Fic: 5 Times Sam Was Truly Alone, green cortina, dakfinv
Title: Five Times Sam Was Truly Alone
Author: dak
Word Count: 1877 words
Rating: green cortina
Warnings: character death, angst
A/N: For
ac_123
1.
Mummy was working late again. She said she had to work at night because the nighttime cleaning jobs paid more than the daytime ones. She said if she earned more money, she’d have enough to buy Sammy the new clothes he needed, and maybe a special treacle tart, too.
Sammy didn’t mind. When Mummy had to work late, Auntie Heather would come and watch him. They’d race Sammy’s cars down the hall, and play hide and seek, and she’d even read him a bedtime story. When he’d wake the next morning, Mummy would always be there, bright and smiling, and asking him if he slept well.
Tonight, though, Auntie Heather hadn’t come to play. Mummy said Heather had an important meeting with a special man, but she would come round the next night. Instead, Lizzie from next door was going to stay with him. Lizzie was younger than Auntie Heather, and smelled like Juicy Fruit.
Sammy didn’t like Lizzie very much. She made Ivanhoe stay outside because he hissed at her. She didn’t want to play cars, or hide and seek, and forgot to put Sammy to bed because she was laughing at the telly. When she saw him staring at her, waiting to go upstairs, she rolled her eyes and grabbed him by the arm. She took him upstairs and dropped him in bed, then turned off the light and left without reading to him.
Sammy lay awake, waiting patiently for Mummy to come home. He wanted to tell her right away that he didn’t like Lizzie because Mummy had told him always to tell her when people were mean to him. Sammy waited and waited, then heard the front door open and shut. It must have been Mummy!
He climbed out of bed, even though he wasn’t supposed to, and hurried to the top of the stairs. He called out her name, but she didn’t answer. Maybe she was in the kitchen and couldn’t hear him. He clung to the banister and walked down the stairs one step at a time. Sammy’s pajamas used to belong to his cousin Billy, and were still too big for Sammy. His foot caught on the bottom of his trousers. He lost his balance and tripped down the staircase.
When he opened his eyes, it was still dark. He tried to get up, but his leg hurt much too much and he couldn’t move it. He cried out for Mummy, but she didn’t answer. Maybe she wasn’t home, yet. So, he cried out for Lizzie, but she didn’t answer, either. Sammy kept crying and crying, but no one came.
2.
Sam was smaller than the other boys, but he was very fast and good on his feet. He always practiced with his football after school, and when he met cousin Billy and Billy’s friends in the park, Sam always scored the first goal. All Billy’s friends would cheer. Billy would pat him on the head and tell him he was a great footballer.
That’s why Sam couldn’t understand why the boys at school never let him play with them. Whenever he asked, they would laugh and call him names before running off to start their game. Sam would shrug it off and pretend it wasn’t important before sitting down in the corner of the schoolyard and pulling out his books.
One day, Mick was home sick and the boys were short one player. So, when Sam offered to play, they reluctantly agreed to allow it. He would have to stay in goal, though. The weakest kid always stayed in goal, they told him. Sam didn’t mind. At least he would get to play. As the game started, Sam became nervous. He had never played keeper before. Billy always said he was too small to cover the goal.
When Joey’s team came barrelling towards him, Sam didn’t know what to do. It looked like Freddie was going right, so Sam went right. But, at the last second, Freddie went left and the ball went right into the net. Joey’s teem cheered and taunted him, while Sam’s team yelled and scolded him.
After Joey’s team scored their next three goals, both teams decided it wasn’t much of a game with Sammy Tyler in it, and decided to keep the ball at the other end of the pitch so that he wouldn’t muck things up anymore. Sam called out for them, but they pretended he wasn’t even there. Eventually, he sat down and picked at the grass until the bell rang.
3.
Sam was a good police officer. He knew he was a good police officer. His superiors knew he was a good police officer. He always put in extra hours, took on extra cases, and always had his paperwork finished in a timely matter. He had no complaints or demerits to his name, and honored his job as if it were a holy profession. He got on well with most of CID. They never said if they had any problems with him and always did what he asked of them.
Sam never gloated over his accomplishments and never tried to break the mold. He was simply a good police officer, a good detective, and that was why he was named as DCI Matthews successor. Sam knew he was a bit young for the job. In fact, he was the youngest DCI Manchester CID had ever seen. But, he knew all the procedures like the back of his hand, was able to command respect from his officers, and would keep CID running smoothly.
He knew some would have issues with having young DI Tyler in charge, but he knew they’d eventually be able to work through those difficulties. He didn’t see age as that important a matter anyhow. So, when Sam invited his friends and coworkers to the pub for his promotion celebration, he was a bit baffled when no one arrived.
Maya was on holiday when the announcement was made and wasn’t in the country. Most everyone else, however, had said they would stop by for at least one drink, as long as the new DCI was paying.
Sam checked his watch and waited. Maybe he’d arrived too early. There were several open cases at the moment. Everyone must still have been at the station, working late. He sat with his first pint and waited, reading the newspaper he’d brought with him. After another hour, Sam checked his watch.
Maybe he’d arrived too late. He had lost track of time while reviewing his notes on the Robbins case. They could have all arrived before him, and left before he arrived. They might have thought DCI Tyler would be working past last call. He sat with his second pint and waited, tapping his fingers to the Bowie song playing on the jukebox.
After another hour, Sam checked his watch. Maybe he’d told them the wrong pub. This was the Bell and Carriage, wasn’t it? He went outside to check the sign. Yes, it was. But had he told them the Horse and Carriage by mistake? Well, if there had been a misunderstanding, they wouldn’t be at the other pub any longer. Sam left his paper inside and wandered home to his flat.
4.
Sam was a good police officer, he was. No. He was more than that. He was a damn good officer and a bloody brilliant detective. He knew all the procedures like the back of his hand, was able to command respect from his officers, and could keep his department running smoothly. It wasn’t his fault everything about policing in 1973 was topsy-turvy to what he knew in 2006.
All day, every day, it was more of the same: more arguments, more balking at procedure, more abuse of suspects and witnesses. He’d had bad days in his CID, but those would be mixed in with the good. They would balance each other out. Here, though, here every day was a bad day, and there were no signs of change. What was he even doing here if he couldn’t change their way of thinking? Maybe he wasn’t here at all. Maybe he was in a coma. If it was all in his mind, though, couldn’t he have created at least one person who liked him? Annie wasn’t even talking to him right now.
Back home, when Sam would have days like this, he’d call an old friend - his cousin Bill, or his mum. Maya was usually understanding, as well. He could even go see the station psychiatrist if things were that bad. As Sam reached for the phone, still feeling June’s warm blood on his hands, he remembered that he couldn’t call Maya. He couldn’t call his mum, or his Bill. The station psychiatrist didn’t exist. Sam sat in his flat, stared at the telly, and prayed to be released from this hell.
5.
Sam had received top marks from his driving instructor. Mr. Davies had said he’d never seen a boy handle a car so delicately. Of course, thinking back on it now, the statement came across as more perverted than complimentary. Nevertheless, Sam had always been good behind the wheel of a car.
Gene only ever let him drive the Cortina when the Guv was too drunk to do so himself. Even those times, it was more of Sam demanding that Hunt not drive rather than the Guv allowing Sam to do so. It had taken Sam two years to buy his own car. It was nothing much, just a simple 1969 Ford 20M that took him where he needed to go and back again.
He’d been having difficulty with its steering lately, which wasn’t unexpected considering the car was ten-years-old now and the previous owner had taken less than perfect care of it. Sam had made an appointment with the mechanic to bring it in tomorrow, Saturday, when he had the day off work.
Sam knew he shouldn’t have been thinking on his plans for tomorrow while he was in hot pursuit of some desperate, armed, blaggards, but when their car went left and his somehow went right, it was all he could do as his car skidded into the canal.
He reached for the door handle, but it came off in his hands. He’d been meaning to fix that, too. The police radio crackled and sparked as it was flooded with water. Any derogatory comments the Guv had for him would go unheard. He rolled down his window, thankful for his still slim body as he wriggled through the open frame.
He began to kick for the surface, when he realized his right leg was stuck. His trousers were somehow caught on the door, and though he yanked and tugged, he could not dislodge his leg. He was running out of air now, and found it harder to fight the hunk of metal pulling him to the bottom of the canal. He reached up helplessly, hoping someone would be there to draw him out. Gene. Annie. Chris. Ray. His mum. Maya. The Test Card Girl. He reached for them, but the car dragged him down.
It wasn’t until both car and driver hit the bottom, and Sam blacked out, that his leg was finally freed.