Author's note: For anyone that doesn't know, this is a side story which follows Dee from the point he and Ryo separate at the airport in chapter 27 of 'Crash and Burn'. The lyrics that inspired this fic (now removed to comply with fanfictiondotnet's rules) are from a song called 'So Far Away' by Staind. I recommend everyone checks it out!

Warnings: Bad language, angst.

Crash and Burn – So Far Away

Chapter 1 – Leaving

Dee could feel Ryo's dark eyes burning into his back as the attendant pushed his wheelchair towards the departure gate. Closing his own eyes against the pain in his heart, he concentrated on reciting song lyrics in his head, the alphabet, poems he could think of; anything that seemed to distract him from the ache that seemed to penetrate his very soul. He desperately wanted to look back; to see Ryo's handsome face one last time, but he knew if he did then he would never leave at all.

Soon he had something else to distract him from his pain, when he reached the desk and had to hand over his ticket. Another attendant appeared and took his crutches and his hand luggage before disappearing towards the plane. The man quickly returned to help Dee onboard.

It was hard not to feel a little jealous being surrounded by so many travelers with their families and Dee suddenly felt very alone as he was helped into his seat. To make matters worse, he was on a row on his own, needing three seats to rest his casted leg across, leaving him even more isolated from his fellow passengers. Seeing him on his own, the stewardesses were particularly attentive, checking on him often with a kindly smile.

Dee couldn't be sure whether it was a symptom of his PTSD or not, but he felt as if he was being watched; an endless feeling of paranoia that he couldn't shake off. It stood to reason that someone on the packed flight would recognize him; after all, he had been prominent in the news all thanks to the celebrity pulling power of Henry Goldsmith. He bit down on his unease and forced a smile every time the attendants approached; relieved when he finally drifted off to sleep for a few hours after he had eaten.

The flight was uneventful and before long, the captain was announcing their descent into Heathrow. Dee glanced out of the window to see the grey skies of London. Last time he'd been to the UK, Ryo had been by his side and somehow the grey skies just hadn't mattered then. Now, they felt dark and oppressive, weighing on his leaden heart as the plane touched down and came to a halt near one of the terminals. He was distracted from his viewing by a stewardess who came over and smiled at him.

"Mr Latener? Are you okay waiting until the other passengers are off before we attend to you?"

"Sure," Dee replied, managing a convincing smile despite the growing craving for a cigarette that had steadily intensified over the last eight hours.

He managed to negotiate with the attendant who was pushing his wheelchair to take him to one of the few smoking areas of the airport before he had to check in for his connecting flight up to Manchester, in the north west of the country. The attendant, a tall red headed man with a thick London accent, was sympathetic to his plight; a smoker himself who understood the difficulty of remaining civil when your body was screaming for nicotine.

Two blessed cigarettes later and Dee was boarding his second flight, a small British Midlands plane that would make the forty-five minute flight up to Manchester. He was missing Ryo badly now; hell, even Bicky would have been a welcome sight as the endless clouds passed by, breaking every so often to allow a glimpse of the land below. Flying over London was interesting. He recognised Buckingham Palace and Tower Bridge and even caught a glimpse of the Millennium Eye, the oversized big wheel built on the banks of the river Thames to celebrate the turn of the century. Soon however, the city was left behind.

England was an undeniably beautiful vista; lush and unspoilt, a patchwork of green and brown. As they made their descent into Manchester, the landscape changed quickly, the verdant valleys suddenly replaced by dark industrial type expanses that seemed to run for miles, leaving it impossible to tell where one ended and another began. The plane landed smoothly and taxied towards the blinking lights of the terminal. It was still daylight, but the gloom of the weather made lighting a necessity.

"Welcome to Manchester," the captain announced over the loudspeaker as the plane came to a halt. "The local time is three fourteen pm and the weather is cloudy with intermittent showers. We hope you've enjoyed your flight. Please have a safe onward journey and on behalf of myself and my staff, thank you for flying with British Midland."

Again the same routine, where Dee had to wait before an attendant with a wheelchair arrived to collect him from the plane. Again he smiled, despite the vulnerability he felt at needing assistance. On the plus side, it allowed him to bypass most of the airport crowds, particularly at the baggage carousels where his luggage was brought to him after he described it to another attendant. He was left briefly in the crowded arrivals hall as the employee pushing his wheelchair went outside to secure him a cab. The young Asian man returned shortly afterwards as Dee was finding his feet on his crutches.

"Okay, I've told him where you're going. He's said seventeen quid; don't let him tell you any different."

Dee smiled gratefully as the man carried his bags out to the waiting car. The driver was a genial guy called Mike who had a strong Mancunian accent. He talked endlessly and seemed fascinated with Dee's own accent, often talking about 'you Yanks' as they chatted. Dee hadn't felt much like making conversation but he found the mindless small talk kept him away from loneliness and longing thoughts of Ryo.

"So what brings you to Manchester?" Mike asked eventually, glancing at his passenger in the rear view mirror.

"Work," Dee said simply, looking out of the window and watching two children laughing as they pushed a third boy along in a shopping cart.

"How long for?" Mike asked, seeing Dee wasn't about to elaborate on his first answer.

"A month."

"A month, huh?" he replied, nodding thoughtfully.

There was silence as Dee returned to gazing out of the window, watching the world fly by. The houses as they passed through a residential area changed constantly, from large, attractive red brick detached properties that Dee considered mansions, to row upon row of terraced houses, their doors leading directly onto the litter-strewn streets. The city of Manchester seemed a multicultural place, with Asian families moving amongst Chinese and English; their diverse lifestyles reflected in the variety of shops that addressed each culture's needs, jostling side by side on the busy main streets.

"So what passes for fun in this city?" Dee asked, tiring of the scenery.

Mike glanced at his green eyed passenger and cleared his throat noisily. "Fun, huh? Well, in Manchester itself there's plenty of bars and restaurants. If you like comedy then I'd recommend either Jongleurs comedy club or the Comedy Store at Deansgate Locks. Of course, a lot of people come to Manchester to go to Canal Street."

"What's there?" Dee asked.

"The gay village," Mike replied. "It's supposed to be a good night out, providing of course you've nothing against queers."

In the back of the cab, Dee had to smile. "I think I can cope," he said, a trace of humour in his voice.

Mike evidently missed it. "Well, like I said, it's supposedly a good night out."

The conversation ended as they pulled up to the entrance of the hotel. The building was an imposing looking edifice, towering over the street below like a fairytale giant. The architecture was faithfully gothic, the building constructed in 1884 just before the end of the gothic revival that had swept the UK during that period. The main doors resided beneath a large pointed brick archway that set the hotel out amongst the sea of Perspex and stainless steel that seemed to be the construction materials of choice in the sprawling city centre.

"Well, here we are," the driver announced. "I'll help you in with your bags."

"Thanks," Dee replied, handing him a twenty pound note. "Keep the change and thanks for the recommendations."

The taxi driver carried his bags up to the front desk and left, leaving Dee hunting through his rucksack for his booking information. Finding the documents he needed, he stepped up to the desk to be greeted by a receptionist who looked to be in her early twenties. She beamed a broad smile at the handsome man as he approached.

"Good afternoon. How can I help you?"

"I have a reservation in the name of Dee Latener," he explained, hoping that he wouldn't have to mention that he was part of the PTSD group. He had no intention of volunteering that information.

She didn't seem to need it however as she took his documentation and processed the details on the computer, smiling as he waited patiently. When she was done, she handed Dee the keycard for his room before arranging for a colleague to deal with his bags. The room was comfortable, although Dee couldn't help but think that the king sized bed would seem very empty with just him in it.

"Ryo," he said, moving to the window and staring out onto a wonderful view of the city he was to call home for the next month. "Damn, I wish you were here."

He turned to see a letter addressed to him propped up against the television set. Working his way back across the room, he opened it and found it contained instructions on meeting up with the rest of his therapy group; the other five people hoping the save their sanity and possibly their souls.

Sitting down on the bed, Dee sighed heavily. Before he had left the States, Polly had explained that there would be a total of six people including himself on the programme, designed specifically for sufferers of PTSD who were employed in the emergency services. She had told him there would be other cops, paramedics and firemen all experiencing similar difficulties and wanting to try to put their lives back in order. Wonder if they're all as crazy as me, Dee thought to himself, deciding to indulge in a cigarette before going to meet the group.

Calmed by the nicotine in his body, he washed and changed his t-shirt before checking his blood sugar levels and administering his insulin. Once ready, he headed for the elevator. The note had told him to go to the hotel bar on the ground floor although he wasn't exactly sure how he'd know who he was there to meet; unless of course they all had big neon signs on their heads. Great, he thought dryly, way to tell the world we're crazy.

Despite knowing he had to limit his alcohol intake, Dee found himself ordering a beer, hoping that the buzz would take the edge off his nerves. He had drunk only a quarter of the bottle when someone sat down beside him at the bar. The man, who Dee thought looked a similar age to himself, ordered a pint of lager and a whiskey, downing the latter in one motion before the bartender had returned with his change.

"Ugh," the other man said, wincing at the taste. "Jesus…" he shook his head as if to shake away the taste.

"That bad, huh?" Dee asked, smiling as he took a swig from his own bottle.

"Maybe," the other man replied, turning to Dee and appraising the green eyed stranger. "I'm here to spend a month with a bunch of potentially crazy people that I never met. Would you consider that bad?"

"I would," Dee said, fighting down a smirk. "If I wasn't in the same situation too."

The man's dark eyes widened. "You're here for the PTSD programme?"

"Yup." Dee grinned and stuck out his hand. "Dee Latener; crazy person number one."

"Oh crap," the man replied, running a hand through his shoulder length hair in embarrassment before he took Dee's hand and shook it firmly, a smile working its way onto his face. "Danny Murphy; crazy person number two and big mouth extraordinaire."

Dee laughed. There was something instantly likeable about Danny, and Dee felt glad that at least one person on the programme looked to be a similar age instead of all the burnt out, near retirement age cops he had imagined.

"So, I'm guessing you're not from around here, Dee?" Danny asked once the introductions were over.

"New York," Dee replied, finding his cigarettes and offering his new companion one, which he took gratefully.

"That's a hell of a long way to come," Danny said after letting out a low whistle.

"I guess they thought I was crazy enough," Dee chuckled, embracing the beer buzz that had settled upon him. "What about you, where are you from?"

"About five miles down the road," Danny said in a strong Mancunian accent, frowning at the comical injustice of the situation. "You get to travel halfway across the world and I get to sit on my doorstep. Great…"

"Tough luck, Murphy," Dee laughed.

"Yeah," Danny continued, "All the guys at the station think I'm just here to check out the gay village."

"I was told that was a good night out," Dee remarked.

Danny rolled his eyes. "Yeah, if you want to watch a load of effeminate men pawing each other. I swear, I can spot queers a mile off."

"Really?" Dee replied with a grin. "You'll have to show me some time."

Conversation ceased temporarily as they ordered more drinks. "So what are you, Dee? Copper, fireman, paramedic?" Danny asked, downing the last of his first pint and handing the empty glass to the passing barman.

"Cop," Dee replied. "You?"

"Same here."

The two men turned as a woman entered the bar and looked around nervously. She looked to be in her early forties with short auburn hair cropped into a style that gave her features a slightly elfin appearance. She was pretty, but there were lines on her face that gave her a look of prolonged worry and anxiety. She was about to head to the bar when a man stepped into the room behind her and put a hand gently on her shoulder. She looked surprised until the man introduced himself and her face broke into a smile as she took his hand.

The two policemen at the bar watched as the woman left the bar before the silver haired man headed over to one of the corner booths, where a man was sitting reading a newspaper. A second introduction took place before the red headed man folded up his paper and exited as the woman had done. The man left behind looked around until his eyes fell upon the two policemen at the bar and he headed in their direction.

"Dee Latener and Danny Murphy, I presume?" he said as he approached, pointing at each man in turn, a friendly smile lighting up his weathered features.

"Yes…"

"And yes," the two men replied.

"Jack Bradford," he said as he shook the men's hands, his name enough to tell them that this was the man given the task of saving them from themselves. "Good trip, Dee?"

"Not bad," the ebony haired man replied, nodding.

"Danny, you got here okay?" There was humour in his blue eyes that twinkled; reminding Dee of a kindly grandfather.

"Oh, it was a nightmare," Danny chuckled. "Five miles of pure hell, I tell ya!"

The three men laughed, as Jack gestured for them to follow him. "Well, I've sent your colleagues through to the small conference room. We've got that booked for the next hour so we can meet each other properly before you go to dinner."

The two policemen nodded, recalling that the note had told them that they could go straight there if the thought of meeting a group of strangers in the bar was too intimidating. There were two more people to make up the complement of six and Dee presumed they had taken the second option. Maybe it was a good sign that he could cope with going into a bar alone. Maybe he wasn't as fucked up as he'd first presumed.

He stood from his bar stool and followed Danny and Jack out to the conference room. No one asked how his leg had gotten broken; maybe they suspected it was all part of the horrors he had come here to face. He suspected Jack Bradford knew; Polly had explained that he had been sent Dee's file so he could familiarise himself with the background details prior to his arrival. The way he had confidently introduced himself to everyone so far told Dee that he had studied each of them carefully before they had gotten here.

"So Dee; how's Polly?"

Dee looked surprised. "She's okay. How'd you…?"

"She's my niece."

"Oh."

Jack sensed the other man's unease and touched his arm, stopping Dee from entering the conference room behind Danny.

"It's okay, Dee," he said gently. He'd worked with enough people to know that paranoia affected even the most stable people at a time like this. "She didn't tell me anything other than what I needed to know professionally. All she did say was that she'd been working with someone very special."

The smile and the touch on his arm were sincere and Dee nodded, knowing deep down that Polly would not have betrayed him in any way. On Jack's invitation, he entered the conference room to find the other five people he was to spend the next month with, already seated in a circle. He took the empty seat next to Danny and laid his crutches down, smiling quickly at those that he made eye contact with. As well as Danny and the man and the woman he had seen in the bar, there were two other men, both of whom looked similarly uncomfortable to be there.

"Okay," Jack said, coming into the room and closing the door before he took the remaining empty seat. "Firstly, I'd like to welcome you all here. I know some have come further than others, but I trust that you've all had a safe journey. Now I know most of you will be eager to go and get something to eat, but I think it is important to get to know each other a little first."

He smiled at the group, studying the faces of the people he had come to know through written information and a single photograph. "I know people hate doing this but it's best to get it out the way quickly. Just say a little about yourself, what you enjoy doing, etcetera. Well, I guess I'll start. My name is Jack Bradford, I'm fifty seven years old and I'm a retired police officer from Greater Manchester Constabulary. I live with my wife Eileen and have two grown up daughters, Kerry and Rachel. In my spare time I enjoy playing golf and watching TV."

He stopped and looked to the person on his left; the red headed man Dee had seen in the bar reading a newspaper. The man cleared his throat before he started to speak in a broad Scottish accent. His dark eyes were hard and flat; his expression said he was uncomfortable baring his soul, even in this minor way.

"My name is Duncan McDonald and I'm forty six years old. I'm a fireman with Edinburgh Fire Department. I live with my wife, Susan and our two kids, Peter who's thirteen and Rebecca who's nine. I like fishing and restoring classic cars."

Jack smiled as he finished. "Thank you, Duncan." He looked to the man next to Duncan and nodded. He was short, with a slim build and a handsome, mostly unlined face. When he started to speak, his left leg began to jiggle, undoing the credibility of the forced confidence in his voice.

"My name is Richard Jones, I'm thirty six and I live with my girlfriend, Sarah. We have one son, Jake, who's seven and I'm a paramedic with Yorkshire Ambulance Service. I play amateur rugby in my spare time."

His tapping foot stopped as he ceased speaking. Next to him, the only woman in the room clasped and unclasped her hands as her turn came around. She looked at Jack and smiled shyly at him.

"I'm Jenny Norris. I'm forty two and married to Steve. We have three children; Andrew, eleven, Katie who's eight and Sophie who's five. I'm also a paramedic, with Sussex Ambulance Service and I enjoy spending time with my family when I'm not at work."

The man next to Jenny looked up as she stopped speaking and shifted in his seat. He had a blank expression and when he spoke, his strong Irish accent had a similarly bored note to it.

"My name's Kieran Patrick, thirty five, single and a fireman from Dublin. I like watching sports." He stopped abruptly, his hard eyes meeting Jack's and communicating very clearly that he had finished. Unfazed, Jack nodded in his grandfatherly way and turned to Danny sat next to the defensive Irishman.

"Um hey…" Danny began. "My name is Danny, Danny Murphy; I'm twenty six and a policeman here in Manchester. I live with my girlfriend, Lisa and she's expecting our first baby. I love football; a Manchester City fan through and through. Guess that's about it…"

"Thanks, Danny," Jack said with a smile. "I support Man United but I'll not hold it against you." He turned to Dee. "And last but by no means least…"

Dee nodded and returned the smile, knowing that that was his cue.

"My name is Dee Latener, I'm twenty nine and a detective from New York. I live with my partner, Ryo and his adopted thirteen year old son, Bicky. Ryo is also my partner at work." He paused and suppressed a grin, knowing Danny would be goggling at him right about now. "I'm a sports fan, mainly basketball but I'll watch most things."

"Thank you, Dee," Jack said when he had finished. "Well, that's your hard work out of the way for today. I'm sure all of you are hungry and I promise dinner is just around the corner. If anyone has any questions about then feel free to ask now or hang back before you go to eat. I'm not staying here but I have an office, where you'll attend for your daily group and individual sessions only two streets away. You'll all have a list of phone numbers so you can reach either myself or my colleague Lou, who you'll meet tomorrow."

He paused and glanced around the group. "Let me remind you that you are under no obligation to be here. You're free to leave at any time but I would ask that if you are thinking of quitting then please come and talk it through with either me or Lou first."

He smiled gently, checking for any reaction to the news that they would not be forced to stay. "I've found there are very few things that cannot be resolved so please, don't keep it to yourself. Although I haven't experienced your personal situations, PTSD is a common enemy and in that sense, I have been where you are now so I do understand."

When there were no questions, Jack slapped his hands on his thighs and made to stand. "Okay, well let's go eat." As the group made to stand, Jack looked to two of the members. "Dee? Richard? Can I have a word please?"

Dee took up his crutches and made his way over to where Jack and Richard were standing as the others filed out of the room.

"I just wanted to let you know that I've informed the hotel of your dietary requirements. You're welcome to choose off the regular menu if you want but there is a specific diabetic option available if you ask."

The two men said their thanks before they set off to join the rest of the group.

"So you're diabetic too?" Dee asked as they walked along together. He got some small comfort every time he met someone else who had to follow the strict regime of a diabetes lifestyle.

"Since I was six years old," Richard replied, his easy smile replacing his earlier nervousness. "How 'bout you?"

"Diagnosed about six weeks ago."

"With type one?"

"Yeah."

"Wow, that's pretty late to develop it."

"So I've been told."

"So how are you finding the routine?" Richard asked as he held the door through into the hotel reception.

"Okay, I guess. I've only had one major slip so far."

Richard nodded. "That's pretty good."

"Thanks. It's nice to know there are others out there." Dee paused as Richard went to open the door into the dining room. "I'm just gonna go ring my partner Ryo, let him know I got here okay." He glanced at his watch. "He should be in work about now. Can you tell them I'll take the diabetic option whatever it is?" He smiled a wry smile as he looked across to the elevator. "No point in tempting a second slip. I'm not too good at knowing what I should and shouldn't eat."

"Sure," Richard agreed as he disappeared to join the rest of the group.

After working out the time, Dee called Ryo at the precinct, Drake answering the phone when it stopped ringing. They had a brief conversation before the handset was passed to Ryo, his dulcet tones both calming him and making him wish he was back at home. Dee smiled as his lover thanked him for the flowers he'd arranged to be delivered just before he had left. They made other small talk, aware of the cost of the transatlantic call before reluctantly Dee hung up, wondering how he would cope without seeing Ryo in the flesh for four whole weeks.

As loneliness crept upon him, Dee headed back down to the hotel restaurant, needing the company of even the people he had just met. As he entered the dining room, he saw Danny waving him over to the seat he had saved next to him.

"Everything okay?" he asked as Dee worked his way into the chair.

"Yeah, fine," Dee replied, eyeing the meal that was set down in front of him, relieved that it looked good. "It's weird to think it isn't even lunchtime yet back home."

At first, the conversation was stilted and awkward between the six strangers, the topics mostly revolving around the meal and what they thought of their accommodation. The complementary bottles of wine soon assisted the passage of time and the conversation became more relaxed as a result, continuing as they moved through into the bar afterwards.

Despite being the only woman, Jenny seemed surprisingly comfortable with the male group, forcing Dee to reconsider his initial observations of her. Robert was also amiable; even Duncan seemed to open up a little as they sat in the bar talking about their lives. Only Kieran remained aloof, disappearing shortly after the meal, saying he was going for a walk.

Of all of them, Dee found that it was still Danny that he felt he had most in common with as they laughed and joked like some kind of comedy double act. When Dee went to the bar, the other man offered to help. Dee had ordered the round of drinks when Danny joined him, fresh from the bathroom.

"You don't drink much, do you?" Danny chuckled, eyeing Dee's choice of beverage.

"I'm a reformed alcoholic," Dee replied flatly, his expression deadpan.

Danny looked mortified. "Oh God, Dee. I'm sorry. Shit…" he said, covering his lower face with his hand. "Why'd I keep putting my foot in it?"

He looked surprised and then relieved when Dee burst out laughing. "I'm kidding, really. I'm diabetic so I can't drink too much alcohol."

"Oh," Danny replied, glad that he hadn't offended his new companion. There was a pause before he decided to address something else that was bothering him. "Listen, Dee. I didn't mean any offence before when I was talking about the gay village. I mean, I know a couple of gay guys so I'm not prejudiced or anything…"

"I'm not gay."

"Huh?"

"I'm bisexual. It's different."

Danny seemed to consider this for a moment. "Well still, I hope you weren't offended."

Dee shook his head as he gripped two of the beer bottles between the fingers of his left hand, keeping his right free for his crutch. "I may be a queer but I still have a sense of humour."

The evening passed quickly and as Dee retired to bed, he felt a spark of hope that maybe the month would be survivable. The other five people in the group were all decent, hardworking souls and as they had chatted and laughed, it seemed hard to believe that they had come together because they were all tormented by their own psyches. They had all come to save their jobs, relationships; maybe even their own lives. Having met and liked them all, Dee fell asleep praying it was a goal that they would all achieve in the end…

TBC…