Fic: The Art of Being Lost and Found (40/?), blue cortina, dakfinv
Title: The Art of Being Lost and Found (40/?)
Author: dak
Word Count: 1400 (this part); (57,913 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 Part 36 Part 37 Part 38 Part 39
After an hour of pounding the streets and alleys of Soho, without a single proposition, Ray decided it was much too early in the day for them to be looking for prostitutes. Most of the clubs were closed up, the bars that were open were empty, and the only places doing any business were the sex shops. Tyler, poof that he was, seemed to be taking it all in stride, but some of the items in the shop windows were enough to make even Ray blush.
“What’s the matter, Carling,” Sam prodded after they passed one particularly disturbing store front. “Thought you were a man of the world?”
“Course I am, but this stuff, it ain’t natural.”
“Obviously. Mostly synthetics, I’d guess.”
“You know what I mean. This is bloody pointless,” Ray huffed as they turned onto another deserted street.
“We’ll have to come back tonight, after meeting your friend.”
“Ain’t that passed your bedtime?”
“I’ll drink plenty of coffee.”
Ray checked his watch, then kicked an empty cup.
“We’ve over six hours ‘fore we meet, Reg. What’re we supposed to do till then?”
“Well, Carnaby Street is just up this way. Piccadilly and Trafalgar Square are nearby as well. The National Gallery has some great exhibits, though I don’t know what’s on display right now.”
“I told you no sightseeing.”
“Have you phoned Chris today?”
“I was waiting till we found summat.”
“Don’t you think he’ll worry if he doesn’t hear from us?”
“Do you have to question everything I say?” Ray shouted, finally fed up.
Sam paused, then completely silenced himself, picking at the bandage round his arm and arm.
“That need changed?” Ray asked, noticing the dirtied yellow tint of the gauze. Sam merely shrugged. “Well?”
“I took it off when I showered, the rewrapped it,” he muttered, trying to conceal a loose edge.
“You supposed to do that?”
“I don’t know. But it is starting to itch.”
“Why didn’t you say summat?”
“This arm is the least of my worries,” Sam sighed.
“C’mon,” Ray shook his head and hurried down the street.
“Where are we going?”
“To find a chemist’s. Don’t need you getting some bloody infection or owt.”
“Why, Sergeant, I didn’t know you cared,” Sam smirked, stepping up beside him, hands stuffed in his pockets.
“I don’t, but I don’t need Chris getting upset at me cos I let you fall apart.”
“Chris. Right,” Sam nodded.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing,” Sam shook his head. “Nothing at all.”
*
They sat on the steps of the Eros Statue as Sam removed the dirty gauze from his arm. For the first time Ray saw the injury under the arm - a nasty, red cut which curved its way up from Sam’s palm to just below his elbow. A series of stitches, Ray couldn’t tell how many, kept the skin shut but also gave the impression that Tyler’s arm had been pieced together by a child practicing her sewing skills.
“Bloke had a knife then,” he commented as Sam unwrapped the last of the gauze.
“Don’t remember.”
“When’re those supposed to come out?”
“Same time as these, I guess,” Sam pointed to his stitched lip.
“Here,” Ray reached into their new paper bag and pulled out the fresh roll of gauze.
“Cheers,” Sam muttered. Even though he struggled to unwrap the roll with one hand, he refused to ask for help. Once he finally did get the end started, his fumbling fingers dropped the roll and the gauze unraveled down the statue steps. Sam kept his curses to himself, but his body tensed as his face went bright red.
Ray said nothing, just climbed down to get the roll, then sat back next to Sam. Reaching into his trousers, he pulled out his pocket knife and cut off the long bit that had touched the grimy concrete. Luckily, they had plenty to spare.
“Want me...?” Ray asked, holding up the clean roll.
“I’m not an invalid,” Sam hissed.
“Course not.”
“I’m not allowed to do anything by myself. Someone always has to do it for me. Has to watch me. I have to get permission to do everything, even if going to the loo.”
“If you don’t want me help - fine. I was just offering cos it’s hard to do this shite with one hand. Broke me wrist after I first made DC - me writing hand, and all. Couldn’t do owt for six weeks.”
“Was it a suspect? Who broke it.”
“No,” Ray coughed, clearing his throat. “Were me old man,” he added with a shrug. “Gave him worse, though, so...” he trailed off.
Sam held out his arm. Ray began to wrap it.
“Nasty cut, this is.”
“Yeah,” Sam agreed.
“Couldn’t tell us much that night.”
“Can’t tell you much now,” he sighed, watching Ray cover the wound. “Bit tight,” he winced.
Ray didn’t apologize, but undid the last few inches and rewound them.
“I was in my room, I think.”
“They said you were.”
“Who?”
“That orderly. Joe. And some nurse with nice tits.”
“What else did they say?”
“Just that they saw a bloke run down the corridor and leg it down the fire escape.”
“I’m surprised that death trap even has a proper fire escape,” Sam shook his head. “I remember...fighting with someone. I remember I fought back. But, that’s all.”
“He didn’t say owt? Give you a warning or curse at you or summat?”
“If he did, I don’t remember.”
“But you remember fighting back?”
“I must have, else I wouldn’t be here.”
“So, you don’t want to die?” Ray asked, cutting the gauze and securing the end.
“I told you,” Sam said, pulling back his arm and examining Ray’s handiwork. “What would be the point?” Tyler’s knees creaked as he rose from the step.
*
“Reg should be here in a half hour. You get a table. I’ll get the drinks in.”
“I’ll take a pint of bitter.”
“I’m no bloody doctor, but not even I’m dumb enough to give you alcohol with those pills.”
Ray expected an argument, but Sam simply wandered away, making his way towards an empty table in the corner. Ray joined him five minutes later, drinks in hand.
“Half a pint, that’s it,” Ray told him, setting the small glass in front of him. “And it’s the weakest ale they’ve got.”
“Cheers Ray,” Sam replied, looking genuinely surprised.
“Soon’s we find the Guv, and he gives you your money back, I’ll be taking what you owe. Don’t think I ain’t keeping track of all this.”
“Course,” Sam nodded and took a slow sip from the glass. “Christ, I never drank this much in...Hyde,” he ended the sentence sheepishly, the last word having difficulty escaping his mouth.
“Thought you didn’t remember Hyde?”
“Dr. Wynton’s trying to help with that.”
“And?”
“There’s nothing to remember. I’ve never been there.”
“Sticking with the future story, eh?”
“It’s not a story and I really don’t want to be discussing this with you, Sergeant.”
“Maybe you’re not from Hyde, but you ain’t a time traveler, Tyler.”
“I said we’re not discussing this.”
“You discuss it with the Guv?”
“What Gene and I talk about is none of your business,” Sam sipped his half pint and stared at the stained table.
“It hurt him, what you did,” Ray began. “First, he turns in Harry. Then you go mad. He weren’t the same.”
“Yes. It’s all my fault. I know.”
“He didn’t want to sign the papers. But, he didn’t want you in gaol, either.”
“Is this your version of therapy? Making me feel more guilty than I already do?”
“He thought it was his fault,” Ray stared into his own pint. “He knew you’d been off since the train heist. He thought he could’ve kept a closer eye on you. Kept you out of trouble.”
“Gene thinks he can control all his men. His team. And he can, for the most part. He earns that respect. It’s part of what makes him a good DCI,” Sam spoke quietly, pushing his glass around on the table.
“Then why’d you let him down?”
Sam closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. Ray could hear Tyler’s foot tapping wildly under the table.
“Your friend better get here soon.” Sam folded his hands on the table, his foot still tapping away. “My mind...it falls apart this time of day.”
Author: dak
Word Count: 1400 (this part); (57,913 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 Part 36 Part 37 Part 38 Part 39
After an hour of pounding the streets and alleys of Soho, without a single proposition, Ray decided it was much too early in the day for them to be looking for prostitutes. Most of the clubs were closed up, the bars that were open were empty, and the only places doing any business were the sex shops. Tyler, poof that he was, seemed to be taking it all in stride, but some of the items in the shop windows were enough to make even Ray blush.
“What’s the matter, Carling,” Sam prodded after they passed one particularly disturbing store front. “Thought you were a man of the world?”
“Course I am, but this stuff, it ain’t natural.”
“Obviously. Mostly synthetics, I’d guess.”
“You know what I mean. This is bloody pointless,” Ray huffed as they turned onto another deserted street.
“We’ll have to come back tonight, after meeting your friend.”
“Ain’t that passed your bedtime?”
“I’ll drink plenty of coffee.”
Ray checked his watch, then kicked an empty cup.
“We’ve over six hours ‘fore we meet, Reg. What’re we supposed to do till then?”
“Well, Carnaby Street is just up this way. Piccadilly and Trafalgar Square are nearby as well. The National Gallery has some great exhibits, though I don’t know what’s on display right now.”
“I told you no sightseeing.”
“Have you phoned Chris today?”
“I was waiting till we found summat.”
“Don’t you think he’ll worry if he doesn’t hear from us?”
“Do you have to question everything I say?” Ray shouted, finally fed up.
Sam paused, then completely silenced himself, picking at the bandage round his arm and arm.
“That need changed?” Ray asked, noticing the dirtied yellow tint of the gauze. Sam merely shrugged. “Well?”
“I took it off when I showered, the rewrapped it,” he muttered, trying to conceal a loose edge.
“You supposed to do that?”
“I don’t know. But it is starting to itch.”
“Why didn’t you say summat?”
“This arm is the least of my worries,” Sam sighed.
“C’mon,” Ray shook his head and hurried down the street.
“Where are we going?”
“To find a chemist’s. Don’t need you getting some bloody infection or owt.”
“Why, Sergeant, I didn’t know you cared,” Sam smirked, stepping up beside him, hands stuffed in his pockets.
“I don’t, but I don’t need Chris getting upset at me cos I let you fall apart.”
“Chris. Right,” Sam nodded.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing,” Sam shook his head. “Nothing at all.”
*
They sat on the steps of the Eros Statue as Sam removed the dirty gauze from his arm. For the first time Ray saw the injury under the arm - a nasty, red cut which curved its way up from Sam’s palm to just below his elbow. A series of stitches, Ray couldn’t tell how many, kept the skin shut but also gave the impression that Tyler’s arm had been pieced together by a child practicing her sewing skills.
“Bloke had a knife then,” he commented as Sam unwrapped the last of the gauze.
“Don’t remember.”
“When’re those supposed to come out?”
“Same time as these, I guess,” Sam pointed to his stitched lip.
“Here,” Ray reached into their new paper bag and pulled out the fresh roll of gauze.
“Cheers,” Sam muttered. Even though he struggled to unwrap the roll with one hand, he refused to ask for help. Once he finally did get the end started, his fumbling fingers dropped the roll and the gauze unraveled down the statue steps. Sam kept his curses to himself, but his body tensed as his face went bright red.
Ray said nothing, just climbed down to get the roll, then sat back next to Sam. Reaching into his trousers, he pulled out his pocket knife and cut off the long bit that had touched the grimy concrete. Luckily, they had plenty to spare.
“Want me...?” Ray asked, holding up the clean roll.
“I’m not an invalid,” Sam hissed.
“Course not.”
“I’m not allowed to do anything by myself. Someone always has to do it for me. Has to watch me. I have to get permission to do everything, even if going to the loo.”
“If you don’t want me help - fine. I was just offering cos it’s hard to do this shite with one hand. Broke me wrist after I first made DC - me writing hand, and all. Couldn’t do owt for six weeks.”
“Was it a suspect? Who broke it.”
“No,” Ray coughed, clearing his throat. “Were me old man,” he added with a shrug. “Gave him worse, though, so...” he trailed off.
Sam held out his arm. Ray began to wrap it.
“Nasty cut, this is.”
“Yeah,” Sam agreed.
“Couldn’t tell us much that night.”
“Can’t tell you much now,” he sighed, watching Ray cover the wound. “Bit tight,” he winced.
Ray didn’t apologize, but undid the last few inches and rewound them.
“I was in my room, I think.”
“They said you were.”
“Who?”
“That orderly. Joe. And some nurse with nice tits.”
“What else did they say?”
“Just that they saw a bloke run down the corridor and leg it down the fire escape.”
“I’m surprised that death trap even has a proper fire escape,” Sam shook his head. “I remember...fighting with someone. I remember I fought back. But, that’s all.”
“He didn’t say owt? Give you a warning or curse at you or summat?”
“If he did, I don’t remember.”
“But you remember fighting back?”
“I must have, else I wouldn’t be here.”
“So, you don’t want to die?” Ray asked, cutting the gauze and securing the end.
“I told you,” Sam said, pulling back his arm and examining Ray’s handiwork. “What would be the point?” Tyler’s knees creaked as he rose from the step.
*
“Reg should be here in a half hour. You get a table. I’ll get the drinks in.”
“I’ll take a pint of bitter.”
“I’m no bloody doctor, but not even I’m dumb enough to give you alcohol with those pills.”
Ray expected an argument, but Sam simply wandered away, making his way towards an empty table in the corner. Ray joined him five minutes later, drinks in hand.
“Half a pint, that’s it,” Ray told him, setting the small glass in front of him. “And it’s the weakest ale they’ve got.”
“Cheers Ray,” Sam replied, looking genuinely surprised.
“Soon’s we find the Guv, and he gives you your money back, I’ll be taking what you owe. Don’t think I ain’t keeping track of all this.”
“Course,” Sam nodded and took a slow sip from the glass. “Christ, I never drank this much in...Hyde,” he ended the sentence sheepishly, the last word having difficulty escaping his mouth.
“Thought you didn’t remember Hyde?”
“Dr. Wynton’s trying to help with that.”
“And?”
“There’s nothing to remember. I’ve never been there.”
“Sticking with the future story, eh?”
“It’s not a story and I really don’t want to be discussing this with you, Sergeant.”
“Maybe you’re not from Hyde, but you ain’t a time traveler, Tyler.”
“I said we’re not discussing this.”
“You discuss it with the Guv?”
“What Gene and I talk about is none of your business,” Sam sipped his half pint and stared at the stained table.
“It hurt him, what you did,” Ray began. “First, he turns in Harry. Then you go mad. He weren’t the same.”
“Yes. It’s all my fault. I know.”
“He didn’t want to sign the papers. But, he didn’t want you in gaol, either.”
“Is this your version of therapy? Making me feel more guilty than I already do?”
“He thought it was his fault,” Ray stared into his own pint. “He knew you’d been off since the train heist. He thought he could’ve kept a closer eye on you. Kept you out of trouble.”
“Gene thinks he can control all his men. His team. And he can, for the most part. He earns that respect. It’s part of what makes him a good DCI,” Sam spoke quietly, pushing his glass around on the table.
“Then why’d you let him down?”
Sam closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. Ray could hear Tyler’s foot tapping wildly under the table.
“Your friend better get here soon.” Sam folded his hands on the table, his foot still tapping away. “My mind...it falls apart this time of day.”