Her breath was warm on his shoulder when Jack woke up. They'd stayed the night out on the beach, taking advantage of the bonfire he'd built for Susie and Janet, and also the extra-large sleeping bag they had. The wind had picked up; there was a storm on the way. He smiled and held Rachel tighter against him, stroking her hair as his heart rate picked up. The storms out here were beautiful, unbridled energy that made him want to run into the centre of the destruction and lose himself in it. Rachel would often find him bundled in a blanket at the end of their dock, letting the wind and rain beat at him. He'd get a small lecture each time, but she still let him go out. She knew he needed it.

Almost as much as he needed her. She was moving a bit, now, stretching a little as she woke up and Jack raised one hand to cup her breast gently. That prompted a sleepy giggle and she snuggled closer. Oh, Rachel . . .

"Oh, God," she groaned suddenly.

"Hmm?" Jack had lowered his lips to her neck, shifting so he could lean over her.

"I'm freezing."

"I'll warm you up," he whispered against her skin, delighted when she arched her neck into the contact and slid one leg between his. He raised his head to kiss her lips, the hand not stroking her hair now roaming over her body. Rachel sighed again and pushed against his hand, smiling as she wrapped her arms around his neck. Her body was moving with his touch, and she was right; it was cold. All Jack wanted to do was bury himself in her warmth, both literal and figurative, so rather than draw things out he pushed into her as soon as she pulled him to her, gasping softly in his ear. Rachel bit her lower lip with a soft hiss as her hips moved with his, her hands running over his back, nails pressing into his skin. Her neck arched and he kissed it, sucked at the pulse, moved down to her breasts as he slid one arm beneath her waist and lifted slightly for a better angle.

One leg around his waist, the other bent at the knee as she pushed up against him, their gasps and soft moans loud in the confines of the sleeping bag, lips meeting with impassioned abandon, this, this was everything he needed, right here, right now. She clung to him, cried out a name that she'd made his, begged and whimpered and oh, her voice was so sweet as that pressure built between her thighs. He brushed damp hair from her forehead and kissed her again, and again, eyes never leaving hers, not even when they rolled back in her head as her body convulsed around him. Her nails finally broke skin and he choked on a groan as he shuddered in her arms, finally resting his head between her breasts as they both panted. She wrapped him in her embrace, squeezing her thighs around his hips tightly, her fingers in his hair, against his scalp, making him moan with pleasure as she scratched at him gently.

"I love you, Jack," she whispered.

He closed his eyes against the words, against the world, willing it all away. It was all he needed here, now, this, her, him, them. He didn't need anything else. Nothing else . . . nothing . . . else . . .

The storm raged about them.

***

The curtain fell, the crowd clapped, and Jack leaned in toward Rachel.

"That was the stupidest play I've ever seen. He didn't love her; hell, he was whining about that one girl and how much he loved her. What made Juliet think he was going to stay with her?"

"Shush, Jack, it's romantic."

He scoffed. "It's satire, is what it is, and it's stupid."

"Well, we're not here so you can play theatre critic, we're here to support Janet."

"Yeah, well, someone has to. Useless mother can't even show up for her kid, makes me do it . . ." Rachel shushed him again, gesturing to the row in front of them where Susie sat, cheering her sister on with a few friends from school. Jack rolled his eyes. "And why did we invite the entire damned cast over?"

"Because it's closing night and they needed a place to have their closing night party, dear. Don't make me put you out on the porch again." Rachel wiped at her eyes and then rubbed her stomach with a wince.

Jack covered her hand. "Are you all right?"

"Hm? Yeah, just a stomach ache." She smiled at him as the cast came out and bowed, then kissed his cheek. "I just need some rest."

"Oh nonono, you are not leaving me to supervise those brats," he warned her with a scowl.

"Come on, Jack, you're great with kids."

"I threaten to kill them and they believe me. That's the only reason they do what I tell them to."

"Right," Rachel murmured. "The girls want you, the boys want to be you. Do you know how often I've heard them boasting at football games that the Joker lives in their town?"

Jack groaned and covered his eyes. "I set out to be the Clown Prince of Crime, not a fucking idol."

She pat his arm with a yawn. "Jeff says crime dropped when we moved here. The crooks are afraid you'll come after them."

"Those 'crooks' are teenage boys barely old enough to shave." Still, Jack's chest puffed out a little. It was good to know he was still feared.

"Jack, am I coming over, too?!"

Of course, it was difficult to be intimidating when a small girl was climbing over the back of her seat and into his lap, throwing her arms around his neck and hugging him tightly. Jack groaned.

"Yeah, peaches, you are," he told her, and Susie turned to her friends with a superior look. "Can we get out of here?" he asked Rachel.

She nodded and they stood, Jack holding Susie on his hip and completely missing the knowing smile she gave him. They had to hang around for a bit to wait until Janet got out of her costume, and as a group of boys surrounded Jack wanting to know how to blow things up, Rachel hung at the edges and just listened as people walked by. She didn't like what she heard.

"Can we go?" Janet finally asked. "I'm starving." There was a snort from Cathy, who had played Juliet, and her group of friends laughed after a muttered comment. Jack had just turned to her when Janet snarled. "Men," she stressed, "like curves, Cathy."

"Why do you think I don't let Rachel diet?" Jack asked smoothly, pulling Rachel in front of him with a grin and running his hands over her hips. Cathy's crush, at least, he was aware of, and it disgusted him. "She curves in all the right places."

"Yeah!" Susie put in, sticking her tongue out at Cathy as she hid behind Jack's legs.

With that, Jack herded his women to the car, muttering loudly about spoiled anorexics with no brains to speak of. Rachel rolled her eyes, but with Janet actually defending herself and the glow on her face from it, she couldn't bring herself to correct her husband's behaviour.

***

Susie and Janet never left Jack's side during the party, not even when he started the bonfire and was showing the young men in the cast how to make a canon out of a cardboard tube, a Pringles can, and a soda can. Rachel had spent all afternoon cleaning, making sure that the ropes, handcuffs, and other such toys they had were well-hidden. There were some things that ought to stay a secret, she mused as she wandered through the house. Two bedrooms and a bathroom upstairs, another bedroom and a bathroom, living room, kitchen, dining room, and laundry room downstairs. They really didn't need this much room, but Rachel was still holding out hope for converting at least one of the bedrooms into a nursery in the next year or two. If she could convince Jack, that was . . . She leaned against the porch railing and watched him down at the beach, helping Susie build a sand castle as Janet talked with a group of her friends.

The girl was sniffling, and it took a while for Jack to realise that it wasn't from the cold night air. He looked around for Rachel, but didn't see her; must still be in the house. Damn it.

"Hey, what's wrong?" he asked as gently as he could. Just . . . pretend it was Rachel sniffling, minus the kissing and licking and attempts at comfort-sex.

"I don't wanna go home," she whimpered, coming around the castle to curl up in his lap again.

Jack blinked and hesitantly stroked her hair. "Okay . . . why not? It's your home. All your toys are there."

"Mommy will just yell and cry," Susie told him as she hugged him. "She doesn't want me any more."

He was out of his comfort range and sinking fast. "Uh . . . sure she wants you. She's just . . . upset right now. It's not your fault?" Shiiiit, where was Rachel when he needed her?

Susie shook her head. "All she does is cry about Daddy being gone. She says she wants to be with him. She doesn't love me because I'm bad."

He hadn't known that the Mills' issues at home were quite so severe. Then again, it was nothing compared to what his brain told him he'd been through, but still. Right now all Jack wanted was for this small girl-child to stop crying.

"You're not bad, Susie, and your mother loves you," he told her, wrapping his arms around her and rocking slightly. Rachel liked being held when she was sad, so hopefully Susie would also be comforted by it. He didn't know if he was lying or not, but it was worth a try. "She's still sad about your father" painslaphitpunchtears "being gone," he went on as he shook his head sharply, "but that doesn't mean she doesn't love you."

"I look like Daddy and she hates it; she told me so." He swallowed sharply as she burst into tears, making soothing noises at her. Susie hiccuped. "Why can't you be my Daddy?" she whimpered. "I could live with you and Miss Rachel, and then Mommy wouldn't be so sad all of the time."

Something in him clenched the way it did when Rachel was upset and he was powerless to comfort her. Jack pursed his lips and then pressed a kiss to Susie's forehead as he stood up with her. "Now look, pumpkin-face, your mom needs you to be strong for her, all right? She'll get better, I promise."

Actually, chances were that the woman would drink herself to death before she got her head out of her ass and started caring for her children again, but Jack let Susie think things would work out as she raised her face to his, eyes lit up with hope. Too bad some hope killed. He swung her up and around and she shrieked with laughter as he brought her back up to the house, where Rachel was watching him with a smile he wasn't quite sure he liked. There wasn't anything malicious about it, it just . . . the way she looked from him to the girl in his arms made him uneasy. Jack hated feeling uneasy.

"Is everything all right?" she asked mildly.

"Uh, yeah. Just having a heart-to-heart." He chewed the inside of his lip as he stared at her, trying to figure out what the woman was thinking up now. Then he looked at Susie, curled up with her head on his shoulder and a smile on her face, and then he looked back at Rachel and the look on her face as she watched them and his eyes got wide as he shook his head.

"Oh, no. Rachel, no. I'm not . . . we're not . . . I don't want ---"

The look disappeared, replaced by pursed lips and narrowed eyes as Rachel shoved away from the railing. "Forget it, Jack. I didn't say anything."

He followed her up the stairs and inside, where he laid Susie on the couch and covered her with a blanket. "No, Rachel, look, I don't want a kid. We're not . . . can we even afford one? I don't know how to be a father. I'd probably kill it. Christ, don't give me that look." It was a good thing that only a few students were left, and outside to boot. There was no one to hear Jack try to dissuade Rachel from the notion of children. He ran his hand through his hair and then pawed at his scars with his fingers and tongue as he followed her into the kitchen. "Look, baby, please ---"

"I said forget it," she snapped without looking at him, gathering pizza boxes to throw out. "Quit jumping to conclusions."

"The way you were looking at us, it didn't seem like such a crazy thing to think," he told her, heart pounding. "What do you want kids for, anyway? I mean, isn't this enough?" He gestured around them, between them. "Shit, Rach ---"

"Just stop it, Jack, stop it." Rachel planted her hands on her hips and glared at him from across the kitchen. "Maybe it's not enough for me any more, Jack. Maybe I want to be a mother. Maybe, just maybe, I want you to be a father." She turned the sink on roughly to rinse dishes. "I don't know why you're so against kids, Jack," she muttered. "They adore you. Damn it, you knew I wanted children!" She was disgusted, and Jack was afraid she'd break a dish and get hurt, so he stepped behind her to take the plate from her. "Don't touch me!" He stepped back. "It's not like you're going to have to raise them on your own, you know. I'll be here, too. And if you're worried that I'll stop loving you as much, you're an idiot."

Jack winced; that thought had crossed his mind. He stared, face pinched, as Rachel did the dishes in a huff, not sure how to tell her that the thought of her body swollen with his child was one of the most glorious, amazing, terrifying thoughts he'd ever had. He couldn't be a father. Hell, he could barely be a human at times. What if he lost control like he had before? What if he couldn't handle the crying and snapped? What if, and his heart threatened to stop, Rachel died giving birth? What if he turned out as abusive as his own father? No, no matter how much he wanted it, he had to deny his ego and avoid having children. He just couldn't make Rachel understand this.

Case in point . . . Jack eased his hands out of the fists they'd balled into, rubbing them together to make sure they weren't bleeding. He hadn't broken the skin, but almost. Oh, shit, but now Rachel was sitting at the table with her head in her hands, crying. He went to her and pulled her into a tight embrace despite her muffled protests, kissing her hair and trying to get her to calm down.

"I'm sorry, Jack," she whimpered, "I'm just . . . I want a family. God, I can't stop thinking about it, about how you'd look holding our baby . . ." She wiped at her eyes and leaned into him, shoulders slumping. Jack stared down at her and the words he wanted to say stuck in his throat. "I'm sorry. Oh, darn it, I've just . . . I'm sorry, Jack."

He sighed and pressed his lips to her hair. "It's all right."

"It's not all right," Rachel said as she looked up at him. Jack's gaze slid to the side.

"Are you mad at me?"

"This isn't just about you, Jack. I'm sorry I blew up, but I've just . . . this is something I really want, and I know we haven't talked about it at all, but I've been thinking about it a lot." She sat up straighter and looked out the window as she sighed. "Can we?" she asked. "Talk about it, I mean."

Jack sat across from her and crossed his arms in front of him on the table, hunching over a little. He was trying not to make a distasteful face; Rachel did, after all, deserve to hear why he wasn't keen on the pitter-patter of little feet in the house.

"What's there to talk about?" he asked after he'd cleared his throat once or twice. "I mean, I'm sure we can't really afford a kid, and aren't we a little old for one, anyway?"

Rachel rubbed her eyes and sighed again. "We can afford to have a child, Jack," she told him. "I make good enough money that your dance class is just extra cash; you could teach it for free if you felt like it."

"If you're good at something, never do it for free."

"Regardless," Rachel went on, "we have no mortgage, no car payments . . . nothing, really. Cell phones, cable, internet, gas, food . . . those are our major expenses, and we're still making more money than we're spending. I don't recall the exact balance of my account, but you and I are easily two of the richest people in this town."

"Not too hard to do," he muttered. She gave him a stern look. "All right, but we're still old to have kids. You're almost forty, and I'm . . . well . . . hell if I know, but look, see? Grey hairs." He pointed at his temples and Rachel rolled her eyes.

"I had a friend in high school who started going grey his freshman year, Jack. Grey hairs aren't a good argument." She looked down and fiddled with her wedding band. "And 'almost forty' is one of the reasons I want a child now. If we wait much longer, it's going to be hard to conceive."

"Whoa, whoa," Jack said as he lifted his hands up in front of him, "I haven't agreed to a damn thing."

"I was talking theoretically," Rachel said with another hard look. Then she waved her hand irritably. "Logical arguments aside, why don't you want a child? It's not because of money or age."

Because . . . it . . . scared him? How the hell did he say that? His tongue was dragging along his scars, inside and out, as he tried to think up a good excuse that wasn't lying, but also wasn't the truth. Rachel just looked at him.

"How do you know I'd be a good father? Remember what happens when my meds stop working?"

"Would you stop using your medication as a God damned crutch?" Rachel hissed. Her cheeks were flushed and she was mad. Very mad. Jack hated it when she was mad. He winced and started to open his mouth, but she cut him off. "Every time you don't want to do something, you bring up your damned pills, Jack. Taking the boat up the coast? Moaning about losing your pills overboard! That conference in California I was supposed to go to last summer? 'Oh, crap, Rachel, what if I forget my pills while you're gone?' You are so damned needy, Jack!" Rachel slammed her hands down on the table and pushed herself up, pacing around the kitchen. "You're set in your ways and God forbid anything disrupt you!"

"This isn't some damned excuse, Rachel!" Jack snapped at her. She planted her fists on her hips and returned his glare. "You've seen every damned inch of me, Rachel. Do you really think I had a pleasant time growing up? Do you think Mommy and Daddy took me to the candy store each time I got a good school report? What, summers in the country or some crap like that? I may not remember much about my past, honey bunches, but I do not ever remember it being good. I'm a fucking psychotic sociopath; it didn't happen overnight. So yeah, maybe I'm a little bit worried that if you pop out a kid, I'm not going to be able to handle it." He stood up at this point and stalked over to Rachel to glare down at her. "Do you know how hard it is for me to wake up as your husband on a good day?" he asked her in a low voice, and had the satisfaction of seeing her eyes widen a little. "I open my eyes in the morning and everything rushes in at me all at once, Rachel, and for a moment I don't know who I am, where I am, or if I'm in danger or not. Then there's a body next to me and it's warm and alive and snuggled close like it's happy to be there, and sometimes I spend five, ten minutes staring at you until I feel like I can get up without going crazy. If I have to do all of that when I've gotten a good night's rest," he said as he took her by the shoulders, "what might happen if it's three a.m. and the fourth time the kid's woken up screaming? What if it won't shut the fuck up?" Jack shook her gently. "Well?"

"You're acting like you're going to be raising a child alone," Rachel returned. "Like you're not going to have any help. You're gentle with me, Jack, when you've had a bad night, and you can be gentle with a baby, too." He rolled his eyes and shook his head. Rachel took one of his hands and placed it over her abdomen. She wouldn't let go when he tried to pull it away, looking up at him with big green eyes and lips that were trying not to pout, which was as bad as when they were pouting. "You're so good with kids," she murmured. "Amazingly good with them. I've wanted to be a mother longer than I've wanted to be anything, Jack, and you're the only man I want as their father." Now the tears started welling up, the fucking tears, and the sniffles weren't far behind. Rachel was so good at this, she didn't even realise what she was doing. "I know we can raise a child together. If you want to hire a nanny, we can do that." And there it was, a small sniffle as she leaned her head against his chest and pressed his hand into her womb. "Please, Jack, just consider it?"

It was torture holding still, not taking her in his arms and promising her anything she wanted. Jack's lips thinned as he stared hard at the refrigerator.

"No."

Rachel pushed away from him and headed to the stairs. She was trying to hide the tears falling down her cheeks. "I'm going to bed." Jack stayed where he was until their door click shut, then his hands clenched and he turned and hit the wall before grabbing another six-pack of root beer from the fridge and stalking out into the living room, where he came to a dead stop.

"What are you doing here?" he asked Janet. She was sitting on the couch, pretending she hadn't hear every word of the fight, with Susie curled up next to her.

"I . . . Mom never showed up to get us," was the whispered response.

"So? Call her."

Now Janet was crying, quietly. "She didn't pick up the phone."

Jack stared at her for a long time, then let his breath out all at once. "Fuck." He set the root beer down and stomped to the downstairs bedroom, flinging the door open and surveying it before turning back to Janet. "Sleep in here, both of you." He crossed his arms over his chest and glared as the girl gathered her sister and slipped into the room, cheeks still wet and getting wetter, and ignored her whispered thanks. "I'll be on the porch," Jack growled, shutting the door firmly, retrieving his root beer, and then throwing himself onto the swing and cracking open the first can.