Fic: Coffin For Sam (3/13), blue cortina, dakfinv
Title: Coffin For Sam (3/13)
Author: dak
Word Count: 1582 this part; [4707 overall]
Rating: blue cortina
Warnings: angst, just a teeny-tiny bit o' blood
Spoilers: Set after 2.01 so consider anything before that fair game
Summary: When Sam has only 36 hours to live, will Gene and the team be able to catch the perpetrator and save their DI before it's too late?
A/N: This is a response to a plot bunny posted by
ausmac. Premise and title taken from the "Starsky and Hutch" episode "Coffin For Starsky." Please enjoy!
Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13
“I think it’s stopped now,” Sam finished dabbing at his bloody nose with the hanky Gene completely assured him was at least relatively clean.
“Still look a bit peaky,” Gene remarked as he parked the Cortina outside the station.
“Still feel a bit peaky,” Sam admitted as he neatly folded the handkerchief and tucked it inside his pocket.
“Fever?”
“Probably. Low grade though. I’ll be fine.”
“For how long?”
Sam didn’t answer.
“Anything else bothering you?”
“I’m fine, Gene. Let’s not waste anymore time,” Sam wrenched open his door and swung his feet outside. Gene exited and immediately started for the steps, noticing a second later that Tyler wasn’t following. He turned back and saw Sam still sitting on the edge of the car seat, pinching the bridge of his nose. He walked back and waited.
“Sam...”
“I just need a minute,” he said softly, carefully controlling his breathing before finally rising from the car. “Right. Let’s go,” he said with a strength Gene suspected he didn’t have. They were halfway up the steps when Tyler stopped him.
“Something wrong?” He asked, the hidden concern unwillingly seeping into his voice.
“Don’t tell them. That we know it’s not a bluff.”
“You get any paler, Dorothy, it won’t be hard to figure out.”
“I don’t want them to feel pressured. They need to keep a clear head.”
“Putting a lot of faith in that team of mine, Sammy.”
“I have to believe in something,” Sam continued his trek into the station and left Gene wondering if the DI was encouraged or disappointed by that admission.
*
None. That’s how many leads CID had turned up in Gene and Sam’s absence and that’s how much patience Gene had left after finding out that specific information. As the Guv ranted and raved, declaring war on anything that moved, out of the corner of his eye he could see Tyler sitting calmly at his desk, occasionally eyeing the radio or the telephone.
He knew Sam was in more pain than he was letting on but, like the man Gene didn’t realize he could be, was holding it all in, putting on a brave face for the team. Sitting there quietly, only the shaking of his hands as he drank water incessantly revealed that he was currently ill.
After a long winded diatribe which included degrading digs, one broken chair, and several threats of particularly painful castration, Gene sent them back out. Someone would come up with something. It would happen eventually, in time. Nothing so ridiculous as an “experimental drug” would claim the life of one of his men. Of his DI.
“Think that’ll get ‘em going,” Gene announced with great certainty as he leaned back on Tyler’s desk.
“Why won’t they tell me what’s going on?” Sam whispered, staring at the phone, his voice barely audible above the shuffling papers in the background.
“Tyler?”
“What?” Sam looked up as if seeing Gene for the first time. “Sorry,” he said rubbing the back of his neck. “These lights. They’re giving me a headache.”
“Yeah. Must be the lights and not the unknown poison you’ve got swirling round in your skinny little veins.”
“Your compassion is overwhelming,” Sam slouched back in his chair, somehow looking older and younger at the same time.
“Well you wouldn’t want me to treat you any differently, would you? Actually, you’d probably enjoy a good pity party.”
“Oh yeah,” Sam agreed, albeit sarcastically. “I’m so emo.” He crossed his arms.
“What?”
A smile. “Nothing.”
“Right then, so I asked them, let me ask you. Who’d want to kill you?”
“We’ve been over this. Warren--”
“All we’ve considered are the cases you’ve had since your transfer. What makes you think it’s not someone from Hyde?”
“It’s not someone from Hyde,” Sam responded adamantly.
“Oh, so you didn’t piss off anyone in Hyde? Never stepped on any toes? Never picked a fight when you shouldn’t have?” Gene questioned him rhetorically in his own sarcastic tone which is why he was surprised by Tyler’s answer.
“No,” Sam said quietly. “I didn’t. Not as much as I should have.” He spoke slowly, seemingly just discovering this new information about himself. “Maybe if I had...” He trailed off then sat up straight, the moment of self-reflection gone. “It’s no one from Hyde. But that should only narrow down our list of suspects. Who else?” Sam picked up his pen and started tapping it against a sheet of paper as if the trusted tool would suddenly spout out a list on its own.
“Could still be Warren.”
“Could be but since we can’t follow that lead let’s assume, at the moment, that it’s someone else.” Sam had to stop his thought process as he shakily consumed another gulp of water, wincing in pain a few seconds later. He hadn’t been able to hide it that time. “Maybe it’s not about me,” he thought aloud as he set the cup down and Gene had to stop it from falling as Sam had misjudged the edge of his desk.
“You’re the one dying.” The word left a horrible taste in Gene’s mouth.
“They could be using me.”
“Why?”
“To get to you?”
“You think you’re that important to me?” Gene scoffed and had to look away.
“Never crossed my mind, Guv, but someone else might. Everyone knows how devoted you are to your team. What better way to get revenge on you then by hurting one of your own. Your DI. Your number two.”
“I’ve known Ray longer. Hell I’ve worked with Chris longer than you.”
“Chris still lives with his parents. Ray’s bringing home a girl every other night if he’s not staying at Wilma’s. Maybe I was the easiest to get to. So Guv...” That smug, shit-eating grin spread itself over Sam’s face. If the lad wasn’t already in pain, Gene would have made sure he was. “Who’d want to hurt you?”
“Pillar of society, me, Sammy-boy.”
Sam snorted.
“But there may be one or two unforgiving little scrotes out there who fail to realize the importance of my actions to this city.”
“Only one or two? And here I thought the whole of Manchester would be queuing up for a shot at you,” Sam smiled again but the expression vanished rapidly from his face as another wave of nausea began to wreak havoc on his body.
Gene was up and around the desk in a second, helping Sam stand. “Into me office. C’mon.”
Sam could only nod as he allowed his Guv to help him hobble into the more private sphere. He collapsed his gracile frame on the couch as soon as it was in reach, dipping his head between his knees, stuck in a battle he had no choice but to fight on his own. Gene didn’t know what to do other than pace, every once in awhile peaking out the blinds to see if anyone had noticed their disappearance but CID was mostly empty.
When Sam’s moment of pain still hadn’t passed after a good two minutes, Gene resigned himself to also sitting down on the couch and riding it out along with his deputy.
“Getting worse, isn’t it?”
Sam sat up a little, resting his arms on his legs, keeping himself hunched over. “ ‘S not so bad. Really.”
“Despite what you may think, you’re not very good at lying, Tyler.”
“It’s nothing I can’t handle.” Gene placed the back of his hand against Sam’s damp forehead but the offending appendage was immediately pushed away. “Stop it. You’re worse than Chris.”
“I think the fever’s worse.”
“The fever’s not bothering me.”
“Then what is?”
Sam sat all the way up, focusing his eyes on Gary Cooper. “Who’s the worst criminal you’ve put away? One I wouldn’t know of?”
“Sam...”
“What?” He leapt from the couch, nearly falling into a filing cabinet. “I’m dying and suddenly you want to chat? Who’s being ‘Dorothy’ now, Guv? You said you wouldn’t treat me any differently so don’t. Forget about me and let’s worry about the bastard that put me in this position in the first place!” The tirade winded him and Sam was forced to brace himself against the same cabinet for support. Gene wondered if it was the drug causing the mood swings or if it was simply that time of the month.
“There was this old blaggard by the name of Marty Hicks,” Gene said after some consideration. Harry an’ I tried for years to pin something on ‘im but that bloke, sharper than a diamond blade that Marty. Loathe as I am to admit it. Slipped up in ‘is old age though and got ‘im locked away on a smuggling charge ‘bout two weeks before your transfer. Got some sorta illness now, bad kidneys or summit. Been keepin’ ‘im at hospital under lock and key.”
“How much outside contact can he have?” Tyler had calmed but had also needed to start holding his nose with the already reddened hanky once more.
“More than he could in the nick.”
Sam removed the cloth and Gene could see the fresh smear of blood underneath his nose. Tyler found a clean spot on the handkerchief and carefully wiped the blood away.
“Let’s go talk to Hicks then,” he said, staring at the hanky, but was out the door before Gene could protest. While following his DI to the lift, Gene checked his watch. Twenty-five and a half hours. Still more than a day. Still not enough time.
______
Part 4
Author: dak
Word Count: 1582 this part; [4707 overall]
Rating: blue cortina
Warnings: angst, just a teeny-tiny bit o' blood
Spoilers: Set after 2.01 so consider anything before that fair game
Summary: When Sam has only 36 hours to live, will Gene and the team be able to catch the perpetrator and save their DI before it's too late?
A/N: This is a response to a plot bunny posted by
ausmac. Premise and title taken from the "Starsky and Hutch" episode "Coffin For Starsky." Please enjoy!
Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13
“I think it’s stopped now,” Sam finished dabbing at his bloody nose with the hanky Gene completely assured him was at least relatively clean.
“Still look a bit peaky,” Gene remarked as he parked the Cortina outside the station.
“Still feel a bit peaky,” Sam admitted as he neatly folded the handkerchief and tucked it inside his pocket.
“Fever?”
“Probably. Low grade though. I’ll be fine.”
“For how long?”
Sam didn’t answer.
“Anything else bothering you?”
“I’m fine, Gene. Let’s not waste anymore time,” Sam wrenched open his door and swung his feet outside. Gene exited and immediately started for the steps, noticing a second later that Tyler wasn’t following. He turned back and saw Sam still sitting on the edge of the car seat, pinching the bridge of his nose. He walked back and waited.
“Sam...”
“I just need a minute,” he said softly, carefully controlling his breathing before finally rising from the car. “Right. Let’s go,” he said with a strength Gene suspected he didn’t have. They were halfway up the steps when Tyler stopped him.
“Something wrong?” He asked, the hidden concern unwillingly seeping into his voice.
“Don’t tell them. That we know it’s not a bluff.”
“You get any paler, Dorothy, it won’t be hard to figure out.”
“I don’t want them to feel pressured. They need to keep a clear head.”
“Putting a lot of faith in that team of mine, Sammy.”
“I have to believe in something,” Sam continued his trek into the station and left Gene wondering if the DI was encouraged or disappointed by that admission.
*
None. That’s how many leads CID had turned up in Gene and Sam’s absence and that’s how much patience Gene had left after finding out that specific information. As the Guv ranted and raved, declaring war on anything that moved, out of the corner of his eye he could see Tyler sitting calmly at his desk, occasionally eyeing the radio or the telephone.
He knew Sam was in more pain than he was letting on but, like the man Gene didn’t realize he could be, was holding it all in, putting on a brave face for the team. Sitting there quietly, only the shaking of his hands as he drank water incessantly revealed that he was currently ill.
After a long winded diatribe which included degrading digs, one broken chair, and several threats of particularly painful castration, Gene sent them back out. Someone would come up with something. It would happen eventually, in time. Nothing so ridiculous as an “experimental drug” would claim the life of one of his men. Of his DI.
“Think that’ll get ‘em going,” Gene announced with great certainty as he leaned back on Tyler’s desk.
“Why won’t they tell me what’s going on?” Sam whispered, staring at the phone, his voice barely audible above the shuffling papers in the background.
“Tyler?”
“What?” Sam looked up as if seeing Gene for the first time. “Sorry,” he said rubbing the back of his neck. “These lights. They’re giving me a headache.”
“Yeah. Must be the lights and not the unknown poison you’ve got swirling round in your skinny little veins.”
“Your compassion is overwhelming,” Sam slouched back in his chair, somehow looking older and younger at the same time.
“Well you wouldn’t want me to treat you any differently, would you? Actually, you’d probably enjoy a good pity party.”
“Oh yeah,” Sam agreed, albeit sarcastically. “I’m so emo.” He crossed his arms.
“What?”
A smile. “Nothing.”
“Right then, so I asked them, let me ask you. Who’d want to kill you?”
“We’ve been over this. Warren--”
“All we’ve considered are the cases you’ve had since your transfer. What makes you think it’s not someone from Hyde?”
“It’s not someone from Hyde,” Sam responded adamantly.
“Oh, so you didn’t piss off anyone in Hyde? Never stepped on any toes? Never picked a fight when you shouldn’t have?” Gene questioned him rhetorically in his own sarcastic tone which is why he was surprised by Tyler’s answer.
“No,” Sam said quietly. “I didn’t. Not as much as I should have.” He spoke slowly, seemingly just discovering this new information about himself. “Maybe if I had...” He trailed off then sat up straight, the moment of self-reflection gone. “It’s no one from Hyde. But that should only narrow down our list of suspects. Who else?” Sam picked up his pen and started tapping it against a sheet of paper as if the trusted tool would suddenly spout out a list on its own.
“Could still be Warren.”
“Could be but since we can’t follow that lead let’s assume, at the moment, that it’s someone else.” Sam had to stop his thought process as he shakily consumed another gulp of water, wincing in pain a few seconds later. He hadn’t been able to hide it that time. “Maybe it’s not about me,” he thought aloud as he set the cup down and Gene had to stop it from falling as Sam had misjudged the edge of his desk.
“You’re the one dying.” The word left a horrible taste in Gene’s mouth.
“They could be using me.”
“Why?”
“To get to you?”
“You think you’re that important to me?” Gene scoffed and had to look away.
“Never crossed my mind, Guv, but someone else might. Everyone knows how devoted you are to your team. What better way to get revenge on you then by hurting one of your own. Your DI. Your number two.”
“I’ve known Ray longer. Hell I’ve worked with Chris longer than you.”
“Chris still lives with his parents. Ray’s bringing home a girl every other night if he’s not staying at Wilma’s. Maybe I was the easiest to get to. So Guv...” That smug, shit-eating grin spread itself over Sam’s face. If the lad wasn’t already in pain, Gene would have made sure he was. “Who’d want to hurt you?”
“Pillar of society, me, Sammy-boy.”
Sam snorted.
“But there may be one or two unforgiving little scrotes out there who fail to realize the importance of my actions to this city.”
“Only one or two? And here I thought the whole of Manchester would be queuing up for a shot at you,” Sam smiled again but the expression vanished rapidly from his face as another wave of nausea began to wreak havoc on his body.
Gene was up and around the desk in a second, helping Sam stand. “Into me office. C’mon.”
Sam could only nod as he allowed his Guv to help him hobble into the more private sphere. He collapsed his gracile frame on the couch as soon as it was in reach, dipping his head between his knees, stuck in a battle he had no choice but to fight on his own. Gene didn’t know what to do other than pace, every once in awhile peaking out the blinds to see if anyone had noticed their disappearance but CID was mostly empty.
When Sam’s moment of pain still hadn’t passed after a good two minutes, Gene resigned himself to also sitting down on the couch and riding it out along with his deputy.
“Getting worse, isn’t it?”
Sam sat up a little, resting his arms on his legs, keeping himself hunched over. “ ‘S not so bad. Really.”
“Despite what you may think, you’re not very good at lying, Tyler.”
“It’s nothing I can’t handle.” Gene placed the back of his hand against Sam’s damp forehead but the offending appendage was immediately pushed away. “Stop it. You’re worse than Chris.”
“I think the fever’s worse.”
“The fever’s not bothering me.”
“Then what is?”
Sam sat all the way up, focusing his eyes on Gary Cooper. “Who’s the worst criminal you’ve put away? One I wouldn’t know of?”
“Sam...”
“What?” He leapt from the couch, nearly falling into a filing cabinet. “I’m dying and suddenly you want to chat? Who’s being ‘Dorothy’ now, Guv? You said you wouldn’t treat me any differently so don’t. Forget about me and let’s worry about the bastard that put me in this position in the first place!” The tirade winded him and Sam was forced to brace himself against the same cabinet for support. Gene wondered if it was the drug causing the mood swings or if it was simply that time of the month.
“There was this old blaggard by the name of Marty Hicks,” Gene said after some consideration. Harry an’ I tried for years to pin something on ‘im but that bloke, sharper than a diamond blade that Marty. Loathe as I am to admit it. Slipped up in ‘is old age though and got ‘im locked away on a smuggling charge ‘bout two weeks before your transfer. Got some sorta illness now, bad kidneys or summit. Been keepin’ ‘im at hospital under lock and key.”
“How much outside contact can he have?” Tyler had calmed but had also needed to start holding his nose with the already reddened hanky once more.
“More than he could in the nick.”
Sam removed the cloth and Gene could see the fresh smear of blood underneath his nose. Tyler found a clean spot on the handkerchief and carefully wiped the blood away.
“Let’s go talk to Hicks then,” he said, staring at the hanky, but was out the door before Gene could protest. While following his DI to the lift, Gene checked his watch. Twenty-five and a half hours. Still more than a day. Still not enough time.
______
Part 4