Fic: Steady As She Goes (19/86)
Title: Steady As She Goes (19/86)
Author: dak
Word Count: 2402 this part; [34,591 overall]
Summary for Whole: After an accidental shooting at the station, Gene struggles to keep his team from tearing themselves apart.
Summary this Part: Sam's condition changes
Rating: still Blue-ish Cortina, uhm, what's slightly darker than blue?
Warnings: angst, swearing, angst, and angst here. Did I mention angst?; more angst, violence, swearing, and violent imagery, minor drug use and mild sexual situations for whole
Spoilers: none here; minor refs to 1.01, 1.02, 1.04, 1.06, 1.07, 1.08, 2.01, 2.02 and 2.06, 2.08 (but not the ending) in others
Pairing: mild Sam/Annie, Sam/Maya
Disclaimer: Belongs to BBC/Kudos
A/N: Sorry for the belated thanks on some of those comments. I really appreciate each one! Had a bit of down time at work today waiting for the cable guy (don't ask), so I was able to finish the next part. Uhm, and you'd think having a happy, new job would make me write things that were a little less angsty, but no. Sorry. I do take "evil" as a compliment though!
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
"You’re not allowed in there! ‘Scuse me. Sirs! Visitin’ hours are over. Din’t yeh hear me?"
The short, squat nurse did her best to chase after the three very drunk men, but she couldn’t catch up. They, in turn, simply ignored her calls as they shoved their way into the ICU.
"Oi! Oi Sammy! You’ll never believe this," Gene exclaimed as he, Ray, and Chris stumbled into Sam’s room.
"Guv nearly lost yeh your job," Ray leaned against the wall, chomping his gum.
"Shut it Carling," Gene warned, but Ray was too pissed to quit.
"He was jus’ playin’ summat awful tonight. Weren’t he Chris?"
Chris, who had only consumed one pint (which he wasn’t supposed to) was now feeling a bit tipsy due to the drink and drugs, and also couldn’t keep his mouth shut. "Weren’t ‘is best game. But I couldn’t say it was awful."
"Did I not say shut?" The Guv turned and grabbed Chris by the collar, but wasn’t coordinated enough to slam him against the wall.
"You said...shut it...Carling."
The three men froze on the spot, turning only their heads to the surprisingly conscious figure on the bed. Gene dropped Chris. Chris fell to the floor. Ray swallowed his gum.
"Not...Chris," Sam finished.
"You’re talking." Gene wasn’t sure if he was drunk or dreaming.
"Brilliant...observation...Guv," he rasped out.
Gene didn’t want to take his eyes off Sam, but he had to make sure this wasn’t all in his head. He looked at Chris and Ray. His younger officers were staring at Sam with the same expression Gene assumed was plastered all over his own face.
Nope. Not all in his head then.
"I was here this morning. You were still..." He couldn’t say coma. He couldn’t admit that’s what it was. "Still sleeping."
"Impossible...to sleep...all the...noise."
Gene could tell Sam had wanted to make a gesture with that remark, but hadn’t been able to move his hand. Sam couldn’t move much of his face either, but Gene could tell he was confused. Sam hated being confused. Gene quickly sobered up.
"All right you divs. Out."
"But Guv..." Chris started.
"I need a word with me DI. You can play with ‘im later Chris." Gene knew how much Chris wanted to speak to Sam, but he couldn’t right now. Gene needed to speak to Sam on his own.
"C’mon Chris. I think that bird at the front desk fancied yeh." Ray tugged on his arm and helped Chris off the floor.
"But I have a girlfriend," Chris whined as he reluctantly left the room.
"She don’ know that."
The door closed leaving Sheriff and Deputy alone. The Guv pulled up a chair close to the bed. "You all right?"
Sam would’ve laughed if he could.
"What’d the doctors tell yeh?"
"Not...much." Sam spoke with his eyes closed. It took too much energy to keep them open.
"They tell yeh how long you’ve been...sleeping?"
Sam took a deep breath. "No. Few days?"
Gene sighed and ran his hand through his hair. "Bit longer than that." Gene saw Sam’s confusion deepen. He hadn’t meant to do that. He didn’t want Sam to feel stressed. He placed what he hoped was a comforting hand on Sam’s thin arm. "Jus’ don’ worry ‘bout it."
"How...long?"
"Save your strength Tyler."
"How long?" Sam tried to yell but his throat was dry and torn from so much time on a respirator. Deep coughs racked his entire body and the heart monitor began beeping faster.
Gene wasn’t sure what to do. Get a nurse? A doctor? He didn’t want to leave Tyler alone. So he just gently rubbed Sam’s arm. "Take it easy. Slow breaths, Tyler. That’s what you get for yellin’ at me. Serves you right. Poncey git."
It took Sam about a minute for the coughing to subside. His breathing was raspier and his body still shook from the effort. It was about the only movement he could make.
"How..." He took several breaths. "Long."
"Still a persistent pain in the arse then, eh?" Gene hesitated, but finally relented. "About a month. But you’re back now, an’ it don’ matter how long you were gone." He was almost desperate to reassure Sam, reassure himself, but he could see it wasn’t working for either of them. Gene looked at his watch. "It’s almost one in the bloody mornin’. Get some rest."
"Still *cough* 1973 *cough cough* then..."
"What else would it be? 1974?"
Sam sighed weakly. "See you...’morrow...then."
"Right. Tomorrow. Best be conscious, too." As Gene left the room he decided it must have been the alcohol that made him imagine the disappointment in Sam’s last statement.
*
"Let me help you sir."
"Can...do it...myself," Sam argued.
"No. You really can’t. Now jus’ lay back. Sir!"
Sam struggled to push the nurse away, not that he had the strength to do so. Sam knew she was just humoring him, that even this small woman could hold him down without effort if she really wanted to. The only reason she didn’t was because she was afraid of hurting him. Sam had already been hurt. Why did it matter anyway? He pushed back.
"Sir, this is why you had the catheter in the first place. You have to gain back your strength. You can’t...oh. Now see what you did? Just stay still an’ I’ll clean this up."
Sam collapsed on the bed out of humiliation as the urine coated his leg, gown, and some of the bed linens.
" ‘Bout time for a sponge bath."
No
, thought Sam. Tell me he didn’t see that. Please.
"Least now you’ll be able to appreciate it." Gene plopped in the chair with a paper and a coffee. Sam realized his Guv was going nowhere in a hurry. He ignored the cold, sticky feeling on his thighs and hoped Gene would, too.
Sam spoke but looked away. "Weren’t you...just here?"
Gene looked at his watch. "Six hours ago. Thought I’d double-check, make sure what I saw las’ night were real an’ not just cos of a bit of booze an’ Chris’ wishful thinkin’." He snapped the paper open.
He really was in it for the long haul. Sam refused to resign himself to that fate. "Chris’...wishful thinkin’?" He still avoided looking at Gene. The soiled gown was becoming even more uncomfortable.
"What I said. You coulda stayed in that bed another fifty years for all I cared, Sleeping Beauty." The lack of malice belied the truth.
"Or jus’...thirty-three. You done...yet?"
"You ain’t goin’ anywhere fast." Gene looked up from the paper and saw Sam’s stiff fingers tugging at the damp gown. "Oi Nurse!"
"Guv don’t."
"You goin’ ta clean ‘im up or let ‘im lie there in ‘is own filth?"
"Gene stop it!" What was it about Gene Hunt that always made him yell at the worst possible times. The strain on his voice set him straight into another coughing fit.
Gene stood up to place a calming hand on his DI’s shoulder but Sam, still coughing, shrugged it off. Thinking Sam’s body had just jerked due to the fit, Gene replaced the hand, only to have it forced off again. There was no mistaking it this time.
"What’s the matter with you then?" Gene crossed his arms.
"Short *cough cough* list, or *cough* long?"
"You embarrassed ‘bout pissing yourself? That it? I was in the service Tyler. Saw worse than that me first day in. Hell, I saw worse than that las’ night at the pub."
The fit drained the rest of Sam’s energy. He closed his eyes and tried to relax his muscles. "You can go...now."
It wasn’t a friendly request. Gene grabbed his paper. "Right. Send the plonk in shall I?" Gene stormed to the door, barely restraining himself from grabbing the nurse by the arm. "Clean ‘im up. An’ make sure it don’t happen again."
Sam listened as Gene left, the ward peaceful once again. All he’d wanted was to get back home. He’d been so close that time. Heard the beeping. Felt the tracheostomy tube. It was home. He’d know it. Felt it. Then he had opened his bleary eyes and realized that the figure over him hadn’t been his mother, just some random nurse. In a 1970s uniform.
Sam had lost all hope of getting home.
*
Gene plowed through CID’s doors, just wanting to get to his office. After all he’d done for the little gay-boy science scrote, how dare he talk to him like that. Gene had held the dying pisser in his arms. Got blood and spit and sick all over his clothes. Now he was just going to...
"How is he, sir?"
Cartwright stood between him and his door. This would usually be very bad for Cartwright, but she looked him straight in the eye, her face full of hope he’d thought she lost long ago.
"Pissy as ever." He pushed past her, but stopped at the door. "You should go an’ see ‘im after work. Cheer ‘im up. Poor lad hasn’t seen a decent set of tits in a month." Gene disappeared behind his door, only to almost immediately reappear, a piece of paper clenched in his hand.
"What the bloody hell is this?"
Chris looked up from his paperwork. "It’s the, uh, transfer orders for Roy Martin, Guv."
"I’m not blind, Skelton. What I want to know is why they’re dated for next bloody week!"
"That’s how they were when Litton dropped ‘em off." Chris hoped that would explain everything. It didn’t.
"DC Skelton, just cos you’re on desk duty don’ mean you can’t do your bloody job an’ get Litton to give yeh the right bloody papers!" He threw the form on Chris’ desk. "Now we have to wait another goddamn week to get our hand on the stupid blaggard. You know where ‘is three chums’ll be by then?"
"Uhm, where Guv?" Chris meekly asked.
"Fuckin’ Spain! That’s where! If they’re not there already!" He stomped back into his office. "Get me the right fuckin’ form!"
*
"So then Chris has only two throws left to win it, and the first one lands right in Litton’s backside!"
Annie leaned in close to Sam recounting, in minute detail, the events of last night’s apparently harrowing darts match. Sam smiled. Pretended to care. After all, he should care. These were his friends. They had done this for him. Bet Sam for Sam. That didn’t seem right.
"Chris swore it was an accident. Blamed the shooting, said the injury threw off his aim."
Annie gently stroked Sam’s hand. Sam knew that should make him feel something. Make him feel warm or loved or happy, but it didn’t.
"So then RCS starts to heckle Chris, try to make him miss the shot..."
The doctor approached. "Evening Sam, WDC Cartwright." He checked Sam’s pulse and pupil response, then wrote something on his chart. "How’ve you been feeling Sam?"
Lonely. Helpless. Lost.
"Tired," he said.
"Well that’s to be expected. Noticed any side effects from the medication?"
"No."
"Good. Well then we’ll keep you on the same course of treatment." The doctor pulled out a syringe and injected the contents into Sam’s IV. It burned slightly as it entered his veins. "This might make you a bit sleepy now, but in the long run it will help you get your full strength back."
Annie smiled at the doctor as he said goodnight and left. "So where was I? Oh that’s right. So RCS is really harassing Chris..."
Sam gently squeezed her hand. "If you don’t mind Annie, I’m feeling a bit tired. The drugs...you know."
Annie was good at hiding disappointment. "I understand. Get some rest. I’ll finish the story later."
"Thanks," he smiled up at her.
Annie kissed him on the forehead. "Night Sam."
"Night Annie."
He watched her grab her purse and tiptoe out of the room. He should’ve felt bad that she was leaving, or happy that she came. Excited about seeing her tomorrow. He knew he should. He just didn’t.
It didn’t seem right, this not feeling anything. He’d never experienced it before, not in 1973. As frustrated, angry, or even humiliated he got here, as much as he hated it, he had at least always felt strongly about it.
Maybe, maybe for a brief period during that 1973 coma he had been home, he just didn’t remember. Maybe he could only feel the difference. Maybe now that he knew this wasn’t real, his mind no longer could invent the feelings he was supposed to be having. So why had he woken up here and not there? What could he do to finish getting back?
"Nurse...could I have a glass of water please?"
*
For once all the schmoozing, politicking, and general arse-kissing Gene hated about his position actually paid off. Rathbone, god knows why, forced Litton to render Roy Martin’s transfer papers effective immediately. Ray, Clive, and Jeff were driving out there to get him now.
Gene threw on his coat and started switching off the lights. Time for a round or two at the pub. Wouldn’t stay too long, though. It was a Thursday after all. Couldn’t keep the missus waiting.
He had just put one foot out the door when the phone rang. Gene sighed. Couldn’t this city do without him once in a while?
"DCI Hunt..." Gene listened carefully then dropped the phone and tore out of the station.
*
"Where is he? What the bloody hell happened?" Gene pushed off nurses one by one til he could reach Sam’s bed. One of the older nurses drew the curtain before he had a chance to see.
"Where’s my DI?" he barked at the old woman.
"He’s not back there," she nodded towards the curtain. "Doctors took him away. You’ll have to wait downstairs for ‘em like everyone else."
"Took him away where? I don’ even know what happened you stupid cow!" Gene made a go for the curtain.
"We haven’t cleaned it up yet!" The nurse protested, but it was too late. Gene had already flung back the flimsy sheet.
He thought he was going to be sick. He turned away, hands still clinging to the curtain. "I want to see him. Now." Gene left the ward, unable to be in the same room as the nurses changed the blood-stained sheets and swept up the broken glass.
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Part 20