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Sep. 4th, 2007 07:12 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
Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11
"First robbery was on March 18. Nearly two months ago, now," Charles said. He had a notepad in front of him, names, dates, locations all scribbled across. "Maria Winslow, age seventy-six. Lives alone in a little place. Kids all dead, has a grandson who lives up in Lancaster with his wife and kids. She said that she heard something about five in the morning. Woke, but didn't get out of bed. About ten minutes after hearing the noise, two men, both wearing masks come in. They yank her out of bed so hard they pull her arm from her socket. Drag her downstairs and tie her to a chair. Another bloke was down there, pulling her china from the cabinets. She said they worked completely silent, going through everything. They found a safe and one of the men came over and hit her. Demanded the combination, then hit her again."
"Did she refuse to tell them or something?" Annie asked, a look of disbelief on her face.
Charles shook his head. Drew on his cigarette before answering, "Mrs. Winslow said she was ready to tell them right away, but the bloke kept hitting her. She finally managed to get it out, and they opened it. Took her engagement ring, a brooch, and some earrings and necklaces that'd been in the family forever. Last thing they did was take all her money, then took her to the closet. The man who kept hitting her slammed something into her head and she blacked out." He took another long drag. Shook his head, eyes dark. "She were there almost two days. Grandson's wife finally called us, couldn't get a hold of her on the phone."
Annie shook her head, eyes huge. "That's awful. That poor woman."
Charles looked up at her. Hesitated, eyes flicking to Gene. "It, uh. It is. Look, luv, this is all going to be upsetting. If..."
"The name's WDC Cartwright, if you don't mind," Annie said archly. "And I was just saying that it was bad, not hinting I couldn't handle it. I'm fine."
Sam turned his head, hiding his smile. Annie was a damn good detective, but always let people walk over her. Or at least seem to. She was good at rolling with the punches, then going on and doing what she wanted. The few occasions when she did stand up for herself like this were always great.
"Sorry, lo... WDC Cartwright. Of course you can handle this. Of course." Charles looked back down at his notes. "The second was two weeks later. Same thing: the lady said they came in after five am, pulled her out of bed roughly. Took everything, hit her a few times, then locked her in a closet. Then, a week later, Mrs. Fletcher gets the same treatment. Problem is, there's no evidence that we can find, no dabs, no identification, no nothing. No one recognizes the men's voices, there's no connection between the women."
"'cept that they're all old and have heirlooms," Sam said.
"There's that." Charles ground out his fag. "The last one in Hyde, Mrs. Helen Bannister. They hit her so hard she, her skull fractured. Bled out into her brain. By the time anyone found her, she was dead."
"God," Chris said, shaking his head.
"Then they disappeared," said Gene. He had a cigarette in his hand, face slat-blank as he looked at Charles.
"There was nothing. We kept looking, but nothing, until a few days ago when you got a robbery with the same MO." Charles sat back. "We've gone through everything we could think of. Talking to witnesses, going back to the scene. Talking to the victim and their families. We can't find anything."
"So much for Hyde and your superior methods," Gene muttered. He glanced at Sam. Raised an eyebrow.
Sam shrugged. "I've got nothing. I mean, I understand why they're going after older folk. They want the heirlooms, the silver, the jewelry." He looked over at Charles, his head aching in the middle of his forehead. "You check pawn shops? Fences?"
"All the usual, yes. There was nothing. We pulled every contact we had and nothing."
He glanced at Gene. "Still."
Gene nodded in agreement. "It's something. Chris, Ray, you'll hit the shops today. Anything second hand, all pawn shops, anyone dealing underground. Pull 'em in if you have to."
Beat them, Sam thought wearily, but he didn't say anything. It was a lead, and a viable one. Pulling in people who were known to sell stolen goods while goods were being stolen made sense. And while Ray had loose fists, they weren't quite as quick to fly as Gene's were, at least when Gene wasn't there to egg him on.
"I wonder," Annie said, frown wrinkling her forehead.
"What?" Sam asked when she didn't go on.
She looked up. "Why widows? Why single women living alone only? I mean, the Hunters were right across the street. They had more money than Mrs. Jones. Mrs. Hunter told me that they have nearly five hundred pounds under their mattress. She's going to the bank today to keep it safe, but it were there before."
"She's married, isn't she?" Ray said. "Had protection."
Annie rolled her eyes. "Mr. Hunter may be a man, but his hands shake as bad as anything. Three young men could easily tie him up. And then there's the brutality. They hit these women. No, one of them does. Right?" She looked at Charles.
He nodded. "It's always one of them who drags the women out of bed, then slaps them around. We assume it's the same one." He flipped through his notes. "He's a mite shorter than the others. Stocky. One of the women said she thought he might have had green eyes, but wasn't sure."
"Right handed," Sam said. "The bruises are on the right side of the face."
"And the first one, it was her right arm dislocated."
"What's your point, Cartwright?" said Gene.
She blinked up at him. "It just... it sounds personal. At least for one of 'em."
"What? One of the blokes has got a grudge against every old lady in England?" Gene raised an eyebrow and ground out his cigarette.
"Or," Sam said, "just one." He looked at Annie. "One old lady who he's got a grudge against."
"And he's taking that grudge out of every other one." Her eyes were bright, excitement making them sparkle. "Maybe the first one was whoever he was trying to get after."
"What, Mrs. Winslow?" Charles leaned in.
She shook her head. "No. Maybe, but... there could have been another one, couldn't there have? Before, maybe a little different? Maybe the first time, he was taking his anger out only on her, didn't take anything. That came later."
"Why?" Ray moved closer, sat on a desk across from Annie. "Why would a bloke who was angry at one woman turn into a thief beating up on other women?"
"Maybe he was always a thief," she said. "Or maybe... maybe he was... I dunno..."
"Raised by his grandmother or something like that," suggested Sam, picking up the thread. "Or simply expected to inherit something on her death." He rubbed the back of his neck. "Maybe she abused him."
Charles looked at him sharply. When Sam frowned at him, he just looked away and pulled out another cigarette.
"He's angry, Gov" said Annie. "Really angry. There's no reason to hurt these women the way he is, except he's transferring his anger at whoever she was to everyone else."
"Or he's just a bastard."
"Maybe. But...."
"But your theory might just find us this bastard faster." Gene frowned. Drummed his fingers on the desk. "But how do we go about it?"
"I'll call into Hyde," Charles said. "Pull any reports of older women being murdered or tied up in their home. Then do background, see if they've anyone living with them."
"Or working for them," said Sam. "Could just be a gardener or butler or something."
"Right." Charles rose. "I'll get right on that, sir?"
Gene nodded. "Cartwright, I want you to go talk to the women. See if they remember anything else about the man who hurt him. Take a plonk with you. Ray, Chris? You've got your jobs." He clapped his hands together and rubbed. "Today, people. There are more people in danger out there. I want this bastard of the streets."
They all moved. Even Gene rose, cocking his head and walking to his office.
Sam followed.
"What do you know about this Charles fellow?" Gene asked. He pulled the Scotch from his file cabinet. Poured two glasses.
He shrugged, closing the door. "Nothing."
"Nothing?" Gene handed him his glass. He sat on his desk. "Come on, Sammy. Don't do this to me."
"I'm sorry. I'd love to tell you, but I can't. I just... I don't remember."
"Don't remember?"
He shook his head. Gulped at the Scotch, feeling it trace fire down his throat. "Morgan... You know what he said."
"You've got amnesia, I know." He took a sip. "That why you're still working under the name Tyler? Instead of Williams?" He took a sip.
"I guess. I just... Being Sam Tyler feels real to me. It's who I am. Williams... isn't."
Gene swirled his drink around in his glass. "You know, after that happened, I made a ruckus. Wanted to find out who you really were. Demanded your files and such be sent over."
He looked up, heart pounding. "You've got... information? On who I am?"
"Nope. Wouldn't send a damn thing, would they? Morgan said weren't needed. That it was still temporary, investigation still underway."
"It's not... I'm not..."
"Not for him, maybe. But you are." He tossed back his Scotch. "Always looking out for me, Tyler. Have been since the moment you got here. Stopping me from taking backhanders and the like. Making me be a better copper. A better man." He poured himself another drink. "Maybe Morgan's hoping I make a big enough mistake that you've gotta report me, like you did Woolf. Dunno, but, if I did, I'd want me locked away, too. Right?"
Sam blinked. "Of course."
"Still. They all say you're Sam Williams." He put his glass down. "Thought about asking the Hyde bloke? To tell you?"
"No." He shook his head. "He... gives me a... I don't want to."
Gene smirked. "Makes little goose pimples break out all over your soft little arms, does he?" He rubbed the back of his neck. "Seems like he might be a good copper. Least he's not a complete areshole like Morgan."
He couldn't help the shudder that ran through him at Morgan's name. Gene didn't seem to notice, thank goodness. He really wasn't in the mood to explain.
"So." Gene finished off his drink. "You coming over tonight?"
"Want me to?"
He shrugged. "Oh. I've got this." He pulled a key from his pocket. Handed it over to Sam.
"What's this?"
"Figured if you left something over, or needed something. Just... Just take it, you div."
He took it. Realized it was a key to Gene's house.
A flush spread over his face. "Oh. I..." In some circles, this was as good as a marriage ceremony, but Sam wasn't about to point that out. Instead, he slipped the key into his pocket. Cleared his throat. "What about the case?"
Gene nodded. "After DI Charles Hyde gets off the phone, have him walk you through the files he brought over. Everything, from the first to the last. I need that sharp mind working double time on this."
"What about you?"
"I'm going to hospital."
Sam nodded. "Don't scare the doctors. And, remember, yelling won't wake a coma patient."
Gene pat him on the cheek. "Wouldn't yell at an old woman anyone. You know better."
"Of course, Gov." He turned and left Gene's office, Gene following. Their eyes met just before Gene exited.
Gene nodded, then disappeared.
Sam crossed the office to where Charles was sitting on the phone.
"All right. Thank you, sir. Yes, I'll tell him." He hung up and looked up at Sam. "Morgan said you should call him."
"For the case?" Sam sat.
He shook his head. "No. Just wants to hear from you." He pulled out a cigarette and lit it. "I told him that you don't remember much, still. I'm worried about you, Sammy. That's all."
Sam rubbed his face. "Would you mind calling me Sam? I prefer it." Really, until he got to 1973, no one called him Sammy anymore. Every once in awhile his mother slipped, but no one else. Even now, it was usually Gene who used the nickname, and Sam didn't mind it so much. But that was Gene. Charles was not Gene.
"Sorry," Charles said after a moment. "You just... You've always gone by Sammy."
"Even when I was in charge? I mean, I thought I used to be your DI."
The other man shrugged.
"Not very dignified."
"I think Morgan liked it. He always called you it."
"Doesn't mean I liked it." Sam frowned, fingers tapping on the desk. "So. Were we mates, then?"
Charles sat back. "Dunno. Not particularly. I've always liked you all right, but you were very private. Aloof. All about the job, that was it. The others, we'd go out for drinks after work. Meet up to watch football or something. By the time I transferred in, you were never invited anywhere. Never got it, but the other blokes said you weren't interested in the likes of us."
"You mean, I... I guess I was rude?"
"Never. Never, Sammy... Sam. Always the picture of politeness. Friendly, but distant. Kept it professional."
"Oh." He pressed his hand against the wood. "What friends did I have? All outside of work?"
He tapped ash off the end of his fag. "Not many that I know of. Mostly, Morgan was it. Come to work together, leave together. You were all about the job, Sam. Not much room for anything else."
That wasn't much different from now, Sam supposed. Or back in 2006. Still. He'd had Maya. He'd started something here with Annie. And now Gene. He went to the pub after work with everyone. Maybe he didn't have a wide circle, and maybe Ray and Chris weren't so much mates as blokes he worked with, but they all got on. It was different.
Or seemed.
"So. Morgan raised me. I went to university?"
Charles nodded. "Apparently, he insisted."
"And after, I came back and joined the force."
Another nod.
"And went on living with Morgan."
"Well, you're working in the same place. Even when you were a PC and he were a detective, it made most sense."
"Must not have given me much room for a personal life." Sam remembered what Williams had said about not being with women before Annie.
Charles shrugged. "You... Well, you seemed lonely. To me. But you weren't an easy man to get to know. Morgan was always hovering around you, keeping you focused on the job." His eyes flicked to the bruise on Sam's forehead where he'd hit his head the other day. "What happened to your head?"
"Huh? Oh, I fell," he answered distractedly.
"And your eye?"
Sam touched his eye, surprised. He'd completely forgotten about the black eye the guv had given him during the Bennett case. "Oh. The guv and I got into a bit of a punch up the other day. It's nothing."
Charles's mouth fell open. He quickly closed it with an audible snap, but his eyes were still shocked.
"What?" Sam rubbed at his forehead irritably. He wanted his headache to go away. He wanted to sleep. He wanted this case to be over and Charles to be gone and for this supposed past to disappear.
"Nothing." He stubbed out his cigarette, then lit another. "Nothing. Just... I've never... You just told me where you got it from, that's all. Sort of a shock."
"Why?"
"No reason."
"Charles."
He took a long drag of his cigarette. Let out the breath in a sigh. "It's nothing, Sammy. Just that, unless you're hurt on the job, you've never told me about getting hurt. Even half the time you get hurt on the job, you don't tell. Dangerously private, you are. Once broke you ankle chasing an suspect and didn't tell no one until that night when you couldn't get your boot off."
Sam swallowed. "Get hurt a lot, do I?"
"You're just accident prone. Mostly, you just trip and hit stuff at home. Always come in with sprains or bruises and stuff. But, no matter where you get hurt, you keep it to yourself. Man's man, you are. Keep your pain to yourself."
He ignored the macho bullshit. Went back to the important part. "So, I'm accident prone, am I?"
"Yeah. All brains, locked in your own world. Trip and fall and bumble all over the place."
"You've seen me fall a lot?"
Charles sighed. "Sammy, I..."
"Just answer the question. All these accidents I've had, besides the ones I get in the line. You've seen 'em? At least some."
He was looking at the file in front of him, steadfastly refusing to meet Sam's eyes. "I can't remember exactly. Sure I have, once or twice. Bump into desks and stuff at the office. I can't remember. Look, we should get to work. Got a case, right?"
"Right," Sam said grudgingly. He'd let the subject drop. At least for now.
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
Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11
"First robbery was on March 18. Nearly two months ago, now," Charles said. He had a notepad in front of him, names, dates, locations all scribbled across. "Maria Winslow, age seventy-six. Lives alone in a little place. Kids all dead, has a grandson who lives up in Lancaster with his wife and kids. She said that she heard something about five in the morning. Woke, but didn't get out of bed. About ten minutes after hearing the noise, two men, both wearing masks come in. They yank her out of bed so hard they pull her arm from her socket. Drag her downstairs and tie her to a chair. Another bloke was down there, pulling her china from the cabinets. She said they worked completely silent, going through everything. They found a safe and one of the men came over and hit her. Demanded the combination, then hit her again."
"Did she refuse to tell them or something?" Annie asked, a look of disbelief on her face.
Charles shook his head. Drew on his cigarette before answering, "Mrs. Winslow said she was ready to tell them right away, but the bloke kept hitting her. She finally managed to get it out, and they opened it. Took her engagement ring, a brooch, and some earrings and necklaces that'd been in the family forever. Last thing they did was take all her money, then took her to the closet. The man who kept hitting her slammed something into her head and she blacked out." He took another long drag. Shook his head, eyes dark. "She were there almost two days. Grandson's wife finally called us, couldn't get a hold of her on the phone."
Annie shook her head, eyes huge. "That's awful. That poor woman."
Charles looked up at her. Hesitated, eyes flicking to Gene. "It, uh. It is. Look, luv, this is all going to be upsetting. If..."
"The name's WDC Cartwright, if you don't mind," Annie said archly. "And I was just saying that it was bad, not hinting I couldn't handle it. I'm fine."
Sam turned his head, hiding his smile. Annie was a damn good detective, but always let people walk over her. Or at least seem to. She was good at rolling with the punches, then going on and doing what she wanted. The few occasions when she did stand up for herself like this were always great.
"Sorry, lo... WDC Cartwright. Of course you can handle this. Of course." Charles looked back down at his notes. "The second was two weeks later. Same thing: the lady said they came in after five am, pulled her out of bed roughly. Took everything, hit her a few times, then locked her in a closet. Then, a week later, Mrs. Fletcher gets the same treatment. Problem is, there's no evidence that we can find, no dabs, no identification, no nothing. No one recognizes the men's voices, there's no connection between the women."
"'cept that they're all old and have heirlooms," Sam said.
"There's that." Charles ground out his fag. "The last one in Hyde, Mrs. Helen Bannister. They hit her so hard she, her skull fractured. Bled out into her brain. By the time anyone found her, she was dead."
"God," Chris said, shaking his head.
"Then they disappeared," said Gene. He had a cigarette in his hand, face slat-blank as he looked at Charles.
"There was nothing. We kept looking, but nothing, until a few days ago when you got a robbery with the same MO." Charles sat back. "We've gone through everything we could think of. Talking to witnesses, going back to the scene. Talking to the victim and their families. We can't find anything."
"So much for Hyde and your superior methods," Gene muttered. He glanced at Sam. Raised an eyebrow.
Sam shrugged. "I've got nothing. I mean, I understand why they're going after older folk. They want the heirlooms, the silver, the jewelry." He looked over at Charles, his head aching in the middle of his forehead. "You check pawn shops? Fences?"
"All the usual, yes. There was nothing. We pulled every contact we had and nothing."
He glanced at Gene. "Still."
Gene nodded in agreement. "It's something. Chris, Ray, you'll hit the shops today. Anything second hand, all pawn shops, anyone dealing underground. Pull 'em in if you have to."
Beat them, Sam thought wearily, but he didn't say anything. It was a lead, and a viable one. Pulling in people who were known to sell stolen goods while goods were being stolen made sense. And while Ray had loose fists, they weren't quite as quick to fly as Gene's were, at least when Gene wasn't there to egg him on.
"I wonder," Annie said, frown wrinkling her forehead.
"What?" Sam asked when she didn't go on.
She looked up. "Why widows? Why single women living alone only? I mean, the Hunters were right across the street. They had more money than Mrs. Jones. Mrs. Hunter told me that they have nearly five hundred pounds under their mattress. She's going to the bank today to keep it safe, but it were there before."
"She's married, isn't she?" Ray said. "Had protection."
Annie rolled her eyes. "Mr. Hunter may be a man, but his hands shake as bad as anything. Three young men could easily tie him up. And then there's the brutality. They hit these women. No, one of them does. Right?" She looked at Charles.
He nodded. "It's always one of them who drags the women out of bed, then slaps them around. We assume it's the same one." He flipped through his notes. "He's a mite shorter than the others. Stocky. One of the women said she thought he might have had green eyes, but wasn't sure."
"Right handed," Sam said. "The bruises are on the right side of the face."
"And the first one, it was her right arm dislocated."
"What's your point, Cartwright?" said Gene.
She blinked up at him. "It just... it sounds personal. At least for one of 'em."
"What? One of the blokes has got a grudge against every old lady in England?" Gene raised an eyebrow and ground out his cigarette.
"Or," Sam said, "just one." He looked at Annie. "One old lady who he's got a grudge against."
"And he's taking that grudge out of every other one." Her eyes were bright, excitement making them sparkle. "Maybe the first one was whoever he was trying to get after."
"What, Mrs. Winslow?" Charles leaned in.
She shook her head. "No. Maybe, but... there could have been another one, couldn't there have? Before, maybe a little different? Maybe the first time, he was taking his anger out only on her, didn't take anything. That came later."
"Why?" Ray moved closer, sat on a desk across from Annie. "Why would a bloke who was angry at one woman turn into a thief beating up on other women?"
"Maybe he was always a thief," she said. "Or maybe... maybe he was... I dunno..."
"Raised by his grandmother or something like that," suggested Sam, picking up the thread. "Or simply expected to inherit something on her death." He rubbed the back of his neck. "Maybe she abused him."
Charles looked at him sharply. When Sam frowned at him, he just looked away and pulled out another cigarette.
"He's angry, Gov" said Annie. "Really angry. There's no reason to hurt these women the way he is, except he's transferring his anger at whoever she was to everyone else."
"Or he's just a bastard."
"Maybe. But...."
"But your theory might just find us this bastard faster." Gene frowned. Drummed his fingers on the desk. "But how do we go about it?"
"I'll call into Hyde," Charles said. "Pull any reports of older women being murdered or tied up in their home. Then do background, see if they've anyone living with them."
"Or working for them," said Sam. "Could just be a gardener or butler or something."
"Right." Charles rose. "I'll get right on that, sir?"
Gene nodded. "Cartwright, I want you to go talk to the women. See if they remember anything else about the man who hurt him. Take a plonk with you. Ray, Chris? You've got your jobs." He clapped his hands together and rubbed. "Today, people. There are more people in danger out there. I want this bastard of the streets."
They all moved. Even Gene rose, cocking his head and walking to his office.
Sam followed.
"What do you know about this Charles fellow?" Gene asked. He pulled the Scotch from his file cabinet. Poured two glasses.
He shrugged, closing the door. "Nothing."
"Nothing?" Gene handed him his glass. He sat on his desk. "Come on, Sammy. Don't do this to me."
"I'm sorry. I'd love to tell you, but I can't. I just... I don't remember."
"Don't remember?"
He shook his head. Gulped at the Scotch, feeling it trace fire down his throat. "Morgan... You know what he said."
"You've got amnesia, I know." He took a sip. "That why you're still working under the name Tyler? Instead of Williams?" He took a sip.
"I guess. I just... Being Sam Tyler feels real to me. It's who I am. Williams... isn't."
Gene swirled his drink around in his glass. "You know, after that happened, I made a ruckus. Wanted to find out who you really were. Demanded your files and such be sent over."
He looked up, heart pounding. "You've got... information? On who I am?"
"Nope. Wouldn't send a damn thing, would they? Morgan said weren't needed. That it was still temporary, investigation still underway."
"It's not... I'm not..."
"Not for him, maybe. But you are." He tossed back his Scotch. "Always looking out for me, Tyler. Have been since the moment you got here. Stopping me from taking backhanders and the like. Making me be a better copper. A better man." He poured himself another drink. "Maybe Morgan's hoping I make a big enough mistake that you've gotta report me, like you did Woolf. Dunno, but, if I did, I'd want me locked away, too. Right?"
Sam blinked. "Of course."
"Still. They all say you're Sam Williams." He put his glass down. "Thought about asking the Hyde bloke? To tell you?"
"No." He shook his head. "He... gives me a... I don't want to."
Gene smirked. "Makes little goose pimples break out all over your soft little arms, does he?" He rubbed the back of his neck. "Seems like he might be a good copper. Least he's not a complete areshole like Morgan."
He couldn't help the shudder that ran through him at Morgan's name. Gene didn't seem to notice, thank goodness. He really wasn't in the mood to explain.
"So." Gene finished off his drink. "You coming over tonight?"
"Want me to?"
He shrugged. "Oh. I've got this." He pulled a key from his pocket. Handed it over to Sam.
"What's this?"
"Figured if you left something over, or needed something. Just... Just take it, you div."
He took it. Realized it was a key to Gene's house.
A flush spread over his face. "Oh. I..." In some circles, this was as good as a marriage ceremony, but Sam wasn't about to point that out. Instead, he slipped the key into his pocket. Cleared his throat. "What about the case?"
Gene nodded. "After DI Charles Hyde gets off the phone, have him walk you through the files he brought over. Everything, from the first to the last. I need that sharp mind working double time on this."
"What about you?"
"I'm going to hospital."
Sam nodded. "Don't scare the doctors. And, remember, yelling won't wake a coma patient."
Gene pat him on the cheek. "Wouldn't yell at an old woman anyone. You know better."
"Of course, Gov." He turned and left Gene's office, Gene following. Their eyes met just before Gene exited.
Gene nodded, then disappeared.
Sam crossed the office to where Charles was sitting on the phone.
"All right. Thank you, sir. Yes, I'll tell him." He hung up and looked up at Sam. "Morgan said you should call him."
"For the case?" Sam sat.
He shook his head. "No. Just wants to hear from you." He pulled out a cigarette and lit it. "I told him that you don't remember much, still. I'm worried about you, Sammy. That's all."
Sam rubbed his face. "Would you mind calling me Sam? I prefer it." Really, until he got to 1973, no one called him Sammy anymore. Every once in awhile his mother slipped, but no one else. Even now, it was usually Gene who used the nickname, and Sam didn't mind it so much. But that was Gene. Charles was not Gene.
"Sorry," Charles said after a moment. "You just... You've always gone by Sammy."
"Even when I was in charge? I mean, I thought I used to be your DI."
The other man shrugged.
"Not very dignified."
"I think Morgan liked it. He always called you it."
"Doesn't mean I liked it." Sam frowned, fingers tapping on the desk. "So. Were we mates, then?"
Charles sat back. "Dunno. Not particularly. I've always liked you all right, but you were very private. Aloof. All about the job, that was it. The others, we'd go out for drinks after work. Meet up to watch football or something. By the time I transferred in, you were never invited anywhere. Never got it, but the other blokes said you weren't interested in the likes of us."
"You mean, I... I guess I was rude?"
"Never. Never, Sammy... Sam. Always the picture of politeness. Friendly, but distant. Kept it professional."
"Oh." He pressed his hand against the wood. "What friends did I have? All outside of work?"
He tapped ash off the end of his fag. "Not many that I know of. Mostly, Morgan was it. Come to work together, leave together. You were all about the job, Sam. Not much room for anything else."
That wasn't much different from now, Sam supposed. Or back in 2006. Still. He'd had Maya. He'd started something here with Annie. And now Gene. He went to the pub after work with everyone. Maybe he didn't have a wide circle, and maybe Ray and Chris weren't so much mates as blokes he worked with, but they all got on. It was different.
Or seemed.
"So. Morgan raised me. I went to university?"
Charles nodded. "Apparently, he insisted."
"And after, I came back and joined the force."
Another nod.
"And went on living with Morgan."
"Well, you're working in the same place. Even when you were a PC and he were a detective, it made most sense."
"Must not have given me much room for a personal life." Sam remembered what Williams had said about not being with women before Annie.
Charles shrugged. "You... Well, you seemed lonely. To me. But you weren't an easy man to get to know. Morgan was always hovering around you, keeping you focused on the job." His eyes flicked to the bruise on Sam's forehead where he'd hit his head the other day. "What happened to your head?"
"Huh? Oh, I fell," he answered distractedly.
"And your eye?"
Sam touched his eye, surprised. He'd completely forgotten about the black eye the guv had given him during the Bennett case. "Oh. The guv and I got into a bit of a punch up the other day. It's nothing."
Charles's mouth fell open. He quickly closed it with an audible snap, but his eyes were still shocked.
"What?" Sam rubbed at his forehead irritably. He wanted his headache to go away. He wanted to sleep. He wanted this case to be over and Charles to be gone and for this supposed past to disappear.
"Nothing." He stubbed out his cigarette, then lit another. "Nothing. Just... I've never... You just told me where you got it from, that's all. Sort of a shock."
"Why?"
"No reason."
"Charles."
He took a long drag of his cigarette. Let out the breath in a sigh. "It's nothing, Sammy. Just that, unless you're hurt on the job, you've never told me about getting hurt. Even half the time you get hurt on the job, you don't tell. Dangerously private, you are. Once broke you ankle chasing an suspect and didn't tell no one until that night when you couldn't get your boot off."
Sam swallowed. "Get hurt a lot, do I?"
"You're just accident prone. Mostly, you just trip and hit stuff at home. Always come in with sprains or bruises and stuff. But, no matter where you get hurt, you keep it to yourself. Man's man, you are. Keep your pain to yourself."
He ignored the macho bullshit. Went back to the important part. "So, I'm accident prone, am I?"
"Yeah. All brains, locked in your own world. Trip and fall and bumble all over the place."
"You've seen me fall a lot?"
Charles sighed. "Sammy, I..."
"Just answer the question. All these accidents I've had, besides the ones I get in the line. You've seen 'em? At least some."
He was looking at the file in front of him, steadfastly refusing to meet Sam's eyes. "I can't remember exactly. Sure I have, once or twice. Bump into desks and stuff at the office. I can't remember. Look, we should get to work. Got a case, right?"
"Right," Sam said grudgingly. He'd let the subject drop. At least for now.
