Fic: The Art of Being Lost and Found (24/?), blue cortina, dakfinv
Title: The Art of Being Lost and Found (24/?)
Author: dak
Word Count: 1864 (this part); (34,455 in total, so far)
Rating: blue cortina
Warnings: none here
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 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
Chris did not sleep on the twenty minute drive to St. Catherine’s Hospital. He did not even sit still - constantly toying with his unused seatbelt, grabbing the door handle, or tapping his feet. He said nothing, but his body language said it all.
Dr. Wynton chose not to join them at the hospital. She said she needed to have some serious discussions with her staff. She was adamant Sam’s attack had been caused by an outsider and was furious that her staff would allow such an intruder into her hospital.
Ray had no idea what to think about the whole situation. Yes, Sam Tyler was a bastard and a traitor and a nutter to boot, but his treatment at Fox Hollow had already left Ray feeling uneasy. Now the man had been roughed up on top of it all - certainly not what he needed right then. Some blokes had no luck at all. Ray decided he would see how serious Sam’s injuries were, then decide how he felt about it.
Once they arrived at St. Catherine’s, Chris couldn’t wait to get out of the car. Ray had to jog to catch up to him after taking his own time to switch off the engine and climb out himself. There was some initial confusion when Chris asked to see Sam Tyler, but Ray corrected it by saying “Williams” and muttering something about the bloke recently getting hitched and changing his name.
Once it was clear who they were looking for, the matron informed them that Mr. Williams was stable and resting comfortably and of course they could see the poor lamb.
Sam was not in a private room, but a long ward, each bed separated by a thin curtain. The matron led them to the last occupied bed on the right hand side, then excused herself. Ray drew the curtain as Chris shuffled up to the bedside.
“Boss?” he whispered as Ray let go of the thin cloth. Sam did not even twitch.
“Must be sleeping,” Ray said as he stood on the opposite side of the bed. Silently, they each individually assessed Tyler’s visible injuries - most notably the large red welt surrounding his left eye which was shutting from the swelling. There was also a cut on his bottom lip, closed with a few stitches, and bandaging around his right hand, up halfway to his elbow. There were probably more injuries, but Ray was certainly not going to lift the man’s sheet or hospital gown in order to find them.
“Never seen him beat up this bad,” Chris whispered. “Could always hold his own against the Guv. Against anybody. Didn’t even get a scratch during that United-City brawl, remember?”
“Not in the same shape he was then,” Ray sighed. “Don’t think he gets a lot of exercise in that place. Plus, he were doped up,” he shrugged, pulling out his ciggies and offering one to Chris, who declined.
“Boss always says you shouldn’t smoke in hospital.”
“Well, he’s not saying much now, is he?” Ray struck a match and lit his fag, taking a seat in the stiff chair behind him.
“You staying?” Chris asked in surprise.
“Came here to ask questions, didn’t we? Now, we’ll just have to wait till he comes round.”
Chris nodded and left Sam’s bedside to seek out another chair.
“Well, Tyler,” Ray sighed, using a nearby kidney dish as an ashtray. “Who’d you piss off this time, eh?”
Sam - hair ruffled, face bruised, and breathing uneven - remained silent as the IV dripped its clear liquid into his veins.
*
“She had no problem with me seeing Betty. Were when I started bringing her home that Wilma had problems with her.”
“Well, she couldn’t’ve been happy when you showed up at dinner with another girl.”
“Why not? More the merrier.”
A small groan halted the conversation as Ray and Chris turned their attention to the finally moving man lying on the hospital bed between them.
“Tyler?” asked Ray as Chris said, “Boss?”
Sam groaned again and twisted his head. Chris placed a hand on his shoulder, trying to shake him awake, but the touch caused Sam to lurch away and strike out.
“Ge’ off! Ger’ off!” he slurred and flailed, still fighting his attacker.
“Sam! Tyler!” Ray as gently as she could, grabbed Sam’s wrists in an effort to keep him still. “It’s Carling. Carling and Skelton, yeah?”
Sam stopped struggling, but the fear remained in his eyes. Ray held onto his wrists, just in case, as Sam’s head shifted repeatedly between Ray and Chris.
“You’re in hospital,” Ray continued. “Someone beat the shit out of you, but you’re alright now.”
“Wha...what...” he stammered, calming down. “What year is it?” he asked, eyes still darting from Ray to Chris.
“1973,” Ray sighed. He hated that bloody question.
“1973...1973...” Sam repeated under his breath, eyes cast downward as he struggled to comprehend his situation.
“That’s right,” Ray continued, finally relaxing his grip and releasing him. “You’ve been in Fox Hollow, the mental asylum. Someone attacked you and they sent you here.”
“Where is...here?” he asked suspiciously.
“St. Catherine’s Hospital,” Chris answered. “’Bout ten miles east of the asylum.”
Sam rested his face in his hands, taking deep breaths to control his breathing. One breath was too deep, however, and he winced, grabbing his left side with his injured right arm, which only made him wince again.
“You remember anything?” Ray asked. “Tyler?”
“My brain,” Sam sighed and paused. “Not big on remembering things...right now.”
“Well, you remember that at least,” Ray said, standing back. “So, know owt ‘bout who beat you? And before you look at me, I was with Skelton all day,”
Sam leaned back in the bed, still nursing his left side.
“Have me on drugs,” he sighed. “Morphine, maybe?”
“Well, didn’t get any sense knocked into you, that’s for certain,” Ray grumbled.
“Boss. What do you remember? Before waking up?” Chris asked.
Sam closed his eyes. Ray was afraid he’d fallen asleep again before he began to speak.
“White room. I was in my room. I don’t like that room.”
“Right, so you were in your room. What were you doing?” Chris encouraged.
“What was I doing?” Sam repeated, eyes still closed. “I was thinking,” he answered. “It’s so hard to think, anymore. They make it so hard.”
“And what were you thinking about?”
Ray blessed Chris for his patience. If he were asking the questions, he’d want Tyler to tell the whole story at once, instead of being prodded along each step of the way.
“Everything,” Sam answered unhelpfully. “Everything I’m still allowed to think,” he added.
“Anything specific?” Ray asked sarcastically.
Sam took a deep breath, opened his eyes, and began examining his injuries.
“This will hurt when they take me off the morphine. This hurts now. One eye. My depth perception will be impaired,” he sighed as he gingerly ran his fingers over his battered body.
“Useless,” Ray sneered, plopping back in the chair. “Should’ve known he’d be just as crazy as he always is.”
“I’m not crazy,” Sam pouted, examining his injured arm. “Just confused. They make me confused.”
“Who? The Clangers?” Ray scoffed as Chris glared.
“The doctors,” Sam sighed. “Doctors. And drugs I don’t need. And...and my treatments,” he itched the side of his head. “And Morgan. I don’t like Morgan,” he grimaced. “Bastard.”
“Think we know how you feel about DCI Morgan. Made that clear as day,” Ray snorted.
“That was a mistake. I...I shouldn’t have done that,” Sam stared glumly at his hands, balling them into fists, then stretching out his fingers. “When can I leave?” he asked suddenly.
“Don’t know, Boss,” Chris replied. “Haven’t spoken to your doctor so we don’t know all that’s wrong with you.”
“There’s nothing wrong with me. Nothing...nothing they haven’t caused,” he frowned and dropped his hands by his side.
“Says the nutter,” Ray muttered, but Sam heard him clear as day.
“No. No I’m not. I’m fine,” Sam argued. “I am not a nutter.”
“Oh really? Fine, eh? Why don’t you tell that to Morgan? Oh that’s right. You can’t cos you put him in a coma, remember that?”
Sam’s heart rate monitor increased its beeping to a frantic pace as Sam began to tremble in his bed.
“Ray! Leave it,” Chris shouted. “This ain’t helping.”
“And he ain’t helping himself! If it weren’t for him, we’d know exactly where the Guv is and we’d have him back home.”
“He’s trying to remember.”
“He wouldn’t have to try if he hadn’t gotten himself sectioned in the first place. He’d know.”
“This ain’t his fault, Ray. You can’t blame him for this!”
“Sure I can. He’s been halting our investigation from the start. If he cared a lick about the Guv, he wouldn’t be holding back. He’d be telling us everything!”
“He can’t tell us everything because he don’t know everything. And what he does, you said it yourself - they keep zapping it out of his brain.”
“And they can keep zapping it for all I care, if this is all the help he’ll be!”
“No,” Sam whimpered, his body still shaking. “No, please,” he looked from Chris to Ray. “I want to help. I care. I care. I care. I do. I’m trying,” his voice took on a pleading tone. “I am. It hurts. They make it hurt. But, I want to find Gene. I do. Gene...he cares. He still...he trusts me. He’s the only one. I don’t...I can’t lose that. Please. Please help me remember.”
“You want to help? Prove it,” Ray ordered. “Tell us where Gene went.”
“I can’t remember that.”
Ray snorted with derision and turned away.
“It’s on the tip of my tongue. It’s there. I just...I can’t pull it out.”
“Then you’re not trying hard enough.” Ray reached for the curtain.
“You can find out!” Sam called after him. “I can help you find out. I...I remember now. Before, I...I forgot. It’s been so long. But it came back. It...it’s what I was thinking of. In my room,” he looked to Chris for support.
“What did you remember, Boss?” he asked and the use of the title clearly encouraged Tyler.
“Tuesday. On Tuesday, he told me he was leaving. He’d made up his mind. Wanted to keep it somewhere safe. Where no one could get to it.”
“The letter?” Ray asked, his heart stopping for a brief moment.
“I couldn’t remember before. I wasn’t lying. I swear I wasn’t lying,” he begged for them to believe him.
“Tyler, where is it?”
“I hid it away so no one would find it. I hid it and...and they shocked me later that day, and I forgot.”
“Sam. Where?”
“My room. The table. Bedside table. In the drawer. No. Underneath the drawer. It comes all the way out - the drawer. So I slipped it under there. I did try to remember sooner. I did. I care, Ray. Please believe me.”
“If it’s where you say it is, I may start to.”
Ray wrenched back the curtain and stormed down the hall, determined to make the drive to Fox Hollow in under twenty minutes.
Author: dak
Word Count: 1864 (this part); (34,455 in total, so far)
Rating: blue cortina
Warnings: none here
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 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
Chris did not sleep on the twenty minute drive to St. Catherine’s Hospital. He did not even sit still - constantly toying with his unused seatbelt, grabbing the door handle, or tapping his feet. He said nothing, but his body language said it all.
Dr. Wynton chose not to join them at the hospital. She said she needed to have some serious discussions with her staff. She was adamant Sam’s attack had been caused by an outsider and was furious that her staff would allow such an intruder into her hospital.
Ray had no idea what to think about the whole situation. Yes, Sam Tyler was a bastard and a traitor and a nutter to boot, but his treatment at Fox Hollow had already left Ray feeling uneasy. Now the man had been roughed up on top of it all - certainly not what he needed right then. Some blokes had no luck at all. Ray decided he would see how serious Sam’s injuries were, then decide how he felt about it.
Once they arrived at St. Catherine’s, Chris couldn’t wait to get out of the car. Ray had to jog to catch up to him after taking his own time to switch off the engine and climb out himself. There was some initial confusion when Chris asked to see Sam Tyler, but Ray corrected it by saying “Williams” and muttering something about the bloke recently getting hitched and changing his name.
Once it was clear who they were looking for, the matron informed them that Mr. Williams was stable and resting comfortably and of course they could see the poor lamb.
Sam was not in a private room, but a long ward, each bed separated by a thin curtain. The matron led them to the last occupied bed on the right hand side, then excused herself. Ray drew the curtain as Chris shuffled up to the bedside.
“Boss?” he whispered as Ray let go of the thin cloth. Sam did not even twitch.
“Must be sleeping,” Ray said as he stood on the opposite side of the bed. Silently, they each individually assessed Tyler’s visible injuries - most notably the large red welt surrounding his left eye which was shutting from the swelling. There was also a cut on his bottom lip, closed with a few stitches, and bandaging around his right hand, up halfway to his elbow. There were probably more injuries, but Ray was certainly not going to lift the man’s sheet or hospital gown in order to find them.
“Never seen him beat up this bad,” Chris whispered. “Could always hold his own against the Guv. Against anybody. Didn’t even get a scratch during that United-City brawl, remember?”
“Not in the same shape he was then,” Ray sighed. “Don’t think he gets a lot of exercise in that place. Plus, he were doped up,” he shrugged, pulling out his ciggies and offering one to Chris, who declined.
“Boss always says you shouldn’t smoke in hospital.”
“Well, he’s not saying much now, is he?” Ray struck a match and lit his fag, taking a seat in the stiff chair behind him.
“You staying?” Chris asked in surprise.
“Came here to ask questions, didn’t we? Now, we’ll just have to wait till he comes round.”
Chris nodded and left Sam’s bedside to seek out another chair.
“Well, Tyler,” Ray sighed, using a nearby kidney dish as an ashtray. “Who’d you piss off this time, eh?”
Sam - hair ruffled, face bruised, and breathing uneven - remained silent as the IV dripped its clear liquid into his veins.
*
“She had no problem with me seeing Betty. Were when I started bringing her home that Wilma had problems with her.”
“Well, she couldn’t’ve been happy when you showed up at dinner with another girl.”
“Why not? More the merrier.”
A small groan halted the conversation as Ray and Chris turned their attention to the finally moving man lying on the hospital bed between them.
“Tyler?” asked Ray as Chris said, “Boss?”
Sam groaned again and twisted his head. Chris placed a hand on his shoulder, trying to shake him awake, but the touch caused Sam to lurch away and strike out.
“Ge’ off! Ger’ off!” he slurred and flailed, still fighting his attacker.
“Sam! Tyler!” Ray as gently as she could, grabbed Sam’s wrists in an effort to keep him still. “It’s Carling. Carling and Skelton, yeah?”
Sam stopped struggling, but the fear remained in his eyes. Ray held onto his wrists, just in case, as Sam’s head shifted repeatedly between Ray and Chris.
“You’re in hospital,” Ray continued. “Someone beat the shit out of you, but you’re alright now.”
“Wha...what...” he stammered, calming down. “What year is it?” he asked, eyes still darting from Ray to Chris.
“1973,” Ray sighed. He hated that bloody question.
“1973...1973...” Sam repeated under his breath, eyes cast downward as he struggled to comprehend his situation.
“That’s right,” Ray continued, finally relaxing his grip and releasing him. “You’ve been in Fox Hollow, the mental asylum. Someone attacked you and they sent you here.”
“Where is...here?” he asked suspiciously.
“St. Catherine’s Hospital,” Chris answered. “’Bout ten miles east of the asylum.”
Sam rested his face in his hands, taking deep breaths to control his breathing. One breath was too deep, however, and he winced, grabbing his left side with his injured right arm, which only made him wince again.
“You remember anything?” Ray asked. “Tyler?”
“My brain,” Sam sighed and paused. “Not big on remembering things...right now.”
“Well, you remember that at least,” Ray said, standing back. “So, know owt ‘bout who beat you? And before you look at me, I was with Skelton all day,”
Sam leaned back in the bed, still nursing his left side.
“Have me on drugs,” he sighed. “Morphine, maybe?”
“Well, didn’t get any sense knocked into you, that’s for certain,” Ray grumbled.
“Boss. What do you remember? Before waking up?” Chris asked.
Sam closed his eyes. Ray was afraid he’d fallen asleep again before he began to speak.
“White room. I was in my room. I don’t like that room.”
“Right, so you were in your room. What were you doing?” Chris encouraged.
“What was I doing?” Sam repeated, eyes still closed. “I was thinking,” he answered. “It’s so hard to think, anymore. They make it so hard.”
“And what were you thinking about?”
Ray blessed Chris for his patience. If he were asking the questions, he’d want Tyler to tell the whole story at once, instead of being prodded along each step of the way.
“Everything,” Sam answered unhelpfully. “Everything I’m still allowed to think,” he added.
“Anything specific?” Ray asked sarcastically.
Sam took a deep breath, opened his eyes, and began examining his injuries.
“This will hurt when they take me off the morphine. This hurts now. One eye. My depth perception will be impaired,” he sighed as he gingerly ran his fingers over his battered body.
“Useless,” Ray sneered, plopping back in the chair. “Should’ve known he’d be just as crazy as he always is.”
“I’m not crazy,” Sam pouted, examining his injured arm. “Just confused. They make me confused.”
“Who? The Clangers?” Ray scoffed as Chris glared.
“The doctors,” Sam sighed. “Doctors. And drugs I don’t need. And...and my treatments,” he itched the side of his head. “And Morgan. I don’t like Morgan,” he grimaced. “Bastard.”
“Think we know how you feel about DCI Morgan. Made that clear as day,” Ray snorted.
“That was a mistake. I...I shouldn’t have done that,” Sam stared glumly at his hands, balling them into fists, then stretching out his fingers. “When can I leave?” he asked suddenly.
“Don’t know, Boss,” Chris replied. “Haven’t spoken to your doctor so we don’t know all that’s wrong with you.”
“There’s nothing wrong with me. Nothing...nothing they haven’t caused,” he frowned and dropped his hands by his side.
“Says the nutter,” Ray muttered, but Sam heard him clear as day.
“No. No I’m not. I’m fine,” Sam argued. “I am not a nutter.”
“Oh really? Fine, eh? Why don’t you tell that to Morgan? Oh that’s right. You can’t cos you put him in a coma, remember that?”
Sam’s heart rate monitor increased its beeping to a frantic pace as Sam began to tremble in his bed.
“Ray! Leave it,” Chris shouted. “This ain’t helping.”
“And he ain’t helping himself! If it weren’t for him, we’d know exactly where the Guv is and we’d have him back home.”
“He’s trying to remember.”
“He wouldn’t have to try if he hadn’t gotten himself sectioned in the first place. He’d know.”
“This ain’t his fault, Ray. You can’t blame him for this!”
“Sure I can. He’s been halting our investigation from the start. If he cared a lick about the Guv, he wouldn’t be holding back. He’d be telling us everything!”
“He can’t tell us everything because he don’t know everything. And what he does, you said it yourself - they keep zapping it out of his brain.”
“And they can keep zapping it for all I care, if this is all the help he’ll be!”
“No,” Sam whimpered, his body still shaking. “No, please,” he looked from Chris to Ray. “I want to help. I care. I care. I care. I do. I’m trying,” his voice took on a pleading tone. “I am. It hurts. They make it hurt. But, I want to find Gene. I do. Gene...he cares. He still...he trusts me. He’s the only one. I don’t...I can’t lose that. Please. Please help me remember.”
“You want to help? Prove it,” Ray ordered. “Tell us where Gene went.”
“I can’t remember that.”
Ray snorted with derision and turned away.
“It’s on the tip of my tongue. It’s there. I just...I can’t pull it out.”
“Then you’re not trying hard enough.” Ray reached for the curtain.
“You can find out!” Sam called after him. “I can help you find out. I...I remember now. Before, I...I forgot. It’s been so long. But it came back. It...it’s what I was thinking of. In my room,” he looked to Chris for support.
“What did you remember, Boss?” he asked and the use of the title clearly encouraged Tyler.
“Tuesday. On Tuesday, he told me he was leaving. He’d made up his mind. Wanted to keep it somewhere safe. Where no one could get to it.”
“The letter?” Ray asked, his heart stopping for a brief moment.
“I couldn’t remember before. I wasn’t lying. I swear I wasn’t lying,” he begged for them to believe him.
“Tyler, where is it?”
“I hid it away so no one would find it. I hid it and...and they shocked me later that day, and I forgot.”
“Sam. Where?”
“My room. The table. Bedside table. In the drawer. No. Underneath the drawer. It comes all the way out - the drawer. So I slipped it under there. I did try to remember sooner. I did. I care, Ray. Please believe me.”
“If it’s where you say it is, I may start to.”
Ray wrenched back the curtain and stormed down the hall, determined to make the drive to Fox Hollow in under twenty minutes.