OUT THERE

Chapter Nineteen

"The sound of the gentle rattle of china cup on china saucer drives away all demons, a little-known fact." (Terry Pratchett, 'Snuff')

"Mr. Ross! It's not often we see you down here. What brings you to the underworld this evening?" Sid's face broke out in a smile that lifted his tired eyes.

"Oh. Ah... I don't know."

"Something I can do for you, perhaps?"

"I don't know," Adam murmured. And the truth was, he didn't.

Arriving in the back of a squad car like a common criminal, he had fully intended to head for the lab, just as Mac had instructed. The boss-man would certainly expect to find him in his office when he returned. And yet...

And yet something - an impulse - had brought him here instead. He wished that his feet could explain it to his brain. At least his voice was working again, however dull-witted it made him appear to be.

Sid clicked his glasses into place and studied Adam as the lab tech hovered in the doorway.

"There's a seat in my office," he said. "And tea. You look as though you need it. Follow me."

Safe in the relative privacy of Sid's domain, Adam allowed himself a tiny sigh. Dropping heavily onto the chair, he gazed up at the grey-haired M.E. Their paths rarely crossed but, even so, Adam had always considered him to be a friend. A kindred spirit, whose quirky anecdotes and random segues were the key to his deeper, more passionate nature. Life and Sid were locked together in a spirited tango, whirling between joy and sadness as they traced the complex pattern of their dance.

"Assam - my personal favourite. Not everyone's... well, 'cup of tea', I'm afraid, so please don't think I'll be offended if you quietly leave it to cool and 'forget' to drink it." Sid's eyes twinkled as he held out a china mug.

The drink was almost too hot to hold. It stung Adam's hands but he held on, liking the warmth and the not-quite-pain that drew him back towards reality. 'Don't Panic, Put the Kettle On,' the mug advised him. "Thanks. And it's okay. I'm a bit of an expert these days."

Sid raised his eyebrows. "Surprising. Well, good for you. I tried for years to win Mac over. If ever there was a man who needed tea in his life..." He grinned. "But I digress." Perching on the edge of his desk, he folded his arms. "Your turn."

Adam sipped his tea. It was strong and bold, not like Elma's gentle brew at all. "My turn for what?"

"Conversation."

"I don't... I mean, no thanks; I'm not in the mood for talking. Just tea," he said hopefully.

"I'm not asking. And I don't mean idle chit-chat. What - you don't think a coroner can see when someone's hurting? I may work with the dead, but I'm not blind to the living. Spill it, Adam Ross, or I'll drag you straight to Mac and he can make you talk. Don't think I won't do it." The jest was an ominous one. At least, he hoped it was a jest - Sid's face was very determined.

"It's just..." Adam halted, feeling the all-too-familiar surge of panic. Weakened by tea and sympathy, his walls were beginning to fail. A tidal wave of pressure seethed behind them. One more word and the dam would burst; he knew it. Control was an illusion...

He tried to hold back the tears by closing his eyes, but it was too late. They spilled out anyway, trailing down his cheeks in a mark of shame.

"Help me," he begged, and dropped his head into his hands.

The M.E. crouched beside him, one arm around his trembling shoulders. "Let it out," he advised softly. "Much the best thing, believe me."

Adam's grief, though strong, was silent; a habit formed in childhood. With his eyes still closed, he hid in the darkness and wept - but Sid was there to keep him grounded. After a while, the shaking subsided and he began to feel embarrassed by his foolish outburst. He pulled back, shrugging off the arm that held him. When he cracked his eyes open, he found that Sid had pressed a small white handkerchief into his palm.

"It's clean," the M.E. hastened to reassure him, clambering to his feet. "Please feel free to use it. Tissues are just so inadequate in these situations, don't you think? No sense of comfort."

"Um - no." Adam tried to remember the last time he had actually owned or even used a handkerchief as he balled it up in his fist and scrubbed his cheeks until they burned. Feeling slightly better, he held it out. It was soggy by now and far less appealing. Sid shook his head.

"Please keep it. I get at least five every Christmas. Some of them are quite remarkable... Anyway, pay it forward - that's my motto. Even a modest handkerchief can make a difference..."

"Okay," Adam said huskily. "Thank you."

Sid nodded. "Good. Now then - where were we? Oh yes; help. Much easier, by the way, if I know the problem..?" He raised his eyebrows expectantly.

Adam wanted to explain; he really did. But the bad thoughts had taken root inside him and they were resistant; knowing full well that they could lose their power over him if he spoke them aloud. Crazy. I'm going crazy... He opened his mouth and tried to form a coherent sentence, his jaw working madly, his blue eyes full of despair. "I... Look, it's just... ugh!" The strain was ridiculous. Sid held up his hand in a gesture of compassion.

"Stop. I understand. Try this - start with something small and simple."

"What? Oh..." Sneaky tactics. Adam forced himself to work through Sid's logic. Maybe he could fool his brain into thinking that he had abandoned the full-on confession in favour of trivial matters. He opened his mouth again and this time, to his great relief, the words flowed easily. "I have an elderly neighbour," he told the M.E. "She doesn't sleep well and she's afraid to go outside. You know, agoraphobia? Anyhow, I've been visiting her a lot lately and sometimes she needs a friend at night when she has bad dreams. I guess... well, it kind of messed with my sleep too. I've gone way beyond tired, Sid - and that's not the worst thing..." Once more, his throat began to clench and he veered away from the fear that threatened to silence him. "Okay... um... forget the worst thing. I've also been having bad dreams, and I had to stop myself driving because... well, I almost crashed and that made me kinda scared. I can't trust my actions anymore - the things I do, the things I see..."

"The things you see?"

"Hallucinations," Adam whispered, trembling with the strain of his internal struggle. Now. Now was the time to say it. "I think... I think I might be losing my mind."

"I find that hard to believe," Sid told him gently. "If you ask me, sanity is an illusion that people maintain to convince themselves they're coping with the world. In truth, we're all just that little bit unstable - some more than others, of course."

"Do you see things that aren't there?" Adam demanded.

"I have done in the past - but there was always a potent reason..." Sid gave a wry laugh and then shook his head. "I'm sorry - you're probably not in the mood for my foolish sense of humour. What have you seen, exactly? And are you sure it wasn't there?"

"Right now, I'm not sure of anything that's happened in the last few weeks. The one truth I know is that Mac's so mad at me right now, I'm afraid to face him."

"Is that why you came to me instead? I'm flattered, Adam, but really - I can't imagine that you've done anything quite so dreadful. I've seen the way you try to please him. He knows that too. He trusts you."

"No!" The cry was painful. "I heard him, okay? I've been so stupid. Hawkes could have died..."

"Hawkes - what? You mean the incident at the crime scene? I'm still waiting for the details - and the body."

"Bodies," Adam whispered. "It's my fault. I thought... I thought I saw the people who attacked me, so I chased them and... and I took the officer with me, okay, so Hawkes was all alone and he didn't know it; but the bad guys weren't there at all - it was all in my head, and when I got back they were right there instead, really there, and she stole his gun and Wallace had to - oh God, he shot her, and then I..."

"Take a breath," Sid ordered. "Now. Stop panicking. You're safe here; you know that."

Wearily obedient, Adam paused and let the breath heave in and out of his aching chest. At last, Sid nodded for him to continue.

"I overheard Mac," he explained, with a shifty expression. "Okay, maybe I was listening on purpose. They say it's a bad idea to do that, 'cause you never hear good things about yourself - well, I guess they're right. I'm in big trouble, Sid."

"The best way to fight trouble is to face it."

"I do. I try. I want to be brave, okay - but I don't even understand what happened. How can I explain to him?"

Adam's voice tailed off into silence. He sipped his tea but it was cooler now, and filled his mouth with the taste of ashes. When Sid looked away for a second, he spat it out into the mug, jerking back when the M.E. refocused.

"You're highly emotional," Sid stated, thinking out loud. "And erratic. And seeing things - yes, I'll accept that. Have you... pardon my asking, but after your attack, did the doctor give you any kind of medication?"

"She did," Adam said in a low voice. "Just painkillers - nothing heavy. Even so, I ditched them after..."

"After what?" Sid prompted.

"Okay... um... I didn't tell you this before, but I kind of... well, I punched someone. In the storeroom."

"Painful." Sid pulled a face at his own lousy pun. "May I know...?"

"It was Richard Polson."

"Ah. Yes, I've met the man. Say no more. I don't think you can class that as an irrational act."

"It is for me. I don't... I don't want to be that person; you know, the one who controls people with his fists and his temper. But this time, it was like... like I couldn't stop myself. I didn't tell anyone," he added. "And I threatened Richard, to keep him quiet."

"So, what you're saying is, you don't want me to speak of it either?" Sid guessed.

Adam shrugged. "Doesn't really matter now. Make a list. I don't care." Somehow, his confession was having the opposite effect to the one he had hoped for. A fatalistic mood was creeping over him. Sid frowned unhappily, reading the signs on his face.

"You threw your meds away. Are those the only pills you're taking?"

"What?" All at once, Adam's tone was sharp, as he finally grasped what Sid was asking him.

"Are you on any other medication? Or - forgive me; I know that you've been burning the candle at both ends and you wouldn't be the first to try and... What are you taking, Adam?"

"Nothing." Full of horror, Adam rose to his feet. "Wait - is that what you think?" His eyes grew wide. "Is that what everyone thinks? That I'm some kind of addict?"

"I... no. I'm sorry; I didn't mean to offend you. It's just that the symptoms... but clearly, I'm wrong." Too late for Sid to apologise. The damage was done. Adam's paranoia spiralled, twisting the accusation out of all proportion.

"I'm done here," he said. "I'm going home. You can tell that to Mac, if you like. Or don't."

"Adam..."

Sick. He felt sick to the core; a bitter, churning sensation - the kind that always followed betrayal. Hide it. Don't let him see. "Thank you for the tea." With a blank smile, he set down the china mug and turned away. As he walked through the morgue, he could just make out the tell-tale sound of Dr. Hammerback's voice.

"Mac? It's Sid. Call me back when you get this. I need to speak with you urgently."

-xx-

A/N: Ah, Sid! Bet you thought I'd forgotten him. I've been saving him for this chapter, and I really hope that you enjoyed the result. More soon! Thanks for reading and for so many lovely reviews.