Fic: The Kept Man (29/40), brown cortina, dakfinv
Title: The Kept Man (29/40)
Author: dak
Word Count: 1427 this part; [54,084 overall]
Rating: brown cortina
Warnings: angst, sexual situations, swearing
Spoilers: 1.04, 1.05, 1.07, 2.08
Pairing: Sam/Warren, Sam/Gene
Summary: AU. Sam woke up with amnesia when he landed in 1973, able to only remember his name, and ended up in the grasp of Stephen Warren. When he and Gene Hunt finally cross paths it starts a chain of events that will either save Sam or damn him.
A/N: From an idea from talcat given via culf.
Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21 Part 22 Part 23 Part 24 Part 25 Part 26 Part 27 Part 28 Part 29 Part 30 Part 31 Part 32 Part 33 Part 34 Part 35 Part 36 Part 37 Part 38 Part 39 Part 40
As he stirred his tea slowly with his right hand, Gene witnessed him returning to life with each twist of his fingers. Cartwright thought it was guilt over the shooting, which it probably was, but Gene knew the whole story. He knew Sam was traumatized deeper than that. Fuck if he knew what to do about it, though.
“I wasn’t there to tamper with evidence,” Sam finally spoke, his voice a dry whisper as he continued to stir, but never sipped.
“Didn’t think you were,” Gene replied, biting into his sixth pink wafer. Gene loved pink wafers, probably more than what was considered healthy. If only everything could be as simple as the neat elegance of the pink wafer.
“I only wanted to see the body. I wanted to make sure he was really gone,” Sam was speaking to his teacup, but that didn’t bother Gene. The teacup would probably provide a more intelligent response than he could. “I don’t know what happened. I saw myself, I felt myself, drifting, but I couldn’t stop it. Guess he’s not as gone as I thought.” Sam finally stopped stirring but his hand didn’t leave the spoon and his eyes didn’t leave the cup. “Morgan was right. I should be committed.”
“Morgan’s an arse,” Gene grumbled, finishing his seventh wafer. Bless that Cartwright. She had found them a whole pack of those pink beauties.
“Has he said anything?” Sam’s eyes finally drifted upwards.
“Silent as the grave. Which is good cos if ‘e weren’t, I’d make sure ‘e were in one.” Gene leaned back and crossed his arms as Sam’s gaze floated back down to the milky black tea.
“Guess he’s trying to find a way to salvage his operation.” There was a slight sneering quality to Sam’s voice as he returned to stirring his tea, an unnecessary action as Gene decided that the liquid was now more uniformed than the Royal Guard.
“What operation?” Copper’s instinct. Gene couldn’t help it. He automatically treated any conversation as if it were an interrogation. Number three on the list of reason why the missus was gone. He hadn’t really expected an answer. He’d also forgotten how fragile Sam was at the moment.
“Morgan said I was DCI Williams from Hyde. I was sent here undercover as Tyler to gather evidence against you, in an attempt to have you arrested and/or fired, and rebuild ‘A’ Division in his image.” His voice was completely monotone. A robot repeating its programming.
Gene’s eighth wafer snapped in half. “But you had your accident...”
“And ended up with W-Warren, instead.”
“Morgan told you all this at your little meet an’ greet, that night...” The day Morgan came. The night he buggered Sam into the carpet.
“He said it’s why they hadn’t come looking for me. He didn’t want to risk exposing the operation.”
“You told me you got all your memories back, but you don’t remember this?” The wafer was crumbling in Gene’s hands.
“I’m not Williams. I never was. Morgan was lying.”
“Why?” It was pink dust now. All dust on his hands.
“How should I know?” Sam shouted and every head in the canteen turned towards him. Tyler flinched from the unwanted attention.
“Okay,” Gene said with a facade of calm. “You said you’re Tyler. I said I’d believe you. So, I believe you.” There was nothing to disprove that Sam was Tyler. There was no reason why Gene shouldn’t believe him. Sam was too broken to lie right now. Everything he said, Sam at least believed it to be the truth. Tyler had gone back to stirring his tea and watching it swirl.
“Do not get offended, Sam,” Gene warned. “But do you need to take some time off? Take a week or so to relax, get your bearings, then come back to work?”
He could see Sam tense. See him struggling to remain passive at the unwanted suggestion. “I like to work. I need to work.”
“You shouldn’t be on any case involving Warren and that corpse seems to have his fingers in all our pies, right now.”
“There has to be something I can do,” Sam fixed his pleading eyes on Gene. “Please give me something to do.”
Gene didn’t want to, but if Sam were at the station, he could at least keep an eye on him. “Not today. You’re relieved of your duties for the rest of the day. Get summit to eat. Get some kip. I’ll see you back here tomorrow morning. Fair enough?”
Sam thought briefly then nodded. “Fair enough.”
“Good.” Gene pushed the pack of wafers to Sam, then rose from the table. “Would you have done it? What Morgan asked?” It was Gene’s turn to stare at the untouched tea.
“He said I could go home,” Sam replied after a long pause.
“Warren offered you a way home. Morgan offered you a way. Maybe you should find your own.” He started to walk away from the table.
“I tried,” Sam whispered. “It didn’t work.” He reached a shaking hand into the pack and pulled out one wafer, broke it in half, then placed one half back inside the box. Gene made sure Cartwright was with him before he left the canteen.
*
Drip. Drip. Drip. The sink in the kitchen leaked. Drip. Drip. Drip. Sam knew how to fix it. Drip. Drip. Drip. He knew some basic plumbing. Drip. Drip. Drip. He knew a lot of things. Drip. Drip. Drip. He just couldn’t be bothered. Drip. Drip. Drip.
He lay on top of the bed, on top of the covers, fully clothed, listening to the drip, drip, drip, wishing it were a beep, beep, beep. It wasn’t. Sam knew a lot of things, maybe too many, when before he hadn’t known anything at all. He hadn’t needed to know anything before. He knew how to fix a leaky sink, for instance. He knew how to put up shelves. He also knew other things. Drip. Drip. Drip.
He knew, by heart, the entire Police and Criminal Evidence Act of 1984. He knew crime scene procedure. When to call in SOCO, who to interview, who to suspect. He knew how to interrogate suspects. He knew the procedure for that, in addition to knowing how to perform the actual act. He always liked good cop, bad cop. He knew Maya was a good, good cop. She could also be a good, bad cop. He knew Maya might be dead or seriously injured. Drip. Drip. Drip.
He knew how to cook and he knew how to bake, but he knew he wasn’t as a good a baker as he was a chef. He knew his mum was still alive but that his dad had left when he was only a little boy. He knew he wasn’t married. He knew he had no children. He knew, unbeknownst to Maya or his mum, that sometimes he liked men more than women, but he knew that was only sometimes, with only certain men. Drip. Drip. Drip.
“You can’t go on like this forever, Sam.”
He knew not to be surprised by her presence anymore. He knew she was just another part of his life here. Drip. Drip. Drip.
“Something must be done.”
“What do you suggest?” He glared at the ceiling while she drifted towards him. Sam knew he needed to do something. He knew he should stop sulking. He knew he should stay active, keep his brain active. Drip. Drip. Drip.
“You must be so lonely here, now that your friend is gone.”
He knew he should say that Warren wasn’t his friend, but he didn’t. Drip. Drip. Drip.
“Are you going to stay here forever, then? All alone with no one to care for you?”
“There’s people that care about me. They’re just not here. They’re in the future.” He knew that should sound crazy, but it didn’t. Drip. Drip. Drip.
“Don’t you want to get back to them? Your poor mum, she must be so worried.”
“I don’t know what else to try.” He knew that was the truth. Drip. Drip. Drip.
“Oh, Sam. There are so many ways. You just need to look. Can you still look, Sam? Can you still see? There really is so much you could try to help you sleep.”
He knew if he ignored her, she would go away. He knew some of what she said was true. He knew that scared him. Drip. Drip. Drip.
Sam knew many, many things. It was what he didn’t know, that was killing him.
Drip. Drip. Drip.
_______
Part 30
Author: dak
Word Count: 1427 this part; [54,084 overall]
Rating: brown cortina
Warnings: angst, sexual situations, swearing
Spoilers: 1.04, 1.05, 1.07, 2.08
Pairing: Sam/Warren, Sam/Gene
Summary: AU. Sam woke up with amnesia when he landed in 1973, able to only remember his name, and ended up in the grasp of Stephen Warren. When he and Gene Hunt finally cross paths it starts a chain of events that will either save Sam or damn him.
A/N: From an idea from talcat given via culf.
Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21 Part 22 Part 23 Part 24 Part 25 Part 26 Part 27 Part 28 Part 29 Part 30 Part 31 Part 32 Part 33 Part 34 Part 35 Part 36 Part 37 Part 38 Part 39 Part 40
As he stirred his tea slowly with his right hand, Gene witnessed him returning to life with each twist of his fingers. Cartwright thought it was guilt over the shooting, which it probably was, but Gene knew the whole story. He knew Sam was traumatized deeper than that. Fuck if he knew what to do about it, though.
“I wasn’t there to tamper with evidence,” Sam finally spoke, his voice a dry whisper as he continued to stir, but never sipped.
“Didn’t think you were,” Gene replied, biting into his sixth pink wafer. Gene loved pink wafers, probably more than what was considered healthy. If only everything could be as simple as the neat elegance of the pink wafer.
“I only wanted to see the body. I wanted to make sure he was really gone,” Sam was speaking to his teacup, but that didn’t bother Gene. The teacup would probably provide a more intelligent response than he could. “I don’t know what happened. I saw myself, I felt myself, drifting, but I couldn’t stop it. Guess he’s not as gone as I thought.” Sam finally stopped stirring but his hand didn’t leave the spoon and his eyes didn’t leave the cup. “Morgan was right. I should be committed.”
“Morgan’s an arse,” Gene grumbled, finishing his seventh wafer. Bless that Cartwright. She had found them a whole pack of those pink beauties.
“Has he said anything?” Sam’s eyes finally drifted upwards.
“Silent as the grave. Which is good cos if ‘e weren’t, I’d make sure ‘e were in one.” Gene leaned back and crossed his arms as Sam’s gaze floated back down to the milky black tea.
“Guess he’s trying to find a way to salvage his operation.” There was a slight sneering quality to Sam’s voice as he returned to stirring his tea, an unnecessary action as Gene decided that the liquid was now more uniformed than the Royal Guard.
“What operation?” Copper’s instinct. Gene couldn’t help it. He automatically treated any conversation as if it were an interrogation. Number three on the list of reason why the missus was gone. He hadn’t really expected an answer. He’d also forgotten how fragile Sam was at the moment.
“Morgan said I was DCI Williams from Hyde. I was sent here undercover as Tyler to gather evidence against you, in an attempt to have you arrested and/or fired, and rebuild ‘A’ Division in his image.” His voice was completely monotone. A robot repeating its programming.
Gene’s eighth wafer snapped in half. “But you had your accident...”
“And ended up with W-Warren, instead.”
“Morgan told you all this at your little meet an’ greet, that night...” The day Morgan came. The night he buggered Sam into the carpet.
“He said it’s why they hadn’t come looking for me. He didn’t want to risk exposing the operation.”
“You told me you got all your memories back, but you don’t remember this?” The wafer was crumbling in Gene’s hands.
“I’m not Williams. I never was. Morgan was lying.”
“Why?” It was pink dust now. All dust on his hands.
“How should I know?” Sam shouted and every head in the canteen turned towards him. Tyler flinched from the unwanted attention.
“Okay,” Gene said with a facade of calm. “You said you’re Tyler. I said I’d believe you. So, I believe you.” There was nothing to disprove that Sam was Tyler. There was no reason why Gene shouldn’t believe him. Sam was too broken to lie right now. Everything he said, Sam at least believed it to be the truth. Tyler had gone back to stirring his tea and watching it swirl.
“Do not get offended, Sam,” Gene warned. “But do you need to take some time off? Take a week or so to relax, get your bearings, then come back to work?”
He could see Sam tense. See him struggling to remain passive at the unwanted suggestion. “I like to work. I need to work.”
“You shouldn’t be on any case involving Warren and that corpse seems to have his fingers in all our pies, right now.”
“There has to be something I can do,” Sam fixed his pleading eyes on Gene. “Please give me something to do.”
Gene didn’t want to, but if Sam were at the station, he could at least keep an eye on him. “Not today. You’re relieved of your duties for the rest of the day. Get summit to eat. Get some kip. I’ll see you back here tomorrow morning. Fair enough?”
Sam thought briefly then nodded. “Fair enough.”
“Good.” Gene pushed the pack of wafers to Sam, then rose from the table. “Would you have done it? What Morgan asked?” It was Gene’s turn to stare at the untouched tea.
“He said I could go home,” Sam replied after a long pause.
“Warren offered you a way home. Morgan offered you a way. Maybe you should find your own.” He started to walk away from the table.
“I tried,” Sam whispered. “It didn’t work.” He reached a shaking hand into the pack and pulled out one wafer, broke it in half, then placed one half back inside the box. Gene made sure Cartwright was with him before he left the canteen.
*
Drip. Drip. Drip. The sink in the kitchen leaked. Drip. Drip. Drip. Sam knew how to fix it. Drip. Drip. Drip. He knew some basic plumbing. Drip. Drip. Drip. He knew a lot of things. Drip. Drip. Drip. He just couldn’t be bothered. Drip. Drip. Drip.
He lay on top of the bed, on top of the covers, fully clothed, listening to the drip, drip, drip, wishing it were a beep, beep, beep. It wasn’t. Sam knew a lot of things, maybe too many, when before he hadn’t known anything at all. He hadn’t needed to know anything before. He knew how to fix a leaky sink, for instance. He knew how to put up shelves. He also knew other things. Drip. Drip. Drip.
He knew, by heart, the entire Police and Criminal Evidence Act of 1984. He knew crime scene procedure. When to call in SOCO, who to interview, who to suspect. He knew how to interrogate suspects. He knew the procedure for that, in addition to knowing how to perform the actual act. He always liked good cop, bad cop. He knew Maya was a good, good cop. She could also be a good, bad cop. He knew Maya might be dead or seriously injured. Drip. Drip. Drip.
He knew how to cook and he knew how to bake, but he knew he wasn’t as a good a baker as he was a chef. He knew his mum was still alive but that his dad had left when he was only a little boy. He knew he wasn’t married. He knew he had no children. He knew, unbeknownst to Maya or his mum, that sometimes he liked men more than women, but he knew that was only sometimes, with only certain men. Drip. Drip. Drip.
“You can’t go on like this forever, Sam.”
He knew not to be surprised by her presence anymore. He knew she was just another part of his life here. Drip. Drip. Drip.
“Something must be done.”
“What do you suggest?” He glared at the ceiling while she drifted towards him. Sam knew he needed to do something. He knew he should stop sulking. He knew he should stay active, keep his brain active. Drip. Drip. Drip.
“You must be so lonely here, now that your friend is gone.”
He knew he should say that Warren wasn’t his friend, but he didn’t. Drip. Drip. Drip.
“Are you going to stay here forever, then? All alone with no one to care for you?”
“There’s people that care about me. They’re just not here. They’re in the future.” He knew that should sound crazy, but it didn’t. Drip. Drip. Drip.
“Don’t you want to get back to them? Your poor mum, she must be so worried.”
“I don’t know what else to try.” He knew that was the truth. Drip. Drip. Drip.
“Oh, Sam. There are so many ways. You just need to look. Can you still look, Sam? Can you still see? There really is so much you could try to help you sleep.”
He knew if he ignored her, she would go away. He knew some of what she said was true. He knew that scared him. Drip. Drip. Drip.
Sam knew many, many things. It was what he didn’t know, that was killing him.
Drip. Drip. Drip.
_______
Part 30