(Untitled)

[madorcoma]

Who: Sam Tyler, Gene Hunt, open
When: Immediately after Sam's arrival in 1984
Where: CID office
What: About to walk into Nelson's pub, he takes a look back and suddenly he's standing outside the doors to the CID office in 1984 with no memory of his decision to go to the pub.
Rating/Warnings: Language, most likely

Comments

[unbreakablelion]

Moments later the Quattro came to a screeching halt outside of the station. Gene and DC Robert Timms got out. "Well that was a ruddy waste of time." Gene slammed the door shut and made his way up the steps to the station entrance. "We'd've had more chance of getting a mute spastic to talk."

He pushed the front doors open and headed past the front desk, towards the stairs to the CID office. "Right, get on the blower to the lab - find out if they have a match for the blood on that shoe."

"Yes, Guv."

"Then I want you to grab a couple of plods and go over them witness statements with a fine tooth bloody comb."

"Yes, Guv." DC Timms gave a nod and hurried off towards the office, almost colliding with Sam. "Sorry mate, didn't see you there. You alright? Christ, you're white as a sheet..."

Gene finally noticed the very familiar figure. He looked as though he had just seen a ghost - hardly surprising since he'd just seen his supposed dead DI stood in front of him. "Sam?!" He turned to DC Timms. "It's fine, I'll deal with this..."

[madorcoma]

Sam heard Gene's familiar voice all the way down the hall, and why wouldn't Gene be here, really? Different station, different era and here Gene was, whenever Sam found himself somewhere he couldn't explain.

He took a deep breath, trying to calm down and dimly heard a man asking him if he were alright. "Fine," he lied, scrubbing a hand over his face.

Once the other man walked off, he turned to Gene, looking like he was battling between quiet hysteria and frustrated resignation. "Well? Go on, then. What year is it this time?"

[unbreakablelion]

Even in death Sam Tyler was a royal pain in the arse. "1984," Gene stated simply before turning on his heel to head back towards the stairs. "Come on, Dorothy, let's go somewhere we can talk without the men in white locking us both up."

With that he was already down the stairs and at the front desk. "Geoff, I'm going out. If the divs upstairs 'ave any news, get them to contact me on the radio." He paused at the front door to wait for Sam. "Oi, Sam. Come on."

[madorcoma]

"1984," Sam repeated, shaking his head. "Yeah, of course. Why wouldn't we be? I wonder where I'll end up next. I should open another door and find out?"

He was vaguely aware that he was ranting to himself as he followed Gene down the stairs and toward the front desk. He couldn't help it, though! He'd settled into 1973. He was used to living there now and even had to begrudgingly admit that he liked it. He didn't want to start over now.

[unbreakablelion]

"Only problem is, Sammy-boy, if my hunch is right - and it usually is, we've just stumbled into something far bigger than a drunken brawl gone wrong." Gene pocketed the ring and reached for his cigarettes, lighting one up.

"One of the first big cases I worked on when me and the boys moved down 'ere. The O.W.N... 'One White Nation'... a bunch of white supremacist bastards." He took a drag of his cigarette. "What doesn't make sense though is why they would target a white guy."

[madorcoma]

Of course, things could never be simple. They could never just find some evidence which would crack a case without stumbling onto something much larger.

"Lovely," he remarked dryly, when Gene explained what the O.W.N was. "At least we should have loads of case files on them, right? Some fingerprinting in the files to match up any that might be on that ring?" He had a feeling he was vastly over estimating the department's organisation, but it never hurt to be optimistic.

"Plenty of reasons. Maybe he's friends with black blokes," Sam suggested, "Or dating a black girl." Or, he could've just said the wrong thing at the wrong time. White supremacists weren't exactly known for being calm or rational. Sam wouldn't be surprised if they murdered someone with very little provocation at all.

[unbreakablelion]

"Aye, we've got files. But, thing is, we banged up all the ringleaders first time round. So either someone else stepped up to the mark or we're dealing with bloody copycats."

Gene took another drag of his cigarette, reaching again for his radio. "Oi, ladies. I want to know as much about the victim's personal life as you can find out - family, friends, everything." He glanced over at Sam. "Just like old times, eh?"

[madorcoma]

Sam nodded when Gene mentioned it being like old times. Of course, those 'old times' to him had barely been a few weeks...not years. He wasn't even sure anymore which one of them this was more weird for.

"We ought to set up interviews with the ringleaders; see if they've organized anything from inside the jail or know who might've taken over in their absence," he suggested.

[unbreakablelion]

"Yes, Boss." DC Timms gave a nod and scurried off to do his tasks. Leaving Gene and Sam alone in the corridor. Gene glanced at Sam, arching a brow. "Sure you're ready to handle eighties policing by yourself, Sammy-boy?" Though, to be quite honest, Sam would probably be a hell of a lot better at it than Gene, especially in the eyes of Jim 'by the book' Keats.

"Right, well... I'm sure you knwo what you're doing. So... meet you in my office later for debriefing and paperwork? Then... pub!"

[madorcoma]

"I think I'll be able to handle it," he replied. "Didn't do half bad in the 70's, did I?" And technically, he'd done 80's policing, according to Gene. He just happened to not remember any of it.

"Of course. What would a work day be without the promise of the pub at the end?" he teased.

[unbreakablelion]

"Don't let the big mean men scare you Sam. What with the Gene Genie not being there to protect you." The taunting really didn't have the same effect on a male DI.

He patted Sam on the shoulder. "If you're lucky I'll throw in a bag of crisps, maybe peanuts. Then we'll pick up a takeaway on the way back to mine."

[madorcoma]

Sam rolled his eyes, "I think I can take care of it on my own, Guv. Though if I need rescuing, I'll know who to call."

Spending the evening at the pub and then grabbing takeaway sounded nice, actually. It reminded him of the sorts of things he and Gene used to do together, before that void in his memory and waking up in a new era. Things wouldn't be so different here after all.

He headed off to conduct the next interview with a smile on his face.

[unbreakablelion]

"We're walking. Yer pissed. 'm pissed." The flat wasn't far - it was just whether or not their legs would hold out until then, and if they could avoid falling into the road and being run down by a car.

Between the two of them supporting each other and a lot of aid from walls and railings, they somehow managed to stumble to Gene flat. He fumbled in his pocket for the key and took a good ten attempts to get it into the lock. But finally, the door was open.

There were empty bottles everywhere, along with take away cartons, cigarette butts and a general mess. The stench of stale smoke and alcohol soon hit them full force. "Home sweet home."

[madorcoma]

Sam nodded, a bit impressed that Gene had clearly got more responsible in the time they'd been apart. It was good, though a bit unsettling. He'd never thought he'd be using 'Gene' and 'responsible' in the same sentence.

...Not responsible enough to actually clean his bloody flat, though. Sam just stood in the doorway, staring at it in dismay. "Jesus," he muttered. "This is...you...I'm actually speechless." The pub they'd just come from was tidier and smelled better than this.

[unbreakablelion]

Gene shot Sam a 'don't start with me' look. It had been a tough few months; cleaning the flat had become far less important that drinking himself into unconsciousness of a nighttime.

"You take the bed..." At least the bed was cleaner than the rest of the flat. Gene kicked off his boots, flung his coat in the general direction of a chair and collpased on the sofa.

[madorcoma]

Sam shrugged off the look and decided he'd start cleaning Gene's flat tomorrow. It'd be spotless by the end of the week. He'd probably have started on it now if he weren't so drunk.

"Thanks," he replied, when Gene told him to take the bed. He was about to offer to take the sofa so as to be less inconvenient, but Gene was already flopping down on it and the bed did look more clean. He slid off his shoes and then took off his jacket, hanging it on the bedpost before laying down.

"I'll get a flat of my own soon," he added, not sure which of them he was trying to assure more.