Ficathon: Don't do anything by wesseling, green cortina
Title: Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do
Author: wesseling
Rating: Green Cortina
Length/Word Count: 3326
Prompt: Drug use, a car chase, Gene actually makes Sam a hat.
Notes: No pairings. Many thanks to kaligrrrl for the beta!
Disclaimer: It belongs to Kudos and the BBC. I’m just playing with the characters.
Summary: Sam is off his head - what else is new?
Wednesday morning, 9.01 AM, CID. Everything seemed normal enough. Geoff and Ray were placing bets on Saturday’s United vs. City match. Chris was still eating the bacon buttys his mum had made him for breakfast this morning, and Gene was enjoying his second cigarette of the day. The only one really working was Annie, sorting files in the collator’s den.
That there was still one person missing this morning didn’t seem to bother anyone - not after what a wanker he’d been the last few days, going on about this not being real, and that being so different where he comes from. He’d been here for nearly four months now and still didn’t fit in with the rest of them. Most wondered if he ever would.
The comfortable atmosphere was suddenly destroyed when a loud bang of the door caught everyone’s attention and said person stumbled into CID with a wide, stupid grin on his face.
“Good morning everyone!”
The greeting was loud and cheery - even Ray and Geoff looked up at him, puzzled.
“Whaz uuuup?” The man in the black leather jacket said joyously, looking around. When everyone kept staring at him, he pulled a face. “No-one’s saying anything.”
Gene took one last drag from the butt of his fag and decided to run with the routine and completely ignore the weird behaviour. “Good morning, Detective Inspector.” He said and rose from his comfortable position. “Did yeh ‘ave a good night’s sleep?”
Sam’s dopey grin grew even wider; he was obviously more than glad that his presence in the room was finally acknowledged by someone. “Gene.” He stretched out the name in a sing-songy way. “You’re such a good man, Gene. Friendly. Polite. I don’ know why I didn’ see that before.” Then he started to giggle.
Gene eyed his inspector suspiciously, then said without taking his eyes off of Sam. “Ray, sniff him.”
“Why?!” The sergeant’s eyes became wide as if he’d just been asked to kiss Tyler’s naked arse in front of the whole CID.
“Just do it!”
Reluctantly Ray went over to Sam - chuckling quietly now - leaned in closely, careful not to actually touch the swaying man and sniffed.
“Smell any booze on him?”
“No, Guv.”
“I didn’t drink.” Sam said, obviously puffed up about such an accusation. “Alcohol isn’t good for you. It makes you talk funny and your liver fail.” He started to giggle again.
“What drugs did you take this time, Tyler?” Gene asked, without too much concern.
“What makes you think that, Gene?” Sam made a clumsy step forward. “I’m just happy. This, this is how I am when I’m happy. Being happeeeeee is fun! You, you should try it. You don’ look happy, Gene, not happeeee at all.” Sam continued to stumble through the office, arms windmilling as he tried to keep his balance. Not with much success.
“Whoa, I almost tripped. Stupid chair.” He narrowed his eyes and glared at the piece of furniture for a second, then said: “I’d like some music now. Have you seen my iPod? Seen my iPod?” Everybody he pointed at shook their head. “What a pity,” he sighed dramatically.
“Ray! Take him into Lost and Found. Make sure he’s sitting down.”
“Yes, Guv. C’mon, druggie.”
“‘M not a druggie. Oi! My arm.” Sam complained loudly, when Ray began to drag him away.
“Jus’ makin’ sure you don’t trip, sir.”
“Oh. Well, that’s mighty nice of you, Ray, mighty nice.”
Soon as Ray had escorted Tyler out of CID, Gene turned his attention to the rest of his subordinates.
“Alright, who put LSD in DI Tyler’s morning tea?” Nobody answered.
“Who slipped him a Mickey? Sent him off to the fairies? C’mon lads, speak up. DI Tyler is quite amusing this way. I just wanna congratulate the person who came up with such a brilliant idea.” Everybody was looking at each other’s puzzled faces. Finally Geoff seemed to have found his voice again.
“It were none of us, Guv.”
Gene sighed. “Figured it wouldn’t be that easy.”
*
“Siddown.” Ray barked when Tyler rose from his chair.
“Don’t feel like sitting. Ooh, what’s that?” Sam’s attention was caught by something on one of the shelves. He drifted towards the shelves but didn’t get very far.
“Ouch, that hurt, Ray.”
“Keep seated, Tyler, or I’ll cuff you to the chair.” The door to Lost and Found swung open and Gene Hunt, solver of all problems, marched in.
Sam immediately started whining like a toddler who didn’t take his nap. “Gene, I’m thirsty.”
“Ray, go fetch him a glass of water.” Gene said and took the seat opposite Sam. Ray grumbled but didn’t dare to disobey the order. Soon as the door was closed again, Gene leaned forward on the table, fixing his glare on Tyler’s fidgeting body.
“So, Tyler, tell me, how did it happen this time? Pretty bird from a club follow you home? Or did you pick her up in a back alley? I’m all ears.”
Sam grew stock still, his face beginning to pale, his expression turning vacant. “The g-girl…” He stammered, and wrapped his arms around himself. “She… she came out of the telly last night.”
Gene raised an eyebrow, but before he could question Tyler further the door to Lost and Found burst open and Carling came back in - though not with a glass of water. “Guv! Blag on Fenton Road.” He said, anticipation surging in his voice.
“Deal with it, DS Carling.” Gene barked without turning around. “Take Skelton and Cartwright with you.”
“Right, Guv.” The sergeant nodded and left. Gene’s eyes were still fixed on his intoxicated inspector.
“Sam, who doped you up?”
“The girl,” Sam gulped and he began to shake slightly, his eyes filled with the need to be understood, “the girl said I couldn’t escape this world. But I want to. I want to escape.”
The door to Lost and Found burst open again, this time it was an edgy Cartwright. “Guv, a body was found down by the canal.”
“Right.” Gene took a deep breath, and then rose from the table. “Up, Tyler. For the next couple of hours I’m putting you somewhere safe.”
*
“Have you come down yet?”
What a silly question, Sam thought, as he picked himself up off the cold floor. How did he end up here anyway?
“I think so.” He said, his knees shaking a little, as he tried to stand. Gene stepped in closer, not yet offering to help him up.
“You hungry? Phyllis said you sicked up the sandwich she brought you from the canteen.”
He didn’t remember eating a sandwich in the first place, but considering that it had come from the canteen, no wonder he’d sicked it up. He rubbed his hand over the back of his neck; he felt stiff and a little cold. “What time is it now?”
“A little after beer o’clock.”
Sam immediately checked his own watch, not believing his ears. “I spent the whole day in one of the cells?!”
“Best place for you.” Gene shrugged his shoulders. “Not like you’d’ve been a big ‘elp around ‘ere today any way. We ‘ad to deal with a blag and a dead body in the canal. Since both of these cases are solved now, I thought I’d check in on the mystery of why you were a completely useless tosser today as opposed to just the tosser you usually are.” Gene cleared his throat and then shoved his hands in his pockets. “So what happened? Why were you off with the fairies today? And please don’t tell me you don’t remember.”
Sam remained silent, his gaze fixed on the floor, thinking.
“You don’t remember?”
“Gimme a minute, I just came to.” He pinched the bridge of his nose and furrowed his brow. “There are some blurry pictures in my head…Nothing clear… I went to my flat after leaving the Arms and then… No wait! I walked to the canal first. Or did I?” He scratched at his head. “I wasn’t feeling well. Needed some air. I… I met someone. I can’t make out his face. He…he gave me something…a folded up piece of paper with…OH!”
“OH, what?” Gene looked alerted.
“Nothin’.” Sam waved his hand through the air. “It’s nothin’. I bought a newspaper, I think.”
“You’re still of your head, Sam. You didn’t come to the pub yesterday after work. Said you wanted to look over some old case files.”
“Um…”
“C’mon, get your bloody brain working again!”
“I’m trying!” He said annoyed. “I just… I’m thirsty. And a bit hungry, too.”
“Alright, alright.” Gene made a gesture to follow him. “Come on, I’m treating you to some dinner somewhere. But only because the canteen’s already closed.”
“You’re too generous, Guv.”
*
Gene took him to some pub nearby where Sam, not wanting to upset his somehow sensitive stomach any further, had only ordered a bowl of soup and a cup of tea. Gene had made some off hand comment on how Sam would never lose that chicken breast of his if he kept eating like this, whereas Sam retorted if Gene didn’t know - since he was buying - that the soup was just his appetizer and he was planning on ordering lobster ‘n’ chips for main course and treacle tart with caviar topping for dessert. Gene had reached for his pint and had muttered something that sounded like cheeky bastard under his breath. Sam had ignored him.
The emptier the bowl became, the more Sam’s spirits revived. He had stopped feeling cold and his head didn’t feel like it was stuffed with cotton wool anymore. Meanwhile, Gene had downed two pints of bitter and not asked him one single question. When he was finished eating, he told Gene that he was too tired now to concentrate on anything. Gene seemed a little annoyed but nevertheless offered to drive him home.
Now he was back in his dingy flat, sitting on his cot, lost in thoughts, when she came back.
“You mustn’t lie to him, Sam. Lying is bad.”
“Not you again.” Sam sighed loudly and hid his face in his hands. After a few seconds he looked up again. Unfortunately she was still hovering next to the television. She was glaring at him accusingly. What the hell was she doing that for?
Sam stood up and took a threatening step towards her. He was fed up with her. The last six nights she’d been appearing to him almost non-stop, teasing him with her stupid eerie rhymes. She didn’t let him sleep. She didn’t let him think. She was pushing him closer and closer towards the edge of utter madness.
“Oh yeah,” he huffed, “I was gonna tell him the truth. ‘Oi! Know what Gene? I did drugs! I know your brother died because of them but hey, I didn’t care!’”
The girl was not at all impressed by his attempt to scare her off. Her stare intensified and Sam felt like he had been caught red-handed by his mum when he’d been trying to sneak a biscuit before dinner. He retreated one step and looked at his feet, feeling the need to apologise. “Besides, um”, he said feebly, “it’s not like I’m gonna do it again, since it didn’t work. I’m still stuck in this world.” He waved his hand at the shabby little room and sat back down on his cot, pouting.
“Poor Sammy,” she mocked with a devilish grin, “he’ll never find his way home. Naughty boys will be locked in their rooms forever.”
“Stop saying that!” Fear, anger and astonishment alike washed over him. He was not going to stay here forever. She couldn’t make him! She had just crawled out of some dark corner of his mind. She didn’t have the power. He had. Sam grabbed the closest thing - his pillow - and threw it at her. The girl vanished before it could hit her. Not as if it would have anyway, Sam thought sourly.
He lay down on and pulled the covers over him, not bothering to change into his pyjamas and most certainly not fetching his pillow from under the television. With the girl and her clown smiling over it, it looked too much like a mousetrap.
*
Gene eyed him expectantly.
“So after a good night’s sleep, do you remember anything now?”
Sam decided to stick to the lie. “Sorry Guv, no more than I already told you yesterday.”
“Well,” a hint of disappointment flashed over Gene’s face, “be that as it may. Maybe you weren’t drugged at all, maybe your brain just decided to go on a short trip to Spain. Now,” he bounced his fist on the desk, “now your noggin needs to work again. We’ve got a tip from one of our snouts that something big is going to happen today.”
“What exactly?” Sam gave Gene his most sceptical look.
“Don’t know yet, Samuel. We’ll see.”
“Oh, good. I’m just gonna sit at my desk and catch up on some paperwork while we’re waiting, if that’s all right with you.” Sam sneered, opening the first file he found on his desk. Not five seconds later, Phyllis rushed into CID.
“Guv!” The urgent tone of her voice got not only Gene’s attention, but everyone else’s in the room as well. “Call just came through. Bank robbery in Kingston Street. Three armed men on the run in a stolen Ford Escort, colour blue, registration EKP 334 L. They were last seen heading towards the motorway.”
Gene looked down at Sam, grinning smugly. Sam rolled his eyes.
*
“What the bloody ‘ell did you think you were doing there, Tyler, driving off like this?!”
“Because we split up, we were much more flexible. My intention was to corner them.”
“Oh, THAT was your brilliant plan?! Well we didn’t need to corner them, now did we? Because you decided to smash right into them!”
“There were about to get away! And they were reckless enough to drive on the pavement. They endangered women and children!”
“I don’t believe I am about to say that… They were armed! For God’s sake! They could ‘ave blown yer brains out!”
“I had the element of surprise. And after the crash they were too dazed anyway.”
“You were lucky enough not to splinter your skull on the steering wheel.”
“Well yeah I must say, I kind of forgot that my head would not be cushioned by an airbag, but I’m still here, no broken bones.”
“If you keep up that kind of behaviour -- argh, of course you will. You’ll be the bloody death of me, Tyler!”
For all their disagreements about handling certain things on the job, DI and DCI always knew when it was important to work together, to pull on one string, to be a unit of unstoppable force. When their young DC walked past, recounting the recent events with a beaming face and wild gestures, they shot him a simultaneous glance of disapproval.
“One ‘ell of a chase, that were! Did ye see ‘ow the boss almost hit that thingy, but then he put the car in reverse an’ spun around so fast the tires smoked? An’ the crims ‘ad no chance after that, being smashed into the bricks an’ all. Was better than in the telly! Better even than in the flicks! Bestest birthday I ever ‘ad in me whole life!”
*
“You’d tell me, wouldn’t you?” Gene and Sam were both leaning against the wall that led to the stairway, watching the plod escort the shaken bank robbers inside the station.
“Tell you what?” Sam asked, his arms loosely crossed over his chest.
Gene put a cigarette between his lips, lit it up and took a much needed drag. The nicotine seemed to calm his nerves instantly. He exhaled the smoke with deep satisfaction. “If you remembered what happened to you that evening you didn’t come to the pub.”
“Sure.” Sam said glibly.
“So you don’t then?” He took another drag. “Remember, I mean.”
“I told you everything I could recall from that night.”
To Gene’s ears, Sam sounded defensive. He could lay into him, but right now he didn’t want another fight. “You can trust me, Sam.” He said in earnest. “Want you to know that.”
“I know.” This time there was hesitation, Gene noticed, if only for a fraction of a second.
“And I trust you not to do anything stupid.” He let the spent fag drop to the floor and stomped out the remaining glow. “Alright then, let’s go. Skelton’s got twenty party of seven that need to be drunk.” He turned towards the stairs, Sam following him with quick steps.
“I heard his mum baked an enormous cake with a ‘27’ made of pink wafers on top.”
“Pink wafers you say?” Gene gave Sam a cheeky grin. “Oh, those’re mine.”
*
Most of the party guests had already gone home, some of them probably only to grab a shower and then right back in, since the morning shift would start in just a little over an hour, others to sleep off the booze properly in a comfy bed.
A handful of people however, certain lightweights who couldn’t hold their liquor, had decided to make their night’s lodging in the office, where they would have the remaining birthday cake crumbles and flat beer for breakfast and then start their duty, for sure, with a hell of a hangover.
It was no surprise that Chris was one of those people who had passed out with their head on the desktop, a puddle of salvia next to his head. It was more astonishing that DI “I know when to stop” Tyler was also sleeping soundly, even snoring a bit, in one of the chairs, his head resting against Gene’s office wall.
The only two people that had remained at least semi-conscious until now were Geoff and Gene. Wait, forget Geoff. He had just taken the last sip from one of the whisky bottles and trying to sit down, missed the chair… and didn’t get up again.
Gene chuckled. The Guv. The last one standing.
Tyler’s lights really were completely out, Gene realised with a smirk. What did the little div take him for? As if he wouldn’t have worked it out. He had to admit though that he was not really angry with Sam, in spite of what he’d obviously done to himself. Even disappointment was not the most prominent emotion he was feeling right now. Not after what he’d seen today. That car chase Tyler pulled seemed so… self-destructive. It reminded him of-
Gene shook his head, willing the memories away. Stay in the present, he ordered himself.
Sam’s head slumped to the side and with a jerk he pulled it upright again. What a genius git he was. Gene would just have to keep an eye on him. Make sure he’d spend more time with actual people than the ghosts that were haunting him. That promise made, Gene’s fear eased.
With swaying steps he walked over to another desk and rolled a piece of paper into a cone taping it into shape.
With a puncher he put two holes opposite of each other, and connected them with the rubber band he’d found dangling from Chris’s ear. He grabbed a pen, unsure what to write on it. He figured world’s worst liar or Pinocchio’s long lost brother might be too obvious, so he settled on something a bit more subtle. Give Tyler something to think about, remind him of his Guv’s keen perception.
Gene went over to his sleeping inspector and put the paper hat in place. Sam rubbed his hand over his face, where the rubber band had brushed his skin, mumbled something incomprehensibly and went back to sleep. Gene stepped back and eyed his work of art. “Sweet dreams,” he whispered into the room, “my little Alice in Wonderland”.