Fic: Steady As She Goes (29/86), Blue Cortina, dakfinv
Title: Steady As She Goes (29/?)
Author: dak
Word Count: 1362 this part; [52,028 overall]
Summary for Whole: After an accidental shooting at the station, Gene struggles to keep his team from tearing themselves apart.
Summary this Part: Gene and Sam have issues.
Rating: still Blue-ish Cortina, uhm, what's slightly darker than blue?
Warnings: angst, swearing, violence, violent imagery, minor drug use, mild sexual situations, self-harm for whole
Spoilers: 1x04; see each chapter for specific spoiler warnings
Pairing: mild Sam/Annie, Sam/Maya
Disclaimer: Belongs to BBC/Kudos
A/N: Another short part, sorry, but I wanted to get this bit out there. Please enjoy!
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
Gene Hunt couldn’t say he was a forgiving man. In fact, he was absolutely certain he wasn’t. Forgiveness didn’t come with the territory. If every thief, rapist, and murderer in Manchester simply said they were sorry and Gene just forgave them instead of beating the ever living tar out of them, what kind of city would this be? It’s not as if a kind word suddenly made the bastard criminals of Manchester realize the error of their ways. No. Forgiveness and Gene Hunt did not mix.
This was different, though. He wasn’t forgiving Litton. Hell no. Sitting in his office, his kingdom, staring at the horribly defeated man across from him, Gene was pitying him. After Litton relayed the story in its entirety how could Gene not? Not that it wasn’t partly the slimy bastard’s fault anyway, but for that to have happened... Gene could actually empathize with the man.
It was a cold day in Hell.
Gene leaned back in his chair silently contemplating Litton’s proposal. More of a plea really. Gene tapped his fingers on the desk weighing his options. He had all the power here. Litton was offering everything he had and Gene was required to give almost nothing in return. There was absolutely nothing enticing Gene to accept. Nothing but the pity. Gene could crush that, bury it, if he wished. He could let Litton drown in the filth of his own creation. It would be that easy. What Gene always wanted.
He slid open a drawer, reached inside, and set his bottle of single malt on the desktop. Two glasses appeared soon after. An even amount was poured into each and the bottle disappeared. Gene picked up one glass and pushed the other across to Litton. The two DCI’s drank quickly and in silence. Litton cupped his empty glass in his hands, refusing to make eye contact. Gene set his on the desk, then tilted it back and forth in his hands.
"We’ll handle it."
*
"Mornin’ Princess!"
The scraping chair and heavy thud alerted a sleeping Sam to his Guv’s presence. His Guv. Oh Christ. How would he be able to look the man in eye after not only confusing him with his father but admitting to him that he was from the future? Even if Gene just blamed it all on the fever, which Sam believed he would, life was not going to be easy. He decided to stay asleep.
Sam felt the bed shake as it was kicked by heavy feet. "Oi, Goldilocks! Best wake up ‘fore the bears decide to lock you up an’ cut off all your hair."
No, definitely not easy. Sam groaned and shifted in the bed. "You’re mixing your fairy tales."
"That a problem Snow White?"
"We still haven’t straightened out your metaphors yet." Sam’s body shook as the bed was kicked again.
"Open your bloody eyes, Tyler. We’ve got work to do."
He would. He’d open his eyes in just a second. Another minute...
"Tyler!" The bed quaked again and Sam had to open his eyes in order to grab the rails and keep from falling off. Considering that was the whole point of the rails to begin with, Sam realized how stupid he’d been to believe he’d fall. Unfortunately, his eyes were already open by the time he made that realization.
"I’m up. I’m up." As Sam blinked away the morning fog he saw what he could’ve sworn was concern disappear from Gene’s face. Act normal, Sam thought, remember it’s 1973 and you transferred from C-Division in Hyde.
"It was one of Litton’s men," Sam yawned as he sat up in bed.
"What?" Gene didn’t handle confusion well.
Sam closed his eyes and itched at the stitches left behind from the chest tube. "You left the file here. On Chris? Then Annie told me what Martin confessed to, or rather didn’t confess to."
"Lousy bird," Gene grumbled as he lit a cigarette.
"Could you not smoke that in here?"
"Why not?"
"For starters, it’s a hospital."
"So? You’re not on a respirator anymore. Oi. What’s that then?" Gene pointed.
"What’s what?" Sam looked behind him then back at Gene, who was pointing directly at Sam. Sam pointed to himself. "This is Sam." He pointed to the Guv. "That is Gene."
Gene swatted Sam’s hand away and grabbed Tyler’s chin. "I meant that." He pointed to Sam’s cheek. Sam raised his hand and quickly found a sore spot that must’ve been a bruise.
"Oh. Must be from when I fell."
Gene released Sam’s head. "When you fell? Doctors have you walking finally?"
Sam looked away sheepishly. "No. When I went for the file...I fell."
"Jesus Christ, Gladys! Just gettin’ you fixed up an’ you’ve gotta do summit daft like that? You really must be bonkers."
Sam didn’t reply. Gene didn’t continue. What would usually be another harmless insult suddenly hit too close to home and neither wanted to admit why.
"So...work?" Sam broke the silence. He thought it would be better if he did. "You want me to look into Chris’ case?"
"No. That’s being taken care of." Gene extinguished the cigarette on the metal arm of his chair.
"But how--"
"I want you to look into your own case. The blokes are missing and you’re our only witness, which means you’re our best chance of findin’ ‘em."
His own case? Gene had said he didn’t want him on his own case. Why the sudden change of heart? Sam stuck his fingers under the gauze of his wrist, rubbing at the stitches. How could he find out where they were? He’d been unconscious, in a coma. He had no clues, no insight as to where they might be. How could he help? He continued to itch at the stitches. He didn’t even notice he was doing it.
Gene noticed. He couldn’t help notice. He couldn’t help notice that Sam didn’t notice. That Sam was staring at nothing, his mind once again running off to the Planet of the Clangers. Gene would have thought nothing of it before. Would have thought that Sam was just thinking carefully over the situation.
Except that Sam didn’t say or do anything else for the next five minutes. Only rubbed harder at the stitches on his left wrist, almost tearing at them now. Gene timed him, hoped Tyler would snap out of it on his own. Except he didn’t.
"Sam? Sam." Gene rested his hand on top of his DI’s. Sam immediately stopped and looked at Gene’s hand, looked at his own hands, unaware his mind had drifted, though Gene thought "drifted" was a hell of a euphemism.
He wasn’t ready. As much as Gene wanted him to be, Sam wasn’t ready yet.
"What?" Sam never looked so naive asking that simple question, not even when Gene had revealed the truth behind Warren’s honey trap.
Gene looked him straight in the eye. "Are you alright?"
Sam laughed nervously and looked away. "I think I’m healing fine. Nurse said she’d help me out of bed today and I was able to eat a whole--"
Gene gently squeezed Sam’s hand tighter, cutting off the ramble. "Are you alright?" He asked slower.
Sam lowered his head, starting at the bed sheet. "I-I will be. Guv."
"Right." Gene pulled back his hands. Since when did he become so "Dorothy?" He gathered up his belongings. If Tyler couldn’t help with the case yet, he’d go to the station where the rest of his team was waiting for something to do. His team. He thought of Litton, of Litton’s team, and looked at Sam who still gazing into space.
He didn’t want to know. He didn’t want to know. He didn’t. Want. To know. After what happened to Litton, he had to know. Gene remained in his seat. His eyes were pointed at his camel coat but he was seeing nothing. He found his calmest, most reasonable voice.
"Sam. Do you think you’re from the future?"
The hesitation was all Gene needed to hear. He rose from the chair, cleared the room in three strides, and slammed the door shut.
Sam clutched his sheets, unable to breath.
Beep. Beep. Beep.
___________
Part 30
Author: dak
Word Count: 1362 this part; [52,028 overall]
Summary for Whole: After an accidental shooting at the station, Gene struggles to keep his team from tearing themselves apart.
Summary this Part: Gene and Sam have issues.
Rating: still Blue-ish Cortina, uhm, what's slightly darker than blue?
Warnings: angst, swearing, violence, violent imagery, minor drug use, mild sexual situations, self-harm for whole
Spoilers: 1x04; see each chapter for specific spoiler warnings
Pairing: mild Sam/Annie, Sam/Maya
Disclaimer: Belongs to BBC/Kudos
A/N: Another short part, sorry, but I wanted to get this bit out there. Please enjoy!
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
Gene Hunt couldn’t say he was a forgiving man. In fact, he was absolutely certain he wasn’t. Forgiveness didn’t come with the territory. If every thief, rapist, and murderer in Manchester simply said they were sorry and Gene just forgave them instead of beating the ever living tar out of them, what kind of city would this be? It’s not as if a kind word suddenly made the bastard criminals of Manchester realize the error of their ways. No. Forgiveness and Gene Hunt did not mix.
This was different, though. He wasn’t forgiving Litton. Hell no. Sitting in his office, his kingdom, staring at the horribly defeated man across from him, Gene was pitying him. After Litton relayed the story in its entirety how could Gene not? Not that it wasn’t partly the slimy bastard’s fault anyway, but for that to have happened... Gene could actually empathize with the man.
It was a cold day in Hell.
Gene leaned back in his chair silently contemplating Litton’s proposal. More of a plea really. Gene tapped his fingers on the desk weighing his options. He had all the power here. Litton was offering everything he had and Gene was required to give almost nothing in return. There was absolutely nothing enticing Gene to accept. Nothing but the pity. Gene could crush that, bury it, if he wished. He could let Litton drown in the filth of his own creation. It would be that easy. What Gene always wanted.
He slid open a drawer, reached inside, and set his bottle of single malt on the desktop. Two glasses appeared soon after. An even amount was poured into each and the bottle disappeared. Gene picked up one glass and pushed the other across to Litton. The two DCI’s drank quickly and in silence. Litton cupped his empty glass in his hands, refusing to make eye contact. Gene set his on the desk, then tilted it back and forth in his hands.
"We’ll handle it."
*
"Mornin’ Princess!"
The scraping chair and heavy thud alerted a sleeping Sam to his Guv’s presence. His Guv. Oh Christ. How would he be able to look the man in eye after not only confusing him with his father but admitting to him that he was from the future? Even if Gene just blamed it all on the fever, which Sam believed he would, life was not going to be easy. He decided to stay asleep.
Sam felt the bed shake as it was kicked by heavy feet. "Oi, Goldilocks! Best wake up ‘fore the bears decide to lock you up an’ cut off all your hair."
No, definitely not easy. Sam groaned and shifted in the bed. "You’re mixing your fairy tales."
"That a problem Snow White?"
"We still haven’t straightened out your metaphors yet." Sam’s body shook as the bed was kicked again.
"Open your bloody eyes, Tyler. We’ve got work to do."
He would. He’d open his eyes in just a second. Another minute...
"Tyler!" The bed quaked again and Sam had to open his eyes in order to grab the rails and keep from falling off. Considering that was the whole point of the rails to begin with, Sam realized how stupid he’d been to believe he’d fall. Unfortunately, his eyes were already open by the time he made that realization.
"I’m up. I’m up." As Sam blinked away the morning fog he saw what he could’ve sworn was concern disappear from Gene’s face. Act normal, Sam thought, remember it’s 1973 and you transferred from C-Division in Hyde.
"It was one of Litton’s men," Sam yawned as he sat up in bed.
"What?" Gene didn’t handle confusion well.
Sam closed his eyes and itched at the stitches left behind from the chest tube. "You left the file here. On Chris? Then Annie told me what Martin confessed to, or rather didn’t confess to."
"Lousy bird," Gene grumbled as he lit a cigarette.
"Could you not smoke that in here?"
"Why not?"
"For starters, it’s a hospital."
"So? You’re not on a respirator anymore. Oi. What’s that then?" Gene pointed.
"What’s what?" Sam looked behind him then back at Gene, who was pointing directly at Sam. Sam pointed to himself. "This is Sam." He pointed to the Guv. "That is Gene."
Gene swatted Sam’s hand away and grabbed Tyler’s chin. "I meant that." He pointed to Sam’s cheek. Sam raised his hand and quickly found a sore spot that must’ve been a bruise.
"Oh. Must be from when I fell."
Gene released Sam’s head. "When you fell? Doctors have you walking finally?"
Sam looked away sheepishly. "No. When I went for the file...I fell."
"Jesus Christ, Gladys! Just gettin’ you fixed up an’ you’ve gotta do summit daft like that? You really must be bonkers."
Sam didn’t reply. Gene didn’t continue. What would usually be another harmless insult suddenly hit too close to home and neither wanted to admit why.
"So...work?" Sam broke the silence. He thought it would be better if he did. "You want me to look into Chris’ case?"
"No. That’s being taken care of." Gene extinguished the cigarette on the metal arm of his chair.
"But how--"
"I want you to look into your own case. The blokes are missing and you’re our only witness, which means you’re our best chance of findin’ ‘em."
His own case? Gene had said he didn’t want him on his own case. Why the sudden change of heart? Sam stuck his fingers under the gauze of his wrist, rubbing at the stitches. How could he find out where they were? He’d been unconscious, in a coma. He had no clues, no insight as to where they might be. How could he help? He continued to itch at the stitches. He didn’t even notice he was doing it.
Gene noticed. He couldn’t help notice. He couldn’t help notice that Sam didn’t notice. That Sam was staring at nothing, his mind once again running off to the Planet of the Clangers. Gene would have thought nothing of it before. Would have thought that Sam was just thinking carefully over the situation.
Except that Sam didn’t say or do anything else for the next five minutes. Only rubbed harder at the stitches on his left wrist, almost tearing at them now. Gene timed him, hoped Tyler would snap out of it on his own. Except he didn’t.
"Sam? Sam." Gene rested his hand on top of his DI’s. Sam immediately stopped and looked at Gene’s hand, looked at his own hands, unaware his mind had drifted, though Gene thought "drifted" was a hell of a euphemism.
He wasn’t ready. As much as Gene wanted him to be, Sam wasn’t ready yet.
"What?" Sam never looked so naive asking that simple question, not even when Gene had revealed the truth behind Warren’s honey trap.
Gene looked him straight in the eye. "Are you alright?"
Sam laughed nervously and looked away. "I think I’m healing fine. Nurse said she’d help me out of bed today and I was able to eat a whole--"
Gene gently squeezed Sam’s hand tighter, cutting off the ramble. "Are you alright?" He asked slower.
Sam lowered his head, starting at the bed sheet. "I-I will be. Guv."
"Right." Gene pulled back his hands. Since when did he become so "Dorothy?" He gathered up his belongings. If Tyler couldn’t help with the case yet, he’d go to the station where the rest of his team was waiting for something to do. His team. He thought of Litton, of Litton’s team, and looked at Sam who still gazing into space.
He didn’t want to know. He didn’t want to know. He didn’t. Want. To know. After what happened to Litton, he had to know. Gene remained in his seat. His eyes were pointed at his camel coat but he was seeing nothing. He found his calmest, most reasonable voice.
"Sam. Do you think you’re from the future?"
The hesitation was all Gene needed to hear. He rose from the chair, cleared the room in three strides, and slammed the door shut.
Sam clutched his sheets, unable to breath.
Beep. Beep. Beep.
___________
Part 30