Author: tatty ted PM
Sometimes, we all need that special person to be there. - —Roisin/Mike.Rated: Fiction T - English - Romance/Angst - Words: 1,054 - Published: 06-03-12 - Status: Complete - id: 8179855
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
jottings — set at the end of the episode closure.
Guilt, it's the worst feeling ever. It eats away at her heart because she believes she's too blame.
She was the one who brought him onto this case. If she hadn't have, none of this would've happened. Everyone would be okay but you know Roisin, she always manages to hurt everyone around her. She always had done.
She sits at her desk, the bottle of vodka in front of her. It's her third bottle this week. She loves the taste of it, the effects and how it can make her forget everything she doesn't want to remember. It's a wonderful invention ever made she thinks as she unscrews the bottle and takes a sip.
She screws the lid back on and leaves it on the desk again. She won't go home tonight, she'll sit here, thinking and drinking about what she should've done to stop all this sooner. She won't be alone though — she'll be haunted by her thoughts.
"Roisin?" She looks up from her bottle of vodka and her eyes fall upon him, "Come home." He tells her gently.
She's silent. She doesn't want to go home. At home there's too much temptation and she can't promise him or herself that she won't do something stupid. It's almost like he can read her mind because he walks towards her and kneels down beside her.
"Talk to me." He whispers. She wants too. God, she wants to talk to him but she doesn't think he'll understand. How can he understand if she can't understand it herself? Instead, she finds herself accepting the invitation of going home.
They're sat in silence, such silence that a pin could drop and still be heard. There's an unopened bottle of wine on the table, neither of them really wanting to drink it because they know they won't stop drinking.
"I know you're hurting Roisin." He tells her and touches her arm. She closes her eyes and moves her arm away. Every time someone touches her, it makes her remember his touch on her and it makes her sick to her stomach.
Feeling like she's going to be sick, she stands up and runs into the bathroom. Slamming the door closed behind her, she falls to her knees and empties the contents of her stomach in the toilet. Not that there's much to empty, she hasn't eaten in over a week.
Flushing the chain, she wipes her mouth with the back of her hand and leaves the bathroom. She sits down opposite him and opens the bottle of wine. She needs that drink now. She pours herself a glass and necks it in one.
"It should've been me." She whispers as she pours herself a second glass, "It should've been me and not Lisa."
He gently takes the wine glass from her grip and places it out of reach, "If it was anyone's fault, it was mine. I didn't listen to you remember?" She doesn't asnwer. Instead she stands up from the sofa, grabs her jacket and tells him she's going for a walk and no, she doesn't need company.
He waits up for her until he knows she's safe. He's worried she'll do something stupid like last time. The death of Susan Harrington pushed her over the edge and she was so close to dying. She would've done but he got to her just in time.
He doesn't like to think what would happen if she died. He sits by the phones and waits because that's all he can do for now.
She sits by a lake, chewing her fingernails. She's staring at the dark gloomy water that's only luminated because of the yellow street lamp nearby. It's cold and she's wraps herself up tightly in her jacket.
She wonders what it'll be like to drown. The water crashing over her body, pulling her deeper and deeper to the bottom. The ice cold water seeping into her mouth, freezing her lungs causing her to choke.
She hates this, these emotions that play havoc with her life. She feels she's constantly thinking of ways to end her life although some days are good. She feels like she's falling into a dark hole, unable to sleep or eat or function properly.
She stands up from the lake and begins to walk home. She needs to leave before she does throw herself into the lake and try to kill herself. It wouldn't be the first time she's attempted such a thing. Susan Harrington's death. Pills and vodka, she remembers clearly.
The minute she gets home, he's there. She doesn't know whether to be grateful he stayed up waiting for her or annoyed that he doesn't trust her when she's in a fragile state of mind. Either way, it's over now. With him there, she knows she won't do anything stupid.
"You had me worried." He tells her. She smiles slightly, apologises and says she just went for a walk.
She takes off her jacket, leaves it by the sofa and sits down beside him. There's nothing spoken as she reaches for the wine glass and the bottle and pours herself another glass. As she necks the liquid inside the glass, she whispers; "It wasn't my fault, right?"
He kisses the top of her head, "No Roisin, it wasn't." She leans her head on his shoulder and closes her eyes. Perhaps the more she kept telling herself it wasn't her fault, the more she'd believe it. Maybe she wouldn't but it was worth a go though, wasn't it?
"Love you." She whispers and he smiles, "I love you too." He tells her but she's already asleep at that point.
a/n: am i the only one who cried at closure? if you like it enough to favourite, please review.
set a couple of years after the events of fallen but not really a sequel, if that makes sense. (: