Fic: Steady As She Goes (48/86), Blue Cortina, dakfinv
Title: Steady As She Goes (48/86)
Author: dak
Word Count: 1586 this part; [89,715 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: Sam meets with the psychiatrist.
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, Gene/missus
Disclaimer: Belongs to BBC/Kudos
A/N: Continued thanks for all your supportive comments! 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
Dr. Merrick sat patiently in the sitting room waiting for Sam to come downstairs. Mrs. Hunt had brought him a lovely cup of coffee but as much as she smiled he couldn’t shake the feeling the woman would slap him across the face at the first opportunity. When Sam appeared in the doorway, DCI Hunt right behind, Merrick stood and went to greet him.
"Mr. Tyler. So good to see you." He offered his hand which Sam hesitantly took, shook for a brief second, and immediately dropped. "Why don’t we sit down?" Sam rushed into the room and sat in the chair furthest from where Merrick had been. "DCI Hunt," the doctor turned his attention to Gene. "Seeing as it’s your house, you’d be welcome to stay. If that’s alright with you Sam?"
"Yeah. ‘S fine." Sam fidgeted nervously in his seat.
"You’re here early," Gene stated accusingly, choosing to lean in the door frame instead of sitting.
"Yes, well, don’t have much else to do on a Sunday, I’m afraid. ‘Less there’s an emergency at work. Thought you’d want me out of your hair sooner rather than later." Merrick took up his former position on the sofa, maintaining the distance Sam had determined. "So Sam--"
"He hasn’t eaten yet." Gene interjected.
"Oh. That’s fine. I should have confirmed a time with you all yesterday. Sam misses breakfast it’s entirely my fault," he smiled.
Gene grunted and padded his pockets for his cigarettes. His wife walked past and handed him the pack and his lighter before disappearing down the hall.
"So Sam, how have you been?"
"That’s a pretty all-encompassing question, isn’t it?" Sam grumbled.
"S’pose you’re right," he chuckled. "Let’s get down to specifics then. How have you been sleeping?"
Lie. Tell the truth. Lie. Tell the truth. Either way, would Gene back him up or choose to expose him? Sam closed his eyes, desperate to quell the unfounded paranoia.
"Uhm, been a bit rough, but I’ve slept through the night."
"Good, good." Sam could see Merrick’s fingers itching to pull out his ubiquitous notebook but to his credit he kept pen and pad away. "Dreams keeping you up?"
"I said I slept through the night!" Sam caught himself. "Sorry."
Merrick ignored the outburst but Sam knew he was filing it away as ammunition for later.
"Looks like you’ve been walking better. How does that feel? Uh, physically I mean."
"Alright. Sore. Tiring. But it’s getting better. Easier."
"Excellent. No major trips or spills?" Sam shook his head. "Very good. And what’ve you been eating?"
Sam’s demeanor quickly changed to one of fear as he shrank slightly in his seat and rubbed his hand over the back of his neck. "Soup...Chicken."
"You told me you liked to cook. Have you tried any cooking this weekend?"
"No." He turned in his seat. "Look can we change the subject?"
"Why?"
Sam sat forward, then leaned back, clasping and unclasping his hands. "I just don’t want to talk about it."
"Why is this topic upsetting?" Merrick leaned in.
"It’s not," Sam argued.
"When’s the last time you ate?" Sam looked around the room for an escape route. "Why are you upset, Sam?"
"You’re the one upsetting him," Gene warned.
"I’m just trying to understand why Sam is uncomfortable discussing something as innocuous as food, Mr. Hunt--"
"He’s not uncomfortable about food. He’s uncomfortable with you stickin’ your nose in his business after he--"
"Sam’s the one who contacted me, Mr. Hunt. I’m sorry if that makes you feel inadequate about your own ability to care--"
"I’ve done nothing BUT care for the little tosser since I stopped you from throwin’ ‘im in one of your--"
"I was not going to throw him anywhere. I was merely--"
Merrick and Gene were stepping closer to each other with each screaming accusation. Sam knew if there was a filing cabinet anywhere in this house, the good doctor would soon be pressed against it. Mrs. Hunt’s presence was most likely all that was keeping Merrick from a cracked jaw, but if they continued like this for much longer even that would be inevitable.
Beep. Beep. Beep.
Sam cupped his hands over his ears, his actions oblivious to the enraged men.
Beep. Beep. Beep.
"There seems to be an increase in brain activity, Dr. Matthews." The words came out of Gene’s mouth, but he wasn’t saying them.
"Thank God. It’s just what we’ve been looking for." Merrick responded, but it wasn’t Merrick.
"But will it hold at that level?" Gene shouted, but didn’t.
"We can only hope. After these past few days...Sam needs to show some improvement. The next few minutes will be crucial." Merrick yelled back.
"You can do it Sam. Be strong. I know you can." Gene pointed at Tyler, eyes burning into the doctor.
Beep. Beep. Beep.
"Thursday." Sam ventured nervously into the argument. It took a few seconds for the doctor and DCI to realize he had spoken. When they finally looked at him Sam dropped his hands from his ears and said it again. "Thursday."
"What?" Gene asked in utter disbelief, completely forgetting his was just about ready to strangle Merrick with his own tie.
"I had some breakfast and lunch on Friday, with Chris, but I sicked it up later. Thursday, in hospital. Last time I ate properly." Each word he spoke was quieter than the last but still the truth sounded so very harsh.
Merrick stood back, allowing Gene to take the floor. "What about yesterday? Supper?"
Sam never felt so ashamed. He stared at his wrists, now covered by his shirt though he still remembered the sight beneath. "I flushed it. Down the toilet."
"Why the bloody hell would you do a stupid thing like that?" Gene advanced on him.
"Mr. Hunt..." Dr. Merrick tried to calm him.
"I thought she was trying to poison me."
"Oh because my wife always makes a habit out of poisoning my DI’s when I’m through with ‘em!"
"Mr. Hunt, may I speak to you in the hall?"
"No you may not!" Gene pushed the man away. "Selfish, ungrateful...Everything you’ve put me through and most of it’s your own damn fault!"
"I’m sorry," Sam pleaded. "I don’t know--"
"Then you best figure it out!" Gene plowed past Merrick on his way out of the room, grabbed his coat from the hook, and fled the house. Sam could only watch in horror as he left.
"Sam. Wait here. I’ll be back. We’ll both be back." Merrick assured him and ran out the door. "Mr. Hunt!"
Sam was left alone, shock preventing him from moving. He’d done it again. Like what he’d done to Maya. To Annie. Now Gene. Lost them. Lost them because of his own stupid actions. Self-Destruction 101. He rocked back and forth on the edge of the chair, all his failures coming to the forefront of his mind, until he spotted Merrick’s jacket.
It was strewn over the arm of the sofa, the top of something barely visible sticking out from the pocket. Sam walked over and sat on the couch next to the jacket, then slowly reached his hand inside and pulled out a small pill bottle. It was labeled. It was for Sam. It was Valium. The tears welled in his eyes as he twisted off the cap and shook two, tiny pills into his hand. He closed the bottle and put it back in the jacket. Couldn’t leave any evidence.
Every part of him was screaming, telling him not to do it, not to make another stupid mistake, but his hands weren’t listening. The comfort the pills had brought, it was comfort via emptiness, but was feeling hollow any worse than what he was feeling right now? How could it be?
Time was moving slowly, all sounds taking a backseat. Birds chirping, Sam’s breathing, a phone ringing. All Sam could see were the pills. All Sam could hear was his head begging him to stop.
He raised his hand to his mouth. A few more seconds and everything would be better. A few more seconds and nothing would hurt. Everything would be...
"Sam?"
Startled, Sam wrenched his hand from his from his mouth, hiding the pills in a closed fist as Mrs. Hunt stood in the doorway.
"There’s a call, from the station, for Gene. I don’t know where he went. It sounds important and...do you think you could?" She motioned towards the kitchen.
"Uh, yes. Sure, Mrs. Hunt." He stood and shoved his hand in his pocket, depositing the two pills out of sight. He met her in the hall and tried to smile. "Where’s the phone? Oh." He spotted it himself and picked up the receiver. "This is DI Tyler...No I’m not on active duty but...Yes I will give him the message. Could you tell me what this is about please?"
Mrs. Hunt didn’t think Sam could get any paler but as he spoke on the phone that was precisely what happened.
"Alright. Thank you. We’ll be right there." He hung up and found himself walking to the door.
"Sam? Is everything okay?"
He didn’t answer as he opened the front door. Gene and Dr. Merrick were outside continuing their heated argument from earlier. It was Gene who spotted Sam stumbling towards them.
"What do you want now Dorothy? Come to take us to lunch? Or should we just toss your food in the bogs to begin with?"
Sam didn’t even hear him. "Detective Inspector Graham is dead. He hung himself in gaol."
______
Part 49
Author: dak
Word Count: 1586 this part; [89,715 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: Sam meets with the psychiatrist.
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, Gene/missus
Disclaimer: Belongs to BBC/Kudos
A/N: Continued thanks for all your supportive comments! 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
Dr. Merrick sat patiently in the sitting room waiting for Sam to come downstairs. Mrs. Hunt had brought him a lovely cup of coffee but as much as she smiled he couldn’t shake the feeling the woman would slap him across the face at the first opportunity. When Sam appeared in the doorway, DCI Hunt right behind, Merrick stood and went to greet him.
"Mr. Tyler. So good to see you." He offered his hand which Sam hesitantly took, shook for a brief second, and immediately dropped. "Why don’t we sit down?" Sam rushed into the room and sat in the chair furthest from where Merrick had been. "DCI Hunt," the doctor turned his attention to Gene. "Seeing as it’s your house, you’d be welcome to stay. If that’s alright with you Sam?"
"Yeah. ‘S fine." Sam fidgeted nervously in his seat.
"You’re here early," Gene stated accusingly, choosing to lean in the door frame instead of sitting.
"Yes, well, don’t have much else to do on a Sunday, I’m afraid. ‘Less there’s an emergency at work. Thought you’d want me out of your hair sooner rather than later." Merrick took up his former position on the sofa, maintaining the distance Sam had determined. "So Sam--"
"He hasn’t eaten yet." Gene interjected.
"Oh. That’s fine. I should have confirmed a time with you all yesterday. Sam misses breakfast it’s entirely my fault," he smiled.
Gene grunted and padded his pockets for his cigarettes. His wife walked past and handed him the pack and his lighter before disappearing down the hall.
"So Sam, how have you been?"
"That’s a pretty all-encompassing question, isn’t it?" Sam grumbled.
"S’pose you’re right," he chuckled. "Let’s get down to specifics then. How have you been sleeping?"
Lie. Tell the truth. Lie. Tell the truth. Either way, would Gene back him up or choose to expose him? Sam closed his eyes, desperate to quell the unfounded paranoia.
"Uhm, been a bit rough, but I’ve slept through the night."
"Good, good." Sam could see Merrick’s fingers itching to pull out his ubiquitous notebook but to his credit he kept pen and pad away. "Dreams keeping you up?"
"I said I slept through the night!" Sam caught himself. "Sorry."
Merrick ignored the outburst but Sam knew he was filing it away as ammunition for later.
"Looks like you’ve been walking better. How does that feel? Uh, physically I mean."
"Alright. Sore. Tiring. But it’s getting better. Easier."
"Excellent. No major trips or spills?" Sam shook his head. "Very good. And what’ve you been eating?"
Sam’s demeanor quickly changed to one of fear as he shrank slightly in his seat and rubbed his hand over the back of his neck. "Soup...Chicken."
"You told me you liked to cook. Have you tried any cooking this weekend?"
"No." He turned in his seat. "Look can we change the subject?"
"Why?"
Sam sat forward, then leaned back, clasping and unclasping his hands. "I just don’t want to talk about it."
"Why is this topic upsetting?" Merrick leaned in.
"It’s not," Sam argued.
"When’s the last time you ate?" Sam looked around the room for an escape route. "Why are you upset, Sam?"
"You’re the one upsetting him," Gene warned.
"I’m just trying to understand why Sam is uncomfortable discussing something as innocuous as food, Mr. Hunt--"
"He’s not uncomfortable about food. He’s uncomfortable with you stickin’ your nose in his business after he--"
"Sam’s the one who contacted me, Mr. Hunt. I’m sorry if that makes you feel inadequate about your own ability to care--"
"I’ve done nothing BUT care for the little tosser since I stopped you from throwin’ ‘im in one of your--"
"I was not going to throw him anywhere. I was merely--"
Merrick and Gene were stepping closer to each other with each screaming accusation. Sam knew if there was a filing cabinet anywhere in this house, the good doctor would soon be pressed against it. Mrs. Hunt’s presence was most likely all that was keeping Merrick from a cracked jaw, but if they continued like this for much longer even that would be inevitable.
Beep. Beep. Beep.
Sam cupped his hands over his ears, his actions oblivious to the enraged men.
Beep. Beep. Beep.
"There seems to be an increase in brain activity, Dr. Matthews." The words came out of Gene’s mouth, but he wasn’t saying them.
"Thank God. It’s just what we’ve been looking for." Merrick responded, but it wasn’t Merrick.
"But will it hold at that level?" Gene shouted, but didn’t.
"We can only hope. After these past few days...Sam needs to show some improvement. The next few minutes will be crucial." Merrick yelled back.
"You can do it Sam. Be strong. I know you can." Gene pointed at Tyler, eyes burning into the doctor.
Beep. Beep. Beep.
"Thursday." Sam ventured nervously into the argument. It took a few seconds for the doctor and DCI to realize he had spoken. When they finally looked at him Sam dropped his hands from his ears and said it again. "Thursday."
"What?" Gene asked in utter disbelief, completely forgetting his was just about ready to strangle Merrick with his own tie.
"I had some breakfast and lunch on Friday, with Chris, but I sicked it up later. Thursday, in hospital. Last time I ate properly." Each word he spoke was quieter than the last but still the truth sounded so very harsh.
Merrick stood back, allowing Gene to take the floor. "What about yesterday? Supper?"
Sam never felt so ashamed. He stared at his wrists, now covered by his shirt though he still remembered the sight beneath. "I flushed it. Down the toilet."
"Why the bloody hell would you do a stupid thing like that?" Gene advanced on him.
"Mr. Hunt..." Dr. Merrick tried to calm him.
"I thought she was trying to poison me."
"Oh because my wife always makes a habit out of poisoning my DI’s when I’m through with ‘em!"
"Mr. Hunt, may I speak to you in the hall?"
"No you may not!" Gene pushed the man away. "Selfish, ungrateful...Everything you’ve put me through and most of it’s your own damn fault!"
"I’m sorry," Sam pleaded. "I don’t know--"
"Then you best figure it out!" Gene plowed past Merrick on his way out of the room, grabbed his coat from the hook, and fled the house. Sam could only watch in horror as he left.
"Sam. Wait here. I’ll be back. We’ll both be back." Merrick assured him and ran out the door. "Mr. Hunt!"
Sam was left alone, shock preventing him from moving. He’d done it again. Like what he’d done to Maya. To Annie. Now Gene. Lost them. Lost them because of his own stupid actions. Self-Destruction 101. He rocked back and forth on the edge of the chair, all his failures coming to the forefront of his mind, until he spotted Merrick’s jacket.
It was strewn over the arm of the sofa, the top of something barely visible sticking out from the pocket. Sam walked over and sat on the couch next to the jacket, then slowly reached his hand inside and pulled out a small pill bottle. It was labeled. It was for Sam. It was Valium. The tears welled in his eyes as he twisted off the cap and shook two, tiny pills into his hand. He closed the bottle and put it back in the jacket. Couldn’t leave any evidence.
Every part of him was screaming, telling him not to do it, not to make another stupid mistake, but his hands weren’t listening. The comfort the pills had brought, it was comfort via emptiness, but was feeling hollow any worse than what he was feeling right now? How could it be?
Time was moving slowly, all sounds taking a backseat. Birds chirping, Sam’s breathing, a phone ringing. All Sam could see were the pills. All Sam could hear was his head begging him to stop.
He raised his hand to his mouth. A few more seconds and everything would be better. A few more seconds and nothing would hurt. Everything would be...
"Sam?"
Startled, Sam wrenched his hand from his from his mouth, hiding the pills in a closed fist as Mrs. Hunt stood in the doorway.
"There’s a call, from the station, for Gene. I don’t know where he went. It sounds important and...do you think you could?" She motioned towards the kitchen.
"Uh, yes. Sure, Mrs. Hunt." He stood and shoved his hand in his pocket, depositing the two pills out of sight. He met her in the hall and tried to smile. "Where’s the phone? Oh." He spotted it himself and picked up the receiver. "This is DI Tyler...No I’m not on active duty but...Yes I will give him the message. Could you tell me what this is about please?"
Mrs. Hunt didn’t think Sam could get any paler but as he spoke on the phone that was precisely what happened.
"Alright. Thank you. We’ll be right there." He hung up and found himself walking to the door.
"Sam? Is everything okay?"
He didn’t answer as he opened the front door. Gene and Dr. Merrick were outside continuing their heated argument from earlier. It was Gene who spotted Sam stumbling towards them.
"What do you want now Dorothy? Come to take us to lunch? Or should we just toss your food in the bogs to begin with?"
Sam didn’t even hear him. "Detective Inspector Graham is dead. He hung himself in gaol."
______
Part 49