Wakey! Wakey! Part Four
The story so far. Sam wakes up in 2006 only to find that he's messed about with the time-space continuum. Thanks to his meddling, he's no longer a policeman, Gene is now his stepfather (and runs a detective agency), Vic's in Strangeways, Sam's uncle Ray is now his best mate, and Maya doesn't know him.
You can read Part One here , Part Two here , and Part Three here.
Big thanks to v23474 for being it's beta!
Warning:- This is my first ever total Sam angst fic, it's not very funny. I've really been a bit cruel to poor Sam in this one! I just hope it works.
Title: Wakey! Wakey! Part Four
Summary: Sam's new life in 2006 continues to cause him more angst! He has to deal with some tricky father issues!
Rating: PG - couple of mildish swear words.
Setting: After Episode Eight, a few spoilers.
Disclaimer: Life on Mars belongs to the BBC and Kudos.
“You going to be alright Sam?” asked Gene.
“I do this regularly, right?”
“Yeah - you come here to see your dad at least once a month.”
Sam positioned his arm against the side of Gene’s car, and rested his head in his hand. They were parked up outside Strangeways Prison, where Vic Tyler was still serving life for the crimes he’d committed back in the 70’s. For thirty years he’d been banged up, caught by CID when they employed some new policing techniques - policing techniques Sam had taught them.
The Sam in this alternate 2006 had known for most of his life what his father had done, he’d lived with the shame and moved on. This Sam however, was still finding it hard to come to terms with it all. He thought back to the last time he saw his Dad, that day in the woods, and up till now he’d avoided coming to see him. But once Vic found out that Sam was now awake, he’d been writing to him, pleading with him to visit. Sam knew he had no choice. He’d have to face him sometime, and that time was now.
“I don’t know what you’re so worried about,” said Gene. “I mean, you and him get on fine. It’s a shame you can’t remember yet. Still, he gets out in a few months. Oh, you probably don’t remember, but you’ve given your address as the place he’ll stay when he gets released.”
“I did what?” asked Sam. This new 2006 was getting worse by the day.
“Well, he can hardly stay with your Mum and me can he?”
That he couldn’t, thought Sam. The idea that he’d have to share his flat with the man who’d tried to kill him - in what for Sam was just a few months ago - wasn’t something he was ready to deal with yet. Besides, perhaps things would go well today.
Sam undid the handle of the passenger door.
“See you at about 4pm then.” He said turning to Gene, before exiting the car.
It had been a bit nippy that day, so Sam was wearing his new leather jacket, the one he’d bought because it look so much like the one he’d once owned in 1973. He found it comforting to wear, as it gave him some sort of an identity to cling to. He felt far more out of place here that he had done in 1973. He now found himself surrounded by familiar people in unfamiliar roles, and was unsure how he was meant to behave around them. He didn’t know how long he could keep stringing them along with the excuse that he’d lost his memory.
He was ushered through the prison, and after been searched he was lead into the visiting room. All around him were other people waiting to see their friends and family. Sam guessed though, that had he really been coming here for every month for the last thirty years, he’d be used to it by now. As it was, it was incredibly depressing - but then he mused, it was meant to be.
All the detainees expecting visitors were seated at tables. They all wore orange bibs, just like they were in some sort of bizarre girl’s netball team. Sam spotted Vic the moment he walked through the door. He was slumped down in his chair, had thinning grey hair, and looked somewhat older than a man of sixty two.
Sam made his way to Vic’s table, who still hadn’t noticed he’d arrived, for he kept his head down, staring at the table. He slid into the chair opposite and rested his arms on the table, not knowing what to say, whether he should initiate the conversation. Vic was now looking at Sam’s hands.
“So you’ve come at last,” he said. He voice was that of a broken man.
“Yes, I know I’ve left it too long, I’m really sorry,” replied Sam.
Vic moved his head up and he now look Sam square in the eyes.
“Don’t you think I’ve suffered enough?”
“But you get out soon, hey,” said Sam. He could sense something was not quite right with Vic, but as yet, he couldn’t put his finger on it.
“And then what? Who’s going to keep you away from me then? Isn’t it enough that you haunt my nightmares?”
Sam could see there was a mixture of fear and hate in his father’s eyes as he looked at him.
“Tell me,” said Vic, in a way that he almost spat the words out. “What have you done with my son, DI Tyler?”
Sam froze.
“W…what?” he stumbled. What else could he say? Vic recognised him, knew who he really was. All these weeks since he woke up he’d wanted someone to recognise him, and now Vic had. Why did it have to Vic, and not Annie?
“My son, he was meant to come and visit me today, and instead you show up.”
“But Dad, it’s me!”
Vic wasn’t listening.
“Tell me DI Tyler, after all the things I’ve done in my life, why do I feel more guilt over what I did to you?”
What could Sam say to that? Perhaps there was something deep in Vic’s genetic programming that that recognised a connection between Sam and him.
“I’ve done some nasty things in my time DI Tyler. I’ve killed men. Shot them dead without a second thought, yet the fact that I lead you on and tried to shoot you, haunts me everyday of my life. Why?”
Vic shifted slightly in his chair.
“I’ve had a lot of time to think about this. Thirty years. Thirty long years, I kept it inside, deep inside then you turn up.”
“Look Dad, it’s alright. Perhaps you just need to see a doctor or something. Someone you can talk to about this. I, I can help you if you like.”
“My son!” said Vic as if a revelation had just hit him.
“Yes, Dad, it’s me.”
“My son mustn’t know. He mustn’t know, you mustn’t tell him. Spare him that will you. I don’t know what you’ve done with him, but please don’t hurt him. He’s a good lad really, he’s all I’ve got.”
“Dad, please, listen to me.”
“Promise me,” said Vic, there was now a manic look in his eyes. “Promise me that will return my son to me. Let him go. Do this one thing for me, and you can haunt me for another thirty years!”
“I think it’s best I go now,” said Sam. His very presence was upsetting Vic far too much. He’d see into getting him some help or something, but for now he couldn’t bear to be here a moment longer for fear that his heart would burst.
He stood up, pushed back the chair and walked away from Vic. He didn’t look back, and if Vic said anything more, he blocked it out. He kept his tears in until he was out of the prison gates, and then there was no stopping them.
Half an hour later, Gene turned up to collect him. By then Sam had managed to pull himself together somewhat. He climbed into the passenger seat.
“You okay lad?” asked Gene.
“Just take me home Gene,” he said.
“No, I think we will go on a little drive first. You and I need a quiet little talk.”
Sam didn’t argue, but just sat in silence while Gene drove his car away from the prison. He found a suitable place to pull up, and turned the engine off.
“There’s something I’ve got to tell you Sam,” he said. “For years I’ve been meaning to have this talk with you, but it never seemed quite the right time.”
“Well go on then,” said Sam. Perhaps he put more attitude into his words than he meant, but the way he was feeling, he just wanted to go home and have a stiff drink.
“The thing is Sam, and your mother is going to kill me for talking to you about this, but I don’t think Vic Tyler is your father.”
Sam turned to look at him.
“What do you mean he’s not my father?”
“Your mother has always denied it, so I’ve never tried to prove it, but I think I know who your real father was.”
“Go on.”
Sam was listening now. He wanted to know where Gene was going with this.
“Well a long time ago, thirty three years ago to be precise, there was another bloke called Sam Tyler. He was my DI.”
Oh God no, thought Sam, he thinks…
“Gene, umm, I think you’re heading in the wrong direction with this!”
“Am I? Just hear me out will you. Look at this.”
He produced an old manila envelope. It had one of those fasteners with two discs and a bit of string, which Gene unwound to open it.
“I’ve not looked at these for years. I went home while you were visiting Vic and dug this out.”
He pulled out a stack of black and white photos.
“I got these from the Manchester Gazette. I was in a hostage situation there, and the press took loads of photos. Look at me on this one.”
He showed Sam a photo of himself standing on the Gazette steps. The one that had been used on the front of the paper to accompany the story about the day they’d been held hostage.
“I requested copies of all the photos, not just the one they printed.”
He shifted through about half of them.
“Oh, here it is, look.”
He handed Sam a photo clearly showing DI Sam Tyler coming down the Gazette steps with Annie by his side.
“See - that’s the other Sam Tyler,” said Gene pointing to him. “He’d have been about your age then. You know, you kind of forget what people look like over the years, but he’s the absolute spit of you, especially since you’ve had your hair cut.”
It was strange for Sam, for him, these photos had been taken mere months ago, for Gene however it had been decades.
“He was an odd bloke, that Sam Tyler,” continued Gene, not looking at Sam as he spoke, but staring out though the windscreen. “Just arrived in my department - well truth be told I was sort of stuck with him really. I’ll admit it, I didn’t like him at first; he had all these new ways of doing things. But I soon realised that he was one hell of a good copper. He was a good bloke too. Bit odd but a good bloke.”
Sam shifted slightly in his seat with embarrassment.
“The thing is, one day he just vanished. He didn’t come into work one morning and no one knew where he went. We went round his flat, and none of his stuff looked like it was missing. It wasn’t like he’d just packed a bag and buggered off or anything.”
Gene paused for a bit, as if to contemplate what he was going to say next.
“I mean I know I said he was a bit odd, but he wasn’t the kind to just do that, run off.”
“What do you think happened to him then?” asked Sam, for he was now curious. Up to now he’d never really thought about how his waking up would have affected the people he left behind.
“He made a lot of enemies in his time. I think someone did him in. My money was always on Vic Tyler.”
“What? No!”
“It all makes sense. As I said, your mother denies that she ever met DI Sam Tyler till 1973, when you would have been about four, but when we brought Vic Tyler in for questioning one time, Sam just acted weird around him. He bent over backwards to help him. Was convinced he was innocent. It was when we went round to search his house that I knew something was up. Sam and your mother, well they were awkward round each other, like they knew each other.”
“I really think you’ve got the wrong end of the stick here Gene,” said Sam.
“Do I? Then why was my DI so keen to prove Vic Tyler was innocent, and keep him with his family? That to me, that’s a guilty conscience talking. I think Vic might have got suspicious and killed him. He’d tried to kill him before you know.”
Gene collected the photos, and put them back into the envelope.
“Of course I don’t think Vic could ever prove you weren’t his son, probably just got rid of the competition. But what I’m trying to say to you is Vic is a rotten scumbag, always was, always will be. Sam Tyler - that is DI Sam Tyler- was worth a thousand Vic Tyler’s. You could be proud to have a father like him.”
Sam sat in silence, for there was nothing he could say. It wasn’t like he could tell Gene everything. That the Sam Tyler on the photos, the Sam Tyler who Gene seemed to have such a good opinion of was actually him.
“The thing is Sam, it’s only since you’ve woke up from your coma that I’ve really started to think about it again. You know, you and me never used to see eye to eye, but since you’ve woken up, you’ve changed. I don’t know what it is, but it’s like you’ve become more like the other Sam Tyler. You don’t just look like him, but you act like him now and all.”
“And is that a bad thing?” asked Sam. He felt his identity was being questioned yet again.
“No, not at all,” said Gene. He paused, as if saying anything any more than that would make him sound like some sort of a jessie. Instead he looked at his watch. “Times getting on, and you look like you need a drink. I don’t think you and me go to the pub together enough. By the way, don’t let on to your mother that we had this little chat, right?”
Gene stared up the car and off they went to find a boozer.
*~*
Part Five is a lot lighter, I promise!
You can read Part One here , Part Two here , and Part Three here.
Big thanks to v23474 for being it's beta!
Warning:- This is my first ever total Sam angst fic, it's not very funny. I've really been a bit cruel to poor Sam in this one! I just hope it works.
Title: Wakey! Wakey! Part Four
Summary: Sam's new life in 2006 continues to cause him more angst! He has to deal with some tricky father issues!
Rating: PG - couple of mildish swear words.
Setting: After Episode Eight, a few spoilers.
Disclaimer: Life on Mars belongs to the BBC and Kudos.
“You going to be alright Sam?” asked Gene.
“I do this regularly, right?”
“Yeah - you come here to see your dad at least once a month.”
Sam positioned his arm against the side of Gene’s car, and rested his head in his hand. They were parked up outside Strangeways Prison, where Vic Tyler was still serving life for the crimes he’d committed back in the 70’s. For thirty years he’d been banged up, caught by CID when they employed some new policing techniques - policing techniques Sam had taught them.
The Sam in this alternate 2006 had known for most of his life what his father had done, he’d lived with the shame and moved on. This Sam however, was still finding it hard to come to terms with it all. He thought back to the last time he saw his Dad, that day in the woods, and up till now he’d avoided coming to see him. But once Vic found out that Sam was now awake, he’d been writing to him, pleading with him to visit. Sam knew he had no choice. He’d have to face him sometime, and that time was now.
“I don’t know what you’re so worried about,” said Gene. “I mean, you and him get on fine. It’s a shame you can’t remember yet. Still, he gets out in a few months. Oh, you probably don’t remember, but you’ve given your address as the place he’ll stay when he gets released.”
“I did what?” asked Sam. This new 2006 was getting worse by the day.
“Well, he can hardly stay with your Mum and me can he?”
That he couldn’t, thought Sam. The idea that he’d have to share his flat with the man who’d tried to kill him - in what for Sam was just a few months ago - wasn’t something he was ready to deal with yet. Besides, perhaps things would go well today.
Sam undid the handle of the passenger door.
“See you at about 4pm then.” He said turning to Gene, before exiting the car.
It had been a bit nippy that day, so Sam was wearing his new leather jacket, the one he’d bought because it look so much like the one he’d once owned in 1973. He found it comforting to wear, as it gave him some sort of an identity to cling to. He felt far more out of place here that he had done in 1973. He now found himself surrounded by familiar people in unfamiliar roles, and was unsure how he was meant to behave around them. He didn’t know how long he could keep stringing them along with the excuse that he’d lost his memory.
He was ushered through the prison, and after been searched he was lead into the visiting room. All around him were other people waiting to see their friends and family. Sam guessed though, that had he really been coming here for every month for the last thirty years, he’d be used to it by now. As it was, it was incredibly depressing - but then he mused, it was meant to be.
All the detainees expecting visitors were seated at tables. They all wore orange bibs, just like they were in some sort of bizarre girl’s netball team. Sam spotted Vic the moment he walked through the door. He was slumped down in his chair, had thinning grey hair, and looked somewhat older than a man of sixty two.
Sam made his way to Vic’s table, who still hadn’t noticed he’d arrived, for he kept his head down, staring at the table. He slid into the chair opposite and rested his arms on the table, not knowing what to say, whether he should initiate the conversation. Vic was now looking at Sam’s hands.
“So you’ve come at last,” he said. He voice was that of a broken man.
“Yes, I know I’ve left it too long, I’m really sorry,” replied Sam.
Vic moved his head up and he now look Sam square in the eyes.
“Don’t you think I’ve suffered enough?”
“But you get out soon, hey,” said Sam. He could sense something was not quite right with Vic, but as yet, he couldn’t put his finger on it.
“And then what? Who’s going to keep you away from me then? Isn’t it enough that you haunt my nightmares?”
Sam could see there was a mixture of fear and hate in his father’s eyes as he looked at him.
“Tell me,” said Vic, in a way that he almost spat the words out. “What have you done with my son, DI Tyler?”
Sam froze.
“W…what?” he stumbled. What else could he say? Vic recognised him, knew who he really was. All these weeks since he woke up he’d wanted someone to recognise him, and now Vic had. Why did it have to Vic, and not Annie?
“My son, he was meant to come and visit me today, and instead you show up.”
“But Dad, it’s me!”
Vic wasn’t listening.
“Tell me DI Tyler, after all the things I’ve done in my life, why do I feel more guilt over what I did to you?”
What could Sam say to that? Perhaps there was something deep in Vic’s genetic programming that that recognised a connection between Sam and him.
“I’ve done some nasty things in my time DI Tyler. I’ve killed men. Shot them dead without a second thought, yet the fact that I lead you on and tried to shoot you, haunts me everyday of my life. Why?”
Vic shifted slightly in his chair.
“I’ve had a lot of time to think about this. Thirty years. Thirty long years, I kept it inside, deep inside then you turn up.”
“Look Dad, it’s alright. Perhaps you just need to see a doctor or something. Someone you can talk to about this. I, I can help you if you like.”
“My son!” said Vic as if a revelation had just hit him.
“Yes, Dad, it’s me.”
“My son mustn’t know. He mustn’t know, you mustn’t tell him. Spare him that will you. I don’t know what you’ve done with him, but please don’t hurt him. He’s a good lad really, he’s all I’ve got.”
“Dad, please, listen to me.”
“Promise me,” said Vic, there was now a manic look in his eyes. “Promise me that will return my son to me. Let him go. Do this one thing for me, and you can haunt me for another thirty years!”
“I think it’s best I go now,” said Sam. His very presence was upsetting Vic far too much. He’d see into getting him some help or something, but for now he couldn’t bear to be here a moment longer for fear that his heart would burst.
He stood up, pushed back the chair and walked away from Vic. He didn’t look back, and if Vic said anything more, he blocked it out. He kept his tears in until he was out of the prison gates, and then there was no stopping them.
Half an hour later, Gene turned up to collect him. By then Sam had managed to pull himself together somewhat. He climbed into the passenger seat.
“You okay lad?” asked Gene.
“Just take me home Gene,” he said.
“No, I think we will go on a little drive first. You and I need a quiet little talk.”
Sam didn’t argue, but just sat in silence while Gene drove his car away from the prison. He found a suitable place to pull up, and turned the engine off.
“There’s something I’ve got to tell you Sam,” he said. “For years I’ve been meaning to have this talk with you, but it never seemed quite the right time.”
“Well go on then,” said Sam. Perhaps he put more attitude into his words than he meant, but the way he was feeling, he just wanted to go home and have a stiff drink.
“The thing is Sam, and your mother is going to kill me for talking to you about this, but I don’t think Vic Tyler is your father.”
Sam turned to look at him.
“What do you mean he’s not my father?”
“Your mother has always denied it, so I’ve never tried to prove it, but I think I know who your real father was.”
“Go on.”
Sam was listening now. He wanted to know where Gene was going with this.
“Well a long time ago, thirty three years ago to be precise, there was another bloke called Sam Tyler. He was my DI.”
Oh God no, thought Sam, he thinks…
“Gene, umm, I think you’re heading in the wrong direction with this!”
“Am I? Just hear me out will you. Look at this.”
He produced an old manila envelope. It had one of those fasteners with two discs and a bit of string, which Gene unwound to open it.
“I’ve not looked at these for years. I went home while you were visiting Vic and dug this out.”
He pulled out a stack of black and white photos.
“I got these from the Manchester Gazette. I was in a hostage situation there, and the press took loads of photos. Look at me on this one.”
He showed Sam a photo of himself standing on the Gazette steps. The one that had been used on the front of the paper to accompany the story about the day they’d been held hostage.
“I requested copies of all the photos, not just the one they printed.”
He shifted through about half of them.
“Oh, here it is, look.”
He handed Sam a photo clearly showing DI Sam Tyler coming down the Gazette steps with Annie by his side.
“See - that’s the other Sam Tyler,” said Gene pointing to him. “He’d have been about your age then. You know, you kind of forget what people look like over the years, but he’s the absolute spit of you, especially since you’ve had your hair cut.”
It was strange for Sam, for him, these photos had been taken mere months ago, for Gene however it had been decades.
“He was an odd bloke, that Sam Tyler,” continued Gene, not looking at Sam as he spoke, but staring out though the windscreen. “Just arrived in my department - well truth be told I was sort of stuck with him really. I’ll admit it, I didn’t like him at first; he had all these new ways of doing things. But I soon realised that he was one hell of a good copper. He was a good bloke too. Bit odd but a good bloke.”
Sam shifted slightly in his seat with embarrassment.
“The thing is, one day he just vanished. He didn’t come into work one morning and no one knew where he went. We went round his flat, and none of his stuff looked like it was missing. It wasn’t like he’d just packed a bag and buggered off or anything.”
Gene paused for a bit, as if to contemplate what he was going to say next.
“I mean I know I said he was a bit odd, but he wasn’t the kind to just do that, run off.”
“What do you think happened to him then?” asked Sam, for he was now curious. Up to now he’d never really thought about how his waking up would have affected the people he left behind.
“He made a lot of enemies in his time. I think someone did him in. My money was always on Vic Tyler.”
“What? No!”
“It all makes sense. As I said, your mother denies that she ever met DI Sam Tyler till 1973, when you would have been about four, but when we brought Vic Tyler in for questioning one time, Sam just acted weird around him. He bent over backwards to help him. Was convinced he was innocent. It was when we went round to search his house that I knew something was up. Sam and your mother, well they were awkward round each other, like they knew each other.”
“I really think you’ve got the wrong end of the stick here Gene,” said Sam.
“Do I? Then why was my DI so keen to prove Vic Tyler was innocent, and keep him with his family? That to me, that’s a guilty conscience talking. I think Vic might have got suspicious and killed him. He’d tried to kill him before you know.”
Gene collected the photos, and put them back into the envelope.
“Of course I don’t think Vic could ever prove you weren’t his son, probably just got rid of the competition. But what I’m trying to say to you is Vic is a rotten scumbag, always was, always will be. Sam Tyler - that is DI Sam Tyler- was worth a thousand Vic Tyler’s. You could be proud to have a father like him.”
Sam sat in silence, for there was nothing he could say. It wasn’t like he could tell Gene everything. That the Sam Tyler on the photos, the Sam Tyler who Gene seemed to have such a good opinion of was actually him.
“The thing is Sam, it’s only since you’ve woke up from your coma that I’ve really started to think about it again. You know, you and me never used to see eye to eye, but since you’ve woken up, you’ve changed. I don’t know what it is, but it’s like you’ve become more like the other Sam Tyler. You don’t just look like him, but you act like him now and all.”
“And is that a bad thing?” asked Sam. He felt his identity was being questioned yet again.
“No, not at all,” said Gene. He paused, as if saying anything any more than that would make him sound like some sort of a jessie. Instead he looked at his watch. “Times getting on, and you look like you need a drink. I don’t think you and me go to the pub together enough. By the way, don’t let on to your mother that we had this little chat, right?”
Gene stared up the car and off they went to find a boozer.
*~*
Part Five is a lot lighter, I promise!