Five Times...
Title: Five Times Sam Tyler Went Unnoticed
Author:
liveforforever
Rating: White Cortina
Warnings: A reference to the first episode but I wouldn't say it classifies as a spoiler
Word Count: 1800ish (Bit much? Oops...)
Five Times Sam Tyler Went Unnoticed
1. It was gonna work, it was bound to. Sam knew it. Sam knew a lot of things, he was clever. His mummy told him so coz she was proud of him.
Sam didn’t think she’d be proud today. Not right away anyway, but once she realised, once she saw what Sam had done and realised why, it’d be okay.
The record was really big. Too big to fit under his top like he’d seen on the telly but he had to have it. It was Daddy’s favourite. He used to listen to it all the time and mummy said she didn’t like it much but Sam saw her smile whenever daddy sang it from the other room. He slid it out of the card board, unzipped his coat and slid it under. It only went halfway and Sam had to look out from behind the shelves to see if the man had noticed. He hadn’t. He was still talking to the long-haired guys. They’d been smoking and giggling since Sam got in and he’d been so quiet that they hadn’t even looked up.
Sam didn’t want to be a robber, he wanted to be a cop but he’d play the other side today coz he had to. Maybe his daddy could pay the laughing man back later.
It was easy to slip out of the open door into the sunshine and the men didn’t even stop laughing but still he ran all the way home. He flew through the front door of the new flat all the way upstairs and didn’t even stop when his mummy called him. Instead he rushed straight to her bedroom and took the record out, and placed the disc carefully under the pillow on daddy’s side. He knew his dad would find it coz he used to leave comics under Sammy’s pillow when he didn’t want mummy to know he was buyin’ him presents.
He would come back for this, Sam knew he would, and even as he ran downstairs to help mummy with the cooking, Sam knew it was only a matter of time ’till he saw his Daddy again.
2. It was George Donald who took them. They say Miss Hopridge dropped them in the hall and he just picked them up and ran. She didn’t even catch him. They were behind the newt pond, the four of them, and if George hadn’t dug them out of his bag they never would have believed him. But there they were.
Cigarettes.
Roy tried to snatch the pack but George kept hold of it. He tried to flip the lid back like he’d seen his dad do but it wouldn’t go so he had to use his other hand. With clumsy fingers he reached in and pulled one out, the long, white, paper tube revealing itself from the packet. He held it out and they all edged a little closer.
“You know, we’re not allowed one of these for about another ten years!” James raved.
“Seven.” Sam corrected, awed.
“Anyone got a light?”
“Course we don’t, why would we?”
“No! Roy has one, don’t ya Roy? Remember! We found that box of matches and you picked em up and you put ’em in your bag jus’ in case! Remember Roy?” George had grown louder in excitement and Sam waved his hand up and down, trying to shush him even as Roy started rooting in his rucksack. With a cry he surfaced, matches in hand. George raised the cigarette to his lips and once again they all stepped closer as he reached out for the matches. There was only two in the box and he dropped the first one, surprised, as it burst to flame. He’d got the second one alight and was ducking to meet it when Miss Hopridge’s voice sounded clear and sharp from behind them.
“Where!?” They could just about make out the voice of Louise Goodman as she revealed their location. There was a single moment where all boys froze, meeting the eyes of their opposite and then, chaos. All boys tried to dive in different directions simultaneously, Sam and George rushed forward at the same time, hitting each other head on, George’s larger frame knocking Sam to the ground.
He had only just gathered his wits when Miss Hopridge appeared and he promptly lost them again. They abandoned him completely when her stern expression melted into concern.
“Oh, Sam.” She sighed, and stooped to help him up. “Did they knock you over?” He tried to keep from jumping as she brushed the dirt from his shoulders “Did you see which way they went?” and he tried harder still not to be offended when she took off after them. He spotted the cigarette, unlit, on the floor and kicked it to the gutter.
3. Sam was running hard. He could hear the thugs tearing down the street behind them, could swear to god he smelt the alcohol on them still, even with the wind in his face. Joel was by his side, running with him, looking almost as panicked as Sam felt.
And it was all Sam’s fault.
He tripped, almost fell but Joel caught him, dragged him, wrenched him up again without even breaking stride. Sam could see him talking but couldn’t hear over the pounding of his own heart in his ears and feet on the concrete.
“We need to split up!” Joel was shouting now, repeating himself “Separate them!” he cried and Sam wanted to shake his head, tell him no, no that wont work, they should stick together but his chest was burning and Joel was pushing him away toward a side road and Sam was reeling against a wall and it was too late to do anything but keep on running.
It wasn’t ’till he was halfway down that Sam dared glance over his shoulder, just in time to see the thugs storm past his road, blind to his presence.
Later that night, in the sterile white of the hospital ward, Sam tried to apologise but except for the bleeps of the equipment, once again went unacknowledged.
4. The guy was an idiot. If playing protector wasn’t in his job description, Sam would never be wasting his time saving him. Well alright, maybe that was a bit harsh, he was a colleague after all but really, it would have been nice to have someone competent beside him when he’s thrown so far out of his depth.
A scream made him freeze where he stood, ironic, he thought, considering the temperature. He spun on his heel to track down the source only to have PC Miller tug on his arm.
“Leave them!” Sam could have blown the guy away with the force of his anger then but just growled and pushed him away.
The little girl was huddled in the corner, clutching a toy clown and sobbing as the fire licked across the floor. Sam had her bundled in his arms and back out the door before his mind had time to process the scene. With one arm holding her to him and the other raised to protect her back and head from the flames and burning debris, Sam fled down the stairs, stopping only when Miller obstructed his path. A beam had fallen hard across the door, sending the PC stumbling back. Sam thrust the girl upon him and had his shoulder to the wood, pushing and straining to shift it before it was caught in the fire. With a drawn-out creek and a spectacular crash, the beam fell and Sam flung the door wide and ushered them through. The girl uttered a cry with terrified eyes and Sam looked just in time to see the clown hit the ground. He snatched it from the floorboards and sped out, dizzied by the smoke and blinded by the sudden daylight.
The press was gathered, hounding Miller as he carried the girl to the awaiting paramedics. The photographers got what Sam supposed would be some brilliant snaps of her grateful mother sobbing her thanks against his chest. He lurched in the other direction, toward the second ambulance and passed the toy wordlessly to a passing female officer. When the fire crews finally arrived, he was dragging oxygen from the mask in great gasps and listening to Miller tell his story .
“All in a day’s work.”
5. For whatever reason, Sam was finding himself growing ever more relaxed. It was getting increasingly hot but he’d donned the leather jacket anyway. There was something unnerving about being in this world without it. The doors to all the shops were propped open with various objects and implements, allowing the occasional breeze into buildings.
He hadn’t been here, not in his own time or for the sheer hell of it, since he told Annie he was going to walk his way out of this decade. It’s laughable to think that he once believed it could be so easy. There was the murmur of the shopping crowd but the midday heat was preventing any great swamps of people from flooding the streets. Just the way Sam liked it.
He’d just stopped before the window of a clothes shop to indulge in a kind of nauseous fascination when his mind clicked on the source of his good mood. The familiar ups and downs of The Beatle’s, ‘Let It Be’ were drifting through the lazy heat from a few shops away. Sam realised without looking that it was sounding from his old haunt, the record shop, Vinyl Heaven. He grinned, laughed, ignored the looks and set off at a jog. Getting closer he could hear the people chuckling from within and his smile widened. He was just about to swing through the open door when a small child lurched out through it, still gazing back into the shop, a bare record half-concealed beneath his jacket. Sam was in action and had a gentle retribution already forming in his throat when the boy turned his head forward, looking out across the street with obvious relief and any comment Sam had to make, died in his mouth. He had enough time to stop but not enough to back off and the kid was right in front of him, that little temple grazing the side of his hand for half a second before the kid took off without a second glance. The boy was oblivious but Sam’s chest tightened, robbing him of breath.
He wandered, winded, into the shop, the heavy scent of weed in the air, and knelt on the side of the shelves hidden from the counter. Reaching under them, his fingers touched on the smooth feel of cardboard and he drew back, holding the empty cover.
He held it up for the shop assistant to see and threw too much money down by the till.
Sam didn’t wanna be a robber, he was a cop and he couldn’t play the other side anymore. Wasn’t worth it anyway.
~~~
Unbetad I'm afraid so any constructive criticism welcome!
Author:
liveforforever
Rating: White Cortina
Warnings: A reference to the first episode but I wouldn't say it classifies as a spoiler
Word Count: 1800ish (Bit much? Oops...)
Five Times Sam Tyler Went Unnoticed
1. It was gonna work, it was bound to. Sam knew it. Sam knew a lot of things, he was clever. His mummy told him so coz she was proud of him.
Sam didn’t think she’d be proud today. Not right away anyway, but once she realised, once she saw what Sam had done and realised why, it’d be okay.
The record was really big. Too big to fit under his top like he’d seen on the telly but he had to have it. It was Daddy’s favourite. He used to listen to it all the time and mummy said she didn’t like it much but Sam saw her smile whenever daddy sang it from the other room. He slid it out of the card board, unzipped his coat and slid it under. It only went halfway and Sam had to look out from behind the shelves to see if the man had noticed. He hadn’t. He was still talking to the long-haired guys. They’d been smoking and giggling since Sam got in and he’d been so quiet that they hadn’t even looked up.
Sam didn’t want to be a robber, he wanted to be a cop but he’d play the other side today coz he had to. Maybe his daddy could pay the laughing man back later.
It was easy to slip out of the open door into the sunshine and the men didn’t even stop laughing but still he ran all the way home. He flew through the front door of the new flat all the way upstairs and didn’t even stop when his mummy called him. Instead he rushed straight to her bedroom and took the record out, and placed the disc carefully under the pillow on daddy’s side. He knew his dad would find it coz he used to leave comics under Sammy’s pillow when he didn’t want mummy to know he was buyin’ him presents.
He would come back for this, Sam knew he would, and even as he ran downstairs to help mummy with the cooking, Sam knew it was only a matter of time ’till he saw his Daddy again.
2. It was George Donald who took them. They say Miss Hopridge dropped them in the hall and he just picked them up and ran. She didn’t even catch him. They were behind the newt pond, the four of them, and if George hadn’t dug them out of his bag they never would have believed him. But there they were.
Cigarettes.
Roy tried to snatch the pack but George kept hold of it. He tried to flip the lid back like he’d seen his dad do but it wouldn’t go so he had to use his other hand. With clumsy fingers he reached in and pulled one out, the long, white, paper tube revealing itself from the packet. He held it out and they all edged a little closer.
“You know, we’re not allowed one of these for about another ten years!” James raved.
“Seven.” Sam corrected, awed.
“Anyone got a light?”
“Course we don’t, why would we?”
“No! Roy has one, don’t ya Roy? Remember! We found that box of matches and you picked em up and you put ’em in your bag jus’ in case! Remember Roy?” George had grown louder in excitement and Sam waved his hand up and down, trying to shush him even as Roy started rooting in his rucksack. With a cry he surfaced, matches in hand. George raised the cigarette to his lips and once again they all stepped closer as he reached out for the matches. There was only two in the box and he dropped the first one, surprised, as it burst to flame. He’d got the second one alight and was ducking to meet it when Miss Hopridge’s voice sounded clear and sharp from behind them.
“Where!?” They could just about make out the voice of Louise Goodman as she revealed their location. There was a single moment where all boys froze, meeting the eyes of their opposite and then, chaos. All boys tried to dive in different directions simultaneously, Sam and George rushed forward at the same time, hitting each other head on, George’s larger frame knocking Sam to the ground.
He had only just gathered his wits when Miss Hopridge appeared and he promptly lost them again. They abandoned him completely when her stern expression melted into concern.
“Oh, Sam.” She sighed, and stooped to help him up. “Did they knock you over?” He tried to keep from jumping as she brushed the dirt from his shoulders “Did you see which way they went?” and he tried harder still not to be offended when she took off after them. He spotted the cigarette, unlit, on the floor and kicked it to the gutter.
3. Sam was running hard. He could hear the thugs tearing down the street behind them, could swear to god he smelt the alcohol on them still, even with the wind in his face. Joel was by his side, running with him, looking almost as panicked as Sam felt.
And it was all Sam’s fault.
He tripped, almost fell but Joel caught him, dragged him, wrenched him up again without even breaking stride. Sam could see him talking but couldn’t hear over the pounding of his own heart in his ears and feet on the concrete.
“We need to split up!” Joel was shouting now, repeating himself “Separate them!” he cried and Sam wanted to shake his head, tell him no, no that wont work, they should stick together but his chest was burning and Joel was pushing him away toward a side road and Sam was reeling against a wall and it was too late to do anything but keep on running.
It wasn’t ’till he was halfway down that Sam dared glance over his shoulder, just in time to see the thugs storm past his road, blind to his presence.
Later that night, in the sterile white of the hospital ward, Sam tried to apologise but except for the bleeps of the equipment, once again went unacknowledged.
4. The guy was an idiot. If playing protector wasn’t in his job description, Sam would never be wasting his time saving him. Well alright, maybe that was a bit harsh, he was a colleague after all but really, it would have been nice to have someone competent beside him when he’s thrown so far out of his depth.
A scream made him freeze where he stood, ironic, he thought, considering the temperature. He spun on his heel to track down the source only to have PC Miller tug on his arm.
“Leave them!” Sam could have blown the guy away with the force of his anger then but just growled and pushed him away.
The little girl was huddled in the corner, clutching a toy clown and sobbing as the fire licked across the floor. Sam had her bundled in his arms and back out the door before his mind had time to process the scene. With one arm holding her to him and the other raised to protect her back and head from the flames and burning debris, Sam fled down the stairs, stopping only when Miller obstructed his path. A beam had fallen hard across the door, sending the PC stumbling back. Sam thrust the girl upon him and had his shoulder to the wood, pushing and straining to shift it before it was caught in the fire. With a drawn-out creek and a spectacular crash, the beam fell and Sam flung the door wide and ushered them through. The girl uttered a cry with terrified eyes and Sam looked just in time to see the clown hit the ground. He snatched it from the floorboards and sped out, dizzied by the smoke and blinded by the sudden daylight.
The press was gathered, hounding Miller as he carried the girl to the awaiting paramedics. The photographers got what Sam supposed would be some brilliant snaps of her grateful mother sobbing her thanks against his chest. He lurched in the other direction, toward the second ambulance and passed the toy wordlessly to a passing female officer. When the fire crews finally arrived, he was dragging oxygen from the mask in great gasps and listening to Miller tell his story .
“All in a day’s work.”
5. For whatever reason, Sam was finding himself growing ever more relaxed. It was getting increasingly hot but he’d donned the leather jacket anyway. There was something unnerving about being in this world without it. The doors to all the shops were propped open with various objects and implements, allowing the occasional breeze into buildings.
He hadn’t been here, not in his own time or for the sheer hell of it, since he told Annie he was going to walk his way out of this decade. It’s laughable to think that he once believed it could be so easy. There was the murmur of the shopping crowd but the midday heat was preventing any great swamps of people from flooding the streets. Just the way Sam liked it.
He’d just stopped before the window of a clothes shop to indulge in a kind of nauseous fascination when his mind clicked on the source of his good mood. The familiar ups and downs of The Beatle’s, ‘Let It Be’ were drifting through the lazy heat from a few shops away. Sam realised without looking that it was sounding from his old haunt, the record shop, Vinyl Heaven. He grinned, laughed, ignored the looks and set off at a jog. Getting closer he could hear the people chuckling from within and his smile widened. He was just about to swing through the open door when a small child lurched out through it, still gazing back into the shop, a bare record half-concealed beneath his jacket. Sam was in action and had a gentle retribution already forming in his throat when the boy turned his head forward, looking out across the street with obvious relief and any comment Sam had to make, died in his mouth. He had enough time to stop but not enough to back off and the kid was right in front of him, that little temple grazing the side of his hand for half a second before the kid took off without a second glance. The boy was oblivious but Sam’s chest tightened, robbing him of breath.
He wandered, winded, into the shop, the heavy scent of weed in the air, and knelt on the side of the shelves hidden from the counter. Reaching under them, his fingers touched on the smooth feel of cardboard and he drew back, holding the empty cover.
He held it up for the shop assistant to see and threw too much money down by the till.
Sam didn’t wanna be a robber, he was a cop and he couldn’t play the other side anymore. Wasn’t worth it anyway.
~~~
Unbetad I'm afraid so any constructive criticism welcome!