Fic: Steady As She Goes (50/86), Blue Cortina, dakfinv
Title: Steady As She Goes (50/86)
Author: dak
Word Count: 1231 this part; [92,821 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: Where did Gene go? Where is Sam going?
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: A shorter section but I should have a longer one up tomorrow. I wanted to take care of some of those cliffhangers.
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
"The doctor left about a half hour ago. He said you were to call him once you got in. Gene?"
Gene wordlessly stripped off his coat and gloves, tossing them carelessly into the sitting room before plowing into the kitchen. Mrs. Hunt followed behind picking up the coat, placing the gloves in its pockets, and hanging it neatly on the rack. As she pulled her hand back from the coat hook she suddenly turned and peaked out the front door. No one else was coming up the steps. She hurried back to the kitchen. Gene had his back to her, rummaging through the cabinets.
"Gene? Where’s Sam?"
When she babbled on about her mother or siblings or Mrs. Foster from down the street she fully expected and accepted being ignored. She knew Gene couldn’t care about such trivial matters but when it came to things of importance, things that were hurting her or worse hurting Gene, come hell or high water she was going to be heard.
"Where is Sam?"
Gene remained speechless as he turned to face her, revealing a glass containing something that suspiciously resembled whiskey.
"Oh no you don’t." She stomped over and grabbed it out of his hand.
"Don’t you--" Gene growled but in twenty-three years of marriage she had seen all his moods twice over.
"Not even noon yet. And on a Sunday!"
"Don’t matter what day it is. That’s my whisky. I can drink it whenever I like."
In one swift movement she downed the contents of the glass and plopped the empty cup on the table. "Well it’s in my stomach now." She smirked at Gene’s child-like fury over his stolen drink. "And now that I have your attention, where the bloody hell is your DI?"
Gene looked away then brushed past her out of the kitchen. "Not your concern," he mumbled as he stomped up the stairs.
She followed him, stopping at the bottom and resting her hand on the banister. "If you left his mangled corpse floatin’ down the canal it is most definitely my concern, Mister Chief Inspector."
"I din’t kill ‘im!" An unseen Gene called from the direction of their bedroom.
"Good!" She shouted back. "Think of what the neighbors would say!" She left him sulking in the bedroom and went to phone her mother. "Stupid, arrogant, stubborn, bloody men!" She muttered as the operator connected the call. "Should’ve stayed an old maid. Hello Mum?...No everything’s fine, except I’m afraid Gene and I won’t be able to make it to dinner tonight." She had to hold the phone from her ear as her mother shouted through the line.
*
"Sam? Sam wake up. We’re here."
A nervous, delicate voice broke through the silence of sleep and Sam raised heavy eyelids to see Annie standing over him, a soft hand on his shoulder.
"Here...where?" He struggled to sit up in the backseat of Chris’ car, desperate to see out the window.
"Come on. Let’s get you inside." Annie tried to help him out of the car but Sam resisted, shrinking back from her touch.
"Where are we Annie?"
"Get out and see for yourself." Annie stood back, giving Sam the space he needed. Like a trapped animal offered the chance of freedom, he warily inched his way to the edge of the seat and cautiously peaked out the door.
"This...isn’t a hospital." He said, growing slightly more confident as he looked up and down the residential street.
"You said you didn’t want to go to hospital. Change your mind?" Annie asked crossly, then quickly hid her anger and unease.
"No. But..." Sam didn’t want to make things worse between them. How could he tell her he didn’t trust her? He wouldn’t trust him after... "Where are we then?" He asked calmly, hoisting himself out of the car.
"Well I couldn’t put you back in your flat. Hasn’t been cleaned in ages and I don’t think there’s a lick of decent food in the place." She started towards the neatly maintained building nearest to the car. "Coming then, sir?"
Sam rubbed his aching head, the pounding in his skull only made worse by interrupted sleep and slowly followed Annie’s path to the entrance. Annie pulled out a set of keys from her purse and unlocked the door, stepping inside and holding it open for Sam.
"This is your place?"
"Yes, sir, Detective Inspector. I’m on the third floor." Though she never met his eyes, Annie saw Sam grimace and felt a pang of pity deep in her chest. "There’s no lift, but the flights are small. We can take a rest if you need to."
"Lead the way, WDC Cartwright."
*
He was sobbing again. How could the poor bastard have any tears left? He cried out for help and Gene was instantly out of the chair and by his side. His breathing was so shallow now. Gene placed a hand on his forehead and frowned. He was still hot enough to boil bacon grease. Poor sod’s brain must be frying.
"I...I...can’t," he wept.
" ‘S alright, Sammy. You’ll sweat this out in no time, eh?"
"Too much...’S too much." He whispered through shaky breaths.
"It’s just an infection, Tyler. Christ. Do you have to be a girl about everything?"
Sam flopped his head back and forth, chills running through his body. "No...All of it. It’s all...I want it to be over. I can’t...."
"Day or two and it will be over. You’ll ride it out."
"No...I...I don’t want to. I want it to be over. I can’t do it anymore. ‘S too hard. Too hard to fight it."
Gene swallowed, keeping his face unreadable though it didn’t really matter since Sam wasn’t very aware of his surroundings at the moment. "Fight the fever?"
"Everything. Fight everything. This whole place...This whole year...Just make it stop. I want it all to stop." Sam’s dry mouth caused his tongue to swell and stick to his gums, slurring and slowing his words, but Gene understood exactly what he was saying. He gripped Sam’s shoulder.
"Already tried that. Didn’t work. And don’t think for a second that I’ll let you have a second go." Tyler never listened to orders but he was damn well going to obey this one. Unfortunately, Gene wasn’t even sure his DI heard it as he slipped back into unconsciousness. Gene kept his hand on Sam’s shoulder until the nurse popped in to take his temperature.
Gene stared down at the broken plate on the bath mat. His wife had spent so much time last night getting the stench of vomit out of the guest room she hadn’t even noticed the cracked dishware stranded by the tub. He bent over and picked up the broken pieces. Cradling them in his hands, he held them together, seeing if the plate could be salvaged. A bit of glue could stick it back together but it would never be perfect again. That crack down the center would always be visible. Faint but there forever. Maybe, after some time, he wouldn’t notice it anymore. Did it have to be replaced?
*
Gene grabbed his coat from the hook, no need to ask how it got there and flung open his front door.
"Dinner’ll be ready at seven! I’m making enough for three," his missus called as the tails of his camel-hair coat swept out of view.
_____
Part 51