Chapter Text
The sound of the doorbell ringing ripped him from his slumber. He jolted where he sat and felt the weight of someone else against him. He looked down and found Tyler lying against him, his head on Vinnie’s lap. Dylan sat on a beanbag by the window. Outside the world was still dark. Dylan opened his bleary eyes and blinked sleepily at him. There was a watch hanging over the TV in the living room. It was only five in the fucking morning. Who the fuck came ringing someone's doorbell at five in the morning. A doorbell at five in the morning spelled trouble that's what that was. He wanted to get up and deal with whoever it was but he couldn't get up without waking Tyler - and then there was this pesky thing that he needed help getting up like an old man.
He heard Erin stomp down the stairs, curses leaving her mouth. He looked at Dylan, a big question mark on his face but his best friend just shrugged and slowly extracted himself from the bean bag. A moment later he heard the door opening and Erin talking to someone before all hell broke loose.
“Hey!” She exclaimed. “You can't just fucking barge into my house like this, for fuck’s sake!”
Before Vinnie knew what was happening, the living room was swarmed with policemen. Tyler jolted awake at the commotion but Vinnie instinctively pulled him closer. Obviously, Carl Slater (As in Carl Slater bums dogs) was among the cops, wearing the biggest fucking shit-eating grin in the history of mankind on his face. Vinnie was prepared for the asshole to go off on him for some reason. He was prepared for him to rip him away from Tyler and throw him straight into the slammer. What he was not prepared for was Carl turning his attention on Dylan.
“Dylan Golding,” He addressed Vinnie’s best mate. “You are under arrest.”
“What?” Vinnie snorted. “What for?”
“Murder.”
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“Murder?” Ash exclaimed, his voice raising a couple of octaves as he did. They had gathered in the crow’s nest after the police had dragged Dylan off. There was fucking nothing he could do about that and he knew it. That didn't make it any better, obviously. And Dylan, bless him, had walked with them, completely calm, reassuring Vinnie and Erin that everything would be fine - at least according to Vinnie.
“Yeah,” Vinnie said. Erin was dropping Tyler off at school so it was just him, the boys, Carol, and Sugar. “Apparently, the police got a call last night. They found O’Connor dead in a ditch. Didn't look like a hit-and-run, they said. Looked deliberately.”
“And what's that supposed to mean?” Tommo found himself asking, raking his fingers through his hair.
“That he wasn’t run over by a car,” Vinnie murmured. “He was stabbed and then thrown into a ditch.”
“And why exactly do they think it was Dylan?” JJ asked.
“Because he already attacked O’Connor and, apparently, someone overheard what happened last night near the pub - what O’Connor said about Tyler. And since I am … well, a bit handicapped at the moment, Slater immediately set his sights on Dylan as the culprit.”
“That doesn't make any fucking sense,” Tommo groaned. “Dylan wouldn't do such a thing. And he was with you all night, wasn't he?”
“Yeah,” Vinnie murmured but Tommo could tell that there was something on his friend’s mind right away. “I mean,” He then began. “Don't get me wrong: Dylan obviously didn't do it, right?” There was an agreeing hum going through the group like a wave. “But I don't know if he was there all night. Fell asleep pretty quickly after you lot left. I couldn't tell you if he was there or not. Obviously, he was, right? Of course, he was. Of course, he didn't go out and do that, it's just that I have no way of proving it, and the fucking coppers probably already know that anyway, let’s be real here.”
Another agreeing hum. “Okay then,” JJ said, aiming to be the calm within the storm, the voice of reason, stoic and level-headed. “So what are we going to do now? We can't just let Dylan take the fall, right? There has to be something we can do.”
“The police will have to let him go eventually,” Ash argued. “I mean it wasn’t him so there won’t be any evidence linking him to the murder, right?”
“Well, as long as they don't find the murder weapon, all they have is a dead body,” Vinnie said. “The dead body of a man who was attacked by Dylan and who threatened a boy that Dylan raised like his son. If I wouldn't be crutch-bound and actually able to move about for more than five minutes before having to sit down, yeah? They would have thrown me in the slammer right away and thrown the key away.”
“Yeah, but we can't wait for them to find the murder weapon or something, can we?” Cardi asked. “We have to do s-s-s-omething.”
“And what? You want us to fucking play Sherlock Holmes or something?” Tommo sighed. “Listen I am not opposed to a little roleplay, Cardi, but I don't see how this would benefit our dear Dyldo.”
“We could ask around,” Ash offered. “Ask if anyone saw or heard anything.”
“You mean like: Excuse me Ma’am did you, perchance see our good friend Dylan Golding stab a man last night?” Tommo huffed and took a sip of his pint while his mind was reeling.
“Well, but we could ask around if anyone knows if this O’Connor guy had any enemies in town,” Cardi offered.
“The list is probably as long as my forearm,” Ash muttered. “I mean the guy is a convicted child molester. There are enough people living in Hawley now that were present back then too. I mean we don't even know how many lives this asshole destroyed, right?”
“So what?” Vinnie asked, sounding forlorn and beaten. He fucking looked the part too the way he slumped in his seat, his eyes weary and sad in a way Tommo hadn't seen in a long time. “We just … sit back and wait?”
“As much as I hate it,” Tommo sighed. “There’s little we can do.”
He hated it as much as the rest of their group but they couldn't go running around Hawley, hoping to find the real killer and actually get the person to confess to their fucking crime. He noticed that Vinnie was worrying his bottom lip between his teeth and he knew that, if Vinnie was able to get up by himself, he would already be out that door. Something was going on inside that scrambled brain again. “Vinnie,” He then turned to his friend. “Do you know who was … you know?”
“It's not for me to tell,” He replied with a shrug and a sigh. He looked older, suddenly.
“Dylan said that you protected a girl back then.”
“It's not for me to tell.”
“Vinnie, Dylan could be locked away for god knows how long!”
“He won't!” Vinnie shot back, heated this time, and scrambled to get up. It was a testament to how desperately he wanted to flee that he somehow managed to get out of the booth and onto his crutches all by himself before hobbling towards the door of the pub.
“Vinnie-”
“No,” Carol said gently. “Let him go. It's not easy for him right now. He has a lot to wrap his mind around.” It only dawned on him then that Carol had been there back then when Vinnie went to Ashley’s mum for help, that she knew what happened, that she had seen little Vinnie dealing with the situation.
Tommo, however, wasn’t having it. He couldn't possibly let Vinnie roam around all by himself now, could he? “We should keep an eye on him, he’s not fit to walk around all on his own.”
“I’ll go,” Ash said, already getting up from his seat.
“No,” Tommo sighed. “No, you and Cardi and JJ should go and take care of … our project. I’ll go after him. I bring him back to Erin’s. I’ll meet you at Jim’s later.”
Before his friends could protest, Tommo stood and left the pub. Vinnie hadn't gotten very far - obviously - and he could easily catch up with him. “I’m sorry,” Vinnie started before Tommo could even say anything. “I overreacted.”
“No, no it's alright, it's not an easy topic.” He walked beside him now. For once he could fall into step with his tall friend. Vinnie was ridiculously fast sometimes. “It's just, that I want you to know that I am here for you, okay, Love? And none of us think any different about you now. Not at all. If anything … when Dylan told me-”
“He shouldn't have.”
“When he told me, I was furious, yes, but I was also fucking proud to call you my friend, Vin.” All this emotional crap, this talk about feelings, wasn’t quite his strong suit. But he soldiered on regardless. “You are one of the strongest, kindest, most loving people I have ever known. You don't judge other people and we don't judge you either - especially not for things that you had no power over. We love you regardless - Fuck, I love you even more now. I won't force you to say anything, don't worry. I just want you to know that I’m here.”
Vinnie was silent while they continued walking. They were almost at Erin’s place when he suddenly stopped. “Her name was Lauren,” He muttered quietly, his eyes on the ground. “Lauren Smith. She was a tiny thing. I mean … tiny. O’Connor went after kids that had a rough home life, you know? Kids that no one cares about. My dad barely knew his own fucking name most of the time back then. He was always fucking drunk after mum fucked off. He never knew where I was or what I was doing. I could have been kidnapped and he wouldn't have known. The Dennings’ were the only adults who cared about me. I mean Dylan’s parents always hated me. I was a bad influence and all that. Can't say that I disagree with them. Lauren was in a similar situation. Her parents were addicts. They tried their best, they did. They really did. She was an easy target for him, though. I only know what happened because I caught the asshole with his pants down, you know?”
He wanted to fucking hug Vinnie. He wanted to hold him in his arms and squeeze him.
“Anyway … I went to Ash’s mum and she took care of everything else. We didn't need to do much. He had … more than enough material in his home to lock him up for a long time. That's why it never got out what really happened. I mean, I think the parents knew but none of the kids did. It wasn't talked about in school. He was just gone and that was it.”
“So that's why Slater said you lied about it, huh?”
“Yeah, I guess so,” Vinnie huffed. “He probably found out that it was me who got the ball rolling - with him working for the police and stuff. As far as I know, he was never convicted for what he did to us kids - only for possession of … photos and videos and all that fucked up fucking shit.”
“I’m proud of you, Vin, for taking action back then. You were only a scared child yourself, after all. You saved a lot of kids back then. Don't let anyone tell you differently.”
Vinnie looked at him for a second before he turned his gaze down again. Sometimes it was nearly impossible to say what was going on inside that head of his. He could only imagine that Vinnie already blamed himself again for everything that happened lately. It would be typical for his idiot friend.
“Come on,” Tommo then said softly and clapped his back. “It's time for your nap.”
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Turned out Vincent O’Neil was a stress baker. He didn't have much opportunity to bake in his normal life but now that he was confined to mind-numbing boredom and couldn't even smoke to take his mind off of things, he found himself making a mess out of Erin’s kitchen. He didn't know the first thing about baking a cake, yet, here he fucking was with one of Erin’s cookbooks open on the counter, sitting on a barstool, furiously whisking away at the batter and hoping for the best.
“What on earth is going on here?” Erin’s voice alarmed him to her presence as the woman entered her house and stepped into the kitchen. He almost felt guilty but as he turned on his barstool to look at her and nearly fell over in the process there was just warmth and kind understanding in her eyes. “Oh, silly, what are you doing?”
“Baking a cake.”
“A cake, huh?” She asked with a smile. “Have you ever made one?”
“No,” He huffed. “But how hard can it be? I’m a decent cook, baking isn't much different, is it?”
“A decent cook, huh?”
“Yeah, you can ask the lads. I cooked for them a lot in the past. No complaints yet and you know how particular Tommo can be.” Tommo had always something to complain about, they all knew that - even though he was the worst cook Vinnie had ever seen.
“How come?” Erin asked, amusement now dripping from her voice. “That you can cook?”
“What? It's just one of my many talents,” He huffed. “I mean I had to learn it, didn't I? After my mum left and all … someone had to take care of dad. I would have starved if I would have left it to him to feed us both.”
She placed a comforting hand on his shoulder with a smile. “Fine, I’ll allow you to cook for us tonight then - if you manage to do so without burning down the house.”
She started tidying up the things he no longer needed and for a while, they worked silently with her kitchen radio playing softly until she handed him the spring form for his cake. “You know that it's not your fault, yeah?”
“What do you mean?” Lately, everyone seemed deadset on trying to read his fucking mind all the time.
“Dylan,” She sighed. “You know it's not your fault that he got arrested.”
“Yeah … Yeah, I know.”
“Do you? Do you really.”
“What are you on about?”
“I know you pretty well by now, Vinnie,” She sighed and wrapped her arms around him from behind for a moment, her chin resting on his shoulder. “You always blame yourself for everything. We both know Dylan didn't do it. He will be out in no time, okay? Stop beating yourself up.”
“I’m not … Dyldo is a big boy. He can take care of himself, can't he?”
“And now say it again but this time I want you to act as if you believe it.” She kissed the side of his head at that and left him alone to his baking again. By some miracle, the cake didn't even burn when he at last took it out of the oven just in time for Tyler’s return from school. It felt oddly domestic, being at home when his boy came back from school, having a cake ready and waiting for tea. He felt like a fucking 50s housewife or something.
As he watched Tyler and Erin eat the cake he thought about O’connor again and the time when he was eleven and so fucking vulnerable and lonely. He remembered almost being hit by a car one day in front of the school and he remembered Dylan cursing the driver out. He remembered thinking God I wish that car had hit me.
“My my,” Erin pulled him from his thoughts. “Who would have thought that you were harboring so many hidden talents Mr O’Neil? That cake is delicious.”
“Is it?”
“Yeah!” Tyler grinned.
Well, at least he was good at something, wasn't he? He wasn’t a complete failure then. “Do you know if the lads will be over soon?” He then asked Erin as he too started taking a bite out of his cake at last. It really wasn't that bad. Look at him, being a man who was able to feed the people he loved.
“JJ said they would be over later to pick you up for a pint.”
“What are they doing anyway?”
“Getting the new location ready, I suppose, packing the first plants.” He couldn't help but feel that there was something going on that nobody wanted to tell him and that something had, surprisingly enough, nothing to do with Dylan or the weed.
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“It's for Vinnie,” He heard Cardi tell an elderly woman through a crack in her door. “Vinnie O'Neil? You know him, yeah? He's the one who always comes around to help you with the bins every week.”
“Vinnie?” He heard the old woman exclaim. “But what happened to Vinnie?”
And then Cardi started explaining - the same song and dance they kept going on and on about. By now, the entirety of Hawley had to know of Vinnie’s plight. Tommo wasn't very optimistic that they would actually achieve something here but he knew that Kath was talking to the regulars at the Crow’s Nest and Sugar was talking to the girls from the club. He was sure that at least they would help. JJ meanwhile was doing what he could in terms of getting Chinese Dan to help and Ash and Carol were over at the traveler's side.
In the end, Cardi walked away with a bag of old clothes from the house. “What's this then?”
“She said they were from her grandson. He left them the last time he visited and since he's been thrown in jail since, she doesn't want to hold onto them any longer. She said they were probably stolen anyway.”
Tommo snorted at that and lit another cigarette. It was fucking cold and he really wanted to head inside and get fucking warm again. He had suggested that they should just print flyers about Vinnie and hand them out but the others had claimed that the danger that Vinnie would find out about what they were doing would be too big then. “Well, then let's hope that they fit our giant.”
They started walking down the street with the bag of clothes for Vinnie and towards the next address on their list as Cardi spoke up again. “D-Do you think we can get Dylan out?”
A deep sigh left his throat at that. “I mean … we can't do much, can we?”
“Did Vinnie tell you anything though? About the other kids?”
He didn't know if he was allowed to talk about it, didn't know if Vinnie would be angry if he did. In the end, though, they trusted each other. All of them. They were family. “Yeah… about that girl he saved. Lauren Smith.”
"Lauren Smith?” Cardi echoed surprised.
“Yeah, why?”
“She's dead, isn't she?”
“Cardi, Love, what do you mean she's dead?” He stopped, looking at his friend, hoping that Cardi would soon start making sense.
“Well, I mean she killed herself, didn't she?”
Tommo stared at him in disbelief for a moment before he snapped his fingers in Cardi's face. The puzzle pieces were finally snapping into place. Leo and Margret would be proud of him. “Vincent O'Neil that fucking bastard!” He snapped, anger flaring. Oh, he would rip Vinnie a new one. “Come on, let's head to Erin’s. We have something to discuss with our lovely Vinnie.”
He didn't wait for Cardi to follow him as he hurried back to the van he borrowed from Vinnie and jumped into the driver's seat. A picture was fucking forming in his mind and Vinnie O'Neil was once again the only one who could help him with that.
They arrived at Erin’s within five minutes and barged inside without ringing the bell. It smelled like chocolate cake inside and they found Erin, Tyler, and Vinnie in the kitchen eating said cake. Cardi, obviously, immediately dove toward the treat.
“Lauren Smith,” Tommo said before anyone else could say anything. Vinnie even had the audacity to look confused, his fork with a piece of cake hovering halfway on the way to his mouth.
“What about her?”
“She killed herself.” Erin got up from her seat and took Tyler's hand, sensing the drama to come.
“Come on Tyler, I think we need to take care of homework.” She led the little bugger out of the room expertly to leave Vinnie and his friends to whatever they had to discuss.
“Want some cake?” Vinnie asked, suddenly sounding solemn again. “Made it myself. Turns out I'm a stress baker. Hey, could be a new business venture. Edibles, you know? Cookies, cakes … all that.”
“No, I don't want your bloody cake, Vincent!” Cardi, however, was already getting a plate. “I want to discuss Lauren Smith’s suicide. When did it happen and why?”
He raked his fingers down his face. Sometimes talking to Vinnie was like pulling teeth. He felt almost sorry for Vinnie, the way he looked down at the table, at his cake. There was just something heartbreaking about him whenever he looked sad. Tommo couldn't stand him being sad.
“You should remember it, actually,” Vinnie said with one raised brow. “I mean you were already at the school then. It happened when we were fourteen or fifteen. Everyone talked about it. Poor lass, she hung herself in her closet. Officially no one knew why.”
“O'Connor,” Tommo muttered, ruffling his hair. “You know what that means, do you, Vin?”
“What?”
“That her parents would have had a motive to kill him.”
Vinnie’s face lit up at that - at least for a moment. Despite the brave front he kept putting up, Tommo could tell how heavily all of this was weighing on him. "You're right,” He said. “They do, don't they? But I mean we can't just go to her parents and be like: could you be a dear and fess up to the police, pretty please?”
“No, but we could tell the police about Lauren's parents, can't we?” Cardi asked, digging into his slice of cake while leaning against the counter.
Vinnie’s face fell at that. It wasn’t just that none of them wanted to talk to the cops - let alone Carl fucking Slater. Vinnie’s ridiculously big heart was what was once more weighing him down. “No, listen … I want Dylan out of there … obviously. I just wouldn't feel great ratting on those people that already lost their daughter.”
“What if you talk to them?” Tommo asked. “You being the one who tried to protect their daughter and shit.”
“No … I mean shit, Tommo, you don't know what you're asking of me, do you? I never wanted to talk about that stuff ever again. I just … I can't, okay? And it wouldn't change anything. It just wouldn't.”
“I'd love it if you could get your head out of your ass,” Tommo groaned.
“What's that supposed to mean?”
“I mean that the Vinnie I know would have already been out there doing some stupid shit to free his best mate like … like fucking … breaking into Slater’s bedroom and putting a horsehead in his bed or something. Fuck, as if I know! You've not been yourself since the attack.”
“Yeah, because I almost died, you lemon!”
“And?” Tommo shot back, losing the last shreds of his already thin patience. “You’ve been in dangerous fucking situations before and you dealt with them and you never just buried your balding head in the sand, alright? Where's your passion? It's Dylan we are talking about! Come on, Mate! I know that you have at least one or two ideas in your scrambled, wonderful head!”
“Listen, I'm sorry, but I don't, Tommo,” He murmured. “We would need the murder weapon or a confession or anything, right? And those people already went through hell. And if they didn't do it? What then, huh? Then we put them through all that for nothing.”
“Yeah, so did you, Knobhead! You have every right to be happy and leave this fucking shit behind you, Love. And listen, yeah? If it would mean that you would smile again and laugh and be the Vinnie we all know and love - a shouty, temperamental nightmare - I would fucking sell my grandma to a sex ring, okay? Not to mention that I would absolutely rat on the Smiths!”
“You don't even know your grandma…”
“No, but I know my foster grandma and Barbara was a fucking nightmare.”
That, at last, made Vinnie crack a smile. Small victories and all that. “Fine … I'm gonna talk to them.”
He could tell that Vinnie wasn’t a fan of the idea, he could tell that even the thought pained him. In the end, one could always rely on Vincent O’Neil to do the right thing, though, the decent thing. And if it meant getting his best friend out of police custody, he would move mountains. They all knew that the police didn't have anything on Dylan for the murder, that it was only a matter of days now until they had to let him go but the stain would always be on him and Carl Slater would dig his claws into him even more. This dickhead only waited for an opportunity to lock them all up.
-End of Chapter 5-