Bitten

by Pet-5

A string of suspicious murders leads Sam and Gene on the trail of a possible serial killer with a strangely intriguing method of topping his victims. Meanwhile Sam is having doubts about a certain drunken night out and Gene is acting peculiar. Slash

Characters: Sam Tyler, Gene Hunt, Annie Cartwright, Ray Carling, Chris Skelton, Phyllis Dobbs and some OFCs and OMCs Pairing: Sam/Gene Summary: A string of suspicious murders leads Sak and Gene on the trail of a possible serial killer with a strangely intriguing method of topping his victims. Meanwhile Sam is having doubts about a certain drunken night out and Gene is acting peculiar. What does it all mean? SPOILERS: For both Series One and Two (just to be on the safe side) Warnings: A few swear words. Characters are a bit OOC. Minor character death Disclaimer: Life On Mars is property of BBC and Kudos… Beta'd: By Pet-5 and SaiyanBride Notes: I have watched Life On Mars but this if the first fic I've written for it. Also, this is forthe 'Spook Me Multi-Fandom Halloween Ficathon 2007!' Enjoy

It was a few days to Halloween and the Blue Rose Theatre was showing old horror movies, mostly from '50s. Some better then others but it was the perfect reason to go to the pictures, even if the reason wasn't necessarily to watch a dilapidated movie, but to be away from prying eyes.

Sam had been sitting in the back of the poorly darkened theatre 'watching' 'Forbidden Planet' for over an hour. His Cuban heel-clad feet where stuck to the floor with something Sam would rather not know or think about. The room was full of young couples that were checking each other tonsils …loudly… Not that Sam could really blame them. The film in all honesty was boring, the only thing it had going for it was Anne Francis and her wearing - if one could call it that- of revealing clothing that left nothing to the imagination.

So there was no real surprise when he was told that he would be going to the little theatre to watch the film rather than Ray or Chris, who would most likely forget about the job and stay for the whole dull thing.

He was here to catch John Smith, who had been dealing drugs all over the city using theaters as a cover. But as the Guv had said "Nothing gets past the Gene Genie."

So here he was, sitting in the middle of a Sunday afternoon, ignoring the picture and keeping an eye out for Smith on the off chance that he had picked this theater to do his deals in. But to be fair to Gene, it was the only picture show showing, most places closed on the Sunday.

Checking the room once more, Sam noticed a man fitting John Smith's description -tall, dark, red hair- shuffle down the right aisle. The red-head stopped and bent down next to a young man, and -after a few minutes- stood up stuffing something that looked like money into one of his pockets before walking towards the fire exit near the film screen. Rolling his eyes, Sam got up and followed him out the door.

Shielding his eyes from the sudden brightness of the sun, Sam peered down the litter-filled alleyway in the direction of houses.

"Oi, You!" A voice boomed out, causing Sam to jump and spin towards it. He was straining to see, but he knew that it was Smith.

"You want something?"

"What you got?" Sam asked, hoping that it would give him time for his sight to return to normal.

"Little bit of Cocaine and Heroin." The bloke replied as he edged nearer to Sam, opening his coat and pulling out a small bag.

Sam walked closer the red-head as he fumbled to open the bag, showing several illegal substances. Peering into the brown paper bag, Sam saw that there was indeed quite a large quantity drugs. Larger than what Gene and he had suspected. Taking a step back, Sam pulled out his warrant card and flashed it to John.

"John Smith, I'm arresting you for the selling of illegal substances. You do not have to say anything but it may harm…" Sam started but trailed off, unable to remember the correct caution.

John stared at him.

The carrot-top looked like a hooked fish, his eyes bugging and his jaw opening and closing. Putting his warrant card away, Sam grinned happily, back in character and assured he'd got the caution right this time, but as he moved to pull out his cuffs the man came to his senses and threw the bag at Sam and legged it down the alleyway.

With the unexpected 'thwack' of a heavy sack in his face and the explosion of powder, it took Sam a few seconds to realize that the doped druggy was doing a runner.

"OI!" Sam shouted, taking after him in hot pursuit. Reaching the end of the alleyway Sam saw that the practically-luminous-haired male was heading towards the old textile factory, the hair being like a visible tracking device.

He had to admit, the guy ran pretty fast for a dopehead.

With a burst of speed Sam sprinted after the drug dealer, planning to head him off and catch him just at the factory. John scampered into the factory just as Sam turned the corner onto Canal Road. Darting after him, Sam ran up the road and into the factory just in time to see John vault over a wall.

"Sammy."

Sam stopped.

Panting, he looked around the gloomy run-down factory, black particles hovering around him. Ragged glass was glinting murkily beneath a layer of dirt, splashes of browns and greens all mixed together, filthy yet opaque. They lay sprawled across the grease stained floor. The air was thick with new disturbed dust.

Sam trod on the already broken bottles as he moved closer to the black wet wall. Placing his hand on it, he found that it was sticky. Pulling the dirtied digits away he saw that is was red… blood red.

Leaping away, Sam turned his back to the wall and looked at the factory floor. There were four sets of footprints. John's and Sam's going though the factory and two unknown sets going across the work-floor.

Forgetting about John for the time, Sam started after the unidentified foot prints.

He shuddered.

He didn't like this room. It was too much like a scene from a horror film. Filthy cracked windows and huge spider-webs hanging off everything. With his luck the foot prints would lead him to a real live horror scene, or, on the other hand, he might just find yet another young couple having a 'good time'.

Sam hypnotically followed the shadowed prints until he stood at the base of a rusty staircase that had at one time led to an office. Holding the paint-chipped railing, Sam began to slowly climb the rickety stairs, using his right hand to steady himself against the wall. Once he reached the landing, Sam -still using the wall- stepped gingerly towards the roughly shut door. Its hinges were crumbling and the angles of the frame were askew, plus the glass was smashed, like someone had tried to close in a hurry.

Pushing it open, Sam let go of the wall to pull out his warrant card.

An eye-watering smell hit Sam full in the face. Coughing, he covered his mouth, all the while holding out his card, resorting to flapping it in hopes to dispel that foul, pungent odour when it seemed to grow thicker the closer he moved to the room's centre.

"Hello… Anyone here? I'm DI Sam Tyler… Is anyone hurt?..." Sam said to the quiet room.

Stepping cautiously inside, Sam saw it was in much the same shape as the rest of the factory. Dust, dirt, spider-webs on the floor, coating the walls and in the air.

Squinting into the sunken gloom of the ransacked and creepy space, Sam edged towards the middle of the room to peer around the mouldy desk.

The sight that greeted him was like an extract from 'Scream's one, two and three.

Her dead, mud-brown eyes stared unblinkingly at Sam, while her Icelandic blue lips parted as if whispering an immortal secret to a distant lover. Lifeless streaks of long brown hair lay in waves across the floor. And with skin so perfectly alabaster white that even Snow White would be jealous.

Sam knew that she was dead even without checking for a pulse or holding a mirror in front of her lips. No one could look like that and be alive.

Unable to stop staring at the body, Sam backed himself slowly towards the door. Tugging it shut, Sam slipped his warrant card back into his left-hand inside pocket. After running his hands over his face Sam pulled out his radio.

"Eight – Six – Nine to Alpha ONE." Sam called into the radio.

"Alpha ONE to Eight – Six – Nine?" Phyllis' voice crackled.

"T-there's a dead body... On Canal Road… the old textile factory. Over."

"Blood hell, Dorothy! You were supposed to be nicking the little gobshite. NOT killing him!" Gene's loud booming bounced off the walls.

"He got away, Guv."

"HE WHAT!?!"

"John Smith, he got away…The body is of a young female…" Sam added at the last minute, knowing that if Gene got the message that there was a murderer out in 'his' town he would get off Sam's case about Smith and focus on the matter at hand.

"Right! Stay where you are, Gladys, and don't you go getting your knickers in a twist."

Rolling his eyes, Sam slipped the radio back into his coat and then -morosely rubbing his hand over his mouth- stared through the chipped glass and wood splintered door. He wondered how long she'd lay there.

'Hours? Days? Weeks? Did no one miss her? How long would she of just laid there before someone...anyone found her?'

Sam knew that he would never get his answers by simply standing there. Once again Sam took holding the paint-chipped railing and began to slowly descend the rickety stairs, opposite hand from before pressed firmly on the wall.

Walking back across the room, Sam stopped and kneeled to look at the two sets of unidentified prints.

The only thing that he could tell about either of them was that one was from a pair of heels, most likely the victim's… but there was nothing to say it wasn't the murderer's prints… the other looked like a pair of flat shoes, or boots with no patterns.

Standing up, Sam walked out to the road and rested against the wall of the factory. It'd only been a few minutes since Sam had talked to the Guv and Phyllis, but he knew with the way that Gene drove to get to any scene -fast, reckless and unsafe- that it would take them no time at all to arrive.

Looking down the road he could already hear the sound of tires screaming as they turned a corner too fast. Squinting at the bronze Ford Cortina that glinted in the sun -the glare zinging at his eyes- Sam could see Chris and Ray being thrown from side to side like a ball in a pinball machine while holding on for dear life in the back seats.

Annie was sitting in the front, clutching the dashboard with her eyes screwed shut and her head away turned from Gene and his careless driving.

Sam let out a chuckle as the car skidded to a stop in front of him. Leaning forwards, he opened Annie's door to help her out of the car. Unfortunately, the dizzy WDC flopped straight from the car onto the gravel without the door to support her. Landing with a graceless 'whomp' on the ground, her limbs akimbo.

"Eh… Hi Annie?" Sam said nervously, as he picked her up by her shaking elbow.

"H-hi S-Sam." She stuttered, looking back at the Ford with what could only be called a look of terror. Rubbing the distraught woman's arm, Sam took a glance at Chris and Ray, who both looked like they where going to be sick.

They all jumped at the sound of the driver door slamming shut as Gene strutted out perfectly intact.

Gene raised an eyebrow at the fallen WDC, before walking towards the factory, shoving his hands in his coat pockets and muttering a disdaining 'Pansies' at the group.

Dusting themselves down Chris and Ray eagerly followed the Guv inside, tailing him like two obedient little ducklings. After watching them disappear inside Sam turned to Annie and asked,

"Annie, you think could you call in for backup… then corner off the scene, please?"

"Shouldn't I help look at the scene, Sir?" Annie said, sounding peeved.

Sam sighed

"Annie, normally I would agree with you, but …the body up in that office… It's …" Sam broke off, unable to say anymore. Images of the dead girl flashed in front of his eyes.

Glassy eyes and stilled lips, tangled hair and whitewash skin.

"You alright, Sam? …You went all white just then." Annie asked in a concerned voice.

Sam turned slowly towards Annie, blinking owlishly at her, still seeing the images.

Nodding sluggishly, Sam began to walk back into the factory, but stopped before entering and called back to Annie,

"After you do those things, Annie, you could look and see if there's anything at the back… please."

"Yes, Sir."

"Thank you, Annie." He whispered, going back into the 'horror film' factory.

Looking up at the office, Sam could see Chris hanging over the rusty paint-chipped railing at the top of the stairs. His face was turned away from the office, but by the sheer revulsion on his inexperienced face it was obvious he'd seen.

The young man looked ready to lose his lunch.

Sam carefully avoided stepping on the shadowed prints as he -once again- made his way across the room and climbed the old stairs. As Sam passed Chris on the landing he patted him on the back and asked if he was okay. Chris' only response was a thumbs-up which Sam didn't quite believe.

Holding his hand to his mouth he walked closer to Ray and Gene, who were bent over -apparently entirely unfazed by the smell- and peering at the lank body. Sam kept his distance, his eyes avoiding the deceased women's pale form. Just the thought of seeing it again made him nauseous. Once had been enough.

As Sam looked around the dark room for evidence he could hear two or three cars pulling up and stop outside. Looking though the cracked and cobweb-covered windows, Sam saw Annie talking to the PCs and the one WPC, mostly likely repeating the usual 'crime scene' procedure that Sam had said many a time before. As he watched them smirking and sniggering at Annie's reciting of 'DI Sam Tyler's crazy ideas of policing', he saw something on the moist black wall… something he hadn't noticed before…

Symbols.

Written in blood.

"Guv."

"Not now, Tyler! Can't you see I'm looking at a body?!"

"Ok, Guv… it don't matter, it's just symbols written in blood on the wall." Sam said sarcastically, rolling his eyes.

"WHAT?!" Gene shouted as he came to a halt next to Sam.

"What the blue blazes is that?"

"Not a clue… But I'll find out right away, Guv." Sam added, seeing the look Gene was giving him. The closet thing Sam could think of to describe it to was a bull about to charge the bullfighter.

Before Gene could say anything, Sam was out the door and standing next to Chris, who was thankfully looking a bit better.

"Chris, could I have your notepad and pencil?"

"Sure, Boss." Chris said, pulling them out of his pocket and handing it to Sam.

"Thanks… Chris, why don't you go help Annie look at the back of the factory?" Sam suggested as he opened the pad to a clean page and started drawing the symbols. "It'll do you some good to get some fresh air."

"Right then, Boss."

Sam watched Chris slowly descend the stairs and wobble across factory floor over to Annie, who smiled warmly at Chris.

As he carried on with his sketching, Sam was becoming more and more assured that he'd seen these symbols before. But the more he thought about it, the faster it slipped away from him. He decided to put it out of his mind. If it was truly important he would remember later.

Just as Sam was finishing drawing in the notepad, Gene came out with a petite sky blue handbag.

Sam raised an eyebrow at the marching DCI. His hazel pupils flicked between the Guv's sour face and the feminine bag. He sniggered.

"I didn't think you were into that kind of thing, something you want to tell me, Guv?"

Sam grinned cheekily, bouncing the pencil in his hand as the Guv fumed, his face bleaching a furious red.

In his usual violent style Gene lobbed the small bag at Sam as hard as he could, stomped over and leaned on the railing next to Sam, lighting a cigarette and sucking harshly at the white and amber stick.

Looking away from Gene, Sam opened the handbag.

Half empty box of cigarettes, tube of lipstick -bright red- foundation/mirror and a purse.

Putting the bag under his arm, Sam pulled out the purse and opened it. There was nothing much inside. Loose change, bus ticket and a return card, the kind with a name and address to contact its owner if the purse were lost.

"Her name is Abby Paterson and she lives at 8 Princess Street." Sam read out-loud. Zipping the purse shut, Sam slipped it into the bag and back under his arm.

Looking back at the Guv, Sam saw that he was staring at the markings on the wall.

"You know what that chicken-scratch says." Gene said around the cigarette in his mouth.

"No, Guv."

Sam was at a loss for what to say, so he kept quiet, knowing that Gene would demand to know everything and even resort to violence –he'd gotten used to being punched in the kidneys by the irate DCI- if he thought that would 'help' him to remember anything crucial.

He couldn't really say if he'd seen marking like those before or not. If he had seen the symbols before it would've been when he was at 'Hyde' and it wasn't like he could phone up 'Hyde' and ask for the files to be sent over or even talk to someone who might have a clue what the hell was going on.

Sam played with the notebook, hoping it would make him look busy as the Guv silently finished his cigarette and flicked the butt over the side of the railing. Wincing, Sam resisted the urge to -once again- lecture Gene about contaminating the crime scene.

"Right then, Dorothy, let's go and see who 'Sleeping Beauty' lived with." With that, Gene stood straight and walked down the stairs, but not before purposefully slamming into Sam and causing the younger man to stumble.

Looking back down at Chris' notepad, Sam pulled out the sheet of paper that he had been drawing on and, folding it, placed it in his jacket's inside pocket with his warrant card.

Glancing into the office once more, Sam saw that Ray was now sitting on the old mouldy desk, glaring at him as he smoked. Sam gave him a silly little smile and a wave, knowing that it would wind Ray up even more than just being left behind.

"Oi, Dorothy, get a move on." Gene's shout echoed off the walls.

"Coming, Guv." Sam called back as he waved smugly again at Ray and climbed down the stairs. He could see that the Guv was talking to Chris as he walked across the factory floor towards them.

"Here you go." Sam said as he handed back Chris' notepad.

"Thanks, Boss." Chris said timidly as he and Sam watched the Guv shout at the forensics to 'Hurry the hell up and get their arses in gear! ' even though they'd only just pulled up in their cars and gotten out, but Gene was looking for an excuse to yell at whoever happened to get in his way.

As the 'Gay-boy Science' team –according to Gene- went past, Sam grabbed a plastic sealable bag and slipped the blue purse in.

"Good luck, Boss." Chris whispered, still watching the Guv ranting and raving before going back over to help Annie look for more evidence.

'Thanks.' Sam thought sarcastically, as he made the short walk from the factory to the bronze Cortina.

Sam opened the door and gave a soundless sigh as he slid inside. He jumped as the driver's door was wrenched open and slammed shut, a very disgruntled Gene now wedged beside him. Looking at the older man, Sam just knew that even though they didn't have to race to get to the address, Gene would drive like a competitive middle-aged golfer, that is, right into and over the sand-bunkers if need be and without even a hint of hesitation.

Sam grabbed a hold of the handle above his head and the dashboard and clung on to them before Gene had even started the engine.

Gene turned his head to look at Sam and raised an eyebrow, then turned back to look at the road, muttering.

"Tosser."

The car roared with life but it soon started to scream as Gene pushed it around sharp corners and narrow alleyways. Sam held on for dear life as he slipped and slid from side to side as his body was thrown about more then usual. He was tempted to shut his eyes much like Annie had earlier, but he daren't for fear that he would never see the sun again.

Watching lines of washing, back gardens, houses and factories zoom past as Gene drove this way and that, until finally they pulled into King Street where he slammed on the brakes and hit the trash cans outside number 8.

Sam grimaced as he pulled himself out of the Cortina and went around the car to turn the cans the right way up before joining Gene at the door, which –the impatient DCI- had already taken the liberty of knocking on.

As they waited for someone to open the door, Sam shielded his eyes as he looked up and down the street. Just like every other street in Manchester, he thought. Boiling red brick terraced houses, bright colored wooden doors and plain white window lines.

Hearing the door open, Sam turned back to see a gray-haired woman answer the door. She wore a long dark green skirt and a cream blouse with a white pinny over it.

"Hello, can I help you?" She said as she dried her hands on the dishtowel that she'd brought out with her.

Both Gene and Sam slipped their hands into their inside coat pockets and pulled out their warrant cards, showing them to the middle-aged woman.

"Police, luv. Can we come in?" Gene asked softly.

"Of...Of course officers," she said, opening the door more and walking into the house. "Come in."

Sam followed Gene into the woman's home, closing the door behind him. She led them into a small sitting room. As they sat down on the sofa she asked if they would like a cup of tea, when they both declined she sat in a comfy looking chair and asked.

"How can I help you gentlemen?"

Sam leaned forward to look the woman straight in the face.

"Mrs. ….?" Sam broke off, hoping that she would fill in the blank herself and clear up who she was.

"Paterson. Jean Paterson." She added.

"Mrs. Paterson, do you know an Abby Paterson?" Sam continued.

"Abigail. She's my daughter. I hope she's not in any trouble, she's only sixteen…" Mrs. Paterson said, her voice sounding concerned.

Looking down at the carpet Sam could see that the news of her daughter's death was not only going to break this woman, but slowly kill her from the inside. It seemed that this 'Abigail' was her only child, at least the only one still living with her mother.

"Mrs. Paterson, do you have a recent photograph of Abigail?" Sam asked, looking back to her.

"Oh, yes. Just got the school photos last week. I'll go get one of Abby." And with that, she got up and walked out the door and up the stairs.

Leaning back, Sam looked around the small room. Plain grey wallpaper that had cracks running across it. Bits of knickknacks and a bright yellow lamp sat on a long gloomy wooden cabinet. Over the fireplace was a painting of boat docked at a pier. The sofa that they were sitting on was dark brown while the chair Mrs. Paterson had been on was a thick pastel cream. Just how he remembered houses in 1973. Dark and bright color's mixing together.

"There you go." Mrs. Paterson said breathlessly as she came back into the room and handed Sam the photo.

Sparkling copper eyes, light pink smiling lips parted to show bright white teeth, long sepia hair that lay like the waves on a beach and warm glowing skin.

Warm…Breathing…Alive…

So unlike the empty shell at the factory.

Passing the photo to Gene, Sam stood up and took Mrs. Paterson's hands.

"Mrs. Paterson, your daughter, Abigail, died…."

"NO! No no no no no nononononono." Mrs. Paterson cried, pulling Sam franticly with her to the floor.

As Sam tried to calm the older woman he wished are Annie were here. She was so much better at comforting people than him. He never said the right things, but then again, what is the right thing to say to a woman who's just lost her daughter. Pulling her towards him so that her head lay on his shoulder, Sam took a glance at Gene, who was sitting looking at anything -his hands, the walls- that wasn't Sam and the hysterical woman.

After a few minutes Sam drew Mrs. Paterson away from his body so that he could see her face.

"Mrs. Pater-" Sam started, but was interrupted by the front door opening and closing with a loud bang.

"Love I'm h… What the bloody hell is going on?!" The man shouted when he saw Sam and his tear-stricken wife.

"Mr. Paterson?" Sam asked, looking from the man to Gene who was now standing tall, hand jammed into his camel coat and glaring.

"Get your hands off my wife!" Mr. Paterson shouted, rushing towards the defenseless couple on the floor, but before he could take a few steps Gene grabbed the front of the man's shirt and pulled him up close before shoving him into the sofa.

"OI! Sit there and behave or I'm gunna have you spending the night in the cells!"

"GUV!" Sam shouted, shocked that Gene had threatened the man with a night in the cells just when he was about to get the worst news possible for a parent. But before Sam could break it to him the lady jumped from the floor and threw herself at him. She started to sob.

"She's dead, Robert, she dead."

Mr. Paterson pulled his wife to his side, stroking her hair as he tried to understand the hiccupping words.

"Who's dead?" He asked, looking around at Sam and Gene.

"My baby. My baby, Abby." The woman whispered, trembling against her husband.

"NO! No she's staying at a friend's house. Staying at a friend's house." The man's voice which has began so thunderous and vehement, so aggressive, trailed to small terrified whispers as the news finally began to sink in.

Sam slowly got up from the floor, looking at the distressed couple, hating that he wasn't finished delivering the news even though he felt he'd already caused them so much pain though he wasn't responsible for it. Hell, if it weren't for him these two might've been waiting around for days in agony, hoping for their daughter to come home.

"I'm sorry to do this Mr. and Mrs. Paterson, but you'll have to identify the body then come to the station and answer some questions."

Mr. Paterson looked stricken at just the thought of coming to ID the body of his young daughter.

"Can't we answer them later? Our daughter just died."

Clearing his throat, Sam said uncomfortably,

"I'm sorry, but the quicker we get information the quicker we can arrest someone."

Sam stuffed his hands in his coat pockets in an attempt to stop fidgeting. It was understandable for them to grieve for their daughter, but as someone watching it from the outside it made him feel… uneasy. Squeamish almost. Like he was trespassing on this family's misery. Still, it seemed unfair of them to display themselves like this with him and Gene in the room.

Call him insensitive, but over the years Sam had watched his mum cry her heart out over his dad, he'd gotten used to it, but that was different from being a policeman were he had to tell relatives that a loved one had died. He had no real relationship with those people so it made it even harder for him to comfort them.

Sam watched Mr. Paterson slowly pull himself together, seeming better than what he had been and starting to take control.

"Can we meet you in an hour?" he asked.

"No you blo-" Gene started, but Sam jumped in before he could finish.

"Of course you can, Mr. Paterson. I'll meet you at the morgue in an hour." Sam said starting towards the door, grabbing Gene's wrist as he went.

"Come on, Guv, let's go." Pulling the Guv outside Sam could see that Gene was about to blow a fuse.

"What in blue blazes are you doing letting them come in when ever they flipping well feel like!" Gene raved, hitting the roof of his beloved Cortina.

"I'm letting two parents who just lost their daughter have some time to pull themselves together before they have to come in and identify her body and then to top it off, to be questioned by complete strangers about their daughter." Sam said, his voice quiet but stern, before walking around the car and getting in.

He could see Gene leaning against his side of the car, not getting in. Sam could also hear the tap-tap on the roof as Gene hit it.

"Alpha ONE to Eight–Seven–Zero!" Phyllis' voice crackled over the radio.

Leaning forward, Sam picked up the car radio just as Gene rived open the door, climbing in and slamming it shut.

"Eight–Seven–Zero to Alpha ONE." Sam spoke into the radio-phone.

"The body's just arrived at the morgue, Boss. And Ray says that him, Chris and Annie will be back at the station in under an hour."

"Thanks Phyllis." Sam said, putting the phone back on top of the radio.

"Bloody, nonce…who the hell does he think he is telling me what to do." Gene muttered into his cigarette.

Sam stared out the side window, not looking at the Guv. To say that he and Gene had never quite seen eye to eye on policing was an understatement, but when it came to the ID and questioning of family more often then not they would work together. But over the last few days -if not weeks- Gene had been acting different.

On the few things that they agreed on and occasionally meet half way, Gene pushed and pulled in different directions. Not because he agreed, but because he knew that it would drive Sam up the wall. And it wasn't only at work that Gene did this. Sam had thought that after being here for over a year that they had become friends. Sam couldn't understand the sudden way that Gene was pulling away from him.

The only thing that Sam could think of was that night a few weeks ago when he'd gotten smashed at 'The Railway Arms' after a practically hard case. Sam couldn't remember anything about that night apart from him and Gene being the last to leave the pub. He must've said something, but what?

There were a few things that Sam could of said –that he was from 2006 and in a coma, that none of 'this' was real, and worst of all, that he 'liked' Gene. The first two would get him locked up in a nut-house and the third would get him… well… Sam didn't really know what it would get him. It was legal of him to 'take part in homosexual acts in private' but that meant nothing to Gene -borderline-alcoholic- homophobe- Hunt.

Sam was brought out of his thoughts as Gene started the car engine, making it roar with life before pulling from the curb, hitting the trash cans again. Wincing, Sam pulled his seat-belt over his chest and plugged it in.

Did this man have a vendetta against trash-cans or something?

And for once Gene didn't drive like a maniac on crack, but surprisingly like someone who had read the Highway Code. They had about an hour to get to the station, which wasn't that far, but it seemed that they were taking the scenic route.

He watched rows of houses, corner shops, pubs and groups factories go past. Remembering them from then he was growing up and how it wasn't hard to get lost amongst them. Red brick here, there and everywhere and used for everything. So unlike the towers of glass and steel of modern buildings that towered over everything and everyone.

Sam and Gene pulled outside the station just as Ray, Chris and Annie were getting out of the police car.

"Guv, they took the body to the morgue. Got some stuff that forensics looked at but nothing that connects with the victim or the murder." Ray said as Chris and Annie opened the trunk and pulled out some sealable bags.

Sam walked over to the pair and took a quick look at the bags. Leafs and twigs, scraps of newspapers, bits of rubbish. There was nothing that stood out as evident, but he would look more closely later.

"Chris, Annie, could you double check those for me?" He asked, leaning forward and shutting the boot.

"Sure, Boss."

"Of course, Sam. But where are you going?" Annie asked as he walked up to Ray, taking the keys from his hand and started to get in the car.

"I have to go meet Mr. and Mrs. Paterson at the morgue."

Sam started the car and reversed out. As he drove he could see Chris, Ray and Annie climbing the stairs and carrying the bags, while Gene stood next to his car watching Sam drive away with an expression he couldn't quite place.

Sam pulled up outside the morgue after a short drive. He could see Mr. and Mrs. Paterson standing just at the door. Killing the engine, Sam got out of the car and locked it, then walked up to the couple.

"Mr. and Mrs. Paterson, if you just follow me." He said, opening the door. Holding it open for them, Sam began to lead them into the back of the building down long, dark-tiled corridors. The morgue was cold as ice, primarily to keep the bodies as preserved as possible when being examined, but it made white whorls of Sam's breath and made his teeth chatter. Once they were outside the morgue, Sam turned and looked at the pair.

"Are you ready? Mr. Paterson? Mrs. Paterson?"

Hesitantly, they slowly nodded. Sam walked into the morgue and waiting for them to be next to him. Looking at them once more, Sam lifted the green sheet and pulled it down to reveal the head.

Long hair lay on the table on and around her shoulders, lifeless brown eyes hidden by dark eyelids. Sterile blue lips now unable to tell the secret that they longed to whisper and white skin that made fresh snow look dull and grey.

And to the Paterson's, it could easily be said, this corpse was undoubtedly familiar.

"NOOO!" Mrs. Paterson shouted, turning into her husband's shoulder, the heartbroken man pulling her out the room.

Respectfully laying the sheet back down, Sam also left the room. He didn't have to ask if it was their daughter.

He watched as they grieved together, clutching each other's coats as they held one another. After some time Sam reached up and started to play with his St Christopher's medal. It was a nervous habit, one that he had been trying to quit for a very long time, but ever since his mum had given it to him –back when he first joined the force- he had never been able to stop twisting and pulling it back and forth when he was in situations like this. He'd even gone so for as to stop wearing it, but now that he was in 1972 he couldn't bear to take it off… it being the only thing that he could really call his own.

"Mr. and Mrs. Pate..." Sam croaked. Clearing his throat Sam started again.

"Mr. and Mrs. Paterson… We should go to the station now."

"Yes…Yes of course." Mr. Paterson whispered into his wife's hair.

Sam showed the couple out. Walking over to the police car, unlocking it and opening the back door, Sam ushered the shivering couple inside. They were in no state to be driving and now-

Sam bit his lip.

Now it was his duty as a DI to make sure he got a statement, after all…

Sam shut the door, got inside and started the car. He tweaked the long oblong driver's mirror to keep an eye on them, hating that he did.

…they could even be considered suspects.

In the short drive to the CID all Sam could hear was Mrs. Paterson's quiet sobs and her husband's whispers.

Sam parked the car outside the station, waiting patiently for Mr. and Mrs. Paterson to climb out and follow on inside.

Sam nodded to Phyllis as he led the couple past the charge desk, stepping into the lift and going up a few floors. Sam paced them quietly into the Lost and Found room and away from prying eyes, promising that someone would be in with cups of tea for them soon. Sam uneasily made his way from the Lost and Found and into the main office.

Surveying the scruffy desks and dripping coffee mugs from that morning or last week –he didn't know-, Sam could admit the office wasn't in the best of states.

A smoke-filled room that suffocated you with just one lung full. It smelt of several things –cigarettes, whiskey, coffee, sweaty men- with the hint of something that had died and been felt for weeks in the sun.

Sam looked around the room. He could see Gene smoking heavily in his lair. Ray almost asleep at his desk with his feet in the drawers. And Chris and Annie where sitting together working through the bags. Sam crossed his arms as he walked over to them.

"Find anything?"

"Not a sausage, Boss." Chris answered, looking sourly up from the desk.

Sam raised an eyebrow "Didn't think so… Annie, Mr. and Mrs. Paterson are in the Lost and Found, do you think that you could make them a cup of tea… I would ask someone else but I don't want them dying in police custody from food poisoning from what 'they' call tea."

"Of course, Sam. I'll go make it." Annie said with a smile, getting up and going to make the Paterson's tea.

Watching her leave, Sam then moved to his desk and looked under the files that had been dumped there -mostly by Gene- and pulled out the tape recorder. Clicking it open he saw the new tape was still there. Shutting it with a snap, Sam was starting back towards the Lost and Found when Gene stormed out of his office, pulling on his coat.

"Right, Gladys, you and I are going to go to the morgue."

Sam blinked in confusion.

"But-… but... Guv, I just got back from the morgue and I'm about to interview the Patersons… Can't you take Ray or Chris?" Sam called reluctantly after Gene as the larger man stomped into the corridor.

Gene stopped so suddenly that Sam almost ran into the man's back.

"Look here, Gladys, I'm the sheriff and when I say do something I want it done without questions. Got it?" He asked nastily, fixing Sam with a stare that could strip a wall of wallpaper.

Sam nodded.

"Good… Now be a good boy Sammy and tell Ray and Chris that they are questioning the Patersons and get your perk little bottom in my car."

Sam felt his cheeks flushing pink. He nodded again, slower than before. Gene cockily patted his cheek before turning on his heal and marching into the lift.

Sam stood in the empty corridor, staring at the place where Gene's face had been before his brain finally caught up with what had just happened.

He blinked, wetting his dry eyes and looked at the tape recorder that was still in his hands. Shaking his head, Sam turned and walked into the office. He pushed Ray's feet off the desk and shoved the recorded into his chest.

"You and Chris are interviewing Mr. and Mrs. Paterson. Interviewing them. NOT beating them until they answer. Do you understand, DS Carling?"

Glaring, Ray nodded.

"Good." Sam said, happy to have at least that settled.

Knowing full-well that Ray was still scowling at him, Sam took his time walking comfortably to stairwell, then absolutely bolted it down the steps before returning to a calm menial amble again once as he reached the bottom. He slicked past Phyllis and out the door.

Sam heaved the car door open and slid inside. He barely had time to pull his seatbelt on as Gene shot the car from the station and down the road.

Gene stopped the car at the hospital, got out and headed impatiently into the morgue. Sam followed slowly behind him; his Cuban heels clip-clopping on the concrete floor. By the time he'd caught up, Gene was sitting outside the morgue, waiting for Oswald to finish the girl's autopsy. The DCI must've been confident that Oswald would meet them when his inspection was done or at least when he had some idea what the cause of death had been.

Sitting down next to Gene he wasn't surprised when Gene pulled out a newspaper and began reading it. Rolling his eyes, Sam crossed his arms over his chest and began to count the tiles.

…1,055

…1 056

…1,057

…1,058

…1,059

…1,060

"Well, gentleman, I have an answer for you now." Oswald said, coming out of the morgue and snapping off his blood-stained gloves. Sam and Gene trailed the stout man keenly.

"So how'd she die, Doc?" Gene asked, perching over the body. Sam leaned against the far wall. The smell of the body had grown stronger since this early afternoon. He hadn't really smelt it when he was here with the Patersons, but it was there now… that foul rotting smell.

"Blood loss."

"What!?" Gene shouted, which masked Sam's "What?"

"Blood loss... She had two very small pinprick marks on the right-side of her neck."

"What about time of death?" Sam asked.

Oswald frowned, thinking about his answer.

"Between… nine thirty and ten thirty, I'd say."

Sam nodded.

"And there was no sexual activity." The doctor assured.

"How do y-" Sam started.

"No damage to the hymen. No semen. If she had sex she must have consented. But I don't think any sex did take place. But it will be in my report which you shall have by tomorrow. Now if you excuse me, I have to finish my autopsy."

Grunting, Gene stormed out of the morgue and down the corridor. Sam walked out of the cold dark morgue into the warm sunny evening air. The sun was setting behind the rows of houses and making then jut out in black silhouettes, the sky turning dazzling swirls of pinks and purples.

The Guv had already started the car and turned it around in the time he was admiring the town. Shoving his hands in his hands in his pockets, Sam made his way over to the shining Ford. He could see Gene was smoking again and heatedly taking one or two swigs from his flask.

'Oh boy' Sam thought, walking around the car and climbing in.

The drive was nothing short of manic.

Gene zoomed down the roads, forcing Sam back into his chair. Terrified, he grabbed at the car's few handholds and clung to them as Gene threw the car around corners sharply.

It was quicker than the last few trips, but they'd been by far safer then this one.

Once the car stopped Sam chucked himself out the door and onto the tarmac. Safe, secure, immobile tarmac. He was tempted to kiss it just for the joy being on motionless ground, but since Gene hadn't hit him yet he decided not to push his luck.

As Sam picked himself off the ground Gene was already climbing the stairs to the station. Dusting himself off, Sam ran up after him. He chased the DCI into the lift and darted in just as the doors where shutting. Panting, Sam leaned against the side of the humming lift. He glared at Gene who was once more happily reading his paper.

Pushing his way out of the lift, Sam stomped into the office and up to Chris who was listening to the tape recording.

"Hello, Boss" Chris said, stopping the tape mid-word.

"Hello, Chris… So… umm, what did the Patersons say?" Sam asked nervously, fighting off the urge to look behind him. Gene wouldn't be too happy with him rushing off without him.

Chris screwed up his face, thinking.

"Umm, that Abby was meant to be staying at a friend's home for the night."

"Friend's name?"

"Umm… something-smith, smith-something, I think… I can't remember… you'll have to listen to the tape, Boss"

Sam looked at him lamely.

"Right, well someone will have to talk to her." Sam lowered his voice "When we find out who the hell she is anyway" He looked up. "What else?"

"Ummm…" Chris looked at his notebook "…she didn't have a boyfriend -as far as the parent's knew anyway- and only had a few friends"

"You get names?"

"Yes"

Sam frowned at him.

"Real ones?"

Chris blushed sheepishly. "Yes, Boss"

"Good. Is that all then?" Sam smiled.

"Yes boss. They weren't really up to this, the questioning yunno. So I said that you might come and ask more questions, later."

"Good work, Chris." Sam grinned and patted Chris on the back.

"I'll listen to the tape no-"

"Beer o'clock!" Gene shouted, going out the door.

"Woo!" everyone shouted back, pulling on coats and jackets and heading after the DCI like Gene was their alcohol mascot, their Sheriff Ray being in the lead.

"I'll listen to it later, Chris." He assured, again patting Chris on the shoulder.

"Right Boss." Chris chirped, pulling on his wool hat and joining the crowd.

Sam sighed and began rewinding the tape to the beginning.

He sat down in Chris's deserted chair as he waited for the tape to finish, picking up one of Chris's blue biro's and twirling it in his fingers in boredom. He saw Annie approaching and dropped the pen. She smiled at him.

"What about you Sam? You coming?"

Sam shook his head.

"No, I'm looking to have an early night, seeing as I won't be having my day off tomorrow."

"Poor Sammy." Annie cooed at him, pulling on her own coat. They walked together down the stairs and out the station.

"I could give you a lift if you like?" Sam asked when they neared 'his' car.

"No it's ok. The fresh air will do me good."

Sam nodded and began to get in the undercover car of the week.

"Bye Sam." Annie shouted.

Sam waved back at her before pulling out of the car-park and driving in the direction of his little flat.

As he drove Sam could feel the day's sweat crackling dryly on his skin. He knew that he would have to shower when he got 'home' and he was silently dreading it. Pulling up outside his building he could see broken windows, the splitting bricks. It was a building that was falling to pieces and no-one really cared.

Well… Sam didn't really.

Getting out of his car, Sam trudged into the building and up to his flat. Seeing the lopsided number '6' stamp of his flat door he pulled out his key.

Pushing open the door, Sam sighed as he looked into the dark flat. So unlike the bright homeliness of his place back in 2006. The door squeaked before reluctantly fitting in the frame. The amount of times Gene had kicked it in his rush to drag Sam somewhere had warped the wood so it didn't fit just quite in anymore.

Walking in, Sam flicked the light on. It was a hellhole. Small, dark… dank, dirty and smelly. Wallpaper peeling off the wall. Little to no proper furniture. A rusted and squeaky fold-out bed. There were only three rooms. A kitchen, a bathroom and a … well, a front room he supposed, where he ate, slept and… nothing really apart from those two.

He threw his coat over back of his comfy chair and pulled off his Cuban heel shoes, dropping them to the floor. Flexing his freed toes, he plodded over to the small chest of drawers where he kept his clean clothes and pulled out a fresh towel.

Sam walked into his bathroom and turned on the light. It was horrible. Sickly green tiles, those Jungle and Hunter shades that looked and felt disgusting, like rot. Most of them where cracked and/or chipped. The bathtub, toilet and sink were Taupe brown. It was always dark and dirty –no matter how often Sam cleaned it.

Sam tied not to spend much time in his flat, never mind the bathroom. Preferring to shower at the station and work into the little hours of the morning.

Shutting the toilet lid Sam placed his white towel on top. Leaning over the bathtub Sam put the plug in the plug hole and turned the taps on full. Soon the room was filled with hot thick steam. Standing up straight Sam turned and shut the door.

As the tub began to fill Sam slowly began to unbutton his shirt, pulling it off his shoulders and down his back, finally throwing it to the floor next to the sink. He self-consciously fiddled with the fly of his trousers before drawing them down, kicking the worn material over to join his shirt. He stood, naked, arms folded across his chest in the misty filled room, watching the bath fill. When the water reached halfway Sam turned the taps off and eased in.

The hot water lapped at Sam's skin, turning it pink from warmth. After getting used to the high temperature Sam leant back and picked up the bottle of shampoo. Opening it he savoured the heavy smell of ripe apples then poured some into his hand. Clicking it shut he lathered the shampoo into his hair.

Holding his breath Sam ducked under the water to rub the suds out of his lathered hair. Breaking the surface with a satisfied shake and rubbing the water from his eyes, Sam lay back on the rim of the bathtub.

He sleepily watched the drip-drip of the tap and the steam rising from the bath as it climbed up the tiled wall to swim across the paint-chipped ceiling.

Drip drip drip drip drip dri dr dr d … … …

"Sammy."

Sam's eyes snapped open.

He sat up and looked around the room.

"Mum?"

"I love you, Sam."

"MUM!?" Sam shouted.

"You have to keep fighting, Sammy."

"Mum." He whispered, feeling tears fill his eyes and slowly run down his cheeks.

"Oh Sammy."

Sam turned slowly to his left. There she was, the Test Card Girl, standing next to the bath looking down at him. Bright red dress and white collar and Bubbles the Clown sitting under her arm.

"You left your mummy alone, Sammy. Just like your daddy."

"NO!"

"Yes, Sammy, you left her. And for what? Annie? The team? Or is it Gene?" She said, tilting her head to the side

Sam stared at her, unable to answer, not really knowing the answer. He was trying to get home. But lately he hadn't been trying as hard as he once had. Was it for Annie? Maybe. He did like her, even loved her. For Ray and Chris? Again maybe. They were learning slowly but surely, they were becoming better police officers. As for Gene… Yes he was a real reason to stay… to stop fighting this… Whatever this was.

"Ohhh Sammy like the bad man. But the bad man doesn't like Sammy. Oh no. Not after what Sammy told him."

"What!?"

"Sammy told the bad man that he was from the future and that he's in a coma." She leant forward and whispered,

"And Sammy told the bad man that he liked him." She giggled.

She put her clown on the floor then pressed her hands on Sam's head and pushed him under the water.

Sam woke up when he snorted water up his nose. Breathing fast, he sat up quickly, causing the water to splash. The water had grown cold. Shivering, Sam stood up and climbed out of the bath. Picking up his towel he wrapped it around himself. After unplugging the bath Sam opened the door and walked into his -for a lack of a better word- bedroom.

He sat on his bed.

Did he? Did he tell Gene about the future? About him 'being' in a coma? Oh god! Had he told Gene that he liked him?!

He must of. That would explain why Gene was acting weird. But if he had said that then why wasn't he locked up in a Nut House or fired?

The more Sam thought about it the more his head hurt. He lay on his bed, still wrapped up in his towel and slowly fell asleep, thinking about what he was going to do the next day.

OOO

The next morning Sam woke up to the sun creeping across his wall to his bed. Sitting up, Sam rubbed his eyes wearily. Squinting, he looked around at his little alarm clock.

7. 30 Am.

Groaning, Sam slowly slid off the bed and made his way to his drawers, pulling out a clean pair of black trousers and a mauve purple shirt. He pulled them on, leaving his zips and buttons undone as he made his way to the bathroom, opening his medicine cabinet. He took out his razor and shaving cream. Shutting it, Sam looked into the cracked mirror.

His hair was laying in different directions. His eyes were pink and glazed. And there was something green and sticky on his teeth.

Grimacing, Sam groaned and picking up his razor as he started to shave. God he missed his electric razor. Once he'd removed as much of hair that he could, he put down his razor and picked up his toothbrush and toothpaste and started to clean his teeth.

Rinsing out his mouth, Sam then cleaned his face with a blue face cloth. He ran his hands through his hair in an attempt to make it behave. Once his hair was better then what it was, Sam slowly began to button his shirt. His eyes rolled to the mound of dirty clothing on the floor at his feet. He knew that he should pick them up and put the somewhere better than the floor. Or even better clean them, but he just couldn't be bothered. Maybe on his next day off he'd go to the Laundromat, but until then they would just have to sit there.

Pulling up the fly of his trousers, Sam walked into his kitchen and opened his fridge, picking up a Red Delicious, the last one in the fruit-bowl.

Sam bit into the apple and walked over to his chair, still mid-chew he slipped on his shoes and picked up his coat. Sliding it on he walked out the door, locking the dilapidated furnishing as securely as was possible considering how battered it was.

Not that it would keep anyone out that really wanted inside. He rolled his eyes. Gene had proved that enough times. Not that there was anything of much worth to steal anyway, Sam pouted. Stuffing the key in his pocket Sam walked out the building and up to his car, shielding his eyes from the morning dew glinting off the hood. Reservedly, the DI tossed the finished apple core in a nearby trashcan, and buckled in.

As Sam drove to the station he thought about what the Test Card Girl had… 'said' and what he was going to say to Gene. Gene wasn't someone that Sam could talk to, not like Annie- who would sit down and listen to him. No. Gene would hear two words what it was about and hit him until he shut up.

Getting out of the car, Sam felt nervous at the prospect of seeing Gene again. He bit his lip as he climbed up the stairs into the station. Phyllis stared in her morbid way at him as he began to climb up the main stairs, not taking the lift for fear of bumping into Gene before he had a plan.

Reaching the top, Sam huffed as he realised why he never took the stairs and why he never would again. His ankles were throbbing, and he felt particularly less chirpy than before and that was saying something.

He opened the police-grey door and looked into the corridor. Seeing no one Sam crept from his hiding place into the office. He was early, even though he had left his flat late. He walked up to his desk and sat down.

It was still a tip, and just like his clothing on the floor, Sam couldn't be bothered to clear it up.

Rubbing his hand over his face, Sam pulled Oswald's autopsy report open. He turned the folder on its side when he saw something scrawled over the dull brown card, distinctly Oswald's handwriting. A note?

Thought you ought to know, a few weeks ago a colleague of mine did two autopsies on a Lily Edwards - 23 and a Mark Copper - 27.

Oswald Spear

This was it.

The breakthrough they were waiting for.

Sam lifted up the stray files, looking for his phone.

Where the fuck was it?

Finding it, Sam rang Oswald's home number. He tapped his fingers on the desk and blinked slowly as he waited for the other side to pick up.

"Hello?"

"Hello, I'm looking for Oswald?"

Sam flicked his medal, like he'd said, nervous habit.

"Oh, I'll just get him for you."

"Thank you."

As Sam waited he opened his top drawer and pulled out a notepad and pen.

"Hello?"

"Hello Doctor Spear, it's DI Sam Tyler." He uncapped the pen.

"Oh yes. What can I do for you Mr. Tyler?"

"I got your note."

"Yes?"

Sam poised the stationary over the crisp, lined page.

"Do you know who was looking into the deaths of Lily Edwards and Mark Copper?"

"Yes. A DCI Frank Morgan from Hyde."

Sam's face fell.

Unaware of himself, he began leaning on the desk, eyes wide. The pressure on the pens nib made a leaking blue dot that began to sink and blotch through layers of papers.

He felt ice creep into his stomach, up his spine and finally sticking in the back of his throat.

Oh no…

"Thank…thank you, Mr. Spear." He stuttered meekly, dropping his pen gently on notebook.

"Glad I could help, DI Tyler."

Putting the phone back on the hook Sam looked down that the notes that he made.

Hyde

And not only Hyde, but DCI Frank Morgan.

Bugger.

Sam picked up the phone up again, rang 'zero', going straight through to the operator. Sam brushed the hair from his face with a tortured expression.

"Operator."

"Hyde 2612… Please" He added after a moment's hesitation.

"One moment, please… Who is it, please?"

"Sam Tyler."

"Connecting you now."

Sam could hear the click-click-click click-click-click as the phone was connected.

"Hello? Sam?"

"Hello, DCI Morgan" He pressed his hand to his head and resisted the urge to shake it over and over in denial. He really shouldn't be doing this.

"What can I do for you, Sam?"

"Ummm… Yesterday a body of a young girl was found. She died of blood loss."

"Mmmm."

Sam shuffled the files from Oswald.

"There was two small incisions on the neck. And our Pathologist said that you had had two similar cases."

Morgan made a noise of realisation.

"Yes, a few weeks ago… Lily Edwards and Mark Copper."

"I was wondering if you could send copies of the files over." Maybe Gene wouldn't mind him speaking to Morgan or slinking to Hyde so much if he got some real leads… oh who was he kidding!

"Of course, Sam. I'll have someone take them to you."

"Thank you, DCI Morgan."

"Goodbye Sam."

"Bye."

Again, Sam put the phone back on the hook. The flustered DI took a deep breath and held it for a few seconds before exhaling shakily. After all this time it still felt wrong speaking to Morgan. It felt like he was going behind Gene's back. He looked to the Gov's office with earnest regret playing across his face, despite the fact it was more than certainly empty…

"OI! Dorothy. What are you doing sitting on your arse doing nothing?"

Startled, Sam looked up as Gene strutted into his office like he owned the place. Speak of the devil. Getting up, Sam trailed Gene into the DCI's office, clutching the notepad in his hand before putting it behind his back.

"In Oswald's report he left a note-"

"And I care because?" Gene snorted, pulling off his coat and throwing it on the coat-stand, before patting it down, frown still in place.

"You care because when I phoned Oswald about the note he told me about two more victims that died the same way as Abigail Paterson." Sam said, feeling irritated, though still more than a little afraid. He knew that Gene would blow his top when he found out what Sam had just done.

"And?" Gene snapped

"I…I called Hyd-"

"WHAT!?" Gene shouted, jumping from his chair.

"I called Hyde and spoke to DCI Morgan… he's sending over copies of the reports of two murders." Sam's voice turned pleading. "Gene, their causes of death are exactly the same as ours."

"Why the hell did you talk to that… that …" Sam took a worried step back as the fuming DCI began to advanced on him, knuckles clenched.

"I talked to Morgan because… because he's the head of the investigation at Hyde! And- and he may has some sort of idea who's behind this, o-or even what the hell is going on here! And I don't think your little grudges are going to save any lives, Guv!" Sam exclaimed, banging his hands on Gene's desk then splaying out his hands on the furniture and panting.

Glaring, Gene sat back down.

"Fine." Genegrowled grudgingly, a hint of violence in his tone. "If you want to sit around all day waiting for reports and then reading them then fine. You stay here while we do some real work."

"Gene." Sam sighed. He knew this was coming, he'd just hoped that Gene would've felt angry at him, anger he could deal with, but he could see that the DCI felt betrayed.

"NO! You don't get to go behind my back and talk to that slimeball and NOT expect to deal with the connotations!"

"Consequences." Sam winced. This was one of those times that he really should have keep his mouth shut.

The anger in Gene's eyes grew into fury.

Sam nodded before Gene could retort, almost running out the door to the safety of his desk.

Sitting down he saw that Annie had arrived while he'd been in Gene's office. She'd probably heard the whole thing.

She walked up to him and sat on the chair in front of his desk.

"Good morning Sam." She smiled.

Maybe not.

"Morning, Annie."

He chucked the notepad on the desk. The illicit papers felt as if they were burning him.

"How was your early night?" Annie asked, a bit more perkily than usual Sam thought.

Sam's memory instantly went back to his 'early' night. How he had almost drowned in his own bathtub and how he learnt that he may have told everything to Gene.

"It was… fine…" Sam lied "How was your night at the 'Arms'?"

"Same old, same old." She laughed, just as Ray, Chris and a few other officers came in.

"Morning, Boss, Annie!" Chris shouted across the room.

"Morning Chris." Sam and Annie called back.

Ray said nothing, opting to glare at Sam. Sam smiled and waved back to Ray much in the same way that he had at the factory.

"RIGHT! Ya bunch of nonces, I want everyone out on the street talking to all their informants!" Gene roared, coming out of his den. "Annie, Ray and Chris you're with me."

Chris and Ray jumped and began to follow the rampaging DCI.

"But what about Sam?" Annie shouted after them.

"Dorothy is in Toto's dog house and is staying here. Get a move on Luv!"

She got up and began to tail the others out the door. Looking back she mouthed 'Sorry.'.

Sam sat at his messy desk for a few minutes, watching other members of the team get up and leave, feeling a bit sorry for himself that he wasn't joining them.

Sam stood up and removed his coat. Sitting back down he sighed and picked up an old file and began looking through it.

OOO

Sam spent half of the day working on the files that Gene dumped there days before. Making sure that everything was in the right cabinet and that they were filed correctly and in the right place.

It was bloody dull.

Just as he was working on the last file, a tall man with a suit clinging to his thin figure jogged into the office, his spindly fingers clutching a file box.

"DI Tyler!?" He called out.

"Yes, that's me." Sam answered, standing up.

"DCI Morgan told me to take this to you." The man said, carrying the box to Sam and setting it on desk.

"Oh… Thank you."

"Right I'll be off then." The man turned and walked out again.

"Bye." Sam whispered.

He pulled the lid off the box and looked inside. There were five thick folders. Two each for both victims and one that was filled with things that were similar or different between each of the victims as well as the places they'd been found.

Sam pulled out all the files and his notepad and pen.

Abigail Paterson - 16

Caucasian White

Single

Lived at home with Robert and Jean Paterson (8 Princess Street)

No children

No Sex accrued

Mark Copper - 27

Caucasian White

Married (Wife at hospital giving birth)

Lived at Home with Beth Copper and children (22 King Street)

Three kids

Sex occurred

Lily Edwards - 23

African American

Boyfriend (at sea)

Lived at boyfriend's flat (3 Queen Street)

No children

Sex occurred

Nothing seemed the same for any of the victims. Not their age, sex, skin colour, relationships, family, or if they'd sex with their murderer.

The only three things that they had common was the place that they were found- all run-down factory offices. The way they died- blood loss from a neck wound. And the bloodied writing on the wall. Blood which didn't seem to match anyone's.

Sam looked at the photos of the writing again. He had seen them before, he realised that now, he even knew … somehow… he knew what they meant...

"OI! Gladys, you get any work done." Gene shouted, swaying back and forth and clutching his flask in one knuckled fist. Sam stared at him at confusion, then turned to look at the station's clock.

6 pm.

He had spent half the day sorting out files and then the rest of that time going over the Hyde cases. And here was Gene swaying drunkenly…

Flash

Sam and Gene swaying back and forth, staggering down the corridor to Sam's flat.

Flash

"Umm… I… umm sorted out… out the files that there on my… desk." Sam tripped over his words.

Flash

Gene was leaning against the wall and Sam was leaning on Gene. Their faces were a hair's breath away from each others.

"I like you." Sam whispered.

"I like you too." Gene sighed, obviously going along with his drunk DI.

"No." Sam pulled the DCI down so he could whisper his words right into his ear. "I love you."

It was the one thing that Sam would never have said had he been sober.

Flash

"OH that's very good Sammy-boy. You sat on you arse and did fuck all." Gene snapped, as he stumbled into Chris' desk on the way to his office.

"And… and I, umm, looked over the files from Hyde." Sam frowned. He had told him. He had actually told him. Fuck.

Flash

Gene stood straight, his posture tense and unsure, like carrying a heavy burden, but Sam didn't notice. Gene give a big sigh .And leant into Sam's ear.

"Love you too."

Flash

"Well what did you find?" Gene asked, finally getting into his office and sitting down.

"Umm… Nothing about the victims are the same." Sam spoke, slowly getting up and following Gene into his superior's workspace. "However the places the bodies were found were all old out-of-use factory offices… like the one Abby was in." Sam said, watching Gene open a bottle of whisky and pouring a large glass.

Flash

Sam giggled and pushed away from Gene. He stood between Gene and his bed.

"None of this is real. I made it up… It's all in my head."

Flash

"Don't you think that you've had an enough to drink?" Sam asked tentatively, staring openly at Gene as the man gave up drinking from the glass and was now drinking straight from the bottle.

"DON'T TELL ME WHAT TO DO!!" Gene shouted, smacking the bottle down on the desk, making amber liquid jump from the container, sloshing everywhere.

Sam took a step back, silently surprised the glass hadn't broken.

"This is your fault." Gene slurred.

"My fault?" Sam whispered.

"Yes, your fault. That night you got drunk and needed someone to take your skinny ass home."

Flash

Sam was laying on the floor, sniggering, having missed his bed. He snorted happily at the overwhelmed man before him, the wall the only thing holding Gene up.

"I had an accident, and I woke up in 1973." Sam giggled.

Slumping slightly against the bed, the DI sighed, sounding suddenly morose though none the less seductive. He touched the sheets of the worn bed gently, before turning his glittering eyes to Gene.

"33 years in the past. That's a biiig time skip, Genie"

Flash

"I don't know what happened that night. I was drunk! But what I do know is that it has something to do with the way you're been acting around me!" Sam shouted.

"And how's that? What've I been doing that's any different from usual, huh?!" Gene asked snidely, his voice gravely from alcohol.

"Oh nothing much, Guv." Sam spat sarcastically "Just you being your usual pig-headed self but about ten time's worse." He hissed back.

Tiredly standing straight, Sam looked at the ceiling. He ran his hands over his face and sighed.

"Tell me what I did wrong?" Sam asked, knowing inside himself exactly what he had done.

"Nothing."

Sam chuckled, the sound muffled by the hands still pressed against his face. Like they were trying to protect him. He shook his head.

"I know that's a lie, you know that's a lie. Why not tell me?"

"Nothing happened. So leave it alone." Gene snarled, getting up from his chair and hurrying towards the door.

"I told you I like you." Sam whispered.

Gene froze.

The DCI's body turned to ice.

"I told you that I loved you… and you told me that you loved me."

Gene suddenly came to life. Grabbing Sam's shirt Gene slammed him into the filing cabinet.

"Now you listen here, you little fairy." Gene's voice was cold as ice and just as cutting. "I did not say that to you, or any other man. And if you speak of it again I will not only fire you, but kill I'll you as well." Gene whispered. "You understand?"

Sam nodded slowly.

"Good." Gene let go and stormed from the office.

Sam gasped for air, leaning on the filing cabinet. He rubbed his chest where Gene had grabbed him as pain ran up and down his back from where it had hit the cabinet. He felt tears form in his eyes. He tried think that it was just the pain of being thrown into a steel cabinet, but he knew that no-one, not even he himself, would believe it.

He rubbed his hand over his tired eyes and shuffled out of Gene's office over to his desk. Then, somewhat robotically, he began putting everything away in its right file.

Soon, Sam finished the menial chore and pulled on his coat, dragging his feet out of the office and down the stairs. He walked past the empty charge desk and out the door.

When he reached the car park he saw Gene was gone. Not even Gene's car was there, or any other police cars.

Fuck.

That meant one of two things. One- everyone was still talking to their informants. Or two- they were down the pub.

Well, it didn't matter either way, Sam was going home. He hadn't really gotten anything new from the Hyde files and Gene had not only thrown him into a cabinet, but he had thrown away Sam's one real reason to stay.

Pulling his coat around him more securely, Sam started the long walk home, his mind feeling numb.

Feeling the sudden need to be home Sam decided to take a shortcut.

He knew it was stupid, but the shortcut that he was taking took him near an old factory. But he didn't care. He was hurt and wanted to be home. Even if it was a cold dirty smelly dump.

Walking down the road, Sam kept to the opposed side from the factory. He hands were stuffed into his pockets to keep them warm. When he neared the factory he thought he heard something.

Thud-thud-thud

He looked at the factory. It was like all the other ones. Worn out and falling to bits.

"Hel…"

Without a second thought Sam shot across the road and into the factory.

Inside, he stopped and looked around the poorly lit room. The interior was different from the other factories. There was no real office… just a flight of stairs and the office floor.

Newly disturbed dust danced around the room. It was thick and heavy, choking like smog. Broken bottles lay scattered across the floor, sparkling in the sun. And on the floor, outlined in the dirt, were two fresh sets of foot prints.

Sam could hear the 'thud-thud-thud' again. Squinting into the gloom he could see someone wrenching another person up the stairs.

"OI, POLICE!" Sam shouted, taking after them when they didn't stop.

Taking the stairs two at a time Sam reached the top and looked around.

There was someone lying on the floor.

Sam moved slowly over to the fallen person, all the while looking for the accomplice.

Getting close Sam could see that it was a young man with strawberry blonde hair. Crouching down, Sam turned the man over.

Bright green eyes stared back at him.

Putting his hand to the pale neck he felt for a pulse… feeling none. Moving his hand he cringed at the traces of blood on his fingers. Stiffening, he slowly looked back at the body.

He could now see the two pinpricks his hand had covered.

BANG!

Sam stood up quickly, his eyes darting madly for the unseen threat. But he saw nothing. Sam felt for his radio and pulled it out-

The radio was snatched from his hands.

Sam felt his blood curdle.

It was then that the DI saw him.

His terror-shrunken pupils drew and stretched up the horrifying figure that loomed above him, its long white teeth glinting in a smirk.

He was tall… skinny… his long black hair curved in waves over snow white skin that seemed to glow like death's veil. His lips were a ripe red like… like… -Sam swallowed- like flowing blood from a scar and pulled into a smile.

But it was his eyes… his eyes… there was something that made Sam unable to look away. Two…mesmerizing… spherical rings of sapphire blue… wrapped around Alice blue… that pulled you in.

They were hypnotizing.

"Hello, Sam." He whispered.

"How… how do you know my name?" Sam stuttered. He was sure that he had never seen this man before. But here he was, calling Sam by his name.

"Oh, Sam."

The man started to walk around him, pacing imprisoning circles, looking up and down Sam's figure before moving in closer. "It doesn't matter how I know your name."

"Well… w-well how about you tell me your name." Sam's mouth felt dry in fear, his body shook.

"It doesn't matter, Sam…but if it makes you feel better you can call me…"

The ashen man flashed a pointed tooth.

"Ian."

"Well, 'Ian', I'm arresting you for-" He started, but he was interrupted when he felt Ian run his nose over the back of his neck and sniff sharply at the fine skin.

Sam froze. He could almost feel Ian against his back, but… he didn't sense any body heat, which he should've been able to.

"You smell good, Sam." Ian whispered, placing a kiss just at Sam's hairline.

Sam spun around and gaped at him. Ian grinned back. Those teeth… there was something wrong with those teeth… they were… unnatural, sick, ethereal… haunting.

"What the hell are you doing?!" Sam yelled. He couldn't understand this man. This Ian character wasn't at all afraid of going to jail for four murders. Sam had seen that before in many cases, but Ian was acting like nothing could touch him, and he seemed happy that he was caught… very happy.

"I'm smelling you, Sam." Ian said truthfully.

Sam stared at him, feeling the air around him suddenly become thick and heavy, making it hard for him to breath.

"Why are you killing this people?" Sam asked with some difficulty around the lump in his throat. He took frightened a step back.

Ian grinned and stalked closer to Sam like a lion taunting caught prey. Leaning into the shaking man he mouthed eagerly,

"Because I'm hungry, Sam."

"What?" Sam whispered. His eye grew wide as Ian glimpsed at the body on the floor.

"I was hungry and I feed from them." Ian moved closer still, Sam's heart beat wildly in his chest as he saw.

He knew now… he knew… that wasn't, w-wasn't… Ian's lips weren't red, they were… they were covered in blood. Spattered in human blood. Just like the wall. The writing on the wall.

"What… what about… about the writing on the... the wall?" Sam stammered, sickness and dread whirling in his intestines.

"'Sam… Thou shall leave this world, and in doing so, will cause pain and despair. But out of even the greatest of despair, love shall grow and thrive.' I write that on one of the walls everywhere I feed." Ian whispered.

Flash

Sam had been sent to look for a file in the collator's den where all the old paper files where kept.

DCI Fletcher had sent him down here instead of one of the Constables. He had the feeling Glen didn't quite trust the new Constables yet. They'd only been here for a week and still got a bit lost on occasion.

Pulling open one of the cabinets dust shot out and hit Sam in the face, causing him to jump back coughing.

Spluttering and waving to dispel the soot he backed into a wall of shelves, making a dust covered box fly off the end and fall to the floor, its contents spilling in all directions.

Still coughing, Sam got to the floor and started to fill the box up again when he saw a photograph of a wall. Picking it up and looking at it closely, Sam could see that here was writing on the wall. With what looked like… blood. Still staring at the immortalized wall, Sam turned the photo over.

On the back was a little note.

'Sam… Thou shall leave this world, and in doing so, will cause pain and despair. But out of even the greatest of despair, love shall grow and thrive.'

Flash

Sam looked at Ian, who was now standing next to the stiffened body. He remembered thinking it was weird that there was a 'Sam' mentioned in the message. At the time when the old case files were taken and stored there was hadn't been any Sam's in the department, he'd looked… just a DI S. Tyler.

Fuck

That meant…

"Sam?"

Sam jerked and looked up at Ian as he was snapped from his daze.

"Sam… I'm still hungry." Ian whispered, moving closer and grabbing the top of Sam's arms.

"Hey! Let go!" Sam shouted, twisting and pulling frantically to get away. He struggled like a rabbit caught in a snare, but Ian was to strong for him to push away.

Ian drew Sam closer until their chests where touching. He pressed his face into the shorter man's neck and placed a soft kiss on the succulent skin above where the main vein thrummed,

,before biting into it.

Sam, for a spilt second, felt the pain of the canines biting into his neck, after that second he felt… felt relaxed. This was odd because he had a 'vampire' biting his neck and drinking his blood… Slowly… he stopped fighting Ian… and just stood there watching the world pass him by.

"Sammy, you have to keep fighting."

"…mum?" Sam whispered.

"Hang in there, love."

Feeling himself becoming more and more sleepy, Sam knew that to have even a chance at living he had to something… and soon.

Looking around the 'room' Sam saw a patch of sunlight. A boarded-up window. He knew it was a stupid plan. Real 'vampires' might be fine in sunlight, maybe he'd just be doing them both in. There was no way to tell… but no alternative.

Sam's eyelids fluttered and he was leaning more heavily on Ian.

One… Two… Three

Sam threw himself at Ian. Pushing the demonic man backwards in and through the boards. The weak wood splintered and cracked as Ian's back smashed into it. Ian screamed in shock as he began to tumble backwards, losing his life-sucking hold on Sam.

Ian plummeted to the earth, but his body didn't hit the ground. The helpless figure cartwheel-d in the air for a split second before it caught fire and exploded like an expanding nova, turning into dust.

Sam pushed himself against the broken boards and attempted to walk to the stairs.

He barely made it half way before dropped to his knees.

"SAM!"

Lifting his head, Sam could just see someone running up the stairs towards him.

Sam couldn't stop himself…too weak… too exhausted, and collapsed on his front like a puppet who's strings were cut.

"SAM!"

Sam slowly closed his eyes, feeling very… very sleepy.

"Sam."

He felt someone –presumably the person who had been screaming his name- turn him onto his back and pull him into their lap. The person was warm… not cold like Ian… so warm.

"Sam. Stay with me, Sam." They whispered softly, then shouted out, "Someone get an ambulance."

"It's ok Sam. Just… just stay with me. Ok?" The person with the gentle voice asked.

"Opay." Sam mumbled, his eyes flickered open and shut quickly a few times before closing and becoming too heavy to lift again.

"Sam?"

He felt his body and limbs become heavier and his breathing becoming slower and slower.

"SAM!"

Then nothing.

Bleep-bleep-bleep-bleep-bleep-bleep-bleep-bleep-bleep-bleep-bleep-bleep-bleep

Sam rocked his head. He was lying on… on something soft… something warm… something that he wished he could lie on for a very long time.

Someone was holding his hand. Annie maybe… No, was he imagining it.

He tried to open his eyes. But there were glued together, blinking making everything blur and swim in front of him.

His mouth felt as though a small rodent has crawled into his mouth and died. His lips were dry and cracked and it hurt when he moved them.

Once he could see clearly, he saw a white ceiling. He was in hospital. Tipping his head to the left he could see that it was 4 am. Wincing, Sam turned his head back.

Groggily, he lifted his right hand he brought into his neck. There a bandage covering most of the right side of it.

Sluggishly, he moved his hand down and laid it on his stomach. Blinking flittingly, he could feel himself falling asleep.

"Sam?"

He opened his eyes drowsily.

He saw a blurry Gene.

"Gene." He slurred. Feeling well drugged.

"Sam." Gene sighed… almost… happily it seemed.

He felt something move over his fingers. Looking down at his hand he could see.

Someone was holding his hand. Gene was holding his hand.

"Gen-" Sam croaked.

"Shh, Sam." Gene whispered.

"What…"

"It's ok, Sam. I'll tell you later… Go back to sleep."

His eyes closed and as much as he fought, he just couldn't keep them open.

OOO

The next time Sam woke up he could feel the nipping pain in the back of his arm for the IV, and the nasty, unpleasant sensation of a catheter. Tiredly, Sam opened his eyes.

Turning, he saw that it was now 5 am. He was also saw Gene. The Guv was leaning on his side of Sam's bed, asleep and still holding Sam's hand.

He squeezed Gene's hand. It was warm and rough under his fingers.

"Mmm… Sam." Gene opened his bright blue eyes.

"Gene… What happened?" Sam questioned, blinking owlishly.

Gene sat up straight, rubbing his hands into his eyes

"A girl came to the station and talked to Phyllis… She was worried about her brother. He'd gone off with some bloke that he'd met somewhere or other, anyway, she said that she heard him and the bloke talking going to a 'new club' on 56 Gordon Street."

The DCI stretched nosily, his bones popping into place after the rough sleep.

"But the thing is there is no club on that Street. Just an old textile factory. So me, Ray, Chris and Annie got over there just in time to see the bastard go flying and get fried to dust. I ran into the factory and saw you falling, the pansy that you are."

Gene slumped in his chair and took upon a haughty position.

"I walked over to make sure that you didn't kick the can. Chris radioed for an ambulance. When we… you, got to the hospital you where given a blood transfusion… Didn't say when you would wake up." Gene told Sam. For some reason the DCI avoided looking Sam in the eye for the length of his talk.

"Sam!"

He opened his eyes, he hadn't even realized he'd been dozing again. He'd been listening to Gene, but he could feel the heavy pressure of sleep weigh down on him again.

"So you came and saved the day, and the damsel in distress." Sam chuckled. "And here you are, sitting holding my hand. So soon after telling me that you would kill me if I talked about the fact that we like each other… What a way to send mixed signals, Guv."

Gene stood up, abruptly pulling his hand away, leaving Sam's hand cold. Gene started to pace back and forth.

"I do love you… but," Gene whispered ", you started to laugh after I told you… then you said all that other stuff… I didn't know whether you were just drunk or if you really meant it. Then when you didn't say anything later I thought that you were avoiding it… and me."

"I didn't remember that night… until yesterday." Sam said into his hand, not looking at Gene, knowing that is some way -some tiny little way- it was his fault.

"And I did mean it… It was just one of those things that I wouldn't tell anyone unless I was drunk."

Gene nodded, moving back to the seat and sitting down. He leaned forward on the mattress and laced his fingers through Sam's. Stroking the back of Gene's thumb, Sam slowly began to drift off. The DI was already half-asleep when he felt a gentle kiss on his mouth. Smiling, Sam squeezed Gene's hand.