Ficathon 2008 Pinch-Hit Fic: Fallen, by jantalaimon. Brown Cortina. LoM/A2A x-over.
TITLE: Fallen
AUTHOR: Janni
EMAIL: jantalaimon@livejournal.com
WORD COUNT: 3220
STYLE/WARNINGS/SPOILERS: Brown Cortina/Quattro. AU. Character death. Spoilers through S2.08 of LoM and for S1.01 of A2A. Het and slash which I will not specify here so as to preserve plottiness. Mild BDSM, themes and language of a sexual nature betwixt and between consenting adults.
SUMMARY: Sometimes redemption comes in the unlikeliest of places. And sometimes it's nowhere to be found at all.
AUTHOR'S NOTES: This is a pinch-hit Ficathon 2008 fic and was written for the prompts "Annie as a high-end call-girl (real or undercover), whips, any CID member as a client." And also as a bonus, for this requester's secondary prompts of "Sam/Gene, a dance with the devil, dark." And as a final bonus, to fulfill this person's final prompts of "Crossover with Ashes to Ashes, Alex and Annie (either friendship or more), nightclub." Ha! :D Beta'd by the delightfully effervescent Loz. :D
DISCLAIMER: Life on Mars and Ashes to Ashes are copyright Kudos and the BBC. No infringement is intended and no money is being made.
Fallen
She'd seen an awful lot in her time, she'd decided.
Oh, most working girls had, after all. That wasn't anything new. But she'd only been in the life for a few days, and already she'd come to that conclusion.
First there'd been the one who'd run off without paying. Or tried to run, at any rate; awfully hard to run when your trou were still down around your ankles. That was when Annie decided she needed a change of scene, immediately.
Of course, it was difficult in a town like this, and in times like these. Things were...difficult, on both fronts; firstly because the higher-ups in the criminal element knew enough to do some research of their own, and secondly, well. Secondly, it was tough getting any sort of job right now.
Ever since Sam's disappearance, things hadn't been the same. No one really blamed Annie when she left, finally. If Gene hadn't been far more married to his badge than he'd ever been to any person, he could well envision himself doing the very same thing.
Well, maybe not exactly the same thing.
******
It had started out as an undercover operation, which Gene could understand. He hadn't liked it, but Annie had put forth a good argument. So good, in fact, that for a second, Gene had felt nearly as alive as he used to do, back when he was arguing with a certain former DI of his. Whether or not it was a temporary lapse in judgment, the fact remained that he'd been the one to authorise it.
And so, it was made official that Annie was being struck from the ranks of CID in disgrace. That her actions in absconding with key evidence in a multiple and brutal murder case were far beyond the pale; so far, in fact, that she'd set the cause of WDCs back at least a decade or more. Of course, this was all done quietly, so as not to arouse any undue attention. It had to seem real, after all---and not like it was being playacted in the slightest.
While Annie did have her psychology degree to fall back on, what employer would want her after she'd been disgraced in such a way in her last job? It might not have been the same field, but most employers in any profession would look askance at someone with the questionable resume that Annie now had. So it didn't really surprise anyone when such a rather lovely young lady did what many lovely young ladies (and several similarly lovely young men) had been doing since time out of mind, and made all that beauty work for her. Given the math at hand, none of the major criminal factions could really fault her flawless logic. Stephen Warren even offered her the opportunity to audition for his club; an offer which she'd politely declined.
The fact was, she preferred to go off on her own, trying to manage things for herself. With the knowledge she'd gained in her previous profession coupled with her psychology degree, she was fairly certain she could figure out the best way of doing things.
She drew up plans, and hashed out schematics for how she was going to outfit her new place for her rather specialised services. Of course it was going to take money, but this line of work could be quite lucrative, if one played one's cards right. And it couldn't ever hurt to plan too far ahead; oh, she'd learned the value in that.
Except...except apparently, it could. She'd always been able to appreciate Sam's methods and the thought he put into things, but she was also always very aware that sometimes, overthinking things could hamstring you. Which, apparently, was what had happened here.
She'd got more than enough research under her belt, but while she'd already seen quite a bit on the street, she still wasn't sure at all that she had what it took to do what she had in mind.
When one of his boys told him that a Miss Annie Cartwright was here to see him, Stephen Warren smiled knowingly. Of course she was.
******
Weeks and months passed, and as Annie learnt more about her new profession, she became more and more convinced she could do a lot more good outside the system than she could within. What had started as a deep undercover assignment had metamorphosed into something much, much larger. Finally, she tendered her resignation---verbally, of course. Couldn't have a paper trail traceable back to their undercover ruse, or else both she and CID would be risking far more than they stood to gain by having all their damnable paperwork in tow.
One small blessing was that Gene barely seemed to notice. It had been over a year since they'd lost Tyler, and he was still more blissfully numb than he'd ever been, no matter how far into his flask he'd managed to crawl.
That was the part that bothered Ray the most. Oh, sure, he'd had more than his fair share of hatred for the airy-fairy ways of his former DI when Tyler had still been around to make his life miserable. But he hadn't ever truly hated the Boss until he'd seen what losing him like that had done to the Guv. Not even after Sam's mistake had resulted in Ray getting blown up unnecessarily. Hurt him and he'd heal, but hurt someone he cared about and there'd be hell to pay. And Sam had not only hurt the Guv, deeply, but he'd also left poor Chris a shadow of what he'd started to become. Now instead of becoming a crack inspector in his own right, he was more of a div than he'd ever been. At least he had something to fall back on, Ray mused. What have I got that he hasn't taken?
******
"I'm here to see Violet." Ray said to the butler who answered the door.
"Miss Violet has been expecting you, sir. Please have a seat. Tea will be served, and Miss Violet will be with you momentarily," the butler said, as he scuttled away into the recesses of the long and labyrinthine hallway behind him.
Ray did as directed and took a seat on a brocade chair with a very soft cushion and a very rigid back. He'd just begun to survey the room when a whiff of an incredibly intoxicating perfume drifted his way, signifying the nearly-silent entrance of "Violet."
"So, you've come at last." Miss Violet said, eyes wide behind the intricately painted wooden fan that served to hide half her face away from sight and also to waft her perfume out across her path.
"Why did you do it? You know you broke the Guv's heart," Ray, never one to stand on ceremony, got right to it.
"You and I both know I didn't have a thing to do with the Guv's heart breaking. I did it because I can get more done this way. Not hampered by the rules and regulations that kept scum like Stephen Warren coming back out to muck up our city." Miss Violet dropped her fan absentmindedly onto a side table, and was suddenly the Annie Cartwright of memory---only with a lot more makeup.
"Aren't you afraid he'll hear you? He may be scum, but he's not stupid." Ray lit a fag, not bothering to ask first.
Annie, slightly miffed, shoved a rather unnecessarily ornate crystal ashtray across the coffee table toward Ray. "He trusts me. And well he should; I've been his top moneymaking enterprise since approximately two months after I had my start. How do you think I got this house, or my own stable of country-renowned courtesans? Oh, don't pretend you don't know. I know you do. Or has CID fallen so far off as all that?" Annie fluttered her eyelashes, looking anything but innocent. Those giant doe eyes could only lie so effectively, and no more.
"How else would I have found you?" Ray's response was noncommittal as he puffed away.
"Well, are you going to take me in, then? Or are you interested in hearing what I've got to say?" Annie remained unruffled, and took a steadying sip from her tea.
"You were always a lot smarter than I gave you credit for, Cartwright. It's taken me longer than it should have to say, but I wanted you to know. And...if you don't mind talking, I don't mind listening." Ray tried his best to meet her eyes, but he couldn't. That corset was awfully distracting. That must have been it.
"In that case, why don't we retire to somewhere a bit more...comfortable?" Annie's eyes were gorgeous, and perhaps even deadly as she spoke. Or maybe just dead, Ray mused. But before he had the chance to wonder why he'd thought that, she'd firmly gripped his arm and begun leading him off down a rather dark hallway.
******
"I don't see why all this is necessary," Ray said, even as he allowed himself to be bound up completely starkers to the four-poster by his ankles and wrists. "All I wanted to do was have a conversation about why all...CHRIST!"
"As you yourself said, Ray, Warren's not exactly stupid. Sending you was awfully smart; you've been known to be slightly bent in the past, and so it's less likely they'll suspect us of colluding. But I've got a business image to maintain." Annie snapped her flogger authoritatively, admiring the way the little snicks of silver along the tops of the tawses caught the light.
"Aren't there other ways of convincing him?" Ray winced and tried not to moan as the flogger hit home on a rather meaty area of his inner left thigh, just missing his achingly hard cock by a mere millimeter.
"There are. But one of the things I'm known for amongst my clientele is my ability to work out exactly what each of my clients wants. Some people use questionnaires. Others use the "throw everything at the wall" method. In your case, it's easy, since I've known you for so long." Annie purred, staring down at Ray and flicking the flogger so the tips just brushed his nose, making him try his best to jump back.
Which, of course, he couldn't. "And you decided I'd like all this?" Ray snorted derisively, even as his cock turned purple from strain.
"Looks like I haven't decided anything." Annie nodded her head toward Ray's rather swollen 'evidence' and smiled. "If you want me to explain all the psychology behind it, I can. But I've always thought this was just what you wanted," she let a little bit of that purr slip back into her voice again.
Like magic, Ray was all hers. There would be time enough for conversation later.
******
Some time during their session, Ray began to drift. Senses already overloaded with pleasure seemed to short out by the time Annie had delicately positioned and seated herself and had begun to use all those exercises she'd studied in earnest.
And then he'd looked up, and seen that for all she was clearly moving him, nothing about any of this was moving her in the slightest.
I know that look too well, was the last thing he thought before sliding down into sleep.
******
"If none of your other daft plans have worked so far, what makes you so sure this one is going to?" Gene hissed, watching his breath almost crystallise in the cold air of a winter come early and harsh two years ago.
"Do you trust me, Gene?" Sam's voice was quiet, the look in his eyes pleading and soulful and incredibly manipulative.
"Course I do. Though I can't think why." Gene's voice was rough and soft, all at the same time, just before he rabbit-punched Sam lightly in the left kidney for emphasis.
"What was that for?" Sam yelped in alarm and surprise as he rubbed his side gingerly.
"Excellent icebreaker at parties, I'm told." Gene smirked, and willed everything to go back to normal between them.
"So you'll do it?" Sam stopped rubbing and closed the space between them in one smooth step, trying to completely fill Gene's field of vision with his eyes.
"Will it get you to shut the bloody hell up?" Gene tried his best to make it a joke, but his own eyes were deadly serious.
"Probably." Sam smirked, toeing some stones on the ground with the tips of his boots and suddenly not meeting Gene's eyes.
Gene, of course, didn't miss this, and responded accordingly. "I'd like to help you out, Tyler, but I'm afraid I can't. I've sworn to protect the lives of all the people in my city, including and especially my men." Emphasized that last "my" a little too much, didn't you? he admonished himself.
"And you'll be protecting my life if you'll just do what I'm telling you!" Sam cried in anguish, gripping his head as another round of massive pain sought to shatter it from the inside out.
"We'll get you some help, Sam." Gene said quietly, putting one arm around his frail DI as he shook and looked as though he was about to collapse from strain.
"You'll help me now." Sam said, voice like steel as he grabbed his gun, whirled, and pointed it at Gene's face in one smooth motion. "You told me you believed me. I have to go home. NOW."
"Been practising cowboys and indians in a mirror, have we?" Gene snorted, even as he looked anything but amused.
"If I'm right, and I'm fairly sure I am, you'll be doing me the biggest favour you could possibly do," Sam pleaded, his resolve breaking slightly and pure, naked panic showing on his face.
That's what you said when I let you move in with me. "I am NOT going to start waving my gun around in the face of one of my own men, unlike some people! Want to try for a third time? Really, I hear it's a magic number!" Gene started forward, completely sure Sam wouldn't fire.
And then Sam had slipped, and fallen into the canal, hitting his head as he went down.
They never found the body; it simply vanished. The whole time, Ray had been waiting in a separate car; Gene had asked him to go along and keep a quiet backup, since Sam had been acting even more strangely than usual.
Like clockwork, the whole scene replayed itself in Ray's dreams every month or so. He tried not to sleep, as much as possible, but all that not-sleeping got to him, and down he'd go.
******
Then came that day on the boat. Annie knew all the local girls, and this wasn't anyone she knew. She was stunning, to be sure, but there's no way she was a real Girl. She had to be undercover. Annie laughed inwardly; she could spot them a mile away.
Still, she wanted to see what would happen, so she let the play unfold before her eyes and faded away into the background.
******
"Alex Drake. Or more specifically, DI Alex Drake," Annie pursed her lips as she mulled over the information on the tidy sheet now sitting in front of her. "Another one, came out of nowhere, no one knows her story, acting completely mad."
She resolved to investigate this matter to the fullest of her ability. And since she knew all the best night-spots in town, why shouldn't she try to catch her prey off-guard?
******
"Oh, excuse me, miss. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to bump into you like that!" Annie laughed as she jostled Alex's arm on the packed dancefloor, causing Alex to slosh her glass of champagne all over them both. "Here, let me help you clean up, at least?" she grinned, and for a moment, the old Annie was clearly in residence---if Alex had ever met said creature.
Alex cleared her throat and said as coldly as possible, "No, thank you, I believe it's something I can handle all on my own." And she moved hastily toward the loo, maintaining a sense of regal poise even as she tottered on her white stiletto-heeled ankle boots.
"You're going to break an ankle if you move like that. Here, let me help you, I insist," Annie brightened even more, almost beaming as she forcibly wrapped Alex's arm over her shoulder and fairly dragged her into the loo.
"Look, if you're thinking I'm looking for a date, I'm already here with someone, thanks." Alex tried halfheartedly to pull her arm away and gave up midway through the attempt.
"Can't someone ever do something nice for someone else in this town without their motives being suspect?" Annie exclaimed exasperatedly as she began dabbing at Alex's white leather jacket with a damp towel.
"You're right, I suppose. I'm sorry if I came off a little harshly back there. Let's start over again. My name's Alex Drake. What's yours?" Alex proffered her right hand, teetering slightly as she'd previously been using it to balance against the wall while Annie dabbed at her jacket.
"I'm Violet Beauregarde," Annie smiled, and it almost reached her eyes. "Lovely to meet you," she said, squeezing Alex's hand perhaps a bit more tightly than was strictly necessary.
If she hadn't drunk so much champagne, she would never have thought of doing such a thing, but Alex found herself overcome with the sudden urge to kiss this Violet Beauregarde. So she did. Simply, softly, sweetly...until Annie nipped at her lip and deepened the kiss, pouring herself and all her frustrations into it. It's not like it's going to matter. She won't remember a thing in the morning. I've seen her kind before, Annie thought to herself. And so, she enjoyed herself to the fullest, tongue exploring every inch of Alex's surprisingly warm and delightful mouth; now nipping, now sucking at her bottom lip; now Alex pushing back and returning the favour and managing, as if by magic, to completely avoid a collision of teeth, despite how tightly they were entwined against the back of the door. And all the while, pulling Alex in close and allowing her hands to go where they would over that slim, birdlike frame. So alike... she mused. So very alike, it's almost like...
"...Oi, Drake, did you get lost?" came an all-too-familiar voice and a loud knock at the door. "You'd best come out soon or else I completely take back that offer of seeing you home safe!" Gene Hunt's voice almost sounded...normal---if steeped in an awful lot of Luigi's house red.
"Well, I don't suppose we can stay here forever," Annie tried her best to be cheerful, and if Alex had been any less drunk, she'd have failed.
As it was, Alex nodded and slurred "Nice meeting you," as she stumbled out the door and onto the waiting arm of the Guv.
Here we go again, Annie thought, digging around in her purse for a packet of fags.
~~~fin~~~
AUTHOR: Janni
EMAIL: jantalaimon@livejournal.com
WORD COUNT: 3220
STYLE/WARNINGS/SPOILERS: Brown Cortina/Quattro. AU. Character death. Spoilers through S2.08 of LoM and for S1.01 of A2A. Het and slash which I will not specify here so as to preserve plottiness. Mild BDSM, themes and language of a sexual nature betwixt and between consenting adults.
SUMMARY: Sometimes redemption comes in the unlikeliest of places. And sometimes it's nowhere to be found at all.
AUTHOR'S NOTES: This is a pinch-hit Ficathon 2008 fic and was written for the prompts "Annie as a high-end call-girl (real or undercover), whips, any CID member as a client." And also as a bonus, for this requester's secondary prompts of "Sam/Gene, a dance with the devil, dark." And as a final bonus, to fulfill this person's final prompts of "Crossover with Ashes to Ashes, Alex and Annie (either friendship or more), nightclub." Ha! :D Beta'd by the delightfully effervescent Loz. :D
DISCLAIMER: Life on Mars and Ashes to Ashes are copyright Kudos and the BBC. No infringement is intended and no money is being made.
Fallen
She'd seen an awful lot in her time, she'd decided.
Oh, most working girls had, after all. That wasn't anything new. But she'd only been in the life for a few days, and already she'd come to that conclusion.
First there'd been the one who'd run off without paying. Or tried to run, at any rate; awfully hard to run when your trou were still down around your ankles. That was when Annie decided she needed a change of scene, immediately.
Of course, it was difficult in a town like this, and in times like these. Things were...difficult, on both fronts; firstly because the higher-ups in the criminal element knew enough to do some research of their own, and secondly, well. Secondly, it was tough getting any sort of job right now.
Ever since Sam's disappearance, things hadn't been the same. No one really blamed Annie when she left, finally. If Gene hadn't been far more married to his badge than he'd ever been to any person, he could well envision himself doing the very same thing.
Well, maybe not exactly the same thing.
******
It had started out as an undercover operation, which Gene could understand. He hadn't liked it, but Annie had put forth a good argument. So good, in fact, that for a second, Gene had felt nearly as alive as he used to do, back when he was arguing with a certain former DI of his. Whether or not it was a temporary lapse in judgment, the fact remained that he'd been the one to authorise it.
And so, it was made official that Annie was being struck from the ranks of CID in disgrace. That her actions in absconding with key evidence in a multiple and brutal murder case were far beyond the pale; so far, in fact, that she'd set the cause of WDCs back at least a decade or more. Of course, this was all done quietly, so as not to arouse any undue attention. It had to seem real, after all---and not like it was being playacted in the slightest.
While Annie did have her psychology degree to fall back on, what employer would want her after she'd been disgraced in such a way in her last job? It might not have been the same field, but most employers in any profession would look askance at someone with the questionable resume that Annie now had. So it didn't really surprise anyone when such a rather lovely young lady did what many lovely young ladies (and several similarly lovely young men) had been doing since time out of mind, and made all that beauty work for her. Given the math at hand, none of the major criminal factions could really fault her flawless logic. Stephen Warren even offered her the opportunity to audition for his club; an offer which she'd politely declined.
The fact was, she preferred to go off on her own, trying to manage things for herself. With the knowledge she'd gained in her previous profession coupled with her psychology degree, she was fairly certain she could figure out the best way of doing things.
She drew up plans, and hashed out schematics for how she was going to outfit her new place for her rather specialised services. Of course it was going to take money, but this line of work could be quite lucrative, if one played one's cards right. And it couldn't ever hurt to plan too far ahead; oh, she'd learned the value in that.
Except...except apparently, it could. She'd always been able to appreciate Sam's methods and the thought he put into things, but she was also always very aware that sometimes, overthinking things could hamstring you. Which, apparently, was what had happened here.
She'd got more than enough research under her belt, but while she'd already seen quite a bit on the street, she still wasn't sure at all that she had what it took to do what she had in mind.
When one of his boys told him that a Miss Annie Cartwright was here to see him, Stephen Warren smiled knowingly. Of course she was.
******
Weeks and months passed, and as Annie learnt more about her new profession, she became more and more convinced she could do a lot more good outside the system than she could within. What had started as a deep undercover assignment had metamorphosed into something much, much larger. Finally, she tendered her resignation---verbally, of course. Couldn't have a paper trail traceable back to their undercover ruse, or else both she and CID would be risking far more than they stood to gain by having all their damnable paperwork in tow.
One small blessing was that Gene barely seemed to notice. It had been over a year since they'd lost Tyler, and he was still more blissfully numb than he'd ever been, no matter how far into his flask he'd managed to crawl.
That was the part that bothered Ray the most. Oh, sure, he'd had more than his fair share of hatred for the airy-fairy ways of his former DI when Tyler had still been around to make his life miserable. But he hadn't ever truly hated the Boss until he'd seen what losing him like that had done to the Guv. Not even after Sam's mistake had resulted in Ray getting blown up unnecessarily. Hurt him and he'd heal, but hurt someone he cared about and there'd be hell to pay. And Sam had not only hurt the Guv, deeply, but he'd also left poor Chris a shadow of what he'd started to become. Now instead of becoming a crack inspector in his own right, he was more of a div than he'd ever been. At least he had something to fall back on, Ray mused. What have I got that he hasn't taken?
******
"I'm here to see Violet." Ray said to the butler who answered the door.
"Miss Violet has been expecting you, sir. Please have a seat. Tea will be served, and Miss Violet will be with you momentarily," the butler said, as he scuttled away into the recesses of the long and labyrinthine hallway behind him.
Ray did as directed and took a seat on a brocade chair with a very soft cushion and a very rigid back. He'd just begun to survey the room when a whiff of an incredibly intoxicating perfume drifted his way, signifying the nearly-silent entrance of "Violet."
"So, you've come at last." Miss Violet said, eyes wide behind the intricately painted wooden fan that served to hide half her face away from sight and also to waft her perfume out across her path.
"Why did you do it? You know you broke the Guv's heart," Ray, never one to stand on ceremony, got right to it.
"You and I both know I didn't have a thing to do with the Guv's heart breaking. I did it because I can get more done this way. Not hampered by the rules and regulations that kept scum like Stephen Warren coming back out to muck up our city." Miss Violet dropped her fan absentmindedly onto a side table, and was suddenly the Annie Cartwright of memory---only with a lot more makeup.
"Aren't you afraid he'll hear you? He may be scum, but he's not stupid." Ray lit a fag, not bothering to ask first.
Annie, slightly miffed, shoved a rather unnecessarily ornate crystal ashtray across the coffee table toward Ray. "He trusts me. And well he should; I've been his top moneymaking enterprise since approximately two months after I had my start. How do you think I got this house, or my own stable of country-renowned courtesans? Oh, don't pretend you don't know. I know you do. Or has CID fallen so far off as all that?" Annie fluttered her eyelashes, looking anything but innocent. Those giant doe eyes could only lie so effectively, and no more.
"How else would I have found you?" Ray's response was noncommittal as he puffed away.
"Well, are you going to take me in, then? Or are you interested in hearing what I've got to say?" Annie remained unruffled, and took a steadying sip from her tea.
"You were always a lot smarter than I gave you credit for, Cartwright. It's taken me longer than it should have to say, but I wanted you to know. And...if you don't mind talking, I don't mind listening." Ray tried his best to meet her eyes, but he couldn't. That corset was awfully distracting. That must have been it.
"In that case, why don't we retire to somewhere a bit more...comfortable?" Annie's eyes were gorgeous, and perhaps even deadly as she spoke. Or maybe just dead, Ray mused. But before he had the chance to wonder why he'd thought that, she'd firmly gripped his arm and begun leading him off down a rather dark hallway.
******
"I don't see why all this is necessary," Ray said, even as he allowed himself to be bound up completely starkers to the four-poster by his ankles and wrists. "All I wanted to do was have a conversation about why all...CHRIST!"
"As you yourself said, Ray, Warren's not exactly stupid. Sending you was awfully smart; you've been known to be slightly bent in the past, and so it's less likely they'll suspect us of colluding. But I've got a business image to maintain." Annie snapped her flogger authoritatively, admiring the way the little snicks of silver along the tops of the tawses caught the light.
"Aren't there other ways of convincing him?" Ray winced and tried not to moan as the flogger hit home on a rather meaty area of his inner left thigh, just missing his achingly hard cock by a mere millimeter.
"There are. But one of the things I'm known for amongst my clientele is my ability to work out exactly what each of my clients wants. Some people use questionnaires. Others use the "throw everything at the wall" method. In your case, it's easy, since I've known you for so long." Annie purred, staring down at Ray and flicking the flogger so the tips just brushed his nose, making him try his best to jump back.
Which, of course, he couldn't. "And you decided I'd like all this?" Ray snorted derisively, even as his cock turned purple from strain.
"Looks like I haven't decided anything." Annie nodded her head toward Ray's rather swollen 'evidence' and smiled. "If you want me to explain all the psychology behind it, I can. But I've always thought this was just what you wanted," she let a little bit of that purr slip back into her voice again.
Like magic, Ray was all hers. There would be time enough for conversation later.
******
Some time during their session, Ray began to drift. Senses already overloaded with pleasure seemed to short out by the time Annie had delicately positioned and seated herself and had begun to use all those exercises she'd studied in earnest.
And then he'd looked up, and seen that for all she was clearly moving him, nothing about any of this was moving her in the slightest.
I know that look too well, was the last thing he thought before sliding down into sleep.
******
"If none of your other daft plans have worked so far, what makes you so sure this one is going to?" Gene hissed, watching his breath almost crystallise in the cold air of a winter come early and harsh two years ago.
"Do you trust me, Gene?" Sam's voice was quiet, the look in his eyes pleading and soulful and incredibly manipulative.
"Course I do. Though I can't think why." Gene's voice was rough and soft, all at the same time, just before he rabbit-punched Sam lightly in the left kidney for emphasis.
"What was that for?" Sam yelped in alarm and surprise as he rubbed his side gingerly.
"Excellent icebreaker at parties, I'm told." Gene smirked, and willed everything to go back to normal between them.
"So you'll do it?" Sam stopped rubbing and closed the space between them in one smooth step, trying to completely fill Gene's field of vision with his eyes.
"Will it get you to shut the bloody hell up?" Gene tried his best to make it a joke, but his own eyes were deadly serious.
"Probably." Sam smirked, toeing some stones on the ground with the tips of his boots and suddenly not meeting Gene's eyes.
Gene, of course, didn't miss this, and responded accordingly. "I'd like to help you out, Tyler, but I'm afraid I can't. I've sworn to protect the lives of all the people in my city, including and especially my men." Emphasized that last "my" a little too much, didn't you? he admonished himself.
"And you'll be protecting my life if you'll just do what I'm telling you!" Sam cried in anguish, gripping his head as another round of massive pain sought to shatter it from the inside out.
"We'll get you some help, Sam." Gene said quietly, putting one arm around his frail DI as he shook and looked as though he was about to collapse from strain.
"You'll help me now." Sam said, voice like steel as he grabbed his gun, whirled, and pointed it at Gene's face in one smooth motion. "You told me you believed me. I have to go home. NOW."
"Been practising cowboys and indians in a mirror, have we?" Gene snorted, even as he looked anything but amused.
"If I'm right, and I'm fairly sure I am, you'll be doing me the biggest favour you could possibly do," Sam pleaded, his resolve breaking slightly and pure, naked panic showing on his face.
That's what you said when I let you move in with me. "I am NOT going to start waving my gun around in the face of one of my own men, unlike some people! Want to try for a third time? Really, I hear it's a magic number!" Gene started forward, completely sure Sam wouldn't fire.
And then Sam had slipped, and fallen into the canal, hitting his head as he went down.
They never found the body; it simply vanished. The whole time, Ray had been waiting in a separate car; Gene had asked him to go along and keep a quiet backup, since Sam had been acting even more strangely than usual.
Like clockwork, the whole scene replayed itself in Ray's dreams every month or so. He tried not to sleep, as much as possible, but all that not-sleeping got to him, and down he'd go.
******
Then came that day on the boat. Annie knew all the local girls, and this wasn't anyone she knew. She was stunning, to be sure, but there's no way she was a real Girl. She had to be undercover. Annie laughed inwardly; she could spot them a mile away.
Still, she wanted to see what would happen, so she let the play unfold before her eyes and faded away into the background.
******
"Alex Drake. Or more specifically, DI Alex Drake," Annie pursed her lips as she mulled over the information on the tidy sheet now sitting in front of her. "Another one, came out of nowhere, no one knows her story, acting completely mad."
She resolved to investigate this matter to the fullest of her ability. And since she knew all the best night-spots in town, why shouldn't she try to catch her prey off-guard?
******
"Oh, excuse me, miss. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to bump into you like that!" Annie laughed as she jostled Alex's arm on the packed dancefloor, causing Alex to slosh her glass of champagne all over them both. "Here, let me help you clean up, at least?" she grinned, and for a moment, the old Annie was clearly in residence---if Alex had ever met said creature.
Alex cleared her throat and said as coldly as possible, "No, thank you, I believe it's something I can handle all on my own." And she moved hastily toward the loo, maintaining a sense of regal poise even as she tottered on her white stiletto-heeled ankle boots.
"You're going to break an ankle if you move like that. Here, let me help you, I insist," Annie brightened even more, almost beaming as she forcibly wrapped Alex's arm over her shoulder and fairly dragged her into the loo.
"Look, if you're thinking I'm looking for a date, I'm already here with someone, thanks." Alex tried halfheartedly to pull her arm away and gave up midway through the attempt.
"Can't someone ever do something nice for someone else in this town without their motives being suspect?" Annie exclaimed exasperatedly as she began dabbing at Alex's white leather jacket with a damp towel.
"You're right, I suppose. I'm sorry if I came off a little harshly back there. Let's start over again. My name's Alex Drake. What's yours?" Alex proffered her right hand, teetering slightly as she'd previously been using it to balance against the wall while Annie dabbed at her jacket.
"I'm Violet Beauregarde," Annie smiled, and it almost reached her eyes. "Lovely to meet you," she said, squeezing Alex's hand perhaps a bit more tightly than was strictly necessary.
If she hadn't drunk so much champagne, she would never have thought of doing such a thing, but Alex found herself overcome with the sudden urge to kiss this Violet Beauregarde. So she did. Simply, softly, sweetly...until Annie nipped at her lip and deepened the kiss, pouring herself and all her frustrations into it. It's not like it's going to matter. She won't remember a thing in the morning. I've seen her kind before, Annie thought to herself. And so, she enjoyed herself to the fullest, tongue exploring every inch of Alex's surprisingly warm and delightful mouth; now nipping, now sucking at her bottom lip; now Alex pushing back and returning the favour and managing, as if by magic, to completely avoid a collision of teeth, despite how tightly they were entwined against the back of the door. And all the while, pulling Alex in close and allowing her hands to go where they would over that slim, birdlike frame. So alike... she mused. So very alike, it's almost like...
"...Oi, Drake, did you get lost?" came an all-too-familiar voice and a loud knock at the door. "You'd best come out soon or else I completely take back that offer of seeing you home safe!" Gene Hunt's voice almost sounded...normal---if steeped in an awful lot of Luigi's house red.
"Well, I don't suppose we can stay here forever," Annie tried her best to be cheerful, and if Alex had been any less drunk, she'd have failed.
As it was, Alex nodded and slurred "Nice meeting you," as she stumbled out the door and onto the waiting arm of the Guv.
Here we go again, Annie thought, digging around in her purse for a packet of fags.
~~~fin~~~