Fic: Steady As She Goes (67/86), blue cortina, dakfinv
Title: Steady As She Goes (67/86)
Author: dak
Word Count: 1412 this part; [120,266 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: The team gets a lead.
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
From behind the blinds, he watched him enter, nodding his hellos to Chris and a few of the others. He shook off his jacket and draped it across the back of his chair, rolling up his sleeves and sitting down, ready to tackle the stack of paperwork the Guv had plopped on his desk.
It all looked normal enough.
Of course he was still too thin, Gene noted, but his skin appeared healthier, he was moving less stiffly and, saints preserve us, it seemed like he finally had a decent wash. Watching him carefully over the next few minutes, Gene searched for any signs of Tyler’s...fits.
The lad seemed normal enough.
There was the occasional comment to himself but it was no more than anyone normal’s typical grumbling over paperwork. Though all his instincts were screaming against it, Gene allowed himself a brief moment to believe it was going to be okay.
The moment passed as Ray knocked on his door.
“What?” He barked.
Carling cracked open the door, chewing his gum like a wayward cow. “Mrs. Graham’s ‘ere. Says she wants to talk to yeh.”
Gene tossed down the pen he’d been holding and sat up in his chair. “Right. Show ‘er to the canteen, fetch ‘er a nice cuppa and tell ‘er I’ll be right there.”
“Sure thing, Guv.”
Ray disappeared and Gene stayed at his desk, tapping his fingers on the edge as he considered his options. Finally coming to a decision, he grabbed his suit jacket and slipped it on, straightening the collar as he entered the bullpen.
“Graham’s old lady’s here. Might be ready to share some information ‘bout her double-crossing, murdering, git of a dead husband.”
“You might want to check your choice of words, Guv. She is still a grieving widow after all,” Sam advised without looking up from his reading.
“That’s why you’re comin’ with me,” Gene said quickly before striding towards the exit.
Sam looked up in shock to see Gene already at the door.
“C’mon then, Gladys. Shift it. Got better things to do with me time then listen to some old biddy weep over ‘er bastard husband.”
Still not quite believing what he was hearing, Sam scrambled out his chair, threw on his jacket, then had to double back to his desk for his note pad and pen. He hurried past Chris who gave him a grin and a thumbs up, then joined Gene at the lift. Standing side by side, it was the closest they’d been since Saturday but Sam was well aware Gene could have easily had him put away and that he still could.
“I fixed my window this weekend.”
“Lovely,” Gene sarcastically remarked.
Sam didn’t know why it mattered but he had wanted Gene to know. They rode the lift in silence, Sam allowing Gene to exit first as the doors slid open. Following him into the canteen there was no mistaking Ray’s resentful look as he saw Tyler enter with his Guv.
“She’s right over there, Guv,” Ray approached them, indicating a tired looking woman sitting alone, her hands wrapped protectively around a warm teacup.
Gene walked directly to Mrs. Graham without another word to Ray and Sam followed silently behind him. Ray knew then that nothing was really going to change but he couldn’t figure out if he was mad or glad about it. The confusion was what upset him most. He lumbered out of the canteen wondering what Chris was up to.
Gene and Sam pulled out their chairs and sat down in unison across from the distraught Mrs. Graham.
“Hello Chief Inspector Hunt,” she smiled sweetly but somberly.
“Mrs. Graham,” Gene nodded. “This is Detective Sergeant Tyler.”
“Hello Sergeant Tyler and please, call me Lizzie,” she ran her finger around the rim of her cup and Sam noticed she was no longer wearing a wedding ring.
Gene nearly cringed when he saw Tyler pull out his note pad but focused his attention on the woman in front of him. “DS Carling said you wanted to speak to me,” Gene asked, surprisingly politely, after a long silence.
“Yes. Sorry. Excuse me.” She let go of the cup and reached down for the purse beside her. Flicking open the clasp, she pulled out a plain envelope, closed her purse, and set it back next to her. She held the letter in both hands, staring at it as if it would disappear any second. As if it should disappear.
Finally she outstretched her arm, handing the envelope over. After Sam gently took it, she quickly drew back her hand, clasping it back around the cup. Sam studied the envelope, noticing there was no return address.
“It came in the post this morning. I wasn’t sure what it was, until I recognized Marc’s handwriting,” she spoke with her eyes closed, fighting back the tears. “I thought you should have it, that it might help with your investigation.”
Sam removed the letter from the already opened envelope and scanned it. It was clearly DI Graham’s suicide note. He swallowed uncomfortably and handed it to Gene who quickly came to the same conclusion.
“Thank you very much Mrs. Graham,” Gene folded the letter and handed it back to Sam without taking his eyes off the widow. “I’m sure it will help us greatly.”
“Chief Inspector,” she asked softly, eyes still closed, “I need to know. Are you certain that...that Marcus took his own life? That there are no other possibilities?”
“I’m afraid not.”
She stifled a sob and Sam found a handkerchief in his pocket and handed it out. She shook her head and kindly waved it away. “No. No. I’m alright. Thank you. It’s just...I was hoping...We’re Catholic and the church, it won’t let us...”
“I’ll see what I can do, Lizzie,” Gene comforted her.
“Thank you,” she smiled sadly. “Thank you.”
“Take all the time here you need.” He added and she nodded, failing in her struggle to hold back her tears.
Gene signalled for one of the nearby WPCs to keep her company as Sam followed him wordlessly out of the canteen.
“Well, that was a bloody waste of time,” Gene quipped sardonically as they once again waited for the lift.
“Why do you say that?” Sam asked disapprovingly.
“Already know the bloke offed himself. Don’t need a letter to prove it.”
Sam entered the lift behind Gene and pressed the button for the third floor. “It obviously gave her some closure. You don’t think that’s important?”
Gene leaned against the back wall. “The Graham investigation is closed. Has been since last Tuesday, which you would’ve noticed if you hadn’t been off with the Wombles.”
“It disturbs me how much children’s television you watch. And while Graham’s death might be open and shut, you didn’t happen to think that maybe this letter might give us some insight into what really happened to Roy Martin?” Sam slouched against the side of the lift.
“Oh yes, I must’ve missed that line. ‘Dear Lizzie, Sorry for staging an accident that killed a key witness to my attempted murder of a fellow police officer. Must go put my belt to better use. Lots of love, Marcus.”
“It was his shirt.”
“What?”
“You keep saying it was his belt but Graham hanged himself with his shirt.” The lift came to a shuddering stop and the doors slid open, Sam stepping out before Gene had the opportunity. “And I was referring to the line that read ‘the good things I have done cannot make up for the deaths I have caused.’” Sam waved the letter.
“So?” Gene shoved his hands in his pockets and peered down at Tyler who nodded towards one of the many windows of CID.
“Chris doesn’t appear to be dead, does he?”
They simultaneously looked through the glass to see DC Skelton dozing at his desk, cigarette hanging loosely from his lips as DS Carling attempted to throw bits of paper into his mate’s open mouth.
“Debatable,” Gene quipped.
“And if he is referring to Roy Martin, what does he mean by ‘deaths’ plural?”
“You stared at the letter all of five seconds. How’d you catch that?”
“The Wombles showed me.” Sam didn’t even wait for a response, sparing time only for his rarely seen but patented smug grin, before rushing into CID, shaking Chris awake, and losing himself in his work.
Gene watched him through the window. It all looked normal enough. If only his gut could agree.
______
Part 68
Author: dak
Word Count: 1412 this part; [120,266 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: The team gets a lead.
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
From behind the blinds, he watched him enter, nodding his hellos to Chris and a few of the others. He shook off his jacket and draped it across the back of his chair, rolling up his sleeves and sitting down, ready to tackle the stack of paperwork the Guv had plopped on his desk.
It all looked normal enough.
Of course he was still too thin, Gene noted, but his skin appeared healthier, he was moving less stiffly and, saints preserve us, it seemed like he finally had a decent wash. Watching him carefully over the next few minutes, Gene searched for any signs of Tyler’s...fits.
The lad seemed normal enough.
There was the occasional comment to himself but it was no more than anyone normal’s typical grumbling over paperwork. Though all his instincts were screaming against it, Gene allowed himself a brief moment to believe it was going to be okay.
The moment passed as Ray knocked on his door.
“What?” He barked.
Carling cracked open the door, chewing his gum like a wayward cow. “Mrs. Graham’s ‘ere. Says she wants to talk to yeh.”
Gene tossed down the pen he’d been holding and sat up in his chair. “Right. Show ‘er to the canteen, fetch ‘er a nice cuppa and tell ‘er I’ll be right there.”
“Sure thing, Guv.”
Ray disappeared and Gene stayed at his desk, tapping his fingers on the edge as he considered his options. Finally coming to a decision, he grabbed his suit jacket and slipped it on, straightening the collar as he entered the bullpen.
“Graham’s old lady’s here. Might be ready to share some information ‘bout her double-crossing, murdering, git of a dead husband.”
“You might want to check your choice of words, Guv. She is still a grieving widow after all,” Sam advised without looking up from his reading.
“That’s why you’re comin’ with me,” Gene said quickly before striding towards the exit.
Sam looked up in shock to see Gene already at the door.
“C’mon then, Gladys. Shift it. Got better things to do with me time then listen to some old biddy weep over ‘er bastard husband.”
Still not quite believing what he was hearing, Sam scrambled out his chair, threw on his jacket, then had to double back to his desk for his note pad and pen. He hurried past Chris who gave him a grin and a thumbs up, then joined Gene at the lift. Standing side by side, it was the closest they’d been since Saturday but Sam was well aware Gene could have easily had him put away and that he still could.
“I fixed my window this weekend.”
“Lovely,” Gene sarcastically remarked.
Sam didn’t know why it mattered but he had wanted Gene to know. They rode the lift in silence, Sam allowing Gene to exit first as the doors slid open. Following him into the canteen there was no mistaking Ray’s resentful look as he saw Tyler enter with his Guv.
“She’s right over there, Guv,” Ray approached them, indicating a tired looking woman sitting alone, her hands wrapped protectively around a warm teacup.
Gene walked directly to Mrs. Graham without another word to Ray and Sam followed silently behind him. Ray knew then that nothing was really going to change but he couldn’t figure out if he was mad or glad about it. The confusion was what upset him most. He lumbered out of the canteen wondering what Chris was up to.
Gene and Sam pulled out their chairs and sat down in unison across from the distraught Mrs. Graham.
“Hello Chief Inspector Hunt,” she smiled sweetly but somberly.
“Mrs. Graham,” Gene nodded. “This is Detective Sergeant Tyler.”
“Hello Sergeant Tyler and please, call me Lizzie,” she ran her finger around the rim of her cup and Sam noticed she was no longer wearing a wedding ring.
Gene nearly cringed when he saw Tyler pull out his note pad but focused his attention on the woman in front of him. “DS Carling said you wanted to speak to me,” Gene asked, surprisingly politely, after a long silence.
“Yes. Sorry. Excuse me.” She let go of the cup and reached down for the purse beside her. Flicking open the clasp, she pulled out a plain envelope, closed her purse, and set it back next to her. She held the letter in both hands, staring at it as if it would disappear any second. As if it should disappear.
Finally she outstretched her arm, handing the envelope over. After Sam gently took it, she quickly drew back her hand, clasping it back around the cup. Sam studied the envelope, noticing there was no return address.
“It came in the post this morning. I wasn’t sure what it was, until I recognized Marc’s handwriting,” she spoke with her eyes closed, fighting back the tears. “I thought you should have it, that it might help with your investigation.”
Sam removed the letter from the already opened envelope and scanned it. It was clearly DI Graham’s suicide note. He swallowed uncomfortably and handed it to Gene who quickly came to the same conclusion.
“Thank you very much Mrs. Graham,” Gene folded the letter and handed it back to Sam without taking his eyes off the widow. “I’m sure it will help us greatly.”
“Chief Inspector,” she asked softly, eyes still closed, “I need to know. Are you certain that...that Marcus took his own life? That there are no other possibilities?”
“I’m afraid not.”
She stifled a sob and Sam found a handkerchief in his pocket and handed it out. She shook her head and kindly waved it away. “No. No. I’m alright. Thank you. It’s just...I was hoping...We’re Catholic and the church, it won’t let us...”
“I’ll see what I can do, Lizzie,” Gene comforted her.
“Thank you,” she smiled sadly. “Thank you.”
“Take all the time here you need.” He added and she nodded, failing in her struggle to hold back her tears.
Gene signalled for one of the nearby WPCs to keep her company as Sam followed him wordlessly out of the canteen.
“Well, that was a bloody waste of time,” Gene quipped sardonically as they once again waited for the lift.
“Why do you say that?” Sam asked disapprovingly.
“Already know the bloke offed himself. Don’t need a letter to prove it.”
Sam entered the lift behind Gene and pressed the button for the third floor. “It obviously gave her some closure. You don’t think that’s important?”
Gene leaned against the back wall. “The Graham investigation is closed. Has been since last Tuesday, which you would’ve noticed if you hadn’t been off with the Wombles.”
“It disturbs me how much children’s television you watch. And while Graham’s death might be open and shut, you didn’t happen to think that maybe this letter might give us some insight into what really happened to Roy Martin?” Sam slouched against the side of the lift.
“Oh yes, I must’ve missed that line. ‘Dear Lizzie, Sorry for staging an accident that killed a key witness to my attempted murder of a fellow police officer. Must go put my belt to better use. Lots of love, Marcus.”
“It was his shirt.”
“What?”
“You keep saying it was his belt but Graham hanged himself with his shirt.” The lift came to a shuddering stop and the doors slid open, Sam stepping out before Gene had the opportunity. “And I was referring to the line that read ‘the good things I have done cannot make up for the deaths I have caused.’” Sam waved the letter.
“So?” Gene shoved his hands in his pockets and peered down at Tyler who nodded towards one of the many windows of CID.
“Chris doesn’t appear to be dead, does he?”
They simultaneously looked through the glass to see DC Skelton dozing at his desk, cigarette hanging loosely from his lips as DS Carling attempted to throw bits of paper into his mate’s open mouth.
“Debatable,” Gene quipped.
“And if he is referring to Roy Martin, what does he mean by ‘deaths’ plural?”
“You stared at the letter all of five seconds. How’d you catch that?”
“The Wombles showed me.” Sam didn’t even wait for a response, sparing time only for his rarely seen but patented smug grin, before rushing into CID, shaking Chris awake, and losing himself in his work.
Gene watched him through the window. It all looked normal enough. If only his gut could agree.
______
Part 68