Title: Bad Beer
Author: Sandi
Fandom: The Bill
Pairing: Craig/Luke
Rating: PG13
Status:  New & complete
Archive: Britslash, Save Gilmore, Jasmin Alley (if they
want it)
Email: brandonsgranny@tiscali.co.uk

Disclaimer: Not mine - but I wish they were 'cos I'd treat
them a heck of a lot better.

Summary: Some dreams are stranger than others. (My stab at
a Craig/Luke 'fix
it'.)

Warnings: None.

Spoilers: Minor ones from the wedding episode and Craig's
last episode.


BAD BEER

He turns his head away as Luke moves around the bed,
heading for the door. He can't look, not this time. This
last time.

"See ya, Sarge..." False brightness in the words. More
lies. Craig knows in his heart that he will never see Luke
again.

There is no strength in him to answer, every nerve on fire,
every bone aching, and so he stays as he is, staring at the
window and the rich, deep blue of a winter sky.

The door closes. Gina remains. No, not 'Gina'. Not anymore.
Not after what she has done.

"Why did you make me lie?" he asks. Now he can look at her
and, just for a fleeting moment, he sees the flicker of
regret in her eyes. Then it's gone, and she's looking back
at him, cold, hard. Determined.

"They're married," she reminds him. "She's pregnant."

It's every reason in the world, and no reason at all.

He would laugh at her, if his ribs didn't hurt so much, and
so he says instead "I reckon you just crossed the line."
She blinks, a little of the colour draining from her face.
He has her on the ropes now, and presses his advantage. She
has hurt him, more than she will ever know. He's about due
for a little payback. "I'm glad I won't be around to see
this blow up in Kerry's face."

She says nothing - what is there to say? She knows, deep
down, that he's right.

The last sound he hears, before he slips into oblivion, is
the snick of the door latch as he leaves....

~~~~

He came awake slowly, wondering how to reach the little man
that was pounding away with a sledgehammer deep inside his
head. This... was not good. Not good at all... His mouth
felt like the bottom of a budgie cage - before they changed
the sand sheet - and he was convinced someone had been
rolling his eyeballs in the dust. As for the ache in his
shoulder from sleeping with one arm pinned above his head,
and the crick in his neck, and...

He gave up charting his battle scars and attempted, warily,
to open his eyes. Not the best of ideas, under the
circumstances, but he had things to do. There was somewhere
he had to be...

The light in the room was not particularly bright, but it
was enough to hurt his eyes and wrench a groan of protest
from his lips. Maybe if he went back to sleep for a little
while...

Something cool and wet touched his forehead, moved on to
stroke across his cheeks - left first, then the right -
then over the bridge of his nose and across his lips. It
felt - wonderful, and he grunted in frustration as the
sensation left him; sigh with relief as it returned once
more, bolder strokes this time, retracing the route and
extending it down his neck, making him shiver.

Somewhere, very far away, somebody laughed.

He tried again to open his eyes and this time, he
succeeded, blinking away the protective tears that welled
suddenly, struggling to focus. Then he was blinking again,
trying in vain to make the image disappear. Trying to force
himself awake and end the dream.

"Welcome back..." Luke's voice was low, gentle, with just a
hint of a laugh hidden in it.

"Luke?"

"I was starting to get worried. For a moment I thought you
were..."

"Well, I'm not," Craig said hurriedly, fear rushing through
him. Hadn't they done this already? He turned his head away
- too quickly - and his stomach rolled.

"Easy... easy... " Luke soothed. Water splashed against
metal and the blissful coolness returned once more,
pressing against his forehead. It felt so good that Craig
could not help but move towards it, welcoming the relief.
Everywhere else it felt as if his skin was on fire, but his
forehead was cool, and that felt - good. So good.

Lacking the strength to resist, he lay still and let Luke
take care of him. This may be a dream, or a drug-induced
hallucination, but he was prepared to go with it.

"Guess I'm not in Kansas anymore," he quipped, preferring
the illusion of tasteful furnishings and a comfortable bed
to the stark antiseptic reality of the hospital room.

"Kansas?" Luke sounded puzzled. Craig decided to save the
explanations for another day.

"Doesn't matter. What... What 're you doing here?"

"Taking care of you."

Craig liked the sound of that, even if it was only a dream.

"The doc wanted to send you to St Hugh's, but I managed to
convince him you'd be better off here than laying around on
a trolley in A&E. He promised to come back later to check
up on you. He said the best thing was to let you sleep." He
removed the cloth as he spoke and refreshed it in a bowl of
water on the night stand before returning it to Craig's
forehead. "I spoke to someone in reception, explained you
were ill. They're letting us keep the room another night,
so you can just relax and let 'Nurse Ashton' take care of
you."

"Sounds... nice," Craig told him, but there was something
nagging at the back of his mind, that told him Luke should
be somewhere else. With someone else. Gina had arranged it.
Luke was not supposed to be with him, he should be off
playing happy families with... No, not quite. Not yet.

It was starting to come back to him. This was not the dream
- this was reality. The other, the beating, the hospital,
the confrontation with Kerry... that had been the dream. He
wasn't in hospital, he was in a hotel room. Luke's hotel
room. Last night had been Luke's stag night, which meant...

"What the hell's going on, Luke?" he demanded, struggling
to sit up. Luke, no longer smiling that delicious smile,
pushed on his shoulders to keep him down.

"You're meant to be resting, Craig..."

"Not until you tell --" The wave of nausea caught him
unawares. Halfway between sitting and lying, he clamped a
hand to his mouth and threw Luke a wide-eyed, 'Oh-my-god'
look of appeal as he felt his stomach muscles begin to
contract and his mouth fill with bile.

Somehow, Luke was ready for him, holding the bowl for him
as he retched, moving his free hand in slow circles over
Craig's shoulders and murmuring words of comfort. It was
embarrassing, yet at the same time it felt so good to have
Luke hold him. He would give anything, even this indignity,
to have Luke hold him like that for the rest of their days.

When it was over, and the dry heaves had settled down to
mild muscular spasms, Luke plumped up the pillows and
helped him to lean back, then he took the bowl away to
empty and rinse, returned with a glass of water and a
towel. Craig watched it all, frowning as he tried to
unravel the mystery of Luke presence. He should be off
celebrating, dancing with his bride and being congratulated
by his friends - not here, taking care of a sad old queen
with a hangover. But here he was, and Craig could not help
but be grateful for that, given the way he was feeling. The
last time his stomach had hurt this much was after Carl had
brought home a curry from a take away that the Public
Health people had closed down two days later.

Once Craig had been made comfortable again, his face wiped
and mouth rinsed, and the sheets had been smoothed and
tucked around him, Luke crossed the room, eased back the
heavy drapes and opened the window, letting in a stream of
cool, refreshing air. Until he felt the crisp breeze on his
face, Craig had not realised how sour and stifling the air
in the room had become.

"If I promise not to throw up again, will you tell me
what's happening?" he asked softly.

Luke smiled - a little sadly, Craig thought - and came to
sit on the side of the bed, taking Craig's hand in his.
"How much do you remember about last night?"

"Not much," Craig admitted, "and what I do remember seems
to be mixed up with some really strange dreams..."

"That'll be the beer."

"I didn't drink enough to have a hangover."

"True," Luke nodded, "but apparently the keg you were
drinking from was bad. Matt Boyden spent the night in
hospital, along with about a dozen others from the same
pub. They're doing some tests to find out if it was just
'off', or if someone's been tampering with it."

"Great." So that accounted for the sickness and probably
the headache. "But, I still don't understand what you're
doing here. Last time I checked, you were meant to be
getting married this morning"

Luke blushed, his gaze slipping away from Craig's, the way
it always did when they touched on something he was not
comfortable with. "I told you - I'm taking care of you.
Isn't that what you're meant to do for someone you - love."

Had Craig not been tucked up in bed, he was sure his jaw
would have hit the floor at the shy declaration. Instead,
all he could do was stare, and stare... and whisper softly
"What?"

Luke gave a little laugh, that fell short of the mark and
turned into an odd huffing sound instead. "Don't sound so
surprised. It's what you've wanted all along." Lifting
Craig's hand from the bed, he held it between his own,
rubbing the back of it with his thumbs. "I love you, Craig.
I think I have done for a long time."

Craig hardly dared to breathe, terrified that to do so
would break the spell and Luke would run away from this
again. Yet - he had to know. They had been close to this
moment before and Luke had chickened out, replacing words
of love with those of anger and accusation. Craig needed to
know where they were going this time, before he allowed
himself to hope.

"What about Kerry?" he ventured. "This was meant to be your
wedding day, Luke."

"I...couldn't go through with it. Not after - last night."

Last night... Craig could remember it all now, with perfect
clarity. Luke, too drunk to go anywhere alone, Tony and the
others preoccupied with humiliating Boyden, leaving him to
make sure the bridegroom got back to his hotel and not on
the night train to Scotland. Luke, in the hotel room,
coming on to him, kissing him, his dark eyes full of
promises Craig knew he should stop him from making. A
second kiss, filled with a passion Craig would never have
believed himself capable of and certainly had not expected
from Luke. Stripping each other, fevered hands tearing at
buttons and zippers, each desperate for the honesty of skin
on skin, tumbling to the bed
- the one where Craig now lay - holding and held, loving
and loved. It had been everything Craig had ever wanted and
Luke had been a willing, even generous, lover. Then.

But what about now, in the cold light of a January
afternoon? Had Luke made a conscious choice to be honest
about his needs, or had he simply used his night with Craig
as an excuse to avoid a situation he could not face? Had
Craig been nothing more than the last stage in an
experiment?

"Why not, Luke?" he asked.

"You need to ask?" Luke sounded - shocked by the question.
Craig sighed.

"With you, yes. I wish I could look at you and know what
you're thinking, but I can't. I'm sorry."

Silence threaded the long moments while Luke gazed at him
and Craig wondered what wars were going on behind those
eyes, what decisions he was, even now, struggling to make.
At last, when Craig had all but given up on hearing the
truth, he said calmly, "No. It's me should be sorry. I know
I've hurt you and if I could take it all back, all the crap
things I've said to you, then I would. But we both know I
can't. All I can do is promise you I'll never do anything
like that again. If we can - if you still want me - I'd
like us to start over, right here, right now. No more lies,
no more secrets."

"No more Kerry?" Craig asked, judging it to be a fair
question under the circumstances.

Luke drew a deep, audible breath and his grip on Craig's
fingers tightened. "I went to see her this morning - got
one of the hotel staff to keep an eye on you - and, before
you ask," he added quickly, not allowing Craig to
interrupt, "I didn't leave her standing at the altar. I
went to the flat. I knew she'd probably have her sister and
Robbie there. And her dad..." He paused, looking suddenly
nervous. Craig guessed the meeting with Kerry's father had
not been a good one. "I told her I couldn't go through with
the wedding. I couldn't be her husband."

"Did you tell her why?" Tears were forming in Luke's eyes
now. Craig knew he was hurting, but he could not let up on
him. Not yet. Not until he knew for sure.

"I told her I love her, but I could never be what she
wanted me to be, because... I'm gay. I don't think she
really understood, even then. Not at first, anyway. So I
told her... as much as I love her as a friend... I'm in
love with someone else. A man... A very... special man...
who loves me, even though I don't deserve it. I tried not
to say who - I didn't want them taking it out on you -
but... she'd already guessed. I'm sorry, Craig. I've really
screwed things up this time."

It was everything Craig had ever hoped to hear and, perhaps
for the first time, he found it easy to believe that Luke
was telling him the truth. At last, taking pity on him, he
freed his hands from Luke's deathlike grip on them and held
out his arms instead.

"No, not this time," he smiled. "I don't care if they come
after me. I don't care if the whole world turns against me.
You love me - that's all that matters."

Tears streaming down his cheeks, Luke shook his head. "You
can't mean that..."

"Don't argue with me, Luke, just - come here..."

Smiling, crying, laughing, all at the same time, Luke
climbed onto the bed and crawled into Craig's embrace.
Wordlessly, they clung to each other as the seconds ticked
into minutes. The future lay before them and Craig knew it
was not going to be easy for either of them - Luke would be
blamed for dumping Kerry and Craig would be ostracised for
corrupting him in the first place - but he knew, somehow,
they would get through it.

They had each made it this far on their own - the rest of
it they would face together.

End