Fic: The Art of Being Lost and Found (62/62) COMPLETE, blue cortina, dakfinv
Title: The Art of Being Lost and Found (62/62)
Author: dak
Word Count: 1258 (this part); (92,290) in total)
Rating: blue cortina
Warnings: increased angst quotient, irresponsible drinking
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: And, it's over! Thank you so much to everyone that's been reading and commenting. Please enjoy the end!
Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15
Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21 Part 22 Part 23 Part 24 Part 25 Part 26 Part 27 Part 28
Part 29 Part 30 Part 31 Part 32 Part 33 Part 34 Part 35 Part 36 Part 37 Part 38 Part 39 Part 40 Part 41
Part 42 Part 43 Part 44 Part 45 Part 46 Part 47 Part 48 Part 49 Part 50 Part 51 Part 52 Part 53 Part 54
Part 55 Part 56 Part 57 Part 58 Part 59 Part 60 Part 61
He was seated at a little table in the garden, a blue robe wrapped tightly around his body so as to keep out the chill. It was a surprisingly mild day for March, which was why many patients were taking the opportunity to sit or walk outside. The mild day had served to thaw the ground, however, and Ray’s shoes sunk into the mud as he walked, releasing with a thick thwack as he lifted his feet.
He said nothing, as per usual, simply adjusted the wooden chair so it faced outward towards the distant forest, and took a seat. Sam - facing the same way, eyes locked on the forest - made no acknowledgement of Ray’s presence.
From his pocket, Ray pulled out a crinkled paper bag and set it on the table between them. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched as Sam stared at the bag before reaching over and pulling it into his lap.
“Curly Wurlies?” Sam asked skeptically. Ray couldn’t see his face, but knew at least one eyebrow was raised in amusement.
“Guv said you asked for ‘em,” Ray answered, chomping his wad of Juicy Fruit. He listened as Sam sighed heavily.
“Gene told me I had to have them. He wants to fatten me up.”
Ray glanced in Sam’s direction. He noticed the faded scar running up Sam’s arm.
“Look alright to me. Gained a bit of weight, haven’t you?”
“One stone. Nearly,” Sam said, placing the bag between them on the table. “Want one?” he offered.
“Maybe later.”
A soft breeze blew across the yard. The trees in the distance swayed gently. Sam tightened his robe.
“It’s nicer. This place,” Ray announced.
“You said that last month.”
“True, innit? Cleaner. Better food. Guv said you had your own room, too.”
“No electroshock therapy, either. Amazing what little changes can do,” Sam let out a laugh. Ray couldn’t help but do the same. Sam reached into the bag and pulled out a Curly Wurly, tossing it in his hands before peeling open the wrapper. Ray watched a little boy playing footie with his blue-robed father. The lad and his father were getting completely covered in mud. Neither seemed to mind. Their mother and wife did, however - shaking her head as she watched them play.
“Take it there’s no word on James’ murder, is there?” Sam asked between bits of chocolate and caramel.
“Nothing new. We’ve added to the report - what Dorothy told us. That a man grabbed the phone from her one night, when she were on a call with you. But, she still won’t tell us who. Guv don’t want to push her. Says she’ll tell us in her own time.”
“It was Hendricks, wasn’t it?”
“Probably. Could’ve traced the call back to Fox Hollow easy. And he’s got the connections to pull off a professional job like that, but no evidence.”
Sam laughed.
“What?”
“You. Admitting you need evidence.”
“Twonk.”
“Dunce.”
Ray spit his gum onto the ground and pulled a Curly Wurly from the bag. He heard Sam sneer with disgust. Further out on the grounds, the mother rose from her chair and called the little boy over. The father stopped and picked up the muddy ball and walked to his wife as the boy ran ahead.
“Is Gene going to see her? He...doesn’t tell me much.”
“Dorothy? Not visiting as often as he’d liked. Work and all. But every now and then. Says she’s happy with her aunt.”
“Good. That’s good. And Chris? He’s adjusting well?”
“Took to forensics like a poofter to arse.”
“Lovely simile. Thank you, Ray.”
“You’re welcome, Boss,” Ray bit into his Curly Wurly, barely chewing before swallowing down the chewy chunk. “Does like it, though. All them details and whatnot. Keep him busy. And he still gets to see us regularly. Better for him, that. Don’t want him hanging round those gay-boys too much.”
“One day those ‘gay-boys’ will help police solve more cases than you could ever imagine.”
“With what? Microscopes and hair fibers? Right...”
“Oh, just wait until DNA,” Sam folded up the other half of his Curly Wurly and placed it back in the bag. Ray’s stomach dropped a little.
“Guv hear you talk like that?”
Sam’s hands froze as he folded down the paper bag.
“No,” he replied curtly, then finished closing up the bag.
The mother, father, and child having gone inside, Ray and Sam were the last two left sitting outdoors, that Ray could see anyway. The breeze blew harder, nearly knocking over the bag. Sam grabbed it and set it in his lap.
“Saw your quack. Told me you’re doing better.”
“So he says,” Sam sighed. “They’ve decreased my medication and I could qualify for day trips next month, if I keep up my ‘model behavior,’” he lifted his hands and formed air quotes.
“That’s good. Innit?”
“Yeah. Yeah, it is.”
Ray watched as Sam’s body deflated slightly.
“Look, it has to be better than before. Guv comes to see you. And Phyllis. Cartwright. came once, didn’t she?”
“Yeah.”
“And Chris said he wants to come with me next time. He just needs to finish settling in, in the new department. Did I tell you he got his own place, too?”
“Yeah. You mentioned it.” Sam played with the bag in his hands. Ray finished his candy bar.
“You’ll be out of here eventually, Boss.”
“Right.”
“Me gut says so.”
“Well, now I’m brimming with confidence.”
The breeze blew even harder, feeling more like a late Winter gale than an early Spring wind. Ray noticed Sam shivering in his robe.
“Guess I better head off.”
“Right. Sure,” Sam nodded. “How long is the drive?”
“Just over an hour,” Ray rose from the chair.
“I’ll see you out,” Sam said and followed.
They walked side by side, two pairs of feet sinking into the mud as they returned to the large, stone building. Just before the entrance, Sam spoke again.
“Ray, did I ever tell you what I see? Who she is?”
“No, Boss. Weren’t none of my business.”
Sam looked to the side where a young girl in red was saying goodbye to a patient, as her mother stood back and smiled.
“It’s a girl,” he said. “The little girl from the test card.”
“That creepy kiddie? Tyler, that’s insane.”
“Yeah. It is,” he agreed with a faint smile, stepping ahead and pushing open the door for them both. “Haven’t seen her in awhile, though.”
“But, that’s a good thing,” Ray replied, walking behind him.
“I suppose,” Sam replied wearily. Before the door shut, the little girl entered and ran past them down the hall, her mother in tow. “I suppose,” he repeated, watching them go.
“I’ll see you next month.” Ray gave him a brief pat on the shoulder and walked away down the corridor.
Halfway down the hallway, Ray turned. Sam stood in the center of the corridor, looking too small for his large robe. His head and shoulders were slouched forwards, arms hanging loosely by his sides, the paper bag clutched between the fingers of his right hand. Slowly, he turned round and shuffled back down the hall, dropping the bag in the bin as he returned to the cold air outside.
Ray turned round and went out through the visitor’s entrance. He’d be back next month. It was his duty. His duty to Sam. His duty to Gene. His duty to himself. Ray Carling may not have always kept his promises, but he always did his duty.
Author: dak
Word Count: 1258 (this part); (92,290) in total)
Rating: blue cortina
Warnings: increased angst quotient, irresponsible drinking
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: And, it's over! Thank you so much to everyone that's been reading and commenting. Please enjoy the end!
Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15
Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21 Part 22 Part 23 Part 24 Part 25 Part 26 Part 27 Part 28
Part 29 Part 30 Part 31 Part 32 Part 33 Part 34 Part 35 Part 36 Part 37 Part 38 Part 39 Part 40 Part 41
Part 42 Part 43 Part 44 Part 45 Part 46 Part 47 Part 48 Part 49 Part 50 Part 51 Part 52 Part 53 Part 54
Part 55 Part 56 Part 57 Part 58 Part 59 Part 60 Part 61
He was seated at a little table in the garden, a blue robe wrapped tightly around his body so as to keep out the chill. It was a surprisingly mild day for March, which was why many patients were taking the opportunity to sit or walk outside. The mild day had served to thaw the ground, however, and Ray’s shoes sunk into the mud as he walked, releasing with a thick thwack as he lifted his feet.
He said nothing, as per usual, simply adjusted the wooden chair so it faced outward towards the distant forest, and took a seat. Sam - facing the same way, eyes locked on the forest - made no acknowledgement of Ray’s presence.
From his pocket, Ray pulled out a crinkled paper bag and set it on the table between them. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched as Sam stared at the bag before reaching over and pulling it into his lap.
“Curly Wurlies?” Sam asked skeptically. Ray couldn’t see his face, but knew at least one eyebrow was raised in amusement.
“Guv said you asked for ‘em,” Ray answered, chomping his wad of Juicy Fruit. He listened as Sam sighed heavily.
“Gene told me I had to have them. He wants to fatten me up.”
Ray glanced in Sam’s direction. He noticed the faded scar running up Sam’s arm.
“Look alright to me. Gained a bit of weight, haven’t you?”
“One stone. Nearly,” Sam said, placing the bag between them on the table. “Want one?” he offered.
“Maybe later.”
A soft breeze blew across the yard. The trees in the distance swayed gently. Sam tightened his robe.
“It’s nicer. This place,” Ray announced.
“You said that last month.”
“True, innit? Cleaner. Better food. Guv said you had your own room, too.”
“No electroshock therapy, either. Amazing what little changes can do,” Sam let out a laugh. Ray couldn’t help but do the same. Sam reached into the bag and pulled out a Curly Wurly, tossing it in his hands before peeling open the wrapper. Ray watched a little boy playing footie with his blue-robed father. The lad and his father were getting completely covered in mud. Neither seemed to mind. Their mother and wife did, however - shaking her head as she watched them play.
“Take it there’s no word on James’ murder, is there?” Sam asked between bits of chocolate and caramel.
“Nothing new. We’ve added to the report - what Dorothy told us. That a man grabbed the phone from her one night, when she were on a call with you. But, she still won’t tell us who. Guv don’t want to push her. Says she’ll tell us in her own time.”
“It was Hendricks, wasn’t it?”
“Probably. Could’ve traced the call back to Fox Hollow easy. And he’s got the connections to pull off a professional job like that, but no evidence.”
Sam laughed.
“What?”
“You. Admitting you need evidence.”
“Twonk.”
“Dunce.”
Ray spit his gum onto the ground and pulled a Curly Wurly from the bag. He heard Sam sneer with disgust. Further out on the grounds, the mother rose from her chair and called the little boy over. The father stopped and picked up the muddy ball and walked to his wife as the boy ran ahead.
“Is Gene going to see her? He...doesn’t tell me much.”
“Dorothy? Not visiting as often as he’d liked. Work and all. But every now and then. Says she’s happy with her aunt.”
“Good. That’s good. And Chris? He’s adjusting well?”
“Took to forensics like a poofter to arse.”
“Lovely simile. Thank you, Ray.”
“You’re welcome, Boss,” Ray bit into his Curly Wurly, barely chewing before swallowing down the chewy chunk. “Does like it, though. All them details and whatnot. Keep him busy. And he still gets to see us regularly. Better for him, that. Don’t want him hanging round those gay-boys too much.”
“One day those ‘gay-boys’ will help police solve more cases than you could ever imagine.”
“With what? Microscopes and hair fibers? Right...”
“Oh, just wait until DNA,” Sam folded up the other half of his Curly Wurly and placed it back in the bag. Ray’s stomach dropped a little.
“Guv hear you talk like that?”
Sam’s hands froze as he folded down the paper bag.
“No,” he replied curtly, then finished closing up the bag.
The mother, father, and child having gone inside, Ray and Sam were the last two left sitting outdoors, that Ray could see anyway. The breeze blew harder, nearly knocking over the bag. Sam grabbed it and set it in his lap.
“Saw your quack. Told me you’re doing better.”
“So he says,” Sam sighed. “They’ve decreased my medication and I could qualify for day trips next month, if I keep up my ‘model behavior,’” he lifted his hands and formed air quotes.
“That’s good. Innit?”
“Yeah. Yeah, it is.”
Ray watched as Sam’s body deflated slightly.
“Look, it has to be better than before. Guv comes to see you. And Phyllis. Cartwright. came once, didn’t she?”
“Yeah.”
“And Chris said he wants to come with me next time. He just needs to finish settling in, in the new department. Did I tell you he got his own place, too?”
“Yeah. You mentioned it.” Sam played with the bag in his hands. Ray finished his candy bar.
“You’ll be out of here eventually, Boss.”
“Right.”
“Me gut says so.”
“Well, now I’m brimming with confidence.”
The breeze blew even harder, feeling more like a late Winter gale than an early Spring wind. Ray noticed Sam shivering in his robe.
“Guess I better head off.”
“Right. Sure,” Sam nodded. “How long is the drive?”
“Just over an hour,” Ray rose from the chair.
“I’ll see you out,” Sam said and followed.
They walked side by side, two pairs of feet sinking into the mud as they returned to the large, stone building. Just before the entrance, Sam spoke again.
“Ray, did I ever tell you what I see? Who she is?”
“No, Boss. Weren’t none of my business.”
Sam looked to the side where a young girl in red was saying goodbye to a patient, as her mother stood back and smiled.
“It’s a girl,” he said. “The little girl from the test card.”
“That creepy kiddie? Tyler, that’s insane.”
“Yeah. It is,” he agreed with a faint smile, stepping ahead and pushing open the door for them both. “Haven’t seen her in awhile, though.”
“But, that’s a good thing,” Ray replied, walking behind him.
“I suppose,” Sam replied wearily. Before the door shut, the little girl entered and ran past them down the hall, her mother in tow. “I suppose,” he repeated, watching them go.
“I’ll see you next month.” Ray gave him a brief pat on the shoulder and walked away down the corridor.
Halfway down the hallway, Ray turned. Sam stood in the center of the corridor, looking too small for his large robe. His head and shoulders were slouched forwards, arms hanging loosely by his sides, the paper bag clutched between the fingers of his right hand. Slowly, he turned round and shuffled back down the hall, dropping the bag in the bin as he returned to the cold air outside.
Ray turned round and went out through the visitor’s entrance. He’d be back next month. It was his duty. His duty to Sam. His duty to Gene. His duty to himself. Ray Carling may not have always kept his promises, but he always did his duty.