Disclaimer: I don't own The Deep Blue Sea, or any of the characters used in this fic. They all belong to their respective creators. I only own any original characters that I choose to include, as well as any original plot ideas.
Before I Drown
A/N: Post-Deep Blue Sea.
He should be able to sleep, drift off into some unending wonderland until the train rattles his brains again, wakes him. It's a reflection he stares at, uncomfortable, his own. How silly it is that, even after saying what he did, being honest and true and genuine, he can't even look at his own damned face without thinking that she'll appear over his shoulder.
The way she'd looked at him, trying to play pretend, act as though she wasn't bothered by his departure, was just a load. He's not particularly virtuous, he's rude, he speaks his mind and tells lesser men to shut the fuck up and grow a spine when they come slinking into the bar with complaints upon their lips. Just the same, she'd thought he was better than some high and mighty judge, a man who could give her all the money and material satisfaction that any other woman would have only dreamed of. That, he thinks with a snort, is part of what makes her so damn stupid.
No doubt she cried after he'd gone, sat down and shed tears that she'd probably been holding in the whole of their last night together. Maybe she hoped that he'd turn back, say that he didn't need this, that he didn't need to get the hell away, live worlds apart. Even though Freddie isn't always an honest man, he won't lie to himself, deny what it is he needs and when he needs it. He had needed her once, come to think that maybe that feeling could last forever. But what with walking through the door, realizing what a fool he'd been, knowing that she'd tried to separate them in the most permanent of fashions, he just couldn't take it anymore.
Down the river, he thinks, she's probably floating, with the gentle current, pale and still. If she was lost enough to try it while he was only out with Jackie, what in the world could stop her from doing it now? She's probably worse off, at least for the moment, assuming she hasn't offed herself. It's a dreadful thought, but there's nothing he can do. He can't stop the train, can't turn back now, because, if she really is gone, then going back to London is just a bloody waste.
It's best if he doesn't know, wonders every day if she's found someone better, someone to give her everything that he couldn't.
Yes, he's an ass. He's selfish and arrogant and talks too damn much, but he cares. That's why he left. At least, that's what Freddie tells himself.
Maybe he'd lied to her after all. To himself, too.