[fic] The World Uncertain Comes and Goes
TITLE:The World Uncertain Comes and Goes
AUTHOR: Janni
WORD COUNT: 1200-ish
STYLE/WARNINGS: Gen. Blue Cortina for angst. Spoilers for 2.08.
AUTHOR'S NOTES: Especially for lozenger8. :) Title taken from Emerson, and apologies to Shakespeare. This totally took on a life of its own.
DISCLAIMER: Life on Mars is copyright Kudos and the BBC. No infringement is intended and no money is being made.
THE WORLD UNCERTAIN COMES AND GOES
"What are we doing here, anyway? As you're so fond of observing, it's well past beer o'clock," Sam still had that annoying habit of crossing his arms over his chest when he was annoyed, and indeed it seemed he was quite annoyed just now.
"We're staking out a crime already in progress," Gene muttered, half-distracted as he peered through the binoculars Ray had got him this Christmas gone.
******
At the time, Ray had said he meant them for just such purpose. However, Chris' ill-timed and overdone wink just after this statement gave lie to what they'd evidently been discussing immediately prior to Gene opening his gift. As Ray elbowed Chris in the ribs quite roughly, Gene thanked Ray and stuffed the present into his right coat pocket, leaving the discarded newspaper wrapping trailing behind him as he strode distractedly into his office.
******
"And?" Sam huffed. His stroppiness was not legendary without reason.
"'And' what?" Gene said, not pulling his attention away from the scene playing out through his binoculars for an instant.
"Aren't you going to tell me what we're looking for? I'm assuming you've brought me here for a purpose," Sam spat, trying to hide the fact he was now picking at his nails anxiously.
Gene, of course, missed nothing, but chose to say the same. Instead, he thrust the glasses at the younger man, nearly imprinting their pattern into the skin around his eyes. "Here, see for yourself."
Sam reached up and grabbed hold of the glasses, accidentally brushing Gene's hand as he did so. The other man was ice cold.
Sam blinked, then froze as he watched the scene play out in front of him.
Gene had parked the car at the side of a road on the top of a slight rise that looked out over a cluster of nondescript office buildings in the heart of the city they both liked to call home. They were sleek, and modern, and bleak, and uninviting, and very obviously did not work with the preferred burnt orange and brown tones found within the comforting confines of the Cortina.
"My home..." Sam's mouth went dry, and he nearly choked in trying to swallow down the gigantic lump that had somehow got in there without his knowing. "How...how long have you known? When did this get here?" Sam rasped, unsure what to even ask.
"I make it my business to know what's going on in my city, no matter what it is," Gene was gruff, his eyes completely unreadable, had Sam been bothered to look.
A man in a dull, dark blue business suit stepped forward onto a roof Sam recognised with ever-increasing urgency as belonging to his CID in his Manchester. Suddenly, he was able to swallow, as he tapped into a very firm sense of what was about to happen next.
The light. The heat. The blue was blinding; the chalky, gritty feeling on his hands from the roof not nearly as desolate and dry as the roof of his mouth, just where his tongue met it.
Sam watched from inside the car as he fell, down and down and down until he could fall no more. He couldn't blink. Couldn't cry. Couldn't breathe. Coughed once, alarmingly. Twitched the glasses aside toward Gene, nearly throwing them with all his force into the other man's lap. Sobbed. Great, wracking sobs that shook the entire car.
Gene patted Sam a few times on the back and managed to dig up a few greasy napkins from elsewhere in the car, which he handed over silently as Sam convulsed and drained himself dry. And then kept sobbing and heaving even when it was clear no further tears could work their way out of his swollen, puffy eyes.
Gene, meanwhile, sat in silent observation. For all his bluster, and for all his pretense, he knew above all when action was louder than a bullhorn. He was fairly certain Sam's skull was shattered about now with the sound.
When, at last, Sam was able to speak, he found his tongue thick and swollen as it tried to move within what felt like a tangle of moss covering the interior of his mouth.
"Why...why..." he trailed off, unable to form a full question.
"Why what? Why did some sorry git choose to take a flying leap off a very tall building in the middle of a crowded city and splatter his pretty pink brains all over the innocent passers-by out for afternoon tea with their Aunt Gemma? And ruin their expensive fairy suit besides?" Gene's voice held a raw edge, with burrs on that could nick if listeners got too close.
"No," Sam managed weakly, but Gene wasn't finished.
"Why there's suddenly some alien city touched down in the centre of our city like it thought it belonged here?" Gene barked, eyes blazing with unrestrained fury.
"No." Sam's voice found some steel, and firmed up, very quietly.
"Well, 'why' what, then?" Gene locked his eyes with Sam's, refusing to blink, and refusing Sam's desire to blink as well.
"Why did you do it?" Sam asked in a tiny, low voice.
Gene snorted in disbelief, finally breaking his gaze as he dropped his hand into his coat pocket for his fags and a light. "Could ask you the same thing," he spoke around the fag he was now lighting.
"No, I mean, why did you bring me here?" Sam shivered involuntarily as he asked, suddenly looking at least a full decade older. Fragile. Frail. Broken.
"What is it you're always telling me? About how actions have consequences?" Gene said, once again boring holes into Sam's head with eyes hard as diamonds.
"Yes, but..." Sam started, a tiny spark of something igniting in his eyes, drawing warmth and strength from the argument.
"I can't wait to hear what you're gonna say that you think will get you out of this one, Sammy-boy. Go on. No, wait, you're right, I'll need meself a drink for this one. Or maybe the whole bottle," Gene feigned proper attentiveness, even going so far as to pull his flask out of one pocket and a notepad and pen out of the another.
"You can't possibly...this can't possibly..." Sam spluttered, waving his hands wildly, several beads of sweat standing out on his forehead and gluing his unfashionably short hair down in a rather unattractive way.
"Come on, Tyler, you're so good with words! Don't fail us now! Why usually, with a single wag of your tongue, you can explain everything away! Go on, then, show us neanderthals how it's done!" Gene tried to keep his tone mocking, but he couldn't keep a small dagger of anger from lancing its way through.
Sam, for once, had no answer whatsoever.
After a time, Gene took pity on him and proffered the flask, which was only half-empty.
And the rest was silence.
AUTHOR: Janni
WORD COUNT: 1200-ish
STYLE/WARNINGS: Gen. Blue Cortina for angst. Spoilers for 2.08.
AUTHOR'S NOTES: Especially for lozenger8. :) Title taken from Emerson, and apologies to Shakespeare. This totally took on a life of its own.
DISCLAIMER: Life on Mars is copyright Kudos and the BBC. No infringement is intended and no money is being made.
THE WORLD UNCERTAIN COMES AND GOES
"What are we doing here, anyway? As you're so fond of observing, it's well past beer o'clock," Sam still had that annoying habit of crossing his arms over his chest when he was annoyed, and indeed it seemed he was quite annoyed just now.
"We're staking out a crime already in progress," Gene muttered, half-distracted as he peered through the binoculars Ray had got him this Christmas gone.
******
At the time, Ray had said he meant them for just such purpose. However, Chris' ill-timed and overdone wink just after this statement gave lie to what they'd evidently been discussing immediately prior to Gene opening his gift. As Ray elbowed Chris in the ribs quite roughly, Gene thanked Ray and stuffed the present into his right coat pocket, leaving the discarded newspaper wrapping trailing behind him as he strode distractedly into his office.
******
"And?" Sam huffed. His stroppiness was not legendary without reason.
"'And' what?" Gene said, not pulling his attention away from the scene playing out through his binoculars for an instant.
"Aren't you going to tell me what we're looking for? I'm assuming you've brought me here for a purpose," Sam spat, trying to hide the fact he was now picking at his nails anxiously.
Gene, of course, missed nothing, but chose to say the same. Instead, he thrust the glasses at the younger man, nearly imprinting their pattern into the skin around his eyes. "Here, see for yourself."
Sam reached up and grabbed hold of the glasses, accidentally brushing Gene's hand as he did so. The other man was ice cold.
Sam blinked, then froze as he watched the scene play out in front of him.
Gene had parked the car at the side of a road on the top of a slight rise that looked out over a cluster of nondescript office buildings in the heart of the city they both liked to call home. They were sleek, and modern, and bleak, and uninviting, and very obviously did not work with the preferred burnt orange and brown tones found within the comforting confines of the Cortina.
"My home..." Sam's mouth went dry, and he nearly choked in trying to swallow down the gigantic lump that had somehow got in there without his knowing. "How...how long have you known? When did this get here?" Sam rasped, unsure what to even ask.
"I make it my business to know what's going on in my city, no matter what it is," Gene was gruff, his eyes completely unreadable, had Sam been bothered to look.
A man in a dull, dark blue business suit stepped forward onto a roof Sam recognised with ever-increasing urgency as belonging to his CID in his Manchester. Suddenly, he was able to swallow, as he tapped into a very firm sense of what was about to happen next.
The light. The heat. The blue was blinding; the chalky, gritty feeling on his hands from the roof not nearly as desolate and dry as the roof of his mouth, just where his tongue met it.
Sam watched from inside the car as he fell, down and down and down until he could fall no more. He couldn't blink. Couldn't cry. Couldn't breathe. Coughed once, alarmingly. Twitched the glasses aside toward Gene, nearly throwing them with all his force into the other man's lap. Sobbed. Great, wracking sobs that shook the entire car.
Gene patted Sam a few times on the back and managed to dig up a few greasy napkins from elsewhere in the car, which he handed over silently as Sam convulsed and drained himself dry. And then kept sobbing and heaving even when it was clear no further tears could work their way out of his swollen, puffy eyes.
Gene, meanwhile, sat in silent observation. For all his bluster, and for all his pretense, he knew above all when action was louder than a bullhorn. He was fairly certain Sam's skull was shattered about now with the sound.
When, at last, Sam was able to speak, he found his tongue thick and swollen as it tried to move within what felt like a tangle of moss covering the interior of his mouth.
"Why...why..." he trailed off, unable to form a full question.
"Why what? Why did some sorry git choose to take a flying leap off a very tall building in the middle of a crowded city and splatter his pretty pink brains all over the innocent passers-by out for afternoon tea with their Aunt Gemma? And ruin their expensive fairy suit besides?" Gene's voice held a raw edge, with burrs on that could nick if listeners got too close.
"No," Sam managed weakly, but Gene wasn't finished.
"Why there's suddenly some alien city touched down in the centre of our city like it thought it belonged here?" Gene barked, eyes blazing with unrestrained fury.
"No." Sam's voice found some steel, and firmed up, very quietly.
"Well, 'why' what, then?" Gene locked his eyes with Sam's, refusing to blink, and refusing Sam's desire to blink as well.
"Why did you do it?" Sam asked in a tiny, low voice.
Gene snorted in disbelief, finally breaking his gaze as he dropped his hand into his coat pocket for his fags and a light. "Could ask you the same thing," he spoke around the fag he was now lighting.
"No, I mean, why did you bring me here?" Sam shivered involuntarily as he asked, suddenly looking at least a full decade older. Fragile. Frail. Broken.
"What is it you're always telling me? About how actions have consequences?" Gene said, once again boring holes into Sam's head with eyes hard as diamonds.
"Yes, but..." Sam started, a tiny spark of something igniting in his eyes, drawing warmth and strength from the argument.
"I can't wait to hear what you're gonna say that you think will get you out of this one, Sammy-boy. Go on. No, wait, you're right, I'll need meself a drink for this one. Or maybe the whole bottle," Gene feigned proper attentiveness, even going so far as to pull his flask out of one pocket and a notepad and pen out of the another.
"You can't possibly...this can't possibly..." Sam spluttered, waving his hands wildly, several beads of sweat standing out on his forehead and gluing his unfashionably short hair down in a rather unattractive way.
"Come on, Tyler, you're so good with words! Don't fail us now! Why usually, with a single wag of your tongue, you can explain everything away! Go on, then, show us neanderthals how it's done!" Gene tried to keep his tone mocking, but he couldn't keep a small dagger of anger from lancing its way through.
Sam, for once, had no answer whatsoever.
After a time, Gene took pity on him and proffered the flask, which was only half-empty.
And the rest was silence.