Fic: Steady As She Goes (69/86), blue cortina, dakfinv
Title: Steady As She Goes (69/86)
Author: dak
Word Count: 1472 this part; [122,433 overall]
Summary for Whole: After an accidental shooting at the station, Gene struggles to keep his team from tearing themselves apart while his and Sam's friendship is pushed to the limits.
Summary this Part: Sam has a near encounter on his way home.
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, Gene/missus
Disclaimer: Belongs to BBC/Kudos
A/N: Back to a more normal length part. Please enjoy!
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
The canteen was quiet and dim. The dinner ladies were wiping down the serving counter while one other girl swept the floor.
“Shouldn’t you be at the pub?” Annie approached the solitary diner sat in the middle of the room.
“Alcohol probably wouldn’t be the best thing for me right now,” Sam sighed and rubbed his eyes as Annie sat herself across the table.
“Why don’t you go home then, sir?” She asked with kind concern. “Guv said he doesn’t want you in til noon anyhow.”
“True. But he didn’t say how late I could stay.” Sam smiled and Annie couldn’t help but smile back.
“Trust anyone to find a loophole, it’d be you. So, what have you got?” She waved to the open file laid out in front of him.
Sam allowed himself a brief laugh to cover his frustration. “Honestly? I have no idea.” He pushed his hands through the scattered papers. “I know there’s a connection here but...” he let out a heavy sigh. “It’s like it’s just out of reach. Like I’m missing that one piece and until I find it nothing makes sense.”
Annie pulled some papers towards her. “Well, tell me what you do know. This is about DI Graham, right? Chris told me his wife received the suicide note.”
Sam found the original letter and handed it to her. She read it over as he spoke. “He talks about these deaths he caused but I couldn’t find anything suspicious in his past cases.”
“He must mean Roy Martin then.”
“Exactly, but who are the others? And how many? I mean, the man was a model officer.”
“Until he shot Chris,” Annie pointed out.
“Which in all likelihood was an honest accident.”
“But wouldn’t have helped his career.”
“Which is why he tried to cover it up but...” Sam sighed again and ran his hands over his face, slouching down in the chair.
“Did you interview the rest of RCS?” Annie tried to be helpful.
“We’re trying to track them down now. All the men that were involved with the cover up have either been pensioned off or transferred to other stations. I tried speaking with Litton but he’s doing his best to deny the whole incident ever happened.”
“Maybe you could ask the Guv to beat it out of him. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind.” Annie smiled, not at the image she’d created, but because she was able to get another laugh out of Sam.
“Gene would probably enjoy it a little too much,” he smiled then couldn’t help yawning.
“Go home, sir. Get some rest. I’m sure it’ll come to you in the morning.”
“You’re probably right,” Sam acquiesced and began to gather the papers, freezing as Annie’s hand reached out and touched his. Sam swore he had audibly gulped.
“I can clean up. Leave you to return the files you’re libel to reorganize the whole collator’s.”
“You sure?” Neither of them had moved their hands.
“Get some sleep, DS Tyler. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
They both quickly pulled back their hands as if only suddenly realizing they had been touching.
“Right.” Sam stood up and whipped his jacket off the chair, effortlessly slipping his arms into the sleeves. “Thank you.” He fixed the collar.
“It’s no trouble sir.” Annie busied herself with collecting the case notes, becoming frozen herself as Sam placed a hand on her shoulder. She kept her eyes locked on the pages in front of her.
“Really, thank you. For being a good friend.” He lowered his voice. “I certainly don’t deserve it.” Before she could respond the hand was gone. “Goodnight DC Cartwright,” he said in that professional voice he used to cloak his emotions.
She turned but all she saw was the still swinging door. She meant to call out, tell the stupid man of course he deserved friendship and compassion, that everyone did no matter what they had done, but her mouth had gone almost completely dry.
“Goodnight, Sam,” she whispered softly.
*
The air was unseasonably cold and with ample body fat sorely lacking, Sam soon found himself buttoning up the comfortable black leather. He could have found some other way to get home - flagged down a cab, gotten a plod to drive him, even taken the bus - but in the end he decided walking was best. He needed the exercise and plenty of walks would be able to get him in shape for jogging. Besides, he didn’t live that far and a good walk in the fresh night air seemed like the perfect cure for the headache which had been threatening to cripple him all day. Well, that and the Anadin he’d nicked from a first aid kit at the station.
He was almost to his flat when he needed to take a rest. He wasn’t out of breath but his legs felt tired and tingly. He leaned against the nearest wall then bent over, resting his hands on his knees as his stomach decided to cramp slightly. Laughter from a nearby pub echoed down the empty street, lamp light illuminating the dark pavement every few yards.
A door opened a few steps away as Sam straightened himself up, deciding to hurry up and get on with it before he fell asleep in the nearby alley. He took one step forward before he saw the man who had exited the nearby building just a second before. He had hair a bit shorter than Sam’s but his face, his posture, his voice as he cursed when tripping over a fallen dust bin, it was terrifyingly familiar.
Sam’s breath caught in his throat as he saw the slightly intoxicated man heading his way. He ducked into the closest alley, pressing his back hard against the cold bricks. Holding his breath, not by choice, he listened to the shoes clicking on the cement, echoing louder as they came closer, Sam’s heart rate increasing with every step. What if he saw him? What if he saw him? Oh god, what if he saw him? Sam wanted to close his eyes tight, shut away the world, but not a muscle in his body was responding as he pressed himself into the hard wall.
It took an eternity, endless painful seconds, but finally the man stumbled past, completely oblivious to Sam’s presence as he wiped his nose on his sleeve and stuffed his hands in his trouser pockets.
Sam’s heart refused to slow as the man’s footsteps disappeared around the corner. As his brain began to acknowledge that the man was truly gone, Sam’s legs gave out under him. He slid down against the wall, not caring if his coat scratched on the rough bricks. Air entered his lungs in short gasps as he hugged his legs to his chest and buried his head in his knees.
He knew he couldn’t stay here, knew he should leave before he came back, if he came back. He had to get out of here while he could, white it was safe to move. Adrenaline flooded through his bloodstream causing his entire body to tremble as he unfolded his arms and used the wall to hoist himself up.
He needed to go. He needed to leave. He needed to get somewhere safe. Somewhere secure. Somewhere he could be protected.
*
Chris’ unusual dance routine to an old Roger Whitaker song on the jukebox was only contributing to the raucous mood in the Arms that evening.
“We shouldn’t let the boy drink so much,” Gene confided to Ray as they watched from the safety of a back table, sipping their pints.
“I think we should let ‘im drink more Guv. Get ‘is tolerance up, y’know?”
Gene snorted into his beer as they felt a cold rush of air breeze through the pub from an open door.
“Sam!” Nelson cheerily called out and all eyes immediately snapped to the entrance. “Been a long time, mon brave.”
DS Tyler stood fixed in the doorway, his arms wrapped tight around his stomach, unresponsive to the barman’s greeting. Gene felt every tired muscle tense. Christ. He’d lost it. Tyler had completely lost it, hadn’t he, and the whole of the pub was going to see. He could’ve done something, he should’ve done something but now it was too late. It was--
“I saw him,” Sam finally spoke, his voice pitched slightly higher but his eyes completely clear.
“Who?” Gene asked from the back of pub, rising to walk towards Sam.
“One of the kidnappers. I saw him. Near my flat.”
Gene could see Tyler’s panic starting to rise. In front of all these men, well Gene wouldn’t allow that. He was by his officer’s side in an instant, clamping a strong hand on his shoulder and steering him to the bar.
“Nelson, get the man a drink.”
_________
Part 70
Author: dak
Word Count: 1472 this part; [122,433 overall]
Summary for Whole: After an accidental shooting at the station, Gene struggles to keep his team from tearing themselves apart while his and Sam's friendship is pushed to the limits.
Summary this Part: Sam has a near encounter on his way home.
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, Gene/missus
Disclaimer: Belongs to BBC/Kudos
A/N: Back to a more normal length part. Please enjoy!
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
The canteen was quiet and dim. The dinner ladies were wiping down the serving counter while one other girl swept the floor.
“Shouldn’t you be at the pub?” Annie approached the solitary diner sat in the middle of the room.
“Alcohol probably wouldn’t be the best thing for me right now,” Sam sighed and rubbed his eyes as Annie sat herself across the table.
“Why don’t you go home then, sir?” She asked with kind concern. “Guv said he doesn’t want you in til noon anyhow.”
“True. But he didn’t say how late I could stay.” Sam smiled and Annie couldn’t help but smile back.
“Trust anyone to find a loophole, it’d be you. So, what have you got?” She waved to the open file laid out in front of him.
Sam allowed himself a brief laugh to cover his frustration. “Honestly? I have no idea.” He pushed his hands through the scattered papers. “I know there’s a connection here but...” he let out a heavy sigh. “It’s like it’s just out of reach. Like I’m missing that one piece and until I find it nothing makes sense.”
Annie pulled some papers towards her. “Well, tell me what you do know. This is about DI Graham, right? Chris told me his wife received the suicide note.”
Sam found the original letter and handed it to her. She read it over as he spoke. “He talks about these deaths he caused but I couldn’t find anything suspicious in his past cases.”
“He must mean Roy Martin then.”
“Exactly, but who are the others? And how many? I mean, the man was a model officer.”
“Until he shot Chris,” Annie pointed out.
“Which in all likelihood was an honest accident.”
“But wouldn’t have helped his career.”
“Which is why he tried to cover it up but...” Sam sighed again and ran his hands over his face, slouching down in the chair.
“Did you interview the rest of RCS?” Annie tried to be helpful.
“We’re trying to track them down now. All the men that were involved with the cover up have either been pensioned off or transferred to other stations. I tried speaking with Litton but he’s doing his best to deny the whole incident ever happened.”
“Maybe you could ask the Guv to beat it out of him. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind.” Annie smiled, not at the image she’d created, but because she was able to get another laugh out of Sam.
“Gene would probably enjoy it a little too much,” he smiled then couldn’t help yawning.
“Go home, sir. Get some rest. I’m sure it’ll come to you in the morning.”
“You’re probably right,” Sam acquiesced and began to gather the papers, freezing as Annie’s hand reached out and touched his. Sam swore he had audibly gulped.
“I can clean up. Leave you to return the files you’re libel to reorganize the whole collator’s.”
“You sure?” Neither of them had moved their hands.
“Get some sleep, DS Tyler. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
They both quickly pulled back their hands as if only suddenly realizing they had been touching.
“Right.” Sam stood up and whipped his jacket off the chair, effortlessly slipping his arms into the sleeves. “Thank you.” He fixed the collar.
“It’s no trouble sir.” Annie busied herself with collecting the case notes, becoming frozen herself as Sam placed a hand on her shoulder. She kept her eyes locked on the pages in front of her.
“Really, thank you. For being a good friend.” He lowered his voice. “I certainly don’t deserve it.” Before she could respond the hand was gone. “Goodnight DC Cartwright,” he said in that professional voice he used to cloak his emotions.
She turned but all she saw was the still swinging door. She meant to call out, tell the stupid man of course he deserved friendship and compassion, that everyone did no matter what they had done, but her mouth had gone almost completely dry.
“Goodnight, Sam,” she whispered softly.
*
The air was unseasonably cold and with ample body fat sorely lacking, Sam soon found himself buttoning up the comfortable black leather. He could have found some other way to get home - flagged down a cab, gotten a plod to drive him, even taken the bus - but in the end he decided walking was best. He needed the exercise and plenty of walks would be able to get him in shape for jogging. Besides, he didn’t live that far and a good walk in the fresh night air seemed like the perfect cure for the headache which had been threatening to cripple him all day. Well, that and the Anadin he’d nicked from a first aid kit at the station.
He was almost to his flat when he needed to take a rest. He wasn’t out of breath but his legs felt tired and tingly. He leaned against the nearest wall then bent over, resting his hands on his knees as his stomach decided to cramp slightly. Laughter from a nearby pub echoed down the empty street, lamp light illuminating the dark pavement every few yards.
A door opened a few steps away as Sam straightened himself up, deciding to hurry up and get on with it before he fell asleep in the nearby alley. He took one step forward before he saw the man who had exited the nearby building just a second before. He had hair a bit shorter than Sam’s but his face, his posture, his voice as he cursed when tripping over a fallen dust bin, it was terrifyingly familiar.
Sam’s breath caught in his throat as he saw the slightly intoxicated man heading his way. He ducked into the closest alley, pressing his back hard against the cold bricks. Holding his breath, not by choice, he listened to the shoes clicking on the cement, echoing louder as they came closer, Sam’s heart rate increasing with every step. What if he saw him? What if he saw him? Oh god, what if he saw him? Sam wanted to close his eyes tight, shut away the world, but not a muscle in his body was responding as he pressed himself into the hard wall.
It took an eternity, endless painful seconds, but finally the man stumbled past, completely oblivious to Sam’s presence as he wiped his nose on his sleeve and stuffed his hands in his trouser pockets.
Sam’s heart refused to slow as the man’s footsteps disappeared around the corner. As his brain began to acknowledge that the man was truly gone, Sam’s legs gave out under him. He slid down against the wall, not caring if his coat scratched on the rough bricks. Air entered his lungs in short gasps as he hugged his legs to his chest and buried his head in his knees.
He knew he couldn’t stay here, knew he should leave before he came back, if he came back. He had to get out of here while he could, white it was safe to move. Adrenaline flooded through his bloodstream causing his entire body to tremble as he unfolded his arms and used the wall to hoist himself up.
He needed to go. He needed to leave. He needed to get somewhere safe. Somewhere secure. Somewhere he could be protected.
*
Chris’ unusual dance routine to an old Roger Whitaker song on the jukebox was only contributing to the raucous mood in the Arms that evening.
“We shouldn’t let the boy drink so much,” Gene confided to Ray as they watched from the safety of a back table, sipping their pints.
“I think we should let ‘im drink more Guv. Get ‘is tolerance up, y’know?”
Gene snorted into his beer as they felt a cold rush of air breeze through the pub from an open door.
“Sam!” Nelson cheerily called out and all eyes immediately snapped to the entrance. “Been a long time, mon brave.”
DS Tyler stood fixed in the doorway, his arms wrapped tight around his stomach, unresponsive to the barman’s greeting. Gene felt every tired muscle tense. Christ. He’d lost it. Tyler had completely lost it, hadn’t he, and the whole of the pub was going to see. He could’ve done something, he should’ve done something but now it was too late. It was--
“I saw him,” Sam finally spoke, his voice pitched slightly higher but his eyes completely clear.
“Who?” Gene asked from the back of pub, rising to walk towards Sam.
“One of the kidnappers. I saw him. Near my flat.”
Gene could see Tyler’s panic starting to rise. In front of all these men, well Gene wouldn’t allow that. He was by his officer’s side in an instant, clamping a strong hand on his shoulder and steering him to the bar.
“Nelson, get the man a drink.”
_________
Part 70