Author's Note: It's here! Finally! Something about this chapter just wasn't coming together and had to rewrite it several times. I think it's finally all right. And the next chapter is already on its way. Thanks to LadyGreyTea, Xiilnek, zipmfxritt, and DanaCartwright for your reviews! Dana, you get your wish!

Chapter 5: Ascending and Descending

Sam was relieved and disappointed as he looked out the passenger side window. Old cars looking new, old buildings looking… well, less old, bright bell-bottom pants, patterned shirts with wide collars, and ridiculous side burns were all incontrovertible proof of what Charles had told him the previous day.

"1973," he muttered with a frown. "Then why did they tell me 2006?"

The car came to a sudden stop as Charles Dominic attempted his frightening version of parking while watching his passenger.

"You say something?" Charles asked, unmindful of the trash bin they'd just knocked over.

Sam watched the bin roll unhappily away to bump into the brick building before them, ignoring the question and replying with one of his own. "Where are we? Your secret hideout?"

Charles leapt from the car with a laugh, the sarcasm going right over his head. "Well, I certainly hope it's secret. Can't have the police bargin' in unannounced now can we?"

"Just a reminder," Sam replied with much less enthusiasm than his companion. "I'm with the police."

Charles scratched at his beard. "Yeah. But you're also with me now, mate."

"I'm here for the answers you promised," Sam replied stepping around the car. Sam never thought that he'd see the day he would allow himself to become associated with criminals. Not that he planned on helping Charles with anything, but it was the principle of the thing.

Charles brought him out of his thoughts by slapping a friendly arm around his shoulders. "And you'll get your answers. I gave my word. And a gentleman always keeps his word."

Sam shrugged off the overly energetic madmen. "Ah, yes, I forgot. You're a gentleman," he replied, humoring him as much as he could. "So then you can tell me why you know-"

"I'm positive I could, Sammy-boy. But the walls have ears you see," Charles said as he spread his long fingers ominously to the surrounding buildings. "First we go inside and spare a moment to get cleaned up. I for one could use a proper shave."

Although he hated to waste any more time, the idea of cleaning up appealed to him. He nodded and allowed Charles to usher him inside without protest.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Gene entered without a word what was, on a normal day in the nuthouse, the common room. Today, however, was not a normal day. A lone table sat in the center of the room, the others shoved off to the sides in a disorderly fashion. It was at that center table where all the action was.

W.P.C Cartwright sat with her back to Gene speaking softly to a man across from her. At her left, a chubby officer Gene recognized as P.C. MacDonald stood watch. MacDonald noticed Gene and gave him a respectful nod as he approached, but remained silent.

"We never saw their faces," the man Cartwright was interrogating was saying. "They wore those black ski-mask things. Smart o' them if you ask me. We got cameras round this place. Definitely woulda got their faces if they hadn't worn 'em. And, you know, if someone hadn't pulled out the reserve power cables on the roof by the east wing."

"Reserve power? Why were you on the reserve?" Annie asked sternly.

"Dunno, sweetheart. My guess is they blew out the main power on the way in."

"And you were in the lobby when the intruders found you?" she asked. Gene assumed he nodded. "Why?"

Gene came to a stop behind Annie and was noticed by the 'interrogated' for the first time. He wasn't a patient as Gene had assumed. His attire gave him away as an orderly. Upon seeing Gene, his before relaxed and friendly manner came a little more nervous.

"Well, when I heard the explosion from the west wing I, uh, I knew somethin' weird was goin' on. I figured… that there was a good chance the checkpoint wasn't secure, so I got everybody to the lobby where we could call for help." The man's eyes shifted about the common room as he explained.

"Everyone but Sam Tyler," Annie corrected.

"I don't know how he coulda got out!" the orderly exclaimed defensively. "The checkpoint door was locked an' none of us was missin' a key!"

Not the type to let others do the questioning when he was present, Gene stepped forward and leaned on the table. Annie was startled at his appearance, but greeted him with a quick 'Guv'. He nodded and looked back to the man.

"Seems like you did a lotta plannin' ahead, Mr…?"

"Reckson. Frank Reckson, sir," the orderly filled in nervously.

"All right, Frank," Gene repeated. "You thought to get everyone into the safety of the lobby. So apparently yer a smart guy, yeah?"

Frank looked away with what Gene thought was a dubious expression. "Yeah, apparently," he echoed.

"Except for lettin' Sam Tyler go."

Frank nodded uncomfortably.

"What about Charles Dominic?" Gene asked.

At his side, Annie looked at her superior officer questioningly. She felt a little put out at his appearance. When the DCI had asked her to interrogate the witnesses, she knew it was because he thought they'd talk to a woman more than they'd talk to a man. She'd chosen not to feel insulted –it was too easy to feel insulted as a female police officer- and instead chose to take it as an opportunity to prove herself a useful asset.

That and she had hoped to find out more about Sam's case. All she knew was that Sam had had some kind of mental break and admitted to killing three police officers. She had to admit that Sam having a break down did not seem overly far-fetched. From day one Sam had seemed stressed and a little crazy, but she thought he'd been getting better and had hoped that maybe they could move on from the aftereffects of Sam's accident. But something had made Sam crack.

Cracked or no, however, Annie didn't believe Sam was capable of murdering those men. He just didn't have it in him.

But that wasn't the purpose of the interrogations. She looked up at Gene looming over the table. She'd been doing just fine by herself, but now that he had shown up, she knew she would not be getting in much more questioning herself. Her gentle brows creasing in a frown that was both curious and annoyed, she looked to Frank, waiting to see where Gene was going with the introduction of this new name.

"Charles? What about him? He wasn't in the common room when this all happened," Frank replied in confusion.

"You're sure?' Gene questioned.

"Yeah. He had a session with his doctor about that time. And that's what I told the intruders," Frank answered.

"They asked about Charles Dominic?" Gene asked.

"Yeah. They were adamant. And- and I didn't wanna tell 'em, but they had guns and I had to think of the patients-"

"And your own ass," Gene growled. "What else did they say?"

"Nothin'! That's it. They just wanted to know where Charles was."

"Hmph," was Gene's reply as his eyes searched the bemused orderly. "Was Sam ever seen talkin' with Charles?"

The orderly chuckled. "More like the other way around. Before Tyler came in Charles was the kind who sat by himself, one o' those quiet types that you wonder about. For some reason Charles took a liking to Tyler. He was always chattin' his ear off. We all thought it was probably good for him. Charles had an outlet and Tyler got his punishment for killin' police officers, heh."

Gene stared at Frank intently through the explanation, then straightened and crossed his arms. "How well did you know Sam Tyler?"

Again the orderly looked surprised. "Didn't know 'im at all, did I? Was just assigned to him sometimes. Brought him to the common room a few times, to the cafeteria, to his therapy sessions. It's funny. Some patients calm down after the sessions, but not Sam Tyler. He tended to come out in either a daze or a rage. Major anger issues that one."

Annie looked away. That didn't sound like the Sam she knew. It was just wrong…

"Took him to see his visitor too. Not a good idea," Frank continued. "The lunatic nearly lost it on the poor old guy."

Annie looked back to Frank questioningly. "He had a visitor?"

She'd been the one to make calls to the institution and found out that DCI Litton had never made it in to see Sam. They hadn't mentioned any other visitors, but then again, she'd only asked if any officers had been in to see him.

"Oh yeah," Frank answered. "The man said he was an acquaintance or somethin', but Tyler didn't even recognize him."

"Who was he? What did they talk about," Annie questioned, her bright eyes shining intently. Gene just watched them, strangely silent.

"Dunno. Didn't say an' I didn't much care. The man gave him a letter, nearly got himself beat up by Tyler, an' left. An' afore you ask: no, I didn't see what it said," the orderly replied.

Annie was a little disappointed, but then again, she wasn't really sure what she'd expected would come out of a nameless visitor and a letter. The orderly watched her, a little disappointed himself it seemed. Then his eyes brightened.

"Tyler did mention a name right after he read it," Frank put in. "It was uh.. Conan. Or Calloway? Somethin' like that. Oh, wait! Callahan!" he exclaimed, snapping his fingers victoriously.

Annie tipped her head curiously and reached for her pen. She paused a moment however when she noticed that Gene had gone quite still and in his eyes she was sure she saw recognition. When Gene didn't speak though, Annie shook her head, thinking she must have misinterpreted the expression. Instead she looked over to the tape recorder which still whirred along happily then back to the notepad she'd been keeping.

"You're sure, Mr. Reckson?"

"Very," Frank replied with confidence. "I remember 'cause it was the name of a character on tele I like."

"Anythin' else relevant you wanna add?" Gene questioned sharply.

Frank's brows creased in thought. "That's really it. There's only four things I know about Sam Tyler: he's violent, smart, has at least one person that'd visit him in the crazy house, and thinks he's a ruddy time traveler!"

Annie's eyes went wide. Sam told someone else about his time traveler delusions? He really hadn't gotten any better at all since his arrival in Manchester.

"How do you mean?" That was Gene and the intensity in his voice surprised her. She'd expected the DCI to laugh or make some boorish comment on how ridiculous that was, not inquire further into the matter.

Frank scowled at the question, as if he hadn't meant to say what he had. "The time travel thing? It's nothin'. Honestly."

"You didn't say it fer no reason, Frank," Gene growled, speaking the name like a threat.

"No, it's just somethin' I saw, ok? I was deliverin' Dr. Loytta's notes to his office an' I just sorta skimmed through. Mentioned somethin' about Tyler thinking he's from 2006 or some nonsense. So one time Tyler asked me the year and I told him 2006! It was pretty funny," the orderly said timidly as he tried to gauge whether or not the police officers were as amused as he obviously felt. "You shoulda seen his face-"

Gene wasn't laughing and his stony aura had Frank trailing off. At the DCI's side, Annie was a little shocked.

"Did he," she started hesitantly. "Did he tell you about 2006?"

"No. That's it. That's all. Really!"

"You're sure this time?" Gene questioned.

"Yeah. Cross my 'eart!"

Gene glowered. "You'd better hope I don't find out you're withholding anything else," he said, his voice low and threatening. And with that he turned towards the door. "We're done here. MacDonald, report back to Sergeant Carling. Cartwright, you can head back to the station an' start typin' up your report."

And with that Gene stormed towards the checkpoint. Annie watched him a moment in bewilderment, then snatched up her notepad and tape recorder and hurried after him.

"Guv… Shouldn't we be trying to find out more about this Callahan DI Tyler mentioned?" she asked. "And we should try and find the letter. It seems suspicious that he receives this letter so soon before the break in. I could do some digging once I get back to the station-"

"You'll do no such thing," Gene snapped vehemently.

Annie was stunned into silence, falling a few paces behind Gene. They entered the checkpoint and were waved through by a security officer on duty. They stepped through into the long hallway. About 15 meters down a light shown through the person sized hole in the wall.

"Guv," Annie dared after a moment of building up her nerve. "Can I ask why not? It might help us find Sam and the other inmates. And if it turns out they're connected, we might be able to figure out who tried to kidnap a man out a mental hospital-"

Gene heaved a long loud sigh and turned a stern eye on his WPC.

"Oh, they're connected all right," Gene replied, surprising Annie. He led her into an empty office, closed the door, and took a long moment to size her up. "Yer not gonna leave this alone, are ya'…"

Annie didn't know how to respond. Any response might be construed as back talk and talking back to your superior officer was not looked upon lightly, especially by Gene Hunt. But she didn't have much time to think anyway because Gene was continuing.

"You're resourceful, Cartwright. A looker with a brain -a dangerous combination between you and me."

Annie watched her DCI quietly, not sure whether to be more surprised at the compliment or at what Gene might know about the two cases.

"It's 'cause of that that I'm gonna let you in. 'Cause I know if I don't tell ya', you're liable to go lookin' around anyway and that's far too dangerous fer you and fer everything," Gene continued.

Annie just nodded, mostly because she felt that anything she might say could cause Gene to change his mind.

"You will not repeat this to anyone, else this is the end of the line for you, got it?" Gene snapped. Annie nodded again, unsure if it was in fact an order or a threat. When Gene seemed finally appeased, he pursed his lips and moved to the door to pull down the shade over the window. "I'm gonna tell ya' the truth behind Sam Tyler and this thing with 2006."

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Sam smiled, pleased with the results of the shave and shower. The man who smiled back seemed much more civilized than the dirty bedraggled wildman who'd stared back at him 20 minutes earlier. He still felt that inexplicable anger itching in the back of his mind, but for now it was under control.

He exited the bathroom and stepped into an elaborate guest bedroom. Queen sized bed, large oak dressers, and an ornate full length mirror were just the first things that had caught Sam's attention when he'd first entered. Now as he exited the bathroom and reached for his borrowed belt, the huge painting above the bed caught his eye. The complex and confusing overlapping yellow brick staircases reminded Sam of that never-ending staircase by Escher. Sam frowned, wondering not for the first time how a madman could afford all this.

"Intriguing, isn't it? It's hard to tell where one staircase ends and the other begins."

Sam whirled around at the sound of the voice and it took him several moments to recognize the man who stood there. Charles too had cleaned up. His shave had done away with the full scruffy beard, leaving behind only a set of long but well trimmed sideburns. His before stringy, greasy hair had been washed and slicked back. He was dressed in black slacks, a pressed white shirt, and a black waist coat. His new look gave him an air of prestige and sanity that he had certainly lacked in the asylum. For the first time since meeting him, Sam felt Charles could be a threat if he chose to be.

"It started about two months ago," Charles began suddenly.

"The painting?" Sam asked, not following.

"This story," Charles answered sternly. Then he paused and gazed thoughtfully towards the ceiling. "This part of the story anyway. There are so many 'stories' in a single story of life."

Apparently the suit and the shave hadn't completely cured Charles of his little eccentricities, Sam thought irately. Seeing the angry glint in Sam's eyes, Charles cleared his throat and motioned for Sam to follow as he headed back out the door. Sam stood still for a moment debating whether to follow and give Charles a chance to explain himself…

Or follow and force Charles to explain himself.

Finally deciding on the more humane choice, Sam grabbed up the blood red shirt that had been left out for him and hurried after Charles. When Sam had caught up and had fallen in step with the other man, Charles continued.

"Your story is a jumbled one, Sam. Most people live their lives quite chronologically," Charles said. "You though, heheh, you woke up one day and realized you had started your life completely over again."

Sam lifted an eyebrow. "Yeah, well. I don't know about starting it completely over," Sam replied, thinking back to when he'd woken up in that vacant lot to find his jeep replaced with some old timer's car, his clothes replaced by something his father would wear, and his office belonging to somebody else. "I'm still the same age. Still have the same job. More or less."

"I'd say less," Charles replied with a small chuckle. "Especially now that you're a convicted lunatic."

Sam frowned. "Are we talking about the same thing?"

"I'm talking about your little bout of memory loss since waking up in the psych ward," Charles replied. "What are you talking about?"

'I'm talking about waking up in 1973,' Sam thought, but he replied, "Yeah… Me too."

Charles pursed his lips skeptically and led him down a short flight of stairs and into what looked like a main hall. There, Sam saw two of the gunman from earlier pacing about looking bored. Their guns weren't hidden, but placed in shoulder holsters for all to see. They must not be worried about being seen by any authority figures, Sam thought with a curious interest.

"Well, anyway," Charles continued. "Although being an anachronistic person could be very interesting if you like puzzles, I'm not exactly the puzzle piecing type."

"Could've fooled me," Sam muttered.

"And so I'm goin' ta' tell you the important story in this story of stories from the beginning," Charles finished as he unbuttoned his sleeves and began rolling them up. Eager for Charles to continue, Sam followed on his heels. They went down another flight of stairs, this one cement, thin, and claustrophobic. Sam tugged at his collar uncomfortably. The deeper into this building they went, the more Sam wondered why he hadn't just taken Charles aside earlier and forced him to speak then.

"Why exactly do we have to go down to the basement?" Sam questioned irritably. He wasn't sure how much more of this he was going to be able to take. It was getting hard to breath and his brain felt like it was on fire.

Charles ignored him and continued down the stairs. "This story starts a longer time ago than I'd like to admit, with a kid who made more money on the streets in a couple months than he would with a degree in a year. So this kid, he quits university and eh-"

"And he becomes a criminal. This kid doesn't happen to be an 'idea man' now, does he?" Sam filled in, pausing on the stairs to press a hand against the wall and then briefly his forehead. The cool cement felt like heaven.

Charles's blue eyes looked up brightly at him, childlike. "Yeah. How'd ya' guess?"

"Heard this story before from the criminal class. Always the same. Always about the money," he growled under his breath. Something was wrong. The fire in his head was dying down only to be replaced by an itch, an itch inside the skull that no amount of scalp scratching would reach.

Somewhere very far away he heard the faint sound of an EKG machine beeping fast and the sound of a woman's voice. "There's a change. Doctor, come quick!"

If Charles noticed his distress, he didn't show much concern beyond urging him to follow with a wave. "I guess that's what drives the majority of the world, yeah? Money. Power. People like to be in control."

Sam rubbed his pounding temples and staggered down the last few steps after Charles.

"Dammit, Charles, I don't care about yer… yer unhappy childhood or yer descent into the criminal underworld of Manchester," Sam shouted. He had reached the breaking point. He followed the man into the room at the base of the stairs, grabbed Charles roughly by the collar and forced him against the wall. "You promised me answers. Now be a 'gentleman' and tell me: Who killed those police officers? Why was I framed for it? An' what the hell do you have to do with any of this?"

Sam suddenly tensed as he identified the sound of the hammer being drawn back on a revolver. With a furious curl of his lip he glanced over his shoulder to see the scrawny young man, Arthur, with the loaded pistol not half a meter away.

"I told you this was a bad idea, Dom" Arthur said, addressing Charles.

Sam did not loosen his grip on the young man's boss. "Stay out of this, kid," the DI hissed. "Or-"

Before Sam could follow through with a rather malevolent threat, he sensed movement out of the corner of his eye. He spun back to Charles in time to see the man's fist go for his face. In a flash, Sam let go of Charles's collar and got a hand up to block, but didn't see the knee until it was too late. With a vulgar curse that he couldn't really remember himself saying any time previously, Sam doubled over, leaving his back wide open for another strike from Charles. The man was surprisingly strong and the hit sent him to the floor with a moan.

"I'll spare you the pleasant, backstory monologue then, DI Tyler," Charles replied.

The light, cheerful tone that Sam had thought went hand in hand with Charles Dominic was gone now and Sam looked up at his attacker, surprised to see Charles serious, calm and collected. The man was rolling back up his sleeve which had come undone in the brief struggle. Arthur had come out of the shadows to stand protectively by his boss and intelligently out of reach of Sam. The DI was furious. He managed to get himself up to his knees, but Charles's black shoe came streaking in, impacting with his side and toppling Sam back to the cement floor.

Charles stared down at Sam calmly. "I've got a problem. It's like I said: people like to be in control. Especially of their own."

Sam chuckled callously from his curled up place on the ground. "Having domestic disputes, Mr. Charles?"

"Of a kind," Charles admitted matter-of-factly. "And to deal with them, I'm gonna need a cop."

Sam frowned, not comprehending. "What, those three officers weren't good enough for you? Was it you that had 'em killed? You that framed me?"

Charles motioned to Arthur and the young man circled around behind Sam.

"They didn't agree to help you and neither will I, you bastard," Sam continued with a sneer. The pain that had been coursing through his tired body now channeled into a new overwhelming wish for brutality and he gave a long, mad laugh. "Maybe I didn't kill those officers, but I am damn well goin' to kill you."

A mask of anger past over Charles's face and Sam found himself taking pleasure in the fact that he'd broken the new sane and calm air of Mr. Charles. Even if it was only briefly. Sam's opponent leaned in, his calm façade already restored and he spoke with a deadly seriousness. "You will help me. Already you're becoming something you thought you could never be, Sam Tyler. Let's just see what we can do about that."

Charles motioned to Arthur and before Sam could react, Arthur brought down the butt of his gun across the back of Sam's head, knocking him out cold.

-.-.-.-.-.-

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

To Be Continued: All will finally be revealed.

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A/N: Let me know what you think!