Beyond the Family Ties

Part 25

Grey light was filtering in through the gap between the drawn curtains, the rumble of cars passing by nothing but a muffled hum outside the window, and the room comfortably warm as the radiator creaked, infusing the room with heat as Becky lay beneath the covers. She was wide awake, although her eyes burned and her entire body felt drained. She'd slept at some point, after she'd exhausted herself crying in Freen's arms, and Imra had come and taken Laurel off to her bedroom to play with some toys. In a daze, she'd stared up at Freen in disbelief, almost unable to believe that she was there, but then, of course she'd come, because it was Freen, but Becky had wanted her so badly and it felt almost too good to be true that she'd come. Coaxed into bed, she'd cuddled up next to her best friend, suppressing hiccuping sobs as she leached comforting warmth from Freen, breathing in her perfume and letting her eyelids flutter closed at the gentle fingers stroking her hair.

She'd woken a short while ago to the greyness of a wintry dawn, an emptiness inside her and a leaden feeling to her body, until she'd shifted and looked at Freen. Her friend was sleeping, eyes darting from side to side beneath closed eyelids, perfect pouting lips parted, her blonde curls splayed across the pillows, and Becky had felt warmth pool in her stomach, keeping the numbing coldness at bay. A nervousness welled up inside as she watched Freen sleep, settling on her side, taking in the way the shadows hugged the curve of her cheekbone, made her eyelashes cast long shadows across her golden skin, and the way that her lips would tug up into a smile every few moments, as if she was dreaming of something funny. Becky's stomach lurched at the nervous feeling, her heart stumbling slightly at the sudden rush of love making its presence known. Know that she could name it, it was so obvious. How often had she felt that same twisting feeling in her stomach? The hollow fluttering feeling like trapped butterflies in her stomach, the warmth that came with the rush of homecoming she got from looking at Freen and earning one of those tender smiles that were so quick to come. She wanted to laugh at how stupidly naive she'd been, how blind and dismissive, how oblivious to it all. Under different circumstances, perhaps she would've laughed, but she just lay there in silence, her lips pressed into a thin line as her face was drawn with grief.

Of course, she knew that nothing was different between them. Becky had come to the assumption that Querl had informed Hank, who'd sent Imra to London to continue the investigation, and send Becky back, and Imra had taken Freen for moral support, knowing that she was the comfort Becky would need. It didn't mean that things had changed because Becky had figured out her feelings. With a bitter feeling, she lay there watching her friend, and couldn't help but see the wry humour in it, that she was a psychologist in criminal profiling, predicting the next moves of some of the biggest names in the DEO's database, and she couldn't even predict herself falling in love with her best friend. Some profiler she was.

It was amusing in the awful, not funny at all kind of way too, because she could've had Freen, but she hadn't realised what she could've had at the time, and now she was troubled by the thought of what she was going to do now. She understood how Freen had felt. Becky couldn't admit her feelings and mess up the life Freen had created for herself while Becky had been gone, and even if she told her, if she still picked Mike, then she'd have to face the same rejection she'd put Freen through. At the moment, she wasn't in a good place, without having her fragile feelings and thin hope squashed by her friend, who hadn't looked at her with anything but pity all night.

Rolling onto her back, she stared up at the ceiling, listening to the gentle sounds of Freen breathing, soothing the rawness of the loss of Jack, and she lay there for what seemed like forever. It was strange that she felt at peace, that Freen's presence could be so calming in the face of something so awful, and Becky felt bad for thinking it, but when she'd regained enough consciousness to form a thought after he'd been shot, she hadn't wanted him back, she'd just wanted Freen. When she was all alone and hurting, it was Freen that her heart had turned to, aching with the need for her, and Becky knew without a doubt that her feelings were true. It only made her more troubled to think about the mess she'd gotten herself into.