FIC: Necessary Evil 2a/2
Title: Necessary Evil 2/2
Author: Elf
Word Count: About 12,200 this part, about 26,000 in all.
Rating: Brown Cortina for language and violence.
Pairing: Ray/Chris, some Sam/Gene if you squint later but mainly plot-based fic with little pairing action.
Summary: The best laid schemes of Mice and Men
oft go awry,
And leave us nothing but grief and pain,
For promised joy!
A/N: I'm really sorry part two has been so long in coming - I hope it was worth the wait.
The first parts can be found here:
PART ONE A
PART ONE B
pill_so_sweet's prompt was: Ray/Chris, Tough love, Potential.
I hope I have gone some way to satisfying it.
Thank you to
nebula99 for betaing despite being terribly busy with RL - all mistake that remain are mine and mine alone.
Ray slumped to the floor of the truck, the others were already sitting down or hanging on tightly. Danny had the rear curtain pulled back slightly to watch out for pursuers, but Ray guessed that the squad had been thrown into complete chaos with the smashed cars and with Chris down.
The gun still dangled from his fingers. He’d always felt as if his weapon gave him control, it was meant to be on his side, keeping him safe. And instead he’d hurt the person he cared about most - the person he was usually doing anything to keep safe.
For a second the thought of turning the pistol on himself crossed his mind, but then his rational side quashed it. He had no idea how badly Chris was hurt, he had a job to do and he knew that if he blew his cover now he wouldn’t get very far before Danny got to use his gun. He needed to wrap the job up and get back to Chris. If Chris was still alive.
The truck pulled up in a lay-by, the tyres skidding on the loose grit.
“C’mon, everyone out,” Eddie called out.
Ray looked up, broken from his reverie. “Wha’?”
“Out, into the cars, c’mon, they’ll be looking for this truck.”
Ray jumped down to the ground, followed by the others. There were four cars parked further up in the layby. Dougie was sitting on one of the bonnets, and another of Charlie’s goons was there too. Once everyone was out of the truck Eddie spun it around and backed it up next to the first car. “Right, fill the boot with what we got - I know it weren’t much, but we ain’t leaving it, so hurry.”
Once again they formed a human chain and quickly stowed the metal boxes into the boot of the estate car. Once it was full Eddie gestured at Danny and Charlie’s man. “You two, go - you know where to.”
The car pulled away and Eddie reversed again to close the gap on the next car. They repeated the action until only Ray and Eddie were left. Eddie reached under the benches in the back of the truck and handed Ray a petrol can.
“Spread it about - everywhere.”
Ray threw the petrol inside the cab, making sure he soaked the seats as Eddie did the same in the back. Finally Eddie moved the car far enough away to be safe and ran back, striking matches and throwing them into various places on the truck. The flames caught, licking throughout the vehicle and consuming any possible evidence left. Eddie walked back to the car and climbed in next to Ray. “They won’t find us now,” he smiled. “Which is good, for you, cos they won’t take kindly to you killin’ that rozzer.”
Ray could feel his eyes burning as the bile rose in his throat. He hadn’t killed Chris, he couldn’t have. He had to believe that.
He stayed silent, feeling worse than he ever had before. Worse than when his mother had died, worse than when he’d first killed a man in the line of duty. Eddie kept talking, and Ray barely responded. He knew he had to keep his cover though, for the Guv to have a chance of tracking them down.
“So, you ever kill anyone before?” Eddie asked, his voice far too cheerful.
“Yeah,” Ray answered, before he really knew what he was saying.
“You don’t seem to be taking it too well, that’s all.”
“You ever?” Ray asked, a bit too abruptly.
“No, no I haven’t,” Eddie answered.
“Don’t. ‘Cause it don’t ever leave you, ‘owever much the bastard deserved it.”
Eddie nodded slowly. He didn’t want to let it show, but it scared him a little, to know the man beside him was a murderer.
Ray doubled over again as the fist buried itself in his stomach, coughing and watching as drops of blood hit the floor. He knew he could have fought back, but it wouldn’t have got him anywhere - and besides, he felt as if he deserved everything he got.
The blow across his face finally knocked him to the floor, and this time he wasn’t hauled to his feet, but was given a kicking that the Guv would have been proud of. And, Ray imagined, given the current circumstances, would probably approve of.
Finally Charlie called the man off. “Leave him.” He hunkered down over Ray, taking hold of Ray’s hair and lifting his head. “You did something very stupid today, Miller. The only reason you haven’t gone the same way as the copper is because Danny reckons you might just have saved the day. But don’t ever, ever put us at risk like that again.”
Ray didn’t move, couldn’t move. Charlie let go of his hair and stood up, wiping his hands on a nearby teatowel. “Danny, get everyone in the front room. We need to talk. Someone set us up with the pigs and we need to know who. Get the lads together.”
Ray closed his eyes.
When he came to he could feel a cold cloth being wiped over his face, sending up flares of pain. He groaned, trying to push away the irritation.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you,” a hushed voice said.
Ray opened the one eye that wasn’t swollen shut and saw that it was Marty, sitting on the floor next to him with a saucepan of water and a towel.
“’S all right,” Ray pushed himself upright, shivering from laying on the tiled floor.
“Charlie’s dead angry - he says someone must have tipped off the police. He’s got everyone in there, questioning them all.”
Ray nodded, gently pressing on his eye and hissing in pain.
“He knows it’s not you, because of what you did to the copper, and he wouldn’t blame me, Eddie or Danny, because of us being family. Everyone else is for the high-jump though, I reckon.”
“Well, them pigs weren’t there by accident, where they?” Ray said softly. “Someone ‘ad to tell ‘em.”
Marty nodded. He stood and walked to the freezer, finding some ice and wrapping it in the teatowel. “Here, hold this on your eye - I’ll help you upstairs.”
Ray nodded, and as Marty pulled him to standing a whole myriad of other aches and pains made themselves known. He limped, holding onto the wall as well as leaning on Marty.
“Think you can manage the stairs?” Marty asked.
Ray nodded, hauling himself up on the handrail.
Marty led him to one of the bedrooms and dropped him onto the bed. “You should rest, I dunno what we’ll be doing tomorrow. I think we’re safe here for now though.”
“You WHAT?” Sam ducked instinctively as a mug and an entire intray were launched across the CID office by Gene. “How can you fuckin’ lose the ringleader? Our only fuckin’ link with Carling and the gang.”
Every officer in the room cowered back, particularly the ones from the Met, who had never seen Gene angry before.
“Find ‘em, and fast, or I’ll have you strung up on the blue lamp by your bollocks.” No one moved, or even breathed. “NOW!” Gene bellowed.
Everyone ran for the door, even Brisley, leaving Sam alone with Gene.
“We’ll find him, Guv,” he said gently.
“Bloody better, cos as soon as we have I’m gonna kick the living shit out of him,” Gene snarled.
“He…” Sam wanted to defend Ray, wanted there to be something - anything that meant that somehow Ray hadn’t been responsible for shooting Chris. But he couldn’t think of a single reason. “I’m going to go and ask if they’ll let me in to see Chris yet,” he finished, leaving Gene alone in the office.
The corridors of the hospital were busy, but Sam felt very alone. He knew that his world - the core of CID - were being ripped apart. He wanted to blame Ray, but he knew that that wouldn’t be entirely fair. The man had been put in an impossible situation. He also knew, without doubt, that it had been Ray who had shot Chris. He didn’t need to see the man’s face to recognise his stocky build, his movements.
He found the ward he’d been directed to and spoke to the nurse who was on duty, showing her his badge when she looked doubtful. She led the way down the quiet ward and gestured to the bed. Chris was lying still, a drip trailing to his hand. He looked pale, even against the crisp white sheets of the bed.
Sam nodded his thanks to the nurse, then sat down quietly next to the bed.
Chris looked as if he were sleeping peacefully, the blankets tucked up under his armpits hid the dressings and bandages that Sam knew must be swathed around his body. After a few minutes Sam reached out and held onto Chris’s hand, then began talking to him - about the day, the news, football - anything and everything he could think of.
He’d just come to the end of discussing T-Rex when he noticed that Chris’s eyes were open.
“Chris? Chris?” he stood and leant over the younger man. “Chris? Are you okay?”
“Boss?” Chris looked lost. “Hurts, Boss.”
Sam nodded. “I know, you’re in hospital now though, you’ll be fine - they said that you’ve just got to rest - you’ve lost a lot of blood, but you’ll be okay.”
“Where’s Ray?” Chris asked, his voice barely audible.
Sam stopped, not knowing what to say. “He…he’s still…undercover,” he finally answered.
Chris stared right into his eyes. “We di’n’t…catch them?” he asked, sounding as if he might cry.
Sam just shook his head.
“He shot me,” Chris stated, as if he’d only just realised. “It were Ray…he…why’d he shoot me, Boss?”
Sam just shook his head, sinking back into the chair. “I don’t know, Chris.”
“How…’ow come you di’n’t catch ‘em? Ray…’e’s stuck there ‘til we catch ‘em, ain’t he?”
Sam nodded, wishing he had the answers Chris needed.
Ray awoke in the middle of the night, his bladder complaining. He was still fully dressed, and he could hear someone breathing close by him. He moved as carefully as he could - both because of his injuries and trying not to alert whoever was in the room with him. He sat on the edge of the bed, his arm wrapped around his bruised ribs. He had a suspicion that a couple of them might have cracked under the onslaught of Billy’s feet. When he turned to see who was with him he saw Marty wrapped up in the sheets on the other side of the large double bed. He breathed a sigh of relief - Marty had obviously taken it upon himself to look after him, and he was oddly grateful.
He kicked off his shoes and stood, then silently made his way to the bathroom. The house was silent, and Ray had no idea what the time was - he didn’t dare turn on any lights. He wondered what had happened with the others and Charlie’s investigation.
As he walked back along the landing he looked down to the hallway below. Picked out in a shaft of moonlight, as if it where some sort of sign from above, was a telephone on a small table. Ray stopped, his mind working overtime. He knew he could phone the Guv, or the hospital - even the station - and find out how Chris was. But doing so would put himself and the entire operation at risk.
He stood in indecision before padding down the stairs, only treading on the very edges to lessen the chance of the old steps creaking. He stood at the bottom of the stairs on the cold tiles for a second, but his sixth sense told him not to pick up the phone. Instead he headed for the kitchen and found a glass, filling it from the tap and then drinking it, wincing as his cut lip made its presence felt, all the while listening to the silence of the house. He was sure he wasn’t the only person downstairs. He decided that he couldn’t risk trying to call anyone, and lacking anything more constructive to do, he decided to head back to bed to get some more sleep.
He stepped into the hallway and jumped as he saw a figure in the shadows.
“Ray, you did good today,” Danny said, stepping forward.
Ray nodded. “You find out who it was grassed us up?”
Danny shrugged. “Charlie’s dealt with it.”
Ray nodded, knowing that asking more would be too nosy for Danny’s taste.
“How did it feel, shooting the pig?” Danny asked, his eyes gleaming.
Ray didn’t know what to say, he felt sick just thinking about it. But he also didn’t want to make Danny angry - he’d met people like him before, people who lived for violence, who could be so normal one minute and then flip to become a monster.
“Nothin’, I di’n’t feel nothin’,” he answered. “Jus’…did what I ‘ad to. I ain’t goin’ back inside again.”
“You did good - I wish I’d done it - I do, I would have done too, if Eddie hadn’t crashed through those cars. Next time…I’d fucking kill all of them, fucking police. I don’t think Charlie should have let Billy give you that kicking either - you saved us, and the pigs haven’t found us, so what does it matter?”
Ray forced a smile onto his face at Danny’s enthusiasm. “Yeah, right.”
“We’re going to do another job - a big one, Charlie says, to make up for not getting much this time. He’s planning it. You can ride with me, when we do it.”
The thought of being stuck with Danny put Ray on edge - he’d rather work alongside Marty who at least didn’t take any pleasure in the actions of the gang. On the other hand, if Danny was serious about wanting to harm any of the squad, at least Ray would have a chance of stopping him, a chance to make up for just a little of what he’d done to Chris.
He nodded. “Yeah, sure.”
The next morning Doug was noticeably absent from the house. No one mentioned it, and Ray really didn’t want to know what had happened to him - except he knew that he would have to find out eventually.
He showered, trying to catalogue the bruises which covered his body. His eye could open a little, giving him a slightly distorted view of the world, his lips were swollen and split but he didn’t think his nose was broken. He washed the dried blood off himself and as he towelled dry he looked at himself in the mirror. His face was battered but it didn’t look half as bad as he felt. Dark bruises had bloomed over his ribcage and stomach and his left hand felt as if someone had stamped on it. He didn’t remember it happening, but he wouldn’t have put it past any of the gang to have taken a bit of anger out on him whilst he was lying on the floor, unconscious.
When he returned downstairs most of the gang were watching TV or playing cards. Ray walked up to Charlie and stood by him waiting to be acknowledged.
“What?” Charlie finally asked.
“Wondered if I could walk to the village, want to get a paper and stuff.”
Charlie shrugged. “Sure. Danny, you go with him.”
Ray had held the slim hope that he’d be allowed to go alone, but he wasn’t surprised that Charlie was going to send someone with him. He just wished it wasn’t Danny.
Danny jumped up. “Sure, Charlie. Anything you want?”
Charlie nodded. “Fags, and some whiskey if there’s anywhere sells it.”
Danny nodded, then asked everyone else in turn. They ended up with what Ray thought was a suspiciously long list of various fags - surely any decent human being would think something was amiss. But then, knowing the general public, maybe not.
They walked down the quiet country road, Ray with his hands in his pockets, hoping that when he finally got the newspaper it wouldn’t have a headline about a young DC being shot dead during an armed robbery.
Danny was chatting, his usual hyperactive self. Ray grunted in acknowledgement every now and again, lost in his own thoughts.
The reached the small village and Ray headed straight for the little shop, looking down at the various papers. None of the headlines mentioned the raid the day before. He picked up the Daily Mail and took it to the counter, asking for three packets of fags, hoping that Danny would get the rest. Then, as an afterthought, he grabbed a bar of Dairy Milk too.
Danny got the rest of the cigarette order and a small bottle of scotch for Charlie, then they headed back, Ray looking longingly at the phonebox that stood on the small village green.
As they walked back to the house there was a grassy field full of rabbits. Danny pulled out his pistol and drew a bead on one of them, pretending to shoot it.
“Put it away,” Ray ordered. “Last thing we need is for someone t’see you wavin’ that about.” Then he thought about what he was saying. Maybe it would be better if someone reported Danny - at least it might give the police a clue as to where to look, because Ray was pretty sure that no one was watching the house, and that meant that he was on his own again.
“Why? Scare you, does it?” Danny turned the gun on Ray, pointing it at his face and cocking it.
“Jus’ put it away,” Ray ordered, knowing he was close to losing his temper as Danny messed around with the weapon.
“You don’t get to order me around,” Danny grinned. “I could have you killed - knife in your chest, like Doug got, or shot, like you did to the copper - I could do anything. Charlie wouldn’t care. I’d just tell him you were the grass.”
Ray could feel his heart rate increasing, but he tried to keep calm. At least he knew what had happened to Dougie now. Ray supposed that in the end his gentle nature had been his undoing.
“You should get yerself sorted out, it ain’t your own side you want t’be threatenin’,” he said, trying to keep calm.
Danny laughed, then made the gun safe and slid it back into his pocket. “You’re all right,” he said, slapping Ray on the back and fishing in his pocket for his fags, offering them to Ray.
Ray breathed a sigh of relief and took one, hoping his hands weren’t shaking visibly as he lit it.
Once back at the house Ray headed straight for his and Marty’s room and sat on the bed, reading the paper. Their exploits were buried in the middle of the paper, with the news that two policemen had been injured - one by gunshot, the other in his car. Ray could feel himself shaking, and he had to blink hard to stop tears of relief. He read the report again, desperate to take it all in and cursing there not being more detail. It merely said that an officer with gunshot wound was still in hospital - no hints as to his condition.
He looked up as Marty walked into the room. Then he reached into his pocket and pulled out the chocolate, throwing it over to Marty’s side of the bed.
“For wha’ y’did for me,” he said.
Marty’s eyes lit up and he dropped down onto the bed, pulled the wrapper open and biting off a chunk. “Thanks,” he smiled around the mouthful.
Gene sat slumped in his office chair, glass dangling from his fingers and half-empty bottle in front of him. Sam was on the other side of the desk, his still-full glass in front of him.
“Bloody useless bastard…” Gene couldn’t even find the energy to complete the string of insults.
“We’ll just have to wait,” Sam said. “Ray will get in touch.”
“Will he? After what he’s done? Fuckin’ useless heap of shit, wouldn’t be surprised if he never shows his face here again…I’ll tell you, if he does I’ll fuckin’…” Gene stopped again. He hated not being in control, and right now he felt as if everything was slipping away from him.
“They’ll be jumpy, he can’t just waltz out and make a phonecall, can he?”
“He should’ve…how can he even live with himself?”
The silence stretched as no man wanted to think about the fact Ray might no longer be alive.
“The hospital said Chris can go home tomorrow,” Sam finally said. “I don’t know…well, he lives at Ray’s, doesn’t he. I don’t know if…”
Gene nodded, understanding. “He can always go to ‘is parents.”
Sam stayed silent, knowing that was just avoiding the issue.
It was three days later that Charlie finally called the gang together again, in the kitchen once more. He waited until everyone was silent, then laid out the next plan.
Ray listened intently, and a plan began to form in his mind. Finally he spoke out.
“I c’n help you. Old friend, he used to be a steward at the ground, probably still is. I c’n look ‘im up.”
Charlie was still for a moment, then nodded. “Yes, okay. Do you know where you can find this friend of yours?”
Ray shrugged. “Been a while. I’ll ‘ave to look around, ask a few faces. Might take a day or two.”
“We’ll have to work on other ideas too, then. But you follow that up. Will he be on side?” Charlie asked.
“Few quid in his hand, he will. An’ he don’t need to know any of you, I can do it all. Won’t even tell ‘im yer names or owt.”
Charlie smiled widely. “Yes, yes. Excellent.”
That evening Ray plucked up the courage to ask to go out. He knew he couldn’t just leave without Charlie’s permission, and now they were out of town he also needed a vehicle.
Charlie threw him a set of keys and waved him away. It made Ray suspicious, but he couldn’t resist the chance of being free for just a short time. Since he’d left prison and joined the gang he’d felt more trapped than ever. He ran up to his room on the pretence of fetching something, but actually trying to work out where everyone else was and what they were doing. He desperately wanted to go and see Chris, but he didn’t know if he’d be welcome - and knew that it would be suicide if he were being followed.
The others were mainly in the lounge or their own rooms, so Ray made his way back downstairs, still wincing as various muscles and bruises complained. He could see out of his eye again, although it was still impressively bruised - the cuts were all healing, but Ray knew his multi-colour face would still attract attention.
He drove a short way down the road, then pulled up in a side turning, waiting and watching. It felt as if he were wasting time, but he knew he couldn’t risk being followed.
Finally he started the car again and drove into the city, keeping a close eye on his rear view mirror.
He pulled over at a phonebox and called the station, looking all around him as he dialled, not trusting Charlie one bit. Finally there was an answer.
“DI Tyler.”
“Boss! I need to meet - how’s Chris? I didn’t mean…Christ…is he okay?”
“Ray?” Sam gesticulated wildly at anyone to fetch Gene. “Ray? Where are you? What’s happened? Chris is…he’s at his parent’s place, they’re looking after him. He’ll be okay.”
Ray sighed in relief. “I’m down near Deansgate Lock, I’ll wait for you. I ain’t got much time, an’ I might ‘ave people watchin’, so keep yer eyes open.”
Sam nodded. “Right, yeah, we’ll be there.”
Gene caught the last bit of the conversation and watched as Sam hung up.
“Information?” he asked.
“Ray,” Sam answered. “We need to go, now.”
If the way Gene drove bore any resemblance to his mood, Sam was worried for Ray. The car was flung around corners, tyres screeching as Gene stamped on the accelerator. When he finally stood on the brakes and skidded to a stop near the canal Sam almost fell out of the vehicle in his haste to be back on safe ground.
“He said by the lock,” Sam said, looking around at the deserted area. “But he thought he might be being watched - and your arrival wasn’t exactly subtle.”
Gene just snorted and lit a cigarette. He glanced around, then headed for the towpath. Sam followed, looking all around them and not seeing another soul. Just as Gene was starting to swear again, a figure stepped out from under the bridge.
“Ray!” Sam found it hard to reconcile the fact he was actually glad to see the other man with his knowledge of what had happened the past few days.
“Carling, you bastard,” Gene started. “What the fuck were you playin’ at?”
Ray walked toward them and Sam could see he was limping and there was a stiffness to his movements. Then he noticed Ray’s face looked as if someone had danced on it.
“’Ow’s Chris - I mean, really? Will he be all right?” Ray asked, and his expression told of the hell he’d been living through, not knowing.
Sam stepped forward, not trusting Gene. “He’ll be fine - you got him just under his rib cage, but on his side, so there was a lot of blood, but nothing major was hit. He’s with his parents, resting. The doctors reckon he’ll be back at the station doing light duties next week, even.”
Ray nodded, finally convinced that Chris really would be okay. Although he knew that he was asking a lot to be forgiven.
“I di’n’t…Danny were goin’ to shoot ‘im, with a sawn-off. I jus’ wanted to warn you - gonna shoot over ‘is head, but…then the truck hit…Christ, when I realised…I di’n’t know what t’do. Thought…I ‘ad to stay, I couldn’t let ‘em go, escape.”
Gene looked as if steam might come out of his ears, but Sam could see the toll that the terrible decision had taken on Ray.
“So now what’s ‘appening?” Gene demanded, not wanting to see how much Ray was suffering, not wanting to think that he was ultimately responsible for all of them being in their current positions. He almost wished he’d stood up to Rathbone, except he knew, deep down, that Ray really was the best man for the job, and he knew that he’d be letting his force - his city - down if he had refused to help.
“We’re out in a farmhouse, off the East Lancashire Road a way, near the train line - there’s owt there, you couldn’t get a van nearby, it’d be spotted easy. There’s a blag on, I’ve told ‘em I can help. They’re gonna turn over Old Trafford, for the ticket money next saturday. I told ‘em I know someone who used to be a steward or summat - we need someone on the inside, who can get us in. I dunno if Charlie’ll be there this time - reckon he might be. He weren’t pleased after the other day.”
“What’s the plan then?” Gene pushed. “Can we raid the farmhouse? Who’s there?”
“Everyone’s there, but I don’ think the money is no more, you’d ‘ave nothin’ on ‘em. We gotta get in the stadium, then we’re gonna hide, they reckon we can sit it out in the boiler rooms, once we’ve got in there. We wait for the match t’start, then they bring the money down off the gates to the offices down under the stands. All the noise an’ everythin’ from the crowd’ll cover owt we need to do. So we need people everywhere - the offices, as stewards - there’s gonna be maybe six or seven of us, all armed. An’ Danny’s a nutter - he wants to kill a copper now, but I’m teamed with ‘im, so I can take ‘im out, if needs be. Oh, an’ the other night, they killed a bloke - his name was Dougie, dunno owt else. They thought it were him who tipped you off. Dunno where they put the body, pro’ly drove it somewhere an’ dumped it.”
Sam felt his eyes widen as Ray casually threw in the last bit of information.
“Di’n’t know about it at the time, I were out cold,” Ray gestured to his face.
“Why? Did they suss you?” Gene asked.
Ray shook his head. “It were cos I shot Chris - they thought he were dead, an’ that we’d all cop it, cos you’d never give up lookin’ for us if we’d killed a copper, so Charlie weren’t happy. But it meant he di’n’t ever think it were me who grassed ‘em, I mean, what copper’d be stupid enough to shoot one of ‘is own, right?” Ray shook his head.
Sam nodded slowly, not really liking the way Ray was using ‘we’ to describe both the gang and the police force. After spending a few weeks undercover he knew that Ray must be at least getting along with some of his new associates, through necessity - he just hoped it was nothing more than that.
“What are you going to do then?” Sam asked.
“I can get back in touch - I’ll ‘ave to phone or summat, not the station. You sort it out at the stadium, but you gotta be quick, or he’ll do summat else - he were gonna break in, but I reckon he’d prefer it this way.”
“Call my flat,” Sam answered quickly. We can be there - tomorrow night, here,” he ripped a sheet from his notepad and scribbled down the number.
“I’m…I’m gonna see Chris,” Ray said softly. “D’you…think he’ll see me?”
Sam nodded. “He’s missed you - despite…I’m not sure about his dad though, if he’s in he might swing for you.”
Ray glanced around them, then nodded. “Sort summat out, quickly,” he said. “An’ be careful in the stadium, some of them won’t worry about killin’ people.”
Ray looked around again, then walked back toward the dark of the tunnel.
“Ray - look after yourself,” Gene called.
Ray held a hand up in acknowledgement before he was swallowed by the gloom.
Sam looked up at Gene. “Thought you were going to take him to pieces, kick the shit out of him?”
Gene grunted. “Looks like someone got there first.”
Ray walked back along the towpath, certain now that no one was following him. He drove across the city to an address he was familiar with. There had been many nights, before Chris had finally agreed to move in with him, when he’d dropped the younger man off and watched him up the short path and safely home. He’d even met Chris’s parents a few times, and Chris was still convinced they hadn’t guessed about their relationship. Ray wasn’t so sure, but he humoured Chris anyway, not really caring either way as long as they were left alone.
He wiped his palms on his trousers as he walked to the front door, pressing the bell and hoping he didn’t look too bad. He knew that the scruffy jeans and jumper he was wearing were a far cry from his normal shirt and tie.
There was a noise on the other side of the door and it swung open, revealing Chris’s mother.
“Uh, Mrs Skelton, I was wonderin’ if I could see Chris,” Ray rushed out.
The woman looked him up and down for a second before gasping in recognition. “Ray? Oh my, what on earth happened to you? I mean…” she gathered herself as if she suddenly remembered what the man standing in front of her had done. “Chris is here - I don’t know if he…you shot him, didn’t you?” she asked.
Ray nodded. “I di’n’t mean to, it was an accident. I…I….”
Mrs Skelton took pity on Ray and gestured inside. “He’s been terribly worried about you, you know,” she said softly. “He’s on the sofa now, resting, like the doctors said he had to.”
Ray walked down the short hallway and pushed open the door. Chris was curled up on the sofa, a duvet over him, his attention on the television.
“Who was it, mum?” he asked.
“Me,” Ray answered.
Chris jumped, looking around and immediately wincing in pain at the movement. Ray moved into the room and sat on the edge of the other chair.
“You okay?” he asked, the words having to make do when all he wanted to do was grab Chris and hold him, feel that he was still there, really alive. He wanted to beg forgiveness and apologise a thousand times, but he knew he could do none of those things.
Chris nodded. “Is it over? Did we get ‘em? An’ what happened to your face?”
Ray hung his head, not able to look Chris in the eye. “It ain’t over yet - next Saturday, we’ll be done. I just got free for a coupla hours. I ‘ad to know you were…okay.”
Chris pulled the duvet closer around himself. “You gotta go back?”
Ray nodded.
Chris’s mum looked around the door. “Can I get you something, Ray? A nice cuppa? You look like you could do with one.”
“Yeah, thanks,” Ray answered, distracted.
“What happened to you?” Chris asked again.
Ray shook his head. “Nothin’, it ain’t important. I’m fine. It’s you I’m worried ‘bout. I di’n’t…I thought I was gonna warn you, I couldn’t think of another way - Danny were gonna shoot you with a shotgun, I just…thought I’d put a shot over your head, an…”
Chris gave a small smile. “’S all right, it don’t hurt that much - an’ everyone’s been real nice. I jus’…want you back,” he said very quietly.
Ray desperately wanted to reach out to Chris, but knew that he couldn’t. Instead he rubbed his hand over his face, feeling the stress of the past weeks catching up with him now that he was finally somewhere safe.
“I knew you di’n’t mean it, like, I mean, I knew it were you who shot me, but…I knew there must’ve been reason.”
Ray nodded, not trusting his voice. He suddenly wished he hadn’t come to see Chris, because he knew leaving was going to be so hard.
“Here we are, I made you one too, Chris,” his mother came into the room with a tea tray with mugs, sugar and biscuits on it. “Now, I’m just going to pop out for a bit, but you’ll be okay, won’t you?” she checked with Chris.
Chris nodded. “’M fine, Mum.”
They waited the long minutes as she fetched her bag and coat, and even after the front door shut, leaving the house in silence, they still stayed where they were. Then, finally, Chris held his arms out to Ray.
Ray dropped to his knees beside Chris and gathered him into a hug, wrapping his arms around Chris’s chest and shoulders, burying his face into Chris’s neck, breathing in his scent, feeling his warmth.
Chris grabbed Ray’s jumper, balling the material in his fists as he clung onto the older man as tightly as he could.
“Don’t go back, don’ go back,” he whispered, desperately.
Ray tightened his grip on Chris, very wary of hurting him. “I got to, Chris. Won’t be long, though, promise.”
Chris moved his hand into Ray’s hair, pulling him back and kissing him hard. “You don’t ‘ave to. Let the Guv go pick ‘em up now, don’t go back.”
“I ‘ave to. There’s no evidence with ‘em. We got t’get ‘em red handed,” Ray answered, wishing he could just pack it all in, take Chris back to their flat and take care of him.
“You could tell ‘em, in court, give evidence…we could do it, the Boss’d do it, he’d work it out,” Chris said, desperately.
“It don’t work like that - you know it don’t,” Ray said softly. “Who were the person who did the worst thing in the last blag? Who was it shot another copper? Me - I’m ain’t a star witness, court’d rip me to shreds.”
“But it weren’t your fault - I’d tell ‘em, we all would…” Chris stopped. He knew his arguments were pointless. The evidence of one officer would never have made a case anyway - the fact Ray had been the only person to really harm someone would be pounced upon by an defence lawyers.
Ray gently slid his hand down Chris’s side, feeling the dressing under his t-shirt. “You really all right?” he asked.
Chris nodded. “Doc says I’m doin’ fine. Were lucky, like, they reckon it were close to me spleen or summat, but it didn’t hit nothin’.”
Chris moved, swinging his legs off the sofa and gestured for Ray to sit next to him. “’Bout you? Someone obviously give you a kickin’.” He trailed his fingers down Ray’s face, over the cuts on his eyebrow and his split lips.
“Only wha’ I deserved,” Ray said softly, not meeting Chris’s worried gaze.
Chris reached for another kiss, then pushed Ray backward, climbing on top of him, ignoring the pain from his side and just concentrating on touching as much of Ray as he could, pinning him down.
Ray groaned and flinched as Chris leant an elbow on his damaged ribs and Chris immediately froze, “What?”
“’S nothin’,” Ray reached to kiss Chris again, but Chris pushed Ray’s jumper up over his chest and hissed at the colourful bruising.
“Sorry, I di’n’t know…” Chris kept his hands on Ray’s chest, sliding them over the solid muscle. Then he gently lay his head on Ray’s shoulder. “I just want this to be over,” he whispered.
Ray felt Chris relaxing and knew that he was falling asleep. He also knew that he had to go, and didn’t want to risk Chris’s mother arriving home to find them both entangled on the sofa, fast asleep.
He gave Chris a gentle shake. “Chris, c’mon, I gotta go - really.”
“No,” Chris murmured.
“I got to.” Ray sat up, wrapping his arms around Chris and pressing a kiss onto his forehead. “They’ll be missin’ me. An’ you need yer rest.”
“C’n rest wi’ you here,” Chris answered.
“I can’t stay, Chris.” Ray couldn’t get up with Chris still trapping him, but eventually Chris stood up, looking more miserable than Ray had ever seen him.
“Be careful, won’ you?” Chris said, resting his hands on Ray’s waist.
“I will - you jus’ get better, an’ I’ll be back ‘fore you know it,” Ray held Chris close, sliding his fingers through Chris’s hair and the other hand down onto his bum. He kissed Chris hard, ignoring his bruised lips and just focussing pouring as much feeling as he could into the simple action. He needed the kiss to tell Chris everything that he couldn’t say - that he was sorry, he missed him, he desperately wanted the job to be over, he couldn’t come home soon enough and that he loved Chris more than anything else on the earth.
Ray hung on to the memory of how it felt to hold Chris in his arms as he made his way back to the farmhouse. When he arrived another of the cars was missing, and he immediately wondered if he had been followed. He wandered in to the kitchen and found Marty reading the newspaper.
“’S quiet, ain’t it?” he said, dropping onto one of the dining chairs.
Marty nodded. “Charlie took Billy, Tom and Clive out somewhere.”
“Been gone long?” Ray asked, trying to sound casual.
“Few hours. Left about an hour after you, I suppose.”
Ray nodded, relief washing over him that he hadn’t somehow endangered Chris or his family.
Chris’s mum returned home, making sure she made plenty of noise as she came through the front door to alert the two men to her presence. She headed straight to the kitchen and put away the few things she had bought, then headed to the sitting room, pushing the door open and peering round as she realised the place was silent. Chris was asleep on the sofa, two scatter cushions clutched tightly in his arms, his hair all over his face in disarray and the duvet cover half on the floor.
Then she saw the two untouched mugs of tea and the plate of biscuits exactly where she’d left them. She smiled and took the tray out of the room, washing everything up and putting the kettle on to boil.
A few minutes later she took two fresh mugs of tea back into the room, gently perching on the edge of the sofa, avoiding her sprawling son. She stroked his long fringe back from his face, laying the backs of her fingers against his forehead to check for any signs of a temperature.
Chris awoke to the touch and blinked sleepily up at his mother.
“Made you a fresh cuppa, love,” she said softly.
Chris nodded, rubbing his eyes.
“I thought I’d find Ray still here. Was going to offer to cook the both of you some dinner.”
“’E ‘ad to back,” Chris said, unable to keep the misery from his voice.
“Back to work?” she asked.
Chris nodded. “They ain’t caught ‘em yet. He’s still undercover.”
“Oh, love, I’m sorry. I thought as he were here…”
Chris nodded, shifting so he was sitting cross-legged and picked up his mug of tea.
“He is good lookin’, ain’t he?” she observed, hoping to cheer Chris out of his melancholy.
Chris stared, mouth hanging open. “Mum!”
“Oh, I know he’s your boyfriend and I’m jus’ your old mum, but I’ve still got eyes in me head, Christopher.”
“He…my…” Chris couldn’t believe what he was hearing.
She squeezed his knee through the duvet and smiled. “Yes, we don’t all have to be in the police to work these things out.”
“You don’ mind?” Chris said quietly, still in shock.
“’Course not. All we want is for you t’be happy, an’ I can see he makes you happy, an’ you him. And like I said, he is very good looking.”
Chris almost laughed. “An’ you don’t mind, like, me not…well, ‘avin’ kids or owt. I thought you’d…y’know.”
“Don’t you worry about things like that. I think you’re both very brave to accept how you feel ‘bout each other - ‘specially in your job.”
Chris nodded slowly.
“Have you met his family too?” she asked.
Chris shook his head. “He don’t have none. Lost ‘is parents in the war, and there ain’t no one else.”
“Oh, how sad. Well, I’m even more glad he’s got you then.”
“Does…does Dad know?” Chris asked hesitantly.
His mother nodded. “He does, we’ve talked about you two. Probably best you don’t mention it, but he is proud of you, an’ he loves you, however you’ve turned out. He just ain’t very good at talking about it, y’know? An’ he’s still pretty angry at Ray havin’ shot you, too.”
Chris nodded. “It were an accident. He saw that one of the gang were gonna use a shotgun, so ‘e tried to warn us…just…it went a bit wrong,” he said. He found himself feeling oddly relieved that his parents knew the truth, despite always thinking he’d be mortified. He’d found it hard to either hide or justify his concern for Ray ever since he’d been back at home, and now he knew, at least with his Mum, that he could just tell her the truth about his worries.
TBC...
Part 2B
Author: Elf
Word Count: About 12,200 this part, about 26,000 in all.
Rating: Brown Cortina for language and violence.
Pairing: Ray/Chris, some Sam/Gene if you squint later but mainly plot-based fic with little pairing action.
Summary: The best laid schemes of Mice and Men
oft go awry,
And leave us nothing but grief and pain,
For promised joy!
A/N: I'm really sorry part two has been so long in coming - I hope it was worth the wait.
The first parts can be found here:
PART ONE A
PART ONE B
pill_so_sweet's prompt was: Ray/Chris, Tough love, Potential.
I hope I have gone some way to satisfying it.
Thank you to
nebula99 for betaing despite being terribly busy with RL - all mistake that remain are mine and mine alone.
Ray slumped to the floor of the truck, the others were already sitting down or hanging on tightly. Danny had the rear curtain pulled back slightly to watch out for pursuers, but Ray guessed that the squad had been thrown into complete chaos with the smashed cars and with Chris down.
The gun still dangled from his fingers. He’d always felt as if his weapon gave him control, it was meant to be on his side, keeping him safe. And instead he’d hurt the person he cared about most - the person he was usually doing anything to keep safe.
For a second the thought of turning the pistol on himself crossed his mind, but then his rational side quashed it. He had no idea how badly Chris was hurt, he had a job to do and he knew that if he blew his cover now he wouldn’t get very far before Danny got to use his gun. He needed to wrap the job up and get back to Chris. If Chris was still alive.
The truck pulled up in a lay-by, the tyres skidding on the loose grit.
“C’mon, everyone out,” Eddie called out.
Ray looked up, broken from his reverie. “Wha’?”
“Out, into the cars, c’mon, they’ll be looking for this truck.”
Ray jumped down to the ground, followed by the others. There were four cars parked further up in the layby. Dougie was sitting on one of the bonnets, and another of Charlie’s goons was there too. Once everyone was out of the truck Eddie spun it around and backed it up next to the first car. “Right, fill the boot with what we got - I know it weren’t much, but we ain’t leaving it, so hurry.”
Once again they formed a human chain and quickly stowed the metal boxes into the boot of the estate car. Once it was full Eddie gestured at Danny and Charlie’s man. “You two, go - you know where to.”
The car pulled away and Eddie reversed again to close the gap on the next car. They repeated the action until only Ray and Eddie were left. Eddie reached under the benches in the back of the truck and handed Ray a petrol can.
“Spread it about - everywhere.”
Ray threw the petrol inside the cab, making sure he soaked the seats as Eddie did the same in the back. Finally Eddie moved the car far enough away to be safe and ran back, striking matches and throwing them into various places on the truck. The flames caught, licking throughout the vehicle and consuming any possible evidence left. Eddie walked back to the car and climbed in next to Ray. “They won’t find us now,” he smiled. “Which is good, for you, cos they won’t take kindly to you killin’ that rozzer.”
Ray could feel his eyes burning as the bile rose in his throat. He hadn’t killed Chris, he couldn’t have. He had to believe that.
He stayed silent, feeling worse than he ever had before. Worse than when his mother had died, worse than when he’d first killed a man in the line of duty. Eddie kept talking, and Ray barely responded. He knew he had to keep his cover though, for the Guv to have a chance of tracking them down.
“So, you ever kill anyone before?” Eddie asked, his voice far too cheerful.
“Yeah,” Ray answered, before he really knew what he was saying.
“You don’t seem to be taking it too well, that’s all.”
“You ever?” Ray asked, a bit too abruptly.
“No, no I haven’t,” Eddie answered.
“Don’t. ‘Cause it don’t ever leave you, ‘owever much the bastard deserved it.”
Eddie nodded slowly. He didn’t want to let it show, but it scared him a little, to know the man beside him was a murderer.
Ray doubled over again as the fist buried itself in his stomach, coughing and watching as drops of blood hit the floor. He knew he could have fought back, but it wouldn’t have got him anywhere - and besides, he felt as if he deserved everything he got.
The blow across his face finally knocked him to the floor, and this time he wasn’t hauled to his feet, but was given a kicking that the Guv would have been proud of. And, Ray imagined, given the current circumstances, would probably approve of.
Finally Charlie called the man off. “Leave him.” He hunkered down over Ray, taking hold of Ray’s hair and lifting his head. “You did something very stupid today, Miller. The only reason you haven’t gone the same way as the copper is because Danny reckons you might just have saved the day. But don’t ever, ever put us at risk like that again.”
Ray didn’t move, couldn’t move. Charlie let go of his hair and stood up, wiping his hands on a nearby teatowel. “Danny, get everyone in the front room. We need to talk. Someone set us up with the pigs and we need to know who. Get the lads together.”
Ray closed his eyes.
When he came to he could feel a cold cloth being wiped over his face, sending up flares of pain. He groaned, trying to push away the irritation.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you,” a hushed voice said.
Ray opened the one eye that wasn’t swollen shut and saw that it was Marty, sitting on the floor next to him with a saucepan of water and a towel.
“’S all right,” Ray pushed himself upright, shivering from laying on the tiled floor.
“Charlie’s dead angry - he says someone must have tipped off the police. He’s got everyone in there, questioning them all.”
Ray nodded, gently pressing on his eye and hissing in pain.
“He knows it’s not you, because of what you did to the copper, and he wouldn’t blame me, Eddie or Danny, because of us being family. Everyone else is for the high-jump though, I reckon.”
“Well, them pigs weren’t there by accident, where they?” Ray said softly. “Someone ‘ad to tell ‘em.”
Marty nodded. He stood and walked to the freezer, finding some ice and wrapping it in the teatowel. “Here, hold this on your eye - I’ll help you upstairs.”
Ray nodded, and as Marty pulled him to standing a whole myriad of other aches and pains made themselves known. He limped, holding onto the wall as well as leaning on Marty.
“Think you can manage the stairs?” Marty asked.
Ray nodded, hauling himself up on the handrail.
Marty led him to one of the bedrooms and dropped him onto the bed. “You should rest, I dunno what we’ll be doing tomorrow. I think we’re safe here for now though.”
“You WHAT?” Sam ducked instinctively as a mug and an entire intray were launched across the CID office by Gene. “How can you fuckin’ lose the ringleader? Our only fuckin’ link with Carling and the gang.”
Every officer in the room cowered back, particularly the ones from the Met, who had never seen Gene angry before.
“Find ‘em, and fast, or I’ll have you strung up on the blue lamp by your bollocks.” No one moved, or even breathed. “NOW!” Gene bellowed.
Everyone ran for the door, even Brisley, leaving Sam alone with Gene.
“We’ll find him, Guv,” he said gently.
“Bloody better, cos as soon as we have I’m gonna kick the living shit out of him,” Gene snarled.
“He…” Sam wanted to defend Ray, wanted there to be something - anything that meant that somehow Ray hadn’t been responsible for shooting Chris. But he couldn’t think of a single reason. “I’m going to go and ask if they’ll let me in to see Chris yet,” he finished, leaving Gene alone in the office.
The corridors of the hospital were busy, but Sam felt very alone. He knew that his world - the core of CID - were being ripped apart. He wanted to blame Ray, but he knew that that wouldn’t be entirely fair. The man had been put in an impossible situation. He also knew, without doubt, that it had been Ray who had shot Chris. He didn’t need to see the man’s face to recognise his stocky build, his movements.
He found the ward he’d been directed to and spoke to the nurse who was on duty, showing her his badge when she looked doubtful. She led the way down the quiet ward and gestured to the bed. Chris was lying still, a drip trailing to his hand. He looked pale, even against the crisp white sheets of the bed.
Sam nodded his thanks to the nurse, then sat down quietly next to the bed.
Chris looked as if he were sleeping peacefully, the blankets tucked up under his armpits hid the dressings and bandages that Sam knew must be swathed around his body. After a few minutes Sam reached out and held onto Chris’s hand, then began talking to him - about the day, the news, football - anything and everything he could think of.
He’d just come to the end of discussing T-Rex when he noticed that Chris’s eyes were open.
“Chris? Chris?” he stood and leant over the younger man. “Chris? Are you okay?”
“Boss?” Chris looked lost. “Hurts, Boss.”
Sam nodded. “I know, you’re in hospital now though, you’ll be fine - they said that you’ve just got to rest - you’ve lost a lot of blood, but you’ll be okay.”
“Where’s Ray?” Chris asked, his voice barely audible.
Sam stopped, not knowing what to say. “He…he’s still…undercover,” he finally answered.
Chris stared right into his eyes. “We di’n’t…catch them?” he asked, sounding as if he might cry.
Sam just shook his head.
“He shot me,” Chris stated, as if he’d only just realised. “It were Ray…he…why’d he shoot me, Boss?”
Sam just shook his head, sinking back into the chair. “I don’t know, Chris.”
“How…’ow come you di’n’t catch ‘em? Ray…’e’s stuck there ‘til we catch ‘em, ain’t he?”
Sam nodded, wishing he had the answers Chris needed.
Ray awoke in the middle of the night, his bladder complaining. He was still fully dressed, and he could hear someone breathing close by him. He moved as carefully as he could - both because of his injuries and trying not to alert whoever was in the room with him. He sat on the edge of the bed, his arm wrapped around his bruised ribs. He had a suspicion that a couple of them might have cracked under the onslaught of Billy’s feet. When he turned to see who was with him he saw Marty wrapped up in the sheets on the other side of the large double bed. He breathed a sigh of relief - Marty had obviously taken it upon himself to look after him, and he was oddly grateful.
He kicked off his shoes and stood, then silently made his way to the bathroom. The house was silent, and Ray had no idea what the time was - he didn’t dare turn on any lights. He wondered what had happened with the others and Charlie’s investigation.
As he walked back along the landing he looked down to the hallway below. Picked out in a shaft of moonlight, as if it where some sort of sign from above, was a telephone on a small table. Ray stopped, his mind working overtime. He knew he could phone the Guv, or the hospital - even the station - and find out how Chris was. But doing so would put himself and the entire operation at risk.
He stood in indecision before padding down the stairs, only treading on the very edges to lessen the chance of the old steps creaking. He stood at the bottom of the stairs on the cold tiles for a second, but his sixth sense told him not to pick up the phone. Instead he headed for the kitchen and found a glass, filling it from the tap and then drinking it, wincing as his cut lip made its presence felt, all the while listening to the silence of the house. He was sure he wasn’t the only person downstairs. He decided that he couldn’t risk trying to call anyone, and lacking anything more constructive to do, he decided to head back to bed to get some more sleep.
He stepped into the hallway and jumped as he saw a figure in the shadows.
“Ray, you did good today,” Danny said, stepping forward.
Ray nodded. “You find out who it was grassed us up?”
Danny shrugged. “Charlie’s dealt with it.”
Ray nodded, knowing that asking more would be too nosy for Danny’s taste.
“How did it feel, shooting the pig?” Danny asked, his eyes gleaming.
Ray didn’t know what to say, he felt sick just thinking about it. But he also didn’t want to make Danny angry - he’d met people like him before, people who lived for violence, who could be so normal one minute and then flip to become a monster.
“Nothin’, I di’n’t feel nothin’,” he answered. “Jus’…did what I ‘ad to. I ain’t goin’ back inside again.”
“You did good - I wish I’d done it - I do, I would have done too, if Eddie hadn’t crashed through those cars. Next time…I’d fucking kill all of them, fucking police. I don’t think Charlie should have let Billy give you that kicking either - you saved us, and the pigs haven’t found us, so what does it matter?”
Ray forced a smile onto his face at Danny’s enthusiasm. “Yeah, right.”
“We’re going to do another job - a big one, Charlie says, to make up for not getting much this time. He’s planning it. You can ride with me, when we do it.”
The thought of being stuck with Danny put Ray on edge - he’d rather work alongside Marty who at least didn’t take any pleasure in the actions of the gang. On the other hand, if Danny was serious about wanting to harm any of the squad, at least Ray would have a chance of stopping him, a chance to make up for just a little of what he’d done to Chris.
He nodded. “Yeah, sure.”
The next morning Doug was noticeably absent from the house. No one mentioned it, and Ray really didn’t want to know what had happened to him - except he knew that he would have to find out eventually.
He showered, trying to catalogue the bruises which covered his body. His eye could open a little, giving him a slightly distorted view of the world, his lips were swollen and split but he didn’t think his nose was broken. He washed the dried blood off himself and as he towelled dry he looked at himself in the mirror. His face was battered but it didn’t look half as bad as he felt. Dark bruises had bloomed over his ribcage and stomach and his left hand felt as if someone had stamped on it. He didn’t remember it happening, but he wouldn’t have put it past any of the gang to have taken a bit of anger out on him whilst he was lying on the floor, unconscious.
When he returned downstairs most of the gang were watching TV or playing cards. Ray walked up to Charlie and stood by him waiting to be acknowledged.
“What?” Charlie finally asked.
“Wondered if I could walk to the village, want to get a paper and stuff.”
Charlie shrugged. “Sure. Danny, you go with him.”
Ray had held the slim hope that he’d be allowed to go alone, but he wasn’t surprised that Charlie was going to send someone with him. He just wished it wasn’t Danny.
Danny jumped up. “Sure, Charlie. Anything you want?”
Charlie nodded. “Fags, and some whiskey if there’s anywhere sells it.”
Danny nodded, then asked everyone else in turn. They ended up with what Ray thought was a suspiciously long list of various fags - surely any decent human being would think something was amiss. But then, knowing the general public, maybe not.
They walked down the quiet country road, Ray with his hands in his pockets, hoping that when he finally got the newspaper it wouldn’t have a headline about a young DC being shot dead during an armed robbery.
Danny was chatting, his usual hyperactive self. Ray grunted in acknowledgement every now and again, lost in his own thoughts.
The reached the small village and Ray headed straight for the little shop, looking down at the various papers. None of the headlines mentioned the raid the day before. He picked up the Daily Mail and took it to the counter, asking for three packets of fags, hoping that Danny would get the rest. Then, as an afterthought, he grabbed a bar of Dairy Milk too.
Danny got the rest of the cigarette order and a small bottle of scotch for Charlie, then they headed back, Ray looking longingly at the phonebox that stood on the small village green.
As they walked back to the house there was a grassy field full of rabbits. Danny pulled out his pistol and drew a bead on one of them, pretending to shoot it.
“Put it away,” Ray ordered. “Last thing we need is for someone t’see you wavin’ that about.” Then he thought about what he was saying. Maybe it would be better if someone reported Danny - at least it might give the police a clue as to where to look, because Ray was pretty sure that no one was watching the house, and that meant that he was on his own again.
“Why? Scare you, does it?” Danny turned the gun on Ray, pointing it at his face and cocking it.
“Jus’ put it away,” Ray ordered, knowing he was close to losing his temper as Danny messed around with the weapon.
“You don’t get to order me around,” Danny grinned. “I could have you killed - knife in your chest, like Doug got, or shot, like you did to the copper - I could do anything. Charlie wouldn’t care. I’d just tell him you were the grass.”
Ray could feel his heart rate increasing, but he tried to keep calm. At least he knew what had happened to Dougie now. Ray supposed that in the end his gentle nature had been his undoing.
“You should get yerself sorted out, it ain’t your own side you want t’be threatenin’,” he said, trying to keep calm.
Danny laughed, then made the gun safe and slid it back into his pocket. “You’re all right,” he said, slapping Ray on the back and fishing in his pocket for his fags, offering them to Ray.
Ray breathed a sigh of relief and took one, hoping his hands weren’t shaking visibly as he lit it.
Once back at the house Ray headed straight for his and Marty’s room and sat on the bed, reading the paper. Their exploits were buried in the middle of the paper, with the news that two policemen had been injured - one by gunshot, the other in his car. Ray could feel himself shaking, and he had to blink hard to stop tears of relief. He read the report again, desperate to take it all in and cursing there not being more detail. It merely said that an officer with gunshot wound was still in hospital - no hints as to his condition.
He looked up as Marty walked into the room. Then he reached into his pocket and pulled out the chocolate, throwing it over to Marty’s side of the bed.
“For wha’ y’did for me,” he said.
Marty’s eyes lit up and he dropped down onto the bed, pulled the wrapper open and biting off a chunk. “Thanks,” he smiled around the mouthful.
Gene sat slumped in his office chair, glass dangling from his fingers and half-empty bottle in front of him. Sam was on the other side of the desk, his still-full glass in front of him.
“Bloody useless bastard…” Gene couldn’t even find the energy to complete the string of insults.
“We’ll just have to wait,” Sam said. “Ray will get in touch.”
“Will he? After what he’s done? Fuckin’ useless heap of shit, wouldn’t be surprised if he never shows his face here again…I’ll tell you, if he does I’ll fuckin’…” Gene stopped again. He hated not being in control, and right now he felt as if everything was slipping away from him.
“They’ll be jumpy, he can’t just waltz out and make a phonecall, can he?”
“He should’ve…how can he even live with himself?”
The silence stretched as no man wanted to think about the fact Ray might no longer be alive.
“The hospital said Chris can go home tomorrow,” Sam finally said. “I don’t know…well, he lives at Ray’s, doesn’t he. I don’t know if…”
Gene nodded, understanding. “He can always go to ‘is parents.”
Sam stayed silent, knowing that was just avoiding the issue.
It was three days later that Charlie finally called the gang together again, in the kitchen once more. He waited until everyone was silent, then laid out the next plan.
Ray listened intently, and a plan began to form in his mind. Finally he spoke out.
“I c’n help you. Old friend, he used to be a steward at the ground, probably still is. I c’n look ‘im up.”
Charlie was still for a moment, then nodded. “Yes, okay. Do you know where you can find this friend of yours?”
Ray shrugged. “Been a while. I’ll ‘ave to look around, ask a few faces. Might take a day or two.”
“We’ll have to work on other ideas too, then. But you follow that up. Will he be on side?” Charlie asked.
“Few quid in his hand, he will. An’ he don’t need to know any of you, I can do it all. Won’t even tell ‘im yer names or owt.”
Charlie smiled widely. “Yes, yes. Excellent.”
That evening Ray plucked up the courage to ask to go out. He knew he couldn’t just leave without Charlie’s permission, and now they were out of town he also needed a vehicle.
Charlie threw him a set of keys and waved him away. It made Ray suspicious, but he couldn’t resist the chance of being free for just a short time. Since he’d left prison and joined the gang he’d felt more trapped than ever. He ran up to his room on the pretence of fetching something, but actually trying to work out where everyone else was and what they were doing. He desperately wanted to go and see Chris, but he didn’t know if he’d be welcome - and knew that it would be suicide if he were being followed.
The others were mainly in the lounge or their own rooms, so Ray made his way back downstairs, still wincing as various muscles and bruises complained. He could see out of his eye again, although it was still impressively bruised - the cuts were all healing, but Ray knew his multi-colour face would still attract attention.
He drove a short way down the road, then pulled up in a side turning, waiting and watching. It felt as if he were wasting time, but he knew he couldn’t risk being followed.
Finally he started the car again and drove into the city, keeping a close eye on his rear view mirror.
He pulled over at a phonebox and called the station, looking all around him as he dialled, not trusting Charlie one bit. Finally there was an answer.
“DI Tyler.”
“Boss! I need to meet - how’s Chris? I didn’t mean…Christ…is he okay?”
“Ray?” Sam gesticulated wildly at anyone to fetch Gene. “Ray? Where are you? What’s happened? Chris is…he’s at his parent’s place, they’re looking after him. He’ll be okay.”
Ray sighed in relief. “I’m down near Deansgate Lock, I’ll wait for you. I ain’t got much time, an’ I might ‘ave people watchin’, so keep yer eyes open.”
Sam nodded. “Right, yeah, we’ll be there.”
Gene caught the last bit of the conversation and watched as Sam hung up.
“Information?” he asked.
“Ray,” Sam answered. “We need to go, now.”
If the way Gene drove bore any resemblance to his mood, Sam was worried for Ray. The car was flung around corners, tyres screeching as Gene stamped on the accelerator. When he finally stood on the brakes and skidded to a stop near the canal Sam almost fell out of the vehicle in his haste to be back on safe ground.
“He said by the lock,” Sam said, looking around at the deserted area. “But he thought he might be being watched - and your arrival wasn’t exactly subtle.”
Gene just snorted and lit a cigarette. He glanced around, then headed for the towpath. Sam followed, looking all around them and not seeing another soul. Just as Gene was starting to swear again, a figure stepped out from under the bridge.
“Ray!” Sam found it hard to reconcile the fact he was actually glad to see the other man with his knowledge of what had happened the past few days.
“Carling, you bastard,” Gene started. “What the fuck were you playin’ at?”
Ray walked toward them and Sam could see he was limping and there was a stiffness to his movements. Then he noticed Ray’s face looked as if someone had danced on it.
“’Ow’s Chris - I mean, really? Will he be all right?” Ray asked, and his expression told of the hell he’d been living through, not knowing.
Sam stepped forward, not trusting Gene. “He’ll be fine - you got him just under his rib cage, but on his side, so there was a lot of blood, but nothing major was hit. He’s with his parents, resting. The doctors reckon he’ll be back at the station doing light duties next week, even.”
Ray nodded, finally convinced that Chris really would be okay. Although he knew that he was asking a lot to be forgiven.
“I di’n’t…Danny were goin’ to shoot ‘im, with a sawn-off. I jus’ wanted to warn you - gonna shoot over ‘is head, but…then the truck hit…Christ, when I realised…I di’n’t know what t’do. Thought…I ‘ad to stay, I couldn’t let ‘em go, escape.”
Gene looked as if steam might come out of his ears, but Sam could see the toll that the terrible decision had taken on Ray.
“So now what’s ‘appening?” Gene demanded, not wanting to see how much Ray was suffering, not wanting to think that he was ultimately responsible for all of them being in their current positions. He almost wished he’d stood up to Rathbone, except he knew, deep down, that Ray really was the best man for the job, and he knew that he’d be letting his force - his city - down if he had refused to help.
“We’re out in a farmhouse, off the East Lancashire Road a way, near the train line - there’s owt there, you couldn’t get a van nearby, it’d be spotted easy. There’s a blag on, I’ve told ‘em I can help. They’re gonna turn over Old Trafford, for the ticket money next saturday. I told ‘em I know someone who used to be a steward or summat - we need someone on the inside, who can get us in. I dunno if Charlie’ll be there this time - reckon he might be. He weren’t pleased after the other day.”
“What’s the plan then?” Gene pushed. “Can we raid the farmhouse? Who’s there?”
“Everyone’s there, but I don’ think the money is no more, you’d ‘ave nothin’ on ‘em. We gotta get in the stadium, then we’re gonna hide, they reckon we can sit it out in the boiler rooms, once we’ve got in there. We wait for the match t’start, then they bring the money down off the gates to the offices down under the stands. All the noise an’ everythin’ from the crowd’ll cover owt we need to do. So we need people everywhere - the offices, as stewards - there’s gonna be maybe six or seven of us, all armed. An’ Danny’s a nutter - he wants to kill a copper now, but I’m teamed with ‘im, so I can take ‘im out, if needs be. Oh, an’ the other night, they killed a bloke - his name was Dougie, dunno owt else. They thought it were him who tipped you off. Dunno where they put the body, pro’ly drove it somewhere an’ dumped it.”
Sam felt his eyes widen as Ray casually threw in the last bit of information.
“Di’n’t know about it at the time, I were out cold,” Ray gestured to his face.
“Why? Did they suss you?” Gene asked.
Ray shook his head. “It were cos I shot Chris - they thought he were dead, an’ that we’d all cop it, cos you’d never give up lookin’ for us if we’d killed a copper, so Charlie weren’t happy. But it meant he di’n’t ever think it were me who grassed ‘em, I mean, what copper’d be stupid enough to shoot one of ‘is own, right?” Ray shook his head.
Sam nodded slowly, not really liking the way Ray was using ‘we’ to describe both the gang and the police force. After spending a few weeks undercover he knew that Ray must be at least getting along with some of his new associates, through necessity - he just hoped it was nothing more than that.
“What are you going to do then?” Sam asked.
“I can get back in touch - I’ll ‘ave to phone or summat, not the station. You sort it out at the stadium, but you gotta be quick, or he’ll do summat else - he were gonna break in, but I reckon he’d prefer it this way.”
“Call my flat,” Sam answered quickly. We can be there - tomorrow night, here,” he ripped a sheet from his notepad and scribbled down the number.
“I’m…I’m gonna see Chris,” Ray said softly. “D’you…think he’ll see me?”
Sam nodded. “He’s missed you - despite…I’m not sure about his dad though, if he’s in he might swing for you.”
Ray glanced around them, then nodded. “Sort summat out, quickly,” he said. “An’ be careful in the stadium, some of them won’t worry about killin’ people.”
Ray looked around again, then walked back toward the dark of the tunnel.
“Ray - look after yourself,” Gene called.
Ray held a hand up in acknowledgement before he was swallowed by the gloom.
Sam looked up at Gene. “Thought you were going to take him to pieces, kick the shit out of him?”
Gene grunted. “Looks like someone got there first.”
Ray walked back along the towpath, certain now that no one was following him. He drove across the city to an address he was familiar with. There had been many nights, before Chris had finally agreed to move in with him, when he’d dropped the younger man off and watched him up the short path and safely home. He’d even met Chris’s parents a few times, and Chris was still convinced they hadn’t guessed about their relationship. Ray wasn’t so sure, but he humoured Chris anyway, not really caring either way as long as they were left alone.
He wiped his palms on his trousers as he walked to the front door, pressing the bell and hoping he didn’t look too bad. He knew that the scruffy jeans and jumper he was wearing were a far cry from his normal shirt and tie.
There was a noise on the other side of the door and it swung open, revealing Chris’s mother.
“Uh, Mrs Skelton, I was wonderin’ if I could see Chris,” Ray rushed out.
The woman looked him up and down for a second before gasping in recognition. “Ray? Oh my, what on earth happened to you? I mean…” she gathered herself as if she suddenly remembered what the man standing in front of her had done. “Chris is here - I don’t know if he…you shot him, didn’t you?” she asked.
Ray nodded. “I di’n’t mean to, it was an accident. I…I….”
Mrs Skelton took pity on Ray and gestured inside. “He’s been terribly worried about you, you know,” she said softly. “He’s on the sofa now, resting, like the doctors said he had to.”
Ray walked down the short hallway and pushed open the door. Chris was curled up on the sofa, a duvet over him, his attention on the television.
“Who was it, mum?” he asked.
“Me,” Ray answered.
Chris jumped, looking around and immediately wincing in pain at the movement. Ray moved into the room and sat on the edge of the other chair.
“You okay?” he asked, the words having to make do when all he wanted to do was grab Chris and hold him, feel that he was still there, really alive. He wanted to beg forgiveness and apologise a thousand times, but he knew he could do none of those things.
Chris nodded. “Is it over? Did we get ‘em? An’ what happened to your face?”
Ray hung his head, not able to look Chris in the eye. “It ain’t over yet - next Saturday, we’ll be done. I just got free for a coupla hours. I ‘ad to know you were…okay.”
Chris pulled the duvet closer around himself. “You gotta go back?”
Ray nodded.
Chris’s mum looked around the door. “Can I get you something, Ray? A nice cuppa? You look like you could do with one.”
“Yeah, thanks,” Ray answered, distracted.
“What happened to you?” Chris asked again.
Ray shook his head. “Nothin’, it ain’t important. I’m fine. It’s you I’m worried ‘bout. I di’n’t…I thought I was gonna warn you, I couldn’t think of another way - Danny were gonna shoot you with a shotgun, I just…thought I’d put a shot over your head, an…”
Chris gave a small smile. “’S all right, it don’t hurt that much - an’ everyone’s been real nice. I jus’…want you back,” he said very quietly.
Ray desperately wanted to reach out to Chris, but knew that he couldn’t. Instead he rubbed his hand over his face, feeling the stress of the past weeks catching up with him now that he was finally somewhere safe.
“I knew you di’n’t mean it, like, I mean, I knew it were you who shot me, but…I knew there must’ve been reason.”
Ray nodded, not trusting his voice. He suddenly wished he hadn’t come to see Chris, because he knew leaving was going to be so hard.
“Here we are, I made you one too, Chris,” his mother came into the room with a tea tray with mugs, sugar and biscuits on it. “Now, I’m just going to pop out for a bit, but you’ll be okay, won’t you?” she checked with Chris.
Chris nodded. “’M fine, Mum.”
They waited the long minutes as she fetched her bag and coat, and even after the front door shut, leaving the house in silence, they still stayed where they were. Then, finally, Chris held his arms out to Ray.
Ray dropped to his knees beside Chris and gathered him into a hug, wrapping his arms around Chris’s chest and shoulders, burying his face into Chris’s neck, breathing in his scent, feeling his warmth.
Chris grabbed Ray’s jumper, balling the material in his fists as he clung onto the older man as tightly as he could.
“Don’t go back, don’ go back,” he whispered, desperately.
Ray tightened his grip on Chris, very wary of hurting him. “I got to, Chris. Won’t be long, though, promise.”
Chris moved his hand into Ray’s hair, pulling him back and kissing him hard. “You don’t ‘ave to. Let the Guv go pick ‘em up now, don’t go back.”
“I ‘ave to. There’s no evidence with ‘em. We got t’get ‘em red handed,” Ray answered, wishing he could just pack it all in, take Chris back to their flat and take care of him.
“You could tell ‘em, in court, give evidence…we could do it, the Boss’d do it, he’d work it out,” Chris said, desperately.
“It don’t work like that - you know it don’t,” Ray said softly. “Who were the person who did the worst thing in the last blag? Who was it shot another copper? Me - I’m ain’t a star witness, court’d rip me to shreds.”
“But it weren’t your fault - I’d tell ‘em, we all would…” Chris stopped. He knew his arguments were pointless. The evidence of one officer would never have made a case anyway - the fact Ray had been the only person to really harm someone would be pounced upon by an defence lawyers.
Ray gently slid his hand down Chris’s side, feeling the dressing under his t-shirt. “You really all right?” he asked.
Chris nodded. “Doc says I’m doin’ fine. Were lucky, like, they reckon it were close to me spleen or summat, but it didn’t hit nothin’.”
Chris moved, swinging his legs off the sofa and gestured for Ray to sit next to him. “’Bout you? Someone obviously give you a kickin’.” He trailed his fingers down Ray’s face, over the cuts on his eyebrow and his split lips.
“Only wha’ I deserved,” Ray said softly, not meeting Chris’s worried gaze.
Chris reached for another kiss, then pushed Ray backward, climbing on top of him, ignoring the pain from his side and just concentrating on touching as much of Ray as he could, pinning him down.
Ray groaned and flinched as Chris leant an elbow on his damaged ribs and Chris immediately froze, “What?”
“’S nothin’,” Ray reached to kiss Chris again, but Chris pushed Ray’s jumper up over his chest and hissed at the colourful bruising.
“Sorry, I di’n’t know…” Chris kept his hands on Ray’s chest, sliding them over the solid muscle. Then he gently lay his head on Ray’s shoulder. “I just want this to be over,” he whispered.
Ray felt Chris relaxing and knew that he was falling asleep. He also knew that he had to go, and didn’t want to risk Chris’s mother arriving home to find them both entangled on the sofa, fast asleep.
He gave Chris a gentle shake. “Chris, c’mon, I gotta go - really.”
“No,” Chris murmured.
“I got to.” Ray sat up, wrapping his arms around Chris and pressing a kiss onto his forehead. “They’ll be missin’ me. An’ you need yer rest.”
“C’n rest wi’ you here,” Chris answered.
“I can’t stay, Chris.” Ray couldn’t get up with Chris still trapping him, but eventually Chris stood up, looking more miserable than Ray had ever seen him.
“Be careful, won’ you?” Chris said, resting his hands on Ray’s waist.
“I will - you jus’ get better, an’ I’ll be back ‘fore you know it,” Ray held Chris close, sliding his fingers through Chris’s hair and the other hand down onto his bum. He kissed Chris hard, ignoring his bruised lips and just focussing pouring as much feeling as he could into the simple action. He needed the kiss to tell Chris everything that he couldn’t say - that he was sorry, he missed him, he desperately wanted the job to be over, he couldn’t come home soon enough and that he loved Chris more than anything else on the earth.
Ray hung on to the memory of how it felt to hold Chris in his arms as he made his way back to the farmhouse. When he arrived another of the cars was missing, and he immediately wondered if he had been followed. He wandered in to the kitchen and found Marty reading the newspaper.
“’S quiet, ain’t it?” he said, dropping onto one of the dining chairs.
Marty nodded. “Charlie took Billy, Tom and Clive out somewhere.”
“Been gone long?” Ray asked, trying to sound casual.
“Few hours. Left about an hour after you, I suppose.”
Ray nodded, relief washing over him that he hadn’t somehow endangered Chris or his family.
Chris’s mum returned home, making sure she made plenty of noise as she came through the front door to alert the two men to her presence. She headed straight to the kitchen and put away the few things she had bought, then headed to the sitting room, pushing the door open and peering round as she realised the place was silent. Chris was asleep on the sofa, two scatter cushions clutched tightly in his arms, his hair all over his face in disarray and the duvet cover half on the floor.
Then she saw the two untouched mugs of tea and the plate of biscuits exactly where she’d left them. She smiled and took the tray out of the room, washing everything up and putting the kettle on to boil.
A few minutes later she took two fresh mugs of tea back into the room, gently perching on the edge of the sofa, avoiding her sprawling son. She stroked his long fringe back from his face, laying the backs of her fingers against his forehead to check for any signs of a temperature.
Chris awoke to the touch and blinked sleepily up at his mother.
“Made you a fresh cuppa, love,” she said softly.
Chris nodded, rubbing his eyes.
“I thought I’d find Ray still here. Was going to offer to cook the both of you some dinner.”
“’E ‘ad to back,” Chris said, unable to keep the misery from his voice.
“Back to work?” she asked.
Chris nodded. “They ain’t caught ‘em yet. He’s still undercover.”
“Oh, love, I’m sorry. I thought as he were here…”
Chris nodded, shifting so he was sitting cross-legged and picked up his mug of tea.
“He is good lookin’, ain’t he?” she observed, hoping to cheer Chris out of his melancholy.
Chris stared, mouth hanging open. “Mum!”
“Oh, I know he’s your boyfriend and I’m jus’ your old mum, but I’ve still got eyes in me head, Christopher.”
“He…my…” Chris couldn’t believe what he was hearing.
She squeezed his knee through the duvet and smiled. “Yes, we don’t all have to be in the police to work these things out.”
“You don’ mind?” Chris said quietly, still in shock.
“’Course not. All we want is for you t’be happy, an’ I can see he makes you happy, an’ you him. And like I said, he is very good looking.”
Chris almost laughed. “An’ you don’t mind, like, me not…well, ‘avin’ kids or owt. I thought you’d…y’know.”
“Don’t you worry about things like that. I think you’re both very brave to accept how you feel ‘bout each other - ‘specially in your job.”
Chris nodded slowly.
“Have you met his family too?” she asked.
Chris shook his head. “He don’t have none. Lost ‘is parents in the war, and there ain’t no one else.”
“Oh, how sad. Well, I’m even more glad he’s got you then.”
“Does…does Dad know?” Chris asked hesitantly.
His mother nodded. “He does, we’ve talked about you two. Probably best you don’t mention it, but he is proud of you, an’ he loves you, however you’ve turned out. He just ain’t very good at talking about it, y’know? An’ he’s still pretty angry at Ray havin’ shot you, too.”
Chris nodded. “It were an accident. He saw that one of the gang were gonna use a shotgun, so ‘e tried to warn us…just…it went a bit wrong,” he said. He found himself feeling oddly relieved that his parents knew the truth, despite always thinking he’d be mortified. He’d found it hard to either hide or justify his concern for Ray ever since he’d been back at home, and now he knew, at least with his Mum, that he could just tell her the truth about his worries.
TBC...
Part 2B