(Batman fic) Sing, chapter 25
Looky who's finally updated. ^_^ This is kinda a schizo chapter; all over the place. I'm so sorry I left everyone hanging! Not my fault, but, eh. I do hope y'all like it.
Previous chapters & Speak: speak_sing
Soft tapping pulled him from a sleep that had been marred by some of the worst nightmares he’d had in years. He jerked awake, not knowing where he was, if he was in danger, or even who he was; the weapon he reached for wasn’t there, and his chest and shoulders ached. He glanced down at them and managed to spot the Band-Aids scattered over his skin, even if there seemed to be alternating amounts of them before he squeezed his eyes shut once more. The tapping came again and he ignored it, curling into a tight ball, his arms around his knees, soaked in sweat and his stomach twisting. His life was over. Janet was going to tell Charles, or Rachel, or the police . . . She was going to tell somebody what he’d done to her --- it was the only sensible thing for the girl to do, after all --- and he was going to go to jail. Rachel was going to leave him. She was going to take Ava with her, and he’d never, ever see his baby girl. He’d never get to hold her, he’d never get to watch her grow up. He’d be a registered sex offender; of course he’d never be allowed to see his child. Rachel would hate him. She’d leave him alone and there would be no reason for him to be, to exist, and he’d slowly disappear back into the oblivion he’d come from.
Panic gripped him and Jack gasped in air until he couldn’t stand it and then threw the covers off, rolling onto the floor with a thud and crawling to the bathroom. He barely made it in time and huddled tightly against the toilet seat as he heaved up the contents of his stomach. There wasn’t much there. Jack heaved until the bile stopped, then dry-heaved until he thought he’d puke out his entrails.
Once his stomach had subsided he curled on his side and shook on the floor, unheeding of the taste in his mouth. His head was hurting worse than ever; he’d had migraines before, but this pain surpassed those by far. Every heartbeat made his head throb, a blinding pain that brought white spots to his tightly closed eyes, spots that sliced into his brain and made him whimper. His soft mewls caused more throbs, more killing spots, more whimpers, a cycle that repeated until Jack grabbed fistfuls of hair and screamed in agony. His scream choked off to a sob and tears scalded his cheeks, and he slipped into a semi-haze until gentle pressure on his ankle roused him from his stupor.
“Jack . . .” Veronica. A whine wriggled its way out of his throat as she rubbed his foot and murmured his name again, and he forced one eye partially open.
“Not such a catch anymore, huh?” he croaked out
The corners of her eyes tightened but she ignored his comment. “Get up and get in the shower; there are people here to see you.”
“I’m not going to leave Rachel for you. Even if she leaves, I won’t take you instead. I don’t want you.”
“It’s amazing how often I’ve heard that,” she replied dryly. “Now get up and get clean.”
Jack watched as she stood and started the shower, then toed at him until he’d pulled himself into the tub. He hissed as the hot water slid under his Band-Aids and stung the cuts there, but gladly welcomed the pain as punishment. Veronica waited until he’d dragged himself up and was washing himself off, leaning heavily against the shower wall, and then left. People to see him. He didn’t know what time it was, but it had to be the police. They would take him into custody, get the information they wanted about Anita and Maury, and then throw him in jail for molesting Janet. Rachel would yell, and Rachel would scream, but what broke Jack’s already battered and bruised heart the most was the thought of the tears she would cry as she realised that the man she loved was a monster through and through, never able to change.
He was on his knees, his forehead pressed against the bottom of the bathtub as he sobbed, when the water started running cold. He didn’t want to face Rachel. He didn’t want her to have to pay for his constant mistakes. He’d been a fool to stick around after Harleen’s death --- maybe he’d been a fool to be in this world in the first place. He’d just . . . wanted a chance.
Finally, shivering, Jack rose up and turned the shower off out of reflex. His clothes were sitting on the toilet seat, clean and folded --- no lingering traces of sex on them from either of last night’s women. Why was he only capable of remorse after the fact? He took and took and took, used people up like they were nothing, and only once he was in trouble for his actions did he feel badly about them.
Veronica was talking as he started a slow, heavy trudge down the stairs. For a moment he thought Rachel was there, but of course Rachel wasn’t. She hadn’t been there last night, when the plane had landed. She’d said she wasn’t going to be his wife for long; she was probably drawing up divorce papers in the office. That thought brought another stab of physical agony to Jack’s chest and he moaned a little as he swerved into the banister. He took a moment to steady himself, head lowered and curls in his face, before concentrating on the next step down.
“Go on, sweety.”
“. . . Daddy?”
That wasn’t Susie’s voice. It couldn’t be. It couldn’t be her small feet on the stairs, either, because Rachel would never bring the child around him again. Because Jack was so sure that the small hands grabbing at his couldn’t possibly be there, he felt it perfectly reasonable to sit down and gather the apparition into his arms, burying his face in her shoulder as he sobbed.
Her voice was small, frightened. “Daddy, let’s go home. We’re here to take you home, Daddy.”
That made him cry harder. He shook his head. “I can’t,” he whispered hoarsely. “I can’t.”
Tiny hands touched his face, pet his cheeks. “But you have to come home, Daddy. Rachel says you’re sick, and I have to take care of you. I brought your medicine. Rachel says you’ll get better once you take it.”
“Rachel hates me, baby,” he murmured as blonde curls tickled his nose. “She doesn’t want to see me anymore.”
“No, Rachel loves you. You just have to take your medicine.” She shrugged out of her small backpack and held it in her lap, unzipping it and pulling out a bag of pills and a sippy cup that sloshed with liquid. “See? I brought your medicine for you. Please take it, Daddy.” Cupid lips quivered and blue eyes filled with tears as she tried to get him to take the pills. “Please?”
Jack raised his eyes to Rachel, whose own eyes were hollow and bloodshot. She looked like she hadn’t slept at all and had been crying all night, and she probably had. More tears, all his fault, ran down her cheeks as she watched him and Susie from the bottom of the stairs. Veronica was looking uncomfortable by the front door.
“Please, Jack, come home,” Rachel whispered. Her hand was white as it clutched the banister. “Take your pills and come home.”
“You don’t want me to,” he muttered as Susie forced pills into his mouth. She held the sippy cup to his lips and tipped it until he had to drink or have the orange juice dribble down his chin. Jack swallowed the pills and shuddered when Rachel rubbed her stomach in a small circle. She did that when Ava was moving, and he didn’t think she even noticed when she did.
“I’m sorry, Jack,” she told him, choking on her words as she cried. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean it. I was mad, Jack. I wasn’t thinking. I need you to come home.”
He held Susie tighter and rested his forehead against her shoulder. She hugged him and pet his hair. “So I can sign divorce papers?”
Rachel’s sob at his assumption was audible. “No,” she whimpered. “No, so you can be a father, Jack. So you can be a husband. I need you to come home, Jack. Tom woke up this morning and told the FBI that you didn’t send him to Folsom, that he went on his own. Helna and Mitzi are at the house; Mitzi’s been crying for you. Please, Jack, let’s just go. I love you.”
“You’re better off without me. I should die.”
“Damn it, Jack,” Rachel cried, “I need you! Ava needs you! Janet and Susie need you! I’m so sorry, Jack, I didn’t mean what I said!” She was taking the stairs one step at a time, panting as she sobbed. “I didn’t mean it. I’m sorry.”
“You haven’t done anything wrong,” he insisted. She sat next to him and wrapped her arms around his shoulders, and he tensed at the contact. “I can’t . . . Janet . . .”
“She told me,” Rachel said softly. Jack’s head whipped around to stare at her in shock. Janet had told her what he’d done, and she wasn’t angry?
Then his eyes narrowed. “She told you what happened?”
His Rachel nodded. “She feels terrible about it, Jack.”
“She didn’t do anything wrong. It’s my fault --- what did she tell you?”
Rachel was kissing his shoulder and rubbing his arms. “That she got drunk and came on to you before passing out. I’m not mad at you for that, Jack, and I’m not mad at Janet. I just need you to come home with me.”
Janet had . . . lied? Why? Susie was sniffling, trying to be strong and failing, and Jack got physically dizzy as his world once more drastically rearranged itself. He had to talk to Janet, find out why she’d lied to protect him.
“Sweety, please . . .”
The fight went out of him and Jack closed his eyes. “Okay. I . . . Okay.” Susie looked up hopefully and he forced his lips into a smile for her benefit. “Let’s go home, pumpkin.”
She jumped up and put the sippy cup away, zipping her backpack and taking one of his hands in both of hers as she tried to tug him up. Jack wasn’t sure what to make of his new situation, so he defaulted into obedience until he could get his mind organised. He reached for Rachel automatically and stopped, his hand hovering at her elbow as she manoeuvred down the stairs. He needed to touch her, but wasn’t sure if she wanted him to. For the first time in almost four years, Jack was afraid to touch Rachel, afraid of her pulling away.
She looked over at him and then leaned into his shoulder gently, resting just enough of her weight on him so he had to wrap his arm around her waist to readjust his centre of balance. A soft sigh escaped both of them as the solid physical contact; it was what they --- what Jack --- desperately needed.
“Pick me up,” Susie wanted as soon as they were at the bottom of the stairs. She held her arms up, tugging at Jack’s shirt.
“Susie, Jack’s not well enough ---”
“I can do it,” he cut Rachel off quietly. “If . . . it’s all right.”
She looked at him for a long moment before nodding. When Helna had called her last night and told her about Tom, she’d been furious with Jack. She’d been out of her mind with anger, yelling and sobbing, throwing his clothes into a suitcase with the firm intention of sending him back to Gotham. She’d been determined to go in to her office early today and draw up divorce papers. Charles had wrestled the suitcase out of her hands and held her down on the couch as Rachel had screamed, and when she’d collapsed into sobs her friend had held her tightly. She’d very gently asked Rachel what she thought a separation --- just a separation --- would do to Jack, not mentioning anything about Rachel’s threatened divorce. Rachel hadn’t cared for a while, but once she’d stopped crying, Charles had asked once more what Rachel thought a separation would do to her husband.
Watching Jack now, Rachel realised that it would have killed him. She provided him a stability that he wasn’t able to produce on his own. She gave him . . . a place. A purpose. Reason.
She’d been perfectly within her right to be angry with him; she was still upset that he hadn’t told the FBI about Anita and Maury. But to fly off the handle like that, to tell him she was leaving, to threaten to destroy his entire world . . .
“Glad you’re back,” Charles said as she held the car door open.
Rachel got in the back seat with Jack and Susie and placed her palm on his cheek, gently turning him to look at her as he buckled up. His eyes were as red as she knew her own were, and the warmth had seeped out of them, leaving them haunted and wounded. She didn’t know what to say to make it better. All she could think to do was pull him down into a gentle kiss, curling her fingers in the hair at the base of his neck and not letting him pull back. After a moment’s resistance he melted into her and held her tightly, pressing his hands into her stomach and murmuring into the kiss as Ava responded.
Ava. Their little accident. Their daughter. The second best thing to ever happen to Jack. Jack was going crazy. Rachel didn’t know why it had taken so long for her to recognise the signs, but Jack was slowly, surely, slipping back into insanity. She just didn’t know why. No, she knew why --- the murders and her pregnancy. But what would him regressing accomplish? Unless that was what Anita and Maureen wanted. But . . . why?
“Let’s move to California,” she whispered when Jack finally let her go.
He was resting his lips against hers and blinked. “Huh?”
“Let’s move to California. After we adopt the girls, we’ll all go to California. What do you think?” Anything to get him away from the people who wanted to hurt him, who were taking her husband away from her.
He was staring at her in confusion. “I . . . why?”
So they couldn’t find them. So her family could be safe. So Jack could finally have a chance at a normal life. Rachel just sighed and pulled Jack down to cradle his head on her bosom. His own sigh warmed her through her shirt. “You don’t have to do this,” she whispered into his hair as she kissed the top of his head. Susie was curled up on his other side, his arm around her shoulder. “Please don’t do this, Jack. We need you.”
“They’re not going to stop coming after me,” was his reply. “They’re never going to leave me alone.”
“Then let’s go away. Let’s just go, Jack.”
He shook his head. “They’ll find me. I don‘t want anything but to be with you and the girls, but they’ll find me wherever I go, Rachel. They’re not going to stop. If they can’t get me directly, they’ll come after you and the girls. Where’s Janet?”
“At home. Bruce and Dick are with her. She’s safe.”
Jack sighed. He didn’t know if Rachel truly thought that, or if she was in denial about the safety of their dysfunctional family unit. He stared down at Ava as he spoke. “I ran into Harleen’s parents in Gotham.”
Even pressed against her chest, Jack could barely hear his wife’s whisper. “What happened?”
“They . . . want us to call them if we need them. They want to be there for us. I told them okay.”
She was quiet for a while, running her palms over his shoulders and back, sometimes trailing her fingers through his curls as she pressed kisses to his head. Finally, “I’m glad.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah,” she murmured. “I know it must have been hard for you to talk to them.”
He’d done good, then. Jack relaxed a microscopic bit. “Well, you’d said you wanted Ava to have more grandparents than Bethy, so . . . I have their number.”
Janet wasn’t going to be able to have normal relationships if she was living with him. He would always be there, just out of reach, and that would drive her crazy. He didn’t know why Charles’ nephew was there, what he had to do with Bruce or this whole situation. Who was Maria, and why couldn’t he remember someone so obviously important to him? He hated his father. His drunken, abusive father who yelled and screamed and hit and threw things and killed puppies when he was bad. He hated him. He hoped he was dead. He didn’t want to turn out like the man; he just wanted a place in society. He wanted people to not shy away from his scars. Fucking scars, the result of a mob job gone wrong in 2006. Where had he gotten his scars, people wanted to know? When he told them, he wasn’t being literal.
Bruce pulled him out of the car and handed him to Charles, then reached back in and helped Rachel out. Jack’s head swerved around to watch; she was pale, sweating with exertion from just standing up, her hand rubbing her stomach as she winced.
Jack was beside her, taking her in his arms and tilting her chin up. “What’s wrong?” he asked. “Are you and Ava all right?”
She wasn’t meeting his gaze and he tilted his head to follow her eyes. “I just need to rest,” she whispered. “I’m just,” a wince, “tired.”
Bruce and Charles were looking too worried for that excuse. Jack shook his head as concern for his wife and daughter overshadowed his depression, and helped her up the porch steps and into the house. The couch was made up like a bed, and her latest book was resting on the coffee table.
“Rachel, tell me what’s wrong.”
She sat down and leaned her head back against the couch, closing her eyes as Jack sat next to her and fussed. “I’m just . . . Phillip wants me to rest more, is all.” He’d taken one look at her as she’d gone into the office today and ordered her to go back home; bed rest until further notice. “And . . .” If she didn’t word this carefully, Jack would flip out. “Practice.”
“Practice what?”
“For birth.“ Rachel opened her eyes and looked at him as he tried to figure out what she was saying. “They’re called Braxton-Hicks contractions, Jack, and they’re not real. They’re my body getting ready for real contractions. They’re normal; nothing’s wrong.”
He’d gone paler and placed his hands on her stomach like he thought he could hold Ava inside. Brown eyes filled with fear as Jack draped himself carefully, protectively, over her body. “But you’re all right? Ava’s all right? Do we need to go to the hospital? How much rest do you need? What do you want me to do?”
Maybe if he was worrying about her and Ava, he wouldn’t slip away from her. Rachel smiled at him and trailed her fingers down his cheek. He unconsciously leaned into the contact. “We’re fine, Jack. Phillip just wants me to rest at home for a while; he didn’t say how long. I’ll let you know when we need to go to the hospital.” She pulled him closer, making sure their eye contact wasn’t broken and they were touching as much as possible. “But I need you here, Jack. I need you, here, to take me when it’s time to go. Okay? You have to be the first to hold Ava when she’s born. Promise me, Jack. Promise me you’ll do that.”
He wanted to. He wanted to hold Ava after she was born; he’d dreamt about it --- him in those stupid green scrubs that hospitals made new fathers wear, with his hair under a little cap, Ava bundled in a tiny blanket as she slept, nestled securely against his chest . . . But he couldn’t make that promise. He didn’t know if Jack would be there.
“I promise,” Jack whispered. Anything to help Rachel.
Her fingers ran through his hair, nails dragging along his scalp. “You’ll be a good father, Jack,” she insisted gently. “You won’t be anything like the man who raised you. You’re better than him. We just need to get past this, and you’ll be fine. Ava’s going to adore you.”
Jack blinked tears out of his eyes and turned his attention to settling her on the couch. When he was done, Rachel was almost asleep, and he crouched down to kiss her lips and savour the taste.
“Thank you,” he whispered. “Thank you for saving me.”
She murmured an “I love you” that he echoed, then left her under Charles’ supervision and went through the kitchen to Janet and Susie’s room, where he knocked on the door. The music that had been playing stopped and after a moment the door opened to reveal a haggard-looking Janet. Her eyes widened and she started blushing, but stood her ground. Jack looked down at his feet.
“Can we talk?”
“Everything’s fine. I’m fine.” She said it too quickly.
“Let’s talk,” Jack insisted. “Please.” Janet hesitated and he looked up at her. She sighed and eased out of the room. “Let’s go outside.” The dock would do. It was far enough away that no one could hear them, and she could push him into the ocean if she felt like it. He’d even be able to get back to shore. Once there, Jack leaned against one of the pillars and watched the girl. “Why did you lie?”
“I didn’t lie. I came on to you, you said no, I passed out. That’s what happened.”
“That’s not what happened, and you know it.” She did, too. She still wanted him. Jack crossed his arms over his chest. “Why did you lie?”
“Because I’m not losing anyone else!” Janet suddenly screamed at him, the flush on her cheeks he’d taken for desire now one of rage. She was snarling at him, throwing her arms around in frustration. “I’m not losing Susie! I’m not going into foster care, damn it! I am not going to lose the only family I fucking have, Jack! If you want to come into my room every night after Susie crawls in with you and Rachel, you can do it! I’ll let you!” Now she was crying, punching his chest as hard as she could and Jack let her as the winter wind threw the ocean spray into their faces. “Do whatever you want to me, Jack, because I can not lose anything else. Oh, God, I just . . . I’m sorry! It was all my fault. If I, if I hadn’t had so much to drink, if I’d kept my hands to myself ---”
Now Jack grabbed her arms and shook her, something in him snapping. “My lack of control is not your fault, Janet!” The storm coming in was going to be a nasty one. Jack was yelling just to be heard over it, now. “You’re sixteen, Janet! I’m almost forty! I’m old enough to be your father! It doesn’t matter how much you drank or how much you begged or what you did with your hands! All that matters is that I didn’t tell you no! I didn’t move to the front seat, and I didn’t keep my hands off of you! You shouldn’t have to suffer for my mistakes, Janet!”
The girl was sobbing as rain started pelting them. She leaned into his grip and grabbed his wrists as she stared up at him. “Don’t send me away!” she begged over the storm. “Please let us stay! We need you, Jack! Please . . . Don’t abandon us!”
That one word hit him like a ton of bricks and he pulled the girl against him, wrapping her in his arms as they shivered in the rain. She sobbed into his chest. He’d begged someone like that, too, once upon a time. He’d begged to be allowed to stay, to be a part of a family, but the system had rolled right over him and he’d been packed off to another house, one with less laughter and more tears. He’d learned to not care after that. He wasn’t going to let that happen to Janet and Susie.
Finally Jack pulled away enough to cup Janet’s cheeks in his hands and look into her eyes. “You’re not leaving,” he said firmly, “and I’m not going to touch you. You don’t have to whore yourself out to stay, Janet. I don’t . . . I’m sorry. I’m sorry I hurt you.” She reached her own hands up to run them through his hair and for a moment he was terrified she was going to kiss him, but the girl simply closed her eyes and rested her cheek against his chest. Jack breathed a sigh of relief and then led her back to the house, where the boy --- Dick --- was waiting for them with two huge towels that were fresh out of the dryer. Jack bundled Janet up first, then shooed her into the bathroom in her room to take a hot shower before turning to the boy.
Jack was offered a hand. “I’m Dick.”
He took it. “Jack.” He kept staring until the boy blinked. “What happened?”
The boy gave him a sharp look. “Tom ---”
“To you.”
Blue eyes tightened at the corners. “What do you mean?”
“Charles never said she had a nephew.”
“You need your own shower, Jack ---”
“Where are your parents?” he pressed. “You can’t be much older than Janet.”
“I’m sixteen,” the boy admitted, “and my parents are dead. Charles and Bruce took me in.”
Jack’s lips twisted mirthlessly. “Well, aren’t we a group of placeless freaks?” he asked softly. “Which one are you?”
Again, the tightening of the eyes. “What do you mean?”
“That whole Justice Club thing. Which one are you?”
“I don’t know ---”
“Don’t fucking lie to me, Dick,” Jack said tiredly. “Just tell me which one you are. I know Bruce and Charles are the Batsy Twins. Who are you?”
“. . . Robin.”
He sighed. “You look ridiculous in your Spandex,” was all he said as he trudged upstairs. He could hear soft singing, and his Mitzi-thing crying softly, and shivered in his warm towel as he stopped at the doorway of he and Rachel’s room. Helna was rocking her daughter as she sang some Hebrew song, trying to calm her down.
His Mitzi-thing kept crying, for Tom and for Jack, and then she looked over at the door and her eyes got big. Her wails increased in volume, but now she was reaching out for Jack.
“Ja-Ja! Ja-Ja! Mama, Ja-Ja! Up! Dada?”
Helna looked up and Jack took half a step back. Regardless of what Tom had said, it was his fault the man was in the hospital, and Helna had every right to hate him. The Mitzi-thing was struggling to be let go as her mother stared at him.
“Helna . . .”
She burst into fresh tears as she let her daughter go, and the girl-child toddled over to him as fast as she could, grabbing his pants and demanding to be picked up. Jack grabbed her just as she was about to fall onto her rump, lifting her easily and holding her close.
“I’m sorry, baby,” he murmured as he sat next to Helna. His girl-thing clung to him and finally stopped crying, jabbering her toddler nonsense at him as she touched his wet face and hair and giggled. “I’m so sorry.” He slid his free hand around Helna’s shoulders and she leaned into him while she sobbed. “I’m sorry.”
“Why did you tell him where they were?” the woman asked. “Why didn’t you tell the FBI?”
Why had he almost gotten her husband killed? That was what she was really asking. “I didn’t know they were there for sure,” Jack murmured as the girl-thing kissed his nose and kept gabbing, content to be in his arms. “I told him to wait, Helna. I didn’t think he’d go out there alone. I . . . I was going to go with him when I got back. I know how they work,” he went on in anticipation of her next question. “They wouldn’t have hurt him as long as I was there, and they wouldn’t have tried to take me if he was there. I’m sorry.”
“I hate you,” the Jewess whispered. “I hate you so much . . . You’re soaking wet, Jack. You’re going to catch a cold.”
He pressed a kiss to his girl-thing’s forehead and gnashed his teeth to make her giggle. “I’m supposed to take a bath.”
“Then go, you moron,” Helna sniffled. “Mitzi, come to Mama. Jack has to take a bath.”
“Baff?” The child’s face lit up and she squirmed out of Jack’s arms, lifting her dress up and throwing it to the floor, running out of the room in her diaper. “Baff!” She ran back in, diaper-less, and pulled at Jack’s hand.
Jack stared at her, then looked helplessly at Helna. The woman couldn’t help but laugh. “You can’t take a bath with him, Mitzi. Come here.”
The tiny face scrunched into a scowl and the baby tugged at Jack’s hand again. “No! Ja-Ja! Baff!”
“Mitzi ---”
“No!” The child started wailing.
Jack patted her head. “Uhm . . . I don’t care . . .”
Helna sighed. “You’re not going to fall asleep, are you?”
He shook his head. “Not if Mitzi’s in there with me.”
“Bubbles!” the thing demanded.
Helna watched him for a few more moments before nodding. “Fine, fine, go take a bath.”
“I mean,” Jack said, “you can sit with us, if you’re worried.”
Helna shook her head. “No, I need to check on Rachel.”
“Tell me the truth, Helna,” he whispered. “How bad is she?”
The woman frowned and pursed her lips. “She’s supposed to be on bed rest until further notice. Phillip wants to see her tomorrow to do a check-up, but he’s mostly concerned that she’s not getting enough rest. She’s been really stressed.”
“But if she rests more,” Jack pushed as they got up and went to the bathroom, “will she and Ava be all right?”
“Probably. I mean, resting will help a lot. Rachel’s . . . not young, in terms of childbearing. She needs to be more careful.” Helna watched as the tub filled, Mitzi already sitting in the water and laughing as Jack poured bubbles in for her. “You need to be more careful.”
“I’m trying,” Jack whispered. “When’s Tom getting released?”
“Next week. They beat him up pretty good, but the doctors are more worried about infection.”
“Jerk always did want to be more like me.”
She produced a laugh that was mingled with a sob. “I’m sure that’s what this is all about.”
Jack looked up at her and let her touch his scars. “They can fix the scars for him,” he whispered.
“I know. I don’t care what he looks like; I just want him home.”
Someone had cared what Jack had looked like. It was good that Rachel didn’t. He sighed as Helna left, then took his clothes off and rolled his eyes when the Mitzi-thing squealed and covered her eyes, giggling.
“What’s so funny?” he asked her as he slid into the tub and blew bubbles into her face.
“Pee-pee!” she cackled as she reached for him.
“Not yours!” Jack grabbed her hand and shook his finger at her. “Don’t touch!” She just giggled and splashed water at him. “I’ve had just about enough of women crawling all over me, thank you. Brat.”
She scrunched her lips and nose at him. “No brat! Ja-Ja brat!”
“You think so?” he asked as she crawled into his lap for a hug.
“Yes!”
“Well, maybe you’re right. I’m a brat. But you love me, don’t you?”
She blew a raspberry on his shoulder and howled with laughter. “Love Ja-Ja!”
Jack finally smiled as he tickled his girl-thing. “I love you, too, baby.”
Previous chapters & Speak: speak_sing
Soft tapping pulled him from a sleep that had been marred by some of the worst nightmares he’d had in years. He jerked awake, not knowing where he was, if he was in danger, or even who he was; the weapon he reached for wasn’t there, and his chest and shoulders ached. He glanced down at them and managed to spot the Band-Aids scattered over his skin, even if there seemed to be alternating amounts of them before he squeezed his eyes shut once more. The tapping came again and he ignored it, curling into a tight ball, his arms around his knees, soaked in sweat and his stomach twisting. His life was over. Janet was going to tell Charles, or Rachel, or the police . . . She was going to tell somebody what he’d done to her --- it was the only sensible thing for the girl to do, after all --- and he was going to go to jail. Rachel was going to leave him. She was going to take Ava with her, and he’d never, ever see his baby girl. He’d never get to hold her, he’d never get to watch her grow up. He’d be a registered sex offender; of course he’d never be allowed to see his child. Rachel would hate him. She’d leave him alone and there would be no reason for him to be, to exist, and he’d slowly disappear back into the oblivion he’d come from.
Panic gripped him and Jack gasped in air until he couldn’t stand it and then threw the covers off, rolling onto the floor with a thud and crawling to the bathroom. He barely made it in time and huddled tightly against the toilet seat as he heaved up the contents of his stomach. There wasn’t much there. Jack heaved until the bile stopped, then dry-heaved until he thought he’d puke out his entrails.
Once his stomach had subsided he curled on his side and shook on the floor, unheeding of the taste in his mouth. His head was hurting worse than ever; he’d had migraines before, but this pain surpassed those by far. Every heartbeat made his head throb, a blinding pain that brought white spots to his tightly closed eyes, spots that sliced into his brain and made him whimper. His soft mewls caused more throbs, more killing spots, more whimpers, a cycle that repeated until Jack grabbed fistfuls of hair and screamed in agony. His scream choked off to a sob and tears scalded his cheeks, and he slipped into a semi-haze until gentle pressure on his ankle roused him from his stupor.
“Jack . . .” Veronica. A whine wriggled its way out of his throat as she rubbed his foot and murmured his name again, and he forced one eye partially open.
“Not such a catch anymore, huh?” he croaked out
The corners of her eyes tightened but she ignored his comment. “Get up and get in the shower; there are people here to see you.”
“I’m not going to leave Rachel for you. Even if she leaves, I won’t take you instead. I don’t want you.”
“It’s amazing how often I’ve heard that,” she replied dryly. “Now get up and get clean.”
Jack watched as she stood and started the shower, then toed at him until he’d pulled himself into the tub. He hissed as the hot water slid under his Band-Aids and stung the cuts there, but gladly welcomed the pain as punishment. Veronica waited until he’d dragged himself up and was washing himself off, leaning heavily against the shower wall, and then left. People to see him. He didn’t know what time it was, but it had to be the police. They would take him into custody, get the information they wanted about Anita and Maury, and then throw him in jail for molesting Janet. Rachel would yell, and Rachel would scream, but what broke Jack’s already battered and bruised heart the most was the thought of the tears she would cry as she realised that the man she loved was a monster through and through, never able to change.
He was on his knees, his forehead pressed against the bottom of the bathtub as he sobbed, when the water started running cold. He didn’t want to face Rachel. He didn’t want her to have to pay for his constant mistakes. He’d been a fool to stick around after Harleen’s death --- maybe he’d been a fool to be in this world in the first place. He’d just . . . wanted a chance.
Finally, shivering, Jack rose up and turned the shower off out of reflex. His clothes were sitting on the toilet seat, clean and folded --- no lingering traces of sex on them from either of last night’s women. Why was he only capable of remorse after the fact? He took and took and took, used people up like they were nothing, and only once he was in trouble for his actions did he feel badly about them.
Veronica was talking as he started a slow, heavy trudge down the stairs. For a moment he thought Rachel was there, but of course Rachel wasn’t. She hadn’t been there last night, when the plane had landed. She’d said she wasn’t going to be his wife for long; she was probably drawing up divorce papers in the office. That thought brought another stab of physical agony to Jack’s chest and he moaned a little as he swerved into the banister. He took a moment to steady himself, head lowered and curls in his face, before concentrating on the next step down.
“Go on, sweety.”
“. . . Daddy?”
That wasn’t Susie’s voice. It couldn’t be. It couldn’t be her small feet on the stairs, either, because Rachel would never bring the child around him again. Because Jack was so sure that the small hands grabbing at his couldn’t possibly be there, he felt it perfectly reasonable to sit down and gather the apparition into his arms, burying his face in her shoulder as he sobbed.
Her voice was small, frightened. “Daddy, let’s go home. We’re here to take you home, Daddy.”
That made him cry harder. He shook his head. “I can’t,” he whispered hoarsely. “I can’t.”
Tiny hands touched his face, pet his cheeks. “But you have to come home, Daddy. Rachel says you’re sick, and I have to take care of you. I brought your medicine. Rachel says you’ll get better once you take it.”
“Rachel hates me, baby,” he murmured as blonde curls tickled his nose. “She doesn’t want to see me anymore.”
“No, Rachel loves you. You just have to take your medicine.” She shrugged out of her small backpack and held it in her lap, unzipping it and pulling out a bag of pills and a sippy cup that sloshed with liquid. “See? I brought your medicine for you. Please take it, Daddy.” Cupid lips quivered and blue eyes filled with tears as she tried to get him to take the pills. “Please?”
Jack raised his eyes to Rachel, whose own eyes were hollow and bloodshot. She looked like she hadn’t slept at all and had been crying all night, and she probably had. More tears, all his fault, ran down her cheeks as she watched him and Susie from the bottom of the stairs. Veronica was looking uncomfortable by the front door.
“Please, Jack, come home,” Rachel whispered. Her hand was white as it clutched the banister. “Take your pills and come home.”
“You don’t want me to,” he muttered as Susie forced pills into his mouth. She held the sippy cup to his lips and tipped it until he had to drink or have the orange juice dribble down his chin. Jack swallowed the pills and shuddered when Rachel rubbed her stomach in a small circle. She did that when Ava was moving, and he didn’t think she even noticed when she did.
“I’m sorry, Jack,” she told him, choking on her words as she cried. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean it. I was mad, Jack. I wasn’t thinking. I need you to come home.”
He held Susie tighter and rested his forehead against her shoulder. She hugged him and pet his hair. “So I can sign divorce papers?”
Rachel’s sob at his assumption was audible. “No,” she whimpered. “No, so you can be a father, Jack. So you can be a husband. I need you to come home, Jack. Tom woke up this morning and told the FBI that you didn’t send him to Folsom, that he went on his own. Helna and Mitzi are at the house; Mitzi’s been crying for you. Please, Jack, let’s just go. I love you.”
“You’re better off without me. I should die.”
“Damn it, Jack,” Rachel cried, “I need you! Ava needs you! Janet and Susie need you! I’m so sorry, Jack, I didn’t mean what I said!” She was taking the stairs one step at a time, panting as she sobbed. “I didn’t mean it. I’m sorry.”
“You haven’t done anything wrong,” he insisted. She sat next to him and wrapped her arms around his shoulders, and he tensed at the contact. “I can’t . . . Janet . . .”
“She told me,” Rachel said softly. Jack’s head whipped around to stare at her in shock. Janet had told her what he’d done, and she wasn’t angry?
Then his eyes narrowed. “She told you what happened?”
His Rachel nodded. “She feels terrible about it, Jack.”
“She didn’t do anything wrong. It’s my fault --- what did she tell you?”
Rachel was kissing his shoulder and rubbing his arms. “That she got drunk and came on to you before passing out. I’m not mad at you for that, Jack, and I’m not mad at Janet. I just need you to come home with me.”
Janet had . . . lied? Why? Susie was sniffling, trying to be strong and failing, and Jack got physically dizzy as his world once more drastically rearranged itself. He had to talk to Janet, find out why she’d lied to protect him.
“Sweety, please . . .”
The fight went out of him and Jack closed his eyes. “Okay. I . . . Okay.” Susie looked up hopefully and he forced his lips into a smile for her benefit. “Let’s go home, pumpkin.”
She jumped up and put the sippy cup away, zipping her backpack and taking one of his hands in both of hers as she tried to tug him up. Jack wasn’t sure what to make of his new situation, so he defaulted into obedience until he could get his mind organised. He reached for Rachel automatically and stopped, his hand hovering at her elbow as she manoeuvred down the stairs. He needed to touch her, but wasn’t sure if she wanted him to. For the first time in almost four years, Jack was afraid to touch Rachel, afraid of her pulling away.
She looked over at him and then leaned into his shoulder gently, resting just enough of her weight on him so he had to wrap his arm around her waist to readjust his centre of balance. A soft sigh escaped both of them as the solid physical contact; it was what they --- what Jack --- desperately needed.
“Pick me up,” Susie wanted as soon as they were at the bottom of the stairs. She held her arms up, tugging at Jack’s shirt.
“Susie, Jack’s not well enough ---”
“I can do it,” he cut Rachel off quietly. “If . . . it’s all right.”
She looked at him for a long moment before nodding. When Helna had called her last night and told her about Tom, she’d been furious with Jack. She’d been out of her mind with anger, yelling and sobbing, throwing his clothes into a suitcase with the firm intention of sending him back to Gotham. She’d been determined to go in to her office early today and draw up divorce papers. Charles had wrestled the suitcase out of her hands and held her down on the couch as Rachel had screamed, and when she’d collapsed into sobs her friend had held her tightly. She’d very gently asked Rachel what she thought a separation --- just a separation --- would do to Jack, not mentioning anything about Rachel’s threatened divorce. Rachel hadn’t cared for a while, but once she’d stopped crying, Charles had asked once more what Rachel thought a separation would do to her husband.
Watching Jack now, Rachel realised that it would have killed him. She provided him a stability that he wasn’t able to produce on his own. She gave him . . . a place. A purpose. Reason.
She’d been perfectly within her right to be angry with him; she was still upset that he hadn’t told the FBI about Anita and Maury. But to fly off the handle like that, to tell him she was leaving, to threaten to destroy his entire world . . .
“Glad you’re back,” Charles said as she held the car door open.
Rachel got in the back seat with Jack and Susie and placed her palm on his cheek, gently turning him to look at her as he buckled up. His eyes were as red as she knew her own were, and the warmth had seeped out of them, leaving them haunted and wounded. She didn’t know what to say to make it better. All she could think to do was pull him down into a gentle kiss, curling her fingers in the hair at the base of his neck and not letting him pull back. After a moment’s resistance he melted into her and held her tightly, pressing his hands into her stomach and murmuring into the kiss as Ava responded.
Ava. Their little accident. Their daughter. The second best thing to ever happen to Jack. Jack was going crazy. Rachel didn’t know why it had taken so long for her to recognise the signs, but Jack was slowly, surely, slipping back into insanity. She just didn’t know why. No, she knew why --- the murders and her pregnancy. But what would him regressing accomplish? Unless that was what Anita and Maureen wanted. But . . . why?
“Let’s move to California,” she whispered when Jack finally let her go.
He was resting his lips against hers and blinked. “Huh?”
“Let’s move to California. After we adopt the girls, we’ll all go to California. What do you think?” Anything to get him away from the people who wanted to hurt him, who were taking her husband away from her.
He was staring at her in confusion. “I . . . why?”
So they couldn’t find them. So her family could be safe. So Jack could finally have a chance at a normal life. Rachel just sighed and pulled Jack down to cradle his head on her bosom. His own sigh warmed her through her shirt. “You don’t have to do this,” she whispered into his hair as she kissed the top of his head. Susie was curled up on his other side, his arm around her shoulder. “Please don’t do this, Jack. We need you.”
“They’re not going to stop coming after me,” was his reply. “They’re never going to leave me alone.”
“Then let’s go away. Let’s just go, Jack.”
He shook his head. “They’ll find me. I don‘t want anything but to be with you and the girls, but they’ll find me wherever I go, Rachel. They’re not going to stop. If they can’t get me directly, they’ll come after you and the girls. Where’s Janet?”
“At home. Bruce and Dick are with her. She’s safe.”
Jack sighed. He didn’t know if Rachel truly thought that, or if she was in denial about the safety of their dysfunctional family unit. He stared down at Ava as he spoke. “I ran into Harleen’s parents in Gotham.”
Even pressed against her chest, Jack could barely hear his wife’s whisper. “What happened?”
“They . . . want us to call them if we need them. They want to be there for us. I told them okay.”
She was quiet for a while, running her palms over his shoulders and back, sometimes trailing her fingers through his curls as she pressed kisses to his head. Finally, “I’m glad.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah,” she murmured. “I know it must have been hard for you to talk to them.”
He’d done good, then. Jack relaxed a microscopic bit. “Well, you’d said you wanted Ava to have more grandparents than Bethy, so . . . I have their number.”
Janet wasn’t going to be able to have normal relationships if she was living with him. He would always be there, just out of reach, and that would drive her crazy. He didn’t know why Charles’ nephew was there, what he had to do with Bruce or this whole situation. Who was Maria, and why couldn’t he remember someone so obviously important to him? He hated his father. His drunken, abusive father who yelled and screamed and hit and threw things and killed puppies when he was bad. He hated him. He hoped he was dead. He didn’t want to turn out like the man; he just wanted a place in society. He wanted people to not shy away from his scars. Fucking scars, the result of a mob job gone wrong in 2006. Where had he gotten his scars, people wanted to know? When he told them, he wasn’t being literal.
Bruce pulled him out of the car and handed him to Charles, then reached back in and helped Rachel out. Jack’s head swerved around to watch; she was pale, sweating with exertion from just standing up, her hand rubbing her stomach as she winced.
Jack was beside her, taking her in his arms and tilting her chin up. “What’s wrong?” he asked. “Are you and Ava all right?”
She wasn’t meeting his gaze and he tilted his head to follow her eyes. “I just need to rest,” she whispered. “I’m just,” a wince, “tired.”
Bruce and Charles were looking too worried for that excuse. Jack shook his head as concern for his wife and daughter overshadowed his depression, and helped her up the porch steps and into the house. The couch was made up like a bed, and her latest book was resting on the coffee table.
“Rachel, tell me what’s wrong.”
She sat down and leaned her head back against the couch, closing her eyes as Jack sat next to her and fussed. “I’m just . . . Phillip wants me to rest more, is all.” He’d taken one look at her as she’d gone into the office today and ordered her to go back home; bed rest until further notice. “And . . .” If she didn’t word this carefully, Jack would flip out. “Practice.”
“Practice what?”
“For birth.“ Rachel opened her eyes and looked at him as he tried to figure out what she was saying. “They’re called Braxton-Hicks contractions, Jack, and they’re not real. They’re my body getting ready for real contractions. They’re normal; nothing’s wrong.”
He’d gone paler and placed his hands on her stomach like he thought he could hold Ava inside. Brown eyes filled with fear as Jack draped himself carefully, protectively, over her body. “But you’re all right? Ava’s all right? Do we need to go to the hospital? How much rest do you need? What do you want me to do?”
Maybe if he was worrying about her and Ava, he wouldn’t slip away from her. Rachel smiled at him and trailed her fingers down his cheek. He unconsciously leaned into the contact. “We’re fine, Jack. Phillip just wants me to rest at home for a while; he didn’t say how long. I’ll let you know when we need to go to the hospital.” She pulled him closer, making sure their eye contact wasn’t broken and they were touching as much as possible. “But I need you here, Jack. I need you, here, to take me when it’s time to go. Okay? You have to be the first to hold Ava when she’s born. Promise me, Jack. Promise me you’ll do that.”
He wanted to. He wanted to hold Ava after she was born; he’d dreamt about it --- him in those stupid green scrubs that hospitals made new fathers wear, with his hair under a little cap, Ava bundled in a tiny blanket as she slept, nestled securely against his chest . . . But he couldn’t make that promise. He didn’t know if Jack would be there.
“I promise,” Jack whispered. Anything to help Rachel.
Her fingers ran through his hair, nails dragging along his scalp. “You’ll be a good father, Jack,” she insisted gently. “You won’t be anything like the man who raised you. You’re better than him. We just need to get past this, and you’ll be fine. Ava’s going to adore you.”
Jack blinked tears out of his eyes and turned his attention to settling her on the couch. When he was done, Rachel was almost asleep, and he crouched down to kiss her lips and savour the taste.
“Thank you,” he whispered. “Thank you for saving me.”
She murmured an “I love you” that he echoed, then left her under Charles’ supervision and went through the kitchen to Janet and Susie’s room, where he knocked on the door. The music that had been playing stopped and after a moment the door opened to reveal a haggard-looking Janet. Her eyes widened and she started blushing, but stood her ground. Jack looked down at his feet.
“Can we talk?”
“Everything’s fine. I’m fine.” She said it too quickly.
“Let’s talk,” Jack insisted. “Please.” Janet hesitated and he looked up at her. She sighed and eased out of the room. “Let’s go outside.” The dock would do. It was far enough away that no one could hear them, and she could push him into the ocean if she felt like it. He’d even be able to get back to shore. Once there, Jack leaned against one of the pillars and watched the girl. “Why did you lie?”
“I didn’t lie. I came on to you, you said no, I passed out. That’s what happened.”
“That’s not what happened, and you know it.” She did, too. She still wanted him. Jack crossed his arms over his chest. “Why did you lie?”
“Because I’m not losing anyone else!” Janet suddenly screamed at him, the flush on her cheeks he’d taken for desire now one of rage. She was snarling at him, throwing her arms around in frustration. “I’m not losing Susie! I’m not going into foster care, damn it! I am not going to lose the only family I fucking have, Jack! If you want to come into my room every night after Susie crawls in with you and Rachel, you can do it! I’ll let you!” Now she was crying, punching his chest as hard as she could and Jack let her as the winter wind threw the ocean spray into their faces. “Do whatever you want to me, Jack, because I can not lose anything else. Oh, God, I just . . . I’m sorry! It was all my fault. If I, if I hadn’t had so much to drink, if I’d kept my hands to myself ---”
Now Jack grabbed her arms and shook her, something in him snapping. “My lack of control is not your fault, Janet!” The storm coming in was going to be a nasty one. Jack was yelling just to be heard over it, now. “You’re sixteen, Janet! I’m almost forty! I’m old enough to be your father! It doesn’t matter how much you drank or how much you begged or what you did with your hands! All that matters is that I didn’t tell you no! I didn’t move to the front seat, and I didn’t keep my hands off of you! You shouldn’t have to suffer for my mistakes, Janet!”
The girl was sobbing as rain started pelting them. She leaned into his grip and grabbed his wrists as she stared up at him. “Don’t send me away!” she begged over the storm. “Please let us stay! We need you, Jack! Please . . . Don’t abandon us!”
That one word hit him like a ton of bricks and he pulled the girl against him, wrapping her in his arms as they shivered in the rain. She sobbed into his chest. He’d begged someone like that, too, once upon a time. He’d begged to be allowed to stay, to be a part of a family, but the system had rolled right over him and he’d been packed off to another house, one with less laughter and more tears. He’d learned to not care after that. He wasn’t going to let that happen to Janet and Susie.
Finally Jack pulled away enough to cup Janet’s cheeks in his hands and look into her eyes. “You’re not leaving,” he said firmly, “and I’m not going to touch you. You don’t have to whore yourself out to stay, Janet. I don’t . . . I’m sorry. I’m sorry I hurt you.” She reached her own hands up to run them through his hair and for a moment he was terrified she was going to kiss him, but the girl simply closed her eyes and rested her cheek against his chest. Jack breathed a sigh of relief and then led her back to the house, where the boy --- Dick --- was waiting for them with two huge towels that were fresh out of the dryer. Jack bundled Janet up first, then shooed her into the bathroom in her room to take a hot shower before turning to the boy.
Jack was offered a hand. “I’m Dick.”
He took it. “Jack.” He kept staring until the boy blinked. “What happened?”
The boy gave him a sharp look. “Tom ---”
“To you.”
Blue eyes tightened at the corners. “What do you mean?”
“Charles never said she had a nephew.”
“You need your own shower, Jack ---”
“Where are your parents?” he pressed. “You can’t be much older than Janet.”
“I’m sixteen,” the boy admitted, “and my parents are dead. Charles and Bruce took me in.”
Jack’s lips twisted mirthlessly. “Well, aren’t we a group of placeless freaks?” he asked softly. “Which one are you?”
Again, the tightening of the eyes. “What do you mean?”
“That whole Justice Club thing. Which one are you?”
“I don’t know ---”
“Don’t fucking lie to me, Dick,” Jack said tiredly. “Just tell me which one you are. I know Bruce and Charles are the Batsy Twins. Who are you?”
“. . . Robin.”
He sighed. “You look ridiculous in your Spandex,” was all he said as he trudged upstairs. He could hear soft singing, and his Mitzi-thing crying softly, and shivered in his warm towel as he stopped at the doorway of he and Rachel’s room. Helna was rocking her daughter as she sang some Hebrew song, trying to calm her down.
His Mitzi-thing kept crying, for Tom and for Jack, and then she looked over at the door and her eyes got big. Her wails increased in volume, but now she was reaching out for Jack.
“Ja-Ja! Ja-Ja! Mama, Ja-Ja! Up! Dada?”
Helna looked up and Jack took half a step back. Regardless of what Tom had said, it was his fault the man was in the hospital, and Helna had every right to hate him. The Mitzi-thing was struggling to be let go as her mother stared at him.
“Helna . . .”
She burst into fresh tears as she let her daughter go, and the girl-child toddled over to him as fast as she could, grabbing his pants and demanding to be picked up. Jack grabbed her just as she was about to fall onto her rump, lifting her easily and holding her close.
“I’m sorry, baby,” he murmured as he sat next to Helna. His girl-thing clung to him and finally stopped crying, jabbering her toddler nonsense at him as she touched his wet face and hair and giggled. “I’m so sorry.” He slid his free hand around Helna’s shoulders and she leaned into him while she sobbed. “I’m sorry.”
“Why did you tell him where they were?” the woman asked. “Why didn’t you tell the FBI?”
Why had he almost gotten her husband killed? That was what she was really asking. “I didn’t know they were there for sure,” Jack murmured as the girl-thing kissed his nose and kept gabbing, content to be in his arms. “I told him to wait, Helna. I didn’t think he’d go out there alone. I . . . I was going to go with him when I got back. I know how they work,” he went on in anticipation of her next question. “They wouldn’t have hurt him as long as I was there, and they wouldn’t have tried to take me if he was there. I’m sorry.”
“I hate you,” the Jewess whispered. “I hate you so much . . . You’re soaking wet, Jack. You’re going to catch a cold.”
He pressed a kiss to his girl-thing’s forehead and gnashed his teeth to make her giggle. “I’m supposed to take a bath.”
“Then go, you moron,” Helna sniffled. “Mitzi, come to Mama. Jack has to take a bath.”
“Baff?” The child’s face lit up and she squirmed out of Jack’s arms, lifting her dress up and throwing it to the floor, running out of the room in her diaper. “Baff!” She ran back in, diaper-less, and pulled at Jack’s hand.
Jack stared at her, then looked helplessly at Helna. The woman couldn’t help but laugh. “You can’t take a bath with him, Mitzi. Come here.”
The tiny face scrunched into a scowl and the baby tugged at Jack’s hand again. “No! Ja-Ja! Baff!”
“Mitzi ---”
“No!” The child started wailing.
Jack patted her head. “Uhm . . . I don’t care . . .”
Helna sighed. “You’re not going to fall asleep, are you?”
He shook his head. “Not if Mitzi’s in there with me.”
“Bubbles!” the thing demanded.
Helna watched him for a few more moments before nodding. “Fine, fine, go take a bath.”
“I mean,” Jack said, “you can sit with us, if you’re worried.”
Helna shook her head. “No, I need to check on Rachel.”
“Tell me the truth, Helna,” he whispered. “How bad is she?”
The woman frowned and pursed her lips. “She’s supposed to be on bed rest until further notice. Phillip wants to see her tomorrow to do a check-up, but he’s mostly concerned that she’s not getting enough rest. She’s been really stressed.”
“But if she rests more,” Jack pushed as they got up and went to the bathroom, “will she and Ava be all right?”
“Probably. I mean, resting will help a lot. Rachel’s . . . not young, in terms of childbearing. She needs to be more careful.” Helna watched as the tub filled, Mitzi already sitting in the water and laughing as Jack poured bubbles in for her. “You need to be more careful.”
“I’m trying,” Jack whispered. “When’s Tom getting released?”
“Next week. They beat him up pretty good, but the doctors are more worried about infection.”
“Jerk always did want to be more like me.”
She produced a laugh that was mingled with a sob. “I’m sure that’s what this is all about.”
Jack looked up at her and let her touch his scars. “They can fix the scars for him,” he whispered.
“I know. I don’t care what he looks like; I just want him home.”
Someone had cared what Jack had looked like. It was good that Rachel didn’t. He sighed as Helna left, then took his clothes off and rolled his eyes when the Mitzi-thing squealed and covered her eyes, giggling.
“What’s so funny?” he asked her as he slid into the tub and blew bubbles into her face.
“Pee-pee!” she cackled as she reached for him.
“Not yours!” Jack grabbed her hand and shook his finger at her. “Don’t touch!” She just giggled and splashed water at him. “I’ve had just about enough of women crawling all over me, thank you. Brat.”
She scrunched her lips and nose at him. “No brat! Ja-Ja brat!”
“You think so?” he asked as she crawled into his lap for a hug.
“Yes!”
“Well, maybe you’re right. I’m a brat. But you love me, don’t you?”
She blew a raspberry on his shoulder and howled with laughter. “Love Ja-Ja!”
Jack finally smiled as he tickled his girl-thing. “I love you, too, baby.”