Fic: End of the Road (1/2), green cortina, dakfinv
Title: End of the Road (1/2)
Author: dak
Word Count: 1436
Rating: green cortina
Warnings: mild swearing, mild angst
Summary: Gene Hunt never goes off duty.
A/N: And yet another Steady As She Goes AU, Gene piece. I was going to post it all at once but it felt like two distinct parts to me, so that's what I'm posting it as. Takes place after All the Lost Souls, Auld Lang Syne, and Not Since. Please enjoy!
Bloody kids, driving their nancy, plastic, toy cars all over the place like they owned the whole fucking road. It was different when Gene had driven like that. To begin with, back then the streets had been emptier and second of all, he’d driven a real car. That Cortina, damn, could it hug curves sharper than Kate Moss’ bony hips. Girl needed to eat a burger or three. In his day, women had real curves, a good bit of meat on their bones.
Those damn green man crossing lights never stayed green long enough, either. The only people who ever made it across in time were the teenagers who ran passed him with those bloody iPods glued to their heads and their thumbs racing over the too tiny buttons on their mobiles doing that texting shite.
Gene Hunt knew perfectly well he was acting like a grumpy, old coot. He didn’t give a shit, jaywalking to the other side of the road, coughing, with a cigarette dangling from his lips as he lugged his bag of groceries back to the house. He’d promised Sarah he’d be home at one to watch Margie but when a drink at the pub had turned into four and that old geezer Eddie was buying, well Gene Hunt wasn’t ever one to turn down a free drink, was he?
It was just gone three now, as he tramped across the street, letting his thoughts wander over all the things he hated about 2006. He was, rather rudely he thought, interrupted from his mental ranting by the sound of a loud thump and the screeching of brakes. Some ruddy twonk probably hit another dog on the road under the Way again.
Even though he already knew that’s what it was, his ingrained copper’s instinct told him to walk over to the end of the road and take a look. What he saw was certainly not what he expected and he praised his never failing intuition. There was a blue compact car and one of them ugly silver Jeep things and a man’s body lying in between.
A frantic teenager scrambled out of the blue car, ran over to the unmoving body, then scurried back to his car. The kid was going to do a runner. Not on Gene Hunt’s watch. Not in his city. He dropped his grocery bag and forced his creaking body into a run.
“Oi!” He shouted as the kid started to crawl back into his car. “Better hold it right there, lad.” Stupid, bloody knees. He used to be able to move so much better than this. The kid saw him and ignored him, slamming his door shut and speeding off. Not before Gene could memorize his plate number, though. Complain as he might about his ailing body, his mind was still sharp as a tack.
The suspect gone, Gene focused his attention on the injured man still lying in the middle of the road. He hobbled over as fast as he could and knelt down behind him, checking for a pulse. There was one. Weak, but it was there. At least that kid wasn’t a murderer. Yet.
“Hang in there, son. We’re goin’ to get yeh some help.”
For the first time in his life, Gene wished he had a mobile, though judging by the suit and the car, there was no doubt this bloke probably had one. So, Gene carefully rolled him onto his back with the intent of checking his pockets. His hands instantly froze on top of the man’s suit jacket.
There was no denying that face, as calm and blank as the last time he had seen it, thirty-three years ago. Despite the shock and his newly shaking hands, Gene dug his fingers into the man’s pockets, quickly finding a mobile. He flipped it open and tried to remember what Gladys had shown him about these silly, little, contraptions.
He was momentarily distracted by the picture on the background, some Paki bird and a smiling Sam. Gene started dialing 999. “No,” he shook his head. “ ‘M not goin’ to start callin’ you that cos I don’t think it’ll be good for either one of us, lad.”
Gene successfully made the call and hung up as soon as he was told the ambulance was on it’s way. He promised he’d stay with the boy. With the man. He needed to find some sort of ID. He needed something to call him other than what he desperately wanted to call him.
He searched his pockets again and found what he thought was a wallet. When he pulled it out and flipped it open he discovered it was a warrant card. Gene was angry now. No matter who this man really was, that kid had hit a copper and thought he was going to get away with it. The anger, though, was soon overwhelmed by curiosity and he lifted the flap to read the officer’s name.
DCI Sam Tyler.
And it should be 2006 and I should be a DCI and I should have my mobile.
Sam's words from so long ago echoed inside his head. Gene looked at his hands. A mobile in one. A DCI’s warrant card in the other. He dropped them both at the same time and fell back on his arse, pretty certain his heart had stopped beating. He stared at the body. At Sam’s body.
“Sweet, bloody, holy, fucking shit.”
Yes, his heart had stopped and he was no longer breathing but he did manage to crawl back over to Sam. Gene didn’t touch him at first, afraid he might vanish if he did. Slowly, he reached out and grabbed his hand. It was still warm. It was still alive. Sam was still alive.
“Why am I always left scrapin’ you off the bloody road, Tyler?” He whispered and heard his voice nearly choke on the words. He ran one hand over Sam’s face, his hair, keeping a tight grip on him with his other. “You just hang on, Sammy. Ambulance is comin’. They’re comin’ for yeh, Sammy-boy. Don’t worry. You don’t have to worry. You’re okay. You’re safe. Your Guv’s ‘ere. You’ll be alright. I found yeh.” Gene noticed the dried tears on Sam’s cheeks and wiped them away. “What were you cryin’ about this time, Gladys, eh?”
He held onto Sam’s wrist. The pulse was getting weaker. “I’ve got me own Gladys now, Sammy. Can you believe that?” Gene could hear the sirens in the distance. Damn if they weren’t faster now than in his day. “They’re almost here, Sam. Can you hear them? They’re coming for yeh, you stupid, barmy bastard.”
The ambulance swerved around the corner stopping abruptly next to Sam’s own vehicle. The medics rushed out and clamored around, simultaneously pushing Gene away while asking him questions.
“Do you know him?” The first paramedic asked.
“Yes. No. I mean I used to.” Gene moved back but stayed close.
“What’s his name?”
“Tyler. DI Sam...DCI Sam Tyler.”
“Sam? Sam, can you hear me?”
Sam? Can you hear me? Are you there? Sammy? Oi Merrick! Get in here you bastard!
“We’re losing a pulse,” said the second paramedic.
“Oh no you’re not,” Gene growled.
“He’s gone into defib.”
“Get the paddles.”
“Charging to two-hundred joules. Stand clear.”
One shock. Nothing.
“Charging.”
“Dammit Tyler. Don’t you dare. That’s a fucking order.”
“Clear.”
“I’ve gotta pulse.”
“Let’s get him on the stretcher.”
Ambulances used to be bigger back in his day or maybe they were the same size, just were now filled to the brim with computers and cables and equipment. Either way, it was much more cramped then the last time Gene sat in the back of one them with Tyler. “Get. There. Now.” He ordered the medics with a fury he never forgot how to channel and grasped Sam’s hand tightly, though it earned him strange looks from the paramedic.
“He needs to know he’s not alone,” Gene growled. “He needs to know I found him.”
“Probably be dead by now if you hadn’t,” the man shrugged, checking Sam’s pulse.
“Yeah. Well. That happens a lot with this one, doesn’t it Dorothy?”
They reached the hospital in what Gene was sure was record time. He ran as best as he could next to the stretcher as they wheeled him inside and watched as the doctors took him away. Last time he had left the hospital. Last time he’d avoided visiting for weeks. Last time he had disappeared into the bottle and nearly destroyed his marriage.
If he was thinking what he thought he was thinking, last time hadn’t even happened to Sam, yet. This time, he stayed.
________
Followed by: End of the Road: Part 2
Author: dak
Word Count: 1436
Rating: green cortina
Warnings: mild swearing, mild angst
Summary: Gene Hunt never goes off duty.
A/N: And yet another Steady As She Goes AU, Gene piece. I was going to post it all at once but it felt like two distinct parts to me, so that's what I'm posting it as. Takes place after All the Lost Souls, Auld Lang Syne, and Not Since. Please enjoy!
Bloody kids, driving their nancy, plastic, toy cars all over the place like they owned the whole fucking road. It was different when Gene had driven like that. To begin with, back then the streets had been emptier and second of all, he’d driven a real car. That Cortina, damn, could it hug curves sharper than Kate Moss’ bony hips. Girl needed to eat a burger or three. In his day, women had real curves, a good bit of meat on their bones.
Those damn green man crossing lights never stayed green long enough, either. The only people who ever made it across in time were the teenagers who ran passed him with those bloody iPods glued to their heads and their thumbs racing over the too tiny buttons on their mobiles doing that texting shite.
Gene Hunt knew perfectly well he was acting like a grumpy, old coot. He didn’t give a shit, jaywalking to the other side of the road, coughing, with a cigarette dangling from his lips as he lugged his bag of groceries back to the house. He’d promised Sarah he’d be home at one to watch Margie but when a drink at the pub had turned into four and that old geezer Eddie was buying, well Gene Hunt wasn’t ever one to turn down a free drink, was he?
It was just gone three now, as he tramped across the street, letting his thoughts wander over all the things he hated about 2006. He was, rather rudely he thought, interrupted from his mental ranting by the sound of a loud thump and the screeching of brakes. Some ruddy twonk probably hit another dog on the road under the Way again.
Even though he already knew that’s what it was, his ingrained copper’s instinct told him to walk over to the end of the road and take a look. What he saw was certainly not what he expected and he praised his never failing intuition. There was a blue compact car and one of them ugly silver Jeep things and a man’s body lying in between.
A frantic teenager scrambled out of the blue car, ran over to the unmoving body, then scurried back to his car. The kid was going to do a runner. Not on Gene Hunt’s watch. Not in his city. He dropped his grocery bag and forced his creaking body into a run.
“Oi!” He shouted as the kid started to crawl back into his car. “Better hold it right there, lad.” Stupid, bloody knees. He used to be able to move so much better than this. The kid saw him and ignored him, slamming his door shut and speeding off. Not before Gene could memorize his plate number, though. Complain as he might about his ailing body, his mind was still sharp as a tack.
The suspect gone, Gene focused his attention on the injured man still lying in the middle of the road. He hobbled over as fast as he could and knelt down behind him, checking for a pulse. There was one. Weak, but it was there. At least that kid wasn’t a murderer. Yet.
“Hang in there, son. We’re goin’ to get yeh some help.”
For the first time in his life, Gene wished he had a mobile, though judging by the suit and the car, there was no doubt this bloke probably had one. So, Gene carefully rolled him onto his back with the intent of checking his pockets. His hands instantly froze on top of the man’s suit jacket.
There was no denying that face, as calm and blank as the last time he had seen it, thirty-three years ago. Despite the shock and his newly shaking hands, Gene dug his fingers into the man’s pockets, quickly finding a mobile. He flipped it open and tried to remember what Gladys had shown him about these silly, little, contraptions.
He was momentarily distracted by the picture on the background, some Paki bird and a smiling Sam. Gene started dialing 999. “No,” he shook his head. “ ‘M not goin’ to start callin’ you that cos I don’t think it’ll be good for either one of us, lad.”
Gene successfully made the call and hung up as soon as he was told the ambulance was on it’s way. He promised he’d stay with the boy. With the man. He needed to find some sort of ID. He needed something to call him other than what he desperately wanted to call him.
He searched his pockets again and found what he thought was a wallet. When he pulled it out and flipped it open he discovered it was a warrant card. Gene was angry now. No matter who this man really was, that kid had hit a copper and thought he was going to get away with it. The anger, though, was soon overwhelmed by curiosity and he lifted the flap to read the officer’s name.
DCI Sam Tyler.
And it should be 2006 and I should be a DCI and I should have my mobile.
Sam's words from so long ago echoed inside his head. Gene looked at his hands. A mobile in one. A DCI’s warrant card in the other. He dropped them both at the same time and fell back on his arse, pretty certain his heart had stopped beating. He stared at the body. At Sam’s body.
“Sweet, bloody, holy, fucking shit.”
Yes, his heart had stopped and he was no longer breathing but he did manage to crawl back over to Sam. Gene didn’t touch him at first, afraid he might vanish if he did. Slowly, he reached out and grabbed his hand. It was still warm. It was still alive. Sam was still alive.
“Why am I always left scrapin’ you off the bloody road, Tyler?” He whispered and heard his voice nearly choke on the words. He ran one hand over Sam’s face, his hair, keeping a tight grip on him with his other. “You just hang on, Sammy. Ambulance is comin’. They’re comin’ for yeh, Sammy-boy. Don’t worry. You don’t have to worry. You’re okay. You’re safe. Your Guv’s ‘ere. You’ll be alright. I found yeh.” Gene noticed the dried tears on Sam’s cheeks and wiped them away. “What were you cryin’ about this time, Gladys, eh?”
He held onto Sam’s wrist. The pulse was getting weaker. “I’ve got me own Gladys now, Sammy. Can you believe that?” Gene could hear the sirens in the distance. Damn if they weren’t faster now than in his day. “They’re almost here, Sam. Can you hear them? They’re coming for yeh, you stupid, barmy bastard.”
The ambulance swerved around the corner stopping abruptly next to Sam’s own vehicle. The medics rushed out and clamored around, simultaneously pushing Gene away while asking him questions.
“Do you know him?” The first paramedic asked.
“Yes. No. I mean I used to.” Gene moved back but stayed close.
“What’s his name?”
“Tyler. DI Sam...DCI Sam Tyler.”
“Sam? Sam, can you hear me?”
Sam? Can you hear me? Are you there? Sammy? Oi Merrick! Get in here you bastard!
“We’re losing a pulse,” said the second paramedic.
“Oh no you’re not,” Gene growled.
“He’s gone into defib.”
“Get the paddles.”
“Charging to two-hundred joules. Stand clear.”
One shock. Nothing.
“Charging.”
“Dammit Tyler. Don’t you dare. That’s a fucking order.”
“Clear.”
“I’ve gotta pulse.”
“Let’s get him on the stretcher.”
Ambulances used to be bigger back in his day or maybe they were the same size, just were now filled to the brim with computers and cables and equipment. Either way, it was much more cramped then the last time Gene sat in the back of one them with Tyler. “Get. There. Now.” He ordered the medics with a fury he never forgot how to channel and grasped Sam’s hand tightly, though it earned him strange looks from the paramedic.
“He needs to know he’s not alone,” Gene growled. “He needs to know I found him.”
“Probably be dead by now if you hadn’t,” the man shrugged, checking Sam’s pulse.
“Yeah. Well. That happens a lot with this one, doesn’t it Dorothy?”
They reached the hospital in what Gene was sure was record time. He ran as best as he could next to the stretcher as they wheeled him inside and watched as the doctors took him away. Last time he had left the hospital. Last time he’d avoided visiting for weeks. Last time he had disappeared into the bottle and nearly destroyed his marriage.
If he was thinking what he thought he was thinking, last time hadn’t even happened to Sam, yet. This time, he stayed.
________
Followed by: End of the Road: Part 2