The Consequences of Free Fall (21/23)
Title - The Consequences of Free Fall (21/23)
Rating - Green COrtina/PG-13 (language)
Disclaimer - they still don't belong to me. It all belongs to Kudos and the BBC.
Chapter Twenty-One
"What are you doing here?" Gene snapped as he walked in the front door to see Sam lounging on the sofa with a half drunk bottle of single malt.
"You sent me home from work. That’s what I did. I came home. Nothing to do so I decided to have a drink." Sam replied angrily. "What did you expect me to do? Cook you dinner and have your slippers warmed and waiting?"
"No," Gene answered as he jerked his coat off. "I sent you home. I assumed you’d go there."
"That’s what," Sam stopped. "I see. You meant my home. Not ours. Excuse me," he waved a hand. "I meant your’s of course. This isn’t our house it’s your’s."
"Don’t start this Sam," Gene spat. "Just get out. I can’t even stand the sight of you right now."
"You can’t stand the sight of me?" Sam asked loudly. "You hypocrite! What have I done that’s so wrong?"
"Me?" Gene thundered. "Me? I didn’t try to fit Rajeem Assad up for conspiracy to commit the murder of a police officer!"
"How many have you fit up before?" Sam screamed. "How many people has the Gene Genie fitted up from the treasure trove in his filing cabinet? I fit up one suspect who deserves it and you dare preach at me about good policing?"
"Yes I’ve fit up my fair share of bastards!" Gene pounded his fist against the television he was standing next to. "They all deserved it. Every single man I’ve sent up has been a piece of scum that got what he deserved!"
"So does Assad! What did you think that heroin was? Something a really nice guy brought in to help out all the local junkies? Keep the prices low because he’s such a nice guy?"
"And he’s going up for it!"
"Not for long enough!"
"I agree but that doesn’t mean you can fit him up for murder!"
"You’ve done it!" Sam cried angrily.
"Not that! I’ve never done that. Do you know what will happen to him in prison with that on his sheet?"
"He’ll be insanely popular with the other inmates! He got to do what they all fantasize about."
"He’ll never make it that far!" Gene pronounced. "You know it as well as I do. He’ll attempt escape somewhere between Manchester and the jail. Nice deserted side road and they’ll have to shoot him. He killed a pregnant police officer! They’ll execute him and Carsons both."
"Fine!" Sam snapped. "He deserves it. He’s a piece of bastard scum! I can’t believe you’re fighting me on this Gene. I expected you to be the one to try and fit him up for it. Why are you trying to protect him? He’s killed a police officer!"
"He didn’t kill Myra Tiggs," Gene answered. "And you couldn’t prove he killed Chelsea Wainright."
"I know it in my gut!"
"You can’t go by your gut!"
"What? Did you just tell me not to use my gut?"
"Sam," Gene let his voice drop back to normal level and Sam stepped back as the other man reached for him.
"Why won’t you let me do this?" Sam screamed angrily and could feel tears welling up in his eyes. "Why won’t you let me make this right?"
"Because you aren’t thinking right," Gene answered as he grabbed Sam and pulled him up against his chest. "You Sam Tyler do not fit up suspects for murder. You do not use your gut to make decisions. And you’ve spent all this time telling me I shouldn’t either."
"I was wrong!" Sam pounded his fists against Gene’s chest. "My gut tells me we need to put him away for this!"
"I don’t listen to your gut," Gene countered. "I listen to mine."
"So listen to it!"
"I am." Gene pressed a kiss against Sam’s hair. "You’re not fitting Rajeem Assad up for this. As much as it pains me to say that."
"Why? You know it’s the right thing to do!" Sam pushed away from Gene then and stood staring at him. "You know it’s right so why are you stopping it?"
"Why did you lie to me?" Gene countered. "I gave you the chance to tell me the truth. All you had to do was tell me that you were fitting Assad up. Just said the words. Instead you lied to me."
"What did you expect me to do?" Sam screamed.
"I expected you to tell me the truth! You promised me that! I have done everything you’ve asked of me Sam and in return all I’ve ever asked is for your loyalty and the truth. And my gut tells me to follow my old granny’s advice."
"Your old granny’s advice is relevant to this and my gut isn’t?"
"Yes," Gene reached out for him again. "She used to tell me that if you had to lie about what you did that meant you were doing the wrong thing. You lied to me Sam. You lied about fitting up Rajeem Assad and that tells me you don’t really believe it’s the right thing to do."
"It is!" Sam cried out. "It’s the right thing to do. You know it as well as I do!"
"No," Gene shook his head. "It’s not."
"Fuck you Gene," Sam spat bitterly as he grabbed his coat from the peg near the door and stormed out.
How dare Gene tell him what he’d done was wrong? The Gene Genie, Master of a thousand fit ups. The hypocrite. The utter nerve of the bastard.
Sam realized then he’d left his scotch back at the house and turned to go back for it. No, he decided. He wasn’t going to go back and fight with Gene again. There was a pub on the corner and he stopped in and bought a bottle there. If Gene didn’t want him around that was fine. Sam was a grown man with a place of his own. Hadn’t gotten rid of it so that people wouldn’t talk. He was lucky that it gave him somewhere to go now that things had fallen apart.
He opened the bottle and took a long drink. Raising a hand he wiped at the tears leaking from the corner of his eyes angrily. Damn Gene, he thought to himself. Damn him for not trusting Sam. For not understanding that this was something that had to be done. The only way for Sam to make things right. That everything he believed in was wrong when it came to this. This couldn’t be solved with evidence and procedure. Assad was too smart for that. He’d been playing a loaded deck the whole time. His own team had destroyed the evidence. It was the only way he could win against a cheat. It wasn’t cheating if his opponent was using dirty tricks, Sam rationalized and took another drink.
Damn Gene, he thought again. Damn the man for not understanding. For not listening. For not loving him enough to understand that Sam needed to do this. He pushed open the door of his flat and slammed it behind himself and leaned against it. Taking another drink he pounded his head against the door lightly. Damn Gene, Sam thought again angrily. Damn him and all of bloody 1973.
Rating - Green COrtina/PG-13 (language)
Disclaimer - they still don't belong to me. It all belongs to Kudos and the BBC.
Chapter Twenty-One
"What are you doing here?" Gene snapped as he walked in the front door to see Sam lounging on the sofa with a half drunk bottle of single malt.
"You sent me home from work. That’s what I did. I came home. Nothing to do so I decided to have a drink." Sam replied angrily. "What did you expect me to do? Cook you dinner and have your slippers warmed and waiting?"
"No," Gene answered as he jerked his coat off. "I sent you home. I assumed you’d go there."
"That’s what," Sam stopped. "I see. You meant my home. Not ours. Excuse me," he waved a hand. "I meant your’s of course. This isn’t our house it’s your’s."
"Don’t start this Sam," Gene spat. "Just get out. I can’t even stand the sight of you right now."
"You can’t stand the sight of me?" Sam asked loudly. "You hypocrite! What have I done that’s so wrong?"
"Me?" Gene thundered. "Me? I didn’t try to fit Rajeem Assad up for conspiracy to commit the murder of a police officer!"
"How many have you fit up before?" Sam screamed. "How many people has the Gene Genie fitted up from the treasure trove in his filing cabinet? I fit up one suspect who deserves it and you dare preach at me about good policing?"
"Yes I’ve fit up my fair share of bastards!" Gene pounded his fist against the television he was standing next to. "They all deserved it. Every single man I’ve sent up has been a piece of scum that got what he deserved!"
"So does Assad! What did you think that heroin was? Something a really nice guy brought in to help out all the local junkies? Keep the prices low because he’s such a nice guy?"
"And he’s going up for it!"
"Not for long enough!"
"I agree but that doesn’t mean you can fit him up for murder!"
"You’ve done it!" Sam cried angrily.
"Not that! I’ve never done that. Do you know what will happen to him in prison with that on his sheet?"
"He’ll be insanely popular with the other inmates! He got to do what they all fantasize about."
"He’ll never make it that far!" Gene pronounced. "You know it as well as I do. He’ll attempt escape somewhere between Manchester and the jail. Nice deserted side road and they’ll have to shoot him. He killed a pregnant police officer! They’ll execute him and Carsons both."
"Fine!" Sam snapped. "He deserves it. He’s a piece of bastard scum! I can’t believe you’re fighting me on this Gene. I expected you to be the one to try and fit him up for it. Why are you trying to protect him? He’s killed a police officer!"
"He didn’t kill Myra Tiggs," Gene answered. "And you couldn’t prove he killed Chelsea Wainright."
"I know it in my gut!"
"You can’t go by your gut!"
"What? Did you just tell me not to use my gut?"
"Sam," Gene let his voice drop back to normal level and Sam stepped back as the other man reached for him.
"Why won’t you let me do this?" Sam screamed angrily and could feel tears welling up in his eyes. "Why won’t you let me make this right?"
"Because you aren’t thinking right," Gene answered as he grabbed Sam and pulled him up against his chest. "You Sam Tyler do not fit up suspects for murder. You do not use your gut to make decisions. And you’ve spent all this time telling me I shouldn’t either."
"I was wrong!" Sam pounded his fists against Gene’s chest. "My gut tells me we need to put him away for this!"
"I don’t listen to your gut," Gene countered. "I listen to mine."
"So listen to it!"
"I am." Gene pressed a kiss against Sam’s hair. "You’re not fitting Rajeem Assad up for this. As much as it pains me to say that."
"Why? You know it’s the right thing to do!" Sam pushed away from Gene then and stood staring at him. "You know it’s right so why are you stopping it?"
"Why did you lie to me?" Gene countered. "I gave you the chance to tell me the truth. All you had to do was tell me that you were fitting Assad up. Just said the words. Instead you lied to me."
"What did you expect me to do?" Sam screamed.
"I expected you to tell me the truth! You promised me that! I have done everything you’ve asked of me Sam and in return all I’ve ever asked is for your loyalty and the truth. And my gut tells me to follow my old granny’s advice."
"Your old granny’s advice is relevant to this and my gut isn’t?"
"Yes," Gene reached out for him again. "She used to tell me that if you had to lie about what you did that meant you were doing the wrong thing. You lied to me Sam. You lied about fitting up Rajeem Assad and that tells me you don’t really believe it’s the right thing to do."
"It is!" Sam cried out. "It’s the right thing to do. You know it as well as I do!"
"No," Gene shook his head. "It’s not."
"Fuck you Gene," Sam spat bitterly as he grabbed his coat from the peg near the door and stormed out.
How dare Gene tell him what he’d done was wrong? The Gene Genie, Master of a thousand fit ups. The hypocrite. The utter nerve of the bastard.
Sam realized then he’d left his scotch back at the house and turned to go back for it. No, he decided. He wasn’t going to go back and fight with Gene again. There was a pub on the corner and he stopped in and bought a bottle there. If Gene didn’t want him around that was fine. Sam was a grown man with a place of his own. Hadn’t gotten rid of it so that people wouldn’t talk. He was lucky that it gave him somewhere to go now that things had fallen apart.
He opened the bottle and took a long drink. Raising a hand he wiped at the tears leaking from the corner of his eyes angrily. Damn Gene, he thought to himself. Damn him for not trusting Sam. For not understanding that this was something that had to be done. The only way for Sam to make things right. That everything he believed in was wrong when it came to this. This couldn’t be solved with evidence and procedure. Assad was too smart for that. He’d been playing a loaded deck the whole time. His own team had destroyed the evidence. It was the only way he could win against a cheat. It wasn’t cheating if his opponent was using dirty tricks, Sam rationalized and took another drink.
Damn Gene, he thought again. Damn the man for not understanding. For not listening. For not loving him enough to understand that Sam needed to do this. He pushed open the door of his flat and slammed it behind himself and leaned against it. Taking another drink he pounded his head against the door lightly. Damn Gene, Sam thought again angrily. Damn him and all of bloody 1973.