Disclaimer: None of the characters in this story belong to me. I just borrow them for my fics.

Author's Note: Words in Italics are character's thoughts. Words in Bold Italics are dream sequences. Apologises if this chapter seems a little on the short side I've been having a bit writer's block. Although this is the final chapter of this fic I am on writing a squeal to this fic at the moment.

Chapter 4

Jack and Mickey sat upon the wall that ran around the side of the building. Neither of them said anything and the yard was unusually quiet so that the only sound was Mickey's occasional sobbing and Meadow's words of comfort to the young DC. Suddenly Mickey's sobs turned into little sniffles as he pulled himself away from Jack's shirt, embarrassed by his emotional outburst, and dried his eyes.

'Ok now?' asked Jack.

'Yeah,' muttered Mickey.

'Come on, then, best get back inside.'

He stood up and made his way back into the building with Mickey following him closely.

When they reached the stairs that led up to the CID office Jack went to usher the young DC up them but Mickey stopped him.

'I can't go back in there in this state, gov,' he said referring to his eyes which were red and puffy from when he'd been crying, 'I need to go to the loo to get sumfink to dry my eyes with first.'

'Go on then,' relented Jack.

When Mickey got to the gent's toilets he immediately went into one of the cubicles and gathered a hand-full of toilet roll. Then he made his way over to the sink to dry his eyes, forcing himself to look in the mirror above the sink at the wreck that stared back at him. His skin was pale; an unhealthy white and his eyes appeared shrunken in their sockets. The dark shadows around his eyes were evidence that he hadn't slept much since Thursday when he posted Mia's letter. All in all he looked a nervous wreck and it hurt to look at himself like this as he hadn't looked this bad since the aftermath of the rape.

Shit is that really me? Is that what Mia saw this morning? Fuck how can she 'ave any respect for me anymore, probably doesn't and Jack what does he fink of me, one of 'is own detectives, sitting there sobbing on 'is chest like a little kid, surely they ain't nuffin more embarrassing than that? God I wish I could just make this all go away; just redo these last three years without Delaney and what 'e did to me ever 'appening but I can't, can I? I've gotta live with this for the rest of my life. Jack says I'm safe now 'cause Delaney's back inside but 'ow can I ever be fucking safe again when all I can fink about is Delaney and if he's gonna come and find me and hurt me again – do that to me again? I don't fink I could handle it if he found me somehow and did that to me again. It was bad enough the first time never mind a second.

He let out a soft whimper of distress and then he made his way out of the toilets, passing DS Phil Hunter, who was coming out of one of the cubicles, on his way.

'Alright, Mick,' asked Phil.

As he brushed past the young DC to get to the sink one of Phil's arms accidentally brushed the back of Mickey's t-shirt.

'Please, please no more,'said Mickey, without a trace of emotion in his voice.

'Mickey?' called Phil, confused and concerned over the young DC's words. He clamped a hand upon Mickey's shoulder in concern.

'Don't touch me!' yelled Mickey.

'Sorry,' replied Phil rather taken aback by Mickey's sudden eruption, 'just making sure you were ok.'

Mickey made no reply as he fled from the toilets leaving Phil puzzled by his bizarre, neurotic behaviour.

Jack sat in this office with a grave look on his face. His thoughts were still on the sobbing young man he'd held in his arms. He was seriously worried about Mickey. It was clear that Martin Delaney and what he had done to him was still having an enormous emotional impact upon Mickey which was something Jack had not expected. This made Jack realise that although he was a senior police officer he had no idea of the long term affects male rape had upon its victims or indeed how he could assist his friend. It made him feel helpless; a feeling Jack was not at all comfortable with. Jack sighed and returned to the one thing he did know how to do: his job.

All day Mia's thoughts had been more focused on Mickey than her work. Even though she now knew of Mickey's traumatic rape she had still been shocked by his reaction to her touch. She had never seen Mickey look as frightened and as vulnerable as he did then. It saddened her to see him like that when he was normally confident and relaxed; joking on with the rest of relief like any bloke would. It was then that Mia remembered that she had made the decision to support Mickey now she knew what had happened in his past and as his girlfriend she was going to live up that decision by helping Mickey overcome his nightmares of Martin Delaney.

Mickey had been embarrassed by his emotional outburst at Phil in the toilets and had, therefore, wanted to spend the rest of the day avoiding Phil and the rest of the relief as much as possible. Many other people would have asked their governor if they could go home because they weren't coping, but not Mickey; that just wasn't his style. Keep working that will keep you from thinking about it and it'll fade back into your mind beneath the good memories in time. That was Mickey Webb's philosophy. So he had spent the rest of his shift out on an enquires and although most of them were mundane and felt a little pointless his outlook had worked, the memories had begun to fade, until his shift had finished and he returned home where there was nothing to do but be left alone with his thoughts.

When Mickey arrived home that evening, after his shift had ended, he immediately collapsed upon the sofa. It had been along day and he was knackered. He closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep:

Mickey found himself lying next to Mia in a bed. It was a beautiful, sunlit morning and the birds were singing outside. For the first time in a long time Mickey Webb felt free from his past and happy and contented. He had just spent the night with the woman he loved. Next to him Mia lay still in a deep sleep. He looked over and studied her face with its perfect features and her beautiful, wavy, brown hair. He gently ran his fingers through her hair, stroking it softly and then he kissed her check tenderly so as not to wake her. Mickey lay back on his pillow contented, never wanting this moment to end.

Suddenly the image shifted and he found himself lying face down on a table in a warehouse; THE warehouse. His trousers and briefs were laying half-way down his legs and his hands were tied at right angles in two vices to the table. There was a man standing over him. Mickey didn't need to guess who he was; he knew. He'd been here once before in his life and many more times in his nightmares.

'Welcome back, DC Webb,' said the man with a faint Scottish accent.

'No, no!' cried Mickey, 'I don't want to be 'ere again!'

'Ah but you must do otherwise why would you dream about this moment, night after night? Remember the day we were in court. The day you claimed I raped you. You lied that day, didn't you?'

'No!' Mickey managed to shout.

'Yes you did. You wanted what we did in this warehouse that night as much as I did.'

'No I didn't!' cried Mickey.

'Yes you did otherwise why would you be dreaming about it now?'

'This is a nightmare for me not a dream of pleasure. You're sick Delaney!'

But he could say no more as Delaney forced his legs apart and began grunting and labouring over him.

Ding! Dong!

The sound of the door bell of his own front door chiming awoke Mickey for his feverednightmare. He got up, unsteadily, still shaken from his terrible dream. Damn nightmares I wish they'd just go away. Leave me alone to get on with my life.

He opened the door with little enthusiasm. Probably just another bloody salesman trying to sell me some crap I don't even want. Why do they always 'ave to call at bloody inconvenient times, ay?

He was just about to vocalise this last thought to the person on the other side of the door when he realised that it was not a salesperson but Mia.

She was wearing a red lace dress which showed off just the right amount of cleavage without looking like a tart and her hair had been softly curled. She looked classy and beautiful. Mickey thought she looked stunning.

'Mia,' he said, a little surprised.

'Can I come in?' she asked.

'Yeah sure you can.'

They entered the house and sat on the sofa together. They sat in silence for a good while, Mia lying against Mickey's chest while he ran his fingers through her long, sleek hair.

'I was worried about you after what happened this morning,' Mia admitted, breaking the silence.

Mickey looked away ashamed for a moment as he recalled his reaction to Mia's touch.

'Please don't feel ashamed, Mickey,' she said, 'after all you have nothing to be ashamed of. I doesn't matter what happened in your past. I love you.'

'Thanks,' he replied, 'that means a lot to me.'

He cupped her chin tenderly with his hand and said: 'I love you too, Mia.'

Then there lips locked in a passionate embrace. Suddenly Mia pulled away.

'What's wrong?' asked Mickey his voice full of concern.

'Nothing I just think that we should continue this in the bedroom.'

'Yeah I fink we should too,' said Mickey.

Before he could say another word Mia was pulling him up on his feet and the pair of them were racing up the stairs like giddy schoolchildren.

That night, for the first time in a long while, Mickey Webb didn't have nightmares about Martin Delaney or the warehouse or any of that. For Mickey Webb was too busy making love with the woman he loved while outside the stars twinkled above them in the night sky.

THE END