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booshslashhavenTitle: Get Me Away From Here I'm Dying (final part of this series but may be continued- 2nd series perhaps?)
Pairing or Characters: Johnny/Dan (Johnny= Noel Dan=Julian)
Summary: Our robbers are still hiding out, finally receiving their long awaited text.
Word Count: 1,880
Rating: R for swearing
Warnings: swearing
Disclaimer: Not mine not mine not mine not mine not mine not mine not mine not mine not mine!!!!!
Author’s Notes: So I'd really like to know what people are thinking...good/ bad whatever. So comment plz! Let me know it it's something worth continuing. BIG THANKS TO OBEYTHEBUNNY for the beta.
Part one:http://community.livejournal.com/booshslashhaven/567102.html#cutid1
Part two:http://community.livejournal.com/booshslashhaven/568563.html#cutid1
Part three
“Fuck fuck fucking fuck, those stupid fucking cunts!”
Johnny’s stomach drops and his bladder gets tight. Fuck he might actually piss himself.
“Alright, oh shiitt, ok calm down Dan, yeah? We just have to leave, we just have to leave, just pack up… pack up and leave.”
“No it won’t be, oh Christ it’s all genuinely fucked. Those idiots, looking like Ronnie and Reggie Kray. Who the fuck did they think they were?”
“When? When did it happen? Cos they’re thick, yeah, but they won’t say nuffink. They ain’t gonna grass. Not on us and not on anyone else that’s involved.”
Johnny’s really sweating now because now, they’re as good as sitting ducks. No one ever thinks they’d grass but if it got you ten years instead of fifteen you’d be fucking thinking about it.
“John, I need you to, um, sit down please, now and er, fuck…” Dan looks like complete shit.
“Look mate, I think we should leave. I wasn’t in the bank. I’m not on CCTV but you are… you are. We have to get the fuck out of here, I don’t care if you leave me behind but we have to leave now. Like right fucking now!”
Dan’s pulled on his trousers and is drinking out of the near empty tequila bottle. His hands move about like he doesn’t know where to put them. Johnny gets a smoke out of the crushed pack on the bed and lights it for him. Dan takes it but doesn’t inhale, he just watches it burn in his hand.
Johnny, in a wave of panic, rushes around, getting dressed and trying to get Dan’s clothes together as well. He’s at the bedroom door when Dan grabs him by the arm.
“Wait, just fucking wait. You can’t leave.”
“Dan, are you actually mental? I mean we have a bit of time sure, but we need to move. The others know we’re here - it’s only a matter of time before the police come. That text, it was from Waters and that, right? They know the others have been pinched; they know it’s all fucked. We’re free to go, the hand over is off. It must be.”
Johnny’s been struggling against Dan but he hasn’t let go of his arm. Dan’s really fucking sweating and Johnny’s sure that this sudden attack of insanity’s just been brought on by panic.
“No, well that’s right but that’s not why you can’t leave just yet. I need to explain some things to you, um, about, um…about myself and why you must be very careful in how you treat this situation.”
“Fuck, are you going to shoot me? Look, take the money - take all the fucking money, I don’t care, I don’t even want it.”
“No, this isn’t about money. But now that you mention it - Neither of us will actually be getting any of this money. John I need you to stay calm. You must stay calm and remember that I am armed.”
Oh shit. He is going to shoot me. That fuck! Well don’t fucking cry, as long as you don’t cry. But he’s weeping a bit already. His face is dry now but it’s only a matter of time.
“John, my name is not Daniel Burns. My name is Patrick Fuller. Inspector Patrick Fuller, and I am operating under the authority of the London Metropolitan police special operations.”
“That’s not even near funny. Don’t do that, that’s just fucking mean now. Fuck, you have a shitty sense of humour.” But deep down it makes more sense than anything he’s ever heard.
There’s no floor it’s like he’s falling. Falling through into nothing.
“John, did you hear what I said? I need to know that you understand the situation.”
Oh no, nothingness has ended and in it’s wake it’s left anger; hot, rippling waves of rage.
“YOU FUCK! YOU CUNT! I won’t go to prison! You can’t fuck a suspect, you’ll get sent down as well and they don’t much like cops in prison.”
He’s well fucked. There’s nothing he can do without fucking himself. It doesn’t make Johnny feel much better. In fact he feels like retching. He doesn’t have anything left to take, and he fucking hates the tequila. Funny, that didn’t seem like such a big deal last night.
“Look Dan… or Patrick or whatever the fuck your name really is. I won’t say a fucking thing so long as you forget my face, my name, just let me leave… please?”
Oh fuck, Jesus let this work. I’ll never rob anyone again; I’ll go home, look after my mum, finish my GCSE’s, anything. He doubts anyone is listening, he only ever prays when he’s really desperate.
“Look, John, you’re right. I’m well and fucked for what we’ve.... for what I’ve let happen. So um…what I need from you is a decision. Either, I arrest you and you let my colleagues know what has umm… occurred between us, and you are charged and I am horribly sacked and probably charged as well. Or you leave without the money and I pretend that you were never involved. As you said, there’s no CCTV footage of you and you’re right. I can ensure that the others never have the chance to identify you. Unfortunately they’ll probably be given fairly lenient sentences.”
And there he is again, the Dan that Johnny has known the past few days but different, more sure of himself. In his true element, but why does that make Johnny hard? That’s really fucked up.
But he has options. A glimmer of light. Hope and fucking pray that the others don’t decide to try for a deal and maybe this can all be put behind him, like one big extended nightmare. A few good nights out he’d probably already have forgotten about it. Like all the other bad thoughts, bad memories, they’d just get washed away on the tide of chemicals coursing through his veins. Then all he’d have to worry about is the hangover.
“The second option would probably be best. For both right?” He starts, shakily.
“Well yes, conceivably. Look, to be fair, this whole thing has nothing to do with the robbery. We were after Alfred Waters, this just seemed like the easiest way in. I mean the money’s not even really important, although it is evidence now. Water’s had us taking property deeds out of certain anonymous safety deposit boxes. That’s how we were going to get him. It’s a shame really that it had to be such a convoluted mess. And then those idiots had to go and get them selves arrested before the handover. Probably with prossies as well no doubt.”
“So this wasn’t even about the robbery?”
“No, no it wasn’t. It’s got nothing to do with you really. You’re a thief and a drug user but you really don’t need to be messed up in all this.”
Johnny’s never really noticed how middle class Dan/Patrick has always sounded. He’d always just assumed it was an affectation. Fucking stupid.
“So… What do we do?”
*
Patrick drives him back the way they came, to a train station. He’s allowed just enough cash to get home, the clothes he’s spent the better part of three days in and a pack of cigarettes.
Johnny feels so fucking low he can’t even see the sky, which is strange really because for all intents and purposes he’s getting off scot-free. It just doesn’t feel that way.
Because everything that had been established so quickly in that cottage has been broken down. He just knew a lie named Dan. The kind of guy Inspector Fuller thought he would like to know. And he was right. Surprisingly, the sex stuff doesn’t bother him much. Being used is an accustomed feeling to him, unlike betrayal.
Patrick spends a lot of the drive looking at him. In a kind of pitying way that has nothing in common with the way he used to stare at him. He thinks. Or maybe his perception has just changed. But it makes his guts lurch because now he wants him to smile and Johnny knows he won’t.
When the car stops outside the station Patrick gets out to get Johnny’s ticket. When he gets back Johnny’s got his hands over his face and he’s rocking silently in that way which tells of sobbing. But nothing ends self pity like embarrassment and Johnny’s soon wiping his eyes and sniffing, trying to convince Patrick and himself that it was just a coughing fit.
When Patrick leans into him Johnny doesn’t pull back. He lets Patrick hold him while he tries not to cry, but it’s hard, because though he’s not an emotional person it feels like he’s been holding it in since the robbery. Since that morning in the car park when he met Dan.
*
The train is grey and depressing in the way that trains are. Filled with men in suits off to work and pensioners doing sudoku or staring out streaked windows. All the adrenaline built up in his body the past few hours has left him. His limbs are heavy like he’s just run a marathon and he’s exhausted. His mouth is all fuzzy; he never brushed his teeth today. He’d been using Patrick’s toothbrush but after this morning it just seemed wrong.
Yesterday he hadn’t felt so alone. He knows this because he distinctly remembers that yesterday he felt good, everything felt good and connected. It all made sense. He’d been talking to Dan about getting high, the best high you’ve ever felt. And Dan had said some shit about a joint he smoked once with this girl at a party when he was seventeen. How it’d been so perfect because he was in love and the music was amazing and he lost his virginity on her parent’s bed. Johnny had laughed a bit then because Dan had still been doing weed and fucking girls when he was seventeen.
“Yeah, well what were you doing?” Dan hadn’t seemed angry or anything just curious. But Johnny couldn’t tell him the truth. It felt like he’d ruin something if he did. So he just shrugged and kissed Dan. Just put everything he could into kissing him, momentarily forgetting what he was trying to distract Dan from.
And it felt good. That was the difference, because now it just made him ache.
Johnny pats his left jacket pocket. He feels the crinkle and reaches in to finger the piece of paper. Just to remind himself that it’s still there. The thought of it is comforting and terrifying at once. The numbers are dark and round, neatly formed. There were enough numbers; a standard British telephone number.
*
Before getting on the train Johnny had turned around one last time. Patrick clapped him on the back with one hand and gripped his side with the other. It was at an awkward angle and Johnny pushed his face into Patrick’s neck, returning the half embrace. As they pulled apart, Patrick hastily stuffed a piece of paper into Johnny’s pocket. No explanation, no goodbyes.
*
Johnny keeps his hand over his pocket for the entire journey. Just to remind himself that it’s still there.
Pairing or Characters: Johnny/Dan (Johnny= Noel Dan=Julian)
Summary: Our robbers are still hiding out, finally receiving their long awaited text.
Word Count: 1,880
Rating: R for swearing
Warnings: swearing
Disclaimer: Not mine not mine not mine not mine not mine not mine not mine not mine not mine!!!!!
Author’s Notes: So I'd really like to know what people are thinking...good/ bad whatever. So comment plz! Let me know it it's something worth continuing. BIG THANKS TO OBEYTHEBUNNY for the beta.
Part one:http://community.livejournal.com/booshslashhaven/567102.html#cutid1
Part two:http://community.livejournal.com/booshslashhaven/568563.html#cutid1
Part three
“Fuck fuck fucking fuck, those stupid fucking cunts!”
Johnny’s stomach drops and his bladder gets tight. Fuck he might actually piss himself.
“Alright, oh shiitt, ok calm down Dan, yeah? We just have to leave, we just have to leave, just pack up… pack up and leave.”
“No it won’t be, oh Christ it’s all genuinely fucked. Those idiots, looking like Ronnie and Reggie Kray. Who the fuck did they think they were?”
“When? When did it happen? Cos they’re thick, yeah, but they won’t say nuffink. They ain’t gonna grass. Not on us and not on anyone else that’s involved.”
Johnny’s really sweating now because now, they’re as good as sitting ducks. No one ever thinks they’d grass but if it got you ten years instead of fifteen you’d be fucking thinking about it.
“John, I need you to, um, sit down please, now and er, fuck…” Dan looks like complete shit.
“Look mate, I think we should leave. I wasn’t in the bank. I’m not on CCTV but you are… you are. We have to get the fuck out of here, I don’t care if you leave me behind but we have to leave now. Like right fucking now!”
Dan’s pulled on his trousers and is drinking out of the near empty tequila bottle. His hands move about like he doesn’t know where to put them. Johnny gets a smoke out of the crushed pack on the bed and lights it for him. Dan takes it but doesn’t inhale, he just watches it burn in his hand.
Johnny, in a wave of panic, rushes around, getting dressed and trying to get Dan’s clothes together as well. He’s at the bedroom door when Dan grabs him by the arm.
“Wait, just fucking wait. You can’t leave.”
“Dan, are you actually mental? I mean we have a bit of time sure, but we need to move. The others know we’re here - it’s only a matter of time before the police come. That text, it was from Waters and that, right? They know the others have been pinched; they know it’s all fucked. We’re free to go, the hand over is off. It must be.”
Johnny’s been struggling against Dan but he hasn’t let go of his arm. Dan’s really fucking sweating and Johnny’s sure that this sudden attack of insanity’s just been brought on by panic.
“No, well that’s right but that’s not why you can’t leave just yet. I need to explain some things to you, um, about, um…about myself and why you must be very careful in how you treat this situation.”
“Fuck, are you going to shoot me? Look, take the money - take all the fucking money, I don’t care, I don’t even want it.”
“No, this isn’t about money. But now that you mention it - Neither of us will actually be getting any of this money. John I need you to stay calm. You must stay calm and remember that I am armed.”
Oh shit. He is going to shoot me. That fuck! Well don’t fucking cry, as long as you don’t cry. But he’s weeping a bit already. His face is dry now but it’s only a matter of time.
“John, my name is not Daniel Burns. My name is Patrick Fuller. Inspector Patrick Fuller, and I am operating under the authority of the London Metropolitan police special operations.”
“That’s not even near funny. Don’t do that, that’s just fucking mean now. Fuck, you have a shitty sense of humour.” But deep down it makes more sense than anything he’s ever heard.
There’s no floor it’s like he’s falling. Falling through into nothing.
“John, did you hear what I said? I need to know that you understand the situation.”
Oh no, nothingness has ended and in it’s wake it’s left anger; hot, rippling waves of rage.
“YOU FUCK! YOU CUNT! I won’t go to prison! You can’t fuck a suspect, you’ll get sent down as well and they don’t much like cops in prison.”
He’s well fucked. There’s nothing he can do without fucking himself. It doesn’t make Johnny feel much better. In fact he feels like retching. He doesn’t have anything left to take, and he fucking hates the tequila. Funny, that didn’t seem like such a big deal last night.
“Look Dan… or Patrick or whatever the fuck your name really is. I won’t say a fucking thing so long as you forget my face, my name, just let me leave… please?”
Oh fuck, Jesus let this work. I’ll never rob anyone again; I’ll go home, look after my mum, finish my GCSE’s, anything. He doubts anyone is listening, he only ever prays when he’s really desperate.
“Look, John, you’re right. I’m well and fucked for what we’ve.... for what I’ve let happen. So um…what I need from you is a decision. Either, I arrest you and you let my colleagues know what has umm… occurred between us, and you are charged and I am horribly sacked and probably charged as well. Or you leave without the money and I pretend that you were never involved. As you said, there’s no CCTV footage of you and you’re right. I can ensure that the others never have the chance to identify you. Unfortunately they’ll probably be given fairly lenient sentences.”
And there he is again, the Dan that Johnny has known the past few days but different, more sure of himself. In his true element, but why does that make Johnny hard? That’s really fucked up.
But he has options. A glimmer of light. Hope and fucking pray that the others don’t decide to try for a deal and maybe this can all be put behind him, like one big extended nightmare. A few good nights out he’d probably already have forgotten about it. Like all the other bad thoughts, bad memories, they’d just get washed away on the tide of chemicals coursing through his veins. Then all he’d have to worry about is the hangover.
“The second option would probably be best. For both right?” He starts, shakily.
“Well yes, conceivably. Look, to be fair, this whole thing has nothing to do with the robbery. We were after Alfred Waters, this just seemed like the easiest way in. I mean the money’s not even really important, although it is evidence now. Water’s had us taking property deeds out of certain anonymous safety deposit boxes. That’s how we were going to get him. It’s a shame really that it had to be such a convoluted mess. And then those idiots had to go and get them selves arrested before the handover. Probably with prossies as well no doubt.”
“So this wasn’t even about the robbery?”
“No, no it wasn’t. It’s got nothing to do with you really. You’re a thief and a drug user but you really don’t need to be messed up in all this.”
Johnny’s never really noticed how middle class Dan/Patrick has always sounded. He’d always just assumed it was an affectation. Fucking stupid.
“So… What do we do?”
*
Patrick drives him back the way they came, to a train station. He’s allowed just enough cash to get home, the clothes he’s spent the better part of three days in and a pack of cigarettes.
Johnny feels so fucking low he can’t even see the sky, which is strange really because for all intents and purposes he’s getting off scot-free. It just doesn’t feel that way.
Because everything that had been established so quickly in that cottage has been broken down. He just knew a lie named Dan. The kind of guy Inspector Fuller thought he would like to know. And he was right. Surprisingly, the sex stuff doesn’t bother him much. Being used is an accustomed feeling to him, unlike betrayal.
Patrick spends a lot of the drive looking at him. In a kind of pitying way that has nothing in common with the way he used to stare at him. He thinks. Or maybe his perception has just changed. But it makes his guts lurch because now he wants him to smile and Johnny knows he won’t.
When the car stops outside the station Patrick gets out to get Johnny’s ticket. When he gets back Johnny’s got his hands over his face and he’s rocking silently in that way which tells of sobbing. But nothing ends self pity like embarrassment and Johnny’s soon wiping his eyes and sniffing, trying to convince Patrick and himself that it was just a coughing fit.
When Patrick leans into him Johnny doesn’t pull back. He lets Patrick hold him while he tries not to cry, but it’s hard, because though he’s not an emotional person it feels like he’s been holding it in since the robbery. Since that morning in the car park when he met Dan.
*
The train is grey and depressing in the way that trains are. Filled with men in suits off to work and pensioners doing sudoku or staring out streaked windows. All the adrenaline built up in his body the past few hours has left him. His limbs are heavy like he’s just run a marathon and he’s exhausted. His mouth is all fuzzy; he never brushed his teeth today. He’d been using Patrick’s toothbrush but after this morning it just seemed wrong.
Yesterday he hadn’t felt so alone. He knows this because he distinctly remembers that yesterday he felt good, everything felt good and connected. It all made sense. He’d been talking to Dan about getting high, the best high you’ve ever felt. And Dan had said some shit about a joint he smoked once with this girl at a party when he was seventeen. How it’d been so perfect because he was in love and the music was amazing and he lost his virginity on her parent’s bed. Johnny had laughed a bit then because Dan had still been doing weed and fucking girls when he was seventeen.
“Yeah, well what were you doing?” Dan hadn’t seemed angry or anything just curious. But Johnny couldn’t tell him the truth. It felt like he’d ruin something if he did. So he just shrugged and kissed Dan. Just put everything he could into kissing him, momentarily forgetting what he was trying to distract Dan from.
And it felt good. That was the difference, because now it just made him ache.
Johnny pats his left jacket pocket. He feels the crinkle and reaches in to finger the piece of paper. Just to remind himself that it’s still there. The thought of it is comforting and terrifying at once. The numbers are dark and round, neatly formed. There were enough numbers; a standard British telephone number.
*
Before getting on the train Johnny had turned around one last time. Patrick clapped him on the back with one hand and gripped his side with the other. It was at an awkward angle and Johnny pushed his face into Patrick’s neck, returning the half embrace. As they pulled apart, Patrick hastily stuffed a piece of paper into Johnny’s pocket. No explanation, no goodbyes.
*
Johnny keeps his hand over his pocket for the entire journey. Just to remind himself that it’s still there.
Tags:
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no subject
Date: 2008-07-01 07:43 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-07-01 03:12 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-07-01 10:23 am (UTC)I'm really keen to see where this will go. ;-)
no subject
Date: 2008-07-01 03:13 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-07-01 11:25 am (UTC)D:
That was so good, gargh. >:|
no subject
Date: 2008-07-01 11:48 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-07-01 03:14 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-07-02 12:56 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-07-01 03:40 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-07-01 05:42 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-07-01 06:34 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-07-01 09:43 pm (UTC)Alright, I'll have to start working on that fairly soon!
no subject
Date: 2008-07-01 06:22 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-07-01 06:34 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-07-01 09:37 pm (UTC)I must also request more! I think following it on in 6 months time would be a great way to go.
no subject
Date: 2008-07-01 09:38 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-07-01 09:45 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-07-02 01:28 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-07-02 01:31 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-07-02 01:32 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-07-02 01:37 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-07-04 07:40 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-07-17 07:51 am (UTC)You rock.
btw- Hi! Name's Kim. I'm a total newbie. Discovered I was a lurker, so I'm going back to fics I've enjoyed and posting comments like a motherbitch. Thanks for the happy tingle times. ;)
no subject
Date: 2008-09-13 04:06 am (UTC)for two reasons:
This is brilliant and i want more. I'm hoping that the sequels already up considering how far back i'm reading, :P
and two (i;ve been on a MR bender XD)
there goes the idea for barratt being the cop. it's a twist i should have known was lurking somewhere! bugger.
anyway, this fic is pure brilliance and i want more too.
*goes looking for the sequel*
SF
no subject
Date: 2008-10-15 08:15 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-04-19 04:21 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-07-03 09:45 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-07-26 04:42 am (UTC)