Waiting
Title: Waiting
Fandom: Life on Mars
Characters/Pairings: Gene centric
Rating: Green Cortina
Word Count: 815
Summary: Set during 2.07, Gene waits in Sam's apartment for him to return while Gene is working to clear his name
Disclaimer: Life on Mars is not mine at all, I’m just playing with the world
The lock on Sam's door was soddin' dreadful. Gene barely had to put any pressure with his shoulder for it to give way and swing open. Walking in Gene shook his head.
“Thought you were supposed to be a cooper, Tyler,” he muttered to himself. “Can't even have a decent lock on your door.”
Gene thought for a moment that maybe the lock was bad because of the number of times he'd broken it open. However, if Sam would just get up on time or open the door when he knocked then Gene wouldn't have to break it open. So, really it was all Sam's fault.
The rest of it wasn't Sam's fault, however. Gene just didn't know yet who's fault it was. It wasn't his. He did not murder Terry Haslum. Gene was more sure of that than he was of Sam being a tight-arsed, hyper critical, detail nit picking, Nancy boy. Gene did not kill him.
Gene was also sure that Sam was the one who was going to get him out of this.
Now with his bloody div detectives supposedly keeping an eye on him at his house Gene needed Sam. He couldn't go to the station with that damn Morgan around and he needed Sam to help him. He needed Sam's brain working in time with his. He'd talked to Pete Wilkes but it didn't help like he'd hoped. There were some pieces missing in this puzzle, something lost with his memory of that night.
Climbing out of his head Gene looked around the apartment. All the times Gene dragged Sam's sorry ass out of bed or away from his static TV Gene never really had stopped and looked around Sam's apartment. It was small and definitely on the shabby side. Walking around Gene noticed very little personal items. He saw a second pair of Sam's poncy black boots. There was food by the sink, plates, mugs, a few books on the shelf. Apart from that there really wasn't anything that was Sam's. There were no pictures, no old trophies or keep sakes from his life in Hyde. It was as if Sam only existed as himself, no history or world around him.
“Too busy living in your head?” Gene muttered looking at the nondescript, boring law books on Sam's shelves.
Gene sat down heavily on Sam's bed then had to re-balance himself after the bed shook. He looked down at the bed and scowled.
“Can't even get a real bed, Tyler?” Gene grumbled. “Trying to kill me...”
Gene rolled his eyes at himself for saying it but for some reason he felt justified in it regardless. After all a man should have a real bed and not one that can fold up into the damn wall. A bed should have box springs and a mattress not a weak metal frame. For some reason thinking about Sam's mattress instead of his current situation was making Gene feel a little better.
He didn't want to admit that he felt a tad hopeless about the situation but there was no way in hell he was going to jail. Gene was not a common criminal, not a god damn fucking murder. He put people in jail, didn't go there himself. After all he'd done, all the good he'd bloody done for the city there was no way he was going down like this. He knew he wasn't a perfect straight laced cop like Sam wanted them all to be. He did things in a rough way but it worked. Gene used his fists and his gun but he also used his brain. He had morals no matter what Sam or some others might think. He wasn't someone that murdered in cold blood and should go to jail.
If by some insane twist of the world he was going to go to jail, which he never would twists or murder charges be damned, it would bloody well be for something he actually did. This murder, he knew, was certain, definitely knew, he did not do. He just had to prove it.
Just then Gene heard foot steps out in the hall. He knew without a doubt it was Sam. Jumping up Gene opened the door to see Sam standing there key held up to put in the lock. Though he would never admit it to anyone Gene had never been happier to see another human being.
“You took your time,” he said, attitude and bravado intact.
It would be all right now that Sam was here. It had to be.
Fandom: Life on Mars
Characters/Pairings: Gene centric
Rating: Green Cortina
Word Count: 815
Summary: Set during 2.07, Gene waits in Sam's apartment for him to return while Gene is working to clear his name
Disclaimer: Life on Mars is not mine at all, I’m just playing with the world
The lock on Sam's door was soddin' dreadful. Gene barely had to put any pressure with his shoulder for it to give way and swing open. Walking in Gene shook his head.
“Thought you were supposed to be a cooper, Tyler,” he muttered to himself. “Can't even have a decent lock on your door.”
Gene thought for a moment that maybe the lock was bad because of the number of times he'd broken it open. However, if Sam would just get up on time or open the door when he knocked then Gene wouldn't have to break it open. So, really it was all Sam's fault.
The rest of it wasn't Sam's fault, however. Gene just didn't know yet who's fault it was. It wasn't his. He did not murder Terry Haslum. Gene was more sure of that than he was of Sam being a tight-arsed, hyper critical, detail nit picking, Nancy boy. Gene did not kill him.
Gene was also sure that Sam was the one who was going to get him out of this.
Now with his bloody div detectives supposedly keeping an eye on him at his house Gene needed Sam. He couldn't go to the station with that damn Morgan around and he needed Sam to help him. He needed Sam's brain working in time with his. He'd talked to Pete Wilkes but it didn't help like he'd hoped. There were some pieces missing in this puzzle, something lost with his memory of that night.
Climbing out of his head Gene looked around the apartment. All the times Gene dragged Sam's sorry ass out of bed or away from his static TV Gene never really had stopped and looked around Sam's apartment. It was small and definitely on the shabby side. Walking around Gene noticed very little personal items. He saw a second pair of Sam's poncy black boots. There was food by the sink, plates, mugs, a few books on the shelf. Apart from that there really wasn't anything that was Sam's. There were no pictures, no old trophies or keep sakes from his life in Hyde. It was as if Sam only existed as himself, no history or world around him.
“Too busy living in your head?” Gene muttered looking at the nondescript, boring law books on Sam's shelves.
Gene sat down heavily on Sam's bed then had to re-balance himself after the bed shook. He looked down at the bed and scowled.
“Can't even get a real bed, Tyler?” Gene grumbled. “Trying to kill me...”
Gene rolled his eyes at himself for saying it but for some reason he felt justified in it regardless. After all a man should have a real bed and not one that can fold up into the damn wall. A bed should have box springs and a mattress not a weak metal frame. For some reason thinking about Sam's mattress instead of his current situation was making Gene feel a little better.
He didn't want to admit that he felt a tad hopeless about the situation but there was no way in hell he was going to jail. Gene was not a common criminal, not a god damn fucking murder. He put people in jail, didn't go there himself. After all he'd done, all the good he'd bloody done for the city there was no way he was going down like this. He knew he wasn't a perfect straight laced cop like Sam wanted them all to be. He did things in a rough way but it worked. Gene used his fists and his gun but he also used his brain. He had morals no matter what Sam or some others might think. He wasn't someone that murdered in cold blood and should go to jail.
If by some insane twist of the world he was going to go to jail, which he never would twists or murder charges be damned, it would bloody well be for something he actually did. This murder, he knew, was certain, definitely knew, he did not do. He just had to prove it.
Just then Gene heard foot steps out in the hall. He knew without a doubt it was Sam. Jumping up Gene opened the door to see Sam standing there key held up to put in the lock. Though he would never admit it to anyone Gene had never been happier to see another human being.
“You took your time,” he said, attitude and bravado intact.
It would be all right now that Sam was here. It had to be.