I did it for Jack.
It was stupid and reckless – something he will never stop telling me, probably for as long as I live. I'd like to say that it seemed like a good idea at the time. Or that it was a solitary moment of madness, but the truth is that, at the time, it seemed like a terrible idea and I was perfectly sound of mind – albeit stupid as I have already confessed.
I'm not blaming Jack for my actions – although I know he will blame himself anyway because he blames himself for everything regardless of whose fault it is. He even blames himself if it was nobody's fault. He's like a magnet for blame.
What happened resulted entirely from my own decision and as I said, I was aware that it was a terrible idea, but at that moment, it was the only idea I had.
And like I said, I did it for Jack.
He was so frustrated with the case – tearing his hair out. He had no DNA, fingerprints, bootprints or anything else. He was getting nowhere. Everyone was pretty sure that the suspect was the person we were looking for, but there was no evidence to tie them to it – none at all. So I laid a honey trap – and it worked, I just didn't get out of there in time. I got Jack the evidence he needed. Sure, I put myself in danger and nearly got killed – but what else is new?
My intentions weren't to get myself in danger – my plan went wrong, but it was how I acted after the plan went wrong that everyone is upset about.
When it came down to it, I had this man towering over me and his lackeys all around. I was in far too deep and there was no way out of there – not in one piece anyway – and I just thought, what was the point? I came here to get evidence – to find a breakthrough for Jack and now they were going to beat me without leaving any. I was never going to let that happen, so I chose to focus on getting some DNA evidence from them rather than trying to defend myself. If they killed me in the process – fine, but I was going to make damn sure they got caught.
Let them have a baptism of fire.
So I scratched and bit for all I was worth – I think I managed to get a bite of all of them, but it wasn't to protect myself and eventually they worked out what I was doing and scarped, leaving me there, bruised, bleeding and broken in that dark alley.
With hindsight, they could have done something even more terrible to get rid of the evidence I'd got. They could have mutilated me – cut my hands off or burnt my face off or something. I've seen that done to victims many times before, so it's very lucky that they weren't thinking straight.
When they left me there I was badly beaten – floating in and out of conscientious, so I don't remember much after that. I was very lucky that a young man found me and called an ambulance. I'm told that he's a student and was quite drunk but he was with it enough to know that I needed help.
(A number of hours earlier...)
As I make the transition from reality to black and back again, trying my best to keep a grasp on the former, my heavy mind drifts to my best friend – who I know is waiting for me in the pub along with Thomas, Clarissa and her husband. I said I had something to do and would meet them after. It seems rather silly now – did I really think I'd do this without getting caught? It was always unlikely that I'd just pop off, find some evidence and pop back to the pub as though nothing had happened.
I should have taken backup or at least told someone where I was going.
The voices in the ambulance seem strange and foreign to me. Being a doctor, I should be able to understand them but I don't - and other than repeatedly muttering...
"Jack...need Jack...Jack Hodgson...Lyell centre...tell him I'm sorry..."
...in an attempt to remind myself - more than anyone else, who I am, I only understand my own thoughts. I think of the four of them sat there wondering – worrying. I wonder how the hospital will find them – the goons took my phone, so I couldn't call for help. Maybe I'm the goon.
As I'm wheeled through the corridors, I think of Jack getting the phone call from the hospital – and what it's going to do to him. I think about what it did to me when Thomas phoned me and said that someone had tried to kill Jack. I think of the phone calls Jack and I shared in Mexico – the contents of which is something we've never shared with anyone else. I think of how strained our relationship was when we came back from there.
I can't believe I've done this to him – put him through hell again. He doesn't deserve it.
I'm not really aware of what's going on around me – or how long it takes. I only know that it seems like a very long time. Eventually, I hear his devastated voice yelling from somewhere...
"Where is she? Where is she?..."
I'm sorry, Jack. I'm really sorry. But I've found the evidence – now it's my turn for an ante-mortem.
And with that, I lose my fight to stay conscious.
The four of them are sat around me when I come to. The process of coming around is slow and painful, as my mind and body try to come to terms with the feelings from the injuries I've sustained, so they aren't immediately alerted to my wakefulness.
I hurt all over from head to foot and I hear them talking – but at the moment their words don't mean a lot to me. I'm not conscious enough to understand words yet.
"What the hell was she doing there?" Jack exclaims, clearly upset.
Thomas sighs. "I don't know, Jack. We were all pretty frustrated that the case wasn't going anywhere, but surely she wouldn't...? I don't know, Jack." He repeats. "I just don't know."
I finally try to speak – but find that there's a tube in my mouth and I nearly choke instead.
Jack is immediately up by my side whispering soothingly. "Shh-shh, it's ok. Take it easy." While Thomas rushes out to get a nurse.
Once the tube is removed, I find my voice is croaky and my throat dry. Jack helps me sip some water. "You have to take it slowly." He tells me. "Your body has been through a lot."
"There was no evidence." I manage to say eventually. What I did was pretty gormless and my admission doesn't go down well.
"So you nearly got yourself killed on purpose?" Jack practically yells – leading the nurse to pop her head around the door again and ask me if I want him removed.
"No" I say quickly, touching his his hand lightly. "He's fine."
"Well, see that you calm down." She informs him. "Or I'll have to call security."
She leaves again and Jack mutters. "I'm sorry – I didn't mean to shout, but you scared the hell out of me!"
"I know." I tell him. "I didn't go there to get beaten up – I just didn't get out in time. I'm sorry that I didn't take back up – I should have done."
"Or at least told us where you were." Thomas comments. "We only found out what had happened because apparently you mumbled something about Jack and the Lyell centre when you were in the ambulance. The hospital rang the Lyell and described you to one of the technicians – who rang me."
Well, I'm glad I managed to help them.
"Yes." I agree. "I should have told you where I was going."
"Or you should not have gone there at all." Jack adds – a little sharply, though his volume remains normal this time.
"That's not what's worrying us the most, Nikki." Thomas says quietly. "We did an ante-mortem on you and we found a lot of evidence in your teeth and under your fingernails – but there was a significant lack of defensive wounds, considering it was a frontal attack."
I can't help looking slightly guilty. They've probably worked out that I chose the option of trying to get evidence rather than protecting myself – or if they haven't they're about to.
"Defending yourself when you're under attack is normally more or less automatic." He continues, eyeing me suspiciously. " It takes a conscious effort not to defend yourself if you're aware of what's happening. What's worrying us – considering the amount of evidence we found on you, is that you were so fixated on getting the evidence that you chose to do that rather than defending yourself. Please tell me I'm wrong, Nikki."
I can't and I have no choice but to admit it. "It's not as bad as it sounds." I state – unwilling to give a direct answer. "I was surrounded and I knew I wasn't going to get out of there in one piece. I just thought 'It was a stupid idea to come here, but if I don't get any evidence then it was all for nothing.' I'm sorry – I couldn't see any other option at that point. They 'd already smashed my phone and chucked it away. I'm really sorry." I repeat touching Jack's hand again.
"Right." Clarissa announces taking charge – up to now, she and Max have let the two men do all the talking. "I think we should leave Nikki and Jack to talk – we'll just go and get some coffee."
"Ok." Thomas agrees as he and Max stand up and join Clarissa at the door. "We'll be back soon. I know you're upset, but stay calm, Jack – please."
When they gone out Jack asks me to promise I won't do this again and then we choose not to talk of the matter further – opting instead to discuss all the things we are going to do when I get out of hospital. Pizza is top of the list.
It's a lovely conversation and we're both enjoying it, but after a while, my mind clouds and I feel confused. I'm struggling to understand what he says – not his accent, but the actual words don't make sense to me any more. It's frightening and he can see there's something wrong. I grasp my head suddenly, groaning at the intense pain that's just come upon me.
Jack shoots to his feet and hits the emergency button. A nurse hurries in.
"She was fine – and then she wasn't." Jack stammers, not understanding what's happened.
"Do you have a headache?" The nurse asks me.
"Yeah." My words come out slurred. "Gonna be sick." I mumble. I am and Jack rubs my back afterwards.
That's the last thing I remember.