(no subject)

[shiroakuma]

Between Two Worlds


Sam Tyler had always been aware of the power of the words since his childhood. Words were like gems, he had thought. The fewer they were, the more precious they became. Conversing with his dad, the memories of such rare moments were treasured, each sentence more important than the last. In the absence of his father, words became his shield for his mother against the cruelty of gossip; during his job as a DI, he had talked cornered robbers out of continuing their futile heist and made them see sense. Sometimes though the lack of or the excess of words got him into more trouble than they were worth. There was this one time, when he had been slapped by an ex when he had voiced his complaints over her paltering at work or that other time when he almost got a subordinate shot because of the panic washing over and words leaving him.

As a DCI he knew that, those words would be used against him from time to time. Reporters would jab him with cruel, unwavering statements, superiors would criticise his efficiency and colleagues would  gossip about him. He was prepared for whatever they threw at his direction, yet he never guessed, hadn't even seen it coming from miles away. Worst part, as he kept on reminding himself was that it was his fault, that he deserved the consequences.

“Outrageous!” yelled the Superintended, his voice high and loud, echoing through the CID corridors “DCI Tyler, I’ve expected more from you. I’ve entrusted you this rank as a vigilant and capable police officer. Is this how you repay your government; By degrading your rank and our reputation?”

“Sir, I assure you what’s written on that newspaper not true.” Sam pleaded “It is nothing more than a desperate criminal trying to cover her tracts with petty lies and misdirect people from her crimes.”

“Tell me, what is this then; how my DCI and an ex police officer got involved in a money laundering case? Manchester DCI accused of bribing a witness; shocking exclusive reveals the ugly truth behind the Morrison case!” his boss spitted out as he slammed the newspaper on his desk. Sam held back an exhausted sigh.

“Slandering, sir. They are trying to smear our name so that she can use people’s sympathies on her own accord. Give me a few more days, sir and I will crack this case proving her quilt.”

“Oh, will you now?” the larger man hissed “You certain it’s not you taking revenge on her for leaving you two years ago as the kind reporter has stated here?”

“Sir! You should know better than to believe their words” Sam blurted as a sudden rage swept through him. After all of his years in CID, he was not going to tolerate being treated like a corrupted copper. “I have never done anything like this in my career and I have no intention to do so in the future.”

“It is not I you should be convincing, Tyler. It’s the public and your history with our prime witness turned suspect that's deciding your future without you. With your negligence in reporting this is what these vultures are interested in exploiting. What on earth were you thinking? It doesn’t matter now, though. You are off the case.”

“Sir!”

“Do not argue! Be grateful I am not sending you on a leave. Now go sort out your documents or whatever you do in your free time and remain in the building. Also, send in Carlisle; he will be taking over.”

“Yes, sir” answered Sam. Discouraged, he made his way out into the corridor. One part of him accepted this to be the efficient way of dealing with the issue he could not have foreseen; a punishment for his failure as a police officer. On the other hand his other side was screaming at Sam to do something about it. Not just sit back and let others solve his problems but take action. Though he was certain that would piss off his boss even more and in case of another failure, his already deeply wounded career could reach its end in a heartbeat. He shivered with a combination of anger and fear. He needed something to calm his nerves. He needed tea.

Avoding the heated gazes of his team to the best of his abilities, he made his way to the kitchenette. With kettle switched on, with more water than actually required for his mug, Sam leaned on the counter. Fingers gripping the corners, he tried to relax. Just what the hell was going on? How the hell had he done such a reckless mistake? In whose name had he believed her story only to be made a scapegoat later on? He cursed himself inwardly and his inability to sort this out.

“Hey” The hesitant voice got him out of his self-anguishing reverie and a hand on his shoulder made him look up. His DI, Peter was observing with guarded, unreadable eyes. He knew what came next... “Blimey, are you boiling water for half a dozen people, or something? That's gonna take ages. Move aside.”

Dumbstruck, Sam retreated away until his back hit the wall by the door. He silently watched as Peter poured the excess water from the kettle, grabbed two mugs and prepared their tea. It wasn't until the hot cup was placed between his hands, warming him inside out that he noticed a smile had been growing on his face. He slumped down on a nearby chair after thanking Peter. The unusual stillness of his DI was most surprising but very much welcomed.

It was Sam at the end who decided to break the silence. Using his words to explain himself rather than letting the gossip to pollute Peter's thoughts, Sam wanted to be believed. More so by Peter than anyone else. So he started from the beginning.

//

He spoke of his first encounter with his ex, through a common colleague where they happened to be in the same birthday party, in one of those rare moments Sam had decided to take some time off. With a little bit of push from her side, they had started dating, soon to be followed by a vicious break up. She could never handle an honest criticism, Sam explained, and dating a superior officer had done nothing but fuel her cynical attitude. That coupled with working in a profession she hadn't chosen had led to their ending. Almost as if taking her anger out of Sam, she had left both him and her work over the night.

Then came the day, they met again. Sam pondered on how to put it in words without sounding like a pounce. After all she had come to him for help and he had insisted on following the procedure which would later lead to a serious series of events, concluding in him being accused of slandering. He should have known; he should have seen that she was a crooked copper who took bribes. But how could he; she had a perfectly clean resume and no suggestion to throw the mud on her. After confessing she had told him that she had made a mistake and was on the run from it all, having had enough, she had tried to disappear into the shadows. Sam believed her sincerity only to be fooled into a trap laid by her. Now he had no evidence but his word against an ex copper's.

Upon finishing his side of the story, Peter hummed in a nonchalant manner. Sam hadn't noticed the way his DI's hands squeezed around his own cup but it was inevitable to miss it when the same fingers gently caressed his neck, just below the end of the hairline; providing a short lived support. He leaned into the touch, absorbing the warmth emitted from it as best as he can. Sam wasn't completely oblivious to those around him. For a while now, he knew of Peter's tendency to look after him in more ways than being a copper required them to do so. He had never thought of himself that way but the more he received from Peter, the more he wanted; a dangerous direction to take especially considering the problem he got himself in. He knew better though. As hard as it was, Sam kept his yearning in check. Peter, not so much. They sort of met in the mid-way. But not now. Now Peter had taken an initiative, Sam himself was dearly afraid of. He was scared and grateful at the same time. He wondered what could possibly follow this.

“It's going to be alright” was the only verbal response Sam got from Peter as the DI drew himself away in a split second and got out of the kitchenette in the next one. The DCI was left with questions that he didn't even know existed and a cold tea to wash away his rising anxiety.

It turns out much later in the next day that the reason for Peter's dramatic exit was for Sam's sake. To his surprise, Sam was not surprised to learn this. The power of the words, he thought, few simple words Peter had used to calm him down and probably prove his innocence. Peter had managed to convince a witness to come forward. How, Sam had not yet dared to ask but the witness had given them that missing proof linking the lying wench to the actual crime. She would be serving time both because of bribes she accepted back when she was an officer and for the Morrison case as well as slandering a police officer. Sam tried not to smile too much.

“It seems I owe you one” Sam exclaimed as he leaned on the rails. They had gone up to the rooftop for fresh air together with Peter who was busy sucking on a blue lollipop. Sam wondered just what flavour it could have to have such a bright colour. Then again, Peter always seems to find the strangest sweets when he had a job well done; A means of celebration, perhaps.

“Oh, that so?” he answered cheekily “I was just doing my job really.”

“Even so, you believe in me enough to continue working even when the others hadn’t done so.”

“Instinct; that and I knew you couldn’t have done it. It’s just not you.”

“You are right, it’s not me. It could never be me. To think, I could have lost my job and credibility in the eyes of everyone I ever cared for. All lost because I couldn’t see her true face; To think that she had been lying through her teeth even back then. Some copper I am.” Sam gritted out, his residual anger seeping out.

“Come now, we all have our bad days. You must have really loved her and blocked out any of her suspiciousness.”

“I shouldn’t have”

“It’s not a matter of should or could.” Peter tried to explain “You trusted her in all your honesty and she chose to betray you and to the force. Don’t blame yourself for this, not when she is the guilty one. It may not seem like it but don’t lose your hope for love either. There are people who believe in love as well as in you.”

“I know” Sam dropped his chin on to his arms over the railing, gazing at the concrete all the way down. Sam wanted to fly at that moment, jump over the metal bars holding him, into the darkness of the night. Even if he had wings, he could never flap them, the fear of falling too great but he was also certain that Peter would be there to grab him as the one who stood strong by his side, an unmoveable object grounding him to reality. Even if he couldn’t fly, Sam knew at least he wouldn’t fall either.

“It means a lot to me, you know; to know that I have someone I can trust. Thank you.” He whispered, somehow hoping for him to be one of those believers he had mentioned. Nah, he really hadn’t lost hope.

“Well, if you really insist then I am inclined to accept your offer. Dinner?” The fire in the pit of his stomach changed its nature to a more fluttering feeling, kindling a new, stronger and gentler flame. There it was, the cause of that fire; the comforting aura radiating from the slim body, accompanied with a sly smile. Above the dim city lights and under the bright stars, it was the most captivating sight.

Sam let out a tired breath, stubbornly resisting the pull of that sight but smiling nevertheless “I don't remember offering but... yes, if you'd like.” He was amazed to see the grin on Peter’s face to grow even wider as his hand, on its own accord, reached out to straighten the soft brown locks which had been dangling about with the soft breeze. Sam couldn't recall what it was that he was afraid of anymore.

“Yeah, I would like that” Peter whispered, moving forward ever so slowly. Giving me a chance to slip away, are you? realized Sam but didn't took it. More so he pushed himself up the railings and towards the origin of the kindling. His one hand was left on the metal bar soon to be intertwined with Peter's and he placed the other one on Peter’s cheek pulling down. They met in the mid way. Peter's soft lips upon his, tasting of the blue candy.
A rare, celebratory taste indeed.

//

It wasn’t too late. It was never too late. Not now, not ever.

Time always had a habit of passing Peter by. When he was in the middle of a case, time slowed down. He had enough hours in a day to examine the crime scene, gather the reports, interview the witness and sometimes make an arrest, if they were lucky enough. It didn’t happen often but he found those rare days to be blessed where all went according to plan.

Then there were hours which flew by so fast that he couldn’t catch them no matter what. It was mostly those times that he wished to remember, to hold close by his heart but as it was, those memories were always the blurry ones. The week he spent by Sam’s side was one example. He recalled every story he told Sam, every one sided conversation and every sweet he ate but he couldn’t remember Sam’s voice, or his warmth, or his smile. Maybe he didn’t want to. Maybe he couldn’t because it hurt too much. Because he could never hear it, feel it, see it again. Because they are going to unplug his life support any minute now.

Desperation; there wasn’t any other time he felt such much desperation before. Not like this, a blazing dagger plunged through his heart and behind his back. He swallowed even though his throat had gone dry because of running. He pushed his limits though. He had to become an unstoppable force once again and make Sam’s heart beat again. If no one else could then he would.

Seventeen past two, the digital watch showed and Peter cursed louder than he thought possible inside the hospital. Legs over working he rushed down the hall called Hyde and found his room with the ease of having walked it many times in the last year. He skitted to a halt across the doors and swung them open, objections ready on his mouth. Yet there was no one to hear him out. The cruel white was as hopeless as ever, alone and devoid of life in every sense of the word.

Time was his enemy now, Peter was certain as he fall down on to his knees with half of a sob on his lips. He had been tricked and he had lost against the time. They had already done it. Seventeen minutes ago right in this room, they had unplugged Sam’s life support and now he was left alone with a ticking white clock on the wall counting away his lost seconds.

A nurse found him in the same state and to his surprise she was more shocked to come across someone in the room. As she was startled with his wreck of a presence on the floor, she let out a short scream. Peter didn’t face her. Afraid of finally having a confirmation of the final curtain in Sam’s life, he opted to gather what remained of his dignity and pushed himself up. His legs protested but his focus was solely on avoiding the woman in front of him. Before he managed to escape, she stopped him with that creepy gentleness most nurses seem to possess.
“Whatever are you looking for here, love?” she asked.

“Doesn’t matter” was the curt answer she received.

“Sam Tyler, perhaps?” Wasn’t she a persistent one? Peter thought bitterly. He gave a small nod.

“He isn’t here anymore” she started.

“Yes, I’ve noticed” he butted in impatiently.

“Don’t be rude. You coppers are all the same, I swear. Is any of you capable of uttering one nice word, I wonder?”

“Oh, shut it, will you?”

“I remember you” she continued despite his attempts to retreat back and out of the room. “You stayed with him for a good while, hadn’t you? I figured you must be a good lad, sticking by his side but guess that was just temporary, eh?”

“For heavens sake, woman! Read the situation, do I look like I can handle small chatter, when he is... he is gone” The knot returned to its place on his throat rendering him speechless as the gravity of his statement settled in. His eyes scanned the bed and switched off apparatus on the sides and the empty chair.

“Gone?” repeated the nurse “Oh, oh! No, no! You see, his life support was due to be switched off today. The mother and the doctor’s had agreed and all but the lady changed her mind at the last minute. It was all a bit dramatic really. She said she saw him smile or what not. She insisted we left it alone. So the good doctor did and had him transferred to the room 2612. Smaller, compared to this one but just as efficient I assure you.”

“He is ok, then? Alive?”

“Yes, of course he is still in a coma but- oi, wait till people finish talking!” Peter had already begun running. Following the number plated by the wooden doors, he enthusiastically skipped across the corridors and finally found Sam in his newly appointed room.

Just like that first time he saw Sam beneath the sheets with Mrs. Tyler by his bedside, Peter felt a pang in his chest; not a happy or relived one but for the time being it’s all going to be ok sort of a pang. He smiled at the old lady and dived in to give her a tight hug, mumbling thank you’s. Even if felt her trembling he didn’t mention it.
“Is this alright?” she asked after the dark had fallen “Shouldn’t you be at work? Sam is ok and I promise I won’t give up on him again but I am worried about you, Peter. Your boss was not happy the last time you came here on your own account.”

“I am a full-fledged detective inspector, ma’am. I am entitled to stretch my working hours in special cases.” It sounded fine, when he put it that way but in truth his stretch had already turned into a rubbery residue. His DCI would hang him by the balls this time, for certain.

“I am the mother of a full-fledged detective chief inspector, boy, I know a troubled brow when I see one. Return home and come back on your free time, otherwise you might just end up with one too many free days.”

“As perceptive as the son, you would have made a fine detective yourself.” The flattery didn’t earn him extra points and soon he was on his way back to Bristol. The phone call he received from his superior hadn’t helped as he kept on yelling at him over the phone with a promise of making him regret the day he had became a police officer. He knew well enough though that there wasn’t a force strong enough to prevent Peter from eloping Bristol in such emergency. Everyone was aware of the chains he kept on breaking just for Sam’s sake before and after the incident. No duty or promise was kept when Sam was on the line waiting for him, needing him. That day hadn’t been so different but it would have consequences. Ones Peter was willing to take on. Especially after confirming that he would always find a way back to Sam’s side and even if time were to act against him, love wouldn’t, may it be his or a mother’s love.

Sam was familiar with this scenery; the white walls and the hollow sound of the heart monitor’s beeping. His body, his subconscious remembered every inch of this cursed room but his mind was still full of that unknown place they had left him in the emptiness was bigger in his heart though. His hands reached for his gun but grabbed thin air. His eyes searched for his teammates but found none. Turmoil stirred within his chest instead. The last fading image of Morgan, both in this and the other world dissipated the as darkness and numbness claimed him.
His mother was there when he first felt a tingling in his toes. She helped him up, walked him around and put him back to bed like a six year old that had broken his leg. He accepted her help without questioning it.

No words, no verbal exchange was needed, with Maya when she came to visit him at home, his mother’s home actually since she had insisted him to stay with her, in their home for a few more days. Maya spoke little and Sam understood her as the files, reports and summaries of work were assembled on the coffee table in an orderly fashion alongside a tea gone cold and with unspoken feelings afloat in the air. She left but not without dropping her transfer papers atop of the document pile. Sam never read those. The pile was moved back and forth between the coffee table and the study desk a few times yet they remained untouched, ever still.

Traumatic stress in accordance with being cut off from the real world has caused his vivid dreams to take place, or so his psychiatrist had said. They were not real, she had insisted. The places he had been, the people he had met and the cases they had solved were nothing more than an elaborate imagination playing tricks on his concept of reality. Sam would have lined up a few good swear words he had come to learn from Gene but his self-restraint was securely in place. My chains are back, he figured, the chains I put on myself. He had no choice though, did he? Four weeks, bloody four maiming weeks were spent with various forms of therapy. Therapy for his mind, his soul, his body, his family which he had to be the one to conduct and for his work efficiency so that they would make sure he had not gone bonkers or completely lost it what with the crazy talk of unreal people and time travel. Even if the words were not wasted on this subject he knew he was lost to them in this world.

In the upcoming days he would put his hands over his mouth to not retort back, over his eyes to avoid the pitying looks and over his ears to stop the never ending talk behind his back. Most of the time it didn’t do any help, other than prove them right about his difficulties of coping up with his surroundings. Yes, he been out cold for a year, mind trapped in a fantasy world too grand for him to comprehend at the best of times; every moment of that year was spent searching for the sounds of the living and trying to break free. Yeah, do give him the benefit of doubt when he didn’t believe you because, guess what! Sam preferred it if they, the ones in that unreal world had been real instead of them; A thought that just sometimes scared him and in other times soothed him.

The first and possibly only proper help was offered by none other than Alex Drake, now DI herself. Sam couldn’t decide whether to smile and congratulate her on her promotion or hold and just cry on her shoulder. Over the phone her voice had sounded like an angel reaching out from heavens but Sam knew better that to trust those so called pure and just voices. Look what had happened with Morgan; his teammates were let to a trap of his own making, probably dead or dying. No, weren’t they just a figment of his own subconscious? Hadn’t Morgan done just what Sam had asked and bring him back home?

He was alive damn it! Alive and breathing and oh so broken inside. Not even broken, empty really. Nelson had said that Sam was only alive if he felt like it. So what was he then? Empty and sad with one foot already in grave, only a single thread left to bind him to this world.

They met up in a crowded cafe by the CID, he and Alex. Sam liked the people of his own century, he had missed them and their background noise along with clicking of phones, that bad pop music playing on the round and even the mindless chatter maybe not so different from the ones in 60’s. They reminded him of the technology age he was meant to be living in.

“How are you holding up?” Alex asked though she could see clearly the answer that was ‘not holding up at all’. Sam smiled as he had done so many times before and gave the same answer once again.

“I am alright. Everything is as it should be.”

“Says the man, who can’t keep his eyes off of his work place. The world, the CID you had mentioned on the phone, are you willing it back or something?”

“It’s not working much, is it?” Sam clicked his tongue not expecting a respond and sipped his coffee. It tasted like mud, everything tasted like mud these days so he wasn’t surprised anymore. He took a deep breath “How is he?”

Alex of course knew who was referring to but opted to play dumb “Who?”

“Pete” Sam said silently, name half muttered behind the mug.

“Last I heard he was on duty. Shipped off to some place, God knows where. If my friend in Bristol is to be trusted, he has been working deep undercover for a while now.”

“He is hardly the subtle type. What were they thinking?”

“Well, his DCI must have been very keen to keep him away from you.” Sam did a double take at that. He had not expected this to be a reason. Peter was known for his insubordination as much as his efficiency during a case. If he were sent undercover for a punishment it would be because of the troubles he caused on his own. “Oh, don’t give me the puppy eyes. He told me about how you guys broke up, he ending up on the bitter end of the kingdom.”

“My fault really and he chose to pay it so that I wouldn’t have to waste my chance as a DCI.” Sam admitted with a heavy heart.

“Funny, he had said almost the same thing, that he broke up with you keep your appearance and he was the one to blame to begin with. He never gave me any detail but I can tell that you two never saw eye to eye with the publicity of your relationship, did you?”

“A fine way to put it out. No, we really didn’t. He wanted the world to know and envy us but I was adamant on keeping it between the two of us. How stupid of me, to believe what others think about us mattered. It doesn’t. It never really did.”

“You could always reach a compromise, you know; Somewhere between screaming it to the world and guarding it as a Vatican secret.” Alex suggested.

“There is nothing left to share with the rest of the world, I am afraid.” Alex joined in the sighing as Sam left a tired breath out.

“You two will have lots to discuss once he returns” she said as an afterthought and Sam responded with a half hearted ‘hmm’. “I am confused over one thing though. It is obvious you still care about him. So why date Maya?”

“If you are implying that I hadn’t been fair to her or something then yes, I have not been the best person lately.”

“No, I didn’t mean it that way. I am genuinely curious.”

“After Peter’s transfer Maya was all I have left in the CID. She helped me a great deal, getting back on my feet and actually keeping me there. I do love her you know. I did, at the very least in my own way. I can’t blame her if it wasn’t the love she had hoped for but it was all I could offer.”

“I understand. She was an anchor to your sanity.”

“Thanks for putting it so mildly.” Sam pouted a bit but didn’t have much time to answer the bombardment of questions Alex had issued for him. They were all about the world he had been in, another time yet same place. She was curious in his world, how it operated, who was in it and how he had felt about being there. She wanted to learn every detail and immerse herself in it all. She was also keen on keeping his thoughts away from Peter as the direction never took that turn towards him.

There wasn’t enough time to explain everything though it had felt so good to converse about it. It had been uplifting as he poured out all that was left of that world within him. He noticed how much he missed it all.
As his phone ringed and Sam was called back he made a promise to Alex about recording the details of his prolonged stay in the 70’s. It would be like confessing his sins to an unknown, invisible priest but however uncomfortable it made him, it would be a promise he would certainly to keep.

“Do you think,” He started with a hesitant voice like that of a child’s, before leaving “Pete would accept my apology and agree to a...?”

“To restart your relation?” Alex completed his question for him “Sam, he loves you. The only reason he is not running towards your arms is because he doesn’t know you are awake. Just ask your mother, she had been there every waking hour to witness him caring for you back in the hospital as long as he could. Trust me, he wouldn’t just agree with you but he would be the one making the suggestion, no demanding you got back together.”

“I was truly a fool to let him go, wasn’t I?”

“Yeah, you both were.”

He believed her words. Sam had found that his weakened thread with Peter to grow stronger after his chat with Alex. Yet days and nights passed without a single word from him. Finally one day, after many attempts to learn anything about Pete and hitting yet another wall, he snapped. The phone call he made to Bristol had left the other DCI speechless enough to drop the phone but it was not effective enough to sniff any information out of him. As the weeks stretched into months, the numbness in his heart grew and before he had realized it Sam had given up, once again. This time it was going to be the last time he had ever done so.

The painless cut on his fingertip dripped down leaving a perfectly circular droplet on the rooftop. Sam held his gaze up at the cloudless sky and all that lied behind it. He re-imagined the same sky in that day he had left his teammate to their fate amongst the armed robbers. He imagined their bloodied bodies and broken bones lying on the ground, just between the railways, twitching as their last breath gave out.

His fingers scraped the cut, smearing the blood across his palm. Nelson, he thought, you are alive if you feel it were his words. He didn’t feel it anymore so was he already dead? No, he wasn’t. He was just not able to die yet, or live for that matter. It wasn’t an issue for him honestly. Whichever was the real world and the other was the lie. It wasn’t a matter of reality anymore but one of a choice. And his choice was clear now. It had always been perhaps but it was just about now that he gathered the strength to act on it.

He had waited, with all his heart he had waited for a sign for a shred of information about Peter. In the other world he had the beating heart monitors and the doctor’s voices keeping him informed. The imprints of the other world seeping through would have made anyone lose their sanity but it had been the reverse for Sam, they were what had helped him keep his sanity back there. Peter’s own voice had been reaching out to him, showering him with hope and a resolve to go back home. Even for a short amount of time his words had managed to guide him just as his mother’s had. He missed hearing them and their comfort. Here there was nothing but the void of voices like the one growing in his chest. As the hole grew bigger and stronger, it engulfed his resolve to remain strong. After many attempts to keep it at bay, now he had attained the conclusion, the finality to take the last step in his choice.

An option involving feeling and hoping; living at its fullest with all the colours and none of the greyness.
A final decision of never ending running and running, without stopping, moving at full speed up towards the sky, beyond the concrete buildings and dullness; Jumping back into a world of his choice and his choice only, fulfilled and smiling all the way down the path until he reached it.

//

Two days later, a man sat on his knees, hands grasping the white sheets just above his head, eyes puffy with crying and throat dry because of holding back wailing. Peter leaned his flushed forehead on the cold metal of the table in the morgue. Beneath his fingers was the even colder body of Sam Tyler, former DCI, deceased. He opened his eyes a long time after collapsing before the broken body of his once partner. He dried the remaining tears with the back of his hand and rose up still holding the bed.

The sheet on top of Sam was pulled up all the way, hiding away the nasty results of a ten floor fall and impact, merciless and bloody. Only his hand, attached to the bruised arm was above the sheets; A hand Peter had been clutching. He sighed, unable to find the energy to lift the sheets beyond that. He didn’t want to look at what Sam had become; he didn’t want to confirm the end. Running away has been much easier when things didn’t go his way but this time the path to escape was met with a solid wall, its sides bending and reshaping itself into a lightless cage. Essentially trapped, Peter lost his sight and his breathing slowed down.

Heart beats recovering, he managed to glimpse back at Ms. Tyler who had been averting her eyes. Poor woman, he thought, having to go through this all over again, this time with no chance of recovering from it. An ending she could never have foreseen and a cruel one at that. He caressed the cold hand and giving it a final squeeze he turned back, his eyes focused on the elderly woman.

He didn’t understand, he always considered himself a witty detective with distinguished profiling abilities yet here he was, beside the body of one person he desired to understand the most but could never figure out. And now, he never would. His chest clenched, hands sweaty he couldn’t help but look back at Sam, silent and cold as the death itself.

His brain let him down as he struggled and failed to come up with a single explanation. It was a truth in the form of a letdown which destroyed his logic and got his mind confused, his heart broken.

A shattered breath later, Peter recomposed his stance and tore his eyes away from the body. To him it felt like after a year of trying Sam had finally lost his battle, that his heart gave out or an equally depressive medical illness had claimed him. If Peter accepted the truth as such then the pain eased a bit since he could blame the God for this ill-fated accident but otherwise he was left with questions and heartaches he could not justify. He had no one else but Sam to blame for his death. Peter hated himself for it. He knew he could never blame the deceased for the crime, he had never done so before and he had no intention of doing so now. Not with Sam.

Later on Mrs. Tyler was nowhere to be seen so Peter nodded at the coroner who had been standing just outside the glass, kindly staring at some random papers away from the scene. The old man nodded back at him, slowly coming towards them. Peter didn’t stop again and made his way out of the morgue.

“Stop it. You are tearing down yourself and everything you have worked for” argued Alex as she emerged from behind him, in the park. It had been a couple of days since his arrival but the days were not getting brighter any faster than the speed of his nights darkening.

“How did you-” Peter started to complain but was cut short.

“I know you have given your resignation to the CID and sold your apartment in Bristol. You have been cutting everyone off. It’s not like you”

“Excuse me while I gloom. Don’t I even get to do that?” It had been easy really; picking up the phone, yelling and cursing at the man on the other side and slamming the phone down once he was done without leaving a room for argument. It was unclear whether he had gotten around resigning before he was kicked out of the force by his DCI but he was beyond caring. He had been like that for a while and being sent off had not helped fix his and his DCI’s relation. It really didn’t matter to him. Not anymore.

“I have ears and a common sense. Peter you are on a singular path to self destruction. You have to let someone help you. Please-”

“Alex,” Peter cut her mid sentence “Enough. It is my life not yours and I am not gonna let myself spent another pointless minute by that bastard’s side. It was his fault that I never got to see Sam, that I couldn’t save him. If I had known, if I had returned on time then he wouldn’t end up...”

“It wasn’t your fault” It was no one’s fault, not even Sam’s.” Peter made a face and ignored the woman as best as he could while observing the darkening sky until she produced a recorder out of her bag. “Listen, this is what he left behind, before he... you know. I think it has all the answers you are seeking. I can tell because I was looking for them too. I have to return to the capital soon but I made you a copy. Please, listen to this and judge for yourself but I am fairly certain that you will reach the same conclusion I had.”

“What’s in it?” Peter asked curious.

“Events from the last year of Sam’s life and what went down according to his mind.”

“What?” the young man had to ask as he inspected the recorder closely, as if it was hard to believe such a small thing could hold all of the answers.

“Just listen” Alex urged him “you will see that it wasn’t anyone’s fault, let alone yours”

A complete, finely detailed world was laid down before him with every word spilled from Sam’s mouth through the recorder. Once Peter subsided his tears upon hearing Sam’s voice when he pressed the play button and recovered from the initial shock, Peter was left baffled to listen to such a fine story. It was a story to him perhaps but from the convinced tone, it was none other than the truth for Sam. A truth Peter found hard to believe at first. Then he replayed the whole thing, listening again, paying closer attention to details, gluing his ears to the speakers and repeating the action until he was convinced that the story was as real as Sam’s memories of it had been.

Peter swallowed and his dry throat protested. Who the hell was Gene Hunt, or this Raymond character? Annie and Chris and Phyllis and Nelson? Who in earth’s name were these personalities created by his mind? Was it the tumour which caused these people to show up in his dreams, to stop him from distinguishing between reality and hallucinations even after waking up? And that seventies set up... perhaps it was all triggered by his father’s untimely disappearance and Sam’s own conscious trying to bring the truth to light, to reach enlightenment before the final judgement, before Sam had taken his last breath.

Confused and angry, he was even more stupefied than he had first heard of his death. What was Alex’s point exactly; that Sam had lost his mind and no one could help him? Or perhaps she taught once Peter heard such a thing from Sam’s own voice, he would stop blaming himself over a death he never had a chance of stopping.
Peter got up and circled the room, his hands finding a golden pendant of St. Such and such in his pocket. A parting memoriam from Ms. Tyler, the pendant was the one Sam had been wearing for as long as he could remember. Peter knew of it, he was familiar with its cold texture from when he had traced it while the pendant was still hanging from its owner’s neck. He had been planning to ask her about it but as always she had been faster and handed him the pendant before he could even raise the question. His fingers ran smoothly across the back of the pendant and Peter relaxed his shoulders. It wasn’t enough to take away the tension though. He believed it would never be enough ever again yet he still put it to lips almost feeling Sam’s skin beneath them. Almost.

A sob escaped his mouth and in a manner of seconds he was reduced to a blabbering mess. He didn’t have the strength to keep this up, to accept Sam’s final decision. He had been working hard and long to return back for the last half year, this should not have been what greeted him. He would not accept anything but the smiling face of DCI Sam Tyler.

This was not going to be their end.

A life beyond grave, if that’s what Sam had chosen than who he was to argue. What other option was left to consider? None, in Peter’s opinion so he would have to act accordingly.

His fingers squeezed the cold pendant now hanging around his neck. Peter breathed in the cold and harsh wind blowing mercilessly towards his face but paid no mind to it. His cheeks had already gone numb with it and his heart was nowhere near beating as fast as when he first climbed up to the roof. He had returned to the place it had all began. Not their first meeting place, which would have been the bathrooms, he laughed bitterly, but the rooftop where their true relationship had begun and came to an abrupt end; A very specific and iconic location for them, with the wind ever present to describe their past in hushed, broken tones. He cherished the former memories of joy and unity where he had burned all of the ones belonging to the latter one with the desperation and the stupidity. He picked and chose which ones to remember and which ones to forget.

He used to believe that if a person screamed loud or repeatedly enough, they would be heard by someone, anyone but looking down at the sleeping city, the darkness lying beneath the street lights, heads turned away and ears plugged, his beliefs perished just as Sam had on the very same spot he currently occupied. There was no one here to hear him. Not one person within this crowd of many. It didn’t matter whether you yelled your lungs out, because there wasn’t going be any reply back, not anymore. Not ever. Not for him. His voice was already lost and his heart had weakened. The strength he reserved for love and duty was drained only to appear with a new shape. A new, singular resolve solely focusing on reaching Sam.

It wasn’t important if there were people that could hear or see him because Sam wouldn’t be amongst them. He was long since gone back to that world and Peter didn’t have any intention of leaving him there alone again.
The metal bars under his fingers got colder by the second despite his harsh grip. His eyes watered and lips charred. A tremor passed through his spine and his knees buckled. It was not the time to lose heart, he knew that but his body betrayed him. He grabbed hold of the pendant again, seeking strength. All he got was a stronger urge to drop back down on to the rooftop a secure distance away from the edge. Was it Sam’s remaining wish engraved on the pendant to keep Peter safe? Even after selfishly leaving Peter behind, letting him go a second time, did he had no mercy for the ones left behind? Peter had to question, whether it was Sam or his own instinct keeping him from following down Sam’s path. He screamed; an ear splitting growl, more desperate and cruel than death itself. Leaning his head on the railings, he let out a second scream quieter but more shattered and pulled himself over the bars, back onto the roof.

“You, bastard! One time you decided to listen to your heart, one time you had the bloody courage to take a step towards a dream you yearned for and you had wouldn’t even let me join you. Unfair, Sam. You are so unfair. What must I do to get you back? Tell me something! Send me a bloody sign, please”

His fists connected with the hard floor with each word eventually halting with exhaustion “Bastard” he called him finally while his index finger traced the dark grey floor he had been hitting a second ago. “What do you want me to do?” He continued to aimlessly sit on the floor until his nail scraped a dried stain. He withdrew his hand hurriedly only to discover that stain to be of a blood droplet. A sick realization struck him. He didn’t have the time to wonder, he didn’t give himself any time to do so. Someone had to make a decision for them both and burden the consequences. Unlike Sam he was going to stand by his choice of action instead of constantly running away.

Peter got up, holding his hand up and rubbed his fingers as the clotted blood was smeared across them. He chuckled as he jumped over the railing once again and stood on top of the world, the dormant city clueless of what truly lied beyond. He turned his back to the scenery, looking only towards the point where Sam had stood, rest of the world be damned.  With his arms stretched as far as they could, finally he tore his gaze off of the remnants of a shadow haunting him and stared at the sky as long as he could before the dizziness took his tool on him and gravity put down a final dot on his story.