TWILIGHT ZONE
by time and tea
o n e
eternal fate has turned its back on him
Alex wasn't quite sure what to say.
Sam Tyler was dead, both in her world and this world; he'd committed suicide in her world and died in a high speed pursuit in this world. The only difference between the two deaths was that one had recovered a body and the other hadn't—she had seen Sam Tyler's dead body in her world, yet Gene had never laid eyes on the corpse of DI Tyler. She remained silent for a moment, weighing up her options of what to say while quietly gauging her DCI's expression and was unable to see anything in the fierce poker face of Gene Hunt.
"We're goin' to visit this officer," Gene stated after the silence had become unbearable and uncomfortable for both of them, though she was only guessing at the latter, "Goin' to give 'im a good grillin'." He set his glass down with newfound resolve, sniffed and then stood up, grabbing his coat at the same time in one smooth motion.
She stood as he did, following him out of the office where Chris hovered like a Border Collie, papers in-hand and an eager expression on his face. "Ma'am," he called, and she halted, observing Gene stop dead in his tracks and turn to watch the procession with a look of thinly-veiled impatience.
"Yes?" she answered, stepping closer to him as he pointed at the papers. "What have you found, Chris?"
He grinned. "This bloke, right, ma'am, no one's heard of him before today—I mean, no one in London, that is. He's got no relatives, no family that they can trace—it's like he's all alone in the world or somethin', ma'am. Shaz and Ray are checkin' the Missing Person reports to see if anything's come up. . ." Chris paused, frowning slightly. "He must be feelin' really lonely."
From behind him, Ray snorted and threw a folder down, scowling. "I've just gone through the last six months, there's nothin' here—"
"—well, Raymondo, if the bastard's been in a coma for three years, there wouldn't be anythin' from six months ago, would there?" Gene barked, and Ray's face became sulky. He pushed the pile of reports away and reached for yet another pile under the Manc Lion's watchful eye, rooting through them with what seemed to be deliberate slowness.
She smiled to herself and turned back to Chris. "Has anything. . . significant come up?"
"What do you mean, ma'am?"
"Things that don't make sense – in his statement, for instance. . . are there things that seem odd to you?"
Chris was quiet for a few moments. Gene sighed and made a noise in the back of his throat, but Alex had learnt to dismiss such things. She studied Chris's face and watched as something dawned in his eyes, like the first rays of realisation. "Actually, ma'am, he kept talking about. . ." he rustled through the papers, scanning a page briefly before looking back to his superior officer, ". . . two women. One called Annie and one called Maya—kept sayin' he'd let both of 'em down. That seemed a little bit odd to me."
"Sounds to me like the sod had two birds on the go, Christopher. Nothin' odd about that—DI Drake meant—" Gene started, turning to fix Chris with his impenetrable glare before he was cut off by Alex.
"—no, no, what you found was perfect, Chris. Well done." She beamed at him, reassuring him that his line of inquiry was exactly what he was looking for, and told others to look for things along the same line of oddness. Turning back to Hunt, she beamed at him, getting no reaction aside from a look of deep irritation.
"Shall we?"
He said nothing, storming away from her and pushing the doors to CID open with so much force that she almost thought they'd swing off their hinges.
Hands are pulling him free of the water, voices all around him—shouting, screaming voices—but he can't make out any faces. He looks for Gene, looks for Annie, looks for Chris and Ray in the madness with water-filled eyes and a head full of confusion but everything is blurred.
He's out of place, out of time; he's a walking, talking anachronism.
There are lights now, and they engulf him. Faces swim around him as he moves in and out of consciousness, aware and yet completely unaware of the chaos that divides and splits around him. There is pressure on his chest, murmuring in his ear, people telling him to keep on fighting.
He wakes up and he's alone. A nurse is standing in the doorway, clipboard pressed to her chest, with sadness in her eyes. He opens his mouth, wants to say something to her—
"Annie. . . help—"
Darkness comes again.
It had been a while since Alex had been forced to pay a visit to their local hospital, but not much had changed. Nurses were still orderly and polite – even the layout remained the same – and yet there was a feeling of deep foreboding that pulled at her consciousness and begged her to listen. She glanced at Gene as they stepped through the doors and into the main hall of the hospital, his face as stoic and incomprehensible as ever, and wondered what he could possibly be feeling.
Far too sensible to ask, she headed over to the receptionist's desk and quietly caught the girl's attention. "Excuse me, could you tell us where the patient suffering from amnesia is?"
The girl looked at them both, and then back down at her work. "Are you friends or next of kin?"
Opening her mouth to reply, Alex was cut off by Gene's instant response of, "Police."
"Yes," she echoed, offering the receptionist a soft smile that she hoped would ease the blow of Gene's abrupt remark and hostile features, "We're police from Fenchurch East. I'm DI Alex Drake and this is DCI Gene Hunt – we're investigating the patient with amnesia."
"Oh!" There was a pause as papers were shuffled and consulted. "Yes – he should be out of intensive care by now. Try the David Ferrier Ward."
"Thank you." Turning to Gene, Alex smiled at him, the gesture remaining unreturned, and they strode away from the desk and towards the aforementioned ward, using signs to guide them.
In the minutes that passed as they headed towards the appropriate ward, Gene was silent.
Alex glanced at him, noting the complete lack of emotion and clenched jaw, and could think of nothing to say. Eventually, he shot her an irritated look and she sighed and stopped walking, causing him to also stop and glare at her as she leant against the wall and exhaled heavily.
"Gone lame, Bollyknickers? We have somewhere to be, and I'd like to get there within the next century if that's alright with you."
She chose to ignore his sarcasm. "Guv, are you sure—?"
"Whatever it is you're going to say, yes. I'm sure. I'm so sure, I'm not even going to wait for the psycho shite to come out of your mouth." He turned away from her, glancing up the corridor to the sign that read 'David Ferrier Ward.'
There was a heavy pause. "I'm concerned that this might have detrimental effects on you, if. . ." How was she meant to say it?
"If what?" Gene barked, surveying her in a predatory manner. "Spit it out!"
"If. . . ." Alex glanced at the ward up ahead, and then back to her DCI. "If – if it does turn out to be Sam Tyler. There's always that possibility."
"Sam Tyler is dead," Gene rounded angrily, face a picture of pent-up rage. "The man in there, whoever he is, cannot be Sam Tyler." He gestured in the vague direction of the ward, and then turned away furiously.
In response, Alex said nothing, choosing to follow him into the ward. They stood side-by-side for a second, scanning the patients before a nurse came over and quietly informed them that the amnesiac had his own room to the far side of the ward, pointing it out to them in the process. Alex thanked her and followed Gene again, remaining slightly behind him as he peered in through the glass, jaw set, and then opened the door.
"Be careful, guv," she murmured, following him inside and closing the door, "He's just woken up from a coma."
The room was well-lit, all sorts of hospital equipment surrounding the bed, and a window overlooked a small area of London. It was quiet – the man in the bed was sleeping with the covers pulled over his face – and Alex felt a distinct sense of peace radiate from the confines of the room until Gene dragged his chair across the floor, scraping the legs so that a loud noise followed every movement, and then set the chair next to the bed with a loud clatter.
"Gene," she hissed, glaring at him. "What did I say about him just waking up from a coma?"
A snort was received in reply. "Come on, you bastard," the DCI growled, shaking the frame of the bed. "Stop playin' hospitals and tell us why you're pretendin' to be someone you're not."
The patient beneath the covers stirred slightly, and Alex moved forward, grabbing Gene's hand to stop him from shaking the bed again. "Forgive my colleague," she stated, shooting him an icy look. "He still hasn't perfected bedside mannerisms."
She received her own icy look in response to that comment.
"You'd better come out from under those covers, or I'm goin' to pull the bloody things off and not be held responsible if I happen to pull yer head off in the process!" Gene spat, clearly annoyed at the lack of progress that was being made. Alex sighed and released his hand, stepping away to survey the scene. A few more moments passed and the patient stirred again, causing her to step towards the bed.
"What are you doin', Drake?"
"Maybe he can't get the covers off himself and needs some help, Hunt."
"What are you, his mother? Of course he can."
Hesitantly, carefully, Alex moved over towards the other side of the bed, standing opposite Gene. She pulled the blanket back slowly, hands trembling despite telling herself to remain calm, and inhaled slightly once the blanket was far enough to see light brown hair. There was a pause as she glanced back at Gene, whose face was concrete and stony, and took the lack of emotion as a sign to continue.
Pulling the blanket down further to expose a pale, smooth forehead and eyebrows, Alex swallowed, lowering it further. Eyes that were wide open and dark brown in colour stared up at her, and with a mixture of trepidation and anticipation, she pulled the rest of the blanket down to the patient's torso and let it drop.
Tension flooded the room and Alex felt as if all the air had been sucked out. She bit her lip and glanced at the floor as she heard Gene move and then the door open and slam shut a few seconds later, signalling that he had left the room, and then looked back at the man in the bed and took his hand between her own, marvelling at how warm and soft it was.
"Hello there, Sam. I'm DI Alex Drake."
notes: again, so sorry for the wait! i've had modules and exams to do, but the first chapter of twilight zone is now up, and i do hope you enjoy it! whilst it's au, it's sort of going to incorporate some of series 3 with it, but not necessarily all of series 3, and not necessarily what actually happens in series 3, so this is just (another) warning. thanks for all your reviews; the next chapter should be along shortly, but i do have more exams to revise for and complete during may - july, so i can't promise anything regular for now! thanks so much for reading and reviewing. x