Fic--Interludes and Examinations
Title: Interludes and Examinations
Fandom: LoM, A2A
Characters/Pairings: Sam, Gene / none unless you squint
Warnings: SPOILERS SPOILERS SPOILERS for the ends of LoM AND A2A.
Rating: G/White Cortina
Word count: 2695
Summary: Sam is acting odder than usual, and it takes Gene a while to realize why.
Notes: Thanks to bakaknight for helping me sort out my own reactions to the A2A ending, and to thirdbird for pointing out some clarity issues with the story itself. Anything which is still unclear is strictly my own fault. *g*
Halfway to the Railway Arms, Gene realizes that he's left his hip flask in his filing cabinet, so he doubles back to retrieve it. Walking back into the office, he's surprised to see Sam--not at his own desk, but at Gene's. Files are scattered across the desk, and a battered tin box sits open on it. Sam is holding an old photograph and looking at Gene with an expression of complete bewilderment.
"What the hell are you doing, Tyler? Thought you were meeting us at the pub." The box looks familiar, but only vaguely. He wonders where Sam dug it up. He steps closer, intending to take a good look at the photograph, but Sam shoves it, along with the box, into his pocket and grabs hastily at the files.
"Sorry, Guv. I was looking for the Davies murder case. I didn't mean to make such a mess."
Gene rolls his eyes. "The Davies case is on your desk, you idiot. I seem to remember that we had a slight difference of opinion over the brother-in-law, and I told you that you'd be handling that interview."
"Right. Sorry." Sam has an armload of files and is heading out the door. "I'll just get these organized. Be at the pub in a few."
Gene sighs, retrieving his flask from the filing cabinet. He knows how this goes; if he doesn't drag Sam out, he'll be there half the night. "Just leave 'em, Sam," he calls through the door. "You can sort it out later."
Sam drops the files on his own desk and turns to face him, smiling. "Yeah. There's always later, right?"
********************
"Your DI before I came. Who was he? Where did he go?" Sam isn't looking at him, is fiddling with the pencils on his desk.
Gene frowns, wondering where this is going. "Matthews?" He hasn't thought about Matthews in years. "Transferred out."
"Where to? Do you ever hear from him?"
"Somewhere down south, I dunno. No, he doesn't send postcards. Why? You gonna look him up, compare notes?"
Sam shakes his head. "No. Just--I'm curious, that's all. What about before him?"
"Phillips."
Sam looks up then, his attention caught by something in Gene's voice. "What happened to him?"
"Shot in a bank robbery." Gene doesn't like thinking about Phillips; if it were anyone other than Sam asking, he'd tell them to piss off. "I told him to stay under cover. He didn't listen. He never listened."
"I'm sorry, Gene." Sam's eyes are sympathetic, and Gene looks away. "I know it's hard to lose someone."
"What's this about, Sam? Why the sudden interest in your predecessors?"
Sam shrugs. "I just wanted to know what you remembered."
And that seems to be it, even though it makes no sense whatsoever. Gene chalks it up to Sam being Sam, and decides not to worry about it.
**************
They're walking along the canal--Gene closest to the edge, because Sam is a lightweight and is stumbling unsteadily along, and Gene really doesn't want to have to fish him out if he tumbles over the rail--when suddenly Sam stops, staring up at the sky.
Gene looks up as well. There are too many lights nearby to see anything, even if it weren't overcast. "What?"
"It's beautiful," Sam says in awe. He blinks at Gene. "Don't you see them?"
Gene looks up again. "What, pink elephants? Dancing geraniums? I don't see anything."
Sam turns in place, gazing upwards. "Systems failure," he murmurs. "Out of memory. Reboot."
He's starting to sound the way he did in the beginning, making no sense at all. It worries Gene, although he'd never say so. Sam had nearly managed to get himself committed in those early days, after all. He'd thought Sam had got over all that.
Gene reaches out and grabs Sam's shoulder. "Let's get you home."
"I am home," Sam says. He's still staring at the sky. "Abort, retry, ignore. Ignore. Ignore!" He's yelling now, standing by the canal and screaming into the empty sky, and Gene pulls him away, genuinely frightened but doing his best to hide it.
"Come on, Sam. You're a nuisance and a disturbance to the peace all on your own, you are."
*************
"I'll be there later," Sam says obstinately. "I've got to finish up in the archives."
Gene crosses his arms. "Are you still filing in there? That's what we have plonks for, Tyler."
Sam gives him the patented Tyler eyeroll, but fortunately skips the standard lecture about the proper treatment of women, which is fine because Gene could quote it along with him by now. "Some of those records have been stacked in boxes for decades now. What's the point of even having them if no one's going to organize them properly?"
"Fine. Don't be too long. I'll save you a table." Gene tosses his cigarette to the floor, grinds it out with the toe of his loafer, and stomps out.
Later, he can't help feeling guilty about that. Even though he made sure it was out, even though the official cause of the fire is determined to be faulty wiring in one of the electrical outlets, even though no one is hurt, he still feels as if it's his fault somehow.
Maybe because the fire destroyed a good chunk of the records that Sam had been working on, and Sam seems at a loss for words when Gene finds him there, staring at the mess.
"Sorry," Gene offers. It's woefully inadequate, but it's all he has. "You put a lot of work into that."
Sam shakes his head. "It's only paper."
Gene stares at him. "Sam Tyler, not fussed about proper record-keeping? Must be the end of the world."
"Not yet, but I think it's getting close." Then Sam turns to him, seems to wake up, laughs a bit. "Sorry. Lack of sleep. The case files that were destroyed were very old. I don't think it'll be anything you'll need. Oh, and some of the personnel files."
"Personnel files?" Gene frowns. "Phyllis won't like that."
"Nothing current," Sam assures him. He casts one last look around the archive room, and turns to leave, rubbing a hand over his face tiredly. "Old stuff, from the fifties. Nothing anyone needs to know, anymore."
***************
When Sam comes to him and tells him his plan, Gene thinks it's insane. He thinks Sam's insane. He wonders how Sam will survive out there on his own, with no one to look after him, no one to haul him home after he's drunk too much, no one to knock him out of the way when he's stepped in front of a bullet again, no one to thump him upside the head when he starts talking crazy, which he's doing now with alarming frequency.
But then Sam asks Gene to trust him, and that's the end of it. Because, despite everything, Gene does trust Sam. More than anyone else he's ever known.
They plan the cover-up. Sam, his face tense and drawn, goes over the details again and again. Gene never asks if Sam will try to contact him. The way that Sam outlines the plan, the answer is obvious.
He doesn't want Sam to leave. But Sam has asked for his help, and he can't refuse.
****************
The day Sam decides to put his plan into action is a very long day. By the time Gene is able to get away from the station and the endless paperwork and Chris's quiet grief, Sam is waiting at the meeting place they agreed on earlier.
"Didn't know if you'd still be here," Gene greets him.
Sam shoots that quick, wry grin at him. "Couldn't leave without telling you goodbye." He glances around, an uncertain look. "But I don't know how..." He trails off.
Gene knows how to say a proper good-bye. "Pub," he says confidently.
Sam stares at him. "I'm supposed to be dead," he points out. "I can hardly go showing my face in the Railway Arms."
"Not there," Gene says impatiently. "Bound to be someplace around here still open where no one knows us. Come on."
He starts walking, and Sam follows, shrugging. "It's as good as anything else, I suppose."
Eventually they stop in front of a pub. The lights are still on; Gene can make out indistinct figures moving around inside, beyond the frosted windows.
Sam stares up at it, frowning. "But that is..." He stops, looks around at the deserted streets. "Yeah," he breathes. "I think this is it." He turns to Gene. "Look--maybe you'd better not come with me. You don't want anyone to see the two of us together."
Gene simply looks back at him, and Sam's face falls. "You remember," he says quietly.
"I do now."
"I'm sorry," Sam says sincerely. "I thought I could do this without reminding you. I tried--" He breaks off, sighing. "But I didn't know where to go. How to--I needed you to bring me--"
"No, it's--" It's not all right. It's never all right. But for Sam, Sam of all people, he wants to remember. At least for this moment, he wants to know who he is, why he's here, and to know that he looked after his friend, that he brought Sam safely home. It won't last, but it's enough for now.
He changes the subject. "Why the set-up? Why'd you want everyone to think you were dead?"
"I don't know how much you'll remember. Once I'm gone, I mean." Sam looks back at the pub, looks down at the ground, looks anywhere except at Gene. "I don't want you to think I've just...left you. Transferred out, and never called, like Matthews. If you think I died in that canal, at least you won't worry about me. Closure, sort of." It's a typical Tyler plan. It makes sense, if you look at it upside down in a mirror.
"Matthews." He thinks back. "I brought him here. Phillips..." He shudders. "The other bastard got him." He stares at Sam suddenly. "You--there should have been someone after you. You get a choice, in the end. Who to trust."
Sam grins at him. "Made my choice seven years ago. I went back, Gene. I woke up in 2006, and it wasn't home anymore, and I came back here. I wanted to stay."
And Gene remembers that, too, now. Sam had chosen to return. He'd always known, deep down, that Sam was different. He just hadn't always remembered why.
"I want to stay now," Sam continues. He looks up at the sky. "I can't. I think I must have died finally, out there, in the real world. This world...it's like it's pushing me out. Falling apart around me. I keep seeing things...I don't want to go, Gene, but I have to."
He meets Gene's eyes, and his own are urgent, pleading. "I didn't want to tell you. I found out what happened to you, and I realized what you were doing here, and--you're the Sheriff, and you take care of all of us, and I know it's what you want, but...now that you remember, now that you know, you can come with me. Please. Don't you want to find out what happens next?"
He manages a small quirk of the lips. "Just like you, Tyler. Only you would decide to investigate the afterlife."
"I mean it, Gene. You've been here so long. Isn't it time for you to rest?"
He looks at the pub again. Light, and warmth, and friendship--it's all there. But he shakes his head. "You're not thinking, Sam. If I go, who'll look after the rest of them? They're all lost, they're all looking for something, and they'll find it, one way or another. That other bastard--Nicholls, Lucas, Morgan--whatever name he goes by, it's always him. I can't leave them on their own. They'll never make it."
"Someone put you here," Sam says intensely.
Gene glowers at him. "I put myself here."
Sam shakes his head, points at the pub. "Whatever that is, someone's in charge there. Even if you chose this, even if you made this world, someone let you do it. They won't leave it defenseless. Someone will take your place."
"Maybe one day," Gene concedes. "But not yet. Right now it's just me, and I'll do my job until I'm told otherwise." He nods at the pub. "You'd better go."
"I don't think they have a chucking-out time," Sam points out. He sighs. "I suppose you're right, though." He turns toward Gene, and Gene sees his eyes, wet with tears. "Gene..." He stops, tries to smile. "You're not even going to remember this, are you?"
Gene doesn't answer. There's nothing, at this moment, that he can say.
Sam steps forward, wraps both arms around him, pulls him close in a fierce hug. "Try to remember that, will you? That I--I'll miss you."
"Seven years, Tyler." But Gene holds on for just a moment longer than necessary before pushing Sam back gently. "Seven years, and you're still a nancy sissy boy."
"Yeah." Sam wipes his eyes, sniffs, turns toward the pub.
"Sam," Gene says.
Sam turns back. "Yeah?"
"Works both ways," Gene says. "I'll miss you too."
Sam smiles at him, and Gene knows he hears the words Gene doesn't say, the same way he heard the ones Sam didn't say. "Don't be too long. I'll save you a table."
Gene stands in the street for a long time after Sam walks into the pub.
*************
Much later--how much later exactly, he doesn't know, as time doesn't mean much here--he's back in the street in front of the pub again. Alone again--really alone, this time. Ray, Chris, Shaz, Alex...they've all gone. As they should have. He's had a lot of luck there. He'd made a lot of mistakes, screwed up, nearly lost them. He does think he lost Viv. He wonders who he can file a complaint with there. That isn't right. Viv was a good man, a solid Skipper. One moment of weakness shouldn't have put him on the wrong side.
Someone's in charge, Sam had said. Gene hopes he was right. "I hope you know what you're doing," he growls to the street at large. "'Cause you and me, we will have words if Viv's not waiting for me when I go in there. I'll go and get him myself if I have to."
There's no response, but he feels better for issuing the ultimatum.
He looks up at the windows of the pub one last time before turning away. "Hold on to that table, Sam. I won't be long."
He's made his choice again, as he always does, but something Alex had told him keeps coming back to him as he heads back to the station. "I saw your grave, Gene. On the television, right before--it was on the news. They found you. They know where you are, now, they'll give you a proper burial."
He'd ignored her at the time, because it was easier that way, but now he wonders. How long will it take before the body of the young copper is laid to rest? Will that be the end of his time here? What will come next? He wishes, suddenly, that Sam were there, to cock his head, grin at him, tell him to take a leap of faith.
That's useless, though. He walks through the doors of the station irritated with himself. Sam isn't there. Sam disappeared a long time ago, and all Gene can hope for is that wherever he is, he's safe.
The station is buzzing. The team all seem to be gainfully employed, so he leaves them to it, going into his office to pour a drink. Before he can sit down, however, he hears a commotion outside. Someone is yelling something about their office, and their phone.
Gene glances down at the papers on his desk, papers that inform him of his new DI's transfer in, effective immediately. That'll likely be the nutter out in the main office, then.
Looks like it's time to break in yet another new transfer, show them how things work in the Gene Genie's world. Gene opens the door and stares into the outraged face of his new DI. "A word in your shell-like, pal."
Fandom: LoM, A2A
Characters/Pairings: Sam, Gene / none unless you squint
Warnings: SPOILERS SPOILERS SPOILERS for the ends of LoM AND A2A.
Rating: G/White Cortina
Word count: 2695
Summary: Sam is acting odder than usual, and it takes Gene a while to realize why.
Notes: Thanks to bakaknight for helping me sort out my own reactions to the A2A ending, and to thirdbird for pointing out some clarity issues with the story itself. Anything which is still unclear is strictly my own fault. *g*
Halfway to the Railway Arms, Gene realizes that he's left his hip flask in his filing cabinet, so he doubles back to retrieve it. Walking back into the office, he's surprised to see Sam--not at his own desk, but at Gene's. Files are scattered across the desk, and a battered tin box sits open on it. Sam is holding an old photograph and looking at Gene with an expression of complete bewilderment.
"What the hell are you doing, Tyler? Thought you were meeting us at the pub." The box looks familiar, but only vaguely. He wonders where Sam dug it up. He steps closer, intending to take a good look at the photograph, but Sam shoves it, along with the box, into his pocket and grabs hastily at the files.
"Sorry, Guv. I was looking for the Davies murder case. I didn't mean to make such a mess."
Gene rolls his eyes. "The Davies case is on your desk, you idiot. I seem to remember that we had a slight difference of opinion over the brother-in-law, and I told you that you'd be handling that interview."
"Right. Sorry." Sam has an armload of files and is heading out the door. "I'll just get these organized. Be at the pub in a few."
Gene sighs, retrieving his flask from the filing cabinet. He knows how this goes; if he doesn't drag Sam out, he'll be there half the night. "Just leave 'em, Sam," he calls through the door. "You can sort it out later."
Sam drops the files on his own desk and turns to face him, smiling. "Yeah. There's always later, right?"
********************
"Your DI before I came. Who was he? Where did he go?" Sam isn't looking at him, is fiddling with the pencils on his desk.
Gene frowns, wondering where this is going. "Matthews?" He hasn't thought about Matthews in years. "Transferred out."
"Where to? Do you ever hear from him?"
"Somewhere down south, I dunno. No, he doesn't send postcards. Why? You gonna look him up, compare notes?"
Sam shakes his head. "No. Just--I'm curious, that's all. What about before him?"
"Phillips."
Sam looks up then, his attention caught by something in Gene's voice. "What happened to him?"
"Shot in a bank robbery." Gene doesn't like thinking about Phillips; if it were anyone other than Sam asking, he'd tell them to piss off. "I told him to stay under cover. He didn't listen. He never listened."
"I'm sorry, Gene." Sam's eyes are sympathetic, and Gene looks away. "I know it's hard to lose someone."
"What's this about, Sam? Why the sudden interest in your predecessors?"
Sam shrugs. "I just wanted to know what you remembered."
And that seems to be it, even though it makes no sense whatsoever. Gene chalks it up to Sam being Sam, and decides not to worry about it.
**************
They're walking along the canal--Gene closest to the edge, because Sam is a lightweight and is stumbling unsteadily along, and Gene really doesn't want to have to fish him out if he tumbles over the rail--when suddenly Sam stops, staring up at the sky.
Gene looks up as well. There are too many lights nearby to see anything, even if it weren't overcast. "What?"
"It's beautiful," Sam says in awe. He blinks at Gene. "Don't you see them?"
Gene looks up again. "What, pink elephants? Dancing geraniums? I don't see anything."
Sam turns in place, gazing upwards. "Systems failure," he murmurs. "Out of memory. Reboot."
He's starting to sound the way he did in the beginning, making no sense at all. It worries Gene, although he'd never say so. Sam had nearly managed to get himself committed in those early days, after all. He'd thought Sam had got over all that.
Gene reaches out and grabs Sam's shoulder. "Let's get you home."
"I am home," Sam says. He's still staring at the sky. "Abort, retry, ignore. Ignore. Ignore!" He's yelling now, standing by the canal and screaming into the empty sky, and Gene pulls him away, genuinely frightened but doing his best to hide it.
"Come on, Sam. You're a nuisance and a disturbance to the peace all on your own, you are."
*************
"I'll be there later," Sam says obstinately. "I've got to finish up in the archives."
Gene crosses his arms. "Are you still filing in there? That's what we have plonks for, Tyler."
Sam gives him the patented Tyler eyeroll, but fortunately skips the standard lecture about the proper treatment of women, which is fine because Gene could quote it along with him by now. "Some of those records have been stacked in boxes for decades now. What's the point of even having them if no one's going to organize them properly?"
"Fine. Don't be too long. I'll save you a table." Gene tosses his cigarette to the floor, grinds it out with the toe of his loafer, and stomps out.
Later, he can't help feeling guilty about that. Even though he made sure it was out, even though the official cause of the fire is determined to be faulty wiring in one of the electrical outlets, even though no one is hurt, he still feels as if it's his fault somehow.
Maybe because the fire destroyed a good chunk of the records that Sam had been working on, and Sam seems at a loss for words when Gene finds him there, staring at the mess.
"Sorry," Gene offers. It's woefully inadequate, but it's all he has. "You put a lot of work into that."
Sam shakes his head. "It's only paper."
Gene stares at him. "Sam Tyler, not fussed about proper record-keeping? Must be the end of the world."
"Not yet, but I think it's getting close." Then Sam turns to him, seems to wake up, laughs a bit. "Sorry. Lack of sleep. The case files that were destroyed were very old. I don't think it'll be anything you'll need. Oh, and some of the personnel files."
"Personnel files?" Gene frowns. "Phyllis won't like that."
"Nothing current," Sam assures him. He casts one last look around the archive room, and turns to leave, rubbing a hand over his face tiredly. "Old stuff, from the fifties. Nothing anyone needs to know, anymore."
***************
When Sam comes to him and tells him his plan, Gene thinks it's insane. He thinks Sam's insane. He wonders how Sam will survive out there on his own, with no one to look after him, no one to haul him home after he's drunk too much, no one to knock him out of the way when he's stepped in front of a bullet again, no one to thump him upside the head when he starts talking crazy, which he's doing now with alarming frequency.
But then Sam asks Gene to trust him, and that's the end of it. Because, despite everything, Gene does trust Sam. More than anyone else he's ever known.
They plan the cover-up. Sam, his face tense and drawn, goes over the details again and again. Gene never asks if Sam will try to contact him. The way that Sam outlines the plan, the answer is obvious.
He doesn't want Sam to leave. But Sam has asked for his help, and he can't refuse.
****************
The day Sam decides to put his plan into action is a very long day. By the time Gene is able to get away from the station and the endless paperwork and Chris's quiet grief, Sam is waiting at the meeting place they agreed on earlier.
"Didn't know if you'd still be here," Gene greets him.
Sam shoots that quick, wry grin at him. "Couldn't leave without telling you goodbye." He glances around, an uncertain look. "But I don't know how..." He trails off.
Gene knows how to say a proper good-bye. "Pub," he says confidently.
Sam stares at him. "I'm supposed to be dead," he points out. "I can hardly go showing my face in the Railway Arms."
"Not there," Gene says impatiently. "Bound to be someplace around here still open where no one knows us. Come on."
He starts walking, and Sam follows, shrugging. "It's as good as anything else, I suppose."
Eventually they stop in front of a pub. The lights are still on; Gene can make out indistinct figures moving around inside, beyond the frosted windows.
Sam stares up at it, frowning. "But that is..." He stops, looks around at the deserted streets. "Yeah," he breathes. "I think this is it." He turns to Gene. "Look--maybe you'd better not come with me. You don't want anyone to see the two of us together."
Gene simply looks back at him, and Sam's face falls. "You remember," he says quietly.
"I do now."
"I'm sorry," Sam says sincerely. "I thought I could do this without reminding you. I tried--" He breaks off, sighing. "But I didn't know where to go. How to--I needed you to bring me--"
"No, it's--" It's not all right. It's never all right. But for Sam, Sam of all people, he wants to remember. At least for this moment, he wants to know who he is, why he's here, and to know that he looked after his friend, that he brought Sam safely home. It won't last, but it's enough for now.
He changes the subject. "Why the set-up? Why'd you want everyone to think you were dead?"
"I don't know how much you'll remember. Once I'm gone, I mean." Sam looks back at the pub, looks down at the ground, looks anywhere except at Gene. "I don't want you to think I've just...left you. Transferred out, and never called, like Matthews. If you think I died in that canal, at least you won't worry about me. Closure, sort of." It's a typical Tyler plan. It makes sense, if you look at it upside down in a mirror.
"Matthews." He thinks back. "I brought him here. Phillips..." He shudders. "The other bastard got him." He stares at Sam suddenly. "You--there should have been someone after you. You get a choice, in the end. Who to trust."
Sam grins at him. "Made my choice seven years ago. I went back, Gene. I woke up in 2006, and it wasn't home anymore, and I came back here. I wanted to stay."
And Gene remembers that, too, now. Sam had chosen to return. He'd always known, deep down, that Sam was different. He just hadn't always remembered why.
"I want to stay now," Sam continues. He looks up at the sky. "I can't. I think I must have died finally, out there, in the real world. This world...it's like it's pushing me out. Falling apart around me. I keep seeing things...I don't want to go, Gene, but I have to."
He meets Gene's eyes, and his own are urgent, pleading. "I didn't want to tell you. I found out what happened to you, and I realized what you were doing here, and--you're the Sheriff, and you take care of all of us, and I know it's what you want, but...now that you remember, now that you know, you can come with me. Please. Don't you want to find out what happens next?"
He manages a small quirk of the lips. "Just like you, Tyler. Only you would decide to investigate the afterlife."
"I mean it, Gene. You've been here so long. Isn't it time for you to rest?"
He looks at the pub again. Light, and warmth, and friendship--it's all there. But he shakes his head. "You're not thinking, Sam. If I go, who'll look after the rest of them? They're all lost, they're all looking for something, and they'll find it, one way or another. That other bastard--Nicholls, Lucas, Morgan--whatever name he goes by, it's always him. I can't leave them on their own. They'll never make it."
"Someone put you here," Sam says intensely.
Gene glowers at him. "I put myself here."
Sam shakes his head, points at the pub. "Whatever that is, someone's in charge there. Even if you chose this, even if you made this world, someone let you do it. They won't leave it defenseless. Someone will take your place."
"Maybe one day," Gene concedes. "But not yet. Right now it's just me, and I'll do my job until I'm told otherwise." He nods at the pub. "You'd better go."
"I don't think they have a chucking-out time," Sam points out. He sighs. "I suppose you're right, though." He turns toward Gene, and Gene sees his eyes, wet with tears. "Gene..." He stops, tries to smile. "You're not even going to remember this, are you?"
Gene doesn't answer. There's nothing, at this moment, that he can say.
Sam steps forward, wraps both arms around him, pulls him close in a fierce hug. "Try to remember that, will you? That I--I'll miss you."
"Seven years, Tyler." But Gene holds on for just a moment longer than necessary before pushing Sam back gently. "Seven years, and you're still a nancy sissy boy."
"Yeah." Sam wipes his eyes, sniffs, turns toward the pub.
"Sam," Gene says.
Sam turns back. "Yeah?"
"Works both ways," Gene says. "I'll miss you too."
Sam smiles at him, and Gene knows he hears the words Gene doesn't say, the same way he heard the ones Sam didn't say. "Don't be too long. I'll save you a table."
Gene stands in the street for a long time after Sam walks into the pub.
*************
Much later--how much later exactly, he doesn't know, as time doesn't mean much here--he's back in the street in front of the pub again. Alone again--really alone, this time. Ray, Chris, Shaz, Alex...they've all gone. As they should have. He's had a lot of luck there. He'd made a lot of mistakes, screwed up, nearly lost them. He does think he lost Viv. He wonders who he can file a complaint with there. That isn't right. Viv was a good man, a solid Skipper. One moment of weakness shouldn't have put him on the wrong side.
Someone's in charge, Sam had said. Gene hopes he was right. "I hope you know what you're doing," he growls to the street at large. "'Cause you and me, we will have words if Viv's not waiting for me when I go in there. I'll go and get him myself if I have to."
There's no response, but he feels better for issuing the ultimatum.
He looks up at the windows of the pub one last time before turning away. "Hold on to that table, Sam. I won't be long."
He's made his choice again, as he always does, but something Alex had told him keeps coming back to him as he heads back to the station. "I saw your grave, Gene. On the television, right before--it was on the news. They found you. They know where you are, now, they'll give you a proper burial."
He'd ignored her at the time, because it was easier that way, but now he wonders. How long will it take before the body of the young copper is laid to rest? Will that be the end of his time here? What will come next? He wishes, suddenly, that Sam were there, to cock his head, grin at him, tell him to take a leap of faith.
That's useless, though. He walks through the doors of the station irritated with himself. Sam isn't there. Sam disappeared a long time ago, and all Gene can hope for is that wherever he is, he's safe.
The station is buzzing. The team all seem to be gainfully employed, so he leaves them to it, going into his office to pour a drink. Before he can sit down, however, he hears a commotion outside. Someone is yelling something about their office, and their phone.
Gene glances down at the papers on his desk, papers that inform him of his new DI's transfer in, effective immediately. That'll likely be the nutter out in the main office, then.
Looks like it's time to break in yet another new transfer, show them how things work in the Gene Genie's world. Gene opens the door and stares into the outraged face of his new DI. "A word in your shell-like, pal."