A/N: I wrote this after reading the spoilers for tonights episode (18.04.15). What happens if it wasn't Rita who'd had suspicions that Connie had assisted in Alfred's death? It's quite random, not sure if it'll be continued, depends what people think! Now I've watched the ep, it doesn't exactly fit but still, it's my twist on The Kings Crossing. Contains possible spoilers from 18.04.15.
~Mini Peacelet~
Handcuffs
Rita sobbed. Lament with negative, smothering emotions, hot, salty tears gushed down her unblemished cheeks to the curves of her lips, bitterly smarting as the icy, prevailing wind whirling around her in a twister. She gasped for breath, lungs starved of the oxygen they craved.
Dismay, perplexity, wistful, distress and anger battered her body in the form of a deadly concoction. All positivity had been crushed into unsalvageable dust. Within less than a single day - the mere few hours of a shift - her entire personal life had been capsized. Inverted.
She was currently a flustered mess, there was no denying that. This morning her perky charisma sparkled spiritedly; she had been truly joyful and chipper as she entered work bright and early. And now she had plummeted into a lost, wretched state as dusk promptly invaded the town, chasing away the very last traces of natural light, hungrily swallowing it up in exchange for artificial lighting. The lost sensation was without doubt the worst emotion.
Raking her fingers through her tousled hair for what must have been the one hundredth time that day, the female started tapping zealously at all the pockets of the garments of clothing she wore. She was searching for her car keys. Her fuzzy head was already influencing her memory temporarily. She had helplessly perceived the bold flashing lights of the police car fade into the distance and finally out of sight, provoking her next priority.
When she located her keys, curling her fingers tightly around the selection of uniquely carved metals, the nurse began pacing in the direction of her car striding into a bleary jog. That was until she was halted in her steps abruptly, firm yet gentle hands restrained her clasping her upper arms.
Instinctively, she hissed expletives as she battled to free herself, "Get off! Let me go!"
"No, Rita. I know you don't want to but you need to be sensible and listen to me." The body shuffled in front of the blonde, tone tender yet assertive. Rita identified the figure to be Dixie through her thick, damp lashes although her vision was slightly blurred from the tears.
"I don't have time, I need to go. Now. I have to get to the police station." She persisted argumentatively, attempting and failing to dodge the paramedic who mirrored her sharp movements and blocked her path.
"I know you're probably worried about Connie and want to see her but you need to calm down first, sweetheart." The paramedic instructed, "And, anyway, if you drive in this state then you won't even make it to the nick. Instead, we'll be bringing you back in in the back of an ambulance." It was a fact and the older blonde definitely wasn't going to permit Rita to have control of a car.
"I need to go see Connie." The nurse was stubborn, rage beginning to grow at not being able to do what she wanted with her moves being obstructed.
"Fine, then I'll take you." Dixie insisted and with a groan the other woman reluctantly agreed and passed over her car keys. They both got into the vehicle and Rita demanded that Dixie stamped on the accelerator more, discontent with sticking to the speed limits.
The journey was pretty muted, excluding the occasional sniffle, as the younger female stared vacantly out the window whilst she concentrated on controlling her breathing. "Do you think Connie could go down for murder?" With a low, quiet tone, she endeavoured apprehensively.
Dixie's shoulders twitched into a shrug as she contemplated her response. She didn't want to give an illusion of false hope yet at the same time she didn't want to instigate more worry and stress. "Honestly, I don't know." She said simply, hands clasped round the steering wheel compactly as they travelled along the road, "But unless there is any solid proof that she did assist with his death or administrate something she shouldn't, then they can't prove anything, I guess."
She had very little knowledge of what happened in these circumstances and she flashed a brief glance at her company when silence reverberated the ambience once more until they reached their destination. There was no sign of a reaction.
"You can go now, thanks for the lift. I'll be fine now." Rita murmured politely although her manner didn't reinforce her words as she emerged from the vehicle and slammed the door shut, then pirouetting on her feet and marching towards the police station entrance.
The gale was still gusting in a powerful spiral as the blonde tugged her thin NHS hoodie around her tiny frame more but it was still a lousy barrier against the cool blast and she shuddered. As she walked through the mechanised doors and into the station, she captured glimpse of her handcuffed lover being escorted through to the cells. Connie's head was dipped, chestnut brow curls falling over her face and masking her expression.
Approaching the main reception desk, the nurse drummed her fingertips anxiously, "Uhm hi, is it possible to speak to Constance Beauchamp please?"
The officer was gruff with an ominous expression, "No, I'm afraid not. She has only just been bought in. You will have to wait a while. Who are you, may I ask?"
"Her girlfriend. Rita Freeman." She replied bluntly, narrowing her gaze as she studied the copper.
"Right, well, Miss Freeman." He failed to engage eye contact, too busy typing at the keys on the keyboard connected to the computer, "I will notify you when it is suitable for you to talk to Miss Beauchamp. In the mean time, please take a seat over there." He gestured to a line of plastic chairs.
With a faint huff, the younger female stomped across to the chairs and slumped down sulkily. Waiting wasn't an art she was particularly great at. She was impatient. The seats were hard and uncomfortable, creaking with every minor movement and the metal legs scraped painfully against the linoleum floor.
Minutes ticked by and the nick was gradually beginning to fill up with disorderly drunks and other members of the public who were creating anti social behaviour. A shocking percentage were adolescents. The unpleasant and filthy stench of booze was increasing as more intoxicated humans were deposited into the station, their loud and rowdy behaviour causing further disruption. And Rita was still waiting. Until a policeman wandered over and informed her that it would not be possible for her to have any contact with Connie until the following morning so she should go home and come back. Moodily and irritated, she left the station.
She had two choices. The was a vague, thin line between the options and she struggled to decipher was was more wise and astute. Return to the emergency department and confront the infuriating human being who had notified the police, therefore the culprit responsible for her partner's arrest, or, go to a local off-licence and purchase some cheap, nasty alcohol to numb and subdue the potent emotions she detested so hostilely.
Rita concluded on her second thought. Alcohol. It would only generate a gratuitous spat with an encountering altercation if she went back to the hospital. And that was accompanied with the risk of her ending up in a cell next door to Connie. Something that was totally pointless.
The bitter taste of the foul substance burned the back of her throat as each droplet trickled from her mouth to her stomach. But she didn't care, the numbing relief was sharply taking effect. She had already lost one love of her life to a prison sentence, she wasn't prepared for the thought of Connie bring sent down for murder as well. She could reminiscence the piercing click as the handcuffs snapped around Mark's wrists and he was guided out of the court room. The corresponding harsh crack of the handcuffs closing around the clinical lead's delicate wrists, the prominent fear visible in her naked eyed.
She wished this was just a nightmare that she would soon rouse from. But it wasn't. This was reality. It was really happening. And there was absolutely nothing she could do about it.