Fic: The Kept Man (40/40) COMPLETE, brown cortina, dakfinv
Title: The Kept Man (40/40)
Author: dak
Word Count: 2562 this part; [74,954 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 . It's over! A nice, even forty parts. I am going to be writing a bit of a nasty, super-dark prequel, after my brain has some time to heal. In the meantime, please enjoy the conclusion! A big thank you to everyone that's been reading and commenting. :) Oh, and I (mis)appropriate some dialogue from 1.01 and 1.04 here.
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
Drinks at the pub. That was what he was looking forward to. A nice, few drinks at the pub, with his men. He could temporarily forget Morgan’s looming shadow which, despite his best efforts, and taken up residence in the back of his mind. Drinking could take care of that. Drinking was always useful for blocking out the dark corners of his brain. Drinking was, unfortunately, going to have to wait, he realized, as Cartwright ran into his office, panic practically dripping from her face.
“Guv,” she panted. “My friend, the one who was going to meet Sam? He just rang the station. Said Sam ran off in the middle of their conversation.”
“What did he say?”
“That he knew how to get home.”
“Not Sam, yeh daft bird. That quack. What did he say that made Tyler run off?”
“How should I know?” Cartwright shot back. “Sorry, sir. Neil, he was really worried about DI Tyler. Thought he might be close to hysterics or something.”
Why was it when Gene needed a drink most, that was when he couldn’t have one? He stood from his desk and went for his coat. “You check the flat, around that neighborhood. See if yeh can’t spot him. I’ll drive round lookin’ for him.”
“Yes Guv.” She was gone in an instant.
Gene took another minute to get ready, the shadow of Morgan replaced by a niggling sensation in his gut, one which was quickly growing into something bigger, something closer to worry. He took the stairs to the ground floor, instinctively knowing that when he needed the shoddy lift to work, it would certainly break down.
Phyllis was finishing her shift as he descended the staircase behind her. “Didn’t think I’d be seein’ you down ‘ere, Guv,” she remarked as she filled out her final duty log.
“Beer o’clock, Sergeant Dobbs. Where else would I be?”
“Well, the way DI Tyler tore up those stairs, thought you two’d be havin’ a mighty row for the next hour or so.”
Gene froze, his foot hovering just above the floor. “You saw DI Tyler?”
“ ‘Less we’ve got another skinny sod with a near-sheared head and dirty, leather jacket.”
“When?”
“Not five minutes ago. Raced right past me without a word. Cartwright came running out a second later. Thought I was in the middle of the bleedin’ grand prix.”
“Did you see where he went?”
“I’m not on traffic duty, sir. All I know is that he din’t head towards the cells, cos I wouldn’t’ve let ‘im if he tried.”
“You are an occasionally smart woman,” Gene started back up the steps. “If he passes back this way, make sure he stays til I get back. I trust you know how to use those handcuffs.”
“Well, you should remember well enough.”
Sam was in the station, but not in CID. Gene would’ve passed him at some point. He checked anyway. Not in the squad room. Not in the bogs. Not in the locker room. Not in Lost and Found. No sign. He checked the morgue, Warren’s body was still there after all, but no, he wasn’t there either. He went to the collator’s. Not there. Phyllis had told him Sam hadn’t headed towards the cells, but he checked there anyway. Edwards was alone and brooding, no more bruised than he was before.
Gene didn’t want to worry. Sam could take care of himself, but he couldn’t. Sometimes, but not all the time. He could be perfectly fine, or he could be loopier than a bag of Hula Hoops. Whatever it was, Sam was not in the building. He hadn’t left. Phyllis would have stopped him. He’d entered the building, he hadn’t left the building, but he wasn’t in the building...
Gene raced up the stairs, barely avoiding the fire bucket, and climbed up the final metal steps to the roof. Right now was one of Sam’s “other” times. Gene could only watch him as Tyler stood on the edge of the roof, on the wrong side of the railing, arms outstretched as if he were about to fly. The second of shock passed and Gene was finally able to call out his name.
“Sam?” Tyler didn’t turn. “Y’know they put up those rails for a reason. You want to enjoy the glamorous Manchester skyline, you can do it from back here.”
Sam finally turned, just his head, and he was smiling. It was the smile that scared him more than anything because Gene knew that smile, and it wasn’t the smile of a sane man.
“It’s okay. I know the answer. I was right, about where I am, what’s happening to me. I was wrong about what I needed to do. Killing Warren wasn’t the answer.”
Gene slowly made his way to the edge. “No, Sam. It wasn’t. But what’s this goin’ to do, eh? What’ll this prove?”
“It’s the final step, Gene. The definitive step!” He smiled. “It’s all I need to do to wake up.”
“If that’s what that quack told yeh, I’ll be stringin’ ‘im up by his scrotum soon’s I see ‘im. Now get your arse back from the edge.” He was close to the rail now, but Sam was just as close to the edge.
“Why? There’s nothing else for me to do here. I’m ready to go home. I’m ready to wake up.” He stretched his foot out over the edge.
“No!” Gene shouted and suddenly he, too, was on the wrong side of the rail.
“What you doing?” Sam asked in confusion, staring at Gene’s new position.
“Not letting you be an idiot.”
Sam pulled back his foot, but made no other attempts to get to safety. “I know what I’m doing, Gene. Trust me.”
Gene, one hand clinging to rail, inched closer to the DI. “I do, Sam. But I can’t let you do this. If you’re worried about the Super, if you’re worried about Morgan, I’ve got all that shite sorted.”
“Morgan?” For the first time, Sam’s voice wavered. “What did you say to Morgan?”
“I’ll tell yeh, if you come downstairs with me.”
Sam seemed to think about it then shook his head. “No. No, you’re just my mind trying to keep me here.”
He wasn’t making any sense, but Gene would play along if he had to. “If I was, if I were part of your daft, little brain, why would I be workin’ against yeh? Maybe I want to keep you here for a reason. Maybe you’re not ready to wake up.” Gene didn’t like it when he couldn’t even understand the words that were coming out of his mouth, yet whatever he said drew from Sam the response he was looking for.
Tyler peered over the edge, then looked back at the roof. “Why wouldn’t I be ready?”
“Hell if I know, but we can’t figure it out if your brains get splattered all over the steps.” Gene kept his eyes on Sam.
Sam calmly took the time to consider his possibilities, as if he weren’t literally standing on the edge between life and death. “Alright,” he nodded. “Alright,” he said again, softly. Gene felt his guts slowly untangle themselves as Sam turned towards to the railing, only to have them screwed tight the next second as Sam’s foot slipped off the edge.
“SAM!” Without a concern for himself Gene threw his body at Sam and grabbed the DI’s arms, just as his legs slipped down the side of the building.
“God, oh God!” Sam screamed, his feet scrambling for some sort of purchase on the mortar.
Gene kept a firm grip on Sam’s arms. “C’mon, Hang in there, Sam! C’mon.” Gene always fought against everything, and gravity was no exception. He felt his own arms burning as he struggled to hoist Sam over the side.
“Don’t let go. Don’t let go!”
“I won’t, stupid pillock,” Gene gasped. “Now come on and get your legs up over the side!” Gene pulled him up with another hard tug, just enough so that Sam could swing his left leg back up onto the ledge. Gene grabbed it and secured it more firmly to the roof, and Sam was able to get his right leg back onto semi-solid ground. Sam still on his belly, Gene pushed him under the railing until he was safely on the other side, then carefully got to his feet and crawled back over the side.
Sam was still lying on his stomach when Gene made it to safety, and the Guv immediately crouched down and picked him up into a sitting position. “Are you okay? Are you okay?” Sam had his eyes closed but nodded his head. Without even thinking, Gene pulled Sam against him and held him there, stroking his head and rocking him back and forth. “I almost lost you,” he whispered, as Sam returned the embrace, wrapping his arms tightly around Gene.
“ ‘M sorry,” Sam mumbled.
“It’s not as bad as all that, Sam. It’s never as bad as all that.”
“I thought it was the only way,” he choked out and Gene realized he was crying.
“Then we’ll find another way, okay?”
Sam tilted his head back and looked up at Gene.
“We’ll find you another way,” he repeated, the words nearly cut off as Sam began to kiss him, only to pull back a second later.
“What is that? Is that sherbet?” Sam looked at him quizzically.
“Had a sherbet fountain while I was finishin’ up me work, before Cartwright stormed in sayin’ you’d gone missing.”
“But, why would I imagine that? Why would I bother to put that kind of detail in it?” Sam was almost laughing to himself.
Gene didn’t know how to answer, so he just kissed him again.
*
Gene had driven them out to a quieter part of town, a placid little street overlooking the canal. Parking the Cortina half-on/half-off the pavement, as was his fashion, Gene pulled out a bottle of J&B and together, they stood leaning back against the rail, sharing sip after sip. Sam found the silence between them calming, more peaceful than anything he had experienced in the last week.
“Harry Althway,” Gene spoke clearly as Sam took his next gulp.
“Who?” He asked, lowering the bottle and wiping his chin.
Gene reached for the bottle and took a long sip. “Old bloke I used to pound the streets with. Back when I first joined the force.”
“What about him?” Sam asked, again accepting the bottle and taking a sip.
“Hanged himself with ‘is own belt,” Gene replied matter-of-factly.
Sam nearly choked on the whisky. “Why?” He knew the appropriate answer would have been, “sorry,” but the mix of whisky and life was making him feel decidedly inappropriate.
Gene grabbed the bottle and stared at it. “Cos I shopped ‘im for takin’ backhanders,” he quickly spat out before taking another swig. “Took my first a month later. Never looked back,” he handed over the bottle.
Sam didn’t know what to say, what he was supposed to say. He didn’t even have any idea why Gene was sharing this with him.
“Which is what Morgan will be looking into when he starts his investigation,” Gene added quietly.
“Wait, what are you talking about? We know about Morgan’s plan, he can’t--”
“He’s got a new one, Sam. Your old DCI will be running an open investigation into my past.” Gene couldn’t look at Sam, but Sam wouldn’t take his eyes off Gene.
“You can’t let him do that.”
“Better me than you,” Gene sniffed nonchalantly, waiting for his next turn with the whisky.
Beep. Beep. Beep.
No, not now. Sam handed over the bottle and pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to will the sounds away. He didn’t have to ask Gene what he meant. There were a million different things Morgan could do to him, being witness to Sam’s crazed ramblings and the murder of Stephen Warren, but he wouldn’t. He wouldn’t because of Gene.
Beep. Beep. Beep.
He’s stable now.
Beep. Beep. Beep.
“You were right, Sam, back in that warehouse. You said we were all a cancer, and you’re right. All it takes is one man like Warren, and the greed, the corruption, it spreads through our city like wildfire. It infects everyone. Me, you, even blokes like Morgan. You try not to think about it, then one day, it’s too much and something happens, someone comes along, and makes you think about it. Warren might be gone, but the damage he’s done, it’s still polluting this place.”
Beep. Beep. Beep.
What happened to his life support machine? How did it malfunction? His heart nearly gave out.
Beep. Beep. Beep.
“Comes a time, Sam, when even bastards like me need to start fightin’ back, while I can at least. Course, I can’t do it on me own.”
Beep. Beep. Beep.
I don’t know, Doctor, but it seems to be in working order now.
For now. I want him transferred to a new machine tonight, before this happens again.
Beep. Beep. Beep.
Sam desperately wanted to listen to both Gene and the doctors, all their words so important.
“It’s all in order, your papers. If you want to stay here. Up to you though,” Gene shifted in what could almost be describe as a nervous fashion. “You get the final say so.”
Beep. Beep. Beep.
Stay strong, Sam. We know you’ll wake up when it’s time. Keep hanging in there.
Beep. Beep. Beep.
The sounds finally faded and Sam could concentrate on the man beside him. At last Sam knew, truly knew, what he was meant to do. “Morgan will need solid evidence to make his case. It’s unlikely he’ll be able to dig up any substantial proof from your past, not enough to get you arrested or terminated like he hopes.”
“And?” Gene shrugged, still not convinced.
“He’ll be focusing his efforts on the here and now. What you need is someone up to date on proper investigation procedures. Someone to keep you out of trouble until Morgan loses interest.”
“Know anyone willing to put up with my shite?” Gene scoffed.
“I’ve got a man in mind,” Sam smirked, taking back the bottle and finishing it off.
“He a good copper?”
“The best, from what he remembers.”
“Which ain’t a whole lot.”
“You don’t even know him.”
“Think I’d be willing to learn.”
“Then I think he’d be willing to be your DI.”
“My DI?”
“Yeah. Your DI,” Sam rubbed his stomach. “Who really needs to eat something decent,” he whined ever so slightly.
“I know somewhere. Decent Italian place, just round the corner.”
The two men started walking to the car.
“I still don’t have any money.”
“Guess I’m buyin’ then,” Gene sniffed as he opened the driver’s side door.
“Like a date?”
“This is not a date.”
“Yes it is,” Sam grinned. “You’re taking me to an Italian restaurant and footing the bill. It’s a date,” climbed in the car.
“Is not,” Gene argued as he started the engine.
“Is too,” Sam slipped on his seat belt.
“Is not,” Gene threw the car into gear and took off down the street.
“Is too,” Sam grabbed the handlebar and hung on tightly.
“Is...For godsakes, Gladys. Are you always like this?”
“Better get used to it,” Sam looked to his right and smiled. “Guv.”
________
The Prequel - Unknown White Male
Author: dak
Word Count: 2562 this part; [74,954 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 . It's over! A nice, even forty parts. I am going to be writing a bit of a nasty, super-dark prequel, after my brain has some time to heal. In the meantime, please enjoy the conclusion! A big thank you to everyone that's been reading and commenting. :) Oh, and I (mis)appropriate some dialogue from 1.01 and 1.04 here.
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
Drinks at the pub. That was what he was looking forward to. A nice, few drinks at the pub, with his men. He could temporarily forget Morgan’s looming shadow which, despite his best efforts, and taken up residence in the back of his mind. Drinking could take care of that. Drinking was always useful for blocking out the dark corners of his brain. Drinking was, unfortunately, going to have to wait, he realized, as Cartwright ran into his office, panic practically dripping from her face.
“Guv,” she panted. “My friend, the one who was going to meet Sam? He just rang the station. Said Sam ran off in the middle of their conversation.”
“What did he say?”
“That he knew how to get home.”
“Not Sam, yeh daft bird. That quack. What did he say that made Tyler run off?”
“How should I know?” Cartwright shot back. “Sorry, sir. Neil, he was really worried about DI Tyler. Thought he might be close to hysterics or something.”
Why was it when Gene needed a drink most, that was when he couldn’t have one? He stood from his desk and went for his coat. “You check the flat, around that neighborhood. See if yeh can’t spot him. I’ll drive round lookin’ for him.”
“Yes Guv.” She was gone in an instant.
Gene took another minute to get ready, the shadow of Morgan replaced by a niggling sensation in his gut, one which was quickly growing into something bigger, something closer to worry. He took the stairs to the ground floor, instinctively knowing that when he needed the shoddy lift to work, it would certainly break down.
Phyllis was finishing her shift as he descended the staircase behind her. “Didn’t think I’d be seein’ you down ‘ere, Guv,” she remarked as she filled out her final duty log.
“Beer o’clock, Sergeant Dobbs. Where else would I be?”
“Well, the way DI Tyler tore up those stairs, thought you two’d be havin’ a mighty row for the next hour or so.”
Gene froze, his foot hovering just above the floor. “You saw DI Tyler?”
“ ‘Less we’ve got another skinny sod with a near-sheared head and dirty, leather jacket.”
“When?”
“Not five minutes ago. Raced right past me without a word. Cartwright came running out a second later. Thought I was in the middle of the bleedin’ grand prix.”
“Did you see where he went?”
“I’m not on traffic duty, sir. All I know is that he din’t head towards the cells, cos I wouldn’t’ve let ‘im if he tried.”
“You are an occasionally smart woman,” Gene started back up the steps. “If he passes back this way, make sure he stays til I get back. I trust you know how to use those handcuffs.”
“Well, you should remember well enough.”
Sam was in the station, but not in CID. Gene would’ve passed him at some point. He checked anyway. Not in the squad room. Not in the bogs. Not in the locker room. Not in Lost and Found. No sign. He checked the morgue, Warren’s body was still there after all, but no, he wasn’t there either. He went to the collator’s. Not there. Phyllis had told him Sam hadn’t headed towards the cells, but he checked there anyway. Edwards was alone and brooding, no more bruised than he was before.
Gene didn’t want to worry. Sam could take care of himself, but he couldn’t. Sometimes, but not all the time. He could be perfectly fine, or he could be loopier than a bag of Hula Hoops. Whatever it was, Sam was not in the building. He hadn’t left. Phyllis would have stopped him. He’d entered the building, he hadn’t left the building, but he wasn’t in the building...
Gene raced up the stairs, barely avoiding the fire bucket, and climbed up the final metal steps to the roof. Right now was one of Sam’s “other” times. Gene could only watch him as Tyler stood on the edge of the roof, on the wrong side of the railing, arms outstretched as if he were about to fly. The second of shock passed and Gene was finally able to call out his name.
“Sam?” Tyler didn’t turn. “Y’know they put up those rails for a reason. You want to enjoy the glamorous Manchester skyline, you can do it from back here.”
Sam finally turned, just his head, and he was smiling. It was the smile that scared him more than anything because Gene knew that smile, and it wasn’t the smile of a sane man.
“It’s okay. I know the answer. I was right, about where I am, what’s happening to me. I was wrong about what I needed to do. Killing Warren wasn’t the answer.”
Gene slowly made his way to the edge. “No, Sam. It wasn’t. But what’s this goin’ to do, eh? What’ll this prove?”
“It’s the final step, Gene. The definitive step!” He smiled. “It’s all I need to do to wake up.”
“If that’s what that quack told yeh, I’ll be stringin’ ‘im up by his scrotum soon’s I see ‘im. Now get your arse back from the edge.” He was close to the rail now, but Sam was just as close to the edge.
“Why? There’s nothing else for me to do here. I’m ready to go home. I’m ready to wake up.” He stretched his foot out over the edge.
“No!” Gene shouted and suddenly he, too, was on the wrong side of the rail.
“What you doing?” Sam asked in confusion, staring at Gene’s new position.
“Not letting you be an idiot.”
Sam pulled back his foot, but made no other attempts to get to safety. “I know what I’m doing, Gene. Trust me.”
Gene, one hand clinging to rail, inched closer to the DI. “I do, Sam. But I can’t let you do this. If you’re worried about the Super, if you’re worried about Morgan, I’ve got all that shite sorted.”
“Morgan?” For the first time, Sam’s voice wavered. “What did you say to Morgan?”
“I’ll tell yeh, if you come downstairs with me.”
Sam seemed to think about it then shook his head. “No. No, you’re just my mind trying to keep me here.”
He wasn’t making any sense, but Gene would play along if he had to. “If I was, if I were part of your daft, little brain, why would I be workin’ against yeh? Maybe I want to keep you here for a reason. Maybe you’re not ready to wake up.” Gene didn’t like it when he couldn’t even understand the words that were coming out of his mouth, yet whatever he said drew from Sam the response he was looking for.
Tyler peered over the edge, then looked back at the roof. “Why wouldn’t I be ready?”
“Hell if I know, but we can’t figure it out if your brains get splattered all over the steps.” Gene kept his eyes on Sam.
Sam calmly took the time to consider his possibilities, as if he weren’t literally standing on the edge between life and death. “Alright,” he nodded. “Alright,” he said again, softly. Gene felt his guts slowly untangle themselves as Sam turned towards to the railing, only to have them screwed tight the next second as Sam’s foot slipped off the edge.
“SAM!” Without a concern for himself Gene threw his body at Sam and grabbed the DI’s arms, just as his legs slipped down the side of the building.
“God, oh God!” Sam screamed, his feet scrambling for some sort of purchase on the mortar.
Gene kept a firm grip on Sam’s arms. “C’mon, Hang in there, Sam! C’mon.” Gene always fought against everything, and gravity was no exception. He felt his own arms burning as he struggled to hoist Sam over the side.
“Don’t let go. Don’t let go!”
“I won’t, stupid pillock,” Gene gasped. “Now come on and get your legs up over the side!” Gene pulled him up with another hard tug, just enough so that Sam could swing his left leg back up onto the ledge. Gene grabbed it and secured it more firmly to the roof, and Sam was able to get his right leg back onto semi-solid ground. Sam still on his belly, Gene pushed him under the railing until he was safely on the other side, then carefully got to his feet and crawled back over the side.
Sam was still lying on his stomach when Gene made it to safety, and the Guv immediately crouched down and picked him up into a sitting position. “Are you okay? Are you okay?” Sam had his eyes closed but nodded his head. Without even thinking, Gene pulled Sam against him and held him there, stroking his head and rocking him back and forth. “I almost lost you,” he whispered, as Sam returned the embrace, wrapping his arms tightly around Gene.
“ ‘M sorry,” Sam mumbled.
“It’s not as bad as all that, Sam. It’s never as bad as all that.”
“I thought it was the only way,” he choked out and Gene realized he was crying.
“Then we’ll find another way, okay?”
Sam tilted his head back and looked up at Gene.
“We’ll find you another way,” he repeated, the words nearly cut off as Sam began to kiss him, only to pull back a second later.
“What is that? Is that sherbet?” Sam looked at him quizzically.
“Had a sherbet fountain while I was finishin’ up me work, before Cartwright stormed in sayin’ you’d gone missing.”
“But, why would I imagine that? Why would I bother to put that kind of detail in it?” Sam was almost laughing to himself.
Gene didn’t know how to answer, so he just kissed him again.
*
Gene had driven them out to a quieter part of town, a placid little street overlooking the canal. Parking the Cortina half-on/half-off the pavement, as was his fashion, Gene pulled out a bottle of J&B and together, they stood leaning back against the rail, sharing sip after sip. Sam found the silence between them calming, more peaceful than anything he had experienced in the last week.
“Harry Althway,” Gene spoke clearly as Sam took his next gulp.
“Who?” He asked, lowering the bottle and wiping his chin.
Gene reached for the bottle and took a long sip. “Old bloke I used to pound the streets with. Back when I first joined the force.”
“What about him?” Sam asked, again accepting the bottle and taking a sip.
“Hanged himself with ‘is own belt,” Gene replied matter-of-factly.
Sam nearly choked on the whisky. “Why?” He knew the appropriate answer would have been, “sorry,” but the mix of whisky and life was making him feel decidedly inappropriate.
Gene grabbed the bottle and stared at it. “Cos I shopped ‘im for takin’ backhanders,” he quickly spat out before taking another swig. “Took my first a month later. Never looked back,” he handed over the bottle.
Sam didn’t know what to say, what he was supposed to say. He didn’t even have any idea why Gene was sharing this with him.
“Which is what Morgan will be looking into when he starts his investigation,” Gene added quietly.
“Wait, what are you talking about? We know about Morgan’s plan, he can’t--”
“He’s got a new one, Sam. Your old DCI will be running an open investigation into my past.” Gene couldn’t look at Sam, but Sam wouldn’t take his eyes off Gene.
“You can’t let him do that.”
“Better me than you,” Gene sniffed nonchalantly, waiting for his next turn with the whisky.
Beep. Beep. Beep.
No, not now. Sam handed over the bottle and pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to will the sounds away. He didn’t have to ask Gene what he meant. There were a million different things Morgan could do to him, being witness to Sam’s crazed ramblings and the murder of Stephen Warren, but he wouldn’t. He wouldn’t because of Gene.
Beep. Beep. Beep.
He’s stable now.
Beep. Beep. Beep.
“You were right, Sam, back in that warehouse. You said we were all a cancer, and you’re right. All it takes is one man like Warren, and the greed, the corruption, it spreads through our city like wildfire. It infects everyone. Me, you, even blokes like Morgan. You try not to think about it, then one day, it’s too much and something happens, someone comes along, and makes you think about it. Warren might be gone, but the damage he’s done, it’s still polluting this place.”
Beep. Beep. Beep.
What happened to his life support machine? How did it malfunction? His heart nearly gave out.
Beep. Beep. Beep.
“Comes a time, Sam, when even bastards like me need to start fightin’ back, while I can at least. Course, I can’t do it on me own.”
Beep. Beep. Beep.
I don’t know, Doctor, but it seems to be in working order now.
For now. I want him transferred to a new machine tonight, before this happens again.
Beep. Beep. Beep.
Sam desperately wanted to listen to both Gene and the doctors, all their words so important.
“It’s all in order, your papers. If you want to stay here. Up to you though,” Gene shifted in what could almost be describe as a nervous fashion. “You get the final say so.”
Beep. Beep. Beep.
Stay strong, Sam. We know you’ll wake up when it’s time. Keep hanging in there.
Beep. Beep. Beep.
The sounds finally faded and Sam could concentrate on the man beside him. At last Sam knew, truly knew, what he was meant to do. “Morgan will need solid evidence to make his case. It’s unlikely he’ll be able to dig up any substantial proof from your past, not enough to get you arrested or terminated like he hopes.”
“And?” Gene shrugged, still not convinced.
“He’ll be focusing his efforts on the here and now. What you need is someone up to date on proper investigation procedures. Someone to keep you out of trouble until Morgan loses interest.”
“Know anyone willing to put up with my shite?” Gene scoffed.
“I’ve got a man in mind,” Sam smirked, taking back the bottle and finishing it off.
“He a good copper?”
“The best, from what he remembers.”
“Which ain’t a whole lot.”
“You don’t even know him.”
“Think I’d be willing to learn.”
“Then I think he’d be willing to be your DI.”
“My DI?”
“Yeah. Your DI,” Sam rubbed his stomach. “Who really needs to eat something decent,” he whined ever so slightly.
“I know somewhere. Decent Italian place, just round the corner.”
The two men started walking to the car.
“I still don’t have any money.”
“Guess I’m buyin’ then,” Gene sniffed as he opened the driver’s side door.
“Like a date?”
“This is not a date.”
“Yes it is,” Sam grinned. “You’re taking me to an Italian restaurant and footing the bill. It’s a date,” climbed in the car.
“Is not,” Gene argued as he started the engine.
“Is too,” Sam slipped on his seat belt.
“Is not,” Gene threw the car into gear and took off down the street.
“Is too,” Sam grabbed the handlebar and hung on tightly.
“Is...For godsakes, Gladys. Are you always like this?”
“Better get used to it,” Sam looked to his right and smiled. “Guv.”
________
The Prequel - Unknown White Male