A Normal Man (Part One)
Title: A Normal Man, Part One of Five
Fandom: Hot Fuzz
Character/s: AAA, and combinations thereof
Word Count: 20,400 (in five parts; part one, 4,300)
Rating: NC-17+
Summary: A terrible secret from Nicholas’ past is ruining his life, and for some strange reason the Andes give a damn.
NOTES: This was written by request, for a friend with a plot bunny who really did not expect it to go to 20k words, I don’t think. But this was written for her and she loves it (squee!) and she has granted permission for me to share it here. Full of angst and a bit of blood, which as you know is totally my M.O., but still, not a story I would have written without her ideas or encouragement, bless her. Enjoy.
A Normal Man, Part One
Nicholas left the pub early. Nothing was particularly wrong, and it was not very unusual. When Inspector Nicholas Angel pulled an early morning shift, he was in bed by nine at night, and by now everyone, including Danny, accepted that. Of course it did not make Danny very happy, but he covered it well, as he covered his disappointment in most everything.
He knew he had it bad for Nicholas. He knew that probably made him some form of ‘bender,’ and he knew that what he wanted to do to Nicholas was something his father would beat him senseless for even thinking. To a certain, very guilty extent, Danny was glad his father was locked away for life and was not in Sandford, watching his son pine away for another man. Danny slugged his lager.
However, as he thought about it, he was sure his father would at least be pleased with the results: nothing. Nicholas was much more comfortable around Danny now and was firmly ensconced as a fixture in Danny’s life…as a friend, as a partner on the job, and that was bloody all. Danny tried to open up avenues, make subtle overtures, crack suggestive jokes, but nothing tipped the balance. It would be different if he knew that Nicholas was not interested, and did not love him, and did not care. Danny knew that Nicholas did love him, and that he did care, and most importantly, that he was very interested.
It happened on a movie night, not surprisingly. Danny was actually expecting everything to begin just the way it did. They fell asleep, drunk, leaning against each other. They woke up, still mildly drunk, later in the night. Nicholas looked flushed and handsome and Danny leaned into him, and when Nicholas closed the gap, they kissed. For the 3.7 seconds it lasted, it was glorious, and in that time span, Danny shifted to place his hand on Nicholas’ upper thigh. It was not a very forward move, overall, but it was a start, and it was also the end. Nicholas lurched off the couch, looked at Danny in horror, then went into the bathroom and threw up. Danny never felt worse in his life, even as he told himself that Nicholas kissed him, not the other way around, and even as Nicholas told him it was the alcohol and not Danny that made him sick.
They pretended like it never happened, but Danny never forgot, and even six months later the vision of Nicholas awash in desire in the moment before they kissed haunted him. He finished his lager and looked at the empty glass, then groaned as the Andes dropped down on either side of him.
“Wot you sittin’ around with an empty glass for, Batterbomb?” Andrew snarked.
“Poor boy’s gonna filllll it with tears.” Andy commented, tapping the glass.
“Can’t ‘ave that. Let’s go.”
They manhandled Danny out of the chair and to the bar, and ordered another round. It was actually a comfortable spot to be in. Andy was only a couple of years older than Danny, and Andrew had been ‘big brother’ to both of them for most of their lives. Standing near the Andes was an exercise in aggravation and razor-sharp wits, but standing in between them was relaxing, safe, and everything Danny needed right now. Andy wrapped his arm around Danny’s shoulders in a friendly way while Andrew turned around to observe the pub goings-on, and no one said anything at all.
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Nicholas sat at his desk, exhausted. It was a familiar feeling and did not have anything to do with work. He was halfway through his shift and nothing noteworthy happened that day so far, and he had a lot of time to wander through his brain, trying to fix things. He always failed and he knew why, but he was compelled to keep trying, even after all these years. It was still exhausting even though he never managed to accomplish the goal he sought.
It was the same in every relationship, and even though he could not officially say to anyone alive that he was in a relationship with Danny, in most ways, he was. Danny certainly thought so and was pushing, in his very accepting and laid back way, for more. That was the wall Nicholas always hit, every time, and it was no different now. Janine accused him of loving the job more than her, but he was really, truly in love with her once, no matter what she thought. It was simply that his love was not and could not be any greater than his fears, his memories, or his terror. Even his love and genuine desire for Danny paled to that.
The mail was delivered, and Nicholas sorted through the usual junk. There was one peculiar envelope, though, addressed specifically to Nicholas but with no return address and postmarked London. It held a DVD, homemade, and the writing on it was nothing that he recognized, but as he looked at the writing, his blood pressure dropped. It was a date, a very old date, and that date was burned into Nicholas’ brain with a branding iron. He knew without looking what was probably on that DVD, and he dropped it instinctively.
Still, he had to see it. He thought it might be just a joke, an incredibly cruel and vicious joke, and he had to know. He closed up the blinds to his office and locked the door, and then popped the DVD into his computer.
The images were grainy, and it was obviously transferred from VHS. The boys in it were recognizable but they did not look the way he remembered, but then, the video was not from his perspective. His perspective was on the floor, looking up at them, terrorized, and Nicholas could not breathe when he saw for the first time how incredibly small and young he actually looked back then. He kept watching even after he threw up in his waste tin, and kept watching until the last image on the film started fading out, artfully, as if it was some god damn French movie.
That last image was of himself, a child on the shower room floor, bleeding, crying, crawling like a victim. They took turns at first, but the baton they used to rape him with last was next to him, covered in his blood, the red off of it and out of him running slowly across the tile to the drain.
Nicholas bent over, covered his ears, and howled in rage.
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The combined weight of the Andrews was no match for the door, which crashed open. The first moment the scream broke through the office, they both leapt over their desks and charged towards Nicholas’ office, which was the source of the din. Danny was right behind them, terror struck, in complete confusion as to what terrible thing might make Nicholas scream like a girl in a horror movie.
Nicholas stopped the instant the door crashed open. Danny saw Nicholas rear up as the Andes reached him and hit his computer monitor, shutting it off. It was a Nicholas Danny had never seen before, and he looked transparent. Andrew went to grab him, probably to shake him senseless, but stopped when he actually took in what he saw. Nicholas was completely and utterly spent, worse than if he saw a ghost: it was as if Nicholas just crawled out of his own grave. No one said anything, just froze where they were, stunned that anything, anywhere could make Nicholas Angel crack like this.
Andrew looked down. “Christ, Nick, you puked.”
Mechanically, Nicholas reached out and dragged the waste tin under his desk.
“’Ere, you need a doctor, love?” Doris peeked out from behind Danny.
Nicholas shook his head, and some of the color started returning to his face. He looked at each of them in turn and then tried to speak, but nothing came out. Danny muscled his way past the Andes and squatted down next to Nicholas, trying not to gag from the smell of vomit. “Nicholas, you need a doctor, yeah? Come on.” Danny reached out to take him by the arm, to help him out of the chair, but felt himself falling backwards right into Andrew’s legs as Nicholas threw him off.
“Don’t. Touch.”
“Fuck, Nick, get a grip.” Andrew snarled as he helped Danny to his feet. Nicholas nodded. He looked at the door.
“Get out.”
They all stared at him for a second, and Doris was the first to break. She fled, followed slowly and carefully by Andy, and last by Andrew, hauling Danny through the room as if pulling a reluctant child. Danny did not want to leave, but Nicholas was not looking at them anymore, he was staring at his computer. Andrew nearly threw Danny into the main room and then wrestled with the door. It was half broken off its hinges and could not be closed, but Andrew did a manly job of trying. They all gathered in the middle of the room, around Doris’ desk where she sat sniffling, not even pretending to get work done or do anything other than to wait and see if Nicholas went crazy again.
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He locked the DVD in the bottom drawer of his desk, buried under old paperwork and office supplies. He sat still for a while after that, trying to collect his thoughts and figure out what was going on. Someone, somewhere was fucking with him, that was obvious. He did not know why and in truth, he did not care anyway - those boys hurt him as worse as they could, and this was nothing more than aftershocks. Still, he wondered if it would be escalated, if members of his team would start getting copies of the film on their desks, or at their homes, or if someone would show up in person to harass him. He did not know and that bothered him, but not nearly as much as he was bothered by the door half broken off its hinges. That signaled his failure to keep his head on straight: throwing up in his waste tin and yelling at the top of his lungs at boys who could not hear him now and did not care what he screamed back then. It represented his failure at sex, his inability to perform in bed or even to get turned on, and thus his failure at every romantic entanglement he ever tried for in his life. He knew he suffered some form of post-rape post traumatic stress syndrome, and he knew that he needed professional help. He had known both of those facts for years. But his job was all that mattered, the only life line he had to a normal existence, and he did not want a psych report screwing up his chances of a promotion, or even a career at all, in the service. He knew he was not normal, in a very important way, and if he could not be at the very least a good, responsible, and respected police officer, then he truly would not be anything at all.
He stared at the broken door and thought that he was the one who was really unhinged, and had been, ever since he was thirteen years old.
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Angel walked out of his office, his waste tin in his hand, and went out back to clean it out with the garden hose. Danny watched him, clearly broken up, but like everyone else, unable to think of what to say. By that time, one of the Turners joined them and Tony as well, getting the full story of events from Doris.
Andrew stood, motionless, displeased. He did not like for his world to be upset in any way, and if it ever was, it was his job to do the upsetting, not anyone else’s. Nicholas threw a wrench in his world well over a year ago with the NWA, and it was a full-out cock-rockin’ kicker of a wrench, and he admired Nicholas for that. This was something else in all the wrong ways, putting everyone on edge and ripping Danny apart.
If there was one thing that was true about Andrew, he liked peace and tranquility, no matter how many asses he had to kick to get it. He looked up at Andy, who gave him a slow blink in understanding. They knew that something was not going right between Danny and Angel, and Andy was worried about it, and what worried Andy, worried Andrew. Now this.
It was clear that Angel needed help, and Andrew was of a mind to help him whether Angel liked it or not.
Andy nodded.
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That night, Danny knocked on the door for ten minutes. There was no way that Nicholas did not hear him knocking or think to answer. It was simply that Nicholas was not going to answer, no matter how long Danny stood at his front door. Finally Danny turned and walked off into the night, alone, sad, and worried.
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“The monitor. Turned it off. Something there, whatever it was.” Andy tapped the pencil against his teeth, thinking.
“Online?”
Andy frowned. “Naw. He wouldn’t go lookin’ up nasty shit on duty. Not ‘im.”
Andrew leaned back and stretched. They spent the morning writing down their version of events, and then comparing notes, treating it like an actual case on the books. They both realized it had something to do with the computer and were trying to figure out their next step.
“Maybe...” Andrew shrugged.
“I know his password. I can check the cookies ‘n see where he’s been.”
Andrew shook his head. “Not online, you’re right about that.”
Andy frowned. “DVD.”
Andrew sat up. “Yeah. He went off right after the mail was delivered.” Andrew checked his notes. Andy nodded.
“Still there. He didn’ carry anythin’ out.”
They nodded at each other, frowning, but agreed.
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Breaking in to Nicholas’ desk was easy. In fact, it was not even ‘breaking’ in as they copied his keys months before, just as a precaution. Now it proved to be candy from a baby to sack his desk.
They did not leave any evidence that they were ever there. Everything was left exactly as they found it, and Andy even replaced the DVD with a different one, just to have a plastic case filling the space. A cursory inspection would show that nothing was out of place, that everything was where it belonged, and nothing was even touched.
They did not have any problems until they actually watched the DVD. They did it at their flat, sitting back on the couch together as if watching the latest ‘Bourne’ movie. When it first started, Andy pointed.
“That’s Nick.”
“Naw.”
“Yeah. Lookit his eyes.”
They looked, and were soon overcome with nausea. They saw a lot in their duties as police officers, even in Sandford, and they were perverts of the highest order, but this was disturbing to a degree that someone needed to be arrested for it.
The video, an obvious copy from an old VHS recording, documented the attack and rape of a young boy, a boy they knew as the man Nicholas Angel. Five older boys threw him into the shower and wrestled him down, and he fought like a mother fucker, as Andrew said as he watched. But it did not matter, he was outnumbered and outranked and he went down fighting, screaming, and even with no sound to the recording it was obvious that the ruckus was unimaginably loud. Nicholas bit and scratched and kicked and he drew blood, but in the end, he was forced down and fucked raw by five older boys who did not really take pleasure in the fucking, only in the hurting.
The film ended with Nicholas alone, dripping blood, next to the police-style baton that the boys used on him last. They were inexperienced and they took it too far, and Andrew and Andy just stared in shock as the scene faded out, amazed that Nicholas even lived through it.
Andy stared at Andrew, appalled and horrified.
“Figure that’s what made him blow,” Andrew said, just as sick to his stomach, nodding.
Andy grimaced.
Andrew drank his lukewarm beer, which he had not touched since the film began. “Goin’ to be tough, Andy. You sure?”
Andy nodded, destroyed, but determined. Andrew nodded back at him and drank some more, knowing that as usual he was going to be Andy’s errand boy. Given the nature of the case, he was relieved, knowing how wrapped up into things Andy could get sometimes.
“C’mere.” He held out his arm and Andy crawled into him and pressed his face into Andrew’s chest as he did sometimes when he was very young and his own father had just beat down on him. Andrew, really, felt no better about what they just saw and put his beer down in order to wrap Andy into him, tightly. They did not hug, normally, or even do much together by themselves, but that night Andrew did not let Andy out of his grasp. He held him much as he had not held him since they first started sleeping together, quietly and without passion but full of concern and worry, and neither fell asleep quickly or easily.
It was pure, primal horror they watched on that DVD, and it scared both of them shitless. Andrew could not even imagine, as he drew Andy closer to him, how Nicholas lived after that.
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Nicholas touched himself in the dark. It worked this way, alone, dreaming of nothing. It was simply pleasure then, no one else involved, nothing dangerous going on, as he rubbed and squeezed and finally came, holding his breath, scared.
He heard Danny knocking at his door the day before, and it broke his heart. But he knew where he was, mentally, and he knew he could not be normal for a while. He needed to be alone, all alone, with the doors locked and the windows secured and the lights off, as he masturbated, laying underneath his own bed, where no one would ever find him.
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The following week was awkward. The door to Nicholas’ office was fixed and no one mentioned what happened. Nicholas was stiff and cold and only existed in Danny’s life during working hours. Before and after, he disappeared.
The Andes were distant as well, which bothered Danny. He did not have many safe places in the world; his mother’s death and his father’s insanity took from him the world he thought he knew and trusted. He put so much of himself into Nicholas that when he pulled back and left Danny alone, Danny really did feel alone. He was surrounded by family and co-workers and friends, but he felt absolutely abandoned. The Andes were his last resort, the men who grew up with him and knew him better than most, but they were not paying attention. Danny listed in his life, going from day to day, waiting for Nicholas to come back to him, and knowing with every day that passed, that possibility became even more remote.
He ended up in Andy’s arms, crying like a girl, at the Andes’ flat, while Andrew sat on the arm rest of the couch, rolling his eyes.
“I can’t take it, Andy! I jus’ can’t!”
“You got to, mate. You got to be strong.” Andy rubbed his back. “Remember the shootout, right? And what you had to do? Right? So you can be strong.”
“I jus’ don’ know, Andy! What is wrong? Was it something I did?”
Andy froze then, and Danny knew that Andy was holding back. He looked at him, shoving him off. “Wot? C’mon, Andy. What?”
Andy shook his head, and looked at Andrew, who shook his head in turn.
“You got to trust us on this, Danny.” Andrew said, slugging his drink, frowning, and staring at the wall.
Danny did not like it, not at all. But the only person he genuinely trusted, other than Nicholas, was Andrew. He pulled himself together like a man and nodded. “If you know what’s goin’ on, Andrew, then I trust you.”
“I do.”
Danny nodded. Andy rubbed his back, and Danny curled back into his embrace. He felt the Andes looking at each other, and he thought that whatever was going on, it was scary.
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Nicholas was doing paperwork. Boring, normal, utterly common paperwork, and he sank down into it with joy. He knew that he should give some kind of explanation to his team, but nothing seemed to fit. He decided to just play dumb, and let the moment roll past them, unremarked and (hopefully) soon forgotten. As usual, he did not account for the Andes.
“Busy?” Andrew walked into his office without knocking and sat down on the corner of his desk, shoving paperwork aside in careless inconsideration.
“Yes.” Nicholas refused to look up.
“Too bad.”
“What do you need, Sergeant?” Nicholas sighed and leaned back in his chair.
“It’s been a week. Everyone wants to know what ‘appened.” Andrew shrugged.
“Everyone saw what happened, Sergeant. The rest of it is private.” Nicholas looked him directly in the eyes, forcing him to back off the conflict. Andrew did, but conditionally.
“Fine. You goin’ to be at the pub tonight?”
“No.”
Andrew got up. “You’ll be at home, then?”
Nicholas twitched. He did not want to admit where he would be, to anyone.
Andrew pointed at his face. “I’ll find you.”
Nicholas flushed, feeling terrorized, and did not reply. Andrew noted the reaction, and walked out.
When he was gone, Nicholas checked the bottom drawer. He saw the DVD case was still there, undisturbed, underneath the extra boxes of staples and sticky notes. He locked it back up, relieved.
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For a change, Andy argued, but Andrew won. He went to Nicholas’ house alone.
He knocked on the door and did not get a reply. This was hardly much of a dis-incentive to him, and he picked it with expert ease and let himself in. The house was dark, utterly and eerily dark. Every window was drawn closed, covered by drapes or, in some cases, towels. Andrew noticed and winced. This was worse, much worse, than he expected, but given the circumstances, probably what he should have known he would find. For an incredibly brief instant, he wondered if he could handle this. The question disappeared in the face of Nicholas’ semi-automatic pointed at his chest.
“Get out.”
Andrew backed up, hands in the air. “Whatever you say, Nick.”
“I say, get out.”
“Let’s talk.”
“No.”
“Against the rules to point your weapon at a fellow officer, Nick.” Andrew spoke quietly, and stopped moving.
“You’re breaking and entering, Andrew.”
“Still against the rules, you twat.”
Nicholas lowered the gun but only went that far. It remained cocked and loaded in his hand. Andrew nodded, barely able to see in the dark.
“Fuckin’A, Nick.” Andrew let out a burst of air, just then realizing that he had been holding his breath.
“What are you doing, Andrew?” Nicholas was dark and half hidden in the shadows of the front hall. Andrew realized that Nicholas was waiting for him the whole night, sitting on the stairs, the gun in his hand.
“I’m sure as hell not here to get shot.”
Nicholas laughed, a dry and empty sound. “Fine.” He got up and pointed to the kitchen. Andrew led the way, letting Nicholas trail him.
Andrew threw the switch, throwing Nicholas off, but he stood still when he did. Nicholas glared at him, the gun never at rest, but did not do anything once his eyes adjusted. They sat down at the dinette table as if at an international negotiation committee meeting, slowly, formally, and respectfully.
“Nick, you got to put the gun up.” Andrew said, looking at the gun warily. He was not afraid of firearms, but right now, he was afraid of what Nicholas might do with one, and wanted it gone.
Nicholas slowly decocked the hammer, set the safety, and placed the gun close to him on the table so that it was still in a ready to fire position.
“Fuck’on, Nick, you think you’d need that against me?”
Nicholas actually looked ashamed at that but did not reply.
“You mind telling me why the fuck you are sitting around in the dark with a loaded gun?” Andrew stretched out, realizing that this was as close to ‘relaxed’ as he was going to get Angel for a while.
“Mind telling me why you are breaking and entering?”
Andrew rolled his eyes. “Christ, Nick, you blew like a goddamn firecracker. You can’t expect us to just take that.”
“I can expect you to mind your own business.”
Andrew leaned back in his chair, and studied Nicholas, and realized that being nice and ‘therapeutic’ was not going to help him here.
“Danny’s fucked up with this. You’re rippin’ ‘im apart and from what I can tell, you don’t seem to give much a fuck about that.”
Nicholas looked devastated, and finally Andrew felt like he was in control of the situation.
“I ain’t here to fuck with you, Nick.” He stared at the man, trying to gauge him now that he got a foot in the door of his breakage. “People are worried. Not me, just the messenger boy. I figure you got your pop gun there and can take care of yourself. I think you just need to talk it out like a damn girl, but you really scare the shit out of Doris. And me, I ain’t keen on how you been treatin’ Danny. He’s your best mate, we all know that, an’ he’s a good kid. Wot you’re doin’, Inspector Nicholas Angel, is fucked up.”
Nicholas leaned back and crossed his arms, silent. Andrew shrugged and stood up.
“I’ll be back tomorrow night. Would appreciate not getting shot.” He glared briefly at Nicholas, unsettling him, then walked out of the cottage, leaving Nicholas alone. Again.
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Fandom: Hot Fuzz
Character/s: AAA, and combinations thereof
Word Count: 20,400 (in five parts; part one, 4,300)
Rating: NC-17+
Summary: A terrible secret from Nicholas’ past is ruining his life, and for some strange reason the Andes give a damn.
NOTES: This was written by request, for a friend with a plot bunny who really did not expect it to go to 20k words, I don’t think. But this was written for her and she loves it (squee!) and she has granted permission for me to share it here. Full of angst and a bit of blood, which as you know is totally my M.O., but still, not a story I would have written without her ideas or encouragement, bless her. Enjoy.
A Normal Man, Part One
Nicholas left the pub early. Nothing was particularly wrong, and it was not very unusual. When Inspector Nicholas Angel pulled an early morning shift, he was in bed by nine at night, and by now everyone, including Danny, accepted that. Of course it did not make Danny very happy, but he covered it well, as he covered his disappointment in most everything.
He knew he had it bad for Nicholas. He knew that probably made him some form of ‘bender,’ and he knew that what he wanted to do to Nicholas was something his father would beat him senseless for even thinking. To a certain, very guilty extent, Danny was glad his father was locked away for life and was not in Sandford, watching his son pine away for another man. Danny slugged his lager.
However, as he thought about it, he was sure his father would at least be pleased with the results: nothing. Nicholas was much more comfortable around Danny now and was firmly ensconced as a fixture in Danny’s life…as a friend, as a partner on the job, and that was bloody all. Danny tried to open up avenues, make subtle overtures, crack suggestive jokes, but nothing tipped the balance. It would be different if he knew that Nicholas was not interested, and did not love him, and did not care. Danny knew that Nicholas did love him, and that he did care, and most importantly, that he was very interested.
It happened on a movie night, not surprisingly. Danny was actually expecting everything to begin just the way it did. They fell asleep, drunk, leaning against each other. They woke up, still mildly drunk, later in the night. Nicholas looked flushed and handsome and Danny leaned into him, and when Nicholas closed the gap, they kissed. For the 3.7 seconds it lasted, it was glorious, and in that time span, Danny shifted to place his hand on Nicholas’ upper thigh. It was not a very forward move, overall, but it was a start, and it was also the end. Nicholas lurched off the couch, looked at Danny in horror, then went into the bathroom and threw up. Danny never felt worse in his life, even as he told himself that Nicholas kissed him, not the other way around, and even as Nicholas told him it was the alcohol and not Danny that made him sick.
They pretended like it never happened, but Danny never forgot, and even six months later the vision of Nicholas awash in desire in the moment before they kissed haunted him. He finished his lager and looked at the empty glass, then groaned as the Andes dropped down on either side of him.
“Wot you sittin’ around with an empty glass for, Batterbomb?” Andrew snarked.
“Poor boy’s gonna filllll it with tears.” Andy commented, tapping the glass.
“Can’t ‘ave that. Let’s go.”
They manhandled Danny out of the chair and to the bar, and ordered another round. It was actually a comfortable spot to be in. Andy was only a couple of years older than Danny, and Andrew had been ‘big brother’ to both of them for most of their lives. Standing near the Andes was an exercise in aggravation and razor-sharp wits, but standing in between them was relaxing, safe, and everything Danny needed right now. Andy wrapped his arm around Danny’s shoulders in a friendly way while Andrew turned around to observe the pub goings-on, and no one said anything at all.
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Nicholas sat at his desk, exhausted. It was a familiar feeling and did not have anything to do with work. He was halfway through his shift and nothing noteworthy happened that day so far, and he had a lot of time to wander through his brain, trying to fix things. He always failed and he knew why, but he was compelled to keep trying, even after all these years. It was still exhausting even though he never managed to accomplish the goal he sought.
It was the same in every relationship, and even though he could not officially say to anyone alive that he was in a relationship with Danny, in most ways, he was. Danny certainly thought so and was pushing, in his very accepting and laid back way, for more. That was the wall Nicholas always hit, every time, and it was no different now. Janine accused him of loving the job more than her, but he was really, truly in love with her once, no matter what she thought. It was simply that his love was not and could not be any greater than his fears, his memories, or his terror. Even his love and genuine desire for Danny paled to that.
The mail was delivered, and Nicholas sorted through the usual junk. There was one peculiar envelope, though, addressed specifically to Nicholas but with no return address and postmarked London. It held a DVD, homemade, and the writing on it was nothing that he recognized, but as he looked at the writing, his blood pressure dropped. It was a date, a very old date, and that date was burned into Nicholas’ brain with a branding iron. He knew without looking what was probably on that DVD, and he dropped it instinctively.
Still, he had to see it. He thought it might be just a joke, an incredibly cruel and vicious joke, and he had to know. He closed up the blinds to his office and locked the door, and then popped the DVD into his computer.
The images were grainy, and it was obviously transferred from VHS. The boys in it were recognizable but they did not look the way he remembered, but then, the video was not from his perspective. His perspective was on the floor, looking up at them, terrorized, and Nicholas could not breathe when he saw for the first time how incredibly small and young he actually looked back then. He kept watching even after he threw up in his waste tin, and kept watching until the last image on the film started fading out, artfully, as if it was some god damn French movie.
That last image was of himself, a child on the shower room floor, bleeding, crying, crawling like a victim. They took turns at first, but the baton they used to rape him with last was next to him, covered in his blood, the red off of it and out of him running slowly across the tile to the drain.
Nicholas bent over, covered his ears, and howled in rage.
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The combined weight of the Andrews was no match for the door, which crashed open. The first moment the scream broke through the office, they both leapt over their desks and charged towards Nicholas’ office, which was the source of the din. Danny was right behind them, terror struck, in complete confusion as to what terrible thing might make Nicholas scream like a girl in a horror movie.
Nicholas stopped the instant the door crashed open. Danny saw Nicholas rear up as the Andes reached him and hit his computer monitor, shutting it off. It was a Nicholas Danny had never seen before, and he looked transparent. Andrew went to grab him, probably to shake him senseless, but stopped when he actually took in what he saw. Nicholas was completely and utterly spent, worse than if he saw a ghost: it was as if Nicholas just crawled out of his own grave. No one said anything, just froze where they were, stunned that anything, anywhere could make Nicholas Angel crack like this.
Andrew looked down. “Christ, Nick, you puked.”
Mechanically, Nicholas reached out and dragged the waste tin under his desk.
“’Ere, you need a doctor, love?” Doris peeked out from behind Danny.
Nicholas shook his head, and some of the color started returning to his face. He looked at each of them in turn and then tried to speak, but nothing came out. Danny muscled his way past the Andes and squatted down next to Nicholas, trying not to gag from the smell of vomit. “Nicholas, you need a doctor, yeah? Come on.” Danny reached out to take him by the arm, to help him out of the chair, but felt himself falling backwards right into Andrew’s legs as Nicholas threw him off.
“Don’t. Touch.”
“Fuck, Nick, get a grip.” Andrew snarled as he helped Danny to his feet. Nicholas nodded. He looked at the door.
“Get out.”
They all stared at him for a second, and Doris was the first to break. She fled, followed slowly and carefully by Andy, and last by Andrew, hauling Danny through the room as if pulling a reluctant child. Danny did not want to leave, but Nicholas was not looking at them anymore, he was staring at his computer. Andrew nearly threw Danny into the main room and then wrestled with the door. It was half broken off its hinges and could not be closed, but Andrew did a manly job of trying. They all gathered in the middle of the room, around Doris’ desk where she sat sniffling, not even pretending to get work done or do anything other than to wait and see if Nicholas went crazy again.
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He locked the DVD in the bottom drawer of his desk, buried under old paperwork and office supplies. He sat still for a while after that, trying to collect his thoughts and figure out what was going on. Someone, somewhere was fucking with him, that was obvious. He did not know why and in truth, he did not care anyway - those boys hurt him as worse as they could, and this was nothing more than aftershocks. Still, he wondered if it would be escalated, if members of his team would start getting copies of the film on their desks, or at their homes, or if someone would show up in person to harass him. He did not know and that bothered him, but not nearly as much as he was bothered by the door half broken off its hinges. That signaled his failure to keep his head on straight: throwing up in his waste tin and yelling at the top of his lungs at boys who could not hear him now and did not care what he screamed back then. It represented his failure at sex, his inability to perform in bed or even to get turned on, and thus his failure at every romantic entanglement he ever tried for in his life. He knew he suffered some form of post-rape post traumatic stress syndrome, and he knew that he needed professional help. He had known both of those facts for years. But his job was all that mattered, the only life line he had to a normal existence, and he did not want a psych report screwing up his chances of a promotion, or even a career at all, in the service. He knew he was not normal, in a very important way, and if he could not be at the very least a good, responsible, and respected police officer, then he truly would not be anything at all.
He stared at the broken door and thought that he was the one who was really unhinged, and had been, ever since he was thirteen years old.
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Angel walked out of his office, his waste tin in his hand, and went out back to clean it out with the garden hose. Danny watched him, clearly broken up, but like everyone else, unable to think of what to say. By that time, one of the Turners joined them and Tony as well, getting the full story of events from Doris.
Andrew stood, motionless, displeased. He did not like for his world to be upset in any way, and if it ever was, it was his job to do the upsetting, not anyone else’s. Nicholas threw a wrench in his world well over a year ago with the NWA, and it was a full-out cock-rockin’ kicker of a wrench, and he admired Nicholas for that. This was something else in all the wrong ways, putting everyone on edge and ripping Danny apart.
If there was one thing that was true about Andrew, he liked peace and tranquility, no matter how many asses he had to kick to get it. He looked up at Andy, who gave him a slow blink in understanding. They knew that something was not going right between Danny and Angel, and Andy was worried about it, and what worried Andy, worried Andrew. Now this.
It was clear that Angel needed help, and Andrew was of a mind to help him whether Angel liked it or not.
Andy nodded.
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That night, Danny knocked on the door for ten minutes. There was no way that Nicholas did not hear him knocking or think to answer. It was simply that Nicholas was not going to answer, no matter how long Danny stood at his front door. Finally Danny turned and walked off into the night, alone, sad, and worried.
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“The monitor. Turned it off. Something there, whatever it was.” Andy tapped the pencil against his teeth, thinking.
“Online?”
Andy frowned. “Naw. He wouldn’t go lookin’ up nasty shit on duty. Not ‘im.”
Andrew leaned back and stretched. They spent the morning writing down their version of events, and then comparing notes, treating it like an actual case on the books. They both realized it had something to do with the computer and were trying to figure out their next step.
“Maybe...” Andrew shrugged.
“I know his password. I can check the cookies ‘n see where he’s been.”
Andrew shook his head. “Not online, you’re right about that.”
Andy frowned. “DVD.”
Andrew sat up. “Yeah. He went off right after the mail was delivered.” Andrew checked his notes. Andy nodded.
“Still there. He didn’ carry anythin’ out.”
They nodded at each other, frowning, but agreed.
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Breaking in to Nicholas’ desk was easy. In fact, it was not even ‘breaking’ in as they copied his keys months before, just as a precaution. Now it proved to be candy from a baby to sack his desk.
They did not leave any evidence that they were ever there. Everything was left exactly as they found it, and Andy even replaced the DVD with a different one, just to have a plastic case filling the space. A cursory inspection would show that nothing was out of place, that everything was where it belonged, and nothing was even touched.
They did not have any problems until they actually watched the DVD. They did it at their flat, sitting back on the couch together as if watching the latest ‘Bourne’ movie. When it first started, Andy pointed.
“That’s Nick.”
“Naw.”
“Yeah. Lookit his eyes.”
They looked, and were soon overcome with nausea. They saw a lot in their duties as police officers, even in Sandford, and they were perverts of the highest order, but this was disturbing to a degree that someone needed to be arrested for it.
The video, an obvious copy from an old VHS recording, documented the attack and rape of a young boy, a boy they knew as the man Nicholas Angel. Five older boys threw him into the shower and wrestled him down, and he fought like a mother fucker, as Andrew said as he watched. But it did not matter, he was outnumbered and outranked and he went down fighting, screaming, and even with no sound to the recording it was obvious that the ruckus was unimaginably loud. Nicholas bit and scratched and kicked and he drew blood, but in the end, he was forced down and fucked raw by five older boys who did not really take pleasure in the fucking, only in the hurting.
The film ended with Nicholas alone, dripping blood, next to the police-style baton that the boys used on him last. They were inexperienced and they took it too far, and Andrew and Andy just stared in shock as the scene faded out, amazed that Nicholas even lived through it.
Andy stared at Andrew, appalled and horrified.
“Figure that’s what made him blow,” Andrew said, just as sick to his stomach, nodding.
Andy grimaced.
Andrew drank his lukewarm beer, which he had not touched since the film began. “Goin’ to be tough, Andy. You sure?”
Andy nodded, destroyed, but determined. Andrew nodded back at him and drank some more, knowing that as usual he was going to be Andy’s errand boy. Given the nature of the case, he was relieved, knowing how wrapped up into things Andy could get sometimes.
“C’mere.” He held out his arm and Andy crawled into him and pressed his face into Andrew’s chest as he did sometimes when he was very young and his own father had just beat down on him. Andrew, really, felt no better about what they just saw and put his beer down in order to wrap Andy into him, tightly. They did not hug, normally, or even do much together by themselves, but that night Andrew did not let Andy out of his grasp. He held him much as he had not held him since they first started sleeping together, quietly and without passion but full of concern and worry, and neither fell asleep quickly or easily.
It was pure, primal horror they watched on that DVD, and it scared both of them shitless. Andrew could not even imagine, as he drew Andy closer to him, how Nicholas lived after that.
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Nicholas touched himself in the dark. It worked this way, alone, dreaming of nothing. It was simply pleasure then, no one else involved, nothing dangerous going on, as he rubbed and squeezed and finally came, holding his breath, scared.
He heard Danny knocking at his door the day before, and it broke his heart. But he knew where he was, mentally, and he knew he could not be normal for a while. He needed to be alone, all alone, with the doors locked and the windows secured and the lights off, as he masturbated, laying underneath his own bed, where no one would ever find him.
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The following week was awkward. The door to Nicholas’ office was fixed and no one mentioned what happened. Nicholas was stiff and cold and only existed in Danny’s life during working hours. Before and after, he disappeared.
The Andes were distant as well, which bothered Danny. He did not have many safe places in the world; his mother’s death and his father’s insanity took from him the world he thought he knew and trusted. He put so much of himself into Nicholas that when he pulled back and left Danny alone, Danny really did feel alone. He was surrounded by family and co-workers and friends, but he felt absolutely abandoned. The Andes were his last resort, the men who grew up with him and knew him better than most, but they were not paying attention. Danny listed in his life, going from day to day, waiting for Nicholas to come back to him, and knowing with every day that passed, that possibility became even more remote.
He ended up in Andy’s arms, crying like a girl, at the Andes’ flat, while Andrew sat on the arm rest of the couch, rolling his eyes.
“I can’t take it, Andy! I jus’ can’t!”
“You got to, mate. You got to be strong.” Andy rubbed his back. “Remember the shootout, right? And what you had to do? Right? So you can be strong.”
“I jus’ don’ know, Andy! What is wrong? Was it something I did?”
Andy froze then, and Danny knew that Andy was holding back. He looked at him, shoving him off. “Wot? C’mon, Andy. What?”
Andy shook his head, and looked at Andrew, who shook his head in turn.
“You got to trust us on this, Danny.” Andrew said, slugging his drink, frowning, and staring at the wall.
Danny did not like it, not at all. But the only person he genuinely trusted, other than Nicholas, was Andrew. He pulled himself together like a man and nodded. “If you know what’s goin’ on, Andrew, then I trust you.”
“I do.”
Danny nodded. Andy rubbed his back, and Danny curled back into his embrace. He felt the Andes looking at each other, and he thought that whatever was going on, it was scary.
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Nicholas was doing paperwork. Boring, normal, utterly common paperwork, and he sank down into it with joy. He knew that he should give some kind of explanation to his team, but nothing seemed to fit. He decided to just play dumb, and let the moment roll past them, unremarked and (hopefully) soon forgotten. As usual, he did not account for the Andes.
“Busy?” Andrew walked into his office without knocking and sat down on the corner of his desk, shoving paperwork aside in careless inconsideration.
“Yes.” Nicholas refused to look up.
“Too bad.”
“What do you need, Sergeant?” Nicholas sighed and leaned back in his chair.
“It’s been a week. Everyone wants to know what ‘appened.” Andrew shrugged.
“Everyone saw what happened, Sergeant. The rest of it is private.” Nicholas looked him directly in the eyes, forcing him to back off the conflict. Andrew did, but conditionally.
“Fine. You goin’ to be at the pub tonight?”
“No.”
Andrew got up. “You’ll be at home, then?”
Nicholas twitched. He did not want to admit where he would be, to anyone.
Andrew pointed at his face. “I’ll find you.”
Nicholas flushed, feeling terrorized, and did not reply. Andrew noted the reaction, and walked out.
When he was gone, Nicholas checked the bottom drawer. He saw the DVD case was still there, undisturbed, underneath the extra boxes of staples and sticky notes. He locked it back up, relieved.
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For a change, Andy argued, but Andrew won. He went to Nicholas’ house alone.
He knocked on the door and did not get a reply. This was hardly much of a dis-incentive to him, and he picked it with expert ease and let himself in. The house was dark, utterly and eerily dark. Every window was drawn closed, covered by drapes or, in some cases, towels. Andrew noticed and winced. This was worse, much worse, than he expected, but given the circumstances, probably what he should have known he would find. For an incredibly brief instant, he wondered if he could handle this. The question disappeared in the face of Nicholas’ semi-automatic pointed at his chest.
“Get out.”
Andrew backed up, hands in the air. “Whatever you say, Nick.”
“I say, get out.”
“Let’s talk.”
“No.”
“Against the rules to point your weapon at a fellow officer, Nick.” Andrew spoke quietly, and stopped moving.
“You’re breaking and entering, Andrew.”
“Still against the rules, you twat.”
Nicholas lowered the gun but only went that far. It remained cocked and loaded in his hand. Andrew nodded, barely able to see in the dark.
“Fuckin’A, Nick.” Andrew let out a burst of air, just then realizing that he had been holding his breath.
“What are you doing, Andrew?” Nicholas was dark and half hidden in the shadows of the front hall. Andrew realized that Nicholas was waiting for him the whole night, sitting on the stairs, the gun in his hand.
“I’m sure as hell not here to get shot.”
Nicholas laughed, a dry and empty sound. “Fine.” He got up and pointed to the kitchen. Andrew led the way, letting Nicholas trail him.
Andrew threw the switch, throwing Nicholas off, but he stood still when he did. Nicholas glared at him, the gun never at rest, but did not do anything once his eyes adjusted. They sat down at the dinette table as if at an international negotiation committee meeting, slowly, formally, and respectfully.
“Nick, you got to put the gun up.” Andrew said, looking at the gun warily. He was not afraid of firearms, but right now, he was afraid of what Nicholas might do with one, and wanted it gone.
Nicholas slowly decocked the hammer, set the safety, and placed the gun close to him on the table so that it was still in a ready to fire position.
“Fuck’on, Nick, you think you’d need that against me?”
Nicholas actually looked ashamed at that but did not reply.
“You mind telling me why the fuck you are sitting around in the dark with a loaded gun?” Andrew stretched out, realizing that this was as close to ‘relaxed’ as he was going to get Angel for a while.
“Mind telling me why you are breaking and entering?”
Andrew rolled his eyes. “Christ, Nick, you blew like a goddamn firecracker. You can’t expect us to just take that.”
“I can expect you to mind your own business.”
Andrew leaned back in his chair, and studied Nicholas, and realized that being nice and ‘therapeutic’ was not going to help him here.
“Danny’s fucked up with this. You’re rippin’ ‘im apart and from what I can tell, you don’t seem to give much a fuck about that.”
Nicholas looked devastated, and finally Andrew felt like he was in control of the situation.
“I ain’t here to fuck with you, Nick.” He stared at the man, trying to gauge him now that he got a foot in the door of his breakage. “People are worried. Not me, just the messenger boy. I figure you got your pop gun there and can take care of yourself. I think you just need to talk it out like a damn girl, but you really scare the shit out of Doris. And me, I ain’t keen on how you been treatin’ Danny. He’s your best mate, we all know that, an’ he’s a good kid. Wot you’re doin’, Inspector Nicholas Angel, is fucked up.”
Nicholas leaned back and crossed his arms, silent. Andrew shrugged and stood up.
“I’ll be back tomorrow night. Would appreciate not getting shot.” He glared briefly at Nicholas, unsettling him, then walked out of the cottage, leaving Nicholas alone. Again.
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