for Paul - timed for mid-september

Rachel's not doing well. She is not doing well at all. By now the entire island knows about Brooke, more or less. She's not exactly sure when she last ate but she's certain it was by Raylan's prompting and the only thing that has kept her from falling head first into a bottle is Danny's suspicion and the promise she made him. She's never wanted a drink so badly in her life and she prays, she prays that he's wrong. She can't be pregnant. She can't. But God if it's not likely. She's sick all the time and she doesn't know when the fuck her last period was and Christ, she cannot be pregnant. She slips up to the main clinic as quickly as she can, keeping her head down and praying she's got the shifts correct. It has to be Paul. She can't do this with anyone else. Her breath freezes in her chest when she spots him through the open door. "Paul," she croaks, knocking on the door frame. "I need to talk to you."

for Danny- timed for August 28th.

Rachel has been crying for almost 24 hours. She's pretty sure she only stopped because there's nothing left. She doesn't think she's eaten. She wants a drink. She wants a drink but she made a fucking promise a week ago and she can't break it. Brooke's gone. Her best friend, her fucking savior, her rock. She's just gone. Like that. Back to a world where Rachel is off shooting up on some beach somewhere and Rachel's left here. Possibly pregnant, definitely feeling like her foundation just cracked in a way that's never going to be fixed. She's been half avoiding Danny all week because she didn't want to talk about the pregnancy thing but she needs him now. Raylan's dealt with her for long enough and she needs to lean on someone else for a few hours.

She looks like shit. She's still getting sick all the time. She can't sleep. She just wants to make it all go away. She wants to shoot up and make it all go away but that's not an option anymore.

So here she is, knocking on his door and trying to deal.