Fic: The Art of Being Lost and Found (5/?), blue cortina, dakfinv
Title: The Art of Being Lost and Found (5/?)
Author: dak
Word Count: 1577 (this part); (6377 in total, so far)
Rating: blue cortina
Warnings: none this part
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.
Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4
“Everyone at the restaurant saw you take the money, Mickey,” Chris told him earnestly. “If you just tell us you did it, we’ll make sure the judge goes easy on you. It were your first offense and all. Plus, you did it for your little boy. Near noble, that. Ain’t it, Ray? Ray?”
“Hm? Oh yeah. Real noble, Mickey,” Ray leaned forward and placed his folded hands on the table. “Had to feed your kiddie. Times are tough, mate. We understand.”
The skinny man before them sniffed into his hanky.
“C-can I?” he pointed to Chris’ pack of fags.
“Sure,” Chris nodded and handed one over. Mickey, his hands shaking, lit the ciggie and took a long drag.
“I-I were going to pay it back. Soon’s my pay packet come in next Friday. I din’t want to, but little Michael was crying so much. Without ‘is mum round...”
Ray was reaching over to pat him on the arm when the door to Lost and Found opened and shut.
“DS Carling?” Cartwright appeared around the corner. “DCI Litton’s here to speak with you, sir.”
“Oh, what does that bastard want?” he asked, forgetting they had a suspect in the room.
“I believe it’s about the case. The Guv’s case,” she answered.
“What? He found summat already?” he pushed himself away from the table.
“Wouldn’t tell me, sir. Said it wasn’t a plonk’s business,” she scowled and stiffened.
“Help Chris with Mr. Jones, here. I’ll go talk to that poofter.”
Ray and Annie switched places and Ray walked slowly out of the room. He was in no hurry to speak with Litton. The berk was probably just coming to tell him they were shuffling the Guv’s file into the cold case box. Leaving the room, he saw the slimy git straightening his tie in the reflection provided by CID’s glass partition.
“You wanted to see me?” Ray stepped forward and crossed his arms.
“Bon après-midi, DS Carling,” Litton greeted him, straightening up and facing him. “Did you have a pleasant weekend?”
Images of DI Tyler screaming for help flashed through his mind. He hid them away.
“Oh, it was grand. What’re you here for?”
“As you know, DCI Carter has reluctantly handed over Gene’s case,” he sighed, feigning sadness. “Such a loss to see a man like Gene Hunt disappear.”
Ray took a threatening step closer.
“I’m sure RCS are having a right fit over it all. What’re you here for?”
“You were the last person to see Hunt, isn’t that so?”
“Yeah. Far as I know. But me statement’s already in the report. What’re you here for?”
“Now, now, Carling. I’m merely trying to help. You wouldn’t want to give the impression your hiding something, would you?”
“I’ve nowt to hide. Last I saw the Guv was Monday night. We were talking in his office ‘bout some cases we were going to work the next day. I invited him to the pub. He said he had to get home to the Missus. I left. Next morning, Guv didn’t show. Far as I know, he went home.”
“To his wife.”
“Aye. But Vera knows nowt. Go ahead and torture the poor woman if you want. She’s more upset than all of us.”
“Thank you, DS Carling. I’ll be sure to visit Mrs. Hunt. À bientôt.”
Litton swaggered off down the hall. Ray watched him leave, then stood next to Chris, who was leaning against the wall next to Lost and Found, smoking a cigarette.
“Does he know the Guv’s wife’s at her mother’s in Yorkshire?” Chris asked.
“Gee. Guess I forgot to tell him,” Ray shrugged.
*
It was strange how accustomed CID had become to quiet nights at the Arms. In the past, they had been reserved for only the worst of days - like when Ray had been caught in Miller’s bomb or when the Guv had been arrested for Haslam’s murder. Ray wondered if they’d ever return to their happier nights if they, if RCS, never solved Gene’s case.
Ray shook that from his mind as he weaved through the quiet crowd, carefully maneuvering his drinks tray to safety.
“Gin and tonic for the lady,” he said as he handed Cartwright her glass. “Pint of bitter for the div,” he grinned at Chris, desperate to lighten the mood. Chris smiled briefly as he accepted his drink, but it was nothing lasting. Ray returned Nelson’s tray, then sat down with his own beer. “That...that were, uhm, good work with Jones today, Chris.”
“Yeah,” Annie agreed, rubbing his arm. “Really great, Chris.”
“Cheers,” he nodded and sipped his drink, before lighting up another cigarette.
“I was thinking,” Ray started. “Well, maybe we could have a poker tourney or summat. Raise money for the Missus, like.”
“That’s a good idea, Ray. I’m sure Mrs. Hunt would appreciate it,” Annie smiled.
“What do you think Chris?” he prodded.
“Oh. Yeah. Sure. ‘S good idea.”
Ray sighed. Normally he was good at conversation. Lately, however, he hadn’t been able to keep one going longer than three sentences.
“I really,” Annie spoke up. “I really do think he’s alright. Not perfect, mind. But alright. Wherever he is.”
“Feminine intuition?” Ray joked.
“I prefer gut instinct,” she retorted.
“I’m going to quit the force,” Chris suddenly blurted out. Ray choked on his beer.
“What?” he stammered when he managed to clear his throat.
“Oh, Chris,” Annie sighed sympathetically.
“After...after this stuff with the Guv’s sorted. You know, one way or the other. I, yeah. I’m leaving,” he nodded vigorously, convincing himself he was right, Ray supposed.
“You’re a good copper, Chris,” Ray encouraged him.
“I know. Well, ‘m alright, I suppose.”
“Then why?” he pressed.
“It’s...I,” Chris shifted nervously in his chair. “Everyone leaves in the end, don’t they?” he shrugged.
“We’ll miss you,” Annie smiled sadly and pulled him into a hug.
“No we won’t,” Ray snapped.
“Ray!” Annie warned.
“No. We’re not going to miss him cos he ain’t going nowhere.”
“It’s his decision.”
“Guv wouldn’t let it happen. I won’t let it happen,” he barked at Annie. “You don’t just get to quit,” he yelled at Chris. “If we have to deal with it, you have to deal with it.”
“Me mum’s expecting me,” Chris grabbed his coat and ran for the door.
“How dare you speak to him like that,” Annie admonished him once Chris was gone.
“He don’t get to quit. He won’t learn nowt from running away.”
“He’s not running away. He’s just had enough. We’ve all had enough!” Annie shook her head, calmed herself, then grabbed her purse and jacket, and followed Chris out the door.
Ray plopped back in his chair - he didn’t even remember standing up - and finished his pint in peace. There was no way in hell he was going to let Chris leave them, too. At least the argument had stirred some life into the old pub.
Eleven seemed to take forever to roll around. Once it did, he paid his tab, waved Nelson good night and shuffled back home. Once inside his house, he didn’t bother flicking on the light, simply threw his keys onto the table by the door and headed straight for the kitchen. He’d walked successfully through his small house half-cut on more than one occasion, so sober and in the dark was no problem.
He opened his fridge and dug around. There was no sign of food. Sighing, he shoved the door shut and went upstairs to his bedroom.
He remembered when he moved - he’d paid Gene to help him drag his heavy bed up the narrow staircase. The Guv never stopped complaining the entire time. Said his back would never be the same again and it would be Ray’s duty to explain to the Missus why her legendary lover couldn’t perform his nightly tasks.
After the bed had been put in place, they’d cracked open a Party Seven and drank until dawn. When had that been? When his dad had died and left him the money to buy his own place. Two years, no three, before Tyler. Williams.
Ray sighed and removed his tie, letting it and his suit jacket fall to the floor. Slipping off his shoes, he climbed into his bed, on top the covers. He wouldn’t bother fully undressing tonight. He might not even bother sleeping. What would Gene say if he could see him now? He’d probably be disappointed in how Ray was letting the team fall apart. Was it really Ray’s fault, though, or had CID started crumbling before Gene vanished? It didn’t matter. Things were what they were now. Who was he to question that?
He knew he was becoming complacent. It’s how these missing persons cases always went. The first week people would be frantic. They’d work twenty-four hours straight if they had to. The second week, they’d still be just as resilient, but they’d find time for sleeping. By the third week, things would start to settle. The case would be delegated to just a few men. By the fourth week, all the excitement would be gone. Everyone would start to accept what no one in week one would ever imagine.
It was the start of week three. The case had already been shuffled to a few worthless detectives in RCS. Ray saw the Guv’s case following the same pattern. He didn’t know if he’d be able to break it. He didn’t think he could.
Author: dak
Word Count: 1577 (this part); (6377 in total, so far)
Rating: blue cortina
Warnings: none this part
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.
Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4
“Everyone at the restaurant saw you take the money, Mickey,” Chris told him earnestly. “If you just tell us you did it, we’ll make sure the judge goes easy on you. It were your first offense and all. Plus, you did it for your little boy. Near noble, that. Ain’t it, Ray? Ray?”
“Hm? Oh yeah. Real noble, Mickey,” Ray leaned forward and placed his folded hands on the table. “Had to feed your kiddie. Times are tough, mate. We understand.”
The skinny man before them sniffed into his hanky.
“C-can I?” he pointed to Chris’ pack of fags.
“Sure,” Chris nodded and handed one over. Mickey, his hands shaking, lit the ciggie and took a long drag.
“I-I were going to pay it back. Soon’s my pay packet come in next Friday. I din’t want to, but little Michael was crying so much. Without ‘is mum round...”
Ray was reaching over to pat him on the arm when the door to Lost and Found opened and shut.
“DS Carling?” Cartwright appeared around the corner. “DCI Litton’s here to speak with you, sir.”
“Oh, what does that bastard want?” he asked, forgetting they had a suspect in the room.
“I believe it’s about the case. The Guv’s case,” she answered.
“What? He found summat already?” he pushed himself away from the table.
“Wouldn’t tell me, sir. Said it wasn’t a plonk’s business,” she scowled and stiffened.
“Help Chris with Mr. Jones, here. I’ll go talk to that poofter.”
Ray and Annie switched places and Ray walked slowly out of the room. He was in no hurry to speak with Litton. The berk was probably just coming to tell him they were shuffling the Guv’s file into the cold case box. Leaving the room, he saw the slimy git straightening his tie in the reflection provided by CID’s glass partition.
“You wanted to see me?” Ray stepped forward and crossed his arms.
“Bon après-midi, DS Carling,” Litton greeted him, straightening up and facing him. “Did you have a pleasant weekend?”
Images of DI Tyler screaming for help flashed through his mind. He hid them away.
“Oh, it was grand. What’re you here for?”
“As you know, DCI Carter has reluctantly handed over Gene’s case,” he sighed, feigning sadness. “Such a loss to see a man like Gene Hunt disappear.”
Ray took a threatening step closer.
“I’m sure RCS are having a right fit over it all. What’re you here for?”
“You were the last person to see Hunt, isn’t that so?”
“Yeah. Far as I know. But me statement’s already in the report. What’re you here for?”
“Now, now, Carling. I’m merely trying to help. You wouldn’t want to give the impression your hiding something, would you?”
“I’ve nowt to hide. Last I saw the Guv was Monday night. We were talking in his office ‘bout some cases we were going to work the next day. I invited him to the pub. He said he had to get home to the Missus. I left. Next morning, Guv didn’t show. Far as I know, he went home.”
“To his wife.”
“Aye. But Vera knows nowt. Go ahead and torture the poor woman if you want. She’s more upset than all of us.”
“Thank you, DS Carling. I’ll be sure to visit Mrs. Hunt. À bientôt.”
Litton swaggered off down the hall. Ray watched him leave, then stood next to Chris, who was leaning against the wall next to Lost and Found, smoking a cigarette.
“Does he know the Guv’s wife’s at her mother’s in Yorkshire?” Chris asked.
“Gee. Guess I forgot to tell him,” Ray shrugged.
*
It was strange how accustomed CID had become to quiet nights at the Arms. In the past, they had been reserved for only the worst of days - like when Ray had been caught in Miller’s bomb or when the Guv had been arrested for Haslam’s murder. Ray wondered if they’d ever return to their happier nights if they, if RCS, never solved Gene’s case.
Ray shook that from his mind as he weaved through the quiet crowd, carefully maneuvering his drinks tray to safety.
“Gin and tonic for the lady,” he said as he handed Cartwright her glass. “Pint of bitter for the div,” he grinned at Chris, desperate to lighten the mood. Chris smiled briefly as he accepted his drink, but it was nothing lasting. Ray returned Nelson’s tray, then sat down with his own beer. “That...that were, uhm, good work with Jones today, Chris.”
“Yeah,” Annie agreed, rubbing his arm. “Really great, Chris.”
“Cheers,” he nodded and sipped his drink, before lighting up another cigarette.
“I was thinking,” Ray started. “Well, maybe we could have a poker tourney or summat. Raise money for the Missus, like.”
“That’s a good idea, Ray. I’m sure Mrs. Hunt would appreciate it,” Annie smiled.
“What do you think Chris?” he prodded.
“Oh. Yeah. Sure. ‘S good idea.”
Ray sighed. Normally he was good at conversation. Lately, however, he hadn’t been able to keep one going longer than three sentences.
“I really,” Annie spoke up. “I really do think he’s alright. Not perfect, mind. But alright. Wherever he is.”
“Feminine intuition?” Ray joked.
“I prefer gut instinct,” she retorted.
“I’m going to quit the force,” Chris suddenly blurted out. Ray choked on his beer.
“What?” he stammered when he managed to clear his throat.
“Oh, Chris,” Annie sighed sympathetically.
“After...after this stuff with the Guv’s sorted. You know, one way or the other. I, yeah. I’m leaving,” he nodded vigorously, convincing himself he was right, Ray supposed.
“You’re a good copper, Chris,” Ray encouraged him.
“I know. Well, ‘m alright, I suppose.”
“Then why?” he pressed.
“It’s...I,” Chris shifted nervously in his chair. “Everyone leaves in the end, don’t they?” he shrugged.
“We’ll miss you,” Annie smiled sadly and pulled him into a hug.
“No we won’t,” Ray snapped.
“Ray!” Annie warned.
“No. We’re not going to miss him cos he ain’t going nowhere.”
“It’s his decision.”
“Guv wouldn’t let it happen. I won’t let it happen,” he barked at Annie. “You don’t just get to quit,” he yelled at Chris. “If we have to deal with it, you have to deal with it.”
“Me mum’s expecting me,” Chris grabbed his coat and ran for the door.
“How dare you speak to him like that,” Annie admonished him once Chris was gone.
“He don’t get to quit. He won’t learn nowt from running away.”
“He’s not running away. He’s just had enough. We’ve all had enough!” Annie shook her head, calmed herself, then grabbed her purse and jacket, and followed Chris out the door.
Ray plopped back in his chair - he didn’t even remember standing up - and finished his pint in peace. There was no way in hell he was going to let Chris leave them, too. At least the argument had stirred some life into the old pub.
Eleven seemed to take forever to roll around. Once it did, he paid his tab, waved Nelson good night and shuffled back home. Once inside his house, he didn’t bother flicking on the light, simply threw his keys onto the table by the door and headed straight for the kitchen. He’d walked successfully through his small house half-cut on more than one occasion, so sober and in the dark was no problem.
He opened his fridge and dug around. There was no sign of food. Sighing, he shoved the door shut and went upstairs to his bedroom.
He remembered when he moved - he’d paid Gene to help him drag his heavy bed up the narrow staircase. The Guv never stopped complaining the entire time. Said his back would never be the same again and it would be Ray’s duty to explain to the Missus why her legendary lover couldn’t perform his nightly tasks.
After the bed had been put in place, they’d cracked open a Party Seven and drank until dawn. When had that been? When his dad had died and left him the money to buy his own place. Two years, no three, before Tyler. Williams.
Ray sighed and removed his tie, letting it and his suit jacket fall to the floor. Slipping off his shoes, he climbed into his bed, on top the covers. He wouldn’t bother fully undressing tonight. He might not even bother sleeping. What would Gene say if he could see him now? He’d probably be disappointed in how Ray was letting the team fall apart. Was it really Ray’s fault, though, or had CID started crumbling before Gene vanished? It didn’t matter. Things were what they were now. Who was he to question that?
He knew he was becoming complacent. It’s how these missing persons cases always went. The first week people would be frantic. They’d work twenty-four hours straight if they had to. The second week, they’d still be just as resilient, but they’d find time for sleeping. By the third week, things would start to settle. The case would be delegated to just a few men. By the fourth week, all the excitement would be gone. Everyone would start to accept what no one in week one would ever imagine.
It was the start of week three. The case had already been shuffled to a few worthless detectives in RCS. Ray saw the Guv’s case following the same pattern. He didn’t know if he’d be able to break it. He didn’t think he could.