Fandom: Ultraviolet/The Bill
Author: Beverly Hills
Title: Casting a Shadow Part 3/3
Pairing: Michael Colefield/John Bolton
Rating: sex & angst
Archive: at BritSlash, yes please
Feedback: I would value it, firstname.lastname@example.org
Summary: John Bolton is confused and angry and seeks answers from Michael.
Disclaimer: Concepts and characters from Ultraviolet and The Bill remain the property of their respective production companies and have not been used here for financial gain.
Once again all thanks to Ali for being my Beta half.
Casting a Shadow pt 3
by Beverly Hills
John Bolton realised he was late as he entered the Detective Inspector’s office.
“Sorry Gov,” he mumbled as he closed the door behind him. DCs Duncan Lennox and Kerry Holmes were already occupying the two chairs so he took a position next to the bookshelf supporting his weight against the wall.
“You alright John?” DI Chris Deakin enquired.
“I’m fine Gov,” John replied a hint of annoyance in his tone. It had been nearly four weeks since he had slipped in the shower and been concussed. Although he was fully recovered he was still getting concerned looks and questions about his health from colleagues.
He suspected that the concern was generated by his washed out appearance and lack lustre performance of late. Since the time of the accident he had experienced nightmares that woke him several times a night. He felt exhausted.
“Well I had just started explaining to Duncan and Kerry that this is an especially sensitive case seeing as it concerns an ex member of Sun Hill CID.”
Kerry exchanged looks with Duncan as the DI continued.
“Early this morning Dale Smith and Sam Harker were called to a suspected assault down by the old canal off Jamaica lane. When they got there they could see two IC one males involved in a struggle. They called out as they were coming down the slope to the canal and by the time they got to the scene one of the men had disappeared. I mean literally disappeared according to them neither of them actually saw him get up or what direction he escaped in.”
Deakin stood and looked out the office window. He then turned back towards the three detectives and continued.
“The other man was unconscious. He was lying face down on the ground, naked. He was taken to Saint Hugh’s. The examination showed that he had suffered a number of superficial cuts and bruises consistent with struggling naked with an assailant on rough ground, he had also been sexually assaulted. He’s still in shock and hasn’t made a statement.”
Chris Deakin picked up a pen off his desk and examined it as if he had never seen anything like it before. Putting it down again he looked up at John.
“It’s Rod Skace.”
The office was silent for a moment.
“Jesus” Kerry mumbled looking from Duncan to John Bolton.
“ How Gov?” Duncan was shaking his head in disbelief, “ Why? Rod Skace can look after himself, How could…”
“I don’t know Duncan, its bizarre. How Rod came to be in this situation is hard to imagine but that’s what we need to find out and get whoever did this to him.”
John was unable to focus his thoughts. Rod Skace raped? His attraction to the good-looking young DC had always been tempered by his impatience and frustration with Rod’s lack of inititative and commitment to his job. He was likeable but lazy. And then Rod had made some serious errors of judgement ultimately resulting in the death of a young boy. He had left the Met and disappeared from their lives after that.
Chris Deakin was speaking again. “…not the motive as his watch, wallet and clothes were all found at the scene. We’re really depending on Rod to fill in the blanks.”
John followed the nurse down the corridor to Rod Skase’s room. She held the door open for him and he entered. Rod was sitting in a chair by the window. He was wearing a dressing gown over a hospital robe. He looked up as John came in. It was strange seeing Rod’s familiar, handsome face scratched and bruised and knowing what else had happened to him. John pushed the thought of that from his mind.
“Hullo Sarge I was wondering who they were going to send, you got the short straw did you?” Rod’s voice was weak and broken.
“Hullo Rod,” John said and then couldn’t think of anything else to say. He walked over and pulled another chair around till he was sitting facing Rod. He took out his notebook.
“Rod I know this is difficult, but you understand the quicker we get onto this the more likely we are to nick the bastad that did this to you.”
“You won’t get him,” Rod said this tonelessly with a blank expression on his face.
“Why do you say that Rod? You know we’ll do everything possible, we just need anything you can tell us about him.”
“You won’t get him because he won’t let you. He isn’t your average crim or pervert, he’s something else altogether. He’s not bloody human.” Rod shut his eyes and gripped the arms of the chair tightly.
John felt uncomfortable with Rod’s display of vulnerability and confused by what he was saying. “It’s okay Rod take it easy, what do you mean he’s not human?”
Rod opened his tear filled eyes and looked out the window. “When I asked him what he was … going to do to me, he said he was going to…fuck me and then he was going to drink all my blood. And he meant it, I know he did.”
“Rod he’s a psycho…”
“No Sarge” Rod interrupted grabbing hold of John’s hand with both of his own.
“He was strong, smaller but much stronger than me. He was able to rip my clothes off, get me on the ground and hold me down and….and do what he did to me. I wasn’t drugged, he didn’t knock me out and I was struggling, believe me, Sarge , I struggled.” Rod was so wound up by reliving the experience that by the end he was yelling.
“Calm down Rod,” John said softly taking his hand from Rod’s and placing it on the distraught man’s shoulder, “I believe you.”
“And he was going to bite me just before he got scared off, bite me, here.” Rod pointed to a spot on the side of his throat, “I can still feel his teeth clamped on to my skin and the cold. You’d expect somebody doing what he was doing would be hot and sweaty, I was, but no he was cold not cold like an ice-cube, cold like a stone that’s never had the sun on it.”
Rod stopped and looked into John Bolton’s eyes “You think I’m mad but it’s the truth.”
As he sat in the car waiting for Duncan to come back with the lab results John mentally reviewed what Rod had said in the interview. His description of the man who called himself Jack was fairly detailed as you’d expect from someone trained in police-work, it was Rod’s memory of what this Jack had said, how easily he had taken Rod in and what he had then been able to do to that disturbed him.
Duncan opened the passenger door and got in. “Well you’re not going to like this, Sarge.” he said handing the forensic report to John.
“Why?” John asked opening the folder.
“Well there definitely was a sexual assault evidenced by the damage to Rod’s…to Rod. But there is absolutely no sign of seminal fluid or sperm.”
“He used a condom.” John interjected.
“Well then Sarge it was a full body condom as they couldn’t find a trace of hair, saliva, blood, skin, anything anywhere on Rod’s body. Its as if this guy was a ghost. You can’t rough somebody up the way Rod was and then rape him and not at least leave a hair or a bit of your skin on the body. There was a piece of silk linen thread probably from an expensive suit but that was it.”
John sat adding this new information to the story and description Rod had given him earlier. It just didn’t make sense, but he realised something more than that was causing his heart to start racing.
John awoke suddenly sitting up with a start. He looked around and noticed the pillow on the floor by the bed. The sheet was wrapped around his legs. His heart was racing as he tried to catch his breath. The final image from his dream was still visible in his mind. It had been this way most nights since just after he’d had the accident. Always the same.
A figure crouched down a dark alley beckoning to him and then as he gets close lunging and ripping at him with its teeth This time he knew the assailant was raping him. Then he was falling into blackness but he was able to look up and see the face of the attacker.
This night as he sat up shivering in his bed he knew that it was the same face that Rod Skace had described to him and he now knew who it belonged to.
Hello this is Michael Colefield, leave a message after the tone.”
Even recorded the sound of Michael’s voice had a paralysing effect on John’s vocal cords.
He knew he had to say something. His carefully rehearsed speech dissolved into gibberish. Without a thought the words came tumbling out.
“So how’s your mate, Jack Beresford? I need to see you, I’ll meet you… at the football field, on the Canley estate at 6.00 o’clock”
As he parked the car and got out he could see Michael standing with his back to him at one corner of the field. The turmoil he had been feeling around the whole situation was nothing to what he experienced now as he approached this man he had once believed he was in love with and then felt so utterly betrayed by.
Michael turned at the sound of John’s footsteps. Seeing Michael’s face caused John to stop.
“Why don’t we walk?” Michael said already heading off across the deserted field. Michael was taking charge thought John. That’s fine with me I haven’t got a clue what to say or do past trying to find out about Jack Beresford. Upon reaching the far side of the football field Michael sat down on a bench just outside the glow of a lamppost, John sat down beside him.
“Why did you ask me about Jack Beresford?” Michael asked without looking at the man next to him, but then as if realising he was duplicating their earlier disastrous encounter here he turned and looked at John.
John also turned to look Michael in the eyes. He felt like he was falling into those beautiful, dark brown eyes almost sensing the feeling of those soft, full lips pressing against his mouth. Before he knew what was happening the illusion had become real. His hands were moving over Michael’s back, neck and head, their tongues, teeth, mouths pressed into one and other’s faces and throats.
John had lost any sense of time when the image of Jack Beresford standing over him intruded into his thoughts. He withdrew his tongue from Michael’s mouth and pulled himself from Michael’s arms.
He stood up. “We must be mad carrying on like a pair of horny teenagers out here in the open.”
“You, think so,” Michael said grinning, “it’s the sanest I’ve felt in months. Come here and sit down John, just to talk.”
John sat back down.
“Why did you ask me about Jack on the phone?” Michael asked.
“He was described by the victim in an aggravated sexual assault case we’re working on. A man, and ex detective from Sun Hill and there’s more. I don’t know how to put this into words. I’ve been dreaming about him, about Beresford and in this dream he’s doing to me what he did to this other man. He rips my throat with his teeth and then he ... he forces me to have sex with him, I can’t fight him off. Its so real, I think I’m cracking up.”
John looked down at his feet. He felt Michael’s arm going across his shoulder and pulling him close, the other hand coming up and stroking his cheek.
They had fallen into each other’s arms and begun stripping each other of their clothing as soon as John had closed the front door. He had attempted to pull Michael to the floor in the living room but Michael had resisted and led John to the bedroom holding his cock like a leash.
hours reacquainting themselves with each other’s body they eventually
found themselves joined together, John lying face down over Michael’s
back driving his cock deeply between the elegant cleft of Michael’s
Looking up at him Michael said “It’s alright I’m not going anywhere, relax.”
The alley was very dark; he could just make out the crouching figure beckoning to him. He was drawn forward and as he approached the figure lunged at him with bared teeth. He felt himself sinking and then looking up seeing Jack Beresford with an erection looking down at him thrusting it at him and now something else something new. Jack had turned into Michael. John woke up shouting.
Michael had roused at John’s thrashing and shouting and now attempted to hold him. John pushed him away and climbed off the bed. Rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands he turned around and sat down on the side of the bed. Michael lent forward and placed his hands on John’s freckled shoulders and kissed the back of his neck.
“We need to talk Michael, I need to know what’s going on and what your involvement in it all is.” John said.
“Okay John,” Michael said leaning back against the bed head “What do you want to know?”
“According to the National Data Base, Jack Beresford is supposedly on the run overseas somewhere and yet we have a suspect known as Jack and exactly matching his description wanted for questioning in regards to a viscous sexual assault on a former CID officer. And now I start having vivid dreams of Jack Beresford attacking me. Why? What were you doing around the Keever’s case? Who are you working for now?”
John’s voice had been calm but getting louder.
“Are you still involved with Beresford in some way?” The last question was practically whispered.
“Jack is in London. He’s now a part of a powerful, secret, international group that wants to change how things are run. I’m working for a top-secret squad whose job it is to stop them. Franscesca Keevers was involved with their side and ended up as collateral damage when we terminated one of them.”
Michael stopped and pushed his hair back off his forehead.
“You’re right about Jack having committed the assault He’s extremely dangerous John and there’s no way he’s going to be caught by conventional means. Its better if you forget about him.”
John looked at Michael attempting to interpret his expression.
“Have you seen him Michael, do you know where he is?” John asked.
“He came to my place the morning after the attack.”
“Why? Michael if you’re part of the team who are trying to track his lot down. Why would he come to you? Why didn’t you turn him in?”
Michael stared into John’s hazel eyes and said nothing.
“I see,” said John softly “you’re still in love with him.”
Michael sat silently, obviously debating with himself as to what to reply.
“Don’t bother Michael.” He got up and headed for the bathroom. Getting under the shower he leant his head against the cool white tiles. Michael pushed back the shower curtain and joined him under the stream of water standing behind John with his arms encircling his waist.
John could feel Michael’s stiffening cock forcing its way between his thighs. Michael’s fingers had sought and located John’s erect nipples and were pinching and twisting them.
John threw back his head as shockwaves passed from his tortured paps to travel throughout the rest of his body. His own cock was hard pressed up between his body and the wall. He felt one of Michael’s hands move down till it slid between the globes of his ass and began to tease the opening there.
He moaned as the finger slipped inside and Michael’s other hand slid down to firmly surround his prick. John leant forward slightly giving Michael better access as he slipped another finger into the ring of now relaxed muscle.
John’s head began to swim as he felt Michael’s fingers slowly withdrawn to be replaced by the soaped up tip of his cock inching its way inside.
It felt to John as if Michael’s cock pierced all the way through him and had fused with his own as each thrust into him was synchronised with a squeezing tug of his dripping member. After an indefinable time John felt an intense charge spreading out from his balls cascading through the rest of his body as the climax welled up and splattered out to be lost in the steamy stream of the shower.
As Michael’s cock began to spasm inside him, John felt Michael’s lips lathing the back of his neck working their way under his chin and back down. Just as the tidal wave of John’s own climax began to subside he felt a sharp, piercing pain in his throat. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest and the pressure of Michael’s mouth on his throat. After several minutes his vision swam and he felt his legs giving way beneath him.
As he lay slumped on the floor of the shower stall he realised that there was somebody else there with them. Before he finally closed his eyes he looked up and as though through a mist he could just make out Michael, his bloody lips clamped to Jack Beresford’s, washing blood, his blood, back and forwards between their mouths.