Part 10
Author: echo_voice
Title: Follow the yellow brick road (Part Ten)
Rating: Blue Cortina (Swearing, innuendo)
Pairings: Sam/Gene
Spoilers: 2.02, 2.07 and 2.08 are the important ones.
Summary: Sam's hunger for answers takes them to one last destination.
Disclaimer: None of the characters are mine.
A/N: This is it, the final bit! Sorry it's taken so long - I've been busy and had a bit of writer's block with it. Thank you to everyone who had read it, especially those who also took the time to review. I hope you have enjoyed it!
Sam let Gene’s words circle his head that night as he lay on bed alone, drunk and preoccupied. Gene was right, which was new and hard to admit in itself, and Sam really did need to let this drop. He knew his flaws, and his blindness when it came to cases involving him personally was definitely one of them. He’d put himself in unnecessary danger today. He’d put Gene in danger. And perhaps, in a small way, Morgan was dead because he had stormed in without back-up. Of course, he hadn’t known that it was a trap: at the time, the child’s safety was forefront in his priorities. Yet if he had sat down and treated it like he did any other case, he would have realised Jack’s intentions; he would have bloody worked it out.
He still didn’t know how to feel about Jack’s arrest. The lad had killed people, so why did he get a bitter taste in his mouth when he thought about the whole thing? Now that he finally understood the lad’s motivations and had found some kind of echo of those emotions in himself, Jack had become more human and less criminal in his eyes. Yet none of it was really a justification, was it? Could Sam have really become a similar person? After all, he had been unable to pull the trigger on Gene. Gene was right: he was not a murderer. But what about his mysterious past as Sam Williams? Hadn’t he left someone to die then? Is that what had blurred things so much? Because after all, wasn’t Jack just one of the thousands of tragedies that Sam had been forced to deal with in his career as a detective?
It just all felt so unfinished. He was still hungry for answers and now wasn’t sure how to get them: Morgan was dead and Jack was being psychologically evaluated. For once, Sam hated the detective instinct in him and wished his drive for the truth didn’t exist. What choice was there now? What chance did he have to get answers? It was all over. He had to drop it.
***
Gene was not quite so willing to drop it. Sam knew that their conversation in the pub had put them on shaky ground, but he was not quite prepared for the flat expression on his guv’s face as he walked into the office that morning. His DCI scrutinised him in silence for a good five minutes, making Sam squirm uncomfortably.
“I’m going to take you off active duty for a while,” Gene said finally as though he was talking about the weather, blowing a lungful of smoke to the ceiling.
Sam bit his lip to stop himself from shouting and settled with folding his arms and gazing at Gene coolly. “Why?”
“Why? Do you need to ask me that, Inspector?”
“Yes.”
Gene sighed and rubbed a hand over his face. “I thought that since the Wizard case is over, you’d be okay. But you’re not, are you? I can’t tell you to take a holiday because you’re a stubborn twat and I know you won’t do it, so I have no choice but to put you on desk duty for a while until I think you’re ready.”
“You have got to be joking.”
“I’m sorry, Tyler, do I look open to negotiation?”
Sam’s expression twisted angrily and he strode up to Gene’s desk, planting his hands down with a bang. “So what, you don’t trust me to be on active duty, is that it? I saved you from getting shot!”
“And you created the fucking situation in the first place! I’m your sodding DCI and you know as well as I do that I should fire you over the way you acted over that damn case! How the hell can I trust you not to go running off to meet murder suspects unarmed without any back-up? You could have been killed, or have you forgotten that?”
Sam rolled his eyes and pushed away from the desk. “I’m sorry, okay? Is that what you want me to say? This case was an exception and it won’t happen again.”
“If it happens again I’m not going to your bleeding funeral. Sorry doesn’t cut it. I can’t have you on active duty when you’re being like this. It’s for your own good,” Gene snapped, folding his arms.
“My good? No, this is your sodding pride. You’re just cross ‘cause I disobeyed. What would be good for me would be letting me do my job and forget about the whole thing.”
“And can you do that, Sam? Can you let it drop? Because it seemed to be quite the opposite last night. You wanted to let King off, for Christ’s sake! You couldn’t even do your job when we were searching King’s house!”
Sam said nothing to that, chewing his thumb. Slowly Gene got up to walk around the desk to stand in front of him, hands in his pockets.
“What the hell am I gonna do with you, Tyler?” he asked softly.
“I’m sorry. I’ve said it before and there’s nothing more I can say,” Sam murmured. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes tiredly. He was tried of fighting. He was tired of not knowing what to do. “If you think taking me off active duty is best, then I guess I’ll just have to obey.”
Something glimmered in Gene’s eyes. He arched at eyebrow at Sam. “What’s this? Is this agreement? That’s very grown-up of you, Inspector.”
“If being a good little subordinate Inspector is what it takes to get the privilege of being allowed to do my job again, I can handle that,” Sam replied bitterly. “If you want me to be a good boy and obey orders then I will.”
“Really,” Gene stated with a smirk, creeping just a little bit closer. “Any order?”
“If that’s what it takes,” Sam snapped.
“You’re on.”
Sam narrowed his eyes suspiciously at the grinning DCI. “What did you have in mind?”
Gene practically beamed in self-satisfaction, moving to take a box from under his desk and plonking it in the surprised Sam’s arms.
“What’s this?” Sam asked slowly.
“I have a rather special assignment for you, Sammy-boy, seeing as you’re being so cooperative. Think of it as a lesson in obedience.”
Sam lifted one flap of cardboard and peered inside. Two giant eyes and a fluffy nose looked back at him. “You are joking me.”
Gene smiled nastily. “I think this will do just the trick. Hearts and minds, Sammy-boy, hearts and minds,” he declared triumphantly.
Sam glared at him and stalked out of the office. It would appear that he had a date with Tufty the Squirrel.
***
He had to admit that when it came to payback, Gene was certainly inventive. It was petty revenge and Sam was rather annoyed, but he owed Gene for going off on his own and nearly screwing up the whole case, so he played along, despite the fact that the morning of trying to entertain small children was the equivalent to hell. The DCI looked thoroughly amused when an exhausted Sam eventually rolled back into CID, tearing the squirrel head off and looking disgruntled at the whoops and cheers of the rest of the team. Chris tugged his tail and Sam scowled menacingly at him.
“Learnt your lesson?” Gene asked from the doorway of his office.
“Very good, guv,” Sam said flatly.
“Good.” A hand caught his collar and he was pulled close to the DCI. Gene’s eyes glittered down at him and he grinned. “Don’t disobey the Sherriff again, understand? Now, we’ve got a drugs case to deal with down at Macavoy’s club.”
“I’m back on duty?”
“Yes, unless you have a problem with that?”
And then it became clear what Gene had been trying to achieve with the stupid Tufty stunt. As DCI he couldn’t run a team with an AWOL DI. While they were equals to a certain extent, partners, Sam had pushed the boundaries too far with the King case and while most DCIs would have fired him for his misconduct, Gene had given him a second chance to prove himself. It was a demonstration that just occasionally, Sam owed him a certain level of obedience. And that, Sam had to admit, and he had to let slide. One-nil to Gene, it would seem. He frowned heavily.
“Next time you want to prove a point, could you do it without humiliating me?”
Gene simply grinned at him. “Chop chop, Tyler, case to get on with. Though you might want to get changed first.”
Sam grimaced. As Gene clapped him on the shoulder and walked away, Sam was abruptly reminded that more often than not the DCI was much brighter than he gave him credit for.
***
Slowly they slid back into it: Hunt and Tyler, partners against crime. Sam nearly forgot about King. The case was but a niggling point at the back of his mind: just an irritation. He drank a lot that night to drown out that remaining frustration and pretty much succeeded, his mood lifting. He noticed how Gene watched him out of the corner of his eye and made a point of sliding his hand across the DCI’s leg under the table where the rest of the team couldn’t see it. He needed to know that he hadn’t completely screwed things up with Gene and got confirmation when a harsh, whiskey-tasting mouth met his in the alleyway outside the Railway Arms at closing time. They stumbled back towards Sam’s flat, Gene’s forgiveness and willingness to forget the whole thing washing over him like warm balm.
As soon as his door was closed behind them, Gene fell on him, the tensions of the past few days coming out as Sam was pushed roughly into the nearest wall. They kissed desperately, all hands and lips and teeth, and Sam fell into it easily. Gene tugged Sam’s clothes off one by one and edged him towards the bed, the two of them collapsing down without breaking the kiss. However, Gene paused at the crackle of paper that sounded as they hit the mattress and frowned as he retrieved a piece of paper from underneath him. The King case notes were scattered over Sam’s bed. Sam had completely forgotten and hastily detached himself to clear them away.
And suddenly he saw it: the circled name that had gone completely from his mind. He swore and halted. Maybe he could get the final answers. Maybe he could learn about Sam Williams! “Of course! Not every lead is covered!”
“What?” Gene eyed him warily from where he lay on the mattress, horny and frustrated.
“I can still get my answers!” Sam said excitedly, brandishing the bit of paper.
There was a groan and a soft thump as Gene’s head hit the mattress. “Sam…” he groaned to the ceiling.
“Listen, guv, I was going to suggest it ages ago! Linda Ramsay! You know, DI David Ramsay’s wife? She was there at the fire, maybe she knows more, or maybe she knew me when I was DI Williams and I could talk to her and…” Sam rambled maniacally.
“You are a bloody nightmare!” Gene snapped, lifting his head from the mattress to glare at Sam. “You promised me it was over!”
“It is over. Kind of. Oh c’mon, please, Gene, I just need to do this one last thing and then it really will be finished.”
“Sure?”
“Yes.”
“Definite. Final. No matter what she has to say.”
“Final.”
“Even if she tells you that you used to be an axe wielding maniac.”
“There’s nothing she could tell me that would be worse than not knowing. Look, Gene, I know that Sam Williams is not me anymore.”
There was a long silence. Gene coughed slightly. “Um. Yes he is you.”
Well, maybe. Or maybe not. Sam sighed and put his head in his hand. “All I’m saying is that he feels like a different person because I’ve changed since then and can’t remember what I used to be like. But it’s important to know. It’s like wanting to know about what you were like as a baby, or trying to find out about the father you never knew. I can’t help wanting to know.”
“I’m not going to pretend to understand.”
“Please let me go and talk to her, Gene. For me?” Sam pleaded enticingly.
Gene snorted. “Batting your eyelashes won’t work, Tyler. God, you are such a girl.”
Sam smirked slightly and crawled onto the bed, brushing his lips down Gene’s stomach. “Will this work, perhaps?”
“Oh we’re onto petty bribery now, are we? I don’t take backhanders anymore, Tyler.”
“S’not a backhander,” Sam grinned, his fingers sketching circles over his guv’s thighs. “It’s the perks of the job. A thank you from me.”
“You’re gonna be the death of me Tyler.”
“La petite mort, maybe.”
“Shut it, you pretentious little sod,” Gene growled. “Oh go on then, I’ll take you to the bird’s house.”
“You will? You don’t have to drive me there.”
“You bet Sammy-boy. I’m not letting you out of my sight. With your recent track record I wouldn’t put it past you to say something stupid to a random girl who just happens to be the wife of a prominent bastard, piss off all of the crime lords in Manchester, make one of them shoot you in the arm, survive but then get frigging kidnapped on the way to the hospital, manage to miraculously escape and then get bloody knocked down on the way back to the station.”
Sam didn’t really have a response to that. He had paused, hovering over Gene with his mouth slightly open. Gene cocked an eyebrow and his hand was soon fisted in Sam’s hair, urging him down.
“Well go on then. I think I deserve my reward now for being such a nice boss, don’t you?”
***
And Gene did drive him there, emanating disapproval but offering a display of support that was both surprising and touching. They pulled up in a nice little suburban area. Sam moved to get out but Gene grabbed his arm.
“I’m coming in with you.”
“What?”
“So you don’t say or do something stupid.”
Sam held Gene’s gaze for a minute before nodding very slightly, silently grateful for having Gene there. He got and out walked up the front steps, knocking on the door of the little townhouse. A middle-aged woman opened it, assessing him coolly.
“Mrs Ramsay?” Sam asked, finding his voice. “My name’s…”
“Sam Williams, yes I know who you are dear. I was wondering when you were going to come round.” Sam gawped at her and she gave a little smile and a shrug. “I read the papers about DCI Morgan’s death and thought you might be round with some enquiries. Won’t you come in?” Then she saw Gene as well and arched an eyebrow. “And DCI Hunt, too. Would you both like to come in?”
“Please, Mrs Ramsay,” Sam replied. “If you don’t mind.”
“If you’re sure, Inspector,” she said, still looking at Gene. “There might be some things…” She tailed off, biting her lip, clearly unsure how to word her concerns.
Sam sighed and shook his head quickly to reassure her. “There’s nothing you could say to me that I don’t want him to hear.”
She visibly relaxed. “As you wish. I’ll get us all a nice cup of tea.”
She turned and walked inside, Sam and Gene following slowly. They were led into the living room and sat side by side on the sofa, their legs touching ever so slightly. Gene’s warm presence was comforting and Sam felt himself relax into his normal interrogation mode: answers, not emotions. He’d done this loads of times before. He just had to pretend that he wasn’t personally involved. Mrs Ramsay placed the cups of tea in front of them and sat down smiling pleasantly at them.
“So, what can I help you officers with?”
Sam was slightly taken aback by her directness and couldn’t speak until Gene nudged him non-too-gently in the side. He stopped staring blankly and shook himself, coughing slightly to clear his throat. “God, um, where to start... You see, this is rather complicated, Mrs Ramsay. Clearly you knew me when I was working at Hyde, but you see I don’t really remember anything, because I had an accident and I…”
“Got amnesia, yes I know.” Sam was back to doing his goldfish impression and she seemed to take pity on him, sighing low and long. “I’m sorry, Inspector Williams…”
“Sam, please,” he insisted quietly, hating the use of his ‘real’ surname.
“I know this must be a bit confusing for you. I must confess to having done a spot of detective work. I learnt something from my husband, you see.”
Sam wondered at the bitterness in the widow’s tone. “It was actually your husband that I came to talk about. At least partly. We believe that Jack King was behind the fire which he died in.”
“Yes, I knew a long time ago that it was murder,” she replied softly.
“We don’t know that it was murder, Mrs Ramsay, his precise intentions are still unclear and…”
“It was murder,” she said firmly. “The Alice in Wonderland cases were all set up with that intention in mind.”
“I don’t understand,” Sam said slowly.
“My husband was bent, Sam, as Jack King took great pleasure in telling me the night of the arson. Every dodgy deal, every lie, every little thing he did behind my back,” she replied, her voice toneless. “The Alice cases were set up to ruin him bit by bit.”
Exactly like the Oz cases were set up to ruin Gene.
“Ruin him how?” Gene interrupted.
“The girl who was buried alive was the prostitute he was having an affair with. The two men who were poisoned were criminals he was taking backhanders from. All his immoral dealings breaking apart. Witnesses and his friends disposed of. My kidnapping was partly a trap to lead him into the building and partly a chance to tell me everything just so my husband had to die knowing that I had found out every sick little thing he did. King made sure he died with a guilty conscience.”
“I’m sorry,” Sam said quietly.
“Don’t be, please. They intended to kill me as well: couldn’t leave any evidence behind. King had told me a bit too much, about how he wanted to expose every bent copper in the world, starting with my husband. And I would have died if you hadn’t been there, Sam.” She smiled warmly at him, but Sam gave her a blank stare back and slowly her smile faded. “You don’t remember, do you? You nearly ruined the whole plan by running into that building to rescue myself and my husband.”
Wait, that wasn’t right. “Morgan said I - that I left your husband to die.”
Mrs Ramsay looked at him sharply. “My husband was your mentor when you were a DC. You looked up to him. You tried to save him.”
So Morgan had lied. It had all been a psychological game, trying to put him on the wrong foot. And oh how close he had come to succeeding. Sam had been fooled into letting his emotions win. He felt his conscience ease somewhat but his mind was still a mess. “I looked up to a bent copper?” he asked, swallowing heavily.
Mrs Ramsay pursed her lips. “I don’t think you knew he was bent any more than I did. And Frank Morgan didn’t know either, you see. My husband was his protégé, and when DCI Morgan found out about the backhanders and dodgy deals, he was furious. It was then that I believe he first set up that damn M.A.R.S.S. thing, just to expose my husband, though he claimed that the project was set up after his death. He was hell bent on bringing David down.”
“And then he roped Jack King in,” Gene murmured.
“I presume so. This is mostly guesswork I’m afraid, Chief Inspector.”
Gene was frowning. “How do you know all this?”
“I know what King told me. I know what DI Williams himself told me, though of course you wouldn’t remember,” she said to Sam.
“What did I tell you?”
“It was at the funeral. You had found out that my husband was bent and came over to talk to me. You told me about M.A.R.S.S and that you’d agreed to help Morgan in his project so that you could get over David’s death. You said you’d agreed to go undercover but that you couldn’t tell me where. And I had some extra help.”
“From who?”
She gave him an assessing look. “DC Fletcher.”
“What?”
“Glenn was your replacement at Hyde, Inspector. Morgan told him about M.A.R.S.S and that mentioned in passing your undercover operation as Sam Tyler. Of course, when Glenn was sent by Morgan to investigate the Harry Woolf robberies and find out if Woolf was really as bent as the word on the street suggested, he didn’t make the link and realise it was you undercover, Sam.”
I’m sure I’ve heard your name… DC Fletcher’s voice echoed in Sam’s ears and he shook his head to clear it. “Of course. He’d heard the name Sam Tyler at Hyde, but how could he have done? I was Sam Williams there… The spot of bother he mentioned must have been the transfer and the fire, but he never made the link.”
Gene was scowling darkly into his cup of tea, his mood sullen as it always was when the name Harry Woolf cropped up, but was thankfully silent.
“He did make the link though, Sam, but not until afterwards. Glenn looked you up following the Harry Woolf case and found out that you were really Sam Williams. He came and told me about it, about how he had found you again, and I asked him to look into it. He got hold of the snippet of information about the accident and your amnesia. It was only when he started investigating further that he realised the extent of Morgan’s project and that it had existed before he had sent you away. When he dug a bit deeper, he found hints of a cover-up over the Wonderland cases and started to link Morgan to King. When he tried to find out more, it got…messy, and DCI Morgan started to suspect Glenn. There was only so much of his ‘clueless’ act he could manage before it looked dodgy.”
“So that’s why Glenn came to see me,” Sam murmured. “He was prompting me to solve the case. I thought it was odd at the time. Why come round and mention that King was linked to the cases in Hyde unless he knew that I would treat it differently? That I too would link King back to Morgan eventually?”
Mrs Ramsay nodded. “Glenn was scared of digging around too much himself. I suggested that he went to see you, and told you of King’s link to your time at Hyde, hoping you’d get the truth out, if it was there to find.”
“He could have just told the truth from the start,” Gene growled.
“And said what? DI Tyler, your ex-DCI is removing bent coppers by foul means even though there is no evidence at all to support it… For all I knew, I was just being a paranoid widow looking for someone else to blame for the fact that my husband was corrupt, and Glenn just didn’t want to get involved. If there was anything to be found, we both thought that it would come out through your investigation.”
“And he did try to warn me,” Sam muttered. “He’s got friends high up, has King. That’s what he said to me.”
“Meaning Morgan,” Gene sighed.
“I was being played all along,” Sam murmured, running a hand through his hair.
Gene looked at him sharply. “I think we all were,” he growled.
“But no matter,” Mrs Ramsay said, smiling faintly. “It’s all over now.” She fidgeted slightly with her cup, apparently unsure about whether she should say something or not. “I should thank you,” she said abruptly.
“No need.”
“Yes, there is. I can start getting over it now the truth’s all come out and I have you to thank for it.”
“It was nothing.”
“Upstairs in the wardrobe there’s a case of money,” she said abruptly.
“What?” Sam asked, taken aback.
“It’s what he earned on the side,” she said tightly. “I don’t want it. I can’t touch it. I’d give it to charity but I don’t feel like I have the right to do so. I want you to take it, for it to be back in the hands of coppers who do their jobs without expecting to get extra. You deserve it. You don’t get paid enough for what you do.”
Sam was shaking his head violently. “Please, Mrs Ramsay, I couldn’t. It’s yours, and it’s…well…”
His arm was grabbed suddenly by Gene and he was drawn closer to his guv, feeling lips on his ear.
“This isn’t a bribe or a backhander, this is a woman trying to bury the past in the best way she knows how. Be a grown-up and take it. Give it to a fricking charity or something if it bothers you that much, you poncey git. Don’t you dare go high and mighty and say you won’t touch dirty money.”
Sam reared back and glared at Gene, but a little bit of him knew he was right. Damn it. And Mrs Ramsay had already got up and was heading up the stairs. She came back with the case and placed it in Sam’s unwilling hands.
“There’s a few hundred in there.”
Sam’s eyes widened. “Mrs Ramsay, this is beyond generous.”
“Not only did you save my life once, you’ve now made it so that I can finally get on with living it,” she said with a shrug.
They got to their feet and she took them into the hallway, kissed Sam quietly on the cheek and sent a smile Gene’s way.
And with the sound of that front door closing felt as final as Sam knew it would ever feel.
***
“So what are you going to do with it?”
They were driving home silently in the Cortina when Gene had sprung the question on him. Sam looked at him, knowing that he was referring to the cash. He shrugged casually. “Most of it will go to the Police Benevolent Fund.”
“Most of it?” Gene enquired, arching an eyebrow.
“I might need some of it for a little project I’ve been meaning to take up for a while, but I might require your gracious assistance. Up for it?”
“That entirely depends on which half-crazed scheme you’re going to rope me into this time, Tyler,” Gene replied dryly.
“Oh no, you’ll like this one. It involves a bed.”
***
Having seen Mrs Ramsay, he felt like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. Even if he didn’t come from the future, whoever DI Williams was, he was not a conniving, career-climbing bastard, and Sam found he could sleep much better knowing that. The matter settled, he could move onto other things. Gene agreed to help him with his project: redecorating his damn flat. Gene was quite enthusiastic actually. The DCI was apparently a dab hand at DIY.
Sam hardly stopped laughing for the whole weekend. There were some memories you just don’t forget.
Taking Gene shopping for materials and pretending to be as girly and irritating as he possibly could, comparing colours and stroking fabrics.
Gene taking up the old carpet and ripping away half a floorboard with it and staring at said piece of wood furiously.
Gene trying to put up new, non-psychadelic wallpaper and finding that every time he turned his back it would peel away from the wall and end up in a rolled up sticky mess on the floor. Sam had never heard some of the swear words Gene came up with before that day.
Their ridiculous argument concerning the straightness of one shelf that Gene had put up. Sam couldn’t help it: he was a perfectionist. He had worked in B&Q, you know.
The new lampshade Sam was trying to attach falling on Gene’s head.
And all the time, Gene grumbled and swore, serving to increase Sam’s amusement. But they got the job done eventually, the flat now clean and homely.
Gene heaved a sigh as he finished dragging the new bed into place. “When you next bribe me with suggestions of beds, remind me to be more wary.”
Sam just grinned. He had never been so glad to get rid of a piece of furniture as they had chucked the old rickety excuse for a bed. The new one was only just larger than a standard single, but to Sam it was his new prized possession.
“Look at you. A bit of bloody poncing about with paint and you’re as happy as Larry,” Gene commented, rolling his eyes.
“It’s just like…a new beginning, I suppose.”
“Bloody girl,” Gene muttered.
Sam shook his head and reached into his pocket. “I’ve got something for you,” he said as he pulled what he was looking for out. He held out a door key and Gene took it with a questioning expression. Sam shrugged off the piercing look. “What? If you can’t bring yourself to pick girly locks, the least you could do is use a key, or I’m going to start sending you bills.”
For a split second Gene was guarded, before he grunted and pocketed the key. “Suits me. You’d only have me round here fixing the door again and whinging ‘cause it’s sodding wonky.”
“Probably. So, what do you want to do now?”
Gene paused thoughtfully. “Pub.”
Sam shook his head in despair but was smiling in spite of himself. “Pub.”
He moved to get his jacket when Gene’s voice interrupted him. “No, wait, the Gene Genie might actually have an even better idea.”
“What, better than the pub?” Sam asked, mock wide-eyed.
“Pub can still be involved. Don’t rule it out so quickly. But there are a few things I might consider engaging in first, so how about we put this nice new bed of yours to good use?” Gene leered.
Sam tapped his chin thoughtfully, his eyes sparkling. “Well that’s one way of testing it out, I suppose.”
Gene smirked daringly and closed the gap between them. “Oh there are several ways of testing it, Sammy-boy. Now allow me to demonstrate.”