A/N: 'Iya slap! I finally wrote a Scott & Bailey fanfiction! Yay! I have two others started but I don't think they're going anywhere. One of them's pretty much along the lines of this. But yeah, I stuck to my (hurt/)comfort zone… See what I did there ;) and the end may be ever so slightly fluffy and therefore a bit OOC but I tried to keep it as real as possible! This is my interpretation of Rachel's "um… *starts crying*" when trying to explain to Janet how Gill reacted to her miscarriage. Please review because it makes me ridiculously happy. :D

The bit in italics is taken from S01E03 and I sadly do not own Scott and Bailey.

"I'm amazed Gill didn't send you home."

"No, she um… She said take off as long as you want, or… Come back in if you wanna keep busy. You know, she was um…Um… Urgh, sorry."

It had been the worst night of her life.

And that was saying something, Rachel thought sarcastically, given all the horrible things she encountered her job every day, all the shit Nick Savage had put her through, all the exploits of her family members, particularly her brother, when she was young.

Talking of her family members, one of them was entering the room as she was musing this. Her sister, Alison, bringing with her a pained expression that, for some reason, both annoyed Rachel and made her want to cry.

"I'm so sorry, Rach," Alison stated, picking up Rachel's bag. "How are you feeling?"

"Like crap." Rachel replied, staring out of the window. Not that there was anything to see, except grey sky and grubby buildings. It was better than the room though. Rachel hated hospitals, and that was where she had just spent the night, giving birth to a dead baby. It sounded blunt to put it that way, even in the privacy of her own mind, but that was the fact of the matter and in Rachel's job they didn't use euphemisms or skirt around unpleasant things.

"Come on, love," her sister was saying, "It's over now. I'm gonna take you home and you're gonna put your feet up and take it easy. Alright?"

Rachel simply nodded, standing up with a wince. It seemed the aftermath of the miscarriage was going to be the heaviest and most painful period she'd ever had – and Rachel's periods were always bad. She'd always thought that might be why she often found it hard to keep her emotions in check. She was just a very hormonal person, and what had just happened was certainly not helping.

She allowed herself to be helped down all the endless corridors, out into the chilly northern morning, and into Alison's car. All the way home her sister prattled on, making comments about the weather and both of their jobs and about how Rachel would feel better soon. Rachel grunted a few half-formed words in response, barely listening. She felt disconnected from everything, as though what had happened overnight had been a dream. Yet the diminishing bump on her stomach, the sickening pains in her lower abdomen, and the lump in her throat served as a constant, painful reminder. It was as though she kept forgetting and then remembering all over again, and each wave of grief brought with it more guilt and more pain.

When they got back to Rachel's flat, Alison offered to stay with her, but she told her, in a flat, expressionless tone, that all she wanted to do was sleep, and there was a ready meal in the freezer that she would eat when she woke. Perhaps she was being rude, but Rachel found she didn't care. She hadn't been lying when she said she wanted to sleep. And so, her sister left her alone in the flat that didn't feel like home, swish as it was. Rachel didn't really want it that badly; it was very spacious and modern but it was bare and held memories of Nick. It was more out of a need to have some shred of self-worth left and, she admitted, out of bitterness, that she'd requested it. She trudged into the bedroom, kicking off her shoes as she went, and collapsed into the cold bed, asleep before the first tear hit the pillow.

Rachel awoke mid-afternoon and dozed until the evening, when she got up and had her ready meal. It was just a pie, nothing special, but she needed the carbs. She knew that Janet would tell her off if she knew she wasn't eating properly, but bugger it, Rachel thought, she's not my mother. Janet had phoned shortly after she'd put her pie in the oven, checking up on her. Rachel had managed to convince her that she wasn't feeling too bad. She didn't feel like company tonight.

Two hours later, however, she had changed her mind about that. She had flicked through every TV channel five times, ripped one of her magazines from her agitatedly frenzied page-turning and paced around the flat so many times she felt as if she now knew it by heart, not to mention having cried into her pillow so much she'd had to change the pillowcase. Janet had said on the phone that she had called Gill and explained the situation to her and that Gill had requested to see her when she was well enough to go in. Rachel expected that that was not supposed to be for a few days; the hospital had said to take it easy for at least the rest of the week, but after just one evening of being alone in the flat with nothing but her thoughts for company she thought she would go mad if she didn't go back to work. It was only the idea of going into work the next day that finally calmed Rachel down enough to succumb to the fatigue that was once again creeping over her and go back to bed.

Rachel awoke at half 5 the next morning, doubled up in bed with the pains in her stomach. She knew it was nothing to worry about; the doctor had warned her that some women had this problem after a miscarriage, but it was still bloody painful. She dragged herself to the kitchen and downed a cocktail of ibuprofen and paracetamol, before proceeding to get ready for the day, making sure to stuff her handbag full of more painkillers, chocolate and heavy duty sanitary towels.

The drive to work, Rachel found, made her feel a little bit better. There was something very relaxing about driving in the early morning when the roads were still quiet, with music playing on the radio and the vibrations of the car almost acting like a massage. All too soon, she was pulling into the station car park and, for one of the few times since she'd worked there, feeling slightly nervous. She knew this was where she wanted to be, to keep her mind off things, but she was apprehensive about people's reactions. She knew that pity would upset her and she was scared of being asked questions or ordered home. Still, she locked her car, took a deep breath and headed as confidently as she could up to the office. It was still only quarter past six, and Rachel hoped she might find it deserted so she could have a very sugary cup of tea and settle down at her desk before anyone arrived.

Unfortunately, she was out of luck. When she entered the office it was to find that the open plan area was empty, but Andy's coat was hanging up and Gill's light was on. Thinking she'd better get it over with, she dumped her bag and coat at her desk and made her way tentatively over to Gill's office, trying to ignore the stabbing pains that were still plaguing her. She knocked at the door, standing on the threshold, and watched with a trace of apprehension as her boss turned her head to see who it was, eyes widening in surprise over the rim of her glasses when she saw Rachel.

"Rachel!" she said, "come in."

Rachel did as she was told, closing the door behind her in case Andy came back and moving to the seat that Gill motioned her towards.

Gill peered at her questioningly, her brow slightly furrowed. Was it concern? "How are you?" she asked.

"Fine," Rachel said evasively, "Janet said you wanted to see me when I got back."

"You didn't have to come in 'specially, particularly at this time of the morning!"

"I haven't come in 'specially," Rachel replied, meeting Gill's gaze steadily, despite the fact her mouth was dry with nerves that she would be told not to stay, "I've come back to work. I've already had one day off."

"Bloody hell woman, after what you've just been through I'd have thought it was good of you to be back after three days off!"

Rachel said nothing to this, her heart sinking slightly. Gill went on.

"I hope you haven't come back just because you feel you have to? Nobody will think any the worse of you for having the rest of the week off, you know. You take as much time off as you need."

Rachel nodded, the all too familiar lump rising in her throat. Gill was looking at her searchingly, her eyes slightly narrowed.

"But if you want to keep busy… If you're sure you're ready to be back… I can't stop you."

Rachel looked up, relieved, and gave her a forced smile.

"Yeah. I'd like… like to be doing something."

"Well, okay. I'd like you to stick with Janet for the day though. She'll keep an eye on you."

"I'm not five," Rachel said, with a trace of indignation.

"I know," her boss replied, with a hint of a smile, "but you are stubborn and I won't have you collapsing left right and centre or you'll be no use to anyone."

"Thanks, boss," Rachel said, and she found she was able to return the smile, and yet tears were pricking at the corners of her eyes. It was unprecedented, but not unwelcome, for Gill to be being so nice. But it was setting her emotions off, not that it took much these days. She stood up, and as she did a sharp pain shot through her lower abdomen and she exhaled sharply. This did not go unnoticed by the sharp eyes of her boss, who rose from her seat immediately.

"Rachel…" she began, moving around the desk. Rachel was standing still, hand on her stomach, waiting for the pain to subside with her eyes shut.

"It's nothing," she said, trying not to wince, "just a bit of stomach ache. It's normal, the doctor said. I'm not going home."

"Calm down! It's your decision if you want to go home. All I'm going to make you do is sit back down," Gill ordered, ushering her back into the chair and sitting on the one next to her, a hand on her shoulder. They remained that way for a couple of seconds, until Rachel felt the stabbing pain recede to a slight ache.

"Better?" Gill asked.

"Yeah, thanks. Comes and goes, you know." Rachel replied, still trying to resist the urge to cry, which for some reason seemed to be getting stronger.

"By the way…" Gill went on, in a surprisingly soft voice that wasn't heard very often from her, "I was sorry to hear about the baby. Have you got someone to talk to?"

"Janet… Janet's been…" Rachel stammered, but she was unable to get the words out properly. "But I…"

Gill seemed to understand what she was trying to say. She tightened her grip on Rachel's shoulder and looked into her eyes, saying in that same soft voice, "I can only begin to imagine what you're going through. But I know you will get through it, because you're tough. Yes?"

Rachel nodded, unable to prevent some of the tears that had been threatening to overcome her ever since she stepped out of her car from spilling out. Gill was looking at her with such compassion in her eyes; compassion that few people would have imagined could be there. She seemed to be considering her. Then, suddenly, she pulled Rachel into a hug, patting her on the back, and before she knew it she was crying into her boss' shoulder, her tears soaking into the shoulder pad of Gill's pristine suit. She felt one of Gill's hands come to rest on the back of her head, and it dawned on her even in her miserable state that this was a side of her boss that she should have known existed. She'd always known Gill had a son. But it wasn't until now that she'd actually seen any hint of her being a mother. After a few moments, it dawned on her what was actually happening and she pulled back, slightly mortified.

"Sorry," she said, looking at a point over Gill's shoulder. Gill chuckled, and Rachel's eyes snapped back to her face, hardly daring to believe that this was the same woman who spent so much time telling her off. Gill stood up and she followed suit, unsure of what she was supposed to do. Gill just looked at her and said, "Go on, Sherlock. Go and catch me some more criminals."

Rachel smiled, not a particularly big smile, but a real one. All of a sudden, she realised that despite the fact that she didn't have a partner or family that she was close to, it didn't matter, because she had the people she worked with. As she left Gill's office, she felt, for the first time, that she couldn't ask for a better boss. She was still in pain and still guilty and sad, but that meant a lot to her. And she could tell that Gill knew that.