Fic: Steady As She Goes (14/86)
Title: Steady As She Goes (14/86)
Author: dak
Word Count: 2043 this part; [23,989 overall]
Summary for Whole: After Chris is shot by accident at the station, Gene struggles to keep his team from tearing themselves apart as Ray takes out his anger on Sam, Annie makes a decision which jeopardizes Gene's career, and Sam gets involved with a murder.
Summary this Part: Things go from bad to worse for Sammy.
Warnings: angst, swearing, and lots of violence here; more angst, violence, swearing, and violent imagery for whole
Spoilers: minor refs to 1.04 and 2.01 here; minor refs to 1.04, 1.08, 2.01, and 2.06 in others
Pairing: mild Sam/Annie
Disclaimer: Belongs to BBC/Kudos
A/N: Just posted this, but it went a bit wonky, so I'm trying again. Let's hope it works this time!
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 Part 40 Part 41 Part 42 Part 43 Part 44 Part 45 Part 46 Part 47 Part 48 Part 49 Part 50 Part 51 Part 52 Part 53 Part 54 Part 55 Part 56 Part 57 Part 58 Part 59 Part 60 Part 61 Part 62 Part 63 Part 64 Part 65 Part 66 Part 67 Part 68 Part 69 Part 70 Part 71 Part 72 Part 73 Part 74 Part 75 Part 76 Part 77 Part 78 Part 79 Part 80 Part 81 Part 82 Part 83 Part 84 Part 85 Part 86
"I...don’t...know."
The scabbed fist slammed into Sam’s jaw, his bottom lip sliced open by its impact with his lower teeth. Sam spit the blood onto the concrete floor, then slowly raised his head, looking at his attackers through his good eye. Sam decided that between the three of them they probably had a combined IQ of negative sixty-three. Deep Voice punched him again in the face. Sam wasn’t going to mention the IQ thing right now.
He was sat in a creaky, wooden chair that could barely hold even Sam’s weight. His hands were bound tightly behind him with thick, rough rope that cut into his wrists. One of these skinheads must have been a sailor, Sam figured. As much as he twisted and turned, the knots refused to budge.
"I think that’s a load a shit, Inspector." High Voice threw Sam’s warrant card in his face and let it fall to the floor. The skinny, but muscular man crouched down in front of Sam. "Now, what do the Nick know ‘bout Sanders and Quibell?"
"Nothing." He replied which, when Sam thought about it, wasn’t that far from the truth.
High Voice nodded to Deep. Sam felt thick fingers grab his short hair and pull back. Another fist connected with his already bruised cheek. Sam sent a wad of spit and blood to the ground. High grabbed him by the chin and pulled his face forward.
"Yeh might want ta start changin’ your story, copper."
*
"What do you mean...gone, Guv?" Annie asked warily, her eyes darting from the jacket to Gene.
"I mean someone’s nicked ‘im."
"You sure Guv?" Ray stepped forward.
"No Carling. I think he trashed his own flat an’ left shoe prints two sizes too big all over his favorite toy just for kicks, then ran off with his fairy-boy Hyde mates for a nice spot of tea, leavin’ us holdin’ the bag on an unsolved double murder!"
Ray stepped back. "Course you’re sure. Sorry, Guv."
"Right. Did any of you see ‘im last night after you left the station or any time this morning?" Gene looked around the room, but no one answered. "What about you Flash Knickers? You get any word from your boyfriend?"
"No Guv. Not since I left for the pub last night."
Gene grunted and lit a cigarette. "Let’s assume this’s a bit of villain’s revenge, then. Don’t smell like Warren or Crane, but I want a few of yeh checkin’ ‘em out just in case. Now, the only serious open case Tyler has is this mess with Sanders and Quibble, one of which he may have been a witness to. Carling, Cartwright. I want you to track down every toerag and tosspot those blokes ever said hello to. If they so much as look at yeh funny I want ‘em pulled in an’ locked up. Got it?" Gene stubbed out his ciggie in the nearest ashtray and made for the door.
"Guv, where are you goin’?"
"To talk to a villain, Ray," and Gene was gone.
*
The chair collapsed, taking Sam with it. He landed hard on his right shoulder and thought he heard something pop.
Beep. Beep. Let’s try switching his medication. Hang in there, Sam. Beep. Beep.
"That din’t sound too good, did it copper?" High smirked as he leaned over Sam.
"Jus’ let’s...s-stop messin’ with ‘im, Jerry," stammered Low Voice, who had been silent for awhile. " ‘E don’ know nothin’. Let’s...we jus’ gotta do ‘im in like."
Sam rolled over on his back to relieve the pressure on his shoulder. His ribs weren’t hurting so bad now. What was that about the brain having a gating mechanism for pain?
Beep. Beep. Beep.
No, thought Sam, I have to stay with it. I have to stay here. He forced his eyes open and kept the sounds of 2006 at bay. Wait. Since when had he wanted to stay in 1973?
Sam pushed that thought from his mind. The three musketeers were arguing, distracted. It was the perfect time to escape. The problem, Sam realized, was that they were in what looked like a pub cellar. He couldn’t just run out the door and he didn’t know how hard it would be to climb the steep steps without using his hands.
"What’s your problem with offin’ a copper, eh?" High, aka Jerry, demanded of Deep. "Din’t bother yeh with Harv an’ Dom, did it?"
"No. But they were jus’...Look, Jerry. If you so much as spit at a copper they rough yeh up special in the cells. What d’yeh think would ‘appen if we actually killed one? An’ ‘e’s on a Gene Hunt’s! Saw ‘im together with Harv. You think we’d even make it to prison alive?"
Sam had been inching towards what he assumed were the stairs to the street. He was nearly there. He pushed the pain out of his mind.
"That’s only if we get caught," whispered Low.
"Exactly. See, Al’s got it!" Jerry gleefully proclaimed. He eagerly rubbed his hands together. "Now, we know ‘e’s lyin’ ‘bout not seein’ us with Dom."
Sam leaned up against the stairs, scooting up them backwards. He wanted to get as close to the top as possible before they noticed.
"We’ll ask ‘im a few more questions an’ if ‘e plays nicely, we’ll make it quick."
He moved quietly up another step. His shoulder felt as if a butcher knife had been thrust into it and someone was slowly, continuously twisting it, but he kept going. He had to.
"An’ if ‘e don’t? Well, we’ll all ‘ave a bit a fun then, won’ we?"
"Oi!" shouted Low, aka Al. He was looking right at Sam.
"Shit," Sam mumbled and he tried to stand on the stairs. He made it one step but the cellar was small and the three men were on him in seconds. All three grabbed him and threw him down the stairs. His forehead hit the concrete with a sickening smack and everything went black for a second. Jerry rolled Sam over with his foot.
"Guess you want to make things fun, eh copper?"
Jerry’s heel came down hard on his face. Sam felt warm blood seep over his mouth and chin as his nose was broken in two.
*
"I don’t know anything about it, DCI Hunt."
Litton, a new bruise on his cheek, puttered around his office, moving papers and files for the sake of moving them.
"Really? You mean you din’t want to teach the little scrote a lesson after he embarrassed you? Again?"
"Absolutely not. I am not--"
Gene pinned Litton in a corner. "I know exactly what you are, Litton, which is why I’m here in the first place."
Litton tried to maintain his dignity while stuck in the corner of his own office. "You may see fit to sort out your problems with violence, Hunt, but we work a little differently in the civilized world." Litton tried to step past him, but Gene grabbed him and threw him back in the corner. "Maybe I did consider it, but honestly Gene, do you really think I’d try anything with Superintendent Rathbone breathing down my neck?"
Gene reluctantly let the slimy weasel go and Litton quickly took the opportunity to escape from the corner. He went to his desk and collected another file. "Frankly, DCI Hunt, I really don’t have time to waste on your little nancy boy." Litton looked down at the file and was punched in the gut.
"Only I insult my officers."
When Gene reemerged in the third floor corridor he was immediately assaulted by Ray and Annie. Ray shoved a folder into Gene’s hands.
"Guv, we got summat."
*
Two perfectly good shirts ruined in one week, Sam thought as he stared at the blood stain forming on his chest. And he’d just got these pajamas. He couldn’t seem to lift his head anymore as the blood from his broken nose continued to drip on his shirt. Maybe Annie could take him shopping.
The heavy pipe collided with his stomach. Sam vomited all over his pants.
Or pick out some nice clothes for his burial.
*
"I talked to Cindy some more. I knew she was hiding something."
"She in on it?"
"No," Annie continued, "but she wasn’t Dom’s girlfriend. She was his cover."
"Cover for what?"
Annie looked at Ray then back at her Guv. "Dom was...was gay, sir. Harvey Quibell was his boyfriend."
Ray pointed to the folder. "Few weeks ago she saw the two poofs threatened by some armed blags." Gene opened the folder. "Showed ‘er some photos. She remembered this one cos of how big ‘e was."
Gene stared at the photo in front of him. "You sure?"
*
His mobile. Maybe he’d get to see his mobile again.
Sam was dragged up the stairs he had tried to use earlier for escape.
His mum would be happy to see him. Would she him, or was he dying in both times?
The cellar opened and Sam was practically thrown outside. He opened his eyes a crack. The light was blinding, but he kept them open. He had to stay awake. The Guv would find him. Gene would find him.
Gene and Annie and Chris and even Ray. Were they real? If this pain was as real as it felt he prayed that they were.
Sam was picked up and thrown into the back of a van. Something popped in his chest and suddenly breathing was rendered nearly impossible.
Sam coughed up blood that wasn’t coming from his split lip.
*
Gene stared down with god-like rage at Roy Martin, the skinhead who shot Chris. Ray pressed his foot down a littler harder on the man’s throat.
"You didn’t answer my question."
Martin struggled for breath, but Ray refused to move his heavy foot.
*
"What are those?" Jerry asked.
"Found ‘em at ‘is flat. Thought I’d get a couple quid for ‘em." Deep shook the bottle of pills.
"You on drugs?" Jerry kicked Sam. "Eh, copper?"
Sam couldn’t speak, he couldn’t get enough air to, so he just coughed up another splatter of blood onto the floor of the van.
*
"You’re already goin’ down for attacking one copper. You want to add another count to that charge sheet?"
Ray kicked the man in the stomach as Gene looked on.
"Where would our little band of merry men take him?" Gene questioned in a dangerous whisper. Ray’s fist was poised for another blow.
"Pub!"
"Which one?"
"Eagle and Carriage! On Franklin!"
*
"Give ‘em ‘ere."
"What?"
"Give me the bloody bottle, Bobby!"
Deep reluctantly handed the pills to Jerry.
"Hold ‘im." Jerry ordered and he twisted off the cap. As Deep grabbed his arms, Sam cried out but didn’t lose consciousness. "Open ‘is mouth." Jerry dumped some of the pills into his hand. "You look like you’re in a bit a pain, Inspector. Maybe this’ll ‘elp." Jerry shoved the pills down Sam’s throat.
*
The Cortina brake so fast Gene himself almost went through the windshield. The pub owner gazed in shock at the three detectives as Gene leapt out of the car and shoved him up against the wall. The small man dropped the trash he’d been holding.
"Where are they?" The Guv screamed into his face.
"W-who?"
Gene slammed him against the wall again. "Your little skinhead mates!"
"Th-they..."
"Where!"
"They just left. Asked to borrow me van an’ let. I swear!"
"Did they take someone with them? Skinny, short-haired bloke?"
"I-I..."
Gene slammed the man a third time.
"I don’t know! I din’t see!"
"Which way’d they go?"
The owner pointed down the street. Gene dropped him and ran back to the Cortina. Annie and Ray were barely back inside the car when it took off.
"They’re headed towards the canal."
He was so focused, driving so fast, he almost didn’t hear Annie yelling at him to stop.
"Guv! There!"
She pointed to the bridge just ahead of and above them. A white van sat there idling while two men came out the back and pulled out an unmoving mass of white and green and red.
Before Gene could reach the bridge, the men threw their cargo over the side. The detectives helplessly watched as Sam Tyler’s body hit the water.
______________
Part 15