Fanfic: Turning The Tables
For the first time in quite a while, I decided to write a new fic that was longer than a one shot. Naturally, my first choice was a McDean one. So I sat down, put pen to paper [Kind of] and this is what came out. It's pretty crap, but oh well. lol.
Title: Turning The Tables [Part 1/?]
Fandom: Hollyoaks
Pairing/Characters: Craig/McDean
Rating: T
Word Count: 2009
Summary: Craig Dean returns to Hollyoaks harbouring a secret from his one true love. His determination at keep quiet is sucessful until a cruel twist of fate sees his past and his present life collide in a harsh way......
1.
It’s been 366 days since he’d been here. His eyes scanning the once familiar surroundings, he couldn’t help but wonder if it was all just coincidence. He could remember clearly the events of that day; from waking up in the morning with a mixed puddle of excitement, fear, nerves and love to falling asleep that night feeling saddened and alone. And now he was stood in that same village feeling each of those emotions all over again.
He snapped from his reverie with a nudge from the man’s voice and turned his body slightly to see the taxi driver looking up at him, his body leaning over the passenger seat to look out of the open window. ‘Excuse me, mate? Do you plan on actually paying for this journey or are you going to stand there staring at nothing all day?’
Paying what little attention he could, he dug into the pocket of the jeans he was sporting and hurled a profitable amount of cash at the driver. ‘Keep the change.’ was all he said as he turned on his heels, hurled the suitcases up from the pavement behind him and headed towards the past he’d left behind.
--
It hadn’t come as a shock to him that he ended up where he had. He knew it was wrong of him to turn up unannounced with no hint of a warning beforehand, but it wasn’t like coming back here was something he’d planned on doing. Not yet anyway. Packing up his suitcase the day before had come as much a shock to himself. He’d moved around in a sea of uncertainty, not even sure of whether it was going to work. And it wasn’t just the emotional, personal side. There was the practical side too. Flights at such late notice were surely impossible? And then there was the flat. He’d lived there for a year, with the same people and the same routines. He wondered how long it would be until they each returned home from their respective current destinations. How long it would be before they found his note held against the refrigerator door by a magnet. How long it would take them to figure it all out.
--
There was a chill in the air that collided against his skin at a brutal force and he hunched his shoulders up, wondering why it was so cold for September. He remembered what the weather had been like this time last year (and one day ago). It had been a sunny, hot day. The kind that made people want to kick their shoes off and walk on the hot pavement. The kind that made people want to call in sick from work/schools etc so they could lounge about in their gardens and enjoy the rays of sunshine that seemed to occur only once in a blue moon in Britain. The kind that spelled happiness and promises. It seemed some ironic twist that, by the time he’d arrived at his Dublin flat later that same day, the rain was pouring down and the sky had turned a horrible shade of black.
He’d expected to see some familiar face. One he was already acquainted with, that knew his name. Knew the events of his departure from the village. Knew him for the spineless, lying, cheat he was well aware he had been. But only one familiar soul graced the village. Il Gnosh - the restaurant ran by Tony - was closed, which seemed odd for the time of day. Drive’n’buy was abandoned bar a couple of people that were being served by Neville Ashworth. He quickly turned away, realising he’d been staring and fearing that Neville might spot him. It wasn’t so much Neville knowing he was back that he feared. It was Neville telling Hannah, who’d probably end up spilling it to Sarah - or worse; John Paul. Having travelled all this way, with his legs now numb, his eyes fighting to stay open and his back aching from the flight, he wasn’t going to let anybody be in with the chance of informing either of his former flames of his return. He’d cowardly avoided them before and he was sure he wasn’t going to let it happen again. He was going to see both of them face to face. He was going to sort out every little issue with them. Determined that returning to the village would be nothing but a fresh start for all of them. No matter how hard the fight, he wasn’t going to lose the battle. He’d wait all night outside their front doors if that was what it took. He’d refuse to leave until they listened to him. Until they gave him the chance to explain. The chance to at least try and undo some of the damage he’d left behind a year ago. The damage he knew was going to get worse before it got better.
--
He’d stalled at least 3 times before knocking on the door. It wasn’t so much fear or worry - those were things he knew he didn’t need right now - it was more the thought of stepping back into the home that held so many memories - both good and bad. The kitchen he’d make breakfast in in a pathetic attempt to show his romantic side. The sofa he’d spent many a time lay on feeling sorry for himself. The bedroom they’d spent many hours in; kissing, making love, lying in each others warm embrace, listening to only the sound of their own breathing as the nights would turn into mornings. But they were all just memories now. Bittersweet, treasured memories.
He was about to knock when the door flung open, one step ahead of him. ‘CRAIG! YOU’RE BACK!’ Frankie’s voice was unmistakable and Craig couldn’t help but smile at the obvious tone of happiness in her words. He gave her chance to embrace him into her arms, kiss his cheek more times than was probably necessary before holding him at arms length and looking him up and down, weighing up the obvious visible changes in him since they’d last seen one another. He knew exactly what she was going to say. He held his breath; one….two… three… ‘Have you been eating properly?’ she said, almost reading his thoughts. He rolled his eyes at her, pulling his suitcase along the floor. ‘At least let me get through the door first Mum.’ he said, walking past her. He could still feel her smile behind him, watching him. Sitting down on the sofa that was still warm from where presumably Frankie had been seated, he watched as she pulled his suitcase to the corner of the room - “out of the way” she had said - and began navigating around the kitchen once again to pour him what he guessed would be the first of many cups of teas.
--
Watching her wash the cups they’d drank from reminded him of what it had been like before he’d left; Frankie being the one doing the chores whilst he, Steph and Darren had sat idly watching television, all squashed together on the sofa, but neither making an attempt to move.
He took a fresh steaming cup of tea from her and set it on the coffee table just before them. He felt the sofa beside him dip as Frankie sat down. She took his hand in her own and he realised she was shaking, although he wasn’t sure why. It wasn’t like she had anything to be scared of, surely? If something was going on here, she’d have contacted him earlier and made him aware of it, wouldn’t she?
‘Craig, love, what’s going on?’ he looked back at her and realised it had been his own hands that had been shaking, rather than those of his mother. His heart was pounding in his ears and he was sure Frankie had secretly turned the central heating up to the top, because sweat was pouring from him in large amounts.
‘Has something happened?’ he heard her ask. He opened his mouth to speak, but no sound seemed to come out. He could feel her gaze tightening on him, pleading silently with him to talk to her. But every time he tried to tell her, he would stop, realising how ridiculous it sounded. He feared her reaction. Would she be happy? Disappointed? Angry? He couldn’t tell from just the look on her face like he usually could, and that terrified him more than anything.
He took a sip of the tea she’d made him, flinching as it burnt his lips whilst wishing it could have been something stronger. Something that would allow him to lose himself and make what he had to say easier for her to hear and for him to say.
‘Something happened’ he began. ‘Whilst I was in Dublin.’
She shook her head in uncertainty at him. He’s speaking in riddles. ‘What happened?’ she asked, her voice sounding more pushy than she intended to. She could tell that whatever he had to say was difficult for him to put into words and a sinking feeling engulfed her as a hundred possibilities raced through her mind; he was dying; He’s made an enemy of someone that was out for revenge; he was in yet another dreadful relationship with someone she would highly disapprove of.
‘Craig, love, whatever it is, you can tell me.’ she pressed, trying to hold back at screaming at him to just tell her what the hell was going on.
He took a deep breath and for a moment, she felt her heart sink. He turned his body so that it was facing her and cupped her hands into his own. ‘I don’t know how to tell you Mum. I know that you’re going to be disappointed in me, but I can only hope you try and understand that none of this is easy for me either. None of it makes any sense to me.’
She nodded her head in understanding at him, praying the nauseating feeling she had in her stomach would pass when he said whatever he had to say.
‘I went out one night in Dublin. It was a few months ago. I’d been sat at home feeling so…… lost. For some reason I kept thinking about home. About you guys, about everything that had happened. About Sarah. About…..’ he trailed off and she knew exactly who he meant. She wondered when exactly he’d stopped being able to say that name.
‘Anyway,’ he continued ‘I heard some guys from my course going on about a party that was happening and I decided to go. I though going out and forgetting about everything would suddenly erase the past and tell me what to do with my future.
I’d been there about an hour and this girl came on to me. She was gorgeous. Rhiannon she was called. Blonde, gorgeous blue eyes, a chest the size of….
‘Yes, Craig, I get it’ Frankie interrupted - her own way of letting Craig know she didn’t need or want the rest of those details. He smiled weakly. ‘Sorry. Anyway, about a month or so later, after we’d…. you know, she invited me over to her place. I thought my luck was in again and I couldn’t believe it. So I went round, and that was when she told me’ he seemed to pause after that and, although she had an inkling about what he was going to say, Frankie urged him to continue.
He looked at her, running a hand through his hair like he’d suddenly realised he was in too deep. ‘Mum, I’m going to be a Dad.’ he said. That was when he dropped the cup he’d been holding.