Fic: Steady As She Goes (72/86), blue cortina, dakfinv
Title: Steady As She Goes (72/86)
Author: dak
Word Count: 1958 this part; [128,185 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 and Sam have doubts.
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: 1x01; see each chapter for specific spoiler warnings
Pairing: mild Sam/Annie, Sam/Maya, Gene/missus
Disclaimer: Belongs to BBC/Kudos
A/N: Okay, so I'm afraid this might be my last post for a little bit since, on Monday, I will be moving from the US to London. I don't know how long it's going to take me to get settled with job and living arrangements and internet and such, hopefully no more than a week or two, but I want to assure anyone still reading this that I will still be writing during this time and will be back as soon as I can. I promise I'm not giving up on the story! (Especially since I'm leaving you with another cliffhanger.) Thank you for all your wonderful and supportive comments and I swear on the Cortina's life that I'll return.
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
A glass of whiskey was shoved into his hand. He watched as the amber liquid swayed then stilled, ignoring the obvious offer to drink it.
“Well?”
“Well what?” Sam snapped as he continued to stare at the glass in his hand.
“You want to talk about it?” Gene sat at his desk, his own drink long gone.
“Awfully ‘Dorothy’ of you, isn’t it?” Sam argued again, downing the warm whiskey and cradling the empty tumbler in his hands, being careful to avoid his Guv’s penetrating gaze. Gene allowed the silence to fill the room until Sam felt pressure enough to speak again. “It was only another panic attack,” he mumbled into his chest.
“Right,” Gene said with more than a hint of sarcasm reflected in his tone. “Perfectly normal, that is.”
“He caught me off guard. I’m fine now, alright?”
“Sure.”
“Can I get back to work?” Sam started to rise from his chair.
“No.”
Glass still in hand, Sam threw up his arms in disgust. “For christ’s sake, Gene. It’s over! I’m fine!”
“So you keep saying.” Gene watched as Sam shook his head, set the glass on top of the filing cabinet, and reached for the door. “Sit down Tyler.” Reluctant and upset, Sam let go of the door and returned to the chair with as much anger as he could muster, sitting down and crossing his arms with a fierce pout. “You nearly fell off the roof,” Gene continued.
“Wouldn’t be the first time,” Sam muttered under his breath as he nervously tapped his foot.
“I know,” Gene spoke calmly.
“What?” Sam quickly came to attention.
“After the Raimes case, right? Cartwright had to talk you down.” Gene poured himself another drink.
“How did you--”
“I know everything that goes on in my department Sammy-boy. ‘S what separates the real Chief Inspectors from the wankers.” For the second time, Gene downed the glass in one go.
Sam felt his face flush red with embarrassment. Truly, this had to be the worst day of his life. Not only had he sobbed like a little girl in the arms of his DCI, at the station no less, but now he discovered Gene knew about his near leap of faith as well.
“Maybe you should take some time off. A real holiday. Blackpool or summit. Get frisky with a few locals, that sort of thing.” Gene looked away as he said it.
“What? No. Absolutely not. We are this bloody close to solving the Graham case. You send me home, what do you expect me to do? Sit around twiddling my thumbs while the rest of you muddle through this mess?”
“We are getting close, Sam. And that means the closer we get to the answer, the closer we get to your kidnappers.”
“I know.”
“And you think you’re ready for that?”
“I have to be,” Sam said without pause. He looked around the room to avoid looking at Gene, eyes settling on the clock. “When are you going to interview him?” He asked softly.
“Tomorrow. Much as I’d like to rip off his balls right now, I want ‘im to stew in that cell for awhile. Make ‘im feel trapped, alone, desperate.” Gene said it almost proudly.
“Like me,” Sam replied without thinking.
“You’re not alone Sam.”
He couldn’t be sure but he swore Gene’s voice almost sounded hurt. Sam didn’t know why, he knew it was wrong, but he felt the urge to twist that knife deeper, draw out the pain. “So you keep saying.” He was ashamed of how he had reacted in the presence of his attacker. Ashamed of how he had broken down in public, allowing himself to be seen so weak. He felt completely betrayed by his emotions and suddenly he wanted, he needed, someone else to feel ashamed and weakened and betrayed. He needed someone else to be the victim. “I’ve always been on my own here and I always will be. Now if you’ll excuse me, sir,” he pushed himself out of the chair, keeping his voice even and cold, “I’m going to go back to work and I’m going to solve this case.” Sam left before he could feel any regret over his words.
*
“You comin’ to the pub tonight Boss?” Chris threw on his jacket while Sam continued checking over some paperwork.
“I don’t think so Chris,” he said with a heavy sigh. “Think I better just turn in for the night.”
“Wilco. See you tomorrow then!” He sent Sam a little wave and headed towards the lift where Ray was already waiting.
“Chris?”
“Yes sir?”
“Try not to drink so much tonight.”
Chris let loose a sheepish grin as he pushed open the doors. “Roger that Boss.”
With the DC gone Sam was, as usual, the last person left in CID. Gene had departed at exactly the stroke of five, not even sparing Tyler a cursory glance when he stormed out of the bullpen. Sam couldn’t blame him. Maybe they just needed some space for awhile. Allow both of their tempers and egos to settle.
Fifteen minutes after Chris had left, a wave of uncontrollable yawns reminded Sam that he was still not at full strength and he decided he should finally go home for the night. Maybe he would wake early enough the next morning to get a good walk in before he needed to report to the station.
After straightening up his desk and making sure everything was in perfect order for tomorrow he, too, made his way out of the office but instead of heading towards the lobby, Sam found himself outside of cell number three. He didn’t remember walking to the cells but suddenly there he was, standing in front of the cell three’s heavy, dented metal door.
His mind kept telling him there was no reason for him to be here, that he should go home, get out, but his feet were simply refusing to respond. So he stood there for a good fifteen minutes, body rigid, eyes focused in front. He could slide the panel back, see the man inside. He could unlock the cell, share a few of the rebukes that had been swimming through his head since Deep Voice spoke to him that afternoon. No. Not Deep Voice. Bobby Walsh. He had a name now. He was a person. A man. Just a man. And men could be hurt.
“Need something Sergeant Tyler?” Phyllis’ draconian voice echoed past his ears and it took Sam a few seconds to turn his head and look in her direction.
“No. I was just...” But what was he doing? Sam had no idea.
Phyllis stepped closer and placed a firm hand on his arm. “We’ll take good care of him sir,” she smirked. “Don’t you worry.”
“Yes. Good. Thanks.” He knew he should say something about the proper handling of suspects in custody. He should say that this man still had his basic civil rights. He should say that Mr. Walsh should be treated with the same amount of respect as any other human being. Yet he didn’t say it. He didn’t believe it. He knew he should. “Night Phyllis.” Under the Desk Sergeant’s watchful glare, DS Sam Tyler walked briskly down the corridor, presumably headed for home.
*
He stood on the bank watching as the little boat bobbed up and down, rocking in the choppy water. There was no light but somehow he could still see the man sat in the boat staring blankly ahead. He tried to call out to him but he had no voice. He saw that the boat was sinking, he wanted to warn the man, but he couldn’t call to him. He thought about going into the water himself but it was too dangerous. He couldn’t bring himself to do it.
There was a bridge nearby. He thought if he went onto the bridge he could catch the man’s attention. So he ran onto the middle of the bridge. He waved his arms at the man but the man kept staring blankly ahead. If he would have had something to throw at him, he would have. He couldn’t think of anything else to do. He had tried everything he could think of. What else was he supposed to do?
The boat sank lower and lower until there was no boat. As the water reached the man’s shoulders he finally look upwards as if knowing help had been waiting on the bridge the entire time. Still, he did nothing and Gene could only watch as Stu’s face disappeared into the murky darkness.
“Need a drink?”
Gene peered down to see a flask held in front of his chest. Looking to his right he saw Tyler. Not the normal Tyler but the one he had dragged from the canal. Sam stood there staring down at the water, soaking wet, his face beaten and bloody, his right arm hanging at an odd angle due to the dislocated shoulder. When Gene didn’t take the flask, Sam shrugged and pulled back his arm.
He didn’t know where the flask had gone but Sam had started to remove his jacket, revealing him wearing only a dirty vest stained with the blood that was dripping from his wrists.
“Hold this for me, will you?” He handed the jacket to Gene who took it speechlessly. With the grace of a man unhindered by life-threatening injuries Sam leapt up and swung his legs over the side of the bridge, sitting himself precariously on the ledge.
“Tyler? What are you doing?”
“Don’t worry Guv. In the future, everyone can fly,” Sam said cheerfully, giving the Guv an assuring grin.
“You’re not from the future.”
“Sure I am,” Sam smiled again with utter certainty.
“That’s impossible.”
“I told you I was,” he said it as if those five words should explain everything then started to push himself forward, over the water.
“Wait!”
Sam stopped and regarded him with childlike curiosity. “Just tell me you believe me and I won’t do it. I’ll listen to you Gene. Really I will.”
Suddenly Gene was unable to speak again. He tried, he tried to force the words but he couldn’t make a single sound.
“Hurry up Gene. Stu’s waiting for me. We’re going to Spain. Do you want to come? You don’t have to. I won’t go. I won’t if you don’t want me to. Just tell me you believe me. Then I’ll stay.” Sam continued to stare at him, blood seeping from his nose down his face, one eye swollen shut. “Okay then,” he shrugged and Sam went over the edge, Gene’s fingers brushing his vest too late to grasp and pull him back.
Gene woke, unsure whether he had screamed or not. He prayed he hadn’t but something had caused his wife to stir and flick on the bedside lamp.
“Gene? Gene, luv, you alright?”
He was sweating furiously, he realized and tossed off the covers as she tried to adjust her eyes.
“I’m fine.” He rolled out of bed and crossed to the door on the other side of the room.
“Gene...”
“I’m fine!” He shouted at her, the clock on the night stand shaking as he slammed the door shut upon exiting.
*
The water looked so calm, peaceful. Who would have thought such a beautiful canal could cause so much trouble. He knew it was because water easily washed away evidence but still, he didn’t want to think about evidence right now. All Sam wanted to do was stare out at the black stretch water which curled through Manchester like some massive snake, a true predator. All Sam wanted to do was stare at the water and forget he had ever come to 1973.
________
Part 73
Author: dak
Word Count: 1958 this part; [128,185 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 and Sam have doubts.
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: 1x01; see each chapter for specific spoiler warnings
Pairing: mild Sam/Annie, Sam/Maya, Gene/missus
Disclaimer: Belongs to BBC/Kudos
A/N: Okay, so I'm afraid this might be my last post for a little bit since, on Monday, I will be moving from the US to London. I don't know how long it's going to take me to get settled with job and living arrangements and internet and such, hopefully no more than a week or two, but I want to assure anyone still reading this that I will still be writing during this time and will be back as soon as I can. I promise I'm not giving up on the story! (Especially since I'm leaving you with another cliffhanger.) Thank you for all your wonderful and supportive comments and I swear on the Cortina's life that I'll return.
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
A glass of whiskey was shoved into his hand. He watched as the amber liquid swayed then stilled, ignoring the obvious offer to drink it.
“Well?”
“Well what?” Sam snapped as he continued to stare at the glass in his hand.
“You want to talk about it?” Gene sat at his desk, his own drink long gone.
“Awfully ‘Dorothy’ of you, isn’t it?” Sam argued again, downing the warm whiskey and cradling the empty tumbler in his hands, being careful to avoid his Guv’s penetrating gaze. Gene allowed the silence to fill the room until Sam felt pressure enough to speak again. “It was only another panic attack,” he mumbled into his chest.
“Right,” Gene said with more than a hint of sarcasm reflected in his tone. “Perfectly normal, that is.”
“He caught me off guard. I’m fine now, alright?”
“Sure.”
“Can I get back to work?” Sam started to rise from his chair.
“No.”
Glass still in hand, Sam threw up his arms in disgust. “For christ’s sake, Gene. It’s over! I’m fine!”
“So you keep saying.” Gene watched as Sam shook his head, set the glass on top of the filing cabinet, and reached for the door. “Sit down Tyler.” Reluctant and upset, Sam let go of the door and returned to the chair with as much anger as he could muster, sitting down and crossing his arms with a fierce pout. “You nearly fell off the roof,” Gene continued.
“Wouldn’t be the first time,” Sam muttered under his breath as he nervously tapped his foot.
“I know,” Gene spoke calmly.
“What?” Sam quickly came to attention.
“After the Raimes case, right? Cartwright had to talk you down.” Gene poured himself another drink.
“How did you--”
“I know everything that goes on in my department Sammy-boy. ‘S what separates the real Chief Inspectors from the wankers.” For the second time, Gene downed the glass in one go.
Sam felt his face flush red with embarrassment. Truly, this had to be the worst day of his life. Not only had he sobbed like a little girl in the arms of his DCI, at the station no less, but now he discovered Gene knew about his near leap of faith as well.
“Maybe you should take some time off. A real holiday. Blackpool or summit. Get frisky with a few locals, that sort of thing.” Gene looked away as he said it.
“What? No. Absolutely not. We are this bloody close to solving the Graham case. You send me home, what do you expect me to do? Sit around twiddling my thumbs while the rest of you muddle through this mess?”
“We are getting close, Sam. And that means the closer we get to the answer, the closer we get to your kidnappers.”
“I know.”
“And you think you’re ready for that?”
“I have to be,” Sam said without pause. He looked around the room to avoid looking at Gene, eyes settling on the clock. “When are you going to interview him?” He asked softly.
“Tomorrow. Much as I’d like to rip off his balls right now, I want ‘im to stew in that cell for awhile. Make ‘im feel trapped, alone, desperate.” Gene said it almost proudly.
“Like me,” Sam replied without thinking.
“You’re not alone Sam.”
He couldn’t be sure but he swore Gene’s voice almost sounded hurt. Sam didn’t know why, he knew it was wrong, but he felt the urge to twist that knife deeper, draw out the pain. “So you keep saying.” He was ashamed of how he had reacted in the presence of his attacker. Ashamed of how he had broken down in public, allowing himself to be seen so weak. He felt completely betrayed by his emotions and suddenly he wanted, he needed, someone else to feel ashamed and weakened and betrayed. He needed someone else to be the victim. “I’ve always been on my own here and I always will be. Now if you’ll excuse me, sir,” he pushed himself out of the chair, keeping his voice even and cold, “I’m going to go back to work and I’m going to solve this case.” Sam left before he could feel any regret over his words.
*
“You comin’ to the pub tonight Boss?” Chris threw on his jacket while Sam continued checking over some paperwork.
“I don’t think so Chris,” he said with a heavy sigh. “Think I better just turn in for the night.”
“Wilco. See you tomorrow then!” He sent Sam a little wave and headed towards the lift where Ray was already waiting.
“Chris?”
“Yes sir?”
“Try not to drink so much tonight.”
Chris let loose a sheepish grin as he pushed open the doors. “Roger that Boss.”
With the DC gone Sam was, as usual, the last person left in CID. Gene had departed at exactly the stroke of five, not even sparing Tyler a cursory glance when he stormed out of the bullpen. Sam couldn’t blame him. Maybe they just needed some space for awhile. Allow both of their tempers and egos to settle.
Fifteen minutes after Chris had left, a wave of uncontrollable yawns reminded Sam that he was still not at full strength and he decided he should finally go home for the night. Maybe he would wake early enough the next morning to get a good walk in before he needed to report to the station.
After straightening up his desk and making sure everything was in perfect order for tomorrow he, too, made his way out of the office but instead of heading towards the lobby, Sam found himself outside of cell number three. He didn’t remember walking to the cells but suddenly there he was, standing in front of the cell three’s heavy, dented metal door.
His mind kept telling him there was no reason for him to be here, that he should go home, get out, but his feet were simply refusing to respond. So he stood there for a good fifteen minutes, body rigid, eyes focused in front. He could slide the panel back, see the man inside. He could unlock the cell, share a few of the rebukes that had been swimming through his head since Deep Voice spoke to him that afternoon. No. Not Deep Voice. Bobby Walsh. He had a name now. He was a person. A man. Just a man. And men could be hurt.
“Need something Sergeant Tyler?” Phyllis’ draconian voice echoed past his ears and it took Sam a few seconds to turn his head and look in her direction.
“No. I was just...” But what was he doing? Sam had no idea.
Phyllis stepped closer and placed a firm hand on his arm. “We’ll take good care of him sir,” she smirked. “Don’t you worry.”
“Yes. Good. Thanks.” He knew he should say something about the proper handling of suspects in custody. He should say that this man still had his basic civil rights. He should say that Mr. Walsh should be treated with the same amount of respect as any other human being. Yet he didn’t say it. He didn’t believe it. He knew he should. “Night Phyllis.” Under the Desk Sergeant’s watchful glare, DS Sam Tyler walked briskly down the corridor, presumably headed for home.
*
He stood on the bank watching as the little boat bobbed up and down, rocking in the choppy water. There was no light but somehow he could still see the man sat in the boat staring blankly ahead. He tried to call out to him but he had no voice. He saw that the boat was sinking, he wanted to warn the man, but he couldn’t call to him. He thought about going into the water himself but it was too dangerous. He couldn’t bring himself to do it.
There was a bridge nearby. He thought if he went onto the bridge he could catch the man’s attention. So he ran onto the middle of the bridge. He waved his arms at the man but the man kept staring blankly ahead. If he would have had something to throw at him, he would have. He couldn’t think of anything else to do. He had tried everything he could think of. What else was he supposed to do?
The boat sank lower and lower until there was no boat. As the water reached the man’s shoulders he finally look upwards as if knowing help had been waiting on the bridge the entire time. Still, he did nothing and Gene could only watch as Stu’s face disappeared into the murky darkness.
“Need a drink?”
Gene peered down to see a flask held in front of his chest. Looking to his right he saw Tyler. Not the normal Tyler but the one he had dragged from the canal. Sam stood there staring down at the water, soaking wet, his face beaten and bloody, his right arm hanging at an odd angle due to the dislocated shoulder. When Gene didn’t take the flask, Sam shrugged and pulled back his arm.
He didn’t know where the flask had gone but Sam had started to remove his jacket, revealing him wearing only a dirty vest stained with the blood that was dripping from his wrists.
“Hold this for me, will you?” He handed the jacket to Gene who took it speechlessly. With the grace of a man unhindered by life-threatening injuries Sam leapt up and swung his legs over the side of the bridge, sitting himself precariously on the ledge.
“Tyler? What are you doing?”
“Don’t worry Guv. In the future, everyone can fly,” Sam said cheerfully, giving the Guv an assuring grin.
“You’re not from the future.”
“Sure I am,” Sam smiled again with utter certainty.
“That’s impossible.”
“I told you I was,” he said it as if those five words should explain everything then started to push himself forward, over the water.
“Wait!”
Sam stopped and regarded him with childlike curiosity. “Just tell me you believe me and I won’t do it. I’ll listen to you Gene. Really I will.”
Suddenly Gene was unable to speak again. He tried, he tried to force the words but he couldn’t make a single sound.
“Hurry up Gene. Stu’s waiting for me. We’re going to Spain. Do you want to come? You don’t have to. I won’t go. I won’t if you don’t want me to. Just tell me you believe me. Then I’ll stay.” Sam continued to stare at him, blood seeping from his nose down his face, one eye swollen shut. “Okay then,” he shrugged and Sam went over the edge, Gene’s fingers brushing his vest too late to grasp and pull him back.
Gene woke, unsure whether he had screamed or not. He prayed he hadn’t but something had caused his wife to stir and flick on the bedside lamp.
“Gene? Gene, luv, you alright?”
He was sweating furiously, he realized and tossed off the covers as she tried to adjust her eyes.
“I’m fine.” He rolled out of bed and crossed to the door on the other side of the room.
“Gene...”
“I’m fine!” He shouted at her, the clock on the night stand shaking as he slammed the door shut upon exiting.
*
The water looked so calm, peaceful. Who would have thought such a beautiful canal could cause so much trouble. He knew it was because water easily washed away evidence but still, he didn’t want to think about evidence right now. All Sam wanted to do was stare out at the black stretch water which curled through Manchester like some massive snake, a true predator. All Sam wanted to do was stare at the water and forget he had ever come to 1973.
________
Part 73