Fic: The Kubler-Ross Model (1/5), green cortina, dakfinv
Title: The Kubler-Ross Model (1/5)
Author: dak
Word Count: 1443 this part [approx. 9000 overall]
Warnings: mild swearing, mentions of self-harm, angst
Spoilers: massive for 2.08
Summary: Sam says he's fine.
A/N: This one isn't a WIP, it's actually finished! (Minus a few bits of editing in future parts.) I can't promise a post every day, as I'm moving this weekend to a new location, with 99% probability that I'll no longer have 24 hour internet access, but what can you do? I am hoping to have the whole thing up within a week, though. (Apparently I will be living on the same street as an internet cafe.) Please enjoy!
Part 1: Denial Part 2: Anger Part 3: Bargaining Part 4: Depression Part 5: Acceptance
Detailed Summary: Set post 2.08. Sam goes undercover in a mental hospital in order to catch a killer, but has he truly accepted his choice to return to 1973, and is the hospital the best place for him to be?
_______________
Part 1: Denial
“It was only a dream.”
“Dreams can sometimes express our subconscious desires. Wants or needs we’d rather repress than openly admit to.”
“It had nothing to do with suicide.”
“You said you dreamt of leaping off a roof. How do you see that as not relating to suicide? What was the end result of your jump?”
“You wouldn’t begin to understand.”
“Do you want to die?.....Sam?”
“Sometimes, I think I already have.”
*
“Absolutely bloody not.”
“It’s the only way.”
“I see you woke up deaf, again, this morning, so allow me to repeat myself, slightly louder, for your benefit - no bloody way!” The Guv sat, in typical fashion, with his legs crossed and propped on his cluttered desk, hands folded firmly against his gut, and his green eyes bored firmly into his DI’s tense frame.
Sam sighed and paced the ash covered floor, rubbing his aching brow. “Just bear with me, Guv.”
“I bear you anymore, me spine’ll sue you for unnecessary hardship,” Gene scoffed.
“Do you want another body turning up at the dump?”
“Depends who it is,” he quipped, causing Sam to pace even more furiously.
“No one’s going to talk to the police. They’re a tight knit group of professionals who naturally feel the need to control their own environment and will protect one of their own before turning him over to the law. We need someone on the inside.”
“And that someone has to be you?” Gene rolled his eyes.
“I’ve worked undercover before,” Sam argued.
“For a grand total of, what, twenty-four hours, ‘tween the pub job and the Twilling case? Hardly long term, that,” he retorted.
“You don’t think I can handle this,” Tyler sneered, pausing in front of Hunt’s desk, arms folded across his chest.
Gene swung his legs to the floor and leaned forward. “Tell me, Tyler, exactly what part of you going undercover in a funny farm is supposed to be a good idea?”
“Ray would say it’s exactly where I belong.”
“Which is exactly why we should get someone else,” Gene slammed his hand down on the desk.
“You still don’t trust me,” Sam smirked spitefully and shook his head.
“Don’t you dare start with me on trust. That shite was months ago. I trust you to do your job. I trust you to get us the information. You know that. What I don’t trust is you alone with yourself.”
Sam couldn’t look him in the eye.
“You will be on your own, Sam. Completely isolated. If you need to get out, won’t matter if you shout your name and rank from the rooftops, they’ll already think you’re mad. Slip you a mickey, prop yeh in the corner, and been done with it.”
Sam leaned on Gene’s desk, a few deep breaths allowing him to look at his Guv once again. “We can set up weekly meets. Send in Annie. Say she’s my wife, attending her regularly scheduled visits. That way I can relay any information to the outside without raising suspicion. And, you’ll be able to keep an eye on my condition. Annie will tell you the truth. She thinks I need to be pulled out, she’ll let you know..”
Gene sat back, still shaking his head. “I don’t like it, Sam. Me gut doesn’t agree with it.”
Sam rolled his eyes. “That’s just the curry you had last night. Look, we need to stop the killer before he strikes again. We can’t wait for another body, for new evidence, to fall into our laps. We need to take the offensive approach,” he pleaded.
“And it has to be you,” Gene sighed.
“If I thought there was anyone else, I’d let them do it.”
The Guv remained incredulous.
“C’mon Gene,” Sam begged with a sly grin. “If there’s anyone here qualified to pass as a nutter, it’s Sam Tyler.”
*
“What about your parents?”
“What about them?”
“Are they still alive?”
“I don’t see why that matters.”
“This seems to be a hard subject for you.”
“I don’t know where my dad is. My mum is still alive. See? Not so hard.”
“Tell me about your mother.”
“So you can do an in depth Freudian analysis of me?”
“So I can learn about your mother. Has she come to visit you?”
“No.”
“Would you like her to?”
“She can’t.”
“Is she unwell? Disabled? Unable to travel?”
“Let’s just say...the journey would be difficult.”
“Do you love her?....It’s alright, Sam.”
“I’m fine. I...I do. Very much.”
“What would she do if she knew you were here?”
“Honestly? If she knew where I was, I think she’d slap me across the face.”
*
“I’ll be fine,” Sam assured her between bites of lasagne. “And you’ll be the one that gets to see me every week.”
“I know. It’s just...” Annie toyed with the food on her plate.
“You don’t think it’s a good idea,” Sam replied coldly as he set down his own fork.
“No. I agree it’s the only way we’ll get information about the killer, but...are you sure you can’t let someone else go undercover?”
“Talking to Gene behind my back again,” Sam crossed his arms, staring down into his half-eaten plate.
“Sam, please don’t be like this.”
“Like what?” He snapped.
“Don’t keep getting defensive just because we want to help.”
“How is preventing me from doing my job, helping, Annie?” He argued.
“Why do you still insist on acting like the whole world’s against you? We’re your friends and we’re looking out for you, same as you’d look out for us. Why do you have to take it as an insult when we admit we care?”
Sam threw down his napkin and pushed himself away from the table.
“Sam...” Annie followed him into her sitting room, watching helplessly as he grabbed his leather jacket. “Sam, wait.”
“I’ll see you at the station,” he said without emotion, and flicked on the coat.
“Sam!”
He was already out the door.
*
“She seems like a nice girl.”
“She is.”
“Do you get to spend a lot of time together?”
“It’s difficult, with work, but we manage.”
“Does work often come between you?”
“No. Well, every once in awhile. I tend to work late. That can be hard.”
“How often do you stay late at work?”
“Often.”
“More so, lately?”
“Dunno. Yeah. I guess I have been.”
“Why is that?”
“There’s just been more work to do.”
“Do you love her?”
“What?”
“Annie. Do you love her?”
“I...I don’t know, yet....I want to.”
*
“I’ll be going in under the name Sam Dobbins, a small business owner who runs a cash and carry business. I’ll be admitting myself under the pretense I’ve suffered a nervous breakdown.”
“I think you’ll be able to handle that, Boss,” Ray smirked and the group chuckled along.
Sam paused, pursed his lips, and waited for the laughter to die down before continuing. “WDC Cartwright will be my contact. She’ll visit me every Tuesday and Friday, posing as my wife.”
“Shouldn’t be too much of a stretch, eh Cartwright?” Ray chortled, the crowd joining in again.
“Can we concentrate on the task at hand, please?” Sam sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.
“Maybe if it’s Carwright’s hands,” Ray jibed again, complete with rude gesture, but this time the laughter was cut short as Sam slammed a file against his desk.
“Could you at least try to feign some sort of interest in what we’re trying to do?” He shouted. “Three men are dead! Their bodies tossed out with the rubbish, like they were rubbish. Like their lives were worth shite!”
The men before him stiffened and stared at their feet.
“Or is that not important to you? Would you rather brush this off, get a few pints instead, and take a shite all over your warrant cards? You are supposed to be police officers. You are supposed to care more about the people of this city, then what you’ll be wanking off to tonight!”
“Tyler...” Gene warned from the background, finally breaking his silence.
Sam bit his tongue and stormed out of the squad room, not stopping until he had sequestered himself in the toilets. Gene arrived moments later, resting against the closed door.
“That was a bit harsh, even for you,” he said quietly.
“It was no more than they deserved,” Sam snarled, leaning over the sinks.
“You really believe that?”
Sam didn’t answer.
“You don’t have to do this, Sam.”
“I’m fine.”
“So you keep saying.”
Sam trod to the door. “I’ll see you in a few weeks, Guv,” he said, forcing Gene to move as he yanked open the door.
________
Part 2: Anger
Author: dak
Word Count: 1443 this part [approx. 9000 overall]
Warnings: mild swearing, mentions of self-harm, angst
Spoilers: massive for 2.08
Summary: Sam says he's fine.
A/N: This one isn't a WIP, it's actually finished! (Minus a few bits of editing in future parts.) I can't promise a post every day, as I'm moving this weekend to a new location, with 99% probability that I'll no longer have 24 hour internet access, but what can you do? I am hoping to have the whole thing up within a week, though. (Apparently I will be living on the same street as an internet cafe.) Please enjoy!
Part 1: Denial Part 2: Anger Part 3: Bargaining Part 4: Depression Part 5: Acceptance
Detailed Summary: Set post 2.08. Sam goes undercover in a mental hospital in order to catch a killer, but has he truly accepted his choice to return to 1973, and is the hospital the best place for him to be?
_______________
Part 1: Denial
“It was only a dream.”
“Dreams can sometimes express our subconscious desires. Wants or needs we’d rather repress than openly admit to.”
“It had nothing to do with suicide.”
“You said you dreamt of leaping off a roof. How do you see that as not relating to suicide? What was the end result of your jump?”
“You wouldn’t begin to understand.”
“Do you want to die?.....Sam?”
“Sometimes, I think I already have.”
*
“Absolutely bloody not.”
“It’s the only way.”
“I see you woke up deaf, again, this morning, so allow me to repeat myself, slightly louder, for your benefit - no bloody way!” The Guv sat, in typical fashion, with his legs crossed and propped on his cluttered desk, hands folded firmly against his gut, and his green eyes bored firmly into his DI’s tense frame.
Sam sighed and paced the ash covered floor, rubbing his aching brow. “Just bear with me, Guv.”
“I bear you anymore, me spine’ll sue you for unnecessary hardship,” Gene scoffed.
“Do you want another body turning up at the dump?”
“Depends who it is,” he quipped, causing Sam to pace even more furiously.
“No one’s going to talk to the police. They’re a tight knit group of professionals who naturally feel the need to control their own environment and will protect one of their own before turning him over to the law. We need someone on the inside.”
“And that someone has to be you?” Gene rolled his eyes.
“I’ve worked undercover before,” Sam argued.
“For a grand total of, what, twenty-four hours, ‘tween the pub job and the Twilling case? Hardly long term, that,” he retorted.
“You don’t think I can handle this,” Tyler sneered, pausing in front of Hunt’s desk, arms folded across his chest.
Gene swung his legs to the floor and leaned forward. “Tell me, Tyler, exactly what part of you going undercover in a funny farm is supposed to be a good idea?”
“Ray would say it’s exactly where I belong.”
“Which is exactly why we should get someone else,” Gene slammed his hand down on the desk.
“You still don’t trust me,” Sam smirked spitefully and shook his head.
“Don’t you dare start with me on trust. That shite was months ago. I trust you to do your job. I trust you to get us the information. You know that. What I don’t trust is you alone with yourself.”
Sam couldn’t look him in the eye.
“You will be on your own, Sam. Completely isolated. If you need to get out, won’t matter if you shout your name and rank from the rooftops, they’ll already think you’re mad. Slip you a mickey, prop yeh in the corner, and been done with it.”
Sam leaned on Gene’s desk, a few deep breaths allowing him to look at his Guv once again. “We can set up weekly meets. Send in Annie. Say she’s my wife, attending her regularly scheduled visits. That way I can relay any information to the outside without raising suspicion. And, you’ll be able to keep an eye on my condition. Annie will tell you the truth. She thinks I need to be pulled out, she’ll let you know..”
Gene sat back, still shaking his head. “I don’t like it, Sam. Me gut doesn’t agree with it.”
Sam rolled his eyes. “That’s just the curry you had last night. Look, we need to stop the killer before he strikes again. We can’t wait for another body, for new evidence, to fall into our laps. We need to take the offensive approach,” he pleaded.
“And it has to be you,” Gene sighed.
“If I thought there was anyone else, I’d let them do it.”
The Guv remained incredulous.
“C’mon Gene,” Sam begged with a sly grin. “If there’s anyone here qualified to pass as a nutter, it’s Sam Tyler.”
*
“What about your parents?”
“What about them?”
“Are they still alive?”
“I don’t see why that matters.”
“This seems to be a hard subject for you.”
“I don’t know where my dad is. My mum is still alive. See? Not so hard.”
“Tell me about your mother.”
“So you can do an in depth Freudian analysis of me?”
“So I can learn about your mother. Has she come to visit you?”
“No.”
“Would you like her to?”
“She can’t.”
“Is she unwell? Disabled? Unable to travel?”
“Let’s just say...the journey would be difficult.”
“Do you love her?....It’s alright, Sam.”
“I’m fine. I...I do. Very much.”
“What would she do if she knew you were here?”
“Honestly? If she knew where I was, I think she’d slap me across the face.”
*
“I’ll be fine,” Sam assured her between bites of lasagne. “And you’ll be the one that gets to see me every week.”
“I know. It’s just...” Annie toyed with the food on her plate.
“You don’t think it’s a good idea,” Sam replied coldly as he set down his own fork.
“No. I agree it’s the only way we’ll get information about the killer, but...are you sure you can’t let someone else go undercover?”
“Talking to Gene behind my back again,” Sam crossed his arms, staring down into his half-eaten plate.
“Sam, please don’t be like this.”
“Like what?” He snapped.
“Don’t keep getting defensive just because we want to help.”
“How is preventing me from doing my job, helping, Annie?” He argued.
“Why do you still insist on acting like the whole world’s against you? We’re your friends and we’re looking out for you, same as you’d look out for us. Why do you have to take it as an insult when we admit we care?”
Sam threw down his napkin and pushed himself away from the table.
“Sam...” Annie followed him into her sitting room, watching helplessly as he grabbed his leather jacket. “Sam, wait.”
“I’ll see you at the station,” he said without emotion, and flicked on the coat.
“Sam!”
He was already out the door.
*
“She seems like a nice girl.”
“She is.”
“Do you get to spend a lot of time together?”
“It’s difficult, with work, but we manage.”
“Does work often come between you?”
“No. Well, every once in awhile. I tend to work late. That can be hard.”
“How often do you stay late at work?”
“Often.”
“More so, lately?”
“Dunno. Yeah. I guess I have been.”
“Why is that?”
“There’s just been more work to do.”
“Do you love her?”
“What?”
“Annie. Do you love her?”
“I...I don’t know, yet....I want to.”
*
“I’ll be going in under the name Sam Dobbins, a small business owner who runs a cash and carry business. I’ll be admitting myself under the pretense I’ve suffered a nervous breakdown.”
“I think you’ll be able to handle that, Boss,” Ray smirked and the group chuckled along.
Sam paused, pursed his lips, and waited for the laughter to die down before continuing. “WDC Cartwright will be my contact. She’ll visit me every Tuesday and Friday, posing as my wife.”
“Shouldn’t be too much of a stretch, eh Cartwright?” Ray chortled, the crowd joining in again.
“Can we concentrate on the task at hand, please?” Sam sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.
“Maybe if it’s Carwright’s hands,” Ray jibed again, complete with rude gesture, but this time the laughter was cut short as Sam slammed a file against his desk.
“Could you at least try to feign some sort of interest in what we’re trying to do?” He shouted. “Three men are dead! Their bodies tossed out with the rubbish, like they were rubbish. Like their lives were worth shite!”
The men before him stiffened and stared at their feet.
“Or is that not important to you? Would you rather brush this off, get a few pints instead, and take a shite all over your warrant cards? You are supposed to be police officers. You are supposed to care more about the people of this city, then what you’ll be wanking off to tonight!”
“Tyler...” Gene warned from the background, finally breaking his silence.
Sam bit his tongue and stormed out of the squad room, not stopping until he had sequestered himself in the toilets. Gene arrived moments later, resting against the closed door.
“That was a bit harsh, even for you,” he said quietly.
“It was no more than they deserved,” Sam snarled, leaning over the sinks.
“You really believe that?”
Sam didn’t answer.
“You don’t have to do this, Sam.”
“I’m fine.”
“So you keep saying.”
Sam trod to the door. “I’ll see you in a few weeks, Guv,” he said, forcing Gene to move as he yanked open the door.
________
Part 2: Anger