Disclaimer: No, they're not mine. I'm just borrowing Mickey because TPTB aren't playing with him at the moment and you know how he hates to be neglected.
Rating: PG
Summary: "D'you know, no-one even calls me Mickey anymore. My name's Michael." Jack needs some forgiveness….and to understand…
Notes: Takes place after Mickey's infamous littering incident at the end of 303.
Spoilers: Yep, s'all good.
Authors Notes: No I'm not a terrible speller, Mickey won't let me sanitise his speech!
You'll Always Be Mickey to Me
By NorthernStar
Jack watched the rings sail through the chill night air, hearing the faint splash as they disappeared beneath the dingy waters of the Thames. Mickey didn't wait to see his future sink below the waves, walking quickly away. Jack turned, saw that Mickey wasn't slowing down, realised suddenly that his friend wasn't going to stop.
"Mickey!" He called after him. The young man didn't stop. Jack frowned, then lifted his head. "Michael!"
Mickey halted. His shoulders slumped.
Jack bent his head and caught his friend up. Mickey didn't turn to face him, just waited for Jack to join him.
Jack stopped at his side. "Might take a bit of getting used to." He said quietly. He didn't know how to make this better. "Why the change?"
"Dunno. The promotion, NCS…" Mickey shrugged and turned to lean his elbows on the railings beside the river. He stared out across the water, glinting with the millions of city lights reflecting off the tiny waves. He didn't look at Jack. After a moment he bent his head and admitted softly, "wasn't who I woz anymore."
Jack watched his profile as he explained, taking in the changes in the young man; realising, with sadness, that he didn't really know him anymore.
"I'd look in the mirror, yeah, and they'd be this geezer I didn't know staring back."
"That's understandable."
Mickey looked around. "Is it?" He asked, then shook his head. He drew a breath, not waiting for an answer. "Charlotte said I should get to know him."
"Charlotte? Your counsellor?"
"Yeah."
"And did you? Get to know him?"
"I fink…I fink it was more…Liz got to know him, you know? And then everyfing just…" He shook his head, searching for the words, "…sorta fell into place. I woz…me." He sighed. "I loved her for that."
Her name hung between them. Mickey fell silent, and for a moment, Jack let him, giving him time.
"Why didn't you tell me you were getting married?" He asked eventually.
"I woz." Mickey turned back to gaze across the river. "After, you know. Didn't want anyfing complicating the case." He paused. "Just wanted a quiet wedding. Five minutes down the registry office, few drinks… Liz wanted the church and the priest…" He looked at Jack. "Maybe she just wanted the cover, ay?"
"I think she wanted to show everyone how proud she was to be your wife."
He made a dismissive noise. "I fink your judgements a bit off, Jack." There was bitterness in his voice.
Jack sighed, knowing he deserved that. "I should never have thought…" He trailed off, guilt stalling the words. Why had he begun to believe? Had Mickey changed so much in his eyes?
"What?" Mickey demanded. "That I was bent?" There was growing anger now, fuelled by his confusion over Liz's actions.
The DCI looked down. "I'm sorry." The words were sincere. "I should have gone with my instincts not the evidence." He sighed, adding. "I did at first."
"And then what?" He looked Jack right in the face, angry. "What changed, ay?"
He couldn't stop the automatic defence. "You told me not to trust you."
"In the Job!" He snapped. "I'm under DCI Bryce now. This is NCS, Jack, not Sun Hill."
"Playing with the big boys, eh?" There was sarcasm in there. He couldn't stop it. Damn.
Mickey pushed away from the railings. "No…Yeah…yeah, all right then, maybe." He snapped. Then he turned away, forced himself to calm down. "Look, it's different now, OK? What I do is different now. I can't go against my boss, even for you."
"And I can't go against one of my officers." Jack replied, meeting his gaze full on. "Even for you."
Mickey sighed, rested his back against the railings. He took a breath, head back, eyes closed. "Look, Jack, I respected you. For sticking up for Manson." He looked up at him. "It bovvered me, 'cos it was like you 'fought I was wrong, but I respect that, yeah?"
"I'd've done the same for any of my officers, you know that."
"But not for me?" Anger again. "You accused me."
Jack half-smiled. "Well like you said, you don't work for me anymore." But the humour, such as it was, was ill-timed.
"Manson's covered in blood. 'E's right next to a dead body and you still fink e's innocent." Mickey raged. "I go to church and suddenly I'm what? A bent copper!"
"It's easier to believe in corruption than cold-blooded murder." His accent thickened with his defensiveness. "There's a difference, Mickey."
"The difference is that it's ME, yeah? I can not believe you of all people would fink I could do that." Mickey threw up his hands and turned away. "Look, its over. It's done now."
Jack caught him before he could leave. "No it's not over." He told him. "It's not over 'til we sort this out."
"You can't change what 'appened, Jack. Can't take back wot you said."
Jack didn't speak.
"I mean what was it, ay?" He demanded, shaking off the grip, needing to know, to understand. "I 'ad 'bent copper' tattooed on my back?"
"Mickey…"
But he was just letting the rage out now. Everything that had been boiling inside him over the last few hours – the pain of Jack's betrayal, losing Liz… Jack knew it had to go somewhere, even wanted to be on the receiving end, needing it to live with his own guilt. He didn't like himself for ever doubting Mickey. If this was the one thing he could do for him right now, he would do it.
"What've I ever done that made you fink I was bent?" He demanded. "Beech, Chandler…when?"
Jack looked down. There was a pause, then, "you'd changed so much." He admitted. "These last few months."
Surprise and disbelief showed in his eyes. "Changed?"
"It's like I don't know you anymore." He looked him in the eye. "Michael."
"'course I've changed. I've 'ad to change! D'you fink-"
Mickey phone rang; breaking the stand-off.
The young man reached into his coat and pulled it out, glancing at the screen telling him who was calling. He answered it. "Guv?"
Jack watched Mickey as he listened to his DCI. Some of the tension in his friend eased as he spoke.
"No, I'm OK…" then a pause. "By the river…." A chuckle surprised Jack. He wondered what Bryce had said. "Nah, too cold fer that. Just doin' a bit of finkin'…no that's OK…yeah, bye… Guv? Fanks." He put his phone away.
Jack leaned on the railings. "Seems like a good bloke."
"He is."
"Mickey, I-" He began.
"Look, Jack." Mickey interrupted. He seemed calmer now, resigned. "You was doing your job, yeah? So was I."
"I don't want to see this ruin our friendship."
Mickey sat down on the little ledge at the base of the railings and pressed his face into his hands. Jack watched him sadly.
He settled beside his friend. "I've never been as proud of one of my officers as I was of you." He admitted, glancing away.
"You know," Mickey said, "I always 'fought you were the one person I could trust." He looked up at Jack. "The person that, it didn't matter wot 'appened, you'd always come though for me."
"You can trust me." Jack told him.
Mickey let out a breath.
"I 'fought I could trust Liz."
"Well, you could still…" But they couldn't. Her and Mickey's relationship was over, buried, just like their rings. Lost forever.
Jack could only hope the same could not be said of their friendship. Liz's foolish actions might have unknowingly claimed that too….but only if he didn't put a stop to it. Right now.
And the only thing left was empty truth, gasping and pitiful.
"I used to wonder," Jack found himself admitting. He couldn't look at Mickey as he spoke. He didn't want to see the pain hearing this might cause. "How you'd cope, in the Job, after…well, after what happened."
Mickey's head came up. "Delaney." The name was like stone on his lips.
"Yeah." Jack leaned back against the railings. "I've seen good coppers throw it all in for less, quit the job, turn to drink, take a few bribes..." His throat felt tight. How long had he worried? Kept this to himself? How many nights had he almost phoned, just to check up, stopping himself because he knew it was wrong to be thinking that way?
"That's not me, Jack."
"It wasn't Mickey." Jack corrected. Then added quietly. "I didn't know if it was Michael or not."
"Well it ain't." Mickey's voice was gruff.
"I know that now." He said. "And I'm sorry I ever doubted you."
Mickey stayed silent.
Jack waited.
"Maybe Charlotte had the right idea." Jack said eventually. "Getting to know the new you…Michael." The name sounded strange to him. Unreal. He stood up. The young man in front of him looked much as he had sitting in his office, a lifetime ago now, plotting against Chandler, talking about Kate… hunched in the graveyard…a thousand other memories…
He'd survived that. He'd survive this. Because he was Mickey. Still.
So he corrected himself. "Mickey."
Mickey looked up. Jack thought he could see faint amusement in those very blue eyes.
Jack chuckled softly. "You'll always be Mickey to me."
Fin--