Abyss (R) (Smash) PART 2
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?
( Part 1)
Dead? Oh, God...
Slowly, very slowly, Derek sat down. He searched his mind for any detail, something he could lock to a later time, after the bar where he met her. But his attempts were to no avail. The last thing he remembered was her inviting smile when she clinked her glass to his.
He hung his head and bit his lower lip before looking up again.
“I’m sorry.” His throat felt too tight and his voice was almost cracking. “I really am; but my last memory is drinking with her, in that bar... don’t remember the name of it either. It was...”
“The ‘Box Seat,’” Shaw provided. “One of her friends, the one who found her, named that as her favourite establishment and the barkeeper confirmed she had been there yesterday. He also remembered you. Luckily enough, another of the regular guests recognized you and told us you are a well-known musical director. That’s how we found you,” he explained. “And both told us that you and Tracy Peterson left the bar together, so...”
“Tracy? That was her name?” Derek asked.
Both nodded, but the name still didn’t ring any bell. Of course he was not surprised to learn that he had indeed left in her company; he'd already assumed he had had sex with her. He knew himself too well to think he'd done anything other than follow through his usual way of fighting inner demons. Only ‘usual’ didn’t typically include lost memories and dead sex partners...
“Mr. Wills... We found a used condom in the trash can of Ms. Peterson’s bathroom. Would you provide us with a saliva sample?” Connelly inquired and presented a cotton swab and a small plastic bag.
Derek closed his eyes for a short moment before he nodded and opened his mouth without any word. It was a strange feeling, this cotton thing sliding along his inner cheek, and he had to cough after it was removed. His own voice sounded hoarse in his ears.
“I suppose... it will match,” he said without looking up. “If I left the bar with her, I most likely slept with her, too. But...”
He cleared his throat and ran his hand through his hair, then rose from his chair and looked from one detective to the other.
“I cannot imagine, not for the love of God, that I would have done anything to harm her! Even if I don’t remember. I am... well, a womanizer. You can ask anyone in the theatre scene, there’s no denying it. But I have never, ever used violence, never hit or hurt a woman physically! Never, understood?” Derek tried to assure the police officers of his innocence. Well, at least in this capital crime aspect.
“We’ll see,” Shaw said in the same matter-of-fact tone he used when he introduced them. “Don’t leave town until further notice, Mr. Wills. Good night.”
Derek still stared at the closed door long after they were gone.
***
So much for sleep tonight.
Derek tossed and turned, couldn’t find any peace, for his mind was still searching for any details of that fateful night. But as much as he tried, there was no enlightening, no hint that the girl was alive and well when he left her apartment. He must have left somewhere in the night; otherwise he wouldn’t have woken up in his hotel room. And as he told the detectives, he couldn’t think of any situation, any reason why he would have hurt her; let alone tie her up and gag her. Bondage and sadomasochism weren’t his style.
No, he couldn’t possibly have done it. He used women, as much as he needed to, whenever he felt like it -- or when he was certain they needed his attention, like Rebecca or Karen. True, he didn’t have sex with Karen, but not because he wouldn’t like to. Quite the contrary! First she rejected him, and then he knew it would only drive her away from what he always wanted her to be. And Ivy...
He groaned and hid his face in the pillow. Not again! Derek strictly forbade himself to brood about Ivy, her ambitions, her feelings, and where those eventually landed her, for he knew all too well what part he played. He wouldn’t allow himself to be touched by it in any way. Though it seemed that exactly this was the bloody root of Derek’s own precarious situation...
Could he really be a murderer? Was it possible that he killed that Tracy at all, even accidentally? Wouldn't he feel strange inside or whenever he looked into a mirror if he had? Even drunk and without any memory it seemed impossible that he would not feel something, especially when he remembered the photo or his foggy memory of drinking with her.
No, there would be something different if he had a reason to feel guilty about that smiling face. If Derek was certain of anything, it was that.
***
Rehearsal went almost the same way as the day before. He spread his bad mood across the theatre, shouting at everyone, criticizing every second tune or move, and cut off any attempt from Julia to calm him down. Tom didn't even try, but only glared or hissed biting remarks in his direction which were just water on a duck’s back to Derek. It was a constant fight to focus on the show instead of the dead girl, a fierce distraction he'd never experienced before. And he hoped with every fibre of his being that he would never be forced to face such a horrible thing again.
It was just half an hour before lunchtime when Derek heard a familiar voice asking for him. He closed his eyes for a short moment, and then turned to face both detectives who approached him in the hallway.
“Mr. Wills...”
“Mr. Shaw, Mr. Connelly...”
To call them by their ranks didn’t seem right for Derek. Not here, not among the cast. Nobody could know what was going on in his private life.
“Mr. Wills, there are some more questions we need answered. Please accompany us to headquarters.”
To... headquarters? Oh, no... How the hell...
Whatever Derek had suspected would come next, it was definitely not this! How could he hide the investigation from the cast if he had to leave now, in the middle of chaos? He had never left any rehearsal, let alone for what would probably be hours! But the stone-faced looks of both detectives told him that he could follow them willingly here and now or be escorted unwillingly, in front of the whole cast.
He set his jaw, nodded, grabbed his leather jacket and called the one person he knew would take care that tonight’s preview would be as good as the former ones.
“Tom! I have to leave. You’re in charge.”
“Pardon me?” Levitt stared at him, obviously dumbfounded.
“I said I need to go and that you are in charge,” Derek repeated without hiding his annoyance. “See to it that everything goes as expected.”
“But, Derek!” Julia cut in, visibly surprised and confused. “You can’t go, there’s so much wrong today...”
“Then I suggest you support Tom in setting it right!” Derek snapped, then turned and marched out of the theatre without looking back, ignoring the voices and sounds of astonishment from the cast.
He could almost smell the police officers who were only inches behind him, but he refused to look at them until they reached their car. Connelly opened the rear door; Derek hesitated a few seconds, but finally decided to obey the silent order and climbed in. Moments later they were on the way to the police headquarters. No one spoke during the ride; the detectives asked no question, and neither did Derek although he’d desperately longed to know what awaited him.
Never in his whole adult life had he felt this way -- helpless and at the mercy of people he didn’t know how to deal with. This was no bloody theatre drama, this was reality. And he was not only performing the main part, he was the one who didn’t remember what happened in the essential lapse of time. And on top of it all, he was damn sure neither of these fellows gave a shit about who he was...
Continued in Part 3.
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?
( Part 1)
Dead? Oh, God...
Slowly, very slowly, Derek sat down. He searched his mind for any detail, something he could lock to a later time, after the bar where he met her. But his attempts were to no avail. The last thing he remembered was her inviting smile when she clinked her glass to his.
He hung his head and bit his lower lip before looking up again.
“I’m sorry.” His throat felt too tight and his voice was almost cracking. “I really am; but my last memory is drinking with her, in that bar... don’t remember the name of it either. It was...”
“The ‘Box Seat,’” Shaw provided. “One of her friends, the one who found her, named that as her favourite establishment and the barkeeper confirmed she had been there yesterday. He also remembered you. Luckily enough, another of the regular guests recognized you and told us you are a well-known musical director. That’s how we found you,” he explained. “And both told us that you and Tracy Peterson left the bar together, so...”
“Tracy? That was her name?” Derek asked.
Both nodded, but the name still didn’t ring any bell. Of course he was not surprised to learn that he had indeed left in her company; he'd already assumed he had had sex with her. He knew himself too well to think he'd done anything other than follow through his usual way of fighting inner demons. Only ‘usual’ didn’t typically include lost memories and dead sex partners...
“Mr. Wills... We found a used condom in the trash can of Ms. Peterson’s bathroom. Would you provide us with a saliva sample?” Connelly inquired and presented a cotton swab and a small plastic bag.
Derek closed his eyes for a short moment before he nodded and opened his mouth without any word. It was a strange feeling, this cotton thing sliding along his inner cheek, and he had to cough after it was removed. His own voice sounded hoarse in his ears.
“I suppose... it will match,” he said without looking up. “If I left the bar with her, I most likely slept with her, too. But...”
He cleared his throat and ran his hand through his hair, then rose from his chair and looked from one detective to the other.
“I cannot imagine, not for the love of God, that I would have done anything to harm her! Even if I don’t remember. I am... well, a womanizer. You can ask anyone in the theatre scene, there’s no denying it. But I have never, ever used violence, never hit or hurt a woman physically! Never, understood?” Derek tried to assure the police officers of his innocence. Well, at least in this capital crime aspect.
“We’ll see,” Shaw said in the same matter-of-fact tone he used when he introduced them. “Don’t leave town until further notice, Mr. Wills. Good night.”
Derek still stared at the closed door long after they were gone.
***
So much for sleep tonight.
Derek tossed and turned, couldn’t find any peace, for his mind was still searching for any details of that fateful night. But as much as he tried, there was no enlightening, no hint that the girl was alive and well when he left her apartment. He must have left somewhere in the night; otherwise he wouldn’t have woken up in his hotel room. And as he told the detectives, he couldn’t think of any situation, any reason why he would have hurt her; let alone tie her up and gag her. Bondage and sadomasochism weren’t his style.
No, he couldn’t possibly have done it. He used women, as much as he needed to, whenever he felt like it -- or when he was certain they needed his attention, like Rebecca or Karen. True, he didn’t have sex with Karen, but not because he wouldn’t like to. Quite the contrary! First she rejected him, and then he knew it would only drive her away from what he always wanted her to be. And Ivy...
He groaned and hid his face in the pillow. Not again! Derek strictly forbade himself to brood about Ivy, her ambitions, her feelings, and where those eventually landed her, for he knew all too well what part he played. He wouldn’t allow himself to be touched by it in any way. Though it seemed that exactly this was the bloody root of Derek’s own precarious situation...
Could he really be a murderer? Was it possible that he killed that Tracy at all, even accidentally? Wouldn't he feel strange inside or whenever he looked into a mirror if he had? Even drunk and without any memory it seemed impossible that he would not feel something, especially when he remembered the photo or his foggy memory of drinking with her.
No, there would be something different if he had a reason to feel guilty about that smiling face. If Derek was certain of anything, it was that.
***
Rehearsal went almost the same way as the day before. He spread his bad mood across the theatre, shouting at everyone, criticizing every second tune or move, and cut off any attempt from Julia to calm him down. Tom didn't even try, but only glared or hissed biting remarks in his direction which were just water on a duck’s back to Derek. It was a constant fight to focus on the show instead of the dead girl, a fierce distraction he'd never experienced before. And he hoped with every fibre of his being that he would never be forced to face such a horrible thing again.
It was just half an hour before lunchtime when Derek heard a familiar voice asking for him. He closed his eyes for a short moment, and then turned to face both detectives who approached him in the hallway.
“Mr. Wills...”
“Mr. Shaw, Mr. Connelly...”
To call them by their ranks didn’t seem right for Derek. Not here, not among the cast. Nobody could know what was going on in his private life.
“Mr. Wills, there are some more questions we need answered. Please accompany us to headquarters.”
To... headquarters? Oh, no... How the hell...
Whatever Derek had suspected would come next, it was definitely not this! How could he hide the investigation from the cast if he had to leave now, in the middle of chaos? He had never left any rehearsal, let alone for what would probably be hours! But the stone-faced looks of both detectives told him that he could follow them willingly here and now or be escorted unwillingly, in front of the whole cast.
He set his jaw, nodded, grabbed his leather jacket and called the one person he knew would take care that tonight’s preview would be as good as the former ones.
“Tom! I have to leave. You’re in charge.”
“Pardon me?” Levitt stared at him, obviously dumbfounded.
“I said I need to go and that you are in charge,” Derek repeated without hiding his annoyance. “See to it that everything goes as expected.”
“But, Derek!” Julia cut in, visibly surprised and confused. “You can’t go, there’s so much wrong today...”
“Then I suggest you support Tom in setting it right!” Derek snapped, then turned and marched out of the theatre without looking back, ignoring the voices and sounds of astonishment from the cast.
He could almost smell the police officers who were only inches behind him, but he refused to look at them until they reached their car. Connelly opened the rear door; Derek hesitated a few seconds, but finally decided to obey the silent order and climbed in. Moments later they were on the way to the police headquarters. No one spoke during the ride; the detectives asked no question, and neither did Derek although he’d desperately longed to know what awaited him.
Never in his whole adult life had he felt this way -- helpless and at the mercy of people he didn’t know how to deal with. This was no bloody theatre drama, this was reality. And he was not only performing the main part, he was the one who didn’t remember what happened in the essential lapse of time. And on top of it all, he was damn sure neither of these fellows gave a shit about who he was...
Continued in Part 3.