Cry

It was hard walking away from Dennis outside Dot's yesterday. I had looked into the face of the man I loved, the man I had given everything to, despite all my reservations and better judgement, only to realise before that day I hadn't known him at all. My lip still stung; not allowing me to forget the feel of Dennis' fist smashed blindly into my face. I'd known Dad must have said something to make Dennis fly into a rage like that. He was tempremental, sure, but never had I seen him like that... like some wounded wild animal, lashing out. Only now I realise he was lashing out to protect himself.

I've realised it is probably the same reason that made Dennis return to Andy and the offerings of that dark empire. Dad made totally sure Dennis was made to feel unwelcome in the family home, because he loved me and we'd dared to sleep together in the same bed, but even more so now he had hurt Den Watts' precious Princess. I think that's what Dad hid behind; and I tried to believe he was right, but somewhere inside me, I still loved Dennis. He was made to skulk back to Andy because, pushed out from the family he'd learnt to know before Dad's reappearance, that was the only place he could go. Back to the crime and distrust. Maybe he could feel safer like that; no-one wanting to know you or caring about your feelings.

"You got your Dad back because this worthless user did a murder."

That's what Dennis had said, leaning dominantly into my eyeline; his beautiful eyes glittering coldly and his lips set into a bitter sneer. Shaking and sobbing at the injustice of the realisation; I'd wondered... was it worth having Dad back? God, I loved him, it was true, was pleased he was safe and well and that my guilt at our last parting could be lifted but.... he had pulled me back from my relationship with Dennis. This didn't feel good. He had caused those beautiful eyes to produce devestated tears. I had never seen Dennis cry like that. Don't wish to again.

I told Dennis as I left him that I loved him. For all his revealations, I loved him and would learn to understand why he had had to take Jack's life. I didn't know much, or how that love was going to wok around our new hostile set ups, but I'd asked Dennis to come to Angie's Den, every night if he could manage it, after he'd finished Andy's work, to come and talk to me. I hated to think of Dennis emotionless and suffocating simply because that's what the vile job description dictated.

I keep craning my neck over the milling trade littered about the club floor, trying to spot Dennis amidst the flow of punters spilling in from the streets and down the stairs. But the hours are ticking by; and with a heavy sigh as I go out back and loaded the dishwasher with a load of empties,  I begin to wonder if he will show at all.

But when I go back into the bar; it s like the crowds have parted out of consideration, just so I would know he is here. Dennis is stood just at the foot of the stairs, his tousles ruffled; his tie tight, his suit jacket hanging askew on tensed shoulders. His hands are stuffed into his pockets, his stance casual. I smile weakly, and he just looks at me; no sparkle in his eyes, dead and unregistering. Then slowly, the corner of his lip stretches upwards, resulting in a lopsided insincere smile.

He gets up onto a stool on the side of the bar, loosening his tie and popping open the top button on his crisp shirt, seemingly gasping for air. He throws the scrunched up tie onto the bar, leaning forwards, all hunched up and his worn hands clasped together in angst before he even tries to meet my eye again.

I watch him sadly. I can already tell he needs me. There's something not right at all. He's trying not to show it, accepting the vodka (no ice evidently) I silently hand him without so much as a glance of recognition. His eyes have been possessed by a heavy grey mist, the muscles in his face contorting as he knocks back the drink in one, gasping it down, before pushing a twenty across the bar and refusing the change with a simple shake of the head. He looks desolate.

I have seen peace. I have seen pain
Resting on the shoulders of your name
Do you see the world, through all their lies?
Do you see the world through troubled eyes?

"Dennis-" I say softly, I can't bear the silence anymore. I move forward to touch his hand. 

He doesn't say anything, just looks surprised at where I have dared to make a connection between us, my thumb moving soothingly up and down the back of his hand. He smiles.

"There is nothing wrong Sharon." he says forcefully.

I humour him and chuckle, leaning in closer and speaking softly. "You can't lie to me darlin', you're no good. And remember, I said I'd be here if you need me."

"I'm fine."

He hunches further over his empty glass, looking forlornly at it as he realises it's empty and dislodging his clasped hands only to pound an angry fist against the surface of the bar. "Oh for fuck's sake!" he mutters hotly, although in a much quietened voice.

"Dennis, Dennis; look it's OK." I say hurriedly, pressing my hand around his fist and pinning it to the bar. I uncurl his hand and lace my fingers through his. I feel him squeeze my hand in what I take to be appreciation. "Come with me."

And as I move round to the punters side of the bar, our hands entwined; Dennis sinks heavily against the floor as he gets to his feet and lets me lead him across the club into the office.

He goes in first. I turn my back to him to close the door firmly behind me, taking a deep breath and preparing my mindset for consoling him. When I turn to him, I smile. He smirks.

"Well well Sharon, you just held my hand. In front of all those people; what happens if they saw darlin'? What will Daddy say?"

"Dennis shut up, I've done a lot more than hold your hand in front of people. And as for Dad-"

"Still there then? Whispering "do's" & "don't's" in your ear to make sure you behave like a proper little Princess?"

"What do you want me to say?" I question. "That he'd probably rip my head off and stop my pocket money if he knew I'd asked you to be here? Yes he probably would; but what do I care eh? Dennis, I just want to know you're OK."

He seems to be jumping from one foot to the other, wired and agitated. "Well I'm fine, can I go now?"

And he tries to head for the door, but I reach out and place my hand on his arm, and he freezes, pushing back mid-step to stand level with me. "No, you're not fine. I was watching you out there Dennis, I'm not blind, this.... it's all doing your head in.... you're not dealing with it."

He tilts his head back, directing his sarcastic laughter towards the ceiling. "You're a right Miss Marple you aintcha?"

I roll my eyes. "Dennis, stop.... just please...."

"Please what? Talk to you?"

"Yes! Let me help you."

"You can't." he informs me shakily. "No-one can."

"Well, let me try."

And I take my hand off his arm, moving across the room towards the sofa, sweeping up a half-drunk glass of wine from my desk en route. I take a sip as I turn to face Dennis again, and he just watches me as I clamber down onto the floor, leaning back against the sofa and tucking my legs snugly up alongside me. Putting my glass down next to me with a soft clunk! and flicking speckles of dust off the toe of my shoe, I look back up at him, raising an eyebrow in question.

"Well?"

"Well what?" he responds bluntly.

I don't say anything, just look pointedly at the floor space next to me. He sighs and comes and clambers down next to me, spreading his arm lazily out along the cushions of the sofa.

I have seen fear. I have seen faith
Seen the look of anger on your face
And if you want to talk about what will be
Come and sit with me, and cry on my shoulder
I'm a friend.

"I can't do this Sharon." he tries to say airily, but I can hear the tears creeping thickly into his voice. "Yesterday.... everything..."

I just look at him, watching as he fights back the emotion, not willing to let go of the front.... the pretence of some strong unfeeling thug. He's still Dennis underneath there; the poor darlin' is still so vunerable. I bite on my lip, only managing to rub awkward circles across the sleeve of his jacket. At this, he hurriedly peels it back, throwing it onto the sofa behind us, not looking at me, running his hands up and down his legs as he draws them to his chest, digging his chin against his knees like a frightened little boy. The image is horrible, makes me shudder. So I look away, drinking deeply from my glass. Dennis watches me lazily, chuckling softly as he leans back, stretching his back.

"H-H-How was your day?"

My God, I sound like his wife. Amusement creeps into his voice as he laughs again; obviously catching my trail of thought. "Oh, everyday Andy Hunter type stuff y'know. How do you think I paid for that drink Sharon? Dirty money."

"How did you get it?"

"Scared it out of some poor bastard. Borrowed five grand off Andy.... IVF... wife's desperate for a baby...."

He looks across at me, a sympathetic glint in his eye. I shrug it off. "Why couldn't they have just gone to a bloody bank for a loan.... not to Andy-"

He smiles weakly, muttering something that sounded along the lines of "So naive", but it was hard to tell. "He had form Sharon."

"What for?" 

"Fraud. No bank was gonna look at him twice.... he needed it from somewhere." He speaks in quiet sadness, drained by his work and what he make him have to do. "And it's my job to scare it back out of him. Do you know how shit that makes me feel?"

"Dennis-"

"I've looked at you Sharon babe, probably at times when I shouldn't have, and I've still seen in your face how much you wish you were a mother, that you had a baby of your own." He falters, staring at the floor as he speaks, hugging his knees yet tighter, the strain of his muscles showing underneath the material of his shirt. "Times when I wished you were a mother.... maybe to our children-"

Something stirs inside me, reminding me starkly that once, not so long ago; I had felt the same so intensely. I'm sure it shows in my face, because as I gaze back at him, trying not to move, or blink or twitch, his eyes seem to shimmer dully, just for a moment; but the speckled colour had been there.

"-and I was looking at this guy thinking.... how did he deserve this? Me stood there demanding money you could see he didn't have? He was just a bloke, one bloke.... wanting a normal life with the woman he loved.... what right did I have to be stood there... willing to threaten him if he didn't pay up? He was scared... he was shaking... he was physically shaking. Scared he was, yeah... scared of me. How? I mean, I could so easily have been this guy.... kids with the woman I love.... and he was scared. I didn't want to be me Sharon... anyone but me. If I really had been him; I wouldn't have stood for someone like who I really am turning up on my doorstep like that. And neither should he. He should have told me to fuck off. And if he had Sharon.... I would have left him, him and his wife-"

I have seen fear. I have seen faith
Seen the look of anger on your face
And if you want to talk about what will be
Come and sit with me, and cry on my shoulder
I'm a friend.

"Darlin', this isn't who you really are, this isn't you! You're different to this!"

"How am I different?" he snaps, shaking irritably. "This... all of it.... was my life for ten years Sharon! This is me!"

"No." I tell him, shaking my head. I clamber up to my knees. "You listen to me; this is not you. You're a wonderful person OK? You're funny and gentle and loving and-"

Again he laughs; taunting me somehow. His eyes seem glassy, like he's trying not to register I am really there beside him. "Gentle, loving? You're kidding me.... Sharon - I even smashed your face in!"

And he stares at my still swollen lip; shuddering like he is disgusted with himself. He outstretches his hand to touch me, his finger somehow brushing the injured lip. He titters nervously as if worried his touch will damage me further.

"I love you.... but this was me. I did this.... just like I left a great big bleeding hole in Jack Dalton's face."

"Stop." I tilt my head away. "Please stop."

"The truth's a bitch isn't it?" 

I nod numbly. "I can't believe I never saw.... Dennis, this is my fault...."

He looks mystified. "Eh? What are you on about? You've never punched someone or murdered anyone-"

"I know. But I was supposed to be there, I was supposed to love you... I should have been there to stop it all; stop Jack... stop you ever thinking you needed to go back to that life.... oh why did I never see?"

I don't know why I sound surprised. Every relationship I ever enjoyed has been a let down. My marriage to Grant... the farce with Phil... for God's sake, I was the one there when Lisa went into labour with Lou; bet she loved that... an ex of her baby's father at her bedside.... Tom charging back into that burning house like the bastard hero. Deserted by everyone and everything. Only with Dennis... it wasn't his choice. Yesterday as I watched him cry out his remorse, I realised his feeling was there. He loved me and it cut him up. Why couldn't I have ever tried to help avoid that? Sharon Watts fails spectacularly once again.

I have seen birth. I have seen death,
Lived to see a lover's final breath
Do you see my guilt? 
Should I feel fright?
Is the fire of hesistation burning bright?

"Sharon?" Dennis whispers hesistantly, the thickness of his voice informing me that he has begun to cry. "H-How were you supposed to love me?"

"What?"

"You said that you were supposed to love me; to be able to stop it all.... does a sister do that? I remember the way you looked at me the day we met Sharon. Disgust darlin', that was what was there. You hated me."

"That's not true." I bleat indignantly.

"It is." he sniffs wearily. "I don't believe around the time Jack died that as my sister you cared enough to try and stop me if you'd known then that it was me who killed him. I think you'd have been glad to see the back of me... 'nother couple of years in prison.... so what's this love you're on about?"

"What you want me to say Dennis? That I was in love with you right from the start? Because I can't say that. I wanted to believe you were my brother; b-b-but I love you now. I know about the worst thing you have ever done and I love you so so much. I'm not your sister Dennis, anymore than you're this cold shut down thug Andy's job has made you be. I don't know what I would have done back then; but I fell in love with you.... I should have realised there was something wrong; I should have asked you to talk to me-"

He scoffs bitterly. "What would I have said eh? What would I have been doing? Making love to you beforehand Sharon; would that have been easier? Holding you in my arms and then suddenly saying "By the way darlin', I killed a man."? I don't think so somehow. I love you. I'll always say it cos I'll always mean it... and while I was certain you loved me in the same way.... I couldn't risk it, not for as long as it lasted. It was too special."

"And you're not certain anymore? Dennis, I listened to your confessions yesterday-"

"You wanted me to make it pretty. You didn't want to believe you'd loved a cold blooded killer. "I feel sick at myself for letting you touch me." That's what you were going to say wasn't it?"

I nod meekly. I'd wanted to say that? "What about you Dennis? What about what you said.... "I don't remember you screaming at me to stop.... in fact quite the opposite." It doesn't matter what I say about what you did to Jack Dennis, in those few words, you'll always be right. I never asked you to stop."

Dennis smiles; pushing himself up slightly and leaning towards me, his soft lips brushing my lobe and his warm breath rushing into my ear as he speaks softly.

"But would you have done? If you had known what I'd done, would you have let me near you? Would you still knowingly screw a killer Sharon?"

 "Yes." 

He looks surprised as he draws back, blinking slowly.

"And I defy you to tell me you wouldn't still have me."

"Can't." he mutters dipping his eyes. And he slumps forward, only his head propped up by the support of the sofa behind us.

"I know." I admit. "And that's all I care about." 

I slide down next to him. He shifts me slightly and we silently move to rest our weary heads against the other's shoulder. He wraps his arm tightly around me. He still tremors as he cries quietly, little tears glistening in those ever mesmerising emerald eyes.

"I hate it Sharon. What I do. I wanted to be that man today.... so badly..... I never wanted to be the person I am-"

"We need the person you are. Nothing Andy Hunter tells you to do will change who you are to Vicki, or to Dot-"

"Or to you?"

"Or to me." I assure him. "Don't think that it'll alter you as a person Dennis...because it won't. Ever. You're still you, still loved.... and this time...." I grip his hand fiercely. "I'm here to stop things before they happen."

If you want to talk about it once again
On you I depend, I'll cry on your shoulder
You're a friend.

"Thank you." he murmurs, catching his breath on a sob he manages to hold in.

"No problem." I answer quietly, relaxed as he lies there against me, his hand in mine. My other hand automatically seems to dance slowly through his hair, trying to soothe him, catching my fingers in the bed-head tousles. 

"I'm sorry.... for everything."

"Forgiven. I'm going to look after you Dennis. Like I should have done in the first place. I never meant to let you down."

"You couldn't."

"Yeah well," my voice shivers similarly to his own, my hand slowing in it's tracks through his curls. "I won't.... I won't..."

You and I have been through many things
I'll hold on to your heart,
I wouldn't cry for anything
But don't go tearing your life apart.

And if you want to talk about it anymore
Lie here on the floor, cry on my shoulder,
I'm a friend

The End