Jack
We carry on watching 'Live and Let Die' for a while...but there is something I want to know.
"Can I ask you a question?" I say, but I find the precise uttering I'm looking for is currently unavailable to me and I stumble over my words. "I...er...was wondering...er...I mean...I..." This is going no where.
I often marvel at the way Nikki sometimes knows exactly what's going on in my head – we must be on the same wave-length or some such thing.
"You want to know why I didn't tell you." She whispers softly. "About the PTSD."
I mean...how the hell did she know that?!
"Yeah. I mean I know it's not like I really gave you the chance to tell me..." I mutter.
"I didn't think it was fair." She says. Fair? She glances up at my confused face. "You might not have been in the box..." She explains. "But it happened to you to, Jack – but you went straight back to work and no one really acknowledged that you were suffering to. How could I tell you that I was having treatment for PTSD as a result of Mexico? How would that have made you feel?"
I don't know how to answer. It never occurred to me that she would see it like that. I assumed that she didn't tell me because she no longer trusted me after I failed to save her.
"You know, Thomas and Clarissa didn't know either." She adds quietly. "And I guess I'm used to being 'fine' whatever happens and just carrying on. When I found I couldn't and I had to ask for help, I suppose I didn't really want to admit the fact to anyone who knew me."
"When did you go for help?" I ask.
"After that case with David Canon." She explains. "Before that I talked to Sally – she told me I had to do what was right for me. Some people need to say off work – others need to go back – and only I know which is right for me. But then she wasn't there any more and the police wanted me to 'watch' David Canon. It was an excuse to get back to the Lyell, I guess, but I was really jumpy and afraid of everything - and following him just made me even more anxious. I still wanted to be back at work, but by the end of the case, I knew I needed to do something about the anxiety – I knew I couldn't get back to normal otherwise. I went to my GP and she diagnosed PTSD and sent me for treatment. - Eye Movement Desensitisation Treatment." She adds. "But first I had to have counselling because Dr Hill needed a 'Specific moment of trauma' to work from." She scoffs slightly. "Apparently, 15 hours in a box isn't specific enough!"
Nikki falls asleep against my chest – the way she used to before Mexico. Its another sign that she still trusts me. It makes me happy and eventually, I succumb to sleep too.
We're woken suddenly by my ringtone.
"Huh?" Nikki mumbles groggily. "Do we have to go to work?"
She's so adorable when she's half asleep!
"No, love." I answer, reaching my arm out under her to pick up my phone off the table. "It's Clarissa."
"Oh." She mutters. "Tell her she's got crap timing - what time is it anyway?"
Nikki
"It's five past ten." Jack informs me, putting the phone to his ear. "Clarissa. Hey babes! Nikki said to tell you that you have crap timing." He tells her brightly. He looks down at me. "She said 'Don't be rude'!"
"She woke me up – I'll be as rude as I want." I grumble.
Jack chuckles. "Nikki said you woke her up, so she'll be as rude as she wants!" Clarissa obviously makes some reference to the fact that I was asleep before ten in the evening, because Jack responds, "Well I can't really comment – because I was asleep too!" He looks down at me and chuckles again. "She wants to know what's wrong with us!"
"We work harder than her." I snigger without the slightest hesitation.
Jack laughs and repeats my comment down the phone. "Yeah, well, the next time you fall asleep on the sofa with Max – I'll remind you of this moment!" He retorts in response to her apparently indignant reaction to my remark. He goes a bit quiet for a while and I can tell that Clarrisa's changed the subject – no doubt to talk about her reason for ringing. The atmosphere has certainly darkened anyway. "Yeah...yeah...I've got my suit ready...yeah – I'll look smart – I promise." Jack mutters. "Ok, bye."
Of course – she must have rung to discuss the funeral we have to attend tomorrow. It's an ex-colleague and we're meant to be going out of respect, but I knew he was nervous about it. I have to admit, I'm not particularly comfortable with the idea myself – it's the first funeral that Jack has been to since Mexico. He'd didn't go to Sally's – I did, but hers was a little service at the crematorium and then she was cremated. This is a church service, followed by a burial – and I don't know how I feel about that after being buried alive.
Jack slowly puts the phone back on the table, but he remains quiet.
"You don't have to go, Jack." I say gently. "No is going to make you and Thomas will understand if you don't want to go. Corrine would understand – and so will her family."
"But you're still going to go – aren't you?" He replies.
"I won't if you don't want me too." I answer. If supporting Jack means I can't go either then that's how it has to be and they will understand that too.
"Doesn't matter what I want." he mutters. "What do you want?"
"I'm nervous too, Jack." I tell him. "But I feel that I should be there. She retired just after you started, so you and Clarissa didn't really know her that well – and Thomas only knew her by reputation, but I did know her, so I think that I should be there. Besides..." I add. "I need to face up to my fears - I can't spend the rest of my life avoiding funerals because they involve a burial."
"Then I'm going too." Jack responds. "I want to be there with you."
"Ok." I agree. "But if you're struggling during the service – you tell me and we'll go outside, ok? I'll do the same...Promise you'll tell me."
"I promise I'll tell you if I need to go out." Jack answers.
Jack
Despite it still being relatively early for a grown up, Nikki and I decide to go to bed. The general mood is noticeably sombre after Clarissa's stark reminder of tomorrow's discomfort and we're both still half asleep anyway. I give Nikki a spare t-shirt out of my drawer and she heads into the bathroom. My t-shirts are so long on her, that they easily serve as a nightie.
Whilst she's in the bathroom, I deal with the DVD player and switch off the TV. 'Live and Let Die' must have finished while we slept, and the title music of the menu has been playing over and over to itself in the background. Nikki comes out of the bathroom and I go in. When I come out, she is already curled up under the quilt.
It's so silly, but I'm standing there in my boxers and I'm suddenly embarrassed. It's not like I haven't been in this situation – in fact this is exactly how it's been before. She's my best friend and neither of us have ever really taken any notice of such things. That's not to say that I don't find her attractive. I do – and her, me, but it's always seemed like a totally natural occurrence – pizza night, film – fallen asleep, wake up, get ready for bed – and go to bed. Like I said, being suddenly embarrassed is silly. She's not even looking at me and she's seen my bare chest many times – usually when she's tending to me after an un-planned run-in with some or other angry guy. I sometimes rub people up the wrong way.
For some reason, though I'm self-conscious as I head over and switch off the light, before climbing over Nikki to get into bed. As I slip under the covers, it occurs to me that Nikki and I haven't been this close since before Mexico – and maybe that's why I suddenly feel awkward, but it clearly doesn't bother her because she snuggles right up to me and I relax again.
"I missed you." She murmurs as she drifts off.
"I missed you too." I whisper back.
I wake up once in the early hours and it doesn't take me long to work out why. There's an empty space beside me – and the cold rush of air as she lifted the covers and left, woke me up. I sit up, rubbing my eyes and stare around frantically – as though she's hiding somewhere in the room.
"Whoa! Hey – it's ok, I'm here." Nikki exclaims coming out of the bathroom. "I was trying not to wake you – sorry."
"Are you ok?" I whisper, as she gets back under the covers, shivering.
"Mm-hm." She answers. "It's freezing though!" She grumbles.
"Come here then." I chuckle wrapping the quilt around her tightly – and before long we drift off again.
The next time we wake, it's half six. "You going for a run?" I ask.
She snuggles up to me. "Can't be bothered." She mumbles sleepily. "You?"
"Nah." I respond. If she can't be bothered with it this morning, than I can't either.
"I'll have to go home in a bit though – to get ready for the funeral." She adds.
"I'll come over and pick you up when you're ready – and drive us there." I offer. "No need to have both our cars there – and Thomas is going with Max and Clarissa."
So that's what we do – and we arrive at the church in plenty of time.
Nikki
As soon as Corrine's coffin is brought in, I can see that Jack is finding it very difficult - and by the time we reach the second hymn, he's gone very pale and slightly green around the gills. As everyone sings, he leans down and whispers in my ear.
"I need to go – I'm gong to be sick."
I nod at him and we quietly put the hymn books down. Jack picks up his coat and I guide him out of the pew, picking up my bag and coat – and both our scarves which have become tangled up in my coat. Thomas gives me a concerned look as we vacate the pew, but says nothing and allows us to discreetly leave. Once outside, Jack is violently sick.
"Alright, sweetie, alright." I rub his back soothingly. "Finished?"
He nods and wipes his mouth with the tissue I hand him. "Sorry" He mumbles will the usual embarrassment that accompanies vomiting in somebody else's presence.
We sit down on a bench in the churchyard and I wrap his scarf around his neck. "Better now?"
"Yeah, thanks."
I take a small bottle of water out of my bag and hand it to him. Jack looks amazed that I should keep such a thing in my handbag. "I thought you might need it." I shrug at him.
"Thanks..." He takes it and sips some water. "I'm sorry, Nikki – I just...kept...seeing you in the coffin." He mutters. I couldn't get it out of my head. It was horrible!"
"Shh-shh, you don't need to apologise." I tell him softly patting his arm. "You really don't."
He sips the water, then exhales sharply and starts muttering under his breath.
I look at him in concern, because I can't understand what he's saying – and it seems such a strange thing to do. Especially for Jack.
"I'm going over the details of that case." He explains – seeing my worried expression.
"Which case?" I ask.
"The drowning – you know that case - where they drowned the woman because they believed she was a witch..."
"Jack...We've already solved that case, sweetie." I remind him gently.
"I know we've solved it, Nikki." He tells me with a sigh. "I'm trying to go over the details to take my mind off the funeral."
"Oh." I answer in relief. "Right – sorry!"
He gives me a soft chuckle. "Don't worry – I haven't gone completely barmy just yet."
"No, not yet!" I agree with a smile. "Do you know what that case reminds me of?"
"What?"
"Africa." I say with a little sadness. "The word 'witch' reminds me of Africa."
It takes me a few seconds to realise that he's staring at me and it occurs to me that I probably owe him some kind of explanation. "There was a party." I tell him. "A Halloween party, at my best friend's house – and I went as a witch." I chuckle. "I had this great costume! Elsa was so jealous!...But it was a good party – and it's the last memory I have of my childhood in Africa." I explain sadly. "Then my Dad made us leave – I never saw Elsa again."
The funeral procession starts coming out. Clarissa is understandably worried after the way we left the service – especially as Jack didn't look at all well, so she opts to stay with him and Max, whilst Thomas and I go to the graveside for the burial.
"How is he?" Thomas asks in hushed tones as we walk. "He looked awful went you went out."
"He a bit better now, I think." I whisper. "But he was very sick when we got outside – said he kept seeing me in the coffin."
Thomas nods. "That's understandable. Are you sure, you want to do this, Nikki?" Ha asks.
"Not really." I whisper again. "But I have to face up to it at some point, otherwise it'll stay with me forever."
As we near the graveside and they start lowering the coffin into the ground, my nerves are on edge. I was ok inside – I was totally fine, but why did it have to be a burial?
Jack
"Are you ok?" Clarissa asks. "We were worried about you."
"Better now." I answer. "I just...kept seeing Nikki in the coffin." I mutter. "It was very nearly her funeral and – I just kept seeing her...I just couldn't get it out of my head – and it seemed so real." I look over to where Thomas and Nikki are standing around the grave and I can see that she's getting very jittery – so I get up. "I'm going over." I inform Max and Clarissa.
"Are you sure that's a good idea, Jack?" Max asks.
"Yes." I respond, indicating Nikki. "Look at her. She was really nervous about the burial and I can see that she's anxious already – so I'm going." I repeat firmly.
I appear at Nikki's right side as Thomas is stood on her left. She looks at me gratefully as I protectively wind my left arm around her, pulling her close and enclose her clasped hands in my right hand. Her hands are cold and clammy – a sure sign of her growing anxiety, and I can feel her trembling – which I don't think is due to the cold.
Nikki
As they start to shovel earth on to the coffin, my chest tightens and I find I'm unable to breathe properly. Flashbacks of being in the box attack my mind and it's as terrifying as it was the first time.
Darkness. There's nothing but darkness when I wake up. I can't see. I'm dead – I must be. But I can feel my heart beating – and it's beating oh, so fast - from fear.
It's cold, out of the sunlight - and the air is stale. It's stuffy and uncomfortable in here. I'm all alone – but for the phone that rings. First, with a warning from a cruel and menacing voice - then with consolation from a warm and familiar voice, that wants to offer me hope – comforting, but utterly helpless.
I can taste the dirt as it falls on my face. Iron and salt. The bitter taste of Mexico – and now I'm not alone, but God, I hate spiders!
I can't escape, but my oxygen can - and it is. I'm never getting out of here. I should of listened when he wanted to take me home, now I'll never get the chance. I feel angry and stupid as well as afraid. If I hadn't come to Mexico, I would never have got into this situation. And I'm embarrassed by my predictament, because I was meant to help them – and now everyone has to try and help me instead.
I hate being helpless. My oxygen may be able to get out – but I can't. I can't get out of here. I can't get out.
And then it's my Mum. She's dead - and she can't get out. We're both buried – and we can't get out.
I bury my face in Jack's coat and he wraps his arms around me.
Jack
"It's ok. It's over." I whisper as everyone leaves the graveyard, to attend the wake.
Nikki turns and looks at the freshly covered mound nervously – then doesn't seem to be able to take her eyes off it.
"Nikki?" I say quietly, but she doesn't respond.
"Take her home, Jack." Thomas instructs me. "And stay with her. I don't think you should be here either, so I want you both to take the rest of today off. I'll phone later and see if Nikki wants me to cover her on-call duty tonight."
"Ok." I nod. I take her face in my hands – trying to break into her agitated mind. "Nikki?"
"H-u-h?" She blinks at me. "Wh-a-? Oh, ye-ah...I'm-I'm fine." She mutters, her speech slightly stunted to start with.
"Let's go home." I suggest softly.
"Ok."
We practise fast-walking out of the graveyard – because to be honest, we both just can't wait to get out of there now. "I'm taking her home." I explain abruptly, as we pass Clarissa and Max – without stopping.
"Nikki said he was very sick when they came out." I hear Thomas explain to them as we walk away. "And clearly she found the burial very difficult – so I've sent them both home for today."
"Do you want to go to mine or yours?" I ask Nikki as we get into my car. Wherever we go – we're both going.
"Yours." She answers.
So we go back to mine and curl up in front of another film – our latest ordeal now over.