Fic: Meetings
Title: Meetings
Author: Kirsteena
Fandom: Life on Mars
Spoilers: Set after 2.2, spoilers for the whole of series 2
Rating: PG (White Cortina)
Word Count: 502
Summary: Who knows what a chance encounter will lead to?
a/n Written for the fanfic50 challenge, prompt 38, Encounter. Thank you to tatlovestea for the betaing and the support.
DISCLAIMER: Life on Mars is copyright Kudos and the BBC. All Rights Reserved. No copyright infringement is intended and no money is being made.
Sam had realised far too late that it was a bad idea to try and keep up with Gene’s drinking. Every round, a pint and a whisky chaser appeared on the table, to be drunk in a relatively short period of time. A nod to Nelson and another round arrived at the table. At this rate, there would be no chance of his 1973 self meeting up with his 2006 self; his liver would pack up well before then.
And yet Sam doggedly drank on. Not for himself, but for the man sitting opposite him. Sam tried to imagine what Gene had gone through today - finding out that the man he trusted, admired, hell, even loved, had betrayed your trust and gone bad in front of your eyes. Sam tried to imagine what it would be like if Gene had done the same. After a moment he shook his head, then wished he hadn’t.
“So, tell me about these staff appraisals then?” Gene suddenly asked.
Sam blinked at the question. “Eh? Why now, when you didn’t earlier?”
“You’ve gone all maudlin on me. Can’t stand a depressed drunk. You should be more like me! Oi, Cartwright, your turn to buy me a round!” The last part was said in a raised voice towards Annie who was sitting quietly with Ray and Chris. She smiled at Gene, then headed to the bar. Sam stared at Gene, before started to laugh. “Seriously, Sam, you went quiet for ten minutes. What’s up?”
Sam sighed. “I was just thinking about Woolf, and…” Gene put his hand up in front of Sam’s face.
“No, don’t talk about it. Don’t want to now; not after everything…” Sam watched Gene carefully for a few minutes, then nodded. He started to push himself off from the seat, with a lot of assistance from the table.
“Where you going?” Gene demanded.
“Gotta pee.” Sam stood up, took a minute to steady himself, then weaved over towards the gents. After struggling to open the door for a minute, he lurched into the small room, crashing into a man who was just leaving. Peering up at him, Sam belched loudly into his face. “’Scuse me!” he slurred, then staggered towards the urinals, already undoing his zip.
The man wrinkled his nose as the smell of alcohol hit him, then smiled. “Don’t mention it, Sam,” he replied. He nodded at Sam then left the room. Sam frowned briefly at the use of his name, but the feeling of relief as his bladder emptied banished all other thoughts from his mind.
As he picked up his coat, fastidiously picking a few flecks of lint from it, Frank Morgan surveyed the room. Seeing the drunken forms of most of A Division’s CID in various corners, he scowled. What a disgrace, he thought, picking up his glass of whisky and finishing it off. They deserved all that would come to them. Still, not long now till he could try and get Sam back home where he belonged.
Author: Kirsteena
Fandom: Life on Mars
Spoilers: Set after 2.2, spoilers for the whole of series 2
Rating: PG (White Cortina)
Word Count: 502
Summary: Who knows what a chance encounter will lead to?
a/n Written for the fanfic50 challenge, prompt 38, Encounter. Thank you to tatlovestea for the betaing and the support.
DISCLAIMER: Life on Mars is copyright Kudos and the BBC. All Rights Reserved. No copyright infringement is intended and no money is being made.
Sam had realised far too late that it was a bad idea to try and keep up with Gene’s drinking. Every round, a pint and a whisky chaser appeared on the table, to be drunk in a relatively short period of time. A nod to Nelson and another round arrived at the table. At this rate, there would be no chance of his 1973 self meeting up with his 2006 self; his liver would pack up well before then.
And yet Sam doggedly drank on. Not for himself, but for the man sitting opposite him. Sam tried to imagine what Gene had gone through today - finding out that the man he trusted, admired, hell, even loved, had betrayed your trust and gone bad in front of your eyes. Sam tried to imagine what it would be like if Gene had done the same. After a moment he shook his head, then wished he hadn’t.
“So, tell me about these staff appraisals then?” Gene suddenly asked.
Sam blinked at the question. “Eh? Why now, when you didn’t earlier?”
“You’ve gone all maudlin on me. Can’t stand a depressed drunk. You should be more like me! Oi, Cartwright, your turn to buy me a round!” The last part was said in a raised voice towards Annie who was sitting quietly with Ray and Chris. She smiled at Gene, then headed to the bar. Sam stared at Gene, before started to laugh. “Seriously, Sam, you went quiet for ten minutes. What’s up?”
Sam sighed. “I was just thinking about Woolf, and…” Gene put his hand up in front of Sam’s face.
“No, don’t talk about it. Don’t want to now; not after everything…” Sam watched Gene carefully for a few minutes, then nodded. He started to push himself off from the seat, with a lot of assistance from the table.
“Where you going?” Gene demanded.
“Gotta pee.” Sam stood up, took a minute to steady himself, then weaved over towards the gents. After struggling to open the door for a minute, he lurched into the small room, crashing into a man who was just leaving. Peering up at him, Sam belched loudly into his face. “’Scuse me!” he slurred, then staggered towards the urinals, already undoing his zip.
The man wrinkled his nose as the smell of alcohol hit him, then smiled. “Don’t mention it, Sam,” he replied. He nodded at Sam then left the room. Sam frowned briefly at the use of his name, but the feeling of relief as his bladder emptied banished all other thoughts from his mind.
As he picked up his coat, fastidiously picking a few flecks of lint from it, Frank Morgan surveyed the room. Seeing the drunken forms of most of A Division’s CID in various corners, he scowled. What a disgrace, he thought, picking up his glass of whisky and finishing it off. They deserved all that would come to them. Still, not long now till he could try and get Sam back home where he belonged.