18th October 2011
He breathed in, and then breathed out again. Eliza said that it helped with the flashbacks, he suspected that the actual reason was because trying to clear his mind often led to him thinking about work rather than anything else, and he almost had one now while looking at the comment feed for a news story on the new scheme on internet monitoring. The Tories had suddenly found that the powers of the government ought to be constricted rather than expanded, conveniently when once the bill got negative publicity, and the latest comment from their man had garnered some attention. Though it was the internet comment, however uneducated he knew around 99.9% of them were.
The wrong people died.
Flames and stone everywhere, he tried to get the dust out of his eyes and ignore the heavy bleeding from his head. He simply went out for his keys, he heard an explosion from behind and felt himself losing conscious, he woke up not long after, he heard sir-
Christ! He quickly turned off the computer, knowing he was going to get that bloody message about turning it off properly, and put his mind elsewhere. PMQs, a LibDem might accuse him of trying to create an Orwell-type dictatorship, combat that with a statement of the government protecting people from faceless entities, Osborne would run on a slogan of it damaging future industry and punishing people for crimes that aren't being committed, may try to link it in with detentions. That one was easier, accuse him of fear-mongering and point out the Tory record on crime and punishment.
Another issue, the economy, specifically the decline in growth due to the Euro crisis getting worse. Hague was annihilating Milburn on a daily basis, nothing to do about that, what can be done easily was dealing with Osborne who simply gave out the look of a fired economist, Cable had lost credibility after it was leaked that he got "jilted", no need to worry about him either. The Prime Minister turned around in his chair, keeping the potential attacks and comebacks in his mind, trying to block out the world around him and focus on his work.
Just keep thinking about work, that's what they said. It'd help keep his mind away from-
"Prime Minister?" He shook in surprise, the cleaner looked like she had been their for a while and tried to get his attention to little avail, he preferred to think that he was good with blocking the world out rather than due to the lack of hearing on the left side. He packed up his things and quickly vacated his office, deciding to do his work at the other officer, it could never be a home to him, instead.
The chauffeur (was it Steven or Stephen?) had been a delight since he reached Downing Street and seemed to understand when and when the Prime Minister was not interested in talking and could see that it was the latter today. The car stopped outside Number 10 and he made sure to move as quietly as he could, to avoid waking anyone up, and headed towards the Cabinet room to do his work in piece.
Many of the staff thought that he was just a hard worker, that it was like with Margaret Thatcher and the infamous four hours of sleep, Thatcher never had to deal with much personal tragedy in her life. Actually she might have had some elements introduced with the IRA, an awkward thing to note, which did place a bit of perspective when discussing her legacy. Best not to get caught up in personal thoughts, it can lead to sirens blaring out with the fire brigade and police all surging towards the same place. The wreckage was everywhere, some pedestrians seemed injured by the debris, but his concern was for the people inside as his head felt light aga-
He liked to think that it wasn't crazy to talk to yourself, everyone did it sometimes, maybe not with the words that he was using and not with the tone but most people sometimes just told their brain to do something out-loud. This was a bad week, he didn't normally feel this insane, maybe it was the Tweet by Frankie Boyle, the public suddenly deciding that tragedy was okay to satirise after a decade and half but the signs were approaching in a much quicker fashion.
Next thing he knew, those two were going to be talking to him again. He had told himself that if it happened for three days in a row and he couldn't ignore them, he'd resign immediately. Any able contender was for the New Democracy platform and most of the legitimate opponents had been silenced by the disaster of RESPECT, it made him wonder why he stuck on for so long.
Most of the work had been done not long after the split, it was just a few cosmetic changes and then they were no longer the party of Opposition, they had a fresh new start to boldly surge forward on, along with a new name, and most of the public were with them. Lilley was doomed after the financial crisis hit, not taking the advice of his predecessors and resigning when the situation was impossible, so why did he stay on.
Perhaps he felt like he owed something to them. He suggested the bloody place where they died, the future of Labour in government, so maybe he felt like he had to make it up to them by saving the British Left from itself, placing the ideas that they all agreed on into action and allowing for a new government for a new century.
Well, it wasn't exactly new. It was going to enter its teen years soon, that took him by surprise, seeing as time went by so quickly.
"Or rather you've just been so busy." Oh hell no. He wasn't looking up, he knew that once he saw that face again, especially with the standard smile, he'd not be able to resist talking to him and it wasn't as easy to cover up such a thing as it used to be. The Prime Minister of Great Britain and Northern Ireland and Leader of the New Democratic Party could not afford to look utterly bonkers, the damage it would do would be immense and he would never be able to forgive himself.
It was times like these that he wondered if they were right to lock him out during the Disaster Years, he wasn't in the best shape and everyone knew it, as much as he liked to think that they were trying to push the party in a more comfortable direction, they were probably concerned for him. It wasn't like he could have done much good for Margaret or Robin while trying not to see that smiling, or grumpy, face again.
He was unconscious for a much longer period of time after he collapsed the second time. He woke up in a hospital bed with an IV, he had suffered trauma to the head and was losing a lot of blood and hadn't responded for two days, he only asked about them. The nurses seemed uneasy about talking about it, despite it being on the front page of every newspaper for five days.
They were trying to make him feel better, to avoid survivor's guilt. He knew what he was suffering from and he even knew that it wasn't his fault, the mixture of a gas leak and someone smoking indoors had turned the place into a giant stick of dynamite not his choice in location, but that didn't mean he couldn't blame himself for not noticing the smell. The flowers provided a thick enough one for him to feel queasy, a welcome relief from-
Stop it. That was it, if these episodes continued then he would be resigning by the Summer recess, give the party time to elect a new leader and to provide them with time to prepare themselves, he had decided to leave by 2013 at the latest so it wasn't too much of a problem. Maybe he would go into the European Commission, or even run for it if the reforms suggested came through, maybe the new climate would be of some help. It helped him with the therapy last time.
Blank paper, he had nothing jotted down for working on the media's attack on the scheme and he knew that a good plan was needed for him to rally the backbenches. They weren't happy if it looked like he was losing, they often accepted modernisation if it had results, he had been hasty with the policy divisions before, assuming that they had nowhere else to go. The line on the Lady wasn't his best move but it had to be done, there was a reason why the Tories were winning and they were losing, it was the ultimate expression of moving away from the tainted Labour name.
They wouldn't have needed to move that far, it hadn't gotten as bad as it might of with them. They would have done much better than Margaret, they were more popular with the public and didn't need to make deal to ensure that the leadership race had little division and they wouldn't need to distract themselves with work or decide resignation dates based on their own declining mental state.
This was ridiculous. Nothing was done, or going to get done, unless he vented. Eliza had recommended that for when things were getting worse, he chose to do something constructive with the paper he had and jotted down his feelings once more, as he had done many a time to try and gain some type of forgiveness from them during his worst episodes. It probably wasn't working but it kept the survivor's guilt away for enough time for him to sleep and work.
It was short and simple, despite the increase in wet drops on the paper.
Tony, Gordon. I'm so sorry.
the mental image of their burnt corpses.