Fic: Everything Changes, (Gene and Harry Woolf, White Cortina), danae_b
Title: Everything Changes
Author: danae-b
Rating: White Cortina (post 2x02)
Characters: Gene, Harry Woolf, mention of Sam
Word Count: Just over 1000 words
Notes: I did an angsty sentence meme over at my tumblr -- this was written for aisforinterval, the prompt having been Gene and Harry Woolf, 'What happened doesn't change anything.'. Beta by talkingtothesky. ♥ Sixth of eight fills, getting close now!
Post 2x02.
Summary: Gene thinks one thing, but Harry sees it differently.
'What happened doesn't change anything.'
He says it like he means it, and it leaves Harry with a bad taste in his mouth - as well as with the sudden, intense, urge to laugh. Of course it's all changed, and it's Gene who doesn't want to see it, denying the truth, wanting to warp it until it suits him better. It's what he does in his job, and it works - why shouldn't it work for him now?
It's almost as if, any second now, he expects Harry to tell him it's all untrue. Gene should know better by now, and not just because Harry made him too good - cold hard evidence has damned him, the truth has been aired like so much dirty laundry. It's the boy inside Gene, the one who looked to him like a father, who trusted him and believed in him, that can't seem to swallow it all down. That Harry has failed him, just like his own father failed him, betrayed him in one go.
Does it make him feel bad? Of course it does. But it's his own bloody fault for going to Gene in the first place. He really had underestimated his former DI - and more than that, he'd underestimated Sam Tyler. There's too much regret, but he can't let it blind him, nor can he simply sweep it away. It is what it is, and he's done what he's done. There's no escaping that.
'You're a fool to say that, Gene.' He grunts as he heaves himself up, forcing himself to sit up in his hospital bed. Gene, stood at the closed door, flinches but doesn't move to assist him - but he deserves that, he supposes. Even if Gene had come to him, he'd have turned aside his helping hand. He doesn't need that now, nor does he want it.
'Everything has changed, you just don't want to see it.'
Gene grimaces. 'You don't mean that. You...'
He's been drinking, drinking too much - Harry can see it in the flush of his cheeks, the bright wideness of his eyes, the way he isn't quite steady on his feet. 'I really didn't want you to remember me like this.' Like this, a prisoner inside a hospital room, an armed guard keeping watch of him beyond that closed door - and even that small thing, Gene being able to shut it when he came in to speak to him, seems like such a blessing.
Still grimacing, Gene shakes his head. 'I won't. I just...' He fishes about, looking for the right thing to say - only, Gene knows it just as well as Harry does, there's really no right thing to say.
'How's your leg?'
Harry huffs out a laugh, winces as he shifts about. 'Hurts, understandably so.'
Another flinch, like Gene had been struck by those words, just a solid a hit as any half-decent punch. Like he's the one who'd been shot in the leg. 'Don't...'
'You shouldn't have come here, what did you expect? For me to make it all better? I can't do that. And if you're looking for a shoulder to lean on, you've... really come to the wrong place, Gene.'
Gene shakes his head, tired, so tired - Harry can see it, in the sudden stoop of his shoulders. 'I just...'
'I'm sorry - does that help? I'm sorry it had to come to this.' I'm sorry I failed you, he'd really like to say - he never will.
Gene rubs at his eyes, trembles some, still shaking his head as he balls both his hands into fists. 'Doesn't make it any better. Thanks though, Harry - for trying.'
'Go home, Gene - or go to your DI, if he's what you think you need. Just keep an eye on that one...'
The sorrow's gone, replaced with rage - ah, a much better emotion, far more suitable to this man, his man - burning, bright and intense, all consuming. 'Don't say that. You don't... don't know Sam.' A flicker of confusion crosses his face, drives out the anger for one, small moment - maybe Gene doesn't really know Sam either. Only when the rage comes back, it's brighter than before. 'I trust him. You don't know Sam.'
'That may very well be so, Of course, you thought you knew me.'
Gene growls, looks like he needs to hit something. Fist grinds against palm and he turns away, paces back and forth across the small room several times before stopping at the door, fishing out a pack of fags from an inside pocket. He holds it out, uses it as some sort of offering - he can't be hoping for peace. They've struck a downward spiral, and there's no coming back from it. Harry supposes even that is his own bloody fault.
'No thanks. I'm trying to cut back - those things can kill you, you know.'
Another flinch, hardly noticeable, but there's no hiding the shaking as he pulls a cigarette out. 'Sam... Sam would say...' His words trail off, swallowed by nothingness. Gene goes about lighting it, sucks a deep breath in, blows out the smoke. 'You'll be here a few more days before they transport you to a prison hospital. I'll see you around... Guv.'
Harry straightens up, though the sudden exertion is exhausting, the pain that much more noticeable. 'I'm not your Guv anymore, Gene.'
Gene blinks, stares at the cigarette in his hand, then at Harry. 'You'll always be my Guv.'
Harry supposes that's his due, as well - even if the eventuality of it all ended up breaking him in time, Gene has (and always would be) loyal to a fault. Loyal, yes, but not blind. Blindly loyal Gene would have given him what he wanted in the end, and damned them both in the process. Now only the one of them need burn for his sins.
'Go home, Gene,' he says, repeating himself now. Gene glowers at him, hurt and confused, dropping the cigarette to the floor and then stamping it out. He straightens up, like he means to fight it, but the flare of heat fizzles out just as suddenly as it had struck.
He says nothing else, simply leaves, but Harry knows it's for the best.
Author: danae-b
Rating: White Cortina (post 2x02)
Characters: Gene, Harry Woolf, mention of Sam
Word Count: Just over 1000 words
Notes: I did an angsty sentence meme over at my tumblr -- this was written for aisforinterval, the prompt having been Gene and Harry Woolf, 'What happened doesn't change anything.'. Beta by talkingtothesky. ♥ Sixth of eight fills, getting close now!
Post 2x02.
Summary: Gene thinks one thing, but Harry sees it differently.
'What happened doesn't change anything.'
He says it like he means it, and it leaves Harry with a bad taste in his mouth - as well as with the sudden, intense, urge to laugh. Of course it's all changed, and it's Gene who doesn't want to see it, denying the truth, wanting to warp it until it suits him better. It's what he does in his job, and it works - why shouldn't it work for him now?
It's almost as if, any second now, he expects Harry to tell him it's all untrue. Gene should know better by now, and not just because Harry made him too good - cold hard evidence has damned him, the truth has been aired like so much dirty laundry. It's the boy inside Gene, the one who looked to him like a father, who trusted him and believed in him, that can't seem to swallow it all down. That Harry has failed him, just like his own father failed him, betrayed him in one go.
Does it make him feel bad? Of course it does. But it's his own bloody fault for going to Gene in the first place. He really had underestimated his former DI - and more than that, he'd underestimated Sam Tyler. There's too much regret, but he can't let it blind him, nor can he simply sweep it away. It is what it is, and he's done what he's done. There's no escaping that.
'You're a fool to say that, Gene.' He grunts as he heaves himself up, forcing himself to sit up in his hospital bed. Gene, stood at the closed door, flinches but doesn't move to assist him - but he deserves that, he supposes. Even if Gene had come to him, he'd have turned aside his helping hand. He doesn't need that now, nor does he want it.
'Everything has changed, you just don't want to see it.'
Gene grimaces. 'You don't mean that. You...'
He's been drinking, drinking too much - Harry can see it in the flush of his cheeks, the bright wideness of his eyes, the way he isn't quite steady on his feet. 'I really didn't want you to remember me like this.' Like this, a prisoner inside a hospital room, an armed guard keeping watch of him beyond that closed door - and even that small thing, Gene being able to shut it when he came in to speak to him, seems like such a blessing.
Still grimacing, Gene shakes his head. 'I won't. I just...' He fishes about, looking for the right thing to say - only, Gene knows it just as well as Harry does, there's really no right thing to say.
'How's your leg?'
Harry huffs out a laugh, winces as he shifts about. 'Hurts, understandably so.'
Another flinch, like Gene had been struck by those words, just a solid a hit as any half-decent punch. Like he's the one who'd been shot in the leg. 'Don't...'
'You shouldn't have come here, what did you expect? For me to make it all better? I can't do that. And if you're looking for a shoulder to lean on, you've... really come to the wrong place, Gene.'
Gene shakes his head, tired, so tired - Harry can see it, in the sudden stoop of his shoulders. 'I just...'
'I'm sorry - does that help? I'm sorry it had to come to this.' I'm sorry I failed you, he'd really like to say - he never will.
Gene rubs at his eyes, trembles some, still shaking his head as he balls both his hands into fists. 'Doesn't make it any better. Thanks though, Harry - for trying.'
'Go home, Gene - or go to your DI, if he's what you think you need. Just keep an eye on that one...'
The sorrow's gone, replaced with rage - ah, a much better emotion, far more suitable to this man, his man - burning, bright and intense, all consuming. 'Don't say that. You don't... don't know Sam.' A flicker of confusion crosses his face, drives out the anger for one, small moment - maybe Gene doesn't really know Sam either. Only when the rage comes back, it's brighter than before. 'I trust him. You don't know Sam.'
'That may very well be so, Of course, you thought you knew me.'
Gene growls, looks like he needs to hit something. Fist grinds against palm and he turns away, paces back and forth across the small room several times before stopping at the door, fishing out a pack of fags from an inside pocket. He holds it out, uses it as some sort of offering - he can't be hoping for peace. They've struck a downward spiral, and there's no coming back from it. Harry supposes even that is his own bloody fault.
'No thanks. I'm trying to cut back - those things can kill you, you know.'
Another flinch, hardly noticeable, but there's no hiding the shaking as he pulls a cigarette out. 'Sam... Sam would say...' His words trail off, swallowed by nothingness. Gene goes about lighting it, sucks a deep breath in, blows out the smoke. 'You'll be here a few more days before they transport you to a prison hospital. I'll see you around... Guv.'
Harry straightens up, though the sudden exertion is exhausting, the pain that much more noticeable. 'I'm not your Guv anymore, Gene.'
Gene blinks, stares at the cigarette in his hand, then at Harry. 'You'll always be my Guv.'
Harry supposes that's his due, as well - even if the eventuality of it all ended up breaking him in time, Gene has (and always would be) loyal to a fault. Loyal, yes, but not blind. Blindly loyal Gene would have given him what he wanted in the end, and damned them both in the process. Now only the one of them need burn for his sins.
'Go home, Gene,' he says, repeating himself now. Gene glowers at him, hurt and confused, dropping the cigarette to the floor and then stamping it out. He straightens up, like he means to fight it, but the flare of heat fizzles out just as suddenly as it had struck.
He says nothing else, simply leaves, but Harry knows it's for the best.