Crime Traveller - Never Again
Author's note: What Slade did to Holly in episode 6 was pretty low. This is a post-ep for 'Death Minister', considering how the two of them felt when Holly kicked him out of her flat...
Her back against the living room door and her heart still racing, Holly knew she'd made the right decision. She'd said what needed to be said, and she didn't regret it for a second. And if for some reason his skull was so dense that he was incapable of understanding the magnitude of those words, Holly was sure her actions spoke volumes. As she stood there, she listened. She half expected him to attempt to reason with her, to talk her round, to turn on his, admittedly not inconsiderable, charms. But for once she seemed to have rendered Jeff Slade completely speechless. A few seconds later, she heard his footsteps retreat, and the sound of her front door open and close.
It was just as well he had left, as she knew she wouldn't have been able to trust herself. If she hadn't ended up yelling at him or beating him to a pulp with a photon rod, she might have actually let him talk her into forgiving him – and that was unthinkable. What Slade had done this time was unforgivable, and it seemed even he couldn't come up with a good excuse this time. So he wanted to know who killed Sir Iain Hawkins? So what? It was his job to find out, and, as she had proved in a matter of hours, even someone with little investigative experience could have followed the breadcrumb trail. But oh no, he was too lazy for that, too fond of shortcuts and, crucially, too willing to lie to get what he wanted.
As she sat down on her sofa, her hands shaking, Holly couldn't help but blame herself, in part at least. If she had never told Slade about the machine in the first place, none of this ever would have happened. He wouldn't have got it into her head that the machine was a quick-fix solution for his police enquiries – and he wouldn't have learned just how easily Holly would let him get his own way. She had set a dangerous precedent with the Lombard case, allowing herself to be persuaded that her machine really did work, and since then it had been a slippery slope. She'd tried to tell herself that there was always a good reason for her relenting – she owed it to her aunt to solve her murder, the Apostles had a history of shooting innocent people – but maybe it was only because admitting the truth was depressing. When it came to Slade, she was weak. What he did was sort of the male equivalent of batting his eyelids, and then there was the way he looked at her, and the tone of his voice...But with this investigation she had managed to put her foot down and keep it there, and where had that got them?
Holly tried to unpick the tangle of raw feelings, unable to decide what her primary emotion was at that moment. Was she angry? Yes, she was furious. Was she disappointed? Of course, hugely - she thought that Slade at least had a modicum of respect for their friendship. But as she sat there alone in her apartment, she realised that the reason her hands were still shaking was that she was scared.
When Nicky had brought her the watch, and all through their brief investigation, Holly was aware of just how much was at stake. Although she tried to put it to the back of her mind, she had been devastatingly aware that she could lose Slade in the same way she lost her father. That feeling only intensified when she found him in the abandoned nightclub, and she really meant it when she said she wouldn't leave him. There, she had admitted it; she would have rather taken her chances with Slade in that tinderbox of a building, than risk living without him. After all those years alone, she had invited someone into her life, to share her secret, and in spite of herself she had rapidly developed feelings for him. And Slade wasn't stupid; he knew how important their friendship was to her. He'd seen how upset she'd been during the Jbara case, when she had to leave him and watch him walk into that art dealer's knowing that he would be shot. So why would he go and do something like this? Why would he risk their friendship and his life? Because he was lazy, selfish and reckless...and because he could.
But no more. When she said he was never using her machine again, she meant it one hundred per cent, and she hoped Slade wouldn't insult her by trying to change her mind. The best thing he could do for the sake of their friendship was to keep out of her way – but without the machine, would they even still have a friendship? Holly had often wondered where they would be if it wasn't for the machine, and couldn't help but think they'd still be exchanging small-talk over lab results. Sometimes, in her shameful flights of fancy, Holly wondered whether things had happened for a reason; that Slade had to find out about the machine in order for them to get to know one another better... But then she remembered that Fate was a completely unscientific concept that she didn't believe in.
But what if this evening was the last time Slade ever set foot in her flat? Despite everything, despite him driving her to distraction, she would miss the time they spent together more than she could say. Spending time with him, sharing a meal or a bottle of wine, even just talking in her kitchen about nothing in particular – those things made Holly feel like she had a normal life, that she had found the person who could give her that life. She thought about the evening Jack Slade had come round to dinner, how alien the whole experience had seemed to her, but also how refreshingly ordinary. As she had watched Slade cook dinner, she allowed herself one of those flights of fancy. She had granted herself another one as they did the washing up together, as they drank coffee on her couch, and as he lingered by the front door before saying goodnight. If this was solely about the machine, Slade was even more of an elaborate liar than Holly thought.
Nevertheless, she couldn't get past the fact that Slade had lied to her, that he had abused her trust and faith in him. But while her rational mind commended the way she had dealt with him, this didn't change the fact that she was still sitting alone in her flat, trying hard to ignore the ache in her chest.
Slade stood at the bottom of the steps to Sundown Court, wondering what he was going to do next. It had been a relief not to bump into Danny, as Slade wasn't sure what he would have said to him.
Was going back up to Holly's flat still an option? She had been pretty definitive in her desire for him to leave, and Slade knew it might be hazardous to his health to appear at her door again. But if he could only talk to her, improve on his first, admittedly lacklustre, apology, maybe he could bring her around...? But even he wasn't sure he could defend the indefensible. What Holly had said about him had been exactly right: he had invaded her privacy and he had used her machine without her permission - and in doing so, he knew he had probably set their friendship back a long way.
His car still sitting outside his own flat, Slade stuffed his hands into his pockets and set off home on foot. This was what it felt like to go home with your tail between your legs. It was Slade's instinct to try and justify every single thing that he did, and usually he managed this pretty well. When Grisham criticised his methods or his attitude, he could point to the fact that he generally got the results she was after; he was a big believer in the means justifying the ends. But even if things had been different with this case, even if he had found out who killed Hawkins and got back to the present without Holly ever finding out what he'd done, could he really justify it? When he'd hit on the plan, all he was thinking about was solving the murder – he hadn't considered what he was putting at risk.
At what point had he realised the seriousness of what he'd done? Was it when he lost the watch? When Mather shot him? Or the look on Holly's face when he returned to the present? He was starting to believe Holly when she said that Time knew what he was doing, and Time certainly knew how to punish those who thought they could cheat. Slade had been in perilous situations before, faced the barrel of a gun head-on, but when he was tied to that pillar, the life slowly bleeding out of him, he had a lot of time to think. First priority was trying to think of a way out of that building, but at the same time he hadn't been able to keep Holly from his mind. He started to think that he might never have the chance to tell him she was right and that he was sorry; in short, he might never see her again, and that was unthinkable. A voice in his head taunted him, demanded to know whether he was happy now, whether any of what he had done had been worth it. The answer was obvious.
When he had heard Holly's voice at the door, for a second he didn't believe it, assuming that he was slipping into some sort of delirium. His next fear, when she finally found him, was the jeopardy he had put her in, but even when he'd told her to get out of there, Holly wouldn't go. Even though she clearly wanted to kill him, she wouldn't leave him; although maybe, he wondered as he walked along, it was because she wanted the satisfaction of killing him herself. Either way, he knew he didn't deserve that kind of devotion from Holly.
She may have told him that he was never using the machine again but, strangely, the words weren't what stuck in his mind now. It was the look on Holly's face that he could still recall perfectly; she had been angry with him in the past, but she had never before looked at him like that. Fury he could probably deal with, because fury would pass, but the look in Holly's eyes told him how much he had disappointed and betrayed her. He couldn't imagine how she would feel if she knew he'd told Hawkins about the time machine, too.
Holly would come around, wouldn't she? She always did; it just took a bit of time and persuasion. His flat now in sight, Slade rooted in his pocket for his keys. The light from the streetlamp illuminated them momentarily, and his eyes fell on the latest addition to his keyring, a newly-cut latchkey with a blue rubber cover to match the corresponding front door. Holly gave it to him after the Gebler/Oldroyd investigation, in case of emergency. Slade swallowed hard. He'd used that key today for the first and probably the last time.
Inside his own flat, he slung the keys onto the sofa and collapsed into the cushions beside them. If there was one thing his flat wasn't, it was welcoming. Despite his having lived there for years, it seemed incapable of feeling like a home – but did that say more about the flat, or him? It hadn't really bothered him until he started to spend time at Holly's, and every night he returned to his own place he felt his heart sink a little. But did that say more about the flat...or Holly? He thought about the evening they'd spent with his father, and the reason he'd given Holly for having the meal at her flat rather than his. Three people and only two plates? Surely Holly had seen right through that feeble excuse. Slade wasn't a man for deep introspection or self-analysis, but he knew full well the real reasons why. He wanted his father to think that he was doing okay, that he had a good life – and Holly was fundamental to that. The thing was, he wasn't even deceiving his father, not really; he was showing his father the best aspects of his life, and a vision of what he hoped his future would look like.
Slade could hear his father's voice now, nagging him to address the questions he didn't want to confront. Why had he sabotaged the only good thing he had going for him? Why had he done the one thing that was guaranteed to wreck the most meaningful relationship he had? Because he was a defective, totally deficient when it came to connections with other people. No, it was too easy to make that excuse. Because his relationship with Holly had been developing too well, and if it continued in that vein he was going to have to admit that he was capable of nurturing something good in his life again. And if he allowed it to happen – whatever it was that might happen between him and Holly - he was laying himself bare to the kind of pain and devastation he had, after so long, only just begun to get over.
Slade rubbed his eyes and switched on the TV, keeping the sound low. This was ridiculous; he was really over-analysing things now. The reason he had used the time machine to solve the murder of Sir Iain Hawkins was that he was lazy and that he had an easier alternative to hard work. The reason he had lied to Holly and gone against her express wishes was that he was a terrible friend. Nothing deeper than that.
So now all he had to do was find some way of making it up to her. A gift maybe? Holly didn't seem like the kind of woman who would be won over by grand material gestures – even if he had the money for that kind of thing. Anyway, it seemed to him that she had everything in her life that she needed; what could he possibly offer her that would make a difference? His eye was caught by something on the television; fifty balls tumbling through the air, a giant animated hand crossing its fingers. Slade had seen this advert dozens of times, but only this time did it have any resonance. A smile slowly spread over his face – of course! There was his answer, the way he was going to get things back on track with Holly.
Just one small thing he needed to figure out first – how to defeat the rules of Time...
THE END