Chapter 34

The taxi pulled up outside of the hotel doors and Gene reluctantly thrust a couple of notes at the cabbie.

"Suppose your driving wasn't as bad as I was expecting," he said.

The cabbie frowned.

"Thanks," he said, "I suppose your tipping wasn't as bad as I was expecting.

"Gene," Alex began in a sing-song voice, "just help me get the bags out of the boot and leave the poor man to go about picking up a fare who isn't going to give him tips about overtaking without losing a wing mirror."

Gene folded his arms and joined Alex around the back of the car.

"I'd have got here in half the time," he said, "quick short cut through that park, slip round the back of that one way system and skim over the roundabout -"

"...Are all reasons why you're not a taxi driver," Alex told him with a raised eyebrow and a smile. She hauled a bag over her shoulder and smiled contentedly. "Now, are we going to start our honeymoon or are we going to stand around criticising the journey?"

"Option two sounds good," Gene began but a glimpse of honeymoon lingerie peeping out of one of the suitcases changed his mind. "Option one, no need to phone a friend for that question."

"Good, the last thing I want is you moaning on the phone to Simon all night," Alex teased.

They grasped their cases and walked towards the hotel, both full of excitement. The wedding may have been a long time coming... but so had the honeymoon.

~xXx~

Kim and Robin collapsed back onto the couch in unison, groaning tiredly. It had been a really, really long day – a long week, in fact – and now that it was over it really struck then how exhausted they were. They leaned back together, heads gently resting against one another, and as Kim glanced around It felt like a very long time since they were last there.

"And now they are," she whispered with a tired smile.

"Who's what?" Robin asked and Kim turned to look at him.

"This morning," she began, "you said, the next time we're back here, Alex and Gene would be married."

A smile crossed Robin's face as he recalled the conversation.

"And now they are," he repeated quietly. His eyes fell to the bouquet on the table and felt funny shivers inside of him at the sight. He couldn't stop himself from smiling as he managed to sneak a glance at Kim as she closed her eyes, smiling tiredly. He really couldn't wait until it was their turn.

"Do you think that stain's going to come out of the back seat?" he asked a little anxiously, hoping Gene was going to leave therm alive long enough to get married.

"Bit of elbow grease and a bit of Vanish stain remover and he'll never know," Kim told him.

They fell silent for a little while, too tired to even talk. After a few moments Kim sat up and slowly unzipped her boots, almost too exhausted to pull them off. Eventually she wriggled her feet free, sat her footwear by her side and put her feet up on the table, wriggling her toes.

"My feet are killing me," she sighed, "too much dancing!"

Robin kicked off his shoes and his feet joined hers atop the table.

"I know what you mean," he sighed, "do my ankles look swollen to you?"

Kim sighed. They didn't really look swollen but she didn't want Robin to think she was being really horrible to him so she turned him around and pulled his feet onto her lap to give them a rub. Her mind went back over the events of the day, everything from the drive to the church, to the eventful ceremony., to Simon's new friend and her slow dance with Alex. She frowned a little as she asked,

"Did ALex seem... strange you, Rob?"

"Strange in what way?" Robin asked.

"She kept saying she wanted to talk to me but started saying some really bizarre things," Kim told him and Robin shrugged.

"The champagne had been flowing," he said, "she was probably just tipsy."

Kim shrugged a little and continued rubbing Robin's ankles.

"Either way it's been a hell of a day."

"It certainly has," Robin sighed tiredly with a smile.

"And it's going to be a hell of an evening too."

Robin glanced at Kim with interest.

"Oh?" he asked, raising an eyebrow, "Why? What did you have in mind?"

Kim bit her lip a little guiltily.

"Bringing in the plate of left over sausage rolls from the car," she said, and Robin laid back with a loud laugh.

"Kim, you are one in a million," he told her, "come here." He pulled his feet from her lap and sat up, looked her in the eye and laid his hand against her cheek. Days like that very day were the kind that reminded him how lucky they were to be and as he leaned forward and kissed her softly she couldn't help but feel exactly the same. She was too distracted to hear the beeping noise that seemed to come from nowhere around her but then again she usually was. She'd zoned it out completely and all she could hear was the thumping of her heartbeat in her ears as Robin's kiss put her mind on something other than the sausage rolls.

~xXx~

Marci didn't want to answer the phone. She wasn't doing well. Well, she was and she wasn't. She was doing well in that she was sticking to her plan, tapering down, and she was determined to get there. But she wasn't doing very well in terms of the fact that she looked at death's door and wanted to shrivel up and die.

The ringing wasn't going away.

She reached a hand out from under her duvet and felt around for the receiver. As she answered the call she begged silently for the day to be over already. Every day that passed was a day closer to getting through it. But it never felt close enough.

"Hello?" she mumbled, her voice so low that her caller paused, unsure whether she'd called the right number.

"Marci?"

Marci flinched.

"Shaz," she whispered.

There was another pause. Marci knew that Shaz didn't even want to be calling. It pained her in her heart to hear that in her voice.

"I just wanted to make sure you were alright," she said eventually.

Marci closed her eyes and held her body taut.

"Alright isn't the word I'd use," she whispered, "but I'll survive."

"You looked awful."

Marci flinched.

"I know."

Shaz hesitated.

"I'm so ashamed."

Marci felt like she'd been punched in the gut.

"I'm doing my best, Shaz!" she cried, "I'm fighting this hard!"

"I don't mean you!"

"What?"

She heard Shaz sigh on the line, reluctant to carry on. She finally pulled herself together a little.

"I'm so sorry," she said so quietly, "I behaved... so badly today."

"What? No you didn't -"

"I did, Marci, I barely spoke to you!" Shaz told her, "I'm so sorry."

"I thought that... I thought that was because you were ashamed of me," Marci said quietly.

"I found it too hard to see you suffering," Shaz said quietly "I won't pretend that finding out... what you'd been doing... it was the biggest shock, Marci, and I hate drugs more than anything. I can't bear the thought of you taking them, but I can't bear the thought of you going through that on your own."

Marci closed her eyes.

"I need to do this alone," she whispered.

"I want to help you."

"I don't think that you can," Marci whispered. She shook her head as she tried to work out what to say. "Shaz... Shaz, I love you. And I'm doing this for you. I'm getting clean for you. But I have to do it alone."

"I don;t want you to do it for me," Shaz whispered, "if you do this it needs to be for yourself."

Marci sighed.

"It's for both of us," she whispered, "and I'm doing everything I can to get there. I just need to know," she flinched as memories of a night not so long ago came back to her, "that you're still going to be there. When I'm better."

There was a long pause, the most torturous of Marci's life.

"I'll be there," Shaz whispered eventually and Marci smiled for the first time in a week.

"Thank you," she whispered.

Silence fell, neither of them really knew what to say so finally Shaz told her,

"I'd better go... it's late, I'm sorry. I just couldn't sleep for worrying about you."

"I'll be fine," Marci whispered.

"Goodnight then, Marci," Shaz's voice sounded tired and emotional;.

"Goodnight, Shaz," Marci whispered.

~xXx~

Jake leaned back on his bed, flicking through one channel after another. He'd only had cable put in to take his mind off Marci. He was fairly sure of that. Not that it was working. He'd even hallucinated The Marci Channel at one point. When the phone rang he jumped out of his skin. It was so late, why would anyone be calling at that time of night? Unless there was an emergency? Oh god, that was it! Someone was dead! Someone was dead or dying, or had a bucket of frogs lodged in an unfortunate place. Shit, why was he still sitting there, panicking about it instead of answering it? He finally scrambled upright and grabbed the phone.

"Hello?" he said quickly.

"Jake?"

There was a sudden thumping of his heart as he recognised the voice.

"Marci?" a feeling of panic gripped him again. "Oh god, what's going on? What;'s happened? Are you feeling worse?"

"I'm sorry, I know it's late," Marci's voice sounded edgy, "I've been sleeping most of the day."

Jake's heart was still racing and he felt the blood rushing to his face as he thought about her.

"But are you OK?" he asked desperate;y.

"I'm..." Marci hesitated, "I just wanted to know how the reception went," she said, tactfully avoiding the question, "I felt really guilty abut leaving after the ceremony."

"Shit, Marci, you're sick, you have nothing to feel bad about," he told her. He took a deep breath, trying to cool down now that he knew Marci was alright, "It... it was fine," he said, adding sadly, "It would have been more fun if you were there though."

"I'm sorry," Marci said again.

Jake didn't want her to feel any worse than she already did and regretted saying anything.

"Shaz went quite early," he said, "but Robin looked after me. Fed me like a bloody baby and persuaded me to dance."

Marci gave a soft laugh.

"Good," she said quietly.

"The cake was great, I've brought back a slice for you," he said, then bit his lip. "Do you think you'll be up to it?"

Marci hesitated.

"Maybe tomorrow," she said quietly.

Silence fell. That was unnatural. In all the years they'd known each other they'd rarely had a moment of silence. Jake tried to think of something to say, something neutral, but instead his mouth blurted out what his heart wanted to say instead of what his head told him not to.

"Marci, I miss you," he whispered, "I really miss you. And I know that you've been going through something and if you won't let me help you, or I can't help you then I understand, I really do, but I..." he flinched and swallowed, "I just miss you, Marci."

He waited for her to respond. He hoped he hadn't said too much, Shit, what if he'd said too much?

"I miss you too," Marci's voice was quiet, "I'm getting there, Jake... give me some time. And I'm doing my best to feel better. I'll be back. I promise."

Jake felt himself smiling but his heart still felt heavy.

"Maybe you can come round later this week?" he said, "or I can come round? My arm's starting to feel a bit better. I could come and look after you, watch some rubbish films." He paused. "I could spoilt the endings to them?"

He heard Marci laugh finally.

"You always do," she whispered. She paused. "Jake... I need to get back to sleep. But I'm glad things went OK. And I miss you too."

Jake's spirits sank at the tone in her voice. He just wanted her to stay on tne line, he wanted to talk to her all night long but she needed to go and he knew that. Didn't stop him from longing though.

"Goodnight, Marci," he whispered.

"Goodnight, Jake."

As he placed the receiver back down Jake closed his eyes and breathed in very deeply. Shit, he couldn't understand this, the way he was feeling. Most of his life he'd been friends with Marci, best friends, but something had slowly changed in his mind and as much as he tried to deny it he was starting to feel differently about her. Oh god, why now? Especially while Marci was going through such a difficult time?

He'd been nursing his crush for months now. When had it started? Oh shit, way back at christmas. That kiss. Bloody truth or dare. He shuddered as he remembered the thoughts that had formed into his mind afterwards. He'd never expected it for a moment.

It was starting to really eat him up inside. He didn't know what to do. He didn't want to say anything to Marci and spoil their friendship. What if those feelings just disappeared one day as quickly as they'd started? Maybe telling her would break the spell and he'd just see her as plain old Marci again. Maybe that's what he wanted? But then again, he was scared of upsetting or hurting her.

"Fuck this," he muttered as his mind felt like it was going to explode. He needed to talk to someone. Maybe he could just start to understand how he really felt if he could talk it through. Usually Marci was the one he'd talk to about everything. This was the one time he couldn't He grasped the phone and quickly dialled Robin's number. If anyone would understand it was going to be him. He nodded to himself as he waited for his call to be answered. Yes, Robin would understand. The circumstances might have been very different but he knew that Robin was the expert in falling in love with someone you weren't supposed to.

Shit! Where did that come from? Falling in love?

"Hello?"

Jake froze up and swallowed, trying to clear the lump in his throat as the full impact of what he was about to do struck him. He was going to let out his biggest secret and once he'd said the words he could never get them back. He trusted Robin implicitly but he couldn't guarantee that it wouldn't somehow get back to Marci. What if he said something to Kim who said something to Alex who said something to Gene who made some kind of inappropriate remark when Jake returned from the latte run with an extra muffin for her one day?

"Hello? Is anyone there?"

Oh shit, he'd forgotten abut the phone.

"H-hi, Rob, it's me," He said quietly. Oh god, why had he thought this was a good idea? He was gripped with panic now.

"Jake? Is everything OK?"

"Yeah," Jake swallowed, "I just... I just needed to..." he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He knew this was it; make or break. But he just couldn't do it. It was too hard to let those thoughts out of his head and into the public domain. He shook his head slowly. "I wanted to than you," he said stiffly, "for getting me to dance tonight and looking after me. I had fun."

"I'm glad," Robin told him, "you didn't seem yourself tonight."

Jake gave a sad smile.

"I'm alright," he said quietly, "just feeling sore still, that's all."

"You coped marvellously," Robin told him, "everyone's going to be doing one-armed dancing now. You stared a new craze!"

Jake gave a quiet laugh but his heart wasn't really in it.

"I'm sorry to disturb you so late, I'll let you get to bed," he said.

"Are you sure everything's alright?" Robin's voice seemed anxious, making it perfectly clear to Jake that he knew it wasn't.

"I'm fine," he whispered, "I'll talk to you soon, Robin."

Robin hesitated. Whatever was wrong, Jake didn't seem ready to open up just yet.

"Well," he began, "you know where to find me if you change your mind. I'm always here."

Jake closed his eyes with a grateful nod.

"Thank you," he whispered.

"Bye, Jake."

"Goodnight, Rob."

As Jake hung up for the second time he rolled over and groaned, his hands to his head. Why weren't his crushes ever happy and fun like the ones you see on TV? All they led to for him were sleepless nights and graffiti on the toilet walls.

~xXx~

Em rolled over in bed and pulled the duvet around her shoulders in the stark, empty bedroom in which she'd been sleeping for the last month and a half. Somehow, that was the day it truly hit her.

She couldn't close her eyes. She wanted to sleep but at the same time she didn't dare. She was afraid to close her eyes. She felt stupid for it but the fears had been creeping on slowly for the past few days; visions and the nightmares that plagued her through the night, just how it used to be. How many nights had she lain awake ion her late teens, writing through the night until she passed out through sheer exhaustion, pen still in hand?

She thought about switching on the TV but that was too painful, The whole night had been spent avoiding programmes she didn't want to see. Couldn't bear to. Why did it have to be that of all days? She rolled over again with a frustrated sigh, not sure what to do with herself. It was strange how that date haunted her. It wasn't even a negative one. It was one of the rare gems in a terrible year. But just by association it brought back the bad times and she wanted to sleep through the whole thing, desperate to wake up tomorrow and find herself back home. But she couldn't. In fact, she couldn't sleep at all. Didn't dare. She felt trapped in a loop and didn't know how to get out.

As bad as she felt for escaping the wedding early it was nothing compared to how she felt trapped in another day that she wanted to run from forever.

She slowly rose into a sitting position as a dark feeling travelled through her body and she closed her eyes. She felt so sick suddenly as a revelation came upon her, one that she'd never acknowledged before. She'd thought once her birthday was over then things would become easier and for a while they did, but now every day started to feel like a dark struggle again because, as she came to realise,

"The day it happened wasn't the worst part," it was the first time she had even realised such a thing and it pained her desperately to admit, "it was surviving the following year."

And yet here she was, in the following year, with no way of knowing when or how or if she would ever escape it.

1998 had almost killed her once. She couldn't guarantee she would survive it a second time.

~xXx~

Standing at the window of her bedroom, the large sketchpad propped against the window, Nicol finished the last strokes of the jacket sleeve and stepped back to admire the sketch she'd spent all evening working on. Art had been her passion for so long; portraits were her thing, and the one she'd just finished had worked out so well, she should have been proud

And yet, somehow...

Somehow she just

...wasn't feeling it.

Wasn't feeling anything.

She lifted her glass and sipped the red wine sitting by her bed but it was tasteless. Her snack lay beside it, discarded after only a bite or two. It hadn't tasted right either. Why did nothing taste right? why did nothing smell right? Why did the colours around her room suddenly seem so subdued? Why did the music playing on her stereo, the songs that had once stirred up so much emotion with their perfection, suddenly fade away and leave her cold?

"Why," she whispered, "do I feel so empty?"

She slowly hung her head, the lyrics of the song her radio blasted into the room reflecting the way she felt to such a degree that a shiver travelled down her spine;

#...I think my heart must be made of clay,
'cause everyone said it would be broken someday.
And now I've come to that fateful day,
so I sit on the floor
with my head in my hands.
And don't tell me how to make it pay,
I write a new song every day.
I just wish I was made of wood,
I might not feel pain,
even if I should, even if I should,
if I should...#

She closed her eyes and sank onto her bed. This wasn't right. Not right at all. But she couldn't put her finger on what was wrong, so how could she even start to make it right?

"I feel like I'm dead inside," she whispered.

~xXx~

He danced like he hadn't since he was eighteen years old; lost to the music and the booze and the moment. The heady atmosphere of the nightclub, the pulsating beats and the lights around the space took Simon mentally away from everything as he lost himself to the motion. He felt so free. He felt as though the night could just about last forever. He let his body move without fear of humiliation or laughter. He didn't care, just for one night. With his suit jacket and his tie discarded in the cloakroom he looked good and he felt good and with a good looking young guy giving him attention it was a night like he hadn't experienced in years.

He let the swell of people around him fade into the distance. It was just him and the music an an unexpected night. Fuck the hangover, fuck tomorrow, for once Simon Shoebury was going to live for the moment.

~x~

It hurt like nothing on earth. The pain inside his chest was unlike anything Keats had felt before. It didn't make sense to him, it was illogical. It wasn't like he'd been injured, there was no knife sticking out of his guts and no bullet hole in his chest. And yet the pain was so strong and so terrible that it made the gun shot he'd received the previous december feel like a scraze.

Without even realising what he was doing his hand rose to his chest, covering his heart. He wasn't sure why. Maybe to protect it from further shrapnel from the sight that was killing him internally.

Had he really thought Simon was going to wait forever? Had he really thought that he could breeze in and out, for simon to pick up the pieces when it suited him? To run away time and again because he knew that Simon was just dumb enough to wait around as long as it took?

No, wait. Not dumb. He felt like he was choking as he realised that word was so very wrong. Loyal, faithful, compassionate, caring, determined, all of the above.

People treated Simon like a joke and, shit, Keats knew he was guiltier of that than most, but he wasn't laughing now.

Suddenly the man he'd watched from afar so many times; the one he'd followed at a distance, the one whose door he'd walked right to but on which he'd never had the courage to knock, the one who made him think things he wasn't used to thinking, the one who made him feel -

The one who made him feel.

And there he was; the man, Simon, in the middle of the dance floor where his body was in motion, his mind absorbed by the beat, and the rest of the club were moving in his direction, the eyes of the crowd fixed upon him appreciatively. His strong profile where once frowns had kept the world at a distance now seemed free, strong, and – fuck – really pretty-damned handsome. There were other men dancing closer and closer to him, trying to get his attention as the one he'd seen Simon leaving with pressed a fresh bottle into Simon's hand, leaning closer to be heard over the music, making him laugh and setting off a smile that Keats had so rarely seen.

It burned him inside.

What did you expect, Jim? What did you expect? Walk away, it's not like you need him. You don't need anyone. He's the one with the fucking fixation.

Acid burned in his chest and he tried to swallow it down but the dark feeling wouldn't go away. What was it? It was trying to suffocate him. It made him feel like he couldn't breathe. Or was it just that he didn't want to?

Because breathing meant living and right then he couldn't think of a single reason to go on.

The guilty and the anger and the regret mixed together like a potent poison that swirled around inside of him, dragging his body from the club one frantic footstep after another, blundering through the crowd causing shrieks and swearing as he knocked from one clubber to another and finally stumbled out of the door where he fell heavily against a large plant pot, coughing and spluttering as his guts attempted to purge themselves of their contents but as he'd eaten nothing all day he lost little but bile.

Unfamiliar sensations took him over, crushing the heart inside his chest, forcing water from the corner of his eyes. It took some time for him to realise the sensation was crying. Fuck, what the hell was happening?

That was it. He was broken. And the only one who'd ever tried too put him back tgether was no longer waiting in the wings.

Jim Keats had nothing left but tears and regret. This time Simon wasn't going to be there with the TCP to fix him.

~xXx~

The bubbles lapped over Alex's shoulders as she sank into the tub, peering at new husband lying opposite, their legs entwined. She reached out lazily to take the glass from beside her and sipped the champagne slowly. It was late, so late they should have been asleep before now, especially if they wanted to be up for their flight the next day, but neither could resist the size of that bath.

"So," she began as she smiled at him, "funny old day?"

Gene gave a grunt and eyed her, attempting not to smirk.

"Last time I said that to you I believe there were threats of violence," he reminded her.

Alex smiled.

"I thought I would get in with the remark before you did," she said and Gene had to look away to stop himself from smiling. "It was though," Alex commented, "between the Super persuading our guests to answer half his crossword clues, your friend Phyllis scaring Simon into the toilet for half an hour, a homicidal vicar and Robin's musical aspirations I don't think it could have been much stranger."

Gene nodded. She was probably right about that.

"I'm not worried about whether it's been a funny old day, I'm more worried about how we're going to make best use of the night," he told her and raised an eyebrow.

"Oh yes?"

Gene nodded.

"Posh bottle of bubbly, king sized bed... me and you, Bolly."

"Explosive combination," Alex commented, raising an eyebrow.

Gene thought to himself as he let his foot wander between Alex's legs for a moment.

"Consummation of marriage," he began, "is that a legal requirement?"

"I'm not sure but it's one we've already fulfilled if so."

Gene hesitated.

"Not sure we have, Bols. Not officially."

"Tell that to the poor grave digger who got an eyeful!" Alex told him, "And Kim and Robin."

"I think the law states," Gene cleared his throat, "that marriage has to be consummated in a king-sized bed, with a selection of honeymoon lingerie."

Alex raised her eyebrow.

"Oh it does, does it?" she asked.

Gene nodded.

"No time like the present, he told her.

With the broadest of smiles, Alex Hunt had to agree.