One of Those Nights

One of Those Nights

by tankloco

A Craig/Luke story.

Rating: Absolutely NF – It’s so squeaky clean my maiden aunt would hardly even blush (except I don’t have a maiden aunt). I don’t have a Kookaburra either.

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It was one of those nights – a fierce wind whipping around the corners of the building, whistling around the pipes and throwing flurries of sleet against the windows.

Luke had turned the heat up to full power, trying to keep the cold fingers of the night out of the bedroom.

As he shivered and rolled over under the blankets, his arm fell across the empty space beside him, skin touching the cool sheets, wrinkling in goose bumps as it moved over the hollow vacancy beside him.

It was one of those nights when Luke wished he still had his childhood single bed with barely room to roll over, before falling on the floor – no vacant hollows to remind him of what was missing.

With the cold still lurking around him, Luke cast his mind back once again to those early days when he was just a baby copper, on his first assignment at Sun Hill. He knew from an early age that he wanted to be a ‘policeman’. He knew that he could make a difference in someone’s life, just as a young constable had done for him on that last night that his father was at home.

The fates had conspired to make life tough for him. First as a child with a father who was totally unworthy of the name, and then in his first years in the Met, where he dealt with more grief than many would see in a lifetime.

It was one of those nights when the heat of an African desert seemed a far better option than the bitter cold thrashing around outside the windows, screeching for admission. But there was little he could do to ease the misery of the thousands of people dying of disease and starvation, and so at the end of his tour of duty with MSF, he had come back to the place where he knew he could make a difference, back to Sun Hill and the Met.

Perhaps that had been where he made his first big mistake, thinking that he could make life better for someone. Instead, he had caused untold pain and anguish to people who deserved much better. Kerry had been through the wringer in a whirlwind romance and wedding, only to have it all fall apart through Luke’s misguided dreams.

In spite of himself, Luke gave in to the need to revisit those first times with Craig Gilmore, his Sergeant at Sun Hill. At the time he hadn’t understood what was happening to him. He hadn’t understood and therefore he lashed out in fear of the unknown.

It was one of those nights when the frost laden wind changed direction and speed as often as Luke had switched his attitude and direction with Craig. The Kiss, the careless denials, Kerry. The truths and lies – each to try to hide the other – the love he had felt for Craig, the hatred he had felt for himself. Yet in amongst it all, there was a tiny flame that kept burning, one that Luke hid, even from himself.

Then that fateful evening when the relief headed off to their local for a few drinks after the end of shift. He hadn’t seen Craig for nearly three years, and didn’t expect to see him for a lot longer than that. But there he was, large as life and looking decidedly unhappy. Luke had never been able to work out why, but seeing Craig leaning against the bar, with a group of friends and a beer in his hand, had an immediate effect on Luke. He had thrown caution to the wind and walked over to Craig, wondering as he approached whether this really was a good idea. Perhaps Craig wouldn’t want to know him, might even want to thump him, but that was a chance Luke was prepared to take. He had to say hello and try to apologise for his behaviour all those years ago.

When Craig saw Luke, his eyes seemed to light up, his stance became more positive and the unhappy face disappeared. Luke had no idea how many drinks Craig had consumed, and worried that the apparent effect of his presence may have been due to the alcohol rather than the Ashton.

After a few tentative attempts to start a conversation, both men calmed down a little and managed to time their questions and answers to fit coherently together. And that had been the start of a friendship, all of their past experiences bundled out of the way, allowing them to be friends who shared a past and, now, maybe a future.

Luke rolled the other way, away from that cold, empty hollow on the other side of the bed, staring at the alarm clock glowing in the dark. Twenty-five minutes past ten according to the glowing digits surrounding the flashing dots in the middle of the display. Flashing dots that dragged your attention to them, trying to control your heartbeat and breathing, daring you to blink and miss one of their flashes, silently hypnotising you with their green glow.

Luke knew that the clock was playing out its message for him, flashing away his life, the flashing dots completely out of sync with the wind outside. The wind outside whipping and whistling, chopping and changing at random, the green dots flashing their message with an electronically controlled precision.

It was one of those nights when Luke’s ears were tuned for the slightest sound from downstairs. He knew without a doubt that no matter how quietly Craig might try to open the door and creep upstairs, Luke would hear and recognise the sound. And there it was. The almost silent click of the lock being turned, the minute squeak of the bottom hinge, another click as the lock was secured. Luke knew that in less than half a minute, the cold vacant hollow beside him would be filled with the rapidly warming body of his favourite Welshman. And sure enough, the room was warming already, the dark thoughts retreating like shadows before the sunshine. Even the green dots lost their hypnotic power, and the cold wind outside seemed to blow the other way.

It was another one of those nights when the world outside gave way to the joyous love Craig and Luke shared.

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