THROUGH THE DARKNESS

A New York Undercover round robin

b y PEJA and Juli

Pairing: Torres/Williams

Summary: getting clean isn't fun

THROUGH THE DARKNESS

A New York Undercover round robin

PART ONE
by PEJA

He's in one of the rough spots again. Smashing himself against the wall. Over and over again. He screams like a ramaging banshee each time he hurtles himself into the wall.

I'll go in there when he tires himself out. Clean up the blood. Try to cool his fever. Maybe get him to take some food. Whatever.

It's like living through a nightmare from hell.

PART TWO
by Juli

It's what I have to do

And I know I have to do it alone. No way can I let anyone else see him like this. No freakin' way. Bad enough, the dude's gonna have to face me everyday afterwards, he's not going to have to suffer the humiliation of knowing anyone else has seen him like this. You know what I mean. The awkwardness. The embarrassed concern. I think the pity would kill him. Even by those that have known & cared about him for a while. Oh, sure, there's the sincere reassurances that none of this was his fault.

That it was like he was raped or violated or something ("Oh yeah, thanks. I feel so much better now"). And they'd even go on about how much they admire the strength it took to shake it, to beat off those demons that have him by the balls right now.

And we're not even talking about the constant gut churning over whether the higher ups ever get a whiff of this little choice bit of shit. Like you don't have enough problems, you have to worry about loosing your job?

Shit. If it wasn't for his damn job, he wouldn't be going through hell now.

No, we're in this alone. But we'll make it.

PART THREE
by PEJA

"Williams," Torres' voice floated through the door, a soft mewling plea that tugged at the big detective's heart. "Williams, are you there? Let me out. I....I need to see you, Williams. Talk to...you"

"Yeah right." I'd listened to that same tired line once before and gotten a swollen and battered eye for my trouble. Damn guy has a punch that rivals a mules kick.

"Nice try, Torres."

"Are you still there, Williams?" the words came again a little louder. A bit more hysterical. "Williams....?"

The door shuddered under a powerful fist.

I can't help experienceing a sympatic shudder for that door. After all I knew what that little cop in heavy withdrawl was packing.

"Williams..." Erupted over the ever-increasing hammering on the door.

"God, let that the door hold."

PART FOUR

by Juli

I head towards the TV, grabbing the remote. I stand there, not really paying attention, just trying to drown out the noise from the next room. It doesn't help.

I finally settle on some sports channel & turn up the volume. Tossing the remote on the couch, I go to the kitchen to splash some water on my face.

Standing over the sink, I can feel the cool water ease the tenderness around my eye. Suddenly aware, I remain still, trying to hear over the blare of the commentator. Nothing.

This unnerves me more than the horse yells & body slamming, even though I know he's just exhausted himself.

Fortunately, he's fallen into sort of a pattern, behavior wise. I almost find his predictability kind of reassuring. I mean, it's like taking care of someone through a regular illness. You know they have to go through certain stages till they're over it & it's just a matter of riding it out. I just have to remind myself sometimes.

I pull a carton of orange juice out of the fridge & grab a plastic cup. I know better than to use glass.

Tapping softly on the bedroom door with the cup, I call "Eddie ?....Eddie ? Hey, man, feeling thirsty yet ? Your throat's gotta be pretty damn sore by now."

Nothing.

Tucking the juice under one arm, I unlock the door & step away to one side before opening it. Hey, I learn. Get the door slammed into you once, you learn.

This time though, I see him curled up in the far corner on the floor, facing the wall.

I try again. "Hey, man. Up to some company?"

part five

by PEJA

Torres isn't moving. Not a whisper of a move. Not even a breath.

Panic slams into me. Forgotten in my blind rush, the juice bounces, splatters, drenches the floor and spreads like orange blood across the carpet.

Kneeling at his side, I reach for him. My fingers only just brush his arm before he surges up at me like a mad demon frm hell.

Christ, I swear his eyes are blood red and glowing.

And suddenly I'm fighting for my life...Again....Cuz I know if he has a chance, he's gonna kill me.

I'm the only thing that stands between him and the monkey riding his back.

PART 6 SOON