Fic: Coffin For Sam (9/13), dakfinv, blue cortina
Title: Coffin For Sam (9/13)
Author: dak
Word Count: 1583 this part; [14,589 overall]
Rating: blue cortina
Pairing: some heavy-handed Sam/Gene wink-wink/nudge-nudge, but no direct slashing of the boys
Warnings: angst, just a teeny-tiny bit o' blood
Spoilers: Set after 2.02, so consider anything before that fair game
Summary: When Sam has only 36 hours to live, will Gene and the team be able to catch the perpetrator and save their DI before it's too late?
A/N: This is a response to a plot bunny posted by
ausmac. Premise and title taken from the "Starsky and Hutch" episode "Coffin For Starsky." 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
“I don’t appreciate you barging into my house, Detective Chief Inspector,” Ruth Tyler replied forcefully, probably trying to come across as cold but there was now way this woman could achieve that.
“I don’t appreciate your husband gettin’ away with murder.” Gene was slapped across the face. So maybe she was capable of cold.
“Mrs. Tyler, please,” Annie interjected. “If we could speak to you for just a moment.”
Ruth thought briefly then ushered them into the sitting room. This was why he had brought a plonk along. “Would you like any tea?”
“No time--”
“Yes,” Cartwright interrupted. “That would be lovely.”
Ruth smiled and left them alone, supposedly heading towards her kitchen.
“What in blazes are you doin’ woman? We can’t sit around an’ wait for soddin’ tea while Sam’s back there dyin’ in hospital!” He argued in a low voice.
“Sam?” Ruth repeated from the doorway. Gene hadn’t known she was there and from the look on her face, neither had Annie. “You mean, this is about Detective Inspector Tyler?”
Gene wasn’t exactly clear on what had passed between Sam and this woman those few months ago but the raw look of concern she expressed indicated to the seasoned copper that she obviously felt something towards the DI. She sat down on the armchair across from the detectives, wringing her hands on her work apron. The woman hadn’t the time to change from her work clothes before they had arrived.
“DI Tyler was attacked in his flat last night, luv,” Gene explained and watched her face fill with horror. He could see she was trying to fight it but this was a woman who wore her heart on her sleeve. “He’s in hospital now and if we don’t find the man responsible, he probably won’t make it through the night.”
“I...I don’t know what you want me to do. How you think I can help.” She spoke softly.
“Have you had any contact at all with your husband since the wedding, Mrs. Tyler?” Annie asked politely.
“No,” she replied with just a hint of ill-fitting malice. “Not a phone call or a letter or...” She had to take a minute to compose herself. “Sammy still thinks his Daddy’s going to come waltzing through that door any day now and I’m running out of excuses. And this job I had to take, he barely gets to see me. Has strangers watching him all the time and he’s becoming so shy, so withdrawn.” Ruth Tyler found her inner strength and looked Gene right in the eye. “If I had seen my husband, DCI Hunt, he’d have a right red bruise courtesy of me for the pain he’s caused our son. Sorry.” She quickly tucked the anger away.
“What about friends of his?” Gene continued to prod. He didn’t know why but this felt right and he wasn’t going to let their last hope for a lead drop simply because one person didn’t know something. “Anyone still in the area he might be in touch with? Old gambling chums or the like?”
“I don’t--”
The front door opened. “Hello! We’re home!”
“Heather,” Ruth said, mostly to herself. “Heather wait with Sammy in the--” Her orders weren’t heard in time as a little ball of energy came racing into the room and into his mother’s lap.
“Mummy!”
“Sorry we’re late but, oh.” Heather stopped in the doorway as she saw the officers. “I didn’t realize you had company.”
“Heather, this is Detective Constable Cartwright and Detective Chief Inspector Hunt. Detectives, this is my sister. They’re here about...”
“Ah. Come on you handsome devil. Let’s get you upstairs and ready for your bath.”
The little boy was paying his aunt no mind, however, and instead had his eyes fixed firmly on Gene. It was unnerving. Gene Hunt and children did not mix. “Are you really a Detective Chief Inspector, sir?” He asked very politely, very seriously, from his mother’s lap.
“Yes I am lad. Gotta a fancy badge to prove it.”
The little tyke’s face lit up. “Can I see it?” To Gene, it was the first time this little boy sounded like a child.
“Sammy, the detectives have work to do. Why don’t you--”
“ ‘S alright Mrs. Tyler.” Gene was already reaching into his pocket. The first thing he found was a flask and although he didn’t know much about children, he knew it probably wasn’t wise to offer them whisky. A second search of his pockets was able to produce the wanted warrant card. “Here we are.” He held it out to the boy, who was still sitting in his mother’s lap.
“Go on, Sammy,” she urged him forward.
Christ, but the lad was shy when he thought about what he was actually doing, talking to strangers. He had the curiosity but not the innate sense of trust most children seemed to have at that young age. For a terrifying moment, Gene was reminded of himself.
He slowly climbed down from his mother’s lap and walked carefully across the room. Gene let him hold the warrant card, his little fingers running over the badge and the name card. “I’m going to have one of these, sir.”
“Really?”
He shook his head enthusiastically. Then started showing Gene the man’s own warrant card. “See, there’s your name. An’ I’ll have one with my name an’ it’ll say Sam Tyler an’ then I’ll be a real, live policemen an’ then...”
“And then what?” Gene asked, unable to deny that hearing that name hadn’t just thrown his calm resolve for a loop.
“An’ then I’ll be able to find my daddy,” little Sammy said very quietly.
“When’s the last time you saw your daddy? Was it at the wedding?”
“DCI Hunt, I really must protest. There’s no way my nephew could have had any contact with his father.” Heather interjected.
Yet both mother and DCI noticed the guilty way the child was staring at the carpet, chewing on his lower lip. “Sam? Is there something you need to tell the detective?”
“Nooo,” he held up the warrant card while avoiding Gene’s gaze. Gene didn’t take it back.
“This is very, very important Sammy,” Gene said in what he hoped was a non-scary grown-up voice.
“Well...”
“Sam, look at the detective when he’s speaking to you,” Ruth ordered gently and little Sammy lifted his head.
“The last time I saw him was at the wedding...”
“But?” Gene asked.
Sammy looked from his mother back to Gene and he sighed a heavy little sigh for such a small child. “I saw Daddy’s friend on Monday.”
“When Auntie Heather took you to the playground?” Ruth asked.
Sammy shook his head then reached into his pocket. “He gave me this. He said Daddy wanted to see me but he couldn’t but he wanted me to have this.” It wasn’t much, just a cigarette card of Bobby Charlton, but to the boy it seemed to mean a great deal.
“Which friend was it?” Ruth asked before Gene could.
“He said his name was Eddie.”
“Eddie what?” Gene demanded.
“I don’t know,” Sammy shrugged, looking very worried that he had done something wrong, glancing to his mother for support.
“Eddie...” Ruth thought aloud. “He could mean Ed Miller.”
“And where could we find this Ed Miller?” Gene repeated the name, committing it to memory, as he gently took his warrant card back from the boy.
“I don’t know where he lives. Vic used to play cards with him at a pub near where he worked. I remember I’d always know when he was with Ed because Vic would come home very late since Ed worked the night shift.”
Sammy had shuffled back to his mother’s side and was clinging to his knees protectively.
“Where?”
“He’s the head janitor at a distribution company, uhm, Denox Distributors?”
Gene felt Cartwright tense up next to him before she even spoke. “Sir, I’ve heard of them. My brother-in-law applied for a job there. They specialize in the distribution of prescription medication and drugs for laboratory experiments, including narcotics.”
“Mrs. Tyler, thank you for time but I think we better be going.”
Ruth stood, Sammy still clinging to her legs. “Please let me know if DI Tyler will be alright. He’s a good man.”
Gene nodded and followed Cartwright to the door.
“Mummy? Can I have treacle with my tea, please?”
Gene stopped and turned as Annie continued outside. He looked and saw the lad’s hopeful face gaze up at his mother as she tried to hide her disappointment.
“I’m sorry Sammy but you know we can only afford treacle on special occasions. Maybe next month?” She tried to comfort him but it was no use. The poor little thing was utterly crestfallen.
“Mrs. Tyler,” he nodded for her to come over then handed her a fiver.
Heather barged over, ready to rip the money out of her sister’s hand. “DCI Hunt, Ruth does not need--”
“ ‘S not for her. It’s for the boy. He may have just saved a man’s life today. I think that counts as a special occasion. Now go buy ‘im all the treacle he wants. With mint custard.” He made sure the money was clenched in her hand then finally turned away.
“How did you know he likes mint custard?” Ruth asked.
Gene froze. There was a little thought pressing at the back of his mind. An impossible little thought just niggling its way forward. Gene pushed it back. “What boy doesn’t?”
_______
Part 10
Author: dak
Word Count: 1583 this part; [14,589 overall]
Rating: blue cortina
Pairing: some heavy-handed Sam/Gene wink-wink/nudge-nudge, but no direct slashing of the boys
Warnings: angst, just a teeny-tiny bit o' blood
Spoilers: Set after 2.02, so consider anything before that fair game
Summary: When Sam has only 36 hours to live, will Gene and the team be able to catch the perpetrator and save their DI before it's too late?
A/N: This is a response to a plot bunny posted by
ausmac. Premise and title taken from the "Starsky and Hutch" episode "Coffin For Starsky." 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
“I don’t appreciate you barging into my house, Detective Chief Inspector,” Ruth Tyler replied forcefully, probably trying to come across as cold but there was now way this woman could achieve that.
“I don’t appreciate your husband gettin’ away with murder.” Gene was slapped across the face. So maybe she was capable of cold.
“Mrs. Tyler, please,” Annie interjected. “If we could speak to you for just a moment.”
Ruth thought briefly then ushered them into the sitting room. This was why he had brought a plonk along. “Would you like any tea?”
“No time--”
“Yes,” Cartwright interrupted. “That would be lovely.”
Ruth smiled and left them alone, supposedly heading towards her kitchen.
“What in blazes are you doin’ woman? We can’t sit around an’ wait for soddin’ tea while Sam’s back there dyin’ in hospital!” He argued in a low voice.
“Sam?” Ruth repeated from the doorway. Gene hadn’t known she was there and from the look on her face, neither had Annie. “You mean, this is about Detective Inspector Tyler?”
Gene wasn’t exactly clear on what had passed between Sam and this woman those few months ago but the raw look of concern she expressed indicated to the seasoned copper that she obviously felt something towards the DI. She sat down on the armchair across from the detectives, wringing her hands on her work apron. The woman hadn’t the time to change from her work clothes before they had arrived.
“DI Tyler was attacked in his flat last night, luv,” Gene explained and watched her face fill with horror. He could see she was trying to fight it but this was a woman who wore her heart on her sleeve. “He’s in hospital now and if we don’t find the man responsible, he probably won’t make it through the night.”
“I...I don’t know what you want me to do. How you think I can help.” She spoke softly.
“Have you had any contact at all with your husband since the wedding, Mrs. Tyler?” Annie asked politely.
“No,” she replied with just a hint of ill-fitting malice. “Not a phone call or a letter or...” She had to take a minute to compose herself. “Sammy still thinks his Daddy’s going to come waltzing through that door any day now and I’m running out of excuses. And this job I had to take, he barely gets to see me. Has strangers watching him all the time and he’s becoming so shy, so withdrawn.” Ruth Tyler found her inner strength and looked Gene right in the eye. “If I had seen my husband, DCI Hunt, he’d have a right red bruise courtesy of me for the pain he’s caused our son. Sorry.” She quickly tucked the anger away.
“What about friends of his?” Gene continued to prod. He didn’t know why but this felt right and he wasn’t going to let their last hope for a lead drop simply because one person didn’t know something. “Anyone still in the area he might be in touch with? Old gambling chums or the like?”
“I don’t--”
The front door opened. “Hello! We’re home!”
“Heather,” Ruth said, mostly to herself. “Heather wait with Sammy in the--” Her orders weren’t heard in time as a little ball of energy came racing into the room and into his mother’s lap.
“Mummy!”
“Sorry we’re late but, oh.” Heather stopped in the doorway as she saw the officers. “I didn’t realize you had company.”
“Heather, this is Detective Constable Cartwright and Detective Chief Inspector Hunt. Detectives, this is my sister. They’re here about...”
“Ah. Come on you handsome devil. Let’s get you upstairs and ready for your bath.”
The little boy was paying his aunt no mind, however, and instead had his eyes fixed firmly on Gene. It was unnerving. Gene Hunt and children did not mix. “Are you really a Detective Chief Inspector, sir?” He asked very politely, very seriously, from his mother’s lap.
“Yes I am lad. Gotta a fancy badge to prove it.”
The little tyke’s face lit up. “Can I see it?” To Gene, it was the first time this little boy sounded like a child.
“Sammy, the detectives have work to do. Why don’t you--”
“ ‘S alright Mrs. Tyler.” Gene was already reaching into his pocket. The first thing he found was a flask and although he didn’t know much about children, he knew it probably wasn’t wise to offer them whisky. A second search of his pockets was able to produce the wanted warrant card. “Here we are.” He held it out to the boy, who was still sitting in his mother’s lap.
“Go on, Sammy,” she urged him forward.
Christ, but the lad was shy when he thought about what he was actually doing, talking to strangers. He had the curiosity but not the innate sense of trust most children seemed to have at that young age. For a terrifying moment, Gene was reminded of himself.
He slowly climbed down from his mother’s lap and walked carefully across the room. Gene let him hold the warrant card, his little fingers running over the badge and the name card. “I’m going to have one of these, sir.”
“Really?”
He shook his head enthusiastically. Then started showing Gene the man’s own warrant card. “See, there’s your name. An’ I’ll have one with my name an’ it’ll say Sam Tyler an’ then I’ll be a real, live policemen an’ then...”
“And then what?” Gene asked, unable to deny that hearing that name hadn’t just thrown his calm resolve for a loop.
“An’ then I’ll be able to find my daddy,” little Sammy said very quietly.
“When’s the last time you saw your daddy? Was it at the wedding?”
“DCI Hunt, I really must protest. There’s no way my nephew could have had any contact with his father.” Heather interjected.
Yet both mother and DCI noticed the guilty way the child was staring at the carpet, chewing on his lower lip. “Sam? Is there something you need to tell the detective?”
“Nooo,” he held up the warrant card while avoiding Gene’s gaze. Gene didn’t take it back.
“This is very, very important Sammy,” Gene said in what he hoped was a non-scary grown-up voice.
“Well...”
“Sam, look at the detective when he’s speaking to you,” Ruth ordered gently and little Sammy lifted his head.
“The last time I saw him was at the wedding...”
“But?” Gene asked.
Sammy looked from his mother back to Gene and he sighed a heavy little sigh for such a small child. “I saw Daddy’s friend on Monday.”
“When Auntie Heather took you to the playground?” Ruth asked.
Sammy shook his head then reached into his pocket. “He gave me this. He said Daddy wanted to see me but he couldn’t but he wanted me to have this.” It wasn’t much, just a cigarette card of Bobby Charlton, but to the boy it seemed to mean a great deal.
“Which friend was it?” Ruth asked before Gene could.
“He said his name was Eddie.”
“Eddie what?” Gene demanded.
“I don’t know,” Sammy shrugged, looking very worried that he had done something wrong, glancing to his mother for support.
“Eddie...” Ruth thought aloud. “He could mean Ed Miller.”
“And where could we find this Ed Miller?” Gene repeated the name, committing it to memory, as he gently took his warrant card back from the boy.
“I don’t know where he lives. Vic used to play cards with him at a pub near where he worked. I remember I’d always know when he was with Ed because Vic would come home very late since Ed worked the night shift.”
Sammy had shuffled back to his mother’s side and was clinging to his knees protectively.
“Where?”
“He’s the head janitor at a distribution company, uhm, Denox Distributors?”
Gene felt Cartwright tense up next to him before she even spoke. “Sir, I’ve heard of them. My brother-in-law applied for a job there. They specialize in the distribution of prescription medication and drugs for laboratory experiments, including narcotics.”
“Mrs. Tyler, thank you for time but I think we better be going.”
Ruth stood, Sammy still clinging to her legs. “Please let me know if DI Tyler will be alright. He’s a good man.”
Gene nodded and followed Cartwright to the door.
“Mummy? Can I have treacle with my tea, please?”
Gene stopped and turned as Annie continued outside. He looked and saw the lad’s hopeful face gaze up at his mother as she tried to hide her disappointment.
“I’m sorry Sammy but you know we can only afford treacle on special occasions. Maybe next month?” She tried to comfort him but it was no use. The poor little thing was utterly crestfallen.
“Mrs. Tyler,” he nodded for her to come over then handed her a fiver.
Heather barged over, ready to rip the money out of her sister’s hand. “DCI Hunt, Ruth does not need--”
“ ‘S not for her. It’s for the boy. He may have just saved a man’s life today. I think that counts as a special occasion. Now go buy ‘im all the treacle he wants. With mint custard.” He made sure the money was clenched in her hand then finally turned away.
“How did you know he likes mint custard?” Ruth asked.
Gene froze. There was a little thought pressing at the back of his mind. An impossible little thought just niggling its way forward. Gene pushed it back. “What boy doesn’t?”
_______
Part 10