Thanks for the reviews. Well here it is, here's chapter 3.

Disclaimer: I do not own the Bill or any of it's characters. If I did I would be very, very rich. But I don't. Shame.

Falling

Chapter 3 –And Then I Just Let Go

"Don't be stupid!" Jack's eyes are wide open in shock. The office goes quiet, everyone stops and looks at them.

Mickey laughs. "For the first time in years I'm not. I'm getting out of this place before it screws me up any more!"

"Mickey, you're not thinking straight."

"Yeah I am." He turns and walks out of the office. Jack follows behind.

---

He's coming after me, convinced he can change my mind but I'm right, I know I am. This place is responsible for so many people's pain. Not me, not any more.

---

"Mickey, come back, talk to me." Jack hurried after him. Caught his shoulder as he tried to get through the door.

"Get off me, Jack!" Unable to shake him off, Mickey turned and pushed wildly at Jack with more force than he meant to use. Jack fell back onto the wall hitting the side of his head as he went. He put his hand to the wall to stop himself falling.

Mickey stopped trying to run. "Jack? I'm sorry. I didn't mean…" And he turned and left the station.

---

I didn't mean to hurt him, I just wanted to get away. I was just angry. Now I'm outside I'm not to sure what to do. I don't know where to go.

I want to go to my Mum, I need to see her, need to talk. Seeing her always helps me think. I retreat to the place that I have so many times before. I go to the graveyard.

I can hardly remember the drive there. I certainly wasn't driving with 'due care and attention.' But it's ok because I'm here now.

The sight of Mum's grave makes me feel so guilty. She always used to stop me loosing my temper. She hated seeing me angry and now look at what I've done.

I didn't mean to hurt Jack, he's always been there for me and I just pushed him away.

I hope he's ok, why didn't he just let me go?

---

The sickening ache of concern grew in the pit of Jack's stomach. He reached over for his car keys so many times only to stop himself. It was him who had caused Mickey so much trouble. He had scared him, that's why he had acted to out of character.

There was no denying it, that was not the Mickey that he knew.

And the worst thing, he hadn't noticed it happening, hadn't noticed Mickey change.

Jack could not get the image of Mickey's scarred arm out of his head. Could Mickey have really been so unhappy that he would do that to himself.

And that lead him to the question; what else might Mickey be desperate enough to do?

With that thought Jack's concern turned into pure dread.

He reached over for his keys once more and again stopped himself. He was the last person that Mickey wanted to see right now.

He tried to ring Mickey on his mobile, just to check that he was ok. The phone went straight to answer phone. He tried several more times but was never able to get through. He tried Mickey's home phone. It rang several times until the answer phone finally cut in. Even the voice on that didn't sound like Mickey. It was quiet, nonchalant, apathetic.

By mid afternoon Jack gave up trying to ring and went round to Mickey's house. He banged on the door and shouted through the letter box but there was no movement, eventually he had to accept that Mickey wasn't there.

He got back in his car and sat there for several moments trying to work out his next move. Where could Mickey have gone? Then it hit him like a bolt of lightning and he couldn't believe that he hadn't thought of it sooner.

---

I've lost everything that I care about. What's the point? There isn't any. I scratch at last nights scars. The physical pain some how managing to numb the mental. But it only takes the edge of it. It's like taking paracetamol for a broken arm, It just doesn't quite do it.

I've had enough of it all. The pain, the anger, the fear and most of all the overwhelming, all consuming guilt.

What's the point of hanging on anymore? Why not just let go? I always thought that eventually it would have to get better but it isn't. Why am I bothering?

What have I got to live for?

Nothing.

---

With the traffic it was already early evening by the time Jack pulled into the car park beside the cemetery and the sun had set leaving long shadows below the trees.

He walked along the path and squinted to see a figure beside a dark grave in the twilight. Then he realised that the figure was lying down on the damp grass.

Without thinking he ran towards it, subconsciously knowing exactly what he would find.

Mickey was lying near enough unconscious on the ground, blood covering his clothes and a deep wound across his wrist.