Abyss (R) (Smash)
Title: Abyss
Author: blackpoetcat
Rating: R
Character: Derek Wills
Disclaimer: NBC owns all, just playing drama with
Summary: Everyone knows he doesn't give a shit about anything but the show. So when Derek's life capsizes, will anyone give a shit about him?
Bloody hell!
Derek cursed silently and held his head in both hands. Being thrown into the devil's lair couldn't be worse than the insufferable throbbing pain he felt the moment he woke up. That and the foul taste in his mouth suggested there was only one possible explanation for why he was enduring the most miserable morning since his eighteenth birthday. And that would also explain the giant black hole in his memory when he tried in vain to remember how much he had drunk last night...
Derek Wills, you bloody fool!
He attempted to get out of the bed but instantly sank back into his sheets with a groan. If only he could just lie here, perhaps sleep a few hours more! But according to the hotel room's alarm clock, he had less than forty minutes until today's rehearsal. Derek cursed again, and then fought his hangover; somehow made it to the bathroom without tripping or bumping into any furniture. He rummaged through his things, finally found the box of aspirin, dissolved three of the tablets in a glass of water and downed the mixture in one gulp before he entered the shower.
***
Of course the cast had to suffer from his lingering headache. He knew it, but he didn't care. Why should he? This was what everyone had plunged into for success; he himself was famous for his straight if somewhat rude methods to achieve what he wanted and the results always proved him right.
He ignored Karen's uneasy looks at him as well as the muttering about Ivy's condition which the team discussed with Julia and Tom every time they got a break of ten and probably during lunch time. Not that he didn't hear what they spoke; quite the contrary.
Everyone had been in the hospital at least once since her overdose four nights ago -- except Derek Wills. He never talked about her, interrupted everyone who did so in his presence, and when Tom yelled at him that he was worse than the Dark Lord his reputation was named after, he only shrugged and turned his back to him. Well, not before answering loud enough for all to hear...
"She was too ambitious for her own good; now she has to live with the aftermath! Besides -- this is far better than if she had died, because now she can learn and do better in the future! So stop this once and for all and concentrate on the show!"
Unnecessary to mention that no one dared to speak to him at all for the rest of the day, except it was inevitable. Even Karen avoided him as much as possible, though she seemed somewhat uncertain about it. Luckily, the first preview's raving success had given her the self-confidence to perform the same way every night, despite seeming uneasy about Ivy. Derek wondered if she would stay stable enough when they left Boston -- and Ivy -- behind in a few days. In her first night as Marilyn, she needed his encouragement so badly; he continuously waited for the next time she would break down without it. But he felt absolutely unable to show her his supporting, soft side again.
Maybe somewhere in the future, when he had come to terms with himself -- and with what made him drink so much he didn't remember the better part of last night. He loathed himself for that fucking weakness; for searching for anything to distract his thoughts from...
No, not again! He had to bury any emotions entwined with it, now and for good! He needed to remind himself of who he was and who he had to be, for the show to become the greatest success ever.
Derek's thoughts wandered to Eileen. She was already back in New York, planning and booking other theatres along the east coast for further previews. She took care of the Ivy situation too, and would continue to do so -- because she could afford it, above all in none-material significance. Of course he was quite capable of doing the same, not that he was willing to reveal that to the world, especially the world of 'Bombshell.' So he was truly relieved to avoid such an awkward position.
He barely replied to the few almost inaudible good-byes when rehearsal ended, left the theatre before the rest of the cast for the first time and thanked whoever might be up there that tonight had no preview scheduled and therefore he would have the chance to spend the evening with a lot more sleep -- and definitely no alcohol!
***
A persistent knocking at his door, just as Derek had finished brushing his teeth for the night, re-stoked his anger. Who the hell dared to disturb him after it was obvious today that he was in a very bad mood?
Karen? Unlikely. Much as she might long for the 'nice guy' he showed her previously, she wouldn't come looking for that person after his behaviour during rehearsal.
Tom? Not really. He’d rather sit with Ivy, holding her hand and explaining to her what an asshole she...
Oh, fuck them all! I just want to sleep!
He went to the door, flung it open, ready for a sharp comment -- and stopped before any word could slip out. Two strangers stood in front of him.
"Yes?" Derek managed to ask halfway between annoyed and irritated.
"Are you Derek Wills?" the older man asked in a matter-of-fact tone.
"I am; and who are you?" Derek inquired.
"Boston PD. I'm Detective Shaw, this is my partner, Detective Connelly." The man presented his badge. "We have some questions. May we come in?"
Police? Questions? What the hell...?
Derek had no idea. Nothing had happened to warrant calling the police; at least he couldn't remember anything, so he folded his arms in front of him and raised an eyebrow.
"And may I ask what questions you could possibly have for me at this hour?" he snarled.
"We'd prefer to explain that in private, Mr. Wills," Shaw replied and stepped nearer. "I'm certain you'll agree once you've heard what this is about."
Great. As if he hadn't already enough to deal with. But it seemed better not to discuss whatever matter in a hotel hallway, so Derek sighed, stepped back and let the detectives in, then shut the door and faced them.
"So, what is this all about?"
"Mr. Wills... Would you mind telling us where you were last night, let's say between two and half past two a.m.?" Connelly asked.
Last night? Holy shit!
Derek's mind cruised at maximum speed, but there was still nothing other than that damned black hole. He didn't remember anything after... after he entered a bar and ordered one Scotch after another, and so on, until... Oh, yes! There was that girl. First they had a few drinks. Later... probably sex; but he still saw nothing but darkness.
He cleared his throat when he realized that both detectives were staring at him, waiting for an answer.
"I’m sorry, but... I had a few drinks too many last night. My memories stop around half past midnight," he confessed and shrugged. "Why do you ask? Did I insult a cab driver?"
Shaw snorted in disgust, fetched a photograph out of one pocket and showed it to Derek.
"Do you remember her?"
One look was enough. That was definitely the blonde.
"I do," Derek nodded. "We had a few drinks together. Before the blackout," he added carefully. "I'm afraid I can't even remember her name, sorry. What's going on?"
The detectives exchanged a short glance before Connelly said:
"She was found dead today; tied to her bed with the belt of her own bathrobe -- and choked on a neckpiece gag."
Continued in Part 2
Author: blackpoetcat
Rating: R
Character: Derek Wills
Disclaimer: NBC owns all, just playing drama with
Summary: Everyone knows he doesn't give a shit about anything but the show. So when Derek's life capsizes, will anyone give a shit about him?
Bloody hell!
Derek cursed silently and held his head in both hands. Being thrown into the devil's lair couldn't be worse than the insufferable throbbing pain he felt the moment he woke up. That and the foul taste in his mouth suggested there was only one possible explanation for why he was enduring the most miserable morning since his eighteenth birthday. And that would also explain the giant black hole in his memory when he tried in vain to remember how much he had drunk last night...
Derek Wills, you bloody fool!
He attempted to get out of the bed but instantly sank back into his sheets with a groan. If only he could just lie here, perhaps sleep a few hours more! But according to the hotel room's alarm clock, he had less than forty minutes until today's rehearsal. Derek cursed again, and then fought his hangover; somehow made it to the bathroom without tripping or bumping into any furniture. He rummaged through his things, finally found the box of aspirin, dissolved three of the tablets in a glass of water and downed the mixture in one gulp before he entered the shower.
***
Of course the cast had to suffer from his lingering headache. He knew it, but he didn't care. Why should he? This was what everyone had plunged into for success; he himself was famous for his straight if somewhat rude methods to achieve what he wanted and the results always proved him right.
He ignored Karen's uneasy looks at him as well as the muttering about Ivy's condition which the team discussed with Julia and Tom every time they got a break of ten and probably during lunch time. Not that he didn't hear what they spoke; quite the contrary.
Everyone had been in the hospital at least once since her overdose four nights ago -- except Derek Wills. He never talked about her, interrupted everyone who did so in his presence, and when Tom yelled at him that he was worse than the Dark Lord his reputation was named after, he only shrugged and turned his back to him. Well, not before answering loud enough for all to hear...
"She was too ambitious for her own good; now she has to live with the aftermath! Besides -- this is far better than if she had died, because now she can learn and do better in the future! So stop this once and for all and concentrate on the show!"
Unnecessary to mention that no one dared to speak to him at all for the rest of the day, except it was inevitable. Even Karen avoided him as much as possible, though she seemed somewhat uncertain about it. Luckily, the first preview's raving success had given her the self-confidence to perform the same way every night, despite seeming uneasy about Ivy. Derek wondered if she would stay stable enough when they left Boston -- and Ivy -- behind in a few days. In her first night as Marilyn, she needed his encouragement so badly; he continuously waited for the next time she would break down without it. But he felt absolutely unable to show her his supporting, soft side again.
Maybe somewhere in the future, when he had come to terms with himself -- and with what made him drink so much he didn't remember the better part of last night. He loathed himself for that fucking weakness; for searching for anything to distract his thoughts from...
No, not again! He had to bury any emotions entwined with it, now and for good! He needed to remind himself of who he was and who he had to be, for the show to become the greatest success ever.
Derek's thoughts wandered to Eileen. She was already back in New York, planning and booking other theatres along the east coast for further previews. She took care of the Ivy situation too, and would continue to do so -- because she could afford it, above all in none-material significance. Of course he was quite capable of doing the same, not that he was willing to reveal that to the world, especially the world of 'Bombshell.' So he was truly relieved to avoid such an awkward position.
He barely replied to the few almost inaudible good-byes when rehearsal ended, left the theatre before the rest of the cast for the first time and thanked whoever might be up there that tonight had no preview scheduled and therefore he would have the chance to spend the evening with a lot more sleep -- and definitely no alcohol!
***
A persistent knocking at his door, just as Derek had finished brushing his teeth for the night, re-stoked his anger. Who the hell dared to disturb him after it was obvious today that he was in a very bad mood?
Karen? Unlikely. Much as she might long for the 'nice guy' he showed her previously, she wouldn't come looking for that person after his behaviour during rehearsal.
Tom? Not really. He’d rather sit with Ivy, holding her hand and explaining to her what an asshole she...
Oh, fuck them all! I just want to sleep!
He went to the door, flung it open, ready for a sharp comment -- and stopped before any word could slip out. Two strangers stood in front of him.
"Yes?" Derek managed to ask halfway between annoyed and irritated.
"Are you Derek Wills?" the older man asked in a matter-of-fact tone.
"I am; and who are you?" Derek inquired.
"Boston PD. I'm Detective Shaw, this is my partner, Detective Connelly." The man presented his badge. "We have some questions. May we come in?"
Police? Questions? What the hell...?
Derek had no idea. Nothing had happened to warrant calling the police; at least he couldn't remember anything, so he folded his arms in front of him and raised an eyebrow.
"And may I ask what questions you could possibly have for me at this hour?" he snarled.
"We'd prefer to explain that in private, Mr. Wills," Shaw replied and stepped nearer. "I'm certain you'll agree once you've heard what this is about."
Great. As if he hadn't already enough to deal with. But it seemed better not to discuss whatever matter in a hotel hallway, so Derek sighed, stepped back and let the detectives in, then shut the door and faced them.
"So, what is this all about?"
"Mr. Wills... Would you mind telling us where you were last night, let's say between two and half past two a.m.?" Connelly asked.
Last night? Holy shit!
Derek's mind cruised at maximum speed, but there was still nothing other than that damned black hole. He didn't remember anything after... after he entered a bar and ordered one Scotch after another, and so on, until... Oh, yes! There was that girl. First they had a few drinks. Later... probably sex; but he still saw nothing but darkness.
He cleared his throat when he realized that both detectives were staring at him, waiting for an answer.
"I’m sorry, but... I had a few drinks too many last night. My memories stop around half past midnight," he confessed and shrugged. "Why do you ask? Did I insult a cab driver?"
Shaw snorted in disgust, fetched a photograph out of one pocket and showed it to Derek.
"Do you remember her?"
One look was enough. That was definitely the blonde.
"I do," Derek nodded. "We had a few drinks together. Before the blackout," he added carefully. "I'm afraid I can't even remember her name, sorry. What's going on?"
The detectives exchanged a short glance before Connelly said:
"She was found dead today; tied to her bed with the belt of her own bathrobe -- and choked on a neckpiece gag."
Continued in Part 2