Fic: Steady As She Goes (61/86), blue cortina, dakfinv
Title: Steady As She Goes (61/86)
Author: dak
Word Count: 1555 this part; [111,571 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: Gene gave Sam until next Monday to get his act together. This is Wednesday.
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: Please enjoy!
Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21 Part 22 Part 23 Part 24 Part 25 Part 26 Part 27 Part 28 Part 29 Part 30 Part 31 Part 32 Part 33 Part 34 Part 35 Part 36 Part 37 Part 38 Part 39 Part 40 Part 41 Part 42 Part 43 Part 44 Part 45 Part 46 Part 47 Part 48 Part 49 Part 50 Part 51 Part 52 Part 53 Part 54 Part 55 Part 56 Part 57 Part 58 Part 59 Part 60 Part 61 Part 62 Part 63 Part 64 Part 65 Part 66 Part 67 Part 68 Part 69 Part 70 Part 71 Part 72 Part 73 Part 74 Part 75 Part 76 Part 77 Part 78 Part 79 Part 80 Part 81 Part 82 Part 83 Part 84 Part 85 Part 86
The man was picked up and thrown into the back of a van. Something popped in his chest and suddenly breathing was rendered nearly impossible. He coughed up blood that wasn’t coming from his split lip.
Sam stood to the side, watching it all happen, willing it to stop. But it never stopped. It never changed. It was always like this. It would always happen like this.
"Why did you let them do that to you Sam?" She asked curiously, tugging at the edge of his shirt and forcing him to look at her. "You could
have stopped them if you had wanted to, you know. You’re so very smart. So very clever."
"There were three of them. I was already injured," he tried to make her understand. She had to understand this wasn’t his fault.
"They were just bullies Sam, but you like bullies, don’t you? Does it help you pretend you’re alive, when they hit you?"
"I am alive," he spat back, taking a step away from her.
"Poor Sam. Everyone always picks on poor Sammy. So weak. So alone," she pitied him.
"Go away," he pouted.
"But what would they say if they knew you liked it?"
He couldn’t take it anymore. Sam leapt at her, reaching for her throat, desperate to feel her soft flesh beneath his fingers so he could squeeze. Squeeze and press and choke and hurt. Choke the life out of her tiny, evil body. Sam leapt, craving that kill, and landed face first on his dirty, thin carpet.
Wind blew through his hair, a mist of water coating his face as he stood and for a moment he thought he was still dreaming. As he woke he realized it was only that the current storm had blown away the makeshift cardboard covering he’d used to temporarily fix his broken window. Sam quickly grabbed the roll of duct tape off the table and stuck the shoddy covering back into place, pounding on the tape more forcefully than necessary.
As the rain beat down outside, Sam stood in front of the broken window, shivering in his vest and trousers. Half of him prayed that the cardboard would hold. The other half prayed that it wouldn’t so he’d have an excuse to kick the shit out of something.
Eventually his eyes shifted from the window to the watch on the table. He picked it up, noticed he still had four hours until he needed to be awake, and threw the watch back onto the table with such force it skidded across the top until it collided with his pack of cigarettes.
Sam grabbed the pack and immediately began to pull one out. It was only when he reached for the matches that he remembered what he told Chris. Hadn’t he said he wasn’t going to smoke anymore? That had made Chris happy. That had made Chris start to believe in him again. Disgusted with himself, Sam tossed the fag onto the table and collapsed back on the bed, burying his head in his hands.
Attempting to sleep would be useless. He was wide awake now because of her and all out of TV’s to throw. Sam would have sold his soul right then just to have his iPod back. Even a decent Walkman would’ve been fine. Reluctantly, he laid down and cleared those thoughts from his mind. While God sometimes said no, the Devil was always too eager to bargain and Sam knew he already had enough demons to deal with.
*
The stationary cupboard was spotless. Cleaner and neater than a hospital medicine cabinet. It could probably serve the Queen tea, it was so proper. Gene was almost afraid to take out a pen for fear of dirtying it. Damn it if the picky pain didn’t take his chores to heart.
Gene eventually reached out, hesitated, quickly mumbled "bollocks," grabbed what he needed, and slammed the door shut. He was pretty sure he heard a few things fall and worried if he should open the doors and double-check. No. If things were going to get back to normal he couldn’t keep handling Tyler with kid gloves.
Cupboards got messy. That’s how it was. Tyler would have to live with it. But Gene had forgotten he needed a pencil as well and it was just plain inconsiderate to leave those rubber bands scattered at the bottom like that, he decided as he reopened the doors.
*
"Hey Chris. How’d your doctor’s appointment go?" Sam asked, trying to sound cheerful as Chris strolled into CID Wednesday afternoon. After all, why shouldn’t he be cheerful? He’d been able to drink an entire cup of coffee this morning, which he desperately needed after a sleepless night. Gene and the others had gone out on another call late that morning and Sam had been alone since. He had only begun to feel anxious when Chris finally walked in.
"Good, sir. Fit as a fiddle they said," Chris hung up his coat. "Even gave me a note sayin’ I could go off desk duty."
"Brilliant," Sam smiled half-heartedly. "Oh, here." Sam reached into his coat pocket and pulled out his cigarettes. "This is the pack you bought me the other day. Not planning on using it but I didn’t want it to go to waste, so..." He handed it out.
"Cheers Boss!" Chris took it gratefully, before his face fell. "I mean Sergeant, Boss, sir. Sorry."
"You can say DS, Chris. It’s okay," Sam tried to assure him.
"Are you sure?"
"It’s what I am," Sam said more morosely than he meant to.
"When I tell you to restrain a suspect, you restrain a suspect Carling! You, of all people, shouldn’t have a problem with that!" Gene’s voice echoed through the halls, preceding his return to A-Division.
"Sorry Guv," Ray apologized, following behind Gene as the team barreled into CID. "I weren’t expectin’ her to get so...frisky."
Gene stopped abruptly and rounded on Ray. "I don’t care if her fingers were tugging on your knob like a virgin milkmaid! She was our prime suspect and you let her get away!"
"I’ll track ‘er down Guv," Ray hurried over to his desk.
"Well gee, golly thank you DS Carling for deciding to do your bleedin’ job!" In one fluid movement the Guv had pulled out a flask, took a sip, and faced Sam and Chris. "And what have you ladies been up to?"
Chris reached in his pocket and pulled out a slip of paper, handing it out to Gene. "Doc gave me the all clear, Guv."
Gene ripped the note from Chris’ hands and briefly skimmed it. "Good. I could use someone out there more competent than a deaf, dumb, an’ blind cock." He threw a quick glance at Ray. "But I’ll guess you’ll have to do Skelton. Help your hormonally challenged partner over there track down Miss Frisky Fingers." He tossed the note back to Chris and stormed towards his office.
"Uhm, Guv?" Sam hurried to catch up with him before Gene disappeared, probably under a newspaper for nap. "What do you need me to do?"
"Phyllis said summit about needing help organizing the charge sheets. One of her WPC’s called out sick." Gene was gone before Sam could respond.
"Right," Sam sighed submissively, shoving his hands in his pockets and turning on his heels. Chris got to help with an investigation and Sam was forced to play paperboy to the Women’s Department. Why wouldn’t Gene just give him a case? A tiny burglary, minor assault, a tot’s missing bicycle? Why couldn’t Gene let him prove he was capable?
"Least you’re slim enough to fit in a plonk’s uniform, Sergeant," Ray murmured as Sam passed his desk. "Maybe Cartwright can lend you her old kit."
Sam didn’t remember punching Ray in the jaw. One minute he was walking out of the office, the next Ray was staggering backwards holding his jaw and Chris had wrapped his arms around Sam’s chest, holding him back.
People were shouting but Sam didn’t hear them. His body was tense, tightly wound, and straining against Chris’ grasp. Ray quickly recovered and landed a fist to Sam’s gut.
"C’mon Ray!" Chris cried out, dropping Sam and trying to step between them. Sam grasped his stomach and knew instinctively he wouldn’t be eating for the rest of the day.
"Oi!!" The lion was out of its cage and bearing down on them. The fight was immediately halted. Gene yanked Sam back by his collar. "Thought I told you to go see Phyllis, DS Tyler."
"Yes Guv," Sam mumbled, caving under Gene’s presence.
"Then move it!" He let go of Tyler, giving him a not so gentle shove towards the door in the process. Sam scurried out, grateful to get away from the judgmental stares of his peers.
Gene, still radiating rage, focused his anger on Ray. "Find that suspect yet?"
"No Guv," Ray rubbed his sore jaw.
"Well if you would like your balls to stay where they are then I suggest you do!"
"Yes Guv," Ray quickly hunched himself over his desk and began making some phone calls.
Gene stood there til the room returned to normal, then skulked back into his office, internally debating whether or not to sneak out the back and check on his D...check on Tyler.
___________
Part 62
Author: dak
Word Count: 1555 this part; [111,571 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: Gene gave Sam until next Monday to get his act together. This is Wednesday.
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: Please enjoy!
Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21 Part 22 Part 23 Part 24 Part 25 Part 26 Part 27 Part 28 Part 29 Part 30 Part 31 Part 32 Part 33 Part 34 Part 35 Part 36 Part 37 Part 38 Part 39 Part 40 Part 41 Part 42 Part 43 Part 44 Part 45 Part 46 Part 47 Part 48 Part 49 Part 50 Part 51 Part 52 Part 53 Part 54 Part 55 Part 56 Part 57 Part 58 Part 59 Part 60 Part 61 Part 62 Part 63 Part 64 Part 65 Part 66 Part 67 Part 68 Part 69 Part 70 Part 71 Part 72 Part 73 Part 74 Part 75 Part 76 Part 77 Part 78 Part 79 Part 80 Part 81 Part 82 Part 83 Part 84 Part 85 Part 86
The man was picked up and thrown into the back of a van. Something popped in his chest and suddenly breathing was rendered nearly impossible. He coughed up blood that wasn’t coming from his split lip.
Sam stood to the side, watching it all happen, willing it to stop. But it never stopped. It never changed. It was always like this. It would always happen like this.
"Why did you let them do that to you Sam?" She asked curiously, tugging at the edge of his shirt and forcing him to look at her. "You could
have stopped them if you had wanted to, you know. You’re so very smart. So very clever."
"There were three of them. I was already injured," he tried to make her understand. She had to understand this wasn’t his fault.
"They were just bullies Sam, but you like bullies, don’t you? Does it help you pretend you’re alive, when they hit you?"
"I am alive," he spat back, taking a step away from her.
"Poor Sam. Everyone always picks on poor Sammy. So weak. So alone," she pitied him.
"Go away," he pouted.
"But what would they say if they knew you liked it?"
He couldn’t take it anymore. Sam leapt at her, reaching for her throat, desperate to feel her soft flesh beneath his fingers so he could squeeze. Squeeze and press and choke and hurt. Choke the life out of her tiny, evil body. Sam leapt, craving that kill, and landed face first on his dirty, thin carpet.
Wind blew through his hair, a mist of water coating his face as he stood and for a moment he thought he was still dreaming. As he woke he realized it was only that the current storm had blown away the makeshift cardboard covering he’d used to temporarily fix his broken window. Sam quickly grabbed the roll of duct tape off the table and stuck the shoddy covering back into place, pounding on the tape more forcefully than necessary.
As the rain beat down outside, Sam stood in front of the broken window, shivering in his vest and trousers. Half of him prayed that the cardboard would hold. The other half prayed that it wouldn’t so he’d have an excuse to kick the shit out of something.
Eventually his eyes shifted from the window to the watch on the table. He picked it up, noticed he still had four hours until he needed to be awake, and threw the watch back onto the table with such force it skidded across the top until it collided with his pack of cigarettes.
Sam grabbed the pack and immediately began to pull one out. It was only when he reached for the matches that he remembered what he told Chris. Hadn’t he said he wasn’t going to smoke anymore? That had made Chris happy. That had made Chris start to believe in him again. Disgusted with himself, Sam tossed the fag onto the table and collapsed back on the bed, burying his head in his hands.
Attempting to sleep would be useless. He was wide awake now because of her and all out of TV’s to throw. Sam would have sold his soul right then just to have his iPod back. Even a decent Walkman would’ve been fine. Reluctantly, he laid down and cleared those thoughts from his mind. While God sometimes said no, the Devil was always too eager to bargain and Sam knew he already had enough demons to deal with.
*
The stationary cupboard was spotless. Cleaner and neater than a hospital medicine cabinet. It could probably serve the Queen tea, it was so proper. Gene was almost afraid to take out a pen for fear of dirtying it. Damn it if the picky pain didn’t take his chores to heart.
Gene eventually reached out, hesitated, quickly mumbled "bollocks," grabbed what he needed, and slammed the door shut. He was pretty sure he heard a few things fall and worried if he should open the doors and double-check. No. If things were going to get back to normal he couldn’t keep handling Tyler with kid gloves.
Cupboards got messy. That’s how it was. Tyler would have to live with it. But Gene had forgotten he needed a pencil as well and it was just plain inconsiderate to leave those rubber bands scattered at the bottom like that, he decided as he reopened the doors.
*
"Hey Chris. How’d your doctor’s appointment go?" Sam asked, trying to sound cheerful as Chris strolled into CID Wednesday afternoon. After all, why shouldn’t he be cheerful? He’d been able to drink an entire cup of coffee this morning, which he desperately needed after a sleepless night. Gene and the others had gone out on another call late that morning and Sam had been alone since. He had only begun to feel anxious when Chris finally walked in.
"Good, sir. Fit as a fiddle they said," Chris hung up his coat. "Even gave me a note sayin’ I could go off desk duty."
"Brilliant," Sam smiled half-heartedly. "Oh, here." Sam reached into his coat pocket and pulled out his cigarettes. "This is the pack you bought me the other day. Not planning on using it but I didn’t want it to go to waste, so..." He handed it out.
"Cheers Boss!" Chris took it gratefully, before his face fell. "I mean Sergeant, Boss, sir. Sorry."
"You can say DS, Chris. It’s okay," Sam tried to assure him.
"Are you sure?"
"It’s what I am," Sam said more morosely than he meant to.
"When I tell you to restrain a suspect, you restrain a suspect Carling! You, of all people, shouldn’t have a problem with that!" Gene’s voice echoed through the halls, preceding his return to A-Division.
"Sorry Guv," Ray apologized, following behind Gene as the team barreled into CID. "I weren’t expectin’ her to get so...frisky."
Gene stopped abruptly and rounded on Ray. "I don’t care if her fingers were tugging on your knob like a virgin milkmaid! She was our prime suspect and you let her get away!"
"I’ll track ‘er down Guv," Ray hurried over to his desk.
"Well gee, golly thank you DS Carling for deciding to do your bleedin’ job!" In one fluid movement the Guv had pulled out a flask, took a sip, and faced Sam and Chris. "And what have you ladies been up to?"
Chris reached in his pocket and pulled out a slip of paper, handing it out to Gene. "Doc gave me the all clear, Guv."
Gene ripped the note from Chris’ hands and briefly skimmed it. "Good. I could use someone out there more competent than a deaf, dumb, an’ blind cock." He threw a quick glance at Ray. "But I’ll guess you’ll have to do Skelton. Help your hormonally challenged partner over there track down Miss Frisky Fingers." He tossed the note back to Chris and stormed towards his office.
"Uhm, Guv?" Sam hurried to catch up with him before Gene disappeared, probably under a newspaper for nap. "What do you need me to do?"
"Phyllis said summit about needing help organizing the charge sheets. One of her WPC’s called out sick." Gene was gone before Sam could respond.
"Right," Sam sighed submissively, shoving his hands in his pockets and turning on his heels. Chris got to help with an investigation and Sam was forced to play paperboy to the Women’s Department. Why wouldn’t Gene just give him a case? A tiny burglary, minor assault, a tot’s missing bicycle? Why couldn’t Gene let him prove he was capable?
"Least you’re slim enough to fit in a plonk’s uniform, Sergeant," Ray murmured as Sam passed his desk. "Maybe Cartwright can lend you her old kit."
Sam didn’t remember punching Ray in the jaw. One minute he was walking out of the office, the next Ray was staggering backwards holding his jaw and Chris had wrapped his arms around Sam’s chest, holding him back.
People were shouting but Sam didn’t hear them. His body was tense, tightly wound, and straining against Chris’ grasp. Ray quickly recovered and landed a fist to Sam’s gut.
"C’mon Ray!" Chris cried out, dropping Sam and trying to step between them. Sam grasped his stomach and knew instinctively he wouldn’t be eating for the rest of the day.
"Oi!!" The lion was out of its cage and bearing down on them. The fight was immediately halted. Gene yanked Sam back by his collar. "Thought I told you to go see Phyllis, DS Tyler."
"Yes Guv," Sam mumbled, caving under Gene’s presence.
"Then move it!" He let go of Tyler, giving him a not so gentle shove towards the door in the process. Sam scurried out, grateful to get away from the judgmental stares of his peers.
Gene, still radiating rage, focused his anger on Ray. "Find that suspect yet?"
"No Guv," Ray rubbed his sore jaw.
"Well if you would like your balls to stay where they are then I suggest you do!"
"Yes Guv," Ray quickly hunched himself over his desk and began making some phone calls.
Gene stood there til the room returned to normal, then skulked back into his office, internally debating whether or not to sneak out the back and check on his D...check on Tyler.
___________
Part 62