Fic: Steady As She Goes (56/86), blue cortina, dakfinv
Title: Steady As She Goes (56/86)
Author: dak
Word Count: 2056 this part; [105,053 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 gets upset.
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: 1x04; see each chapter for specific spoiler warnings
Pairing: mild Sam/Annie, Sam/Maya, Gene/missus
Disclaimer: Belongs to BBC/Kudos
A/N: For those of you that were glad Sam was doing better, I apologize in advance.
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
"They could come back. They could come back for me. They’ll know. They’ll know I’m not dead. Why didn’t I die? I should’ve died. If I died I would’ve gone back. I would’ve gone home. I could see my mum. I could’ve seen her."
"Chris. Shut the door." DC Skelton did as he was told. The Guv hadn’t told him to leave and didn’t protest when he stayed so Chris stood by the door, preventing anyone else from entering or leaving. He wanted to be here for DI Tyler and not even the Guv could’ve convinced him otherwise.
Gene ignored Chris, solemnly looking at Sam, who was refusing to move out from under the sink, to the photos scattered across the grimy floor. He didn’t need to see a face to know who those bruises belonged to. He angrily brushed the pictures out of the way and knelt before the terrified man.
"Tyler."
Sam was gasping for air in between sobs.
"Tyler. Look at me. You’ve seen that file before. I brought it to you in hospital, remember?"
Sam shook his head, desperate to clear his mind. "I’m sorry Guv. I’m sorry. It’s the photos. I’ve never seen the photos. I’m sorry. This...this is completely unprofessional," he sobbed, wiping the tears from his face with his jacket sleeve.
"Don’t you dare apologize," Gene said sternly. Sam offered no reply, setting his gaze to the floor and focusing on his breathing. "We’re the ones what let ‘em go," Gene confessed. "They were right there. If I’d’ve stayed in the car, ‘stead of runnin’ after ‘em..." Gene noticed Sam’s body had relaxed, his breathing evening out, thought he wasn’t sure if Tyler was actually listening to what he was saying or only focusing on the tone of his voice.
"I was doing well today," Sam let out a despondent laugh.
"I know."
"I asked Chris to get me Dr. Merrick," he started and Gene’s body tensed before Sam quickly added, "but I didn’t mean it. I wanted you to know that." Sam raised his head, nearly hitting it on the plumbing. "I need you to know that."
Gene nodded, relaxing only slightly. Sam was not a lost cause. He wasn’t. Not yet.
"I need a cigarette," Sam said bluntly. Well, maybe a little lost.
"Skelton?"
"Yes Guv," Chris stepped forward.
"Got a packet of ciggies on yeh?"
Chris fished around in his pockets and pulled out a badly crumpled pack of Marlboro’s, handing them over to Gene. The Guv pulled out three, which finished off the poorly treated pack, and handed the trash and one fag back to Chris. He held out another to Sam. "Have to stand up and smoke it like a man, Tyler. Hiding under sinks is no way to enjoy the fine taste of nicotine."
Sam crawled out from under the counters and stood on wobbly legs. "And tar. And carbon monoxide. And ammonia. And--"
Gene shoved the cigarette into Sam’s mouth and lit it for him. "Now you’re just being a hypocritical twat," he mocked, lighting his own.
Sam took a deep drag then continued. "There are about five-hundred and ninety-nine different additives involved in cigarette manufacturing which create over four thousand different chemical compounds..."
"Then why are you smokin’ Boss?" Chris asked, knowing Sam never smoked before and wondering how he could’ve overlooked something so important.
" ‘S only temporary Chris. Helps with the...tremors," Sam smiled weakly at his DC, somehow feeling he was letting him down.
"Skelton. Go tell the others we’re making the Sanders/Quibell murders our top priority," Gene ordered.
Chris nodded and hurried out of the gents, leaving Gene to examine his DI. "How are you? Really?"
Sam flicked his ash into the sink, rubbing his other hand through his hair. "I’m hanging by a thread here, Gene," he laughed nervously.
"You know they can’t get you. You know if they did want you dead, they would’ve tried something by now." Gene tried to sound encouraging but encouragement was not his strongest suit. Ordering, bullying, beating, yes. Encouraging, no.
"Unless they don’t know I’m alive," Sam countered.
"Rubbish. Woulda been in all the papers. ‘Fairy Copper Killed.’ Big news that." Why couldn’t Tyler let this go? Why couldn’t he trust that he was safe?
"Yeah, well, I’m not sure this lot could read a picture book let alone a newspaper." Sam turned his back on Gene, though it didn’t matter since the mirrors reflected his superior’s face straight back at him. Why couldn’t he understand? Why couldn’t he even accept the possibility that Sam wasn’t as safe as they were all pretending?
"I don’t think you should come in tomorrow."
Sam stared hard at Gene’s reflection.
"I can send Skelton round with some cases, keep yeh busy, but you shouldn’t be here." Now it was Gene’s turn to look away. Sam continued to glare at his Guv via the mirror.
"So I’m well enough to work but not well enough to be seen round the station?"
"Sam..."
"Am I an embarrassment? Is that it?" Sam continued to shout at the mirror. He felt so angry suddenly. So used, so mistreated. He knew he should calm himself down, he just didn’t want to. He wanted to scream. He needed to and Gene Hunt was the only thing there to yell at. "RCS going to shit and you can’t bear the thought of dragging around your poor, little, broken DI in public?"
"Don’t push me away Sam," Gene warned.
"Why shouldn’t I? What have you done for me?" Sam finally found the courage, or stupidity, to yell at Gene to his face. "You’re the reason I’m in this shit to begin with! You’re the one that sicked Merrick on me. If you hadn’t stolen my case notes like the petulant child you are I would’ve never had the attack that made him give me the pills in the first place!"
"You’re still going through withdrawal..."
Sam almost took a swing at him. "Oh really? Takes a DCI to figure that out does it? Guess they really do give out those badges in Lucky bags round here." Sam threw his fag to the ground. "What do you know about withdrawal anyway? Why do you care so much about what a doctor prescribed me? Didn’t give two shits when Joni pumped me full of LSD. No. You all thought that was great fun. Typical 1973!" Sam was wheezing now, the effort of his screaming draining the air from his lungs, making his head dizzy and his body weak. He leaned on the counter for support, closing his eyes to dissipate the vertigo that was claiming his senses.
"Let’s get you home," Gene whispered, wanting nothing more than to get his DI into a safe bed and letting him sleep off the rage.
At this order, Sam’s eyes shot open, leveling Gene with a look of disgust. "I’m not going anywhere with you." He started to drag his feet towards the door.
"Where are you headed then, Tyler?"
"Not that I should bother telling you," Sam sneered, "but I’m going back to my flat. And before you so graciously ask, I can get there myself. I’m a big boy, Gene. I don’t need your help anymore." Sam flung back the door and hobbled outside, desperate to escape the claustrophobic guilt that had started to swell and suffocate him.
Gene sat down in a stall, gathering his strength and quelling the thought that he’d failed again.
*
Chris being the only one Sam didn’t seem to be having issues with, he happily offered to drive his DI home, picking up a few groceries along the way and helping him carry the bags up to his flat.
Knowing that DI Tyler was severely on edge, it was hard to find someone who hadn’t heard him screaming in the bogs, Chris decided to leave quickly, telling Sam to call if he needed anything and to ring him tomorrow if he wanted Chris to bring over any cases or notes.
From his window, Sam watched for Chris to drive off, then waited five minutes more before ducking out of his flat and heading towards the nearest off-license.
*
"That prat! ‘Ow could ‘e say those things to the Guv? Don’t ‘e know what ‘e’s bin doin’ for ‘im? Coulda replaced ‘im ages ago. Almost did, an’ with me. That would’ve riled ‘im up good an’ proper. The self-centered shirt-lifter."
Ray’s dog, Jack, simply stared at his master, cocking his head to the side and barking once.
"You were just out. An’ it looks like rain soon. ‘M not takin’ yeh again."
Jack whined pitifully but Ray shook his head and grabbed his coat.
"I’ll bring yeh back some crisps from the pub. That alright?"
Jack seemed to agree and watched Ray leave, then laid down by the door, waiting for his return.
*
Annie didn’t know how but she found herself pulling her old psychology textbooks off her crowded bookshelf. Flipping through, she started to read about the cases of shell-shocked experienced by World War I and II soldiers. There was so little information, many believed that it didn’t really exist at all, yet the more she read, the more she could picture Sam in each scenario. The trauma he must have suffered, then plunged into a coma, Valium after that, and only now was he beginning to think about what had happened to him.
She knew how much men hated to admit they even had feelings other than anger, let alone discuss them, but Sam was always different. He always seemed so open about his emotions. Maybe because he’d been a bit cracked since day one. Maybe because he was from the future. Annie tossed that thought aside. Hyde talk or not, what Sam was going through now was completely different than his normal problems and she had to find a way to help him.
However, the more she poured over her books and journals, even though they were only a few years old, when it came to Sam everything she read seemed somehow outdated.
*
Dinner was a silent affair. When Gene had come home alone, Mrs. Hunt had cleared the third place setting before he entered the kitchen, and asked no questions as they ate. He complimented her on her meal, asked about her mother, then excused himself from the table. While he was upstairs, she refilled his flasks with his favorite whiskey and placed them back in his coat pockets.
Downstairs ten minutes later, it came as no surprise that he announced he was off to the pub with no expected return time. She nodded, making a point to hug and kiss her man before his breath smelled like a brewery.
When the Cortina sped off, she cleaned up from dinner, washing up and storing the leftovers, then did what she always would when Gene came home in such a state.
She called Phyllis Dobbs.
*
"C’mout, c’mout where’er you are," Sam slurred at the telly. He cranked the dial, switching between channels, but there was no sign of his little blonde friend. "Oh, c’mon. I act’lly want to talk now! Why don’ we ‘ave a little chat? Hm?" He took another swig from his bottle of vodka. He usually wasn’t a vodka man but when he reached the off-license he had been feeling strangely adventurous.
"We’ll play noughts ‘n’ crosses. How’s that sound? I’ll even let you beat me..." he tempted her in singsong voice but there was no response. It was too early for Test Card F to be broadcast but that had never stopped her before.
"Oi!" Sam slapped the side of the TV. "Don’ you wanna laugh at me? Don’ you wanna tell me how I jus’ treated my best mate like shit? Go on then. Do it!" Sam punched the set again, taking another swig to cover the pain.
"Worthless bitch. Don’ matter though, does it? ‘E’s not real. You’re not real. This in’t real. So what’s it matter ‘ow I treat ‘im? Treat any of ‘em? My world anyway. My messed up little subson...subconch...mind."
The taunting wasn’t drawing her out. Neither was the smacking. So, Sam decided to really piss her off and he threw his telly out the window. A window he really should have opened first.
______
Part 57
Author: dak
Word Count: 2056 this part; [105,053 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 gets upset.
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: 1x04; see each chapter for specific spoiler warnings
Pairing: mild Sam/Annie, Sam/Maya, Gene/missus
Disclaimer: Belongs to BBC/Kudos
A/N: For those of you that were glad Sam was doing better, I apologize in advance.
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
"They could come back. They could come back for me. They’ll know. They’ll know I’m not dead. Why didn’t I die? I should’ve died. If I died I would’ve gone back. I would’ve gone home. I could see my mum. I could’ve seen her."
"Chris. Shut the door." DC Skelton did as he was told. The Guv hadn’t told him to leave and didn’t protest when he stayed so Chris stood by the door, preventing anyone else from entering or leaving. He wanted to be here for DI Tyler and not even the Guv could’ve convinced him otherwise.
Gene ignored Chris, solemnly looking at Sam, who was refusing to move out from under the sink, to the photos scattered across the grimy floor. He didn’t need to see a face to know who those bruises belonged to. He angrily brushed the pictures out of the way and knelt before the terrified man.
"Tyler."
Sam was gasping for air in between sobs.
"Tyler. Look at me. You’ve seen that file before. I brought it to you in hospital, remember?"
Sam shook his head, desperate to clear his mind. "I’m sorry Guv. I’m sorry. It’s the photos. I’ve never seen the photos. I’m sorry. This...this is completely unprofessional," he sobbed, wiping the tears from his face with his jacket sleeve.
"Don’t you dare apologize," Gene said sternly. Sam offered no reply, setting his gaze to the floor and focusing on his breathing. "We’re the ones what let ‘em go," Gene confessed. "They were right there. If I’d’ve stayed in the car, ‘stead of runnin’ after ‘em..." Gene noticed Sam’s body had relaxed, his breathing evening out, thought he wasn’t sure if Tyler was actually listening to what he was saying or only focusing on the tone of his voice.
"I was doing well today," Sam let out a despondent laugh.
"I know."
"I asked Chris to get me Dr. Merrick," he started and Gene’s body tensed before Sam quickly added, "but I didn’t mean it. I wanted you to know that." Sam raised his head, nearly hitting it on the plumbing. "I need you to know that."
Gene nodded, relaxing only slightly. Sam was not a lost cause. He wasn’t. Not yet.
"I need a cigarette," Sam said bluntly. Well, maybe a little lost.
"Skelton?"
"Yes Guv," Chris stepped forward.
"Got a packet of ciggies on yeh?"
Chris fished around in his pockets and pulled out a badly crumpled pack of Marlboro’s, handing them over to Gene. The Guv pulled out three, which finished off the poorly treated pack, and handed the trash and one fag back to Chris. He held out another to Sam. "Have to stand up and smoke it like a man, Tyler. Hiding under sinks is no way to enjoy the fine taste of nicotine."
Sam crawled out from under the counters and stood on wobbly legs. "And tar. And carbon monoxide. And ammonia. And--"
Gene shoved the cigarette into Sam’s mouth and lit it for him. "Now you’re just being a hypocritical twat," he mocked, lighting his own.
Sam took a deep drag then continued. "There are about five-hundred and ninety-nine different additives involved in cigarette manufacturing which create over four thousand different chemical compounds..."
"Then why are you smokin’ Boss?" Chris asked, knowing Sam never smoked before and wondering how he could’ve overlooked something so important.
" ‘S only temporary Chris. Helps with the...tremors," Sam smiled weakly at his DC, somehow feeling he was letting him down.
"Skelton. Go tell the others we’re making the Sanders/Quibell murders our top priority," Gene ordered.
Chris nodded and hurried out of the gents, leaving Gene to examine his DI. "How are you? Really?"
Sam flicked his ash into the sink, rubbing his other hand through his hair. "I’m hanging by a thread here, Gene," he laughed nervously.
"You know they can’t get you. You know if they did want you dead, they would’ve tried something by now." Gene tried to sound encouraging but encouragement was not his strongest suit. Ordering, bullying, beating, yes. Encouraging, no.
"Unless they don’t know I’m alive," Sam countered.
"Rubbish. Woulda been in all the papers. ‘Fairy Copper Killed.’ Big news that." Why couldn’t Tyler let this go? Why couldn’t he trust that he was safe?
"Yeah, well, I’m not sure this lot could read a picture book let alone a newspaper." Sam turned his back on Gene, though it didn’t matter since the mirrors reflected his superior’s face straight back at him. Why couldn’t he understand? Why couldn’t he even accept the possibility that Sam wasn’t as safe as they were all pretending?
"I don’t think you should come in tomorrow."
Sam stared hard at Gene’s reflection.
"I can send Skelton round with some cases, keep yeh busy, but you shouldn’t be here." Now it was Gene’s turn to look away. Sam continued to glare at his Guv via the mirror.
"So I’m well enough to work but not well enough to be seen round the station?"
"Sam..."
"Am I an embarrassment? Is that it?" Sam continued to shout at the mirror. He felt so angry suddenly. So used, so mistreated. He knew he should calm himself down, he just didn’t want to. He wanted to scream. He needed to and Gene Hunt was the only thing there to yell at. "RCS going to shit and you can’t bear the thought of dragging around your poor, little, broken DI in public?"
"Don’t push me away Sam," Gene warned.
"Why shouldn’t I? What have you done for me?" Sam finally found the courage, or stupidity, to yell at Gene to his face. "You’re the reason I’m in this shit to begin with! You’re the one that sicked Merrick on me. If you hadn’t stolen my case notes like the petulant child you are I would’ve never had the attack that made him give me the pills in the first place!"
"You’re still going through withdrawal..."
Sam almost took a swing at him. "Oh really? Takes a DCI to figure that out does it? Guess they really do give out those badges in Lucky bags round here." Sam threw his fag to the ground. "What do you know about withdrawal anyway? Why do you care so much about what a doctor prescribed me? Didn’t give two shits when Joni pumped me full of LSD. No. You all thought that was great fun. Typical 1973!" Sam was wheezing now, the effort of his screaming draining the air from his lungs, making his head dizzy and his body weak. He leaned on the counter for support, closing his eyes to dissipate the vertigo that was claiming his senses.
"Let’s get you home," Gene whispered, wanting nothing more than to get his DI into a safe bed and letting him sleep off the rage.
At this order, Sam’s eyes shot open, leveling Gene with a look of disgust. "I’m not going anywhere with you." He started to drag his feet towards the door.
"Where are you headed then, Tyler?"
"Not that I should bother telling you," Sam sneered, "but I’m going back to my flat. And before you so graciously ask, I can get there myself. I’m a big boy, Gene. I don’t need your help anymore." Sam flung back the door and hobbled outside, desperate to escape the claustrophobic guilt that had started to swell and suffocate him.
Gene sat down in a stall, gathering his strength and quelling the thought that he’d failed again.
*
Chris being the only one Sam didn’t seem to be having issues with, he happily offered to drive his DI home, picking up a few groceries along the way and helping him carry the bags up to his flat.
Knowing that DI Tyler was severely on edge, it was hard to find someone who hadn’t heard him screaming in the bogs, Chris decided to leave quickly, telling Sam to call if he needed anything and to ring him tomorrow if he wanted Chris to bring over any cases or notes.
From his window, Sam watched for Chris to drive off, then waited five minutes more before ducking out of his flat and heading towards the nearest off-license.
*
"That prat! ‘Ow could ‘e say those things to the Guv? Don’t ‘e know what ‘e’s bin doin’ for ‘im? Coulda replaced ‘im ages ago. Almost did, an’ with me. That would’ve riled ‘im up good an’ proper. The self-centered shirt-lifter."
Ray’s dog, Jack, simply stared at his master, cocking his head to the side and barking once.
"You were just out. An’ it looks like rain soon. ‘M not takin’ yeh again."
Jack whined pitifully but Ray shook his head and grabbed his coat.
"I’ll bring yeh back some crisps from the pub. That alright?"
Jack seemed to agree and watched Ray leave, then laid down by the door, waiting for his return.
*
Annie didn’t know how but she found herself pulling her old psychology textbooks off her crowded bookshelf. Flipping through, she started to read about the cases of shell-shocked experienced by World War I and II soldiers. There was so little information, many believed that it didn’t really exist at all, yet the more she read, the more she could picture Sam in each scenario. The trauma he must have suffered, then plunged into a coma, Valium after that, and only now was he beginning to think about what had happened to him.
She knew how much men hated to admit they even had feelings other than anger, let alone discuss them, but Sam was always different. He always seemed so open about his emotions. Maybe because he’d been a bit cracked since day one. Maybe because he was from the future. Annie tossed that thought aside. Hyde talk or not, what Sam was going through now was completely different than his normal problems and she had to find a way to help him.
However, the more she poured over her books and journals, even though they were only a few years old, when it came to Sam everything she read seemed somehow outdated.
*
Dinner was a silent affair. When Gene had come home alone, Mrs. Hunt had cleared the third place setting before he entered the kitchen, and asked no questions as they ate. He complimented her on her meal, asked about her mother, then excused himself from the table. While he was upstairs, she refilled his flasks with his favorite whiskey and placed them back in his coat pockets.
Downstairs ten minutes later, it came as no surprise that he announced he was off to the pub with no expected return time. She nodded, making a point to hug and kiss her man before his breath smelled like a brewery.
When the Cortina sped off, she cleaned up from dinner, washing up and storing the leftovers, then did what she always would when Gene came home in such a state.
She called Phyllis Dobbs.
*
"C’mout, c’mout where’er you are," Sam slurred at the telly. He cranked the dial, switching between channels, but there was no sign of his little blonde friend. "Oh, c’mon. I act’lly want to talk now! Why don’ we ‘ave a little chat? Hm?" He took another swig from his bottle of vodka. He usually wasn’t a vodka man but when he reached the off-license he had been feeling strangely adventurous.
"We’ll play noughts ‘n’ crosses. How’s that sound? I’ll even let you beat me..." he tempted her in singsong voice but there was no response. It was too early for Test Card F to be broadcast but that had never stopped her before.
"Oi!" Sam slapped the side of the TV. "Don’ you wanna laugh at me? Don’ you wanna tell me how I jus’ treated my best mate like shit? Go on then. Do it!" Sam punched the set again, taking another swig to cover the pain.
"Worthless bitch. Don’ matter though, does it? ‘E’s not real. You’re not real. This in’t real. So what’s it matter ‘ow I treat ‘im? Treat any of ‘em? My world anyway. My messed up little subson...subconch...mind."
The taunting wasn’t drawing her out. Neither was the smacking. So, Sam decided to really piss her off and he threw his telly out the window. A window he really should have opened first.
______
Part 57