095:

Tracy kissed the baby in her arms, nuzzling against the downy soft cheek and feeling the warmth with ice cold fingers. She stared at her own fingers.... Thin, bony, very white. She put Megan down in her bed and turned to pull the sheer panel over the window. Outside, she could see manicured greenery, grass, planters, trees that gave the illusion of being old. They were big....

She wondered if they built the place around them, or moved them here from somewhere else. She lifted a hand again and looked at her own fingers.... When she held her hand up to the light of the window, she felt she could see right through it, or light around it, and she immediately put it at her side and closed her eyes. The image that assailed her was of Raine leaning out the window and throwing one of the babies to safety. To her.... Into her waiting arms, those same fingers outstretched.... Raine.....

She felt tears threaten.... Was she doomed to feel tears at each and every memory that assaulted her? How could she possibly get through life with this kind of stuff going on in her head? She longed to hear music instead.... Never, never had she been left so quiet before. Music permeated her waking and sleeping hours, but since Raine's death, all she could hear was the creak and groan, the screaming of timbers falling in the fire. Nausea overwhelmed her and she went into the bathroom across the hall and closed the door, leaning against the cooler sink.

She finally looked up into the mirror. For once, she examined her features in anxiety. I am haggard, she thought ruefully. She turned to the side, her cheeks were actually sunken. Not a pleasant sight, she had usually rounded features, childlike, bubbly, not this mannequin look. And she was way paler than a mannequin. She tried a smile and recoiled in dismay.... She reminded herself of the evil alien in a sci-fi movie. Yuck. She glanced down at her chest.... Full boobs.... And her collarbone standing out in vast relief, she should really wear a turtle neck, or at least a larger collar, she thought and felt along the delineation of bone and skin. She felt fragile even to her own touch. She shuddered and felt the nausea and the cold. Her inclination was to go to bed.

She left the bathroom and slowly moved on shaky legs to the bedroom that Michael had said was to be hers. She stopped inside the doorway, leaning against the wall. Downstairs, she could hear voices, but they sounded blurred and indistinct, music gone from them.... and no inner feeling to who they were either.... Usually, if she had a connection with people she heard music just for them..... maybe that was the problem, she had no connections with anyone....

She flipped the light switch. The room was a lot larger than the twin's room. It had another bathroom, closets, a balcony, plenty of room. Right now it looked a lot like a hotel room, though. Impersonal. Would she really spend time here? She moved to the bed mechanically and sat down.

Michael had said she needed to be on her own.... Why? She'd never been alone before....

She stopped that thought.... Well, since she'd met Michael she'd never really been alone. But before Michael..... before Casey.... Jules, Bridget..... yeah, she knew what it felt like to be alone.... And to be responsible....

She'd had brothers. Another pain stabbed her..... brothers..... Sam, Ty.

She still had Sam. Ty.... Where was Ty? With Ruth.... At a bar.... Could she get to him? How old was he? Nineteen?

She felt an actual pain clench in her stomach at the thoughts she worked really hard to suppress.... Yes, she realized suppress.

She'd started college.... She was planning to major in Psychology... she had known, even from an early age that she and her brothers were messed up. Family was an issue for her. No one ever talked to her about her family and it was like they didn't exist. They hadn't really existed in years. Just Sam... and he was in the army...

She ran her hand over the cool down comforter. In the darkness, it felt like water. Water... that's where she really ought to be. Out on the ocean.

"Tracy?" a female voice was coming up the stairs.

"In here." She answered, and her own voice was feeble, not like its usual melodic sound, even to her own ears.

A shadow fell across the door. Tracy tried to focus, but all was seriously shadows. "Yeah?" she made an effort to answer, she knew, somewhere deep inside that not answering was getting her a lot of unwanted attention.

"Hi, honey." She recognized her now, it was Rachel, her shrink. "Whatcha' doin' up here?"

Tracy shrugged. She felt a familiar surge of stubborn control wash over her, whether because of her thoughts about her childhood, or something in relation to the current mess she was in, she didn't know, but inside, a protective measure was implanted. She resented others trying to control her. And there were ways of keeping others at bay that she used to be adept at. She'd spent a lot of time being manipulated, and a lot of time, learning to not be....

Rachel came and sat on the bed. "Is the darkness comforting?"

Tracy managed a delicate shrug. That question didn't interest her. What she really wanted was to sleep. But sleep had eluded her as unsafe. If she gave in and slept too much they would become alarmed and try and take her children away from her.

"Rach—I have the feeling that there is an elusive they out there." She said calmly as the thought hit her.

"They, as in, people trying to control you?"

"We've discussed that before. There are always people trying to control us. And me especially, because my circumstances are rather unique." She'd been so young. Twelve at the onset of Pepper's, Bob McKelner appointed her guardian, without any real parental supervision at all. Bridget's mom had been the closest thing, or perhaps Casey's mom... yeah, Coral had been pretty close to a mother... Ruth never was. There, again, the image of Ruth... why was Ruth intruding into her thoughts today? She never thought about Ruth...

Fourteen an emancipated minor, still under Bob and Casey's jurisdiction. Fifteen, a GED, out of high school, all the whirlwind experiences of being a Star.... Married and widowed at 16.... A momma.....

Danny..... that was what had gotten her through this before... and with that thought the realization that she had felt this way before.

Rachel knew about her childhood. Rachel had been treating her for a couple of years. Rachel knew about her fears of getting close to people.... And about her extreme need to do just that. About her lack of connection to anyone... about her latching on.... She was a walking contradiction.

She flung out a hand. "Forget it." She bit out a choked back sob.

Rachel's hand was on her shoulder, but she jerked away.

"You don't want to talk to me?" Rachel asked calmly.

"Oh, no, I need to talk...." Again the sarcasm, the frustration. "I have to talk. They won't let me not talk...."

"So, you're going to throw up the image? Live the double life? What they expect of you? You can produce it, you know you can..." Rachel blew out her breath. "It wouldn't even be that hard, would it? Because we both know that as long as you produce what they expect.... Music.... Song after hit song, and throw your hair around on stage for awhile... and meet the criteria, then they leave you alone...."

Tracy stood and leaned against the dresser weakly, a lot weaker than she had realized, her anger making her feel stronger than she really was. That was puzzling.

"Who are they this time, Trace?"

"You!" she cried. "Michael! Austin! Lisa! G-Greg...."

"Okay, because everyone else is gone, right? Casey, Jolie, Dad, Mom...Raine..."

"Yeah, I know it, Rach! Don't you think I know it? There isn't anybody...."

"Nobody making you feel this way."

"Just the expectations of...."

"How about concerns? Huh? These people you've listed, they don't know you at all.... Not Austin, not Lisa, who is Lisa? Austin's girlfriend? What has she got to do with anything?"

"She wants to take my kids away."

"Michael put a stop to that, didn't he? In one itty bitty second, he took away that issue. No more talk of taking your kids away, you are their sole guardian and nobody can take that away. That's why I'm here, that's why Michael's here. Out of concern, not control, and not expectations."

"I have to be...." She was about to say something about their expectations about her career, but then she realized this wasn't as much about her career as it was about her being a mother. If she wanted to keep the kids, she had to act the part, be their mom. Ruth... Ruth had run away from her problems, drinking them away and pretending her children didn't exist. She, Tracy had an outlet.... A nanny would take care of her kids and she could still fool herself into playing mommy if she really wanted. Ruth didn't have that outlet, she'd let Jerry and his mother, his selfish mean-hearted abusive mother have control of their kids.

"I needt to be their mom." She said out loud. "Nothing means more to me than being their mom."

"Okay then....what about the sleep?"

Tracy turned and faced Rachel. "I just feel really tired, and I know it's an escape, and under the circumstances, I feel justified in it. Like, I feel that the grief of my loss requires an escape."

"I'll buy that." Rachel said. "You have a right to feel depressed, and to grieve, and to feel self-pity."

"It's hard to face." Tracy said, and sat down on the bed.

"I can imagine."

"No, you can't. No one can. My losses are bigger than most people's. I have seen more death and loss than anybody I know."

"I know somebody who has seen as much loss as you. I want you to talk to him."

"Are you kidding? I don't want to talk to anybody. You're the first person I've talked to."

"That's not true. You talked to somebody...."

She knew instantly who Rachel meant.

"He's gone." She said flatly, "And I won't burden the rest of them with it. I pay you to be burdened with it." A smile touched both of their lips briefly and with it the acknowledged idea that although Rachel was paid, and paid very well, she was also a good friend.

"Would you talk to him again?"

"Richard?" Tracy blew out her breath again, remembering Richard.... Everything about Richard assailed her at once. His possessiveness, his authority, her compulsion to obey him, her safety when with him.... His freaky weird past that made him at once repugnant and at the same time fascinating to her. Why? Why Richard?

"Would you talk to him again?"

"In two years I might. He's out of touch, Rachel. You understand missions right?"

"If I could get some strings pulled?"

"No! You've got to believe me, it's the last thing I would want. Richard is on his mission, and I regard that as sacred. Mission rules state that he doesn't talk to people from home, not family and not me. He's got to concentrate on what he's supposed to be doing, not on anything going on here. If there's any way for me to be more emphatic, please tell me. I absolutely don't want you or anyone else to contact Richard. If I find out that someone has, anyone.... So help me...."

"And the rest, you say you don't want to burden? The rest who? Others who are concerned about you?"

Tracy once again turned feverishly blue eyes on Rachel. "You listen to me. I won't have you manipulating my friends. I understand where you're going with this... you're showing me that I have people who are concerned for me.... right now, you, and Michael and Mom. Good, then so be it. I appreciate your thoughtfulness, your actual concern is showing through, and I feel it, I do, really, really, truly I do."

"The others...."

"Rachel.... It's okay. You've got to understand.... I can't be a burden anymore on the others. Not Jules, notBridge, not Daddy....see where they are? Far away? You know why? Because bad things happen to good people, and there's no explanation for it, really, I mean a spiritual one, sure, somewhere, I have that, somewhere, but what I'm trying to say is.... It's too much for them to see me going through. It hurts too much for them..... I don't want them to see me right now, or to have to deal with me.... they've all dealt with a lot of it in the past, maybe all of it, but right now... Michael hit it on the nose. I've got to learn to cope on my own."

Rachel sat back and looked at Tracy. Her lank hair, the two bright red spots of color attesting to her vehemence, the light coming from previously listless eyes. She was right, and she knew it. Tracy needed to be on her own. Whether she sank or swam this time, needed to be her own decision. She had to get through this, but she had to do it without all the crutches, and no amount of others to talk to was going to help.

"I'm here for you, Trace." She said and reached to hug her, but Tracy moved away. Rachel understood.

"Thank you." She said softly, a wellspring of strength underneath somewhere shining through.

"I won't push others on you, and I won't push myself on you. Do you think you want to set up regular appointments?"

"I don't know. Maybe. Just to keep focused, like before. There is a need for it, right?" she looked down. "I don't mean to sound ungrateful, I'm really not. I want to be cared about."

"You are, honey." Rachel reached for her again.

Tracy backed toward the window. "There is something bothering me."

"Yeah?"

"I know the sleep is an escape thing... I realize it will pass as the grief stages pass. But what about not being able to process things? Like, this is the most clarity I've had since the fire." She shook her head. "I seem to forget simple things that people tell me, and I can't really focus all the time. Is that normal?"

"PTSD."

Tracy nodded. Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. She had studied its effects in some of her classes. She'd recognized symptoms of it before in others and in herself, just not this time.

This time was too big. The darkness threatened to engulf her. She pursed her lips and then let her eyes meet Rachel's. "I'll be okay." She said simply.

"I know you will, you're a tough cookie." Rachel got up and walked to the front door. "I'm going to be staying in Long Beach, but I'll be out here, periodically. If you need to talk, just let me know." She waved a small hand flutter and disappeared back the way she had come and Tracy heard her retreat on the stairs.

She crossed to the top of the stairs and saw the lighter carpet as the sunshine fell on the floor when the door opened and closed. A sigh escaped her. She walked slowly back to the babies' room.

Right up to the back to back cribs. Melia and Megan.... Darker peach fuzz topped pale skin. The sun came in through the sheers, auburn copper tones crowned both sleeping babies' eyelashes. Perfect.

Danny had red hair.... Casey's hair had been reddish, lighter than Bridget's. Raine's hair had been dark brown, very dark, and hers was light, tawny and gold. She pulled it around to examine it. Was there red in it?

She dropped her hair and reached to touch a fair cheek. "I love you, Meggie. I love you, Mia. I need you now, okay? You guys be strong for Momma.... Like your big brother was before, okay? We can get through this...."

She put a hand to her forehead feeling the pressure, the familiar surges of current, the fearful haphazard way it rushed around looking for an outlet, like a live thing....

And she felt a sudden whisper of strong arms encompassing her from behind, she closed her eyes. "It's okay, baby, you're gonna make it." His voice seemed to say and she felt a blind spring of tears engulf her. Small though the music was, she heard it, far away, and painful... but there none the less. And comforting.

*****