His Game, a casualty fanfic

Diane sat there on the sofa, a cold night in January. She could hear her own heartbeat pounding in her ears, as she waited for him to come home. It was late again, and she wondered where he was. She didn't fear for his safety, she was just scared to go to sleep, scared of what state he would be in when he arrived home, and what he would do. She curled up into a little ball in the corner of the couch, jumping at the shadows on the wall each time the candlelight flickered.

Every moment waiting seemed like an eternity when he wasn't there. And every moment with him lasted a lifetime.

As she heard the key in the door, her heart stopped, and so did the drumming in her ears.

"Diane?" He called, he was looking for her and she wondered how long it would take him to find her. She heard his footsteps walking down the hall and saw his head poke around the door. "Hey Diane."

She weakly smiled at him, as she begrudgingly got up to hug him. He took her into his arms and breathed in deeply as he smelled her perfume. He smiled into her hair and kissed her head gently, and she knew what he wanted and what she would have to do, and she knew what would happen if she didn't.

His mood was placid; he had drunk enough to relax him without going out of control. And he wanted her tonight. He began to kiss her gently, but she still knew he was in control even though he was being so tender. She shuddered slightly as she felt his hands on her skin, as although they were soft and warm, to her they felt like burning hot pokers on her back, but still she returned his kisses.

Upstairs he was forceful; he made sure she gave him exactly what he wanted, and she knew it would be like that, him getting all the pleasure, her feeling all the pain. And she knew she should leave but she couldn't, she was having a hard enough time admitting to herself that she was in this position, without having to admit it to other people as well. And she feared what would happen if she did stand up to him, because however miserable she felt about her life, she knew that dying wasn't the answer. And that was what she really and truly thought would happen if she tried to stand up to him. And at least now, it was little bruises, nothing that was noticeable with an extra layer of make up. At least it wasn't broken bones; the only thing that was broken was her heart, but it was broken beyond repair. She didn't love him, but her heart wept for herself, because herself she used to love, her body used to be her temple, but whilst her temple was being violated she wanted to do nothing more than break down its walls.

Afterwards, lying there in his arms wasn't romantic. She couldn't fall into a peaceful sleep. She didn't feel safe in his arms. As Owen lay there softly sleeping she wondered how long it would be until morning, until she could take a shower and try to wash the feeling of his skin from hers. But she also knew that in the morning he would wake up. She didn't want to play his game anymore, but she knew that if she tried to get away it would be game over.

Walking through the corridors of Holby was like living in a dream for Diane. All around her, people buzzed about as if everything was normal. Nothing was normal in a hospital, everyone was secretly frantic and panicky and worried, whilst trying to appear cool, calm, collected.

But what is 'normal'? Is 'normal' a fixed routine? Did that therefore make what Owen did to her almost every single night 'normal'? And the nights when he didn't touch her, the days when she could feel a bit more clean again, the days that didn't come very often at all, were they abnormal? And if her's and Owen's routine was 'normal', then would it go on forever? Would she ever be free of him? Or was she doomed to spend the rest of her nights lying bruised and abused in his corrupted arms?

She couldn't keep up the façade forever. One day she would let herself go, let the tears finally fall. But who would be there to dry them all away? She used to cry, at first, when it all started, she used to cry in secret, locked into the bathroom. But then he took the lock away, and so she learnt to shut all the tears and the sadness and the hurt inside. And so in five months a single tear had not fallen from her anxious eyes and made its path down her soft cheeks, instead they had been clogging up her insides, making her feel numb.

As she walked, she didn't know where she was heading, all she could hear was the sound of her own breathing, and imprinted on the back of her mind was the vision of his angry face. She flinched as she felt a hand on her shoulder, and slowly turned around to face the perpetrator of that hand with frightened eyes.

But the eyes staring back at her were kind ones, crinkled with worry at the look on her face and the feeling of her shoulders sagging in relief under his hand.

"Diane? Are you okay?" Ric had caught her off guard, and she was clearly not okay, but she couldn't tell him. She couldn't let him know what she had become, she couldn't let him think that she was dirty; she couldn't let him feel ashamed of her, oh she couldn't let him feel as ashamed of her as she felt about herself.

"I'm fine." She said, briskly, not quite meeting his eye. "What do you want?"

Ric looked at her carefully, knowing that something was wrong, something was really wrong, but not knowing quite how to handle it. He wondered what it was and why she was pushing him away. He looked into her eyes and they had lost their sparkle, they didn't shine anymore, they seemed to be glazed over with a protective barrier of ice. Around her eyes was swollen and tired, and she was heavily made up. The corners of her mouth were turned downwards, her shoulders sagged and her arms were gingerly folded across her chest. He never took the time to look at her properly anymore, never took the time to really look at her, now she was with Owen he found it too painful. But what he was seeing was breaking his heart. Something was very wrong.

"What are you staring at?" She snapped, defence mechanism kicking in; push him away, try to hide, don't let him get too close; don't let him see how vulnerable you really are. Ignore the concerned look in his eyes, resist the urge to fall helplessly into his arms, forget that he is always there for you, don't let him be your knight in shining armour, wallow in your misery for a little while longer.

"Are you sure there's nothing wrong?" He probed her further, not convinced by the front she was putting on, genuinely worried, reaching out to her and touching her arm gently. But she could not bear to be touched and she quickly pulled her arm away.

"I said I'm fine, alright! Now leave me alone!" he watched in surprise as she turned on her heel and slowly walked away. He needed to help her, he needed to be there, and he wondered what was so wrong that she felt that she had to pretend. And as much as he hated it, he knew there was only one other person he could talk to who could possibly shed some light upon things. Owen. And so that's what he planned to do.

As Diane walked away, her eyes remained dry. Her head was still spinning and her heart still felt numb. Her blood still ran cold through her veins and her body still ached from a hundred different bruises. But still she walked, and it was exactly like living in a bad dream.

By the end of the day, Ric had managed to worry himself into a complete state of anxiety over Diane. The rest of the day had been much the same as the beginning, and not once that day had she been able to look him in the eye. He felt like he would cry with sheer helplessness, he didn't know how he was supposed to help her if she wouldn't tell him what was wrong. They were supposed to be best friends, and best friends tell each other everything…right?

So as far as Ric saw it, there was only one place he could go, there was only one man who would possibly know the answer. And Ric didn't like him, but he loved Diane, and was willing to do anything for her. So he set off, in search of Owen.

He found him in maternity, pushing papers in his office. Ric gently knocked on the door, and Owen waved him in, standing up from his desk and walking to greet him.

"What can I do for you Ric?" Owen asked, smiling at him pleasantly, looking perfectly calm and serene. Ric marvelled at this; how Owen could seem fine whilst Diane was undeniably not. Ric smiled warmly back at him, despite his premeditations of Owen, unaware of his true disposition, of the monster who stood in front of him.

"Well it's just that, well, Diane hasn't seemed very happy lately, and I wondered whether you knew if she was alright?" Ric asked, genuinely concerned about his friend. Friend. That was all she would ever be. He wanted so much more from her, it had broken his heart when she had announced her engagement to Owen. And come June, they would be married and that would be it. He had lost his chance, made his bed and now he just had to lie on it. But that didn't stop him from being there: standing before Owen, waiting for some kind of explanation fro Diane's sorrow.

But Owen looked angry, and folded his muscular arms across his broad chest.

"What exactly are you accusing me of?" Owen demanded, defensively. His eyes were flashing violently and he stood, threateningly staring at Ric. Ric was shocked at Owen's reaction, he wasn't trying to accuse him, he was simply enquiring after his best friend's well-being. What was Owen hiding from him? Was Owen covering up for Diane? Ric was more confused than he had been before.

"I wasn't trying to accuse you of anything! I just thought you would know what's wrong with Diane, considering she is after all your fiancé." Ric retorted, heatedly, still reeling from Owen's reaction to his question. He wondered if there was something in the water at Diane and Owen's place. They had both been unnecessarily rude to him that day.

"Oh." Owen's expression changed, he stopped looking so angry, but he still stood with his arms folded defensively across his chest. "Well she's fine okay? Just leave her alone." Owen indicated the door. Ric looked at it, and then looked back at Owen, who just stared at him coldly.

"Oh…Right." Ric turned and walked out of the room. It seemed quite clear that the thing that was upsetting Diane was him. He couldn't recall having said or done anything to offend her, he still treated her as a best friend should. He didn't understand why, but it was obvious that it was his fault, and Diane had told Owen about it. And whatever it was, they both hated him for it now; they had made that clear enough. He felt hurt, betrayed that his best friend could just dump him like that without even offering an explanation. So he decided to try and save whatever dignity he had left, and let her get on with her life, with Owen.

Owen sat at his desk, fuming about his little altercation with Ric. What had Diane told him? How much did Ric know? He couldn't believe that Diane had done this to him- she knew he loved her; he just got angry sometimes, he couldn't help it, she knew that. So why had she gone and told Ric? Owen was angry now. Diane had betrayed him, and one thing was for sure. She was going to pay.

Diane sat at the kitchen table, pushing her food around her plate with her fork. She had been so rude to Ric earlier, and she didn't know why. She didn't want to burden him with the painful truth that was her life. Ric was her rock, solid, the ground beneath her feet, and she took him for granted, but there were some situations when even the ground couldn't hold you up, and this was one of them.

She had become incredibly thin; her appetite had disappeared recently. Her body had become weaker, less resistant to the blows, it was almost like her body had given in to him, accepted the way it was going to be and allowed him to slowly destroy her. Her mind still knew however, and it sickened her to watch herself slowly turning into a shadow of her former identity.

The clock was ticking in the background, and she knew it wouldn't be long until he returned. She wondered how it would be today, would it be painful, or just disgusting like the night before. The bruises of her body were softly fading into skin tones now, so she knew it wouldn't be long before new ones appeared, and the pain was fresh again.

She didn't want to stay, but she knew she couldn't go; it was a vicious circle, a catch-22. If she stayed she knew it could just carry on going: the yelling, the pain, the bruises, the healing, the sex, and back to the yelling again. But if she tried to go, she didn't know what he would do, and she feared it would mean the end of her life. And it was her fault he got angry anyway, she did things to upset him, how could she not expect to be punished? All the bruises were her own fault, she shouldn't make him angry, she shouldn't antagonise him, and then maybe they could be happy.

The sound of the key in the door was unsettling, and Diane did her best to keep staring at her plate. She heard him kick the wall in the hallway and knew that he was angry. She jumped as the kitchen door crashed open and Owen came up behind her, his lips next to her ear.

"What have you been saying to Ric?" His voice was dangerously quiet, and this sent pangs of terror deep into the pit of Diane's stomach.

"Nothing." Diane said quietly, knowing it would make no difference.

"WHAT DID YOU SAY TO HIM?" Owen yelled, making Diane jump out of her skin. She felt his fingers grip her hair tightly; pulling her head backwards so he could see the frightened expression on her face.

"N…N…Nothing, I didn't tell him anything Owen, I swear!" Diane stuttered, afraid of what she knew was coming. She screamed as Owen dragged her backwards by her hair, knocking the chair she was sitting on to the ground and dragging her across the floor. She felt him kick her in the stomach, felt all the air rush out of her lungs, gasped for breath as he picked her up and slammed her against the wall. She felt his fists in her ribcage, on her back, in her stomach; heard his voice yelling obscenities at her, telling her how bad she was, telling her it was her fault; felt his eyes, staring at her, boring holes into her head like laser beams hot with angry vigour enough to make you weep. But Diane did not weep, she just kept her mouth closed and her eyes open, waiting for it all to be over.

Finally he released her and she fell to the ground like a rag doll, floppy and broken in a heap on the floor. He spat at her and walked out of the room and she lay there, eyes closed, living in her own private world of pain, and wondering if it would ever end.

"Lets get her into theatre, Donna; page Diane." Ric instructed as his patient, 31-year-old Elizabeth Snowing, went into Septic shock. He had just got into work and was still wearing his suit. Zubin get her into theatre, get her prepped, I'll go and get scrubbed up.

Ric broke into a run as he headed towards the changing room, pulling his scrubs from his locker and hastily changing. He ran back through Keller to find out where Diane was. "Donna!"

"Yes Boss?" Now was not the time for Donna to be giving it all the mouth. Ric shot her a look, and she stopped with the sarcasm, instead standing looking at him expectantly.

"Have you paged Diane?" He demanded.

"Yes, she's getting scrubbed up then she'll be on her way."

Ric continued running towards theatre, and only when he reached the door did he realise that he had forgotten his bandanna. So he made his way back through to the changing rooms and burst through the door.

Diane whirled round as she heard the door crash open, and looked horrified to see Ric standing there. Ric however looked even more horrified to see her. She stood there in nothing but her underwear, and her body was Technicolor; covered in bruises in shades of purple and blue and brown and yellow. She folded her arms across her chest and winced as she did so. Ric just stared at her; Diane, her body so battered and bruised and he wondered how this could have happened to her. He opened his mouth to speak but no words would come out and even if they had he wouldn't have known what to say.

Diane looked at him, equally scared and frozen to the spot, trying to think of how she would explain this. She wanted to cry, more so now than she had done throughout the whole ordeal, but still no tears would come. So instead she just stood there, rooted to the spot, watching him, look at her, his eyes slowly scanning the bruising all over her body. This was the worst time yet; she was finding it painful to stand up. Her whole body ached for someone who could take the pain away, someone who could make it better, but she couldn't let anybody in, couldn't find the words to invite them. And here stood Ric, seeing the proof with his own eyes and yet still she didn't feel she could tell the truth about how it came to be there. And she watched his mouth opening and closing, trying to form words but not sure which ones to create, and she just wished that he would say something, anything so that she could tell him it wasn't true. Because she didn't want all this to be true. She still went to sleep each night hoping that it was all a bad dream and that she would wake up five years ago, in Ric's loving arms.

"Diane…Diane…what...what happened?" Ric stuttered, still staring at the contusions on her stomach.

"I feel down the stairs." Diane said, emotionlessly. Inwardly she cringed, wishing that she had thought of a better excuse, how many times must Ric have heard 'I fell down the stairs' from his patients? Maybe, deep down, she didn't want him to believe her; she wanted him to question this further, discover the misery that she had been living in for the last five months, and take her away from it, make her clean again.

"Did you get it checked out?" Ric looked at her disbelievingly, noone could get bruising like that from falling down a flight of stairs. He didn't understand why she wouldn't tell him the real reason why her body was black and blue. He didn't understand what could be so bad that she felt that she had to hide it from him, but he didn't push it.

"No Ric I'm fine. Now lets go." Dressed now, she picked up her bandanna and stalked off past him towards theatre. Ric watched her go, confused and worried, and then went to his locker to retrieve his bandanna, promising himself that he would find out what was going on.

Ric caught up with Zubin as their shift neared its end. He needed someone to share his worries about Diane with, and as always, it was going to be Zubin. There was something about Zube that was calming, and he always seemed to know the answer. If Zubin couldn't help, no one could.

The look on Ric's face instantly told Zubin that there was something really wrong. His brow was creased and worry lines surrounded his troubled eyes. He looked at Zubin anxiously, but hopefully also, he looked at him as though Zubin was the answer to whatever riddle troubled his frantic mind.

"What's wrong Ric?" Zubin asked gently, alarmed by the look in his friend's eyes.

"Its Diane." Ric looked so upset that Zubin feared the worst, even though he had seen her not two hours earlier.

"What's happened?" He exclaimed, slightly panicky undertones in his voice. "Is she alright?"

"I don't know…." They reached Ric's office, and both walked in, Zubin shutting the door quietly behind them. Ric perched himself on his desk; he looked completely on edge, couldn't stop fidgeting, looking round nervously, wondering whether telling Zubin was such a good idea, but not knowing what else to do. Zubin sank down into Ric's sofa, and looked at him compassionately.

"Tell me from the beginning."

"Well yesterday Diane didn't seem well. Not well at all. I asked her about it, and she just snapped at me, so I said nothing more about it. Then I walked in on her earlier, and she had these bruises…."

'her body was Technicolor; covered in bruises in shades of purple and blue and brown and yellow'

"…. And not just small bruises, huge ones, all over her stomach and back. It looked like she had been beaten up. But she said she'd just fallen down the stairs. No-one could get that badly bruised from falling down the stairs."

" Have you noticed anything else strange about her lately?" Zubin asked, filled with worry at Ric's revelations about Diane. He looked at Ric quizzically, wanting more information, desperately wanting to find out what was going on, almost as much as Ric himself did. Ric was clearly shaken, and upset to the centre of his very bones. And Zubin feared for him also, as he envisaged that Ric was about to get tangled in a very sticky web indeed.

'Around her eyes was swollen and tired, and she was heavily made up.'

"Well yesterday she was wearing a lot of make-up. It was almost as if she was trying to hide something, Diane never usually wears a lot of make up at all. It was odd."

"Trying to hide bruises perhaps?" Zubin thought out loud.

Suddenly a million moments flashed up into Ric's head. But one stood out in particular.

'"What exactly are you accusing me of?" Owen demanded, defensively. His eyes were flashing violently and he stood, threateningly staring at Ric.'

All of a sudden he understood. Comprehension flashed in his eyes, suddenly he knew exactly what was going on.

"Oh god..." Ric got up suddenly, and rushed out of the office, leaving Zubin behind him, looking bewilderedly after him.

Ric found Diane sitting in the hospital café, slowly sipping at a cup of coffee. He walked directly up to her and sat down at her table, not really sure what he was going to say. He felt nervous, just seeing her, and knowing what she must be going through, knowing the hurt she must be feeling. It made him feel sick to think that someone so amazing could suffer so much and keep it all to herself.

Diane looked up at him in surprise, he had sat down quite purposefully, and made her jump out of the little daydream she was having where she was happy. Slowly she put the mug down on the table between them and looked at him guardedly. She watched as he moved his chair from opposite her to next to her, and as he reached for her hand and held it between his. She watched his lips move and listened to his voice, not believing what he was saying.

"Diane…I think I know what's going on. Tell me it isn't true." Diane just looked at him blankly, frozen, unable to move, relieved that he might know, but scared that he might be wrong. Ric watched her expression, searching her face for any sign of understanding, but there wasn't even a flicker. He bit his lip, knowing that he was going to have to say it if he wanted to get an answer. He didn't want to say it, it made it seem real if he said it, while he just thought it there was always the possibility he could be worrying about nothing. Saying it might make it true. And for Diane's sake, he didn't want it to be true.

"Diane, does he hit you?" he asked, softly, gently, warmly, comfortingly, trying to put any expression into his voice that made the words seem less harsh. He could instantly see by her reaction that it was true. Her tired eyes looked up at him, and they contained fear and tears, and also hope. Her reply was a whisper, barely audible, chocked with tears held back for so long.

"Yes." And the tears spilled over her eyes, finally she could cry, because he knew, and he could save her from her nightmare. Five months worth of hurt and anger and pain flowed down her cheeks, washing away the layers of make up and revealing the bruises underneath. She just sobbed, and he took her into his arms and held her against him, let her cry, let her break down, allowed her to feel again, allowed her to stop being numb. She felt safe there, in his arms, safer than she had felt in what seemed like forever. Because she knew Ric wouldn't harm her. She knew Ric would protect her. She wished she had told him sooner.

"Oh Diane." She eventually looked up at him, and he saw that the tired colour under her eyes was beaten, and her face was swollen and covered in a million fading bruises. He softly wiped away the tears from her cheeks, and regretted it as she winced. As he looked at the helpless expression she wore, he felt angry. Angry at the injustice of it all, angry with Owen, angry with himself for not realising sooner. Many murderous intentions towards Owen flowed through his veins, but he knew that it would be wrong, Diane needed him, and serving life was not the best place to be to help her. He had a million questions for her, and didn't know how to ask any of them. There was one that was playing on his mind though, one that he had to be sure of the answer to. "Did he…Did he do anything else to you?"

Diane looked up at him, her blue eyes like pools of water, spilling over down her damaged cheeks, her mouth opening and closing, not knowing how to say it, not even sure if she wanted to, not even sure if it was true, she'd blocked it out for so long, it almost seemed like a bad dream. But when she closed her eyes she could see him on top of her and she knew it was true, and she knew she didn't want to be a part of his game anymore, and the tears flowed faster, and the words tried harder to come. "He… he…he raped me. He raped me Ric."

Tears began to fall down Ric's own cheeks as she said it. He looked at her, sobbing gently in his arms, the expression on her face pure sorrowfulness and grief, and he didn't understand. He didn't understand how this could happen to her; to Diane, she was so strong. He didn't understand why. Why would Owen do this to her? Was it once? Was it more? Should he ask? Would she tell him? Why did this have to happen to Diane? Ric couldn't get his words out now, he was in a state of shock and his tongue was tied, his moth was dry, his words were jumbled. "Wha…wh…When?"

"Almost every day." Diane said it quietly, wistfully, but she was obviously scared and hurt, as she watched the tears falling down Ric's cheeks. Ric couldn't believe this, couldn't believe the personal hell she must have been living in since it stared, not that he knew when that was. And he knew she couldn't live like that a minute longer. He had to get her out of there, away from Owen. He had to help Diane be strong again. Because right now her body was battered and tired and she was weak. And she couldn't cope anymore. There came a point in every ordeal when a person breaks. Diane was already broken. Ric just hoped that she wasn't broken beyond repair.