Fic: Steady As She Goes (30/86), Blue Cortina, dakfinv
Title: Steady As She Goes (30/86)
Author: dak
Word Count: 1996 this part; [54,024 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 gets evaluated.
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: 1x07; see each chapter for specific spoiler warnings
Pairing: mild Sam/Annie, Sam/Maya
Disclaimer: Belongs to BBC/Kudos
A/N: Just doing my part to keep the angst flowing...
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
Beep. Beep. Beep.
Doctor! He's seizing. The dilantin was supposed to control that. Five milligrams of lorazepam.
Beep. Beep. Beep.
*
" "E’s not in there you div."
Ray entered the bullpen from Gene’s office and stood in the center of the room, hands on his hips.
"Maybe he got a call?" Chris helpfully proffered.
"An’ din’t tell us? Not like ‘im to go do ‘is own thing like that. More Tyler’s speed. Tyler." Ray snapped his fingers. " ‘E could be at St. Mary’s with the twat."
Annie hung up the phone with a shake of her head. "Just called them. They said he was there this morning but left ‘bout an hour ago."
"An’ ‘e din’t sneak back in?" Ray asked. Annie and Chris both regarded him incredulously, eyebrows raised. "No. Not like the Guv to sneak, is it?"
Chris’ phone rang, startling him. He answered it and the team waited with baited breath, hoping for some news. "A-Division." Chris grabbed a pen and scribbled away on a note pad. "Mm-hm. Right. We’ll send someone over." He hung up the phone and read his notes out loud. "Grocer’s on the high street just go knocked over. Couple witnesses. Two injured. Phyllis says they need us to send someone over."
Chris looked at Ray. Annie looked at Ray. The rest of the team looked at Ray. Ray looked for Tyler and the Guv, then remembered they weren’t there. He was the senior officer. Ray was in control of CID. He grimly remembered the last time he’d been left in charge. Billy Kemble’s face flashed before his eyes. He wouldn’t let Gene down again.
Ray cleared his throat. "Right then. Chris, you’re off desk duty. For now. You an’ Cartwright with me. Clive, call forensics an’ have the sissy-boys meet us down there, an’ plenty of plod. Rest of you..." Ray held his tongue. He had to say the right thing. "Finish your paperwork. Monitor the phones. Crime ain’t goin’ ta stop cos the Guv went for a cakewalk an’ Tyler’s muckin’ about with nurse maids."
The men, and Annie, nodded and went into action. Chris grabbed his jacket and ran out the door following Ray and Annie. He could barely contain his excitement over escaping the dusty, badly lit station. The three stood anxiously by the lift, eager for it to arrive.
"You did good Ray." Chris patted him on the back. "Sounded like a real officer an’ all."
"I am a real officer you twonk," Ray insulted but he couldn’t hide the grin on his face.
"You know what I meant." Chris apologized as the lift doors opened.
"Chris’s right Ray. The Guv would be proud," Annie agreed as they loaded themselves into the small, metal square.
Ray straightened his tie. "Well let’s just hope I don’t ‘ave to stay respectable for long. Tyler’d shit himself laughin’ if ‘e found out I just ordered the lads to do their paperwork." Ray took a deep breath as the doors closed.
*
"Mr. Tyler? Mr. Tyler?"
"What-where?" Sam twisted in bed and found his arms once again restrained by thick straps.
"Mr. Tyler, my name’s Dr. Merrick. I’m a psychiatrist here at St. Mary’s."
Sam tugged at the restraints even though he knew he’d never get them free. "Why am I...I didn’t..."
"You had another panic attack, Mr. Tyler. The nurses used these simply to help keep you still. Keep you from pulling any of your stitches. I think it’d be alright to take them off now. Don’t you?"
Sam nodded and the older doctor rose from the chair and unbuckled the leather clamped around Sam’s wrists. Sam took the time to study the man. He was older, but not old. Most likely the same age as Gene, except this man’s dark hair was already flecked with gray. There was something very calming about him, something that put Sam at ease. Sam wasn’t sure if this should make him nervous or not.
Dr. Merrick, wearing a white lab coat but no tie, (contributing to the relaxed appearance), finished freeing Sam and sat back down. No clipboard. No pen. He crossed his legs and let his hands lay relaxed in his lap. This was not the image Sam had of seventies psychiatrists. Of course, Sam thought it better not to compare doctors from 2006 when he was speaking to a psychiatrist in 1973.
"So, you’re my psychiatrist?" Sam questioned warily.
"I’m a psychiatrist. Whether or not I’m your psychiatrist depends wholly on whether you need a psychiatrist."
"Oh." Okay, maybe this wouldn’t be so bad, Sam told himself, desperate to keep the anxiety at bay. "So, I had a panic attack?"
"From what they tell me. They didn’t call me down til it was over. Do you remember what happened before? Anything that might’ve set it off?" Merrick’s tone was so casual, like he was speaking to a friend not a patient.
"My boss. He was..." Sam saw Merrick nod. He realized that just because the doctor had no notebook or pen didn’t mean he wasn’t taking notes. "He came to see me."
"Do you and your boss get along?"
Sam nodded. "Generally....Well enough, usually."
"You’re a policeman. Is that correct?"
"Yes. A detective inspector." Sam was incredibly glad he managed to say that without stumbling over the words. How many times had he slipped up and said DCI instead of DI?
"Phew. Stressful job. That makes your boss a DCI, correct? Sorry. The rankings confuse me sometimes. Don’t deal with coppers much myself," Dr. Merrick smiled.
"Yeah. A DCI."
Dr. Merrick uncrossed his legs and shifted position in the chair. "Do you remember what the two of you were discussing?"
Sam felt his breath catch in his throat. "Where’s Annie? I thought Annie was supposed to be doing my evaluation."
"Who’s Annie?"
"WDC Cartwright. She’s on our team in CID."
"She’s a psychiatrist as well?"
"She studied psychology. At university."
"Bright girl then."
Sam smiled. "Yes. She is."
"I can ring your station later. See if she can come by. But if it puts you at ease now I’d like you to know I’m not here to do your evaluation Sam. I’m just here about the panic attack. Apparently it was pretty severe. That’s why it’s important I figure out what caused it. Keep it from happening again. Now, according to the nurses it occurred right after your DCI left, so that makes me wonder what you two were talking about. Can you remember Sam?"
Sam. Do you think you’re from the future?
"I...It’s all sort of hazy. I don’t really remember much." Sam closed his eyes. He felt his body starting to tremble again. He would not break down in front of this man. He couldn’t. If he did...
"What do you remember?"
"A case." Don't blow this Sam.
"A recent case?"
"An open case. I’m not a liberty to discuss open cases."
Dr. Merrick leaned back in his chair. "I understand. You don’t have to give me any specifics, but this case, has it been a particularly difficult one?"
"No it just...It involved...a colleague was injured." And it was all my fault.
Merrick nodded in sympathy. "Badly?"
"He’s better now." Except he can’t stand to look at me.
"Are you and this colleague close?"
"I’d say we’re mates, yeah." And I let him down.
"Were you there when the injury occurred?"
"I was upstairs." But he should’ve been, too.
"Sam, do you feel responsible for it?"
"No." Yes.
"What’s that you’re doing?" Merrick pointed to Sam’s hands.
"I’m not..." Sam looked down at his hands. The fingers of his right hand were once again under the gauze on his left wrist and this time they felt slightly damp and warm. He pulled his right hand away, revealing a small amount of blood staining the fingers. "I didn’t even...I didn’t feel...."
Merrick placed what Sam thought was meant to be a comforting hand on his shoulder. "I’ll get the nurse to fix that up, okay?" He squeezed Sam’s shoulder and left the room. After closing the door he whipped out a small pad and quickly wrote down some notes. He finished his thoughts and stuffed the note pad away before looking up for a nurse. What he saw first was a large blond man in a heavy coat stomping down the hall.
"Excuse me, are you DCI Hunt?"
The man stopped right in front of him and looked him up and down. First impressions certainly meant a great deal to him.
"And you would be?"
Dr. Merrick held out his hand. "Dr. John Merrick I’m a psychiatrist--"
"You here about Tyler?" He flicked his head towards Sam’s door, not accepting the offered hand.
"You were here this morning weren’t you sir?"
"Yeah. So?"
To Merrick it almost seemed like DCI Hunt was waiting to hear something he already knew. Like he was waiting for confirmation. Validation.
"Well I’m afraid soon after you left Mr. Tyler suffered a severe panic attack. They sent--"
"How severe?" The DCI’s voice became just that much higher, the muscles around his neck tightening.
"Sam’s alright, physically, but I’d really like to get to the root of his problem as quickly as possible." Merrick pulled out his note pad and flipped to a specific page. "Sam said a colleague of his was injured on the job recently."
"Officer involved shooting ‘bout a month ago. Lad’s fine now. Back at work even."
Merrick did the math. "So, the shooting was close to the time of Mr. Tyler’s abduction?"
"Few days apart."
"Bad luck that," Merrick sighed.
"Luck had nowt to do with it." Merrick could tell he was starting to test Hunt’s patience and by the man’s body language that was something he did not want to do.
"Sorry." Merrick scanned his notes then closed the pad, tapping it against his hand. "Mr. Hunt I get the feeling Sam is a very nervous person. He likes things neat, orderly, is very exact about his job and other aspects in his life."
"Bit of a ponce, yeah."
Gene’s eyes were telling him to get to the point. Merrick tried to hurry up and make it there before he found himself with a black eye to rival Dr. Jayne’s. "I think he may be suffering from something similar to shell shock or operational exhaustion. He’s undergone a significant amount of stress, physical and mental, but his brain hasn’t had time to process it."
"So...what? Goin’ ta give ‘im some pills or summit. Fix ‘im up?"
"That might be necessary but..."
"But what?"
Merrick hesitated, figuring out the best way to word his next statement. "Regarding some of the things he said, during this attack and the previous ones. During his fever... I’m more worried that the shock is covering up the symptoms of a greater, underlying problem." Merrick took a deep breath and waited for the fist to his face. "Sam almost seems to be exhibiting early signs of schizophrenia." The fist never came.
Gene Hunt was staring at the floor. Was this what he already knew? What he had been waiting to hear?
"I could be wrong," Merrick continued. "It could honestly just be the stress of the entire ordeal. The poor man has suffered more in this past month than most do in a lifetime and this could be his brain’s way of dealing with the situation. How long has he worked at your station?"
Gene mumbled something, but Merrick couldn’t catch it. "Sorry?"
"Few months I said."
"And has he exhibited any strange behavior during that time? Something that just seemed odd or out of the norm?"
Gene stared at his shoes.
"Mr. Hunt?"
Was he just thinking back, trying to remember any specific events? Having trouble doing so? Or were they already at the forefront of his mind, all waiting to be revealed?
"DCI Hunt, sir?"
Gene looked up at the doctor and whispered one word.
__________
Part 31
Author: dak
Word Count: 1996 this part; [54,024 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 gets evaluated.
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: 1x07; see each chapter for specific spoiler warnings
Pairing: mild Sam/Annie, Sam/Maya
Disclaimer: Belongs to BBC/Kudos
A/N: Just doing my part to keep the angst flowing...
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
Beep. Beep. Beep.
Doctor! He's seizing. The dilantin was supposed to control that. Five milligrams of lorazepam.
Beep. Beep. Beep.
*
" "E’s not in there you div."
Ray entered the bullpen from Gene’s office and stood in the center of the room, hands on his hips.
"Maybe he got a call?" Chris helpfully proffered.
"An’ din’t tell us? Not like ‘im to go do ‘is own thing like that. More Tyler’s speed. Tyler." Ray snapped his fingers. " ‘E could be at St. Mary’s with the twat."
Annie hung up the phone with a shake of her head. "Just called them. They said he was there this morning but left ‘bout an hour ago."
"An’ ‘e din’t sneak back in?" Ray asked. Annie and Chris both regarded him incredulously, eyebrows raised. "No. Not like the Guv to sneak, is it?"
Chris’ phone rang, startling him. He answered it and the team waited with baited breath, hoping for some news. "A-Division." Chris grabbed a pen and scribbled away on a note pad. "Mm-hm. Right. We’ll send someone over." He hung up the phone and read his notes out loud. "Grocer’s on the high street just go knocked over. Couple witnesses. Two injured. Phyllis says they need us to send someone over."
Chris looked at Ray. Annie looked at Ray. The rest of the team looked at Ray. Ray looked for Tyler and the Guv, then remembered they weren’t there. He was the senior officer. Ray was in control of CID. He grimly remembered the last time he’d been left in charge. Billy Kemble’s face flashed before his eyes. He wouldn’t let Gene down again.
Ray cleared his throat. "Right then. Chris, you’re off desk duty. For now. You an’ Cartwright with me. Clive, call forensics an’ have the sissy-boys meet us down there, an’ plenty of plod. Rest of you..." Ray held his tongue. He had to say the right thing. "Finish your paperwork. Monitor the phones. Crime ain’t goin’ ta stop cos the Guv went for a cakewalk an’ Tyler’s muckin’ about with nurse maids."
The men, and Annie, nodded and went into action. Chris grabbed his jacket and ran out the door following Ray and Annie. He could barely contain his excitement over escaping the dusty, badly lit station. The three stood anxiously by the lift, eager for it to arrive.
"You did good Ray." Chris patted him on the back. "Sounded like a real officer an’ all."
"I am a real officer you twonk," Ray insulted but he couldn’t hide the grin on his face.
"You know what I meant." Chris apologized as the lift doors opened.
"Chris’s right Ray. The Guv would be proud," Annie agreed as they loaded themselves into the small, metal square.
Ray straightened his tie. "Well let’s just hope I don’t ‘ave to stay respectable for long. Tyler’d shit himself laughin’ if ‘e found out I just ordered the lads to do their paperwork." Ray took a deep breath as the doors closed.
*
"Mr. Tyler? Mr. Tyler?"
"What-where?" Sam twisted in bed and found his arms once again restrained by thick straps.
"Mr. Tyler, my name’s Dr. Merrick. I’m a psychiatrist here at St. Mary’s."
Sam tugged at the restraints even though he knew he’d never get them free. "Why am I...I didn’t..."
"You had another panic attack, Mr. Tyler. The nurses used these simply to help keep you still. Keep you from pulling any of your stitches. I think it’d be alright to take them off now. Don’t you?"
Sam nodded and the older doctor rose from the chair and unbuckled the leather clamped around Sam’s wrists. Sam took the time to study the man. He was older, but not old. Most likely the same age as Gene, except this man’s dark hair was already flecked with gray. There was something very calming about him, something that put Sam at ease. Sam wasn’t sure if this should make him nervous or not.
Dr. Merrick, wearing a white lab coat but no tie, (contributing to the relaxed appearance), finished freeing Sam and sat back down. No clipboard. No pen. He crossed his legs and let his hands lay relaxed in his lap. This was not the image Sam had of seventies psychiatrists. Of course, Sam thought it better not to compare doctors from 2006 when he was speaking to a psychiatrist in 1973.
"So, you’re my psychiatrist?" Sam questioned warily.
"I’m a psychiatrist. Whether or not I’m your psychiatrist depends wholly on whether you need a psychiatrist."
"Oh." Okay, maybe this wouldn’t be so bad, Sam told himself, desperate to keep the anxiety at bay. "So, I had a panic attack?"
"From what they tell me. They didn’t call me down til it was over. Do you remember what happened before? Anything that might’ve set it off?" Merrick’s tone was so casual, like he was speaking to a friend not a patient.
"My boss. He was..." Sam saw Merrick nod. He realized that just because the doctor had no notebook or pen didn’t mean he wasn’t taking notes. "He came to see me."
"Do you and your boss get along?"
Sam nodded. "Generally....Well enough, usually."
"You’re a policeman. Is that correct?"
"Yes. A detective inspector." Sam was incredibly glad he managed to say that without stumbling over the words. How many times had he slipped up and said DCI instead of DI?
"Phew. Stressful job. That makes your boss a DCI, correct? Sorry. The rankings confuse me sometimes. Don’t deal with coppers much myself," Dr. Merrick smiled.
"Yeah. A DCI."
Dr. Merrick uncrossed his legs and shifted position in the chair. "Do you remember what the two of you were discussing?"
Sam felt his breath catch in his throat. "Where’s Annie? I thought Annie was supposed to be doing my evaluation."
"Who’s Annie?"
"WDC Cartwright. She’s on our team in CID."
"She’s a psychiatrist as well?"
"She studied psychology. At university."
"Bright girl then."
Sam smiled. "Yes. She is."
"I can ring your station later. See if she can come by. But if it puts you at ease now I’d like you to know I’m not here to do your evaluation Sam. I’m just here about the panic attack. Apparently it was pretty severe. That’s why it’s important I figure out what caused it. Keep it from happening again. Now, according to the nurses it occurred right after your DCI left, so that makes me wonder what you two were talking about. Can you remember Sam?"
Sam. Do you think you’re from the future?
"I...It’s all sort of hazy. I don’t really remember much." Sam closed his eyes. He felt his body starting to tremble again. He would not break down in front of this man. He couldn’t. If he did...
"What do you remember?"
"A case." Don't blow this Sam.
"A recent case?"
"An open case. I’m not a liberty to discuss open cases."
Dr. Merrick leaned back in his chair. "I understand. You don’t have to give me any specifics, but this case, has it been a particularly difficult one?"
"No it just...It involved...a colleague was injured." And it was all my fault.
Merrick nodded in sympathy. "Badly?"
"He’s better now." Except he can’t stand to look at me.
"Are you and this colleague close?"
"I’d say we’re mates, yeah." And I let him down.
"Were you there when the injury occurred?"
"I was upstairs." But he should’ve been, too.
"Sam, do you feel responsible for it?"
"No." Yes.
"What’s that you’re doing?" Merrick pointed to Sam’s hands.
"I’m not..." Sam looked down at his hands. The fingers of his right hand were once again under the gauze on his left wrist and this time they felt slightly damp and warm. He pulled his right hand away, revealing a small amount of blood staining the fingers. "I didn’t even...I didn’t feel...."
Merrick placed what Sam thought was meant to be a comforting hand on his shoulder. "I’ll get the nurse to fix that up, okay?" He squeezed Sam’s shoulder and left the room. After closing the door he whipped out a small pad and quickly wrote down some notes. He finished his thoughts and stuffed the note pad away before looking up for a nurse. What he saw first was a large blond man in a heavy coat stomping down the hall.
"Excuse me, are you DCI Hunt?"
The man stopped right in front of him and looked him up and down. First impressions certainly meant a great deal to him.
"And you would be?"
Dr. Merrick held out his hand. "Dr. John Merrick I’m a psychiatrist--"
"You here about Tyler?" He flicked his head towards Sam’s door, not accepting the offered hand.
"You were here this morning weren’t you sir?"
"Yeah. So?"
To Merrick it almost seemed like DCI Hunt was waiting to hear something he already knew. Like he was waiting for confirmation. Validation.
"Well I’m afraid soon after you left Mr. Tyler suffered a severe panic attack. They sent--"
"How severe?" The DCI’s voice became just that much higher, the muscles around his neck tightening.
"Sam’s alright, physically, but I’d really like to get to the root of his problem as quickly as possible." Merrick pulled out his note pad and flipped to a specific page. "Sam said a colleague of his was injured on the job recently."
"Officer involved shooting ‘bout a month ago. Lad’s fine now. Back at work even."
Merrick did the math. "So, the shooting was close to the time of Mr. Tyler’s abduction?"
"Few days apart."
"Bad luck that," Merrick sighed.
"Luck had nowt to do with it." Merrick could tell he was starting to test Hunt’s patience and by the man’s body language that was something he did not want to do.
"Sorry." Merrick scanned his notes then closed the pad, tapping it against his hand. "Mr. Hunt I get the feeling Sam is a very nervous person. He likes things neat, orderly, is very exact about his job and other aspects in his life."
"Bit of a ponce, yeah."
Gene’s eyes were telling him to get to the point. Merrick tried to hurry up and make it there before he found himself with a black eye to rival Dr. Jayne’s. "I think he may be suffering from something similar to shell shock or operational exhaustion. He’s undergone a significant amount of stress, physical and mental, but his brain hasn’t had time to process it."
"So...what? Goin’ ta give ‘im some pills or summit. Fix ‘im up?"
"That might be necessary but..."
"But what?"
Merrick hesitated, figuring out the best way to word his next statement. "Regarding some of the things he said, during this attack and the previous ones. During his fever... I’m more worried that the shock is covering up the symptoms of a greater, underlying problem." Merrick took a deep breath and waited for the fist to his face. "Sam almost seems to be exhibiting early signs of schizophrenia." The fist never came.
Gene Hunt was staring at the floor. Was this what he already knew? What he had been waiting to hear?
"I could be wrong," Merrick continued. "It could honestly just be the stress of the entire ordeal. The poor man has suffered more in this past month than most do in a lifetime and this could be his brain’s way of dealing with the situation. How long has he worked at your station?"
Gene mumbled something, but Merrick couldn’t catch it. "Sorry?"
"Few months I said."
"And has he exhibited any strange behavior during that time? Something that just seemed odd or out of the norm?"
Gene stared at his shoes.
"Mr. Hunt?"
Was he just thinking back, trying to remember any specific events? Having trouble doing so? Or were they already at the forefront of his mind, all waiting to be revealed?
"DCI Hunt, sir?"
Gene looked up at the doctor and whispered one word.
__________
Part 31