FIC: Bitter End, Brown Cortina, Elf
Title: Bitter End
Author: Elf
Spoilers: Nope
Rating: Brown Cortina
Word Count: 2300
Pairings: Gene/Ray, tiny implied Gene/Sam
Summary: Ray has something that Sam wants.
A/N: DeathFic! You’ve been warned! Not that I think this will have anyone weeping or wailing.
Gene awoke and stretched. The alarm had yet to sound, so he reached out and turned it off. He rolled over and wrapped his arms tightly around the man sprawled beside him.
“C’mon, sleepyhead,” he said softly.
“Gerroff, ‘m sleepin’,” came the grouchy reply.
Gene smiled, then started gently blowing on the soft hairs at the back of his lover’s neck.
Ray finally gave in and turned over, scowling. “Stoppit, ‘s not even time t’get up, alarm ain’t gone.”
“I turned it off.” Gene claimed Ray’s mouth, kissing him softly.
Ray snaked his arms around Gene, knowing that he could easily get some extra time in bed if Gene was in that sort of a mood. And he knew he’d never be told off for being late into the office either.
They got to the office just in time, and no one raised an eyebrow at them arriving together - no one ever did. But as Ray took his seat behind his desk he did notice that Tyler was staring at him.
They were working on a murder case - a nasty one. A teenage girl’s body had been found on some wasteland, stab wounds showing a frenzied vicious attack. The squad were chasing up leads all over the city, but there was little to go on - no one had seen or heard anything, the girl hadn’t yet been identified and the murder scene was devoid of clues. It was frustrating and it weighed heavily on everyone’s minds.
Ray finally got so frustrated with staring at reports and notes that he abruptly stood, walking to Gene’s office. He didn’t bother to knock, knowing that he didn’t need to.
“Guv, goin’ nowhere sittin’ here. ‘M gonna take Chris out, knock some heads, someone’s gotta know summat.”
Gene waved his hand, he trusted Ray to do whatever was necessary. Ray was a good copper, a man after Gene’s own heart. That was what had drawn Gene to him, initially, when he joined the squad as a DC. Others had thought Ray arrogant, but Gene liked the way he followed orders, did what needed to be done, rarely questioned what he was asked to do.
Gene appreciated that sort of loyalty, and it was getting harder to come by. He put it down to Ray’s military background. When he was told to jump the only thing he’d ask was ‘how high’? It also helped that he was useful with his fists and not squeamish when things got messy.
When Gene had made DCI it had been only natural to make Ray up to DS, and it had been that night, when they were both drunk on half of Nelson’s bar stocks and the high of promotion that it had happened. In the small toilet cubicle out in the toilets Gene had finally acted. Ever since he’d met Ray he’d always had sly digs about what blokes got up to in the Navy, little comments here and there. Ray had always laughed along with him, and that told Gene a lot. So that night, when he’d pressed Ray against the wall and kissed him hard he’d been reasonably sure he was doing the right thing. When Ray had grabbed him by the collar and shoved him into the stall, kicking the door shut behind them, he’d been certain.
It had been fast and hard and messy, Ray had dropped to his knees and sucked Gene’s cock until the DCI had come with a groan, his fingers knotted in Ray’s shaggy hair. Then he’d dragged Ray up his body and kissed him again, crushing their lips together, fuelled by pure lust. He’d reached into Ray’s trousers and brought him off quickly, his palm slick with spit.
They never really talked about it, but their relationship went from stealing moments here and there to Gene spending his evenings with Ray, then the odd night at Ray’s flat. When Gene’s missus had stopped asking where he spent his nights he stopped going home. Now he virtually lived at Ray’s. He’d made it clear that he didn’t care what his wife did, or who she did it with, and he figured they were both happier than they’d been in years with the new arrangements. He wasn’t even sure he’d known what love was, until he’d been with Ray.
Gene had always promised Ray the DI post and he felt bad when the decision had been taken away from him. He thought Ray understood, and he couldn’t entirely blame him for hating Sam. It was hard though, because Gene, despite his frequent outbursts against the pain-in-the-arse from Hyde, thought Sam was a decent copper, once you’d cut through all the bullshit he spouted and the long words he peppered through his reports and got down to the important stuff, the detecting, the solving of crimes. Gene knew that his department needed someone like Sam - hell, he needed someone like Sam, someone who could make sense of the new rules and the twists and turns that policing was taking.
Sam watched as Ray beckoned Chris to follow him. He knew Ray hated him, but he didn’t care. He knew inside that he was the better man. What he didn’t like was the way Gene gave in to Ray, or the way Ray could order Chris around and just know that the DC would do his bidding.
Sam knocked before entering Gene’s office. He’d learned the hard way that it was only Ray who didn’t have to.
“Where are they going?” he asked without preamble.
“Out,” Gene answered, not in the mood for needless chat.
“New lead?”
“What is this? Bleedin’ twenty questions?” Gene snapped. “No, they’re just gonna get out there and do some old-fashioned policing - the sort that relies on yer gut and yer instinct and not some nonces in lab-coats.”
Sam nodded slowly, then turned back to the office.
Gene watched him go. He knew that Tyler had left things unsaid.
Chris followed Ray doggedly, through pubs and bookies, knocking on doors. He didn’t think he’d ever have all the contacts that Ray did - he didn’t even know how to begin to get them. Ray just fitted in with these sort of people, Chris didn’t, and he knew he never would. That was why, when Sam had come along, Chris had embraced the different sort of policing he’d brought with him. He still enjoyed riding with Ray or the Guv, he just knew he’d always follow men like them, but he could lead people who wanted to do things Sam’s way. He’d even tried to help Ray out a few times, with the cross-referencing and building up ‘databases’ or whatever Sam had called them. But Ray didn’t have the patience or the inclination to learn.
The day brought little new information and that night the Railway Arms was quieter than normal. Sam sat at one of the tables, glowering toward the darts board where Gene and Ray were getting more and more inebriated as they played match after match.
Sam knew what was going on between them, it had been easy to see, once he’d admitted to himself that it was possible. Even now, in front of everyone, Ray was laughing, his hand resting on Gene’s shoulder. It could just have been a friendly gesture, but Sam knew better.
Once Nelson had called time the detectives who had remained in the pub staggered out, heading home. Sam watched from the alleyway across the road. Gene leant heavily on Ray as they left. When they got to the end of the road they turned right. Gene’s house was to the left. Sam followed at a distance.
“Skelton, with me - Sam, mind the shop, Ray, I’m waitin’ on a call from Mick the Lip, might be a lead. Deal with him if it comes in,” Gene said as he exited his office and swept through CID. Chris leapt up, almost running after his DCI. It was rare he got to go out with the Guv, and he relished every moment.
Sam stared at Ray across the office. Ray stared back with an easy insolence.
Sam looked through his notes for a few hours, chasing up forensics and trying to find a pattern or a clue from the reports on the stab wounds.
Ray stood, clicking his joints, and left the office. He visited the toilet first and then headed for the canteen, picking up a sandwich to take back to his desk.
When he got back to CID the office was empty apart from Tyler. “Where is everyone?” he asked, making himself a cup of tea and not offering Tyler one.
“Sent ‘em out to check up on a few things. Message came in for you, from Mick. He says to meet him in half an hour down at the old warehouses on Ship Street. I’ll come with you if you want.”
Ray pulled a face. “I’ll be fine on me own, ta.”
Sam nodded. He had known Ray would refuse his offer.
Ray looked around the empty office, knowing that he probably shouldn’t leave whilst no one was there - but Tyler had only nipped out to the toilet, so the place would go unmanned for just a short while. He walked through the station to his car, heading across the city to the address Sam had given him. He hoped he could be the one to crack the case - get the vital piece of information. It would go down well with the Super as well as the Guv.
He stepped into the dark structure - it had been derelict for the past few years, but the door had been kicked in recently and no one had cared enough to patch it up. Ray was pretty sure he’d seen something in one of the reports about the place. Tyler’s report, he thought, something about it being a possible place where the girl had been kept during the two days she was missing. Maybe that’s why Mick had suggested it - maybe there was some vital evidence they’d missed.
He heard a small noise and turned just in time to register the steel pipe that slammed into his face.
When he came to his arms were bound tightly behind him, legs tied at the knees and ankles. He blinked, feeling the dried blood on his face crack as he moved. The room was dark and still. He shifted, trying to find a way to escape, wriggling and pulling against his bonds. But whoever had tied him up had had plenty of time to get it right.
Then he saw a figure in the doorway, barely visible in the gloom.
“Wha’ the fuck’re you doin’?” he said, spitting the words out with as much venom as he could muster.
The figure moved, walking toward him.
“Something I should have done when I first got here.”
Ray felt his eyes widen.
“Boss?”
Sam hunkered down in front of Ray, the large knife hanging loosely from his fingers.
“Yes, DS Carling.”
“What the…what…” Ray couldn’t form the sentence, his eyes fixed on the knife. It was a steak knife, the serrations on the slim blade glinting slightly in the low light. He tried to push himself away, but his feet slid on the smooth concrete floor. He wrestled against his bonds.
“Did you read the reports? The autopsy?” Sam continued, watching Ray’s struggles with a half-smile.
Ray found himself nodding, anything to appease Sam.
“Remember what weapon they thought was used?” Sam wiped the already clean blade of the knife on his trousers.
Ray nodded again, his eyes fixed on the blade. The same sort of blade that had been used to end the girl’s life.
“And the method? Victim was probably on the floor, probably tied up, the murderer was right handed. The wounds were seemingly at random.”
Ray watched, still wrenching his hands this way and that to try and loosen the ties.
“Why, Boss? Sam?” Ray could hear the shake in his voice.
“Because you have something I want.”
Sam plunged the knife forward into Ray’s gut, putting his whole body weight behind it. Ray shouted, screamed, tried to move away, anything to escape or get help. But Sam kept plunging the knife down, twisting it, stabbing, not looking at Ray’s face, not wanting to acknowledge that this was a human being. He just had the words of the report running through his head. The wounds had been deep, they’d been meant to hurt, to damage. The attack had been frenzied.
When Ray had choked out his last shuddering, bubbling breath, blood running from his mouth, the wounds in his chest making wet sucking sounds as his body struggled to find any way of getting oxygen, Sam stopped. He stood, his legs trembling, and looked down at the body in the pool of blood. He stepped forward and cut through the bonds, removing them, then moved away before the pool of blood reached his shoes.
He checked his clothes for blood. There was some, but not enough to be noticeable straight away. He left the scene, disposing of the weapon on his way home, and the ropes in a dustbin. He changed his clothes before heading back to the station.
Gene was there, along with most of the rest of the team.
“Where’s Carling?” he barked at Sam.
Sam shrugged. “He went out to meet Mick the Lip - about an hour ago, maybe longer.”
Gene grunted and nodded. Sam smiled.
The body on the slab had been cleaned up. The wounds now mainly hidden by the sheet. Oswald was silent, knowing that there was nothing he could say that Gene would want to hear. When he left the room Gene allowed himself to give in. He sobbed, he shouted, he kicked out at anything and everything. He clutched onto Ray’s cold body as if he could somehow shake the life back into him.
And Sam was there for him, holding him, letting Gene’s tears soak into his clean shirt.
“It’s okay, Gene, it’s okay,” he whispered. “I’ve got you, I’ve got you now.”
~Fin
Author: Elf
Spoilers: Nope
Rating: Brown Cortina
Word Count: 2300
Pairings: Gene/Ray, tiny implied Gene/Sam
Summary: Ray has something that Sam wants.
A/N: DeathFic! You’ve been warned! Not that I think this will have anyone weeping or wailing.
Gene awoke and stretched. The alarm had yet to sound, so he reached out and turned it off. He rolled over and wrapped his arms tightly around the man sprawled beside him.
“C’mon, sleepyhead,” he said softly.
“Gerroff, ‘m sleepin’,” came the grouchy reply.
Gene smiled, then started gently blowing on the soft hairs at the back of his lover’s neck.
Ray finally gave in and turned over, scowling. “Stoppit, ‘s not even time t’get up, alarm ain’t gone.”
“I turned it off.” Gene claimed Ray’s mouth, kissing him softly.
Ray snaked his arms around Gene, knowing that he could easily get some extra time in bed if Gene was in that sort of a mood. And he knew he’d never be told off for being late into the office either.
They got to the office just in time, and no one raised an eyebrow at them arriving together - no one ever did. But as Ray took his seat behind his desk he did notice that Tyler was staring at him.
They were working on a murder case - a nasty one. A teenage girl’s body had been found on some wasteland, stab wounds showing a frenzied vicious attack. The squad were chasing up leads all over the city, but there was little to go on - no one had seen or heard anything, the girl hadn’t yet been identified and the murder scene was devoid of clues. It was frustrating and it weighed heavily on everyone’s minds.
Ray finally got so frustrated with staring at reports and notes that he abruptly stood, walking to Gene’s office. He didn’t bother to knock, knowing that he didn’t need to.
“Guv, goin’ nowhere sittin’ here. ‘M gonna take Chris out, knock some heads, someone’s gotta know summat.”
Gene waved his hand, he trusted Ray to do whatever was necessary. Ray was a good copper, a man after Gene’s own heart. That was what had drawn Gene to him, initially, when he joined the squad as a DC. Others had thought Ray arrogant, but Gene liked the way he followed orders, did what needed to be done, rarely questioned what he was asked to do.
Gene appreciated that sort of loyalty, and it was getting harder to come by. He put it down to Ray’s military background. When he was told to jump the only thing he’d ask was ‘how high’? It also helped that he was useful with his fists and not squeamish when things got messy.
When Gene had made DCI it had been only natural to make Ray up to DS, and it had been that night, when they were both drunk on half of Nelson’s bar stocks and the high of promotion that it had happened. In the small toilet cubicle out in the toilets Gene had finally acted. Ever since he’d met Ray he’d always had sly digs about what blokes got up to in the Navy, little comments here and there. Ray had always laughed along with him, and that told Gene a lot. So that night, when he’d pressed Ray against the wall and kissed him hard he’d been reasonably sure he was doing the right thing. When Ray had grabbed him by the collar and shoved him into the stall, kicking the door shut behind them, he’d been certain.
It had been fast and hard and messy, Ray had dropped to his knees and sucked Gene’s cock until the DCI had come with a groan, his fingers knotted in Ray’s shaggy hair. Then he’d dragged Ray up his body and kissed him again, crushing their lips together, fuelled by pure lust. He’d reached into Ray’s trousers and brought him off quickly, his palm slick with spit.
They never really talked about it, but their relationship went from stealing moments here and there to Gene spending his evenings with Ray, then the odd night at Ray’s flat. When Gene’s missus had stopped asking where he spent his nights he stopped going home. Now he virtually lived at Ray’s. He’d made it clear that he didn’t care what his wife did, or who she did it with, and he figured they were both happier than they’d been in years with the new arrangements. He wasn’t even sure he’d known what love was, until he’d been with Ray.
Gene had always promised Ray the DI post and he felt bad when the decision had been taken away from him. He thought Ray understood, and he couldn’t entirely blame him for hating Sam. It was hard though, because Gene, despite his frequent outbursts against the pain-in-the-arse from Hyde, thought Sam was a decent copper, once you’d cut through all the bullshit he spouted and the long words he peppered through his reports and got down to the important stuff, the detecting, the solving of crimes. Gene knew that his department needed someone like Sam - hell, he needed someone like Sam, someone who could make sense of the new rules and the twists and turns that policing was taking.
Sam watched as Ray beckoned Chris to follow him. He knew Ray hated him, but he didn’t care. He knew inside that he was the better man. What he didn’t like was the way Gene gave in to Ray, or the way Ray could order Chris around and just know that the DC would do his bidding.
Sam knocked before entering Gene’s office. He’d learned the hard way that it was only Ray who didn’t have to.
“Where are they going?” he asked without preamble.
“Out,” Gene answered, not in the mood for needless chat.
“New lead?”
“What is this? Bleedin’ twenty questions?” Gene snapped. “No, they’re just gonna get out there and do some old-fashioned policing - the sort that relies on yer gut and yer instinct and not some nonces in lab-coats.”
Sam nodded slowly, then turned back to the office.
Gene watched him go. He knew that Tyler had left things unsaid.
Chris followed Ray doggedly, through pubs and bookies, knocking on doors. He didn’t think he’d ever have all the contacts that Ray did - he didn’t even know how to begin to get them. Ray just fitted in with these sort of people, Chris didn’t, and he knew he never would. That was why, when Sam had come along, Chris had embraced the different sort of policing he’d brought with him. He still enjoyed riding with Ray or the Guv, he just knew he’d always follow men like them, but he could lead people who wanted to do things Sam’s way. He’d even tried to help Ray out a few times, with the cross-referencing and building up ‘databases’ or whatever Sam had called them. But Ray didn’t have the patience or the inclination to learn.
The day brought little new information and that night the Railway Arms was quieter than normal. Sam sat at one of the tables, glowering toward the darts board where Gene and Ray were getting more and more inebriated as they played match after match.
Sam knew what was going on between them, it had been easy to see, once he’d admitted to himself that it was possible. Even now, in front of everyone, Ray was laughing, his hand resting on Gene’s shoulder. It could just have been a friendly gesture, but Sam knew better.
Once Nelson had called time the detectives who had remained in the pub staggered out, heading home. Sam watched from the alleyway across the road. Gene leant heavily on Ray as they left. When they got to the end of the road they turned right. Gene’s house was to the left. Sam followed at a distance.
“Skelton, with me - Sam, mind the shop, Ray, I’m waitin’ on a call from Mick the Lip, might be a lead. Deal with him if it comes in,” Gene said as he exited his office and swept through CID. Chris leapt up, almost running after his DCI. It was rare he got to go out with the Guv, and he relished every moment.
Sam stared at Ray across the office. Ray stared back with an easy insolence.
Sam looked through his notes for a few hours, chasing up forensics and trying to find a pattern or a clue from the reports on the stab wounds.
Ray stood, clicking his joints, and left the office. He visited the toilet first and then headed for the canteen, picking up a sandwich to take back to his desk.
When he got back to CID the office was empty apart from Tyler. “Where is everyone?” he asked, making himself a cup of tea and not offering Tyler one.
“Sent ‘em out to check up on a few things. Message came in for you, from Mick. He says to meet him in half an hour down at the old warehouses on Ship Street. I’ll come with you if you want.”
Ray pulled a face. “I’ll be fine on me own, ta.”
Sam nodded. He had known Ray would refuse his offer.
Ray looked around the empty office, knowing that he probably shouldn’t leave whilst no one was there - but Tyler had only nipped out to the toilet, so the place would go unmanned for just a short while. He walked through the station to his car, heading across the city to the address Sam had given him. He hoped he could be the one to crack the case - get the vital piece of information. It would go down well with the Super as well as the Guv.
He stepped into the dark structure - it had been derelict for the past few years, but the door had been kicked in recently and no one had cared enough to patch it up. Ray was pretty sure he’d seen something in one of the reports about the place. Tyler’s report, he thought, something about it being a possible place where the girl had been kept during the two days she was missing. Maybe that’s why Mick had suggested it - maybe there was some vital evidence they’d missed.
He heard a small noise and turned just in time to register the steel pipe that slammed into his face.
When he came to his arms were bound tightly behind him, legs tied at the knees and ankles. He blinked, feeling the dried blood on his face crack as he moved. The room was dark and still. He shifted, trying to find a way to escape, wriggling and pulling against his bonds. But whoever had tied him up had had plenty of time to get it right.
Then he saw a figure in the doorway, barely visible in the gloom.
“Wha’ the fuck’re you doin’?” he said, spitting the words out with as much venom as he could muster.
The figure moved, walking toward him.
“Something I should have done when I first got here.”
Ray felt his eyes widen.
“Boss?”
Sam hunkered down in front of Ray, the large knife hanging loosely from his fingers.
“Yes, DS Carling.”
“What the…what…” Ray couldn’t form the sentence, his eyes fixed on the knife. It was a steak knife, the serrations on the slim blade glinting slightly in the low light. He tried to push himself away, but his feet slid on the smooth concrete floor. He wrestled against his bonds.
“Did you read the reports? The autopsy?” Sam continued, watching Ray’s struggles with a half-smile.
Ray found himself nodding, anything to appease Sam.
“Remember what weapon they thought was used?” Sam wiped the already clean blade of the knife on his trousers.
Ray nodded again, his eyes fixed on the blade. The same sort of blade that had been used to end the girl’s life.
“And the method? Victim was probably on the floor, probably tied up, the murderer was right handed. The wounds were seemingly at random.”
Ray watched, still wrenching his hands this way and that to try and loosen the ties.
“Why, Boss? Sam?” Ray could hear the shake in his voice.
“Because you have something I want.”
Sam plunged the knife forward into Ray’s gut, putting his whole body weight behind it. Ray shouted, screamed, tried to move away, anything to escape or get help. But Sam kept plunging the knife down, twisting it, stabbing, not looking at Ray’s face, not wanting to acknowledge that this was a human being. He just had the words of the report running through his head. The wounds had been deep, they’d been meant to hurt, to damage. The attack had been frenzied.
When Ray had choked out his last shuddering, bubbling breath, blood running from his mouth, the wounds in his chest making wet sucking sounds as his body struggled to find any way of getting oxygen, Sam stopped. He stood, his legs trembling, and looked down at the body in the pool of blood. He stepped forward and cut through the bonds, removing them, then moved away before the pool of blood reached his shoes.
He checked his clothes for blood. There was some, but not enough to be noticeable straight away. He left the scene, disposing of the weapon on his way home, and the ropes in a dustbin. He changed his clothes before heading back to the station.
Gene was there, along with most of the rest of the team.
“Where’s Carling?” he barked at Sam.
Sam shrugged. “He went out to meet Mick the Lip - about an hour ago, maybe longer.”
Gene grunted and nodded. Sam smiled.
The body on the slab had been cleaned up. The wounds now mainly hidden by the sheet. Oswald was silent, knowing that there was nothing he could say that Gene would want to hear. When he left the room Gene allowed himself to give in. He sobbed, he shouted, he kicked out at anything and everything. He clutched onto Ray’s cold body as if he could somehow shake the life back into him.
And Sam was there for him, holding him, letting Gene’s tears soak into his clean shirt.
“It’s okay, Gene, it’s okay,” he whispered. “I’ve got you, I’ve got you now.”
~Fin