Fic: Steady As She Goes (76/86), blue cortina, dakfinv
Title: Steady As She Goes (76/86)
Author: dak
Word Count: 1523 this part; [135,543 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: Ray's first day as DI.
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
“What are yeh doin’?”
“I believe it’s called a handshake Ray.” Sam remained standing there with his hand outstretched while Ray stayed stock still, frozen in the process of fixing his jacket collar.
“Why?” He blurted out.
“Gene told me about your promotion. I’m offering my congratulations.”
“Why?” Ray was clearly having difficulties grasping the concept. When one man stole another bloke’s job there was meant to be a great, big punch-up. Of course, he always suspected Tyler was a poofter, despite all the googly eyes he made at Cartwright.
“To show there are no hard feelings.” Sam tried to keep the condescension out of his voice but it was obvious from Ray’s expression he hadn’t succeeded.
“Right.” The stocky man was able to find his footing again and walked as fast as he could out of the locker room, leaving Sam to pull back his empty hand and shove it deep in his pocket. There was a brief moment where he pouted like a sulky teenager until Chris stumbled into the room, tripping over a misplaced beer bottle.
“Oh. Hiya Boss,” he said, regaining his balance and fixing his tie. “Oh, er, I mean, DS Tyler, or, oh bloody hell this is confusing.”
“Stick with Sam, then. Only three letters, one syllable. Shouldn’t be too difficult.” Sam didn’t know why he had become so moody all of a sudden. Chris certainly hadn’t provoked it. It was this room. This roof was stifling. It was hard to breathe in there. He made for the door.
“Sam? I’m sorry.”
Tyler’s hand hovered just above the door.
“Ray, he din’t want this. He felt really bad when he found out.”
“So everyone keeps telling me,” he snarled and ran out the door. A heavy migraine was coming on, out of nowhere. He could feel it. Pinching the bridge of his nose, Sam blindly stomped down the corridor, not even stopping when Annie’s voice called out to him.
“Sam?”
“Whatever it is, I don’t need to hear it, alright?” He didn’t see Annie flinch at his harsh tone as he continued on the warpath to his desk. He stood over his paperwork, body tense and rigid, angrily shuffling through papers, picking up and throwing down files. “Where are the new cases?” He demanded of no one in particular.
“There aren’t any,” Annie whispered, the only one brave enough to approach him. “Not for us anyhow. DCI Hunt, Ray, and Chris are working on the Graham case. The others are just tying up some loose ends on a burglary.”
:”Brilliant.” Sam would’ve rolled his eyes if they didn’t feel like they were going to burst out of his skull. The pain was now threatening to control everything. Damn, harsh fluorescent lighting. “So what are we supposed to do then? Why bother to come into work if there is no fucking work?” He slammed an old, or was it a new, forensics book down hard on the desk, the bang echoing like a gunshot throughout the room.
His head was pounding now. He couldn’t control it. “What’s wrong with you?” His voice was cold as he noticed Annie staring at him in fear. No, she wasn’t staring at him. She was staring past him, behind him, where DCI Hunt was standing with Superintendent Rathbone. His brain was beating against the top of his skull, swelling, expanding. The pain unbearable and aggravating. He stared from Gene to Rathbone, his brain pulsing. Beeping. Hissing. Beeping. Hissing.
Hopefully this test will stimulate Sam’s brain activity.
“Is there a problem, DS Tyler?” Rathbone sneered, barely able to contain his joy.
There is no guarantee but it has shown promise in other patients.
“Not for long,” Sam hissed through clench teeth.
“Pardon?”
“I won’t be a Detective Sergeant for long,” Sam slowly explained.
Rathbone crossed his hands low in front of his waist, a defensive position. “Planning on becoming a Constable then?”
“Sir--” Gene tried to intervene but was ignored. The electric charge pulsing between Tyler and Rathbone had paralyzed the Chief Inspector as well as every other officer in the room. A bomb was going to go off and no one knew who would get caught in the blast.
Nurse? Can we increase the voltage? Slightly. Two joules I should think. Will this hurt him? No, Mrs. Tyler. I assure you it’s perfectly safe.
“Or did you think you could actually be promoted to Inspector again? Is that what Gene told you, to make you stay? That you still had a chance?” Rathbone addressed him as one would mock a naive child.
Sam’s pain spread outwardly, wounding Gene. Before, he had been certain, absolutely certain, that things were going to be alright.
Steady now.
He could have been alright. Now everything was flipped upside down and inside out. His world was a glass snowglobe, shaken and disturbed as soon as it began to settle. Never at peace from curious hands.
I don’t think it’s working Doctor.
“Let me assure you then, Sergeant Tyler,” Rathbone slid closer, “The only way you will ever see DI at this station, ever again, will be to sit back and watch DI Carling at work.”
Doctor! He’s suffering palpitations!
Sam couldn’t stop it. The noises were so loud, so frantic. They were consuming him, tearing him apart. He brought his hands to his ears and screamed.
“Stop it! It’s not working! Just stop it!”
Rathbone regarded him with disgust as Sam fell to his knees.
Beepbeepbeep. Switch it off. Switch it off!
“Stop it! I can’t get home like this! It’s not working. Turn it off!”
Beep. I’m trying Doctor. Beepbeep.
“Jesus Christ, Gene. This man should be committed. How long as he been like this?”
Beepbeepbeep.
“I just want to go home.”
“He hasn’t fully recovered from the kidnapping. That’s all. He was never like this before.”
Something was pulling at him. Pulling him up. He kept his eyes shut, desperate to end the horrible cacophony.
“Well I want him decommissioned, sectioned, and out of my station immediately, Hunt.”
Beep. Beep. Beep.
Something was pushing him. Dragging him. He kept his body rigid, guarded.
“I’ll handle it. Sir.”
Beep...Beep...Beep...
“I’m serious Gene. I do not want to see Tyler here again unless he’s been arrested for something. Imagine what the newspapers would say.”
Away. Taking him away.
“C’mon Sam. Let’s get you home. C’mon. That’s it.”
There now. It’s over Sam. I’m so sorry.
“Sit down Sammy. There now. It’s over.”
The pain was subsiding, ebbing away but still so very present.
“You want a cuppa or something? Whatever you want, Cartwright’ll fetch it.”
He ached everywhere. Inside and out. His head. His chest. His heart.
“Can you hear me Sam?”
He didn’t know if time was passing or how much, if it had. His thoughts were coming back. Slowly. In pieces. It was wrong. Everything was wrong.
“I was wrong Sam. I always seem to make the wrong choices when it comes to you.”
He was sitting down now. He didn’t remember doing it. The beeping had gone but his head hadn’t cleared.
“You said there was a chance.”
“I did.”
“You lied to me.” Coppers always lied to Sammy, even if they didn’t mean to.
No answer.
“You lied to me,” he meant to shout it but he hadn’t the energy. The words caught in his throat.
“I did.”
A deep breath.
“I should’ve gone with my gut. I’ve made all the wrong choices with you.” He said it a second time, more to himself than to Sam.
There was a hand on his shoulder. Someone had reached out and put a hand on his shoulder. His eyes followed the hand, to the arm, to the shoulder, to the man. To Gene. To Gene’s eyes. Gene’s eyes were dead. “You need the...kind of help I don’t understand. You know all that science shit’s always over my head.”
“I can’t be a police officer anymore, can I?” He felt four years old. It was 1973. He was four in 1973. It made sense. Everything was so confusing but at least that made sense.
“I don’t know. But I know you can’t be if you don’t do this.”
Gene had a paper in his hand. It had Sammy’s name on it. Sammy took it.
“I’ll be alone.”
“You won’t. I promise that. Okay Sam? We’ll keep an eye on you. Always. Everyday.”
“I want to go home.”
“I know.”
“That’s all I’ve wanted.”
“I know.”
There was nothing in the world but him and Gene and the paper and the pen. Everything else was gone. Nothing else mattered.
Gene said he wanted to go with him but he couldn’t. He’d come by later. Two other men came and helped him leave. He got to take his jacket with him.
“Always knew it were goin’ to end like this,” Ray looked away. Chris shoved him against a filing cabinet and ran out of the room. Annie, eyes brimming with tears, excused herself and cried in the ladies’ toilets.
“It’s not over,” Gene said to no one. To everyone. He went into his office, closed the blinds, and drank.
______
Part 77
Author: dak
Word Count: 1523 this part; [135,543 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: Ray's first day as DI.
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
“What are yeh doin’?”
“I believe it’s called a handshake Ray.” Sam remained standing there with his hand outstretched while Ray stayed stock still, frozen in the process of fixing his jacket collar.
“Why?” He blurted out.
“Gene told me about your promotion. I’m offering my congratulations.”
“Why?” Ray was clearly having difficulties grasping the concept. When one man stole another bloke’s job there was meant to be a great, big punch-up. Of course, he always suspected Tyler was a poofter, despite all the googly eyes he made at Cartwright.
“To show there are no hard feelings.” Sam tried to keep the condescension out of his voice but it was obvious from Ray’s expression he hadn’t succeeded.
“Right.” The stocky man was able to find his footing again and walked as fast as he could out of the locker room, leaving Sam to pull back his empty hand and shove it deep in his pocket. There was a brief moment where he pouted like a sulky teenager until Chris stumbled into the room, tripping over a misplaced beer bottle.
“Oh. Hiya Boss,” he said, regaining his balance and fixing his tie. “Oh, er, I mean, DS Tyler, or, oh bloody hell this is confusing.”
“Stick with Sam, then. Only three letters, one syllable. Shouldn’t be too difficult.” Sam didn’t know why he had become so moody all of a sudden. Chris certainly hadn’t provoked it. It was this room. This roof was stifling. It was hard to breathe in there. He made for the door.
“Sam? I’m sorry.”
Tyler’s hand hovered just above the door.
“Ray, he din’t want this. He felt really bad when he found out.”
“So everyone keeps telling me,” he snarled and ran out the door. A heavy migraine was coming on, out of nowhere. He could feel it. Pinching the bridge of his nose, Sam blindly stomped down the corridor, not even stopping when Annie’s voice called out to him.
“Sam?”
“Whatever it is, I don’t need to hear it, alright?” He didn’t see Annie flinch at his harsh tone as he continued on the warpath to his desk. He stood over his paperwork, body tense and rigid, angrily shuffling through papers, picking up and throwing down files. “Where are the new cases?” He demanded of no one in particular.
“There aren’t any,” Annie whispered, the only one brave enough to approach him. “Not for us anyhow. DCI Hunt, Ray, and Chris are working on the Graham case. The others are just tying up some loose ends on a burglary.”
:”Brilliant.” Sam would’ve rolled his eyes if they didn’t feel like they were going to burst out of his skull. The pain was now threatening to control everything. Damn, harsh fluorescent lighting. “So what are we supposed to do then? Why bother to come into work if there is no fucking work?” He slammed an old, or was it a new, forensics book down hard on the desk, the bang echoing like a gunshot throughout the room.
His head was pounding now. He couldn’t control it. “What’s wrong with you?” His voice was cold as he noticed Annie staring at him in fear. No, she wasn’t staring at him. She was staring past him, behind him, where DCI Hunt was standing with Superintendent Rathbone. His brain was beating against the top of his skull, swelling, expanding. The pain unbearable and aggravating. He stared from Gene to Rathbone, his brain pulsing. Beeping. Hissing. Beeping. Hissing.
Hopefully this test will stimulate Sam’s brain activity.
“Is there a problem, DS Tyler?” Rathbone sneered, barely able to contain his joy.
There is no guarantee but it has shown promise in other patients.
“Not for long,” Sam hissed through clench teeth.
“Pardon?”
“I won’t be a Detective Sergeant for long,” Sam slowly explained.
Rathbone crossed his hands low in front of his waist, a defensive position. “Planning on becoming a Constable then?”
“Sir--” Gene tried to intervene but was ignored. The electric charge pulsing between Tyler and Rathbone had paralyzed the Chief Inspector as well as every other officer in the room. A bomb was going to go off and no one knew who would get caught in the blast.
Nurse? Can we increase the voltage? Slightly. Two joules I should think. Will this hurt him? No, Mrs. Tyler. I assure you it’s perfectly safe.
“Or did you think you could actually be promoted to Inspector again? Is that what Gene told you, to make you stay? That you still had a chance?” Rathbone addressed him as one would mock a naive child.
Sam’s pain spread outwardly, wounding Gene. Before, he had been certain, absolutely certain, that things were going to be alright.
Steady now.
He could have been alright. Now everything was flipped upside down and inside out. His world was a glass snowglobe, shaken and disturbed as soon as it began to settle. Never at peace from curious hands.
I don’t think it’s working Doctor.
“Let me assure you then, Sergeant Tyler,” Rathbone slid closer, “The only way you will ever see DI at this station, ever again, will be to sit back and watch DI Carling at work.”
Doctor! He’s suffering palpitations!
Sam couldn’t stop it. The noises were so loud, so frantic. They were consuming him, tearing him apart. He brought his hands to his ears and screamed.
“Stop it! It’s not working! Just stop it!”
Rathbone regarded him with disgust as Sam fell to his knees.
Beepbeepbeep. Switch it off. Switch it off!
“Stop it! I can’t get home like this! It’s not working. Turn it off!”
Beep. I’m trying Doctor. Beepbeep.
“Jesus Christ, Gene. This man should be committed. How long as he been like this?”
Beepbeepbeep.
“I just want to go home.”
“He hasn’t fully recovered from the kidnapping. That’s all. He was never like this before.”
Something was pulling at him. Pulling him up. He kept his eyes shut, desperate to end the horrible cacophony.
“Well I want him decommissioned, sectioned, and out of my station immediately, Hunt.”
Beep. Beep. Beep.
Something was pushing him. Dragging him. He kept his body rigid, guarded.
“I’ll handle it. Sir.”
Beep...Beep...Beep...
“I’m serious Gene. I do not want to see Tyler here again unless he’s been arrested for something. Imagine what the newspapers would say.”
Away. Taking him away.
“C’mon Sam. Let’s get you home. C’mon. That’s it.”
There now. It’s over Sam. I’m so sorry.
“Sit down Sammy. There now. It’s over.”
The pain was subsiding, ebbing away but still so very present.
“You want a cuppa or something? Whatever you want, Cartwright’ll fetch it.”
He ached everywhere. Inside and out. His head. His chest. His heart.
“Can you hear me Sam?”
He didn’t know if time was passing or how much, if it had. His thoughts were coming back. Slowly. In pieces. It was wrong. Everything was wrong.
“I was wrong Sam. I always seem to make the wrong choices when it comes to you.”
He was sitting down now. He didn’t remember doing it. The beeping had gone but his head hadn’t cleared.
“You said there was a chance.”
“I did.”
“You lied to me.” Coppers always lied to Sammy, even if they didn’t mean to.
No answer.
“You lied to me,” he meant to shout it but he hadn’t the energy. The words caught in his throat.
“I did.”
A deep breath.
“I should’ve gone with my gut. I’ve made all the wrong choices with you.” He said it a second time, more to himself than to Sam.
There was a hand on his shoulder. Someone had reached out and put a hand on his shoulder. His eyes followed the hand, to the arm, to the shoulder, to the man. To Gene. To Gene’s eyes. Gene’s eyes were dead. “You need the...kind of help I don’t understand. You know all that science shit’s always over my head.”
“I can’t be a police officer anymore, can I?” He felt four years old. It was 1973. He was four in 1973. It made sense. Everything was so confusing but at least that made sense.
“I don’t know. But I know you can’t be if you don’t do this.”
Gene had a paper in his hand. It had Sammy’s name on it. Sammy took it.
“I’ll be alone.”
“You won’t. I promise that. Okay Sam? We’ll keep an eye on you. Always. Everyday.”
“I want to go home.”
“I know.”
“That’s all I’ve wanted.”
“I know.”
There was nothing in the world but him and Gene and the paper and the pen. Everything else was gone. Nothing else mattered.
Gene said he wanted to go with him but he couldn’t. He’d come by later. Two other men came and helped him leave. He got to take his jacket with him.
“Always knew it were goin’ to end like this,” Ray looked away. Chris shoved him against a filing cabinet and ran out of the room. Annie, eyes brimming with tears, excused herself and cried in the ladies’ toilets.
“It’s not over,” Gene said to no one. To everyone. He went into his office, closed the blinds, and drank.
______
Part 77