FIC: Previous Convictions 4/26, Brown Cortina, Gene and Ray, R/C
Title: Previous Convictions
Word Count: This part 4,700. Total 70,000
Spoilers: None, really. I suppose if you’ve never seen Life on Mars there might be one or two…but it won’t make sense, either!
Pairings: None to begin with, Ray/Chris eventually.
Rating: Brown Cortina
Disclaimer: The only things which belong to me are the mistakes.
Summary: It’s a long and winding road. A bit of backstory, pre-1973. There's a new 'Boss' in town...
A/N: Thanks go to xcazzie and dakfinv for beta-dom. All remaining mistakes are mine alone.
One, Two, Three
1965
Ray stopped clapping for long enough to stick his fingers in his mouth and let out a piercing whistle, then he reached into his bottom desk drawer and pulled out the whisky bottle he kept there. He grabbed three mugs as he headed toward Gene, who was standing by Woolf’s office doors, a cocksure grin on his face.
“Here,” Ray poured three healthy slugs of whisky into the mugs and offered one first to Woolf, then to Gene and kept the last one, raising it high. “DI Hunt,” he called to the room. “You jammy bastard,” he said quietly, the wide smile on his face taking the sting out of the words.
***
Gene tipped back his glass, slamming it back onto the bar and smacking his lips. The expansive movement caused him to sway on his barstool.
The door of the Railway Arms had long since been locked, but Nelson knew he didn’t need to worry about any police raids for after-hours drinking, not when most of Manchester’s finest were inside already, spending money like water in celebration of Gene’s promotion. Woolf immediately signalled for another refill whilst laughing loudly at some story that Ray was drunkenly telling. A few of the detectives who had wives and children to return home to had left, but in the main they were all still drinking and gambling.
It was almost one in the morning when Woolf threw his arm around Ray’s shoulders. “D…DC…Ray. Need you t’get Gene ‘ome….right? Need…t’make…sure…”
Ray nodded slowly as the disjointed words made it through the alcoholic haze. Get Gene home. Right. He tried to remember where Gene lived. Woolf nodded, almost headbutting Ray, then pushed himself away from the younger man, weaving toward Gene, who was slumped in a chair with half a whisky still sitting in front of him.
“Gene…Ray…go. Go with him,” Woolf slurred.
Gene looked around suddenly, but the room was spinning and he couldn’t tell who was talking to him.
It was another hour before Ray, with help from Nelson, pulled Gene to his feet and dragged him out into the street. Nelson watched as Ray staggered a little under Gene’s weight and the influence of most of a bottle of whisky and chuckled. He imagined that if any of the criminal fraternity could see the state of A Division now then they would rub their hands with glee and plan a crime spree for the morning.
“C’mon, Boss,” Ray said, trying to concentrate on keeping the two of them in a roughly straight line. “Get ya back to yer missus, not tha’ she’ll want you ‘n this state.”
Gene gripped onto Ray’s jacket tightly, staggering and almost falling over his own feet and into the road. Ray instinctively grabbed at Gene, one hand sliding across Gene’s chest. He couldn’t help but giggle as he tried to get Gene balanced again, whilst struggling to remain upright himself.
“Fuckin’ faggots,” a voice said loudly, close by.
Gene didn’t seem to notice, but Ray span around, seeing a young man staring at them both.
“What did you say?” His voice was hard, menacing, daring the kid to speak again.
“Fuckin’ faggots - poofters, you’re fuckin’ disgustin’,” the man spat at Ray.
Ray dumped Gene onto the nearest garden wall and turned, his fists clenched.
“Yeah? What you gonna do, poof?” He had barely finished his latest taunt before Ray was on him, punching him hard in the face, then falling to the ground with him, fists flying. The blows weren’t accurate, but Ray had enough power to make them count anyway.
Gene wondered why he’d stopped. Then swayed so violently he almost ended up in someone’s rose bushes. He looked around, wondering where Ray had disappeared to, before noticing the heap on the floor.
“Ray,” he mumbled. “Ray? Why…you ‘kay?” He pushed himself to his feet, trying to work out why Ray was on the floor. Maybe he was pissed, Gene decided, maybe he’d fallen over. Then he saw the man who was lying still on the floor as Ray pounded him with his fist.
“Shi…Ray, oi,” Gene grabbed Ray’s arm and dragged at it. “Ray, c’mon,” he succeeded in pulling Ray to his feet, stumbling as he did so.
Gene took one look at the unconscious man on the floor, then continued down the road, half using Ray for balance, half steering him. He knew they shouldn’t walk away, but he also knew they couldn’t be found there and his drunken reasoning meant he knew he’d be able to think more clearly once he wasn’t standing over some bloke that his DC had just beaten up.
***
He opened his eyes and immediately regretted it. The light was far too bright. Gene looked down at himself, realising he was still fully dressed, including his coat. Only his shoes had been removed.
He groaned, feeling like hell. His mouth was dry and his entire body ached. He slowly pushed himself up so he was sitting on the edge of the sofa, then rested his pounding head in his hands.
“Here,” a voice said. He looked up to see his wife offering him a glass of water that fizzed and bubbled from the tablet she’d obviously dropped in it.
“Ta, love,” he squinted up at her, then drank the water down in long gulps. He immediately regretted it when his stomach began to roil. “Jus’…gotta,” he lurched to his feet and headed for the stairs. The world was spinning around him, and he knew he was a long way from sober.
“I’ll make you breakfast. Don’t want to be late on your first day as a DI, do you?”
Gene made an inarticulate noise from somewhere in the bathroom.
He sat on the toilet, eyes closed, wishing the world would stop moving around him. He didn’t remember getting home the night before and wondered how he’d managed it. He certainly didn’t have a clue where his car was. He took deep breaths, trying to control the nausea, thinking about the night before.
Everyone had been buying him drinks, and he had no idea how much he’d put away in the end. He remembered playing darts with Ray…but that had been early in the evening. Then he had a vague recollection of Nelson trying to get him to stand up, but nothing else.
By the time he made it back downstairs, washed and changed, he was feeling a little better. He’d taken more painkillers from the bathroom cabinet in preparation for the day ahead. The smell of freshly cooked breakfast made his stomach growl, despite the rising feeling he got in his throat. He knew he should probably forgo the food, but now his missus had made it he felt like he should eat it. He sat down and tucked in, albeit more slowly than he normally would.
“You make sure an’ thank young Ray for seeing you home, won’t you, Gene?” his wife said.
Gene looked up. “Ray? ‘E brought me back?”
She nodded.
Gene grunted. “’Kay. Did he say anythin’?”
“I was in bed, I just heard him trying to make you stop singing in the street and then help you find your keys under the bedroom window. You should be setting an example to the likes of him, you know, not relying on him to be there to drag you home.”
“Oh. Didn’t mean to wake you, sorry.”
“I expected it. You should celebrate - I’m very proud of you. But you’ve gotta act like the DI you are now. There’s more responsibility an’ all, to go with the rank.”
Gene nodded, his mouth full. “Ray’s a good lad,” he said, still chewing. “He’s okay.”
“Still, he’s probably got his own girl to go home to, doesn’t need to be walkin’ you home.”
“Nah, ‘e ain’t got a girl. He’d ‘ave told me,” Gene took a huge bite out of one of the slices of toast in front of him. “Got any tea brewed?”
Tess got up and poured a fresh cup of tea from the pot. “Well hanging around with you lot in that pub of yours won’t get him out meeting a nice young lady will it?” she scolded.
“E’s ‘ad plenty o’ interest. He’s just bein’ choosy,” Gene replied, remembering that only a few weeks previously one of the witnesses to a robbery had been batting her eyelashes at DC Carling, and she’d been a lovely girl, in his opinion. He made a mental note to find out if Ray had done anything about her. They had her address on file, after all.
As he walked into town a few memories of the night before came back to Gene. He could just about recall Harry telling him that Ray was going to get him home safely. And he’d left the pub with Ray, he was sure, so they must have walked back to his place, and then Ray would have had to head back to the other side of town. Maybe Tess was right, he did need to thank his DC.
He climbed the steps to the station as other people arrived in dribs and drabs, the uniform officers all preparing for shift change. He headed for the CID office, his first thought to find a cup of coffee, his second to sit down and not move until the world had stopped swimming about around him. As he walked in to the CID office he saw Ray’s familiar figure already at the small table where they kept the kettle and tea things. He walked over and slapped Ray on the back, startling the younger man.
“Make us one - coffee, strong ‘n black,” he ordered. Then he leant against the wall. “Cheers for…whatever you did, walkin’ me home an’ all.”
Ray looked up and nodded. “Not a problem, Boss.”
Gene frowned. There was a dull bruise under Ray’s eye and his bottom lip was split. As Ray reached for the coffee jar Gene saw that his knuckles were also bruised. A memory fought its way to the surface, and he tried to grab onto it. He was watching, in the dark, and he could see Ray on the floor, fighting. He couldn’t for the life of him remember what had started it though…or how it had ended. He quickly glanced at his own hands, but they showed no signs of damage. Had he been so drunk that he’d left Ray to defend himself…or defend the both of them? Guilt surged over him.
“What…how come….what ‘appened?” Gene gestured to Ray’s face.
Ray stared at him for a long moment, then shook his head. “Nothin’, just…some drunk on me way back from yours. It’s nowt.”
Gene immediately narrowed his eyes, knowing that Ray was lying to him. He cursed himself for being too pissed to recall what had happened. Why would Ray keep something from him? There was no reason for it, unless it had been somehow his own fault. He and Ray had been in plenty of punch-ups before, even revelled in a couple of them. Then it dawned on him. Ray was covering for him because of his slightly fragile state of newly-promoted DI.
“Come with me,” Gene ordered, grabbing Ray by the arm and dragging him toward the door, causing Ray to slosh tea over the table and almost knock the milk bottle onto the floor.
TBC...
Word Count: This part 4,700. Total 70,000
Spoilers: None, really. I suppose if you’ve never seen Life on Mars there might be one or two…but it won’t make sense, either!
Pairings: None to begin with, Ray/Chris eventually.
Rating: Brown Cortina
Disclaimer: The only things which belong to me are the mistakes.
Summary: It’s a long and winding road. A bit of backstory, pre-1973. There's a new 'Boss' in town...
A/N: Thanks go to xcazzie and dakfinv for beta-dom. All remaining mistakes are mine alone.
One, Two, Three
1965
Ray stopped clapping for long enough to stick his fingers in his mouth and let out a piercing whistle, then he reached into his bottom desk drawer and pulled out the whisky bottle he kept there. He grabbed three mugs as he headed toward Gene, who was standing by Woolf’s office doors, a cocksure grin on his face.
“Here,” Ray poured three healthy slugs of whisky into the mugs and offered one first to Woolf, then to Gene and kept the last one, raising it high. “DI Hunt,” he called to the room. “You jammy bastard,” he said quietly, the wide smile on his face taking the sting out of the words.
***
Gene tipped back his glass, slamming it back onto the bar and smacking his lips. The expansive movement caused him to sway on his barstool.
The door of the Railway Arms had long since been locked, but Nelson knew he didn’t need to worry about any police raids for after-hours drinking, not when most of Manchester’s finest were inside already, spending money like water in celebration of Gene’s promotion. Woolf immediately signalled for another refill whilst laughing loudly at some story that Ray was drunkenly telling. A few of the detectives who had wives and children to return home to had left, but in the main they were all still drinking and gambling.
It was almost one in the morning when Woolf threw his arm around Ray’s shoulders. “D…DC…Ray. Need you t’get Gene ‘ome….right? Need…t’make…sure…”
Ray nodded slowly as the disjointed words made it through the alcoholic haze. Get Gene home. Right. He tried to remember where Gene lived. Woolf nodded, almost headbutting Ray, then pushed himself away from the younger man, weaving toward Gene, who was slumped in a chair with half a whisky still sitting in front of him.
“Gene…Ray…go. Go with him,” Woolf slurred.
Gene looked around suddenly, but the room was spinning and he couldn’t tell who was talking to him.
It was another hour before Ray, with help from Nelson, pulled Gene to his feet and dragged him out into the street. Nelson watched as Ray staggered a little under Gene’s weight and the influence of most of a bottle of whisky and chuckled. He imagined that if any of the criminal fraternity could see the state of A Division now then they would rub their hands with glee and plan a crime spree for the morning.
“C’mon, Boss,” Ray said, trying to concentrate on keeping the two of them in a roughly straight line. “Get ya back to yer missus, not tha’ she’ll want you ‘n this state.”
Gene gripped onto Ray’s jacket tightly, staggering and almost falling over his own feet and into the road. Ray instinctively grabbed at Gene, one hand sliding across Gene’s chest. He couldn’t help but giggle as he tried to get Gene balanced again, whilst struggling to remain upright himself.
“Fuckin’ faggots,” a voice said loudly, close by.
Gene didn’t seem to notice, but Ray span around, seeing a young man staring at them both.
“What did you say?” His voice was hard, menacing, daring the kid to speak again.
“Fuckin’ faggots - poofters, you’re fuckin’ disgustin’,” the man spat at Ray.
Ray dumped Gene onto the nearest garden wall and turned, his fists clenched.
“Yeah? What you gonna do, poof?” He had barely finished his latest taunt before Ray was on him, punching him hard in the face, then falling to the ground with him, fists flying. The blows weren’t accurate, but Ray had enough power to make them count anyway.
Gene wondered why he’d stopped. Then swayed so violently he almost ended up in someone’s rose bushes. He looked around, wondering where Ray had disappeared to, before noticing the heap on the floor.
“Ray,” he mumbled. “Ray? Why…you ‘kay?” He pushed himself to his feet, trying to work out why Ray was on the floor. Maybe he was pissed, Gene decided, maybe he’d fallen over. Then he saw the man who was lying still on the floor as Ray pounded him with his fist.
“Shi…Ray, oi,” Gene grabbed Ray’s arm and dragged at it. “Ray, c’mon,” he succeeded in pulling Ray to his feet, stumbling as he did so.
Gene took one look at the unconscious man on the floor, then continued down the road, half using Ray for balance, half steering him. He knew they shouldn’t walk away, but he also knew they couldn’t be found there and his drunken reasoning meant he knew he’d be able to think more clearly once he wasn’t standing over some bloke that his DC had just beaten up.
***
He opened his eyes and immediately regretted it. The light was far too bright. Gene looked down at himself, realising he was still fully dressed, including his coat. Only his shoes had been removed.
He groaned, feeling like hell. His mouth was dry and his entire body ached. He slowly pushed himself up so he was sitting on the edge of the sofa, then rested his pounding head in his hands.
“Here,” a voice said. He looked up to see his wife offering him a glass of water that fizzed and bubbled from the tablet she’d obviously dropped in it.
“Ta, love,” he squinted up at her, then drank the water down in long gulps. He immediately regretted it when his stomach began to roil. “Jus’…gotta,” he lurched to his feet and headed for the stairs. The world was spinning around him, and he knew he was a long way from sober.
“I’ll make you breakfast. Don’t want to be late on your first day as a DI, do you?”
Gene made an inarticulate noise from somewhere in the bathroom.
He sat on the toilet, eyes closed, wishing the world would stop moving around him. He didn’t remember getting home the night before and wondered how he’d managed it. He certainly didn’t have a clue where his car was. He took deep breaths, trying to control the nausea, thinking about the night before.
Everyone had been buying him drinks, and he had no idea how much he’d put away in the end. He remembered playing darts with Ray…but that had been early in the evening. Then he had a vague recollection of Nelson trying to get him to stand up, but nothing else.
By the time he made it back downstairs, washed and changed, he was feeling a little better. He’d taken more painkillers from the bathroom cabinet in preparation for the day ahead. The smell of freshly cooked breakfast made his stomach growl, despite the rising feeling he got in his throat. He knew he should probably forgo the food, but now his missus had made it he felt like he should eat it. He sat down and tucked in, albeit more slowly than he normally would.
“You make sure an’ thank young Ray for seeing you home, won’t you, Gene?” his wife said.
Gene looked up. “Ray? ‘E brought me back?”
She nodded.
Gene grunted. “’Kay. Did he say anythin’?”
“I was in bed, I just heard him trying to make you stop singing in the street and then help you find your keys under the bedroom window. You should be setting an example to the likes of him, you know, not relying on him to be there to drag you home.”
“Oh. Didn’t mean to wake you, sorry.”
“I expected it. You should celebrate - I’m very proud of you. But you’ve gotta act like the DI you are now. There’s more responsibility an’ all, to go with the rank.”
Gene nodded, his mouth full. “Ray’s a good lad,” he said, still chewing. “He’s okay.”
“Still, he’s probably got his own girl to go home to, doesn’t need to be walkin’ you home.”
“Nah, ‘e ain’t got a girl. He’d ‘ave told me,” Gene took a huge bite out of one of the slices of toast in front of him. “Got any tea brewed?”
Tess got up and poured a fresh cup of tea from the pot. “Well hanging around with you lot in that pub of yours won’t get him out meeting a nice young lady will it?” she scolded.
“E’s ‘ad plenty o’ interest. He’s just bein’ choosy,” Gene replied, remembering that only a few weeks previously one of the witnesses to a robbery had been batting her eyelashes at DC Carling, and she’d been a lovely girl, in his opinion. He made a mental note to find out if Ray had done anything about her. They had her address on file, after all.
As he walked into town a few memories of the night before came back to Gene. He could just about recall Harry telling him that Ray was going to get him home safely. And he’d left the pub with Ray, he was sure, so they must have walked back to his place, and then Ray would have had to head back to the other side of town. Maybe Tess was right, he did need to thank his DC.
He climbed the steps to the station as other people arrived in dribs and drabs, the uniform officers all preparing for shift change. He headed for the CID office, his first thought to find a cup of coffee, his second to sit down and not move until the world had stopped swimming about around him. As he walked in to the CID office he saw Ray’s familiar figure already at the small table where they kept the kettle and tea things. He walked over and slapped Ray on the back, startling the younger man.
“Make us one - coffee, strong ‘n black,” he ordered. Then he leant against the wall. “Cheers for…whatever you did, walkin’ me home an’ all.”
Ray looked up and nodded. “Not a problem, Boss.”
Gene frowned. There was a dull bruise under Ray’s eye and his bottom lip was split. As Ray reached for the coffee jar Gene saw that his knuckles were also bruised. A memory fought its way to the surface, and he tried to grab onto it. He was watching, in the dark, and he could see Ray on the floor, fighting. He couldn’t for the life of him remember what had started it though…or how it had ended. He quickly glanced at his own hands, but they showed no signs of damage. Had he been so drunk that he’d left Ray to defend himself…or defend the both of them? Guilt surged over him.
“What…how come….what ‘appened?” Gene gestured to Ray’s face.
Ray stared at him for a long moment, then shook his head. “Nothin’, just…some drunk on me way back from yours. It’s nowt.”
Gene immediately narrowed his eyes, knowing that Ray was lying to him. He cursed himself for being too pissed to recall what had happened. Why would Ray keep something from him? There was no reason for it, unless it had been somehow his own fault. He and Ray had been in plenty of punch-ups before, even revelled in a couple of them. Then it dawned on him. Ray was covering for him because of his slightly fragile state of newly-promoted DI.
“Come with me,” Gene ordered, grabbing Ray by the arm and dragging him toward the door, causing Ray to slosh tea over the table and almost knock the milk bottle onto the floor.
TBC...