Hi, thanks to Webbswoman for her kind review of my last fic.
This idea came to me while sat staring out of the window in an exceedingly boring Physics lesson. Please R&R. All will be gratefully received and much appreciated.
Disclaimer: Unfortunately I do not own The Bill or any of the characters. I'm just borrowing them.
Falling
Chapter 1 - Climbing The Ladder
I get through the day one step at a time, with my eyes closed. Surrounded in darkness, wrapped in a bubble, numb.
And when the numbness starts to fade I have another drink.
---
Jack could see he was struggling, see that he was unhappy. He waited for him to come, hoping that he would ask for help, thinking that eventually he would talk.
Jack would watch the younger man from his office, watch him for hours and he could see his desperation. Even if no one else could. And his heart ached with worry. Not knowing what to do.
Mickey would sit at his desk, looking blankly at the computer screen or a file. Jack knew that he wasn't reading it. He could see it in his eyes. They were clouded in pain, his blue eyes were hidden in distress. But even Jack had no idea of the extent.
---
I can't see a future, can't see beyond now. Beyond the darkness that I am falling into. Nothing to stop me, no one to catch me as I fall. And the truth is, I don't want anyone to. I don't want anyone to touch me. Don't want anyone around.
My house is haunted by him, by the memories and the dreams. I haven't slept in weeks, months, years even, because every time I close my eyes, he's there.
Work, at work everyone knows. I can tell by the way they look at me, the way they speak to me. I'm terrified of the small things, standing by the photocopier and someone comes to close, just a hand laid gently on my arm is enough to leave me shaking for hours.
I know that he isn't here, that they won't hurt me but suddenly I am back there, in the warehouse. It's dark, and it's happening, I'm stood in the station, but my mind isn't. I can hear him grunting, feel him pressed up against me, smell his smell. And it's happening again.
I just want it to stop and I don't care how.
I'm sat at my desk, at least physically I am. I can feel my elbows on the hard surface. Hear the general chatter and laughter. A few years ago I would have been there, in the middle of it all. Telling the joke. Now I've withdrawn into myself. Back into the darkness.
I can hear my name being repeated. It's muffled, like a wall is separating myself and the speaker. By the sound of it, the speaker has been saying it for some time.
I look up, falling back to Earth with a thud. It's the DCI, he's frowning, his look full of concern. He says something about going into his office. I lean back in my chair, unwilling, not wanting to talk, to hear his concerns.
But I give in, stand up and follow him.
---
The worry gets too much, so Jack goes over.
"Mickey?" There's no response.
He repeats it several more time and still no answer. He almost taps him on the shoulder, but knows better than to touch Mickey unexpectedly.
Finally he looks at Jack, his eyes are barely focussed. The office is loud and crowded and he doesn't want to be overheard.
"Come into my office." For a second Jack thinks that he's going to say no. Mickey looks like he's about to run but he doesn't. Instead he stands up and follows Jack.
Mickey enters the office and Jack shuts the door behind him.
"Take a seat." Mickey sits down in the chair. He sits stiffly. Not wanting to relax. Unable to drop his guard. Let Jack see how vulnerable he is.
"Is, er," Jack pauses, unsure how to word it. "Is something going on?" Mickey doesn't answer. He looks away, and then down at his hands.
"Please, talk to me."
Mickey stands up and walks over to the window. "There's nothing to talk about." His voice is emotionless, there's nothing there.
But there is something there. He's hiding it well. Face blank to the outside. Not sending out any signals.
---
I can't talk to him. Don't know what to say. Just want him to leave me alone. Eventually he lets me leave. Later I go home. Nothing touches me. I don't notice anything going on around me.
I'm not hungry, I'm never hungry and I know that I've lost weight. My clothes are loose, they're hanging off me.
I haven't eaten all day, I'm not hungry but I feel faint so I go into the kitchen to make myself a sandwich.
I'm shaking, I have been all day. Shaking so much that the knife slips. It grazes my finger. It's not deep, barely a scratch. But it bleeds, it takes a few seconds but it bleeds. Slowly the blood seeps out. Dark red. I watch it until it stops bleeding.
And I feel calm. So calm. I'm no longer shaking. My nerves are soothed. The cloud has thinned, there's a small, faint light in the darkness. It's fading already, but the memory is still there.
The pain felt good.
So I do it again.
I make a deep incision along my lower arm.
I watch the beads of blood appear, prickling along the cut. It reddens, slowly at first and quickly getting more and more inflamed, until it's angry and raw. I lean over the sink, allowing the blood to drip away on its own. I run the tap and watch it swirl and twist as it washes away, and again I feel calm.