Hey! Thanks to everyone who read and reviewed my first Life On Mars fic 'Eyes On Me'. If you like Sam and Gene slash, I'd recommend taking a little stroll over there now. Anyway, if you've already read it, don't like slash or generally can't be arsed, stay with me on this one...it could get interesting!
I forgot to mention before that I don't own anything to do with LOM. Sadly. Very sadly. I'd take Philip Glenister and John Simm out for a pint if I could (and if I was eighteen!).
Hope you enjoy this weird little number and thanks for checking it out!
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Strolling back to his dingy, suburban apartment, Sam Tyler sighed heavily; it had been an exhausting and, for the most part, frustrating day. He'd argued with Hunt as much as usual (not that that was a surprise to him - he'd gotten used to it by now and would find it a disruption of his routine if him and the Boss didn't fight everyday) and had a 'lovers tiff' - as the Guv chose to put it so nicely - with his new sort of girlfriend, Annie.
Against his better and usually more sensitive frame of mind, he let her be for a while. He kept telling himself that things would be better in the morning after a good nights rest and a chance for him to recharge his batteries and forget about the days case, that was playing heavily on his already over burdened mind. Everyone had been under a lot of pressure that day and needed a couple of hours to cool down, for the most part.
Jogging as quickly as he could, as fast as his knackered legs could carry him, avoiding the empty crisp packets and beer bottles spread unevenly on the dirty surface, Sam made his way down the darkening corridors and up the stairs in the block of flats where he lived, his mind still pacing; the days case had been going terribly. Several female bodies had been found in various parts of the city, each in a similar sort of bloodied state. Yet, there was no solid evidence. No leads. No clues. No nothing.
As always, Sam would forever go back to his apartment and contemplate the days findings, his mind working over time. In reality (if there was such a thing) he just wanted the place to be safe, for everyone.
Especially Annie.
Approaching his room, he dug deep into his leather jacket, fiddling about amongst the gum wrappers, torn cotton lining fabric and several coins until he finally found the keys to his flat. Dragging them out with his little finger, his eyes were stinging; it really had been a long day.
Coming up to his door, his eyes still incredibly sore and the lighting dim, too dim to really inspect the surroundings accurately, Sam squinted. He could have sworn there was a parcel in front of his worn door. He blinked, making sure his eyes weren't deceiving him; it wouldn't have surprised him in the slightest if they were. After all he'd seen in the past few months, small blonde girls coming out of TV's, milk floats telling him he'd had an overdose, he did feel that anything was possible in this world he was living.
Sam's face screwed up, in a mixture of confusion and fatigue. He bent before the object, his knees cracking; he really needed to go to bed. Using his finger tips as the only reliable sense, he thought that it was a basket, with a load of pink blankets shoved on top of it. He searched the halls, making sure no one was there, spying on him. He had every right to be paranoid, after everything he'd seen during the day; when he closed his eyes, he could still see the women - naked, skin savagely ripped apart, a sea of bruises.
Picking up the wicker basket, he unlocked the door, dashing inside and slamming it shut again. He wanted to examine it thoroughly, as if it was one of the many women's bodies he'd found over the course of the past couple of days.
In his haste, DI Tyler didn't notice how heavy the 'parcel' was. In hindsight, it was a foolish thing to do, bringing it into his home (what he had to regard as a home). It could have been anything, like a bomb waiting to explode. Yet, he wasn't thinking straight; he was just exhausted.
Placing the unidentified object lightly on the table (after all, he had no idea exactly what it was), his curiosity was beginning to take over in a major way. Removing his comfortable leather jacket and taking a deep breath, he rolled up his sleeves, ready to begin the new voyage. It was like stepping into the unknown.
Removing piece of fabric by piece of fabric, Sam's rounded nose crinkled; for the most part, the blankets were filthy, covered in dust or mud, one thing or another; his mind was struggling to tell the difference right about then.
After about five minutes of careful removal, finally, he got to the last layer, or what Sam considered to be the last layer. Running a hand through his dirty, gel stained, blondish locks, he smoothly removed the cover, shutting his eyes tightly shut; he wasn't entirely sure that he wanted to discover what lurked beneath. However, instincts took over his vast frame of logic, his Guv's tactics finally playing a role in all of this.
He opened his eyes wearily. "Jesus!" he cried, his mouth nearly touching the floor; he had to blink several times to make sure his hazel eyes weren't misleading him, to make sure that what he was peering at was real.
Unfortunately, it was real. Too real.
Disrupting his disgruntled, clouded thoughts, a sudden knock came at his door, Sam nearly shooting out of his skin like a creature from a child's cartoon in the twenty-first century, taking in a sharp breath in as the silence was dislocated. From past experience, from the sound and depth of the thud, he knew it could be one person and one person only...
"Tyler! Open this freakin' door - NOW!"
Panicking, Sam wanting the Guv under no circumstances to see what he had before him. Heaving the mantles randomly over the basket, he tried to regain his cool. Dragging a hand over his face, relieving his skin of any sweat particles flooding from his pores, he marched over to his door, not wanting to answer it. At all. However, he knew if he didn't, he would have the mammoth man barge it down, someone having to come and fix the wooden frame (again) for what seemed like the millionth time in a month.
He finally opened the entrance, glancing back to make sure the basket was concealed in a manner of speaking.
"What the hell took you so long?" Gene Hunt slurred tipsily, shoving past Sam to get inside his DI's arm knocked from beside his over loaded head.
Scampering back, trying his best to hide the basket from the 'Sheriff', Tyler knew that the last thing he needed right now was the Governor on his case.
His breath reeking of alcohol, Gene turned to face Sam, a bottle of whisky on his person, Sam prayed that the Boss would be too pissed to notice the basket, or even to remember seeing it at all, if that should be the case.
"What are you doing here?" Sam danced back over to the table hastily, standing suspiciously close to the wooden piece of furniture. Hunt was the last person he wanted to see, after everything that had happened through out the course of the day.
"Advancement of the case!" he hicked; he wasn't completely off his face, just a little merry.
Tyler snatched the bottle of whisky from his Chief, slamming it down beside the clock on his bedside table. He couldn't be dealing with a drunk Gene Hunt, not after the arguments they'd had previously in the day, and especially not at this time of night. The clock read 11.54pm and whilst Sam had been busy in the office until a little under twenty minutes ago, trying his best to uncover any hidden evidence to the dire case that needed to be solved as soon as possible, Hunt, Carling and Skelton decided to try another method; going down to the pub, wasting valuable time there, as if drink would be the solution to all of their problems. As if - by magic - the case would be abruptly solved so they could ride off into the sunset and keep their minds firmly set to a new instance, one that wasn't too taxing on their little brains and one that would gain them vast amounts of praise from the folk of Manchester and the media alike. Sam knew that Gene wasn't always like that, he was passionate about his job just as much as himself, if not more so, and maybe not even the dim-witted Chris, but Ray…
Spinning on his heels, Gene turned to face the splintered table at the far end of the room. His head to one side, he raised an eyebrow. "What's that on the table?"
"W-what?" Sam played dumb, dashing back over from his bed to where the basket lay.
Gene turned slightly to face him. "Don't lie to me - what is it?"
"N-nothing." Sam let out a small gasp, edging backwards in a better attempt to obscure the object. "Besides, I thought you wanted to discuss an advancement of something?"
The DCI opened his mouth slightly, ready to speak. Randomly, a teeny wail erupted in the air. "What the bloody hell was that?" he questioned, his face stern like a Bulldog's.
Shuddering, Sam had to make up an excuse...and fast. "Uh, sorry, just my stomach."
Watching his DI stretch his palm of his right hand over his abdomen and shift awkwardly from one foot to the other, Gene knew his accomplice was lying, badly. Sam knew that he knew too; even though Hunt was a little drunk, he still noticed the cold stare he had etched on his scarred face.
Never the less, Gene decided to progress with the matter at hand. "Yeah, anyway, me and Ray - Chris got too pissed and pa-passed out off his chair - we came up with a solution..."
Before Gene could get any further, the object in the basket started crying, extremely loudly. Pushing a defeated Sam to one side, he peered in the basket, after lifting the numerous blankets away, his mouth opened in astonishment, much like his partner's had done just a few minutes ago.
"Blimey! It's a baby!"
Groaning in exasperation and worry, Sam stood beside the Guv. "I can see why they made you a DCI." he sniped in an unusually sarcastic tone, which he'd adapted since moving from 'Hyde'; he was too tired to be dealing with all of this but now saw no alternative but to deal with it head on.
"You and Cartwright did get it on quick, huh?" Gene chuckled, elbowing Sam in the ribs, much to the displeasure of the DI.
Sam shook his head, choosing to ignore the juvenile comments just aimed in his direction. Knowing that he couldn't overlook the child's bawling for any longer (and since Hunt couldn't be arsed to do anything about it), Sam took the baby, jogging them up and down in his arms, his uncovered skin soothing the baby a little, their breathing becoming steadier.
A few moments of silence passed, the baby the only one making any noise. By now it was just a few whimpers, probably from the displeasure of the strange surroundings and even stranger men.
"Well, what is it?"
Sam had to examine the question carefully, his eyes flickering in disbelief at the Guv. "A baby?"
"No, Dorothy, boy or girl?" Gene quizzed, his face now close to that of the infants as he snorted at his DI's last remark.
The baby began to wail even louder, feeling the warm, whisky tainted breath on their face. "Don't cry, darling, Mr. Hunt has that effect on everyone!" Sam whispered, beginning to hate the ringing sound in his ears. Noting the Guv's sour expression, he answered the inquiry. "I don't know - I only discovered them a split second before you staggered in."
Once the baby had calmed down, the more gentle of the two unwrapped them from it's miniscule, ill fitting clothing.
"I would say it should be a girl with all of the pink blankets. But, then I look at you and realise you are a bloke and a bit of a fairy." Gene smirked, Sam once again proceeding with his business, choosing not to listen to the larger man beside him. Not that he cared really what Hunt thought of him, it was just too late in the day for him to be bothered to care or to deal with another fight.
Unwrapping them from their clothing, both men realised that the baby was a little girl. "Guv, look at all of the bruising on her." he gasped in a mixture of disgust, sympathy and shock; how could anyone do this to such a young child? As Hunt turned the main light on, to get a better view, Tyler traced the bluish black marks on her frail body.
"She can't stay 'ere, she needs medical attention." Gene observed in a more compassionate fashion.
Agreeing, Sam wrapped the small child up, in the most mellow of ways, placing her back in the basket, after all, he knew nothing about babies. "Who's driving?" he asked, knowing he'd live to regret that question.
"I am - we need to break the speed limit if we hope of getting her there tonight and you sure as hell won't do that!" Gene snarled, the dynamic duo heading over to the door. "Then you can tell me how come you've been left holding the baby!"
Sam sighed. "Literally."
- - - - - - - - - -
Next time in 'Blimey, it's a baby!"
Once arriving at hospital, there are unanswered questions that need to be addressed but will anyone have the answers?
Check back for more, soon!