I've finally actually updated within a reasonable timeframe! Mainly because large parts of this chapter were already written (I tend to write things out of order). Oh, well. I'll try and update maybe once more before Christmas, if I don't finish one of the two Christmas fics I've got floating around. I don't own Bread, original Joey in mind (he is the one with more Joetina chemistry, after all) and so on.

7

The remorse of Joey Boswell

'Next!'

That had never been a word to make Joey seize up. Adrian, perhaps, but not him. He'd always seen the Social Security as a place of victory, not a place of terror – but today, to him, the atmosphere felt distinctly different.

He'd had a strangely good morning, considering he was still trying to recover from his heart being ripped out. Billy's gob had opened fire the second he'd sat down with his paper (something about Connie and not wanting to marry him had entered the conversation somewhere), but when Joey had opened his mouth to respond, his Mam had beaten him to it.

Don't you go pestering our Joey. He's fragile at the moment.

The words left an unpleasant taste in his mouth. Fragile. Much as Joey craved a bit of peace, having everyone tread lightly around him because he was fragile, treating him like an emotional invalid, wasn't exactly what he had in mind. It was emasculating, in a way. Our Joey's incompetent, he's incapable of doing his job would have been a kinder way of putting it. What he'd really hoped for was more along the lines of our Joey isn't a dumping ground for all the problems you could sort out yourself.

Still, it was a start, anyway. It was a start, and a step in the right direction, at least. They really were trying to honour his request. He'd see how it all went in due course – but for the moment, he had a far more immediate problem to deal with: getting up and going over to Martina's counter. Just at this moment, those few steps from his chair to her desk constituted the most harrowing journey he'd ever been on.

Joey pondered his approach, remembering the glorious days when he would stride down here, pay a pound for a little lad to score him the first ticket and then triumphantly burst into the room when Martina called out the first number.

He'd come on a mission today, albeit a different one to the sort that made up his usual DSS visits – he was going to have to eat an enormous slice of humble pie in front of Martina and apologise as best as he was able for what had transpired over the weekend.

God, she was bloody annoying at times, what with her determination to remind him at every opportunity that she was out to get him – particularly when she seemed to regard his every attempt to be friendly, his every attempt at a truce as something to be viewed with suspicion. She'd gone a little bit down in his estimation after she'd refused to listen to him about Shifty – and though he'd still pitied her when it inevitably went south, when Shifty inevitably did the dirty on her, a little piece of him hadn't been able to help thinking well, serves you right for ignoring advice, doesn't it? Her determination to tar him with a criminal brush had grated on him one too many times, and then seeing her on his doorstep, having come to prod him out of hiding, had just driven Joey to the brink.

Part of that annoyingness also manifested in how bloody attractive she was when Joey wanted to put women out of his mind for good. He could have done without having her stuck in his honeymoon suite overnight, sleeping beside him, slinking around the room in his dressing gown, laying her clothes out in front of the fire (he'd caught a flash of pink lace knickers at some point, skimpier than he'd have pegged her for wearing, before she'd pushed her blouse over them to obscure them from view), glaring at him with those enormous, stern eyes, which had always had more of an effect on him than he'd let on. She'd driven his mind and body even madder than they already were while he was moping about, wifeless.

And yet in spite of becoming the biggest pain in his arse to date over the span of about twelve hours, Joey couldn't deny what an enormous favour she'd done him. She'd dragged him back to his feet, got him back home where he belonged, pushed him to start a conversation with his Mam that had gone…surprisingly well, actually. And while the devastation lived on in his chest, he had just enough strength, enough fumes to run on to get him out of bed and into a new day.

He had her to thank for that. Joey was also becoming embarrassingly aware that, clouded by the mess of despair, frustration, hopelessness and anger, he hadn't really stopped to think – properly think – about why she'd come. He'd furiously assumed she'd gone mad, but now he was a bit calmer, her words came back to him.

And I'm not happy, Mister Boswell, that after landin' meself in hot water with me superiors trying to keep you on the list – God even knows why – you are deliberately carrying on this way.

He'd gone on assuming, consumed by himself and his own mental breakdown, that she'd come up just to have a go, just to annoy him. It hadn't really occurred to him she might have had her own troubles to deal with – and that he constituted one of them.

The 'closed' sign was down on her partition; she was eating salad out of a little plastic tub. She hadn't seen him yet and he paused, considering his approach.

Joey was aware the last time he'd seen her (well, the last time she'd seen him, he supposed you would call it, given she was the one who'd hunted him down), he hadn't been particularly polite to her. And that was putting it mildly – throwing things at her out of frustration, insulting her, putting her over his shoulder when she hadn't wanted to go to the station, kicking her out his car when they reached the DSS, being generally standoffish and completely unlike himself – he felt incredibly guilty about the whole thing. He owed her, really. She'd got him out of his rut, dragged him out kicking and screaming.

And now, even though he still felt like a great big hole had been ripped out of his middle, even though just getting through the day was an enormous exertion, he'd been able to pull himself together enough to put on his nicest outfit (new leather jacket; a lovely long coat with gold trim and gold buttons he'd bought just before his wedding, silk shirt with the top buttons undone enough to show off his six gold chains, gold signet ring on his right hand, the lot), rake a comb through his hair and stride in looking more like Joey Boswell than he had in a long time, and less like the sod who'd followed Roxy around, been trampled by his brothers' demands and been stuck in a filthy organic food shop. (He didn't know what was going to happen with that now, either, now his Dad was back, but that was something to deal with another day).

'Greetings!' He said the word with relish, enjoying how the trill felt on his tongue, enjoying how acting like himself made him almost feel like himself again. Perhaps if he faked this long enough, he really would become that Joey again one day.

Martina's eyes flicked upwards in his direction, but otherwise she didn't acknowledge him. She speared a piece of lettuce with her fork and chewed it aggressively.

Joey sat down, pulled out his most winning smile for her.

'I'm on my lunch, Mister Boswell.'

'Oh, this won't take long.'

She rolled her eyes.

'Any particular reason for this royal visit?'

'I believe you said I could put me signature to your form and have my allowance restored.'

Martina looked oddly approving.

'Good to see you've finally come to your senses and remembered you actually have to turn up if you want your giro.'

'Not a bad way of earning, is it? If that's all I have to do. Not bad.'

'You 'ave a very broad definition of the word earning, Mister Boswell,' Martina rolled her eyes. So far so good; she was acting as she always had around him.

Deciding to push it, Joey reached into her tub of salad and pilfered a piece of cucumber.

'Eh—do you mind?!'

'Haven't had any yet. I missed it at home.'

'Helping yourself to mine was not the next best option.'

'Convenient, though.' He swiped a bit of lettuce.

Martina rolled her eyes. 'God, taking the state's money isn't enough for you. You're after its food now as well.'

'Not the state's. Just yours.'

'And what have I done to deserve this?'

'I think you know. So can I?'

'Can you what?'

'Autograph your form?'

Martina shook her head in what he could have sworn was mirth, sliding a form towards him. Joey took the opportunity of her hands being busy to reach over and pluck out a piece of tomato from her salad.

'Fill that –eh!'

He put it very slowly in his mouth.

'If you touch my lunch again, Mister Boswell – '

Just to be defiant, he touched it again.

Martina gave up, pushing the tub of salad towards him. 'Just take it.'

'Oh, no,' Joey teased, knowing he should stop, but feeling that this was the first time in weeks…no, perhaps even years…he'd actually got real enjoyment out of something. 'Wouldn't want to deprive you of it, sweetheart.'

'You've deprived me of half of it.' Martina scowled at him. 'And you've put me right off, putting your 'ands all over it.'

Joey scoffed. 'They're clean.'

'Literally if not figuratively.'

'Why, Miss Martina,' Joey pretended to be indignant, 'anyone would think you're accusing me of doin' shady things!'

'Oh, yeah. Anyone'd think I'd been accusing you of them for many years, and reminding you nearly every day I'm gonna catch you out, wouldn't they? Oh, give over!' She smacked at his hand, creeping towards her food again.

'It's not as if I've got anything catching, is it?'

'And how do I know that?'

'Given we slept in the same bed, sweetheart, I think chances are if I had anything catching, you'd have it by now.'

Martina flushed, visibly embarrassed, though she was trying to pretend she was merely mildly annoyed by him.

'And, er…speakin' of the weekend,' Joey said, gripped by sudden nerves. Evidently Martina was as well; she looked like a deer in headlights. 'I, er…I owe you an apology.'

The deer in headlights look intensified. 'Apology?'

'Yeah, I…didn't particularly…behave in a gentlemanlike manner towards you, did I? And, er… some of the things I did to you…it just wasn't on, was it? You didn't deserve that…whatever the provocation.'

Martina sighed heavily, her shoulders going up and down. She still looked surprised; he supposed he didn't blame her, though the sigh seemed an indirect admission she wasn't angry at him anymore. At the whatever the provocation remark, Joey's desperate attempt to inject a bit of his usual, obnoxious sense of humour into the conversation, she relaxed a little, eyes narrowing in her usual fashion, mouth twitching almost imperceptibly. That was a bit more like it. Now she was returning to her old self, Joey felt a bit more confident in finishing his sentiment.

'You did me a massive favour, in a way… even if I was pissed off about it at the time.'

'All's well in Kelsall Street then?' Martina smirked for the first time today.

'Not…exactly. But it's…better. And I sort of wanted to…thank you, I suppose. I didn't think I was gonna make it, for a minute. And you showin' up sort of forced me to. I don't know exactly why you did it, but…thanks. I owe you dinner sometime.'

Martina gave a curt nod.

'Don't flatter yourself to think it was for your benefit, Mister Boswell. If people don't honour their appointments in my department, I'm gonna see to it that they do…whatever it takes. Remember that in future.'

Another flutter of guilt ran through Joey. She had, by her own admission, been in trouble with her superiors because of him.

'About that… I suppose I should, er… apologise for bludgin' off as well.'

'You suppose you should,' Martina said, 'and yet that sounds like a way of bending the rules just enough that you don't 'ave to apologise, but can make it sound as if you 'ave.'

'Are you just that in tune with me, sunshine, or have you developed Extra-Sensory Perception?'

'Oh, believe me, Mister Boswell, if I had ESP, I'd have discovered, catalogued and reported every one of your devious little schemes by now. You'd prob'ly be behind bars.'

Joey chuckled, and then made his face as serious as he could, clasping his hands together dramatically.

'Dearest, loveliest Martina, I apologise most humbly and most deeply for skiving off my appointments, and leavin' you in a position where chasin' me in another country was preferable to gettin' the rap at work for the trouble I caused you.'

She was amused, even as she folded her arms and tried to look stern.

'Don't let it happen again.'

'Only until the next time,' Joey teased, earning one of her specialty glares, and bringing to his face a proper smile for the first time in God knows how long.

'Are we…all right?'

'We were never all right, Mister Boswell. But if this is your roundabout way of askin' for my forgiveness, you have it.'

Something settled in Joey's chest at that. He wasn't even sure why, but knowing that Martina wasn't angry at him – or at least wouldn't be any more – had cheered him up.

'On yer bike, Mister Boswell,' she said, giving him a cross little wave. 'Hopefully you enjoyed eating my lunch for me.'

'Bit bland,' Joey said, just to see the look on her face. 'Ever heard of salt, sweetheart? It's that white stuff that gives food flavour.'

'Ever heard of blood, Mister Boswell? It's that red stuff that comes out when someone punches you in the gob, because you've driven them past their breaking point with your gall.'

'You,' Joey wasn't quite up to a full laugh, not yet, but a smile he could do. She made him feel normal again, and he was glad he'd made it up with her, if that's what you could call it. She brightened his day, in a being a pain in the arse sort of a way. 'I shall return.'

He exaggerated his stride as he made for the door, just to seal the renewal of their usual working relationship.

'Oh – and…Mister Boswell?'

Joey paused, head craning over his shoulder to look back at her.

'Welcome back.' She was smiling at him now – a proper, genuine one, and that confused Joey.

'To what, sweetheart?'

'Reality, Mister Boswell.' And now the smile was a bit wicked, but even lovelier for it, and Joey came over all strange. 'The real world.'

Now Joey's tackled that conversation, some more fun stuff can happen. Stay tuned.