Fic: Accidentally
Jul. 29th, 2007 11:18 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
serafina20Title: Accidentally
Author: serafina20
Rating: Brown Cortina
Pairing: Sam/Gene
Summary: Sam accidentally finds out something about the Guv. And accidents continue to happen.
Spoilers: Major for 2.08
Previous Part
Christ, his head hurt. Like someone was tap dancing on it. Like ogres carrying clubs and wearing metal boots were doing a bloody jig. Like a herd of elephants were rampaging. Like... something else really big and heavy doing something that hurt really bad.
And to make it worse, Gene was..was... hovering. That was the only word for it. Not once since the doctor had let Gene into Sam's room had he left. Not even when Sam had shuffled his way to the loo. Or changed back into his clothes on being discharged. The entire time, Gene had sat there, smoking cigarette after cigarette, glaring at him like the whole situation was Sam's fault.
If Sam had been in the right mindset, he might put it off to fear of abandonment brought on by the departure of Gene's wife. And that abandonment may have possibly compounded a deeper issue brought on by the disappearance and subsequent death of his brother. In fact, had Sam been able to think clearly, he might even had delved deeper and pulled out Freudian theories about the father figure and some such, the effects of abuse, and the trauma of living years without facing what had happened.
But, he wasn't in the mood analyze. All he wanted to do was drug himself into blessed unconsciousness. Fall into bed and sleep for hours. Not that he could do that. The doctor had told Gene to wake Sam every two hours during the night, until the next morning. Which meant that Gene would be up most the night, too, and that meant he would be oh so very pleasant. More than usual.
"You don't have to come up," Sam said irritably as Gene followed too closely on the steps to his flat. "I can get my clothes and come back down."
"No sense in waiting in the car when the booze is up here," Gene replied. "Haven't had a decent drink all day, and I know you have a full bottle in the cupboard."
"Of course. Shoulda known."
"What? You think I'm coming out of concern for you? Not a chance. You deprived me of my breakfast, I had a crappy lunch, and nothing to drink. You owe me, Tyler."
"Yeah, yeah." Sam sighed and slipped his key into the lock. "Just use a glass or something, would you? I might want some if it myself."
Gene grinned widely. "Not tonight. Doctor's orders." And then, as if to prove a point, he marched across the room, grabbed the bottle from the cupboard, and took a swig right from it.
Sam scowled. He didn't say anything, though, just went to the dresser and started pulling out a change of clothes.
"You might as well get something for tomorrow night, too," Gene said. He was sitting, now, and had gotten a glass.
"Why?"
Still drinking, Gene shrugged. "We're both going the same place on Monday. And you're gonna be there tomorrow, anyway." He took another drink, and said, "It's not like there's not room."
And that, Sam knew, was going to be as close to an admission of loneliness from Gene he was ever going to get. Not that he needed one or anything; he knew the guv well enough to know that his wife's leaving had to cut deep. A man needed friends during a time like this, even if it was just to drink and play darts (or, in their case, sit and make sure Sam didn't slip into a coma or something--and what would happen then? Further back in the past? Back to a future he'd already rejected? Sam really didn't want to find out.) And it wasn't like Gene had anyone else. He didn't seem to have any friends outside of work, and while he and Ray got along, it was different. Ray idolized the guv. To him, Gene could do no wrong, and, even if that meant anything Gene did was right... it was still a lot to live up to. And you didn't turn to a bloke like that when something like this happened. A guy like Ray was for pubs and darts and getting pissed. Maybe for going out and chatting up birds.
But not this. Not the first weekend alone after being left by your wife. And while Gene didn't want pity, not even tea and sympathy, he was human. He needed someone. Sam was the best someone he had.
Big responsibility for someone with ogres doing Riverdance in his head, but if anyone was up to a challenge, it was Sam.
"All right," he finally said. "Sounds good to me. Any night I don't have to spend on that bed is a good one, right?"
Gene nodded. Took another drink. "How much time you spend away from that bed, anyway? Once, twice a week?"
He snorted, pulling out a couple of shirts and folding them. "Not hardly." Except for his brief return to 2006. "Only when we're undercover or on surveillance."
"Not even when you were with the plonk?"
"What, Annie?" He shook his head and tossed another pair of jeans on the bed. "We stayed here the few times we were together. She has a roommate."
"What, there was room enough? Don't look like there's enough room for you, and you're just a little slip."
Sam looked at him and gave him a knowing smile. "Trust me, Guv. When the moment is upon you, all you really need is a place to put yourself."
"Personally, I'd want a place that wasn't about to come down under me."
"Never gave much trouble. Only a few pokey springs. She never complained."
Gene pulled a cigarette out and lit. "What ever happened," he started to say, but was cut off by the phone.
One ring was enough. That's all it took. The minute the shrill bell of the phone reached Sam's ears, his entire back and neck went stiff. The headache that had been near overwhelming a moment before went to blinding and unbearable. Tears rose to his eyes, but he was unable to do anything but grip the dresser until his fingers were white.
On the fourth ring, Gene stirred. "You gonna get that, Gladys?"
Oh, how he wished for an answer phone right about now. The ability screen his calls. This call, same time, every Saturday night. To pretend to be out, that he missed it, that he didn't hear...
"Sam."
He shook himself. Took a deep breath and crossed the room. After another fortifying breath, he picked up the receiver. "Hello?"
"Good evening, Sam," Morgan's smooth-as-honey voice greeted him. "How are you?"
"Fine." His stomach was roiling. His back hurt.
"Good. I'm pleased to hear it." There was a pause. Morgan waiting for a return inquiry that never came. Or maybe just to put him off balance, Sam was never sure. He still didn't understand why he called.
The silence stretched a couple more beats. Sam used it to try and unclench his fist from around the receiver and coax blood to flow to his fingers again.
Morgan broke the silence. "How was your week?"
"Fine."
"What happened?"
He licked his lips. "We worked on the murder case. Solved it. Bad guy's put away and all that."
"And DCI Hunt? Did he manage to find actual evidence against this man you've put away, or did he use his usual methods of instinct." The word 'instinct' was fair dripping with scorn.
Sam's jaw tightened and a flare lit in his stomach. "I already told you, I'm not going to talk about him. He's a good man and a good copper. If the only reason you're calling is to..."
"Sam, Sam," Morgan interrupted, soothing. "I'm sorry. You're right. I may not trust DCI Hunt, but I do trust you. Different personality or not, you're still my Sam. A good, honest, loyal man and I know you'd never put away an innocent to sooth your nor your superior's ego."
"Just... leave it be."
"It's difficult for me. We had plans, you must remember. When you went to Manchester, we had a plan. You were on board. If only the accident..." He trailed off and sighed. "No matter. The important thing, Sam, is for you to regain your memory and come home."
"I am home."
"No, Sam, you're not. Your home is here, in Hyde. Do you remember Hyde, Sam?"
He didn't answer. Of course he didn't. When he'd come back to 1973, he'd hoped against hope that Morgan would disappear. That he'd been some sort of delusion. A bleed-over from a future he was still fairly certain was real, if rejected.
But, no. Morgan stayed real. Was real. And was intent on getting Sam to return to Hyde, to a place he didn't remember.
"I know you've told me you want to stay in Manchester..."
"I'm not leaving."
"You really are attached to that tiny little flat with a drunken lout for a superior, aren't you?"
Sam rubbed his eyes. "Must every word out of your mouth be insulting towards my choices in life?" The words came out more needy, more pathetic than he'd've liked. He blamed the concussion, the headache. He was tired, hungry. And Morgan made his skin crawl in a way he couldn't explain.
There was a pause. "I don't mean to be insulting," Morgan finally said. "But, compared to what you had here, it's hard not to be. You should come to Hyde."
"No."
"For the weekend. A holiday. Just, come on down, if only to gather some of your personal items. Visit your friends, they would love to see you. And wouldn't you feel more comfortable in that flat with some familiar things from home?"
Sam shook his head. Winced as the pain knocked from temple to temple. "Maybe," he found himself saying. "Maybe in a week or two. Not now."
Morgan sighed. "Sammy, my boy. I miss you. Don't wait to long. Come home, and I'll tell you anything you need to know. Anything you've forgotten, I'll remind you."
He didn't want to remember, though. Because, if Morgan described this life he'd supposedly lived, what happened to him in 2006? Did it mean it was all a lie, a delusion brought on by a knock to the head? And then, what would this knock on the head, do? Bring it all crashing back around him?
"I'll think about it." Then, before Morgan could say anything else, Sam said hurriedly, "I've got to go."
"I'll talk to you next week, then, Sam. Take care."
"Yeah." He hung up. Rubbed his hand over his face and sat on the bed. God, he was tired of Morgan. Of the paternal attitude the other took while speaking to him. Of the taunting that he had all the answers to Sam's past. Of the way he could destroy Sam's world so easily, with nothing more than four tombstones and a signature on a piece of paper.
"Who was that, then?" Gene drawled after some time had passed.
Sam had forgotten anyone else was there. He tore his hands away form his face and looked at the guv, sprawled in a kitchen chair, glass in hand. "Nothing."
"Didn't sound like nothing. Think I even heard me being discussed."
He didn't answer.
"That Morgan?"
Sam gave a weary nod.
"What's that bastard calling you for?"
"He does every week," Sam sighed. "Six o'clock, every Saturday night. And, if I'm out and don't answer, he calls me the next morning before he goes to church."
Gene's eyebrows raised. "Goes to church, does he? Regular?"
"Very." But, suddenly, Sam wasn't sure. He knew Morgan called him Sunday morning, early. But he couldn't quite remember him ever saying anything about church. And, yet, Sam knew he went.
How?
"Didn't realize the two of you were so close. Maybe he should come down and play nursemaid."
"God, no. I'd take you any day over him."
"There, there, Dorothy. No need to get mushy. And finish packing, already; I'm hungry. Up to dinner at the pub?"
Sam nodded and pushed himself to his feet. "You don't have any food at home anyway. Not really. We'll have to hit the shops if you don't want to eat out every night." And, here it was again; Sam easily and willingly stepping into the role of housewife. First he'd shop for groceries and the next thing, he had a feeling he'd be cooking supper.
At least he'd have someone to cook for. He missed that.
"Fine. If you don't die tonight, I'll let you do the shopping tomorrow. How does that sound?" Gene asked, getting to his feet.
Somehow, that didn't seem exactly what Sam had meant. And, yet, tired as he was, he couldn't bring himself to care. So, he just smiled weakly, said, "Sounds great, Guv," and finished getting his clothes. It was going to be an interesting weekend.
Author: serafina20
Rating: Brown Cortina
Pairing: Sam/Gene
Summary: Sam accidentally finds out something about the Guv. And accidents continue to happen.
Spoilers: Major for 2.08
Previous Part
Christ, his head hurt. Like someone was tap dancing on it. Like ogres carrying clubs and wearing metal boots were doing a bloody jig. Like a herd of elephants were rampaging. Like... something else really big and heavy doing something that hurt really bad.
And to make it worse, Gene was..was... hovering. That was the only word for it. Not once since the doctor had let Gene into Sam's room had he left. Not even when Sam had shuffled his way to the loo. Or changed back into his clothes on being discharged. The entire time, Gene had sat there, smoking cigarette after cigarette, glaring at him like the whole situation was Sam's fault.
If Sam had been in the right mindset, he might put it off to fear of abandonment brought on by the departure of Gene's wife. And that abandonment may have possibly compounded a deeper issue brought on by the disappearance and subsequent death of his brother. In fact, had Sam been able to think clearly, he might even had delved deeper and pulled out Freudian theories about the father figure and some such, the effects of abuse, and the trauma of living years without facing what had happened.
But, he wasn't in the mood analyze. All he wanted to do was drug himself into blessed unconsciousness. Fall into bed and sleep for hours. Not that he could do that. The doctor had told Gene to wake Sam every two hours during the night, until the next morning. Which meant that Gene would be up most the night, too, and that meant he would be oh so very pleasant. More than usual.
"You don't have to come up," Sam said irritably as Gene followed too closely on the steps to his flat. "I can get my clothes and come back down."
"No sense in waiting in the car when the booze is up here," Gene replied. "Haven't had a decent drink all day, and I know you have a full bottle in the cupboard."
"Of course. Shoulda known."
"What? You think I'm coming out of concern for you? Not a chance. You deprived me of my breakfast, I had a crappy lunch, and nothing to drink. You owe me, Tyler."
"Yeah, yeah." Sam sighed and slipped his key into the lock. "Just use a glass or something, would you? I might want some if it myself."
Gene grinned widely. "Not tonight. Doctor's orders." And then, as if to prove a point, he marched across the room, grabbed the bottle from the cupboard, and took a swig right from it.
Sam scowled. He didn't say anything, though, just went to the dresser and started pulling out a change of clothes.
"You might as well get something for tomorrow night, too," Gene said. He was sitting, now, and had gotten a glass.
"Why?"
Still drinking, Gene shrugged. "We're both going the same place on Monday. And you're gonna be there tomorrow, anyway." He took another drink, and said, "It's not like there's not room."
And that, Sam knew, was going to be as close to an admission of loneliness from Gene he was ever going to get. Not that he needed one or anything; he knew the guv well enough to know that his wife's leaving had to cut deep. A man needed friends during a time like this, even if it was just to drink and play darts (or, in their case, sit and make sure Sam didn't slip into a coma or something--and what would happen then? Further back in the past? Back to a future he'd already rejected? Sam really didn't want to find out.) And it wasn't like Gene had anyone else. He didn't seem to have any friends outside of work, and while he and Ray got along, it was different. Ray idolized the guv. To him, Gene could do no wrong, and, even if that meant anything Gene did was right... it was still a lot to live up to. And you didn't turn to a bloke like that when something like this happened. A guy like Ray was for pubs and darts and getting pissed. Maybe for going out and chatting up birds.
But not this. Not the first weekend alone after being left by your wife. And while Gene didn't want pity, not even tea and sympathy, he was human. He needed someone. Sam was the best someone he had.
Big responsibility for someone with ogres doing Riverdance in his head, but if anyone was up to a challenge, it was Sam.
"All right," he finally said. "Sounds good to me. Any night I don't have to spend on that bed is a good one, right?"
Gene nodded. Took another drink. "How much time you spend away from that bed, anyway? Once, twice a week?"
He snorted, pulling out a couple of shirts and folding them. "Not hardly." Except for his brief return to 2006. "Only when we're undercover or on surveillance."
"Not even when you were with the plonk?"
"What, Annie?" He shook his head and tossed another pair of jeans on the bed. "We stayed here the few times we were together. She has a roommate."
"What, there was room enough? Don't look like there's enough room for you, and you're just a little slip."
Sam looked at him and gave him a knowing smile. "Trust me, Guv. When the moment is upon you, all you really need is a place to put yourself."
"Personally, I'd want a place that wasn't about to come down under me."
"Never gave much trouble. Only a few pokey springs. She never complained."
Gene pulled a cigarette out and lit. "What ever happened," he started to say, but was cut off by the phone.
One ring was enough. That's all it took. The minute the shrill bell of the phone reached Sam's ears, his entire back and neck went stiff. The headache that had been near overwhelming a moment before went to blinding and unbearable. Tears rose to his eyes, but he was unable to do anything but grip the dresser until his fingers were white.
On the fourth ring, Gene stirred. "You gonna get that, Gladys?"
Oh, how he wished for an answer phone right about now. The ability screen his calls. This call, same time, every Saturday night. To pretend to be out, that he missed it, that he didn't hear...
"Sam."
He shook himself. Took a deep breath and crossed the room. After another fortifying breath, he picked up the receiver. "Hello?"
"Good evening, Sam," Morgan's smooth-as-honey voice greeted him. "How are you?"
"Fine." His stomach was roiling. His back hurt.
"Good. I'm pleased to hear it." There was a pause. Morgan waiting for a return inquiry that never came. Or maybe just to put him off balance, Sam was never sure. He still didn't understand why he called.
The silence stretched a couple more beats. Sam used it to try and unclench his fist from around the receiver and coax blood to flow to his fingers again.
Morgan broke the silence. "How was your week?"
"Fine."
"What happened?"
He licked his lips. "We worked on the murder case. Solved it. Bad guy's put away and all that."
"And DCI Hunt? Did he manage to find actual evidence against this man you've put away, or did he use his usual methods of instinct." The word 'instinct' was fair dripping with scorn.
Sam's jaw tightened and a flare lit in his stomach. "I already told you, I'm not going to talk about him. He's a good man and a good copper. If the only reason you're calling is to..."
"Sam, Sam," Morgan interrupted, soothing. "I'm sorry. You're right. I may not trust DCI Hunt, but I do trust you. Different personality or not, you're still my Sam. A good, honest, loyal man and I know you'd never put away an innocent to sooth your nor your superior's ego."
"Just... leave it be."
"It's difficult for me. We had plans, you must remember. When you went to Manchester, we had a plan. You were on board. If only the accident..." He trailed off and sighed. "No matter. The important thing, Sam, is for you to regain your memory and come home."
"I am home."
"No, Sam, you're not. Your home is here, in Hyde. Do you remember Hyde, Sam?"
He didn't answer. Of course he didn't. When he'd come back to 1973, he'd hoped against hope that Morgan would disappear. That he'd been some sort of delusion. A bleed-over from a future he was still fairly certain was real, if rejected.
But, no. Morgan stayed real. Was real. And was intent on getting Sam to return to Hyde, to a place he didn't remember.
"I know you've told me you want to stay in Manchester..."
"I'm not leaving."
"You really are attached to that tiny little flat with a drunken lout for a superior, aren't you?"
Sam rubbed his eyes. "Must every word out of your mouth be insulting towards my choices in life?" The words came out more needy, more pathetic than he'd've liked. He blamed the concussion, the headache. He was tired, hungry. And Morgan made his skin crawl in a way he couldn't explain.
There was a pause. "I don't mean to be insulting," Morgan finally said. "But, compared to what you had here, it's hard not to be. You should come to Hyde."
"No."
"For the weekend. A holiday. Just, come on down, if only to gather some of your personal items. Visit your friends, they would love to see you. And wouldn't you feel more comfortable in that flat with some familiar things from home?"
Sam shook his head. Winced as the pain knocked from temple to temple. "Maybe," he found himself saying. "Maybe in a week or two. Not now."
Morgan sighed. "Sammy, my boy. I miss you. Don't wait to long. Come home, and I'll tell you anything you need to know. Anything you've forgotten, I'll remind you."
He didn't want to remember, though. Because, if Morgan described this life he'd supposedly lived, what happened to him in 2006? Did it mean it was all a lie, a delusion brought on by a knock to the head? And then, what would this knock on the head, do? Bring it all crashing back around him?
"I'll think about it." Then, before Morgan could say anything else, Sam said hurriedly, "I've got to go."
"I'll talk to you next week, then, Sam. Take care."
"Yeah." He hung up. Rubbed his hand over his face and sat on the bed. God, he was tired of Morgan. Of the paternal attitude the other took while speaking to him. Of the taunting that he had all the answers to Sam's past. Of the way he could destroy Sam's world so easily, with nothing more than four tombstones and a signature on a piece of paper.
"Who was that, then?" Gene drawled after some time had passed.
Sam had forgotten anyone else was there. He tore his hands away form his face and looked at the guv, sprawled in a kitchen chair, glass in hand. "Nothing."
"Didn't sound like nothing. Think I even heard me being discussed."
He didn't answer.
"That Morgan?"
Sam gave a weary nod.
"What's that bastard calling you for?"
"He does every week," Sam sighed. "Six o'clock, every Saturday night. And, if I'm out and don't answer, he calls me the next morning before he goes to church."
Gene's eyebrows raised. "Goes to church, does he? Regular?"
"Very." But, suddenly, Sam wasn't sure. He knew Morgan called him Sunday morning, early. But he couldn't quite remember him ever saying anything about church. And, yet, Sam knew he went.
How?
"Didn't realize the two of you were so close. Maybe he should come down and play nursemaid."
"God, no. I'd take you any day over him."
"There, there, Dorothy. No need to get mushy. And finish packing, already; I'm hungry. Up to dinner at the pub?"
Sam nodded and pushed himself to his feet. "You don't have any food at home anyway. Not really. We'll have to hit the shops if you don't want to eat out every night." And, here it was again; Sam easily and willingly stepping into the role of housewife. First he'd shop for groceries and the next thing, he had a feeling he'd be cooking supper.
At least he'd have someone to cook for. He missed that.
"Fine. If you don't die tonight, I'll let you do the shopping tomorrow. How does that sound?" Gene asked, getting to his feet.
Somehow, that didn't seem exactly what Sam had meant. And, yet, tired as he was, he couldn't bring himself to care. So, he just smiled weakly, said, "Sounds great, Guv," and finished getting his clothes. It was going to be an interesting weekend.
darnfangirlmind
Date: 2007-09-06 04:58 pm (UTC)briliant, i think im hooked.