What Once Was

This story uses some character names from TarynWanderr_L0C's story 'Diamond In The Rough'. She did an amazing job with that one and it inspired me to write this. Read hers if your into Snatch, its fantastic.

Anyway...I'm not a writer, I don't claim to be a writer nor do I claim to be any good, but I had a go anyway so there y'go.

I did it for my own amusement because I love Snatch and I love Tommy and Turkish, so I'm not overly fussed that it aint Pride and Prejudice.

Tommy/Turkish, sort of, kind of, hinted at.
( I'll get round more to that in the next chapter :S )

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Staring up at the ceiling, he wasn’t sure how long he’d been lying there. It could have been minutes or it could have been hours. The darkness wasn’t giving away any clues and, try as he might, he couldn’t quite bring himself to take that step of dragging his body out of bed to check the alarm clock. So he lay there, unable to sleep and unwilling to move, letting the blackness of the night rule over his senses until everything seemed dull and far away. Only hazy swirls and faint patterns, tricks his eyes played on him, were able penatrate his vision.

Tommy sighed inwardly and rolled onto his side, blinking hard in the gloom as his eyes tried to focus on the figure that lay beside him.
The man that Tommy had just spent that evening with, trying to please, charm and then ultimately, pleasure.

Tommy hadn’t found the man attractive. An obnoxious, brash businessman in his forties with an apparantly permenant red faceand a habit of flashing the cash at every opportunity, he’d picked Tommy up on a street corner in London’s Mayfair and had taken him to a local hotel for a ‘night to remember’ (his words...not Tommy’s.) Now he lay, fast asleep, wrapping the entire length of thebedsheets around his flabby body while Tommy tossed and turned next to him.

Tommy shuddered as flashbacks from earlier that evening infiltrated his mind.

‘So what’s your name?’ The man asked,

‘Whatever you want it to be.’ Tommy had replied, robotically, the same answer he gave to every client that asked.

The man’s hands had hungrily explored Tommy’s skinny, ravaged frame, inching lower and lower...

Enough now.

He swung his legs over the side of the bed and, pausing momentarily to listen and make sure he had not disturbed the sleeping figure to the left of him, he rose to his feet and carefully, quietly, made his way over the cold, hard floor of the hotel room and headed for the bathroom.

‘En suite of course.’ His client had reminded him more than once that evening , ‘I only deal with the best.’

‘Whatever.’ Tommy had shrugged, completely unimpressed. En suite bathrooms meant nothing to him. He had been planning on going in there, taking care of business and getting out as soon as possible but after it became apparant that this particular client wasn’t going to rush and was more than happy to pay for the extra time Tommy spent with him, he’d figured what the hell. And agreed to spend the night sleeping in the same bed.

He opened the bathroom door and switched on the light, then paused. The sleeping figure didn’t stir so Tommy moved into the bathroom and clicked the door shut. He stood for a few seconds in the harsh light, staring at the white tiles on the floor, noticing for some reason how years of dirt and grime had accumulated in the crevices, before sinking to the floor on his knees, wrapping his arms around his head and clenching his eyes shut. He felt a deep growl of despair leave his throat, an accumulation of the events of that evening being released. It tailed off into a quiet, pitiful wail and then finally, into silence. He stayed still for a few moments before slowly rocking forward until his head touched the floor. Frustration, anger and misery began to inch itself out of his consciousness as he began to repeatedly bang his head against the tiles, each hit just that little bit harder. A sharp pain began to blur its way through the emotion. The ritualistic cleansing had begun.

That was a long time ago, of course. As the years passed he felt himself become acclimatised to those dark thoughts and emotions that riddled him early on. Or he had simply learnt how to ignore them. He never was sure which was correct.

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‘Tommy... what on earth are you doing?’ Turkish’s voice snapped him out of his daydream. ‘I ask you to sort that paperwork out for me and here I find you, sat around like some sort of lady of leisure.’

‘Oh, ehrm.... sorry Turkish...’ Tommy mumbled, shuffling the long abandoned sheets in his hands and flipping through them in an over-exaggerated fashion. Turkish stood for a moment, before sighing, shaking his head and sauntering away. ‘Y’know Tommy, sometimes you’re about as much use as a chocolate fireguard... that’s completely useless, by the way.’

Tommy felt his jaw tighten as he outwardly ignored Turkish’s scathing remarks, he come to learn a long time ago that it was simply Turkish’s way to be sarcastic in his manner, and continued to flip through the papers. He wasn’t really taking in any of the information he was reading. It was something to do with the arcade. Something about the slot machines. The words danced before him until they became an unreadable scrawl.

‘Damn.’ He breathed, tossing them aside. He allowed his eyes to scan the arcade, running past the flashing lights of the machines, past the punters spending what was probably unearned money on what was likely to be an unreachable win and settling on Turkish who was busy jabbing the buttons on one game that was unfortunate enough to have stopped working.

‘Shoddy crap.’ He was muttering, reaching his arm around the back of the machine to play around with the wires there. Suddenly he snapped his arm away from the machine, jumping a step back. ‘AAH! Fuck! Fuckin’ thing shocked me!’

A few of the punters gave sidewards glances in Turkish’s direction, raising their eyebrows questioningly. Tommy’s mouth formed a half smile as he watched Turkish hopping ever so slightly on the spot, hunched over, clenching his hand to his body.
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Business in Jesters had been slow that evening and every last punter had cleared out long before closing time. What can you expect? Tommy thought. A flat, humid Wednesday night, why would anyone want to spend it sweating away in some dingy arcade with a bunch of other sad, souless wasters? He’d unbuttoned his collar and untucked his shirt. Turkish had eyed him when he had done this but, after a moments consideration, decided not to say anything. Turkish hated it when Tommy looked unprofessional while running the arcade.

‘Shows it up as the shithole it is,’ He’d said, ‘and shows up the crappy decorating.’
Tommy hadn’t wanted to be there. He wanted to go home, but Turkish had insisted on them seeing out the full night. Finally, late into the evening, they closed up and stumbled through into the apartment next door. Turkish slumped into the sofa while Tommy sat on a mattress which had been placed in the corner of the livingroom, a makeshift bed for him that Gorgeous George had aquired when Tommy had first arrived on the scene. It had only supposed to have been temporary, but after much deliberation it had been decided that there really wasn’t any room for another bed in the apartment and so, years down the road, Tommy had still found himself sleeping on the same mattress.

He had been rescued by Turkish and had gone to stay with him seven years ago now. He was only 18 then. Had been getting beaten to a pulp in a back ally by a client when Turkish had appeared out of nowhere and intervened. Turkish hadn’t been exactly in a great place himself at that point, still feeling void and empty after the death of his wife, he had drank heavily, smoked hard, only managing to drag himself out of bed at noon and leave the apartment to take care of things on the boxing business front. He had taken care of Tommy, looked after him. It wasn’t supposed to have lasted, Tommy was meant to have moved on, Turkish himself had insisted on this. However the pair found they had created a bond, two lost souls brought together by a mutual sense of longing for affection. Tommy had stayed; Turkish had helped him through his darker days. A flinchy, broken kid at first, Tommy had been encouraged to stand up for himself and fight back. He had been allowed to get involved in helping Turkish run his operations, had been entrusted as manager of the arcade, Jesters. It had been good for him to have some responsibility and to prove he could cope with it. Now Tommy felt like he was making progress, felt stronger, wouldnt break down in the background anymore if somebody said something to him. Meeting Turkish had made Tommy realise that not all people were scum, not all people wanted to take advantage.

Tommy had set up short-term home in the caravan that was supposed to be the base for Turkish’s primary trade, the unlicensed boxing business. Turkish hadn’t been all that happy at first to learn that his office suddenly had a bed in it, but the fact that Tommy retired there most evenings allowed the partners to get out of each others hair after long, hard days spent together running two businesses. Though after really late nights at the arcade Tommy found he really couldn’t be bothered to drag himself all the way back there, not when he knew he could just go right next door and collapse in the corner. Turkish had never bothered to move the mattress, a sure sign that he didn’t mind Tommy’s company.

They now both sat, regaining some strength after the long night. Turkish stood, sighing as he did, unbuckled his belt and lazily made his way to the kitchen area, unbuttoning a few shirt buttons on the way.

‘Beer?’ he asked, opening the fridge.

‘Sure.’ Tommy replied, scratching his chest through his shirt and yawning.Boy It had been a LONG night. Turkish opened a few bottles of lager and made his way back to the sofa, stopping to stoop down and hand one to Tommy. They sat there for a few minutes in silence, sipping their drinks. Tommy glanced up at Turkish who was staring down at the floor, right knee jiggling up and down in that uncontrollable manner it did when he was feeling stress. He looked as if he was thinking. Tommy opened his mouth to speak but quickly thought better of it. After a few more minutes of silence though, he couldn’t resist any longer.

‘It would have been her birthday today wouldn’t it? And your wedding anniversary? That’s right, ain’t it?’

Turkish looked up at Tommy, suprised.

‘It would have been yeah.’ He sighed, ‘God rest her soul.’

‘I’m really sorry.’ Murmered Tommy, cocking his head slightly to one side as he suddenly realised why Turkish hadn’t let them bunk off work earlier even though the arcade had been empty. Keeping the mind busy makes sure you don’t have time to think, and the last thing that Turkish needed to spend all night thinking about was the freak accident that claimed his wife’s life all those years ago.

More silence as they finished their drinks. Not uncomfortable, though. That’s the great thing about good friends; you can conduct entire conversations without ever having to utter a word. You can literally feed off of the emotion eminating from their body. Both were lost in their own world and each others, drinking in each others thoughts and feelings without moving a muscle.

‘I might sleep.’ Turkish said finally, standing.

‘Yeah, same here.’ Agreed Tommy, standing as well. As he rose he looked towards Turkish and their eyes met. They stood and looked to each other for what seemed like eternity but what could only have been seconds.

‘You ok?’ asked Tommy.

‘I’m fine, really.’ Replied Turkish, ‘But don’t worry ‘bout me, concentrate on yourself, then I’ll be happy.’ He sighed, ‘Life has its ways of shitting on you don’t it? You just gotta find a way to shit on it right back.’ He dipped his head and began to move away, adding as he went, ‘I’m using the bathroom first Tom, so you might as well sit your arse back down.
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He couldn’t sleep. Try as he might, sleep was eluding him. Tommy was officially wide awake. It was humid, far far too humid to sleep. It was that uncomfortable sort of humid that seems to be exclusive to England, where the sun doesn’t even bother to shine through the day and the air just remains heavy and choking for days on end. Tommy rolled onto his front, jamming his face into the pillow and moaned quietly. He then rolled onto his front, splaying his arms and legs out, the thought crossing his mind that he must look a bit like a starfish to anyone with a birdseye view of him. He could hear Turkish’s heavy breathing coming from the bedroom and mused at how the man could sleep through anything. When Turkish slept, Turkish might as well be in a coma. Tommy sat up, propping himself and against the wall and sighed heavily. He reached over to grab hold of his trousers that he’d abandoned earlier on the floor by the mattress and produced a handful of pills from the pocket. Aah, sleeping tablets... Sweet rest wouldn’t elude him much longer...he stuffed them into his mouth and swallowed them down, gagging slightly as they caught for a moment in his throat.

Tommy lay back down and rolled onto his side, concentrating on the steady breathing of his friend, then mirroring the pattern with his own. After what felt like another five hours, but he was sure it can’t have been that long, he felt his eyes begin to drift shut and his mind started to wander. Scenes began to flash in front of his eyes.
Faces leering down at him, Men smiling their filthy, perverse smiles, leaning closer, the smell of old man sweat, whispering words into his ear.

‘You’re mine.’

‘Lie down.’

‘Do as you’re told or you won’t get paid.’
Tommy jolted awake.

‘Shhhh-’ he grimaced, realising he’d hit his knuckles hard on the wall. Then, suprised, he heard his mobile phone vibrating against the floor through his trouser pocket. He fumbled around for it in the dark, finally pulling it out and squinting down at the screen. It was an unknown number. He hesitated then answered.

‘Yeah?’ he asked cautiously,

‘This is Tommy?’ came a rather stern sounding male voice on the other end.

‘Yeah.’

‘Tommy my names Jonathan, you know a man called Charles Armer?’

Charles had been a close friend of Tommy’s through what he now considered to be his whoring days.

‘Yeah.’

‘I’m sorry Tommy but Charles is dead. He was murdered.’

‘Oh.’ It didn’t sink in, he didn’t quite believe it, much like how somebody would react if they were told that their mother was actually an alien in disguise called Barry.

‘I knew him, Tommy. I’m his brother. I haven’t told the police yet, I’m going to find who killed my brother and make them pay.’

‘...Yeah.’ Tommy knew Charles had a brother but had never met him. He’d never met any of Charles’ family. That’s what their lifestyles tended to do. Segregate them.

Tommy shuddered, suddenly feeling very cold and naked sitting there in just his boxer shorts.

‘Tommy, listen to me carefully, the man who murdered him, we’re sure it was Winston.’

Winston was Charles’ keeper, his sugar daddy, he pimped him out, made him sell drugs and do all manner of other illegal things in exchange for four walls, a roof and a hot meal each day.

‘Mm.’

‘...He’s disappeared. Tommy... you knew Charles. You knew Winston. Tommy, where is he? Where’s Winston?’ his voice was starting to sound urgent.

‘I don’t know, I haven’t seen either of them for a long time.’ It was true; Turkish had banned him from seeing people from his past as part of the effort to help him move on.

‘We need to find him, Tommy. You need to help.’

‘How? Why me?’

‘Because you’ll be able to get places I can’t, Tommy. You were part of his life, you were part of that life and you know all the people that were around him.’

‘...Oh.’

‘Just meet me Tommy, tomorrow morning, we’ll chat, talk about what you can do. I won’t force you to do anything you dont want to. It’s just that you’re my best bet. You’re Charles’ best bet, Tommy.’

Tommy felt his eyes drift shut as the pills he’d taken earlier attempted to force his body to sleep.

‘Call back tomorrow.’ He said, ‘We’ll sort something out then.’ He hung up.

‘Who was that?’ came a voice, startling Tommy. He turned to see Turkish stood in the doorway, peering queryingly at him.

‘Oh... nothing Turkish, it wasn’t anybody.’ He mumbled, quickly stuffing the phone back into his trouser pocket.

‘Really? It didn’t sound like nobody Tommy. You sounded sort of tense actually. So who was it?’

‘Please Turkish, I’m tired’

Tommy lay down, turning to face the wall, pulling the bedsheets tightly around him.

‘Phonecalls in the middle of the night Tommy. You refuse to tell me who they are. That doesn’t exactly inspire with confidence.’

Tommy said nothing.

‘Fine, thats fine. You don’t have to tell me, of course. You’re an adult, but I can’t help you if you don’t help me first. Remember that, I ain’t a mind reader, Tommy.’

Turkish stood for a second longer before turning, with a heavy sigh, and retiring back to his room. Tommy lay, hugging his throbbing hand to his chest, rocking slightly, humming quietly until, a short time later, sleep took over.

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~If you made it this far then I reckon you should rate and review. Why not.

Much love x