A minute to think, that's all Sam's asking for. Three open cases, one of 'em a murder that's got some political pressure behind it, and Sam hasn't slept in what feels like days
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Gene really, really doesn't do well when there's political pressure behind a murder case. It means people are watching him work, and he hates that. Plus daily phone calls from the Super, demanding updates, and the press all over it.
It really doesn't help that Sam's not...acting like himself. To put it mildly. And it really doesn't help when he goes and sodding well disappears, and the search party he sends out comes back empty-handed.
'Do I have to do bloody everything?' he yells at Chris, who happens to be standing closest. He gets the usual gormless look, the same old sorry, Guv. And no help. So now he's rampaging the corridors, snapping the head off anyone who gets in his way, or so much as looks at him funny.
Lost and Found? No no no no no, and people are scurrying to get out of his way when he slams back through the doors of CID.
'CARTWRIGHT! Where the bloody 'ell is he!?'
She shakes her head, uncowed, but still knowing better than to give him lip.
'Haven't seen him, Guv.'
She has a look on her face, though. He's seen it enough times, these last seven years. Where she suspects something, but isn't sure, and won't just blurt it out while she thinks through the ramifications.
'What?'
A minute later, he's out in the corridors again. But the frustration has a new edge; as he hits the stairs up to the roof, he's almost tempted to call it fear.
The sound of the roof access door slamming open brings Sam back to himself with a start. There's a moment of mental freefall as he looks down over the street, people and cars going about their daily business, same as usual.
Why, then, could he almost swear that the streetscape itself ought to be different? There's something --
Something --
If he could just see it --
Sam shifts his weight as if he's about to take a step forward.
Comments 17
It really doesn't help that Sam's not...acting like himself. To put it mildly. And it really doesn't help when he goes and sodding well disappears, and the search party he sends out comes back empty-handed.
'Do I have to do bloody everything?' he yells at Chris, who happens to be standing closest. He gets the usual gormless look, the same old sorry, Guv. And no help. So now he's rampaging the corridors, snapping the head off anyone who gets in his way, or so much as looks at him funny.
'TYLER!'
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Breathing space. That's what he's looking for, just one weightless moment to catch his breath.
He lets his eyes slip closed, red flashing behind his eyes as he tilts his head toward the sun.
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Bogs? No.
Lost and Found? No no no no no, and people are scurrying to get out of his way when he slams back through the doors of CID.
'CARTWRIGHT! Where the bloody 'ell is he!?'
She shakes her head, uncowed, but still knowing better than to give him lip.
'Haven't seen him, Guv.'
She has a look on her face, though. He's seen it enough times, these last seven years. Where she suspects something, but isn't sure, and won't just blurt it out while she thinks through the ramifications.
'What?'
A minute later, he's out in the corridors again. But the frustration has a new edge; as he hits the stairs up to the roof, he's almost tempted to call it fear.
Reply
Why, then, could he almost swear that the streetscape itself ought to be different? There's something --
Something --
If he could just see it --
Sam shifts his weight as if he's about to take a step forward.
Reply
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