw his loss reflected in her blue eyes. "I didn't mean . . . Everyone keeps saying that, and how they understand, but they don't . . . "
"No," She agreed. "They don't."