Okay, second Identity fic, multi-chapter for sure. Okay, this is a weird one. We all know Martha is suicidal and depressed. We also know that Bloom is gone (for now!) and this fic will have a lot of mixed emotions. Possibly OOC or A/U, although the latter is unlikely. Please enjoy (:
The cuts on her wrists were fresh, still tender as her sleeve brushed against them, earning a startled gasp from between her slightly parted lips. The concealer she had hastily applied did a poor job at covering the raised flesh, the light tan that had once blended so perfectly now a pale orange on her wan skin. When had she last been in the sun? She didn't remember. Her tiredness showed, huge, dark bruises beneath her eyes from lack of sleep and a tremor in her hands. She blinked away the rush of hot, prickly tears beneath her eyelids and shook her short, auburn hair over her face. She felt a rush of tiredness crash over her and a longing for coffee began to pang deep inside, a longing for the caffeine that would mean she wouldn't have to sleep, and wouldn't have to relive all the memories in her dreams.
'God damn it!' She shouted as the familiar drag of tiredness pulled at her muscles, grabbed her down into its dark embrace. She just wanted to scream and swear and shout until her throat burned and her lungs felt like they were going to burst. Tears were streaming down her face now, and she couldn't breathe for the queer tightness in her chest as if someone was pressing down on her ribs, causing every beat of her heart to hurt. She dropped to her knees, the razor blade still held in two fingers, the angle of it making it bite into the sensitive skin of her fingertips and draw small beads of blood. She was beyond caring, or even noticing.
The other cuts, on the inside of her legs and across her stomach were sending spikes of pain across each wound that were crippling. She curled up, her eyes welling up again as a scream escaped her lips, a terrible, heart-wrenching scream. This was why the neighbours never troubled her, never came to see if she was okay. She had been screaming for too long. Cuts crisscrossed her arms and legs and once again she buried her head in her hands, pushing her knuckles against her forehead. The movement caused the clotting blood to rip apart and start a slow trickle down her wrist again. A scream was ripped from her again, involuntarily exploding from her slightly parted lips once more.
'Shit!' She exclaimed once again, the blood staining the cuffs of her long, shapeless white jumper she was wearing. The concealer was now well and truly gone, no longer failing at covering the cuts. Her eyes burned with tears she had been unable to shed at work, unable to even think about crying at work. Tessa was a tech whiz, and she didn't put it past the willowy brunette to check the security tapes for fun, just to make a point that she could. And Anthony… Anthony was one of those people who had to prove he was better at everything, the one that had to be the boss and make a point. It took most of her energy just to be civil to him nowadays.
And then there was José, the other one, and the one that slunk in the shadows and hid in the background. The one that was never noticed, and also the one that was the most important. He was the glue that kept the team together. John. That's all that was left. John. Or Brendan. Whatever floated his boat. He could be whoever he was now that he was gone. But he wasn't truly gone. One shred of him lingered in her memory and on her skin, from every slight brush of hands, to when she had dropped to her knees beside him in a state of frenzy when he fell. He had laughed, his breath gently ruffling her hair and brushing her face. That too lingered in her memory. And his fingerprints on her door, on her work surface, on her desk, and she couldn't bear to wipe them away. She needed something to remind her that he did exist, that what she felt for him was real. Her heart skipped another beat as she thought of his eyes, his beautiful Irish voice and the way he was so careful with his touches. She found herself screaming again.
'John!' She was screaming for him, the way a lover would, twisting her hands into her hair and rocking slightly backwards and forwards on her floor. She curled up into a foetal position, running her hands through her hair, untangling the knots that her own hands had made a few moments earlier. She was trembling, the blood on her sleeves cool and sticky on her skin, her hair a snarled mess. She sobbed once, a dry, choking sob.
'Oh God… John…' She knew then, in her heart, that she loved him. And always had. The night she had called him for a 'tipple' and a stronger rush when he had been hurt. And somewhere in her heart she wondered if he loved her too. When she had been kidnapped, all he had done was hunt her down and find her. Save her. But now her head was confused and her heart was too, she didn't know what to do. A song that had been playing on the radio a few weeks ago suddenly sprung into her mind.
Keeping me awake
It's been like this now for day
My heart is out at sea
My head all over the place…
'Christ that's how I feel.' She muttered, after whispering the lyrics softly to herself brokenly, the words barely heard by her own ears. Her phone was lying on the ground beside her and she leaned over to take a look, her heart leaping into her chest.
'Oh shit… shit… shit, shit, shit!' She ran her hands through her hair again and panicked, her eyes growing wide as she stared at the image on the screen.
Phone call with John Bloom, 67:23
'No…' She disconnected the call and once again curled up. 'No.'
Please enjoy and send me lots of reviews to make me happy (sorry if I disappear off the face of the earth for a while...)