Title: Five Stages
Summary: What he's been through, going through and will have to get through to get back that thing they call living.
Notes: Based on Elizabeth Kubler-Ross' 'Five Stages of Death and Dying'.
The five stages are Denial, Anger, Bargaining, Depression and Acceptance.
This is set in Mickey's POV.

1. Denial

The worst lies are the lies we tell ourselves.
We live in denial of what we do, even what we think.
We do this because we're afraid

It never really occured to him what could happen to him, not straight away.
It seemed naive really. Regaining consciousness as someone was tightening the ropes encircling your wrists in a vice.... most would be suspicious of the worse case scenario.
For whatever reason, he'd always felt lucky. Like even when bad things happened, they never really got too bad, not bad enough that he couldn't cope anyway.
So, the situation looked bad to start with. Ropes, a man with a violent history. But stupidly, he never felt in that much trouble to start with. He expected a beating. Would have prefered it.

There were things Delnaey did and said that frightened Mickey, more then he ever wanted to admit. Even the way he took the phone from Mickey's back pocket sent alarm bells ringing in his head. The way his hand, fingers, were between the phone and Mickey's body... something so wrong about that. He begged himself to stay together enough to keep the man occupied with something else. Delay him. Because he really felt like someone just might find him if he could only stall Delaney for a little while.
But he couldn't do it. Couldn't stay calm, couldn't keep control. And he was supposed to be able to. He should be able to talk people out of practically anything. It was part of his job. And when it mattered most, he failed.
Maybe it was because nothing scared him more than what could happen to him. Maybe he didn't care as much as he thought he did about other people.
This was real fear.
The fear only intensified as he felt Delaney's hands on him again. And it was nothing more than a game to Delaney. A sick, twisted game he was playing.
He hardly stopped speaking. Maybe he liked the fear he heard clearly in Mickey's voice as he kept trying to stop him. His hands rested on Mickey as he stood behind him, let him bare some of his weight while he taunted and tormented futher. That was when Mickey stopped trying to speak. He felt almost hysterical and the more he spoke, the more joy he heard in Delaney's taunts. He liked telling him what he wanted to do. What he was planning in that sick, sick mind. So he just let his tears falls and mix in with the sweat covering his face as he tried, tried, tried to get away.

And he didn't say anything else, but he couldn't stop the fear escaping through sobs. He'd never been so afraid. Ever.

He still expected it. Right up until that moment, he just knew he'd be saved at the last possible minute. And he'd deal with the fact that he was a mess because of the situation. It was understandable. If a couple of uniform saw him look terrified and crying, he didn't mind. Because he was terrified. And if it saved him then it'd be worth it.

But stopping speaking back to Delaney maybe wasn't a great idea. He liked the game and with Mickey not joining in, it was time to move on. And he decided carrying out the threats was the next part. He protested once, desperate to stop him as the hands reached round and undone his jeans, and it halted his actions for a moment. But Delaney leaned across, over him, touching him, whispered in his ear "I promised myself I'd make you pay." And still leaning on him, he pulled his jeans down. And he was watching Mickey's reaction. As he leaned across his body, he watched, got that sick pleasure from knowing how scared his prey was. Wasn't any different if it was a man or a woman, they were all terrified of him. He stood back up behind Mickey.....

Even as it happened, Mickey didn't think about it. His mind seemed to shutdown. He was aware what was being done to him, but he didn't react except those grunts and moans of pain he couldn't stop. He was sure he yelled in pain at first. Loudly. Very loudly. But after that, he tried to stay as quiet as possible. It wasn't possible to stay quiet. Not with what was being done to him. But the same thing that drove him earlier, desperation to be found was now his biggest fear. Because he couldn't stand the idea of someone coming in now. Anyone at all.

Especially someone from Sun Hill. The idea that Jack could walk through those doors, looking for him, seeing what was being done to him.... made him want to be sick. Made him want Delaney to finish the job off on him afterwards because he could never face anyone after this. He'd rather them find his mutilated, dead body than be caught like this. Weak and defenseless, being used by Delaney for some sick powertrip. Revenge... whatever it was.

When it was done, when Delaney walked away and left the warehouse without a word he was still vulnerable and helpless. He could lay there and wait to be rescued, but that's what Delaney wanted, wasn't it? For someone to find him like that. Half naked and shaking, brutalised. So he pulled and twisted his wrists to work his way free. It hurt so damn much but he had to do it. Had to get free. He didn't even think about the state he was in, jeans and underwear around his ankles, something trickling down his thighs.... he knew what but didn't want to even think words like that. Denial.... it was his friend.

Eventually.... finally he was free.

He almost fell on the floor, almost lost his balance... but he steadied himself, grabbed the table for support and before he did anything else he pulled his boxers and jeans up. Was gentle when he got then all the way to the top, careful not to hurt himself any more. And then he gently let himself slide down the table onto the floor. His legs were unstable and weak and so he sat. He pulled his legs up, encircled his arms around them. Sickness sat heavily in his stomach.

And he sat there. Waited.
It didn't happen. It never happened.

He could do it, if he could get himself together, give himself a little time to just make it seem like it never happened. Because that was the thing. No one knew. So if he could get out of here, get home... if he had that time he could fix it all.

He knew. It wouldn't be easy. Because there would be questions. Like where Delaney had gone. And what he had done about it. But he knew that when he got away from here and could think... and do something about the pain.... he could work it all out.
And Jack wouldn't lose his faith in him to do the job... he just needed that time.

But then that terrifying sound... something he never wanted to hear....

"Mickey?" Distant but still there. And if they found him, then he'd never get the chance to..... to.... the word hide seemed wrong, but that's all that came to him. He couldn't let anyone find him and maybe he needed to hide. Just until they go.
He wants to move, to try and find a safe place, but he never moves. He just stays still. And the voice gets closer. He knows it, recognises Smithy. And then he see's something move at the door. He knocks into the table... makes noise. And a light. Shining, searching. His head moves a little at a sound. And then the lights on him. He's not able to hide from it, but he still doesn't move. Not until he has to. But he does have to speak, has to say something. Stop him. Because he didn't do his jeans up... they're not fastened and he can see.
And he's covered in sweat and shaking... and he can see.
He just tells him to wait outside and he's okay. And he goes and waits.

The sickness is still there as he gets to the door and it closes behind him. And worried eyes are upon him, so he doesn't even look to start with. Not until he realises how his plan is being ruined as he is asked if he tied him up. And he lies and says no, and his arm he snatches away, but he's seen. He knows. But the denial remains.
He doesn't need an ambulance, no one needs to know what happened, especially Jack although that's not spoken. He doesn't need anything. CAD needs to know he's safe and that's okay. If he's safe then no one will ask anything else. No one will care because they know he's safe.
And Smithy will take him home and he won't have to drive and he doesn't think he can. Not all the way home. Not with the way he's shaking.
And once he's home, he'll become safe. And he can set about making sure no one finds out.
No one needs to know.
No one will ever know.