Fic: Steady As She Goes (80/86), brown cortina, dakfinv
Title: Steady As She Goes (80/86)
Author: dak
Word Count: 1852 this part; [144,295 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 tries the psychiatrist's exercise on Sam.
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: We're headed into the final stretch now, honestly. I don't know how many more parts it's going to take but it's not going to be too many more. Of course I have said this before but I think I'm serious now.
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
“Not well? That could mean anything.”
“ ‘S all ‘e would say.”
Ray couldn’t stand to see his mate so utterly despondent. For the past few days Chris had been sulking something awful and no one, not even Annie, had been able to cheer him up. Granted, WDC Cartwright hadn’t been in the best of moods lately, either. Chris was always the happy one, always good for a laugh. Now, tired from the train ride to and from Liverpool and still depressed over Tyler’s situation, he looked completely miserable, slouched over his desk shifting through papers. He looked so adult. It didn’t suit him and Ray didn’t like it.
“Maybe we could go see ‘im for ourselves,” Ray offered. It was the only thing he could think of that might help.
“Guv’s the only one...”
Ray slid over a chair and sat across from his friend. “Guv’s the only one that’s seen ‘im so far. There’s no law says we can’t. And the Guv said nowt about it. ‘S like...when a bloke’s in gaol, right? Anyone can go see ‘im if they want.”
“But he doesn’t have to see ‘em if he don’t want to,” Chris sighed gloomily.
“I’m tryin’ to help, yeh div,” Ray folded his arms in frustration.
“I know. Sorry.” Chris stared at the pen in his hands, watching as he continuously removed and replaced the cap.
“Look, why don’t we go after we nab this Walsh bastard on Sunday? Then we’ll ‘ave some good news for ‘im.”
Chris carefully considered the offer before shrugging in agreement. “Alright.”
“Good. Now c’mon. You look knackered. Let’s get yeh to the pub. Nelson’s trainin’ a new barmaid tonight. Clive saw ‘er at lunch. Said ‘er knockers are bigger than grapefruits.” The gesture accompanying the sentence was able to elicit a small smile from Chris and the DC finally dropped the pen and grabbed his jacket, obediently following Ray to the Arms.
*
“Right then.” Gene clapped his hands and rubbed them together. “What am I supposed to do?”
“What we’re going to try, Mr. Hunt, is break Sam’s delusion. You’ve been wonderful with him so far, keeping him active and gaining his trust, but I’m afraid if we continue to treat Sam like a child he’ll only continue to believe he’s a child.” Merrick ushered Gene to a closed door. Peaking through the glass, Gene saw Sam already inside, sitting cross-legged at a low table, coloring as had become his custom. “What I need you to do is...yell at him.”
“What, you mean scold ‘im? Very scientific that. He’s not doin’ anything wrong, ‘less you consider his drawings an assault on the artistic community.”
“Not scold, Mr. Hunt. You’re still seeing him as a child.” Merrick took a deep breath and paused.
“Spit it out ‘fore I beat it out,” Gene told him politely.
“This is going to be very emotionally difficult for you but I need you to go in there and yell at him not as if he were the young child he thinks he is but as if he were the adult Sam Tyler, your DI.”
Gene glanced back in the room and watched as Sam lined up his chosen crayons in a neat row before carefully selecting the tan one and continuing to color. “What am I supposed to say?”
“That’s up to you. Anything you think might stir up his memories, get him agitated. Talk to him about a case. Tell him you need him for an investigation or to help restrain a suspect, look at a corpse. Whatever it is you coppers do when you...do your thing.” Gene raised his eyebrows at Merrick who simply stood there with a sheepish half grin and shrugged. “I’ve never been inside a police station.”
“Really? I’m shocked.” Gene stuffed his hands in his pockets and rolled back on his heels.
“I appreciate the sarcasm over the punch, Mr. Hunt.” He waved to the door. “Just...pretend he’s not sick. Pretend he’s the same as he was when you first met him.”
Gene nodded and turned to the door. Picturing Tyler as the tight arse, know-it-all prat he used to be shouldn’t be hard. Gene thought about their past cases, all the times Tyler had challenged him, fought him, ignored him. Warren, Crane, the discovery that he was a United fan. That was enough. He grasped the door handle tightly in his fingers.
“I’ll be out here if you, if he, need anything.” Merrick nodded and Gene ripped open the door.
“Tyler!”
Sam looked up and smiled when he saw who it was but his face quickly dropped when he noticed Gene’s fierce expression and sensed the tension his presence brought. “Gene?”
“What the bloody hell do you think you’re doing?” Gene kept his posture rigid and his voice harsh even as Sam appeared dumbfounded and hurt.
He slowly held out his new picture. “I made this for Mrs. Hunt.”
Gene didn’t even look at the paper, pretended it was one of those inane forms Tyler was only shoving in his face, and smacked it out of his hand, sending it drifting to the floor. Sam drew back his hand, cradling it against his chest, and Gene had to look away in order to keep up the charade. “I’m sick of all your shit, Tyler.” He started pacing across the room, knowing Sam’s confused eyes never left him. “This sickie nonsense has got to stop. I need your arse back at the station you stupid ponce.”
“Why are you angry Gene? What did I do wrong?” He was either on the verge of tears or past it. Gene wasn’t sure. He couldn’t look.
“Everything you selfish prick! You think you can waltz into my station, turn everything topsy-turvy, then prance back out cos you’ve had a rough time of it? You left me with a mess, Tyler. A filthy disgusting mess and I want you back there on your hands knees cleanin’ it up! Are you listening you Man United supportin’ spastic?” Gene finally spared a glance in Sam’s direction.
He was shaking. He had his knees hugged to his chest and he was shaking like a bloody leaf. “I don’t understand,” he cried softly. “I don’t know what you’re saying.”
Gene stomped across the short distance to Tyler. “Get up,” he ordered. Sam didn’t move. Gene reached down, grabbed him by the arms, and hoisted him up. “You’re a grown man for God’s sake! Get off the ruddy floor and stand there!” As soon as Gene would let go, Sam would start to sink back down and Gene would have to grab him again. “Get up and stay up. That’s a fucking order Tyler!”
Sam kept sobbing quietly, the occasional sniffle and hiccup the only sounds he was able to make.
“You want to know what’s wrong, hm? You really want to know?” Gene slowly backed Sam’s limp body into the wall. “You’re what’s wrong. You disregard authority. You don’t work as a team. You purposely push every single one of my buttons and smile while you do it.” Sam started to slouch again and Gene slammed him back against the wall. “And you’re total fucking loony! You and you’re cracked brain have hurt my team, hurt my family, and you’re too pissed up to even notice or care while everything around you goes to shit. This is your fault. Everything that’s wrong here is your fucking fault and you need to be a man and answer for it.” Gene pressed him harder against the yellowed wallpaper. “You understand now Tyler? You’re a man. A grown man and you need to start acting like it!”
Sam muttered nonsensically for a few moments before Gene made out a clear, “No.” Sam whispered it again and shook his head frantically before screaming, “No!” He pushed Gene away. “I don’t believe you.” Tears continued to flow down Sam’s face in an unyielding torrent. “I’m just a little boy! ‘S not my fault!”
Gene thought Sam might continue towards him but instead the tears remained strong as he slid himself into the corner.
“It can’t be my fault. ‘M only four. You’re wrong. You’re wrong!” Sam didn’t look angry. He looked terrified. “You’re wrong and you’re mean and I don’t like you anymore.” He began shaking so violently, for a moment Gene thought he was having a fit.
He let his anger fall and crouched down in front of him. “C’mon Sam. You know that’s not true. You’re thirty-six. You were born in 1936.”
“No. No. No. No.” He rocked back and forth. “Mum told me. She told me to remember my birthday cos it’s important case I get lost and it’s 1969. So I’m four. Four. Four. Four.” He was blankly rambling now, eyes lost somewhere in the distance, still dripping tears.
“Sam...”
Tyler now shuddered when he heard Gene’s voice and tried to hide his head in his arms. “I don’t want to be here. Don’t want to be here. Want to go home. Home. Home. Leave me alone!” He raised his head and looked at Gene and then the space next to Gene. “Both of you! Leave me alone! No! I don’t want to play!”
Gene remembered that night in Tyler’s flat. The conversation he had with no one. The day he knew he should’ve had Sam committed. Maybe it wouldn’t have gotten this bad. Gene reached out his hands, ready to comfort Sam, but the terrorized man shrank back even further.
“Go away! I hate you! You’re a bully. I hate you! I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you...” He repeated it over and over again until his throat was hoarse. Sam slowly went quiet after another minute. The tears began to dry on his face as his body continued to tremble.
“Sam?” Gene asked cautiously but there was no response. He tentatively placed a hand on Tyler’s quaking shoulder but again he didn’t react. Not with hatred, not with anything. Gene laid both hands on him then, shaking him gently. “Sam? Can you hear me? Are you there? Sammy? Oi Merrick! Get in here you bastard!”
The doctor immediately appeared and stooped down next to Gene. “What happened? Sam?” He snapped his fingers in front of Sam’s face but still nothing. “Let’s see if it passes. Keep talking to him. Sam?”
“It’s not passing. Not this time.” Gene’s voice was eerily quiet.
“You don’t know that. Mr. Tyler? Sam? It’s Dr. Merrick. Can you hear me?”
Gene and Merrick waited another few minutes trying to coax something, anything, out of Sam. There was nothing. When Gene saw the doctor finally giving up he took the opportunity to land a hard hit to the man’s jaw. Merrick flew backwards, landing on his back, more than slightly dazed.
“There’s your punch, Doctor. For your brilliant, fucking idea!”
Gene bent over and grabbed Sam’s last drawing before charging out of the room and the hospital. Merrick regained use of his limbs and continued to try and get a response from his patient.
But Sammy was gone.
_______
Part 81
Author: dak
Word Count: 1852 this part; [144,295 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 tries the psychiatrist's exercise on Sam.
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: We're headed into the final stretch now, honestly. I don't know how many more parts it's going to take but it's not going to be too many more. Of course I have said this before but I think I'm serious now.
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
“Not well? That could mean anything.”
“ ‘S all ‘e would say.”
Ray couldn’t stand to see his mate so utterly despondent. For the past few days Chris had been sulking something awful and no one, not even Annie, had been able to cheer him up. Granted, WDC Cartwright hadn’t been in the best of moods lately, either. Chris was always the happy one, always good for a laugh. Now, tired from the train ride to and from Liverpool and still depressed over Tyler’s situation, he looked completely miserable, slouched over his desk shifting through papers. He looked so adult. It didn’t suit him and Ray didn’t like it.
“Maybe we could go see ‘im for ourselves,” Ray offered. It was the only thing he could think of that might help.
“Guv’s the only one...”
Ray slid over a chair and sat across from his friend. “Guv’s the only one that’s seen ‘im so far. There’s no law says we can’t. And the Guv said nowt about it. ‘S like...when a bloke’s in gaol, right? Anyone can go see ‘im if they want.”
“But he doesn’t have to see ‘em if he don’t want to,” Chris sighed gloomily.
“I’m tryin’ to help, yeh div,” Ray folded his arms in frustration.
“I know. Sorry.” Chris stared at the pen in his hands, watching as he continuously removed and replaced the cap.
“Look, why don’t we go after we nab this Walsh bastard on Sunday? Then we’ll ‘ave some good news for ‘im.”
Chris carefully considered the offer before shrugging in agreement. “Alright.”
“Good. Now c’mon. You look knackered. Let’s get yeh to the pub. Nelson’s trainin’ a new barmaid tonight. Clive saw ‘er at lunch. Said ‘er knockers are bigger than grapefruits.” The gesture accompanying the sentence was able to elicit a small smile from Chris and the DC finally dropped the pen and grabbed his jacket, obediently following Ray to the Arms.
*
“Right then.” Gene clapped his hands and rubbed them together. “What am I supposed to do?”
“What we’re going to try, Mr. Hunt, is break Sam’s delusion. You’ve been wonderful with him so far, keeping him active and gaining his trust, but I’m afraid if we continue to treat Sam like a child he’ll only continue to believe he’s a child.” Merrick ushered Gene to a closed door. Peaking through the glass, Gene saw Sam already inside, sitting cross-legged at a low table, coloring as had become his custom. “What I need you to do is...yell at him.”
“What, you mean scold ‘im? Very scientific that. He’s not doin’ anything wrong, ‘less you consider his drawings an assault on the artistic community.”
“Not scold, Mr. Hunt. You’re still seeing him as a child.” Merrick took a deep breath and paused.
“Spit it out ‘fore I beat it out,” Gene told him politely.
“This is going to be very emotionally difficult for you but I need you to go in there and yell at him not as if he were the young child he thinks he is but as if he were the adult Sam Tyler, your DI.”
Gene glanced back in the room and watched as Sam lined up his chosen crayons in a neat row before carefully selecting the tan one and continuing to color. “What am I supposed to say?”
“That’s up to you. Anything you think might stir up his memories, get him agitated. Talk to him about a case. Tell him you need him for an investigation or to help restrain a suspect, look at a corpse. Whatever it is you coppers do when you...do your thing.” Gene raised his eyebrows at Merrick who simply stood there with a sheepish half grin and shrugged. “I’ve never been inside a police station.”
“Really? I’m shocked.” Gene stuffed his hands in his pockets and rolled back on his heels.
“I appreciate the sarcasm over the punch, Mr. Hunt.” He waved to the door. “Just...pretend he’s not sick. Pretend he’s the same as he was when you first met him.”
Gene nodded and turned to the door. Picturing Tyler as the tight arse, know-it-all prat he used to be shouldn’t be hard. Gene thought about their past cases, all the times Tyler had challenged him, fought him, ignored him. Warren, Crane, the discovery that he was a United fan. That was enough. He grasped the door handle tightly in his fingers.
“I’ll be out here if you, if he, need anything.” Merrick nodded and Gene ripped open the door.
“Tyler!”
Sam looked up and smiled when he saw who it was but his face quickly dropped when he noticed Gene’s fierce expression and sensed the tension his presence brought. “Gene?”
“What the bloody hell do you think you’re doing?” Gene kept his posture rigid and his voice harsh even as Sam appeared dumbfounded and hurt.
He slowly held out his new picture. “I made this for Mrs. Hunt.”
Gene didn’t even look at the paper, pretended it was one of those inane forms Tyler was only shoving in his face, and smacked it out of his hand, sending it drifting to the floor. Sam drew back his hand, cradling it against his chest, and Gene had to look away in order to keep up the charade. “I’m sick of all your shit, Tyler.” He started pacing across the room, knowing Sam’s confused eyes never left him. “This sickie nonsense has got to stop. I need your arse back at the station you stupid ponce.”
“Why are you angry Gene? What did I do wrong?” He was either on the verge of tears or past it. Gene wasn’t sure. He couldn’t look.
“Everything you selfish prick! You think you can waltz into my station, turn everything topsy-turvy, then prance back out cos you’ve had a rough time of it? You left me with a mess, Tyler. A filthy disgusting mess and I want you back there on your hands knees cleanin’ it up! Are you listening you Man United supportin’ spastic?” Gene finally spared a glance in Sam’s direction.
He was shaking. He had his knees hugged to his chest and he was shaking like a bloody leaf. “I don’t understand,” he cried softly. “I don’t know what you’re saying.”
Gene stomped across the short distance to Tyler. “Get up,” he ordered. Sam didn’t move. Gene reached down, grabbed him by the arms, and hoisted him up. “You’re a grown man for God’s sake! Get off the ruddy floor and stand there!” As soon as Gene would let go, Sam would start to sink back down and Gene would have to grab him again. “Get up and stay up. That’s a fucking order Tyler!”
Sam kept sobbing quietly, the occasional sniffle and hiccup the only sounds he was able to make.
“You want to know what’s wrong, hm? You really want to know?” Gene slowly backed Sam’s limp body into the wall. “You’re what’s wrong. You disregard authority. You don’t work as a team. You purposely push every single one of my buttons and smile while you do it.” Sam started to slouch again and Gene slammed him back against the wall. “And you’re total fucking loony! You and you’re cracked brain have hurt my team, hurt my family, and you’re too pissed up to even notice or care while everything around you goes to shit. This is your fault. Everything that’s wrong here is your fucking fault and you need to be a man and answer for it.” Gene pressed him harder against the yellowed wallpaper. “You understand now Tyler? You’re a man. A grown man and you need to start acting like it!”
Sam muttered nonsensically for a few moments before Gene made out a clear, “No.” Sam whispered it again and shook his head frantically before screaming, “No!” He pushed Gene away. “I don’t believe you.” Tears continued to flow down Sam’s face in an unyielding torrent. “I’m just a little boy! ‘S not my fault!”
Gene thought Sam might continue towards him but instead the tears remained strong as he slid himself into the corner.
“It can’t be my fault. ‘M only four. You’re wrong. You’re wrong!” Sam didn’t look angry. He looked terrified. “You’re wrong and you’re mean and I don’t like you anymore.” He began shaking so violently, for a moment Gene thought he was having a fit.
He let his anger fall and crouched down in front of him. “C’mon Sam. You know that’s not true. You’re thirty-six. You were born in 1936.”
“No. No. No. No.” He rocked back and forth. “Mum told me. She told me to remember my birthday cos it’s important case I get lost and it’s 1969. So I’m four. Four. Four. Four.” He was blankly rambling now, eyes lost somewhere in the distance, still dripping tears.
“Sam...”
Tyler now shuddered when he heard Gene’s voice and tried to hide his head in his arms. “I don’t want to be here. Don’t want to be here. Want to go home. Home. Home. Leave me alone!” He raised his head and looked at Gene and then the space next to Gene. “Both of you! Leave me alone! No! I don’t want to play!”
Gene remembered that night in Tyler’s flat. The conversation he had with no one. The day he knew he should’ve had Sam committed. Maybe it wouldn’t have gotten this bad. Gene reached out his hands, ready to comfort Sam, but the terrorized man shrank back even further.
“Go away! I hate you! You’re a bully. I hate you! I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you...” He repeated it over and over again until his throat was hoarse. Sam slowly went quiet after another minute. The tears began to dry on his face as his body continued to tremble.
“Sam?” Gene asked cautiously but there was no response. He tentatively placed a hand on Tyler’s quaking shoulder but again he didn’t react. Not with hatred, not with anything. Gene laid both hands on him then, shaking him gently. “Sam? Can you hear me? Are you there? Sammy? Oi Merrick! Get in here you bastard!”
The doctor immediately appeared and stooped down next to Gene. “What happened? Sam?” He snapped his fingers in front of Sam’s face but still nothing. “Let’s see if it passes. Keep talking to him. Sam?”
“It’s not passing. Not this time.” Gene’s voice was eerily quiet.
“You don’t know that. Mr. Tyler? Sam? It’s Dr. Merrick. Can you hear me?”
Gene and Merrick waited another few minutes trying to coax something, anything, out of Sam. There was nothing. When Gene saw the doctor finally giving up he took the opportunity to land a hard hit to the man’s jaw. Merrick flew backwards, landing on his back, more than slightly dazed.
“There’s your punch, Doctor. For your brilliant, fucking idea!”
Gene bent over and grabbed Sam’s last drawing before charging out of the room and the hospital. Merrick regained use of his limbs and continued to try and get a response from his patient.
But Sammy was gone.
_______
Part 81