Fic: Steady As She Goes (74/86), blue cortina, dakfinv
Title: Steady As She Goes (74/86)
Author: dak
Word Count: 2535 this part; [132,275 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: Interrogations and everyone does a little thinking.
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: 1x07, 1x08; see each chapter for specific spoiler warnings
Pairing: mild Sam/Annie, Sam/Maya, Gene/missus
Disclaimer: Belongs to BBC/Kudos
A/N: I mean in the country less than 48 hours, keeping a close eye on my money, promising myself I won't buy anything, and I still end up at Waterstone's buying a copy of DCI Gene Hunt's Rules of Modern Policing. I think me coming to this country is as bad as sending an alcoholic into a bar. And I'm loving every minute of it. ;) So here's a big, meaty chapter for you.
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
“I-I dunno.”
“Such a convincing argument.”
“I ‘aven’t seen ‘em since--”
“Since you beat three shades of shit out of me DI and chucked ‘im in the canal?”
Bobby Walsh’s response was muffled by the table into which Gene was smashing his face. Tyler had hit him already, of course, just not in the places that would release any information. A good nose to a hard surface did wonders.
“That weren’t my idea! I said we should let ‘im go,” he gasped as hard hands yanked back on his hair, nearly pulling his scalp clean off.
“No. You just followed orders like a good little doggie,” Gene whispered sinisterly in his ear, still clutching the man’s hair in his fingers, forcing his head back and making it difficult for him to swallow. “Now. Are you going to tell me where your masters are or will I need to break you in first?”
“I ‘aven’t seen ‘em since! I swear. ‘M doin’ honest work now. At the loadin’ docks.”
Gene shoved Bobby forward as he roughly released him, causing the suspect to smack his forehead on the table, his arms being currently restrained behind his back and unable to prevent the collision.
“What do you think Raymondo?” Gene circled around Bobby as Ray sat across the table, arms crossed and mouth set somewhere between a smirk and a scowl. “You think Bobby here committed thirty-seven different acts of GBH on DI Tyler then saw the face of God in the bruises like his skin was the bloody shroud of Turin?” Gene was shouting his lungs out, his own memories of Tyler’s sick body bubbling to the surface like the blood from the gashes on his wrists. He pushed them aside. He couldn’t let this get anymore personal that it already was or he’d be finishing what Tyler had started yesterday, and Gene Hunt still had two other murdering scrotes for his fists to track down.
“I think...” Ray started slowly, pretending to consider the question carefully, “that we need another set of handcuffs, Guv.”
*
“They’ve been in there awhile now.” Sam mentioned it quietly, off-handedly, hoping Annie would notice and hoping that she wouldn’t.
“No more than usual. It only seems longer when you’re not in there with them,” Annie smiled from her desk. “Now c’mon. We’re almost finished with these reports on the burglary.”
“Right.” Sam shook his head, focused his eyes and started filling out the last paper. The radio played softly in the background. Something by Chicory Tip? Sam tried to listen closer, blocking a shout from the makeshift interrogation room.
Beep. Beep. Beep.
“No.” He squeezed his eyes tight and had to stop himself from lifting his hands and covering his ears.
“No what? Sam?” Annie was already in worried mode.
Beep. Beep. Sam is very fortunate, Mrs. Tyler. Beep. Beep.
“Sorry. Just thinking out loud.” He and Annie shared equally nervous smiles.
Beep. Beep. His most recent scan is showing marked improvement in areas we originally considered unsalvagable. Beep. Beep.
“You did well today Annie,” Sam spoke urgently, and probably too loudly, over the din of his background brain noise. Despite wanting to hear the good news, it was more imperative that he maintained his weak grip on sanity in the eyes of his coworkers. Why couldn’t they wait until he was safe and alone at home before seeping into this unreality?
“Sir?” She asked uncertainly, unprepared for the compliment.
“This morning. With the husband. You handled it well when he called you...what was it?”
Beep. Beep. He’s still not where he was before the seizures though, which causes us some concern. Beep. Beep.
“A gormless, incapable slag? I heard worse at chucking out time when I was a barmaid.” She shrugged off Sam’s kind words, wanting to show how old hat she felt insults were.
Beep. Beep. He’s still a five on the GCS, two grades lower than he was when first admitted after the accident. Beep. Beep. He’s gradually heading into a deeper coma...
Sam abruptly shut off the radio. He couldn’t concentrate on this world with the other edging in. “Hate that song,” he commented off Annie’s look.
“Of course sir.” Annie gazed down at her paper and scribbled her signature at the bottom of the report. Flipping it shut, she rose from her desk and walked towards Gene’s office. “I’m going to leave this for the Guv and take the other finished reports down to Chris.”
“He’s still in the Collator’s?” Sam shook his head and smiled. “Need any help?” He half-stood and reached out his hand.
“I can handle it,” she saw Sam’s cut knuckles and smiled tightly before walking briskly away.
Sam watched her leave, concerned over her sudden standoffish attitude. Then, noticing he was now alone in CID, switched the radio back on.
*
“I left ‘em in Liverpool. They said they were goin’ to Ireland. Hide for a bit.” Another backhanded slap. Another bit of blood dripped from Bobby’s mouth.
“Why were you three blocks from my officer’s flat?”
“I ‘ave mates livin’ there.” It was Ray’s turn to slap. It wasn’t as hard as Gene would’ve liked.
“Skinhead mates.” Gene grunted in angry certainty.
“No!” Bobby shouted before another blow could be struck. “Normal blokes. From the docks, like. I told yeh I’m not into that NF stuff no more.”
“Why?” There was no time for insults now. All Gene wanted were answers. Reasons. Explanations.
“I...I want to lawyer. I want to see a brief!”
Gene grabbed him by the throat and pulled him close. “You’ll be lucky if you even live to see a judge.” He thrust him back and stormed to the door, Ray lagging behind.
“Ain’t that what yeh did to Roy?” Bobby ventured anxiously. Ray wondered if the man had a death wish.
Gene froze but didn’t turn. The truth in those words was too terrifying. He channeled his anger into something else and left Bobby cuffed to the chair. His thoughts still clouded with rage, Gene was startled when he burst into CID and heard a crash from Tyler’s desk.
“I was just trying to find a good song.” Sam spoke too quickly and without a prompt, a sure sign to both coppers that he was lying.
“You owe Skelton a new radio.” Gene surveyed the pieces on the floor. “Have you eaten today?”
“No. I was--”
“Make sure you get yourself down to canteen.” Gene wanted to vanish into his lair until his nerves could settle. There was a good bottle of scotch in there that could do just the trick.
“What did he say?”
“You’re not on the case.” He saw Sam glance towards the door. “And don’t you dare go anywhere near him Tyler.” Gene didn’t even wait for a “yes, Guv,” as he drove through his doors, nearly knocking down Gary Cooper.
*
Ray gingerly washed his hands in the sink. It was clear his knuckles had racked up a few fresh scars. The Guv should have torn Walsh apart for that last remark. How could that murdering scumbag think for one second that the Guv would kill him? It took Ray a few seconds to realize the incongruity of those remarks. The Guv would go far but he’d never do that. Ray had. On accident of course, but he’d done to Billy Kemble what he always threatened to do to so many others. So many others that had deserved it more. Graham had done it, too, presumably.
Ray dabbed his hands dry. How many others had done it? He wondered if maybe Tyler had, back in Hyde or even earlier. Maybe that’s why the ponce was such a stickler for the rules. Maybe he’d messed up badly once, real badly, and was afraid of it happening again. After what he’d seen yesterday, he’d never seen Tyler with such a murderous glare, not even over that Vic Tyler nonsense, well Tyler certainly had it in him.
That’s why he didn’t like how the Guv had paired him with Cartwright.
*
Chris always thought he’d never want to go back to the Collator’s Den after the shooting but to his great surprise the first time he’d been asked, (had it been Annie or the Guv?), He’d completely forgotten about the shooting, too worried about finding the right folder. He guessed being a div had its advantages sometimes.
It had taken the station awhile to change the carpet, get rid of the bloodstain, his bloodstain, but it had never bothered Chris. Maybe it was odd, Ray always told him he weren’t normal, but seeing that stain had always made him proud. Yes he’d been shot but he’d made it. He’d pulled through. It was a tiny affirmation that he wasn’t as weak as everyone always thought he was.
So Chris enjoyed the comfort of the collator’s. He filed with a little more confidence, held his back a little straighter and it made him wonder. If simple Chris could get through everything okay, why couldn’t someone as smart as the Boss? Why couldn’t he be okay, too?
Chris carefully placed the last folder in its proper place, trying to figure out a way to help. Seeing what he’d done to Bobby Walsh, Chris thought he might still need some help.
*
Annie went out to a nearby cafe for lunch. She needed some space from the station, a little time to clear her head because all she could think about was Sam and it wasn’t in the pleasant way that made her stomach tingle and her heart ache. It was in the painful way that made her feel sick, like she had eaten nothing in days, a black hole inside her growing and consuming every hopeful thought.
He needed so much help. She didn’t need a psychology degree to see that. She cursed herself for following the Guv’s lead and believing he was getting better. She had chosen to forget his violent streak. Sam was able to keep it so well hidden, forgetting had been a simple act but there it was today, written all over his hands.
As she picked at her coronation chicken, she analyzed two different possibilities. One was that Sam had been here too long. Whether that meant “here” in Manchester CID or “here” in 1973 was a separate matter altogether that she didn’t even remotely want to think about right now. Either way, it could be that the Guv and Ray had been rubbing off on him, his recent near death experience making him particularly vulnerable.
The second was what worried her most, was what had been picking at her brain ever since Ray had come round to check on her after...after Sam had hit her. Why deny what it was? It was horrible enough to consider that Ray had been speaking the truth then, that the pills had brought out something Sam was capable of all along. It was even worse that for all their violence, Annie had never seen Ray or the Guv ever hit a woman. Threaten, yes, but never actually act. Sam had done it without a second thought.
Not that she was some frail flower, she was a fellow detective but still, it was just something that wasn’t done, and Sam had done it. Annie checked her watch. She only had fifteen minutes left of lunch and had barely touched her food. Where had all that time gone?
*
Gene fully acknowledged that he could be a complete hypocrite, at least to himself alone. How could he deny it after ordering Tyler to the canteen for food when he himself had sat in his office with only a flask for company? The prat did need a meal more than he, of course. As the missus kindly reminded him every morning, she had only so much time each day to waste letting out his trousers.
Their morning conversations had been the same the past few days. What would you like for breakfast? What do you want for dinner? My aren’t we getting a little round in the middle love? When is DI Tyler coming over for dinner?
DI Tyler.
He hadn’t told her he’d demoted him. He hadn’t the heart. Besides, then she’d want to know why and then he’d have to tell her about the drinking, the voices, the violence. There was only one person in this world that could still see Tyler as a wounded saint and Gene didn’t want to take that image away from her. She deserved it. Sam deserved it. The poor bastard needed someone who still believed in the man he was capable of being. Never meet you your idols. That’s what Gene had always been told.
“Guv?”
Speak of the devil, a tired, short-haired picky pain was peaking his head through the door.
“Tyler.” Gene exhaled slowly, watching smoke drift towards the stained ceiling.
“I’m not feeling well. I was wondering if I could knock off early.”
“What’s wrong?” Gene asked sternly. He couldn’t have Tyler hiding anything from him. Not anymore.
“Nothing. Only a bad migraine. I’d like to go sleep it off.”
Gene watched Sam’s demeanor. His body was relaxed, well, relaxed as it ever was for him. His tone was calm, unhurried. He wasn’t nervous or over-excited. He didn’t appear to be lying.
“Fine. Long as you’re here nine sharp tomorrow morning.”
“Think I can handle that. Oh.” Sam fully entered the office, pulling a slip of paper from his pocket and handing it to Gene. “This is for Mrs. Hunt. It’s a recipe that you might actually like.”
“Cheers,” he grunted as he looked it over. Sam nodded and began to leave. “Tyler.”
“Yeah?” He yawned and turned.
“Good work today. On that burglary.” Gene pretended to read the newspaper. “Almost Inspector worthy.”
“Cheers Guv.” Gene needn’t look at him to know Tyler was sporting a grin the size of the bloody channel. “Tomorrow then.”
“Tomorrow.”
Sam was gone without even attempting a sideways inquiry into the Graham case. Another point for the United loving tosser.
*
Having a migraine hadn’t been a lie but for former DCI Sam Tyler it had been a poor excuse. He’d worked through worse before. He always did. It was part of the reason he had made DCI at such a young age. The whole truth, however, would simply not have been acceptable, but as he set his new television on the formerly empty stand Sam decided it had been worth it. Once it was plugged in, he immediately switched it on and began searching through the channels.
“Okay then. You were here earlier. Tell me how to do it. Tell me what I have to do to wake up.”
*
“I won’t do it.”
“You don’t have a choice, Hunt. I am giving you a direct order.”
“It’ll destroy ‘im. Both of ‘em.”
Rathbone folded his hands and barely restrained a cold smile. “The position needs to be properly filled. Either you do this or I bring someone in from the outside. You wouldn’t want that, would you Gene?”
For once in his life, Gene hadn’t the words to respond.
“Good. Now go tell Carling the good news.”
________
Part 75
Author: dak
Word Count: 2535 this part; [132,275 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: Interrogations and everyone does a little thinking.
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: 1x07, 1x08; see each chapter for specific spoiler warnings
Pairing: mild Sam/Annie, Sam/Maya, Gene/missus
Disclaimer: Belongs to BBC/Kudos
A/N: I mean in the country less than 48 hours, keeping a close eye on my money, promising myself I won't buy anything, and I still end up at Waterstone's buying a copy of DCI Gene Hunt's Rules of Modern Policing. I think me coming to this country is as bad as sending an alcoholic into a bar. And I'm loving every minute of it. ;) So here's a big, meaty chapter for you.
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
“I-I dunno.”
“Such a convincing argument.”
“I ‘aven’t seen ‘em since--”
“Since you beat three shades of shit out of me DI and chucked ‘im in the canal?”
Bobby Walsh’s response was muffled by the table into which Gene was smashing his face. Tyler had hit him already, of course, just not in the places that would release any information. A good nose to a hard surface did wonders.
“That weren’t my idea! I said we should let ‘im go,” he gasped as hard hands yanked back on his hair, nearly pulling his scalp clean off.
“No. You just followed orders like a good little doggie,” Gene whispered sinisterly in his ear, still clutching the man’s hair in his fingers, forcing his head back and making it difficult for him to swallow. “Now. Are you going to tell me where your masters are or will I need to break you in first?”
“I ‘aven’t seen ‘em since! I swear. ‘M doin’ honest work now. At the loadin’ docks.”
Gene shoved Bobby forward as he roughly released him, causing the suspect to smack his forehead on the table, his arms being currently restrained behind his back and unable to prevent the collision.
“What do you think Raymondo?” Gene circled around Bobby as Ray sat across the table, arms crossed and mouth set somewhere between a smirk and a scowl. “You think Bobby here committed thirty-seven different acts of GBH on DI Tyler then saw the face of God in the bruises like his skin was the bloody shroud of Turin?” Gene was shouting his lungs out, his own memories of Tyler’s sick body bubbling to the surface like the blood from the gashes on his wrists. He pushed them aside. He couldn’t let this get anymore personal that it already was or he’d be finishing what Tyler had started yesterday, and Gene Hunt still had two other murdering scrotes for his fists to track down.
“I think...” Ray started slowly, pretending to consider the question carefully, “that we need another set of handcuffs, Guv.”
*
“They’ve been in there awhile now.” Sam mentioned it quietly, off-handedly, hoping Annie would notice and hoping that she wouldn’t.
“No more than usual. It only seems longer when you’re not in there with them,” Annie smiled from her desk. “Now c’mon. We’re almost finished with these reports on the burglary.”
“Right.” Sam shook his head, focused his eyes and started filling out the last paper. The radio played softly in the background. Something by Chicory Tip? Sam tried to listen closer, blocking a shout from the makeshift interrogation room.
Beep. Beep. Beep.
“No.” He squeezed his eyes tight and had to stop himself from lifting his hands and covering his ears.
“No what? Sam?” Annie was already in worried mode.
Beep. Beep. Sam is very fortunate, Mrs. Tyler. Beep. Beep.
“Sorry. Just thinking out loud.” He and Annie shared equally nervous smiles.
Beep. Beep. His most recent scan is showing marked improvement in areas we originally considered unsalvagable. Beep. Beep.
“You did well today Annie,” Sam spoke urgently, and probably too loudly, over the din of his background brain noise. Despite wanting to hear the good news, it was more imperative that he maintained his weak grip on sanity in the eyes of his coworkers. Why couldn’t they wait until he was safe and alone at home before seeping into this unreality?
“Sir?” She asked uncertainly, unprepared for the compliment.
“This morning. With the husband. You handled it well when he called you...what was it?”
Beep. Beep. He’s still not where he was before the seizures though, which causes us some concern. Beep. Beep.
“A gormless, incapable slag? I heard worse at chucking out time when I was a barmaid.” She shrugged off Sam’s kind words, wanting to show how old hat she felt insults were.
Beep. Beep. He’s still a five on the GCS, two grades lower than he was when first admitted after the accident. Beep. Beep. He’s gradually heading into a deeper coma...
Sam abruptly shut off the radio. He couldn’t concentrate on this world with the other edging in. “Hate that song,” he commented off Annie’s look.
“Of course sir.” Annie gazed down at her paper and scribbled her signature at the bottom of the report. Flipping it shut, she rose from her desk and walked towards Gene’s office. “I’m going to leave this for the Guv and take the other finished reports down to Chris.”
“He’s still in the Collator’s?” Sam shook his head and smiled. “Need any help?” He half-stood and reached out his hand.
“I can handle it,” she saw Sam’s cut knuckles and smiled tightly before walking briskly away.
Sam watched her leave, concerned over her sudden standoffish attitude. Then, noticing he was now alone in CID, switched the radio back on.
*
“I left ‘em in Liverpool. They said they were goin’ to Ireland. Hide for a bit.” Another backhanded slap. Another bit of blood dripped from Bobby’s mouth.
“Why were you three blocks from my officer’s flat?”
“I ‘ave mates livin’ there.” It was Ray’s turn to slap. It wasn’t as hard as Gene would’ve liked.
“Skinhead mates.” Gene grunted in angry certainty.
“No!” Bobby shouted before another blow could be struck. “Normal blokes. From the docks, like. I told yeh I’m not into that NF stuff no more.”
“Why?” There was no time for insults now. All Gene wanted were answers. Reasons. Explanations.
“I...I want to lawyer. I want to see a brief!”
Gene grabbed him by the throat and pulled him close. “You’ll be lucky if you even live to see a judge.” He thrust him back and stormed to the door, Ray lagging behind.
“Ain’t that what yeh did to Roy?” Bobby ventured anxiously. Ray wondered if the man had a death wish.
Gene froze but didn’t turn. The truth in those words was too terrifying. He channeled his anger into something else and left Bobby cuffed to the chair. His thoughts still clouded with rage, Gene was startled when he burst into CID and heard a crash from Tyler’s desk.
“I was just trying to find a good song.” Sam spoke too quickly and without a prompt, a sure sign to both coppers that he was lying.
“You owe Skelton a new radio.” Gene surveyed the pieces on the floor. “Have you eaten today?”
“No. I was--”
“Make sure you get yourself down to canteen.” Gene wanted to vanish into his lair until his nerves could settle. There was a good bottle of scotch in there that could do just the trick.
“What did he say?”
“You’re not on the case.” He saw Sam glance towards the door. “And don’t you dare go anywhere near him Tyler.” Gene didn’t even wait for a “yes, Guv,” as he drove through his doors, nearly knocking down Gary Cooper.
*
Ray gingerly washed his hands in the sink. It was clear his knuckles had racked up a few fresh scars. The Guv should have torn Walsh apart for that last remark. How could that murdering scumbag think for one second that the Guv would kill him? It took Ray a few seconds to realize the incongruity of those remarks. The Guv would go far but he’d never do that. Ray had. On accident of course, but he’d done to Billy Kemble what he always threatened to do to so many others. So many others that had deserved it more. Graham had done it, too, presumably.
Ray dabbed his hands dry. How many others had done it? He wondered if maybe Tyler had, back in Hyde or even earlier. Maybe that’s why the ponce was such a stickler for the rules. Maybe he’d messed up badly once, real badly, and was afraid of it happening again. After what he’d seen yesterday, he’d never seen Tyler with such a murderous glare, not even over that Vic Tyler nonsense, well Tyler certainly had it in him.
That’s why he didn’t like how the Guv had paired him with Cartwright.
*
Chris always thought he’d never want to go back to the Collator’s Den after the shooting but to his great surprise the first time he’d been asked, (had it been Annie or the Guv?), He’d completely forgotten about the shooting, too worried about finding the right folder. He guessed being a div had its advantages sometimes.
It had taken the station awhile to change the carpet, get rid of the bloodstain, his bloodstain, but it had never bothered Chris. Maybe it was odd, Ray always told him he weren’t normal, but seeing that stain had always made him proud. Yes he’d been shot but he’d made it. He’d pulled through. It was a tiny affirmation that he wasn’t as weak as everyone always thought he was.
So Chris enjoyed the comfort of the collator’s. He filed with a little more confidence, held his back a little straighter and it made him wonder. If simple Chris could get through everything okay, why couldn’t someone as smart as the Boss? Why couldn’t he be okay, too?
Chris carefully placed the last folder in its proper place, trying to figure out a way to help. Seeing what he’d done to Bobby Walsh, Chris thought he might still need some help.
*
Annie went out to a nearby cafe for lunch. She needed some space from the station, a little time to clear her head because all she could think about was Sam and it wasn’t in the pleasant way that made her stomach tingle and her heart ache. It was in the painful way that made her feel sick, like she had eaten nothing in days, a black hole inside her growing and consuming every hopeful thought.
He needed so much help. She didn’t need a psychology degree to see that. She cursed herself for following the Guv’s lead and believing he was getting better. She had chosen to forget his violent streak. Sam was able to keep it so well hidden, forgetting had been a simple act but there it was today, written all over his hands.
As she picked at her coronation chicken, she analyzed two different possibilities. One was that Sam had been here too long. Whether that meant “here” in Manchester CID or “here” in 1973 was a separate matter altogether that she didn’t even remotely want to think about right now. Either way, it could be that the Guv and Ray had been rubbing off on him, his recent near death experience making him particularly vulnerable.
The second was what worried her most, was what had been picking at her brain ever since Ray had come round to check on her after...after Sam had hit her. Why deny what it was? It was horrible enough to consider that Ray had been speaking the truth then, that the pills had brought out something Sam was capable of all along. It was even worse that for all their violence, Annie had never seen Ray or the Guv ever hit a woman. Threaten, yes, but never actually act. Sam had done it without a second thought.
Not that she was some frail flower, she was a fellow detective but still, it was just something that wasn’t done, and Sam had done it. Annie checked her watch. She only had fifteen minutes left of lunch and had barely touched her food. Where had all that time gone?
*
Gene fully acknowledged that he could be a complete hypocrite, at least to himself alone. How could he deny it after ordering Tyler to the canteen for food when he himself had sat in his office with only a flask for company? The prat did need a meal more than he, of course. As the missus kindly reminded him every morning, she had only so much time each day to waste letting out his trousers.
Their morning conversations had been the same the past few days. What would you like for breakfast? What do you want for dinner? My aren’t we getting a little round in the middle love? When is DI Tyler coming over for dinner?
DI Tyler.
He hadn’t told her he’d demoted him. He hadn’t the heart. Besides, then she’d want to know why and then he’d have to tell her about the drinking, the voices, the violence. There was only one person in this world that could still see Tyler as a wounded saint and Gene didn’t want to take that image away from her. She deserved it. Sam deserved it. The poor bastard needed someone who still believed in the man he was capable of being. Never meet you your idols. That’s what Gene had always been told.
“Guv?”
Speak of the devil, a tired, short-haired picky pain was peaking his head through the door.
“Tyler.” Gene exhaled slowly, watching smoke drift towards the stained ceiling.
“I’m not feeling well. I was wondering if I could knock off early.”
“What’s wrong?” Gene asked sternly. He couldn’t have Tyler hiding anything from him. Not anymore.
“Nothing. Only a bad migraine. I’d like to go sleep it off.”
Gene watched Sam’s demeanor. His body was relaxed, well, relaxed as it ever was for him. His tone was calm, unhurried. He wasn’t nervous or over-excited. He didn’t appear to be lying.
“Fine. Long as you’re here nine sharp tomorrow morning.”
“Think I can handle that. Oh.” Sam fully entered the office, pulling a slip of paper from his pocket and handing it to Gene. “This is for Mrs. Hunt. It’s a recipe that you might actually like.”
“Cheers,” he grunted as he looked it over. Sam nodded and began to leave. “Tyler.”
“Yeah?” He yawned and turned.
“Good work today. On that burglary.” Gene pretended to read the newspaper. “Almost Inspector worthy.”
“Cheers Guv.” Gene needn’t look at him to know Tyler was sporting a grin the size of the bloody channel. “Tomorrow then.”
“Tomorrow.”
Sam was gone without even attempting a sideways inquiry into the Graham case. Another point for the United loving tosser.
*
Having a migraine hadn’t been a lie but for former DCI Sam Tyler it had been a poor excuse. He’d worked through worse before. He always did. It was part of the reason he had made DCI at such a young age. The whole truth, however, would simply not have been acceptable, but as he set his new television on the formerly empty stand Sam decided it had been worth it. Once it was plugged in, he immediately switched it on and began searching through the channels.
“Okay then. You were here earlier. Tell me how to do it. Tell me what I have to do to wake up.”
*
“I won’t do it.”
“You don’t have a choice, Hunt. I am giving you a direct order.”
“It’ll destroy ‘im. Both of ‘em.”
Rathbone folded his hands and barely restrained a cold smile. “The position needs to be properly filled. Either you do this or I bring someone in from the outside. You wouldn’t want that, would you Gene?”
For once in his life, Gene hadn’t the words to respond.
“Good. Now go tell Carling the good news.”
________
Part 75