Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters or anything else relating to 'The Bill'. If I did then every episode would be full of Mickey and I wouldn't need to write this.
Warnings: This story will feature adult themes. They are: child abuse, sexual abuse and mild violence. Please don't read if you are offended by any of these subjects.
AN: I've been working on this story for well over a year. It was originally intended to be a rewrite of a previously posted story, but it's changed so much that it isn't recognisable.
And most importantly, I would like to say a huge thank you to Rose (snowfilly) who has been the best beta reader a writer could ask for.
Reliving History
Chapter 1
Mickey handed over the money to the barman and headed back over to the table where his colleagues and friends were sat. He put the tray of drinks in the middle of the table and waited patiently while everybody got their drinks. Mickey picked up his water and took a sip.
"You not having a beer, Mickey?" Smithy was watching him with a surprised look in his eyes. For a moment Mickey was annoyed, it wasn't like he had to have a drink. But then he realised that the others had similar expressions on their faces. Mickey shook his head, silently ashamed at himself. Ever since he had returned to Sun Hill he had been drinking heavily, using alcohol to try and numb the pain, help him forget the memories. He had been arriving at work tired and hung-over, and he had snapped at anyone who had dared to question him about his drinking. But then Jack had asked him to stop, so he had stopped. He hadn't touched a drop of alcohol for the past week, and had been feeling a lot better because of it. His colleagues were still watching him, confused.
"I'm driving, ain't I? Besides I don't want a hangover in the mornin'." Smithy nodded, but didn't look convinced. Mickey couldn't help but admit to himself that a beer would be welcome after the weekend that he'd had, but he had promised Jack.
The conversation at the table resumed and Mickey listened in mild amusement as Stuart and Jo traded insults. He looked around the table. At one time looking around he would have seen Kate, Cass Rickman, Dave Quinnan, Matt, Jack, Duncan and Danny. Now some of them were dead, some had turned corrupt, and some of them were working in different departments. The only ones who remained were Jack and Smithy. Except that Jack never came out for drinks anymore, not when there was a whole group of them going. Mickey sighed, missing the easy friendship that he had once shared with the DCI. Nowadays, although they were still friends, it was a lot more strained, and Jack seemed to be more conscious about keeping distance between them at work, which had made Mickey's return to Sun Hill even harder than he had anticipated.
Mickey shook himself; it was no use dwelling on the past. Besides, looking around he realised that he still had a good group of friends, even if he didn't feel quite as much a part of the group as he would have liked. Smithy, who had been there through thick and through thin – although nowadays Mickey felt awkward when alone with the sergeant, he still couldn't forget the fact that it was Smithy who had seen him at his most vulnerable. Next to Smithy sat Jo and Terry, all three were excellent officers, and Mickey knew that they would watch his back, both on and off the job. There were a few other people there too, members of uniform who were good people: Will, Beth, Roger and Nate. The problem was that, apart from Smithy, none of them really knew what he had gone through at the hands of Delaney, though Mickey was sure that some of them would have heard the rumours.
They couldn't understand why he was so cautious, in fact Mickey had been shouted at only yesterday by Stuart because he had hesitated before chasing a suspect, and had consequently lost him. Mickey looked over the table at Stuart and sighed, the two of them had never really hit it off; Mickey had been too friendly with Phil for Stuart to even consider him as a mate.
A phone rang, it took Mickey a few seconds to realise that the unfamiliar ring tone was his. He'd only bought it a week ago.
"Yeah, this is Mickey Webb." Nobody replied, whoever was on the other end of the line stayed silent. "Hello, can I help?" A few more seconds passed and Mickey was about to hang up when the person spoke.
"Hello DC Webb." Mickey almost dropped his phone at the sound of the voice. It was the voice that he heard in his nightmares. The one that haunted him when he was alone. It was the one that he had never wanted to hear again.
"Leave me the hell alone!" Mickey hung up and shoved his phone back into his pocket. He stood up and began to walk shakily towards the door. Voices called after him but he ignored them, he had to get to safety: he had to get to Jack.
The cold air hit him and he realised that he'd left his jacket inside; he patted his jeans, trying to determine what was in the pockets, he still had his phone and his keys. Taking the keys out he staggered towards his car and fumbled with them as he tried to put them into the ignition; they finally went in and he sped away, holding his breath to try and stop the tears from falling.
The remaining occupants of the table watched the door swing shut, and then looked at each other, perplexed.
"I'll go and find out what's wrong." Smithy stood, grabbed Mickey's jacket and strode towards the door, picking up his pace as he did so. He didn't know what direction Mickey had gone in, but remembered that Mickey had said he was driving. Smithy headed for the car park. He got there just in time to see Mickey's car pulling away. Smithy took out his phone and began running towards his own car, whilst dialling a number. Terry answered on the second ring.
"Terry, he's driven away. I'm going around to his place to see if he's there, if not I'll take a look around. I need to find out what's wrong with him, see you tomorrow." Smithy stopped only to listen to the reply before throwing his phone and jacket on the front passenger seat of his car and pulling away himself. Something was up with his friend, and he was going to find out exactly what was wrong.