Against All Odds - Prequel to Affirmation Part 3
Appologies for not posting sooner, I've been busy carring for my new puppy, plus doing a lot of screen capping of HIGNFY Best of Guest Presenters Vol. 2.
So, here's the next part: In which Paul rushes to Tony's flat, encounters some of Tony's neighbors, breaks down a door, and finds Tony, but is he really too late????
Title: Against All Odds
Author: Shinigami518
Rating: PG-13, but with some bits of R in it.
Main Character(s) and/or pairings: Tony/Paul (starts as friendship, turns to "?", and ends with solid love), Josie/Richard, Paul/Caroline (kinda rocky, but established), Josie/Greg friendship, Stephen/Tony Friendship, Richard/Paul Friendship, Ryan/Colin at end
Summary: In late 1996, after a taping of HIGNFY, Paul is told by Greg and Josie about Tony's downward spiral into darkness. This is what happened to Tony and Paul before Affirmation with some angst, some fluff, some H/C, some horror, and a happy ending that'll lead to the sequel to Affirmation.
View the last parts here:
prologue
part 1
part 2
View Affirmation here:
Epilogue, but with all parts linked
Part 3 - How can I just let you walk away, just let you leave without a trace
Oct. 4, 1996
6:45AM
Paul hopped out of his car and slammed the door shut. He double-checked the address written hastily on a piece of paper before glancing around the area. He owed Josie big for this.
After all, waking up someone at 6 in the morning is not something to take lightly.
It took some convincing and minutes of searching through phone books and address books, but Paul finally found where Tony was living - a set of apartment buildings near a warehouse. His heart was racing, praying that Tony was alright…
…And praying he wasn’t too late to help him.
He made his way towards his destination, double-checking the address to make sure he was in the right area. Finally finding the building, he paused to catch his breath and calm himself, considering his heart had been racing for quite some time since he left home. He subconsciously checked his watch - almost seven A.M. It had taken over an hour to get to this place.
He climbed up the small set of steps in front of the one that matched the address and stood in front of the door on his destination: a small apartment complex. He quickly scanned the directory on the wall, searching for Tony’s name.
“C’mon, c’mon… yes!” Paul muttered, then exclaimed softly, finding Tony’s name on the small list. “A. Slattery. No wonder it was hard to find you. They’d look for Tony, not Anthony.” Paul smiled slightly. He hit the button next to Tony’s name and waited for a response.
Nothing.
He hit the button again.
No response.
That made Paul more worried than before. He began frantically pressing the small button at least over a dozen times, praying he’d get some response from the man.
Nothing.
“Oh, to hell with this!” Paul groaned in frustration and preceded to pound on all the buttons in hope someone would let him in. Right now he didn’t give a crap about waking anyone up or disturbing the peace. All he knew was that Tony was in trouble and he had to do something.
Finally, the door clicked, signalling it was unlocked. A split second later, Paul yanked the door open and ran in.
Entering the building, he encountered the one who let him in; an older woman with greying hair, wrinkles and few teeth. After he explained to her why he was here, she led him up to Tony’s apartment, which was on the second floor. Along the way, the woman complained about Tony, stating that the raven haired man rarely left his apartment, kept to himself, and, summing it up, was an “odd one”. Paul frowned, not liking what he heard from the woman. On top of all that, the woman smelt of booze and cat piss, which nearly made Paul pass out from the foul smell.
He sound found himself alone in front of Tony’s door, staring at the rusty “4-B” metal plate on it. The cat woman had already retreated to her room or who knew where, but Paul didn’t care. He was there for only one thing: Tony.
“Please be ok, Tony…,” Paul whispered, and then, after taking a deep breath, knocked on the door. “Tony?” Paul asked, loud enough for him to hear on the other side. He heard nothing. Paul knocked louder, praying he wasn’t too late. “Tony?!” Paul asked, this time much louder.
“G’way…” was the soft reply from behind the door.
Paul sighed in relief, knowing Tony was alive. Then he remembered what Tony had said and shook his head.
“Tony, its Paul, I want to talk to you.” Paul said, not realizing until a second after he said those words how desperate he sounded.
“Dun wanna talk. Go ‘way…” Tony stated, sounding distant… lost. Paul bit his lip in disappointment. This wasn’t going to work, he thought, time to get serious.
“Tony, something’s wrong with you, I can tell. Please open up.” Paul was almost begging.
“Please… don’t… leave me alone…”
Paul’s blood ran cold on hearing the emptiness of Tony’s voice. He was worried, very worried. Tony seemed so far away, so lost. Was he really too late as he feared.
“No…,” Paul shook his head, “there’s still a chance…” he whispered to himself. He spoke up again. “Tony, I’m not leaving. Now if you don’t open up, I’m gonna break this door down!” Paul commanded. He didn’t like the idea to resort to property damage, but this was a serious situation.
He didn’t get a response. Paul looked at the hinges of the door, mentally noting their rustiness along with the poor condition of the door. He made his choice in what to do next.
He got into position, took a deep breath to calm his racing heart and his nerves…
…And charged into the door right shoulder and elbow first, the force of the contact of his body hitting the door made it break, allowing him to, rather unceremoniously, enter the room in a stumble. Once in, he fell forward and gravity claimed him as a friend.
A few seconds later, Paul got on his knees, rubbing his aching arm while cursing at himself softly.
“Alright, never doing that again…” Paul muttered to himself as he got up, now dusting off his jeans. He finally looked up, glancing around the dreary apartment.
It was dark, hardly any working lights in the room. The walls were a slate grey with peeling paint chips on the floor. A pile of bills and mail in the corner by the door, several envelopes lay fallen near the pile, knocked over by Paul’s entrance.
As Paul walked further into the room, shedding his jacket in the process, he noticed how the living room looked like the one in his nightmares. Mostly empty with hardly any furniture except with the same threadbare couch, the same table, the same rug…
Paul then saw his target. The reason why he came to this place.
“Tony…” Paul whispered.
Tony sat with his back against the leftmost wall, staring silently and motionlessly at the opposite wall. He had dark shadows under his eyes and his skin was pale, but not deathly pale like in the nightmare, much to Paul’s relief. His hair was a mess - dirty, unkempt and grown out. He was fully clothed as well, wearing what he wore in the last part of Paul’s dream: a dirty grey denim jacket over a faded black t-shirt and jeans that were threadbare with rips in the knees. His knees were bent upwards with his arms resting on his bent knees, his hands dangling between his legs, fingers nearly touching his calves.
Paul tossed his jacket onto the couch and then took a hesitant step towards Tony, then a second. Tony didn’t respond. Paul kept moving towards him until he was at least ten feet from him. All that while, Tony didn’t make any movement or said anything.
Then Paul got his attention with a dry cough.
Tony finally looked up at him. His brown eyes looked dull and tired; they didn’t have the sparkle, the brightness Paul remembered when they had started working together years ago. What scared Paul was the look he had while staring at him. He looked at him with an odd expression on his face, as if he had just seen another human being for the first time since never. It made Paul very uncomfortable.
“Tony.” Paul spoke a bit louder than before. Tony tilted his head slightly, staring unbelievingly at Paul.
“Erm, sorry about your door…” Paul blurted out, trying to break the tension. He mentally kicked himself in the ass for saying that. ‘Stupid, stupid git!’ He thought, turning away for a minute, ‘What kind of comment was-.’
“G’nna pay fer that…”
Paul turned back to stare at Tony, surprised that he spoke. He now realized how rough Tony’s voice sounded, like he hadn’t spoken in days, and how tired he sounded. Judging by the shadows under his eyes, Paul figured Tony hadn’t slept in a while.
Paul moved a bit closer and knelt down next to Tony. He hesitantly raised his right hand to touch Tony’s face, to push back his long, messy, and dangly bangs, but stopped. This was almost like his nightmare, the one that haunted him an hour before and was still haunting him.
“Oh, Tony…,” Paul sighed, fighting back his tears and his fears as he finally touched Tony, brushing back Tony’s bangs to look at his pale face, “What the bloody hell happened to you?” he asked, desperately wanting to know. Tony looked away, not saying a word, pulling away from Paul’s warm hand.
“Tony, what’s wrong with you? Everyone’s been worried sick! Josie, Greg, they think you’re destroying yourself. What are you doing?” Paul was mentally begging Tony to say something again. His heart was aching and starting to break from seeing Tony so helpless.
“So… so many problems… troubles… cocaine… scotch… numbs the pain…” Tony mumbled, swaying slightly, his eyelids drooping as he spoke.
“Damn it…” Paul cursed softly. Greg had been right after all. Tony was doing drugs! Or had been doing them, Paul wasn’t sure. No wonder he was so off on the show, and in real life. He must’ve been out of it all those times…
His thoughts were interrupted when Tony slumped forward against Paul’s chest suddenly. Paul managed to catch him in time before he fell to his side, making him get on both knees instead of one due to sudden force falling against him.
“H-hey, come on, stay with me, Tony. Don’t you go and-.” Paul’s complaint came to a halt when he saw Tony’s closed eyes. Paul grabbed Tony by his upper arms and moved him so he could face him eye-to-eye.
“Oi. Oi! Tony, wake up! Tony!” The fear Paul had felt was coming back as he tried waking the Irishman with several gentle shakes. He looked down, groaning, and he face went as white as a ghost when he saw why Tony had conked out.
Tony’s wrists were bleeding from slit marks on his already pale skin.
“NonononononoNO!!” Paul’s screams echoed in the silent room. Carefully placing Tony back against the wall, he got up and frantically ran around the apartment, praying he could find clean or decent looking towels to try and stop Tony’s wrists from bleeding; hoping he could save Tony’s life.
He soon found a few relatively clean towels in the kitchen and quickly returned to the prone body he had left behind. He then began to make crude tourniquets around Tony’s wrists. It wasn’t much, but he knew it would slow down the bleeding. He then searched for the telephone, praying it was still there.
Paul found it, but it had been unhooked, causing more panic in his heart. Cursing himself for not bringing a mobile, he bolted out the room and began screaming for help, hoping that someone would wake up and could give him a hand.
A younger woman exited from one of the rooms, a sleepy two year old boy in her arms. Her hair was messy and looked like she just rolled out of bed.
“What’re you doing, you bas-.” The woman’s complaints were cut off by Paul grabbing the woman by her shoulders.
“Please! Call the hospital! My friend - the guy in 4-B - he slit his wrists and he’s unconscious! He needs a doctor! Please, help me!” Paul screamed, tears filling his eyes. The woman nearly dropped the small boy she was carrying in shock.
“Wh-what?” She asked, trembling from Paul’s presence and the tone of his voice.
“Just call the hospital and tell them to get an ambulance down here and fast! I dunno how long Tony’s got!” Paul told her, panic in each word he said.
“A-alright, I’ll call ‘em.” The woman squeaked, pulling away from Paul and running back to her apartment, the little boy in her arms asking questions about “that weird guy”. Paul then realized why she looked so frightened of him. He looked down at his hands.
They were stained with blood. Tony’s blood.
Paul turned whiter than before, several tears escaping his blue eyes. He was already too late to stop Tony from cutting himself, but he wasn’t too late to stop him from dying.
He u-turned and ran back into Tony’s apartment, rushing over to Tony’s side. The blood had started to stain the towels around his wrists once he got back to him.
Paul fell onto his knees and pulled Tony close, holding his against his chest, Tony’s limp head resting against Paul’s left shoulder.
“Stay with me, Tony, just hold on…” Paul pleaded, holding Tony’s limp body close to his, rocking him slightly as he left hand stroked Tony’s head, his fingers entwining his messy black hair.
Yup, more angst and creepyness. Looks like Paul's dream almost came true, but thank God he got there when he did. Remember, not all that happened to Tony in this really happened. What did happen was that someone broke down his door and got through to him that he needed help. He did not try cutting himself or anything like what he did in this chapter. He DID however do coke and drank a lot. I've gotten most of my information from interviews and Secret Life of the Manic Depressive, so if my information is a bit scanty, blame it on the info I've looked at and not knowing much aside from the bare basics.
To be continued in Part 4, so read, review, and wait for it.