Sam and Gene did not speak about the shag. Sam let it bottle itself up inside, and made sure he didn't get too drunk around Gene Hunt just in case those awful feelings came back
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Gene didn't want to admit it, but his life had gone to hell after his team left. His new team didn't hold a candle. Well, except for Peter. He was brilliant DI, a brilliant mate. Gene was pretty sure if Peter hadn't arrived when he had that he'd've gone crazy before long. After his team left, his days consisted of work and his nights of drowning his sorrows. The only way he could sleep was to drink until he passed out. The great unbreakable lion had been beaten down and was licking his wounds.
Peter changed that. Gene never forgot his team, but finally he was beginning to move on. He didn't have to be alone in the world any more. The lion was able to stand tall and roar louder than ever. Life was beginning to look up.
"I'm bored," Peter remarked in a rather petulant manner as he took another bite of his ice-cream. They had recently solved a case - drugs deal gone wrong - and the celebration was always ice-cream outside Luigi's. They would go in but no outside food and all that bollocks. Personally, Peter found it petty, it was just a bloody ice-cream. And he was damn hungry!
He leaned on the wall outside, wishing partly that he could sit on the bonnet of the car but Gene would never let him. He was so protective of his car.
"We could always ring Harris and make him go in and bring us out food? I mean, DCs are good at that stuff. He always gets breakfast orders right."
Oh Peter, he stilled treated the DC's like pets. At least Harris had achieved the rank of hunter dog. He found food for Peter to eat, the perfect sidekick.
It was painful trying to remember how to walk, or rather, what to do with legs. Sam had gotten himself up to his feet well and good, but that first step left him collapsing again, face first, into a bag of soft something or other that had tumbled from the bin. He groaned into the plastic and rolled over onto his back.
Grey sky, not blue. What. What was grey? Was that a colour or a number or a scent? Oh, his brain was having trouble adjusting to being 'alive' again. Corporeal. "Chris? Annie?" he called out weakly. He use to be able to think to them. Share in them. But now...
"Oh God...God...no," he whispered. The feeling of warmth and love and eternity was gone. Now there was just pain and emotions that smelled of colour and sounds that tasted like lemons. Nothing made sense and everything was spinning. And so Sam yelled, out in the back alley of Luigi's, as if he could be taken back home. "No!!!"
"Petey-boy, you're always bored. And the DCs are not your bloody slaves, they're my bloody slaves." Gene gobbled down the rest of his ice cream, licking stray ice cream from his glove.
He was about to say that it was actually a good idea to send Harris for food. Or Peter for food. Or anyone for food. When he heard that voice. It caught him off-guard. It sounded so familiar. Nah. Must be imagining it... Even so, it was a shout, and he was an officer of the law. "'ear that, Peter? Better check it out."
Gene gave Sam another slam against the wall for good measure. "You didn't 'ave to go! You could've stayed. You could've talked to me!" He was older now, tired, broken. He'd been through so much. Jim Keats had just about snuffed out the flame that kept him fighting until only the tiniest spark remained.
His fists balled in Sam's shirt at his shoulders. Half clinging, half keeping him against the wall. "You... you din't 'ave to go..."
"Erm, Gene, relax mate," Peter called from the side. A bit more flailing and odds are, Gene would end up killing the poor swine. And from the looks of it he was just as confused as Sam. "Deeps breaths."
Sam's eyes softened. He missed Gene. And hated Gene. But still, deep down, he still loved him. "You weren't ready. If I stayed..." The Kitten put a hand to the other man's chest before he hauled back and punched him square in the jaw.
Once he was dropped, that affectionate look was gone from his face entirely.
"You were suppose to come back with us! That was the plan! An' you stayed! Oh God what am I wearing!?"
Christ. Gene forgot how hard Sam could punch when he wasn't being a complete and utter girl about things. He rubbed at his jaw, glaring at Sam.
Sorry, Peter. It'd take more than calm words to calm the lion down as he returned the punch, smacking Sam in the face. "I couldn't leave! I'm needed 'ere!"
Could he shoot him? Please? Just a little bit? Everyone thought he was dead anyway so no one would ever need to know except Peter. Shot to the head, dump him in the river and job done! No? Bugger.
Gene helped Peter to his feet. Poor hedgehog getting mixed up in a fight between the big cats. Help Sam up? No. A firm kick to the ribs worked much better.
Peter staggered to his feet, looking rather bewildered as he watched Sam flail and wriggling among the bins. Gene kicking him, however, less cool to watch. Getting between them, he gave Gene a very firm look. "Oi! Assaulting someone is serious, got it? Knock it off, Gene."
They were off the clock, he was calling him Gene. Just be glad he wasn't saying Gene-o any more.
"Look, he said he wanted to be shot in the bloody head, he's talking mad about heaven and he's off his fucking head. We should take him in, just in case. He could be a danger to himself or others."
Hell, he wasn't just thinking of Sam. Suicide hurt other people too when done wrong, no one wants to accidentally plough down a loony on the road, do they?
That hurt. Not physically -- yeah, okay, physically too -- but God, laying there and being kicked out, real and emotionally at the same time, was almost too much.
Sam's fight had gone out of him along with his breath and he wheezed pathetically as he waited for Peter to haul him up and cart him off. After Gene decided to stay here, Sam had been crushed, so very crushed. It took a lot of effort to cheer him up but the Pub was like a place of eternal bliss so, really, it wasn't that hard at all to get over things.
So why was he here? Hadn't he suffered enough for Gene? He missed the old bastard. He spend seven years loving him and only him to have three kisses and two shags.
Gene had suffered too. His heart had broken the day Sam told him he had to leave, the day he had asked him to help him fake his own death, and then he disappeared, just like that. Gene spent years mourning him. He lost his best friend, his rock, the one person he could rely on.
And when he finally opened his heart and let someone else in, the same thing happened all over again. He pressed the palls of his palms against his eyes. He wasn't crying, damn it! It was stress... or grit... or something.
"Sam Tyler," his voice had a distant edge to it, "I'm detaining you and taking you to a place of safety under the Mental Health Act 1983." And he hoisted Sam to his feet and tossed the car keys at Peter. "Unlock the car."
"Join the queue, Sammy boy. That bastard almost destroyed my kingdom, and my team." He reached out to uncuff Sam. Talking about Jim left a bitter taste in his mouth. The slimy git had tried to turn his team against him, almost succeeded. He lost everything because of that man.
"He turned them against me. Ray, Chris, Shaz, even Alex." It was Jim who planted that seed of doubt. It was Jim who made Alex question Sam's 'death' and bring it all out into the open. And it still stung like salt on a paper cut.
Worse. It was Keats that made Sam think he had to be sent away to protect Gene. And even gave him the carrot of being able to be with Gene again in the end.
Sam rubbed at his wrists and kept his eyes averted. All of that pain for nothing at all. Gene couldn't leave. Sam managed to leave him again, just when he needed him the most.
"Did 'ave. Don't any more. Bit of an incident with a bin, and some fire..." Yeah, he burned the jacket and all the other evidence Alex had sent up from Manchester. It'd hurt. Watching it burn. But what else could he have done? Alex had been getting too close to the truth.
"We can buy a new one. Got some of your other stuff." Packed away in a box in the back of a cupboard in Gene's flat.
Sam looked up at his Lion and lightly reached out to touch his chest again before he drew his hand back sharply. They were not alone. He cleared his throat instead.
"Funnily enough, Sam. Same place I got you. Transfer. Only this ray of sunshine's from Blackpool, not 'yde." Gene lit up a cigarette. When did he become a babysitter? He was far too sober to deal with this.
"Petey, go tell the lads to finish up their reports and leave 'em on my desk, then they can get off fer the night." He rubbed at his eyes. "Tyler, op in the front, you're coming with me to get food."
He doesn't trust you, Gene, but he wants his damned spot back! So yes, there we go, the moment Peter pouted and got out of the car, Sam immediately took his spot.
And put on his seat belt.
And got 800 wrappers stick to his shoe. "The 'ell?!"
"Bloody 'ell. I'm going to kill 'im. Messing up my motor!" Gene shot Sam a sideways glance. Seatbelt? Really? Worse than a girl.
He started the car and took off 'round the corner, right by the take away place they were supposed to be going to and kept on driving, and driving, and driving until they reached a quay.
Gene was going to off him. Sam wasn't exactly afraid, but he did look at the Lion questioningly, head tilted back on the seat. He left off the snide comment that his new pet hedgehog would be sadly disappointed without a sandwich.
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Peter changed that. Gene never forgot his team, but finally he was beginning to move on. He didn't have to be alone in the world any more. The lion was able to stand tall and roar louder than ever. Life was beginning to look up.
Reply
He leaned on the wall outside, wishing partly that he could sit on the bonnet of the car but Gene would never let him. He was so protective of his car.
"We could always ring Harris and make him go in and bring us out food? I mean, DCs are good at that stuff. He always gets breakfast orders right."
Oh Peter, he stilled treated the DC's like pets. At least Harris had achieved the rank of hunter dog. He found food for Peter to eat, the perfect sidekick.
Reply
Grey sky, not blue. What. What was grey? Was that a colour or a number or a scent? Oh, his brain was having trouble adjusting to being 'alive' again. Corporeal. "Chris? Annie?" he called out weakly. He use to be able to think to them. Share in them. But now...
"Oh God...God...no," he whispered. The feeling of warmth and love and eternity was gone. Now there was just pain and emotions that smelled of colour and sounds that tasted like lemons. Nothing made sense and everything was spinning. And so Sam yelled, out in the back alley of Luigi's, as if he could be taken back home. "No!!!"
Reply
He was about to say that it was actually a good idea to send Harris for food. Or Peter for food. Or anyone for food. When he heard that voice. It caught him off-guard. It sounded so familiar. Nah. Must be imagining it... Even so, it was a shout, and he was an officer of the law. "'ear that, Peter? Better check it out."
Gun drawn, loaded and ready for use.
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His fists balled in Sam's shirt at his shoulders. Half clinging, half keeping him against the wall. "You... you din't 'ave to go..."
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Once he was dropped, that affectionate look was gone from his face entirely.
"You were suppose to come back with us! That was the plan! An' you stayed! Oh God what am I wearing!?"
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Sorry, Peter. It'd take more than calm words to calm the lion down as he returned the punch, smacking Sam in the face. "I couldn't leave! I'm needed 'ere!"
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Gene helped Peter to his feet. Poor hedgehog getting mixed up in a fight between the big cats. Help Sam up? No. A firm kick to the ribs worked much better.
"Piss off back to Hyde. You're off my team."
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They were off the clock, he was calling him Gene. Just be glad he wasn't saying Gene-o any more.
"Look, he said he wanted to be shot in the bloody head, he's talking mad about heaven and he's off his fucking head. We should take him in, just in case. He could be a danger to himself or others."
Hell, he wasn't just thinking of Sam. Suicide hurt other people too when done wrong, no one wants to accidentally plough down a loony on the road, do they?
Reply
Sam's fight had gone out of him along with his breath and he wheezed pathetically as he waited for Peter to haul him up and cart him off. After Gene decided to stay here, Sam had been crushed, so very crushed. It took a lot of effort to cheer him up but the Pub was like a place of eternal bliss so, really, it wasn't that hard at all to get over things.
So why was he here? Hadn't he suffered enough for Gene? He missed the old bastard. He spend seven years loving him and only him to have three kisses and two shags.
Seeing him again, like this--
God, it wasn't fair.
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And when he finally opened his heart and let someone else in, the same thing happened all over again. He pressed the palls of his palms against his eyes. He wasn't crying, damn it! It was stress... or grit... or something.
"Sam Tyler," his voice had a distant edge to it, "I'm detaining you and taking you to a place of safety under the Mental Health Act 1983." And he hoisted Sam to his feet and tossed the car keys at Peter. "Unlock the car."
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"He turned them against me. Ray, Chris, Shaz, even Alex." It was Jim who planted that seed of doubt. It was Jim who made Alex question Sam's 'death' and bring it all out into the open. And it still stung like salt on a paper cut.
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Sam rubbed at his wrists and kept his eyes averted. All of that pain for nothing at all. Gene couldn't leave. Sam managed to leave him again, just when he needed him the most.
"Please tell me you've my jacket at least."
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"We can buy a new one. Got some of your other stuff." Packed away in a box in the back of a cupboard in Gene's flat.
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Sam looked up at his Lion and lightly reached out to touch his chest again before he drew his hand back sharply. They were not alone. He cleared his throat instead.
"Got room for another DI?"
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"Petey, go tell the lads to finish up their reports and leave 'em on my desk, then they can get off fer the night." He rubbed at his eyes. "Tyler, op in the front, you're coming with me to get food."
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And put on his seat belt.
And got 800 wrappers stick to his shoe. "The 'ell?!"
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He started the car and took off 'round the corner, right by the take away place they were supposed to be going to and kept on driving, and driving, and driving until they reached a quay.
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Gene was going to off him. Sam wasn't exactly afraid, but he did look at the Lion questioningly, head tilted back on the seat. He left off the snide comment that his new pet hedgehog would be sadly disappointed without a sandwich.
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