Stockholm backward
By Sonia
Summary: What bonds two people together is often inexplicable.
Dedication: For Erin, Jaye, Jules and Sazzi for witnessing the moment that inspired this. For Patrick for continually pushing me out of my comfort zone.
Author's note: Stockholm Syndrome is when a bond develops between the hostage and their captors. For overseas readers, SPOILER WARNING – some references to season five events. Warning – This story is rated PG-13 for language content.
Disclaimer: Not mine, never were, never will be. Just borrowing them and will return them in roughly the same shape I found them. Some of the quotes are taken directly from the episode "Helter Skelter".
"Your filofax makes an interesting read….passport biz…written on the day Rachel Goldstein was killed."
The diary fell back onto the desk, still open at April 15 1999, and my fate was sealed. Of course I denied the writing as being mine and he didn't believe me, looking at me as if I was some shitbag crim from the western suburbs.
He reckoned I would have had a better alibi, could have and should have been smarter. The business I have built up is testimony to the fact I am no dumb blonde and got where I have on my brains and not on my back.
This wasn't a time to take any crap – especially not from him. Stand your ground and take no prisoners.
"You can't prove one word," I said.
"I've got all the proof I need – move," he snarled.
" I could crucify you for this Christey."
"I said move."
The muzzle of the gun swims in and out of focus before me. They say your life flashes before your eyes and yeah, it does big time.
I know I've done some things in my life that I am definitely not proud of and would probably have me consigned to the fires of hell if any higher power was given half the chance.
Do I have any regrets?
Who doesn't?
~*~*~*~
Gravel crunched and then flew in all directions as the blue Ford skidded to a stop in front of the White Bay power station.
He drags me out of the car and both of us are defiant, not wanting to let the other take advantage of the slightest flinch or blink of an eye.
"This is where you murdered Rachel." Christey's voice was getting lower and more dangerous by the second.
Where were the bloody cops when you needed them?
Our footsteps echo on the metal gantries and pigeons, their sleep disturbed by the intruders, scatter to safety, cooing their displeasure at being woken so abruptly.
Surely he wouldn't kill me. Passion fuels the accusing tone in his voice. He's definitely a feeler and a thinker this one – although he keeps it hidden pretty bloody well. This bloke is also a real operator and doesn't take any shit. All very attractive qualities.
Great, I'm here with a gun at my head being dragged about an old power station by a copper who has gone schizo and all I can do is perve on him like a lifesaver on Bondi Beach.
Get a bloody grip on yourself Charlie.
We're both breathing harder now and still he accuses me of murdering her. What is going on here? I knew coppers could be single minded at times but this is getting ridiculous.
Christey started waving the gun in my face again and I knew there was only a tiny window of opportunity before there was a second death at White Bay power station.
Shoving him out of the way, the gun flew out of Jack's hands – bet he didn't think I could do that. Hell, I didn't even think I could do that. I'm usually a much better operator with the gun in MY hands, not someone else's.
The clank of metal on the floor reminded me that I had to run. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Christey swing down from the railing and regather his firearm.
It's the hunter and the hunted. The tension and adrenaline, oh so real and electric courses through my veins.
A narrow corridor provides me with a momentary respite but soon his shadow is looming large and I run again only to find myself wrestled to the ground.
"Christey, don't – it was Denton," I gasped. Shit, surely he can still listen to reason here.
"Liar."
His hands under my arms, Christey drags me along one of the walkways in the building. What is he trying to prove here?
Grief and rage flood his voice as he tells me about Rachel Goldstein's last minutes. Again I plead with him to think about how he is going to feel when all this is over and he finds out he stuffed up.
The metal of the gun is deadly cold against my jawbone as Christey tells me how much he loved Goldstein.
No man I ever met has gone this far to reinforce his love for a woman and a dead woman at that. I have got to get this right otherwise I'll be passing on Jack's regards to Rachel – providing the man upstairs will take me in. I do something I thought I would never do – beg – beg for my life.
The faint sound of another set of footsteps gives me hope. At this point I would be happy to see the Police Commissioner himself enter the building.
A gunshot echoed through the old building and I froze.
"Jack, it wasn't Charlie Driscoll, it was Graham Denton…got a confession from him," the other man yelled.
Jack's footsteps faded away from me.
I turned around, using the railing to help myself up. Gasping for breath, I saw them walking away from me. I was sweating bullets and my heart was still racing. Christey walked out of the power station and took a piece of me with him.
Every Moriarty has their Sherlock Holmes and now I've got mine.
~*~*~*~
Mum always said you could always attract a man's attention through clothes and makeup. I find sitting in his car and holding a gun to his head is so much easier.
It's not as if I'm asking Christey to take me shopping at Tiffany's. All I want him to do is slip down to the Sydney Police Centre and substitute a little bit of evidence for me. It's really nothing major – the evidence just implicates me in a murder trial.
He makes the swap and I forget all about our little game of chasing in the power station. Simple - except for this really nasty habit of Christey's where he plays by the book most of the time.
Why is he being so bloody disagreeable about this? I've got enough problems with people inside my own company trying to topple me without Jack being so stubborn on this.
Then there was the rather unfortunate death of an informant of his which has got Christey all bitter and twisted. There's no need to take it out on me Jack – just because your gun has suddenly been linked in with all the evidence.
Speaking of evidence, he still hasn't made that swap and the court date is getting closer. It is just a little bit of jewelry, a serpent pin in fact. Temptation from another snake lead Adam and Eve to behave out of character, so why won't this silver snake tempt Christey to save his own backside here?
All I would have to do is go to Internal Affairs about our little excursion to the power station and his goose would be pate. He knows it and I know it. So, why is he dragging this out and making it worse for himself?
Weeks later it's another deserted warehouse with bullets - we really ought to stop meeting like this. This time he's been backed into a corner and is trying to save my life and his from some dickhead intent on killing both of us by the look of it.
Is it destiny that our paths keep crossing like this? If continually getting tangled up with the same copper is my destiny, and then I want those tarot cards re-dealt.
Getting thrown over the edge of a cliff has started me thinking about a lot of things – Jack Christey is just one of them. I have begun planning to reclaim my business and my crown. No one ever plays games with Charlie Driscoll and gets away with it.
I am the one to play games here and control the action. I always play hard and it's definitely for keeps – just ask that loser Denton.
Whoever said opposites attract should have been shot. Where did that come from and why am I allowing it to develop into any sort of emotion? Shit, who would believe it anyway? I know I don't. The mob queen and the copper. Fucking hell.
At least Christey gives me a run for my money where others haven't been able to hack the pace. Is this some sort of Twilight Zone totally backward version of the Stockholm Syndrome happening here?
I think this rehabilitation thing is starting to mess with my head. I know a few judges who would fall off their benches in hysteria at that thought.
If you want to take another way of looking at it, the one good thing about the cliff fall and being away from the business at the moment is that it gives me the chance to regain my strength mentally and physically.
When I reclaim my empire and begin plans for a new life there will be no room for error and I will need to be at the height of my powers.
I suppose when you think about it that snake I wore pinned to my lapel brought about my downfall a few days ago. Being lured to that cliff by a total amateur was stupid play on my part. Never knew what hit me until it was too fucking late.
The time will soon come for me to make a bid for freedom. No doubt it will bring Jack Christey back through my life in some way, shape or form.
Just like that snake, you never know where I will strike next. I'll be back Jack – count on it.
~Finis~