Ficathon Entry - Decision Point
Title: Decision Point
Rating: Green Cortina (for swearing)
Ficathon Request: Sam/Gene, UST, something from Sam's present leaking back into 1973.
Disclaimer: LOM and all who sail in her are not mine. I merely borrow them for awhile.
“My former unit?” Sam replied blankly. He shook his head. “I still don’t....”
The Guv sighed. “Hyde, Tyler,” he explained patiently. “Hyde want you back.”
For Kali
Sam Tyler stuck his head round the door to the inner office and grinned at his boss. “We’re off, Guv,” he said, shrugging on his leather jacket as he spoke. “Coming down the pub?”
It had been a good day - a number of arrests firmly closing the lid on what had been a very long and frustrating case. Several villains lay behind bars thanks to a mix of attentive paperwork and gut instinct policing. It had been one of Sam’s better days, and he was looking forwards to celebrating with the others vis-a-vis large quantites of beer and scotch down the local Railway Arms.
To Sam’s surprise, however, the Guv didn’t grin back. Instead he looked at Sam seriously, a frown creasing his brow. “You got a minute, Tyler,” he waved to an empty chair. “Take a seat.”
“Guv?” Sam slid into the seat, his face betraying his concern. “What’s up?”
The Guv ignored him, his attention fixed on a sheet of paper held between his large, calloused hands.
“Guv?” Sam repeated, frowning.
The Guv snapped out of his reverie, his eyes fixing on the younger man. “You like paperwork,” he said, finally, thrusting the sheet of paper at Sam. “You should like this then.”
Sam glanced down at the document, his frown deepening as he first skimmed its contents, then went back again to read the whole thing a second time. “I...don’t understand,” he spoke finally.
“It’s all there in black and white,” the Guv gestured to the paper in Sam’s hands. “Your former unit have requested you be transferred back to them, subject to the appropriate authority of course.”
“My former unit?” Sam replied blankly. He shook his head. “I still don’t...”
The Guv sighed. “Hyde, Tyler,” he explained patiently. “Hyde want you back.”
****************************************************************
Beep...beep...beep
“Response levels are increasing...he’s almost conscious - talk to him, Mrs Tyler, try and bring him through...”.
Click - swish
“Come on Sam, love, the doctors say you can wake up if you want to...one last effort, love...please....”
Beep...beep...beep
***************************************************************
“Sam?” The Guv looked at him, his expression concerned. “You alright?”
Sam removed his hands from his ears as the last vestiges of 2006 faded away. “I...” he began then stopped. “Yeah,” he lowered his hands and retrieved up the transfer document from the floor. “Caught me by surprise is all.”
The Guv grunted. “Thought you’d be pleased,” he rummaged in his desk drawer, bringing out the inevitable bottle of scotch. “You’ve wanted to go back there often enough.” He held up a glass and Sam nodded, watching as he poured out a generous measure of the liquid, handing it over to Sam before refilling his own glass.
Sam nodded. “I know, it’s just...” he tailed off, unable to finish the sentence.
“Just what?” The Guv raised his glass and drank a mouthful of scotch. “Couple of months ago you’d have bitten my arm off to get back there. What’s changed?”
The phone on Gene’s desk rang, making them both jump. The Guv answered it, frowning as he began to converse with RCS over some breach of protocol to do with the afternoon’s arrests.
Sam used the time to consider his own feelings. He studied his glass intently. What had changed. When had he stopped wanting to find his way back to 2006, to his old friends and family, to his own life? Since when had 1973 become more important than anything else?
The Guv swore down the phone at the person on the other end and as Sam glanced up at him, their eyes met - Sam’s eyebrows raised at the use of language, the Guv’s curve of his mouth betraying his enjoyment at tearing a strip out of RCS. Sam smiled despite himself and as the Guv smiled back, his heart leapt in his chest, the beating more forceful, more real than any beeping of a heart monitor back in 2006.
With total certainty, Sam Tylor realised why he wanted to stay in 1973.
Gene Hunt.
“Shit,” he whispered to himself.
**********************************************************************
Beep...beep...beep
“Sam, Sammy...if you can hear me, I want you to do something for me. I want you to try and open your eyes...”
Swish - click
“That’s all you have to do, love. Open your eyes and then you’ll be able to wake up...and we can be a family again.”
Beep...beep...beep
*********************************************************************
Sam leaned forwards, one hand rubbing his eyes, the other still clasped tightly around the glass of whiskey, the Guv’s voice on the telephone replacing that of his mother’s. What to do... to go..or stay?
He sniffed, drinking half the whiskey at one go, feeling the liquid burning it’s way down his throat, needing the pain to give him some form of clarity on the situation.
He wasn’t gay...at least in his old life he hadn’t been gay, with Maya a testament to that fact. Yet with increasing certainty he was becoming aware that in this reality, this life, not everything from his old life had replicated in the same way. Why not him?
He considered this logically, as only Sam Tyler could, method in the face of madness. Had he looked at any of the others with anything other than a professional relationship? Chris was good looking enough, sure, with an innocent naievety that could be kind of appealing... and perhaps his hatred of Ray was no more than a suppression of an underlying sexual tension between the two of them?
Sam mentally shook his head, dismissing the ideas as they surfaced, knowing them to be false, even as the butterflies in his stomach told him the real answer to his question. The reason he hadn’t looked at the other men wasn’t because he wasn’t gay, he realised, his logical approach teasing out the truth of the situation. He simply hadn’t looked at them because his attention was solely fixated on one man alone.
Gene Hunt.
Damn it! He was going round in circles now, had been here before and would end up here again. Might as well face the truth. His world began and ended with that one man.
He tossed back the remains of his drink and reached for the whiskey bottle, causing the Guv to raise his eyebrows before nodding, still in mid-abusive torrent with RCS. Sam poured himself another measure of scotch, settling back in his chair, trying desperately to sort out his feelings before the phone call ended and he be forced to articulate whatever decision he came to.
Which was......?
He didn’t know what to do. He knew with certainty that if he agreed to the transfer back to Hyde he would wake up in 2006, with this life nothing more than a drug-induced dream, a memory that would fade with the coming of the light. But could he do that? Could he relegate that man, the Guv, the Gene Genie himself to the realm of the subconscious, to be remembered perhaps, in the far distant future with the smell of a certain brand of cigarettes or a blend of whiskey...to be brought out for the amusement of grandchildren at bedtime?
Never! The answer exploded in the pit of his stomach, gut instinct racing into overdrive, forcing the logic of his head to recede in the face of the emotions of his heart. He couldn’t do that to the Guv - forget that, he couldn’t do it to himself - couldn’t face a life where he wasn’t working or fighting or bickering or drinking or just plain breathing the same air as the Guv. Gene Hunt was his world, he realised with double certainty now, more real than anything 2006 had to offer him, their arguments just another way of interacting with each other, their punch-ups a means of physical contact...belatedly Sam realised how much he needed that physical aspect - why he had riled the Guv up so much over the preceding months, wanting, no needing the Guv’s hands on him in any way possible.
So that was it. His decision made. Hyde be damned, he’d stay here with the Guv and......
Indecision crept in. How could he stay here now, knowing how he felt about the Guv, knowing that he couldn’t live with the lie, not now, not when it was just below the surface, waiting to burst out of his mouth at the first opportunity. And what about the Guv? The likelihood of him accepting Sam as a partner was virtually non-existant...plus he was married. Still, Sam thought stubbornly to himself, there was always a chance....
“Fucking homo!”
“Eh...what?” Sam looked up startled to find the Guv glaring at him.
“Not you, Lytton.” The Guv reached for his glass of whiskey and frowned at the telephone. “Little shit’s got his prick rammed so far up the Superintendant’s arse that RCS get all the top cover. Fucking arseholes,” he swore again for good measure, drinking half the contents of his glass. “Well,” he demanded of Sam, putting him on the spot. “Made your decision yet?”
Sam swallowed. The Guv was clearly homophobic, his dealings with Warren testament to that fact. There was no way it was going to work, no way that it could work. A sick feeling settled in the pit of his stomach and he nodded dully. “I’ll go,” he said quietly.
The Guv stared at him intently. “Well don’t look so happy about it,” he frowned. “Anyone’d think it was a life or death decision.”
“It is,” Sam said without thought, then caught the Guv’s inquisitive glance and shook his head slightly. “It is to me,” he finished lamely.
The Guv sighed in exasperation. “Make your mind up, Tyler,” he put his glass down on the table. “You know sometimes I think we’re getting along okay you an’ me, and then some days you act like you don’t want to be here,” he glared at Sam. “Which is it?”
Sam shrugged. “There’s so much you don’t know about me,” he began slowly.
“Yeah, yeah...tell me something I don’t know.”
“I’m serious, Guv...”
“So am I!” The Guv stood up, leaning forwards, both hands on the desk. “You going to tell me that you come from the future, Sam? That there’s a world of mobile wotsits and electrical databases out there and you just happened to fall into my world, my office in my 1973..?” Sam stared at him open-mouthed. “Think I haven’t heard it all already from that plonk Annie Cartright?”
Sam stood up, his eyes on a level with the Guv’s. “Annie’s telling you the truth,” he said softly. I do come from a world of mobile phones and electronic databases,” he raised a finger. “But this is my world, not yours. I’m making this up as I go along,” he shook his head. “Not you.”
The Guv laughed incredulously. “You’re in my city.”
“In my world.” Sam countered.
“This is my office!”
“You’re in my head!”
The two men stared at each other, hands on hips, both mirroring each other’s action.
“Face it...Gene,” Sam spoke clearly. “I’m running this show. Not you.”
“You’re running this show?” The Guv repeated and Sam nodded. The Guv sniffed then lunged forwards suddenly, punching Sam hard in the mouth. Sam gave an exclaimation of pain and fell backwards over the chair, landing painfully on the floor. “Didn’t see that coming, did you?” the Guv smirked.
Sam picked himself up of the floor, pressing his lip. “What did you do that for?” he complained, wiping away the first traces of blood with the back of his hand.
The Guv sighed. “Sit down, Tyler,” he ordered, throwing him a grey looking handkerchief and reaching once more for the bottle of whiskey. Sam glared at the Guv as he refilled their glasses, but took the handkerchief, looking at it suspiciously before regaining his seat opposite the Guv.
The Guv pushed a glass towards Sam. “I don’t know what to believe, quite frankly,” he began, sipping his own whiskey. Sam stared at him in surprise. “I’ll admit when that plonk first came in with her story about you I dismissed it - especially since you can be an annoying little arsehole at times.” Sam shrugged, dabbing at his mouth with the handkerchief. “But when the uniformed boys brought your car in on that first day they did a routine search. One of ‘em handed something in to me ‘cause they couldn’t make head nor tail of it. I was going to give it back to you,” he continued, seeing Sam’s puzzled expression. “But to be honest I forgot about it until the Vic Tyler case, when Annie said you’d had a relapse again and you started acting funny. I’ve been waiting for the right moment since then to give it back to you.” He opened up a desk drawer, took out something small and oval and placed it on the table in front of Sam. “I believe this belongs to you.”
Sam stared in shock at the object before him. With trembling fingers he reached forwards and with loving hands caressed his mobile phone.
**********************************************************************
Beep...beep...beep
“His heart rate just increased. Blood pressure stabilising. I think he’s coming back to us...”
Swish - click
“Oh Sam, please wake up. One last effort, that’s all you need. I’m here, Sammy, waiting for you....”.
Beep...beep...beep
**********************************************************************
“Do you know what this is?” Sam’s voice was little more than a whisper.
“Looks like a phone,” the Guv looked at Sam steadily, his expression giving nothing away. “A bloody small one at that,” he added for good measure.
Sam flipped open the top, reaching instinctively for the on button. The phone emitted a faint beep and the LCD lit up for a fraction of a second before fading away into nothing, remaining stubbornly blank despite Sam’s best efforts.
“Battery’s dead,” he swore frustratedly, trying buttons at random now, to no avail. “Damn it!” He threw it onto the desk, angry now. “Why didn’t you tell me?” he demanded, one finger jabbing angrily at the Guv. “All this time I’ve been thinking that maybe everyone else is right and I am mad - and all along you’ve had my phone in your desk.” He drew back, his hands gesticulating wildly. “This is proof that I’m not mad, that I’m telling the truth! Don’t you get that!”
“Wipe your mouth, Sam” the Guv indicated the blood dripping down Sam’s chin. Sam glared at the Guv but did as he asked, snatching up the handkerchief and pressing it to his face. “Now I don’t know if it’s a phone or not... “ the Guv raised a hand, calming Sam’s protests. “I’ve seen kids toys that look as convincing as this and believe me I’m not about to go out and sacrifice my sanity in order to prove yours - especially when I don’t know what to believe.”
“That’s evidence..”
“It’s a bunch of circuit boards made to look like a phone.”
“I can prove it!”
“How?” the Guv demanded.
Sam took the handkerchief away from his face, pleased to see his lip had stopped bleeding. “I’ll find a way to recharge it,” he promised grimly. “Then it’ll work.”
“Then what?” the Guv leaned back in his chair, his hands folded in front of him.
Sam stared at him. “Then I’ll....” his voice faltered.
“Phone home?” the Guv queried, one eyebrow raised. “Does it connect to the telephone network this phone of yours?” He sniffed. “Who would you call - mum, dad, 1973, 2006?”
Beep...beep...beep
Sam squeezed his eyes shut, his hands raised to his ears.
“Come home, Sammy, come home...”
“Can’t shut me out, Sammy boy.”
Swish - click
“I don’t know what to do...” Sam muttered to himself.
“Come home...”
“Stay.”
Sam’s eyes snapped open. “What did you say?” he asked the Guv, his stomach lurching.
“I asked if you changed your mind and wanted to stay?” the Guv repeated, frowning at Sam. He stood up and walked over to the window, peering between the blinds into the outer office. “If not, sign the paper an’ I’ll put it through in the morning.”
Sam stared at his back. “Do you want me to go?” he asked softly. It was suddenly important to know if the Guv wanted him to stay or not.
“S’not my decision,” the Guv sipped his whiskey, eyes still on the outer office. “It’s your call, Sam.”
“I ... have to go.”
“Ah well - if you have to...” the Guv kept his back to Sam, lighting a cigarette.
“I’m....” Sam swallowed and tried again. “I’m...gay, Gene,” he forced the words out around the lump in his throat.
The Guv blew out a stream of smoke. “So’s Chris,” he replied calmly, missing Sam’s look of surprise behind him. “Although the little twerp doesn’t realise it yet,” he grinned to himself. “Is that your problem?” he glanced over his shoulder at Sam, before returning his gaze to the outer office.
“No. “Sam replied quietly. “My problem,” his words came out slowly. “Is that I’m gay and...you’re not.”
Silence. The Guv’s shoulders slumped.
“Guv...” Sam began tentatively.
The Guv dropped his cigarette, grinding it into the floor. A second later he turned around with fire in his eyes and Sam had hardly time to cry out “Don’t!-“ before the Guv’s hands had gripped clothing and skin, dragging him across the office and against the filing cabinet.
“Damn you. Sam Tyler...” The Guv’s fist connected with Sam’s stomach and he doubled over only to be thrust against the filing cabinet once more. “Damn you!” A second punch and Sam cried out, feeling himself hauled upwards once more...
“I’m sorry -" Sam gasped out... “I’ll go...”
“You’re not going anywhere,” the Guv growled thickly and suddenly his lips claimed Sam’s, his tongue forcing its way into Sam’s mouth, invading the hot cavity with the taste of whiskey, cigarettes and juicy fruit. Sam froze for a second, unable to comprehend the turn of events, then one hand wound around Gene’s neck and he was kissing him back just as hungrily, mouth exploring mouth, tongue touching tongue, lips brushing lips. The kiss seemed to last a lifetime, yet not long enough and when the Guv drew back, Sam stayed against the filing cabinet, his knees weak, gasping for air.
“Whoah - Guv,” Sam found his voice at last. “Where did that come from.”
The Guv grinned at him. “You’ll never know unless you stay to find out.” He reached for his coat, shrugging it on over his shoulders. “Pub?” he gestured.
Sam pushed himself off the cabinet and reached for the transfer paper. He held it up, tearing it into four deliberate pieces in front of him. “Pub,” he agreed, smiling broadly. He preceded the Guv to the door of the office. “And then my place,” he grinned suggestively at the Guv. “You coming?”
The Guv matched Sam’s grin with one of his own. “You will be,” he promised wickedly, and laughing the two men left the office.
**********************************************************************
Beep...beep...beep
“I’m sorry, Mrs Tyler, his response levels have dropped again. I’ll let you know if they improve again.”
Swish - click
“One day I know you’ll come back to me, Sammy. Until then, know that I’m waiting for you and that I love you. Sleep tight, love, pleasant dreams....”
Beep...beep...beep
**********************************************************************
fin
Rating: Green Cortina (for swearing)
Ficathon Request: Sam/Gene, UST, something from Sam's present leaking back into 1973.
Disclaimer: LOM and all who sail in her are not mine. I merely borrow them for awhile.
“My former unit?” Sam replied blankly. He shook his head. “I still don’t....”
The Guv sighed. “Hyde, Tyler,” he explained patiently. “Hyde want you back.”
For Kali
Sam Tyler stuck his head round the door to the inner office and grinned at his boss. “We’re off, Guv,” he said, shrugging on his leather jacket as he spoke. “Coming down the pub?”
It had been a good day - a number of arrests firmly closing the lid on what had been a very long and frustrating case. Several villains lay behind bars thanks to a mix of attentive paperwork and gut instinct policing. It had been one of Sam’s better days, and he was looking forwards to celebrating with the others vis-a-vis large quantites of beer and scotch down the local Railway Arms.
To Sam’s surprise, however, the Guv didn’t grin back. Instead he looked at Sam seriously, a frown creasing his brow. “You got a minute, Tyler,” he waved to an empty chair. “Take a seat.”
“Guv?” Sam slid into the seat, his face betraying his concern. “What’s up?”
The Guv ignored him, his attention fixed on a sheet of paper held between his large, calloused hands.
“Guv?” Sam repeated, frowning.
The Guv snapped out of his reverie, his eyes fixing on the younger man. “You like paperwork,” he said, finally, thrusting the sheet of paper at Sam. “You should like this then.”
Sam glanced down at the document, his frown deepening as he first skimmed its contents, then went back again to read the whole thing a second time. “I...don’t understand,” he spoke finally.
“It’s all there in black and white,” the Guv gestured to the paper in Sam’s hands. “Your former unit have requested you be transferred back to them, subject to the appropriate authority of course.”
“My former unit?” Sam replied blankly. He shook his head. “I still don’t...”
The Guv sighed. “Hyde, Tyler,” he explained patiently. “Hyde want you back.”
****************************************************************
Beep...beep...beep
“Response levels are increasing...he’s almost conscious - talk to him, Mrs Tyler, try and bring him through...”.
Click - swish
“Come on Sam, love, the doctors say you can wake up if you want to...one last effort, love...please....”
Beep...beep...beep
***************************************************************
“Sam?” The Guv looked at him, his expression concerned. “You alright?”
Sam removed his hands from his ears as the last vestiges of 2006 faded away. “I...” he began then stopped. “Yeah,” he lowered his hands and retrieved up the transfer document from the floor. “Caught me by surprise is all.”
The Guv grunted. “Thought you’d be pleased,” he rummaged in his desk drawer, bringing out the inevitable bottle of scotch. “You’ve wanted to go back there often enough.” He held up a glass and Sam nodded, watching as he poured out a generous measure of the liquid, handing it over to Sam before refilling his own glass.
Sam nodded. “I know, it’s just...” he tailed off, unable to finish the sentence.
“Just what?” The Guv raised his glass and drank a mouthful of scotch. “Couple of months ago you’d have bitten my arm off to get back there. What’s changed?”
The phone on Gene’s desk rang, making them both jump. The Guv answered it, frowning as he began to converse with RCS over some breach of protocol to do with the afternoon’s arrests.
Sam used the time to consider his own feelings. He studied his glass intently. What had changed. When had he stopped wanting to find his way back to 2006, to his old friends and family, to his own life? Since when had 1973 become more important than anything else?
The Guv swore down the phone at the person on the other end and as Sam glanced up at him, their eyes met - Sam’s eyebrows raised at the use of language, the Guv’s curve of his mouth betraying his enjoyment at tearing a strip out of RCS. Sam smiled despite himself and as the Guv smiled back, his heart leapt in his chest, the beating more forceful, more real than any beeping of a heart monitor back in 2006.
With total certainty, Sam Tylor realised why he wanted to stay in 1973.
Gene Hunt.
“Shit,” he whispered to himself.
**********************************************************************
Beep...beep...beep
“Sam, Sammy...if you can hear me, I want you to do something for me. I want you to try and open your eyes...”
Swish - click
“That’s all you have to do, love. Open your eyes and then you’ll be able to wake up...and we can be a family again.”
Beep...beep...beep
*********************************************************************
Sam leaned forwards, one hand rubbing his eyes, the other still clasped tightly around the glass of whiskey, the Guv’s voice on the telephone replacing that of his mother’s. What to do... to go..or stay?
He sniffed, drinking half the whiskey at one go, feeling the liquid burning it’s way down his throat, needing the pain to give him some form of clarity on the situation.
He wasn’t gay...at least in his old life he hadn’t been gay, with Maya a testament to that fact. Yet with increasing certainty he was becoming aware that in this reality, this life, not everything from his old life had replicated in the same way. Why not him?
He considered this logically, as only Sam Tyler could, method in the face of madness. Had he looked at any of the others with anything other than a professional relationship? Chris was good looking enough, sure, with an innocent naievety that could be kind of appealing... and perhaps his hatred of Ray was no more than a suppression of an underlying sexual tension between the two of them?
Sam mentally shook his head, dismissing the ideas as they surfaced, knowing them to be false, even as the butterflies in his stomach told him the real answer to his question. The reason he hadn’t looked at the other men wasn’t because he wasn’t gay, he realised, his logical approach teasing out the truth of the situation. He simply hadn’t looked at them because his attention was solely fixated on one man alone.
Gene Hunt.
Damn it! He was going round in circles now, had been here before and would end up here again. Might as well face the truth. His world began and ended with that one man.
He tossed back the remains of his drink and reached for the whiskey bottle, causing the Guv to raise his eyebrows before nodding, still in mid-abusive torrent with RCS. Sam poured himself another measure of scotch, settling back in his chair, trying desperately to sort out his feelings before the phone call ended and he be forced to articulate whatever decision he came to.
Which was......?
He didn’t know what to do. He knew with certainty that if he agreed to the transfer back to Hyde he would wake up in 2006, with this life nothing more than a drug-induced dream, a memory that would fade with the coming of the light. But could he do that? Could he relegate that man, the Guv, the Gene Genie himself to the realm of the subconscious, to be remembered perhaps, in the far distant future with the smell of a certain brand of cigarettes or a blend of whiskey...to be brought out for the amusement of grandchildren at bedtime?
Never! The answer exploded in the pit of his stomach, gut instinct racing into overdrive, forcing the logic of his head to recede in the face of the emotions of his heart. He couldn’t do that to the Guv - forget that, he couldn’t do it to himself - couldn’t face a life where he wasn’t working or fighting or bickering or drinking or just plain breathing the same air as the Guv. Gene Hunt was his world, he realised with double certainty now, more real than anything 2006 had to offer him, their arguments just another way of interacting with each other, their punch-ups a means of physical contact...belatedly Sam realised how much he needed that physical aspect - why he had riled the Guv up so much over the preceding months, wanting, no needing the Guv’s hands on him in any way possible.
So that was it. His decision made. Hyde be damned, he’d stay here with the Guv and......
Indecision crept in. How could he stay here now, knowing how he felt about the Guv, knowing that he couldn’t live with the lie, not now, not when it was just below the surface, waiting to burst out of his mouth at the first opportunity. And what about the Guv? The likelihood of him accepting Sam as a partner was virtually non-existant...plus he was married. Still, Sam thought stubbornly to himself, there was always a chance....
“Fucking homo!”
“Eh...what?” Sam looked up startled to find the Guv glaring at him.
“Not you, Lytton.” The Guv reached for his glass of whiskey and frowned at the telephone. “Little shit’s got his prick rammed so far up the Superintendant’s arse that RCS get all the top cover. Fucking arseholes,” he swore again for good measure, drinking half the contents of his glass. “Well,” he demanded of Sam, putting him on the spot. “Made your decision yet?”
Sam swallowed. The Guv was clearly homophobic, his dealings with Warren testament to that fact. There was no way it was going to work, no way that it could work. A sick feeling settled in the pit of his stomach and he nodded dully. “I’ll go,” he said quietly.
The Guv stared at him intently. “Well don’t look so happy about it,” he frowned. “Anyone’d think it was a life or death decision.”
“It is,” Sam said without thought, then caught the Guv’s inquisitive glance and shook his head slightly. “It is to me,” he finished lamely.
The Guv sighed in exasperation. “Make your mind up, Tyler,” he put his glass down on the table. “You know sometimes I think we’re getting along okay you an’ me, and then some days you act like you don’t want to be here,” he glared at Sam. “Which is it?”
Sam shrugged. “There’s so much you don’t know about me,” he began slowly.
“Yeah, yeah...tell me something I don’t know.”
“I’m serious, Guv...”
“So am I!” The Guv stood up, leaning forwards, both hands on the desk. “You going to tell me that you come from the future, Sam? That there’s a world of mobile wotsits and electrical databases out there and you just happened to fall into my world, my office in my 1973..?” Sam stared at him open-mouthed. “Think I haven’t heard it all already from that plonk Annie Cartright?”
Sam stood up, his eyes on a level with the Guv’s. “Annie’s telling you the truth,” he said softly. I do come from a world of mobile phones and electronic databases,” he raised a finger. “But this is my world, not yours. I’m making this up as I go along,” he shook his head. “Not you.”
The Guv laughed incredulously. “You’re in my city.”
“In my world.” Sam countered.
“This is my office!”
“You’re in my head!”
The two men stared at each other, hands on hips, both mirroring each other’s action.
“Face it...Gene,” Sam spoke clearly. “I’m running this show. Not you.”
“You’re running this show?” The Guv repeated and Sam nodded. The Guv sniffed then lunged forwards suddenly, punching Sam hard in the mouth. Sam gave an exclaimation of pain and fell backwards over the chair, landing painfully on the floor. “Didn’t see that coming, did you?” the Guv smirked.
Sam picked himself up of the floor, pressing his lip. “What did you do that for?” he complained, wiping away the first traces of blood with the back of his hand.
The Guv sighed. “Sit down, Tyler,” he ordered, throwing him a grey looking handkerchief and reaching once more for the bottle of whiskey. Sam glared at the Guv as he refilled their glasses, but took the handkerchief, looking at it suspiciously before regaining his seat opposite the Guv.
The Guv pushed a glass towards Sam. “I don’t know what to believe, quite frankly,” he began, sipping his own whiskey. Sam stared at him in surprise. “I’ll admit when that plonk first came in with her story about you I dismissed it - especially since you can be an annoying little arsehole at times.” Sam shrugged, dabbing at his mouth with the handkerchief. “But when the uniformed boys brought your car in on that first day they did a routine search. One of ‘em handed something in to me ‘cause they couldn’t make head nor tail of it. I was going to give it back to you,” he continued, seeing Sam’s puzzled expression. “But to be honest I forgot about it until the Vic Tyler case, when Annie said you’d had a relapse again and you started acting funny. I’ve been waiting for the right moment since then to give it back to you.” He opened up a desk drawer, took out something small and oval and placed it on the table in front of Sam. “I believe this belongs to you.”
Sam stared in shock at the object before him. With trembling fingers he reached forwards and with loving hands caressed his mobile phone.
**********************************************************************
Beep...beep...beep
“His heart rate just increased. Blood pressure stabilising. I think he’s coming back to us...”
Swish - click
“Oh Sam, please wake up. One last effort, that’s all you need. I’m here, Sammy, waiting for you....”.
Beep...beep...beep
**********************************************************************
“Do you know what this is?” Sam’s voice was little more than a whisper.
“Looks like a phone,” the Guv looked at Sam steadily, his expression giving nothing away. “A bloody small one at that,” he added for good measure.
Sam flipped open the top, reaching instinctively for the on button. The phone emitted a faint beep and the LCD lit up for a fraction of a second before fading away into nothing, remaining stubbornly blank despite Sam’s best efforts.
“Battery’s dead,” he swore frustratedly, trying buttons at random now, to no avail. “Damn it!” He threw it onto the desk, angry now. “Why didn’t you tell me?” he demanded, one finger jabbing angrily at the Guv. “All this time I’ve been thinking that maybe everyone else is right and I am mad - and all along you’ve had my phone in your desk.” He drew back, his hands gesticulating wildly. “This is proof that I’m not mad, that I’m telling the truth! Don’t you get that!”
“Wipe your mouth, Sam” the Guv indicated the blood dripping down Sam’s chin. Sam glared at the Guv but did as he asked, snatching up the handkerchief and pressing it to his face. “Now I don’t know if it’s a phone or not... “ the Guv raised a hand, calming Sam’s protests. “I’ve seen kids toys that look as convincing as this and believe me I’m not about to go out and sacrifice my sanity in order to prove yours - especially when I don’t know what to believe.”
“That’s evidence..”
“It’s a bunch of circuit boards made to look like a phone.”
“I can prove it!”
“How?” the Guv demanded.
Sam took the handkerchief away from his face, pleased to see his lip had stopped bleeding. “I’ll find a way to recharge it,” he promised grimly. “Then it’ll work.”
“Then what?” the Guv leaned back in his chair, his hands folded in front of him.
Sam stared at him. “Then I’ll....” his voice faltered.
“Phone home?” the Guv queried, one eyebrow raised. “Does it connect to the telephone network this phone of yours?” He sniffed. “Who would you call - mum, dad, 1973, 2006?”
Beep...beep...beep
Sam squeezed his eyes shut, his hands raised to his ears.
“Come home, Sammy, come home...”
“Can’t shut me out, Sammy boy.”
Swish - click
“I don’t know what to do...” Sam muttered to himself.
“Come home...”
“Stay.”
Sam’s eyes snapped open. “What did you say?” he asked the Guv, his stomach lurching.
“I asked if you changed your mind and wanted to stay?” the Guv repeated, frowning at Sam. He stood up and walked over to the window, peering between the blinds into the outer office. “If not, sign the paper an’ I’ll put it through in the morning.”
Sam stared at his back. “Do you want me to go?” he asked softly. It was suddenly important to know if the Guv wanted him to stay or not.
“S’not my decision,” the Guv sipped his whiskey, eyes still on the outer office. “It’s your call, Sam.”
“I ... have to go.”
“Ah well - if you have to...” the Guv kept his back to Sam, lighting a cigarette.
“I’m....” Sam swallowed and tried again. “I’m...gay, Gene,” he forced the words out around the lump in his throat.
The Guv blew out a stream of smoke. “So’s Chris,” he replied calmly, missing Sam’s look of surprise behind him. “Although the little twerp doesn’t realise it yet,” he grinned to himself. “Is that your problem?” he glanced over his shoulder at Sam, before returning his gaze to the outer office.
“No. “Sam replied quietly. “My problem,” his words came out slowly. “Is that I’m gay and...you’re not.”
Silence. The Guv’s shoulders slumped.
“Guv...” Sam began tentatively.
The Guv dropped his cigarette, grinding it into the floor. A second later he turned around with fire in his eyes and Sam had hardly time to cry out “Don’t!-“ before the Guv’s hands had gripped clothing and skin, dragging him across the office and against the filing cabinet.
“Damn you. Sam Tyler...” The Guv’s fist connected with Sam’s stomach and he doubled over only to be thrust against the filing cabinet once more. “Damn you!” A second punch and Sam cried out, feeling himself hauled upwards once more...
“I’m sorry -" Sam gasped out... “I’ll go...”
“You’re not going anywhere,” the Guv growled thickly and suddenly his lips claimed Sam’s, his tongue forcing its way into Sam’s mouth, invading the hot cavity with the taste of whiskey, cigarettes and juicy fruit. Sam froze for a second, unable to comprehend the turn of events, then one hand wound around Gene’s neck and he was kissing him back just as hungrily, mouth exploring mouth, tongue touching tongue, lips brushing lips. The kiss seemed to last a lifetime, yet not long enough and when the Guv drew back, Sam stayed against the filing cabinet, his knees weak, gasping for air.
“Whoah - Guv,” Sam found his voice at last. “Where did that come from.”
The Guv grinned at him. “You’ll never know unless you stay to find out.” He reached for his coat, shrugging it on over his shoulders. “Pub?” he gestured.
Sam pushed himself off the cabinet and reached for the transfer paper. He held it up, tearing it into four deliberate pieces in front of him. “Pub,” he agreed, smiling broadly. He preceded the Guv to the door of the office. “And then my place,” he grinned suggestively at the Guv. “You coming?”
The Guv matched Sam’s grin with one of his own. “You will be,” he promised wickedly, and laughing the two men left the office.
**********************************************************************
Beep...beep...beep
“I’m sorry, Mrs Tyler, his response levels have dropped again. I’ll let you know if they improve again.”
Swish - click
“One day I know you’ll come back to me, Sammy. Until then, know that I’m waiting for you and that I love you. Sleep tight, love, pleasant dreams....”
Beep...beep...beep
**********************************************************************
fin