Like Eating Glass-Chapter 6
So chapter 5 isn't uploading at this point. I don't know why and I sent out an e-mail to fanfiction support but I'm going to continue on with this. I realize I'm being really really cruel to Wordy; I promise, I'll return him in fair working condition when I finish putting him through the ringer. This chapter might be short (but I'm kind of bad at guessing) because I intended for it to be a part of the previous chapter. I can't get the lengths of these chapters to be balanced, there's a long one, and a short one, and then another long one...I'm working on it. Tell me what you think, yell at me for being so mean to Wordy, whatever you want, just let me know that you're reading this. I don't own Flashpoint.
The halls of the SRU looked deserted as he walked through the dark corridors. It was late, a lot later than he thought it was when he was sitting in the SIU interrogation. He had seen the time on his watch but somehow he hadn't made the connection to it actually being hours after their shift had ended. He waved to Kira as he walked past the communication's desk and kept walking as she looked like she was about to say something. He kept his head down, part of him feeling badly for ignoring her but most of him just wanting to hide. He passed the briefing room and took a double take as he saw Greg slumped in his chair, his eyes closed. Can't believe he's still here. Wordy thought as he started to tip-toe past the glass paneled room. He had made it most of the way past the room as Greg stirred and opened his eyes.
"Wordy!" Greg called loudly as he got up from the chair and followed Wordy down the hallway. He pretended not to hear, he'd kept his head down and kept walking but Greg was a man on a mission. "Wordy, wait up buddy." Greg said as Wordy was finally forced to stop and face him. The lines in his face seemed deeper, more defined as his mouth unconsciously forced itself into a contorted smile.
"Hey Sarge, what's up?" Wordy asked, trying to keep his voice calm and emotionless. He had the overwhelming desire to run away, to turn on his heels and get away. He didn't want to talk, he didn't want to think, he wanted to escape. Greg shrugged.
"Wanted to see how you were doing..." He said softly as he placed a gentle hand on Wordy's forearm and led him to the briefing room. Wordy sat down stiffly but tried to relax his muscles as Greg sat next to him. He shrugged as he spoke.
"I'm fine, Sarge." He said simply as he again shrugged. After trying and failing to maintain eyes contact with Greg, his gaze settled on his hands. Greg nodded but didn't seem particularly convinced.
"How was SIU?" He asked in a conversational tone. Wordy shrugged again.
"You know..." He said quietly. He didn't want to relive the details of the investigations, the doubts circling in his mind.
"So, it was terrible?" Greg said with a smile, trying to draw Wordy out. He smiled also and raised his gaze long enough to nod in consensus. "Don't let them get to you, Wordy." Greg said firmly. "As much as it hurts, it was justified." Wordy gave no reaction to Greg's words, he kept his eyes averted as he let the silence continue for a few minutes. He was off in his mind and Greg must have seen him zoning out because he leaned forward and began to speak again. "You with me, Wordy?"
"Yeah...yeah, Sarge. I'm just really tired. It's been a long day..." Wordy trailed off glancing desperately at Greg.
"I hear you." Greg said with a slight grimace. "I just want to know that you're okay." Greg said sincerely as Wordy returned his focus to his fingers.
"I think I'm going to shower and head home if that's okay, boss." He said quietly. Though he hadn't intended for it to be a question, he found himself waiting for Greg to say something to affirm his thoughts. It was a long moment before Greg let out a long breath and nodded.
"Hug your girls, get some sleep." Greg said nodding. "Maybe you should take a little time off; spend some time at home, clear your head a little-"
"I'm good boss." Wordy said simply as he made a move to get up from the table. "Thanks for the offer though, I appreciate it." Greg also stood and took a step towards Wordy as he made a move to walk away.
"Wordy, talk to me here, really talk to me. Are you okay?" Greg spoke sincerely, his eyes finally meeting Wordy's. His usually bright eyes looked tired, sunken into their sockets and darker than usual. He broke the slight moment of eye contact as he shut his eyes and took a breath.
"I just need..." He shook his head as he gently put his head back and spoke. "I just want to shower and get home." He said quietly. Heavy undertones of emotion were becoming evident in his voice and Greg sensed he'd been holding it in all day. He also sensed that Wordy didn't want to let go of that emotion in front of him right now, so despite his intuitions that there was something bothering him, Greg backed off.
"Get some sleep, Wordy. Call me if you need anything." Greg said in a tone of closure. Wordy nodded as he turned and left the room, calling behind him.
"See you tomorrow, boss." Greg was left standing in the briefing room nodding, a look of masked worry on his face.
Wordy took large strides towards the locker room and, as soon as the door shut behind him, he made a beeline for the small bathroom off behind the lockers. It was mid-shift and he knew that no one would be coming into the locker room at this hour of the night; maybe it was that freedom of finally being alone that made everything feel magnified. The tightness in his chest intensified as he felt the unmistakable acidic tang of bile rising up in his throat. He knelt next to the toilet and gaged as his body shook. After a few minutes, he collapsed against the wall and took a deep breaths, his muscles and chest aching from the tension he had been containing all day.
Gotta get up now, come on. Gotta shower and get home, come on now. He said to himself over and over again, not completely convinced of what he really wanted, not sure of what he wanted, but he slowly got his shaking hands onto the floor and pushed himself up. He leaned against the sink and turned on the cold water. He thought be felt nausea come on again but he breathed through it and splashed the cold water on his face. He let the drops of water run down his forehead and his neck, a drop hanging precariously from his nose for a minutes before he leaned over the sink again. He cupped his hands and gathered some water before bringing it to his mouth and rinsing out the bitter after taste of vomit. He took a few more sips and continued to spit out the mucus, carefully avoiding looking in the mirror. He abruptly left the bathroom and walked over to the showers.
Only the emergency lights were on in the locker room and the shower and Wordy didn't bother to turn on the main ones. The darkness and the shadows were almost comforting as he slipped off his clothes and wrapped a towel around himself. He went to the last shower on the end of the row and turned the stream on high power and hot. He shut his eyes against the burning water that made his skin feel as if it was lit on fire and he took some deep breaths as the water hit his chest. After a few minutes he threw his head under the stream and felt the water burn the back of his neck. His body begged to be moved from the stream but he kept himself in place.
He felt dirty. He needed to be cleaned of this...of this blood, and this was as good a way as any. The scolding water was leaving his skin a bright red as he took a course sponge and soap and began to scrub his body. He started with his chest, hoping the hot water would relieve some of the again mounting tension. He began by rubbing small circles around his chest and abdomen but it turned into a hard scrub as he felt his arms aching with the pressure and his chest burning form the abuse.
He thought that he felt tears welling up in his eyes. His sinuses were beginning to clear as his felt his breath hitch in his throat. He threw his face directly into the stream of water and cringed at the hot water. Despite the overwhelming desire to back out of the stream, he forced himself to remain in place. I am not doing this. I am not thinking about this. Not here. He repeated the mantra to himself, Not here. Not here. Not here, but in the back of his mind a small voice began to surface. Then where?
His attention and focus was beginning to slip as he felt a tear run down his face despite his tightly shut eyes. "No..." He half growled, half begged. He shook his head and turned off the water, the room suddenly silent as the loud thudding of water ceased. Wordy heard the echo of the room but he was more aware of the pounding of the blood in his ears as he again held his breath. He wrapped the towel around himself again and walked carefully to his locker. The silence was comforting at first but it felt oppressive now as he stood in front of his locker and tried to enter the combination with shaky hands.
"Come on...come on." He mumbled under his breath as he fiddled with the lock. He finally got it to click open. He rolled his shoulder and tried to release a bit of the tension in his neck as he swung open his locker in the darkened room. One of his boots fell out of his locker as it opened and he bent and set them in front of the bench as he found a small piece of paper at the bottom of his locker. He retrieved it and unfolded it to find the messy scrawl of Ed's handwriting.
"Wordy- Hope you don't mind that I called Frank. Good guy to have backing you up. Call me if you want to talk about anything, Ed." Wordy squeezed the note tightly in his hands and crumpled the small paper, letting it fall to the ground. He took a few breaths to calm himself again as he pulled on his clothes and his boots. He grabbed his bag from the hook in the locker and froze.
He looked at the top shelf of his locker and saw two small dolls and a box of crayons innocently looking at him. He raised his hand slowly to touch them but pulled it away inches from the fabric, his hand now in a fist. What did I do? He said to himself, then yelled aloud at himself.
"What did I do?" Both of his hands were now curled into tight fists as his blood coursed through his veins, boiling with anger and regret. He grabbed the door of the locker and squeezed it tightly before slamming it closed and delivering a solid punch to the cold metal door. He pulled his fist away, blood coming to his knuckles as he briefly saw the dent he had made. He turned quickly form the room, barely remembering to grab his bag, as he stormed out of the SRU.
Okay, I need to take a little break from this to do some homework. I tried not to leave this too cliffhangery, don't know when I'll be getting to it again though. Thank you if you've reviewed, I really appreciate it. If you haven't reviewed, I'd really love to hear from you. Also, give me some suggestions, I've got an idea of where I want this to go but I'm open for some additional plot idea. Thanks!