Title: Our Little Secret
Fandom: Life on Mars
Rating: PG-13/T
Summary: Sam discovers a secret that Gene is desperate to keep.
Word Count: 2,875
Warnings: Suggestions of abuse
Disclaimer: If I owned Life on Mars they would have done more than sixteen episodes, believe me.
A/N: Since watching the series, I've been curious about the mysterious missus that has been oft mentioned but never shown. This is my idea of Mrs. Hunt.
"You stay away from me you rotten bastard!"
The young woman screamed obscenities all the way down the dimly lit corridor as two uniformed officers escorted her out, her apparent boyfriend being led the other way. DI Sam Tyler watched as they parted like oil and water, then he crossed the divide and entered the offices.
"What was all that about?" he asked Ray.
The DC was smoking a cigarette and chuckling with his fellow DC Chris Skelton. Both men had their feet up on their desks and appeared to be hardly working rather than working hard.
"Just another happy couple," said Ray.
"Did you get a load of that screaming?" asked Chris.
"Hard not to," muttered Sam, leafing through a stack of folders on his desk. God, how he missed his computer. "Is anyone pressing charges?"
"Nah," said Ray. "Phyllis will give her a cuppa, calm her down and send her home."
Sam looked up. "But what if he's really a danger to her?"
"Well with a voice like that who could blame him?" snickered Chris.
Ray laughed as Sam stood by dumbstruck. This was law enforcement in 1973, protectors of the people. What a load of bollocks. It was a relatively quiet day and time to clean up the mess of open cases that cluttered the office, filling every available space. Most Sam knew would never be solved but every so often he liked to return to a few that nagged at him, like puzzles nearly completed but for a missing piece or two that were lost from the box. He picked up one at random from the very nearly solved pile.
"Any new leads on the Heath case?" he asked the room.
He was met by blank stares. "Is that the one with the dead chemist?" asked Chris.
Before Sam could answer, WDC Annie Cartwright spoke up. She had been working so quietly at her desk until then, that Sam chided himself silently for not even realizing she was there.
"That's the librarian's missing sister," said Annie, already reaching for a file as though anticipating Sam's every thought. "I spoke with the neighbours but they hadn't seen her since the week before she disappeared. I also checked the phone records and her address book but she hadn't been in contact with anyone."
Sam sighed, another dead case but not yet cold. He just knew he was missing something.
"Good work Nancy Drew," said Ray.
Annie ignored him and returned to her stack of files that was equal in size to Sam's own. There must be something they could do to close a case or two today, but with an apathetic pair like Chris and Ray it was unlikely he'd get much help. Annie at least was eager.
Later that afternoon their DCI Gene Hunt joined them as they reviewed the Heath case, going over the known details, looking for clues they might have missed when a plain, weary looking, middle aged woman entered the station. She slipped in quietly and stood, hands folded, eyes sneaking glances up and casting quickly down. Sam didn't recognize her but the others surely did; all conversation came to an abrupt halt. Before Sam could ask if he could help the woman, Hunt vaulted up from the desk corner and practically shielded her with his body. He then proceeded to usher her into his office and close the door.
Sam looked at Chris and Ray with a quizzical expression, his second of the day.
"That were Mrs. Hunt," said Chris with a note of surprise.
"Gene's wife?" asked Sam.
Sam knew his DCI was married but it only just occurred to him now that he had never seen her. He didn't even know her name.
"Maureen," said Chris as though reading Sam's mind. "She hardly ever comes in here. She's the stay at home type."
"Not a bad life for the Guv," said Ray. "I wouldn't mind a stay at home type myself. Hey Cartwright, maybe that's your trouble. If you were the stay at home type you'd have a husband by now."
Sam's lip curled in disgust at the sexist remark, marveling at Annie's ability to deflect the almost daily barbs she was subject to as a female detective.
A few moments later, the Guv's door opened and the Hunts reemerged. Gene had a hand on his wife's back and was guiding her wordlessly towards the door. Sam watched, taking in her opposite profile for the first time. Just before she and the Guv exited out into the hall, Sam noticed what appeared to be bruises along her right arm.
"Did you see her arm?" Sam asked the others.
Ray and Chris both shrugged. "It's always something with her," says Ray. "The Guv says she's dead clumsy, she'd trip over her own head if it wasn't attached."
Sam was still staring at the door when Gene came back alone. "Don't you wankers have work to do? Get back on that Heath case before it goes cold," he grumbled and retreated back inside his office.
They finally had a lead. After going over the evidence for the hundredth time they found the name of a witness who no one had questioned. Sam was talking to Gene about it in the DCI's office when his phone rang.
"DCI Hunt," he answered as Sam waited.
Gene turned his back and lowered his voice. "Is that you Mo? … What?... Now listen here… No… I said no… I'm coming over."
Gene slammed down the phone and grabbed his coat. "We'll finish this later."
Before Sam could ask about the phone call he had left. Sam waited a beat and then took off after him, careful to stay several steps behind, but compelled to follow. There was something going on between the Guv and his wife and Sam wanted to know what it was. He tailed the Cortina all the way to Gene's house, and pulled over across the street as Gene exited the car and vanished inside. Through the front window Sam could see two shapes moving past frantically, arms raised, circling one another like tigers. He imagined raised voices though he couldn't hear anything, but judging by the furious movement it was most definitely a row. Finally, Gene turned round and drew the curtains and that was all that Sam saw.
Sam pulled away before he could be spotted and went to the Railway Arms. It was nearly the end of the workday, and they would all be congregating there soon, drinking and laughing, and the Guv would be there right along with them. How long had he been pretending that everything was normal? Sam was disturbed at the notion that he was uncovering some dirty secret, but although he had only bits and pieces so far, he was getting a clearer picture of what that secret was.
Hunt certainly fit the profile of an abuser – a homophobic Neanderthal who was the king of his little hill, and a drinker and a scrapper to boot. Sam could see him getting chewed out by the superintendant over paperwork and going right home to pass his aggravation on to his silent wife after a day of taking it out on every suspect and witness that had the misfortune of being brought into his lost and found room. He was hostile and aggressive no doubt and still because of his position no one would ever suspect him.
Sam was still sitting at the bar when Gene came in ordered his first pint from Nelson.
"Everything all right?" Sam asked him.
"Right as bloody rain," grumbled Gene.
"Anything you want to talk about?" he pressed.
Gene turned to Sam, and for a moment Sam thought he was going to thump him. He looked like a barrel of gunpowder with a lit fuse, burning slowly. "Piss off," he said simply and turned to join Ray, Chris and Annie at a table.
The night wore on, more drinks were poured and the atmosphere grew more boisterous. Ties were loosened and the air became toxic. Half the clientele were legless by the time the door opened and Mrs. Hunt appeared. Once again, like an apparition she floated into the room and searched out her husband with desperate eyes. Sam was still at the bar and the nearest to her, near enough to see the fresh red and purple blotches under her eye.
"Mrs. Hunt, are you all right?" asked Sam, getting up and going over to her at the door.
"Yeah," she said, bringing her hand to her face to cover it. "I fell down some stairs is all."
Sam wanted to ask her about it but before he could, Gene came right up behind him and placed a heavy hand on his shoulder.
"That's enough Tyler, I'll handle this," Gene said.
Sam stepped aside as Gene whispered something to his wife and whisked her out the door, clutching her arm in a way that made Sam take note. He turned and sat with the others.
"You know, the Guv comes here with us nearly every night," Sam remarked, "but I've never seen his wife here."
"The Guv's missus? At a pub?" said Ray, "I'm surprised she knew where it was."
"Do all of these injuries seem odd to you?" Sam asked them.
"No, should they?" asked Ray.
"For God sakes, you're supposed to be detectives. Think!" said Sam.
"The Guv says she's clumsy, always falling over something or other," shrugged Chris.
"And you believe that?" asked Sam.
"None of my business, is it?" said Chris.
"And none of yours either," said Ray.
"Sam," said Annie. "It's the Guv we're talking about remember. What are you saying?"
"I'm saying that it's possible that he's hurting her," said Sam.
The three detectives stared for a second and then burst out laughing in unison.
"The Guv? A wife beater? I thought you were cracked before Boss but this tops all," said Ray.
"But there's a pattern," Sam insisted. "I've seen it. The injuries, the excuses, the submissive behavior…"
"The what?" said Ray. "She's his sodding wife."
"I'm sorry Sam," said Annie, "but not the Guv."
"I saw them fighting yesterday," said Sam.
"All couples fight," she said.
"But now look at her today," he said. "Open your eyes."
Annie pulled back as if she herself had been slapped. "Maybe you're the one who needs to open his eyes. Things aren't always what they appear to be."
Sam shook his head and had another sip of his drink. He was right. He knew it. These coppers just couldn't see it because they were prisoners of their era -- their 1970's backwards thinking was preventing them all from seeing the truth. Domestic violence was almost socially acceptable back then, Sam thought, certainly no one saw it as a crime.
The next day, Sam cornered Gene in his office and confronted him about the incident in the pub.
"How did she get hurt?" Sam asked.
"She told you," he replied. "Fell down the stairs."
"Before or after you argued?"
Gene put down his mug and looked up. "You what?"
"I saw what happened at your house," Sam confessed. "I followed you."
Gene rose from his desk and loomed over Sam with his full towering height. "You better take a step back Tyler, and stick to things you know about, because you're crossing a dangerous line."
"Am I?" said Sam.
Gene took a step closer. "This conversation is over. Stay out of my private life and away from my missus."
"Did you push her?" Sam asked.
"No!" Gene shouted.
"I don't believe you," said Sam.
"And I don't care if you believe that magical unicorns are flying out of your arse, you just do your job detective inspector," said Gene.
"I will," said Sam, turning for the door.
He would get to the bottom of this. If Gene wouldn't talk to him there was only one option. He would go to Mrs. Hunt and convince her to tell the truth.
After a stop at the pub for some courage Sam headed off to the Hunt's home. As soon as he pulled up he cursed himself for taking his sweet time – the bronze Cortina was already parked out front. Sam steeled himself and went to the door. He was about to knock when his fist froze at the sounds of screaming.
"Get away from me!" yelled Mrs. Hunt.
At the sound of something breaking, Sam stepped back and kicked the door in, following the sounds to the front room where he had witnessed the row the other day. The Guv was there, hands out in front of his wife who was brandishing a large kitchen knife. Sam stepped over the broken lamp on the floor.
"Tyler what are you doing here?" said Gene, hands still raised. "I told you to stay out of my business."
Maureen Hunt was crying, trembling, but still holding the knife. Sam surveyed the scene. Her arm was bleeding from a fresh cut.
"It's all right Mrs. Hunt," said Sam, ignoring his DCI and approaching the man's wife with slow steps. "You're safe now. I'm here to arrest him."
"You what??" said Gene from behind him. "Are you off your head?"
Sam had seen enough. He turned from Mrs. Hunt and moved towards Gene. "Detective Chief Inspector Hunt, I'm arresting you for assault."
"Oh now I know you've lost it," said Gene. "Have you by chance noticed that she's the one with the sodding knife!"
"Defending herself from you no doubt," said Sam, reaching for Gene's arms.
The much larger man pulled back. "Get your sodding hands off me you daft git. You don't know what you're doing!"
When Gene resisted Sam reached again. The Guv pulled back one arm with a fist at the end of it and threw one solid punch into Sam's jaw, throwing him down to the couch. Sam pushed himself back up to try again, ready to club him with something if he had to. The man was dangerous. He tried again and the two men scuffled for dominance, pushing and shoving until Sam saw something that made him stop. Glancing over to the corner of the room, not paying any attention to the two men fighting in front of her, Mrs. Hunt sat with the knife, crying and cutting into her own arm.
"Mrs. Hunt, what are you doing?" Sam said in surprise.
He dropped his arms from the Guv and went to her, but Gene was there first, shoving Sam roughly out of his path.
"Get away from her," Gene said.
Sam watched as Gene gently took the knife from his wife and put an arm around her on the floor. They sat there, huddled together, Maureen sobbing on her husband's shoulder until the silence was broken by an ambulance siren out front.
"Who called the ambulance?" asked Sam, still confused. "How did they…"
"I did," said Gene, not looking at his DI.
They referred to her by name. The process was one of familiarity. The ambulance drivers, the Hunts, all seemed as though they had been through this before. Sam felt like an intruder on a very private moment. As the ambulance pull away with a confused but calmer Mrs. Hunt inside, Sam and Gene sat together on the front stoop of the house
"She hurts herself," said Gene. "She's been doing it for years. Things get to be a bit too much for her and she throws herself down the stairs, cuts herself. She'll be fine for a while and then it starts up again. She has these pills. Sometimes they work sometimes they don't, but I took them away from her the last time she tried to take too many."
"I'm sorry," said Sam, feeling decidedly foolish now that it was starting to make sense. "I thought that you…"
"Of course not," Gene snapped. "Is that what you think of me? Anyway, I'd almost rather have a reputation as a wife beater than a sorry bloke who's married to someone off her bleeding nut."
"It's nothing to be ashamed of, Guv. She needs help."
"What did you think I was doing dancing the tango with her?"
"She needs professional help," Sam explained. "I don't know how you've kept it quiet this long."
Gene sighed and looked at Tyler for the first time. "No one is to know about this, got it? She'll be back in a few days and everything will be just as it was before. Now enough of this girls talk. Let's go down the pub. I need a drink."
Sam nodded, knowing he wasn't going to win this one and change 1970's sensibilities overnight. The situation may not be as good as it could be but the Guv was doing his best, looking out for his mentally ill wife. Convinced he was more enlightened and blessed with superior awareness, Sam had still managed to jump to the wrong conclusion based on a stereotype. Sometimes he felt smarter than everyone around him here and other times he felt downright foolish. He'd keep an eye on Mrs. Hunt from a distance, but he didn't know if he'd ever get the hang of this decade.