aka Lolitics is my 6th sense

[lolitics_meme]

Welcome to our glorious sixth post.

That's right: 6! But let's move on to not bore you with interesting facts ;)

All fills for prompts of the earlier prompt posts go in the post the prompt was posted in. No re-posting or splitting up prompts and fills.
Otherwise it will get very chaotic.

Places of interest:
1) Unfilled prompts can be found on

Comments

Fill: When it breaks 1b/?

[anonymous]

Danny gave him a troubled look and led him away from the assembled crowd. "I don't know the whole story. Just that his bodyguards came round last night to take him to the Spectator event and he didn't answer the door. When they rang his mobile, he sounded distraught and told them he couldn't go. Nobody could talk him into going. Not even Lena and David Cameron combined." Danny sighed, and wiped a hand over his face. "We just thought he needed rest--you know how insane things have been, and how he always takes the bad press to heart. We got a doctor over, gave him a sedative. Thought he'd be all right this morning, but--oh, god David, I don't know if we can fix this! He won't even see me."

David patted his arm awkwardly, acutely aware of how close to the edge of tears Danny was.

"I'll see if I can help," he said. "Chris said--"

As if summoned by his name, Chris Huhne chose that moment to materialise at David's side. "I'm glad you're here," he said. "I just hope he'll talk to you."

David frowned. "What do I say? I mean, I'm not terribly well-versed in situations like this."

"I don't know what you say," Chris said impatiently. "If it was that easy we'd have him heading home in his minsterial jag by now. We just have to get him out of there and somewhere the press won't get wind of it. We're living on borrowed time as it is."

"I'll do my best," David said. "But you know this isn't my forte."

Chris patted him on the shoulder, and David thought he detected a faint but distinctive shove towards the door in the gesture. He squared his shoulders, strode forward, and pushed the door open.

The light was off and the blinds drawn, leaving the room in a shadowy half-light. Nick never had them open, not since some malcontent on the Horseguards Parade had taken a potshot at his window with a rifle.

David didn't see Nick at first. He could hear him, though, his laboured breathing and the sounds of quiet sobs, from the corner of the room behind his desk.

"Nick?" he asked, not moving from the doorway of the room.

Nick gasped, and David saw him flinch into a tighter ball in the corner. "Who's that?" he asked. "Go away, go away. I can't see you."

"It's me," David said. And then, in case Nick was too addled to remember voices, "David Laws. You were calling for someone called David and they decided I'd do."

The sobbing redoubled. David could see Nick's shoulders shaking with the force of it and had to stop himself from moving (to go to him? to flee? he had no idea) by sheer willpower. "Wasn't you. Wasn't you, please don't come near me."

"That's all right," David said, doing his best to sound calm and casual. "I'm quite happy here in the doorway." He perched on the table beside the door, feet dangling six inches from the floor, reluctantly sacrificing dignity for harmlessness. Nick shot him a wild-eyed look but didn't tell him to go away again, which he counted at least a partial success.

"Why aren't you out there with the others?" Nick asked after a moment. He wasn't looking at David, just staring at the floor, shaking so hard that David couldn't help but fear he'd fall apart. "They must be planning the next leadership election by now. They must be."