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fredbassettTitle : Freedom’s Just Another Word For Nothing Left To Lose
Author : fredbassett
Fandom : Primeval
Rating : 15
Characters : Diane Johnson, Claudia Brown
Disclaimer : Not mine, no money made, don’t sue.
Spoilers : None
Summary : The death of her boyfriend in a swimming pool is just the start of Diane Johnson’s nightmare.
A/N : Written for Claudia Month on![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
primeval_denial. Yep, I’m a bit beyond with my outsider POV fics, but I hope to catch up!
“Hello, Diane, my name’s Claudia Brown. I’m from the Home Office.”
Diane Johnson stared at the smartly dressed women with hostility she didn’t bother to disguise. “I asked for a solicitor, not a fucking civil servant.”
And the bastards hadn’t arranged for her to see one yet. She watched cop shows on TV and read crime books. She knew she was entitled to a solicitor. The bastards had charged her without giving her any opportunity to see a brief. She’d been held for a fortnight in a ghastly women’s remand centre in Kent along with murderers, child killers and violent nutters. No matter how much she’d complained, no one had done anything to help her. She’d cried every tear left in her body and was now simply numb to it all. She hadn’t even been able to grieve properly for Anthony, and somewhere deep down in a dark place inside her, she’d started to blame him for what had happened to her.
“I’m here to help,” Claudia Brown said quietly.
“So get me a solicitor.”
“I need you to sign something.” A well-manicured hand slid into a briefcase and withdrew a manila folder stamped with the words Home Office.
Diane stared down at a sheet of paper headed Non-Disclosure Agreement. “What the fuck is this?”
Her mother would be turning in her grave – if she hadn’t been cremated. Diane had sworn more in the weeks following Anthony’s death than she had in her entire life, or at least that’s what it felt like. The remand centre had certainly broadened her vocabulary and left her with no faith whatsoever in the criminal justice system and even less in the police. All they done was ask her, over and over again, when she’d done with Anthony’s body. At the time, she’d thought the relentless questioning had been the worst thing she’d ever had to face in her life, but that was before she’d been hidden away here, lost amongst everyone protesting their innocence to anyone who would listen. And listeners were in short supply.
“I know you didn’t kill Anthony Barton,” Claudia Brown said.
A small spark of hope ignited deep down in Diane’s stomach. Just a slight flutter, as though a butterfly had danced over her grave. “How do you know that if the police don’t?”
Claudia gave a slight sigh and for moment she looked bone-weary, like a woman who’d barely slept for weeks. It was a look Diane was well-acquainted with now. She saw it every time she looked in a mirror. “Let’s just say I believe you, shall we? And if you sign this agreement, I can arrange for all charges to be dropped so you can go home. All this means is that you can’t talk about what’s happened.”
“I can’t talk about the fact that a fucking great big killer whale in a swimming pool ate my boyfriend?”
“That’s exactly what I mean.” The tiredness had gone, replaced by the steely resolve of a woman who had a job to do, even if it was a job she didn’t appear to like very much.
“I can’t talk about the fact that I’ve been denied access to a solicitor for two weeks?”
Claudia nodded. “That’s exactly what the document says. Basically, Diane, you can’t talk about anything that’s happened since you went to the swimming pool with Anthony.”
“Fuck off.”
Claudia Brown slipped the non-disclosure agreement back into its folder and stood up. The woman had an enviable poker face, Diane would give her that.
“I’m sorry to have taken up your time, Diane. If you change your mind, I’m happy to come back.”
She made it as far as the metal door of the interview room before Diane cracked. “All right, come back. I’ll listen to what you have to say.”
Without looking in the slightest bit smug, Claudia sat down again and put the file back on the table. “Read the agreement carefully, but there are no tricks in there. It just says that you won’t talk to anyone about Anthony’s disappearance and your…” she hesitated, a slight chink in her composure showing as she groped for the right word before settling on anodyne, “…stay here.”
“So no crappy review of this place on Trip Advisor?”
“No.”
“No selling my story to the News of the Screws?”
“No selling your story to any newspaper. No talking to journalists. No talking about this to anyone, not even your best friend or your sister.”
“My best friend and my sister probably both think I’ve murdered my boyfriend. Won’t that be what the newspapers have been saying?”
“Julie and Naomi both think you’re on holiday in Majorca.”
Fear coiled in Diane’s stomach like snake in a sack. Claudia Brown knew the names of her best friend and her sister. Some sort of fucking cover story had already been constructed. All they needed now was Diane’s signature on a bland-looking piece of paper and this nightmare would be over.
Except that it would never be over. Anthony was dead, and she didn’t know why. She didn’t know how that killer whale thing had ended up in the swimming pool, and if she signed the piece of paper on the cheap formica-topped table she would never know.
“Who the hell are you?” she said, knowing as the words left her mouth that she could whistle for any answers.
“My name’s Claudia Brown, as I said, I work for the Home Office.”
“Do you enjoy your job?”
Surprise danced in Claudia Brown’s eyes and for a moment the professional mask slipped and Diane saw behind it to a woman trying hard to keep her head above some very murky waters.
“Scrap that question,” Diane said. There was no point in antagonising the woman who might hold the keys to the doors that stood between her and freedom. “You’ll have to lend me a pen.”
Claudia took a biro out of her handbag, nothing fancy – like its owner. Diane had an odd feeling that perhaps if they’d met in other circumstances, they might have been friends.
Diane reached for the agreement, and the pen, and started to read. Claudia Brown’s summing up had been pretty accurate. Basically, she couldn’t talk about the last two weeks to anyone. Ever.
“So if I sign this, I’m free to go?”
Claudia nodded. “I have a change of clothes for you in my car and I’ll take you home. If anyone sees us, I’m a friend you made in Majorca.”
“What about my job?”
“You’ve been on paid leave for two weeks. Your boss will be very happy to have you back.”
The knot of fear in Diane’s stomach twisted again. “Has he had to sign something as well?”
“Yes.”
Diane didn’t ask for any more information and Claudia didn’t volunteer it. “I presume you’ve got a good story worked out for why I haven’t been in contact with anyone for the last two weeks?”
“Anthony surprised you with a holiday for your birthday, but you lost your phone on the first night, and anyway, you wanted a break from everything, even social media.”
“He always used to call it anti-social media.” Tears came into her eyes, and Diane let them fall unchecked onto the piece of paper that held the promise of a release from this nightmare. Anthony Barton was dead and she wouldn’t ever be able to talk about it. “What do I tell people if they ask where he is?”
“He’s working at a hotel complex as a lifeguard.”
“But he’s not, is he?” Diane’s voice cracked and the sobs she’d been bottling up for weeks burst out. “He’s dead!”
Claudia pressed a large crisp cotton handkerchief into her now-damp fingers. “Yes, he’s dead, and I’m very sorry about that. But it’s my job to keep people safe, and I can’t do that if you tell the truth, Diane. Do you understand that?”
Diane nodded, and without waiting for any further urging, she scrawled her name across the bottom of the document.
“Thank you.” Claudia sounded genuinely grateful. “Come on, let’s get you out of here.”
Diane looked at her through the haze of tears. There was compassion in Claudia’s tired brown eyes, and the woman from the Home Office was holding out a hand to help her up.
Diane took the offered hand and held it all the way to the car.
She was free. For the moment, that was all the mattered. She’d deal with everything else in the privacy of her own flat and in her own time.
Author : fredbassett
Fandom : Primeval
Rating : 15
Characters : Diane Johnson, Claudia Brown
Disclaimer : Not mine, no money made, don’t sue.
Spoilers : None
Summary : The death of her boyfriend in a swimming pool is just the start of Diane Johnson’s nightmare.
A/N : Written for Claudia Month on
primeval_denial. Yep, I’m a bit beyond with my outsider POV fics, but I hope to catch up!“Hello, Diane, my name’s Claudia Brown. I’m from the Home Office.”
Diane Johnson stared at the smartly dressed women with hostility she didn’t bother to disguise. “I asked for a solicitor, not a fucking civil servant.”
And the bastards hadn’t arranged for her to see one yet. She watched cop shows on TV and read crime books. She knew she was entitled to a solicitor. The bastards had charged her without giving her any opportunity to see a brief. She’d been held for a fortnight in a ghastly women’s remand centre in Kent along with murderers, child killers and violent nutters. No matter how much she’d complained, no one had done anything to help her. She’d cried every tear left in her body and was now simply numb to it all. She hadn’t even been able to grieve properly for Anthony, and somewhere deep down in a dark place inside her, she’d started to blame him for what had happened to her.
“I’m here to help,” Claudia Brown said quietly.
“So get me a solicitor.”
“I need you to sign something.” A well-manicured hand slid into a briefcase and withdrew a manila folder stamped with the words Home Office.
Diane stared down at a sheet of paper headed Non-Disclosure Agreement. “What the fuck is this?”
Her mother would be turning in her grave – if she hadn’t been cremated. Diane had sworn more in the weeks following Anthony’s death than she had in her entire life, or at least that’s what it felt like. The remand centre had certainly broadened her vocabulary and left her with no faith whatsoever in the criminal justice system and even less in the police. All they done was ask her, over and over again, when she’d done with Anthony’s body. At the time, she’d thought the relentless questioning had been the worst thing she’d ever had to face in her life, but that was before she’d been hidden away here, lost amongst everyone protesting their innocence to anyone who would listen. And listeners were in short supply.
“I know you didn’t kill Anthony Barton,” Claudia Brown said.
A small spark of hope ignited deep down in Diane’s stomach. Just a slight flutter, as though a butterfly had danced over her grave. “How do you know that if the police don’t?”
Claudia gave a slight sigh and for moment she looked bone-weary, like a woman who’d barely slept for weeks. It was a look Diane was well-acquainted with now. She saw it every time she looked in a mirror. “Let’s just say I believe you, shall we? And if you sign this agreement, I can arrange for all charges to be dropped so you can go home. All this means is that you can’t talk about what’s happened.”
“I can’t talk about the fact that a fucking great big killer whale in a swimming pool ate my boyfriend?”
“That’s exactly what I mean.” The tiredness had gone, replaced by the steely resolve of a woman who had a job to do, even if it was a job she didn’t appear to like very much.
“I can’t talk about the fact that I’ve been denied access to a solicitor for two weeks?”
Claudia nodded. “That’s exactly what the document says. Basically, Diane, you can’t talk about anything that’s happened since you went to the swimming pool with Anthony.”
“Fuck off.”
Claudia Brown slipped the non-disclosure agreement back into its folder and stood up. The woman had an enviable poker face, Diane would give her that.
“I’m sorry to have taken up your time, Diane. If you change your mind, I’m happy to come back.”
She made it as far as the metal door of the interview room before Diane cracked. “All right, come back. I’ll listen to what you have to say.”
Without looking in the slightest bit smug, Claudia sat down again and put the file back on the table. “Read the agreement carefully, but there are no tricks in there. It just says that you won’t talk to anyone about Anthony’s disappearance and your…” she hesitated, a slight chink in her composure showing as she groped for the right word before settling on anodyne, “…stay here.”
“So no crappy review of this place on Trip Advisor?”
“No.”
“No selling my story to the News of the Screws?”
“No selling your story to any newspaper. No talking to journalists. No talking about this to anyone, not even your best friend or your sister.”
“My best friend and my sister probably both think I’ve murdered my boyfriend. Won’t that be what the newspapers have been saying?”
“Julie and Naomi both think you’re on holiday in Majorca.”
Fear coiled in Diane’s stomach like snake in a sack. Claudia Brown knew the names of her best friend and her sister. Some sort of fucking cover story had already been constructed. All they needed now was Diane’s signature on a bland-looking piece of paper and this nightmare would be over.
Except that it would never be over. Anthony was dead, and she didn’t know why. She didn’t know how that killer whale thing had ended up in the swimming pool, and if she signed the piece of paper on the cheap formica-topped table she would never know.
“Who the hell are you?” she said, knowing as the words left her mouth that she could whistle for any answers.
“My name’s Claudia Brown, as I said, I work for the Home Office.”
“Do you enjoy your job?”
Surprise danced in Claudia Brown’s eyes and for a moment the professional mask slipped and Diane saw behind it to a woman trying hard to keep her head above some very murky waters.
“Scrap that question,” Diane said. There was no point in antagonising the woman who might hold the keys to the doors that stood between her and freedom. “You’ll have to lend me a pen.”
Claudia took a biro out of her handbag, nothing fancy – like its owner. Diane had an odd feeling that perhaps if they’d met in other circumstances, they might have been friends.
Diane reached for the agreement, and the pen, and started to read. Claudia Brown’s summing up had been pretty accurate. Basically, she couldn’t talk about the last two weeks to anyone. Ever.
“So if I sign this, I’m free to go?”
Claudia nodded. “I have a change of clothes for you in my car and I’ll take you home. If anyone sees us, I’m a friend you made in Majorca.”
“What about my job?”
“You’ve been on paid leave for two weeks. Your boss will be very happy to have you back.”
The knot of fear in Diane’s stomach twisted again. “Has he had to sign something as well?”
“Yes.”
Diane didn’t ask for any more information and Claudia didn’t volunteer it. “I presume you’ve got a good story worked out for why I haven’t been in contact with anyone for the last two weeks?”
“Anthony surprised you with a holiday for your birthday, but you lost your phone on the first night, and anyway, you wanted a break from everything, even social media.”
“He always used to call it anti-social media.” Tears came into her eyes, and Diane let them fall unchecked onto the piece of paper that held the promise of a release from this nightmare. Anthony Barton was dead and she wouldn’t ever be able to talk about it. “What do I tell people if they ask where he is?”
“He’s working at a hotel complex as a lifeguard.”
“But he’s not, is he?” Diane’s voice cracked and the sobs she’d been bottling up for weeks burst out. “He’s dead!”
Claudia pressed a large crisp cotton handkerchief into her now-damp fingers. “Yes, he’s dead, and I’m very sorry about that. But it’s my job to keep people safe, and I can’t do that if you tell the truth, Diane. Do you understand that?”
Diane nodded, and without waiting for any further urging, she scrawled her name across the bottom of the document.
“Thank you.” Claudia sounded genuinely grateful. “Come on, let’s get you out of here.”
Diane looked at her through the haze of tears. There was compassion in Claudia’s tired brown eyes, and the woman from the Home Office was holding out a hand to help her up.
Diane took the offered hand and held it all the way to the car.
She was free. For the moment, that was all the mattered. She’d deal with everything else in the privacy of her own flat and in her own time.
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Date: 2019-06-10 06:46 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2019-06-10 07:43 pm (UTC)