Fic: Coffin For Sam (13/13) COMPLETE, blue cortina, dakfinv
Title: Coffin For Sam (13/13)
Author: dak
Word Count: 2067 this part; [20,992 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." And it's over! In thirteen parts, hmm...That wouldn't be some sort of omen, would it? Please enjoy the conclusion!
Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12
“Just tell us what you saw, woman!”
“Guv. A word?”
Sam nodded towards the door. Gene stormed off, moving past the cluttered shelves of Lost and Found and waited impatiently in the hall for Tyler. Stupid ponce was no doubt holding the bloody bint’s hand, telling her how everything was going to be fine and dandy and don’t be scared of the big, bad DCI. When Sam did emerge, the irksome look in his eyes told Gene his assumptions were probably right. When Tyler crossed his arms and sighed all his ideas were confirmed.
“She’s scared, Guv.”
“Well she should be! I ‘aven’t got all day to wait for ‘er to decide to open up her pretty, little gob and talk.”
“She’s not scared of you. She’s scared of him. You know what will happen to her if Hawkins finds out she came to see us.”
“Probably smack ‘er around a bit.”
Tyler rolled his eyes. Gene could have slapped him then. “Even assuming that was in any way even remotely acceptable...”
Gene hated the way Tyler was able to strain his voice to emphasize each word.
“...he’d probably do more than ‘smack her around’.”
Christ, now he was using the air quote thingies.
“He’d probably have her killed.”
“And supposing you are right, DI Tyler, what are we supposed to do about that, hm? It were her choice to shack up with ‘im in the first place. She knew what she was getting herself into then. She knows what she’s getting herself into now.” Gene slowly advanced on his deputy with each word, backing him up against the wall. “She came to us. She wants to talk. She just needs a bit more motivation.” Hunt placed one hand on the wall, on either side of Tyler’s head.
Sam didn’t try to escape from his pinioning. “I think the proper motivation for Beverly would be to offer her police protection until we can secure Hawkins’ arrest.”
“Ooo, Beverly. On a first name basis with Joni Two now, are we?”
The blow landed right on his jaw. Hunt staggered back, recovered, and crippled Tyler with a punch to the stomach. Sam doubled over, gasping for air, and Gene gripped him by the shoulder, at once keeping him upright and causing more pain.
“You can go in there and promise her whatever you want, Tyler. A copper, a unit, the entire bloody Yeomen of the Guard for all I care. If it gets ‘er to talk, I don’t care. Just know that whatever you say to her will be a lie.”
Sam shoved the DCI off and, without a second glance, hobbled back into Lost and Found. The girl gave them everything they needed, as long as she survived until the trial. DCI Hunt’s joy over a closed case didn’t last long. His phone rang that evening, well it was past evening, wasn’t it? He’d already been to the pub, made it home, and been asleep. Yet the phone rang and woke him and he was informed that a body had been found down by the canal. It was always down by the bloody canal.
There was no doubt it was Beverly. There was no doubt it had been vicious and painful. There was no doubt Tyler was going to throw a hissy fit. There was no doubt Gene was going to let him.
“So this is how we’re expected to treat witnesses,” Sam snarled in that pretentious sneer, the voice he usually took on before mentioning something about glorious Hyde.
“Excuse me, DI Tyler, but are you suggesting this is my fault?”
Sam leapt up from the body like the tightly wound spring he was. “Yes I am saying this is your fault! If you would’ve allowed me to provide any sort of the protection I promised her, she’d still be alive!”
“Your idea of protecting a witness, Tyler, is takin’ her home an’ givin’ her a good once over with Little Sammy!”
Gene was prepared one second too late for the punch that landed on his jaw with a hard crunch. Sam tried to land another blow to his Guv’s stomach but Gene caught the Inspector’s fist, twisted it, and spun Tyler round, finishing him off with a good thump to his kidney.
Sam regained his balance before he could fall to his knees but staggered away from Gene, shoving Ray and Chris out of the way as he stumbled away from the crime scene.
“Oi! Where d’you think you’re goin’ Gladys?” Gene bellowed though he made no attempt to go after him.
“You can clean up your own damn messes!” Sam shouted before leaving the canal embankment, disappearing into the night.
Gene cursed fiercely, rubbing his hand through his hair as he decided how and when he was going to kill his Detective Inspector.
He didn’t realize then that it was to be so soon. He didn’t realize then that Sam was storming off to his execution. If he hadn’t pushed him, if he hadn’t put Sam in that place of blind rage, an act Gene could execute to perfection, if he hadn’t done that, could things have been different? Maybe they would have back to Sam’s flat together, shared a bottle of good, hard, guilt. A classic, all-night drinking binge. Then Gene would have been there when Miller showed up. It would have been two on one instead of one on one. Maybe he could have stopped Miller. Maybe Miller could have accidentally injected Gene instead and Sam would have been fine.
“You...could’ve...killed me.”
Gene’s eyes snapped open. Daylight was flooding through Sam’s hospital room window. It was morning. Christ, it was morning and he’d fallen asleep and he hadn’t said and now Sam was...was...
Gene’s gaze slowly fell from the bright window to the conscious man in the bed next to him. “You’re talking.”
“You fell asleep...”
“Sam, I’m...”
“With a lit...cigarette in your hand?”
Gene looked down and saw his trousers covered in ash, the butt of a fag he didn’t even remember lighting, lying in his lap.
“You could’ve...lit this whole place up.” Sam coughed but got it under control quickly. “D’you know how many fires...are caused accidentally...each year because...”
“Tyler. Right now I’m still trying to grasp the fact you’re still breathing. Let’s not spoil it by making me wish you weren’t.”
Sam smiled. Gene tried not to. However, Tyler’s eyes were closed and he couldn’t see Gene’s face. Gene smiled.
*
“Guv!!”
Three voices shouted out in unison. Bloody hell, all he wanted to do was go to the loo but instead Gene was assaulted by the worried, exhausted stares of three of his officers. Well, two worried and three exhausted. Ray seemed to be doing mite better than the others.
“So...” Ray asked without asking.
Gene shoved his hands in his pockets and rocked back on his heels. “Gladys will, unfortunately, be sticking around with us a bit longer.” The unseen weight pressing down upon them for the last twenty-four hours suddenly lifted. He had never seen Chris and Annie so happy as they hugged each other. Ray nodded his head, pretending he didn’t care as much as he actually did. Gene could sympathize. “That is, until he pisses off another crime lord who wants his guts for garters.”
“So really, not that long, eh Guv?” Ray asked.
“Can we see ‘im?” Chris asked, always the hopeless puppy dog.
“He’d probably like the company and I’m sick to death of having to sit with ‘im. Go on. But he don’t know who was behind this yet. Barely out of his coffin right now an’ I don’t want you bringin’ it up. Okay?”
Chris and Ray nodded then went off down the hall to visit his DI. Annie stayed behind.
“You are going to tell him, aren’t you sir?” Only Cartwright would have the balls to ask him that.
“Absolutely. I plan on telling him exactly how it really were Marty Hicks an’ how I screwed up when I told ‘im I thought the lead was a dead end.”
“But Guv--”
Gene stepped closer, keeping his clenched fists in his pockets. “We barely got Sam back the first time Vic Tyler threw ‘im for a loop. I know who he thinks Vic is, Cartwright. I’m not as thickheaded as Sam would like to believe. And I know you know who he thinks Vic is, so what d’you think that’ll do to him? If he finds out that scum was behind this?”
“He deserves to know what happened to him,” Annie shakily stood her ground.
“Yes. Sam does have a right to know what happened. He doesn’t need to know the truth.”
“And you’d rather have him believe it was your fault?”
Gene couldn’t look at her any longer. He needed a cigarette. He needed a drink. He needed to get away. “Beats the hell out of the alternative.”
He needed a pub and that’s exactly where he went.
*
“Well, look who finally decided to grace us with his presence?” Gene quipped and CID burst into applause as DI Tyler strode through the doors for the first time in two weeks. He casually waved off the attention, blushing slightly as he made his way to his desk amid cheers, friendly taunts, and claps on the back.
The riot eventually died down and Gene watched as Sam took a deep breath and scrupulously examining the placement of his pens, stapler, and assorted other objects. He watched as Sam slowly slid his fingers across the edge of the wooden desktop, grinning sheepishly as he settled himself at his desk, where he belonged.
Gene plopped a stack of files on the center of the desk, causing the row of pens to scatter in disarray. Sam only pursed his lips and sighed.
“We’ve missed your lovely handwriting. Better get crackin’.”
“Yes Guv.” Sam picked a pen up off the floor and Gene unwillingly noticed that his black jacket was hanging a bit looser than before.
“What’ve you been eatin’ since they discharged you?”
Sam shrugged and immediately began filling out a report. “Enough.”
Gene snorted. “Well get yourself down to canteen at some point today. Poor Gwen’s tracked down a lorry full of treacle an’ she’s been savin’ it just for you. Break the poor woman’s heart if you din’t eat it.”
“Sure thing, Guv,” Sam smirked.
Gene nodded and strolled back to his office.
“Oh!” He heard behind him as he walked through the doors. Gene turned to see Sam standing there.
“That reminds me,” Tyler reached into his pocket and handed his DCI a fiver. Gene accepted it suspiciously.
“What’s this for?”
“For the food.”
Gene’s brain couldn’t stop whirring as he remembered handing over five pounds to Mrs. Tyler.
“I remember...” Sam rubbed the back of his head. “You know, at the pub? For the sausage and mash.”
“Oh. Right. The sausage and mash. Yeah. That you bled all over. Got it.” Gene stuffed the money in his pocket. Sam hesitated by the door, clearly not ready to leave. Gene waited to hear what he would complain about this time.
“Guv, Gene...I never said, well, thank you.”
“Just part of the job Sammy-boy.”
“Yeah. But...really. Everything you did, I mean, you really didn’t have to but you did anyway, so thanks.”
“Like I said, Tyler. Part of the job.” Gene pulled a cigarette from his pocket. He considered the conversation over. Case closed. There was a long silence, after all.
“Shame,” Sam finally said. “About Marty Hicks.”
“Crying shame.”
“He must’ve thrown you a good sidewinder.”
“Sorry?” Gene looked up from this fag to see Sam staring at him not coldly, but clinically. Forgivingly.
“To throw off the Gene Genie’s instincts like that. Make you think he wasn’t really responsible.”
“Yeah.” It was all Gene could say. His mouth had gone dry.
“Like I said,” Sam smiled and Gene could see him trying to conceal the darkness and pain welling up inside him at the thought of the responsible party. “Thank you.” There he was again, that lost little boy that had to work at being child. The little boy with curiosity but not trust. The little boy just waiting for his father to come home.
“You’re welcome.”
Sam smiled again, almost shyly, and returned to the bullpen.
Gene fell back in his chair. It was impossible. Simply impossible. Wasn’t it?
Author: dak
Word Count: 2067 this part; [20,992 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." And it's over! In thirteen parts, hmm...That wouldn't be some sort of omen, would it? Please enjoy the conclusion!
Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12
“Just tell us what you saw, woman!”
“Guv. A word?”
Sam nodded towards the door. Gene stormed off, moving past the cluttered shelves of Lost and Found and waited impatiently in the hall for Tyler. Stupid ponce was no doubt holding the bloody bint’s hand, telling her how everything was going to be fine and dandy and don’t be scared of the big, bad DCI. When Sam did emerge, the irksome look in his eyes told Gene his assumptions were probably right. When Tyler crossed his arms and sighed all his ideas were confirmed.
“She’s scared, Guv.”
“Well she should be! I ‘aven’t got all day to wait for ‘er to decide to open up her pretty, little gob and talk.”
“She’s not scared of you. She’s scared of him. You know what will happen to her if Hawkins finds out she came to see us.”
“Probably smack ‘er around a bit.”
Tyler rolled his eyes. Gene could have slapped him then. “Even assuming that was in any way even remotely acceptable...”
Gene hated the way Tyler was able to strain his voice to emphasize each word.
“...he’d probably do more than ‘smack her around’.”
Christ, now he was using the air quote thingies.
“He’d probably have her killed.”
“And supposing you are right, DI Tyler, what are we supposed to do about that, hm? It were her choice to shack up with ‘im in the first place. She knew what she was getting herself into then. She knows what she’s getting herself into now.” Gene slowly advanced on his deputy with each word, backing him up against the wall. “She came to us. She wants to talk. She just needs a bit more motivation.” Hunt placed one hand on the wall, on either side of Tyler’s head.
Sam didn’t try to escape from his pinioning. “I think the proper motivation for Beverly would be to offer her police protection until we can secure Hawkins’ arrest.”
“Ooo, Beverly. On a first name basis with Joni Two now, are we?”
The blow landed right on his jaw. Hunt staggered back, recovered, and crippled Tyler with a punch to the stomach. Sam doubled over, gasping for air, and Gene gripped him by the shoulder, at once keeping him upright and causing more pain.
“You can go in there and promise her whatever you want, Tyler. A copper, a unit, the entire bloody Yeomen of the Guard for all I care. If it gets ‘er to talk, I don’t care. Just know that whatever you say to her will be a lie.”
Sam shoved the DCI off and, without a second glance, hobbled back into Lost and Found. The girl gave them everything they needed, as long as she survived until the trial. DCI Hunt’s joy over a closed case didn’t last long. His phone rang that evening, well it was past evening, wasn’t it? He’d already been to the pub, made it home, and been asleep. Yet the phone rang and woke him and he was informed that a body had been found down by the canal. It was always down by the bloody canal.
There was no doubt it was Beverly. There was no doubt it had been vicious and painful. There was no doubt Tyler was going to throw a hissy fit. There was no doubt Gene was going to let him.
“So this is how we’re expected to treat witnesses,” Sam snarled in that pretentious sneer, the voice he usually took on before mentioning something about glorious Hyde.
“Excuse me, DI Tyler, but are you suggesting this is my fault?”
Sam leapt up from the body like the tightly wound spring he was. “Yes I am saying this is your fault! If you would’ve allowed me to provide any sort of the protection I promised her, she’d still be alive!”
“Your idea of protecting a witness, Tyler, is takin’ her home an’ givin’ her a good once over with Little Sammy!”
Gene was prepared one second too late for the punch that landed on his jaw with a hard crunch. Sam tried to land another blow to his Guv’s stomach but Gene caught the Inspector’s fist, twisted it, and spun Tyler round, finishing him off with a good thump to his kidney.
Sam regained his balance before he could fall to his knees but staggered away from Gene, shoving Ray and Chris out of the way as he stumbled away from the crime scene.
“Oi! Where d’you think you’re goin’ Gladys?” Gene bellowed though he made no attempt to go after him.
“You can clean up your own damn messes!” Sam shouted before leaving the canal embankment, disappearing into the night.
Gene cursed fiercely, rubbing his hand through his hair as he decided how and when he was going to kill his Detective Inspector.
He didn’t realize then that it was to be so soon. He didn’t realize then that Sam was storming off to his execution. If he hadn’t pushed him, if he hadn’t put Sam in that place of blind rage, an act Gene could execute to perfection, if he hadn’t done that, could things have been different? Maybe they would have back to Sam’s flat together, shared a bottle of good, hard, guilt. A classic, all-night drinking binge. Then Gene would have been there when Miller showed up. It would have been two on one instead of one on one. Maybe he could have stopped Miller. Maybe Miller could have accidentally injected Gene instead and Sam would have been fine.
“You...could’ve...killed me.”
Gene’s eyes snapped open. Daylight was flooding through Sam’s hospital room window. It was morning. Christ, it was morning and he’d fallen asleep and he hadn’t said and now Sam was...was...
Gene’s gaze slowly fell from the bright window to the conscious man in the bed next to him. “You’re talking.”
“You fell asleep...”
“Sam, I’m...”
“With a lit...cigarette in your hand?”
Gene looked down and saw his trousers covered in ash, the butt of a fag he didn’t even remember lighting, lying in his lap.
“You could’ve...lit this whole place up.” Sam coughed but got it under control quickly. “D’you know how many fires...are caused accidentally...each year because...”
“Tyler. Right now I’m still trying to grasp the fact you’re still breathing. Let’s not spoil it by making me wish you weren’t.”
Sam smiled. Gene tried not to. However, Tyler’s eyes were closed and he couldn’t see Gene’s face. Gene smiled.
*
“Guv!!”
Three voices shouted out in unison. Bloody hell, all he wanted to do was go to the loo but instead Gene was assaulted by the worried, exhausted stares of three of his officers. Well, two worried and three exhausted. Ray seemed to be doing mite better than the others.
“So...” Ray asked without asking.
Gene shoved his hands in his pockets and rocked back on his heels. “Gladys will, unfortunately, be sticking around with us a bit longer.” The unseen weight pressing down upon them for the last twenty-four hours suddenly lifted. He had never seen Chris and Annie so happy as they hugged each other. Ray nodded his head, pretending he didn’t care as much as he actually did. Gene could sympathize. “That is, until he pisses off another crime lord who wants his guts for garters.”
“So really, not that long, eh Guv?” Ray asked.
“Can we see ‘im?” Chris asked, always the hopeless puppy dog.
“He’d probably like the company and I’m sick to death of having to sit with ‘im. Go on. But he don’t know who was behind this yet. Barely out of his coffin right now an’ I don’t want you bringin’ it up. Okay?”
Chris and Ray nodded then went off down the hall to visit his DI. Annie stayed behind.
“You are going to tell him, aren’t you sir?” Only Cartwright would have the balls to ask him that.
“Absolutely. I plan on telling him exactly how it really were Marty Hicks an’ how I screwed up when I told ‘im I thought the lead was a dead end.”
“But Guv--”
Gene stepped closer, keeping his clenched fists in his pockets. “We barely got Sam back the first time Vic Tyler threw ‘im for a loop. I know who he thinks Vic is, Cartwright. I’m not as thickheaded as Sam would like to believe. And I know you know who he thinks Vic is, so what d’you think that’ll do to him? If he finds out that scum was behind this?”
“He deserves to know what happened to him,” Annie shakily stood her ground.
“Yes. Sam does have a right to know what happened. He doesn’t need to know the truth.”
“And you’d rather have him believe it was your fault?”
Gene couldn’t look at her any longer. He needed a cigarette. He needed a drink. He needed to get away. “Beats the hell out of the alternative.”
He needed a pub and that’s exactly where he went.
*
“Well, look who finally decided to grace us with his presence?” Gene quipped and CID burst into applause as DI Tyler strode through the doors for the first time in two weeks. He casually waved off the attention, blushing slightly as he made his way to his desk amid cheers, friendly taunts, and claps on the back.
The riot eventually died down and Gene watched as Sam took a deep breath and scrupulously examining the placement of his pens, stapler, and assorted other objects. He watched as Sam slowly slid his fingers across the edge of the wooden desktop, grinning sheepishly as he settled himself at his desk, where he belonged.
Gene plopped a stack of files on the center of the desk, causing the row of pens to scatter in disarray. Sam only pursed his lips and sighed.
“We’ve missed your lovely handwriting. Better get crackin’.”
“Yes Guv.” Sam picked a pen up off the floor and Gene unwillingly noticed that his black jacket was hanging a bit looser than before.
“What’ve you been eatin’ since they discharged you?”
Sam shrugged and immediately began filling out a report. “Enough.”
Gene snorted. “Well get yourself down to canteen at some point today. Poor Gwen’s tracked down a lorry full of treacle an’ she’s been savin’ it just for you. Break the poor woman’s heart if you din’t eat it.”
“Sure thing, Guv,” Sam smirked.
Gene nodded and strolled back to his office.
“Oh!” He heard behind him as he walked through the doors. Gene turned to see Sam standing there.
“That reminds me,” Tyler reached into his pocket and handed his DCI a fiver. Gene accepted it suspiciously.
“What’s this for?”
“For the food.”
Gene’s brain couldn’t stop whirring as he remembered handing over five pounds to Mrs. Tyler.
“I remember...” Sam rubbed the back of his head. “You know, at the pub? For the sausage and mash.”
“Oh. Right. The sausage and mash. Yeah. That you bled all over. Got it.” Gene stuffed the money in his pocket. Sam hesitated by the door, clearly not ready to leave. Gene waited to hear what he would complain about this time.
“Guv, Gene...I never said, well, thank you.”
“Just part of the job Sammy-boy.”
“Yeah. But...really. Everything you did, I mean, you really didn’t have to but you did anyway, so thanks.”
“Like I said, Tyler. Part of the job.” Gene pulled a cigarette from his pocket. He considered the conversation over. Case closed. There was a long silence, after all.
“Shame,” Sam finally said. “About Marty Hicks.”
“Crying shame.”
“He must’ve thrown you a good sidewinder.”
“Sorry?” Gene looked up from this fag to see Sam staring at him not coldly, but clinically. Forgivingly.
“To throw off the Gene Genie’s instincts like that. Make you think he wasn’t really responsible.”
“Yeah.” It was all Gene could say. His mouth had gone dry.
“Like I said,” Sam smiled and Gene could see him trying to conceal the darkness and pain welling up inside him at the thought of the responsible party. “Thank you.” There he was again, that lost little boy that had to work at being child. The little boy with curiosity but not trust. The little boy just waiting for his father to come home.
“You’re welcome.”
Sam smiled again, almost shyly, and returned to the bullpen.
Gene fell back in his chair. It was impossible. Simply impossible. Wasn’t it?