Fic: Waking Dreams
Title: Waking Dreams
Author: Kirsteena
Fandom: Life on Mars
Spoilers: 1-08
Rating: NC-13 (Green Cortina)
Word Count: 814
Summary: Sam's dreams take an even stranger turn.
a/n Warning: minor character death. Written for the fanfic50 challenge, prompt 4, Message. Thank you to tatlovestea for the betaing and the suggestions.
DISCLAIMER: Life on Mars is copyright Kudos and the BBC. All Rights Reserved. No copyright infringement is intended and no money is being made.
“Sam? Sammy? Oh, I know you can’t hear me, but… they…they found him. Your Dad, that is. You know how he came to visit you a couple of days ago? Well, of course you don’t, but anyway, he did. I don’t know how he found you. I walked into your hospital room, and there he was. Well, we said nothing. How could we? After all these years... Well now he… that is, he… well, they found him in the canal, this morning. They say he committed suicide. After finding you again, after so long… I don’t know why. You know, he rang me this morning, before.... At 4am, if you can believe it. He only said one word, ‘Sorry’, then he rang off. But I got a good look at his face when he was here, and there was something in his eyes. Something - odd, something I never knew from your father. Fear.”
Sam’s eyes flew open. He stared at the ceiling, blinking, trying to get his racing heart back under control. While lying there, he did his usual 2006 dreams check - the television was on; the Test Card Girl staring out at him from her place on the screen, stubbornly silent. The radio was quiet, and the phone was in its usual place on the shelf. Just a normal dream, if anything about this place could be considered normal.
Staring at his reflection in the cracked mirror, waiting for the water to fill the sink, Sam struggled to shake off the intensity, the pain of the dream. It was only natural to dream about his dad, he told himself, after everything that had happened. He thought back to that terrible moment when he had pulled a gun on his own father. The whole thing still seemed so unreal, but the emotions, the sensations, even the smells felt so right at the time. Suppressing a shudder, he dunked his head into the filled sink, letting it wash over him; cleansing away the feeling of dread that had come over him.
For the rest of the day, Sam felt almost disassociated from himself - as if he was watching someone else’s life. He floated through the briefing about the cases they were working on, went where he was pointed, but was definitely not himself.
“Tyler, are you bloody listening to me?” Sam looked with a start to see the scowling face of Gene Hunt looking down at him. He blinked rapidly, trying to clear his head.
“Er, sorry, Guv. What’s up?”
“Body pulled out of the canal. Looks like suicide. Lets go.”
“Guv, a suicide? Don’t we have better things to waste our time on?” The look which Gene gave Sam silenced him. Sam closed his eyes as he felt adrenaline shoot through his system, heightening his senses. He glanced at the clock: 4.05 pm. His mum would be thinking about making tea… He shook his head, trying to make things come back into focus.
“I’m not going to like this, am I?” he asked.
“Let’s go.”
Gene was unusually silent as he drove them through the streets of Manchester. As they drew close, Sam recognised where they were headed - this was where the body of Joni Mitchell had been pulled from the canal, killed because of her desire to be free. As they left the car, walking down to the bridge, Sam felt anxiety building with every step. Instinctively he knew what they were going to find.
Ray and Chris were waiting with a blanket-covered lump on the ground in front of them. Sam’s eyes closed for a few seconds, then opened to see Gene peering curiously at him.
“How…?” Gene started to ask but then stopped. He nodded to Ray, who bent down to uncover the face of the late Vic Tyler. Sam stared at the face of his father, once again feeling detached from reality.
After a moment, he looked at Gene. “How?” was the only question he could think to ask.
“Tramp saw him jump last night. Or at least he thinks he did. He was drunk at the time. When he woke up today, he rang the station. Took a while to get anything sensible out of him though. Plod pulled him out, then called us.”
“Time?”
“Now? 5.15…”
Sam suddenly reached for Gene’s collar and slammed him into the bridge. “What time did it happen?” he asked, annunciating every word.
Gene angrily pulled away from Sam, then after a look at Sam’s face, swallowed his anger. “The tramp reckons it was just getting light, and he had just heard a clock chime the hour. Must have been…”
“Four o’clock,” Sam breathed. Sinking to his knees, tears began to roll down his face, reality bringing him crashing back into 1973. “Oh, God, four o’clock…” Ray and Chris looked at each other and walked away, leaving Gene silently watching his DI cry for a man he never really knew.
Author: Kirsteena
Fandom: Life on Mars
Spoilers: 1-08
Rating: NC-13 (Green Cortina)
Word Count: 814
Summary: Sam's dreams take an even stranger turn.
a/n Warning: minor character death. Written for the fanfic50 challenge, prompt 4, Message. Thank you to tatlovestea for the betaing and the suggestions.
DISCLAIMER: Life on Mars is copyright Kudos and the BBC. All Rights Reserved. No copyright infringement is intended and no money is being made.
“Sam? Sammy? Oh, I know you can’t hear me, but… they…they found him. Your Dad, that is. You know how he came to visit you a couple of days ago? Well, of course you don’t, but anyway, he did. I don’t know how he found you. I walked into your hospital room, and there he was. Well, we said nothing. How could we? After all these years... Well now he… that is, he… well, they found him in the canal, this morning. They say he committed suicide. After finding you again, after so long… I don’t know why. You know, he rang me this morning, before.... At 4am, if you can believe it. He only said one word, ‘Sorry’, then he rang off. But I got a good look at his face when he was here, and there was something in his eyes. Something - odd, something I never knew from your father. Fear.”
Sam’s eyes flew open. He stared at the ceiling, blinking, trying to get his racing heart back under control. While lying there, he did his usual 2006 dreams check - the television was on; the Test Card Girl staring out at him from her place on the screen, stubbornly silent. The radio was quiet, and the phone was in its usual place on the shelf. Just a normal dream, if anything about this place could be considered normal.
Staring at his reflection in the cracked mirror, waiting for the water to fill the sink, Sam struggled to shake off the intensity, the pain of the dream. It was only natural to dream about his dad, he told himself, after everything that had happened. He thought back to that terrible moment when he had pulled a gun on his own father. The whole thing still seemed so unreal, but the emotions, the sensations, even the smells felt so right at the time. Suppressing a shudder, he dunked his head into the filled sink, letting it wash over him; cleansing away the feeling of dread that had come over him.
For the rest of the day, Sam felt almost disassociated from himself - as if he was watching someone else’s life. He floated through the briefing about the cases they were working on, went where he was pointed, but was definitely not himself.
“Tyler, are you bloody listening to me?” Sam looked with a start to see the scowling face of Gene Hunt looking down at him. He blinked rapidly, trying to clear his head.
“Er, sorry, Guv. What’s up?”
“Body pulled out of the canal. Looks like suicide. Lets go.”
“Guv, a suicide? Don’t we have better things to waste our time on?” The look which Gene gave Sam silenced him. Sam closed his eyes as he felt adrenaline shoot through his system, heightening his senses. He glanced at the clock: 4.05 pm. His mum would be thinking about making tea… He shook his head, trying to make things come back into focus.
“I’m not going to like this, am I?” he asked.
“Let’s go.”
Gene was unusually silent as he drove them through the streets of Manchester. As they drew close, Sam recognised where they were headed - this was where the body of Joni Mitchell had been pulled from the canal, killed because of her desire to be free. As they left the car, walking down to the bridge, Sam felt anxiety building with every step. Instinctively he knew what they were going to find.
Ray and Chris were waiting with a blanket-covered lump on the ground in front of them. Sam’s eyes closed for a few seconds, then opened to see Gene peering curiously at him.
“How…?” Gene started to ask but then stopped. He nodded to Ray, who bent down to uncover the face of the late Vic Tyler. Sam stared at the face of his father, once again feeling detached from reality.
After a moment, he looked at Gene. “How?” was the only question he could think to ask.
“Tramp saw him jump last night. Or at least he thinks he did. He was drunk at the time. When he woke up today, he rang the station. Took a while to get anything sensible out of him though. Plod pulled him out, then called us.”
“Time?”
“Now? 5.15…”
Sam suddenly reached for Gene’s collar and slammed him into the bridge. “What time did it happen?” he asked, annunciating every word.
Gene angrily pulled away from Sam, then after a look at Sam’s face, swallowed his anger. “The tramp reckons it was just getting light, and he had just heard a clock chime the hour. Must have been…”
“Four o’clock,” Sam breathed. Sinking to his knees, tears began to roll down his face, reality bringing him crashing back into 1973. “Oh, God, four o’clock…” Ray and Chris looked at each other and walked away, leaving Gene silently watching his DI cry for a man he never really knew.