Disclaimer - I do not own Life on Mars, not Gene or even my Sam (I just borrow him sometimes in my dreams!)
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Sam stared into space. He wished he could think of something to say, he'd never had trouble before, even during everything he had lived through recently. But right then, in that place, he couldn't find the words.
It wasn't supposed to end like this. Sam never had any idea how the whole thing would end but like this? It wasn't fair. He had been right; there had been no way for him to win. He had done it, he had got here. But what had been the cost? To him and to everyone around him? To the people who had meant the most to him? How can this be closure? That was what he had been promised.
"Figure it out Sam, do your job," the voice had hissed down the phone, "then it's over and you get to leave."
What had made him trust that voice so completely? Why hadn't he trusted those who were there that he could see and touch. People that he had come to care about, to call his friends. Why hadn't he listened to them? To Annie. To Gene.
Sam closed his eyes and put his hands to his ears, trying to block out the sounds. This had become a pose he had grown accustomed too. But before he had wanted to shut out the falseness all around him and concentrate on what was "real". The beeping of the machines, the voices of the doctors, his own mother's voice. They were what he believed in, had faith in. And he had been wrong.
"I'm sorry," he said out loud. "There you go, did you hear that? I'm sorry – and I was wrong, you happy now?"
Tears threatening to fall, Sam dropped carefully to his knees and reached out in front of him, digging into the earth with his hands so roughly that he almost drew blood. All he had wanted, all he had needed, was to find a way home. Too get out of whatever he was trapped in. Now he would do anything, absolutely anything, to go back. And to somehow put things right.
Still on his knees, he looked up to the sky. Since he had "woken up," he had felt wrong. Incomplete. He had been told by the doctors and the psychiatrists that it would get better. That he would "readjust" after the ordeal he had been through. He had tried to tell them where he had been but they had smiled, sickening sympathy on all of their faces. He had wanted to batter them for their patronising glances.
"Bloody quacks," he heard a gruff voice say from such a long time ago. Despite himself he smiled. It was almost as if he could see a ghostly figure staring back at him.
"Get up Tyler!"
Sam sighed, not wanting to hear the voice right now, that voice that was always with him. But it didn't stop.
"Is this what you are now? Some pathetic pansy sitting on your arse day after day, is this what it was all for?"
"I don't know what it was for," Sam whispered, replying to nothing. "I didn't change anything, nothing improved because I was there." He covered his face with his hands. "Like I said, you were right."
"I don't want to hear that from you. It's not over for you Sam Tyler, even if it is for me. You have to go on for me. For Annie. For us all."
"I can't. I don't belong here anymore, Guv. God, I don't belong anywhere!"
How many times was he going to have this argument, when was that wretched voice going to let him be?
"You'll be lucky, Doris!" The change in tone took him by surprise and he looked up. "Did you leave me be? Did you 'eck! I was stuck with you Sam, well now you're stuck with me! You got that? Good!"
At that Sam began to chuckle. He threw his head back and roared with laughter. A couple who were stood a small distance from him looked up in surprise. They glared, annoyed at his indiscretion.
He looked back at the figure that only he could see. "Forgot where I was," He said softly.
Gene shook his head. "You know exactly where you are Sam. You're where you're supposed to be."
Sam smiled. "I wish you were here too." He said it so quietly; almost he couldn't hear his own words.
Gene shook his head.
"Soft. Always knew it." He stepped closer. "I'm not going anywhere, Sammy Boy, don't forget it."
Sam got to his feet. He closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them, the figure had gone. He had retreated once again into Sam's mind. And that was where Sam liked him. Close and safe. Where no lone gunshot could take him away. Not again.
Sam's eyes fixed again on the gravestone in front of him. He read the words again for the hundredth time, wishing he could change them. But there they stayed:
DCI GENE HUNT
DIED 15th NOVEMBER 1987
LOVING HUSBAND, BELOVED FRIEND
SHOT DOWN IN THE LINE OF DUTY
FOREVER REMEMBERED AND HONOURED
After one last long look, Sam reluctantly turned away. Gene was gone, there was nothing he could do about that. But he could remember him and honour him the best way he knew, by carrying on.
Sam walked away, through the cemetery, back to where his mother and Annie were waiting for him. Annie had changed but she still understood Sam like no other, she would get him through, just like before.
As Sam walked, he began to whistle a familiar tune. Then he began to sing that song that meant so much to him though he didn't know why. One day he'd have to try and find out. For now though he had more important things to do. He had to live.
"It's a god awful small affair…
To the girl with the mousy hair…"
The End