Ficathon 2008: LoM. 'Just For One Day'
Title: Just For One Day
Author: Elf
Rating: Brown Cortina
Length/Word Count: 5500
Notes: No pairing, ensemble piece. Very kindly beta’d by Caz - any mistakes which remain are my own. Nothing else belongs to me though. Title from Bowie (who else) “We can beat them, Just for one day, We can be Heroes, Just for one day” from the song ‘Heroes’.
Summary: When it all goes wrong, someone needs to be a hero, just for one day… (Original prompt at the end)
Ray stared down the yawning hole, into the blackness.
“Jimmy?” he shouted, his voice almost drowned out by the other noise. “Jimmy?”
He looked around for anything that could help, anything at all. He wished for a torch or a rope, but there was nothing. He knelt down, chips of concrete digging into his skin. He hung his head as far into the hole as he dared.
“JIMMY!”
And he thought he heard a noise. He glanced around desperately, then spotted some timbers and other debris. He ran to it, reaching out and checking it was settled - secure. He began gingerly climbing down, trusting the timber. He gripped on tightly, but as his feet began to slip he scrabbled against the damp surfaces and ended up falling. He hit the ground hard, but picked himself up, peering into the gloom. He started to brush the dust from his clothes, more as a nervous movement than anything else. A sharp pain made him look down, and in the darkness he could see blood on his palm. He saw a ragged cut, and guessed he must have caught it on a nail or somesuch.
Then he saw Jimmy. He ran to his side, skidding to his knees.
“Jimmy?”
The body was still, but Ray heard a groan.
“Ray?”
And suddenly there was silence, the wail of sirens dying away.
“Ray?” There was fear in his voice, so Ray reached out and held Jimmy’s arm.
“’S okay. I’ll get ‘elp, you hurt bad?”
“I dunno…it’s me leg. I…I don’t think I can get up…what’re we gonna do?”
“I’ll go…lemme drag you back, I’ll see if there’s somewhere safe, ‘ang on.”
Ray’s eyes were almost used to the dark now, and he moved around, tripping over the odd thing, but eventually he found a bench against the wall. He returned to Jimmy.
“There’s a work bench or summat, it’ll ‘urt, but I’ll drag you under that, right? You’ll be safe.”
Jimmy nodded, and Ray slid his hands under his friend’s arms, then dragged him across the floor, trying to ignore Jimmy’s cries of pain. Once he was installed in the relative safety, Jimmy looked up at Ray.
“Promise you’ll come back?”
Ray nodded.
Jimmy looked at his palm, where it was ripped and torn as he’d tried to grab for safety when the floor had given way beneath him. He spat on it, then held it out. Ray spat on his own palm and took Jimmy’s hand, shaking it. The slick blood and spit mingling on their skin.
“Promise.”
Ray clambered out of the hole as fast as he could, frustration bubbling to the surface as he slid and slipped, but finally he got his hands over the edge, then his arms, and dragged himself onto the floor. Then he ran.
The roads were deserted, but he knew where to go. The sun had set about an hour earlier, and the streets were now black, with no lights showing anywhere. But Ray knew the city, and he knew where to go for help.
The steps down to the shelter were dark, and Ray held onto the metal handrail as he stumbled down them, then he froze as the drone of aircraft engines became audible.
He almost fell down the last few steps, then thumped his fists on the door.
“Help!” he shouted.
The door opened and the warden frowned at him.
“What’re you doing out, young man? Get in ‘ere. Where’s your family?”
“No, no, it’s my friend, he’s stuck,” Ray grabbed the man’s sleeve, tears threatening as relief at finding someone warred with desperation that they help. “He’s stuck, just a coupla streets away, mister, you’ve gotta help, he’s hurt.”
The man looked from the safety of the air raid shelter down to the grubby boy, his knees scraped and grazed, his shorts dirty, his jumper ripped, blond hair wet and blue eyes wild and bright with tears.
“Need some help,” he called back into the shelter. “There’s a boy trapped. Come on, two volunteers,” he called.
Two men stepped forward, and Ray’s breath came in sobs at the relief of knowing everything would be okay.
“Need a rope, or a ladder, or summat,” he managed. “He’s fell down a hole, an’ he’s stuck.”
“Okay laddy, you show us the way, we’ll get to him.”
Ray nodded, already turning and running up the steps. He couldn’t help but glance upwards, fear running through him at the sound of the aero engines. He knew they were only there for one reason.
As soon as the men had found a ladder he led them through the streets, running to the bombsite he and Jimmy had been exploring before the sirens had sounded. It had been in their haste to leave and find shelter that Jimmy had lost his footing on the floorboards.
“He’s there, down there,” Ray said, pointing. “I put ‘im under a table, cos the sirens were going, an’ I thought…” he trailed off as the men quickly dropped the ladder down into the crater in the floorboards.
It didn’t take more than a few minutes for one of them to be climbing back up, Jimmy holding onto him tightly.
The warden took Jimmy, easily holding him, and Ray felt a large hand take hold of his own. “Come on then, lad, time for us all to get back to the shelter now.”
Ray looked up and recognised the man as one of the local policemen. He’d had enough run-ins with the local plod to recognise them all.
“You did well, you did the right thing. Now let’s make sure we’re all safe, eh?”
Ray nodded, his entire body shaking now that it was over and they were safe.
Once back in the shelter the constable found Ray a blanket and a mug of sweet tea and sat him down.
“Alright now?” the man asked.
Ray nodded. He looked down into his mug, suddenly feeling bad at all the times he’d caused the man trouble. He knew there was no reason the constable should help him - or Jimmy, for that matter, as whatever trouble they found, they were always together.
“Thank you, mister,” he said.
“Now perhaps you’ll think twice about messing around on them bombsites. I don’t know how many times we’ve told you kids how dangerous it is.”
Ray nodded, eyes wide. He’d been on the receiving end of plenty of boxed ears for playing on the sites, especially when he and Jimmy had been caught selling on things they’d found in the wreckage. The nuns had beaten both of them for that one, too, and called them wicked boys for stealing from the dead. Ray had figured that if they were dead they didn’t need the things anymore, but that view had only resulted in him not getting any dinner either.
One of the ladies had strapped up Jimmy’s ankle and pronounced that he’d live, so Ray sat next to him, both of them getting mopped up with the stinging antiseptic and being fussed over by a few of the women. Ray looked sideways at Jimmy, and Jimmy had grinned back.
“Thanks,” Jimmy said. “Knew you woul’n’t leave me.”
Ray shrugged. “’S what mates do.”
The distinctive 'crump' of a bomb exploding not too far away made both boys look up, then back at each other, knowing they'd been lucky.
***
Everything had been worked out, down to the last detail. Which was why Sam couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing.
The heist was meant to have been planned - the van would be stopped on a remote road and the gang would burst out of hiding. Ray and Chris would immediately surrender, the gang would get their mitts on the money, he, Gene and the rest of the team would swoop down and clean the scum off the streets. Easy.
Except right now they were in a sleepy village, outside the post office, and a respectable looking man who had been sitting on a bench and reading a copy of the Times had just slugged Chris on the back of the head and grabbed the bag of money he’d been holding, whilst another, equally respectable man had pulled open the unlocked passenger door of the van and was pointing a pistol at Ray.
Sam turned to look at Gene, words failing him. The other team were ahead, waiting in anticipation of stopping any of the raiders who might have tried to flee.
“Shit!” Gene was already moving, throwing open the door of the car and reaching for his gun.
“Gene!” Sam didn’t know what to do - but he was pretty sure that adding yet another person holding a gun to the mix could only mean that things weren’t going to end well.
The man who had coshed Chris was retrieving the van keys from his pocket, when he spotted Gene. He was running toward the van before Gene could even begin to shout his warning.
“Oi, police! Put down the guns, an’ put yer ‘ands up,” Gene yelled.
“You put it down or he’ll get it in the ‘ead,” the one aiming at Ray shouted back.
Gene hesitated. He didn’t have a shot of the man at the passenger door. It seemed there was little he could do. But he knew Ray would be okay - and they could follow the van, warn the car ahead that the van was on it’s way.
Ray stared down the barrel of the pistol, knowing that it was all going wrong, and trying to see if Chris was okay in the mirror.
He heard the Guv shouting, then both men clambered into the van, the pistol digging into his ribs painfully. “Drive,” he was told.
He put his foot on the accelerator, the passenger door slamming shut as the van jumped forward.
“An’ just do as we say, or you’ll be for it, right?”
Ray nodded, keeping his eyes on the road. He knew he’d soon catch up with the car that had been in front - it should be waiting near the next turn off.
He glanced in his wing mirror to see what was happening behind him and saw the Boss bending over Chris’s unmoving form on the pavement.
“Chris?” Sam called, running his fingers through Chris’s floppy hair and finding a lump on his scalp.
“Ungh,” Chris groaned, rolling over and putting his own hands on his head. “Ow.”
“Chris? You alright?” Gene shouted.
“Mmm, Guv,” Chris answered, sounding unsure.
“Get in the bloody motor, or we’ll lose ‘em. Come on!” he shouted, revving the engine as Sam gently helped Chris up.
Chris slumped into the backseat as the tyres squealed, Gene ignoring the gasps of the few people who had appeared at the commotion, including the postmaster.
“Wa’s ‘appening?” Chris asked. “Where’s Ray?”
“They took ‘im - he’s driving the van,” Gene answered. “But don’t you worry, we’ll find ‘em.”
“The fuckin’ police? How’d they know what was goin’ down?” the man who had coshed Chris asked.
The man with the gun shrugged. “Don’t matter - could’ve just been chance. There were only two of ‘em. They won’t come near, not when we’ve got ‘im.”
“I’ll bet someone grassed us,” the first man said. “Some bastard. You wait ‘til I find ‘em.”
Ray risked a glance across at the men. There was something about the man’s voice.
Then he stared. “Jimmy?” he said.
“Yeah?” the man answered, without thinking, then he stared. “How the fuck d’you know me?”
Ray struggled to keep his eyes on the road, unable to believe what was happening.
“’S me, Jimmy, ‘s Ray.” He risked another glance and saw the total shock on his old friend’s face.
“No…Ray? Shit…”
The man holding the gun looked from one man to the other. “What is this, some sort of fuckin’ reunion? Who is ‘e, Jim?”
“He’s…we grew up together. He’s alright, he’s a mate. Ray - look, jus’…you do what we say, everythin’ll be right, alright?”
“Well it’ll ‘elp if you get that outta me face,” Ray nodded at the gun. “Where d’you want to go?”
The man with the gun hesitated slightly, then dropped the weapon into his lap, although it was still pointed roughly at Ray.
“There’s a farm, not far off. Go in there, round the back, there’s sheds, ‘s where we’re puttin’ the van. No one can see it.”
Ray nodded, glancing over at Jimmy again. “So…’ow’ve you been keeping?” he asked, trying to keep everyone calm and the situation as normal as possible.
Jimmy shrugged. “Alright. Y’know, gettin’ by. ‘Ow ‘bout you? Last I knew you were off in the Navy, sailin’ the seven seas. Di’n’t know you was back.”
Ray nodded. “Aye, give it up when I’d done me time.”
“How’d you end up doin’ this then?” Jimmy asked.
“Dunno, ‘s just a wage, innit?” Ray answered vaguely. “Needed summat, I weren’t fussed.”
“Sorry ‘bout yer mate,” Jimmy said. “I di’n’t hit him too ‘ard or nowt…he’ll prolly be okay.”
Ray nodded.
“So them coppers,” the man with the gun asked. “Why were they there? You know about that?”
Ray was silent for a second. “Dunno, might’ve been coincidence. Mebbe they sorted it with my guvnor, heard summat was going on, like. No one told us owt.”
The man nodded once. “Woulda thought they’d tell you.”
Ray shrugged. “They just pay us us’ wages, don’t ‘ave to tell us owt.”
“So…you been doin’ it long?” Jimmy asked.
“Few years,” Ray answered.
“Ever been tempted?” Jimmy smiled. “All that money in the back, like?”
Ray grinned. “What d’you think? ‘S big responsibillty, innit, lose me job if it goes missin’ all the time. But y’know, people miscount all the time. Note here, note there. ‘S just human nature, that is.”
Jimmy laughed. “I’ll bet! Nice one.”
“Turn in here,” the man with the gun ordered. “‘Round the back, doors of the shed’s open.”
Ray did as he was ordered, slightly worried that they hadn’t passed the team in front, which he’d been banking on so they could follow the van unnoticed.
He parked the van up in the shed, well aware there was no way anyone would guess where he was now.
“What now?” he asked, hesitantly, hoping his friendship with Jimmy would prevent him from coming to any harm.
“Come on in,” Jimmy answered. “We’ll work it out - the story, then we’ll drop you someplace, right?”
Ray nodded. “Right.”
He noticed that the man with the gun always walked behind him - but that was okay, he didn’t blame the bloke. As long as he played his cards right he could be out and call for backup, then the whole gang would be rounded up. He felt bad about Jimmy, and wondered if there was some way he could warn his old friend - get him to leave too, or something. Although now Tyler had seen him, he somehow doubted the Boss would be willing to turn a blind eye for the sake of a childhood friend - he wasn’t one to bend the rules, unlike the Guv.
He made his way into the house, following Jimmy to the kitchen.
“All done,” Jimmy said to a man who was watching out of the window. “No problems. Just need to move the cash into the car, an’ we’ll be away.”
“Good.” The man turned, lifting his cigarette to his lips. Then he froze. And Ray knew why. “What’s he doing here?” the man said, almost in a whisper.
Ray knew he couldn’t bluff his way out of this one. So he turned and ran, barging past the man with the gun, pushing him out of the way. He half hoped to bump into the rest of the team as he escaped.
“He’s a fuckin’ copper!” the man shouted. “You brought a copper back here!”
The man with the gun had obviously regained his footing, and a bullet chewed a chunk out of the plaster above Ray’s head as he ran for the door. Ray began pulling open the studs of his jacket, trying to reach his own weapon.
The gunshot obviously awoke some of the other criminals, and Ray saw two men emerge from one of the sheds and begin running to cut him off.
He altered his course, heading for a low wall instead, but unsure if there was any cover if he did manage to get over it. He hoped they were all as bad shots as the first man. He finally pulled his gun free, wondering if he should turn and shoot or try to dive over the wall first.
It was a moot point in the end, as a body slammed into him, knocking him to the ground. And then everyone was there, landing punches and kicks wherever they could. He gave up trying to fight, instead curling up, trying to protect his head and his groin as the blows rained down on him.
“Stop! Stop it!” he heard someone shouting, and he knew it was Jimmy. But he also knew it wouldn’t make any difference.
Then another voice broke in. “Stop. Bring him in, quickly. You - move that money, you help him. And hurry, God knows how many other coppers are around here.”
Hands reached down and dragged Ray upwards. He struggled until a heavy fist ploughed into his face.
He was dumped down on a chair at the kitchen table, everyone around looking nervous, waiting for the boss to tell them what to do.
Ray knew the man - he’d arrested him the year before, but the case had fallen through. No one would talk, not once they knew who was in the frame. Witnesses clammed up, everyone forgot everything they thought they’d seen.
Now Ray wished more than ever that they’d made something - anything - stick.
“Hold him,” the man ordered quietly.
An arm immediately wrapped around his neck, half choking him.
“And his hand.”
Someone behind him took hold of his arm and slowly fought against him to lay his hand on the table. Ray was shaking with the effort of fighting his captor’s grip, and it wasn’t having the slightest effect.
“Boss…what’re…” it was Jimmy who spoke, but then he quickly shut up, terrified.
“How’d you know about this, copper?” the boss asked.
Ray snarled, but didn’t answer.
“Seems like someone’s been talking out of turn. You better tell me who.”
Ray didn’t answer.
“I said you better tell me,” the man leaned in, his voice low and hard.
Ray just stared back at him, his blue eyes icy. There was little the man could do - not with the Guv, the Boss and Chris on the way.
The man moved so fast that Ray barely had time to react, and it was futile anyway, his captors holding him tightly.
The heavy cast iron frying pan smashed into the back of his hand, edge on. But even the noise of it hitting his flesh and the wooden table top wasn’t enough to drown out the sharp crack of bone.
Ray screamed, the sound ripping from his throat - there was no way he could have stopped it, no way he could have kept his usual stoic silence. This was too intense, too shocking. He felt bile in his throat, tears welling up in his eyes, and he saw the man raise the pan again.
Gene was driving too fast, and every corner he threw the Cortina around made Chris feel more sick as he clutched his pounding head.
“Guv?” he finally said, his voice barely more than a pathetic whisper. “Can you slow down a bit?”
Gene turned around, staring at his DC. “You're about as much use as a chocolate fireguard, Christopher. It may ‘ave escaped your notice, but while you were rolling about on the floor we’ve bloody lost a van full of cash!"
“And Ray,” Chris murmured, not really caring about the cash all that much.
Gene spotted the other car parked up ahead and screeched to a stop next to it, leaning out of the window.
“What’re you doing here? Where’s the bloody van?” he asked.
“What d’you mean, Guv? It ain’t come this way,” Jones answered.
“It…where else can it’ve gone, you bloody useless…they jumped it outside the Post Office. They’ve got Ray and the bastard money.”
“Well he ain’t come past us, Guv, ‘s all I know.”
“Guv…back there, there were some ‘ouses, farms, whatever. Maybe they’re in one of them?” Chris ventured.
“First sensible thing you’ve said, Chris,” Gene said grumpily. “You - start searching the houses too.” Then he dragged the Cortina around in a screeching U-turn and stamped on the accelerator.
As they approached the first building Gene slowed, peering into the property. There were a number of sheds and barns toward the back of the house and Sam pulled a face. “They could have hidden that van anywhere,” he said.
“Then we’d better start bloody looking,” Gene answered, turning the car into the drive and bumping slowly through the mud into the yard.
Ray thought he might pass out. He’d been shot before - he’d broken various bones in his hands from punching people or walls. But nothing compared to this.
“Tell me who grassed us…TELL ME!” the man reached out and grabbed a knife which sat nearby - one which still held the traces of someone’s lunch.
Ray thought that even if he did open his mouth to speak he would probably just end up puking on whoever’s arm it was wrapped around his throat.
“You!” The boss span around, jabbing the knife towards Jimmy, who jumped, trying to move backwards, except two of his fellow gang members crowded him and held him. “You know him, you know this copper - was it you? Was it you, opened your fuckin’ mouth?”
“No! No, I swear, it weren’t - he’s a friend from…from when we was kids. I haven’t seen him since we was 15 - I di’n’t know he was a pig, I swear I didn’t know!”
Jimmy’s voice was high pitched with terror, and Ray managed to drag his gaze from his rapidly swelling and bruised hand to see the fear in Jimmy’s expression.
“He’s tellin’ the truth,” Ray finally managed to say. “He di’n’t know…”
And then, as the man span around and delivered a punch to Ray’s face, he wished he’d kept quiet. The taste of blood filled his mouth as his nose crunched under the blow and the warm wetness trickled down his chin and soaked into the sleeve of the arm around his neck.
“Tell me who talked. One of these?” the man waved the knife around the room. “Someone else? Tell me or you’ll fuckin’ wish you’d never been born!”
Ray just about managed to find the strength to shake his head. He knew he only had to hold out for a short while longer - Gene must be behind him, following. They couldn’t be much longer. He had to believe that.
The boss looked furious.
“I’ll find out…I will! But if you tell me you’ll just save yourself a lot of pain…maybe save your life, even.”
Ray felt as if he was watching everything on the tv - as if he wasn’t really there at all. Some people in the room seemed to be moving in slow motion, others seemed to waver in and out of view. He tried to concentrate on something, anything.
He missed the signal from the boss to one of the gang, but the results were all too obvious as the man stepped forward, fists bunched, and began punching.
Ray rolled with the punches as best he could. He’d been the one scuffing his knuckles on other people’s faces often enough, standing in Lost and Found, waiting for the nod from Gene. The parallel might have been amusing, if it hadn’t hurt so much.
And then, just as he thought he might finally lose consciousness and be free of the pain, the punching stopped and a whole new pain flared in his arm. He jumped, moving away on instinct, but it only caused him to jostle his hand, and the pain stayed with him. He peered through blackened swollen eyes to see the boss slicing the knife slowly and deliberately through his forearm.
Gene was annoyed. Annoyed at Chris, for being a div and getting hit on the head, annoyed at Sam, who had been so certain that he knew how the robbery was going down, annoyed at the other team for being too far ahead and not seeing anything, and most of all, annoyed at himself, because this was not only a cock up with regards to losing the money, but also his sergeant - one of his best and oldest friends - who was undoubtedly suffering for all their mistakes.
He strode around the third house, again finding nothing except a nosy housewife who somehow thought that waving a broom at him might drive him off her property before he’d had a proper look around.
“Look, lady, police business,” he growled. “You seen anything unusual? Any…strangers, blokes who shouldn’t be ‘ere? Vans? Anything suspicious?”
Chris had made his way around to the side of the house, stepping over trailing plants and peering into a garden shed too small to hold anything of interest.
Then he looked out across the field to the next farm. It was bigger, and it looked as if there were some sort of stable blocks behind the large farmhouse. He peered a bit harder through the hedge and thought he saw movement. He glanced around, but the Guv was probably still arguing with the old woman and the Boss was God knows where - the other team were looking around the properties on the other side of the road.
So Chris climbed over the wooden fence in a bare part of the hedge and trotted across the field. Hopefully the farm workers might have seen or heard the van, at least.
He clambered over the fence at the other side of the field and looked at the gloopy mud of the track. Then he shrugged - he was still wearing the uniform of the cash van, so it wasn’t like his mum would tell him off for getting muddy. The driest path across the track led him toward the house, so he picked his way across, reaching the wall and perching on the drier patch of grass away from the vehicle tracks. Then he frowned. The tracks were very fresh, and wide - bigger than a car, but not like a tractor. In fact, very much like a van. He reached inside his jacket and slid his hand around his pistol, wondering if he should go back and get the Guv. Then he decided there were a million reasons why a van may have come into the farm - he needed proof.
He crept along the wall until he came to a window, then ducked down and carefully slipped underneath it. He was about to move on when he heard a noise. It sounded as if someone - or some thing was in pain. So he dared a quick peek around the window frame. And saw a man with a knife standing over someone being held down in a chair. Someone who was wearing the same uniform as Chris was.
For once, Chris didn’t hesitate, or panic or wonder if he should call the Boss or the Guv. He just acted, stepping back and steadying himself in one smooth movement before shooting. The man fell backwards, almost silently, and at the sharp report every other man in the room leapt for cover. Chris began shooting more, extra careful not to fire anywhere near Ray.
Gene’s head snapped around at the sharp crack of the pistol shot.
“What the…Skelton? Where’s Skelton?” he called to Sam, who looked just as confused as he was.
“It’s coming from over there,” Sam pointed. Then more pistol shots sounded and both men took off at a run, vaulting the fence into the paddock, and Sam reaching for his radio.
“All units! Get to those shots - the large white farmhouse, four from where we started, Chris is there on his own!”
Gene could see Chris standing by the window, firing in, and then two men tumbled out of the back door, followed by another hot on their heels. Gene raised his gun and picked the front man off, causing the second one to crash into the falling body. A couple of others who had been about to leave the house suddenly realised that they were running into more trouble.
Chris stopped firing as he realised no one in the room was moving. Apart from Ray, who looked as if he were about to fall off the chair.
Chris pushed in the remains of the glass and timber of the ruined window and pulled himself through it easily, running to Ray’s side. He could hear shooting outside, and just hoped it was the Guv and the others. Then three men bundled back down the corridor, obviously trying to escape the yard.
Ray clearly hadn’t fully registered Chris’s presence, as he lurched forward, reaching for his weapon, which had been placed on one of the worktops and forgotten by everyone.
“Ray!” Chris tried to stop him, but Ray was moving, legs unsteady, right arm useless, but he was determined.
So Chris leapt in front of him, and as the men turned again, realising they were trapped, Chris shot again, anger taking over from rational thought. As he reached the back door he fired repeatedly as the men ran for the vehicles. His hand was shaking with rage - having seen the amount of blood on the table by Ray he knew the men must’ve damaged his friend horribly.
His bullets went wide, but it didn’t matter, he could see the Guv and the others had the situation under control.
He turned back to see Ray sagging against the wall, barely still on his feet, blood sluggishly flowing from his nose and mouth, his arm held weakly to his chest, clothing dark with blood. Chris took a step toward him, then instinctively ducked as an explosion rent the air. It was the final straw for Ray, who dropped to the floor heavily, barely hanging on to consciousness.
Ray looked around. Apart from Chris there was one other body in the hallway. Someone whose breath was coming in gurgled gasps, a pool of blood creeping across the tiled floor from under them.
“Jimmy?” he said through swollen lips.
After a struggle Jimmy managed to turn his head. Ray shuffled toward him, reaching out.
Their hands met, slipped apart with the slick blood, then found a hold, both of them weak.
“Shouldn’t…’ave been like this,” Jimmy said, blood spilling over his lips.
“No.” Ray tried to ignore the mass of pain that was his right arm. “There’s help coming, I’ll get…”
Jimmy almost smiled, his cheeks twitching. “No’ th’s time,” he answered. “Lemme go, Ray.”
Ray nodded, knowing deep down there was no helping his old friend.
“We’ll meet ‘gain,” Jimmy said, jabbing his thumb upwards where he held Ray’s hand.
Ray didn’t believe it, but it didn’t matter, he wasn’t the one facing death. “Promise?” he asked.
“Promise.” Jimmy’s eyes slid closed, his last breath forced through the blood as his body went limp, pushing the air from his lungs.
Chris looked from Ray to the man who had hit him earlier - the man he had just shot dead - realising there was something going on which transcended the current situation.
“Ray?” He said hesitantly. “Who...?”
Ray shook his head, not letting go of Jimmy’s hand. “We used to know each other,” he answered. “But there were a…fork in the road. He took one side, I took…the other.”
Chris nodded, not entirely understanding. But before he could ask further Gene burst in the back door.
“Skelton! You bloody useless heap of…we’re meant to be gettin’ the soddin’ money back to the bleedin’ bank, you bloody div! How we going t’do that when you’ve jus’ blown ‘alf of it up in the back of the bleedin’ motor?”
Chris felt himself pale as he realised what the explosion had been.
“Uh…Guv, I…”
“Gene - he did probably save Ray’s life,” Sam pointed out from the doorway.
Then Gene’s expression softened. “Yeah, s’pose you did summat right,” he gestured to Ray. “Ambulance is on the way for you. Looks like Chris got ‘ere just in time.”
Ray nodded, then looked to Chris. “Reckon he did an’ all.”
Chris couldn’t help but smile.
He smiled even harder when Annie approached his desk a day later, when he’d got back from visiting Ray in hospital. She reached out with a piece of paper and a strip of sellotape and stuck a newspaper clipping on the wall above his desk.
“Hero Copper Saves Colleague,” the headline read in bold, with a smiling picture of him underneath, which Chris knew must have come from his mum.
“Well done,” Annie smiled, bending down and kissing him on the cheek.
Chris blushed, and then the blush deepened as everyone else in the room started whooping and clapping.
As a boy he’d always wanted to be a superhero. At least being a regular hero meant he didn’t have to wear his y-fronts outside his trousers.
~Fin
Original prompt: “Chris, saving the day, "you're about as much use as a chocolate fireguard"”
And for all you guys still struggling, the icon's for you :)