Work Text:
London, 1970.
He needed a walk. And maybe a drink later.
Roger rubbed his eyes. In all honesty, he'd attempted to study for his biology test. But the longer he stared at the open textbook on his desk, the more the words blurred.
Maybe he really ought to start wearing his glasses...
Roger got up and pulled on his jacket. He couldn't focus another minute. He'd go out, he told himself, just talk a walk around to clear his head, then come back and try to study.
He left the flat, locking the door behind him. He didn't know where he was going, he had no real place in mind. He just wanted to get out.
The crisp October night was calm. The cool air felt good. He lit a cigarette and left his feet carry him through the city.
Ten minutes of wandering later, he found himself headed across a bridge. The street was suprisingly quiet. A lone figure, only their shadowy outline visible, stood overlooking the water.
Roger didn't give much thought to the person as he made his way towards them, intending to pass right along. Then, the figure moved on top of the ledge to sit.
As he got closer, he heard crying. Soft, sad sniffles.
It was a girl, he could tell, probably around his age, maybe a little younger. Glancing over his shoulder, he just made out shoulder-length hair and a ratty sweater under the streetlamp light.
"Um...'scuse me? Miss? You alright?"
A pair of eyes, puffy and red-rimmed, turned in his direction. And as the girl's face came under the streetlight, Roger involuntarily gasped.
Her face was battered and bloody. Tears ran down her cheeks in streaks. Eye makeup smudged and smeared, and vainly trying to hide the red and purple bruises around them. The bruises extended down her left jaw and onto her throat. Dried blood hovered under her nose; her lower lip was split and bleeding. She tilted her head, trying to hide behind a curtain of tangled hair.
Shock and rage coursed through him. Shock, momentarily, at her appearance. Rage at whatever son of a bitch did this to her.
"Are...are you okay?" he asked tenatively.
The girl sniffed and wiped at her bloody nose. "Fine".
Roger's eyes went to the ledge she was sitting on. "You're not..." he swallowed. "Are you gonna jump?"
The girl looked away from him, her gaze turning back out onto the water.
"Don't".
He spoke softly, trying to mask any panic that was building up inside his stomach. This wasn't what he'd expected on his walk tonight, but he couldn't just wander away. Not now.
The girl didn't speak, didn't look at him. She just sniffed a little, a slight shrug of her shoulders as she quietly quiet cried, and otherwise didn't move.
Roger took a deep breath. "Look, I don't know what happened to you to get you up here, but...I know this isn't the answer. Whatever's going on..."
The girl cut him off with, of all things, a laugh. Half-scoff, half-sob, a mixture of bitterness, anger, and grief.
"Is this the part where you tell me 'It'll all get better, just hang in there!' or some sort of shit?"
Roger paused. He didn't really know what to say. He took another breath.
"What's your name?" he asked.
Those bruised, teary eyes turned onto him again. Roger held back from gasping this time at the sight of her. He couldn't help but notice, beyond her blood and bruises, she was a very attractive girl.
Focus, Roger. He told himself.
The girl now gave a sad little shrug in response to his question. "Does it matter?"
"Course it does. Everybody's somebody" With no response, he introduced himself. "I'm Roger. Roger Taylor".
"Okay". She looked back out onto the water.
That she still hadn't jumped yet was giving him some hope. Maybe she wasn't really going to do it. Maybe if he could just talk to her long enough...
"So...um. Are you a student?"
"What?"
"I'm studying dentistry right now. But what I really want to do is make music. I play drums in this band, Smile, dunno if you've heard of us, we usually play in the pubs on Saturday nights..."
He was rambling now, he knew, but if it kept her attention long enough to get her off that ledge, it'd be worth it.
The girl started at him. "Do you always talk this much? It was peaceful out here before you came along".
"Hey! I'm not leaving. And you aren't, either".
"Excuse me?"
"I'm not letting you jump". Until now, he'd been standing a few arm's lengths away. Now, he moved a few steps closer.
"Don't touch me!" she cried, her body stiffening.
Roger held up his hands, palms outward. "Okay, okay. I'm just trying to help you, that's all".
"No one can help me. I'm beyond help".
"I don't believe that".
"Believe it".
"No."
She scowled and turned away again.
"Do you have any family? Friends around here?"
She shook her head no, without looking in his direction.
"Got a..." he stopped. He almost asked if she had a boyfriend. But he had sneaking suspision, if the answer was yes, that'd be the bastard that hurt her.
"Are you going to go on about how I shouldn't kill myself because people would miss me? 'Cuz I assure you, they wouldn't. No one but you even knows I'm here. And no one cares".
"I care".
"Oh, please. You do not".
"Look, if I didn't care, why would I be standing out here, freezing my arse off?"
"If you're freezing, that's your problem". She was shivering as she said it.
Roger noticed then, how unsuitable her clothes were for an October night. Her sweater was thin, the jeans were ripped. She had no coat or hat. She trembled and sniffed.
"You'll catch cold out here".
Another half-laugh, half-sob. "I'm sitting on the edge of bridge and you want me to worry over a cold?"
"Yeah. I want you to live".
"That makes one of us".
"Look, I'm not gonna stand here and tell how you shouldn't kill yourself because it'll hurt other people. Because it's not really about other people. It's about you. This is your life we're talking about. Your life is worth living".
"What do you know about my life?"
"Not a damn thing. But I know if you're like any other human I've ever met, you've got hopes and dreams. You've got a future filled with possibilites. You've got experiences out there waiting for you. You've got things that make you happy".
"No, I don't".
"Nothing at all? Think, there must be something! A dream?"
"I had dreams...a long time ago. But they're gone now".
"They're not gone. Not as long as you're around and willing to chase after them".
"Who the hell are you to tell me this shit? You'd don't know anything about me, or my life, or what I've been through! You don't know what it's like to be hurt..." her voice cracked and she started to sob.
Roger cautiously took another step forward. He spoke softly.
"I do too. I know what it's like...to be hurt by someone who's supposed to love you".
She sniffed and wiped her eyes, further smearing her eye makeup. She winced as her hand ran over her bruised cheeks.
"Really?" her voice was hoarse from her tears.
"Yeah, really. I've...never really told too many people about it. I don't want to come off like..."
"Like a victim".
"Yeah, I guess. But you? You're a survivor".
"Yeah, right".
"You're still alive, now. And you're going to keep staying alive, right?"
"Nothing I say or do is going to make you give up and go away, is it?"
"No, even if I'm here all night. Though if you're really determined to get rid of me..." he held his hand out to her.
She started at it. "What?"
"Give me you hand. I'll help you down".
"And if I took it? Then what?"
"I'll take you somewhere safe. Someplace you can get help".
The girl remained still, staring at him.
Roger continued, hoping against hope. "You don't want to do this. Please".
"You know, I've got a watch" she said, showing him the simple band around her left wrist. "I've been crying on this bridge for over three hours tonight. You are the first-the only- person to stop and talk to me, or even ask if I was okay".
Roger smiled at her. "Sometimes, it only takes one person to make a difference".
Through her tears, and bruises, she smiled back at him. She had the most beautiful smile he'd ever seen.
He took a deep breath. "There's a hospital, not too far away. Would it be okay if I took you there? Got you some help?"
She nodded and placed her hand in his. "Thank you".
He wrapped his arms around her waist, careful not to startle her, and helped her back safetly over. They stood there for a moment, arms wrapped around one another, and stared at each other.
"Roger?"
"Hmm?"
"Can I...this is silly, but...on the way there, would you keep holding my hand? I just, y'know, just in case?"
Roger smiled and gently gave her hand a soft squeeze as they walked off the bridge.
He'd likely fail his biology test tomorrow. But it was worth it.