FIC: Toy Soldier, (Blue/Brown Cortina, Elf)
Title: Toy Soldier
Author: Me, Elf. Really.
Spoilers: None
Rating: Blue/Brown Cortina
Word Count: 7300
Pairings: Ray/Chris and some Gene/Sam
Summary: Ray needs to find redemption.
A/N: Unbeta’d, sorry. Thanks to Wicca for all her help.
Toy Soldier
Sam stood, his back to the cold bricks, waiting. He knew he’d hear the moment that Ray broke the door down, and then hopefully the scrote inside would run straight into his arms. The man, Kenny Noakes, had started out as a small-time fence, but was slowly moving up the criminal underworld. They had decided to take him out before he got too big for his boots.
Sam had been happy enough to pick the man up with Annie or Chris, but Gene had insisted he take Ray - who had been responsible for feeling Noakes’ collar more than once - for his ‘local knowledge’. Sam had snorted, protesting he didn’t need any help finding the address on file. Ray hadn’t exactly looked happy either, but had filled Sam in on Noakes’ past deeds, the gangs he’d worked with and his methods. Sam had been only too happy when Ray had offered to be the one to kick the door down, too, for once not even bothering to suggest just ringing the doorbell.
The splintering crash from the front of the house put Sam on alert. He shouldered through the flimsy back gate into the yard and waited, on guard.
What he didn’t expect was the back door of the house to burst open and six men to spill out.
He fumbled his badge out of his pocket, held it up and shouted, in his most Gene Hunt-like voice: “Stop, police! You’re all under arrest!”
The first man did stop for a split second, then laughed. The others didn’t even bother pausing. Sam tried to dodge the fist, but he couldn’t get away from the full body-slam - the tiny back yard meaning he was completely trapped. He felt himself falling backwards, as if he was being trampled by a herd of elephants.
Ray exploded out of the back door. In a split second he had taken in the fleeing group of men - Noakes in the middle of them all - and Sam’s unmoving form on the floor. He threw himself bodily at the last of the men, leaping on his back and dragging him down to his knees. The man shouted, growling and ducked down, half throwing Ray over his shoulder. Ray hit the cobbles hard, still fighting and grappling. After few kicks and punches the men ran, knowing that they were better off making a clean getaway, however tempting it was to kick the shit out of two unarmed coppers.
Ray pushed himself to his feet, one hand hovering over his stomach where a hefty kick had caught him, and staggered back to Sam.
The DI was lying, his head at a funny angle against the wall. Ray swore, dropping to his knees and felt for a pulse. It was there, steady and strong, and he breathed a sigh of relief.
Ray fumbled in his pocket for a radio and called for an ambulance and for the plod to try to find the gang. Then he dragged Sam out so he was lying flat, pulling off his own jacket and wadding it under Sam’s head. There was blood in Sam’s hair and it was obvious that he’d knocked himself out on the wall as he fell. Ray pulled out his cigarettes and lit one, sitting on the ground next to Sam. He was pretty sure the man was just out cold, and would come around in time. He tried to remember anything about the crooks. He didn’t think he’d recognised any of them, and they certainly didn’t look like the sort of men that Noakes normally hung out with.
His radio crackled into life again.
“Eight six seven? What the bloody ‘ell’s going on?”
Ray closed his eyes, the anger in Gene’s voice coming over loud and clear on the fuzzy radio.
“Guv…Noakes weren’t on his own. I dunno who they were, five of ‘em. Didn’t recognise any faces.”
“I meant, what’s goin’ on with Tyler.” The fury in Gene’s tone was barely retrained.
Ray glanced down at Sam. “He’ll be okay, Guv. Got shoved against a wall, cracked ‘is head. Maybe got a coupla kicks too. He’s out of it, but he’ll come to.”
“An’ just…” Gene stopped. “I’m comin’ over there.”
The Cortina arrived before the ambulance did, and Ray dragged himself to his feet, looking down at Sam. Gene flung himself out of the car, pure rage exuding out of him.
“What. The. Fuck. Happened,” he said, the control in his tone far more menacing than if he’d have shouted. Ray almost wished he just throw a punch and be done with it.
“I dunno, Guv.” Ray threw down his dog end, following Gene back the few steps to Sam, watching as he bent over the younger man and ran a hand down his cheek. Ray glanced around, but no one else had witnessed the moment. Ray knew that the Guv and the Boss were involved. The night Gene had been pissed enough to tell him had been the first time that Ray had admitted out loud that he and Chris were a couple. Of course, Gene had claimed to have known all along, but Ray doubted that he had. “I went in the front - thought it’d just be Noaksey. But then the rest piled out. The Boss was ‘round ‘ere, but…” Ray gestured down to Sam.
“And what the fuck were you doin’? Havin’ a fuckin’ cup of tea inside?”
Gene could see that Sam was, as Ray had said, merely unconscious and not at death’s door, so turned back to his sergeant, eyes blazing.
“Guv…” Ray began.
“And what the fuck are you still doing here? Get outta my sight and if you don’t have those bastards in my station before the end of play then God help you, Sergeant, God help you.”
From his place on the floor Sam groaned, moving an arm. In the moment that Gene was distracted Ray cut his losses. He jogged back to the front of the house, got in his car and left, heading for the first person he could think of who might have information on exactly what Noakes was getting into.
Chris looked up as Gene crashed through the doors of CID and marched into his office, slamming the door behind him. He didn’t know exactly what was going on, but according to Phyllis something had gone wrong with the Boss and Ray’s collar. He waited, expecting Ray to trail into the office at any moment, but minutes passed and there was no sign of him.
Chris hesitantly got up, knowing he’d probably regret his next actions. He tapped lightly on Gene’s office door and hesitantly entered.
“Guv…where’s Ray?” he asked. “Only…I thought…”
“Well you’re a step up on ‘im already then, ain’t you?” Gene ground out.
Chris frowned, confused. “Is the Boss…okay, like?” The only thing that could explain the Guv’s foul mood was if something had happened to Sam.
“No thanks to Carling,” Gene threw back the contents of the glass that he held, annoyed that he was that easy to read - annoyed that Chris immediately pinpointed his weakness. “Piss off and do some work,” he said, watching the look of hurt passing across Chris’s face and not caring one bit. It was only after Chris had left the room that the guilt kicked in. Just because he knew Chris and Ray were lovers there was no need for him to take out his anger for his good-for-nothing sergeant on Chris.
Chris spent the day not concentrating on anything and waiting for Ray to come back to the office. He assumed that Ray was steering clear of Gene - and for good reason apparently, although word was that Sam was absolutely fine and the hospital wanted to keep him in for observation only.
He desperately wanted to find out where Ray was, but he knew that Gene would be listening in on the radio, so didn’t dare to go to Phyllis for help. So he sat, his insides chewing up with worry, watching the clock and waiting until he could go out and try to find his lover.
The moment he was free Chris headed Back to Ray’s flat, praying to find Ray already at home, tail between his legs and sulking. But the flat was in darkness, nothing had moved since they’d left that morning. Chris sighed. He turned around and walked straight out of the door again. He wandered down the street, heading for the local pub, knowing that Ray sometimes drowned his sorrows in there when he couldn’t face the Railway. In the end, when he’d tried everywhere he could think of, and the rain had begun to fall hard, he headed back to the flat, stopping and buying himself pie and chips on the way, then thinking better of it and buying for Ray, too.
His heart sank when it was obvious the flat was still empty as he approached. He stood in the silent kitchen, serving up his food, then sat at the small table, feeling very alone. He didn’t particularly like Ray’s flat when Ray wasn’t there - it didn’t feel quite like home, despite the fact he’d been living there for almost a year now.
There was a noise outside the door and Chris tensed. Then he heard a key slide into the lock and he relaxed, smiling.
The door crashed into the wall, then slammed shut and the smile fled from Chris’s face. He stood up, nervous, and took a few steps out into the living room, where he had a clear view of the hallway.
Ray was only wearing a shirt, despite the chill weather, and it was almost see through from the downpour outside. He kicked off his shoes under the coat rack and turned. Chris could see that he wasn’t happy and faltered.
“Ray? I…I got some food…” he started.
Ray didn’t answer, walking into the kitchen and heading straight for the cupboard that housed the glasses.
Chris could see the rain dripping out of his hair and reached out hesitantly to touch the other man, watching as Ray poured a large slug of whiskey into the glass. He let his palm come to rest on Ray’s back, shocked at how cold he was.
“You need to get changed,” Chris said, softly.
Ray shrugged Chris’s hand away, picking up the glass and heading into the sitting room. Chris trailed after him, unsure of what to do.
“Where’ve you been? Missed you today…” he started, but then worried that he was saying the wrong thing.
“Jus’ out.” Ray took a long gulp of the scotch before dumping it next to the sofa and heading for the bedroom. Chris watched him, glad that he was at least going to change. Ray grabbed a towel from the radiator and walked into the bathroom, pushing the door half closed behind him.
As Chris heard the shower start he picked up the sodden shirt and trousers from the floor. He emptied the pockets, leaving the saturated box of cigarettes and Ray’s zippo on his bedside table along with some spare change, then put the clothes in the laundry basket.
It wasn’t long before Ray emerged from the bathroom, considerably warmer but still in a bad mood. There had been very little information from anyone about Noakes’ new friends, despite Ray cracking plenty of heads. The last thing he’d done before giving up for the day was to drop by at the hospital. He hadn’t been in to see Sam, but he’d asked how the Boss was and told that he was awake and complaining.
Gene finally stood and stretched. It was long past ten at night, and he knew he should have left hours before, but the nurses had let him be. Sam was wide awake, having slept for a large part of the day and Gene was loathe to leave him, but he knew it would only be for one night - a few hours, really.
He gave Sam’s hand a last squeeze, pleased that the gloom of the small ward and the privacy of the curtains allowed such actions.
“You going to pick me up tomorrow, when they set me free?” Sam asked.
Gene leant down and kissed the top of Sam’s head. “’Course. Get ‘em to phone me.”
Sam nodded and smiled, laughing as Gene had a cigarette in his mouth before he’d even pulled the curtain back from around the bed.
“And don’t light that until you’re out of the hospital.”
Gene gave a low growl, but slid his lighter back into his pocket. “Sleep well, Gladys,” he grunted.
As he left the ward the nurse looked up at him. “Goodnight, sir.”
“Night.”
“Oh, sir? Did the other policeman find you? I’m sorry I couldn’t direct him, but one of the alarms went off.”
“Other…no. Who was it?” Gene frowned.
“I didn’t get a name, I’m afraid. Stocky build, had a moustache - he said he was a policeman.”
Gene just gave a curt nod. “I know him.” He walked away, wondering what Ray had been doing at the hospital. He felt a tiny pang of guilt at how he’d treated his old friend. If Sam’s version of events was anything to go by it genuinely hadn’t been Ray’s fault - not really. There had been nothing to suggest that Noakes wouldn’t be alone in the house. He made a mental note to see if Carling had found anything when he saw the man the next morning.
Chris looked up from the table, where he’d resumed eating his dinner. He saw a dark bruise across Ray’s back and was out of his chair again in a second.
“What ‘appened?” he asked, reaching out and touching the damp skin.
“Nothin’,” Ray batted Chris’s hand away and Chris noticed the bruised and scuffed knuckles.
“What’ve you been doin’, Ray?” Chris pleaded. “Tell me - what’s it about? The Guv were in a hell of a mood today - is this the same thing?”
“I told you it were nothin’.” Ray looked around for his things and frowned. “Where the hell’s my clothes?”
“I…I put ‘em in the wash…yer stuff’s there,” Chris pointed to the items.
“Can’t you jus’ stop flappin’ around like a fuckin’ woman?” Ray said far too viciously and picked up his cigarettes - then swore loudly when he realised they were all soaked.
Chris pulled his own fags out of his pocket. “H…here,” he offered.
Ray took a deep breath, calming himself a little and took one. He lit it and turned his back on Chris, rubbing himself dry. He tried to ignore Chris, knowing that he was foul company and not meaning to take it out on the other man, but unable to control his temper.
Chris hung his head and left the room silently.
The next morning Ray was up and gone before it was light and long before Chris had stirred. He headed straight for the wholesale markets, which were at full swing, even at the early hour.
He hung around one of the entrances, watching the vans of produce coming and going as various shopkeepers came and went. He bided his time, chain-smoking for lack of anything better to do, until he saw the van he wanted. It crept through the throngs of people and Ray easily kept pace with it on foot. He watched as the driver pulled up and headed to the back doors. As soon as the doors were open and the man was occupied with sorting out crates Ray walked up behind him, grabbing him by the collar and propelling him against the wall, hidden from the other tradesmen by the van.
“Wha’! ‘Ey!” The man began to struggle until he saw who his assailant was.
“Mister…Carling,” he held one arm up protectively in front of his face. “Wha’…what can I do for you?” he asked, his voice shaky. The look on Ray’s face making him very nervous
“Kenny Noakes. What’s he gettin’ hisself into,” Ray snarled, keeping a firm grasp on the man’s jacket and leaning into him, stopping him moving.
“Noaksey? Nuffin’ - not that I know of,” the man answered, his voice sounding squeaky.
“Give it up,” Ray shifted suddenly enough to make the man cower and whimper, but stopped just short of kneeing him the groin.
“’E’s…he’s said he can get shooters. I don’t know where from, neither. He was bragging down the pub, that he’s in with a new lot. That’s all I know, I swear!”
“How the fuck’s he gonna get guns? He’s a fuckin’ fence, he’s not big enough to play rough.”
The man looked up at Ray, his eyes wide. “I dunno, I dunno - he just told me ‘e could. Go…go down Sydney Street, the arches…he’s been down ‘round there a lot recently, so people say…honest, I don’t know nuffin’ else, honest.”
Ray twisted the man’s shirt so it tightened around his neck. “If I find out you’ve held summit back I’ll fuckin’ take you to bits an’ sell you to the local Chinky’s for the chow mein, got it?”
The man nodded frantically.
Ray made his way back to his car and looked at the time. It had only just gone six in the morning, the sky turning milky as dawn broke. He knew that most of the criminal population of the city would be asleep for a long time yet, so decided to follow up on his latest tid-bit.
He parked his car up a few streets away from his intended destination and wondered how he was going to get close enough to keep an eye on the street whilst not being spotted.
Chris couldn’t work out what the horrible noise was for a minute, then realised the alarm clock was going off, breaking into his dreams with it’s harsh ring. He waved his arm around, trying to hit Ray to urge the other man to stop the racket. But his arm came down on empty mattress. He blinked his eyes open and squinted in the darkness. Ray was definitely missing - if he’d even come to bed the night before. Chris supposed he’d find his lover still fully clothed and asleep on the sofa, probably an empty whisky bottle at his feet. He turned off the horrible ringing noise and flopped back onto Ray’s pillow. It was cold, as was the bed, so obviously Ray hadn’t been there recently.
Chris knew he was risking falling back asleep, so he dragged himself out of bed, hoping to find Ray in a better mood for the new day.
The sitting room was empty, though, and the bathroom door stood open. Chris pulled up his baggy pyjama trousers and headed for the kitchen, rubbing his eyes and wondering where on earth Ray had got to. He switched on the kettle and turned to find a mug, then spotted a page out of one of his notebooks standing on the small table. He picked it up and unfolded it.
‘Love you. Sorry. R x’, he read, printed in Ray’s handwriting.
“Daft sod,” he said to himself. “Where’ve you gone?”
Ray’s dinner was cold on the plate, although it looked to Chris as if a few of the chips had gone, and there wasn’t even a mug in the sink to signal any activity that morning. The bottle on the side was almost empty and the glass had moved from the sitting room to the kitchen table. Chris wondered how hung over Ray was, drinking that amount on an empty stomach.
Ray jumped up onto the low wall, clambering over it and dropping softly to the ground on the other side. He climbed the high embankment and reached the ballast of the railway lines. Looking both ways he stepped over the first set of rails, making his way quickly over to the other side of the junction and looking around for somewhere convenient to watch the road below from. There was a small concrete hut, now derelict and with it’s door hanging off, so Ray hunkered down out of the chill wind in the doorway, hoping it afforded him enough camouflage, and watched the street below.
The railway junction meant that half the properties in the immediate area were in the archways, but the overview meant that Ray could see as much as possible. Even if he couldn’t see all of the doorways the road was in plain sight as it swept under the high bridge and he was pretty sure he’d spot the men who’d attacked Sam, even from a distance. He turned up the sheepskin collar on his coat, wished he’d thought of getting a bacon butty before settling down on surveillance and waited.
“Chris,” Gene called as he swept out of his office, heading for the door.
Chris jumped, looking up, then, seeing that he was being summoned rather than shouted at, he leapt up and grabbed his things, trotting after Gene.
“Guv?”
“There’s some faces I need to talk to. Got yer notepad? Tyler’ll only go apeshit if we don’t do things right when ‘e’s away, eh?” Gene smiled insincerely.
Chris nodded eagerly. It wasn’t often he got to play right-hand man to the Guv. “Got it, Guv.”
Chris relaxed back into the passenger seat of the Cortina - another rare treat. He almost wished that Ray and the Boss would sod off more often. He frowned at his own thought - he wasn’t enjoying the morning so far, not really, knowing that the Boss was still in hospital and Ray was…well, Ray was God-knows where, and that worried Chris. He’d been too scared to ask Gene if he’d heard anything, for fear of alerting him to the fact that Ray was awol.
They were driving through the busy morning streets when the radio crackled into action.
“Alpha one to Romeo Foxtrot, Guv, you there?”
Gene snatched up the handset. “What’s up Phyllis?”
“Got a call from the hospital, Guv. They said the Boss is ready to go whenever you get there.”
“About bloody time.” Gene pulled the Cortina around in a tyre-screeching u-turn, seemingly oblivious to the horns sounding their protest as he cut up about four people at once.
Chris clutched onto the handle and closed his eyes as the nearside corner clipped a dustbin and sent it flying across the pavement.
Gene screeched the car to a stop outside the main doors of the hospital. Chris sat perfectly still, looking pale and trying to unclench his fingers from the handle above the door.
Two minutes later Gene had a smile plastered across his face as he saw Sam sitting on the edge of his bed, flicking through a magazine. The small bag of things that Gene had brought with him the night before was next to him, packed and ready to go. All Gene really wanted to do was gather Sam up in his arms and hug him tightly, tell him that he wouldn’t let it happen again - that he’d be there next time, to protect him. But he knew that he could neither hold Sam nor make a promise that he couldn’t keep. So instead he snatched up the bag and nudged Sam on the thigh.
“Feelin’ better?”
Sam rolled his eyes. “I was fine yesterday.”
“You look pale. Didn’t sleep?” Gene asked, studying Sam to make sure he really was okay.
“You try sleeping surrounded by ill people,” Sam gave a mock shudder.
“Come on then, we’ll drop you home,” Gene said as he led the way off the ward.
“Hang on…what? I don’t need to go home!” Sam protested.
Gene stopped and turned, blocking the corridor. “Sorry, sorry, didn’t realise the bang on the head was that bad…they didn’t mention amnesia, yet you seem to have forgotten who gives the orders around here.”
Sam rolled his eyes, and gave Gene a gentle shove toward the door.
“Well…let me go back to the station. No harm will come to me, I’ll do paperwork and if that gets too much then I promise to go home, okay?” Sam sighed.
Gene took a deep breath, drawing himself up so he could look down on Sam. But no amount of posturing was a match for the expression on Sam’s face.
“Christ, if I didn’t already know you were twisted I’d ‘ave ‘em take you back. What copper in their right mind gives up a day off to do soddin’ paperwork?” he grumbled.
Sam smiled. In truth he did still feel a little bit wobbly, but he’d never admit it. For a man who portrayed himself as harder-than-nails, Gene couldn’t half cluck around like a mother hen when he got going.
Chris clambered out of the car and held the door open as he saw the two men approaching. “Here y’are, Boss. You feelin’ better?”
Sam smiled at Chris. “Yes, thank you, Chris.”
Chris got into the back and leant on the two front seats. “Where are we goin’ now, Guv?” he asked eagerly.
“Back to the station to drop DI Tyler off,” Gene answered, pulling out of the hospital gates with more care than Chris had ever known him take before.
The radio fuzzed into life again. “Eight six seven to romeo foxtrot?”
Sam looked across to Gene, then picked up the radio. Chris felt his chest get a little tighter on hearing Ray’s voice.
“Go ahead Ray,” Sam said.
“Oh…Boss. I got them bastards from yesterday. I can see ‘em…well, where they went, any road. I’m down on Sydney Street, there’s a place under the arches called Thompson’s - locksmiths it is. Reckon there’s probably most of ‘em in there now.” It was hard to make out what Ray was saying as he was obviously keeping his voice reasonably low. Then there was a horrific squealing noise and a thunderous roar. Sam looked down at the radio with a slight look of disgust.
“Ray? Ray?”
“’M ‘ere Boss. Just…get some bodies and get over ‘ere, right?”
Gene leant over and grabbed the handset from Sam.
“Ray! They look like they’re stayin’ put?” he asked.
“Uh…haven’t seen any movement for a few minutes…dunno, Guv,” Ray answered truthfully.
“Well sit tight then, gotta drop Tyler back at the nick.”
Sam felt his jaw drop open. “Guv - Gene, we need to get over there,” Sam protested.
“Not a chance. ‘E’s already got you a kickin’ once, you think I’m gonna take you back so they can ‘ave seconds?”
“I tripped over! You can’t blame Ray for that - I’m calling for back up. Get us to Sydney Street.” Sam lifted the radio to his mouth. “Romeo foxtrot to alpha one? We need as many bobbies as you can spare - Thompson’s Locksmiths on Sydney Street.”
“We are going back to the station,” Gene said, firmly.
“Guv…can’t we…I mean, Ray wouldn’t ‘ave said…they might leave or summit,” Chris said, stumbling over his words. “Can’t Sam…I mean, the Boss stay in the car, or…summit?”
Gene glared at Chris over his shoulder, but Sam could tell that his resolve was wavering.
The radio made a fuzzy noise, the channel open but no one speaking. Sam looked at it. “Err…hello? Ray?”
There was more noise, hard to make out over the sound of the Cortina’s engine and the tyres on the tarmac, but it sounded like something moving very close to the microphone on the radio.
“Shit, Guv…need back up…above…” the sound cut for a moment and Chris could feel his insides chewing up, his fingers were clenched so hard on the seats that his knuckles were white.
“Ray?” Sam turned to Gene. “Get over there, now.”
Gene didn’t argue, stamping his foot to the floor.
“Ray - Ray, we’re on the way. Uniform too,” he called into the radio.
Chris wanted to reach out and grab the handset from Sam, as if somehow it would form a tangible connection with Ray.
“…on the tracks….Boss, same as…”
The broken snippets were breaking Chris’s heart. He could hear Ray panting as he spoke and it was obvious that something bad was happening. Chris just hoped that Ray was chasing someone, not being chased.
Ray stumbled on the ballast as it gave under his feet. He didn’t have a clue how the men who were running after him had got out of the archway he was watching, he’d just suddenly noticed them creeping up on his position when he moved to ease his aching and cold muscles. Those every same muscle which were now in full protest. He was running between the tracks, using the sleepers to get a surer footing. Then he heard the steel rails flexing, the vibrations running through them as they shifted. He turned to see a large diesel engine bearing down upon him, and saw the driver’s hand go up to yank the klaxon.
Sam frowned, trying to work out what was going on from the sounds that were intermittently coming from the radio. Then the unmistakable sound of a train horn came through loud and clear.
Chris almost sobbed.
Ray threw himself out of the way at the last second, jumping across to the next tracks, hoping to escape his pursuers, but when he dared to glance behind him he saw that four of the men were already there. There was a horrible moment of inevitability as he heard the footsteps behind him. He tried to push himself to move a bit faster, but he didn’t have the energy and when the man thumped into him, bringing him crashing down on the sharp stones he was almost glad to get stuck in to the punching and kicking - the dirty fighting that he knew.
His coat protected him from the worst of the fall and even as he tumbled down he turned, grabbing the man who was falling on top of him. He drove his fist into the guy’s face, the momentum of the fall meaning he could feel bones give under the power of his knuckles. The blood that flowed down his hand and into his sleeve was an oddly satisfying sight. The wheels of the train on the other line squealed and clanked as they passed only a few feet from his head, but Ray tried not to think of the danger.
Then they were all on top of him - four of them, all built like bouncers. Ray felt feet and fists connecting all over his body, so he curled up but still kicked out, satisfied when he caught one of them directly on the knee. He knew it was a fight that he couldn’t win, and was all too aware that lying on train tracks wasn’t exactly a good place to get your head kicked in, but he knew that the Guv was on his way, and he only had to hang on a little bit longer. He grabbed onto one of the feet that came perilously close to kicking him in the head, and allowed himself to be lifted slightly as the man tried to shake the iron grip off his boot.
A hand latched onto Ray’s hair and he hissed, blindly reaching out for whoever was standing out of his line of site. Then his head was smashed down hard on the concrete sleeper. He gasped in pain, stars spinning in front of his eyes. For a horrible second he imagined them knocking him out and leaving him on the rails, but then he was lifted and dragged backwards, his feet scraping over the ballast.
He struggled, but all it earned him was a swift kick in the back by one of the men walking beside him. There was a harsh bark of laughter and Ray felt himself being lifted higher. He tried to get his feet back underneath himself.
“Which fuckin’ one is it?” Gene asked, spinning the Cortina around the corner and slowing down as they all peered out at the various businesses which lined the street. He followed the road around under the high archway that carried one of the branch lines away from the junction.
“Guv!” The word had barely left Sam’s mouth before the windscreen of the Cortina shattered, spilling glass over them all. Chris was almost pitched out of the back seats and Sam slammed into the dashboard as Gene stamping on the brakes compounded the impact on the bonnet of the car.
“Ray!”
Chris anguished scream made Sam turn, his head fuzzy from the second blow in as many days. Chris was twisted around, staring behind them, at whatever had hit the car. Then he jumped to shove the door open, almost falling onto the road.
Gene sat gripping the steering wheel for a moment, foot still stamped on the brake, and Sam could see that every muscle in his body was solid from the tension.
“Guv - Boss, call an ambulance,” Chris screamed.
Ray wondered, in a moment of optimism that Chris would have been proud of, if they were going to stop hitting him and just leave him by the tracks. Then he opened his eyes to see a foot heading for his face. The impact knocked him backwards, and instead of the expected wall or floor, as he tipped backwards he just kept going. Before he even thought to try and grab hold of anything there was already nothing to grab hold of. Just the ground coming straight for his face, very fast. He stuck his arms out on instinct as he fell headfirst toward the road many metres below. Then he saw a blur of bronze and heard the familiar squeal of tyres milliseconds before he ploughed headfirst into the windscreen of the Cortina.
The glass exploded underneath him, and pain flared up his left arm as his entire weight crushed it into the bonnet, then the car’s momentum meant he rolled up and over the roof, finally hitting the tarmac as he was flung from the back.
His cheek rested against the cold rough tarmac and he struggled for breath as the world swam around him. His entire body hurt, but his arm was getting itself a special mention.
“Ray!” Chris skidded to his knees just in Ray’s line of sight.
Ray tried to move, tried to push himself off the floor, but none of his limbs were quite ready to work, so he slumped back onto the ground.
“Guv - Boss, call and ambulance!”
Ray tried to protest, but he couldn’t even muster the energy to look up at Chris.
Sam ran back to Chris, feeling dizziness hit him as the glass from the windscreen rained off his clothes. He breathed a sigh of relief when he saw that Ray’s eyes were open, even if he was blinking slowly.
“Ray? Stay awake,” Sam ordered, feeling as if he needed someone to order him to do the same. He watched as Chris stroked his hand through Ray’s blood-soaked hair and could hear that Chris was sobbing.
“’M okay, Chr’s,” Ray mumbled, and Sam almost laughed at the blatant lie.
Gene looked up at the bridge, then along the tracks and saw the fleeing group of men. His blood boiled when he turned back to the prone form of his sergeant lying like roadkill on the floor. He knew he had to get the men who’d hurt first Sam and now Ray, but he also knew he couldn’t ask Sam - who was looking paler by the second - to chase them. As much as he knew it would hurt the young man, he made his mind up.
“Chris, with me,” he shouted.
“Guv?” Chris wiped his tears and nose on his sleeve.
“We’re gonna catch the bastards, come on,” Gene ordered.
Chris looked back down to Ray, unable to even think of leaving his lover.
“Skelton!” Gene shouted, already heading for the closest way up to the railway.
“’F you don’ go, I’ll fuckin’ go meself,” Ray ground out, pushing his good arm underneath him and almost making it onto his knees.
The threat scared Chris into action. “Don’t fuckin’ move!” he shouted. “Boss…please…” he gestured to Ray and Sam nodded.
“I’ll make sure he’s okay, Chris, now go.”
“Get on the radio, Sam, get ‘em to cover the lines, we’re not letting this scum get away,” Gene yelled as he scrambled up the steep grassy embankments.
Sam ran back to the Cortina and called through Gene’s instructions, making sure the ambulance was on its way too. Then he returned to Ray’s side, glad to see that he was still conscious. He tried to ignore the fact that Ray’s left forearm was lying at an impossible angle and focussed on the blue eyes. He wasn’t exactly feeling peachy himself.
“Paramedics…I mean, ambulance, is on the way,” he said, catching his slip.
Ray nodded. He was getting cold lying in the road. “Reckon you c’n ‘elp me sit up?” he asked, hearing himself slur as if he had ten pints down him.
Sam frowned. “Don’t think it’s a good idea, mate. You’ve lost a bit of blood, from your head.”
“Gonna freeze t’death layin’ here,” Ray complained, although part of him agreed with Sam he knew he was going to give in to the darkness that was hovering at the edge of his vision if he stayed where he was.
“Um…can you roll onto your back? I mean - does anything hurt, first? Your neck, back? You might have done some damage…”
“’S fine,” Ray said, squeezing his eyes closed as he tried to move and jarred his arm.
Seeing that Ray was going to do what he wanted anyway, Sam put a supporting arm around his shoulders and helped him roll over and sit up. He couldn’t help but feel sorry for him as he clenched his teeth and squeezed his eyes closed as he lifted his injured arm and laid it in his lap. Sam wondered if there was anything he could do, but decided he was probably better off waiting for the ambulance. He could see Ray was shaking though, so he tentatively put his arm around his shoulders, trying to avoid the blood that was slowly dripping from his hair.
Ray looked sideways at him. “Don’ let…Chris catch ya, makin’ a move on me. Or the Guv.”
Sam smiled despite himself. “I’d rather have Chris catch me doing this than have to explain to him what happened when you pass out and fall over backwards again.”
“Di’n’t think you’d…be up an’ about so soon,” Ray said, grimacing.
“I wouldn’t be, if Gene had anything to do with it,” Sam answered. “He…seemed to hold you responsible, for what happened. I put him straight.”
“As long as ‘e catches the bastards, ‘s all that matters.”
Ray was leaning more and more heavily into Sam, and it worried the DI.
Sam could feel a little bit of anger building inside him. There was little love lost between himself and Ray, sure, but seeing the bull of a man reduced to a bleeding wreck on the floor was too much for even Sam to bear. “It was my investigation. I should have known what he was up to. And you shouldn’t have been out here on your own - what were you thinking?”
Ray looked across at Sam. “Guess I weren’t. Again.”
Sam shook his head, smiling. “Sometimes you’re just like Gene.”
“’E’s the one as taught me ‘ow it goes. Know you don’t like it, Boss, but it’s done us okay so far.”
“Times are changing though, Ray. Times are changing.”
Ray nodded. “Aye. An’ that’s why you should be teachin’ the likes of Christopher. Jus’…don’t ‘ave him turn into some limp-wristed wimp, eh, Boss? Let ‘im learn ‘nough off me and the Guv so’s he don’t get ‘is head kicked in, eh?”
Sam looked Ray up and down. “Yeah, because you’re a shining example of how to prevent that from happening,” he said, softly, no malice in his tone.
Ray gave a small huff of laughter. “Well, you teach ‘im ‘ow to use ‘is ‘ead an’ not get jumped by six bastards, I’ll teach ‘im ‘ow to hurt ‘em when ‘e does.”
Gene drove to the hospital feeling as if the looks Chris was giving him might just turn him to stone at any moment.
Together with a large horde of uniformed officers they had managed to round up the gang, and Gene had bruised knuckles to show for it. For once Chris hadn’t even winced when the Guv had driven his fist into the stomach of one of the men who was mouthing off, nor when he’d broken the bloke’s nose with his knee as he doubled over.
However, when they’d reached the Cortina, Sam and Ray were nowhere to be seen, the ambulance having already collected them, and now Chris could feel his guts being eaten away by worry. He didn’t truly understand how anyone could even survive the fall from the bridge, let alone being hit by a car afterward.
As soon as they were at the hospital he made a run for the casualty department, arriving at the small reception desk panting.
“Please - Ray, Ray Carling - he’s a detective, he was brought here?” Chris panted at the elderly lady who looked at him sternly over the top of her glasses.
“I’ll call a nurse for you,” she said.
Chris just waved a hand, his usual good manners only stretching so far under stress. He ran into the small ward and was faced with curtains closed against him on all sides.
“Ray?” he called.
Seconds later Sam stuck his head out of one of the cubicles. “Over here, Chris,” he beckoned.
Chris’s face broke into a wide smile as he saw Ray sitting up on the bed. He had a large bandage wrapped around his head and his arm was in a sling, but he was basically in one piece.
Sam turned away politely as Chris leant over him and very carefully hugged him and kissed him.
“We got ‘em all,” Chris smiled. “All down the nick now.”
Ray smiled, wincing as his split lips pulled and wrapping his free arm around Chris’s waist for a quick hug.
Sam spotted Gene striding towards them and quickly exited the cubicle, pulling the curtains closed behind him. He turned Gene around and pushed him back outside.
“Just give them a moment,” he said quietly at Gene’s questioning look.
“Ray okay?” Gene asked, letting Sam lead him outside to a nearby bench.
Sam nodded. Then he pursed his lips, wondering how to word his next phrase.
“Ray told me…I mean, he was there because you told him to find the people who hurt me.”
Gene looked across at him, his eyes narrowing. “Yeah, so?”
“Well…don’t you think you should have…I don’t know, given him some help? Got the rest of the team in on it?” Sam pushed.
“Ray…” Gene started, then took a deep breath. “I trust Ray. If anyone was gonna find them bastards it was him. And he did. ‘Course I didn’t want ‘im hurt, but I wanted those bastards put where they belong.”
“Because it was me who was hurt - I understand that you were angry, I do - but now look. Look at Chris - he was devastated - and Ray got off lightly, considering. Just imagine for one second if things had been reversed, and it was Ray who’d had the concussion and me who’d been thrown off a bridge, because I’d gone out, alone, on Chris’s say-so.”
Gene nodded. He knew that Sam was right, and it didn’t make him hurt any less inside. He cared for all his team, when they hurt he hurt too. But deep down he also knew that however unfair it was, he’d probably do the same again because Sam was so special to him. And he knew that Ray would follow his orders again too, because whatever else Ray Carling was, he was loyal to the core.
~Fin
Author: Me, Elf. Really.
Spoilers: None
Rating: Blue/Brown Cortina
Word Count: 7300
Pairings: Ray/Chris and some Gene/Sam
Summary: Ray needs to find redemption.
A/N: Unbeta’d, sorry. Thanks to Wicca for all her help.
Toy Soldier
Sam stood, his back to the cold bricks, waiting. He knew he’d hear the moment that Ray broke the door down, and then hopefully the scrote inside would run straight into his arms. The man, Kenny Noakes, had started out as a small-time fence, but was slowly moving up the criminal underworld. They had decided to take him out before he got too big for his boots.
Sam had been happy enough to pick the man up with Annie or Chris, but Gene had insisted he take Ray - who had been responsible for feeling Noakes’ collar more than once - for his ‘local knowledge’. Sam had snorted, protesting he didn’t need any help finding the address on file. Ray hadn’t exactly looked happy either, but had filled Sam in on Noakes’ past deeds, the gangs he’d worked with and his methods. Sam had been only too happy when Ray had offered to be the one to kick the door down, too, for once not even bothering to suggest just ringing the doorbell.
The splintering crash from the front of the house put Sam on alert. He shouldered through the flimsy back gate into the yard and waited, on guard.
What he didn’t expect was the back door of the house to burst open and six men to spill out.
He fumbled his badge out of his pocket, held it up and shouted, in his most Gene Hunt-like voice: “Stop, police! You’re all under arrest!”
The first man did stop for a split second, then laughed. The others didn’t even bother pausing. Sam tried to dodge the fist, but he couldn’t get away from the full body-slam - the tiny back yard meaning he was completely trapped. He felt himself falling backwards, as if he was being trampled by a herd of elephants.
Ray exploded out of the back door. In a split second he had taken in the fleeing group of men - Noakes in the middle of them all - and Sam’s unmoving form on the floor. He threw himself bodily at the last of the men, leaping on his back and dragging him down to his knees. The man shouted, growling and ducked down, half throwing Ray over his shoulder. Ray hit the cobbles hard, still fighting and grappling. After few kicks and punches the men ran, knowing that they were better off making a clean getaway, however tempting it was to kick the shit out of two unarmed coppers.
Ray pushed himself to his feet, one hand hovering over his stomach where a hefty kick had caught him, and staggered back to Sam.
The DI was lying, his head at a funny angle against the wall. Ray swore, dropping to his knees and felt for a pulse. It was there, steady and strong, and he breathed a sigh of relief.
Ray fumbled in his pocket for a radio and called for an ambulance and for the plod to try to find the gang. Then he dragged Sam out so he was lying flat, pulling off his own jacket and wadding it under Sam’s head. There was blood in Sam’s hair and it was obvious that he’d knocked himself out on the wall as he fell. Ray pulled out his cigarettes and lit one, sitting on the ground next to Sam. He was pretty sure the man was just out cold, and would come around in time. He tried to remember anything about the crooks. He didn’t think he’d recognised any of them, and they certainly didn’t look like the sort of men that Noakes normally hung out with.
His radio crackled into life again.
“Eight six seven? What the bloody ‘ell’s going on?”
Ray closed his eyes, the anger in Gene’s voice coming over loud and clear on the fuzzy radio.
“Guv…Noakes weren’t on his own. I dunno who they were, five of ‘em. Didn’t recognise any faces.”
“I meant, what’s goin’ on with Tyler.” The fury in Gene’s tone was barely retrained.
Ray glanced down at Sam. “He’ll be okay, Guv. Got shoved against a wall, cracked ‘is head. Maybe got a coupla kicks too. He’s out of it, but he’ll come to.”
“An’ just…” Gene stopped. “I’m comin’ over there.”
The Cortina arrived before the ambulance did, and Ray dragged himself to his feet, looking down at Sam. Gene flung himself out of the car, pure rage exuding out of him.
“What. The. Fuck. Happened,” he said, the control in his tone far more menacing than if he’d have shouted. Ray almost wished he just throw a punch and be done with it.
“I dunno, Guv.” Ray threw down his dog end, following Gene back the few steps to Sam, watching as he bent over the younger man and ran a hand down his cheek. Ray glanced around, but no one else had witnessed the moment. Ray knew that the Guv and the Boss were involved. The night Gene had been pissed enough to tell him had been the first time that Ray had admitted out loud that he and Chris were a couple. Of course, Gene had claimed to have known all along, but Ray doubted that he had. “I went in the front - thought it’d just be Noaksey. But then the rest piled out. The Boss was ‘round ‘ere, but…” Ray gestured down to Sam.
“And what the fuck were you doin’? Havin’ a fuckin’ cup of tea inside?”
Gene could see that Sam was, as Ray had said, merely unconscious and not at death’s door, so turned back to his sergeant, eyes blazing.
“Guv…” Ray began.
“And what the fuck are you still doing here? Get outta my sight and if you don’t have those bastards in my station before the end of play then God help you, Sergeant, God help you.”
From his place on the floor Sam groaned, moving an arm. In the moment that Gene was distracted Ray cut his losses. He jogged back to the front of the house, got in his car and left, heading for the first person he could think of who might have information on exactly what Noakes was getting into.
Chris looked up as Gene crashed through the doors of CID and marched into his office, slamming the door behind him. He didn’t know exactly what was going on, but according to Phyllis something had gone wrong with the Boss and Ray’s collar. He waited, expecting Ray to trail into the office at any moment, but minutes passed and there was no sign of him.
Chris hesitantly got up, knowing he’d probably regret his next actions. He tapped lightly on Gene’s office door and hesitantly entered.
“Guv…where’s Ray?” he asked. “Only…I thought…”
“Well you’re a step up on ‘im already then, ain’t you?” Gene ground out.
Chris frowned, confused. “Is the Boss…okay, like?” The only thing that could explain the Guv’s foul mood was if something had happened to Sam.
“No thanks to Carling,” Gene threw back the contents of the glass that he held, annoyed that he was that easy to read - annoyed that Chris immediately pinpointed his weakness. “Piss off and do some work,” he said, watching the look of hurt passing across Chris’s face and not caring one bit. It was only after Chris had left the room that the guilt kicked in. Just because he knew Chris and Ray were lovers there was no need for him to take out his anger for his good-for-nothing sergeant on Chris.
Chris spent the day not concentrating on anything and waiting for Ray to come back to the office. He assumed that Ray was steering clear of Gene - and for good reason apparently, although word was that Sam was absolutely fine and the hospital wanted to keep him in for observation only.
He desperately wanted to find out where Ray was, but he knew that Gene would be listening in on the radio, so didn’t dare to go to Phyllis for help. So he sat, his insides chewing up with worry, watching the clock and waiting until he could go out and try to find his lover.
The moment he was free Chris headed Back to Ray’s flat, praying to find Ray already at home, tail between his legs and sulking. But the flat was in darkness, nothing had moved since they’d left that morning. Chris sighed. He turned around and walked straight out of the door again. He wandered down the street, heading for the local pub, knowing that Ray sometimes drowned his sorrows in there when he couldn’t face the Railway. In the end, when he’d tried everywhere he could think of, and the rain had begun to fall hard, he headed back to the flat, stopping and buying himself pie and chips on the way, then thinking better of it and buying for Ray, too.
His heart sank when it was obvious the flat was still empty as he approached. He stood in the silent kitchen, serving up his food, then sat at the small table, feeling very alone. He didn’t particularly like Ray’s flat when Ray wasn’t there - it didn’t feel quite like home, despite the fact he’d been living there for almost a year now.
There was a noise outside the door and Chris tensed. Then he heard a key slide into the lock and he relaxed, smiling.
The door crashed into the wall, then slammed shut and the smile fled from Chris’s face. He stood up, nervous, and took a few steps out into the living room, where he had a clear view of the hallway.
Ray was only wearing a shirt, despite the chill weather, and it was almost see through from the downpour outside. He kicked off his shoes under the coat rack and turned. Chris could see that he wasn’t happy and faltered.
“Ray? I…I got some food…” he started.
Ray didn’t answer, walking into the kitchen and heading straight for the cupboard that housed the glasses.
Chris could see the rain dripping out of his hair and reached out hesitantly to touch the other man, watching as Ray poured a large slug of whiskey into the glass. He let his palm come to rest on Ray’s back, shocked at how cold he was.
“You need to get changed,” Chris said, softly.
Ray shrugged Chris’s hand away, picking up the glass and heading into the sitting room. Chris trailed after him, unsure of what to do.
“Where’ve you been? Missed you today…” he started, but then worried that he was saying the wrong thing.
“Jus’ out.” Ray took a long gulp of the scotch before dumping it next to the sofa and heading for the bedroom. Chris watched him, glad that he was at least going to change. Ray grabbed a towel from the radiator and walked into the bathroom, pushing the door half closed behind him.
As Chris heard the shower start he picked up the sodden shirt and trousers from the floor. He emptied the pockets, leaving the saturated box of cigarettes and Ray’s zippo on his bedside table along with some spare change, then put the clothes in the laundry basket.
It wasn’t long before Ray emerged from the bathroom, considerably warmer but still in a bad mood. There had been very little information from anyone about Noakes’ new friends, despite Ray cracking plenty of heads. The last thing he’d done before giving up for the day was to drop by at the hospital. He hadn’t been in to see Sam, but he’d asked how the Boss was and told that he was awake and complaining.
Gene finally stood and stretched. It was long past ten at night, and he knew he should have left hours before, but the nurses had let him be. Sam was wide awake, having slept for a large part of the day and Gene was loathe to leave him, but he knew it would only be for one night - a few hours, really.
He gave Sam’s hand a last squeeze, pleased that the gloom of the small ward and the privacy of the curtains allowed such actions.
“You going to pick me up tomorrow, when they set me free?” Sam asked.
Gene leant down and kissed the top of Sam’s head. “’Course. Get ‘em to phone me.”
Sam nodded and smiled, laughing as Gene had a cigarette in his mouth before he’d even pulled the curtain back from around the bed.
“And don’t light that until you’re out of the hospital.”
Gene gave a low growl, but slid his lighter back into his pocket. “Sleep well, Gladys,” he grunted.
As he left the ward the nurse looked up at him. “Goodnight, sir.”
“Night.”
“Oh, sir? Did the other policeman find you? I’m sorry I couldn’t direct him, but one of the alarms went off.”
“Other…no. Who was it?” Gene frowned.
“I didn’t get a name, I’m afraid. Stocky build, had a moustache - he said he was a policeman.”
Gene just gave a curt nod. “I know him.” He walked away, wondering what Ray had been doing at the hospital. He felt a tiny pang of guilt at how he’d treated his old friend. If Sam’s version of events was anything to go by it genuinely hadn’t been Ray’s fault - not really. There had been nothing to suggest that Noakes wouldn’t be alone in the house. He made a mental note to see if Carling had found anything when he saw the man the next morning.
Chris looked up from the table, where he’d resumed eating his dinner. He saw a dark bruise across Ray’s back and was out of his chair again in a second.
“What ‘appened?” he asked, reaching out and touching the damp skin.
“Nothin’,” Ray batted Chris’s hand away and Chris noticed the bruised and scuffed knuckles.
“What’ve you been doin’, Ray?” Chris pleaded. “Tell me - what’s it about? The Guv were in a hell of a mood today - is this the same thing?”
“I told you it were nothin’.” Ray looked around for his things and frowned. “Where the hell’s my clothes?”
“I…I put ‘em in the wash…yer stuff’s there,” Chris pointed to the items.
“Can’t you jus’ stop flappin’ around like a fuckin’ woman?” Ray said far too viciously and picked up his cigarettes - then swore loudly when he realised they were all soaked.
Chris pulled his own fags out of his pocket. “H…here,” he offered.
Ray took a deep breath, calming himself a little and took one. He lit it and turned his back on Chris, rubbing himself dry. He tried to ignore Chris, knowing that he was foul company and not meaning to take it out on the other man, but unable to control his temper.
Chris hung his head and left the room silently.
The next morning Ray was up and gone before it was light and long before Chris had stirred. He headed straight for the wholesale markets, which were at full swing, even at the early hour.
He hung around one of the entrances, watching the vans of produce coming and going as various shopkeepers came and went. He bided his time, chain-smoking for lack of anything better to do, until he saw the van he wanted. It crept through the throngs of people and Ray easily kept pace with it on foot. He watched as the driver pulled up and headed to the back doors. As soon as the doors were open and the man was occupied with sorting out crates Ray walked up behind him, grabbing him by the collar and propelling him against the wall, hidden from the other tradesmen by the van.
“Wha’! ‘Ey!” The man began to struggle until he saw who his assailant was.
“Mister…Carling,” he held one arm up protectively in front of his face. “Wha’…what can I do for you?” he asked, his voice shaky. The look on Ray’s face making him very nervous
“Kenny Noakes. What’s he gettin’ hisself into,” Ray snarled, keeping a firm grasp on the man’s jacket and leaning into him, stopping him moving.
“Noaksey? Nuffin’ - not that I know of,” the man answered, his voice sounding squeaky.
“Give it up,” Ray shifted suddenly enough to make the man cower and whimper, but stopped just short of kneeing him the groin.
“’E’s…he’s said he can get shooters. I don’t know where from, neither. He was bragging down the pub, that he’s in with a new lot. That’s all I know, I swear!”
“How the fuck’s he gonna get guns? He’s a fuckin’ fence, he’s not big enough to play rough.”
The man looked up at Ray, his eyes wide. “I dunno, I dunno - he just told me ‘e could. Go…go down Sydney Street, the arches…he’s been down ‘round there a lot recently, so people say…honest, I don’t know nuffin’ else, honest.”
Ray twisted the man’s shirt so it tightened around his neck. “If I find out you’ve held summit back I’ll fuckin’ take you to bits an’ sell you to the local Chinky’s for the chow mein, got it?”
The man nodded frantically.
Ray made his way back to his car and looked at the time. It had only just gone six in the morning, the sky turning milky as dawn broke. He knew that most of the criminal population of the city would be asleep for a long time yet, so decided to follow up on his latest tid-bit.
He parked his car up a few streets away from his intended destination and wondered how he was going to get close enough to keep an eye on the street whilst not being spotted.
Chris couldn’t work out what the horrible noise was for a minute, then realised the alarm clock was going off, breaking into his dreams with it’s harsh ring. He waved his arm around, trying to hit Ray to urge the other man to stop the racket. But his arm came down on empty mattress. He blinked his eyes open and squinted in the darkness. Ray was definitely missing - if he’d even come to bed the night before. Chris supposed he’d find his lover still fully clothed and asleep on the sofa, probably an empty whisky bottle at his feet. He turned off the horrible ringing noise and flopped back onto Ray’s pillow. It was cold, as was the bed, so obviously Ray hadn’t been there recently.
Chris knew he was risking falling back asleep, so he dragged himself out of bed, hoping to find Ray in a better mood for the new day.
The sitting room was empty, though, and the bathroom door stood open. Chris pulled up his baggy pyjama trousers and headed for the kitchen, rubbing his eyes and wondering where on earth Ray had got to. He switched on the kettle and turned to find a mug, then spotted a page out of one of his notebooks standing on the small table. He picked it up and unfolded it.
‘Love you. Sorry. R x’, he read, printed in Ray’s handwriting.
“Daft sod,” he said to himself. “Where’ve you gone?”
Ray’s dinner was cold on the plate, although it looked to Chris as if a few of the chips had gone, and there wasn’t even a mug in the sink to signal any activity that morning. The bottle on the side was almost empty and the glass had moved from the sitting room to the kitchen table. Chris wondered how hung over Ray was, drinking that amount on an empty stomach.
Ray jumped up onto the low wall, clambering over it and dropping softly to the ground on the other side. He climbed the high embankment and reached the ballast of the railway lines. Looking both ways he stepped over the first set of rails, making his way quickly over to the other side of the junction and looking around for somewhere convenient to watch the road below from. There was a small concrete hut, now derelict and with it’s door hanging off, so Ray hunkered down out of the chill wind in the doorway, hoping it afforded him enough camouflage, and watched the street below.
The railway junction meant that half the properties in the immediate area were in the archways, but the overview meant that Ray could see as much as possible. Even if he couldn’t see all of the doorways the road was in plain sight as it swept under the high bridge and he was pretty sure he’d spot the men who’d attacked Sam, even from a distance. He turned up the sheepskin collar on his coat, wished he’d thought of getting a bacon butty before settling down on surveillance and waited.
“Chris,” Gene called as he swept out of his office, heading for the door.
Chris jumped, looking up, then, seeing that he was being summoned rather than shouted at, he leapt up and grabbed his things, trotting after Gene.
“Guv?”
“There’s some faces I need to talk to. Got yer notepad? Tyler’ll only go apeshit if we don’t do things right when ‘e’s away, eh?” Gene smiled insincerely.
Chris nodded eagerly. It wasn’t often he got to play right-hand man to the Guv. “Got it, Guv.”
Chris relaxed back into the passenger seat of the Cortina - another rare treat. He almost wished that Ray and the Boss would sod off more often. He frowned at his own thought - he wasn’t enjoying the morning so far, not really, knowing that the Boss was still in hospital and Ray was…well, Ray was God-knows where, and that worried Chris. He’d been too scared to ask Gene if he’d heard anything, for fear of alerting him to the fact that Ray was awol.
They were driving through the busy morning streets when the radio crackled into action.
“Alpha one to Romeo Foxtrot, Guv, you there?”
Gene snatched up the handset. “What’s up Phyllis?”
“Got a call from the hospital, Guv. They said the Boss is ready to go whenever you get there.”
“About bloody time.” Gene pulled the Cortina around in a tyre-screeching u-turn, seemingly oblivious to the horns sounding their protest as he cut up about four people at once.
Chris clutched onto the handle and closed his eyes as the nearside corner clipped a dustbin and sent it flying across the pavement.
Gene screeched the car to a stop outside the main doors of the hospital. Chris sat perfectly still, looking pale and trying to unclench his fingers from the handle above the door.
Two minutes later Gene had a smile plastered across his face as he saw Sam sitting on the edge of his bed, flicking through a magazine. The small bag of things that Gene had brought with him the night before was next to him, packed and ready to go. All Gene really wanted to do was gather Sam up in his arms and hug him tightly, tell him that he wouldn’t let it happen again - that he’d be there next time, to protect him. But he knew that he could neither hold Sam nor make a promise that he couldn’t keep. So instead he snatched up the bag and nudged Sam on the thigh.
“Feelin’ better?”
Sam rolled his eyes. “I was fine yesterday.”
“You look pale. Didn’t sleep?” Gene asked, studying Sam to make sure he really was okay.
“You try sleeping surrounded by ill people,” Sam gave a mock shudder.
“Come on then, we’ll drop you home,” Gene said as he led the way off the ward.
“Hang on…what? I don’t need to go home!” Sam protested.
Gene stopped and turned, blocking the corridor. “Sorry, sorry, didn’t realise the bang on the head was that bad…they didn’t mention amnesia, yet you seem to have forgotten who gives the orders around here.”
Sam rolled his eyes, and gave Gene a gentle shove toward the door.
“Well…let me go back to the station. No harm will come to me, I’ll do paperwork and if that gets too much then I promise to go home, okay?” Sam sighed.
Gene took a deep breath, drawing himself up so he could look down on Sam. But no amount of posturing was a match for the expression on Sam’s face.
“Christ, if I didn’t already know you were twisted I’d ‘ave ‘em take you back. What copper in their right mind gives up a day off to do soddin’ paperwork?” he grumbled.
Sam smiled. In truth he did still feel a little bit wobbly, but he’d never admit it. For a man who portrayed himself as harder-than-nails, Gene couldn’t half cluck around like a mother hen when he got going.
Chris clambered out of the car and held the door open as he saw the two men approaching. “Here y’are, Boss. You feelin’ better?”
Sam smiled at Chris. “Yes, thank you, Chris.”
Chris got into the back and leant on the two front seats. “Where are we goin’ now, Guv?” he asked eagerly.
“Back to the station to drop DI Tyler off,” Gene answered, pulling out of the hospital gates with more care than Chris had ever known him take before.
The radio fuzzed into life again. “Eight six seven to romeo foxtrot?”
Sam looked across to Gene, then picked up the radio. Chris felt his chest get a little tighter on hearing Ray’s voice.
“Go ahead Ray,” Sam said.
“Oh…Boss. I got them bastards from yesterday. I can see ‘em…well, where they went, any road. I’m down on Sydney Street, there’s a place under the arches called Thompson’s - locksmiths it is. Reckon there’s probably most of ‘em in there now.” It was hard to make out what Ray was saying as he was obviously keeping his voice reasonably low. Then there was a horrific squealing noise and a thunderous roar. Sam looked down at the radio with a slight look of disgust.
“Ray? Ray?”
“’M ‘ere Boss. Just…get some bodies and get over ‘ere, right?”
Gene leant over and grabbed the handset from Sam.
“Ray! They look like they’re stayin’ put?” he asked.
“Uh…haven’t seen any movement for a few minutes…dunno, Guv,” Ray answered truthfully.
“Well sit tight then, gotta drop Tyler back at the nick.”
Sam felt his jaw drop open. “Guv - Gene, we need to get over there,” Sam protested.
“Not a chance. ‘E’s already got you a kickin’ once, you think I’m gonna take you back so they can ‘ave seconds?”
“I tripped over! You can’t blame Ray for that - I’m calling for back up. Get us to Sydney Street.” Sam lifted the radio to his mouth. “Romeo foxtrot to alpha one? We need as many bobbies as you can spare - Thompson’s Locksmiths on Sydney Street.”
“We are going back to the station,” Gene said, firmly.
“Guv…can’t we…I mean, Ray wouldn’t ‘ave said…they might leave or summit,” Chris said, stumbling over his words. “Can’t Sam…I mean, the Boss stay in the car, or…summit?”
Gene glared at Chris over his shoulder, but Sam could tell that his resolve was wavering.
The radio made a fuzzy noise, the channel open but no one speaking. Sam looked at it. “Err…hello? Ray?”
There was more noise, hard to make out over the sound of the Cortina’s engine and the tyres on the tarmac, but it sounded like something moving very close to the microphone on the radio.
“Shit, Guv…need back up…above…” the sound cut for a moment and Chris could feel his insides chewing up, his fingers were clenched so hard on the seats that his knuckles were white.
“Ray?” Sam turned to Gene. “Get over there, now.”
Gene didn’t argue, stamping his foot to the floor.
“Ray - Ray, we’re on the way. Uniform too,” he called into the radio.
Chris wanted to reach out and grab the handset from Sam, as if somehow it would form a tangible connection with Ray.
“…on the tracks….Boss, same as…”
The broken snippets were breaking Chris’s heart. He could hear Ray panting as he spoke and it was obvious that something bad was happening. Chris just hoped that Ray was chasing someone, not being chased.
Ray stumbled on the ballast as it gave under his feet. He didn’t have a clue how the men who were running after him had got out of the archway he was watching, he’d just suddenly noticed them creeping up on his position when he moved to ease his aching and cold muscles. Those every same muscle which were now in full protest. He was running between the tracks, using the sleepers to get a surer footing. Then he heard the steel rails flexing, the vibrations running through them as they shifted. He turned to see a large diesel engine bearing down upon him, and saw the driver’s hand go up to yank the klaxon.
Sam frowned, trying to work out what was going on from the sounds that were intermittently coming from the radio. Then the unmistakable sound of a train horn came through loud and clear.
Chris almost sobbed.
Ray threw himself out of the way at the last second, jumping across to the next tracks, hoping to escape his pursuers, but when he dared to glance behind him he saw that four of the men were already there. There was a horrible moment of inevitability as he heard the footsteps behind him. He tried to push himself to move a bit faster, but he didn’t have the energy and when the man thumped into him, bringing him crashing down on the sharp stones he was almost glad to get stuck in to the punching and kicking - the dirty fighting that he knew.
His coat protected him from the worst of the fall and even as he tumbled down he turned, grabbing the man who was falling on top of him. He drove his fist into the guy’s face, the momentum of the fall meaning he could feel bones give under the power of his knuckles. The blood that flowed down his hand and into his sleeve was an oddly satisfying sight. The wheels of the train on the other line squealed and clanked as they passed only a few feet from his head, but Ray tried not to think of the danger.
Then they were all on top of him - four of them, all built like bouncers. Ray felt feet and fists connecting all over his body, so he curled up but still kicked out, satisfied when he caught one of them directly on the knee. He knew it was a fight that he couldn’t win, and was all too aware that lying on train tracks wasn’t exactly a good place to get your head kicked in, but he knew that the Guv was on his way, and he only had to hang on a little bit longer. He grabbed onto one of the feet that came perilously close to kicking him in the head, and allowed himself to be lifted slightly as the man tried to shake the iron grip off his boot.
A hand latched onto Ray’s hair and he hissed, blindly reaching out for whoever was standing out of his line of site. Then his head was smashed down hard on the concrete sleeper. He gasped in pain, stars spinning in front of his eyes. For a horrible second he imagined them knocking him out and leaving him on the rails, but then he was lifted and dragged backwards, his feet scraping over the ballast.
He struggled, but all it earned him was a swift kick in the back by one of the men walking beside him. There was a harsh bark of laughter and Ray felt himself being lifted higher. He tried to get his feet back underneath himself.
“Which fuckin’ one is it?” Gene asked, spinning the Cortina around the corner and slowing down as they all peered out at the various businesses which lined the street. He followed the road around under the high archway that carried one of the branch lines away from the junction.
“Guv!” The word had barely left Sam’s mouth before the windscreen of the Cortina shattered, spilling glass over them all. Chris was almost pitched out of the back seats and Sam slammed into the dashboard as Gene stamping on the brakes compounded the impact on the bonnet of the car.
“Ray!”
Chris anguished scream made Sam turn, his head fuzzy from the second blow in as many days. Chris was twisted around, staring behind them, at whatever had hit the car. Then he jumped to shove the door open, almost falling onto the road.
Gene sat gripping the steering wheel for a moment, foot still stamped on the brake, and Sam could see that every muscle in his body was solid from the tension.
“Guv - Boss, call an ambulance,” Chris screamed.
Ray wondered, in a moment of optimism that Chris would have been proud of, if they were going to stop hitting him and just leave him by the tracks. Then he opened his eyes to see a foot heading for his face. The impact knocked him backwards, and instead of the expected wall or floor, as he tipped backwards he just kept going. Before he even thought to try and grab hold of anything there was already nothing to grab hold of. Just the ground coming straight for his face, very fast. He stuck his arms out on instinct as he fell headfirst toward the road many metres below. Then he saw a blur of bronze and heard the familiar squeal of tyres milliseconds before he ploughed headfirst into the windscreen of the Cortina.
The glass exploded underneath him, and pain flared up his left arm as his entire weight crushed it into the bonnet, then the car’s momentum meant he rolled up and over the roof, finally hitting the tarmac as he was flung from the back.
His cheek rested against the cold rough tarmac and he struggled for breath as the world swam around him. His entire body hurt, but his arm was getting itself a special mention.
“Ray!” Chris skidded to his knees just in Ray’s line of sight.
Ray tried to move, tried to push himself off the floor, but none of his limbs were quite ready to work, so he slumped back onto the ground.
“Guv - Boss, call and ambulance!”
Ray tried to protest, but he couldn’t even muster the energy to look up at Chris.
Sam ran back to Chris, feeling dizziness hit him as the glass from the windscreen rained off his clothes. He breathed a sigh of relief when he saw that Ray’s eyes were open, even if he was blinking slowly.
“Ray? Stay awake,” Sam ordered, feeling as if he needed someone to order him to do the same. He watched as Chris stroked his hand through Ray’s blood-soaked hair and could hear that Chris was sobbing.
“’M okay, Chr’s,” Ray mumbled, and Sam almost laughed at the blatant lie.
Gene looked up at the bridge, then along the tracks and saw the fleeing group of men. His blood boiled when he turned back to the prone form of his sergeant lying like roadkill on the floor. He knew he had to get the men who’d hurt first Sam and now Ray, but he also knew he couldn’t ask Sam - who was looking paler by the second - to chase them. As much as he knew it would hurt the young man, he made his mind up.
“Chris, with me,” he shouted.
“Guv?” Chris wiped his tears and nose on his sleeve.
“We’re gonna catch the bastards, come on,” Gene ordered.
Chris looked back down to Ray, unable to even think of leaving his lover.
“Skelton!” Gene shouted, already heading for the closest way up to the railway.
“’F you don’ go, I’ll fuckin’ go meself,” Ray ground out, pushing his good arm underneath him and almost making it onto his knees.
The threat scared Chris into action. “Don’t fuckin’ move!” he shouted. “Boss…please…” he gestured to Ray and Sam nodded.
“I’ll make sure he’s okay, Chris, now go.”
“Get on the radio, Sam, get ‘em to cover the lines, we’re not letting this scum get away,” Gene yelled as he scrambled up the steep grassy embankments.
Sam ran back to the Cortina and called through Gene’s instructions, making sure the ambulance was on its way too. Then he returned to Ray’s side, glad to see that he was still conscious. He tried to ignore the fact that Ray’s left forearm was lying at an impossible angle and focussed on the blue eyes. He wasn’t exactly feeling peachy himself.
“Paramedics…I mean, ambulance, is on the way,” he said, catching his slip.
Ray nodded. He was getting cold lying in the road. “Reckon you c’n ‘elp me sit up?” he asked, hearing himself slur as if he had ten pints down him.
Sam frowned. “Don’t think it’s a good idea, mate. You’ve lost a bit of blood, from your head.”
“Gonna freeze t’death layin’ here,” Ray complained, although part of him agreed with Sam he knew he was going to give in to the darkness that was hovering at the edge of his vision if he stayed where he was.
“Um…can you roll onto your back? I mean - does anything hurt, first? Your neck, back? You might have done some damage…”
“’S fine,” Ray said, squeezing his eyes closed as he tried to move and jarred his arm.
Seeing that Ray was going to do what he wanted anyway, Sam put a supporting arm around his shoulders and helped him roll over and sit up. He couldn’t help but feel sorry for him as he clenched his teeth and squeezed his eyes closed as he lifted his injured arm and laid it in his lap. Sam wondered if there was anything he could do, but decided he was probably better off waiting for the ambulance. He could see Ray was shaking though, so he tentatively put his arm around his shoulders, trying to avoid the blood that was slowly dripping from his hair.
Ray looked sideways at him. “Don’ let…Chris catch ya, makin’ a move on me. Or the Guv.”
Sam smiled despite himself. “I’d rather have Chris catch me doing this than have to explain to him what happened when you pass out and fall over backwards again.”
“Di’n’t think you’d…be up an’ about so soon,” Ray said, grimacing.
“I wouldn’t be, if Gene had anything to do with it,” Sam answered. “He…seemed to hold you responsible, for what happened. I put him straight.”
“As long as ‘e catches the bastards, ‘s all that matters.”
Ray was leaning more and more heavily into Sam, and it worried the DI.
Sam could feel a little bit of anger building inside him. There was little love lost between himself and Ray, sure, but seeing the bull of a man reduced to a bleeding wreck on the floor was too much for even Sam to bear. “It was my investigation. I should have known what he was up to. And you shouldn’t have been out here on your own - what were you thinking?”
Ray looked across at Sam. “Guess I weren’t. Again.”
Sam shook his head, smiling. “Sometimes you’re just like Gene.”
“’E’s the one as taught me ‘ow it goes. Know you don’t like it, Boss, but it’s done us okay so far.”
“Times are changing though, Ray. Times are changing.”
Ray nodded. “Aye. An’ that’s why you should be teachin’ the likes of Christopher. Jus’…don’t ‘ave him turn into some limp-wristed wimp, eh, Boss? Let ‘im learn ‘nough off me and the Guv so’s he don’t get ‘is head kicked in, eh?”
Sam looked Ray up and down. “Yeah, because you’re a shining example of how to prevent that from happening,” he said, softly, no malice in his tone.
Ray gave a small huff of laughter. “Well, you teach ‘im ‘ow to use ‘is ‘ead an’ not get jumped by six bastards, I’ll teach ‘im ‘ow to hurt ‘em when ‘e does.”
Gene drove to the hospital feeling as if the looks Chris was giving him might just turn him to stone at any moment.
Together with a large horde of uniformed officers they had managed to round up the gang, and Gene had bruised knuckles to show for it. For once Chris hadn’t even winced when the Guv had driven his fist into the stomach of one of the men who was mouthing off, nor when he’d broken the bloke’s nose with his knee as he doubled over.
However, when they’d reached the Cortina, Sam and Ray were nowhere to be seen, the ambulance having already collected them, and now Chris could feel his guts being eaten away by worry. He didn’t truly understand how anyone could even survive the fall from the bridge, let alone being hit by a car afterward.
As soon as they were at the hospital he made a run for the casualty department, arriving at the small reception desk panting.
“Please - Ray, Ray Carling - he’s a detective, he was brought here?” Chris panted at the elderly lady who looked at him sternly over the top of her glasses.
“I’ll call a nurse for you,” she said.
Chris just waved a hand, his usual good manners only stretching so far under stress. He ran into the small ward and was faced with curtains closed against him on all sides.
“Ray?” he called.
Seconds later Sam stuck his head out of one of the cubicles. “Over here, Chris,” he beckoned.
Chris’s face broke into a wide smile as he saw Ray sitting up on the bed. He had a large bandage wrapped around his head and his arm was in a sling, but he was basically in one piece.
Sam turned away politely as Chris leant over him and very carefully hugged him and kissed him.
“We got ‘em all,” Chris smiled. “All down the nick now.”
Ray smiled, wincing as his split lips pulled and wrapping his free arm around Chris’s waist for a quick hug.
Sam spotted Gene striding towards them and quickly exited the cubicle, pulling the curtains closed behind him. He turned Gene around and pushed him back outside.
“Just give them a moment,” he said quietly at Gene’s questioning look.
“Ray okay?” Gene asked, letting Sam lead him outside to a nearby bench.
Sam nodded. Then he pursed his lips, wondering how to word his next phrase.
“Ray told me…I mean, he was there because you told him to find the people who hurt me.”
Gene looked across at him, his eyes narrowing. “Yeah, so?”
“Well…don’t you think you should have…I don’t know, given him some help? Got the rest of the team in on it?” Sam pushed.
“Ray…” Gene started, then took a deep breath. “I trust Ray. If anyone was gonna find them bastards it was him. And he did. ‘Course I didn’t want ‘im hurt, but I wanted those bastards put where they belong.”
“Because it was me who was hurt - I understand that you were angry, I do - but now look. Look at Chris - he was devastated - and Ray got off lightly, considering. Just imagine for one second if things had been reversed, and it was Ray who’d had the concussion and me who’d been thrown off a bridge, because I’d gone out, alone, on Chris’s say-so.”
Gene nodded. He knew that Sam was right, and it didn’t make him hurt any less inside. He cared for all his team, when they hurt he hurt too. But deep down he also knew that however unfair it was, he’d probably do the same again because Sam was so special to him. And he knew that Ray would follow his orders again too, because whatever else Ray Carling was, he was loyal to the core.
~Fin