AN: Sorry UK fans, this is for the US series. If I had a section for the US version to post this in, believe me, I would. It's too bad this version didn't last longer so it could have avoided that awkward ending!
Alibi
A Life on Mars (US) fanfic
By Kara
Sitting at his desk, Ray Carling watched Sam Tyler stride past him and out of the precinct for the night; both were too lost in their own thoughts to acknowledge the other. Ray fingered the glass on his desk, the leftover whisky from their toast sloshing inside, and downed the rest of the shot, relishing the tingling as the liquor warmed his insides, right before the retaliation as the bullet wound in his side reminded Ray of its presence. He steeled himself against the sting, face wrinkling, but he swallowed the pain wordlessly, reminding himself that he was the lucky one.
Gene Hunt came out of his office and walked up to Ray's desk. "Get outta here, Carling. I've got this covered; you have got to get home and get some rest."
"I'm fine, Gene," Ray rolled his eyes.
"The hell you are. Maybe you're tryin' to prove some tough man competition or somethin' but there's nothing in your job description says you gotta pull the late shift the same day you get shot. Now I understand why you had to go out tonight lookin' for MacManus, but we ain't finding him tonight, and I would appreciate it if you stopped bleeding all over my damn precinct and get your ass outta here."
Ray sighed, staring down at the bloody shirt he still wore, torn and stained, proof that he hadn't once stopped to rest, from the bullets flying to the fists. Not that it hadn't felt really good to beat on MacManus's gang tonight. Every pound of the fist into someone's skull was like therapy.
"Denise did leave quite a few messages while we were out…" Ray said hesitantly.
"Exactly, now quit worrying that nagging wife of yours and go home before I call her to come down here and get you."
Ray looked up to meet Gene's eyes suddenly, with a terrified expression that read 'you wouldn't' but he knew Gene would, and there was no use fighting it. "Well, I guess I better be off then. Don't you go finding MacManus without me! I wanna be there when he gets brought in. Nobody tries to kill Ray Carling and gets away with it."
Gene disappeared into his office and Ray reluctantly stood, gingerly holding his side. He looked at the framed picture of his wife on his desk then at the phone and decided Denise would have to wait. She would understand; there was somewhere else he had to be first.
For the second time that night, Ray found himself in the middle of the emergency room, but thanked whatever lucky stars were dumb enough to be shining for him that this time he wasn't on a gurney. Denise hadn't been happy about his choice not to come right home, but she had understood. Ray needed to be here. He found his own way up to the fourth floor ICU, but had to stop and ask for directions from the no-nonsense nurse who had patched him up earlier.
"You again?" She raised a thin eyebrow. "Back for more?"
"Only if you think you can handle me," Ray snorted.
"Oh honey, if you think you're the worst I've seen, that's real sweet. I suppose you're back to get stitched up because you went and ruined all my hard work on your little witch hunt."
"Not in the slightest, sister. I'm just here to make sure you butchers didn't kill my partner while I was out. Now if you don't mind using those pretty blue eyes of yours to check out that list and kindly direct me to his room—"
The older nurse eyed him for a moment then said, "Visiting hours are over."
"Do I look like I care, sweet cheeks? Do whatever you want, check me in as a patient; one way or another I'm going into that room and ain't nobody gonna stop me!"
The nurse gave him a slight smile, knowing very well how to read between the lines. "Detective Skelton is in room 408, third door on your left down that hall."
"Thanks, now was that so hard?"
He turned to leave. "Detective Carling?" Ray stopped and turned to look over his shoulder. "You really should get your wound looked at, at least to change the bandages."
"I'll think about it." Ray walked off down the hall in the direction indicated, secretly grateful he didn't have to force his way in; he would never admit it, but somewhere in between getting shot, rounding up the culprits, and realizing you were missing the only one you really wanted, he'd lost a fair bit of the fight in him.
Fifteen feet from room 408, he halted, seeing Annie Norris still in the room at Chris's bedside, holding his young partner's hand. He held back, stepping out of sight and waited until Annie finally stood, picked up her coat, and ran her hand through Chris's messy hair. She gave the kid a sad, lingering look with those doe eyes Norris seemed to wear so well and finally left the room. Ray ducked behind a cart of dinner trays until his coworker was around the corner and finally slipped into the room.
The second bed was unoccupied and Ray was grateful because he felt awkward enough being there when it was just him and an unconscious person. Unsure of what to do with himself, Ray shoved his hands into his coat pocket and kicked the ground. "What am I doing here?" Ray muttered, looking up toward the ceiling for guidance, but the only response he got back was the steady beeping of the machine by Chris's bedside.
His young partner was a mess, tubes haphazardly sticking out everywhere, his youthful features disrupted by trauma, ragged and tired. But if this experience aged him, then he would wear it well when he came out of this… If he came out of this.
"Hey, I uh, just wanted you to know we haven't found MacManus yet. We were out all night but he's in the wind, hiding like a rat in the sewer. We ain't gonna stop though, not until he's in handcuffs or a coffin—whichever comes first and fingers crossed that it's the latter. I'm going back out there tomorrow, first thing, come Hell or high water. Actually, both Hell and high water terrify me less than Denise when she's in mother hen mode and even she's not gonna stop me from gettin' out there. I got to… I owe it to you, kid."
Ray's voice went soft at the end, and an uncomfortable weight settled on him before he chased it away with a frustrated growl. "Dammit, why you gotta do this to me? I swear on my mother that you better pull through 'cause I was just gettin' used to having you around! I don't have it in me to break in another partner just yet." Chris Skelton may have been green, naïve, too soft, kind of an idiot sometimes. He could really annoy the Hell out of Ray with his relentless supply of moronic questions, but damn it anyway, he had grown on Ray over time. Chris had the makings of a good cop in him, maybe a better one than Ray could ever hope to be. Despite Ray's honest effort to avoid attachment, he nonetheless felt protective over the rookie, and though he'd never admit it, it killed Ray to stand by helplessly and watch him slip away.
The weight of it all reminded Ray of his own pain. He rubbed his side through the bandages, groaning because it reminded him he was also tired and hungry and angry and hurting and it was all so overwhelming it made him want to hit something. He settled for sitting down, and pulled the empty chair Norris had vacated up to Chris's bed and sank into it, wincing and rubbing his aching side.
He studied his unconscious partner, fighting the guilt. "You're killin' me, kid, you know that?" He thought about earlier that day, while they'd been staking out the bar and the kid had asked all those dumb questions about Heaven and what it was like and if Ray thought it existed. It was almost as if some part of him knew he'd be knocking on that door just a few short hours later…
"I'll have you know," Ray began. "Every cop takes a bullet one time or another throughout their career. You're gettin' yours out of the way early; that's productive. But next time, you might wanna think about dodging a couple, instead of taking them all at once. Take a few tips from me, for example. For God's sake, if you let anything stick in that moony head of yours, let it be this."
Ray knew it wasn't Chris's fault he got shot, and deep down he knew it wasn't his own fault either. They were ambushed, plain and simple, by a dirty coward. Nothing to be done. He was just reacting to an uncomfortable situation the only way he knew how, through sarcasm and distance.
Realizing this made Ray feel even guiltier. People were always telling him how much he lacked compassion but that's the way he was. That's how he was raised and he certainly didn't want to disappoint anyone by acting out of character.
A sudden noise at the door caused Ray to jump, his hand retreating instantaneously as he regained his composure and looked up to see Annie Norris slowly closing the door behind her. At Ray's wide-eyed, guilty expression, her face registered surprise that soon melted into a tender, knowing smile which Ray did not like one bit.
"What're you doin' here, No Nuts? I thought you left."
"Forgot my purse…" Annie replied, gesturing to the floor beside Ray's chair where her black bag had gone totally unnoticed. But she made no move to retrieve it and back off like Ray wished she would, instead choosing to grin that goofy, infuriating grin some more.
"Quit looking so smug, No Nuts. I'm just making sure Junior here knows that we don't accept lying down on the job and that he's expected back at work as soon as possible."
"Whatever you say, Ray."
Ray's brush-off tactics weren't working on this particular blond-bombshell and that made him angrier. "Alright, listen, if you say anything about this to anyone at the precinct I swear to God I will make sure you are demoted to a position so low that even getting coffee requires a Visitor's Pass."
It was a bit harsh, even for Ray, but the unflappable Annie just smiled as she came over to get her purse. "Oh, Ray, you don't have to worry; your secret's safe with me." She patted him on the shoulder. "I won't tell anyone you have a heart."
She resumed her place at the door and Ray squinted stubbornly, folding his arms. "You're a real piece of work, Norris."
"You're not so bad yourself, Ray."
They exchanged the briefest and unlikeliest of smiles then both turned their attention to the unconscious detective. "Do you think he'll make it?" Annie asked.
After a moment's hesitation, Ray answered, "Yeah, I think he will. Anyway, he's gotta live to get a few punches in on that dirty mick himself. But then, he's such a little girl, he probably don't want revenge like we do."
Annie was silent a moment then said, "Well I think he'll be alright. He's got a good partner looking out for him." Annie winked and made to leave. "I have to get some sleep, and even if you're gonna stay here, I suggest you do the same, Ray. You look terrible." Giving him one last smile that Ray appreciated more than he'd ever let on, Annie turned and left. Ray returned his attention to his wounded partner, thoughts of pity and fear mixing with thoughts of revenge and creating a plethora of messy emotions that had no place being in the quiet hospital room, much less Ray's tired mind. He slouched in the chair, feeling his eyelids droop and being unable to fight it any longer, he let sleep take him.
When he awoke, it was to the sound of the door creaking open. Startled by the disturbance and ashamed to be caught sleeping when he wanted to be on guard, Ray sat up straight and turned to glare at the intruder, but it was only his wife. At his unsettling reaction, Denise eyed her husband pitifully but Ray broke the tender moment by clearing his voice and barking out, "What time is it?"
"It's six," she answered. "Just after." Six A.M. He'd only been asleep for a handful of hours. He instinctively glanced at Chris, but the kid hadn't moved an inch since last night.
Rubbing his eyes wearily, Ray groaned as the pain flared up anew in his side. "What are you doing here?" He asked gruffly, without looking up.
Denise made a disgusted noise, but her reply was more incredulous than angry. "I came to check up on my wounded husband who decided to pull an all-nighter after taking a bullet instead of coming home to his worried wife."
"I'm fine," Ray dismissed then gestured to the bundle of clothing under her arm. "Those for me?"
Denise glanced at them. "Yes, but I'd rather you come home before I give them to you." Ray met his wife's eyes, noticing the preoccupied look they bore, and knew there was some other thing she wanted to give him besides the change of clothes and a piece of her mind, but he hadn't time to ask before the stern nurse from last night hurried in and busied herself around the room.
"Don't mind me, I'm just doing my job. This is for you," she said, placing a tray of food down on the table next to Ray then she held up a pack of fresh bandages in one hand and a cup of painkillers in the other. "And so are these if you'll sit still long enough."
"I'll take those," Ray said, swallowing the painkillers with a swig of the disgusting black coffee she'd brought him. "The rest you can keep."
"He'll take all of it," Denise said flatly, reaching his chair in two strides and helping her husband move to the empty bed. "I'll make him sit still, don't worry." Ray groaned, too exhausted to protest the ministrations of two ball-busting women, but when his wife tenderly laid hands on him, Ray was surprised to find he appreciated her touch. After the night he'd had…
The nurse was not so gentle and after she finished taping on the fresh bandage, Ray was glad for the abuse to be over. "You sure you didn't used to be a drill sergeant before becoming a nurse?" Ray remarked cruelly, rubbing his side, but the woman said nothing and moved to the bed to check up on Chris. "Hey, you be careful with him, Nurse Ratchet. He's not so good at taking abuse like I am."
"Oh, I don't know about that," she replied with a sideways glance. "I've heard considerably less complaining coming from him than from you."
"How is he anyway, Nurse?" Denise asked before her husband could snarl a reply. She didn't know Chris that well, but she liked him. He was such a nice boy, she couldn't imagine anyone even hating him much less trying to kill him, but such was the job.
"We're optimistic," she told Denise then said to Ray, "You detectives are quite the fighters."
"You don't know the half of it," Denise retorted.
Finished with her check-up, the nurse gave Ray one last warning about eating his breakfast and left husband and wife alone once more. Denise looked at the floor. "What is it?" Ray asked her as he took the clothes from her and began to change.
"Annie Norris called, just before I came over here. She said Gene Hunt thought you'd like to be called in. They found the guy who shot you, dead this morning. They think he's been murdered."
Ray went cold, his jumbled thoughts drowning out all other sounds, and he knew that Denise recognized the disappointment that flashed across his face, though he tried to hide it.
"What's the matter, Ray? Isn't this what you wanted?"
Yes, thought Ray, but he'd be lying to himself if he said he hadn't wanted to be the one to do it. The thought of squeezing the trigger and ending that worthless rat bastard's life had rarely left his mind since the previous night. That the promise of vengeance had been so cruelly snatched away revived those feelings of helplessness and renewed his anger.
"I have to go," Ray said, slipping on the clean jacket and dumping the old bloody shirt in the trash.
"I know you do," Denise said sadly. "I wish you didn't, but I know you do. Please do be careful."
Ray quickly kissed his wife on his way past her and out the door. He hesitated at the door and glanced quickly at Chris. He didn't have to say a word for Denise to catch his meaning. "Don't worry, I'll stay here with him for awhile, so he's not alone. Go, be the hero."
"You're a Godsend, Denise. And if anyone asks where I was last night, you tell them I was at home with you."
"Just do me a favor," Ray paused at his wife's addition. "And try to actually come home to me this time?"
"Your wish is my command." With that, Ray straightened his tie and headed out to face the long day ahead.