All He Ever Had

Rose G

'Sit down, Mickey.' The Yorkshire man shut the door, then slid into his accustomed seat behind the desk. The harsh light and the closed blinds created an unreal atmosphere, made both men seem like ghosts in the twilight. 'I should have asked earlier; can I get you a tea or something?'

Mickey's stomach roiled at the thought; Meadows caught his expression and acknowledged it. How amazing…how much he knows about me even when I don't speak to him. But then, how much Delaney took from me without ever speaking to me. Mickey let his eyes fall shut and breathed a silent prayer for strength that went unanswered.

'Alright, Mickey. You know I'm going to have to ask you some very personal questions, don't you? It's likely that you'll find recalling the incident almost as upsetting as it was to experience it. We can stop…'

Mickey interrupted the too-familiar spiel that he had often delivered to victims. Once, he'd thought those words were well meaning, comforting. Today, it struck him as the very height of insensitiveness. How dare he tell me what I might feel? How the fuck does he know? He didn't realise that Meadows had never taken a statement from a rape victim; that Meadows was unaware of what to do for the best. He must know…He must do.

'Guv, please. You leave this – I won't be able to do it. Just, jus' get it over with. Please?'

The DCI took a deep breath and reached out one hand to start the tape recorder. 'Statement given by DC Mickey Webb, 10.10.03.' For me only. I wish I could let you know they'll never hear this; I won't let them hear it, Mickey.

'I just want to ask you some general questions before we talk about what happened. It was yesterday that Delaney raped you. Have you seen a doctor since then?'

'No. I took some painkillers last night, is all.' And then I drunk until I threw up, so they didn't help. 'It hurt so bad; I had to.' Mickey was angry at himself for that, had always hated taking the chance of drugs slowing his reactions. But the pain slowed me more.

'Would you mind seeing a doctor later today?' An unspoken plea hovered on the end of that sentence.

'There's nothing wrong with me.' Another man had sex with me…touched me. They can't cure that…

'Just for confirmation, to back up the statement. Would you mind?' That held the ring of command, a tone that Mickey was incapable of resisting when he was well and certainly couldn't now.

He picked up the cricket ball from the desk, moving it from one hand to another and staring intently at what he was doing. 'Not on my own.' Not even for you, guv'nor. I can't do that.

'You don't have to be on your own. I'll come, if that helps. Or Romani would.'

No. Not her, never anyone else.

'Now, a couple more things that the jury will want to know. Understand, I'm not interested in the answers, not as your superior officer. So anything you say… I won't say anything. The jury are interested; I couldn't care less.'

A wan effort in smiling in response. 'Yes.' Bile was rising in Mickey's throat.

'Okay. Are you in a relationship at the moment?'

'Hah!' The bitter, explosive laugh answered that question. 'Not for months, a year now. Since Kate – left.' Died. You coward. She died; can't you say that? I can't cope; I miss her so much. God, not so much.

'What about one-night stands or anything?'

'I thought you knew me better than that, Guv.'

'Sorry. I have to ask, is all. Have you ever had a sexual relationship with another man?'

Mickey knew there were tears in his eyes, threatening to fall and an icy coldness in his soul. 'Never…Except…my dad. He used to force me…touch me…But I'm straight, me.'

Meadows reached one hand over to Mickey, tried to clasp the younger man's hand but Mickey flinched away. 'I'm sorry, so sorry. I know about your dad, but I had to ask. I didn't mean…It was just in case Delaney has – anything. And so that he can't get out of this by saying the marks were caused by some-one else you were sleeping with.'

I know you didn't. You wouldn't hurt me like they do.

'Do you still want to do this, Mickey?'

Mickey nodded his face so pale now that his soft blue eyes and the contusions on his brow looked livid. 'Maybe it'll help get…Delan- him.' I can't say his name! Panic seared his mind.

'Alright. Tell me what happened yesterday. Everything.'

'I went to that warehouse after I got off. Wanted to see if he was there.'

'Even when I'd told everyone to be careful going after him?'

'I thought you only meant the girls. I didn't…didn't think he'd … And I thought I could get him. Almost did.' A shadow of a rebellious grin crossed his face and was gone before Meadows was sure of its appearance.

You would, wouldn't you? You'll get yourself killed one day. Maybe that's what Delaney wanted to do to you and you were just lucky…No, if being lucky means ending up like you, I think I'd rather be cursed. 'So you arrived at the warehouse when? Around midday? You drove there?'

A sudden flash of pathetic humour. 'Nah, proceeding at slightly above walking pace and costing myself an arm and a leg in the process. Yeah – driving.'

'Where did you park?'

'Just outside the yard. I walked over – I was looking for him. Only he saw me first, when I was walking through the main entrance…I think I knew then…when I saw his face…'

'Knew what?'

Shit, did I just say that aloud? 'That he was going to hurt me.' His voice was a whisper.

'Why didn't you radio or call for help?'

'Because – because I still thought I could catch him. And I didn't want him to know I was there; if I'd just imagined him seeing me, like. A fool's hope, really. Like everything else in my life.'

'What happened then?' Meadows made a conscious effort to lighten his voice, aware that this was getting harder and harder for Mickey; that only courage kept the younger man from breaking down.

'I carried on into the building. I lost sight of him for a while, so I shut the doors up.'

'Why?'

Why? Because Deakin was right when he told me that I think with my plonker instead of my brains. 'I didn't want him to escape, and I thought, if I shut it up like I belonged there, he might ignore me for long enough.'

Meadows went to speak, but Mickey carried on, slowly and reflectively. Colour removed the shroud of pain from his face, replacing it with blind dread and embarrassment. He recounted how Delaney had silently rounded a corner behind him, hit him and grabbed his handcuffs before Mickey could regain his balance, then how Delaney had overpowered him and cuffed him, in a way that would be over-dramatised by the word 'fight.'

'You're strong enough, aren't you, Mickey? Was something wrong?'

Mickey scuffed one of his shoes against the dusty carpet. 'I've got a bad arm – sprained it playing football a few weeks ago. Couldn't say anything because it would have got back to Skip, and he wouldn't have let me play this Saturday.' And now I can't fucking play. Can't ever get changed in front of them. Lost that an' all.

Meadows looked sympathetic; remembered pulling similar stunts in his time. 'The doc can look at that later, as well. What then?'

'I walked. How can you argue with some-one who's got you cuffed? And he had a knife.'

With barely contained fury, Meadows asked 'Was he hurting you?'

'No, not very much. Enough – enough to make you do as he said.' It hurt, it hurt, but if I tell him that – how can I? I'm so weak…

'It doesn't matter. It doesn't matter, Mickey. He'll get assault as well as rape.' He exhaled heavily. 'Promise. He'll pay.' Not enough, never enough; I'd have to kill him for that. Twice.

Mickey nodded, rubbing at his wrist. Odd, I didn't notice this 'til now and it bloody hurts. Ashamed, he run through the rest of that slow dead march, the knowledge that Delaney was armed, was stronger and fitter than him not counting for anything. I failed – I gambled, and it didn't come off, so now I have to pay for it. My fault – it wouldn't have happened, else. All my fault…