Fic: End of the Road (2/2), green cortina, dakfinv
Title: End of the Road (2/2)
Author: dak
Word Count: 1400
Rating: green cortina
Warnings: character death, mild swearing, mild angst
Summary: Gene Hunt never goes off duty.
A/N: Another Steady As She Goes AU, Gene piece. Follows All the Lost Souls, Auld Lang Syne, Not Since, and obviously End of the Road: Part 1. And now I'm putting this universe back to bed for a little. Please enjoy!
To tell the truth, Maya wasn’t really sure who he was. She knew he used to be a police officer, after doing a little investigation at the station. He actually used to be DCI of CID here in Manchester, just like Sam, but how this man exactly knew Sam or how Sam knew him, she had no idea.
Sam had never mentioned anyone by the name of Gene Hunt, not that she could remember, but every Tuesday without fail, this strange, old man would sit at Sam’s beside for the whole of visiting hours, not moving until an orderly was forced to chuck him out. Maya had been eating many of her lunches at the hospital, especially in the beginning, and if she happened to go on a Tuesday, he was certain to be there. She always felt awkward visiting Sam if the elderly gentleman was present. It wasn’t that he made her feel uncomfortable, she simply received the impression she was intruding upon something very private.
One day he caught her pacing outside the door while she’d been deciding whether or not to enter. He told, or maybe he had ordered, her to get in and sit her lovely bumps down. She was momentarily offended but didn’t want to cause a scene. As she did settle herself on the other side of Sam’s bed, Mr. Hunt asked who she was. She hesitated then merely stated she was DCI Tyler’s DI. He offered her a drink from a hidden hip flask and never called her lovely bumps again.
Since that meeting, Maya tried to make a point of making it to the hospital on Tuesdays, even if she’d been too busy to get there during the rest of the week. She occasionally brought him a greasy lunch from McDonald’s, one of the things he considered good about this “modern” civilization he often told her, and eventually Maya, too, allowed herself to indulge in a good, fried fish filet on those Tuesday lunches.
They didn’t talk much. He didn’t seem that interested in talking and she didn’t know him well enough to ask him any questions. She was too afraid to ask the questions that she wanted to. What she did know convinced her the man was probably barking mad.
She knew he started every visit with, “What’re we doin’ back then today, Sammy-boy?” When they had switched Sam to pentobarbitol which caused an increase in his brain functions and heart rate, and a temporary low-grade fever, Mr. Hunt just sighed and said, “Joni.”
When Mrs. Tyler had been reluctantly convinced to switch off Sam’s life support, Mr. Hunt had shouted and argued with the doctors, delaying them long enough for Ruth to see Sam smile and change her mind.
There was a time soon after that when they were convinced Sam was close to waking up but then, just didn’t. The next day she overhead Mr. Hunt whispering, “Wouldn’t want a scumbag father like that hangin’ round anyhow, Sam.”
Mr. Hunt had been in London for a friend’s retirement party when that Tony Crane escaped and played havoc with Sam’s life support. When he learned what had happened he was furious with himself, yelling something about “knowing it was going to be soon.” When Deputy Chief Constable Fletcher died, Mr. Hunt was by Sam’s side and Maya swore she heard the word “appraisals.”
It was soon after DCC Fletcher’s death that Sam suffered a spontaneous pneumothorax. As the doctors rushed him into theatre in order to correct the problem, Mr. Hunt shook his head, sighed, “It’s starting,” and went outside and smoked a whole pack of cigarettes. Sam’s health was up and down after that. One day it seemed he’d be alright while the next, the doctors appeared to be just waiting to call time of death. No one knew what to do with him. Mr. Hunt visited more often during that time and on many of those occasions, Maya heard him whispering, “I’m sorry.”
She wondered if she should get help for him. The man clearly wasn’t all there, he couldn’t be, but he knew things about Sam - little quirks, weird habits, even tiny aspects of his policing techniques. It wasn’t much but when mixed with her gut instinct, it was enough to keep her from calling social services.
It was a Wednesday, the last time Mr. Hunt visited Sam. She’d been given the rare day off, a break she didn’t want to admit she needed, and decided to spend at least part of it with Sam. She immediately stopped outside the door when she recognized Mr. Hunt’s distinct rasp of a voice.
“...a waste. Look at yeh. Lyin’ ‘ere with all these damn tubes. Christ, you din’t look this bad in your last coma...you’re gettin’ worse there an’ you’re gettin’ worse ‘ere an’ you’re not gettin’ better anywhere, are yeh? Your poor mum, d’you know how much grief you’re givin’ her an’ for what? So you can play wild west back there with us? You did some good then, Tyler. I’m too damn old now to bother lyin’ about that, but if there’s one bloody thing I’ve been able to learn Sam...livin’ in the past screws yeh up.
“Just ask my missus. Goes so far sometimes, can’t even recognize our own daughter. Why Gladys hardly visits from London. Can’t blame ‘er though. I know what it’s like to have people yeh...you know...not know who the bloody ‘ell you are. Point I’m tryin’ to make here, Tyler, an’ you never listen to me but at least make an effort this time, okay?
“Point is...there’re probably more people who need yeh here than need you there. I mean I’m still ‘ere, aren’t I? I got through it, Ray did, Chris did, even Cartwright. We all turned out okay. We don’t need you hangin’ ‘round there keepin’ an eye on us. There’s plenty more yeh could be doin’ here.
“You’re s’posed to be DCI of my department, in my city. How can you be a good Guv, lyin’ in bed day after day...So I’m telling you Tyler, I’m telling you...right now. Get your arse out of there...Leave us...we’ll make do...We...We did make do...So, wake...wake up, Sammy.”
Maya hadn’t realized she’d been holding her breath until the sound of something, of someone, falling to the floor, woke her from her reverie. She looked inside the room to see Mr. Hunt unconscious on the floor next to Sam’s bed.
“Sir!” She ran to his side. “Mr. Hunt? Gene? I need a doctor here!”
While they stabilized him, the staff asked Maya who he was. She told them the only thing she knew for certain. “He’s a friend of Sam Tyler’s.”
Two hours later, Sam opened his eyes for the first time in five months. He slipped away again but his doctors said that was typical with long term coma patients. Over the week, his condition steadily improved. He had more and more semi-conscious moments. It was only a matter of time, they said, before he finally came out of it fully.
In the meantime, Maya kept herself updated on Mr. Hunt’s condition. It was amazing what a badge and a bit of force could do, even in 2006. Mr. Hunt, they told her, had suffered a massive heart attack and was likely not going to recover.
The day they removed Sam’s trach tube was the day Sam truly woke up. He was weak and tired and confused but he was still aware and he was still Sam. Maya paid Mr. Hunt a visit as soon as she heard the news. She walked quietly into the room and pulled the chair close to his bedside.
“I...I don’t know who you are or who you think Sam is, but, well, I thought you should know, I think you deserve to know, he woke up today and, this sounds ridiculous, I know, but I think it’s because of you. And, I just, I want you to know that Sam’s safe now. He’s with people who care about him and...and,” she took the strange, old man’s hand. “You don’t need to worry about him anymore, Gene.” Maya smiled sadly, leaned over, and kissed him on the forehead.
The hospital rang to inform her that Gene Hunt passed away peacefully in his sleep later that evening. Maya spent the night crying, though she couldn’t figure out why.
_________
Followed by: Bygones
Author: dak
Word Count: 1400
Rating: green cortina
Warnings: character death, mild swearing, mild angst
Summary: Gene Hunt never goes off duty.
A/N: Another Steady As She Goes AU, Gene piece. Follows All the Lost Souls, Auld Lang Syne, Not Since, and obviously End of the Road: Part 1. And now I'm putting this universe back to bed for a little. Please enjoy!
To tell the truth, Maya wasn’t really sure who he was. She knew he used to be a police officer, after doing a little investigation at the station. He actually used to be DCI of CID here in Manchester, just like Sam, but how this man exactly knew Sam or how Sam knew him, she had no idea.
Sam had never mentioned anyone by the name of Gene Hunt, not that she could remember, but every Tuesday without fail, this strange, old man would sit at Sam’s beside for the whole of visiting hours, not moving until an orderly was forced to chuck him out. Maya had been eating many of her lunches at the hospital, especially in the beginning, and if she happened to go on a Tuesday, he was certain to be there. She always felt awkward visiting Sam if the elderly gentleman was present. It wasn’t that he made her feel uncomfortable, she simply received the impression she was intruding upon something very private.
One day he caught her pacing outside the door while she’d been deciding whether or not to enter. He told, or maybe he had ordered, her to get in and sit her lovely bumps down. She was momentarily offended but didn’t want to cause a scene. As she did settle herself on the other side of Sam’s bed, Mr. Hunt asked who she was. She hesitated then merely stated she was DCI Tyler’s DI. He offered her a drink from a hidden hip flask and never called her lovely bumps again.
Since that meeting, Maya tried to make a point of making it to the hospital on Tuesdays, even if she’d been too busy to get there during the rest of the week. She occasionally brought him a greasy lunch from McDonald’s, one of the things he considered good about this “modern” civilization he often told her, and eventually Maya, too, allowed herself to indulge in a good, fried fish filet on those Tuesday lunches.
They didn’t talk much. He didn’t seem that interested in talking and she didn’t know him well enough to ask him any questions. She was too afraid to ask the questions that she wanted to. What she did know convinced her the man was probably barking mad.
She knew he started every visit with, “What’re we doin’ back then today, Sammy-boy?” When they had switched Sam to pentobarbitol which caused an increase in his brain functions and heart rate, and a temporary low-grade fever, Mr. Hunt just sighed and said, “Joni.”
When Mrs. Tyler had been reluctantly convinced to switch off Sam’s life support, Mr. Hunt had shouted and argued with the doctors, delaying them long enough for Ruth to see Sam smile and change her mind.
There was a time soon after that when they were convinced Sam was close to waking up but then, just didn’t. The next day she overhead Mr. Hunt whispering, “Wouldn’t want a scumbag father like that hangin’ round anyhow, Sam.”
Mr. Hunt had been in London for a friend’s retirement party when that Tony Crane escaped and played havoc with Sam’s life support. When he learned what had happened he was furious with himself, yelling something about “knowing it was going to be soon.” When Deputy Chief Constable Fletcher died, Mr. Hunt was by Sam’s side and Maya swore she heard the word “appraisals.”
It was soon after DCC Fletcher’s death that Sam suffered a spontaneous pneumothorax. As the doctors rushed him into theatre in order to correct the problem, Mr. Hunt shook his head, sighed, “It’s starting,” and went outside and smoked a whole pack of cigarettes. Sam’s health was up and down after that. One day it seemed he’d be alright while the next, the doctors appeared to be just waiting to call time of death. No one knew what to do with him. Mr. Hunt visited more often during that time and on many of those occasions, Maya heard him whispering, “I’m sorry.”
She wondered if she should get help for him. The man clearly wasn’t all there, he couldn’t be, but he knew things about Sam - little quirks, weird habits, even tiny aspects of his policing techniques. It wasn’t much but when mixed with her gut instinct, it was enough to keep her from calling social services.
It was a Wednesday, the last time Mr. Hunt visited Sam. She’d been given the rare day off, a break she didn’t want to admit she needed, and decided to spend at least part of it with Sam. She immediately stopped outside the door when she recognized Mr. Hunt’s distinct rasp of a voice.
“...a waste. Look at yeh. Lyin’ ‘ere with all these damn tubes. Christ, you din’t look this bad in your last coma...you’re gettin’ worse there an’ you’re gettin’ worse ‘ere an’ you’re not gettin’ better anywhere, are yeh? Your poor mum, d’you know how much grief you’re givin’ her an’ for what? So you can play wild west back there with us? You did some good then, Tyler. I’m too damn old now to bother lyin’ about that, but if there’s one bloody thing I’ve been able to learn Sam...livin’ in the past screws yeh up.
“Just ask my missus. Goes so far sometimes, can’t even recognize our own daughter. Why Gladys hardly visits from London. Can’t blame ‘er though. I know what it’s like to have people yeh...you know...not know who the bloody ‘ell you are. Point I’m tryin’ to make here, Tyler, an’ you never listen to me but at least make an effort this time, okay?
“Point is...there’re probably more people who need yeh here than need you there. I mean I’m still ‘ere, aren’t I? I got through it, Ray did, Chris did, even Cartwright. We all turned out okay. We don’t need you hangin’ ‘round there keepin’ an eye on us. There’s plenty more yeh could be doin’ here.
“You’re s’posed to be DCI of my department, in my city. How can you be a good Guv, lyin’ in bed day after day...So I’m telling you Tyler, I’m telling you...right now. Get your arse out of there...Leave us...we’ll make do...We...We did make do...So, wake...wake up, Sammy.”
Maya hadn’t realized she’d been holding her breath until the sound of something, of someone, falling to the floor, woke her from her reverie. She looked inside the room to see Mr. Hunt unconscious on the floor next to Sam’s bed.
“Sir!” She ran to his side. “Mr. Hunt? Gene? I need a doctor here!”
While they stabilized him, the staff asked Maya who he was. She told them the only thing she knew for certain. “He’s a friend of Sam Tyler’s.”
Two hours later, Sam opened his eyes for the first time in five months. He slipped away again but his doctors said that was typical with long term coma patients. Over the week, his condition steadily improved. He had more and more semi-conscious moments. It was only a matter of time, they said, before he finally came out of it fully.
In the meantime, Maya kept herself updated on Mr. Hunt’s condition. It was amazing what a badge and a bit of force could do, even in 2006. Mr. Hunt, they told her, had suffered a massive heart attack and was likely not going to recover.
The day they removed Sam’s trach tube was the day Sam truly woke up. He was weak and tired and confused but he was still aware and he was still Sam. Maya paid Mr. Hunt a visit as soon as she heard the news. She walked quietly into the room and pulled the chair close to his bedside.
“I...I don’t know who you are or who you think Sam is, but, well, I thought you should know, I think you deserve to know, he woke up today and, this sounds ridiculous, I know, but I think it’s because of you. And, I just, I want you to know that Sam’s safe now. He’s with people who care about him and...and,” she took the strange, old man’s hand. “You don’t need to worry about him anymore, Gene.” Maya smiled sadly, leaned over, and kissed him on the forehead.
The hospital rang to inform her that Gene Hunt passed away peacefully in his sleep later that evening. Maya spent the night crying, though she couldn’t figure out why.
_________
Followed by: Bygones