This is a very dark fic.
WARNING: Mentions of suicide and child abuse
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They Don't Know
I sit here on this dirty stool, in this dirty bar, in this filthy neighborhood. I would have gone to Sullivan's, or even Ray's for a slice, but there would have been too many people at those places. Too many people I know. Too many people who would want to ask me how I was.
They don't know. I've told them enough things about my life to satisfy their natural curiosities. I told them about Tanglewood, Louie, I even told Aiden about the incident with that damned gypsy cab. They all know that I grew up poor, with a family that had strong mob connections. Mac knows about my problems with my colleagues from when I was a beat cop. I told him they didn't like me because of my last name. I guess that wasn't a total lie...
Mac's proud of me because I was able to avoid getting in trouble like my brother. He even told me so at one point. I wonder if he would be proud of me if he saw me now, drinking myself into oblivion with cheap whiskey in a dingy bar. I kinda doubt it.
Stella is always making sure I'm alright. It's not that she thinks I need help or anything. She does the same thing with everyone else. It's just the kind of person she is. That doesn't mean I can't get irritated by it though. Every time she asks me how I'm doing I just want to yell at her and tell her how horrible it really is. I get closer and closer to saying just that every time I see her.
Adam is oblivious to everything. I know he had a tough time growing up, just like me, so I kinda feel like we have that in common. But an abusive childhood isn't something you're supposed to bond over. Two people are supposed to become friends because they have similar tastes in music or some shit like that. What am I supposed to do? Just walk up to him and unload on him, then expect him to reveal something about himself back? That's not how the world works.
Lindsay... God, I love her, but she's so out of my league. I have no idea why she even wants to hang around me, much less date me. I mean, seriously, why would she want to associate herself with a fuck up like me? With me, it's one mistake after another. Oh well. I might as well try to enjoy having some one while it lasts. Though I know it won't last long. She's bound to leave me soon.
Flack's always been pretty cool about not getting all mushy. Only time he really worried about me was after I shot that cop down in the subway. He probably thought I was gonna do something stupid. And I don't mean like going and talking to the DA stupid. He watched me like a hawk for a while after that. He still asks me how I'm doing, but it's not a question of concern. It's more like just the way he greets people. Still, every time he asks me, I feel the urge to respond truthfully. I just want to scream that I'm not fine, that I'm such a coward that I can't even kill myself. Instead, I restrain myself and answer with 'fine' or 'pretty good'.
The last few weeks, all of these things have bearing down on me. Aiden, Minhas, Ruben, and then there's the fact that the anti-depressants have stopped working. It scares the crap out of me when I arrive at the scene of an obvious suicide and I find myself jealous of the vic. They had the courage that I'm never able to muster. Every night, I sit on my couch and stare at my gun. A little voice in my head tells me to just do it. They would all be better off without me. Mac wouldn't have to worry about me fucking up in the field again. Lindsay would be able to find some one that actually deserves a relationship with her. Don would be able to find some one else to fill the position of 'best friend'. But I can never bring myself to actually do it. I'm too much of a fucking coward.
There's no reason for me to stay here anymore. I figure they all might be sad. Hell, my parents might even shed a tear or two... if they even came to the funeral. After the sadness though, they'd just be disappointed. Or they'd simply forget about me. I could live with that.
It's past midnight when I realize that I'm completely drunk. For a minute, I'm worried about what Mac will have to say about me coming in to work with a hangover, but I realize that I really don't care anymore. Maybe, when I get home tonight, I'll actually find the courage to pull the trigger. Then I won't have to worry about going in to work at all.
I stumble off my seat and pay for my drinks.
My thoughts are still riddled with contemplations as I make my way home.
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This was actually quite a bit darker then I had intended it to be. I may change this into a multi-chapter fic if I get enough reviews.
Also, I'm not completely clear on the rating system. I rated this fic T, because of all the dark thoughts, but should I bump it up to M because of the mentions of suicide? I'm not really sure.
Please review!! :)