Trapped, a water rats fanfic

Trapped
By Camilla Sandman

Disclaimer: Not mine, never has been.

Author's Notes: This one was started before I saw the last ep ever of Water Rats, so ignore all events in that ep for the duration of this fic. Thank you

To EvilBunny – may you pee forever. Just not on me

Dark. Slowly a thought began to edge its way into Mick Reilly's head. Darkness. Then, a sharp white light penetrated with throbbing pain and an overwhelming urge to clutch his head came over him. Except he couldn't. His hands were locked under something, something hard and cold.

He tried to open his eyes, but found to his horror that they were already open. It was still completely dark.

Where was he? Pushing at whatever held him trapped, he had to clench his teeth not to scream as pain jolted through him like liquid fire. Finally, his one hand was free. His eyes had begun adjusting to the dark, and he could see the outlines of what had to be a cave or something like it. He was trapped under some rocks, dark and pointy. He could only imagine the bruises they had given him. Had he fallen down?

As he tried freeing his other arm, he realised it was broken. And in a sudden flash one memory came to him, playing out before him like he was watching a video. Him and Alex, robbed of their guns and mobile phones, and a third man, hunting them with his car. Alex had cried out a warning, just as the ground had crumbled under them and they had fallen.

"Alex?" he called out in desperation, tearing his arm free even though every nerve in his body screamed out in protest. There were no reply, and his voice sounded pale and not at all like it should.

"Alex!"

"Rachel!" Jack bolted up in bed, breathing heavily as he looked around. She had been there, babbling about colours, alive and more beautiful than ever. Taking a few quick breaths, he realised it had been a dream. A dream he thought he'd been free of a long time ago.

Rachel Goldstein was dead, and there was nothing he could do about it. He had to look ahead and at the fact that Helen would skin him if he was late again. Cursing, he practically rolled out of bed, steeling his mind against the film playing in his head. He'd seen it often enough. Rachel's death and last words, as clear as it had happened yesterday. He hated those words for what they implied as much as the pain of watching her die Again.

He wondered briefly what could have triggered the dream this time, but didn't really put much thought into it as he got dressed and exited his house without even grabbing any breakfast.

Or checking his machine where the light indicating messages glowed ominously.

As the daylight above began to intensify, a grey light began to fill the hole or cave where they'd fallen. But even in the dim light, Mick couldn't see any sign of Alex. A little voice inside him was starting to panic. He refused to consider the consequences of the fact that she was unable to answer him. Stretching his hands in front of him, he used them to search where the light didn't penetrate. His fingers only met cold rock and earth. Desperation rose in him like a tide until he came across a hole downwards. He couldn't see a bottom of it, but it was possible that a person could have fallen down.

"Alex?" he called out again, but the darkness offered no answers.

Strangely enough, as he passed by the desk, Donna didn't even look up. For a second Jack felt a stab of relief, than he wondered what could distract the blonde enough not to come pester him in her usual fashion. He got his answer half way up the stairs as Helen came rushing towards him. Her eyes were dark with worry, and he got the feeling she hadn't slept at all.

"Where have you been, I've tried to reach you all night!" she swung at him, then continued without giving him time to reply. "Alex and Mick have been missing since last night!"

"What?"

"They followed up on the Ginger case, and no one has heard from nor seen them." Worry crept into her voice. "Their car was found in the harbour this morning. No sign of them. Their mobiles were found too, Jack."

For a moment Jack had to steady himself. To his wonder, it wasn't Mick's voice, urging for Jack's help on the Ginger case the day before that crept into his head, but Rachel's.

"Not Ginger, Red," she said matter-of-factly, and then she was gone again.

"Have they..?" he began, and Helen answered before he had even finished his question.

"The divers have been out since early this morning. They haven't found them."

Ice-cold determination filled Jack. They were not dead. He wouldn't let them be dead. No more deaths on his shoulder. No more.

"You're going mad, Jack, no doubt about it," a cool voice stated, but he ignored it.

"Alex?" The voice was insisting, calling out her name again and again. It bothered her, she would much rather return to the dark and painless state of unawareness. But the voice didn't go away, and with it came slow, aching pain.

"Alex!" It sounded like Mick, but what was he doing in her bedroom? Had they.. No, she would have remembered that. Stretching out, she felt a hand brush against hers.

"Alex! Take my hand!" Stretching out again, she took the offered hand and felt herself being pulled. Slowly, she moved upwards until dim, grey light greeted her and she looked up into Mick's face. Sweat was bathing on his forehead, and he looked ready to faint. Blood stained his clothes in several places, and his left arm seemed to dangle aimlessly.

Pulling her up and onto the ground where he was sitting seemed to take his last strength. As crawled up, he leaned back against a rock and went limp. His hand in hers felt cold and lifeless.

"Mick!" she called out, never letting go of his hand.

"Ginger Sweet" aka Henriette Ruben. A stripper who had been found floating dead near Luna Park, shot five times. Mick and Alex had suspected the boyfriend, as far as Jack knew, but there had been no solid evidence. So what evidence could Mick and Alex have stumbled upon? Something to implicate the boyfriend? Or a new suspect? Groaning, Jack pushed away the case files. It had to be in there somewhere, the key to finding Alex and Mick. Ginger's killer could very well be Mick and.. No, they weren't dead. His mind pushed the thought forcefully away.

"Not Ginger – Red," Rachel urged him. Grabbing the case file, he threw it at the wall. Paper flew everywhere, falling around him like large pieces of snow.

"Shut up!" he hissed through clenched teeth, clutching his head. Not now. Not this. Not her. Not again.

And as the papers drifted down to the ground beside him, he wondered if his life was going to pieces as well.

"Mick!" Alex was frantically calling out his name, holding his body as close to hers as she could. He felt so cold, his breath barely detectable.

"Come on, Mick," she begged, her own voice sounding very small and bleak. He didn't stir, and she had no idea what to do. Her mind seemed blank. There was only one thing she could think of, appropriate or not.

She planted one on him, the biggest and most sensuous kiss she had in her arsenal.

"Had I known that was all it took to get me to kiss you, I would have done it ages ago," came Mick's voice as she broke the kiss off, his voice having just a little hint of his usual mischief in it. She would have decked him had she not been so relieved.

"That's not funny, Michael," she said, just as the first bolt of lightning flashed over the sky.

"Still no sign of them," Helen was saying, but the rest of her voice faded away and Jack paid no attention. His mind seemed to run several scenarios in his head. Mick's funeral, Alex's funeral, Rachel's funeral..

"Jack? Are you listening to me?"

And then new detectives would come, and life would pretend to go on. But it wouldn't. Too much death had come already. Numbness would follow, and life would never quite be life again.

He finally looked up to meet Helen's glance, and saw the silent tears running down her cheek. Pulling her into his embrace, he made her a promise as well as himself.

"I'll find them Helen. I'll find them."

Within minutes, rain was pouring down, a small pieces of wet dirt began to fall down. Edging away from the opening, Alex and Mick found an as comfortable position as possible. It seemed only natural to remain in a semi-embrace.

"You think Jack will figure it out?" Mick asked, trying to ignore the growing pain in left arm.

"We called him just before Henry came at us," she replied softly, trying not to think of a large burger with fires and a cold glass of coke. Yet the imagine persisted, suddenly seeming more appealing than all the riches in the world.

"He should have been here by now if he had," Mick pointed out, just as a large rock fell down a mere couple of centimetres away. Both looked up at the distant opening above, neither saying what they were thinking.

How long till the ground gave in and the whole thing would come crashing down at them?

It was beginning to darken outside when Jack finally began picking up the papers lying around his office. The rain was pouring down in undiminished strength, washing away possible evidence. The search had been abandoned for the day, to be resumed at the fist light of day.

As he leaned down to pick up a few papers off the floor, he noticed that one paper had landed perfectly on his chair. But he could have sworn it hadn't been there just minutes ago. Throwing a quick look at it, he saw it was a transcript of an interview with the victim's father.

Henry Ruben. "Red". Several pieces seem to come together at once. Not Ginger – Red. The father. He owned a large property close to the airport. Where no one could hear five shots over the noise of the planes. And where cars driving out and in wouldn't be that strange, and so no one would notice a couple of detectives driving out.. and their car being driven out by someone else later.

They had to be there. But what state they were in, he didn't really want to think about.

Leaning in closer to Mick, Alex felt a small pull in the back of her mind urging her to go to sleep. She was so cold and so hungry and so thirsty, and it would be so very easy to just drift off. But if she did, would she ever wake up again?

"Don't fall asleep on me, Alex," Mick muttered, his own voice sounding slightly drowsy. "If you do, you owe me a date."

"Is that a reward or a punishment?" she joked, trying to keep her voice light

"You can pick the place."

"That could cost you seriously, Michael Reilly." Was it really her voice that sounded so weak and tired? "What about Emma?"

"That's pretty much over:"

"Oh."

They fell silent for a while, the rain drumming away. And soundlessly, the ground above them gave away and fell.

Pulling into the parking lot as the rain seemed to intensify, Jack left the headlights on as he exited the car. It was hard to see anything beyond a couple of metres. The ground was soft and muddy. But even in the heavy rain, he could make out the outline of car tracks going away from the parking lot. Following them, he almost tripped a dozen times on slippery rocks until the tracks stopped suddenly and seemed to have backed away and headed in another direction.

Glancing ahead, he saw a huge hole in the ground. Even before he saw Mick's lifeless body down there as a bolt of lightning lit up, he knew.

And inside his head, Rachel smiled.

The sun had just crept over the horizon as Jack entered the hospital. Henry Ruben had been arrested, the murder of "Ginger Sweet" had been solved and the Water Police still had three detectives. Even though it had been a very close call. Mick had gotten the worst of it, protecting Alex with his own body from falling rocks and dirt. A few more hours, and he might not have made it.

All in all, it was a good start to the day, Jack decided. He felt strangely relived too, as he hadn't heard Rachel speak since he had found Mick and Alex.

Thought he had heard Rachel, Jack corrected himself. She was dead. He was hallucinating. It was the stress. He almost believed that was the explaintion. Almost.

Entering Mick's room, he immidiately noticed Alex in a chair beside the bed. She had several ugly bruises, but colour had returned to her face.

"How is he?"

"He hasn't regained consciousness yet," Alex sounded anxious, and seemed to be speaking to herself more than anything. "The doctor said he would be fine. He broke a few ribs, his left arm and got a small fracture in the skull."

"They arrested Henry Ruben at the airport. Apparently the heavy rain had stopped his plane from taking off," Jack informed her, getting no sign from Alex that she had even heard him.

"Alex?"

"You weren't there, Jack. You were supposed to be there."

"I was.."

"Mick saved my life when it caved in." Alex didn't bother looking up, hanging onto Mick's hand as if it meant life or death to let go. Closing her eyes, she leaned her head against the bed.

"Hey," came Mick's voice drifting

"Hey," she replied softly, both seeming to forget that Jack even was there. Lifting a finger, Mick pushed a strand of hair away from her face. She smiled at him, a more brilliant smile than Jack had ever gotten from her.

"You owe me a date," Mick smiled, leaving Jack to wonder just what had been going on behind his back.

"I do not!"

"Do to!"

Jack left them like that, wandering down the hallway. Neither noticed. To his wonder, he felt a stab of envy. It wasn't that different to what he had felt sometimes in the same room as Frank and Rachel. He wondered briefly if he was always meant to be a bit on the outside. Rachel had loved him, but she had loved Frank just as much, if not more. Would there ever be someone just for him? As crazy as it was, he almost missed Rachel's voice in his head. Even if it was a sure sign he was going crazy.

But Mick and Alex were alive and no longer trapped, and he was alive, and there was paperwork to be done and he really should get home and change clothes. Sophie had called, and would be by later. So he pushed away all regrets and morose thoughts and stepped into the warm and brilliant sunlight.