Fic: Betwixt and Between
Title: Betwixt and Between
Rating/Pairings: PG-13, Sam/Annie, Sam/Gene
Disclaimer: Nein, it's not mine.
Spoilers: The premise of Ashes to Ashes, tiny little spoilers for the finale.
Summary: The choice is the least of Sam's problems. (That's evasive enough, isn't it, for a summary?)
A/N: Sadly LoM Portoberfest is over so this is me now getting back into pornless fic. Despite the fact it begins with het sex (it's not detailed so it doesn't count). C&C is adored. :)
If only one adjective could be chosen to describe Annie it would be ‘soft’; soft hair, soft lips, soft skin, soft smiles. But, Sam thought detachedly as he traced his mouth over her bare collarbone, appearances were deceiving. Beneath the seductive softness, which writhed underneath him, was a mind who knew how to use it.
Sam let her believe she had the control in their relationship; he did everything she asked, simply because it eased his reprehensible burden of knowing that every time he looked into Annie’s eyes he imagined they were emerald.
*
Amber liquid flowed down his throat all night. It helped to block out his shame.
Annie sat in the nearby corner, conversing with a stuporous Chris. She looked contented. Occasionally, her eyes would flit in Sam’s direction and Sam would be forced to smile back and pretend he was just as happy.
She never questioned why he no longer sat with her. Sam suspected she suffered from the proverbial ‘love is blind’ syndrome. With that thought, he signalled for another drink. Sam liked to believe the alcohol was a punishment, but in truth it was a blissful escape from his conscience.
“You’re looking more vacant than a drugged up nut in a loony bin.” The voice came from beyond the fog that clouded Sam’s mind, becoming clearer and far more resonant as it dragged Sam back to his supposed reality.
Sam’s eyes fixed themselves upon the large silhouette in front of him; its features slowly coming into sharp focus. Intent green eyes emerged from the blur and stared back. But there was nothing hidden within their depths; no twinkle, no worry, no lust-
“Oh, piss off,” Sam snapped and the dense fog of inebriation swirled in and claimed him once more.
*
Sam woke up feeling stiff and heavy. His tongue was rough, it hurt to swallow his own sticky saliva, and the bright morning light stung his dry, sleep-crusted eyes. Slowly stretching his neck upwards, despite the pulsating ache in his forehead as he did so, Sam surveyed his surroundings and was relieved to find he was in his own flat. Struggling to sit up upon his bed, a warm tingling sensation of nausea ran through his body causing an unpleasant flushing of his cheeks coupled with a tight clenching of his stomach. As his spasms of dry retching shook his chest, his vision suddenly became obscured. It took Sam a few seconds of panic to realise it was because someone was holding a glass of water before his eyes.
Sam glanced up startled, his shuddering body protesting at the movement, to find himself staring up at the softly smiling face of Annie.
“Here, Sam,” she said soothingly. “Drink up. A hangover isn’t gonna get yeh a day off work.” She smiled affectionately, her voice teasing as she wiggled the glass temptingly in front of Sam. He took it gratefully, aware of how dehydrated he felt, like all the moisture had been sucked from his pores. She watched him down the liquid greedily; cool drips of water running down his chin as he tipped the glass back.
“Steady on, sir,” she said, sitting down on the edge of Sam’s bed and resting her small, warm palm on his shoulder. “Anyone’d think you’ve never ‘ad a hangover before.”
“Don’t exactly make a habit of it,” Sam said hoarsely in between gulps, wincing as his head thumped painfully every time he swallowed. He drained the glass and dropped it beside him, letting it lie, pillowed, on his mattress. Annie sighed heavily, feigning exasperation, as she picked up the glass.
“I ain’t your housekeeper, y’know,” she said. “Now are you gonna get up or do I ‘ave to get the Guv’ round?” She asked, her voice sterner now as Sam had let his head fall back onto the bed and was snuggling down into his sheets. Annie hit him playfully on the shoulder. “Up. Now,” she ordered.
Sam groaned inwardly, his throat still felt too raw to make it an audible noise. “Yeah,” was all he managed to grunt as he used his arms to push himself up off the bed. Annie beamed and stood up, taking the glass with her as she walked to the kitchenette. Sam’s eyes followed her curiously.
“Annie?” he asked, his voice coming out as a rasp so he swallowed before attempting to call her name again. “Annie?”
“Yes, Sam?” she replied, cocking her head to the side as she turned back to him.
“Why’re you here?” Sam questioned.
She made a hushed throaty sound that was more an expelling of air than a snort. “State you were in last night I doubt you’d ‘ave been able to tell anyone your own name. In fact,” she added moving closer to him, “you were so drunk you flatteringly called me ‘Gene’ at least five times. You even called me ‘mum’ at one point. Then, you woke up in the middle of the night and told me to leave you alone and get back in the telly,” she added with a laugh, shaking her head, as she came towards him.
“I did what?” Sam asked in horror.
“Don’t worry about it, Sam.” Annie stroked his arm reassuringly. “I’ve seen enough drunken men to know what you lot are like. Been drunk enough times meself, an’ all.” She grinned slyly at him.
“I’m, erm, I’m sorry you had to stay the night,” Sam said, aware he was apologising for far more than just that. “You know, you could’ve had my bed, just shove me off it next time, and I’d’ve slept in the armchair instead, or the floor. Doubt I’d have noticed where I was sleeping so-”
“Sam, I said don’t worry,” Annie repeated firmly, placing a kiss upon the corner of his lips. “It’s what girlfriends do, in’t it? Look after their other half when he’s insensible.”
Girlfriend. A word Sam, as of yet, hadn’t begun to associate with the woman before him.
“Annie.” Closing his eyes, Sam inhaled deeply. “I’ve treated you so badly,” Sam said in quiet earnest, opening his eyes to look into hers.
“You ‘aven’t Sam, honestly,” she said smiling. Why was she always smiling? “You’ve treated me better than anyone else ‘as.”
“You don’t know that,” said Sam guiltily.
Confusion fell over her, but she regained her cool composure almost immediately. “What do you mean?” she asked lightly.
The words fell out of his mouth.
“I don’t love you, Annie.”
Had he meant that sentence to sound so very cruel?
“There’s someone else,” he elaborated. “Nothing’s happened but… I want it to. I can’t keep lying to you, pretending everything’s fine with us. Not when it isn’t… for me.” Sam looked away, revolted with himself, too ashamed to look and see the hurt he’d caused Annie.
Perhaps it wasn’t shame. Perhaps it was cowardice.
“I see.” Annie said curtly. “I’m sorry it went wrong for you, sir.”
He stood there, silently, and made no protest as she left.
*
Sam instinctively stiffened as Gene’s fist collided forcefully with his lower abdomen, momentarily winding Sam. He collapsed against Gene’s arm, the man’s fist still balled in the soft flesh of Sam’s stomach, hands clutching his sides as Gene growled into his ear. He relished the contact, but hated himself for it.
“I won’t have my team ruined, Tyler, just because you’re acting flightier than an incontinent bastard pigeon on speed. Don’t you dare mess Annie around or,” Gene growled, shoving the still gasping Sam away from him. “You’ll have me to answer to. And I’m not going to be asking many questions, got it?” Gene threatened, an expression terrifyingly similar to abhorrence upon his face.
Sam nodded to show he had received and understood, and Gene retreated. The door slammed shut so forcefully behind Gene that it reverberated on its flimsy hinges.
Out in the corridor, staring at Gene’s retreating back, Sam wished he could have the courage to call Gene back. Call Gene back and tell him it was his entire fault. That Gene had caused Sam to question absolutely everything about himself; had caused him to push Annie away; had made him feel like a confused adolescent all over again; had made him want to smash his own head against a brick wall just to stop his thoughts from playing out impossible scenarios over and over and over and over.
Those unspoken words hung there on his tongue, waiting to be articulated, waiting to be listened to, but they never made it past Sam’s lips. Sam swallowed, and walked away.
*
“You’re leaving?”
“Yes.”
Incredulous, Sam stood there opening his mouth three times before managing to ask: “Why?”
“Not that it’s your business, Esther,” Gene scowled from behind his desk. “But I need something fresh, something to kick start the ol’ juices again.”
“Remember when I first arrived here? You told me loved this city. This is your city, Guv,” argued Sam, “and you’re just gonna give it up? In all those westerns you enjoy I don’t recall the Sheriff leaving for a new town just because he gets bored.”
“Don’t you dare start any of that sentimental shit with me,” hissed Gene, leaning forwards aggressively. “I repeat, and you can record this next part on that poncey tape player you love so damn much lest you forget it, that my personal reasons for leavin’ have nothing to do with you. There’s nothing to discuss, nothing.”
“What about me?” Sam gestured to himself. “I’m not moving on, am I? I’m stuck here.” Forever, he added silently. Everything he had been prepared to admit to Gene when he’d first heard the news ran from his thoughts and hid meekly away at the back of his mind where no amount of coaxing could bring it back out again. Nothing would be gained by it except insults and revulsion.
“You get to be DCI; it’s what you’ve been hankering for,” Gene said bluntly. “And you should be bloody grateful you got it considering your background.”
“If you thought I’d be grateful then you don’t know me, Gene,” Sam told him with a humourless laugh.
Sitting back, Gene regarded Sam frostily. “Who bloody does, Tyler?”
Exiting the office, Sam cursed the names of all the deities he had ever heard of. He looked back through the glass; Gene, who was smoking sullenly, glaring at the wall as though it had somehow offended him, was sat inside as if he’d just sucked on something sour. Sam stared ahead at him, and made a decision.
Turning on his heel he stalked towards Annie’s desk determinedly.
“Annie,” he began. She looked up, inquisitive brown eyes meeting his fierce ones.
“What is it?” she asked, her voice impassive as she flicked the edges of the file between her fingers idly.
“Come back to mine,” Sam said in a rush before he could think about the repercussions, before he could think about what he truly wanted, before he ran away from everything. “Afterwards. To celebrate.”
“Why, Sam?” Bemusement laced her cool voice. “I’m not sure,” she added, her gaze shifting from his face and back to the file in her hand. She picked up the pen she had previously been writing with, numerous bite marks on the end showing where Annie had nibbled it anxiously, and she began to trace the printed lines with it. It was, however, a pretence of work; Annie’s stationary eyes remained fixed to one point. Sam raised a hand tentatively to her chin, lifting her head up gently but her eyes refused to meet his again.
“Please,” he asked his voice low and beseeching.
Annie turned away but her cheek still rested in his palm. She closed her eyes, looking weary, as she sighed heavily; the puff of air she exhaled brushed against Sam’s fingers as he pushed his hand closer to her skin, wanting to indulge in the contact. Wanting to want it.
“Please,” he reiterated.
“All right,” she said heavily. “But just for dinner, Sam. Nothing else.” She smiled faintly, ducking her head down from Sam’s touch and picking up her pen.
“Nothing else,” repeated Sam in agreement, allowing himself to smile as he walked away from her desk.
*
“Should be down the pub helpin’ us to celebrate,” Gene said, leaning against Sam’s doorframe as Sam’s body blocked the entrance to his own flat. “Rather than sulking alone.”
“I am celebrating,” Sam said, making no effort to clarify what he meant, secretly wondering if it was really a celebration or just a relief to have come to a decision. “And I’m not alone.”
“No?” Gene said, lazily blowing his cigarette smoke in Sam’s direction. “That chair for your invisible friend then?” He nodded nonchalantly towards the place that Sam had set for Annie on the table.
“It’s for Annie,” said Sam testily.
Gene raised his eyebrows. “She taken you back then?”
Sam shifted uncomfortably, turning his gaze away from the intense green eyes. “No,” he reluctantly admitted. “But it’s worth a try.”
“Your infamous, beguiling charm not working on ‘er anymore then? Damn shame.” Gene said sardonically, crushing the cigarette out lightly with his foot.
My charm never worked to begin with, Sam thought regretfully, transfixed on watching Gene’s discarded, yet still smouldering, cigarette burn down to grey cinders, not with the right person, anyway.
“Always thought a smart bird like that were too good for you, Tyler,” continued Gene. “Best be off then, can’t hang around with your enthralling company all night. Raymondo’s got a couple of pints waitin’ down at the Arms with my name all over ‘em,” said Gene, as he headed towards the stairs.
Sam watched him leave; loathing the fact that Gene looked happier than Sam had ever seen him before.
*
“Where’s this come from?” Annie asked warily as she surveyed the decadent table, adorned with candles and shining cutlery. “Bit out of the blue, i’n’t it?” Nevertheless, she sat down at her set place.
“No,” Sam said as he sat opposite her.
“Oh, Sam,” she said, biting her lip. “We agreed. Nothing else remember?”
“Yeah,” he said, taking her hand in his. “But I need to tell you something. It’s important. I’ve finally decided, Annie.”
Her smooth brow furrowed. “Decided what?”
“What I want,” Sam said as if the answer had been obvious.
The pursed lips that Sam had kissed so many times before no longer seemed so soft when she spoke. “You’ve decided?”
“Yeah,” he gripped her hand tighter though it no longer felt soft to touch.
“You’ve decided what you want?” her interrogative voice was harsh.
“Yes.”
Her eyes flickered in the golden candlelight as she asked gravely: “And ‘ow long were you gonna keep me hanging for, then? Till you made your decision? What about me? Was I supposed to just wait for yeh?”
“Look, that’s not what I meant!”
“Course it’s not, Sam. You never mean to hurt people, do you?” she said wryly. “You just can’t help it.”
“I’d never hurt you purposefully,” whispered Sam.
“You’d never hurt me?” she repeated with wide eyes. “That’s just it; you did. But you’re too wrapped up inside yeh own head to see what’s goin’ on around yeh, Sam. You just don’t notice.” Annie’s hand disappeared from the table. Bewildered Sam looked around for it and saw Annie was now standing, towering over him, looking uncharacteristically formidable.
“Annie,” apologised Sam, as he stood up too, reaching out towards her. ”I didn’t mean for it to sound that way-”
“Well it did, Sam,” she sharply cut him off picking up her jacket and slinging it over her arm. “I dunno how you thought it sounded but your meaning’s clear enough.” Annie began stalking towards the door.
“No, Annie,” he pleaded. “Wait! I can change.”
Sam felt momentarily hopeful as Annie stopped, but, when she turned to confront his comment, he could see her expression was clouded with cynicism.
“I ‘ave waited, Sam. Can’t you see that?” she said, looking almost pityingly at him. “I did wait.”
“Then…why’re you going?” Sam asked, puzzled. His fingers reached out to hold her wrist put Annie, ever so firmly, pulled her hand away from his reach.
“’Cause I want stability,” she answered. “And I’ve realised, Sam, that you’re the most unstable man I know.”
*
Are you lonely, Sam?
DCI Sam Tyler sat alone in the otherwise empty office, fingers interlaced as he watched the ticking of the clock. The dust formed outlines across the desk and walls where Gene’s belongings had once been. Sam had yet to clean it.
Adults never believe children, do they? I told you I was your only friend.
He closed his eyes but the childlike voice seemed to echo from within his head. There was no escaping it now, she never appeared to him any more - perhaps he wasn’t worth that - she just resided in his thoughts.
But now you have no one. Not even me.