Title: The Kept Man (15/40)
Author: dak
Word Count: 2421 this part; [28,626 overall]
Rating: brown cortina
Warnings: angst, sexual situations, swearing
Spoilers: 1.04, 1.05, 1.07
Pairing: Sam/Warren, Sam/Gene
Summary: AU. Sam woke up with amnesia when he landed in 1973, able to only remember his name, and ended up in the grasp of Stephen Warren. When he and Gene Hunt finally cross paths it starts a chain of events that will either save Sam or damn him.
A/N: From an idea from
talcat given via
culf . 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 He didn’t sleep well. It was cold but he’d wrapped himself tightly in the blanket and his body was plenty warm. No, the temperature wasn’t the problem. He also knew he was safe, at least for now. No matter how many coppers Warren had in his pocket, he highly doubted he could convince any of them to off a prisoner right in the heart of the station. Besides, Warren wouldn’t even know there was a problem, not until tomorrow evening at least.
It was a phantom feeling, one deep inside his chest, that kept him awake. Every time he thought he had pinpointed its cause, it would slip away from his grasp. All night he tossed and thought, turned and pondered, where this general feeling of dread was coming from. As the sun started to rise, he could only conclude that it was because he was getting close to the truth and while the truth was what he’d wanted all along, he had the sinking feeling that the end of this mystery would open up a whole new can of crap that he wouldn’t even begin to understand.
Gene didn’t need the alarm to wake him as he lay still in his bed, watching the light slowly stream in from the curtains he’d forgotten to close. He made sure to switch it off before the bell was triggered, desperate to keep the fragile calm of the morning intact. He dressed slowly, putting on his persona piece by piece. By the time he slipped on his gloves, Gene Hunt was ready to sort some shite out.
*
The metal door was flung back, as much as metal doors could be flung, and Sam admitted, to himself alone, he was slightly scared until he saw that it was only Gene and not some nameless henchman sent to take him out back and shoot him like the disobedient dog he was.
“Ready?” Gene asked.
Sam held out his arms in capitulation. “Lead the way.”
Gene allowed him to remain uncuffed as he escorted him to the third floor, CID, and down the corridor, finally stopping in front of a door marked Lost and Found. Sam looked around the hall, that sickening feeling of not quite deja vu returning in full force, and wondered what they were waiting for.
“Well?” He finally asked.
“Well what?”
“I thought you were taking me to be interrogated.”
“I am. Room’s full.”
“You only have one interrogation room?” Sam chided, even though he knew he really was in no position to chide anything. Before Gene could respond, a stocky, moustached man emerged from the door beside them, followed closely by a more lanky fellow in a disturbing sweater vest combination.
“Still won’t talk, Guv,” Moustache chomped, chewing on a wad of gum with a stare that would rival the gaze of any vacant cow.
“Right. Drop ‘im back in the cells, then. We’ll try again later. I need the room,” Gene ordered.
Moustache stood there as he raked his eyes disapprovingly over Sam. “Who’s the nonce?” He asked, still chomping away.
“Not your concern, Sergeant. Now clear the bloody room like I asked.”
“So this is your Sergeant,” Sam accidently wondered aloud.
“What’s that s’posed to mean?” Moustache stepped forward but Sweater Vest pulled him back.
“C’mon Ray. I can’t move that bloke by meself. Built like an ox, he is, an’ I’m still sore from ‘elping Nelson move those tables ‘round the pub.” He rotated his shoulder for emphasis.
“Ray” sent Sam one more glare, which he was sure was meant to be intimidating, before following Sweater Vest back into Lost and Found.
“Wait. You’re going to interview me in there? In Lost Property?”
Gene shrugged. “Thick walls.”
“I don’t plan on doing a lot of screaming.”
“No, but you might cry a little.”
Ray and Sweater Vest reemerged from the room, a large, stoic man between them but Sam wasn’t allowed to stare long as Gene immediately dragged him across the threshold and shut the door behind them.
Sam knew he was gawking, probably in disgust, as he followed Gene around the shelves of dusty briefcases, bicycle tyres, and footballs, to the back of the room where a table and a few shaky chairs were set up. Sam noticed a stain in the corner that looked disturbingly like blood. Gene sat down facing the back wall and immediately lit a cigarette.
“Not exactly up to PACE guidelines, is it?” He murmured.
“’What’ guidelines? Where were you posted? ‘E’ Division in the Clangers Constabulary? Sit your arse down. Got a lot to cover ‘fore Warren chops yeh into little bits.”
Sam rolled his eyes and took the seat across from Gene. “Thank you for being so concerned,” he crossed his arms and leaned back in the chair. Gene opened his mouth but Sam beat him to the non-literal punch. “Shouldn’t this be recorded?”
“You want to take notes?”
“I mean tape recorded.”
Gene stared at him blankly.
“Recording the time and date, officers present, suspects present. Time the interview is concluded? Why are you looking at me like that?”
“You sure Warren didn’t leave something stuck up your jacksie?”
Sam sighed and looked away. He wasn’t sure he could do this if it wasn’t done properly.
“Start talking.”
Not that he really had a choice. “Where would you like me to begin, DCI Hunt?”
“You know, I do believe the very beginning is a very good place to start, Julie Andrews.” Gene set his ciggie in the ash tray that was sitting where a tape recorder should be and folded his hands. “Tell me the first thing you remember.” All the jocularity was gone from his voice. It was time to get down to serious business now and they both knew it. Sam closed his eyes and took a deep breath, relaxing as he tried to let the clouded memories flood back to him naturally instead of being forced.
“A car. I was in a car.”
“Alone? Who was driving?”
He kept his eyes closed, letting Gene’s voice help guide his thoughts. “I was driving. I was alone...I was upset.”
“Why?”
He tried to remember why but he couldn’t. All he could remember was the hurt. “I don’t know but it was important...Myself. I was angry with myself.”
“Then what happened?”
This was where it became muddled. Only brief flashes of recollection were possible, nothing coherent. “A flash. A flash of something. I don’t know.” He felt it rising up inside him, the confusion, the helplessness. “Bowie. He’s on the radio or the tape deck or something.”
“Tape deck? In a car? You mean 8-Track?”
Sam ignored him. He couldn’t be distracted. Not now. “I’m on the ground. Everything’s different. It’s all...changed.” His breaths quickened their pace. He would start panicking soon. He knew that. He had to hold it together for a little longer. He had to confront this. “Did you not see the signs?”
“What?”
“Did you not see the signs? He asked me. Do you remember what happened, sir?”
“Who?”
“I don’t know.” Sam squeezed his eyes tighter trying to remember a face but there was no face that he could see. Only a uniform. “An officer. A bobby.”
“What else did he say?”
“I-I don’t know. N-nothing. I ran. I ran away. The car. The car, it hit something. Something was hit with the car. I have to find out. I-I have to know what it was. It was a dog. Please just let it be a dog.”
“Sam?”
He could see it now. This was when the world became clearer. It was here when everything began to make sense, even if it didn’t make any sense at all. “I ran. I’m running. Dirt. Ruins. That’s all there is. This way. The car would’ve come this way.”
“Sam. Take a breath. Calm down.”
“Over the edge. If I just get over the edge, I’ll see. Shit.”
“What?”
He could feel it again, all of it, all over again. His stomach twisting. The feeling of weightlessness followed by the hit of the hard ground. “I fell. I tripped. I fell. I fell down. Rolled down the other side. Into...into...”
“Into what? Sam? C’mon Sam. Stay with it. Stay with me. You’re almost there.”
He opened his mouth and wondered why there was a sob instead of words.
“Into what, Sam?”
“Into her. Oh God. It was her. I hit her and she’s dead. She died because of me. It’s my fault. If it weren’t for me she’d still be alive. If I hadn’t been so blind...” All he can see is her. Her body. Bloody. Mangled. All his fault. He let her down and she died.
“Oi, Sam. Sammy. Open your eyes. Look at me. C’mon lad.” Someone had him by the shoulders. Gene had him by the shoulders. He slowly lifted his eyelids, the dim light blinding bright. He wasn’t at the table anymore. He was crouched in the corner, over near the blood stain. Crouched, huddled, trembling, Gene kneeling in front of him, holding him steady, holding him upright.
“How did you end up with Warren? Sam? Fill in the gaps for me.”
He couldn’t stop crying. He couldn’t help it. Some part of him knew it was embarrassing but he couldn’t help it. He couldn’t ‘stop.
“You’re almost there. You’re almost done,” Gene encouraged. “What happened next?”
Sam filled his chest with as much air as he could muster, gulping it down and letting it out slowly. Once, twice, three times, and he could speak again. “Edwards,” he whispered.
“Charlie Edwards?”
“He was there. He saw me. With the body. Asked what I was doing. I couldn’t answer. I didn’t know. I said I was sorry. I told him I was sorry. He grabbed me. Threw me in front of Warren. I had no idea...” He lowered his head, took a few more breaths. “I didn’t know where I was. Who I was. Only that I’d killed this girl. He said it was one of his girls.”
“What?”
“His daughter. He said it was his daughter. I was scared. I was...terrified. But he looked at me and he spoke so calmly, so kindly, and he said it could be our secret. That if I worked for him he wouldn’t tell anyone and I’d be safe and I was so damn confused and I just, I...”
“You didn’t have a choice,” Gene whispered. “Sam. Sam look at me.”
Broken on the dirty floor, Sam did what he was told.
“Warren doesn’t have a daughter. Never did.”
“But he said...”
“He lied, Sam. He saw you, confused and desperate and he saw what he always saw. An opportunity.”
Sam had to look away again. It was so obvious, so deadly obvious now, but then, then it had all made sense then, too.
“Did you know her name, Sam? Did he ever mention it or did one of the other girls ever say anything?”
“If she wasn’t his daughter, what makes you think she had anything to do with him?” Somewhere along the way he had stopped crying but his eyes still felt swollen.
“Because you said Edwards was there and my gut tells me summit’s still off here. The Gene Genie always trusts his gut. Now try and do a little more thinking. Did he ever mention a name? Did anyone ever mention a name?”
Sam wasn’t sure he was up to anymore thinking but he hadn’t any strength left to disobey. He ran through memories, conversations. Warren never said anything but...
“Joni.”
“What about her?”
“I told you she was supposed to be your honey trap, remember?”
“Yeah,” he saw Gene stiffen and instantly regretted reminding him.
“When we were talking about it, when she told me how Warren had threatened her, she said he told her if she didn’t do it, she’d end up like Yvonne.”
“Yvonne?”
“Yeah. Pretty sure.”
It was Gene’s turn to look distant. “Wait here.” The DCI stood up and hustled out of the room, shouting “Chris” as he opened the door. He returned less than a minute later with a folder in his hand.
“Sam, is this the girl?” He took a photo from the folder and placed it in Sam’s eyesight before he could protest. The dead eyes. The mangled body. He saw them in the photo then saw the memories in his mind. He couldn’t speak but nodded in confirmation, fresh tears beginning their descent down his already damp cheeks.
“Her name was Yvonne Bettis.” Gene took the photo away, hiding it back in the folder. “Sam, she died of a drug overdose.”
He couldn’t have heard Gene properly. Not with his heart suddenly stopping the way it did. “What? No. That’s impossible. I hit her. Those bruises. Those--”
“We thought it was a hit and run, when they first brought ‘er in but then the coroner did the exam. Those injuries were mostly all post-mortem. From being dumped near a construction site for the new bypass.”
How was that possible? He knew something was hit with a car and he knew a woman had been injured. No. He hit her. This was the only explanation. Gene had to see that. He had to make Gene see that. “But--”
“Pathologist’s report confirmed it. Tyler, you did not kill this girl.”
No. If he was wrong he needed a firm explanation as to how. “Then what happened to her?”
Gene ran a hand through his hair. “We’re still trying to figure that one out.”
“Then what happened to me?” Sam asked to himself but Gene still answered.
“Other than being manipulated by a cunning bastard? I don’t know. Think we better find that plod, don’t you?” Gene held out his hand. Sam took it and was helped onto unsteady feet, falling immediately into Gene as his suddenly light head drifted away from him.
“Do you think I could eat something first?”
“Fine. Let’s go see what Gwen can scrape together for your bony arse, okay?” Gene helped him walk to the door as he slowly caught his bearings. Nothing made any sense at all.
“So, I’m not a murderer?”
“Not hers.”
He knew Gene expected him to be pleased but he wasn’t. Not yet. He still couldn’t believe Gene’s truth over Warren’s. Hopefully he’d be able to, over time. If he had any time left.
“C’mon.” He realized he’d stopped moving as Gene pushed him forward. “Let’s get some food in yeh ‘fore you disappear completely.”
________
Part 16