ausmac
in
lifein1973
Fic: Return Ticket for Coventry Part 3
Title: Return Ticket for Coventry Part 3
Characters: Gene/Sam
Rating for this segment: Green Cortina at best.
Summary: When Gene sees Sam with a prostitute, odd things happen. In this part, I descend into angst. Must be the weather....
Done at work (bad Mac, slap!) so excuse any errors.
He would think of the following week as The Week From Hell.
Gene had driven him home to his flat without saying another word, ignoring all attempts at discussion, to leave him standing in the rain on the roadway as he drove off in a curtain of tossed water. Sam had walked inside slowly, head down, thinking well, Monday is something to look forward to... For all that he was a cop and faced threat every day of his working life, the notion of facing Gene and having That Conversation was daunting. Gene had never dealt well with uncomfortable personal situations, and he was already predisposed to think badly of Sam in the circumstances.
The weekend had dragged, and Sam walked into the office that Monday feeling as if he hadn't rested at all. The rest of the team had no idea anything was wrong; Annie complained she'd got none of her clothing dry and would have to spend money at a laundry, while Ray was annoyed at the races being called off. Gene turned up unusually late and went straight to his office, slamming the door in a rather final way.
Sam waited for a lull in the work, for a time when there no-one else with Gene, and finally girded his loins and knocked on the door. There was no response, but he opened it anyhow and stepped inside, closing it behind him.
Gene was behind his desk, coat off, shirtsleeves rolled up, reading files. He didn't look up. "What do you want?"
"Good morning to you, too. We need to talk."
"If it's about police business, talk. If it's about anything else, piss off."
Sam put his hands on the desk and leant forward. "We really do need to talk. This can't be left as it is. You need to listen to me."
Gene looked up finally, and the savagery in his eyes almost made Sam back away. "You seem to forget who's the boss here, Tyler. I don't need anything from you, especially you tellin' me what I need to do."
"Oh, for Godssake. If you will just listen I'll explain-"
"Explain! Explain what, DI Tyler? Explain how you were recognised in this very building by a known male prostitute? Explain how I personally saw you meet that same whore at a known homo-bloody-sexual location? Explain how I personally witnessed you hand him money and him kiss you? You must be fuckin' joking!"
He wasn't yelling, his voice was hardly above conversational tone, but it filled with more anger and disgust than Sam had ever heard before. It hurt in so many ways, there wasn't space in his mind for reason.
"So you just assume the worst of me, without ever giving me the benefit of the doubt. That's big of you."
Gene unfolded himself, pushing his fists onto the table. "I've spent years building this squad into a solid bunch of reliable coppers and I won't have a queer destroy it. I want your resignation on my desk by lunchtime."
Sam straightened, matched Gene's stare. "Not bloody likely. You want me out of here, you bring me up before a disciplinary board and have me fired. Only other way you'll get me out of here is on a slab!"
They stood staring at each other in silence as the air bristled around them, and Gene nodded, finally. "Right. Get out and go back to work."
Sam swallowed the hurt and anger and turned without another word. It took an act of utter control not to slam the door behind him.
From there, the week went down the toilet, and it didn't take long for the rest of the squad to pick up on the vibes. Only Annie had the gumption to say anything. After three days she sat in front of Sam's desk, concern making her frown.
"Boss, can I talk to you?"
"Not now, Annie, sort of busy."
"Sam."
He looked up, focusing on her worried features. "Annie, leave it alone."
"But what's happening? I've never seen the Guv like this before, he's going everyone, he even had a blue with Chris, about absolutely nothin'. And you," she said, reaching out to briefly touch his unshaved chin, "you look like death warmed up. He's had you doin' double shifts all week. What's goin' on?"
Sam picked up his fourth cup of coffee for the day and drank it, unconcerned that it was cold. "It's between him and me, Annie." He tried to smile at her worry, warmed by it. "It'll work out, one way or another. Just give it time."
It was just words, he knew that, and he thought she did, too. If anything, the situation had gotten worse, because Gene was taking it out on his people and that was the worst sign of all. For all his nature, for all that he barked at them from time to time, his people were his life and for Gene to be rounding on them showed how bad things had become.
And Sam was tired, so tired that he could barely think straight. He realised Annie had gone without even remembering her standing, a sign of just how little mental energy he had left. He'd not slept more than a handful of hours since the weekend and the stress was starting to tell. If he could just rest for a moment or two…
*jab* "Tyler!"
Sam straightened abruptly, blinked. The world formed into focus and he saw Gene standing in front of his desk. "Sorry…"
"Head over to B Division, they've gathered their case files on similar robberies in recent times. Take a look at 'em."
Sam looked down at his watch. "My shift finishes in ten minutes."
"Like I give a shit. And I want a report on my desk tomorrow morning. Oh, and another thing," Gene said, as he turned away, "fallin' asleep on your shift is dereliction of duty, goes on your card."
There was nothing he could say or do except to wonder if any words could ever bridge the seemingly uncrossable rift that had grown between them.
Characters: Gene/Sam
Rating for this segment: Green Cortina at best.
Summary: When Gene sees Sam with a prostitute, odd things happen. In this part, I descend into angst. Must be the weather....
Done at work (bad Mac, slap!) so excuse any errors.
He would think of the following week as The Week From Hell.
Gene had driven him home to his flat without saying another word, ignoring all attempts at discussion, to leave him standing in the rain on the roadway as he drove off in a curtain of tossed water. Sam had walked inside slowly, head down, thinking well, Monday is something to look forward to... For all that he was a cop and faced threat every day of his working life, the notion of facing Gene and having That Conversation was daunting. Gene had never dealt well with uncomfortable personal situations, and he was already predisposed to think badly of Sam in the circumstances.
The weekend had dragged, and Sam walked into the office that Monday feeling as if he hadn't rested at all. The rest of the team had no idea anything was wrong; Annie complained she'd got none of her clothing dry and would have to spend money at a laundry, while Ray was annoyed at the races being called off. Gene turned up unusually late and went straight to his office, slamming the door in a rather final way.
Sam waited for a lull in the work, for a time when there no-one else with Gene, and finally girded his loins and knocked on the door. There was no response, but he opened it anyhow and stepped inside, closing it behind him.
Gene was behind his desk, coat off, shirtsleeves rolled up, reading files. He didn't look up. "What do you want?"
"Good morning to you, too. We need to talk."
"If it's about police business, talk. If it's about anything else, piss off."
Sam put his hands on the desk and leant forward. "We really do need to talk. This can't be left as it is. You need to listen to me."
Gene looked up finally, and the savagery in his eyes almost made Sam back away. "You seem to forget who's the boss here, Tyler. I don't need anything from you, especially you tellin' me what I need to do."
"Oh, for Godssake. If you will just listen I'll explain-"
"Explain! Explain what, DI Tyler? Explain how you were recognised in this very building by a known male prostitute? Explain how I personally saw you meet that same whore at a known homo-bloody-sexual location? Explain how I personally witnessed you hand him money and him kiss you? You must be fuckin' joking!"
He wasn't yelling, his voice was hardly above conversational tone, but it filled with more anger and disgust than Sam had ever heard before. It hurt in so many ways, there wasn't space in his mind for reason.
"So you just assume the worst of me, without ever giving me the benefit of the doubt. That's big of you."
Gene unfolded himself, pushing his fists onto the table. "I've spent years building this squad into a solid bunch of reliable coppers and I won't have a queer destroy it. I want your resignation on my desk by lunchtime."
Sam straightened, matched Gene's stare. "Not bloody likely. You want me out of here, you bring me up before a disciplinary board and have me fired. Only other way you'll get me out of here is on a slab!"
They stood staring at each other in silence as the air bristled around them, and Gene nodded, finally. "Right. Get out and go back to work."
Sam swallowed the hurt and anger and turned without another word. It took an act of utter control not to slam the door behind him.
From there, the week went down the toilet, and it didn't take long for the rest of the squad to pick up on the vibes. Only Annie had the gumption to say anything. After three days she sat in front of Sam's desk, concern making her frown.
"Boss, can I talk to you?"
"Not now, Annie, sort of busy."
"Sam."
He looked up, focusing on her worried features. "Annie, leave it alone."
"But what's happening? I've never seen the Guv like this before, he's going everyone, he even had a blue with Chris, about absolutely nothin'. And you," she said, reaching out to briefly touch his unshaved chin, "you look like death warmed up. He's had you doin' double shifts all week. What's goin' on?"
Sam picked up his fourth cup of coffee for the day and drank it, unconcerned that it was cold. "It's between him and me, Annie." He tried to smile at her worry, warmed by it. "It'll work out, one way or another. Just give it time."
It was just words, he knew that, and he thought she did, too. If anything, the situation had gotten worse, because Gene was taking it out on his people and that was the worst sign of all. For all his nature, for all that he barked at them from time to time, his people were his life and for Gene to be rounding on them showed how bad things had become.
And Sam was tired, so tired that he could barely think straight. He realised Annie had gone without even remembering her standing, a sign of just how little mental energy he had left. He'd not slept more than a handful of hours since the weekend and the stress was starting to tell. If he could just rest for a moment or two…
*jab* "Tyler!"
Sam straightened abruptly, blinked. The world formed into focus and he saw Gene standing in front of his desk. "Sorry…"
"Head over to B Division, they've gathered their case files on similar robberies in recent times. Take a look at 'em."
Sam looked down at his watch. "My shift finishes in ten minutes."
"Like I give a shit. And I want a report on my desk tomorrow morning. Oh, and another thing," Gene said, as he turned away, "fallin' asleep on your shift is dereliction of duty, goes on your card."
There was nothing he could say or do except to wonder if any words could ever bridge the seemingly uncrossable rift that had grown between them.