Fic: The Art of Being Lost and Found (36/?), blue cortina, dakfinv
Title: The Art of Being Lost and Found (36/?)
Author: dak
Word Count: 1441 (this part); (53,042 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 Part 24 Part 25 Part 26 Part 27 Part 28
Part 29 Part 30 Part 31 Part 32 Part 33 Part 34 Part 35
It wasn’t raining. The sky was gray, clouds covering every bit of possible blue. The roads were either too rough or too crowded. They had another three hours to go, and the car radio was broken. But, it wasn’t raining. Ray thought it little consolation. He fiddled, again, with the useless dial.
“It bothers you that much, we could sing.”
“Shut it,” he snapped, pulling back his hand and gripping the wheel tightly. Yes, the lack of rain was little consolation because none of the inconveniences were bothering Tyler in the slightest. The git simply stared out the window, hand on the grab bar and that annoying, girly, goofy grin plastered on his face, as he enjoyed every minute of Ray’s frustration.
“Go on then,” he huffed, steering the car around a sharp bend.
“What?” Sam asked, looking over at him.
“What’re you so happy about?”
“Is that what I am?” he looked forward and plopped his head back against the seat. “Huh. Guess so,” he decided and grinned.
“So. Why?”
“Why shouldn’t I be?”
“I could give you half a dozen reasons to pick from.”
“Such a pessimist, aren’t you, DS Carling?”
“And you’re always Mr. Happiness and Joy.”
“Look at everything,” Sam turned his head and gazed out his window. “There’s no cliff. No white door. It’s all real. Why shouldn’t I be happy?”
Ray stared out at the murky green-brown hills, the dilapidated homes, and the dark gray sky. He didn’t see anything special about any of it. Then again, he wasn’t insane.
*
It was another hour before Ray’s stomach told him they should stop off for something to eat. After filling up at a little petrol station, he pulled into the car park of a decent looking greasy spoon. To Ray, it looked delicious. Sam appeared less than pleased.
“This place is a heart attack’s dream,” he grimaced, staring at the diner.
“It’s where we’re eating. You don’t like it, stay in the car and starve.” Ray climbed out of the car without another word to Sam. When he reached the building’s entrance, Tyler was standing beside him.
“Hungry then?”
“Since you’re paying,” Sam said with a grin.
The place wasn’t busy and it didn’t take them long to get served. Ray ordered a full English breakfast, despite it being the afternoon, and Tyler settled on the soup of the day and a bit of bread. They were halfway through their meals when Ray set a handful of pills on the table. He continued shoveling the food in his mouth and it wasn’t until three forkfuls later that he realized Sam had yet to take them.
“Waiting for an invitation?” he asked, nodding to the drugs.
Sam twirled the spoon in his hand, letting his soup grow cold. Ray pushed the pills closer.
“I was...I was thinking...”
“Good on you. Take your damn drugs ‘fore I shove ‘em down your gob.”
“My afternoon meds always make me drowsy.”
“Good. You’ll be able to sleep the rest of the way.”
“It’s the middle of the day. I don’t want to sleep.”
Ray threw down his fork.
“You’re here on one condition - that you take those bloody pills. I don’t care if they make you sleepy or they make you see things or they keep you from seeing things.”
“I do,” Sam whispered.
“You realize you’re going back there, don’t you? You know as soon as we find the Guv, we’re giving you back to Dr. Wynton and if she finds out you were misbehaving, how do you think she’ll react? Think she’ll go easy on you or do you think she’ll up your dosage? Up your treatments? How else will she make sure you behave like a good, little boy?”
Sam angrily grabbed the small pile and tossed them down his throat. Instead of returning to his food, he sat back and crossed his arms, looking anywhere but at Ray.
“You don’t even know what these do to me,” Sam muttered. Ray could hear his foot tapping quickly against the sticky floor.
“I don’t have to.”
*
Sam was quiet and complacent by the time they returned to the car. Ray had only gone a few miles before Tyler was asleep, his head slumped against the window. Ray enjoyed the peace and quiet until it ended.
Tyler didn’t wake, but began muttering in his sleep. When it became distracting enough, Ray elbowed him in the side. Sam shifted and fell silent for fifteen minutes, until it started again. Ray was getting closer to the city now and, for once, needed to focus on his driving. It had been ages since his last trip to London and he didn’t know the roads as well as those in Manchester.
So, he elbowed Sam again. This time Tyler didn’t notice. He kept twitching and mumbling, groaning even. It almost sounded like he was in pain. Ray shoved him hard against the door. That not only hushed Sam, but woke him. He blinked his eyes rapidly - even the swollen one could be opened a bit, now - and sat up in his seat. He looked around, not recognizing his surroundings.
“Are we--”
“Don’t!” Ray shouted.
“Uhm...”
“We’ve gone the whole bloody trip without you saying it and I don’t want you saying it now.”
“You mean...”
“Yes. Alright? That’s your answer. Now if you can use that fuzzy brain of yours, keep your eyes open for the next turn off, alright?”
“Yes. Dad.”
“Quiet ‘fore I hit you.”
“Too late for that.”
It took them another half hour to get into the city. It was just gone four and the rush hour was only just beginning.
“Timed this well, didn’t we?” Sam sighed staring at the long line of traffic ahead of them.
“I don’t need any lip from you.”
“I said ‘we,’ didn’t I?”
Ray snorted.
“So, where are we staying? Booked a place, I hope.”
“Course I did. Little dive I know in Earls Court.”
“Near the exhibition center? Can we see who’s playing? I can’t believe I missed the Pink Floyd concert. That was this year wasn’t it? I think it was. Oh, I’ll have to get tickets for Led Zeppelin. Their concert in ‘75 will be legendary.”
“Didn’t know you loved music so much. That’s almost normal of you, Tyler,” Ray replied, ignoring the bit about 1975.
“I can be normal.”
“Sure.”
It was nearly forty-five minutes later that they finally reached the hotel. Ray was grateful it hadn’t taken any longer. Tyler was complaining that he was feeling claustrophobic and had kept fiddling with the door handle. As soon as the car was parked, Sam flung open his door and leaped out.
“Get your ruddy kit! I’m not carrying it for you,” Ray huffed, getting out himself and slamming the door shut. He watched as Sam struggled to calm himself as he went for his bag.
As they stepped into the lobby, the place was as much a dive as Ray remembered it to be. The carpet was stained and ratty, the lights that did work flickered constantly, and the drunken man behind the desk was half-asleep. Once they managed to wake him, they were given a room on the fourth floor. This was especially convenient since the lift was broken.
When they finally reached room 417, the key at first refused to work. With a little jiggling and cursing, Ray managed to force the door open. As soon as he found the light, he switched it on and dragged his tired body into the room.
“Oh God,” he heard Sam mutter behind him. Tyler took a few steps into the room, dropping his bag at his feet. “It’s...this is the same wallpaper as my flat.”
Ray stared at the puke-green flowery walls.
“You’re right,” he laughed. “Nothing like home, eh Tyler? C’mon. Get yourself settled. I’m going to ring Chris.”
“And then what?” Sam sighed as he lugged his bag to the small bed by the door.
“Oi. You get the window. I get the door,” he ordered. Sam rolled his eyes and switched beds. “And to answer your question, we’re going to find summat to eat and head over to the police station in Fenchurch. I have a mate who’s going to let us look through their files.”
“Starting the search already?”
“Got a problem with that?”
“No,” Sam shook his head. “It’s what we should do. I’m...I’m going to get a shower. Clean up a bit.”
“Careful what you touch,” Ray warned as Sam went into the small bathroom. “Knowing this place, you might come out dirtier than you went in.”
Author: dak
Word Count: 1441 (this part); (53,042 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 Part 24 Part 25 Part 26 Part 27 Part 28
Part 29 Part 30 Part 31 Part 32 Part 33 Part 34 Part 35
It wasn’t raining. The sky was gray, clouds covering every bit of possible blue. The roads were either too rough or too crowded. They had another three hours to go, and the car radio was broken. But, it wasn’t raining. Ray thought it little consolation. He fiddled, again, with the useless dial.
“It bothers you that much, we could sing.”
“Shut it,” he snapped, pulling back his hand and gripping the wheel tightly. Yes, the lack of rain was little consolation because none of the inconveniences were bothering Tyler in the slightest. The git simply stared out the window, hand on the grab bar and that annoying, girly, goofy grin plastered on his face, as he enjoyed every minute of Ray’s frustration.
“Go on then,” he huffed, steering the car around a sharp bend.
“What?” Sam asked, looking over at him.
“What’re you so happy about?”
“Is that what I am?” he looked forward and plopped his head back against the seat. “Huh. Guess so,” he decided and grinned.
“So. Why?”
“Why shouldn’t I be?”
“I could give you half a dozen reasons to pick from.”
“Such a pessimist, aren’t you, DS Carling?”
“And you’re always Mr. Happiness and Joy.”
“Look at everything,” Sam turned his head and gazed out his window. “There’s no cliff. No white door. It’s all real. Why shouldn’t I be happy?”
Ray stared out at the murky green-brown hills, the dilapidated homes, and the dark gray sky. He didn’t see anything special about any of it. Then again, he wasn’t insane.
*
It was another hour before Ray’s stomach told him they should stop off for something to eat. After filling up at a little petrol station, he pulled into the car park of a decent looking greasy spoon. To Ray, it looked delicious. Sam appeared less than pleased.
“This place is a heart attack’s dream,” he grimaced, staring at the diner.
“It’s where we’re eating. You don’t like it, stay in the car and starve.” Ray climbed out of the car without another word to Sam. When he reached the building’s entrance, Tyler was standing beside him.
“Hungry then?”
“Since you’re paying,” Sam said with a grin.
The place wasn’t busy and it didn’t take them long to get served. Ray ordered a full English breakfast, despite it being the afternoon, and Tyler settled on the soup of the day and a bit of bread. They were halfway through their meals when Ray set a handful of pills on the table. He continued shoveling the food in his mouth and it wasn’t until three forkfuls later that he realized Sam had yet to take them.
“Waiting for an invitation?” he asked, nodding to the drugs.
Sam twirled the spoon in his hand, letting his soup grow cold. Ray pushed the pills closer.
“I was...I was thinking...”
“Good on you. Take your damn drugs ‘fore I shove ‘em down your gob.”
“My afternoon meds always make me drowsy.”
“Good. You’ll be able to sleep the rest of the way.”
“It’s the middle of the day. I don’t want to sleep.”
Ray threw down his fork.
“You’re here on one condition - that you take those bloody pills. I don’t care if they make you sleepy or they make you see things or they keep you from seeing things.”
“I do,” Sam whispered.
“You realize you’re going back there, don’t you? You know as soon as we find the Guv, we’re giving you back to Dr. Wynton and if she finds out you were misbehaving, how do you think she’ll react? Think she’ll go easy on you or do you think she’ll up your dosage? Up your treatments? How else will she make sure you behave like a good, little boy?”
Sam angrily grabbed the small pile and tossed them down his throat. Instead of returning to his food, he sat back and crossed his arms, looking anywhere but at Ray.
“You don’t even know what these do to me,” Sam muttered. Ray could hear his foot tapping quickly against the sticky floor.
“I don’t have to.”
*
Sam was quiet and complacent by the time they returned to the car. Ray had only gone a few miles before Tyler was asleep, his head slumped against the window. Ray enjoyed the peace and quiet until it ended.
Tyler didn’t wake, but began muttering in his sleep. When it became distracting enough, Ray elbowed him in the side. Sam shifted and fell silent for fifteen minutes, until it started again. Ray was getting closer to the city now and, for once, needed to focus on his driving. It had been ages since his last trip to London and he didn’t know the roads as well as those in Manchester.
So, he elbowed Sam again. This time Tyler didn’t notice. He kept twitching and mumbling, groaning even. It almost sounded like he was in pain. Ray shoved him hard against the door. That not only hushed Sam, but woke him. He blinked his eyes rapidly - even the swollen one could be opened a bit, now - and sat up in his seat. He looked around, not recognizing his surroundings.
“Are we--”
“Don’t!” Ray shouted.
“Uhm...”
“We’ve gone the whole bloody trip without you saying it and I don’t want you saying it now.”
“You mean...”
“Yes. Alright? That’s your answer. Now if you can use that fuzzy brain of yours, keep your eyes open for the next turn off, alright?”
“Yes. Dad.”
“Quiet ‘fore I hit you.”
“Too late for that.”
It took them another half hour to get into the city. It was just gone four and the rush hour was only just beginning.
“Timed this well, didn’t we?” Sam sighed staring at the long line of traffic ahead of them.
“I don’t need any lip from you.”
“I said ‘we,’ didn’t I?”
Ray snorted.
“So, where are we staying? Booked a place, I hope.”
“Course I did. Little dive I know in Earls Court.”
“Near the exhibition center? Can we see who’s playing? I can’t believe I missed the Pink Floyd concert. That was this year wasn’t it? I think it was. Oh, I’ll have to get tickets for Led Zeppelin. Their concert in ‘75 will be legendary.”
“Didn’t know you loved music so much. That’s almost normal of you, Tyler,” Ray replied, ignoring the bit about 1975.
“I can be normal.”
“Sure.”
It was nearly forty-five minutes later that they finally reached the hotel. Ray was grateful it hadn’t taken any longer. Tyler was complaining that he was feeling claustrophobic and had kept fiddling with the door handle. As soon as the car was parked, Sam flung open his door and leaped out.
“Get your ruddy kit! I’m not carrying it for you,” Ray huffed, getting out himself and slamming the door shut. He watched as Sam struggled to calm himself as he went for his bag.
As they stepped into the lobby, the place was as much a dive as Ray remembered it to be. The carpet was stained and ratty, the lights that did work flickered constantly, and the drunken man behind the desk was half-asleep. Once they managed to wake him, they were given a room on the fourth floor. This was especially convenient since the lift was broken.
When they finally reached room 417, the key at first refused to work. With a little jiggling and cursing, Ray managed to force the door open. As soon as he found the light, he switched it on and dragged his tired body into the room.
“Oh God,” he heard Sam mutter behind him. Tyler took a few steps into the room, dropping his bag at his feet. “It’s...this is the same wallpaper as my flat.”
Ray stared at the puke-green flowery walls.
“You’re right,” he laughed. “Nothing like home, eh Tyler? C’mon. Get yourself settled. I’m going to ring Chris.”
“And then what?” Sam sighed as he lugged his bag to the small bed by the door.
“Oi. You get the window. I get the door,” he ordered. Sam rolled his eyes and switched beds. “And to answer your question, we’re going to find summat to eat and head over to the police station in Fenchurch. I have a mate who’s going to let us look through their files.”
“Starting the search already?”
“Got a problem with that?”
“No,” Sam shook his head. “It’s what we should do. I’m...I’m going to get a shower. Clean up a bit.”
“Careful what you touch,” Ray warned as Sam went into the small bathroom. “Knowing this place, you might come out dirtier than you went in.”