(no subject)
Title: After the rainbow
Author: echo_voice
Rating: Blue Cortina
Word Count: 1006
Summary: The rainbow fades and Sam thinks about what's left
Disclaimer: Life on Mars? Mine? No. It's really not.
A/N: Written for the 2007 ficathon. So here's how it is. I have been writing a fic for taurenova's first prompt (dark!Gene, investigative Sam, a twist in the tale) for weeks now but not only is it getting longer and longer, but it will NOT work. Thus I have missed the deadline, have become stuck with a fic that won't work, and I am further running out of time. On top of all that, real life is not letting me give it enough time. All in all, I am pretty cross with it. So...I wrote this instead for the second prompt (Gene/Sam, after the rainbow, inappropriate locations). It's drabble-like, slightly odd, and was only written today so I do very much apologise if it's not up to the very high standards this community generally has (and I do suspect that it's not really up to scratch) The original attempt may well follow soon after if I can ever get it to behave, but for now here is my answer to the second prompt. Sorry it's late taurenova and further apologies to lozenger8 for exactly the same reason.
Like all things, the rainbow fades, and 2006 fades with it. The static on the radio dies and the Test Card girl melts back into the background. There are no more voices or modern music or dreaded, auspicious beeps of hospital machinery. Sam doesn’t mention the future and where he comes from is no longer discussed; Annie never speaks of it again and Ray has one less reason to believe that his Inspector is barking mad. The one thing that doesn’t fade is Sam’s memories of the future. At his lowest points he allows himself a bottle of whiskey and tears for what he left behind. Sometimes he thinks of his future grave and of the scars suicide always leaves behind, but it is never good for him to do so. After all, he is home, or he is in the place that has become home to him, and that’s all he ever wanted. The sense of finally belonging settles comfortably in his stomach.
He does not think of Sam Williams or amnesia, or of a past about which he has no clue. He never again steps foot inside the graveyard where Morgan swept his life into a maelstrom of confusion. To him, his parents will always be as he remembers them, and that is enough. He never asks Gene about Vic Tyler. He is too scared of what the answer might be.
It’s easier than he could ever have believed to turn the most pivotal moment of his life into something insignificant to everyone else. 1973 is as it ever was. His betrayal is swept under the carpet and ignored. It becomes the sort of thing reduced to banter in pubs and little jibes: “Oh Sam, don’t be running off to Hyde now…” The team’s acceptance is almost frightening. Sam is forgiven without even having to seek it and for a while it leaves him floored and unsure why he deserved it. Then he would look up and catch Gene’s gaze and he would know that it had not been forgotten, at least not by one person.
In fact, the only thing that is affected in the aftermath of the train incident is his partnership with Gene. In front of the team, the two are as they always were: brilliant when working together and a nightmare when clashing. The team follow Gene’s lead and it makes forgetting that much easier. Sam’s quietly grateful for it, knowing that much of the reason why the backlash of the revelation of his past at Hyde didn’t sting as much as it should have done was due to Gene. But the private wounds take much longer to heal, the hard-earned respect on both sides taking longer to be rebuilt. Sam finds Gene testing him on every corner, pushing his loyalty to the limits. Sam welcomes it, feeling like he should pay for his mistake, and he almost enjoys earning that fragile trust back shard by shard.
It takes an awful lot of whiskey for Gene to admit that Sam’s betrayal hurt him.
It takes an awful lot more whiskey for Gene to confess that he was scared of losing Sam.
It takes a lot more whiskey than it should have for Gene to finally push Sam into a wall and kiss him and for Sam to respond with equal fervour.
It leaves the dynamic of their relationship bizarrely unchanged and seems to complete their relationship, which is not to say that it’s a smooth ride, teaming fire with fire. If either one had been thinking clearly, they would not have started it on the foundations of a healing partnership, but it spirals out of their control and soon their desperately utilizing every spare moment alone, in the darkness of Lost and Found or in the toilets of the Railway Arms under the dodgy flickering light.
One night Gene smuggles the two of them into Morgan’s office and fucks Sam there on the desk as an imaginative payback to Morgan, their combined gasps breaking the ghostly silence of Hyde station in the early morning. The display of ownership and possession is almost enough to make Sam angry, as he never could be completely submissive, but at the same time the inappropriate location arouses him beyond belief. They leave smudged fingerprints all over the polished wood of Morgan’s desk, marks on the crime scene. Gene refuses to let Sam rub them off.
It’s the only revenge Gene takes, his unusual display of restraint surprising to Sam. He supposes that it’s because Gene thinks he’s won. And he has hasn’t he, with Sam’s loyalties as Gene’s DI stronger than ever? Beyond that, it seems to be enough for Gene to smirk privately every time he sees the other DCI and Sam can guess what runs through Gene’s mind as he does. Sam wonders if Morgan knows. He never stays long enough in the other man’s company to find out. If Sam’s betrayal would have crippled Gene, his switch to the other side seems to have done something similar to Morgan. Morgan doesn’t try to get back in touch. Sam wonders sometimes if they’ve heard the last from him and occasionally at night he wakes from vivid nightmares of Morgan literally tearing stations like some kind of apocalyptic demon. They’re easy enough to rationalise away, but Sam still finds himself being careful for Gene where his Guv doesn’t have a similar sense of caution.
Mostly, he is happy. It suits him to have to fight the many challenges thrown at him by a world of bigotry and prejudice. So long as he is feeling, he is living, and he is happy. And if Sam’s sometimes reckless; if he sometimes fights unnecessarily hard; if he often climbs up onto his moral high ground and argues and bickers with Gene; if the two of them end up fucking in an unwise location; if he drinks a bit too much; or if he pushes just that little bit harder just to make sure that he really does feel, then, well, so be it. It’s just his way of making sure that 1973 doesn’t fade to grey in the aftermath of the rainbow.
Author: echo_voice
Rating: Blue Cortina
Word Count: 1006
Summary: The rainbow fades and Sam thinks about what's left
Disclaimer: Life on Mars? Mine? No. It's really not.
A/N: Written for the 2007 ficathon. So here's how it is. I have been writing a fic for taurenova's first prompt (dark!Gene, investigative Sam, a twist in the tale) for weeks now but not only is it getting longer and longer, but it will NOT work. Thus I have missed the deadline, have become stuck with a fic that won't work, and I am further running out of time. On top of all that, real life is not letting me give it enough time. All in all, I am pretty cross with it. So...I wrote this instead for the second prompt (Gene/Sam, after the rainbow, inappropriate locations). It's drabble-like, slightly odd, and was only written today so I do very much apologise if it's not up to the very high standards this community generally has (and I do suspect that it's not really up to scratch) The original attempt may well follow soon after if I can ever get it to behave, but for now here is my answer to the second prompt. Sorry it's late taurenova and further apologies to lozenger8 for exactly the same reason.
Like all things, the rainbow fades, and 2006 fades with it. The static on the radio dies and the Test Card girl melts back into the background. There are no more voices or modern music or dreaded, auspicious beeps of hospital machinery. Sam doesn’t mention the future and where he comes from is no longer discussed; Annie never speaks of it again and Ray has one less reason to believe that his Inspector is barking mad. The one thing that doesn’t fade is Sam’s memories of the future. At his lowest points he allows himself a bottle of whiskey and tears for what he left behind. Sometimes he thinks of his future grave and of the scars suicide always leaves behind, but it is never good for him to do so. After all, he is home, or he is in the place that has become home to him, and that’s all he ever wanted. The sense of finally belonging settles comfortably in his stomach.
He does not think of Sam Williams or amnesia, or of a past about which he has no clue. He never again steps foot inside the graveyard where Morgan swept his life into a maelstrom of confusion. To him, his parents will always be as he remembers them, and that is enough. He never asks Gene about Vic Tyler. He is too scared of what the answer might be.
It’s easier than he could ever have believed to turn the most pivotal moment of his life into something insignificant to everyone else. 1973 is as it ever was. His betrayal is swept under the carpet and ignored. It becomes the sort of thing reduced to banter in pubs and little jibes: “Oh Sam, don’t be running off to Hyde now…” The team’s acceptance is almost frightening. Sam is forgiven without even having to seek it and for a while it leaves him floored and unsure why he deserved it. Then he would look up and catch Gene’s gaze and he would know that it had not been forgotten, at least not by one person.
In fact, the only thing that is affected in the aftermath of the train incident is his partnership with Gene. In front of the team, the two are as they always were: brilliant when working together and a nightmare when clashing. The team follow Gene’s lead and it makes forgetting that much easier. Sam’s quietly grateful for it, knowing that much of the reason why the backlash of the revelation of his past at Hyde didn’t sting as much as it should have done was due to Gene. But the private wounds take much longer to heal, the hard-earned respect on both sides taking longer to be rebuilt. Sam finds Gene testing him on every corner, pushing his loyalty to the limits. Sam welcomes it, feeling like he should pay for his mistake, and he almost enjoys earning that fragile trust back shard by shard.
It takes an awful lot of whiskey for Gene to admit that Sam’s betrayal hurt him.
It takes an awful lot more whiskey for Gene to confess that he was scared of losing Sam.
It takes a lot more whiskey than it should have for Gene to finally push Sam into a wall and kiss him and for Sam to respond with equal fervour.
It leaves the dynamic of their relationship bizarrely unchanged and seems to complete their relationship, which is not to say that it’s a smooth ride, teaming fire with fire. If either one had been thinking clearly, they would not have started it on the foundations of a healing partnership, but it spirals out of their control and soon their desperately utilizing every spare moment alone, in the darkness of Lost and Found or in the toilets of the Railway Arms under the dodgy flickering light.
One night Gene smuggles the two of them into Morgan’s office and fucks Sam there on the desk as an imaginative payback to Morgan, their combined gasps breaking the ghostly silence of Hyde station in the early morning. The display of ownership and possession is almost enough to make Sam angry, as he never could be completely submissive, but at the same time the inappropriate location arouses him beyond belief. They leave smudged fingerprints all over the polished wood of Morgan’s desk, marks on the crime scene. Gene refuses to let Sam rub them off.
It’s the only revenge Gene takes, his unusual display of restraint surprising to Sam. He supposes that it’s because Gene thinks he’s won. And he has hasn’t he, with Sam’s loyalties as Gene’s DI stronger than ever? Beyond that, it seems to be enough for Gene to smirk privately every time he sees the other DCI and Sam can guess what runs through Gene’s mind as he does. Sam wonders if Morgan knows. He never stays long enough in the other man’s company to find out. If Sam’s betrayal would have crippled Gene, his switch to the other side seems to have done something similar to Morgan. Morgan doesn’t try to get back in touch. Sam wonders sometimes if they’ve heard the last from him and occasionally at night he wakes from vivid nightmares of Morgan literally tearing stations like some kind of apocalyptic demon. They’re easy enough to rationalise away, but Sam still finds himself being careful for Gene where his Guv doesn’t have a similar sense of caution.
Mostly, he is happy. It suits him to have to fight the many challenges thrown at him by a world of bigotry and prejudice. So long as he is feeling, he is living, and he is happy. And if Sam’s sometimes reckless; if he sometimes fights unnecessarily hard; if he often climbs up onto his moral high ground and argues and bickers with Gene; if the two of them end up fucking in an unwise location; if he drinks a bit too much; or if he pushes just that little bit harder just to make sure that he really does feel, then, well, so be it. It’s just his way of making sure that 1973 doesn’t fade to grey in the aftermath of the rainbow.