The morning is still grey so I'm waiting for the sun (Rachel, Danny, open)
Rachel woke up in Danny's bed, and lay there for a long time. Wolf was draped over the foot of the bed, his chin resting on her leg, deeply asleep.
She raised her fingers to touch her face. The place where she'd cracked it against the car was warm and tender and very sore. Where was that car now? At the bottom of the Thames.
(Had he got out?) she wondered. (Had he swum to the surface and survived?)
It was still raining. It had rained and stormed all night. And all night Danny had been beside her. Every time Rachel had woken up, and there had been a lot, Danny had still been there. And so had the rain.
(Maybe someone had reached in and pulled him out. Maybe this time he would be the one with the broken memories.)
The woman last night - if it was her mother, or it if was some angel thing - had promised that she would destroy him and no one would save him. But unless angels had the power to summon trucks (and what did Rachel really know about angels anyway) then maybe she had no say in what happened to him. Harley could swim. Maybe he'd saved himself.
Maybe he'd come and find her. He promised to tell her everything. He'd promised.
He'd also promised that everything he'd done was to protect her and Rachel had not forgotten how absolutely, fucking terrifyingly dangerous that protection had been last night.
Maybe she should start all over one last time. Maybe she should marry Danny and change her name to Rachel Marlow.
The more and more she thought about everything, the more her anxiety started to grow. Low grade, at first, but picking up. Rachel took a big deep breath and tried to find her serenity, that calm, unshakable place she found while meditating with Imogene. Not that she wanted to think about Imogene right now either.
Wolf woke up, and wuffled at her, but Rachel tried to lie very still and breathe very deep till Danny woke up too.