CHAPTER TWO

Fake candlelight flickered across the table from a small, battery-operated light, casting a soft glow on Jack's face as he studied the menu. Rachel watched him, a warm smile touching her lips despite the dull throb at her temples. They were sitting in a quiet corner of one of Jack's favorite restaurants, made all the more alluring for Paige because of the aforementioned lava cakes. Before leaving home, a big part of Rachel and been dreading this. But the gentle clink of glasses and subdued murmur of conversation around them underscored the intimacy of the moment. It was as if the very building understood what she needed to remain calm.

"Did you remember to tell the chef about the nut allergy?" Paige asked, her young voice tinged with concern.

"Of course, honey," Jack replied, his tone soothing. "No nuts in anything. Promise."

Jack then looked toward Rachel, winking. Paige did not have a nut allergy—they'd had her tested. But after choking on a walnut last month, she was insisting she must be allergic to them. It was just one of her current little quirks.

Rachel marveled at how effortlessly Jack had woven himself into the fabric of their lives. He treated Paige with such natural paternal care; it was hard to remember a time when he wasn't part of their family. Even when Peter had still been with them—before any romantic sparks had ignited between Rachel and Jack—he'd been her partner at work and had gotten to know Paige as he'd occasionally come by the house. Now, as their wedding approached, the idea of him officially becoming Paige's father filled Rachel with an elation that seemed to brighten even the darkest corners of her heartache over Grandma Tate.

"Mom, are you excited for the wedding?" Paige's innocent question brought Rachel back from her wandering.

"Beyond excited, sweetie." Rachel's voice was sincere, though she hoped they didn't notice the slight strain behind it. The headache that had been inching its way across her skull now pressed insistently against her eyes. And any headache that was more than just a minor blip on the radar could, for her, mean so many terrible things. It was an essential reminder that no matter how well she felt or how great her life seemed, she was probably going to live in the shadow of her cancer…for however much longer it allowed her to live. Even if her treatments did end up working, that damned tumor was always going to be a part of her.

"Excited or nervous?" Paige asked.

"Both, I suppose."

"But it's a small wedding, right?"

"Yes, that's right."

"So what's there to be nervous about?"

Rachel grinned. "Nothing, I suppose. It's just…well, it's just a very big moment."

This seemed to pacify Paige for the moment. She considered this as she fidgeted with her silverware, wrapped perfectly in a napkin.

Jack took a sip of his deep red wine, savoring it with a contented sigh. Rachel eyed her own glass – just water tonight. She couldn't risk a reaction with the cocktail of medications still coursing through her system after the treatments. It would be at least another month before she could enjoy alcohol…and that was if everything came out okay.

And the headache she was currently feeling seemed to suggest that may not be the case.

"Are you sure you don't want something else to drink?" Jack asked, his concern evident. "Maybe a ginger ale?"

"No, water's fine," Rachel assured him, forcing cheerfulness into her tone. The headache was probably just stress, she reasoned silently. Anger, too, simmering beneath the surface, an ever-present companion since Grandma Tate's death. She'd learned to mask it well, but it gnawed at her still, demanding attention she refused to give.

"Okay, if you're sure," Jack said, reaching over to rest his hand on hers. His touch was warm, grounding.

Rachel squeezed his hand, grateful for the gesture. The headache could wait, she decided. Tonight was about family, about celebrating the little moments that stitched their lives together. She would not let pain – physical or emotional – detract from the joy of seeing the two people she loved most in the world chatting and laughing together, completely at ease in each other's company.

Even if it might mean some very bad things.

As the night went on, their meals arrived and conversation rolled on. Rachel engaged in the chatter swirling around their cozy booth, a smile pinned to her face as she listened to Jack and Paige discuss whether to have chocolate or vanilla cake at the wedding. The warmth of the restaurant encased them, a soft glow from the overhead lanterns casting a golden hue on the table. Every so often, laughter punctuated their conversation, genuine and easy. But Rachel's participation was an act; her thoughts were elsewhere, trapped in a maze of frustration and anger.

"Chocolate," Paige declared with finality, snapping Rachel back to the present. "It's everyone's favorite."

"Is it, now?" Rachel teased, her voice lighter than she felt. She glanced at Jack, who raised his eyebrows in mock surprise. They played along, but beneath the surface, Rachel's mind raced with scenarios of rejoining the hunt for Alice. Surely, there was a way to leverage her unique insight, a way to be more than just a grieving bystander. If she could find the right words, appeal to Director Anderson's sense of justice...

No, she couldn't risk being sidelined. Not when she was so close to beating this damned cancer, or so it seemed. Hell, who knew anymore? Her next check-up was just before the wedding. She'd have more answers then, she supposed.

"Mom?" Paige's curious tone pulled Rachel from her inner turmoil. "Why do you even need a flower girl?"

"Tradition," Rachel replied, trying to stay in the conversation and not seem distant.

"That's a BS answer."

"Paige!" Rachel said, biting back a smile. Jack had to hide his own with the back of his hand.

"What? Well, it is!"

"Fine, then. A flower girl represents innocence and purity, leading the way for a new beginning." She had no idea if this was true or not but it seemed like the sort of thing Paige would want to hear.

"What about the rings?" Paige quizzed. "What's that all about?"

"Rings are a circle," Jack chimed in. "They symbolize eternity, no beginning or end. Just like my love for your mom."

"And me?"

"Eh, I guess you're okay," Jack said.

Rachel's heart swelled, a bittersweet ache accompanying the surge of affection. Here was a man who had embraced both her and Paige, offering stability they had scarcely dared to dream of after Peter's death. Yet, even as she leaned into the comfort of his words, her anger thrummed.

"And a honeymoon?" Paige wrinkled her nose in thought. "That's a funny word. What's that all about."

Rachel and Jack shared a glance filled with knowledge and a bit of mischief. "You can take this one," Jack said, nodding to Rachel.

"It's a time for us to celebrate our marriage, just the two of us, somewhere special. It's a chance to relax after all the busyness of planning the wedding," Rachel explained, her fork pausing midway to her mouth as she considered how much of her life had been anything but relaxed since Grandma Tate's murder.

"Somewhere like Disney World?" Paige asked, hopeful.

"Maybe somewhere a little quieter," Jack chuckled, reaching across to ruffle Paige's hair fondly.

Rachel forced a laugh, grateful for the distraction of her daughter's questions, even as the unanswered questions and unresolved vengeance cast long shadows over the brightly lit dinner table. It, plus the clink of cutlery and the low hum of conversation, provided a soothing backdrop to Rachel's thoughts, which drifted despite her best efforts to anchor them in the present. Her senses were alert to every detail — the warm glow from the sconces on the walls, the earthy aroma of the herb-crusted salmon that lay half-eaten on her plate, the weight of Jack's reassuring gaze from across the table.

"Will there be dancing at the wedding?" Paige's inquisitive voice cut through the brief silence. Nearing the age of ten, the inquisitiveness of a three-year-old had resurfaced. It seemed to have come right around the time Grandma Tate had died. She was always wanting to know the "why" to everything, always seeking reasons and explanations.

"Absolutely," Jack confirmed, his grin almost as wide as Paige's. "Your mom and I will have our first dance, and then everyone else can join in."

It was then that Jack's phone buzzed sharply on the table, an intrusive vibration that immediately tightened the muscles in Rachel's neck. Jack glanced at the caller ID, and frowned.

"Work," he said. He turned his head away from them with a muted apology, and answered the call, his voice dropping to a hushed tone.

Rachel tried to focus on Paige's chatter, but her ears strained to catch snippets of Jack's conversation. Key phrases stood out - 'crime scene,' 'time and place,' 'ASAP.' At one point, he looked curiously at Rachel, a smile teasing the corner of his mouth as he said, "Yeah, I'll ask for sure." He then ended the call and turned back to them, his expression apologetic yet edged with the unmistakable intensity of duty calling.

"Something's come up at work," he said, his words clipped. "Director Anderson needs me to check out a murder scene." He stopped for a moment, cringing at using the term in front of Paige. "Looks like something straightforward, but..."

"You have to go now?" Paige asked.

"Yeah, seems that way. And…Director Anderson thinks it might be simple enough for your mom to tag along. What do you think of that?"

"Awesome," Paige said. She then looked to Rachel, a smile on her face. "You've missed it, right?"

"I have. Has it been that obvious?"

Both Jack and Paige answered in unison. "Yes!"

Rachel chuckled, the idea of heading out onto a case, even if it was a simple one, lifting her spirits more than she cared to admit.

"Paige, honey, would you mind if Janell comes over to watch you?" Rachel asked.

Janell was a neighborhood girl who had babysat Paige in the weeks following Grandma Tate's death whenever Rachel and Jack could not be there. So far, Paige seemed absolutely obsessed with her. Under the circumstances, with Alice Denbrough still at large, Rachel would have never dreamed of leaving Paige with a regular sitter. But the fact that there were still agents assigned to keep watch over the house, parked inconspicuously on the corner, made it much more manageable.

"Is she going to bring her nail polish kit?" Paige asked, a spark of mischief lighting up her face.

"I'll ask her," Rachel smiled, relieved by Paige's easygoing nature. She reached for her phone and dialed Janell's number, her fingers deftly navigating the screen. Even before it started ringing, the idea of leaving with Jack on a case had her feeling better than she had in weeks. The call connected, and Rachel's voice was steady as she arranged the impromptu babysitting gig.

Jack flagged down the waiter with a casual raise of his hand, asking for the check and to-go boxes with a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. Rachel watched him, taking in the shift from domestic contentment to professional readiness. She felt a pang of envy at his effortless transition. The waiter bustled over, placing the small leather folder on the table and whisking away half-eaten plates to box up.

"Are you sure you're up for this?" Jack asked. His voice was low, tinged with concern as he caught Rachel's gaze.

Rachel nodded, even as her head throbbed subtly, like the distant echo of thunder. "I'll be fine," she assured him, pushing back against the headache. "It might actually be good for me—to feel useful again."

She stood, and Paige slid out of the booth with youthful agility, her excitement barely contained. "This is kinda cool, isn't it? Rushing off because of an FBI call!" Her eyes sparkled with the thrill of adventure, her previous questions about wedding flowers and traditions forgotten in the wake of real-life drama.

"Like mother, like daughter," Jack joked on their way out.

The comment, meant in jest, snagged on Rachel's conscience like barbed wire. She blinked rapidly, trying to dislodge the sudden worry that pricked at her. Had her dedication to her career inadvertently set a template for Paige—one where the call of duty so often took priority over everything else?

Paige had sensed that her mother missed being out in the field, even after Grandma Tate's passing. What the hell sort of example was she setting?

Rachel didn't know. What she did know, though, was that the mere idea of it caused that anger to rear its head within her heart, a sleeping dragon grumbling a warning.