Fic: The Art of Being Lost and Found (4/?), blue cortina, dakfinv
Title: The Art of Being Lost and Found (4/?)
Author: dak
Word Count: 1414 (this part); (4800 in total, so far)
Rating: blue cortina
Warnings: slightly disturbing imagery, if you don't like nuthouses...
Summary: Post 2.08. When the Guv goes missing, CID is saddled with an inept "interim" DCI. To find Gene, and the truth, Ray must team up with a hated enemy.
A/N: Oh, you meant that Sam. Yeah. I found him. He's over here...
Part 1 Part 2 Part 3
He was led down a dank corridor, up two floors in a rusty lift, and into a dimly lit canteen. The muscled orderly told him to have a seat while they brought out Mr. Williams. For a moment, Ray forgot who they were referring to. He did not sit immediately, but scanned the room he’d been left in.
A few patients in matching white pajamas were milling about. Some were completely silent. At least one was talking to himself; he stood facing the corner and kept slapping his head against his hands. There were also burly orderlies at every doorway. Their crossed arms and sour expressions did little to put Ray at ease. He slipped a piece of Juicy Fruit into his mouth and wondered how desperate he must be to come here for help.
Just as he was about to sit, Ray’s guide returned - a slouched figure following in his wake. He didn’t want to, but Ray couldn’t help but stare. His hair had grown slightly longer, and Ray was surprised to see it was curly. No wonder he had kept it so short. He had two to three days worth of stubble flecking his chin and jawline. His skin, always light, was now near the color of his white pajamas. The orderly walked him to the chair and ordered him to sit. He did as he was told.
“Behave,” the deep-voiced man warned. His ward threw up his hands in compliance. “You need anything, shout,” he told Ray, then walked away.
Still standing, Ray stared down at the man in front of him. He was constantly itching a hand through his unwashed hair, crossing and uncrossing his arms, and tapping his foot. The third time he lifted his arm, Ray noticed the yellowing bruises on his forearm.
“Shit, Tyler,” he gasped, despite himself. He hadn’t come here to pity the traitor. However, his exclamation only caused Sam to laugh - a dark, morbid sound so unlike his cheerful laughter at the Arms.
“Don’t call me that,” he grinned. “You’ll only be ‘aiding my delusions,’” he rolled his eyes and formed air quotes around the words. “Go on. You can sit if you like, Sergeant,” he leaned back, his foot still tapping away. “Promise you can’t catch anything,” he smiled in earnest.
Ray pulled out the chair and sat at the table, never taking his eyes off Sam. Tyler, Williams, immediately leaned forward with desperate eyes.
“Have any cigarettes?” he asked quickly.
“You smoke?” Ray asked in disbelief. Sam crinkled his nose in disgust.
“Course not. But fags are the only thing worth owt in here, and I need to barter them for a new bottle of Dettol. My room is filthy,” he laughed. “You wouldn’t guess,” he rolled his eyes and waved to the grimy walls. Not knowing what else to do, Ray reached into his pocket, pulled out his pack of Marlboros, and tossed them on the table between them.
“Cheers, Ray,” he let out a sigh of relief and pulled the pack towards him. “You’re a star. Now, what are you doing here?”
“I’m...” Ray started and stopped. This was pointless.
“Come on, Carling,” Sam grumbled. “I highly doubt that you, of all people, are making a purely social call. ‘Less it was on a bet. A bet. Is that it? You have Chris and Clyde and Geoff out there, laughing their arses off while you’re stuck in here with me?” His face contorted in anger with every word.
“No.”
“Good,” Sam instantly relaxed. “Hate to think I’m even more of a laughing stock.” He itched at his arms and Ray noticed the red bruises circling his wrists. Sam noticed Ray noticed and he immediately hid his arms underneath the table.
“Not social, not a bet, so what is it? They lifting my section?” Sam let out one, high-pitched laugh. “Yeah, didn’t think so.”
Seemingly forgetting about the noticeable marks on his wrists, he plopped his hands back on the table and started picking at a hangnail.
“We need your help with a case,” Ray blurted out while Sam was momentarily silent. Tyler, Williams, raised his eyebrows in mild surprise.
“A case? Hm. Well, if Gene needs my help, tell him to come up here and ask me himself,” he huffed, leaning back. “I can have visitors, you know. I am allowed that.” His foot kept tapping while his face formed a depressing pout.
“He can’t.”
“Oh, finally had his license taken for reckless driving?”
“He’s gone.”
For the first time, Sam’s body went completely still.
“He’s dead?” he asked.
“Don’t know. He’s been missing for a fortnight.”
Sam nodded, possibly in understanding, and began his nervous tics again.
“No sign. No word. Just...gone. Now, DCI Carter’s--”
“Who?” Sam interrupted.
“Rathbone stuck him with us three days after the Guv disappeared.”
“Oh. Nice to be kept in the loop,” Sam quipped.
“Carter’s handing over the case to RCS.”
Sam immediately began giggling like a, well, a nutter.
“What’s so funny, Tyler?” Ray snapped. Sam waved his hands in front of his face as he calmed down.
“Nothing. Nothing. Well, the thought of Litton helping Gene, actually.”
“He won’t.”
“I know,” Sam agreed, and started laughing again.
“Dammit Boss!” Ray slammed his fist on the table, attracting the attention of the orderlies. “This is serious,” he lowered his voice to a hiss.
“Very,” Sam nodded.
“Then start acting like it!”
“I can’t,” he shrugged.
“Why not?”
“They give me drugs not to,” Sam leaned back cupping his hands behind his head. Ray was left without a retort, his silence allowing Sam to continue. “They give me drugs to wake me up. They give me drugs to help me sleep. They give me drugs to keep me normal. Regulated. Really, you’re lucky you came when you did, Carling. This is the most lucid I’ll be all day,” he sighed wistfully. “Soon as three o’clock rolls around, I’ll get the pills that keep me from giving a shit. Those are my favorite,” Sam faked an eerie smile, then let it drop.
In that quiet moment, Ray could see through the tics and the laughter and notice how haunted Sam actually was. He was too damaged. He wouldn’t be of any use.
“I knew this was pointless,” Ray shook his head. “Only came cos Chris wanted me to.”
“How is Chris?” Sam snapped forward.
“He’s fine,” Ray lied. “Not that it’s any of your business.”
Sam didn’t answer, just chewed on his thumb. Ray rose from the chair.
“You leaving?” Sam looked up in surprise.
“You can’t help me. No point in staying.”
“But, you’re the first person to see me since they brought me here,” he released an aggravated laugh that could have been a sob. The pain in his dark eyes was too much for Ray. He had to look away.
“And whose fault is that? Williams.”
Sam leapt out of his chair, sending it flying backwards and into a fellow patient.
“My name is Tyler!” he screamed, and though he made no move towards Ray, the orderlies were on him in an instant. One wrapped an arm around his chest; the other pinned his arms behind his back. Ray watched as Sam continued shouting. “It’s Tyler! My name is Sam Tyler! Let me go. I don’t belong here! I don’t! No,” he suddenly whimpered, and Ray turned to see a large nurse coming towards them with an even larger needle. “I’ll behave. I’ll be good. I promise. Don’t make me sleep. I don’t want to sleep. She’ll get me if I’m sleeping!”
Without a word, the nurse slipped the needle under his skin and pushed down the plunger. Ray watched in horror as Sam vainly tried to fight the drug, his body twisting unnaturally, before the sedative took hold and knocked him out. He went limp in the orderlies’ arms and was dragged away as the other patients shouted and hollered.
“Done then, I suspect?” The nurse turned to Ray with a scowl.
“Yeah,” he muttered as he watched Tyler’s body disappear into a corridor. “Yeah, I’m done.”
“Then get your things and come with me. I’ll show you out,” she ordered.
Ray grabbed his Marlboros off the table where Sam had left them and followed the woman back to the main entrance. As he walked to his car, he realized how wrong it was to have come here. He twisted the cigarette pack in his fingers. It was wrong.
Author: dak
Word Count: 1414 (this part); (4800 in total, so far)
Rating: blue cortina
Warnings: slightly disturbing imagery, if you don't like nuthouses...
Summary: Post 2.08. When the Guv goes missing, CID is saddled with an inept "interim" DCI. To find Gene, and the truth, Ray must team up with a hated enemy.
A/N: Oh, you meant that Sam. Yeah. I found him. He's over here...
Part 1 Part 2 Part 3
He was led down a dank corridor, up two floors in a rusty lift, and into a dimly lit canteen. The muscled orderly told him to have a seat while they brought out Mr. Williams. For a moment, Ray forgot who they were referring to. He did not sit immediately, but scanned the room he’d been left in.
A few patients in matching white pajamas were milling about. Some were completely silent. At least one was talking to himself; he stood facing the corner and kept slapping his head against his hands. There were also burly orderlies at every doorway. Their crossed arms and sour expressions did little to put Ray at ease. He slipped a piece of Juicy Fruit into his mouth and wondered how desperate he must be to come here for help.
Just as he was about to sit, Ray’s guide returned - a slouched figure following in his wake. He didn’t want to, but Ray couldn’t help but stare. His hair had grown slightly longer, and Ray was surprised to see it was curly. No wonder he had kept it so short. He had two to three days worth of stubble flecking his chin and jawline. His skin, always light, was now near the color of his white pajamas. The orderly walked him to the chair and ordered him to sit. He did as he was told.
“Behave,” the deep-voiced man warned. His ward threw up his hands in compliance. “You need anything, shout,” he told Ray, then walked away.
Still standing, Ray stared down at the man in front of him. He was constantly itching a hand through his unwashed hair, crossing and uncrossing his arms, and tapping his foot. The third time he lifted his arm, Ray noticed the yellowing bruises on his forearm.
“Shit, Tyler,” he gasped, despite himself. He hadn’t come here to pity the traitor. However, his exclamation only caused Sam to laugh - a dark, morbid sound so unlike his cheerful laughter at the Arms.
“Don’t call me that,” he grinned. “You’ll only be ‘aiding my delusions,’” he rolled his eyes and formed air quotes around the words. “Go on. You can sit if you like, Sergeant,” he leaned back, his foot still tapping away. “Promise you can’t catch anything,” he smiled in earnest.
Ray pulled out the chair and sat at the table, never taking his eyes off Sam. Tyler, Williams, immediately leaned forward with desperate eyes.
“Have any cigarettes?” he asked quickly.
“You smoke?” Ray asked in disbelief. Sam crinkled his nose in disgust.
“Course not. But fags are the only thing worth owt in here, and I need to barter them for a new bottle of Dettol. My room is filthy,” he laughed. “You wouldn’t guess,” he rolled his eyes and waved to the grimy walls. Not knowing what else to do, Ray reached into his pocket, pulled out his pack of Marlboros, and tossed them on the table between them.
“Cheers, Ray,” he let out a sigh of relief and pulled the pack towards him. “You’re a star. Now, what are you doing here?”
“I’m...” Ray started and stopped. This was pointless.
“Come on, Carling,” Sam grumbled. “I highly doubt that you, of all people, are making a purely social call. ‘Less it was on a bet. A bet. Is that it? You have Chris and Clyde and Geoff out there, laughing their arses off while you’re stuck in here with me?” His face contorted in anger with every word.
“No.”
“Good,” Sam instantly relaxed. “Hate to think I’m even more of a laughing stock.” He itched at his arms and Ray noticed the red bruises circling his wrists. Sam noticed Ray noticed and he immediately hid his arms underneath the table.
“Not social, not a bet, so what is it? They lifting my section?” Sam let out one, high-pitched laugh. “Yeah, didn’t think so.”
Seemingly forgetting about the noticeable marks on his wrists, he plopped his hands back on the table and started picking at a hangnail.
“We need your help with a case,” Ray blurted out while Sam was momentarily silent. Tyler, Williams, raised his eyebrows in mild surprise.
“A case? Hm. Well, if Gene needs my help, tell him to come up here and ask me himself,” he huffed, leaning back. “I can have visitors, you know. I am allowed that.” His foot kept tapping while his face formed a depressing pout.
“He can’t.”
“Oh, finally had his license taken for reckless driving?”
“He’s gone.”
For the first time, Sam’s body went completely still.
“He’s dead?” he asked.
“Don’t know. He’s been missing for a fortnight.”
Sam nodded, possibly in understanding, and began his nervous tics again.
“No sign. No word. Just...gone. Now, DCI Carter’s--”
“Who?” Sam interrupted.
“Rathbone stuck him with us three days after the Guv disappeared.”
“Oh. Nice to be kept in the loop,” Sam quipped.
“Carter’s handing over the case to RCS.”
Sam immediately began giggling like a, well, a nutter.
“What’s so funny, Tyler?” Ray snapped. Sam waved his hands in front of his face as he calmed down.
“Nothing. Nothing. Well, the thought of Litton helping Gene, actually.”
“He won’t.”
“I know,” Sam agreed, and started laughing again.
“Dammit Boss!” Ray slammed his fist on the table, attracting the attention of the orderlies. “This is serious,” he lowered his voice to a hiss.
“Very,” Sam nodded.
“Then start acting like it!”
“I can’t,” he shrugged.
“Why not?”
“They give me drugs not to,” Sam leaned back cupping his hands behind his head. Ray was left without a retort, his silence allowing Sam to continue. “They give me drugs to wake me up. They give me drugs to help me sleep. They give me drugs to keep me normal. Regulated. Really, you’re lucky you came when you did, Carling. This is the most lucid I’ll be all day,” he sighed wistfully. “Soon as three o’clock rolls around, I’ll get the pills that keep me from giving a shit. Those are my favorite,” Sam faked an eerie smile, then let it drop.
In that quiet moment, Ray could see through the tics and the laughter and notice how haunted Sam actually was. He was too damaged. He wouldn’t be of any use.
“I knew this was pointless,” Ray shook his head. “Only came cos Chris wanted me to.”
“How is Chris?” Sam snapped forward.
“He’s fine,” Ray lied. “Not that it’s any of your business.”
Sam didn’t answer, just chewed on his thumb. Ray rose from the chair.
“You leaving?” Sam looked up in surprise.
“You can’t help me. No point in staying.”
“But, you’re the first person to see me since they brought me here,” he released an aggravated laugh that could have been a sob. The pain in his dark eyes was too much for Ray. He had to look away.
“And whose fault is that? Williams.”
Sam leapt out of his chair, sending it flying backwards and into a fellow patient.
“My name is Tyler!” he screamed, and though he made no move towards Ray, the orderlies were on him in an instant. One wrapped an arm around his chest; the other pinned his arms behind his back. Ray watched as Sam continued shouting. “It’s Tyler! My name is Sam Tyler! Let me go. I don’t belong here! I don’t! No,” he suddenly whimpered, and Ray turned to see a large nurse coming towards them with an even larger needle. “I’ll behave. I’ll be good. I promise. Don’t make me sleep. I don’t want to sleep. She’ll get me if I’m sleeping!”
Without a word, the nurse slipped the needle under his skin and pushed down the plunger. Ray watched in horror as Sam vainly tried to fight the drug, his body twisting unnaturally, before the sedative took hold and knocked him out. He went limp in the orderlies’ arms and was dragged away as the other patients shouted and hollered.
“Done then, I suspect?” The nurse turned to Ray with a scowl.
“Yeah,” he muttered as he watched Tyler’s body disappear into a corridor. “Yeah, I’m done.”
“Then get your things and come with me. I’ll show you out,” she ordered.
Ray grabbed his Marlboros off the table where Sam had left them and followed the woman back to the main entrance. As he walked to his car, he realized how wrong it was to have come here. He twisted the cigarette pack in his fingers. It was wrong.