Fic: Steady As She Goes (38/86), Blue Cortina, dakfinv
Title: Steady As She Goes (38/86)
Author: dak
Word Count: 2299 this part; [69,490 overall]
Summary for Whole: After an accidental shooting at the station, Gene struggles to keep his team from tearing themselves apart while his and Sam's friendship is pushed to the limits.
Summary this Part: Decisions are made.
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: none here; see each chapter for specific spoiler warnings
Pairing: mild Sam/Annie, Sam/Maya
Disclaimer: Belongs to BBC/Kudos
A/N: I had these scenes running through my mind all day and they wouldn't stop until I wrote them down. This is one of my favorite chapters now, so I hope you like it too.
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
Ray Carling always listened to his Guv’nor. He had followed Gene Hunt up through the ranks ever since he was a PC and Gene was a DS. Ray had made DC when Gene was DI to Harry Woolfe and had made DS soon after Gene was promoted to DCI. Ray’s promotions certainly hadn’t been coincidence. So Ray was quite grateful to his Guv’nor. Respected his wishes. Hardly talked back.
Which was why Gene was confused when the loyal Ray Carling nearly broke down his office door and spilled his precious single malt.
"What did you do to him?" Ray said it louder now. It was after five and CID was deserted. No new cases. Nothing to work late on. No one there but Gene and Ray.
"Graham was fine enough last time I saw him," Gene stated curiously as he listened to his liquor drip off the desk and onto his loafers.
Ray barked out a cruel laugh and stepped back from the desk, stroking his moustache with one hand. "Yeah. Graham. That’s exactly who I was talkin’ about."
Gene slid his squeaking chair a little further from the wet desk and leaned back, stretching out his legs and clasping his hands over his stomach. "I couldn’t help but detect a hint of sarcasm in your statement, Sergeant. So would you care to tell me exactly what you’re trying to say?"
Ray paced in front of the desk, his hands shaking in anger. "Quit playin’ stupid, Gene."
Hunt sat up in his chair. Ray Carling never called him Gene. Even when he was Ray’s DI it had been "Boss." Before that it was Detective Sergeant Hunt. Sometimes when Ray was drunk or tired he’d slip a Gene in. That was all. Ray was neither drunk nor tired. Ray needed to vent and Gene was going to let him, within reason.
"Was bad enough we can’t even say ‘is name. Din’t visit either. Even Cartwright stopped seein’ ‘im after you ripped ‘er heart out the other day."
Ray continued to pace as Gene rose from the chair, hooking his thumbs on his belt loops. "What exactly are you getting at Carling?" Gene filled his voice with has much warning as possible. This subject was off-limits. The whole fucking station knew that.
Ray must have gone deaf that afternoon because he kept talking. "You keep actin’ like ‘e don’t exist. Like ‘e never existed. An’ that was fine for me. Hard, cos a the way Chris and Cartwright fawn over ‘im, but it was fine. It was goin’ ta be fine. Long as I din’t ‘ave to see ‘im. I could pretend ‘e was fine. That ‘e jus’ went back to Hyde or summit." Ray stopped pacing and stood directly in front of Gene. Gene could see fear as well as anger brewing behind Ray’s blue eyes. "But I did see ‘im. Today when I picked up Chris. ‘E wanted to see ‘im an’ I thought why not. One las’ row with Tyler ‘fore ‘e went crawlin’ back to Hyde." Ray set his hands on his hips and turned away. "That man..." he looked back at Gene, "...wasn’t Tyler."
Gene’s hard expression faltered, though only for a moment. "What’re you talking about?"
Ray’s hysterics had left him panting slightly for breath. His fury had dissipated but with it gone Gene could see the pure worry bubbling to the surface. "That quack. Merrick. ‘E’s got ‘im all doped up. Starin’ at blank walls. Don’t care ‘bout anything. ‘E din’t even remember Chris got shot til we reminded ‘im." Ray let out a long breath and ran his hand through his hair. " ‘E’s jus’ blank, Guv." Ray forced eye contact with Gene. " ‘S only word for it."
Gene quickly looked away then started cleaning up the mess on his desk. Ray wasn’t sure if he had gotten through but he wasn’t dead so at least that was something.
"What do you want me to do?" Gene asked as he threw some soggy newsprint in the bin. It wasn’t angry or annoyed or sarcastic. It was an honest question.
"I don’ know. Get ‘im released. Get ‘im a new doctor. Get ‘im off those pills. Jus’ anything. You’re ‘is Guv."
"Not for long." Gene chucked out some more ruined papers.
"But--"
"You think Litton’s worryin’ ‘imself over Graham’s broken wrist?"
Confusion covered Ray’s face as he threw his hands in the air. "This’s got nowt to do with Litton!" Gene stopped cleaning his desk. Ray tentatively moved forward. "Look Guv. I don’ know what Tyler said or did. If it’s that bad go ahead with the transfer. I’ll put in me DI application but..." Ray shook his head in disbelief. "You’ve got to get ‘im outta this." Ray held his breath. He’d said his piece. He didn’t know what else to do.
Gene was staring down at the desk, at the wet paper in his right hand. This page had suffered the worst from the split whiskey. The amber liquid stained the white sheet causing the ink to run and the words to blur. As he watched the colors mix and stain he realized he still hadn’t filled in "Reasons for transfer."
*
"No sir. You cause that boy nothin’ but trouble whene’er you come in." Rachel held out her hand as if she could create some magic force field that would prevent Gene Hunt from opening Sam Tyler’s door.
Gene pulled himself up to his fullest, shoulders back, gut out, cigarette dangling from his lips. "Did he say he doesn’t want to see me?"
"Doesn’t mention yeh, actually," Rachel retorted.
"Prob’ly don’t even remember me with all the pills you got ‘im on. Speakin’ of which, I’d like to see Dr. Merrick." Gene crossed his arms over his chest. "I want to know what sort of drugs he’s got melting my brain box."
"Well it doesn’t matter what you want sir." Rachel mimicked Gene and also folded her arms. "That is confidential information. Only family and individuals specified by Mr. Tyler can be informed as to his medical condition and treatment."
Gene took his fag between his fingers and flicked ash onto the clean, hospital floor. "He’s got no family and I suggest you check his records and see about those specified individuals." Gene waited with little patience as Rachel went behind the nurses station and pulled Sam’s file. He vaguely remembered Sam saying something about lots of hospital paperwork when he was admitted for the concussion. Gene could only hope the picky pain was consistent. By the look on the nurse’s face when she found the information it was clear he was. She snapped the folder shut and picked up the phone. "I’ll call Dr. Merrick."
"Good. Tell ‘im I’ll be waiting in there." Gene jerked his thumb towards Sam’s room then extinguished his cigarette on the nurses’ counter before opening the door only to discover Sam wasn’t there.
The bed was empty. The sheets had been changed. The room was cleaned. Gene stood in the doorway and shouted into the empty space, "Where the fuck is he?"
Rachel cupped her hand over the phone. "They took him up to the sixth floor. Psychiatric."
Gene disappeared in a flash. In what seemed like seconds he was in the lobby of St. Mary’s Psychiatric Ward watching as Merrick kneeled down next to Sam’s wheelchair, put his arm around Sam’s too thin shoulders and handed him a piece of paper and a pen. Two large male orderlies in white waited: one behind the wheelchair and one by the entrance to the patients’ area.
"Get. Away. From him. Now."
Gene’s pale maroon shirt and brown camel-hair coat blotched the clean, white landscape. The orderlies tensed, ready for action. Merrick turned his head toward the disturbance. Sam looked at the pen, wondering if it was blue or black ink and if it really mattered.
"DCI Hunt." Merrick removed his arm from around Sam and rose. "Wasn’t expecting to see you tonight."
Gene remained rooted to the spot. "What’s going on here?"
"Perhaps we should discuss this in my office..."
"We’re going to discuss this now."
Merrick walked over to the immobile mound of flesh. "There’s no need to shout Mr. Hunt."
"Oh I wasn’t shouting." Gene kept his voice low and even. "You’ve never heard me shout."
"He shouts a lot," Sam added helpfully as he read over the paper, or at least stared at it.
"Now what the fuck do you think you’re doing?"
Merrick remained relaxed, stuffing his hands in his pockets as he stood in front of Gene. "Only what you asked DCI Hunt."
"What I...? I never asked for this!" Gene pointed accusingly at Merrick.
"You called and said you wanted me to do a full psychiatric evaluation on Mr. Tyler."
"Yes. An evaluation. With questions and paperwork and a little paper certifying that he," Gene pointed at Sam, "isn’t certifiable! I said nothing about stuffin’ him full of ponce pills and shuttin’ him up in a padded prison!"
"Am I supposed to sign on the dotted line or the straight line?" Sam asked.
"You’re not signing anywhere!" Gene yelled at him.
"Okay," Sam relaxed his grip on the pen. "Don’t have to get all worked up about it," he sighed and looked up, getting distracted by water damage on the ceiling.
"What did you expect Chief Inspector? I asked Sam questions and quickly realized I needed to ask him more. I’ve been seeing him nearly twice a day now. It’s just easier if we move him up here."
"And the pills?"
"They’re for his anxiety attacks." Merrick explained.
"Those were getting better. He could control them on his own. I saw it!" Gene accused again.
"You didn’t see the one he had after you took his case notes. Thought we’d never calm him down." Merrick laughed and shook his head as Gene felt the guilt swell up inside him. To fix that he decided to throw Merrick up against the wall and hold him there. The secretary gasped. The orderlies ran towards them but Merrick waved them off.
Sam sighed, "He does that, too."
"You think this is funny? You think what you’re doing to him is a joke? He was never this bad! He doesn’t deserve to have his brain frozen over cos it makes your job easier! An’ you are not locking him up in here." He threw Merrick at the wall with every proclamation but Merrick still signaled to the orderlies to keep back.
"Sam is here of his own free will. If he wants to leave he can."
Gene stared hard at Merrick then dropped him. The man rubbed his sore throat and watched as Gene approached Sam. Gene didn’t look directly at him but nodded at the exit. "C’mon Tyler. We’re leaving."
"I’m supposed to stay." He said it carefully, like he’d been rehearsed to say it. It was then Gene realized how Sam’s voice contained none of the things that made it Sam’s voice. Gene brushed his hand through his hair and crouched down in front of Sam, placing a hand on each arm of the wheelchair.
"You don’t have to," Gene whispered.
Sam looked at the paper, then the pen. "That’s what I’m supposed to do." He held up the pen. "I take the pen," he held up the paper, "and sign the form." He said it like a child explaining a newly learned skill to his parents.
"But you don’t belong here."
"Yes I do. Dr. Merrick said so. I go here. I get better and then I go back to Hyde." He looked straight at Gene but his eyes were empty. "I go home."
"Hyde...isn’t your home."
"Yes it is."
"Not it..." Gene dropped his head. "Maybe it was. But not now. Not anymore. You’re one of us now." Sam looked slowly back and forth between the form and the pen. Gene held out his hand. "Give me the pen, Sammy."
Gene held his hand still while Sam hesitated. No one spoke. The air was thick with tension as Sam’s slowed mind waded through his options. He started to lower the pen tip to the paper. Gene could feel Merrick smirking behind him.
"Wait," Gene said and Sam did. The Guv rummaged around in his pocket, unable to suppress a grin as he found what he was looking for. He pulled it out and showed it to Sam. "You give me the pen, Sammy-boy, and you can have this."
In the far corners of Sam’s mind something registered. Gene couldn’t see it on his face but he knew. Sam set the form in his lap and took the object from Gene. He flipped it open, a movement made easy from years of practice. "I used to have one of these," he said almost wistfully as his eyes locked on to the silver badge.
"You can have it back. Just...hand me the pen, Sam."
Sam waited another moment then, without taking his eyes off Gene’s gift, handed over the pen. Gene’s whole body relaxed and he exhaled deeply. He stood and broke the pen in half, letting the black ink stain the floor but not his jacket. He took the form, shredded it in his hands, and let the pieces scatter like snowflakes.
Gene turned to Merrick. "I can make his medical decisions for him if he’s unable." The Guv looked down at Sam who was literally drooling on his warrant card. "He’s unable." He walked behind the chair and started pushing Sam to the door. "I’m getting him discharged and we’re leaving."
He stopped in front of Merrick and punched him in the gut. Merrick doubled over, grasping a nearby chair for support. "Thanks for all your help," Gene smiled and he pushed Sam out the door.
_______
Part 39
Author: dak
Word Count: 2299 this part; [69,490 overall]
Summary for Whole: After an accidental shooting at the station, Gene struggles to keep his team from tearing themselves apart while his and Sam's friendship is pushed to the limits.
Summary this Part: Decisions are made.
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: none here; see each chapter for specific spoiler warnings
Pairing: mild Sam/Annie, Sam/Maya
Disclaimer: Belongs to BBC/Kudos
A/N: I had these scenes running through my mind all day and they wouldn't stop until I wrote them down. This is one of my favorite chapters now, so I hope you like it too.
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
Ray Carling always listened to his Guv’nor. He had followed Gene Hunt up through the ranks ever since he was a PC and Gene was a DS. Ray had made DC when Gene was DI to Harry Woolfe and had made DS soon after Gene was promoted to DCI. Ray’s promotions certainly hadn’t been coincidence. So Ray was quite grateful to his Guv’nor. Respected his wishes. Hardly talked back.
Which was why Gene was confused when the loyal Ray Carling nearly broke down his office door and spilled his precious single malt.
"What did you do to him?" Ray said it louder now. It was after five and CID was deserted. No new cases. Nothing to work late on. No one there but Gene and Ray.
"Graham was fine enough last time I saw him," Gene stated curiously as he listened to his liquor drip off the desk and onto his loafers.
Ray barked out a cruel laugh and stepped back from the desk, stroking his moustache with one hand. "Yeah. Graham. That’s exactly who I was talkin’ about."
Gene slid his squeaking chair a little further from the wet desk and leaned back, stretching out his legs and clasping his hands over his stomach. "I couldn’t help but detect a hint of sarcasm in your statement, Sergeant. So would you care to tell me exactly what you’re trying to say?"
Ray paced in front of the desk, his hands shaking in anger. "Quit playin’ stupid, Gene."
Hunt sat up in his chair. Ray Carling never called him Gene. Even when he was Ray’s DI it had been "Boss." Before that it was Detective Sergeant Hunt. Sometimes when Ray was drunk or tired he’d slip a Gene in. That was all. Ray was neither drunk nor tired. Ray needed to vent and Gene was going to let him, within reason.
"Was bad enough we can’t even say ‘is name. Din’t visit either. Even Cartwright stopped seein’ ‘im after you ripped ‘er heart out the other day."
Ray continued to pace as Gene rose from the chair, hooking his thumbs on his belt loops. "What exactly are you getting at Carling?" Gene filled his voice with has much warning as possible. This subject was off-limits. The whole fucking station knew that.
Ray must have gone deaf that afternoon because he kept talking. "You keep actin’ like ‘e don’t exist. Like ‘e never existed. An’ that was fine for me. Hard, cos a the way Chris and Cartwright fawn over ‘im, but it was fine. It was goin’ ta be fine. Long as I din’t ‘ave to see ‘im. I could pretend ‘e was fine. That ‘e jus’ went back to Hyde or summit." Ray stopped pacing and stood directly in front of Gene. Gene could see fear as well as anger brewing behind Ray’s blue eyes. "But I did see ‘im. Today when I picked up Chris. ‘E wanted to see ‘im an’ I thought why not. One las’ row with Tyler ‘fore ‘e went crawlin’ back to Hyde." Ray set his hands on his hips and turned away. "That man..." he looked back at Gene, "...wasn’t Tyler."
Gene’s hard expression faltered, though only for a moment. "What’re you talking about?"
Ray’s hysterics had left him panting slightly for breath. His fury had dissipated but with it gone Gene could see the pure worry bubbling to the surface. "That quack. Merrick. ‘E’s got ‘im all doped up. Starin’ at blank walls. Don’t care ‘bout anything. ‘E din’t even remember Chris got shot til we reminded ‘im." Ray let out a long breath and ran his hand through his hair. " ‘E’s jus’ blank, Guv." Ray forced eye contact with Gene. " ‘S only word for it."
Gene quickly looked away then started cleaning up the mess on his desk. Ray wasn’t sure if he had gotten through but he wasn’t dead so at least that was something.
"What do you want me to do?" Gene asked as he threw some soggy newsprint in the bin. It wasn’t angry or annoyed or sarcastic. It was an honest question.
"I don’ know. Get ‘im released. Get ‘im a new doctor. Get ‘im off those pills. Jus’ anything. You’re ‘is Guv."
"Not for long." Gene chucked out some more ruined papers.
"But--"
"You think Litton’s worryin’ ‘imself over Graham’s broken wrist?"
Confusion covered Ray’s face as he threw his hands in the air. "This’s got nowt to do with Litton!" Gene stopped cleaning his desk. Ray tentatively moved forward. "Look Guv. I don’ know what Tyler said or did. If it’s that bad go ahead with the transfer. I’ll put in me DI application but..." Ray shook his head in disbelief. "You’ve got to get ‘im outta this." Ray held his breath. He’d said his piece. He didn’t know what else to do.
Gene was staring down at the desk, at the wet paper in his right hand. This page had suffered the worst from the split whiskey. The amber liquid stained the white sheet causing the ink to run and the words to blur. As he watched the colors mix and stain he realized he still hadn’t filled in "Reasons for transfer."
*
"No sir. You cause that boy nothin’ but trouble whene’er you come in." Rachel held out her hand as if she could create some magic force field that would prevent Gene Hunt from opening Sam Tyler’s door.
Gene pulled himself up to his fullest, shoulders back, gut out, cigarette dangling from his lips. "Did he say he doesn’t want to see me?"
"Doesn’t mention yeh, actually," Rachel retorted.
"Prob’ly don’t even remember me with all the pills you got ‘im on. Speakin’ of which, I’d like to see Dr. Merrick." Gene crossed his arms over his chest. "I want to know what sort of drugs he’s got melting my brain box."
"Well it doesn’t matter what you want sir." Rachel mimicked Gene and also folded her arms. "That is confidential information. Only family and individuals specified by Mr. Tyler can be informed as to his medical condition and treatment."
Gene took his fag between his fingers and flicked ash onto the clean, hospital floor. "He’s got no family and I suggest you check his records and see about those specified individuals." Gene waited with little patience as Rachel went behind the nurses station and pulled Sam’s file. He vaguely remembered Sam saying something about lots of hospital paperwork when he was admitted for the concussion. Gene could only hope the picky pain was consistent. By the look on the nurse’s face when she found the information it was clear he was. She snapped the folder shut and picked up the phone. "I’ll call Dr. Merrick."
"Good. Tell ‘im I’ll be waiting in there." Gene jerked his thumb towards Sam’s room then extinguished his cigarette on the nurses’ counter before opening the door only to discover Sam wasn’t there.
The bed was empty. The sheets had been changed. The room was cleaned. Gene stood in the doorway and shouted into the empty space, "Where the fuck is he?"
Rachel cupped her hand over the phone. "They took him up to the sixth floor. Psychiatric."
Gene disappeared in a flash. In what seemed like seconds he was in the lobby of St. Mary’s Psychiatric Ward watching as Merrick kneeled down next to Sam’s wheelchair, put his arm around Sam’s too thin shoulders and handed him a piece of paper and a pen. Two large male orderlies in white waited: one behind the wheelchair and one by the entrance to the patients’ area.
"Get. Away. From him. Now."
Gene’s pale maroon shirt and brown camel-hair coat blotched the clean, white landscape. The orderlies tensed, ready for action. Merrick turned his head toward the disturbance. Sam looked at the pen, wondering if it was blue or black ink and if it really mattered.
"DCI Hunt." Merrick removed his arm from around Sam and rose. "Wasn’t expecting to see you tonight."
Gene remained rooted to the spot. "What’s going on here?"
"Perhaps we should discuss this in my office..."
"We’re going to discuss this now."
Merrick walked over to the immobile mound of flesh. "There’s no need to shout Mr. Hunt."
"Oh I wasn’t shouting." Gene kept his voice low and even. "You’ve never heard me shout."
"He shouts a lot," Sam added helpfully as he read over the paper, or at least stared at it.
"Now what the fuck do you think you’re doing?"
Merrick remained relaxed, stuffing his hands in his pockets as he stood in front of Gene. "Only what you asked DCI Hunt."
"What I...? I never asked for this!" Gene pointed accusingly at Merrick.
"You called and said you wanted me to do a full psychiatric evaluation on Mr. Tyler."
"Yes. An evaluation. With questions and paperwork and a little paper certifying that he," Gene pointed at Sam, "isn’t certifiable! I said nothing about stuffin’ him full of ponce pills and shuttin’ him up in a padded prison!"
"Am I supposed to sign on the dotted line or the straight line?" Sam asked.
"You’re not signing anywhere!" Gene yelled at him.
"Okay," Sam relaxed his grip on the pen. "Don’t have to get all worked up about it," he sighed and looked up, getting distracted by water damage on the ceiling.
"What did you expect Chief Inspector? I asked Sam questions and quickly realized I needed to ask him more. I’ve been seeing him nearly twice a day now. It’s just easier if we move him up here."
"And the pills?"
"They’re for his anxiety attacks." Merrick explained.
"Those were getting better. He could control them on his own. I saw it!" Gene accused again.
"You didn’t see the one he had after you took his case notes. Thought we’d never calm him down." Merrick laughed and shook his head as Gene felt the guilt swell up inside him. To fix that he decided to throw Merrick up against the wall and hold him there. The secretary gasped. The orderlies ran towards them but Merrick waved them off.
Sam sighed, "He does that, too."
"You think this is funny? You think what you’re doing to him is a joke? He was never this bad! He doesn’t deserve to have his brain frozen over cos it makes your job easier! An’ you are not locking him up in here." He threw Merrick at the wall with every proclamation but Merrick still signaled to the orderlies to keep back.
"Sam is here of his own free will. If he wants to leave he can."
Gene stared hard at Merrick then dropped him. The man rubbed his sore throat and watched as Gene approached Sam. Gene didn’t look directly at him but nodded at the exit. "C’mon Tyler. We’re leaving."
"I’m supposed to stay." He said it carefully, like he’d been rehearsed to say it. It was then Gene realized how Sam’s voice contained none of the things that made it Sam’s voice. Gene brushed his hand through his hair and crouched down in front of Sam, placing a hand on each arm of the wheelchair.
"You don’t have to," Gene whispered.
Sam looked at the paper, then the pen. "That’s what I’m supposed to do." He held up the pen. "I take the pen," he held up the paper, "and sign the form." He said it like a child explaining a newly learned skill to his parents.
"But you don’t belong here."
"Yes I do. Dr. Merrick said so. I go here. I get better and then I go back to Hyde." He looked straight at Gene but his eyes were empty. "I go home."
"Hyde...isn’t your home."
"Yes it is."
"Not it..." Gene dropped his head. "Maybe it was. But not now. Not anymore. You’re one of us now." Sam looked slowly back and forth between the form and the pen. Gene held out his hand. "Give me the pen, Sammy."
Gene held his hand still while Sam hesitated. No one spoke. The air was thick with tension as Sam’s slowed mind waded through his options. He started to lower the pen tip to the paper. Gene could feel Merrick smirking behind him.
"Wait," Gene said and Sam did. The Guv rummaged around in his pocket, unable to suppress a grin as he found what he was looking for. He pulled it out and showed it to Sam. "You give me the pen, Sammy-boy, and you can have this."
In the far corners of Sam’s mind something registered. Gene couldn’t see it on his face but he knew. Sam set the form in his lap and took the object from Gene. He flipped it open, a movement made easy from years of practice. "I used to have one of these," he said almost wistfully as his eyes locked on to the silver badge.
"You can have it back. Just...hand me the pen, Sam."
Sam waited another moment then, without taking his eyes off Gene’s gift, handed over the pen. Gene’s whole body relaxed and he exhaled deeply. He stood and broke the pen in half, letting the black ink stain the floor but not his jacket. He took the form, shredded it in his hands, and let the pieces scatter like snowflakes.
Gene turned to Merrick. "I can make his medical decisions for him if he’s unable." The Guv looked down at Sam who was literally drooling on his warrant card. "He’s unable." He walked behind the chair and started pushing Sam to the door. "I’m getting him discharged and we’re leaving."
He stopped in front of Merrick and punched him in the gut. Merrick doubled over, grasping a nearby chair for support. "Thanks for all your help," Gene smiled and he pushed Sam out the door.
_______
Part 39