After the Fall
By Camilla Sandman

Disclaimer: Oh pleeeeeeeeeease! Like you don't know I'm Hal McElroy in disguise, living out what he really wanted to happen to Rachel and Frank..g

Author's Note: Oh – My – God! This fic is a total of 25, 000 something words.. which means I beat Vanessa! I did it, I did it! rambles on for about half an hour Thanks to my faithful beta-readers, to Julia, Jaye, Sim, Ky, Sarah, Suz and Vanessa, who told me to go for it… and I did it! WOOOOOOHOOOOOO!

Remedium amoris.-- The cure for love is still in most cases that ancient radical medicine: love in return.

II

The ocean washed against the shore as the sun came up over the horizon and spread it's light over the commotion around the beach house. Sirens filled the air, as well as loud voices.

"How the hell did this happen!"

"We don't know yet…Calm down Jack!"

The sounds of fast tires against the pavement as yet another car pulled up stopped their discussing short. They both watched the third man approach them, obvious concern painted all over his face. Neither wanted to be the one to break it to him.

"What's going on?" Frank Holloway asked as he reached his boss Jeff Hawker and his.. colleague Jack Christie outside the house. Rachel's house. It was crawling with cops, and he'd seen an ambulance as well. If something had happened to Rach.. he refused to let his mind go there.

"Frank..." Hawker began, then stopped, unsure of how to continue.

"What IS going on!" Frank repeated, willing them to tell him it was nothing.

"Look mate.. Rachel.." Jack began, then he stopped short too.

"That is.. David, he.." Jack tried again, but once again failed to complete the sentence.

"David's dead," came the clear voice from the door, and all turned to look at Rachel standing in the doorway. She looked horrible. It looked as if someone had spraypainted her with blood.. for a horrible second Frank thought it was hers, then he realized it was David's… and felt even more horrible.

"Rach.." he whispered, and she met his eyes. She looked like a caged animal.. calm now, but about to burst. Her eyes were so dry he suspected she was still in shock. Her expression told him nothing.. it was just blank. He didn't realize he had stepped forward until he reached out to touch her face.

"Rach.." he whispered again.

"Frank.. I… I.."

"Hush, you don't have to say anything."

"He killed him Frank.. he killed him!" She pounded her fists at his chest, and he just stood there, letting her, trying to fathom what she was feeling. He couldn't. He couldn't even begin to. So he let her pound on. After a while she seemed to run out of energy, and just fell against his chest.

"He killed him.." she said disbelievingly.

"Who?" Jack asked, but she didn't lift her gaze from Frank.

"The man.. he was hooded. He had a shotgun.. he went straight for David.. I.."

"It can wait Rach…"

"No," she insisted, "it can't. It can't! IT CAN'T!"

"Okay.. okay.. whatever ya wanna do, okay?" he said reassuringly, and she just nodded. She still hadn't shed a tear, he realized.

"Miss?" One of the ambulance women came to them. "Miss, we need to check you out."

"But I…" she protested, but only half-heartedly.

"Goldstein… Go!" Hawker ordered, and it seemed to work, for she just nodded slowly, and let herself be led away. Frank stared after her, wondering how she would do when the shock wore off.. and she truly understood what had happened.

He had the scariest feeling of loosing her.

As the ambulance drove away, he looked down at his chest, and realized it was covered in blood. David's blood. Without knowing it he balled his hands into fists. Whoever had done this.. he would find him.. and then…

He would kill him.

II

Water Police HQ – same day

"I just can't believe it," Tayler said for the fourth time in 2 minutes. The others, Syksie, Tommy and Dave, didn't even comment on it.

The word had spread fast all over the station, and everyone had taken the news with disbelief. Rachel's David was dead.. murdered. By some wacko with a shotgun. Who would kill such an innocent boy, just gun him down?

"How could this happen?" Sykes said quietly. The others shrugged their shoulders, unable to even wrap their minds around that it really had happened. Rachel's son was dead. And no matter how many times they repeated it to themselves, it just wouldn't sink in.

Helen came in, walking slowly, as if in a trance. She seemed to have cried, her cheeks were flustered, her eyes swollen. She looked like hell

"How is she!" came 4 immediate questions.

"In shock. She was there.. he got killed in front of her eyes," Helen explained, trying to keep the tears away. "He was such a good boy…"

"Helen, can I see you in my office?" came Hawker's voice droning from above.

"Coming," she replied, then gave the others a half-hearted shrug. They looked after her with obvious concern, then return to their own haunting thoughts.

And in everyone's mind a terrible picture of little David being shot down appeared, and would stay there for weeks, resurfacing in nightmares for year to come.

He had just been a boy. Just.. a boy. Who would kill such an innocent little kid?

II

Flash.

"Mommy?" came David's clear voice.

"Yes, hon?"

"There's someone at the door."

"I didn't hear the doorbell."

"But he's there."

"I'll just take this out of the oven…."

"MOOOOOOOOOOM!"

Flash.

She blinked away the memory, refusing to acknowledge it. If she wouldn't acknowledge it, it wouldn't have happened. It hadn't happened. It hadn't!

"It happened," a little voice inside her kept insisting, it was droning on constantly, repeating "David is dead. It happened. David is dead. It happened."

Her mind just wouldn't register it. The subject, "David", it had no trouble grasping, but the following phrase "is dead" was more troublesome. David.. is dead. David is dead. David is dead. David is dead. It just didn't make sense.

They'd taken her to the hospital, treating her like a kid, leading her by the elbows. She didn't have the strength to yell at them, to howl at them not to pretend they understood. They couldn't. No one could. The doctor had offered her a sedative. She refused to take it, already feeling numb and distant. It was as if it didn't really affect her, but some other person.

Finally they had left her on an examining table. She just sat there, staring into the air.

"Rach?"

She knew that voice. It was Frank… Frank.

"Frank?"

"Yeah, I'm here. You okay?" As soon as he had said it, he could have kicked himself for saying it. Of course she wasn't okay. Her kid had been murdered, for crying out loud! She was far from okay!

"Okay," she repeated, "am I okay?"

"That's not what I meant.. I just…"

"Am I okay!" she cried out, and he winced at the obvious anger in her voice, knowing he wasn't the source of it, but that it was directed at him.

"I'm sorry, I just meant…" he tried to explain, but she cut his short, her voice practically shaking with anger.

"Piss off Frank!"

"No," he replied, knowing she had to get it out. She had to snap out of the shock, or she would never be able to grieve.

"Just piss of.. Piss off! PISS OFF!"

"No," he insisted, and finally she couldn't hold it in anymore, and the tears emerged. She fell against his chest, and he wrapped her into his arms, stroking her back. The noises she were making sounded like those of a wounded animal, and his shoulder were becoming wet with tears. He had to fight the anger emerging, directed at whoever did this, Rachel didn't need him angry right now. It would be time for that later. For now, he just held her, making soothing noises. He had no idea what to say.. What could anyone say? She cried and she cried and she cried until there was no tears left in her. He held her a little while longer, silently.

Finally she broke away a little, his hands stayed wrapped around her though.

"Frank…" she pleaded, not knowing exactly what she pleaded for.

"I'm so sorry. I'm so, so sorry," he said, willing her to understand that he meant it. She nodded slightly.

"I know… Why Frank? Why?"

"I dunno. But I'm gonna find out, okay? I'm gonna find out who did this," he promised. She just nodded in return. She believed him. He wiped away the tears from her cheek, then planted a gentle kiss on her forehead.

"If you need anything…" he began, and once again she nodded slightly.

"There's some detectives… They want to talk to you. I can tell them to go away…"

"No," she whispered.

"Okay… Do you want me to stay?" he asked gently

"Yes… Please stay…"

"Okay," he replied, and freed himself from the embrace. "I'll be right back."

Once again he got only a nod in reply, but he took that as any encouragement to leave the room.

He was back in a matter of seconds, two suited detectives in tow. She had met them before.. but she couldn't remember when or where.

"Detective Goldstein? I'm Peter Adams, and this is Bryan Webster. Are you sure you're up to this?"

"Yeah," she replied, and Frank gave her an encouraging nod.

"Can ya tell us what happened?"

She nodded, then took a deep breath and told them.

Told them all.

II

"Mom?" David asked from the living room.

"Yeah?"

"How long until dinner is ready?"

"Just be a few minutes now!" she replied, looking at the oven. She heard him wander around impatiently, and she smiled, imagining his expression. She looked at the oven once again. Just a few more minutes, she figured.

"Mommy?" came David's clear voice.

"Yes, hon?"

"There's someone at the door." Strange. At this hour?

"I didn't hear the doorbell."

"But he's there."

"I'll just take this out of the oven…."

"MOOOOOOOOOOM!" came the desperate cry, and she dropped the plate. It fell to the floor, breaking into a thousand pieces. She didn't notice as she ran into the living room. Just as she entered it, the first shot went off. It hit David squarely in the chest and threw him against the wall which immediately got colored red.

She froze in the doorway, her eyes wide in shock. The shooter was standing in the hallway, and fired again. He was a tall man, masked, clothed in dark. He was Death.

She shrieked. An inhuman sound even to herself, containing grief, anger, shock and desperation. And she waited for the shot to hit her, to the blackness to engulf her and whisk away the pain.

It didn't come. Instead the shooter just spat on the floor and ran out. Only then could she move, and she ran to David, to the pool of blood.

"Mom.. it.. hurts…" he whispered as life poured out of him. She wanted to say something, to ease the pain, to tell him it would be alright, but her mouth was dr. No matter how hard she worked it, no sound came out.

"Moooooommy…." He cried and fell limp in her arms. Only then could she find the words.

"David, David, no, God.. David! DAVID!" she cried, while shaking his tiny body as if it would bring him back to life. She didn't even realize she got covered in blood as she tried to breathe life into him. It was no good, but her mind refused to accept that. He wasn't dead. He couldn't possibly be dead.

But there was so much blood… So much blood.

"So much blood…" she finished, looking up at the two detectives. They exchanged glances, then got up.

"That's it for now, but we may need to talk to you again."

"Yeah, of course," she replied, her voice giving away no emotion at all.

"Detective Holloway, may we have a word?"

Frank glanced over at Rachel, who gave him a slight nod, then followed the two detectives out in the hallway.

"I understand you and Detective Goldstein are partners?" Adams asked.

"Yeah."

"You are close?"

"What kind of bloody question is that!" he shot back, defensively.

"A reasonable one," Adams replied, "you're a cop. You know how this works."

They stared at each other for another couple of seconds, before Webster cut in.

"We'd just like to know if you knew her and her son well."

"Yes, yes I did," Frank replied to Webster, ignoring Adams for now. He didn't like him, he decided.

"And she had a good relationship with her son?" Webster asked.

"The best," Frank replied, "she loved him. He was.. the center of her universe."

"But the father had custody," Adams shot in.

"The father is a jerk who just happens to be a smart-arse lawyer!"

Frank forced himself to take another calming breath, reminding himself getting angry now was not a good idea.

"So there was openly hostility between her and… " Adams paused to check his notes, "Jonathon Goldstein."

"They didn't see eye to eye on a few things…" Frank admitted.

"So, would you say she took this out on…"

"What!" Frank shot in, "she took it out on David, is that what you're trying to say!"

"Detective Holloway, I'm merely…." Adams began, but to no avail.

"You think she did it!" Frank roared, "you think she killed her own son!"

"I didn't…" Adams tried to explain, but got cut short.

"You bloody well did!"

"Calm down," Webster interrupted, "we have to look into every possibility. As a cop I'm sure you can understand that."

"She loved David more than her life," Frank said after taking a calming breath, "she was the best mom."

"Thank you for your time, Detective," Webster quickly said, "we'll be in touch."

As the two marched down the corridor, Frank heard Adams mutter "bastard" under his breath. He didn't mind. The feeling was, after all, mutual. He took one more calming breath, then went into the hospital room again.

She was still sitting there, staring at her hands intently, as if she still saw traces of blood on them.

"Rachel?" he called out.

"So much blood Frank.. There was so much blood," she whispered. He put his hands around her, not really knowing what to do.

For in the end you carried grief alone. Sure, people would be around you, support you, give you a hug when you needed one and listen to you bitch about how unfair it was. But when it came down to it, in the darkness where you could not hide from your thought… You carried the grief alone.

All alone.

II

When Jack poked his head into the room a few minutes later, he found them like that, Rachel staring at her hands while an obvious worried Frank held her closely. Neither looked up as he walked in, and he had the oddest feeling of trespassing.

He coughed discreetly, but still got no reaction what so ever. They looked frozen in time.

"Heya…" he called up, and finally Frank looked up.

"Jack," he acknowledged, his voice completely lacking any emotions. Again the feeling of trespassing reappeared, as if he was intruding, Jack noted.

"How… How is she?"

"I am in the room," came Rachel's voice, and she finally looked up at him.

"Don't talk about me like I'm not in the room!" Her voice was rising, but not with anger. He held out his hands in defeat, not wanting to upset her.

"I'm sorry," he apologized, and she seemed to accept it.

"Gentlemen… I'll have to ask you both to leave now," the entering doctor exclaimed. His professional tone annoyed Frank for some reason, the punk was.. what, half his age?

"Come on Frank," Jack said, taking a step towards the door.

"I'll be right outside, okay Rach?" Frank asked, giving her one final hug.

"Yeah…" she muttered in reply, and he stood up and walked to the door with Jack. He didn't want to leave her, afraid if he let her out of his gaze just a second she's slip away, but the doctors knew what they were doing.

As soon as they had stepped outside, he could feel Jack's angry gaze at him.

"What!" he snapped.

Jack shrugged his shoulders a bit, but Frank didn't buy it for a second.

"Don't start this jealousy crap!" he exclaimed.

"What the bloody hell are you talking about?" Jack snapped back.

"Me and her, and you and her. I don't know what the hell you two are to each other, but she is my best friend, and my partner!" Frank shouted, feeling an urge to slap the guy.

"That doesn't mean you own her!"

"It gives me the right to be there!"

"And I don't have that right!" Jack fumed, and they stopped to glare at each other.

"It's her call to make, Frank," Jack reminded him.

"I think she already has mate," Frank shot back, and Jack never had a chance to reply, because at that moment the doctor joined them.

"What the hell do you two think you're doing yelling in a hospital like that? And to your information, we could hear you both quite clearly in there. Now, do I have to make security drag you out?"

"No," both men replied, their heads hanging a bit.

"For your sake I hope you never behave like that in a hospital ever again," the doctor exclaimed, and went back to the room, leaving the two staring at each other like two rivaling rhinos.

He could practically hear the Serengeti drums.

II

Hawker entered the hospital a few hours later, and found two very impatient Detectives sitting in the hallway. From the glances they were sending each other, he could tell either wasn't happy having the other there.

"Jeff," Frank greeted.

"How is she?"

"In shock," Jack replied, getting a glare from Frank.

"Well, we have finished going over her house. David was shot with a shotgun, ballistics will reveal what kind."

"Any witnesses?" Frank asked, hoping to God it was.

"Besides Rachel.. Not really. A young lady thinks she saw a dark jeep coming from the direction of Rachel's house, but she couldn't tell what the license read."

Frank closed his eyes, the strain of the night beginning to tear on him.

"Holloway, I want you to look over Rachel's old cases.. see if anyone has sworn revenge on her Anything that sticks out."

"But I want to stay here…" he protested.

"Do as I say, Holloway, visiting hours are long over anyway."

"Alright," he threw his hands up in defeat, and stalked out.

The two looked after him.

"You're gonna hafta keep him away from Rach at gunpoint," Jack remarked.

"If I hafta, I will. And that goes for you too. She just had the shock of her life. Last thing I need are you two butting heads over who will be the most supportive, is that clear?"

"Perfectly, sir," Jack replied.

Jeff gave him an encouraging nod, then got up to check on Rachel. He had a feeling a gun was just what he needed to keep those two away, no matter what they said.

II

She had a feeling it was morning. She didn't quite know why, but she had a distinctive feeling it was morning. Right about now she should have been dropping David off to school.

She stopped to think a bit about that. Why wasn't she? It all felt so dim, so far away, it took her several minutes to figure out she thought it was morning because the sun was getting up and morning sun was filling her room. So why was she just lying her?

She strained to lift her hand, but her muscles didn't seem to cooperate. Her mind felt foggy, but the fog was lifting slowly.

She was in a hospital, that she was sure off. Had she been shot? No, didn't feel like it. But there had been a shooting, someone…

The blood drained from her face.

"David," she whispered, "David! DAVID!"

"Rachel! Hush, it's alright," came a voice, and she lifted her gaze to see Jack sitting in a chair across the room.

But it wasn't. It would never be okay again, never ever okay.

"David," she whispered again.

"I'm so sorry Rach," Jack said, while approaching her bed. She was so pale it was starting to scare him.

"Tell me it's a nightmare," she begged, "tell me I'll wake up soon."

"I'm sorry…" he once again offered, taking her hand. She immediately jerked it away.

"TELL ME IT'S A NIGHTMARE!"

"Rachel, calm down," came a new voice, this time it was Frank, just entering her room. She stared at him widely, then at Jack, both faces filled with sympathy, compassion, pity.

It wasn't a nightmare.

Frank approached the bed also, shooting Jack a glance she couldn't quite read.

"Have they found him, Frank?" she asked, willing him to tell her they had.

"Not yet.. They've…" he stopped dead as someone else entered the room. Jonathon.

"Rachel," he greeted.

"Jonathon," she replied, and they stared at each other for an eternity or two. Then he slowly went to the bed, and kissed her gently on the forehead.

"I miss him too," he offered, and walked out. She looked after him, then closed her eyes, remembering David's father when she had loved him, and remembering David, who she had never stopped loving. And the tears came, uninvited, washing away all anger, all happiness, leaving only sorrow.

The two men shifted a bit, looking at each other, trying to see who should comfort her.

"Jack," she whispered, "you and Frank find this guy."

"We will," he promised.

"Yeah, we will," Frank agreed

"Then go.. Go!" she urged, not wanting to fall to pieces in front of them. They both nodded, and left quietly, Frank with one last "We'll find him."

And then she cried, even if she had no tears left.

II

Water Police HQ – later the same day

"Any luck with the past arrests, Frank?" Jack asked, trying not to yawn.

"Nope, nothing sticks out so far. And those who do, are either dead or behind bars. I feel like I'm looking for a needle in a haystack," Frank exclaimed, slamming the file onto the table.

"You have any luck?" he added a few seconds later.

"Nope," Jack answered, "this guy has been careful not too leave any clues."

"Bloody bastard," Frank muttered under his breath.

"Yeah.. gunning down a child like that…"

Something clicked in Frank's mind as he heard Jack say that.

"Hang on.. She said that the shooter went right for David," he said

"Yeah, he probably wanted to hurt her as badly as he could," Jack said, not seeing Frank's point.

"But David had two parents. This guy could be out to hurt Jonathon," Frank pointed out.

They looked at each other.

"We could be looking at the wrong parent," Jack said slowly.

"Yeah.. Jonathon's a bastard.. he could have made plenty of enemies," Frank stated, feeling his mind shift into a faster gear. If the killer had been out to hurt Jonathon..

"Come on!" he exclaimed, "let's have a chat with Jonathon.."

"The bastard," he added silently. If Rach had lost her son because that bastard had gotten himself involved in something fishy…

He would lock the guy up and throw away the key. After he had punched his lights out.

II

"What makes you so sure he'll be home?" Jack asked as they pulled up in the driveway.

"He will be," Frank simply replied.

"Looks like he has company though," he added when noting the green Mazda parked right in front of the house.

"Maybe we should…" Jack began, but he got interrupted when two guys walked out of the house.

"Adams and Webster," Frank noted sourly.

"They're handling the case?"

"Yeah."

"I know them. Webster's okay, Adams can be…"

"A pain," Frank added empathetically.

"Occasionally, yes. Looks like they're heading our way," Jack observed, when the two saw them and changed heading.

Frank rolled down his window.

"Detective Holloway.. Jack…" Adams said, obviously not very happy seeing them there. "You're not trying to look into the case, now are you?"

"Us?" Frank said, putting on his best surprised look, "wouldn't dream off it. We're just here to offer our condolences."

"Jack?" Webster asked, but Jack just gave him a shrug in return.

"As Frank said, we're just here to offer our condolences."

"Knowing you Jack.. I doubt it. So I'm gonna say this as clearly as I can: Stay away from the case. You're both too emotionally involved. Am I perfectly, crystal clear?" Webster asked.

"Clear as the day, mate," Frank replied. With one last warning look the two detectives marched to their car, and drove away.

"I hope they're not friends of you, Jack," Frank remarked dryly as they got out of the car.

"Nah. I don't have any friends."

"Ya know Jack, that I can believe," Frank said as he rang the doorbell.

To their surprise, Jonathon himself opened.

"You two," he sighed.

"We were hoping to have a chat with you, mate," Jack said, trying to sound as polite as he could. He had already decided he didn't like the guy, and for once, Frank seemed to share his view.

"You and the rest of the world… But do come in," Jonathon replied, opening the door fully to allow them entrance.

"Thank you," Frank offered, then marched in after Jack.

"You're probably not here to offer your condolences," Jonathon stated as they walked through the hallway.

"Right on," Jack replied.

"You think I have something to do with David's killing? He was my son!"

"Exactly. If someone wanted to get back at you, that would be a good way," Frank pointed out. Jonathon laughed humorlessly in reply.

"Me? Isn't it more likely that someone would want to get back at my ex-wife? She is a cop, she makes enemies every day."

"We don't think the target was her," Jack replied.

"The two other cops seemed to think so."

"Yes, but they don't know you. I do," Frank simply stated

"You think you do, Holloway. Just because you're getting it on with my ex, does not mean you know me."

Jack shot Frank a questioningly glare, but he didn't bother to return it, instead he just kept his stare on Jonathon.

"Even if I am, as you say, 'getting it on with your ex', it doesn't change that fact that you're a bastard."

"That's it. I'm not going to take this crap from you two, especially since you have no reason to be here in the first place. Get out! If I see either of you here again, I'm gonna sue you both for harassment!"

"Let's go Frank," Jack said, almost pulling him out. The door was slammed shut hard behind them, informing them of just how unwelcome a return would be.

"What the hell was that!" Jack asked as soon as they approached the car.

"What the hell was what?"

"All that 'getting it on with your ex' stuff."

"None of your concern, Jack," Frank shot back.

"Now listen.."

"No, you listen. That guy is a bastard, and I know he's hiding something. Let's just concentrate on finding out what!"

"Fine," Jack snapped.

"Fine," Frank snapped back, "And I'm driving!"

"No, I'm driving!" They locked stares, neither willing to back down.

"Look, Jack.. if this is going to work.."

"We should call a truce," Jack offered.

"Yeah, something like that.. We both want what's right for Rachel, and that includes finding this shooter."

"Okay.. truce."

"Truce," Frank concluded, and extended his hand. Jack shook it after only a moment's hesitation.

"But who's gonna drive?"

II

"Miss Goldstein?" the doctor asked, "are you sure you don't want anyone to pick you up?"

"No, no, I am okay," she replied, heading towards the door.

"Miss Goldstein, I insist…" he began, but she was already out of the room. She couldn't breath there.

Finally outside, she took a deep breath.

"Calm down. Be in control. You'll get through this," she firmly told herself. She suddenly realized she had no means of getting home since her car wasn't there.

"Okay, no problem, I'll take a taxi," she told herself. That was a good plan. A taxi. Home. Home…

"Rachel?" came Helen's voice, and she turned around to see Helen about to enter the building.

"I was just coming too se you," she explained, "what are you doing out here?"

"I was released," Rachel stated, and saw the flash of doubt on Helen's face.

"Are you sure.."

"I'm fine Helen!" she snapped, "just don't behave like my mom, okay!"

"Alright, alright…"

"I just had to get out," she whispered, "David's funeral is tomorrow, I have to…"

"I'll take you to your father's house," Helen offered, and Rachel just nodded, letting herself be lead away. It was totally unlike her, which worried Helen more than she was able to express.

It was as if Rachel was only a shadow of herself, the real her stuck somewhere else, grieving.

II

"I don't think we'll get much more done tonight," Jack exclaimed, yawning.

"Uh huh," Frank muttered, totally engrossed in the autopsy report.

"How did ya get your hands on a copy of that anyway?" Jack asked, reaching for a cup of coffee.

"I got my secrets, Christey," Frank replied, still not looking up.

"Yeah… So.. wanna head out of here?"

"Yeah, okay, doesn't look like we'll get more done tonight," Frank stated, throwing the report into his drawer.

"Buy you a beer?"

"As long as the toast is for David."

"And Rachel," Frank insisted.

"And Rachel."

And with that they turned off the lights in the office and walked out.

II

She awoke that day to sunshine, and for some reason that angered her. It should have rained. It should have been a gray, misty, sad day. Not birds singing, sun shining. It was just an illusion.

An illusion that everything was fine, that life could go on, that the morning brought something new.

She pushed away the blankets, got up and walked into the bathroom. Her auto-pilot was on, she noted, and let it take her through the morning rituals. Her mind was elsewhere, replaying scenes of her life over and over and over.

And always with David as the main character. Over and over again he fell dead into her arms, and she stared at the blood, just stared like it was an alien being.

And she washed her hands, scrubbed them, and then washed them again. She was sure there were still traces of blood on them that just wouldn't go away. So she scrubbed and scrubbed and scrubbed, but it was still there. It wouldn't go away.

"Rachel?" came her father's gentle voice. She wasn't sure what she replied, but it made him go away, to leave her alone. As his footsteps grew distant, she leaned against the sink and cried.

She cried because it was sunshine, because her hands wouldn't get clean, because she'd hafta face reality, because she could no longer lie to herself.

There was no where left to run now, no corner to curl up in to avoid facing the truth. It was staring her in the face, even when she closed her eyes.

She was going to David's funeral.

How she got up, or out of the bathroom, she didn't really know, but she soon found herself being guided into a crowded church. She saw Helen, Jeff, Jack and Frank, all looking worried at her. She tried to give them an assuring smile, a smile that said "don't-worry", but her face refused to cooperate.

Her mind wasn't communicating with her body. They seemed to be in two different places. She remembered seeing how green the grass was, how alive it seemed. For some reason it made her want to tear it all up, burn it all and cover it with earth. Grass shouldn't be this green. Not now.

The rest of the funeral was a haze. She heard the words spoken, but they had no meaning to her, neither did the prayers. They were just words. Words couldn't express her loss, or her pain.

She didn't cry. She managed to keep her eyes dry all the way through the service, till they entered the cemetery, David's final resting place. The one red rose she had brought, she was holding so hard the thorns cut into her palm, but she didn't feel that pain, for another pain was too overwhelming.

The pain in her heart. And suddenly it was her time to say goodbye, to approach the grave. She didn't think her legs would support her, but they did, and she walked up to the dark hole.

It was such a small coffin. She stared blindly at it, trying to comprehend. That was David. Her David. Pain grabbed hold, she wanted to howl with grief, to hold on to the coffin and never let go. Instead she just stood there, staring.

"Rachel…" came her father's gentle voice, and she met his eyes, seeking comfort. She saw her own grief echoed there, and suddenly it was too overwhelming, too much. She stumbled, and fell down on her knees.

Frank was beside her in an instant, and she didn't have the strength to push him away. So she let herself be lifted up, to be guided away to another part of the cemetery. Her limbs seemed to have lost all strength, she was like a porcelain doll in his arms, moving only when he made her.

He couldn't think of anything to say. Words seemed so hollow, so pointless. They wouldn't ease her pain, or make it go away.

Her eyes seemed so large, but they were dry, no traces of tears.

"She has to cry," he thought frantically, "she has to cry or I'll loose her."

She was still clinging onto the rose, and he suddenly saw that her hands were bleeding. He tried to release her grip from it, buts she held on.

"Rachel.. you're bleeding…" he tried to explain to her, but she just stared at him, as if the words made no sense. Finally she looked at her hands.. and screamed.

It was a scream that made his hair stand on end, almost inhuman, and he realized it was the blood who caused it. She had finally let go of the rose though, and he took her palms gently in his hands, removing the thorns and wiping away the blood.

She didn't seem to notice.

"It's still there," she whispered, "it's still there. It won't go away."

"Rachel, come," her father called, and she got up, falling into his arms as they walked away. Frank could only stare after them, his heart bleeding for her.

Slowly, he picked up the rose and walked up to the grave. He didn't know what to say or do, so he just stood there, looking at the dark hole and the little coffin.

"Good luck, mate," he finally said, and placed the rose carefully on the grass.

II

Jack paced around in the room, feeling uncomfortable. Wakes really wasn't his thing. He didn't know what to say, or even how to approach Rachel, who seemed to be in some kind of daze. He'd tried to tell her he was sorry at the funeral, but she had just jerked away. Frank didn't seem to have that much luck either.

She was shutting them both out.

"Hey Jack," Frank said, coming from behind him.

"Frank," he acknowledged.

"She's not taking it well, is she?" Jack stated, getting a head shake from Frank.

"I've never seen her this.. shaken up. She's totally out of control, and…"

"You're worried," Jack finished.

"Ain't you?"

"Yeah.. I just don't know what to do for her."

"Finding the killer is a good start," Frank remarked, staring at the sky.

"We will," Jack said confidently.

"Yes, we will," Frank agreed, and the two men locked their gazes in a gesture of understanding before they both turned to look at Rachel, still being held by her father. She looked like crap. Actually, she looked worse. She looked.. worse than they had ever seen her.

Whoever had caused the woman they both loved too feel like this, they would find. And make him pay.

Rachel finally lifted her gaze to find that both Frank and Jack was staring at her. She tried to give them some kind of reassurance that she was okay, but she just couldn't.

She wasn't okay, far from it.

"Rachel," her father said, "do you want to sit down? You do not look too good."

"I just need a glass of water.."

"I'll be right back," her father promised.

She nodded weakly. As soon as her father had walked away a bit, Jonathon came up to her. She could see Frank and Jack frown at that. An urge to laugh hysterically came over her, but she managed to ignore it.

"You okay?" her ex asked her, and she wanted to punch his lights out for even asking that. It was just so.. him to say something like that.

"I just lost my son, Jonathon, what do you think!" she shot back at him.

"I lost a son too!" he yelled, "and it was your damn fault!"

She closed her eyes. It was true. It was her fault. If she hadn't.. If only.. her world started to spin.

"What the hell is wrong with you mate!" she heard Jack call out, but the world was growing white before her eyes. With a small sigh, she fell to the ground.

"Rach!" Frank and Jack called out at the same time, both running to her side, Frank with a hateful glare at Jonathon.

"Rach, Rach, talk to me, please?" Jack urged, checking her pulse and breathing.

"She's just passed out," he told Frank a second later, and they both breathed a sigh of relief.

Jonathon just snorted, and stalked off.

"That guy buggers me more than words can express!" Frank stated, loud enough for Jonathon to hear. It didn't cause the guy to turn around though, he just stalked on.

"Me too," Jack muttered.

"Hmmmm," Rachel muttered, and their attention turned to her again.

"Rach?"

"Yeah…"

"Can you get up?"

"Hmmm," she muttered, but did slowly get on her feet.

"What happened?" she asked.

"You passed out. Are you sure you're okay Rach?" Frank asked, his face mirroring the concern in his voice.

"Just tired.. Dad.." she said, as her father came to them, holding a glass of water.

"Yes, Rachel, let's go. Thank you both," he said to Frank and Jack. The two stood and looked after them, feeling helpless.

There was nothing they could do. Nothing.

II

And so it was over. The funeral, the wake. She had nothing to hold onto anymore.. except revenge. Payback to whoever had did it.

She had fallen, and no one could help her up again. There was just that one goal that kept her going, that one thought.

To find him, the killer, the one who had robbed her of her son, her light in the darkness of everyday life. She knew Frank and Jack wanted to help her, that they were practically falling over each other to reach her first, but she just couldn't let them in. Couldn't let them fall too.

So she left them at the wake.

They brought her home. To her house, which was no longer a crime scene. Officially at least.

A feeling of resignation passed over her. It was over. The center of her universe were no more. No more. .

"Rachel, are you sure you want to stay in your house?" her father asked again, and she gave him a brave smile.

"I cannot let the demons win," she replied, but didn't tell him the other reason she wanted to stay. She wanted to remember. She wanted the memories to drive her, to keep her going, for a while yet at least.

"You call if…" She nodded.

"He was a wonderful child," her father said gently, with tears in his eyes.

"He was," she replied, her voice cracking, and she quickly went inside, closing the door behind her. The urge to cry came over her again, but there was simply no tears left.

She hugged herself, leaning against the door. The house was totally quiet, and dark. She didn't mind. The darkness was a blessing. It allowed her to hide from herself, from the fact that she was alone here now. In the dark she could pretend.

Slowly, she got up, and walked into the living room. And there it was. The wall. She stared at it hatefully. It was the wall's fault.

"Damn you!" she cried, and punched at it. It did nothing but make her hand hurt, but she kept pounding at it, till the pain was overwhelming, stinging through her palms, her fingers, her wrist. Only then did she stop pounding, and fell onto the floor, gasping for breath.

She still couldn't cry, her eyes were too dry, but a large sob escaped her. She deserved it. She deserved to feel miserable for the rest of her life. He was dead. There was no reason to feel joy, no reason to feel anything but pain, pain overwhelming.

Without knowing it, she curled up in a fetus position. She just lay there, feeling her heart beat slowly. She wondered if she could make it stop beating on will, and if that would stop the hurting.

She needed to her a voice, to her something besides her own heartbeats. Almost on instinct, she reached for the phone, and dialed a number that was forever written into her mind.

He picked up on the third ring.

"Holloway."

"Frank…" she breathed.

"Rachel.. is something wrong?" his voice was filled with concern, and she could tell he was on the verge of dropping everything to run over to her house and make sure she was okay. A part of her wanted to let him, but she wouldn't allow him to see her like this, to be weak in front of him.

"You're such a fool," she told herself, for she knew Frank would always be there for her, weak or strong.

"No.. I just.. wanted to hear your voice," she said slowly.

"If you need anything…" he offered.

"I know Frank," she replied.

"I can come over, if ya like…"

"No," she cut in, "not tonight. I just wanna.. sleep right now." She doubted she would get any, but it seemed a plausible explanation.

"Okay.. get a good nights sleep, and call me tomorrow."

"I will," she promised.

"Goodnight then," he said reluctantly.

"Goodnight." Neither hung up, and just sat there, listening to him breath at the other end. It felt.. comforting.

"Goodnight," she said again, and hung up, returning to her fetus position.

And she lay there, on the floor, curled up, wishing he was there to hold her and tell her everything would be okay.

And he lay in his bed, wishing he could hold her and tell her everything would be okay.

The night fell.

II

Morning came.

She awoke on the floor, her muscles sore and stiff. She had eventually fallen asleep last night, but now she wished she hadn't. Every bone in her body hurt, and like hell too.

"Ouch!" she exclaimed, getting up. Her head hurt as well, she had a splitting headache.

"Damnit!" she cried out as she tripped over a bottle. With a sinking heart she realized it was a bottle from that night.

That night. And the memories found her again.

"Mon, can I have a coke, please?"

"Alright David, go get one in the refrigerator, okay?"

"Thanks mom!"

"David," she whispered, and looked at the bottle. Taking a deep breath, she marched into the kitchen with it, and threw it determined in the trash.

Time to take control. She paced the kitchen floor slowly. There was something her mind had been trying to tell her the last few days. Something important. Something..

Flash.

"Jonathon?"

"Rachel."

"What's the matter? You look like hell."

"It's just this case I dropped, I didn't want to, but.. Why the hell am I telling you?"

"Sorry."

"Involving cops would only make it worse… Aaah, nevermind. You wanna pick up David tomorrow?"

"Sure."

Flash. She closed her eyes. That was it, that strange conversation she'd had with Jonathon the day before.. Before her world had been so crushed to pieces.

"What was that case?" she pondered. Only one way to find out.

She had to go snooping. It was time to find who did it.

II

The courthouse seemed as good a place as any to start.

As she approached it, she considered who to ask. One of the prosecutors, definitely. Maybe Julia, or Jaye, if they were there. They owned her quite a few favors. Or possibly Vanessa… There were plenty of people she could ask, she just had to make sure Jonathondidn't hear about it. He wouldn't be happy. He had convinced himself David was killed because of her. If he had… She didn't think she could live with that.

And there was only one way to find out.

As she pulled up in front of the court house, she noticed a green Mazda parked illegally. She shook her head slightly, perfect place to park illegally indeed!

She hurried up the well-known stairs, and when she got inside, she scanned the hallway for any known faces. Luckily, she spotted Julia just a few meters away.

"Hey Julia!" she called out, and the tall, blonde woman turned to her.

"Rachel! Hey!"

"Long time no see! Life good for ya?"

"Yeah, yeah not too bad."

"Any interesting cases lately?"

"Same old, same old really, doing my best to lock the baddies away. You?"

Rachel suddenly found that her eyes were filling with tears. She blinked them away, willed herself to be strong.

"David's.. dead."

"Oh my God, Rach, I'm so sorry. I didn't know. I guess that's why your ex bit my head of this morning."

"Yeah.. speaking of which, do you remember a case he handled, and then suddenly dropped about a month ago?"

"Rings a bell.. I think Vanessa was the prosecutor. A drug case, I think."

"Do you know why he dropped it?"

"No.. there was some rumors.. about bribing.. but nothing concrete?"

"You know where Vanessa is?"

"Out of town these days. I'll tell her to give you a call though."

"Thanks."

"And listen Rach.. I'm so sorry."

"Yeah, I know," she replied, and walked off, Julia looking worried after her.

Tears were threatening to overcome her now, and she fought hard to keep them at bay. So she didn't see the two detectives until she bumped into them.

"Detective Goldstein," Webster greeted .

"Fancy finding you here," Adams added.

"It's such a big city too," Webster pointed out, "so you wouldn't be here looking into your ex-husband, now would you?"

She just stared at them blankly.

"Because, if you are, I'm giving you a friendly warning. Stay away. You're too close, you're not thinking rationally. Let us handle it."

"Was that all?" she asked dully.

"Don't make us take this to your superior," Webster insisted.

"Which we might just do," Adams added, getting a hard look from his partner.

"Whatever," she stated, turning away from the two. She knew she should assure them she wasn't looking into the case, trouble would come from this she was sure, but right now she didn't care.

She made it as far as the car before the tears came. She damned Webster and Adams for seeing it, and herself for being so weak.

She had to be strong. And she knew where she had to go. Face the demons.