Title: The better part of a tenner
Author: Angelwings9
Fandom: Law and Order UK
Characters: Matt Devlin, Ronnie Brooks
Pairing: none
Warnings: Whump, blood, graphic scenes etc.
Matt scrubbed a hand across his tired face, pinching the bridge of his nose and squeezing his azure eyes shut tight. Yawning he rubbed sleep from his right eye and extended his long arms high above his head stretching knotted muscle till his felt a sharp tug in his elbow joints. It had been a long day. Reaching for the chipped white mug on his desk he frowned at the cold, unappealing tea dregs at the bottom, the milk floating on top like a miniature oil spill, "Perhaps a fresh brew, eh?" he said, to his partner beside him. Looking sidelong at Ronnie, he saw the older man staring unseeing at his computer screen, the phone dangling from his ear, barely held there by his fingers, locked around it.
"Ron? Oi, Earth to Ron, mate, you wanna cuppa or what?" Matt smiled languidly when Brooks shot out of his daze, looked around startled then promptly fell off his chair.
"Bloody hell, Matt! Are you trying to kill me off, quick heart attack and you're in charge is that it? No, don't you smile at me like that," drawing breath Ronnie pulled himself up off the carpeted floor and back into his brown swivel chair, reaching for his own mug he added, "Now get me a cuppa before I report you're sneaky arse!"
Attempting to suppress a laugh, but failing miserably, Matt rose from his squeaky chair, grabbed both half empty mugs and sauntered into the kitchen to boil the kettle. Yawing again he checked his watch, almost half past seven. Popping a teabag into each mug with a teaspoon of sugar he went over to the under cupboard fridge to see if there was any milk. In the fluorescent fridge light 4 half empty lunch boxes, a mouldy bit of cheddar, 2 half drunk and flat cans of coke and a pint of milk with an inch in the bottom stared back at him. Bravely he plucked the milk up, untwisted the top and gingerly gave it a sniff. Wrinkling his nose in disgust and deciding discretion was the better part of valour he put the lid back on and dumped it in the waste bin by the window. The night was dark and judging by the condensation climbing up the pane it was also pretty damn cold, "Sod this, I need a drink." Leaving the mugs and turning the light off, he went back to the main office. "Milks off and it's getting late, what do you say we call it quits tonight and come back tomorrow with fresh eyes?"
"You know, that's the best ruddy idea you're had all day," agreed Ronnie who began switching off his computer and gathering his pile of legal documents up into a semblance of a pile. Following his lead Matt Devlin did the same, snatching both their coats and scarfs from the hook by the door. Suppressing another yawn he followed his partner out of the door.
The two men parted outside the main doors, "See you tomorrow, sleep well," bid Ronnie as he headed east towards the outer car park before going home.
"Yeah, you too," replied Matt, going the other way. He hadn't gone to work in the car today, the icy weather had been playing havoc with the electrics so he'd booked it into a garage and taken the tube to work. He wrapped his long black coat around him tighter deciding what to do. The next tube was in twenty minutes or he could call into a pub on the way for a pint and get the one after at nearly ten at night. It would hardly be a late night he reasoned and he was parched. He walked in the general direction of the station, deciding to stop in a bar where no one he knew from CPS would ever drink. The Lord Moon was a fairly standard place. Crowded with Thursday night party revellers, most half-drunk already and further back, people sitting at dining tables with none descript food having animated conversations. Matt noticed the lack of bar stools so his initial idea of sitting at the bar was out of the window. Sighing he pushed his way through a loud group of young men, early thirties, late twenties; he couldn't help taking notice of details, it was as grained in him as breathing. Reaching the bar he rested his left arm on the bar mat reaching for his wallet with the other, "For the love of..." he trailed off after he noticed the spilled beer he's just put his coat sleeve in, "Guess it's just not my day."
Matt eventually caught the bar attendants eye and ordered his pint of larger, paid for it with a crisp tenner and shoved the change into his coat. Turning around he accidentally bumped his arm into one of the burly men he'd pushed past not ten minutes before, spilling beer over himself, as well as the now rather displeased man, "I'm sorry." He mumbled, regretting not going straight home. This pint has already cost him the better part of a five pound note, not to mention the hefty dry cleaning bill for his coat.
"Don't give me that, you owe me, mate!" the man had recovered and was now an unpleasant shade of angry purple. Returning his pint to the bar Matt took out his police ID, "you got a problem?"
The man backed off instantly and went back to his friends. Shaking his head and swearing Devlin picked up the remainder of his drink and went to locate a quiet table by the is chatting diners. Rolling his shoulders he attempted in vein to relieve the tension making his muscles bunch, quiver and ache. He drank his beer slowly, absently reading the menu as he did. A cloud of exhaustion seemed to settle upon him and Matt found himself staring at the markings in the wooden table before him. Finishing his drink Matt rose and in his tiredness almost stumbled out of the chair, blowing air out of his lips he decided it really was time for his bed. Manoeuvring his way back through the bar area he did not see his 'friend' from earlier and presumed that the men had moved onto another bar, probably a night club.
Back out in the city air, the cold bit cruelly through his coat, the bitter wind ruffled his hair with icy fingers and Matt shivered despite himself. Rubbing his hand together before thrusting them into the deep pockets in his coat, he picked up the pace to a brisk walk, a trot almost to fight off the November chill. Rounding a corner he saw the bright inviting lights of the underground tube station of Charing Cross, a few homeless people huddled in the entrance. Before he could cross the street a scuffle behind him made him turn. A group of men appeared to be fighting with each other, "it's defiantly not my night," he lamented.
Pulling out his mobile phone he began dialling the station, "yeah, DS Devlin, I need two units to the Whitehall Road, Charing Cross junction, altercation, possible ABH, GBH, I'm going to see what I can do." He hung up and taking his badge ran towards the men. "Police, Break it up before someone gets hurt!" he yelled.
Matt saw a fist coming out of the melee toward him but was unable to defend himself as another arm restrained his right, and then blood spilled from his nose. Yelping and fighting back Devlin tried to escape but it dawned on him all too soon. The men were not fighting with each other, they were creating a ruse for the purple faced man to use to lure Matt in. hands were on his arms, his legs, he kicked out, connected with something and was rewarded with a barrage of kicks and punches to his face, chest, stomach and even his foot was pounded. He heard a sickening snap and wondered briefly if it was his ribs or skull. Blood filled his mouth and he curled into himself for protection. A sharp kick to his back made him arch involuntarily and before he could return to the relative safety of the foetal position he was beaten again in his stomach.
The men fled when the sound of sirens wailed through the air, the pain was excruciating. A fire under his skin, every breath he took dragged the pain from within up his throat anew. Swallowing blood back into his throat was a mistake which had him coughing and spluttering blood onto the cold pavement as the pain went white hot in his skull. He found feeling in his finger enough to try and support his upper body up and off the cold floor. He was still floundering on the floor when cars he had requested found him. "Sir, there's an ambulance on the way, you'll be okay," Matt did not for a second believe the PC but accepted the blankets they piled on him and slowly sank in a pain free lullaby of darkness.