Not My Blood
Rose G
Disclaimer - All characters are the property of Thames TV; I have made no profit from their use
I sit in my office, busy not doing the paperwork. Instead, I'm watching Mickey Webb, sitting at his desk in the general office.
He thinks he's unobserved; he's playing solitaire on the computer. The smirk gives him away - no-one's ever looked that happy while doing the crime returns, but I haven't got the heart to walk over and reproach him. Watching him's better; six months isn't enough for me to have got used to the idea of having him back. For what he's been through, for what we've shared, he's earnt the right to skive for ten minutes or so if he wishes.
Mickey's wearing a blue jumper and jeans, much more the scruffy music fan I used to know than the MIT superstar who breezed in here and nicked Manson a while back. It's like he hasn't changed at all. He looks handsome, although that's not something I'd admit to thinking, and it isn't why I'm watching him.
I'm looking at him because he's smiling. If I'd ever had the chance to trade something in exchange for his happiness, then I would have done. There's nothing I have that I wouldn't have offered to bring this day sooner. Of course, that was never going to happen, so I've waited and watched him suffer because that was the most I could do for him. But anything that doesn't kill you heals eventually; it's just taken far longer than I wanted for him.
And now he's sitting there, grinning away to himself, timewasting, and he'll get away with it because he's Mickey and it's been so long since he's acted like this. I want to go over to him, laugh and talk with him again like we always used to, and I want to sit and watch him like this forever. I can't help smiling, just because he is.
He's got bored with the game, leant back from the computer and swung his feet up onto the desk. So peaceful - he's enjoying the sun coming through the window. So strong; he looks like a man in control of his own life, like a man instead of a victim.
God, I'm proud of him. Of his courage, his nerve, his sheer pigheaded stubbornness in coming back to Sun Hill. I'm proud of the man he's become. MIT and the NCS don't know what they've lost by letting him go; Okaro as well, he doesn't realise what Mickey brings to the team. I don't mind; as long as Mickey's in my squad and we're on speaking terms again, the others can think what they like.
Someone coming into CID to judge by his expression. Mia Perry, wandering over to his desk; it only takes a fraction of a second to work out what's going on here. She may or may not have needed to speak to him about something, but there's another reason as well, and that seems to be more important. She's in love with him - her body language, the way she flicks one hand up and over her hair, the easy laughter. She's not trying to hide it.
I only have to wait a minute to see Mickey's reaction; she's standing between us but she doesn't stay long. Mickey watches her out of the room, then grins. There's a flush of colour spreading over his face; he looks dazed and exhilarated all at once, even though they've only talked. I don't know, just from that, whether he loves her, but he fancies her. He's quite capable of having women friends, but going by his expression, friendship's a way down the list at the moment.
It reminds me as well, of just how young Mickey is. I've never seen him acting sweet with some woman - Kate was never interested in him, and by the time I saw him with Liz, it was over - but it's right. It's fair; he should have a chance, and Mia's alright. She'd better not hurt him, just be teasing him; it should be for real this time.
The last time I felt like this, proud and apprehensive and jealous was when Ben brought some girl back and said they were engaged. It never went anywhere; maybe this will. Maybe they'll marry; at the least, I hope they'll have a few years together. He needs someone like her. And that, the last time I thought that was over Ben, so what does that mean, that I feel the same about Mickey?
I told him once before, that he isn't my surrogate son. At the time, I was angry at him; wanted to hurt him, so I tried to deny that I cared about him in any way other than him being my DC. But being angry, I got closer to the truth than I would have believed until today.
He isn't my surrogate son. He's my son. Mickey, my boy, and I'm proud of him. I care for him, about him. I focus on him again now, instead of my thoughts, and he becomes aware of my scrutiny.
Without moving his feet from the desk or making any show of apologising for time wasting, he catches my eye and gives me a quizzical look. I know what he's saying - asking -do I approve? Oh yes. There's nothing I want more for him than a lover, a home - family like he never had. I can keep him safe in work, but he's got a life apart from me, after me, and maybe she can protect him. She can make him happy.
I nod to him, mouth 'go for it' through the window. Blushing now, smirking, he gives me the thumbs up. I wish that Ben had looked at me like that, trusting me to share his secrets, his hopes. I mucked it up with my first son; I'm not going to do that to Mickey.
So, I walk over to him and hug him. While he's spluttering in surprise, I whisper 'my son' to him. He goes silent for a minute, then laughs and looks up at me.
'My mate...Jack.'
Glad I've got that sorted. But what's it make of me, that I can admit that I love Mickey Webb more than my own son, my blood; that I can treat him better than I ever did Ben?