Fic: Tears Of My Heart [Part Four]
Author: miss_peg
Artist: tromana
Link To Art: Here.
Word count: 27206
Rating: R/NC-17
Warnings: Lots of swearing and a bit of violence.
Disclaimer: I don't own Skins...ah well.
Summary: When Cook gets out of prison having served time for absconding, he moves in with Naomi, Emily and Gina. After the death of his mother, Cook is faced with questions about his past. With Naomi's help, they go on an emotional journey which results in a revelation that could change both of their lives.
Notes: I was so excited to take part in the skins_bigbang and I am so glad that I finally took the time to write this story. I'd had it in my head for over a year and began it once, before realising that it needed more time than I was able to give it. I'm so proud of finally finishing it.
A massive thank you to tromana, who has literally been my everything throughout this whole process. My beta (you makes me a better writer), my cheerleader, my ideas bouncer, without you I don't think I'd have got through. Nor would I have the amazing art that you made for me. It's been a pleasure to do all of that for you too, in return. I can't wait for us to 'swap' art.
You should all check out her awesome skins_bigbang, which was her first proper Skins fic, not that you could possibly tell. Tick Tock.
Part One
Part Two
Part Three
Part Four
The late night sounds had become an accustomed part of their weekly routine as Naomi perched on the edge of the wall. Cook had been out there for some time, a small pile of cigarette butts had formed on the floor beneath his feet and the guinea pig nudged his other hand as he stroked her. She stared cautiously back towards the kitchen door.
‘On edge tonight,’ Cook noticed.
‘Emily knows I’ve been coming out here.’
‘So?’
‘She knows something’s going on.’
After everything Naomi had put Emily through, she couldn’t stand hurting her again. She didn’t want to keep secrets, had never intended for their lives to turn backwards, but what other choice did she have? Cook didn’t want anyone else knowing, after all he’d done for her, she couldn’t help but comply.
‘It’s only until I find out about my mum,’ he said, taking a final drag of his cigarette before stamping it out on the floor.
‘What if it takes a long time?’
‘Don’t,’ Cook snapped, standing up and shaking his head. They both knew it was possible that he’d never find his parents. There was always a chance; he preferred to live in denial than think about the possible outcomes of his search.
‘You need to be realistic.’
‘Fuck off Naomikins, I don’t need this shit. I’m going to find them, now keep your fucking mouth shut, alright?’
‘Make me,’ Naomi snapped back, standing up and squaring up to him. He wasn’t going to order her around. She’d done him a massive favour giving him somewhere to live. He ought to be more grateful.
‘You owe me Naomi, you fucking owe me big. If it weren’t for me you’d be in prison and Emily would be so far away from here and you’d be alone.’
She lifted her hand with the intention of hitting him, held it high above them until the moonlight caught her pale skin. But she couldn’t do it. She couldn’t hurt him. Not now, not ever. He was right, he was always so fucking right that she wanted to hit him for that reason too. He’d thrown her the guilt card and there was nothing she could do but play by his rules.
‘I’m not happy about this James,’ she informed him, staring deep into his eyes. ‘I don’t care what you fucking say. If this ruins things for me and Emily, you’ll be eating your balls on a plate.’
‘Don’t threaten me Naomikins, I don’t want us to end up like this. I need you; I need you on my side not hating me for making you do stuff.’
What had happened to them? They didn’t used to be like that. They could argue but they never really meant it, it was usually just a bit of fun that they shared. He hated what he was doing to her, what he could do to Emily. He didn’t want to be the reason they didn’t work out but he didn’t want to pretend that he hadn’t paved the way for their make-up.
‘Then don’t make me feel guilty,’ Naomi shouted, her tone more assertive than before.
‘I’m sorry.’
‘Yeah,’ she whispered, lowering her head. ‘So am I.’
Contrary to how people perceived her, Naomi didn’t like to argue. She hated confrontation, especially when it came out of the blue. First, Gina, now Cook. She didn’t want to become an angry person who blamed everyone around her for the things she couldn’t control. She hated it when her mother lied to her, or kept things from her. At the same time, she hated telling her the things she didn’t want to talk about. How could she expect Gina to be open and honest when she, herself, had such trouble with it?
‘Let’s start again. I heard you and Gina had a barney, what happened?’
‘Don’t know,’ she sighed, lighting up another cigarette and breathing out the stress. Vocalising things always made them feel so much worse, so much more difficult. She didn’t know why but it was easier telling Cook. ‘She’s been acting really weird today.’
‘Maybe she’s just having an off day,’ he muttered, shrugging his shoulders. ‘We all have them.’
‘I guess.’
Naomi didn’t want to talk about Gina from the moment he asked her, he could tell. She caged herself up like when Wanda hid in the corner of her hutch. He didn’t ask her anymore questions and after a minute he could hear the deflation of Naomi’s lungs. His lips curled into a smile and even though it was forced, he knew he had to pretend that everything was alright. Even if it was just to mask the fear bubbling up inside his chest.
‘I need your help Naomeo,’ he whispered, wringing his hands together nervously. ‘I need to visit my grandpa’s old house. I don’t want to go back there on my own.’
There was no hesitation in Naomi’s voice, no fear, no frustration. He could almost hear the thanks in her voice, his problems a welcomed distraction from her own life.
‘When are we going?’
‘I were thinking tomorrow, if you’re not busy.’
‘Perfect,’ Naomi smiled. ‘Emily’s supposed to be out shopping with Katie.’
Silence filled the void between them and Cook lit up another cigarette. Mentioning Emily only made him realise further the damage he could be doing to their relationship. He didn’t want that. But he wanted people feeling pity on him even less.
‘I hate making you lie for me, but I can’t tell anyone else. Not yet.’
Naomi nodded her head and silently smoked on her cigarette, they had an understanding, they always had. They shared more than they cared to admit.
‘If it was me looking for my dad, I don’t think I could either.’
‘Even Emily?’ he frowned.
She shrugged her shoulders and looked him in the eye.
‘Maybe.’
xxx
The front door fell off its hinges as Cook pulled it open to reveal a long, dark hallway that led to what Naomi assumed was the kitchen. All she could see was dirt and rubbish cluttering up almost every inch of the floor space. When they’d arrived at the farm she’d half expected to be knocking on the door and asking the most recent occupants if there was anything left in the attic belonging to Cook’s grandfather. As it turned out, the dilapidated old farmhouse looked more like a broken shell than a home. As they walked up the staircase, which she was sure would collapse at any moment, the floorboards creaked under foot.
‘What are we doing here?’ she asked, despite knowing the answer. ‘This place is creepy.’
‘I used to live here.’
‘When? Nineteen twenty-four?’ she joked, anything to avoid the fear building up inside ‘This place can’t have been lived in in years.’
‘Five years,’ Cook noted, kicking a pile of papers at the top of the stairs. The old place smelled exactly how he remembered it. Like old fags and dust. He remembered the countless times he’d visited the old codger he called grandpa and how many times he’d succumbed to his belt.
‘Used to stay with my grandpa in the summer, it’s how I met Freddie and JJ.’
‘Is this place even safe?’
‘Safe as old houses,’ Cook assured her, though he wasn’t as sure as he made out. The walls were covered in damp and mould and the windowsill was sprouting weeds. He assumed the broken window was to blame for that.
‘What are we looking for?’ Naomi said, careful not to touch any of the walls as they traipsed up another flight of stairs.
‘Before my grandpa died he caught me snooping through his attic, I found pictures of my mum when she was younger. I wanna see if there’s anything still up here. Don’t think anyone moved in after he died.’
They separated at the top of the stairs as Cook walked on through the attic towards a few boxes. Naomi stayed by the doorway, cautious of the dark spaces surrounding them. She fucking hated the dark sometimes, when there were spiders and Christ knows what else running around. As she took tentative steps across the floor something tickled her cheek and she screamed. Cook doubled over laughing at her reaction, she walked quickly until she was within reach and then she whacked him over the head.
‘You fucking dick,’ she shouted, but he just carried on laughing.
‘Found the pictures,’ Cook announced, opening an old biscuit tin full of photos. ‘There she is, my mum and that must be Sam.’
‘She was beautiful,’ Naomi muttered smiling at the photograph of Ruth from when she was a teenager.
‘Pity she didn’t stay that way when she opened her mouth or had a few drinks.’
‘Was it really that bad?’
Cook muttered a response followed by a few sniffles; he returned his attention to the photographs. He wasn’t going to cry, he wasn’t a fucking pussy. He needed to be a man. He handed some of the photographs to Naomi and looked through the rest.
‘Some of these are ripped,’ Cook whispered, turning over a photograph of his parents and Sam. ‘They’re from before I was born.’
‘They have the date on?’
‘Yeah, this one says it’s at my mum’s twenty-first, I always thought she had me when she were twenty-one. I guess that explains why she ain’t pregnant.’
‘Hey Cook,’ Naomi noted, dropping the other photos back into the tin and handing one over to him. ‘Sorry, James, this one says Reggie on it. I guess they must have ripped her out of the photo.’
‘Fucking cunts,’ Cook shouted, throwing the box across the floor.
Naomi rested a hand on his shoulder, she hated when he got angry. Though he’d never been that angry with her, it still scared her. He could be violent when he wanted and though she knew deep down that he’d never hurt her, it still made her cautious when he lost his temper.
‘What about these?’ Naomi grinned, opening a photo album of baby pictures. ‘Is this you as a baby?’
‘Fucking hell,’ Cook laughed, taking the book from Naomi as she continued looking through the other boxes.
‘I was one right ugly baby.’
‘You were a fat kid,’ Naomi joked, resting a hand on his shoulder as she glanced down at the photos. ‘Is that your grandpa?’
‘Yeah, fucking bastard he was. Hated coming here in the summer but mum was always working, said I couldn’t stay on my own so she sent me here.’
‘Fun place to spend your summer though, on a farm.’
‘Tell that to my grandpa, he’d shout at me for just being around. Not my fault I was just a kid, I couldn’t decide what was happening to me. There was this one time where I was jacking off in the cow shed and he caught me, smacked me so hard across the back I thought I couldn’t breathe. Weren’t the first time he hit me.’
‘Oh.’
‘You going all pitying on me again Naomikins?’
‘No, just, you had it tough, didn’t you?’
Most of the time Naomi got frustrated with Gina’s mothering and other times she didn’t think it was so bad. At that moment she seemed more like a Goddess than a hindrance to her independence. Cook’s past had always been something Naomi suspected would have been difficult, she just hadn’t imagined the depth of problems he’d had to face.
‘Nah Naomeo, just life man. Everyone’s different.’
‘You didn’t deserve that life,’ she mumbled, emptying the final contents of the box; a few items of clothing, some pictures Cook did as a child and another box full of tax forms.
‘What’s that?’ Cook asked, lifting a sheet of paper out of the box. ‘What the fuck?’
‘Is that your birth certificate?’
‘No, can’t be, I got it from my mum when she died. This must be some fake, it’s not even for the right council. I wasn’t born in Bristol.’
‘Where were you born?’
‘I don’t know, this is fucking weird man. There’s another one for Edinburgh.’
‘I don’t think these are real,’ Naomi said, analysing the Bristol one carefully. ‘Says here you were born six months after me, which is right, but they can’t have changed the birth certificates that much in that time. Mine looks nothing like this and surely your birth certificate would have your real mother’s name on it.’
‘Do they do separate adoption certificates?’
‘I dunno, but surely you’d have two certificates with different names on.’
‘I only have one which says Ruth were my mum,’ Cook muttered, his brow furrowing. ‘Different names?’
‘You know, what your birth mum called you.’
He retreated, dropping the papers onto the floor as he walked towards the small window at the end of the room. He let out a breath and tried to find his previously calm and collected self. Easier said than done. The whole situation was messing with his head.
‘This is fucked up Naomeo, I don’t like it man. Maybe we should just give up; I don’t need to know anything.’
‘Yes you do, you said so yourself. You deserve to know. Maybe we’re just going the wrong way about it? Maybe we need to contact the council where you were born and get a new certificate.’
‘Alright,’ he said, nodding briefly.
‘Do you wanna take these photos with us?’
‘Nah, they mean nothing to me. That bitch ruined my life, I don’t need anything to remember her by, I got enough scars for that.’
Naomi squeezed his shoulder as he walked back towards the staircase. As he began to descend the stairs, she picked up a handful of the photos and papers and slipped them into her bag. She knew it was risky, going behind his back, but she wanted to help him. It couldn’t hurt, could it?
Part Five
[ Parts Six - Ten]
Artist: tromana
Link To Art: Here.
Word count: 27206
Rating: R/NC-17
Warnings: Lots of swearing and a bit of violence.
Disclaimer: I don't own Skins...ah well.
Summary: When Cook gets out of prison having served time for absconding, he moves in with Naomi, Emily and Gina. After the death of his mother, Cook is faced with questions about his past. With Naomi's help, they go on an emotional journey which results in a revelation that could change both of their lives.
Notes: I was so excited to take part in the skins_bigbang and I am so glad that I finally took the time to write this story. I'd had it in my head for over a year and began it once, before realising that it needed more time than I was able to give it. I'm so proud of finally finishing it.
A massive thank you to tromana, who has literally been my everything throughout this whole process. My beta (you makes me a better writer), my cheerleader, my ideas bouncer, without you I don't think I'd have got through. Nor would I have the amazing art that you made for me. It's been a pleasure to do all of that for you too, in return. I can't wait for us to 'swap' art.
You should all check out her awesome skins_bigbang, which was her first proper Skins fic, not that you could possibly tell. Tick Tock.
Part One
Part Two
Part Three
Part Four
The late night sounds had become an accustomed part of their weekly routine as Naomi perched on the edge of the wall. Cook had been out there for some time, a small pile of cigarette butts had formed on the floor beneath his feet and the guinea pig nudged his other hand as he stroked her. She stared cautiously back towards the kitchen door.
‘On edge tonight,’ Cook noticed.
‘Emily knows I’ve been coming out here.’
‘So?’
‘She knows something’s going on.’
After everything Naomi had put Emily through, she couldn’t stand hurting her again. She didn’t want to keep secrets, had never intended for their lives to turn backwards, but what other choice did she have? Cook didn’t want anyone else knowing, after all he’d done for her, she couldn’t help but comply.
‘It’s only until I find out about my mum,’ he said, taking a final drag of his cigarette before stamping it out on the floor.
‘What if it takes a long time?’
‘Don’t,’ Cook snapped, standing up and shaking his head. They both knew it was possible that he’d never find his parents. There was always a chance; he preferred to live in denial than think about the possible outcomes of his search.
‘You need to be realistic.’
‘Fuck off Naomikins, I don’t need this shit. I’m going to find them, now keep your fucking mouth shut, alright?’
‘Make me,’ Naomi snapped back, standing up and squaring up to him. He wasn’t going to order her around. She’d done him a massive favour giving him somewhere to live. He ought to be more grateful.
‘You owe me Naomi, you fucking owe me big. If it weren’t for me you’d be in prison and Emily would be so far away from here and you’d be alone.’
She lifted her hand with the intention of hitting him, held it high above them until the moonlight caught her pale skin. But she couldn’t do it. She couldn’t hurt him. Not now, not ever. He was right, he was always so fucking right that she wanted to hit him for that reason too. He’d thrown her the guilt card and there was nothing she could do but play by his rules.
‘I’m not happy about this James,’ she informed him, staring deep into his eyes. ‘I don’t care what you fucking say. If this ruins things for me and Emily, you’ll be eating your balls on a plate.’
‘Don’t threaten me Naomikins, I don’t want us to end up like this. I need you; I need you on my side not hating me for making you do stuff.’
What had happened to them? They didn’t used to be like that. They could argue but they never really meant it, it was usually just a bit of fun that they shared. He hated what he was doing to her, what he could do to Emily. He didn’t want to be the reason they didn’t work out but he didn’t want to pretend that he hadn’t paved the way for their make-up.
‘Then don’t make me feel guilty,’ Naomi shouted, her tone more assertive than before.
‘I’m sorry.’
‘Yeah,’ she whispered, lowering her head. ‘So am I.’
Contrary to how people perceived her, Naomi didn’t like to argue. She hated confrontation, especially when it came out of the blue. First, Gina, now Cook. She didn’t want to become an angry person who blamed everyone around her for the things she couldn’t control. She hated it when her mother lied to her, or kept things from her. At the same time, she hated telling her the things she didn’t want to talk about. How could she expect Gina to be open and honest when she, herself, had such trouble with it?
‘Let’s start again. I heard you and Gina had a barney, what happened?’
‘Don’t know,’ she sighed, lighting up another cigarette and breathing out the stress. Vocalising things always made them feel so much worse, so much more difficult. She didn’t know why but it was easier telling Cook. ‘She’s been acting really weird today.’
‘Maybe she’s just having an off day,’ he muttered, shrugging his shoulders. ‘We all have them.’
‘I guess.’
Naomi didn’t want to talk about Gina from the moment he asked her, he could tell. She caged herself up like when Wanda hid in the corner of her hutch. He didn’t ask her anymore questions and after a minute he could hear the deflation of Naomi’s lungs. His lips curled into a smile and even though it was forced, he knew he had to pretend that everything was alright. Even if it was just to mask the fear bubbling up inside his chest.
‘I need your help Naomeo,’ he whispered, wringing his hands together nervously. ‘I need to visit my grandpa’s old house. I don’t want to go back there on my own.’
There was no hesitation in Naomi’s voice, no fear, no frustration. He could almost hear the thanks in her voice, his problems a welcomed distraction from her own life.
‘When are we going?’
‘I were thinking tomorrow, if you’re not busy.’
‘Perfect,’ Naomi smiled. ‘Emily’s supposed to be out shopping with Katie.’
Silence filled the void between them and Cook lit up another cigarette. Mentioning Emily only made him realise further the damage he could be doing to their relationship. He didn’t want that. But he wanted people feeling pity on him even less.
‘I hate making you lie for me, but I can’t tell anyone else. Not yet.’
Naomi nodded her head and silently smoked on her cigarette, they had an understanding, they always had. They shared more than they cared to admit.
‘If it was me looking for my dad, I don’t think I could either.’
‘Even Emily?’ he frowned.
She shrugged her shoulders and looked him in the eye.
‘Maybe.’
xxx
The front door fell off its hinges as Cook pulled it open to reveal a long, dark hallway that led to what Naomi assumed was the kitchen. All she could see was dirt and rubbish cluttering up almost every inch of the floor space. When they’d arrived at the farm she’d half expected to be knocking on the door and asking the most recent occupants if there was anything left in the attic belonging to Cook’s grandfather. As it turned out, the dilapidated old farmhouse looked more like a broken shell than a home. As they walked up the staircase, which she was sure would collapse at any moment, the floorboards creaked under foot.
‘What are we doing here?’ she asked, despite knowing the answer. ‘This place is creepy.’
‘I used to live here.’
‘When? Nineteen twenty-four?’ she joked, anything to avoid the fear building up inside ‘This place can’t have been lived in in years.’
‘Five years,’ Cook noted, kicking a pile of papers at the top of the stairs. The old place smelled exactly how he remembered it. Like old fags and dust. He remembered the countless times he’d visited the old codger he called grandpa and how many times he’d succumbed to his belt.
‘Used to stay with my grandpa in the summer, it’s how I met Freddie and JJ.’
‘Is this place even safe?’
‘Safe as old houses,’ Cook assured her, though he wasn’t as sure as he made out. The walls were covered in damp and mould and the windowsill was sprouting weeds. He assumed the broken window was to blame for that.
‘What are we looking for?’ Naomi said, careful not to touch any of the walls as they traipsed up another flight of stairs.
‘Before my grandpa died he caught me snooping through his attic, I found pictures of my mum when she was younger. I wanna see if there’s anything still up here. Don’t think anyone moved in after he died.’
They separated at the top of the stairs as Cook walked on through the attic towards a few boxes. Naomi stayed by the doorway, cautious of the dark spaces surrounding them. She fucking hated the dark sometimes, when there were spiders and Christ knows what else running around. As she took tentative steps across the floor something tickled her cheek and she screamed. Cook doubled over laughing at her reaction, she walked quickly until she was within reach and then she whacked him over the head.
‘You fucking dick,’ she shouted, but he just carried on laughing.
‘Found the pictures,’ Cook announced, opening an old biscuit tin full of photos. ‘There she is, my mum and that must be Sam.’
‘She was beautiful,’ Naomi muttered smiling at the photograph of Ruth from when she was a teenager.
‘Pity she didn’t stay that way when she opened her mouth or had a few drinks.’
‘Was it really that bad?’
Cook muttered a response followed by a few sniffles; he returned his attention to the photographs. He wasn’t going to cry, he wasn’t a fucking pussy. He needed to be a man. He handed some of the photographs to Naomi and looked through the rest.
‘Some of these are ripped,’ Cook whispered, turning over a photograph of his parents and Sam. ‘They’re from before I was born.’
‘They have the date on?’
‘Yeah, this one says it’s at my mum’s twenty-first, I always thought she had me when she were twenty-one. I guess that explains why she ain’t pregnant.’
‘Hey Cook,’ Naomi noted, dropping the other photos back into the tin and handing one over to him. ‘Sorry, James, this one says Reggie on it. I guess they must have ripped her out of the photo.’
‘Fucking cunts,’ Cook shouted, throwing the box across the floor.
Naomi rested a hand on his shoulder, she hated when he got angry. Though he’d never been that angry with her, it still scared her. He could be violent when he wanted and though she knew deep down that he’d never hurt her, it still made her cautious when he lost his temper.
‘What about these?’ Naomi grinned, opening a photo album of baby pictures. ‘Is this you as a baby?’
‘Fucking hell,’ Cook laughed, taking the book from Naomi as she continued looking through the other boxes.
‘I was one right ugly baby.’
‘You were a fat kid,’ Naomi joked, resting a hand on his shoulder as she glanced down at the photos. ‘Is that your grandpa?’
‘Yeah, fucking bastard he was. Hated coming here in the summer but mum was always working, said I couldn’t stay on my own so she sent me here.’
‘Fun place to spend your summer though, on a farm.’
‘Tell that to my grandpa, he’d shout at me for just being around. Not my fault I was just a kid, I couldn’t decide what was happening to me. There was this one time where I was jacking off in the cow shed and he caught me, smacked me so hard across the back I thought I couldn’t breathe. Weren’t the first time he hit me.’
‘Oh.’
‘You going all pitying on me again Naomikins?’
‘No, just, you had it tough, didn’t you?’
Most of the time Naomi got frustrated with Gina’s mothering and other times she didn’t think it was so bad. At that moment she seemed more like a Goddess than a hindrance to her independence. Cook’s past had always been something Naomi suspected would have been difficult, she just hadn’t imagined the depth of problems he’d had to face.
‘Nah Naomeo, just life man. Everyone’s different.’
‘You didn’t deserve that life,’ she mumbled, emptying the final contents of the box; a few items of clothing, some pictures Cook did as a child and another box full of tax forms.
‘What’s that?’ Cook asked, lifting a sheet of paper out of the box. ‘What the fuck?’
‘Is that your birth certificate?’
‘No, can’t be, I got it from my mum when she died. This must be some fake, it’s not even for the right council. I wasn’t born in Bristol.’
‘Where were you born?’
‘I don’t know, this is fucking weird man. There’s another one for Edinburgh.’
‘I don’t think these are real,’ Naomi said, analysing the Bristol one carefully. ‘Says here you were born six months after me, which is right, but they can’t have changed the birth certificates that much in that time. Mine looks nothing like this and surely your birth certificate would have your real mother’s name on it.’
‘Do they do separate adoption certificates?’
‘I dunno, but surely you’d have two certificates with different names on.’
‘I only have one which says Ruth were my mum,’ Cook muttered, his brow furrowing. ‘Different names?’
‘You know, what your birth mum called you.’
He retreated, dropping the papers onto the floor as he walked towards the small window at the end of the room. He let out a breath and tried to find his previously calm and collected self. Easier said than done. The whole situation was messing with his head.
‘This is fucked up Naomeo, I don’t like it man. Maybe we should just give up; I don’t need to know anything.’
‘Yes you do, you said so yourself. You deserve to know. Maybe we’re just going the wrong way about it? Maybe we need to contact the council where you were born and get a new certificate.’
‘Alright,’ he said, nodding briefly.
‘Do you wanna take these photos with us?’
‘Nah, they mean nothing to me. That bitch ruined my life, I don’t need anything to remember her by, I got enough scars for that.’
Naomi squeezed his shoulder as he walked back towards the staircase. As he began to descend the stairs, she picked up a handful of the photos and papers and slipped them into her bag. She knew it was risky, going behind his back, but she wanted to help him. It couldn’t hurt, could it?
Part Five
[ Parts Six - Ten]