All He Ever Had 4

Rose G

Suddenly, they were back in interview mode, the DCI not uncaring but no longer showing a friend's concern that had marked him minutes earlier. Can I call him a friend? Really? I mean, I wouldn't tell my friends about this, but he wants to know…Jack? The whir of the tape recorder disturbed his musings.

'Where had you got to? Delaney had walked you into the main bit of the warehouse. Was that were Smithy found you?'

'Yeah.' A quiet, almost below hearing, admission. 'There.'

'Then what?'

'He's a big bastard, he is. Much taller than me. Heavier. He tripped me against that table. Couldn't get up, I couldn't. My arms…' Mickey pulled his shirt sleeves back, showing the red rind burnt by the cuffs. 'He tightened them.' He fumbled at the cigarette packet, was pathetically grateful when Meadows took it from his hands and passed him once. A friend. Of course, my friend. How could I ever doubt that, when he let me come here? Shouldn't have.

Meadows asked the next question silently, afraid that he would vomit if he opened his mouth. And then what, Mickey? What did he do to you? The hollow emptiness in Mickey's eyes horrified him.

Mickey let his eyes fall shut for a second, and it was only with a great effort of will that he was able to speak. The words came as a hollow monologue, as Mickey tried to forget that they had any meaning for him, anything at all to do with him. He wanted to be reciting a play script that told of this happening to some-one else.

'It was dark there. Very dark, like you only get in those places. No windows, right in the middle of the building. An' all old machines and gear like it used to be a factory or something. Lots of dust in the air, every time we moved. He tasted of it.' Mickey raised a hand to his lips as if to brush away the feeling of Delaney's kisses, and it was only then that Meadows realised how torn and swollen his lips were. Like a bride on honey moon – all his innocence gone.

'He switched a light on. One of them lights that are really bright, but only over a little bit. I was sort of outside it. He wasn't – I could see him really well. He didn't mind that I saw him. He didn't care that I knew him.' Oh, Guv…Mickey thought half seriously about standing and leaving, fleeing, and was kept down by the pain that shot through his body as he went to stand. Too tired to stand…too tired to live…

As surely as if Delaney had been standing over him again, Mickey was a prisoner here, chained by the weakness of his body and the ghosts in his mind. Somehow, he appreciated that telling Meadows would help and yet the pain of telling him was too much, too much…

'You okay? We're doing alright.' Mickey flinched away from the gentle words, withdrawing into his private hell until Meadows believed that he could see the flames of his sprit flicker, until he believed that the man in front of him was choosing to die, dying because life had given him too much pain to deal with.

'After that…he just stood there, looking. Looking down at me. Couldn't move, he'd cuffed my arms behind me. And that knife…'

'What about the knife? What was he doing with it?'

'No-nothing. He h-held it.' Mickey chewed on the words, almost weeping again. No. Can't. Not in front of him. Nearly did yesterday. The already hazy memory of crouching on the warm grass by his mother's grave with the soft Yorkshire voice cajoling him into lowering his guard, helped. 'He had it in his right hand all the time. Even, even when…while he was…'

'While he what?' I know. Just say that I got it wrong. Please…I won't ask for anything else…

'You know, Guv. Smithy told you, I said…'

No, I didn't get it wrong, did I? Oh, Mickey, you poor bastard, I'd have taken that for you if I could have. Wouldn't I? 'I see, Mickey. Carry on.'

'He didn't speak very much. Asked me what I was doing…I'll never be able to listen to that accent without remembering…Said I was looking for some-one, a friend. B-but he knew I was a copper…told me he knew. Seen me before. He knew.

'He – he took his shirt off then. I guessed then – he'd raped those girls, hadn't he? Why should I be any different to them? Why shouldn't he rape me? Could see him thinking, thinking, about what he was going to do to me…I asked him, I said 'Are you going to rape me?' and he said…didn't say anything. Just nodded. Nodded…And I begged.' I was laying against that table, looking at his silhouette and begging…begging…crying…the cuffs were so cold.…

His voice broke, but he still couldn't cry, hadn't been able to cry by the grave yesterday with his head buried in his friend's shoulder. 'Oh, Jack. I begged him not to hurt me…That was worst. Worse than it was…I knew what he was going to do, an' I was asking him not to and he wouldn't stop…Oh, God…' He tried to cry, to ease the tightness in his chest, but could only manage a racking gasp for breath.

Jack, help me…Don't you care? Jack, I'm sorry, I couldn't help it. Blame Delan – him – not me. I'm sorry. Fighting for breath, he pulled his eyes up to meet Meadows, aware that he was loosing everything that he'd spent the past years winning – friendship, respect, trust. Sorry. The apology could have been to Meadows or himself. An apology for his own existence. He doubled over, struggling to breathe now. His eyes hurt. The silent scream of apology and denial rung in his ears.

Meadows reached across the desk, grasped Mickey's arm again in a gesture that was as near to love as he could show to another man. Both men were silent until Mickey regained his breath and relit his cigarette with a shaking hand. He cupped it in his fingers, glad of the warmth of the flame although it couldn't touch the cold that had settled onto his soul.

'Sorry.' This time Mickey was able to say the word aloud; carried on talking. 'I hated it. Hated it so much – so scared of him. Stupid, I know. De – deserved it.' Another near sob was forced from him, the world whirling around him and the firm grasp on his arm was his only bridge to the world of the sane. He coughed, choking.

'Here.' Layers of meaning shaded Meadows' voice as he passed Mickey a tea mug and watched him drink – concern, sadness, affection. 'Nearly there, now.' Then you'll get a medical examination, and we'll have to type up your statement, and you'll have to read it and sign it, and then you'll have to go to court, and the journalists will want to hear about 'Met. Can't protect it's male officers from sexual assault, so what chance have young girls got?' And you know all that, so why am I lying to you? I can't do it all with you – but I would. God help me Mickey, I would do anything I could for you, but you won't let me, will you?

'Ta.' He run one hand through sweat-lank hair, pushing it back from his eyes. 'After he took his shirt off, he knelt down by me. I was on the floor by then. I thought that was it, then. Took some cord an' tied it. Round my legs…didn' want me kicking 'im. Struggled…I struggled but the knife…'

'What was he doing with the knife?'

''Gainst my knee ligaments. Drew blood – I didn't want to end up in a wheelchair!' His voice was almost a scream on the last word, drenched with fear at the idea of being trapped. 'Took my trainers off – couldn't kick him. I screamed at him 'no'. Screamed and screamed. Smithy said … said I spewed blood after he found me…Screamed my throat that raw.'

Mickey could feel a chasm opening between his pain soaked world and Meadows'; a depth caused by fear and inability to understand, a gap bridged partly by the Dalesman's heart. 'Brave of you, Mickey.' The words were soft, pitched so low that Mickey was unsure whether he really heard them.

'He pulled my shirt and jacket up. He stripped off, totally. He undid my belt, pulled it all down, what I was wearing.'

Meadows heard the change in Mickey's narrative, the curious choice of words that he was using to distance himself from the events he was talking about.

Mickey's blue eyes bored holes in the desk. He couldn't look at Meadows any longer, couldn't look at anything other than the memory of Delaney's face above his as their lips met in an obscene parody of a kiss. 'And then he – he raped me, guv. Just like that – he raped me. Shut my eyes, tried not to look – made it worse. Still hurt, let me think too much. Looked at him – he was laughing…took hours…'

'How many times?'

'Three – three, I think. Dunno. More, no. Hurt so bad. Didn't matter .…All one, all one together. Didn't speak. He did. Saying I was a waster to keep myself to women. Just talk…talk like you'd give to a girl you was … with. Called me, called me … 'Pretty.' Took so long. His hands…' Mickey shivered.

'Hate being touched, anyway. You – you know. Know that. Like he did, his hands all over me. Taking. Touching. An' then' – Mickey sighed, a long exhalation of breath – 'he got off me. Left me 'lone. Alone…' He reached one hand up and unclasped the silver crucifix chain, dropping it onto the desk and pushing it away from him. 'Like He did. Like everyone did. All I ever had was me – no-one else, to look after me, ever. He's taken that from me now.'

Meadows remembered what Smithy had whispered to him yesterday, how Mickey had ignored his approach until Smithy had touched his arm, and then simply whispered 'Please, please, no more' without any emotion in his voice. God help you, Mickey, if only you'd let Him. It wasn't his fault anymore than it was yours…Never your fault, Mickey. I know I don't believe, but you…I wish you could now. Why are you so stubborn? I wish…I wish I could take it all from you, stop you hurting. I'd take all that…

'Then he got dressed again. Cut some of the cord around my legs. Didn't take the cuffs off. I couldn' move, an' way. He pulled my jeans up, said he preferred people who were warm, that he'd enjoy taking them down again. Just lay there, I did. And he went away, shut doors behind him. The light was still on, it wasn't too bad. When Smithy came, I thought it was him.' What if Smithy hadn't cared – if he'd left me? He could have raped me. He had my life there. Maybe if he'd left me there, he would have come back and hurt me again. Killed me. That would have been best…Why did he want to save me, what was he thinking? Not worth saving me.

'What did Smithy do?'

'He spoke to me. Can't mistake – mistake his accent. Asked me if I was alright, cut the cords off. And the cuffs. Told him to go away – he did. I got dressed, like, cleaned up most of the blood and everything.'

'Delaney cut you?'

Mickey's eyes fastened onto Meadows' until the older man felt uncomfortable and shifted uneasily. 'I never slept with a man since, since…And Delaney' – he winced at the name – 'was so brutal. So much blood, you know. He hurt me, guv.' He paused. Like fire or something…Oh…He almost cried out with the remembrance of the pain inside him, pain that hadn't gone yet but only been blanked out as he talked.

'Then I went out to see Smithy; he brought me back here. You know the rest, don't you?'

'Yes.' A soft voice. 'Yes, I know, Mickey. Do you still want to press charges?'

'If – if I can, guv. Only my word though, 'gainst his.'

'Not if you go to the FME, or someone, have medical evidence. And Smithy saw you, that's evidence. Your clothes – have you still got them?'

'In my locker, in a bag. Everything I was wearing. Some of the cords as well. Not touched them since. But…I hit him, guv…I can't press charges with that.'

Meadows switched the tape recorder off. 'I didn't see you hit him. Nothing happened except that you arrested him. You're safe.' He meant that in more than one way.

Mickey looked at him, willing himself to believe that he was safe. The steady blue gaze reassured him, told him that there was one thing in this world as dependable and trustworthy – more so – than the God who had abandoned him; the friendship of the Yorkshireman, and even if that was all that he had left, it would be enough to make life bearable.

'Are you okay now?'

No. 'I guess so.' Unsteadily, he rose to his feet.

Meadows rose and placed one arm around Mickey's shoulder, ignoring his tension and pulling him into an embrace. He felt Mickey resist for a minute, then the strength seemed to leave the younger man and he clutched at Meadows, pushing his body close to the DCI's. He could feel Mickey shaking, trying to cry, yet no tears left the stinging blue eyes. Silence reigned, and it was all Meadows could do not to weep on behalf of the man he had once known. I'll cry tonight…Alone, again…Forever.…