Fic: The Art of Being Lost and Found (3/?), green cortina, dakfinv
Title: The Art of Being Lost and Found (3/?)
Author: dak
Word Count: 1427 (this part); (3386 in total, so far)
Rating: green cortina (for now)
Warnings: none. yet.
Summary: Post 2.08. When the Guv goes missing, CID is saddled with an inept "interim" DCI. To find Gene, and the truth, Ray must team up with a hated enemy.
A/N: I've realized I've unintentionally confused some people about the timeline. I meant to put something in the A/N for part 1 but, erm, forget. So, this fic takes place a few months after the end of 2.08. So, everything that happened in canon, happened in the world of this fic. (But, it does disregard anything from A2A.) Please enjoy!
Part 1 Part 2
The weather hadn’t seemed too awful when he’d stepped out of his house that morning. But, now that they were standing down by the water, it was bloody freezing. Ray lifted the collar on his coat in an attempt to block the wind, but it did little to warm the chill in his body.
Annie had reluctantly taken charge of organizing hot tea for all and was walking down the embankment with Ray’s second cup in her hand.
“Cheers,” he muttered as she handed it over, his lips chapped from the biting wind.
“Anything I can do to help,” she remarked, her voice colder than the air.
“Would you rather be here or back at the station, sharpening Carter’s pencils while he eyes up your arse?”
“I can handle him,” Cartwright crossed her arms.
“Till he gets his hands down your knickers and none of us are there to knock him one.”
“If that man’s hands get anywhere near my knickers, you won’t have to worry ‘bout it happening twice. Won’t have any hands left,” she huffed and tossed back her hair. The wind kept blowing it in her face.
“That’s what makes you better than the average bird, Cartwright,” Ray smirked.
“I’ll take that as a compliment, DS Carling. Now is there anything I can do that’ll be of actual use?” She blew on her hands to warm them up, then rubbed them vigorously. If Ray had a pair of gloves, he would have offered them.
“Keep an eye on Chris,” he nodded in Skelton’s direction, where the young DC was nervously puffing through his seventh Marlboro of the day. “He’s had a rough go of it these past couple months.”
“Haven’t we all?” Annie questioned, but her voice lacked any malice. Ray nodded in agreement.
“Someone needs to keep him busy, else he starts thinking too much.”
“I’ll do what I can,” Annie sighed and, after giving Ray’s arm a comforting squeeze, went to Chris’ side. Ray watched as she smiled and spoke to him, hiding her own fears as she distracted Chris from his. Then, he turned his attention back to the men sweeping the canal. It had been four hours so far, and they’d found nothing but a few moldy shoes and the corpse of a stray dog.
In the next four hours, Ray prayed that was the only body they pulled from the water.
*
“And what of your murder enquiry? Have you even notified the man’s family of his death?” Carter was huffing and puffing behind the Guv’s desk. Ray was glad to be warm, which he credited to all the hot air blowing towards him.
“He has no family. Chris and I already checked. We’re waiting for forensics to tell us ‘bout the dabs we found around the scene, and we interviewed all the neighbors. Didn’t hear a peep.”
Carter appeared surprised that Ray had even that much to tell. He quickly composed himself, though, and carried on with his rant.
“Be that as it may, there is absolutely no excuse for you to have tied up half our resources with a wasted search of the canal.”
“We’ve only done a third of it. And Rathbone said we should.”
“But Superintendant Rathbone did not advise that you handle the search personally, did he? DS Carling, did I or did I not tell you, that the search for DCI Hunt could no longer be our top priority?”
“You did. You also said you wouldn’t dream of stopping the search. We had no luck anywhere else. When that happens, we go to the water,” Ray was getting frustrated now. This Carter had no problem being a hypocritical twat, but God forbid anyone should call him on it.
“Perhaps I did not make myself entirely clear, yesterday.”
“ ‘Don’t stop the search.’ Seems pretty clear to me. Sir.”
“Current cases are to be your priority from now on. I’m handing over DCI Hunt’s case to RCS.”
Ray leapt from the chair, ready to strangle the useless tosser.
“Crime Squad? This ain’t in their jurisdiction! And they never gave a shit about the Guv!”
“Their case load is considerably lighter than ours at the moment. They have the manpower to proceed with an investigation...”
“But they won’t! They’ll shove that file in a corner and forget Gene Hunt ever existed.”
Carter calmly sipped his coffee and sat down at the desk.
“Everyone in this station is a team, DS Carling. I would expect you to have more faith in your fellow officers.”
“Handing off this case is a mistake and you know it.”
“No, I don’t. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a meeting with Superintendent Rathbone and you have a murder investigation to deal with, don’t you?”
Ray burst out of the office before they’d need to investigate the death of one DCI Carter.
*
“Bastard! That bloody bastard!” Ray slammed his fist on the sticky table, nearly knocking over Chris’ pint as well as his own. “I can’t believe Rathbone let him pass off the Guv like that!”
“Well, the Super and the Guv never really saw eye to eye,” Chris shrugged, already defeated.
“S’no reason to treat him like a dead man,” he argued and tossed back his drink.
“What else can we do?” Chris sighed, picking at a scratch on the table.
“Don’t know,” Ray admitted. “Bloody Carter’s got us by the balls. And the Super’s going along with it. Maybe if Cartwright flashed her tits, that’d get him to change his mind.”
“Don’t think Annie’d agree, do you?”
“Give it another week and she might.”
They settled into an uncomfortable silence as they sipped their pints and listened to the sounds of Deep Purple on the jukebox.
“There...nevermind,” Chris shook his head and lit a cigarette, his third pack of the day.
“What?”
“Nowt.”
“Just tell me, Chris,” Ray grumbled. Each second of the day was getting more aggravating than the next, and it was already nine-thirty at night.
“There is summit else we could try,” he said with a whisper. Ray’s eyes narrowed to form a steely gaze.
“No bloody way.”
“That’s why I weren’t going to say it.”
“Should’ve never even thought it.”
“Didn’t mean to,” Chris apologized, his whole body crumpling as he was chastised by his best mate. Ray felt guilty, but only a bit. “But,” Chris started again. “You said you’d find the Guv, no matter what.”
“And I will.”
“You said you’d do whatever you had to.”
Chris had him there. Ray never had trouble going back on a promise to his mum or his girlfriend, but Chris? It wasn’t fair to the lad when he trusted Ray so much (even if he shouldn’t.) They finished their drinks in silence. Chris left soon after and Ray waited, closing out the pub for Nelson once again.
*
The drive was long and uncomfortable. It wasn’t his nerves getting to him; it was that spring in the seat he still hadn’t fixed. He put on the radio, hoping some music would take his mind off the pain. But, the more he drove, the more the spring dug in. By the time he arrived, he had a distinct pain in his arse.
He had never been here before, but was surprised by how dark and cold the building was. The imposing stone figure towered over the empty fields surrounding it. There was nothing else nearby, save a few scattered sheep in the distance.
He parked the Romeo in the vacant visitor’s lot and walked across the crunching gravel to the main entrance. As he stepped closer, Ray noticed the building wasn’t as grand as it first appeared. Chunks of stone were missing from the exterior - damage from the war, most likely - and the windows looked as if they hadn’t been washed in a century.
He pushed open the scratched and heavy wooden door, and made sure it was closed tightly behind him, before crossing the dingy, off-white lobby and approaching the nurses station. He could tell these walls used to gleam, but years of abuse and neglect had left them with a horrid, yellowish tinge. As he waited to be addressed, he purposely ignored the unpolished sign declaring the unkempt building to be Fox Hollow Asylum.
After five minutes of waiting, a grizzled, old nurse (uniform as battered as the walls) approached him and asked him what his business was. Ray took a deep breath. He’d do anything to find the Guv, even if it meant this.
“I’m here to see Sam Williams.”
Author: dak
Word Count: 1427 (this part); (3386 in total, so far)
Rating: green cortina (for now)
Warnings: none. yet.
Summary: Post 2.08. When the Guv goes missing, CID is saddled with an inept "interim" DCI. To find Gene, and the truth, Ray must team up with a hated enemy.
A/N: I've realized I've unintentionally confused some people about the timeline. I meant to put something in the A/N for part 1 but, erm, forget. So, this fic takes place a few months after the end of 2.08. So, everything that happened in canon, happened in the world of this fic. (But, it does disregard anything from A2A.) Please enjoy!
Part 1 Part 2
The weather hadn’t seemed too awful when he’d stepped out of his house that morning. But, now that they were standing down by the water, it was bloody freezing. Ray lifted the collar on his coat in an attempt to block the wind, but it did little to warm the chill in his body.
Annie had reluctantly taken charge of organizing hot tea for all and was walking down the embankment with Ray’s second cup in her hand.
“Cheers,” he muttered as she handed it over, his lips chapped from the biting wind.
“Anything I can do to help,” she remarked, her voice colder than the air.
“Would you rather be here or back at the station, sharpening Carter’s pencils while he eyes up your arse?”
“I can handle him,” Cartwright crossed her arms.
“Till he gets his hands down your knickers and none of us are there to knock him one.”
“If that man’s hands get anywhere near my knickers, you won’t have to worry ‘bout it happening twice. Won’t have any hands left,” she huffed and tossed back her hair. The wind kept blowing it in her face.
“That’s what makes you better than the average bird, Cartwright,” Ray smirked.
“I’ll take that as a compliment, DS Carling. Now is there anything I can do that’ll be of actual use?” She blew on her hands to warm them up, then rubbed them vigorously. If Ray had a pair of gloves, he would have offered them.
“Keep an eye on Chris,” he nodded in Skelton’s direction, where the young DC was nervously puffing through his seventh Marlboro of the day. “He’s had a rough go of it these past couple months.”
“Haven’t we all?” Annie questioned, but her voice lacked any malice. Ray nodded in agreement.
“Someone needs to keep him busy, else he starts thinking too much.”
“I’ll do what I can,” Annie sighed and, after giving Ray’s arm a comforting squeeze, went to Chris’ side. Ray watched as she smiled and spoke to him, hiding her own fears as she distracted Chris from his. Then, he turned his attention back to the men sweeping the canal. It had been four hours so far, and they’d found nothing but a few moldy shoes and the corpse of a stray dog.
In the next four hours, Ray prayed that was the only body they pulled from the water.
*
“And what of your murder enquiry? Have you even notified the man’s family of his death?” Carter was huffing and puffing behind the Guv’s desk. Ray was glad to be warm, which he credited to all the hot air blowing towards him.
“He has no family. Chris and I already checked. We’re waiting for forensics to tell us ‘bout the dabs we found around the scene, and we interviewed all the neighbors. Didn’t hear a peep.”
Carter appeared surprised that Ray had even that much to tell. He quickly composed himself, though, and carried on with his rant.
“Be that as it may, there is absolutely no excuse for you to have tied up half our resources with a wasted search of the canal.”
“We’ve only done a third of it. And Rathbone said we should.”
“But Superintendant Rathbone did not advise that you handle the search personally, did he? DS Carling, did I or did I not tell you, that the search for DCI Hunt could no longer be our top priority?”
“You did. You also said you wouldn’t dream of stopping the search. We had no luck anywhere else. When that happens, we go to the water,” Ray was getting frustrated now. This Carter had no problem being a hypocritical twat, but God forbid anyone should call him on it.
“Perhaps I did not make myself entirely clear, yesterday.”
“ ‘Don’t stop the search.’ Seems pretty clear to me. Sir.”
“Current cases are to be your priority from now on. I’m handing over DCI Hunt’s case to RCS.”
Ray leapt from the chair, ready to strangle the useless tosser.
“Crime Squad? This ain’t in their jurisdiction! And they never gave a shit about the Guv!”
“Their case load is considerably lighter than ours at the moment. They have the manpower to proceed with an investigation...”
“But they won’t! They’ll shove that file in a corner and forget Gene Hunt ever existed.”
Carter calmly sipped his coffee and sat down at the desk.
“Everyone in this station is a team, DS Carling. I would expect you to have more faith in your fellow officers.”
“Handing off this case is a mistake and you know it.”
“No, I don’t. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a meeting with Superintendent Rathbone and you have a murder investigation to deal with, don’t you?”
Ray burst out of the office before they’d need to investigate the death of one DCI Carter.
*
“Bastard! That bloody bastard!” Ray slammed his fist on the sticky table, nearly knocking over Chris’ pint as well as his own. “I can’t believe Rathbone let him pass off the Guv like that!”
“Well, the Super and the Guv never really saw eye to eye,” Chris shrugged, already defeated.
“S’no reason to treat him like a dead man,” he argued and tossed back his drink.
“What else can we do?” Chris sighed, picking at a scratch on the table.
“Don’t know,” Ray admitted. “Bloody Carter’s got us by the balls. And the Super’s going along with it. Maybe if Cartwright flashed her tits, that’d get him to change his mind.”
“Don’t think Annie’d agree, do you?”
“Give it another week and she might.”
They settled into an uncomfortable silence as they sipped their pints and listened to the sounds of Deep Purple on the jukebox.
“There...nevermind,” Chris shook his head and lit a cigarette, his third pack of the day.
“What?”
“Nowt.”
“Just tell me, Chris,” Ray grumbled. Each second of the day was getting more aggravating than the next, and it was already nine-thirty at night.
“There is summit else we could try,” he said with a whisper. Ray’s eyes narrowed to form a steely gaze.
“No bloody way.”
“That’s why I weren’t going to say it.”
“Should’ve never even thought it.”
“Didn’t mean to,” Chris apologized, his whole body crumpling as he was chastised by his best mate. Ray felt guilty, but only a bit. “But,” Chris started again. “You said you’d find the Guv, no matter what.”
“And I will.”
“You said you’d do whatever you had to.”
Chris had him there. Ray never had trouble going back on a promise to his mum or his girlfriend, but Chris? It wasn’t fair to the lad when he trusted Ray so much (even if he shouldn’t.) They finished their drinks in silence. Chris left soon after and Ray waited, closing out the pub for Nelson once again.
*
The drive was long and uncomfortable. It wasn’t his nerves getting to him; it was that spring in the seat he still hadn’t fixed. He put on the radio, hoping some music would take his mind off the pain. But, the more he drove, the more the spring dug in. By the time he arrived, he had a distinct pain in his arse.
He had never been here before, but was surprised by how dark and cold the building was. The imposing stone figure towered over the empty fields surrounding it. There was nothing else nearby, save a few scattered sheep in the distance.
He parked the Romeo in the vacant visitor’s lot and walked across the crunching gravel to the main entrance. As he stepped closer, Ray noticed the building wasn’t as grand as it first appeared. Chunks of stone were missing from the exterior - damage from the war, most likely - and the windows looked as if they hadn’t been washed in a century.
He pushed open the scratched and heavy wooden door, and made sure it was closed tightly behind him, before crossing the dingy, off-white lobby and approaching the nurses station. He could tell these walls used to gleam, but years of abuse and neglect had left them with a horrid, yellowish tinge. As he waited to be addressed, he purposely ignored the unpolished sign declaring the unkempt building to be Fox Hollow Asylum.
After five minutes of waiting, a grizzled, old nurse (uniform as battered as the walls) approached him and asked him what his business was. Ray took a deep breath. He’d do anything to find the Guv, even if it meant this.
“I’m here to see Sam Williams.”