FIC: Previous Convictions 6/26, Brown Cortina, Gene and Ray, R/C
Title: Previous Convictions
Word Count: This part 2,256. Total 70,000
Spoilers: None, really. I suppose if you’ve never seen Life on Mars there might be one or two…but it won’t make sense, either!
Pairings: None to begin with, Ray/Chris eventually.
Rating: Brown Cortina
Disclaimer: The only things which belong to me are the mistakes.
Summary: It’s a long and winding road. A bit of backstory, pre-1973.
A/N: Thanks go to xCazzie and Dakfinv for beta-dom. All remaining mistakes are mine alone.
Chapter one, Chapter two, Chapter three, Chapter four, Chapter five
“He’s been in and out a bit today - it’s just the fever. We’re sure it will break soon. Just talk to him, let him know you’re here,” the nurse said softly.
“I thought you sorted everything yesterday - he was getting’ better,” Gene said.
The nurse just smiled. “He’ll be fine, sir,” she reassured.
Gene turned back to Ray, not knowing what to say.
The nurse picked up a flannel from a small bowl of water and gently washed Ray’s face, wiping away the beads of sweat, then she left, closing the curtains behind her.
“What’re you doing then, mate?” Gene said softly. He hesitated, then reached out and put his hand on Ray’s forearm. “Keepin’ me from the pub, you are. I expected a conversation at least.”
Ray’s skin was hot under his own, and he could feel the slight tremor of the fever.
Ray just about registered that someone was with him. He felt the cool of the flannel as it dragged across his skin. He wanted to say he was hot, but he couldn’t make the words come out. He couldn’t remember where he was or why he was there, he just knew it was hot and his leg hurt. And someone was holding him, touching him.
There was only one person who it could be.
“Pete?” He wasn’t even sure he had the energy to make a sound.
Gene leaned in, trying to hear what Ray was saying.
“What?”
Ray tried to grip the hand that held him. “Pete…wha’…’appened?” he whispered, and even that took too much energy, the suffocating heat that pressed down on his from all sides sapped him.
Gene frowned. “It’s Gene, not Pete- whoever the hell he is.” He noticed Ray’s fingers moving, reaching for something, so he moved his own hand down and took Ray’s.
Ray stilled for a moment. The voice - whoever that was - wasn’t Pete. But he knew Pete was holding his hand, so he focussed on that, tangling his fingers with the hand.
Gene frowned again as his fingers were squeezed.
“You got a fever, Ray, you’re not makin’ any sense,” he said nervously.
Ray frowned. The voice wasn’t Pete, but seemed to know him. He thought he recognised it, but couldn’t remember anything. He just knew the sweltering heat of the jungle was inescapable.
Gene guessed that Ray had fallen asleep - although it was hard to tell, he was restless and sweat was running off him. Gene reached for the flannel and dipped it in the bowl of water, wringing it out before copying the nurse’s earlier actions and wiping Ray’s face. He felt oddly protective over Ray, and when he’d told his wife the night before of the accident, she’d seemed very concerned too. It was as if Ray were like a little brother and as such, he wanted to help and care for him. He felt Ray shivering, but his skin was red hot, so he didn’t pull the blankets up.
Ray could hear the relentless rain falling and it brought with it relief from the stifling heat. His skin was cold now, in the night. He tried to listen, he couldn’t even remember what they were doing now - were they chasing, or being chased. He looked around for Pete, but the dark was all encompassing. He tried to wrap his arms around himself, to get some heat back into his body.
“Pete,” he called, his voice low. “Where are you?”
He didn’t mind the dark, but the fear of losing his lover to the jungle was great. There was no way they’d find each other until it was light again and they both got back to the plantation. And if he couldn’t remember what they were meant to be doing what hope did he have?
Gene heard Ray’s call, the sound making him look up again.
“’S all right, Ray,” he reassured, reaching out and putting a hand on Ray’s shoulder. “You’re in hospital, remember?” he said.
Ray froze at the touch, then turned his head slightly. “Pe..?” he couldn’t even summon the energy to really form the word.
Gene didn’t argue. He just sat with Ray for as long as he could. He didn’t know if his friend was dreaming or hallucinating, but it made Gene feel very uncomfortable.
When he finally left the hospital it was unwillingly. He drove home, for once walking through the front door at a reasonable time of night and without a drop of drink in him - or at least, only a hip-flask full, which didn’t count.
“How’s Ray?” was the first thing his wife asked.
Gene shrugged. “Taken a bad turn - got a fever, from ‘is leg. They reckon he’ll be okay though, in a few days.”
“Oh, the poor man. Is that where you’ve been?”
Gene nodded. “He’s out of it, mainly, talkin’ on about…God knows. Kept calling me ‘Pete’ or summat.”
“Must be someone he knows - a friend maybe?”
“He’s never mentioned anyone,” Gene answered.
“Well maybe someone he used to know - if he’s confused. Fevers can make people believe all sorts. He might think he’s in his favourite film for all you know, poor thing.”
Gene grunted. Ray hadn’t once said his name, and somehow, when he was the one making the effort to visit, that hurt a little.
The next day Gene headed back to see Ray again, having spent most of the day worrying and very little of it doing any real work. He wished he’d prepared for the raid better - taken more men, known the plan of the building. A small part of him - and one which he refused to acknowledge - was scared that Ray would die.
His condition hadn’t changed, and Gene spent an hour sitting by the bedside, mopping Ray’s brow and talking to him about the day. Ray was quieter today, and Gene didn’t know if it was a good thing or not.
In the end, despite wanting to stay with Ray he felt so useless he left, heading to the pub instead. He didn’t like to see people he cared for suffer when he couldn’t do anything about it. He’d already given the man who’d fought Ray on the roof a kicking, despite it being a hollow victory because he knew deep down the bloke wasn’t entirely to blame.
Ray awoke in the darkness, and he could feel sweat pooled on his body. He tried to move and pain lanced through his leg. He finally managed to reach for the bedside table, wanting a drink and he felt the pull of the drip in the back of his hand. He knew he was in hospital, and he could remember why his leg hurt, but apart from that everything was a blur. He had a headache and felt shaky and weak - as if he’d run a marathon, his muscles were jelly. Once he’d finished the glass of water he used the sheet to rub over his skin, hating the feel of the sweat. He desperately wanted a shower or a wash, but knew he couldn’t move off the bed. His leg still throbbed with pain, and his joints ached. He lay back on the bed, sure he wasn’t going to sleep.
He was woken by the nurse he knew from the first night, and she smiled when she saw his eyes were open and had lost the brightness of fever.
“How are you feeling?” she asked.
Ray nodded. “Better. ‘Ow long’ve…I been here?”
“Three days now,” she pulled the blanket straight. “Your friend visited every day. Now, is there anything I can get you? Breakfast will be around shortly, if you feel like eating yet?”
Ray nodded, realising he was ravenous. “Could I have a bath - or a shower? Anything?”
“Of course, if you can wait until after breakfast?”
Ray nodded.
The bed bath was a far cry from what Ray really wanted, but it left him feeling clean, and they changed the sheets for him, ridding him of the sweat stained ones, so once they were done he felt a million times better. He was even allowed out of bed, on crutches, for a small portion of the day. He tired quickly though, and was back in bed, asleep, when Gene came calling.
Gene grabbed the nurse as she walked past and nodded at Ray’s sleeping form. “How is he?” he asked.
“Oh, Ray’s much better today,” the nurse smiled. “He’s even been up and about for an hour or so - the fever broke last night.”
Gene couldn’t help but smile, glancing back at Ray’s still form, hoping his friend was getting some proper rest finally.
“Always find that the forces boys fight back quicker than the rest,” the nurse smiled.
Gene nodded, then frowned. “He’s a copper, not army.”
“Well ex-forces then. He was in the navy, wasn’t he?”
Gene shook his head. “Nah, worked on boats, but he wasn’t enlisted.”
The nurse frowned. “His tattoos though…he’s got the badge from the HMS Newfoundland on his shoulder.” At Gene’s quizzical look she smiled again. “My father was in the navy, my brother and I would spend hours looking at all the badges and medals, in books. I wouldn’t forget that one, it was one of my favourites, with the caribou on it.”
Gene looked at Ray’s sleeping form, the tattoo on his left bicep was clearly visible, two mermaids, entwined around each other and an anchor with a background of crashing waves, on his chest were two swallows, one swooping over each pectoral muscle. Nothing that every other sailor in the world probably didn’t have too. Just like plenty would have the name or badge of their ship. He shook his head, nodding his thanks to the nurse and taking up his customary seat by Ray’s bed. He was pleased to see Ray had some colour back, and was breathing evenly.
When Ray awoke it took him a moment to register Gene’s presence.
“Boss?” he said, his voice croaky.
“Raymondo! Feelin’ better then?” Gene leant forward.
Ray nodded. “Much. They said you been in every night…I don’t remember…but…thanks.”
Gene waved a hand. “You were pretty bad for a while. Had us worried, you bastard.”
Ray pushed himself a little more upright, pulling a face at the pain. “Worried cos I still owe you for that last game of cards?” he smiled.
Gene laughed. “Yeah, that’s right.”
“Doc said I should be out tomorrow or the day after,” Ray said, and Gene could see how eager he was to escape the ward.
“Good. I’m ‘aving to do all your sodding work at the moment.”
Ray grinned. “Do you good, remembering how paper-work goes. I’ve done yours for as long as I’ve been ‘ere.”
“Bloody liar!” Gene said, then he frowned, remembering what the nurse had said. “So, that lovely bit of stuff been taking care of you?” he gestured to her.
Ray glanced over. “Yeah.”
“Bed bath an’ all that, eh?” Gene nudged Ray’s arm.
Ray felt his cheeks colour slightly, and knew that Gene would notice. “She’s a nice girl.”
“And the rest,” Gene watched her walk past again. “She was admirin’ your scrawny body when I got ‘ere,” he said, wondering how to bring up what the nurse had said.
Ray shook his head. “You live in a fantasy land, you do.”
“She was on about your tattoos. Says she recognised some of ‘em.”
Ray self-consciously ran his hand over the picture closest to Gene. “Yeah, well, pretty common, ain’t they? You know many sailors without?”
Gene shrugged. “Don’t know many sailors. She does though. Said one of yours was off a ship she knew.” Gene noticed the way Ray’s eyes flicked onto him, then away. “The Newfoundland, she said.”
Ray didn’t move for a few long moments. “Oh aye,” he finally said, not meeting Gene’s gaze.
“Yeah. Odd that, don’t you think? Out of all the hundreds of ships around the world, and she knows the one you’ve got drawn on you.”
Ray gave a shrug. “Yeah, what’re the chances?” he gave a small smile. He had a horrible feeling that Gene was trying to lay a trap for him.
“Thing is, she didn’t say it was a merchant ship. She said it were the HMS Newfoundland. Her old man was in the Navy, see, and she used to read up on all that stuff. Natural interest, I s’pose.”
Ray wrapped the end of the blanket around one of his fingers, then freed it again.
“Yeah. I s’pose.” He looked across to Gene. “I were on the Newfie, since you seem so interested.”
“Why all the bull about bein’ on merchant ships then?” Gene asked, his voice hard. “Seems like every time we meet you’ve got a new story - am I ever going to find out the truth?”
“Does it matter?” Ray asked, trying to keep his voice low. “I’m ‘ere, ain’t I? I’m a good copper - what else d’you need t’know?”
“Be nice if I could trust you, though, wouldn’t it? Be nice if I knew who I was workin’ with, who I was trusting with my life? So what is it…Rob? Ray? You been in the Navy or what? And while we’re at it, who the fuck is Pete?”
Ray had taken a deep breath to answer the onslaught of questions, but at the last one he let the air out of his lungs as if he’d been punched.
TBC...
Word Count: This part 2,256. Total 70,000
Spoilers: None, really. I suppose if you’ve never seen Life on Mars there might be one or two…but it won’t make sense, either!
Pairings: None to begin with, Ray/Chris eventually.
Rating: Brown Cortina
Disclaimer: The only things which belong to me are the mistakes.
Summary: It’s a long and winding road. A bit of backstory, pre-1973.
A/N: Thanks go to xCazzie and Dakfinv for beta-dom. All remaining mistakes are mine alone.
Chapter one, Chapter two, Chapter three, Chapter four, Chapter five
“He’s been in and out a bit today - it’s just the fever. We’re sure it will break soon. Just talk to him, let him know you’re here,” the nurse said softly.
“I thought you sorted everything yesterday - he was getting’ better,” Gene said.
The nurse just smiled. “He’ll be fine, sir,” she reassured.
Gene turned back to Ray, not knowing what to say.
The nurse picked up a flannel from a small bowl of water and gently washed Ray’s face, wiping away the beads of sweat, then she left, closing the curtains behind her.
“What’re you doing then, mate?” Gene said softly. He hesitated, then reached out and put his hand on Ray’s forearm. “Keepin’ me from the pub, you are. I expected a conversation at least.”
Ray’s skin was hot under his own, and he could feel the slight tremor of the fever.
Ray just about registered that someone was with him. He felt the cool of the flannel as it dragged across his skin. He wanted to say he was hot, but he couldn’t make the words come out. He couldn’t remember where he was or why he was there, he just knew it was hot and his leg hurt. And someone was holding him, touching him.
There was only one person who it could be.
“Pete?” He wasn’t even sure he had the energy to make a sound.
Gene leaned in, trying to hear what Ray was saying.
“What?”
Ray tried to grip the hand that held him. “Pete…wha’…’appened?” he whispered, and even that took too much energy, the suffocating heat that pressed down on his from all sides sapped him.
Gene frowned. “It’s Gene, not Pete- whoever the hell he is.” He noticed Ray’s fingers moving, reaching for something, so he moved his own hand down and took Ray’s.
Ray stilled for a moment. The voice - whoever that was - wasn’t Pete. But he knew Pete was holding his hand, so he focussed on that, tangling his fingers with the hand.
Gene frowned again as his fingers were squeezed.
“You got a fever, Ray, you’re not makin’ any sense,” he said nervously.
Ray frowned. The voice wasn’t Pete, but seemed to know him. He thought he recognised it, but couldn’t remember anything. He just knew the sweltering heat of the jungle was inescapable.
Gene guessed that Ray had fallen asleep - although it was hard to tell, he was restless and sweat was running off him. Gene reached for the flannel and dipped it in the bowl of water, wringing it out before copying the nurse’s earlier actions and wiping Ray’s face. He felt oddly protective over Ray, and when he’d told his wife the night before of the accident, she’d seemed very concerned too. It was as if Ray were like a little brother and as such, he wanted to help and care for him. He felt Ray shivering, but his skin was red hot, so he didn’t pull the blankets up.
Ray could hear the relentless rain falling and it brought with it relief from the stifling heat. His skin was cold now, in the night. He tried to listen, he couldn’t even remember what they were doing now - were they chasing, or being chased. He looked around for Pete, but the dark was all encompassing. He tried to wrap his arms around himself, to get some heat back into his body.
“Pete,” he called, his voice low. “Where are you?”
He didn’t mind the dark, but the fear of losing his lover to the jungle was great. There was no way they’d find each other until it was light again and they both got back to the plantation. And if he couldn’t remember what they were meant to be doing what hope did he have?
Gene heard Ray’s call, the sound making him look up again.
“’S all right, Ray,” he reassured, reaching out and putting a hand on Ray’s shoulder. “You’re in hospital, remember?” he said.
Ray froze at the touch, then turned his head slightly. “Pe..?” he couldn’t even summon the energy to really form the word.
Gene didn’t argue. He just sat with Ray for as long as he could. He didn’t know if his friend was dreaming or hallucinating, but it made Gene feel very uncomfortable.
When he finally left the hospital it was unwillingly. He drove home, for once walking through the front door at a reasonable time of night and without a drop of drink in him - or at least, only a hip-flask full, which didn’t count.
“How’s Ray?” was the first thing his wife asked.
Gene shrugged. “Taken a bad turn - got a fever, from ‘is leg. They reckon he’ll be okay though, in a few days.”
“Oh, the poor man. Is that where you’ve been?”
Gene nodded. “He’s out of it, mainly, talkin’ on about…God knows. Kept calling me ‘Pete’ or summat.”
“Must be someone he knows - a friend maybe?”
“He’s never mentioned anyone,” Gene answered.
“Well maybe someone he used to know - if he’s confused. Fevers can make people believe all sorts. He might think he’s in his favourite film for all you know, poor thing.”
Gene grunted. Ray hadn’t once said his name, and somehow, when he was the one making the effort to visit, that hurt a little.
The next day Gene headed back to see Ray again, having spent most of the day worrying and very little of it doing any real work. He wished he’d prepared for the raid better - taken more men, known the plan of the building. A small part of him - and one which he refused to acknowledge - was scared that Ray would die.
His condition hadn’t changed, and Gene spent an hour sitting by the bedside, mopping Ray’s brow and talking to him about the day. Ray was quieter today, and Gene didn’t know if it was a good thing or not.
In the end, despite wanting to stay with Ray he felt so useless he left, heading to the pub instead. He didn’t like to see people he cared for suffer when he couldn’t do anything about it. He’d already given the man who’d fought Ray on the roof a kicking, despite it being a hollow victory because he knew deep down the bloke wasn’t entirely to blame.
Ray awoke in the darkness, and he could feel sweat pooled on his body. He tried to move and pain lanced through his leg. He finally managed to reach for the bedside table, wanting a drink and he felt the pull of the drip in the back of his hand. He knew he was in hospital, and he could remember why his leg hurt, but apart from that everything was a blur. He had a headache and felt shaky and weak - as if he’d run a marathon, his muscles were jelly. Once he’d finished the glass of water he used the sheet to rub over his skin, hating the feel of the sweat. He desperately wanted a shower or a wash, but knew he couldn’t move off the bed. His leg still throbbed with pain, and his joints ached. He lay back on the bed, sure he wasn’t going to sleep.
He was woken by the nurse he knew from the first night, and she smiled when she saw his eyes were open and had lost the brightness of fever.
“How are you feeling?” she asked.
Ray nodded. “Better. ‘Ow long’ve…I been here?”
“Three days now,” she pulled the blanket straight. “Your friend visited every day. Now, is there anything I can get you? Breakfast will be around shortly, if you feel like eating yet?”
Ray nodded, realising he was ravenous. “Could I have a bath - or a shower? Anything?”
“Of course, if you can wait until after breakfast?”
Ray nodded.
The bed bath was a far cry from what Ray really wanted, but it left him feeling clean, and they changed the sheets for him, ridding him of the sweat stained ones, so once they were done he felt a million times better. He was even allowed out of bed, on crutches, for a small portion of the day. He tired quickly though, and was back in bed, asleep, when Gene came calling.
Gene grabbed the nurse as she walked past and nodded at Ray’s sleeping form. “How is he?” he asked.
“Oh, Ray’s much better today,” the nurse smiled. “He’s even been up and about for an hour or so - the fever broke last night.”
Gene couldn’t help but smile, glancing back at Ray’s still form, hoping his friend was getting some proper rest finally.
“Always find that the forces boys fight back quicker than the rest,” the nurse smiled.
Gene nodded, then frowned. “He’s a copper, not army.”
“Well ex-forces then. He was in the navy, wasn’t he?”
Gene shook his head. “Nah, worked on boats, but he wasn’t enlisted.”
The nurse frowned. “His tattoos though…he’s got the badge from the HMS Newfoundland on his shoulder.” At Gene’s quizzical look she smiled again. “My father was in the navy, my brother and I would spend hours looking at all the badges and medals, in books. I wouldn’t forget that one, it was one of my favourites, with the caribou on it.”
Gene looked at Ray’s sleeping form, the tattoo on his left bicep was clearly visible, two mermaids, entwined around each other and an anchor with a background of crashing waves, on his chest were two swallows, one swooping over each pectoral muscle. Nothing that every other sailor in the world probably didn’t have too. Just like plenty would have the name or badge of their ship. He shook his head, nodding his thanks to the nurse and taking up his customary seat by Ray’s bed. He was pleased to see Ray had some colour back, and was breathing evenly.
When Ray awoke it took him a moment to register Gene’s presence.
“Boss?” he said, his voice croaky.
“Raymondo! Feelin’ better then?” Gene leant forward.
Ray nodded. “Much. They said you been in every night…I don’t remember…but…thanks.”
Gene waved a hand. “You were pretty bad for a while. Had us worried, you bastard.”
Ray pushed himself a little more upright, pulling a face at the pain. “Worried cos I still owe you for that last game of cards?” he smiled.
Gene laughed. “Yeah, that’s right.”
“Doc said I should be out tomorrow or the day after,” Ray said, and Gene could see how eager he was to escape the ward.
“Good. I’m ‘aving to do all your sodding work at the moment.”
Ray grinned. “Do you good, remembering how paper-work goes. I’ve done yours for as long as I’ve been ‘ere.”
“Bloody liar!” Gene said, then he frowned, remembering what the nurse had said. “So, that lovely bit of stuff been taking care of you?” he gestured to her.
Ray glanced over. “Yeah.”
“Bed bath an’ all that, eh?” Gene nudged Ray’s arm.
Ray felt his cheeks colour slightly, and knew that Gene would notice. “She’s a nice girl.”
“And the rest,” Gene watched her walk past again. “She was admirin’ your scrawny body when I got ‘ere,” he said, wondering how to bring up what the nurse had said.
Ray shook his head. “You live in a fantasy land, you do.”
“She was on about your tattoos. Says she recognised some of ‘em.”
Ray self-consciously ran his hand over the picture closest to Gene. “Yeah, well, pretty common, ain’t they? You know many sailors without?”
Gene shrugged. “Don’t know many sailors. She does though. Said one of yours was off a ship she knew.” Gene noticed the way Ray’s eyes flicked onto him, then away. “The Newfoundland, she said.”
Ray didn’t move for a few long moments. “Oh aye,” he finally said, not meeting Gene’s gaze.
“Yeah. Odd that, don’t you think? Out of all the hundreds of ships around the world, and she knows the one you’ve got drawn on you.”
Ray gave a shrug. “Yeah, what’re the chances?” he gave a small smile. He had a horrible feeling that Gene was trying to lay a trap for him.
“Thing is, she didn’t say it was a merchant ship. She said it were the HMS Newfoundland. Her old man was in the Navy, see, and she used to read up on all that stuff. Natural interest, I s’pose.”
Ray wrapped the end of the blanket around one of his fingers, then freed it again.
“Yeah. I s’pose.” He looked across to Gene. “I were on the Newfie, since you seem so interested.”
“Why all the bull about bein’ on merchant ships then?” Gene asked, his voice hard. “Seems like every time we meet you’ve got a new story - am I ever going to find out the truth?”
“Does it matter?” Ray asked, trying to keep his voice low. “I’m ‘ere, ain’t I? I’m a good copper - what else d’you need t’know?”
“Be nice if I could trust you, though, wouldn’t it? Be nice if I knew who I was workin’ with, who I was trusting with my life? So what is it…Rob? Ray? You been in the Navy or what? And while we’re at it, who the fuck is Pete?”
Ray had taken a deep breath to answer the onslaught of questions, but at the last one he let the air out of his lungs as if he’d been punched.
TBC...