End of an Era
Title: End of an Era
Author: plumoneoneseven
Rating: PG.
Genre: Crossover. Tying up the last loose end.
Spoilers: HUGE spoilerish things for the end of Ashes to Ashes (S3)
Warnings: Un-beta'd. Thus is rife with probable, nay definite, comma abuse.
Disclaimer: None of these characters belong to me. No really, they don't.
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It gets so that Gene doesn't remember how long he's been here for.
Some days he feels like maybe a thousand years have passed, some days it's more like ten, but he's seen a lot of recruits come through. Some leave, some die, some transfer.
It doesn't matter. Once they're gone, they're gone for good.
Most of the time of course, he doesn't even remember that this is a Somewhere, but every so often he gets flashes of the pub and he can't always remember how many people he's taken there and how many he's lost.
It's probably easier that way. Not remembering.
He doesn't know exactly how long it is, time passes oddly here anyway, but he's getting tired down in his bones when Sam turns up.
He reminds him a bit of his Sam, and a lot of himself when his Sam was around.
They have much the same ideas, the pair of them, and for all that newSam (he calls him that in his head and hopes that it never passes his lips) doesn't drink anymore and dislikes guns intensely, he still smokes cigars at a rate of knots, writes in the slow Copper's scrawl that's so bloody difficult to decipher and scowls darkly at people in exactly the intimidating way that Gene likes to.
NewSam hasn't been around long, they've worked a few cases, earnt some mutual respect, and are working on putting together a new office pub darts team.
It comes as a shock then, when Sam leads him to the pub.
Gene takes a long look at him, at the cigar hanging from his lips, his scowl in place and glares back, before he nods, just once, and shakes Sam by the hand.
"Look after the place for me." It sounds like a question, but it really isn't.
Sam nods. "I fully expect you back here again to kick twelve kinds of shit out of me if I don't."
Gene gives a small snuff that passes for laughter and looks up at the pub, where the window lights are flickering. He hears a burst of music and laughing (crackly, as if coming through layers of static) which fades away as quickly as it had come.
He takes a step towards it, unable to stop himself, before he turns back to face Sam. "I mean it. You look after this place. Make sure that bastard- Morgan, Keats, whatever he's calling himself these days -doesn't get too many of them. Make sure he doesn't win."
Sam nods again and smiles. "I promise Gene. I'll look after it. You've been here a long time. It's my turn to take care of things now."
"Yeah." Gene shifts awkwardly for a moment, then takes a breath, squares his shoulders and hardens his expression.
"Don't make it too long before you follow me, yeah?"
Sam smiles again, and sucks on his cigar.
"Be seein' you."
Gene doesn't reply. He has his hand on the door handle.
He opens the door wide, and for a brief moment, Sam can hear a rousing cry of 'Gene!', the clinking of glasses and a crash of music, before Gene crosses the threshold and the door swings back after him, slicing through the noise with the finality of a guillotine.
Sam sighs and knows he has a long way to go before it's time for him to retire.
He proceeds off down the street, whistling to himself.
He's got paperwork to see to in the morning, but right now all that matters is the city.
Note: Didn't want to put this outside the cut, but if you hadn't already clocked it, 'newSam' is Sam Vimes. Hence crossover. However, if you haven't read the Discworld books (And why not?) he can be any Sam, and it doesn't matter too much.
Author: plumoneoneseven
Rating: PG.
Genre: Crossover. Tying up the last loose end.
Spoilers: HUGE spoilerish things for the end of Ashes to Ashes (S3)
Warnings: Un-beta'd. Thus is rife with probable, nay definite, comma abuse.
Disclaimer: None of these characters belong to me. No really, they don't.
-----------
It gets so that Gene doesn't remember how long he's been here for.
Some days he feels like maybe a thousand years have passed, some days it's more like ten, but he's seen a lot of recruits come through. Some leave, some die, some transfer.
It doesn't matter. Once they're gone, they're gone for good.
Most of the time of course, he doesn't even remember that this is a Somewhere, but every so often he gets flashes of the pub and he can't always remember how many people he's taken there and how many he's lost.
It's probably easier that way. Not remembering.
He doesn't know exactly how long it is, time passes oddly here anyway, but he's getting tired down in his bones when Sam turns up.
He reminds him a bit of his Sam, and a lot of himself when his Sam was around.
They have much the same ideas, the pair of them, and for all that newSam (he calls him that in his head and hopes that it never passes his lips) doesn't drink anymore and dislikes guns intensely, he still smokes cigars at a rate of knots, writes in the slow Copper's scrawl that's so bloody difficult to decipher and scowls darkly at people in exactly the intimidating way that Gene likes to.
NewSam hasn't been around long, they've worked a few cases, earnt some mutual respect, and are working on putting together a new office pub darts team.
It comes as a shock then, when Sam leads him to the pub.
Gene takes a long look at him, at the cigar hanging from his lips, his scowl in place and glares back, before he nods, just once, and shakes Sam by the hand.
"Look after the place for me." It sounds like a question, but it really isn't.
Sam nods. "I fully expect you back here again to kick twelve kinds of shit out of me if I don't."
Gene gives a small snuff that passes for laughter and looks up at the pub, where the window lights are flickering. He hears a burst of music and laughing (crackly, as if coming through layers of static) which fades away as quickly as it had come.
He takes a step towards it, unable to stop himself, before he turns back to face Sam. "I mean it. You look after this place. Make sure that bastard- Morgan, Keats, whatever he's calling himself these days -doesn't get too many of them. Make sure he doesn't win."
Sam nods again and smiles. "I promise Gene. I'll look after it. You've been here a long time. It's my turn to take care of things now."
"Yeah." Gene shifts awkwardly for a moment, then takes a breath, squares his shoulders and hardens his expression.
"Don't make it too long before you follow me, yeah?"
Sam smiles again, and sucks on his cigar.
"Be seein' you."
Gene doesn't reply. He has his hand on the door handle.
He opens the door wide, and for a brief moment, Sam can hear a rousing cry of 'Gene!', the clinking of glasses and a crash of music, before Gene crosses the threshold and the door swings back after him, slicing through the noise with the finality of a guillotine.
Sam sighs and knows he has a long way to go before it's time for him to retire.
He proceeds off down the street, whistling to himself.
He's got paperwork to see to in the morning, but right now all that matters is the city.
Note: Didn't want to put this outside the cut, but if you hadn't already clocked it, 'newSam' is Sam Vimes. Hence crossover. However, if you haven't read the Discworld books (And why not?) he can be any Sam, and it doesn't matter too much.