It's Not The Fall That Breaks You
Title: It's Not The Fall That Breaks You
Fandom: Whose Line UK
Pairings: As yet one-sided Ryan/Tony
Rating: PG-13 for occasional strong language
Summary: Somewhere in London, Tony's fading away. Will Ryan be able to find him before it's too late?
Disclaimer: This fic is in no way intended to portray a true representation of the people involved. As far as I know, this never happened.
Note: This is my response to eatyourfudge's prompt, here, concerning Tony's breakdown and how he was eventually saved. It's a one-shot, but with a probably sequal.
Cross-posted to britline, whoselineslash and wl_fanfiction. Submitted to fanfic100 for prompt 071 - Broken.
It's Not The Fall That Breaks You
"Damnit!"
Colin winced as he heard the phone receiver being slammed down. He was suddenly glad that he had accompanied Ryan in his venture - he didn't want to think about where Ryan's temper would land him if left to his own devices.
Calmly, he asked, "No joy?"
"Damn Data Protection!" Ryan scowled, still glaring at the telephone as if the device itself had refused him. "Would I know so much if I was trying to defraud him?"
"They're just doing their job, Ry." Colin moved to comfort his friend. He knew how important this was for Ryan, and he completely understood the frustration - but getting angry was hardly productive. "Look, Paul's been calling round everyone he can think of, Greg's doing what he can from home, we're bound to find him eventually."
"I hope so." Ryan frowned. "I'm just running out of things to try. Everything so far's just met with a brick wall...it scares me, Col. Surely he can't have just vanished into thin air?"
"No, of course he hasn't. Someone somewhere has to know where he is. Have you tried the new owners?" Deep down, Colin was just as concerned, but he knew he had to stay strong for Ryan.
"I've left a couple of messages, but so far I've heard nothing back. Who knows, maybe they have no more idea where he is than we do." Ryan looked up at Colin. "I'm so glad you came out with me."
"Don't mention it. Someone had to stop you screaming for the entire flight here." Colin risked a teasing smile. "Let's face it, if you can overcome that, all this ‘no solid lead’ stuff is nothing we can't beat. If we have to knock every door in London, we'll find him."
Ryan let out a slight laugh. "Let's make sure there are no other options first."
Colin was about to reply when there was a knock at the door. He went to answer it, and ushered Paul into the room. "Hey Paul. Any joy?"
Paul shook his head. "Not yet. Stephen's got a few people he's going to try, and everyone else I've spoken to has said they'll keep an ear out. Whatever the idiot's gone and done, he can't have disappeared altogether."
"Well, no joy here either," Colin told him. "I'm starting to think if we asked them for our own details, they'd still refuse to tell us."
"Did you try the number in the phone book?" asked Paul.
"Several times," Ryan replied. "All I'm getting is the disconnected tone."
"Any address listed next to it?"
Ryan scowled. "You think I wouldn't have tried that already if there was one?"
"You're right, I'm sorry." Paul paced slightly. "I'm telling you, when we do find him..."
"Don't." The anger had left Ryan's voice completely. "Please, just don't finish that sentence."
Paul raised an eyebrow. "What I was going to say is, first we make sure he's okay, then we give him a good slap. Did he really think we wouldn't start looking for him?"
"Maybe he did," Ryan reasoned. "I certainly doubt he's expecting me to be looking for him. We were never exactly close."
Paul raised an eyebrow. "Oh yes, I forgot. You've come haring all the way over here because you hate him."
"I know I don't," Ryan shot back. "That doesn't mean Tony knows."
"Well, he's about to find out," Colin reassured. "Whatever it takes...we will find him."
~*~
Over by the Thames, at the edge of the industrial centre, a lone man sat on the floor of his warehouse. There had been furniture there once, but most of that had gone out of the window and into the river below. The pieces that remained were the pieces that were bolted to the floor or fixed to the wall in such a way that they couldn't be moved. Even these were damaged, as he had taken his frustrations out on anything he could. Mostly, he had stopped short of including himself in that, though with so little furniture left...
He had no idea what time it was. Hell, he had no idea what date it was, not even what month it was; he'd even lost track of how long ago it had been since he'd arrived here. Since he had packed up his old home, his old life, transferred it to this massive, cold, impersonal building and then proceeded to throw it away piece by piece. There were things he hadn't got rid of yet, things that some foolish sentimental part of him refused to part with, but he was sure that soon even these things would be nothing more than a taunting reminder of what he had once been.
How the mighty hath fallen.
An involuntary shiver alerted him to the slight draught that should have chilled him. He was going to do something about that draught, just as soon as...oh, who was he kidding? When was the last time he had done anything about anything? However he dressed it up, he knew what it was he was doing. He had shut himself off from the world, and was now simply waiting to fade away.
Sadly, he looked down at the picture in his hands. It was an old production shot from a show he'd been part of, a shot of all the regular cast. He had long ago lost any hope that they were missing him, that any of them were bothering to find him. After all, he'd never let himself get all that close to any of them; he'd had a lot of fun on the show, but he wouldn't have called any of them friends. Friends were things other people had, people who didn't have his level of self-importance. Really, he had probably been asking for this. He had been such an arse to everyone, and now everyone had left him to vanish from their lives as he deserved.
A loud banging shot through his morose thoughts. He looked round with a start, trying to work out where the sound was coming from. No-one had ever bothered him since he'd moved out here; presumably, they weren't used to warehouse owners actually living in their property. Perhaps it was a mistake. Perhaps it was just a bunch of stupid kids mucking about. Whatever it was, he couldn't bring himself to find out. As long as they left him alone, they could do what they liked to the building.
Another banging, and this time he swore he could hear voices outside. It didn't make any sense - no-one knew where he was. Even the utilities companies had probably given him up for dead by now; since he had moved in, he had never paid a bill. Telephone, electricity, water...one by one, they had all been cut off, and still he couldn't bring himself to care. So why should anyone care about him? Unless it was the utilities companies, and they had sent the bailiffs round. Well, they could sod off - they could take what they wanted when he was dead.
Dead. The thought of the word sent a chill through him, colder than anything he had felt due to lack of heat in the building. Was this really what he wanted? Was this really how he wanted his life to end? No matter, it was how he deserved to go - quietly, without fuss, and without being an inconvenience to anyone else.
Another bang and he was very close to telling whoever it was to fuck off. But that would betray the fact that he was there, which somewhat defeated the object of fading away quietly. He sat in silence, waiting for whoever it was to give up and leave him alone. After all, did whoever it was really think he'd have chosen to live in a bloody warehouse if he wanted anyone to find him?
All of a sudden, a wide shaft of daylight cut into the room. His eyes closed on reflex; accustomed as he was to sitting in darkness, the sudden light was almost painful. He could hear footsteps, and instinctively curled up into the foetal position. It had to be someone breaking in, and he could only hope that whatever they did to him, it would be over quickly.
"Tony?"
The voice sounded familiar, but still he didn't look up. If it was someone who knew him, they had doubtless come to taunt him about what an abject failure his life was. Not that it explained how they'd found him, but surely no-one had worked this hard because they cared about him. If he stayed where he was, perhaps they'd give up and leave him alone - they only needed to look at him to know his life was ruined, and then they could go and report back to others however they felt fit.
"Is he breathing?"
A second familiar voice - what was this, a fucking field trip? Had they nothing better to do with their lives than come and mock him for his? The urge to scream at them was rising, but somehow he lacked the strength to follow through. Instead, he could only wait as the footsteps drew closer and then stopped.
"He's breathing. Oh Tony, thank god. We were worried sick about you."
He looked up, vision swimming a little, but still clear enough for him to make out the familiar figure. "Ryan?"
That was the last he remembered before he passed out.
~*~
Several hours later, Ryan was pacing the floor of the hospital corridor. Colin had gone to give Paul the good news; no doubt the pair of them were now working to let everyone else know that they had found Tony. That left Ryan alone to hang around and wait for whatever chance he had to see Tony and tell him...
No, he couldn't, not now. He shivered as he thought of Tony looking so helpless, curled up on a cold warehouse floor, trembling from heaven knew what. The important thing for now was finding out what had driven Tony to that point in his life; whatever Ryan felt would have to go on hold.
It didn't stop his need to see his friend, though. It didn't stop him needing to know that Tony would be alright, that he would come through this in one piece. It killed him to think of how broken Tony must have felt, of how absolutely desolate he must have been to have shut himself in a warehouse. Was there anything Ryan could have done differently that would have stopped this happening? He could have been honest, of course, but he had been too afraid of rejection. Maybe if he hadn't been so selfish...
"Mr Stiles?"
Ryan looked up with a start to find a doctor looking expectantly at him. "Yes, that's me. How is he?"
"He's very weak, but he's awake. You found him just in time, it would appear. We're going to keep him in for a few days to make sure he's okay, and to see if there's anything underlying that would have driven him to this." The doctor smiled a little. "He's lucky to have you."
Ryan sighed. "I just wish I'd thought to do this sooner. You said he was awake?"
The doctor nodded. "He needs to rest, but I suppose a few minutes won't hurt. Follow me."
Ryan followed silently as the doctor led him to a room just off the main ward. At least Tony had his own room - he would appreciate that. Looking through the doorway, Ryan saw his friend lying in bed, a thoroughly defeated look on his face. It was the most vulnerable he had ever seen Tony, bar the initial sight in the warehouse, and Ryan desperately wanted to pull the Brit into his arms and hold him.
Keeping his composure, he walked into the room and moved to sit by the bed. "Hey, Tony. How're you feeling?"
Tony looked at him, so many words he wanted to say, but none of them came out. Away from the warehouse, he felt so stupid and embarrassed for his behaviour. Eventually, he uttered a single word. "How?"
Ryan smiled a little. "Redirection service. You can thank Colin for being smart enough to think of that one. I know I will, as often as I can."
Tony looked confused, but was prevented from answering by a mild coughing fit. The pained expression reminded Ryan of just how weak Tony was, and he knew any fuller explanation would have to go on hold.
As the coughing died down, Tony whispered, "Why?"
Ryan shook his head. "I promise I'll explain more later, but not now. You need to rest." He swallowed gently, his heart aching as he continued, "I should go..."
"Please don't?"
At Tony's tearful tone, Ryan felt a lump rise in his throat. This wasn't the Tony he knew, not by a long stretch of the imagination. This was a Tony who was completely, utterly broken. Softly, he began, "Tony..."
"I'm not well, Ryan. I can't be, or why the fuck would I have...I can't be alone, Ryan. I just can't..."
Tony dissolved into tears; Ryan was instantly sat on the edge of the bed, pulling the Brit into his arms. "Tony, it's okay. I won't leave you, I promise, I'll stay, I'll be wherever you want me to be. The doctors are going to find out what went wrong, and we're going to fix you, I promise, whatever it takes, I'll be here if you'll let me."
Tony continued to sob, clinging tightly to Ryan as if afraid he would leave. "I'm sorry, Ryan, I'm sorry. You were right to hate me all along."
Ryan gently stroked Tony's hair. "I never hated you, Tony. I'm sorry if I ever gave you that impression, but I don't hate you and never have. I was just too selfish to be honest with you."
Tony didn't reply, still clinging to Ryan. His breath hitched as his sobs sapped the little energy he had, and he was terrified that if Ryan let go of him, he would fall. He didn't know why Ryan felt he was worth saving, but suddenly there was something within him screaming at him to grow up and pull himself together. The fight, the drive that he thought he'd lost for good was stirring up again, and finally he allowed himself to hope.
Perhaps this wasn’t to be his end after all.
Fandom: Whose Line UK
Pairings: As yet one-sided Ryan/Tony
Rating: PG-13 for occasional strong language
Summary: Somewhere in London, Tony's fading away. Will Ryan be able to find him before it's too late?
Disclaimer: This fic is in no way intended to portray a true representation of the people involved. As far as I know, this never happened.
Note: This is my response to eatyourfudge's prompt, here, concerning Tony's breakdown and how he was eventually saved. It's a one-shot, but with a probably sequal.
Cross-posted to britline, whoselineslash and wl_fanfiction. Submitted to fanfic100 for prompt 071 - Broken.
It's Not The Fall That Breaks You
"Damnit!"
Colin winced as he heard the phone receiver being slammed down. He was suddenly glad that he had accompanied Ryan in his venture - he didn't want to think about where Ryan's temper would land him if left to his own devices.
Calmly, he asked, "No joy?"
"Damn Data Protection!" Ryan scowled, still glaring at the telephone as if the device itself had refused him. "Would I know so much if I was trying to defraud him?"
"They're just doing their job, Ry." Colin moved to comfort his friend. He knew how important this was for Ryan, and he completely understood the frustration - but getting angry was hardly productive. "Look, Paul's been calling round everyone he can think of, Greg's doing what he can from home, we're bound to find him eventually."
"I hope so." Ryan frowned. "I'm just running out of things to try. Everything so far's just met with a brick wall...it scares me, Col. Surely he can't have just vanished into thin air?"
"No, of course he hasn't. Someone somewhere has to know where he is. Have you tried the new owners?" Deep down, Colin was just as concerned, but he knew he had to stay strong for Ryan.
"I've left a couple of messages, but so far I've heard nothing back. Who knows, maybe they have no more idea where he is than we do." Ryan looked up at Colin. "I'm so glad you came out with me."
"Don't mention it. Someone had to stop you screaming for the entire flight here." Colin risked a teasing smile. "Let's face it, if you can overcome that, all this ‘no solid lead’ stuff is nothing we can't beat. If we have to knock every door in London, we'll find him."
Ryan let out a slight laugh. "Let's make sure there are no other options first."
Colin was about to reply when there was a knock at the door. He went to answer it, and ushered Paul into the room. "Hey Paul. Any joy?"
Paul shook his head. "Not yet. Stephen's got a few people he's going to try, and everyone else I've spoken to has said they'll keep an ear out. Whatever the idiot's gone and done, he can't have disappeared altogether."
"Well, no joy here either," Colin told him. "I'm starting to think if we asked them for our own details, they'd still refuse to tell us."
"Did you try the number in the phone book?" asked Paul.
"Several times," Ryan replied. "All I'm getting is the disconnected tone."
"Any address listed next to it?"
Ryan scowled. "You think I wouldn't have tried that already if there was one?"
"You're right, I'm sorry." Paul paced slightly. "I'm telling you, when we do find him..."
"Don't." The anger had left Ryan's voice completely. "Please, just don't finish that sentence."
Paul raised an eyebrow. "What I was going to say is, first we make sure he's okay, then we give him a good slap. Did he really think we wouldn't start looking for him?"
"Maybe he did," Ryan reasoned. "I certainly doubt he's expecting me to be looking for him. We were never exactly close."
Paul raised an eyebrow. "Oh yes, I forgot. You've come haring all the way over here because you hate him."
"I know I don't," Ryan shot back. "That doesn't mean Tony knows."
"Well, he's about to find out," Colin reassured. "Whatever it takes...we will find him."
~*~
Over by the Thames, at the edge of the industrial centre, a lone man sat on the floor of his warehouse. There had been furniture there once, but most of that had gone out of the window and into the river below. The pieces that remained were the pieces that were bolted to the floor or fixed to the wall in such a way that they couldn't be moved. Even these were damaged, as he had taken his frustrations out on anything he could. Mostly, he had stopped short of including himself in that, though with so little furniture left...
He had no idea what time it was. Hell, he had no idea what date it was, not even what month it was; he'd even lost track of how long ago it had been since he'd arrived here. Since he had packed up his old home, his old life, transferred it to this massive, cold, impersonal building and then proceeded to throw it away piece by piece. There were things he hadn't got rid of yet, things that some foolish sentimental part of him refused to part with, but he was sure that soon even these things would be nothing more than a taunting reminder of what he had once been.
How the mighty hath fallen.
An involuntary shiver alerted him to the slight draught that should have chilled him. He was going to do something about that draught, just as soon as...oh, who was he kidding? When was the last time he had done anything about anything? However he dressed it up, he knew what it was he was doing. He had shut himself off from the world, and was now simply waiting to fade away.
Sadly, he looked down at the picture in his hands. It was an old production shot from a show he'd been part of, a shot of all the regular cast. He had long ago lost any hope that they were missing him, that any of them were bothering to find him. After all, he'd never let himself get all that close to any of them; he'd had a lot of fun on the show, but he wouldn't have called any of them friends. Friends were things other people had, people who didn't have his level of self-importance. Really, he had probably been asking for this. He had been such an arse to everyone, and now everyone had left him to vanish from their lives as he deserved.
A loud banging shot through his morose thoughts. He looked round with a start, trying to work out where the sound was coming from. No-one had ever bothered him since he'd moved out here; presumably, they weren't used to warehouse owners actually living in their property. Perhaps it was a mistake. Perhaps it was just a bunch of stupid kids mucking about. Whatever it was, he couldn't bring himself to find out. As long as they left him alone, they could do what they liked to the building.
Another banging, and this time he swore he could hear voices outside. It didn't make any sense - no-one knew where he was. Even the utilities companies had probably given him up for dead by now; since he had moved in, he had never paid a bill. Telephone, electricity, water...one by one, they had all been cut off, and still he couldn't bring himself to care. So why should anyone care about him? Unless it was the utilities companies, and they had sent the bailiffs round. Well, they could sod off - they could take what they wanted when he was dead.
Dead. The thought of the word sent a chill through him, colder than anything he had felt due to lack of heat in the building. Was this really what he wanted? Was this really how he wanted his life to end? No matter, it was how he deserved to go - quietly, without fuss, and without being an inconvenience to anyone else.
Another bang and he was very close to telling whoever it was to fuck off. But that would betray the fact that he was there, which somewhat defeated the object of fading away quietly. He sat in silence, waiting for whoever it was to give up and leave him alone. After all, did whoever it was really think he'd have chosen to live in a bloody warehouse if he wanted anyone to find him?
All of a sudden, a wide shaft of daylight cut into the room. His eyes closed on reflex; accustomed as he was to sitting in darkness, the sudden light was almost painful. He could hear footsteps, and instinctively curled up into the foetal position. It had to be someone breaking in, and he could only hope that whatever they did to him, it would be over quickly.
"Tony?"
The voice sounded familiar, but still he didn't look up. If it was someone who knew him, they had doubtless come to taunt him about what an abject failure his life was. Not that it explained how they'd found him, but surely no-one had worked this hard because they cared about him. If he stayed where he was, perhaps they'd give up and leave him alone - they only needed to look at him to know his life was ruined, and then they could go and report back to others however they felt fit.
"Is he breathing?"
A second familiar voice - what was this, a fucking field trip? Had they nothing better to do with their lives than come and mock him for his? The urge to scream at them was rising, but somehow he lacked the strength to follow through. Instead, he could only wait as the footsteps drew closer and then stopped.
"He's breathing. Oh Tony, thank god. We were worried sick about you."
He looked up, vision swimming a little, but still clear enough for him to make out the familiar figure. "Ryan?"
That was the last he remembered before he passed out.
~*~
Several hours later, Ryan was pacing the floor of the hospital corridor. Colin had gone to give Paul the good news; no doubt the pair of them were now working to let everyone else know that they had found Tony. That left Ryan alone to hang around and wait for whatever chance he had to see Tony and tell him...
No, he couldn't, not now. He shivered as he thought of Tony looking so helpless, curled up on a cold warehouse floor, trembling from heaven knew what. The important thing for now was finding out what had driven Tony to that point in his life; whatever Ryan felt would have to go on hold.
It didn't stop his need to see his friend, though. It didn't stop him needing to know that Tony would be alright, that he would come through this in one piece. It killed him to think of how broken Tony must have felt, of how absolutely desolate he must have been to have shut himself in a warehouse. Was there anything Ryan could have done differently that would have stopped this happening? He could have been honest, of course, but he had been too afraid of rejection. Maybe if he hadn't been so selfish...
"Mr Stiles?"
Ryan looked up with a start to find a doctor looking expectantly at him. "Yes, that's me. How is he?"
"He's very weak, but he's awake. You found him just in time, it would appear. We're going to keep him in for a few days to make sure he's okay, and to see if there's anything underlying that would have driven him to this." The doctor smiled a little. "He's lucky to have you."
Ryan sighed. "I just wish I'd thought to do this sooner. You said he was awake?"
The doctor nodded. "He needs to rest, but I suppose a few minutes won't hurt. Follow me."
Ryan followed silently as the doctor led him to a room just off the main ward. At least Tony had his own room - he would appreciate that. Looking through the doorway, Ryan saw his friend lying in bed, a thoroughly defeated look on his face. It was the most vulnerable he had ever seen Tony, bar the initial sight in the warehouse, and Ryan desperately wanted to pull the Brit into his arms and hold him.
Keeping his composure, he walked into the room and moved to sit by the bed. "Hey, Tony. How're you feeling?"
Tony looked at him, so many words he wanted to say, but none of them came out. Away from the warehouse, he felt so stupid and embarrassed for his behaviour. Eventually, he uttered a single word. "How?"
Ryan smiled a little. "Redirection service. You can thank Colin for being smart enough to think of that one. I know I will, as often as I can."
Tony looked confused, but was prevented from answering by a mild coughing fit. The pained expression reminded Ryan of just how weak Tony was, and he knew any fuller explanation would have to go on hold.
As the coughing died down, Tony whispered, "Why?"
Ryan shook his head. "I promise I'll explain more later, but not now. You need to rest." He swallowed gently, his heart aching as he continued, "I should go..."
"Please don't?"
At Tony's tearful tone, Ryan felt a lump rise in his throat. This wasn't the Tony he knew, not by a long stretch of the imagination. This was a Tony who was completely, utterly broken. Softly, he began, "Tony..."
"I'm not well, Ryan. I can't be, or why the fuck would I have...I can't be alone, Ryan. I just can't..."
Tony dissolved into tears; Ryan was instantly sat on the edge of the bed, pulling the Brit into his arms. "Tony, it's okay. I won't leave you, I promise, I'll stay, I'll be wherever you want me to be. The doctors are going to find out what went wrong, and we're going to fix you, I promise, whatever it takes, I'll be here if you'll let me."
Tony continued to sob, clinging tightly to Ryan as if afraid he would leave. "I'm sorry, Ryan, I'm sorry. You were right to hate me all along."
Ryan gently stroked Tony's hair. "I never hated you, Tony. I'm sorry if I ever gave you that impression, but I don't hate you and never have. I was just too selfish to be honest with you."
Tony didn't reply, still clinging to Ryan. His breath hitched as his sobs sapped the little energy he had, and he was terrified that if Ryan let go of him, he would fall. He didn't know why Ryan felt he was worth saving, but suddenly there was something within him screaming at him to grow up and pull himself together. The fight, the drive that he thought he'd lost for good was stirring up again, and finally he allowed himself to hope.
Perhaps this wasn’t to be his end after all.