Fic: Steady As She Goes (27/86), Blue Cortina, dakfinv
Title: Steady As She Goes (27/86)
Author: dak
Word Count: 2355 this part; [49,406 overall]
Summary for Whole: After an accidental shooting at the station, Gene struggles to keep his team from tearing themselves apart.
Summary this Part: What did Sam tell Gene?
Rating: still Blue-ish Cortina, uhm, what's slightly darker than blue?
Warnings: angst, swearing, violence, violent imagery, minor drug use, mild sexual situations, self-harm for whole
Spoilers: none here; see each chapter for specific spoiler warnings
Pairing: mild Sam/Annie, Sam/Maya
Disclaimer: Belongs to BBC/Kudos
A/N: I think this part only has 10% less angst than usual. And though I hope it's clear enough, things in italics are flashbacks. ETA: Fixed the italics now. Stupid lj...
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 Part 62 Part 63 Part 64 Part 65 Part 66 Part 67 Part 68 Part 69 Part 70 Part 71 Part 72 Part 73 Part 74 Part 75 Part 76 Part 77 Part 78 Part 79 Part 80 Part 81 Part 82 Part 83 Part 84 Part 85 Part 86
Sam studied the file, making his own notes, correcting Ray’s mistakes, and generally feeling frustrated with the whole situation. He closed his eyes allowing a wave of exhaustion to sweep through his body.
I have to get back! I have to get home.
Sam’s head snapped forward. He’d already slept enough today. He shouldn’t have to sleep anymore, not til it was night at least.
"Let’s start at the beginning..." he whispered to himself and flipped to the post-mortem on Dominic Sanders. Cause of death was asphyxiation due to strangulation. Bruising around the neck indicated the killer used his hands. Bruising and defensive wounds on the arms indicated he was held by at least one other person while he was killed. They held him down, slowly choking the life out of him. Out of Dom. Some innocent off-license clerk.
"Bottle of scotch," he mumbled. Sam looked up at the man. More of a boy, he thought. As Sam looked harder at the clerk he realized he had two different colored eyes, just like Chris. "I said, a bottle. Of. Scotch."
"What kind sir?"
"Whate’er I can get for this," he pulled a few tenners from his wallet and dropped them on the counter.
Sam turned the page. If he hadn’t been so drunk maybe he could’ve saved the boy. If he had saved him he wouldn’t have to be looking at this file. This thick file with pages of words he’d carefully memorized. Read so many times...
I have to get back! I have to get home! He thrashed in the bed, oblivious to the person trying to calm him. You are home Sam.
Sam jerked his head and rubbed a hand over his face. He set aside the pages on Sanders and focused on Harvey Quibell. He hadn’t seen those as many times. Post-mortem. Asphyxiation by strangulation. Bare hands. Bruising on the arms.
Two perfectly good shirts ruined in one week, Sam thought as he stared at the blood stain forming on his chest. He couldn’t seem to lift his head anymore as the blood from his broken nose continued to drip on his shirt.
The heavy pipe collided with his stomach. Sam vomited all over his pants.
Sam tossed the papers on the tray table. Reading all those damn notes wasn’t helping. Why should they? They knew how it was done. They even knew who did it, apparently, but Gene hadn’t told him that. Point blank refused actually. So how was he supposed to help catch Dom and Harvey’s killer without being allowed to investigate his own abduction?
Sam angrily tapped his pen on the edge of the tray table. It was the only physical way his body would let him express the emotion at the moment without causing any extra discomfort. Something wasn’t right. Why did Gene ask for his help on something they already had the answer to? Was it just to warm him up? Get him back in the habit of policing? That seemed awfully conscientious of Gene. His head started to split open again. Perhaps a bit of kip wouldn’t be so bad.
Sam set the pen on the tray and lay back. It was getting easier to sleep comfortably, but it still wasn’t a painless past time. As he flopped his head side to side his eye caught something in the corner of the room where Gene had left the hospital chair. Sam carefully propped himself up on his left side to get a better look. It was another file. A police file. Something Gene must have forgotten to give him.
"Nurse?"
Sam waited patiently for two minutes before calling again. God, how long was it til they invented those little buzzers? Fed up with waiting, Sam decided to fetch it himself. He soon came to the conclusion that this was a very big mistake as his legs, unable to hold his weight, immediately gave out under him, letting him crash to the floor with little resistance.
I have to get back! I have to get home. He thrashed in the bed, oblivious to the person trying to calm him. You are home, Sam. Gene spoke reassuringly.
"Sam?"
Gene clung to Sam, afraid of letting him slip away. Took you back from those bastards.
"Sam! Chris, give me a hand."
There was a hint of disappointment in the Guv’s voice. "Guess you want to make things fun, eh copper?" Jerry’s heel came down hard on his face. Sam felt warm blood seep over his mouth and chin as his nose was broken in two.
" ‘E’s heavier than he looks."
"Watch where you hold him."
You are home, Sam. We found you.
Sam moaned. He tried to focus his eyes but memories of the past kept clouding his vision.
The cellar opened and Sam was practically thrown outside. He opened his eyes a crack. The light was blinding, but he kept them open. He had to stay awake. The Guv would find him. Gene would find him. There was a hint of disappointment in the Guv’s voice.
"I think he’s coming round. Sam? Can you hear me? It’s Annie."
"Should I get ‘im some water?"
Gene remained silent, holding him tight.
The memory started to fade. Gene’s comforting words melded with another’s.
"There you are. Gave us quite a fright." Annie smiled as she stroked his forehead.
"Hi Annie."
"Hi yourself. What do you think you were doing, getting out of bed like that. You need something you call the nurse. Should know that by now."
Sam closed his eyes, letting his mind and body relax to Annie’s ministrations. "There was a file." He nodded to the corner of the room.
Annie picked it up but didn’t give it to him. "What is it with you and files?"
Sam raised a limp arm, but Annie refused to hand it over. "I don’t think so. Not til you get some rest."
"I got ‘im some water," Chris stumbled into the room, spilling a little on the floor. "Sorry."
"Thanks Chris," Sam murmured as Chris handed the cup to Annie and Annie raised it to Sam’s lips. He drank a sip before nearly spitting it out.
"Chris!" He tried to hide his wrists under the sheet but Annie placed her free hand on his forearm.
"He already knows, sir."
"But you said..."
"I should go," Chris back towards the door.
"No," Sam decided. "No. It’s alright Chris. I want you to stay."
Chris nodded and sat in the chair furthest from the bed, obeying the order of a superior officer rather than the request of a friend.
"Guv said your fever broke late last night so we thought we’d pop in, see how you were doing. Annie rested her hand in her lap, trying to keep the visit comfortable and informal.
"Guess I missed your evaluation then, didn’t I?" Sam felt himself redden as Chris remained silent in the corner. The young DC wasn’t even looking at him.
"Well I can’t expect to do a proper job with you hallucinating every five minutes, can I?"
1969. And I should be a DCI and I should have my mobile.
"Sam? You sure you’re alright?"
Sam refocused on Annie and reached for the water. "Yeah. Just a bit dizzy from the fall." He took another sip and look at Chris. "How are you feeling Chris?"
Chris awoke from his own daze. "What? Me?"
"Last time I saw you properly you were still in hospital. Heard you were back at work now."
Chris nodded and stared at the floor. "Yeah. Jus’ desk duty. I’m, uh, I’ve got, the loo, you know."
Sam frowned as Chris practically fled the room.
"He’ll be alright. He’s just scared for you--"
"Could I see the file Annie?"
"No stopping you is there?"
"Never."
Sam didn’t look at the file name before flinging open the cover and coming face to face with a photo of Chris lying in a hospital bed.
"Move!" Sam pushed away Litton’s men. "Get away from him!"
Sam kneeled by Chris’ side and immediately pressed his hands against the bleeding belly wound. Chris’ eyes were glazed over, his body already going into shock.
"C’mon Chris. Stay awake. Don’t go to sleep. Don’t go anywhere. Just stay. Stay here." Sam pressed harder on the wound.
His muscles tightened. His breathing quickened. His hands began to shake. "Why..." He cleared his throat, steadying his voice. "Why is there a file here on Chris’ shooting?"
Annie picked at her skirt, smoothing out the wrinkles.
"Annie?"
"I don’t..."
"WDC Cartwright."
Annie sighed and flung back her head in a show of resignation. "The Guv..."
Where is home Sammy? Sam openly wept on Gene’s shirt. Here.
"...but only if you were strong enough."
"Strong enough for what?" Sam flipped to a page that didn’t have a photograph.
"To help with Chris’ investigation," she stated with exasperation.
"Why would he need my help? Shooter was already caught." Sam read over Chris’ injury report.
"You stupid," punch, "stupid," kick, "bastard!" Smack. "You sent ‘im down there!"
Chris was shot. Chris was shot. Chris was shot. It was all his fault. The girl had said so. Oh god. It was all his fault.
Sam quickly closed the file.
"Haven’t you been listening to anything I’ve said? What’s going on up there?" She gently tapped the side of his head. For a moment Sam swore it was Maya.
When he didn’t answer Annie peaked behind her, making sure Chris had closed the door when he fled. She leaned in close.
"The suspect, Litton’s suspect, wasn’t the shooter."
"Then who..." Sam’s eyes became clearer than they’d been in a month. "Another officer. One of Litton’s."
Annie nodded. Sam reopened the file, devouring the facts with a newfound hunger. "We have to tread very carefully."
Annie stifled a giggle. Sam looked at her quizzically. "What?"
"That’s exactly what the Guv said."
‘M scared Dad. I know. No. Not Hyde. Never Hyde.
Sam coughed and ran his fingers over the pages before him. "What time is it?"
Annie checked her watch. "Nearly six. Why?"
"I think you should go..."
Annie clutched her purse. "Fine. I’ll--"
Sam reached out and placed a tender hand on her arm. "I mean, I think you should go take Chris to the pub. Sit with him. Talk to him. For me. Please."
Annie relaxed. "Alright. But promise me you won’t spend all night reading that file."
"I promise."
"And do you keep your promises?"
"Always," Sam smiled. Annie leaned forward and kissed him on the forehead.
"Alright then. If you say so." She pulled her purse strap up on her shoulder and Sam closed his eyes as he savored the sound of her heels clicking on the hospital floor.
"Oh, Annie?"
"Yes sir?"
"Did anyone come to see me, during the fever?"
Annie thought carefully. "I came by once. With Phyllis. Uhm, I think Ray did, early last night."
"And the Guv? Was he here at all?"
Annie tried to hide her face with her shoulder as she opened the door. "It’d be easier to tell you when he wasn’t here...Night Sam."
The door clicked shut. When he wasn’t here? Then he was right, about the newspaper, about Gene not leaving, about...
I have to get back! I have to get home. He thrashed in the bed, oblivious to the person trying to calm him.
You are home Sam, Gene spoke reassuringly. We found you. Took you back from those bastards.
No! I don’t want to be here. I never wanted to be here. I don’t belong here. I want to go home. He flung out his arms, trying to push away, but it was like flinging wet noodles at Stonehedge.
Hyde? You want to transfer back to Hyde? There was a hint of disappointment in the Guv’s
No. Not Hyde. Never Hyde. Home. Can you send me home? Sam collapsed forward, letting himself melt into his Guv. If anyone could send him home Gene could.
Where is home Sammy? Sam openly wept on Gene’s shirt. Here. 2006. But here. Can you send me back there? Please? Please Guv.
Gene clung to Sam, afraid of letting him slip away. But where Sam was slipping to, even Gene wouldn’t be able to hold him back. That, like, coordinates or summat, Sammy?
The year. The right year. The year it’s s’posed to be.
What year were you born Sam?
1969. And it should be 2006 and I should be a DCI and I should have my mobile. Send me home, Guv. Please. Send me home.
Gene remained silent, holding him tight.
Sam let the file slowly slide off his lap and scatter to the floor.
"Oh shit."
*
"Another pint Guv?"
Gene pushed his empty glass away from him.
"Carling. How long have we known each other?"
Ray stroked his mustache. "Since I joined the force."
"An’ you still have to ask."
"Right Guv." Ray left the table and met Nelson at the bar.
"No wonder you’re still a sergeant," Gene grumbled as he watched Ray secure him another pint. The beer situation under control Gene surveyed the rest of his domain. Jeff and Clive were playing a miserable game of darts, and they weren’t even pissed. Phyllis was trying to relax a nervous, new WPC. Must be her first night at the Arms. Gladys had had that same dazed expression on his face first night out. Annie was talking quietly to a silent Chris, who barely touched his half pint.
Christ. Skelton knew about Sam. Well they weren’t going to be able to hide it from him forever.
Gene’s head swivelled back to Ray as the red bar phone rang. Nelson answered it and immediately handed it over to Ray. The question of who’d be calling Ray quickly changed to who’d be calling Ray that would make him paler than Tyler in a whore house?
Ray hung up the phone and made a bee-line for Gene, drinks forgotten on the bar. It had to be important. Ray placed his hands on the table and leaned over to whisper to Gene.
"Roy Martin’s dead."
___________
Part 28
Author: dak
Word Count: 2355 this part; [49,406 overall]
Summary for Whole: After an accidental shooting at the station, Gene struggles to keep his team from tearing themselves apart.
Summary this Part: What did Sam tell Gene?
Rating: still Blue-ish Cortina, uhm, what's slightly darker than blue?
Warnings: angst, swearing, violence, violent imagery, minor drug use, mild sexual situations, self-harm for whole
Spoilers: none here; see each chapter for specific spoiler warnings
Pairing: mild Sam/Annie, Sam/Maya
Disclaimer: Belongs to BBC/Kudos
A/N: I think this part only has 10% less angst than usual. And though I hope it's clear enough, things in italics are flashbacks. ETA: Fixed the italics now. Stupid lj...
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 Part 62 Part 63 Part 64 Part 65 Part 66 Part 67 Part 68 Part 69 Part 70 Part 71 Part 72 Part 73 Part 74 Part 75 Part 76 Part 77 Part 78 Part 79 Part 80 Part 81 Part 82 Part 83 Part 84 Part 85 Part 86
Sam studied the file, making his own notes, correcting Ray’s mistakes, and generally feeling frustrated with the whole situation. He closed his eyes allowing a wave of exhaustion to sweep through his body.
I have to get back! I have to get home.
Sam’s head snapped forward. He’d already slept enough today. He shouldn’t have to sleep anymore, not til it was night at least.
"Let’s start at the beginning..." he whispered to himself and flipped to the post-mortem on Dominic Sanders. Cause of death was asphyxiation due to strangulation. Bruising around the neck indicated the killer used his hands. Bruising and defensive wounds on the arms indicated he was held by at least one other person while he was killed. They held him down, slowly choking the life out of him. Out of Dom. Some innocent off-license clerk.
"Bottle of scotch," he mumbled. Sam looked up at the man. More of a boy, he thought. As Sam looked harder at the clerk he realized he had two different colored eyes, just like Chris. "I said, a bottle. Of. Scotch."
"What kind sir?"
"Whate’er I can get for this," he pulled a few tenners from his wallet and dropped them on the counter.
Sam turned the page. If he hadn’t been so drunk maybe he could’ve saved the boy. If he had saved him he wouldn’t have to be looking at this file. This thick file with pages of words he’d carefully memorized. Read so many times...
I have to get back! I have to get home! He thrashed in the bed, oblivious to the person trying to calm him. You are home Sam.
Sam jerked his head and rubbed a hand over his face. He set aside the pages on Sanders and focused on Harvey Quibell. He hadn’t seen those as many times. Post-mortem. Asphyxiation by strangulation. Bare hands. Bruising on the arms.
Two perfectly good shirts ruined in one week, Sam thought as he stared at the blood stain forming on his chest. He couldn’t seem to lift his head anymore as the blood from his broken nose continued to drip on his shirt.
The heavy pipe collided with his stomach. Sam vomited all over his pants.
Sam tossed the papers on the tray table. Reading all those damn notes wasn’t helping. Why should they? They knew how it was done. They even knew who did it, apparently, but Gene hadn’t told him that. Point blank refused actually. So how was he supposed to help catch Dom and Harvey’s killer without being allowed to investigate his own abduction?
Sam angrily tapped his pen on the edge of the tray table. It was the only physical way his body would let him express the emotion at the moment without causing any extra discomfort. Something wasn’t right. Why did Gene ask for his help on something they already had the answer to? Was it just to warm him up? Get him back in the habit of policing? That seemed awfully conscientious of Gene. His head started to split open again. Perhaps a bit of kip wouldn’t be so bad.
Sam set the pen on the tray and lay back. It was getting easier to sleep comfortably, but it still wasn’t a painless past time. As he flopped his head side to side his eye caught something in the corner of the room where Gene had left the hospital chair. Sam carefully propped himself up on his left side to get a better look. It was another file. A police file. Something Gene must have forgotten to give him.
"Nurse?"
Sam waited patiently for two minutes before calling again. God, how long was it til they invented those little buzzers? Fed up with waiting, Sam decided to fetch it himself. He soon came to the conclusion that this was a very big mistake as his legs, unable to hold his weight, immediately gave out under him, letting him crash to the floor with little resistance.
I have to get back! I have to get home. He thrashed in the bed, oblivious to the person trying to calm him. You are home, Sam. Gene spoke reassuringly.
"Sam?"
Gene clung to Sam, afraid of letting him slip away. Took you back from those bastards.
"Sam! Chris, give me a hand."
There was a hint of disappointment in the Guv’s voice. "Guess you want to make things fun, eh copper?" Jerry’s heel came down hard on his face. Sam felt warm blood seep over his mouth and chin as his nose was broken in two.
" ‘E’s heavier than he looks."
"Watch where you hold him."
You are home, Sam. We found you.
Sam moaned. He tried to focus his eyes but memories of the past kept clouding his vision.
The cellar opened and Sam was practically thrown outside. He opened his eyes a crack. The light was blinding, but he kept them open. He had to stay awake. The Guv would find him. Gene would find him. There was a hint of disappointment in the Guv’s voice.
"I think he’s coming round. Sam? Can you hear me? It’s Annie."
"Should I get ‘im some water?"
Gene remained silent, holding him tight.
The memory started to fade. Gene’s comforting words melded with another’s.
"There you are. Gave us quite a fright." Annie smiled as she stroked his forehead.
"Hi Annie."
"Hi yourself. What do you think you were doing, getting out of bed like that. You need something you call the nurse. Should know that by now."
Sam closed his eyes, letting his mind and body relax to Annie’s ministrations. "There was a file." He nodded to the corner of the room.
Annie picked it up but didn’t give it to him. "What is it with you and files?"
Sam raised a limp arm, but Annie refused to hand it over. "I don’t think so. Not til you get some rest."
"I got ‘im some water," Chris stumbled into the room, spilling a little on the floor. "Sorry."
"Thanks Chris," Sam murmured as Chris handed the cup to Annie and Annie raised it to Sam’s lips. He drank a sip before nearly spitting it out.
"Chris!" He tried to hide his wrists under the sheet but Annie placed her free hand on his forearm.
"He already knows, sir."
"But you said..."
"I should go," Chris back towards the door.
"No," Sam decided. "No. It’s alright Chris. I want you to stay."
Chris nodded and sat in the chair furthest from the bed, obeying the order of a superior officer rather than the request of a friend.
"Guv said your fever broke late last night so we thought we’d pop in, see how you were doing. Annie rested her hand in her lap, trying to keep the visit comfortable and informal.
"Guess I missed your evaluation then, didn’t I?" Sam felt himself redden as Chris remained silent in the corner. The young DC wasn’t even looking at him.
"Well I can’t expect to do a proper job with you hallucinating every five minutes, can I?"
1969. And I should be a DCI and I should have my mobile.
"Sam? You sure you’re alright?"
Sam refocused on Annie and reached for the water. "Yeah. Just a bit dizzy from the fall." He took another sip and look at Chris. "How are you feeling Chris?"
Chris awoke from his own daze. "What? Me?"
"Last time I saw you properly you were still in hospital. Heard you were back at work now."
Chris nodded and stared at the floor. "Yeah. Jus’ desk duty. I’m, uh, I’ve got, the loo, you know."
Sam frowned as Chris practically fled the room.
"He’ll be alright. He’s just scared for you--"
"Could I see the file Annie?"
"No stopping you is there?"
"Never."
Sam didn’t look at the file name before flinging open the cover and coming face to face with a photo of Chris lying in a hospital bed.
"Move!" Sam pushed away Litton’s men. "Get away from him!"
Sam kneeled by Chris’ side and immediately pressed his hands against the bleeding belly wound. Chris’ eyes were glazed over, his body already going into shock.
"C’mon Chris. Stay awake. Don’t go to sleep. Don’t go anywhere. Just stay. Stay here." Sam pressed harder on the wound.
His muscles tightened. His breathing quickened. His hands began to shake. "Why..." He cleared his throat, steadying his voice. "Why is there a file here on Chris’ shooting?"
Annie picked at her skirt, smoothing out the wrinkles.
"Annie?"
"I don’t..."
"WDC Cartwright."
Annie sighed and flung back her head in a show of resignation. "The Guv..."
Where is home Sammy? Sam openly wept on Gene’s shirt. Here.
"...but only if you were strong enough."
"Strong enough for what?" Sam flipped to a page that didn’t have a photograph.
"To help with Chris’ investigation," she stated with exasperation.
"Why would he need my help? Shooter was already caught." Sam read over Chris’ injury report.
"You stupid," punch, "stupid," kick, "bastard!" Smack. "You sent ‘im down there!"
Chris was shot. Chris was shot. Chris was shot. It was all his fault. The girl had said so. Oh god. It was all his fault.
Sam quickly closed the file.
"Haven’t you been listening to anything I’ve said? What’s going on up there?" She gently tapped the side of his head. For a moment Sam swore it was Maya.
When he didn’t answer Annie peaked behind her, making sure Chris had closed the door when he fled. She leaned in close.
"The suspect, Litton’s suspect, wasn’t the shooter."
"Then who..." Sam’s eyes became clearer than they’d been in a month. "Another officer. One of Litton’s."
Annie nodded. Sam reopened the file, devouring the facts with a newfound hunger. "We have to tread very carefully."
Annie stifled a giggle. Sam looked at her quizzically. "What?"
"That’s exactly what the Guv said."
‘M scared Dad. I know. No. Not Hyde. Never Hyde.
Sam coughed and ran his fingers over the pages before him. "What time is it?"
Annie checked her watch. "Nearly six. Why?"
"I think you should go..."
Annie clutched her purse. "Fine. I’ll--"
Sam reached out and placed a tender hand on her arm. "I mean, I think you should go take Chris to the pub. Sit with him. Talk to him. For me. Please."
Annie relaxed. "Alright. But promise me you won’t spend all night reading that file."
"I promise."
"And do you keep your promises?"
"Always," Sam smiled. Annie leaned forward and kissed him on the forehead.
"Alright then. If you say so." She pulled her purse strap up on her shoulder and Sam closed his eyes as he savored the sound of her heels clicking on the hospital floor.
"Oh, Annie?"
"Yes sir?"
"Did anyone come to see me, during the fever?"
Annie thought carefully. "I came by once. With Phyllis. Uhm, I think Ray did, early last night."
"And the Guv? Was he here at all?"
Annie tried to hide her face with her shoulder as she opened the door. "It’d be easier to tell you when he wasn’t here...Night Sam."
The door clicked shut. When he wasn’t here? Then he was right, about the newspaper, about Gene not leaving, about...
I have to get back! I have to get home. He thrashed in the bed, oblivious to the person trying to calm him.
You are home Sam, Gene spoke reassuringly. We found you. Took you back from those bastards.
No! I don’t want to be here. I never wanted to be here. I don’t belong here. I want to go home. He flung out his arms, trying to push away, but it was like flinging wet noodles at Stonehedge.
Hyde? You want to transfer back to Hyde? There was a hint of disappointment in the Guv’s
No. Not Hyde. Never Hyde. Home. Can you send me home? Sam collapsed forward, letting himself melt into his Guv. If anyone could send him home Gene could.
Where is home Sammy? Sam openly wept on Gene’s shirt. Here. 2006. But here. Can you send me back there? Please? Please Guv.
Gene clung to Sam, afraid of letting him slip away. But where Sam was slipping to, even Gene wouldn’t be able to hold him back. That, like, coordinates or summat, Sammy?
The year. The right year. The year it’s s’posed to be.
What year were you born Sam?
1969. And it should be 2006 and I should be a DCI and I should have my mobile. Send me home, Guv. Please. Send me home.
Gene remained silent, holding him tight.
Sam let the file slowly slide off his lap and scatter to the floor.
"Oh shit."
*
"Another pint Guv?"
Gene pushed his empty glass away from him.
"Carling. How long have we known each other?"
Ray stroked his mustache. "Since I joined the force."
"An’ you still have to ask."
"Right Guv." Ray left the table and met Nelson at the bar.
"No wonder you’re still a sergeant," Gene grumbled as he watched Ray secure him another pint. The beer situation under control Gene surveyed the rest of his domain. Jeff and Clive were playing a miserable game of darts, and they weren’t even pissed. Phyllis was trying to relax a nervous, new WPC. Must be her first night at the Arms. Gladys had had that same dazed expression on his face first night out. Annie was talking quietly to a silent Chris, who barely touched his half pint.
Christ. Skelton knew about Sam. Well they weren’t going to be able to hide it from him forever.
Gene’s head swivelled back to Ray as the red bar phone rang. Nelson answered it and immediately handed it over to Ray. The question of who’d be calling Ray quickly changed to who’d be calling Ray that would make him paler than Tyler in a whore house?
Ray hung up the phone and made a bee-line for Gene, drinks forgotten on the bar. It had to be important. Ray placed his hands on the table and leaned over to whisper to Gene.
"Roy Martin’s dead."
___________
Part 28