Fic: The Art of Being Lost and Found (43/?), blue cortina, dakfinv
Title: The Art of Being Lost and Found (43/?)
Author: dak
Word Count: 1080 (this part); (61,218 in total, so far)
Rating: blue cortina
Warnings: none here
Summary: Post 2.08. When the Guv goes missing, CID is saddled with an inept "interim" DCI. To find Gene, and the truth, Ray must team up with a hated enemy.
Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15
Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21 Part 22 Part 23 Part 24 Part 25 Part 26 Part 27 Part 28
Part 29 Part 30 Part 31 Part 32 Part 33 Part 34 Part 35 Part 36 Part 37 Part 38 Part 39 Part 40 Part 41
Part 42
“Hitting me won’t make me remember!”
“But it’ll make me feel a whole lot better.”
“Wait!”
Ray’s fist froze a half inch from Tyler’s desperate face. His other hand tightly grasped the smaller man’s shirt.
“Why?” he snarled.
“I...I think better when I’m under less stress.”
“Shame.”
He pulled his arm back, ready to strike.
“And I’m sorry!” Sam blurted out.
“You’re what?”
The hesitation was all Sam needed to wriggle his way out of Ray’s grip. He scooted backwards on the floor, but didn’t try to run away.
“Sorry. I’m sorry.”
“You should be,” Ray hissed. “What for?” he added, not clear on exactly what Tyler was apologizing for. Sam seemed unsure himself, his mouth opening and closing slowly as he tried to think of the words.
“For...everything?” he finally said, clearly hoping that was the right answer. He looked so pathetic, Ray simply cursed and turned his back on him. “Look, it’s not my fault they keep messing around with my brain.”
Ray turned back to throw him a skeptical look.
“Okay, well, maybe it is. Partly. But that doesn’t mean this...memory loss is intentional. You think I’d want to forget the details of Gene’s disappearance?”
“I don’t know what to think about you anymore.”
“Neither do I,” Sam whispered, his eyes cast downward. “Ray, I don’t think I can trust my memories anymore.”
“Which ones?”
“All of them,” Sam closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and refocused his attention on the floor. “I’m relying completely on gut instinct here. Something I’ve always found very difficult.”
“So, it’s your gut that’s telling you, you know more about this mess that you realized?”
“Sort of. I think. I don’t know. It’s confusing. Our conversation with Freddy, it sparked something. Something I can’t quite...I don’t know how to explain it.” Sam collapsed on the edge of his bed and dropped his head in his hands. Ray stood by the door, listening to the shower running while Freddy garbled some god awful pop song.
“Chris’ last birthday. I were bladdered. Woke up at home, in me bed. No idea how I got there. Couldn’t remember half the night before. When I went downstairs, I saw little things - me tie on the railing, the fridge open, part of that bloody Tufty costume in me sitting room. I knew I had summat to do with it all. But I couldn’t place any of it.”
Sam kept his eyes on the floor, but his body relaxed slightly. Ray was contemplating what to say next when the bathroom door was flung open.
“Hope you weren’t planning on getting a shower,” Freddy ran a towel through his shaggy hair. “Think I used all the hot water...hey!”
Ray grabbed him by the wrist and dragged him across the room, handcuffing him to the cold radiator.
“Oi! What’s that for?” Freddy shook his arm. Sam seemed just as surprised as the boy.
“I need some sleep. I don’t trust you not to run out and I don’t trust you,” he pointed at Sam, “to keep a close enough eye on him. We’ve a lot to cover tomorrow. I suggest you both get some kip.”
Ray tossed off his shoes, switched off the light, and was out before his head even hit the pillow.
*
They sat round a table in the hotel’s shabby restaurant, Ray and Freddy eating the greasiest breakfast they could have ordered while Tyler seemed up to his old tricks - no food with an ounce of fat or grease. Freddy was reaching for another piece of toast when Ray pulled the basket away.
“Had enough to get you going. Think it’s time you told us what you know.”
“I know a lot of things,” Freddy mopped up some runny egg with the tiny scrap of bread he had left. Sam took his plate and set it on the table behind them.
“Oi!” the boy shouted, the eggy bread still clutched in his hand.
“We don’t have time for games,” Sam replied.
“Promise you’ll let me go?”
“Depends,” Ray shrugged.
“On what?”
“What you tell us,” Sam answered.
“That’s fair, that is,” Freddy pouted.
“Look, mate, you sent that letter cos you cared about that little girl. Ain’t that right?” Ray asked. Freddy shoved the bread in his mouth and looked away.
“You’re a good person, Freddy,” Sam leaned in. “You want to see Dorothy safe and cared for. We don’t want to get you in trouble. We just need to know what we’re getting involved in.”
Freddy swallowed his bread and wiped his hands on the dirty tablecloth before heaving a reluctant sigh and slouching in his chair.
“Alright. Alright. I’ll tell you what I can. But none of this comes back to me, understood?”
“Understood,” Sam nodded.
“Understood,” Ray agreed.
“It all started with Linda. I met her a few months back. Saw her on the street a few times. Shared some friendly chat. When she found out I needed a new place to sleep, offered me a room at hers.”
“What happened to your old place?” Ray asked.
“This ain’t about me, okay? So, Linda says she has a spare bed and she takes me in. That’s when I find out she has a kiddie.”
“Dorothy.”
“Aye. Sweet thing. So, things are working out for awhile, when one day, I realize I haven’t seen Linda for awhile. Then, these blokes come by and start taking Dorothy.”
“What do you mean ‘start taking?’” Sam asked.
“Well, they’d bring her back. She’d be gone a day or two, then show up back at the flat.”
“And who was looking after her when she was at the flat?” Ray asked.
“Me, mostly. But Dorothy can look after herself.”
“You expect a little girl to look after herself?” Sam snarled.
“No! That’s why I tracked down her family.”
“Where did Linda go?” Ray asked.
“I don’t know.”
“Who was she working for.”
“I don’t know.”
“Who was taking Dorothy?”
“I don’t know! Look, we kept ourselves to ourselves, right? It were safer that way. I told you I didn’t know much. You want to know about Dorothy’s business? You need to find that mate of hers.”
“Sally Carmichael,” Sam stated.
“Aye. Well, I know her name’s Sally. Works in this club off Shaftesbury. I can show you where.”
“Dorothy. Where is she now?” Ray asked.
“If she’s not with them blokes, she’ll be at the flat.”
“Then take us to the flat,” Sam ordered.
Author: dak
Word Count: 1080 (this part); (61,218 in total, so far)
Rating: blue cortina
Warnings: none here
Summary: Post 2.08. When the Guv goes missing, CID is saddled with an inept "interim" DCI. To find Gene, and the truth, Ray must team up with a hated enemy.
Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15
Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21 Part 22 Part 23 Part 24 Part 25 Part 26 Part 27 Part 28
Part 29 Part 30 Part 31 Part 32 Part 33 Part 34 Part 35 Part 36 Part 37 Part 38 Part 39 Part 40 Part 41
Part 42
“Hitting me won’t make me remember!”
“But it’ll make me feel a whole lot better.”
“Wait!”
Ray’s fist froze a half inch from Tyler’s desperate face. His other hand tightly grasped the smaller man’s shirt.
“Why?” he snarled.
“I...I think better when I’m under less stress.”
“Shame.”
He pulled his arm back, ready to strike.
“And I’m sorry!” Sam blurted out.
“You’re what?”
The hesitation was all Sam needed to wriggle his way out of Ray’s grip. He scooted backwards on the floor, but didn’t try to run away.
“Sorry. I’m sorry.”
“You should be,” Ray hissed. “What for?” he added, not clear on exactly what Tyler was apologizing for. Sam seemed unsure himself, his mouth opening and closing slowly as he tried to think of the words.
“For...everything?” he finally said, clearly hoping that was the right answer. He looked so pathetic, Ray simply cursed and turned his back on him. “Look, it’s not my fault they keep messing around with my brain.”
Ray turned back to throw him a skeptical look.
“Okay, well, maybe it is. Partly. But that doesn’t mean this...memory loss is intentional. You think I’d want to forget the details of Gene’s disappearance?”
“I don’t know what to think about you anymore.”
“Neither do I,” Sam whispered, his eyes cast downward. “Ray, I don’t think I can trust my memories anymore.”
“Which ones?”
“All of them,” Sam closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and refocused his attention on the floor. “I’m relying completely on gut instinct here. Something I’ve always found very difficult.”
“So, it’s your gut that’s telling you, you know more about this mess that you realized?”
“Sort of. I think. I don’t know. It’s confusing. Our conversation with Freddy, it sparked something. Something I can’t quite...I don’t know how to explain it.” Sam collapsed on the edge of his bed and dropped his head in his hands. Ray stood by the door, listening to the shower running while Freddy garbled some god awful pop song.
“Chris’ last birthday. I were bladdered. Woke up at home, in me bed. No idea how I got there. Couldn’t remember half the night before. When I went downstairs, I saw little things - me tie on the railing, the fridge open, part of that bloody Tufty costume in me sitting room. I knew I had summat to do with it all. But I couldn’t place any of it.”
Sam kept his eyes on the floor, but his body relaxed slightly. Ray was contemplating what to say next when the bathroom door was flung open.
“Hope you weren’t planning on getting a shower,” Freddy ran a towel through his shaggy hair. “Think I used all the hot water...hey!”
Ray grabbed him by the wrist and dragged him across the room, handcuffing him to the cold radiator.
“Oi! What’s that for?” Freddy shook his arm. Sam seemed just as surprised as the boy.
“I need some sleep. I don’t trust you not to run out and I don’t trust you,” he pointed at Sam, “to keep a close enough eye on him. We’ve a lot to cover tomorrow. I suggest you both get some kip.”
Ray tossed off his shoes, switched off the light, and was out before his head even hit the pillow.
*
They sat round a table in the hotel’s shabby restaurant, Ray and Freddy eating the greasiest breakfast they could have ordered while Tyler seemed up to his old tricks - no food with an ounce of fat or grease. Freddy was reaching for another piece of toast when Ray pulled the basket away.
“Had enough to get you going. Think it’s time you told us what you know.”
“I know a lot of things,” Freddy mopped up some runny egg with the tiny scrap of bread he had left. Sam took his plate and set it on the table behind them.
“Oi!” the boy shouted, the eggy bread still clutched in his hand.
“We don’t have time for games,” Sam replied.
“Promise you’ll let me go?”
“Depends,” Ray shrugged.
“On what?”
“What you tell us,” Sam answered.
“That’s fair, that is,” Freddy pouted.
“Look, mate, you sent that letter cos you cared about that little girl. Ain’t that right?” Ray asked. Freddy shoved the bread in his mouth and looked away.
“You’re a good person, Freddy,” Sam leaned in. “You want to see Dorothy safe and cared for. We don’t want to get you in trouble. We just need to know what we’re getting involved in.”
Freddy swallowed his bread and wiped his hands on the dirty tablecloth before heaving a reluctant sigh and slouching in his chair.
“Alright. Alright. I’ll tell you what I can. But none of this comes back to me, understood?”
“Understood,” Sam nodded.
“Understood,” Ray agreed.
“It all started with Linda. I met her a few months back. Saw her on the street a few times. Shared some friendly chat. When she found out I needed a new place to sleep, offered me a room at hers.”
“What happened to your old place?” Ray asked.
“This ain’t about me, okay? So, Linda says she has a spare bed and she takes me in. That’s when I find out she has a kiddie.”
“Dorothy.”
“Aye. Sweet thing. So, things are working out for awhile, when one day, I realize I haven’t seen Linda for awhile. Then, these blokes come by and start taking Dorothy.”
“What do you mean ‘start taking?’” Sam asked.
“Well, they’d bring her back. She’d be gone a day or two, then show up back at the flat.”
“And who was looking after her when she was at the flat?” Ray asked.
“Me, mostly. But Dorothy can look after herself.”
“You expect a little girl to look after herself?” Sam snarled.
“No! That’s why I tracked down her family.”
“Where did Linda go?” Ray asked.
“I don’t know.”
“Who was she working for.”
“I don’t know.”
“Who was taking Dorothy?”
“I don’t know! Look, we kept ourselves to ourselves, right? It were safer that way. I told you I didn’t know much. You want to know about Dorothy’s business? You need to find that mate of hers.”
“Sally Carmichael,” Sam stated.
“Aye. Well, I know her name’s Sally. Works in this club off Shaftesbury. I can show you where.”
“Dorothy. Where is she now?” Ray asked.
“If she’s not with them blokes, she’ll be at the flat.”
“Then take us to the flat,” Sam ordered.