Fic: Steady As She Goes (79/86), Brown Cortina, dakfinv
Title: Steady As She Goes (79/86)
Author: dak
Word Count: 2330 this part; [142,443 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: Sam gets another visitor.
Rating: Brown Cortina
Warnings: angst, swearing, violence, violent imagery, minor drug use, mild sexual situations, self-harm for whole
Spoilers: 1.07; see each chapter for specific spoiler warnings
Pairing: mild Sam/Annie, Sam/Maya, Gene/missus
Disclaimer: Belongs to BBC/Kudos
A/N: So I finally upped this to Brown Cortina which I probably should have done a few chapters ago, what with all the graphic swearing and violence and all but I'm officially doing it now. Mostly because of the language and partly because Gene gets a little action. Please enjoy! Oh, and I finally gave Mrs. Hunt a name.
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
“Aren’t you going to the pub?”
“In a bit. Need to eat summit first.”
“Well aren’t you lucky I decided to cook then.”
Gene thumped into a chair as his wife set a steaming plate of freshly prepared food on the table for him. “Thanks,” he mumbled as he picked up a knife and fork and started cutting through the beef.
“Mm-hm. You’re welcome.” She wiped her hands on her apron and gave him a quick peck on the top of his head. “Hair needs washed. You need a refill?” Gene grunted. “I know. Shouldn’t have to ask,” she sighed and threw up her hands as she entered the hall, picking the flasks out of his coat pockets. She shook each one as she found it, her mild frustration growing. “Are all four empty?” Gene decided not to answer. “Honestly,” she grumbled as she juggled three hip flasks, digging around for the fourth, but her searching hand found something else first. “Gene?” She asked, strolling back into the kitchen, three flasks balanced in one hand, two pieces of paper held in the other. “What are these?”
“What are what?” He asked between fork fulls of tender meat. She dropped the flasks on the counter and sat at the table with him.
“These drawings,” she said softly.
Gene immediately lost his appetite and had immense difficulty swallowing the food already in his mouth. He sat down the cutlery but refused to look in her direction. “They’re Sam’s. From Sam. He drew them. For me.”
Mrs. Hunt instinctively covered her mouth with her hand, poorly concealing her shock. “He drew them in hospital? Now?”
Gene couldn’t answer.
“Gene. Gene, what’s wrong with him?” She reached over and grabbed her husband’s arm to steady herself.
“Not sure really. Quack tried to explain it all but...” She squeezed his arm tight and he covered her hand in his own. “For some reason, he thinks...he thinks he’s four.”
“Oh God.” Her gaze was locked on the pictures. “His parents? His family? Do they know?”
Gene removed his hand and tried eating again. Nothing tasted right. “Don’t think he has any. Said his dad left when he were young. Sometimes talks like his mum’s alive. Don’t think she is though.”
They sat in silence, the only sound Gene picking at his cooling dinner.
“Can I see him?” She asked quietly, hopefully.
“It would only hurt you,” he whispered honestly. Sam was hurting. His team was hurting. He was...He didn’t need to see his wife in pain.
“He has no family Gene. He has you. He has a few mates from the station. He can have me, too.” She begged with him. Gene remained silent but had stopped attempting to eat. “Do they know? Your boys. Miss Cartwright.”
“They know he’s in hospital. Were all there when it happened. They guess he’s not doing well but I haven’t found a way to tell ‘em ‘bout this.” Gene, too, was staring at the rough, crayon drawings now. They were sweet. The kind of thing a parent would stick on the refrigerator if they hadn’t been drawn by a thirty-six year old man having severe delusions.
“You have to tell them.”
“When I find a way.”
“Better think quick then, Chief Inspector, or I’ll do it for you.”
Gene sighed and finally gave up trying to finish his dinner. “Can you get to St. Mary’s tomorrow, lunchtime. Noon?”
“Long as Manchester’s great public transportation system is running smoothly.”
Gene wiped his mouth on a napkin and rose from the chair. “I’ll meet you there. Wait for me if I’m late. We should go in together. I might...” Gene pushed in his chair, stilling for a moment. “I might need to introduce you.”
This caught her off guard and she struggled to hold back her tears as Gene uncharacteristically cleared his own plate. “You off?” She asked weakly.
“Won’t be late. Have to make an appearance an’ all.”
She nodded as he rinsed the dish in the sink, then remembered she forgot something and jerkily made to stand from the table. “Your flasks.”
He kissed her on the forehead and sat her back down. “I am going to a pub, woman. They just might be serving alcohol there.”
“Never stopped you before,” she tried to smile but the pain was stronger. Gene knelt and cradled her face in his hands, kissing her softly at first, then more passionately as she draped her arms over his shoulders and pulled him closer against her. “Gene,” she gasped through tears and tongues.
“Tonight,” he whispered in his own hampered breathing, leaning into her for another taste of her soft lips, salty from tears. “Tonight,” he said again. “I’ll be home...Ten-thirty.” He drew back holding her head against his, keeping them close. “I have to see my team. I need...” He stole another deep kiss and this time she refused to let go, keeping one hand pressed firmly on his back as the other slid down his chest, stopping at his belt and deftly undoing the buckle. “I need you,” he panted heavily, reaching his own hand under her dress and smoothly sliding down her stockings and knickers. “The team’ll have to wait,” he smiled as he scooped her up and spread her out on the thankfully cleared kitchen table.
*
“So Guv, I’ve rung up the station in Liverpool. Talked to a DI there. ‘E said they can ‘ave a few plod watchin’ the boats but they’ll be spread pretty thin since we don’t know what ferry or what time Walsh’s comin’ in.” Ray handed his file over to Gene, anxiously awaiting his approval. The last time the Guv had left him in charge had resulted in his demotion.
“Bobby still not talkin’?” Gene asked as he skimmed over Ray’s notes.
Carling shook his head. “Not without a deal ‘e says.”
“Keep pressing him. Prod the newborn kiddies angle. That seemed to have an impact last time. See if we can’t at least get the time of day.”
“Right Guv,” Ray nodded and turned to leave.
“Carling.”
“Yes Guv?” He immediately stopped and wondered what he had done wrong.
“How do the Liverpool plod know who they’ll be looking for?”
“Uhm, well, I sent Chris and Cartwright over there this mornin’, with the photo we had. On the train. Took PC Mallows with ‘em. He were goin’ to sketch some copies of Walsh’s face on the way. That...that alright Guv?”
Gene thought silently for a moment and Ray wondered if he should have told him PC Mallows had been Cartwright’s idea. “That’s fine Ray. Good work.”
“Cheers Guv.” The rare compliment made Ray’s mouth go slightly dry.
Gene set the file aside and went for his coat.
“You goin’ out for lunch again?”
“Missus refuses to fix me a decent lunch. Grown man needs his grease. Can’t live off salads.”
“You goin’ to see Tyler?”
There was no point denying it so Gene didn’t say anything at all.
“He...how’s ‘e doin’?”
Gene finished adjusting his coat and walked towards the back exit. “Not well,” was all he said and he pushed out the doors.
*
“Let me talk to him first.”
“Gene, he can’t be that bad.”
“Just, be careful what you say.”
Gene and his wife finished checking in with the desk nurse who smiled blandly and handed over their visitor’s badges. Gene clipped his own on his suit jacket then helped clip her’s to the front of her frock.
“He still likes ham sandwiches, doesn’t he? He said once he liked ham sandwiches. If he doesn’t I can run out and get summit else, if...”
“He’ll eat it,” Gene assured her then checked his watch. “C’mon then. Only got forty-five minutes ‘fore I need to get back.”
She nodded and steeled herself, following closely behind her husband as he passed through the double doors into the brightly lit, whitewashed room. She didn’t seem him at first. All the patients looked alike. All dressed in white, most keeping to themselves, avoiding eye contact. She knew they must be harmless enough if the staff had allowed her entry but the atmosphere was still unsettling. She didn’t have to wait long before a high pitched “Gene!” echoed through the quiet room. She nearly lost it right then as she saw Sam run towards them and throw his arms around Gene’s waist without care or pretense.
“You’re not mad. You came back!”
“Course I’m not mad. Why would I be mad?” Gene’s voice was so gentle, so kind. It was the way he spoke to her nieces and nephews when they were babies and had thought no one was watching.
Sam ignored his question. “I did it. I slept with the lights on and told Bert he was going to be okay that I’d protect him if the monsters came and they didn’t and Mr. Merrick said Bert was very happy today because I helped him and he’s bringing me my new crayons later today....” Sam quickly trailed off as he finally noticed the woman gaping at him. He became very quiet and shyly tried to hide behind Gene, which wasn’t hard considering his frail figure and Gene’s full body.
Gene turned round to face him, keeping a hand on his shoulder. “Sam, remember I said I’d bring you another visitor?”
Sam nodded, sneaking glances at Mrs. Hunt but keeping schtum. Gene tried to move Sam so that he was standing in front of him instead of hiding behind but of course he was being stubborn.
“This is my wife. Do you remember her? You helped her cook dinner once.” Sam quizzically cocked his head to one side, trying to find the memory but failing.
“Hi Sam,” she smiled as sweetly as she could. “I’m Margaret. Do you remember? Mrs. Hunt?”
Sam continued to stare and it was a moment before they realized his eyes had glazed over and he wasn’t responding to even Gene’s voice.
“Gene? What’s wrong? Is he alright?”
“He does this sometimes. Let’s sit him over here. Should be alright in a minute.” Gene was able to move the unresponsive body to a nearby table and place him in the chair.
“ ‘S my fault. You were right. I shouldn’t have come.” She wanted to leave but Gene took her wrist and kept her close.
“He would’ve done this anyhow. He’ll come back. Just give it a minute.” Gene rubbed his hands up and down Sam’s arms, trying to stir some reaction from him. “Sam? Sammy it’s Gene. Can you hear me? C’mon lad. Come back to us. Come back.” It took another half a minute of Gene’s coaxing but Sam blinked the clouds from his eyes and allowed them to search the room. At long last, they finally came to rest on Gene.
“Hiya.”
“Hi,” he somberly smiled back.
“Who’s that?” He pointed at Margaret.
“That’s me wife. You helped her cook once, remember?”
She was afraid the question would set him off again but this time Sam simply shrugged. “My mum lets me help her cook sometimes. I like the smell.”
“What’s your favorite thing to cook Sam?” She asked, slowly sitting at the table as Gene continued to kneel by his side.
“Uhm...Chicken is good. That’s real easy. And...I like the way the mushy peas smell when they’re almost done. And...ham is good. With mustard. But Mum doesn’t buy it that often...”
“Well guess what I brought.”
Gene could see her relaxing as Sam began to open to her.
“Ham sandwiches,” she handed one over and Sam took it delightfully, opening up the bread to make sure it was ham before stuffing a huge bite into his face. “And pink wafers!” She took a small container out of the paper bag. Sam immediately reached for them but she pulled them away. “Not ‘til you finish your lunch.”
“Genelibedapinonetoo.”
“And you shouldn’t speak with your mouth full.”
Sam chewed and swallowed carefully. “Gene likes the pink ones too,” he said quietly.
“Well, he has very good taste. Sometimes.”
*
“Mr. Hunt? Could I speak with a moment?”
Gene motioned for his wife to go along without him as he stayed back to speak with Dr. Merrick. She didn’t go far, just to the end of the corridor and not out of hearing range.
“What now?”
“As you know I’ve been analyzing Mr. Tyler’s situation--”
“Bloody well hope so.”
“He seems to be stabilizing in this childlike persona but I’m afraid his lucid moments are decreasing.”
Gene’s heart stopped. “Sorry? What the hell does that mean?”
“I’m sure you’ve noticed those instances where Sam becomes unresponsive...”
“Eyes cloud up like pissed up druggie. Yeah, I’ve noticed.”
“It’s only been a few days.”
“Two.”
“Two full days, three since he was admitted, but I’ve had the nurses keeping track of those...moments. He suffered two the first day he was here, three the next, before lunch, and two more before bedtime, and he’s already had three today.”
“Four. He...it happened when we were with him.”
Merrick quickly made a note on his chart and shook his head disapprovingly. “If Sam is going to get through this, we are going to have to break his delusion. And soon.”
“How?”
“We need to make him see that he is not a child. Make him realize his true age and remember his adult experiences.”
“What, you mean toss ‘im a few pints and stick ‘im with a prozzie?”
“Not exactly what I had in mind.” Merrick paused deciding his next choice of words, an action Gene had come to realize meant that he would not like what would be said next. “He’s most responsive to you, Mr. Hunt. I know tomorrow is a Saturday and I don’t know what your work schedule is like, at the station, but if you would be able and willing to come in and help me with an...exercise, I think together we might be able to help Sam.”
“What time?”
______
Part 80
Author: dak
Word Count: 2330 this part; [142,443 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: Sam gets another visitor.
Rating: Brown Cortina
Warnings: angst, swearing, violence, violent imagery, minor drug use, mild sexual situations, self-harm for whole
Spoilers: 1.07; see each chapter for specific spoiler warnings
Pairing: mild Sam/Annie, Sam/Maya, Gene/missus
Disclaimer: Belongs to BBC/Kudos
A/N: So I finally upped this to Brown Cortina which I probably should have done a few chapters ago, what with all the graphic swearing and violence and all but I'm officially doing it now. Mostly because of the language and partly because Gene gets a little action. Please enjoy! Oh, and I finally gave Mrs. Hunt a name.
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
“Aren’t you going to the pub?”
“In a bit. Need to eat summit first.”
“Well aren’t you lucky I decided to cook then.”
Gene thumped into a chair as his wife set a steaming plate of freshly prepared food on the table for him. “Thanks,” he mumbled as he picked up a knife and fork and started cutting through the beef.
“Mm-hm. You’re welcome.” She wiped her hands on her apron and gave him a quick peck on the top of his head. “Hair needs washed. You need a refill?” Gene grunted. “I know. Shouldn’t have to ask,” she sighed and threw up her hands as she entered the hall, picking the flasks out of his coat pockets. She shook each one as she found it, her mild frustration growing. “Are all four empty?” Gene decided not to answer. “Honestly,” she grumbled as she juggled three hip flasks, digging around for the fourth, but her searching hand found something else first. “Gene?” She asked, strolling back into the kitchen, three flasks balanced in one hand, two pieces of paper held in the other. “What are these?”
“What are what?” He asked between fork fulls of tender meat. She dropped the flasks on the counter and sat at the table with him.
“These drawings,” she said softly.
Gene immediately lost his appetite and had immense difficulty swallowing the food already in his mouth. He sat down the cutlery but refused to look in her direction. “They’re Sam’s. From Sam. He drew them. For me.”
Mrs. Hunt instinctively covered her mouth with her hand, poorly concealing her shock. “He drew them in hospital? Now?”
Gene couldn’t answer.
“Gene. Gene, what’s wrong with him?” She reached over and grabbed her husband’s arm to steady herself.
“Not sure really. Quack tried to explain it all but...” She squeezed his arm tight and he covered her hand in his own. “For some reason, he thinks...he thinks he’s four.”
“Oh God.” Her gaze was locked on the pictures. “His parents? His family? Do they know?”
Gene removed his hand and tried eating again. Nothing tasted right. “Don’t think he has any. Said his dad left when he were young. Sometimes talks like his mum’s alive. Don’t think she is though.”
They sat in silence, the only sound Gene picking at his cooling dinner.
“Can I see him?” She asked quietly, hopefully.
“It would only hurt you,” he whispered honestly. Sam was hurting. His team was hurting. He was...He didn’t need to see his wife in pain.
“He has no family Gene. He has you. He has a few mates from the station. He can have me, too.” She begged with him. Gene remained silent but had stopped attempting to eat. “Do they know? Your boys. Miss Cartwright.”
“They know he’s in hospital. Were all there when it happened. They guess he’s not doing well but I haven’t found a way to tell ‘em ‘bout this.” Gene, too, was staring at the rough, crayon drawings now. They were sweet. The kind of thing a parent would stick on the refrigerator if they hadn’t been drawn by a thirty-six year old man having severe delusions.
“You have to tell them.”
“When I find a way.”
“Better think quick then, Chief Inspector, or I’ll do it for you.”
Gene sighed and finally gave up trying to finish his dinner. “Can you get to St. Mary’s tomorrow, lunchtime. Noon?”
“Long as Manchester’s great public transportation system is running smoothly.”
Gene wiped his mouth on a napkin and rose from the chair. “I’ll meet you there. Wait for me if I’m late. We should go in together. I might...” Gene pushed in his chair, stilling for a moment. “I might need to introduce you.”
This caught her off guard and she struggled to hold back her tears as Gene uncharacteristically cleared his own plate. “You off?” She asked weakly.
“Won’t be late. Have to make an appearance an’ all.”
She nodded as he rinsed the dish in the sink, then remembered she forgot something and jerkily made to stand from the table. “Your flasks.”
He kissed her on the forehead and sat her back down. “I am going to a pub, woman. They just might be serving alcohol there.”
“Never stopped you before,” she tried to smile but the pain was stronger. Gene knelt and cradled her face in his hands, kissing her softly at first, then more passionately as she draped her arms over his shoulders and pulled him closer against her. “Gene,” she gasped through tears and tongues.
“Tonight,” he whispered in his own hampered breathing, leaning into her for another taste of her soft lips, salty from tears. “Tonight,” he said again. “I’ll be home...Ten-thirty.” He drew back holding her head against his, keeping them close. “I have to see my team. I need...” He stole another deep kiss and this time she refused to let go, keeping one hand pressed firmly on his back as the other slid down his chest, stopping at his belt and deftly undoing the buckle. “I need you,” he panted heavily, reaching his own hand under her dress and smoothly sliding down her stockings and knickers. “The team’ll have to wait,” he smiled as he scooped her up and spread her out on the thankfully cleared kitchen table.
*
“So Guv, I’ve rung up the station in Liverpool. Talked to a DI there. ‘E said they can ‘ave a few plod watchin’ the boats but they’ll be spread pretty thin since we don’t know what ferry or what time Walsh’s comin’ in.” Ray handed his file over to Gene, anxiously awaiting his approval. The last time the Guv had left him in charge had resulted in his demotion.
“Bobby still not talkin’?” Gene asked as he skimmed over Ray’s notes.
Carling shook his head. “Not without a deal ‘e says.”
“Keep pressing him. Prod the newborn kiddies angle. That seemed to have an impact last time. See if we can’t at least get the time of day.”
“Right Guv,” Ray nodded and turned to leave.
“Carling.”
“Yes Guv?” He immediately stopped and wondered what he had done wrong.
“How do the Liverpool plod know who they’ll be looking for?”
“Uhm, well, I sent Chris and Cartwright over there this mornin’, with the photo we had. On the train. Took PC Mallows with ‘em. He were goin’ to sketch some copies of Walsh’s face on the way. That...that alright Guv?”
Gene thought silently for a moment and Ray wondered if he should have told him PC Mallows had been Cartwright’s idea. “That’s fine Ray. Good work.”
“Cheers Guv.” The rare compliment made Ray’s mouth go slightly dry.
Gene set the file aside and went for his coat.
“You goin’ out for lunch again?”
“Missus refuses to fix me a decent lunch. Grown man needs his grease. Can’t live off salads.”
“You goin’ to see Tyler?”
There was no point denying it so Gene didn’t say anything at all.
“He...how’s ‘e doin’?”
Gene finished adjusting his coat and walked towards the back exit. “Not well,” was all he said and he pushed out the doors.
*
“Let me talk to him first.”
“Gene, he can’t be that bad.”
“Just, be careful what you say.”
Gene and his wife finished checking in with the desk nurse who smiled blandly and handed over their visitor’s badges. Gene clipped his own on his suit jacket then helped clip her’s to the front of her frock.
“He still likes ham sandwiches, doesn’t he? He said once he liked ham sandwiches. If he doesn’t I can run out and get summit else, if...”
“He’ll eat it,” Gene assured her then checked his watch. “C’mon then. Only got forty-five minutes ‘fore I need to get back.”
She nodded and steeled herself, following closely behind her husband as he passed through the double doors into the brightly lit, whitewashed room. She didn’t seem him at first. All the patients looked alike. All dressed in white, most keeping to themselves, avoiding eye contact. She knew they must be harmless enough if the staff had allowed her entry but the atmosphere was still unsettling. She didn’t have to wait long before a high pitched “Gene!” echoed through the quiet room. She nearly lost it right then as she saw Sam run towards them and throw his arms around Gene’s waist without care or pretense.
“You’re not mad. You came back!”
“Course I’m not mad. Why would I be mad?” Gene’s voice was so gentle, so kind. It was the way he spoke to her nieces and nephews when they were babies and had thought no one was watching.
Sam ignored his question. “I did it. I slept with the lights on and told Bert he was going to be okay that I’d protect him if the monsters came and they didn’t and Mr. Merrick said Bert was very happy today because I helped him and he’s bringing me my new crayons later today....” Sam quickly trailed off as he finally noticed the woman gaping at him. He became very quiet and shyly tried to hide behind Gene, which wasn’t hard considering his frail figure and Gene’s full body.
Gene turned round to face him, keeping a hand on his shoulder. “Sam, remember I said I’d bring you another visitor?”
Sam nodded, sneaking glances at Mrs. Hunt but keeping schtum. Gene tried to move Sam so that he was standing in front of him instead of hiding behind but of course he was being stubborn.
“This is my wife. Do you remember her? You helped her cook dinner once.” Sam quizzically cocked his head to one side, trying to find the memory but failing.
“Hi Sam,” she smiled as sweetly as she could. “I’m Margaret. Do you remember? Mrs. Hunt?”
Sam continued to stare and it was a moment before they realized his eyes had glazed over and he wasn’t responding to even Gene’s voice.
“Gene? What’s wrong? Is he alright?”
“He does this sometimes. Let’s sit him over here. Should be alright in a minute.” Gene was able to move the unresponsive body to a nearby table and place him in the chair.
“ ‘S my fault. You were right. I shouldn’t have come.” She wanted to leave but Gene took her wrist and kept her close.
“He would’ve done this anyhow. He’ll come back. Just give it a minute.” Gene rubbed his hands up and down Sam’s arms, trying to stir some reaction from him. “Sam? Sammy it’s Gene. Can you hear me? C’mon lad. Come back to us. Come back.” It took another half a minute of Gene’s coaxing but Sam blinked the clouds from his eyes and allowed them to search the room. At long last, they finally came to rest on Gene.
“Hiya.”
“Hi,” he somberly smiled back.
“Who’s that?” He pointed at Margaret.
“That’s me wife. You helped her cook once, remember?”
She was afraid the question would set him off again but this time Sam simply shrugged. “My mum lets me help her cook sometimes. I like the smell.”
“What’s your favorite thing to cook Sam?” She asked, slowly sitting at the table as Gene continued to kneel by his side.
“Uhm...Chicken is good. That’s real easy. And...I like the way the mushy peas smell when they’re almost done. And...ham is good. With mustard. But Mum doesn’t buy it that often...”
“Well guess what I brought.”
Gene could see her relaxing as Sam began to open to her.
“Ham sandwiches,” she handed one over and Sam took it delightfully, opening up the bread to make sure it was ham before stuffing a huge bite into his face. “And pink wafers!” She took a small container out of the paper bag. Sam immediately reached for them but she pulled them away. “Not ‘til you finish your lunch.”
“Genelibedapinonetoo.”
“And you shouldn’t speak with your mouth full.”
Sam chewed and swallowed carefully. “Gene likes the pink ones too,” he said quietly.
“Well, he has very good taste. Sometimes.”
*
“Mr. Hunt? Could I speak with a moment?”
Gene motioned for his wife to go along without him as he stayed back to speak with Dr. Merrick. She didn’t go far, just to the end of the corridor and not out of hearing range.
“What now?”
“As you know I’ve been analyzing Mr. Tyler’s situation--”
“Bloody well hope so.”
“He seems to be stabilizing in this childlike persona but I’m afraid his lucid moments are decreasing.”
Gene’s heart stopped. “Sorry? What the hell does that mean?”
“I’m sure you’ve noticed those instances where Sam becomes unresponsive...”
“Eyes cloud up like pissed up druggie. Yeah, I’ve noticed.”
“It’s only been a few days.”
“Two.”
“Two full days, three since he was admitted, but I’ve had the nurses keeping track of those...moments. He suffered two the first day he was here, three the next, before lunch, and two more before bedtime, and he’s already had three today.”
“Four. He...it happened when we were with him.”
Merrick quickly made a note on his chart and shook his head disapprovingly. “If Sam is going to get through this, we are going to have to break his delusion. And soon.”
“How?”
“We need to make him see that he is not a child. Make him realize his true age and remember his adult experiences.”
“What, you mean toss ‘im a few pints and stick ‘im with a prozzie?”
“Not exactly what I had in mind.” Merrick paused deciding his next choice of words, an action Gene had come to realize meant that he would not like what would be said next. “He’s most responsive to you, Mr. Hunt. I know tomorrow is a Saturday and I don’t know what your work schedule is like, at the station, but if you would be able and willing to come in and help me with an...exercise, I think together we might be able to help Sam.”
“What time?”
______
Part 80