Into Another World - Sean's Story 1

Into Another World - Sean's Story

Part 1

Posted: December 30, 2005
Title: Into Another World - Sean's Story
Author: Ian Howe
Type: RPS
Characters: Sean
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: Not true
Beta: Helena Snow-Renn
Author's Notes: I'm grateful to bijou for letting me play in her universe!

Summary: Sean is not happy.

*****

Sean Bean locked the front door of his house and sighed. He felt nearly relieved. Finally home. Finally alone. God, he needed a drink. The day had been a fucking nightmare. To be honest, the past weeks had been a fucking nightmare. And it seemed unlikely that life would improve. If anything, it would be worse - much worse - after what had transpired today.

After he had made his way to the liquor cabinet, he took a large swig of vodka, not bothering with a glass. He relished the burning sensation in his throat and quickly gulped down more of the fiery liquid. Best to get drunk as fast as possible, leave no time for thinking. Thinking about... No! Crying out, he brought his hands to his eyes and tried to stop the tears. Then the recollection of the afternoon's events overwhelmed him and he broke down sobbing.

He had known that it would hurt. It always did. It was supposed to be only one more meeting in an endless progression of appointments with Abby's lawyer over Evie's custody. The fight against him was hard and unfair. His ex-wife-to-be had drawn the divorce out into the public, proving to be a much more talented actress than she had ever been on screen. She was made of steel, unmerciful and unrelenting. Knowing the extent of his love for his youngest daughter she carefully laid her plans to make him suffer. After kindling his confidence for shared custody she had quickly withdrawn the foundations of his hope. Her daughter should not grow up with a father who was a liar, an adulterer, an outright bastard. The tabloids agreed, as did most of Great Britain's population. It was a battle fought dirty and he had no chance to defend himself.

Exhausted from the pointless discussions and feeling bone-weary, he had emerged from the lawyer's office. The only thing that had kept him on his feet was that he was going to visit Molly and Lorna afterwards. However, when he arrived at Mel's house he found her alone. Mel had quietly ushered him inside and explained her decision not to let him see his girls for a while. He had stared at her, uncomprehending, as she told him that they were too young to be drawn into this, but could not help reading the stories about him in the newspapers, and that it would be best to let them come to terms without him around. She had tried to soothe him, it was only temporary, only while the press were having their field days with him...

He had left the house in mid-sentence, unbelieving, shell-shocked. After having aimlessly wandered the streets for hours, his agent reminded him on his mobile phone that he was expected at the - whatever it was - reception in the evening. He tried to tell her that he needed space and time to lick his wounds, but she cut him off, saying that he had to polish his public image. Although she was sympathetic about his struggle for custody, she pointed out that only good publicity would help his case.

Too tired to argue, Sean had gone home, changed into formal attire, and put his "public face" on. He had made small talk, nodded politely at hundreds of mindless remarks, worked the crowd. He had always hated the parties and receptions that came with his job, but this evening had brought him nearly to the end of his self-control. Just when he had made up his mind to leave, no matter what his agent might say, she intercepted him and caught his arm.

"Darling, you must meet Sheik Urban. He has come so far only to see you!" The smile on her face did not reach her eyes which flashed a warning instead, not to blow this.

He produced his best smile - he was an actor, after all - and shook the Sheik's hand. "Nice to meet you, Sheik." His gaze was returned and held captive by fierce brown eyes.

"And you, Sean. Sean... I like the sound of your name. And please call me Karl." The Sheik held his hand longer than necessary or even appropriate and Sean began to feel uncomfortable. Lowering his eyes, he looked for an excuse to bring more distance between him and this man. The Sheik, however, had other plans. He put an arm around Sean and engaged him in conversation. Unable to meet the other man's intense look, Sean managed to comment on the weather, and, yes, he had a few film projects in the works, but, unfortunately, he had to leave now, and would the Sheik please excuse him?

The Sheik was unwilling to let him go, but when somebody had called Sean's name from the other end of the hall he had bowed to the Sheik and fled. He had hurried outside without collecting his coat, hailed a cab, and finally made it home.

Now, Sean sat on the floor of his living room. His sobbing had finally subsided but he lacked the mental strength to get up. He looked around himself. The room was bleak. Abby had taken most of the furniture. The house was too large for him and almost empty except for this room and two bedrooms - his and one for potential guests. Not that there had been any guests recently. His eyes fell onto the mantelpiece where the only decoration was left in the house, photos of him with his girls, memories of happy days long gone by.

The tears started again and Sean decided that he needed more alcohol. He ignored the small voice in his head that tried to warn him. At the rate he had been going through his vodka supplies recently, he was well on his way to addiction. He was aware of this but couldn't be bothered to care anymore - he would do anything to numb the pain. To face a future without his girls - he might as well drink himself to death.

Sean dragged himself up and opened another bottle. Between swigs, he desperately tried not to think. The struggle for Evie had sapped all his strength and now it seemed that he had lost all three of his beloved girls. And there was absolutely nothing he could do except to accept defeat. He gulped more vodka.

He succeeded in distracting himself momentarily by wondering who that dark man was that his agent had wanted him to meet. There was something quite uncanny about the Sheik. In the end, he decided that he did not care. He reached for the bottle again, surprised to find it empty.

Staggering to the kitchen, amazed that he could still stand upright, Sean considered his choices. He settled for a bottle of Single Malt and returned to the living room. The scotch burned more than the vodka and made a welcome change. The room around him was blurry, and he was relieved that he could not recognise the photos anymore from his place on the floor. He yawned, drank more, and wondered briefly why the floor appeared to be moving. He raised the bottle again and drank to earthquakes.

The roaring of the blood in his ears drowned his thoughts. He was relieved to have found something else to concentrate on instead of his misery. Beginning to feel vaguely sick, he closed his eyes. That turned out to be a mistake, though, as now the room began to spin around him. He tried to lift himself to his feet but the spinning increased its speed and he barely managed to crawl to the bathroom before emptying the contents of his stomach.

Lying next to the toilet bowl, shivering and panting, covered with cold sweat, it was a while before he attempted to rise. Steadying himself against the shower stall, he finally stood and frowned when he saw his face in the mirror. He had always prided himself on his rugged good looks. The face he was confronted with now was that of a stranger, at least ten years older than him. The eyes were bloodshot and swollen, the skin blemished and pasty. He shook his head, causing another wave of nausea.

When he had finally stopped retching, he told himself that he should go to bed. Not to sleep, as sleep had eluded him for the past weeks, but at least to let his exhausted body find some rest. Maybe he was even drunk enough to pass out for a while.

He stumbled to the bathroom door, clutched at its frame, and continued to zig-zag his way toward the stairs. After only a few steps, he tripped and fell. He noticed a searing pain shoot through his right foot when he hit the floor. Bugger his bed, then. He might as well crash in the hall; it would probably make no big difference where he lay awake. Then the roaring in his ears increased as did the ground motion before the swirling black vortex finally claimed him.

Sean lay on the floor, unconscious. He never noticed the four men entering his house. Neither did he hear their soft discussion, nor did he feel the prick of the needle when they injected him with a strong narcotic. He was senseless when they carried him to their car and then to the private jet that brought him to his final destination. His house was left dark and undisturbed. Nobody else had noticed anything, either.

*****

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