The silence of the dark room was beginning to deafen Sam; the darkness consuming all logic and foresight. Moments before, Gene Hunt had demanded an answer ro one of the questions that piqued Tyler: where in the heck had the last name William's come from?
The prospect of answering that question terrified him; he had no idea how he could explain it in his own head, let alone anyone else's. Especially not to someone like the overly pig headed and even obnoxious Gene.
He felt the Gov's eyes burn a hole in him; the stub of a cigarette against naked flesh. A sea of smoke came his way, clinging to the air; a blanket of curiosity and insecurity. Although neither man could see the other clearly, they knew each other well enough to guess exactly how the other looked at such a time.
Sam was still slumped hopelessly against the wall, his face nearly hitting the floor solemnly; he just couldn't find a way out of this situation. There just didn't seem to be that light at the end of the meandering tunnel anymore. And, although he'd never describe himself as an eternal optimist, he always felt that he could fight, even struggle his way through life to get what he wanted, all in the name of perseverance.
Now, he was beginning to completely regret his life in 1973; why the hell had he ever agreed to come back?
Gene, still opposite his DI, puffed ceaselessly on the same cigarette; his only comfort in such a forlorn moment of time. And his packet was nearly empty! His head titled back, his cold vision searching for any methods of escape. Even though he'd been through plan after plan over the past few days, he was still convinced that his gut instinct would kick in at any time, freeing him and his now trapped DI from this bizarre jail.
But, for now, he was sombre, his invisible pout speaking for it's self.
Shuffling, to make himself as comfortable as you could on a rock hard, stone cold floor, Sam exhaled bleakly. "How long have we been in here?"
Gene examined that question carefully, delaying his reaction. "You rolled in 'ere about three hours ago, I expect. Me...well, you know."
Sam groaned, feeling ubberly uncomfortable; the humid atmosphere juxtaposed it's self with the Gov's ice cold speech; he could just sense what he was about to say next.
"Why did Morgan call you Mr. Williams?"
The tone Gene adapted perplexed Sam to a great degree. He didn't sound mad or exasperated; just curious. He had to admit to himself that, if he'd been in that same situation, he would expect a pretty sharp answer from his Detective Inspector upon his demand.
However, this wasn't just any old situation; he was about to bare his heart and soul to Gene Hunt, a man although fiercely loyal was notorious for not believing any old mumbo jumbo (which Tyler was convinced he'd call this) and for being very picky when was deciding who to believe in any situation.
Having said that, Gene had always been very trusting of Sam; he valued his opinion more than anyone else's in CID because he knew could rely on him (most of the time) and he had unprecedented faith in his abilities both as a copper and as a person.
Yet this question was the question of all questions for DI Tyler.
Gene recognised his DI's nerved state; starved of inspiration and faith. "Sam - please? I'll try not to get mad. I just want to know what the bloody 'ell is goin' on."
The sincerity of the Gov'ners voice made Sam jerk out of his subconscious jittery state. He felt that he could handle the whole situation a little better if Gene was more docile, willing to listen to his every word.
Now seemed like a good time to start talking.
"Gene." he paused, sighing heavily, his palm stuck to his creased forehead. "I don't know where the bloody hell to start."
"At the beginning?" he quipped rather thoughtlessly; perhaps that wasn't the right thing to say. "Sorry."
Tears pricked the young Tyler's eyes; this really was emotional overload for him. After everything that him and his Gov had been through together, he just could not take the idea of betraying him. Force feeding him a bunch of lies made him feel sick to his stomach. Yet, he didn't have the strength to tell him the truth, whatever that might be.
But he had to for his own piece of mind.
He took in a deep breath, pacing himself wisely. "It all started wh-"
The metal locked clucked open gradually. The tall, intimidating figure of a man stood in the way of the distractingly bright light, shielding both men to some degree. His arrogant chuckles collided with the quiet yet edgy atmosphere of the room. The two coppers turned to gaze at him, their looks almost completely blank.
"So, Mr. Williams. Have you told Gene here all about your...past?"
Sam peered away; this was just another one of those nightmares. He'd wake up any second now. None of this was real. It was just a bad dream.
"Oh Sam, don't tell me that you don't have the, uh, balls to talk anymore?"
He laughed, pretentiously, the only one to find this situation even slightly amusing. Sam began to think this was Hyde's version of torture; when Morgan had finished destroying every ounce of trust built up between himself and the Gov, every bit of honesty they'd mustered from each other, he'd leave the boss so angry, so pissed off, that he'd beat seven types of shit out of him.
He anticipated more than just broken ribs by the end of this.
"Would it be easier if I told Gene what I'm talking about?"
"It's DCI Hunt to you."
The Gov's gruff tone did nothing to distract Morgan; he was deaf to everyone except for himself; how he loved the sound of his own well spoken voice.
He ignored Gene, carrying on regardless of Tyler's cowering expression. "Oh, come on Sammy, the truth always comes out...eventually."
His fingers pinched Sam's soft skin harshly, the DI turning away briskly; he could just make out Morgan's overly smug face, his bending over like a mother patronising a young child. It made him feel sick to the stomach.
And he wasn't the only one to feel that way.
"Oi! Get your ruddy 'ands of me Inspector!" Hunt bellowed, anger welling up inside of his body; it was only him allowed to badger his officers!
The swift, nimble body glanced over his shoulder; he hated being spoken to in such a way. "What's the matter, Gene? You don't want to believe that this man is a lying coward?!"
Morgan flung his arms everywhere, gesticulating towards his former 'protégé' as he twisted his body right around, now staring DCI Hunt face to face.
Gene's eyes darted from Sam to Morgan, Sam to Morgan and then back again. He wanted answers, hell, he may need them at some point. He hadn't got a clue where all of this 'Mr. Williams' business had come from and, truth to be told, he probably didn't want to know.
Yet, he was too curious to leave it at that. "My DI may be a lot of things, Frank, but a lying coward he is not."
Gene's voice was crystal clear and confident; he really did have unmatched faith in the man opposite him, perhaps more than either of them knew. Until today.
"Oh, I have reason to believe otherwise." he cackled, now pacing the floor; his boots heavy, the thick rubber soles sticking to the cold concrete, his steps small but perfectly formed, angering Gene even more.
"You see, Ge-"
"DCI Hunt."
"Gene, Sam Tyler has probably forgot to mention his days before Manchester's A Division, to you."
"You could say that 'Hyde' was never one of our more popular topics of conversation."
Morgan spun back round; that comment, sounding like it should come from the lips of Hunt, hadn't passed his lips; the snide, uncharacteristic sneers spluttered from Sam's mouth, managed to make the situation a lot worse than it already was.
Morgan clenched his fists so tight, his short, cropped nails dug deep into his flesh, piercing the top layer completely. He tried to keep his cool, suave facade about him. He didn't like losing his temper, throwing his weight around, balling and shouting at every opportunity. Not like a certain Gene Hunt.
He snorted graciously, his head shaking between the two men. He couldn't lose his temper; he didn't want to sink to their levels. He couldn't show weakness by sinking to their levels.
He began to feel the blood trickle from his palms, heading towards his wrists. He sighed in annoyance. "You know." he began, peering at his hands. "It doesn't matter anyway - the rest of your team will be getting a rather nice surprise of their own, ever so soon."
He shrugged dramatically, striding over to the door, slamming it shut behind him. Gene and Sam didn't utter a word to each other; they simply tried to avoid any form of contact with the other.
However, Gene wanted answers and he wanted them there and then; the silence was bound to be short lived.
- - - - - - - - - -
DC Skelton was having a pretty eventful day thus far; he'd nearly been decked by his supposed superior officer, had a weird attack of brain power in the form of logic and was on his way to solving a case.
Yep, that's right; Chris - dopey, simple, thick Chris - was on his way to concluding a case that had baffled everyone in CID.
He bounded his way back into the office, bags of essential goodies in his hands; he and DC Cartwright alike already had a good idea as to who was responsible, at least for the kidnapping of Sam Tyler and even Gene Hunt. In fact, they were even sure that this latest development would lead them to something far bigger.
Peering down at the clear plastic below his fingers, he was the first one to enter the building, expecting it to be empty. He was too preoccupied with his findings to really be aware of too much more around him.
Suddenly, his body collided with another man's. He shrieked strikingly, dropping the bags onto the floor. In his current panic stricken state, his mouth gaping open, he didn't recognise the man opposite him so he continued to whimper, falling to the floor to collect his new found belongings.
The taller, strappingly thin man also dropped to his knees, bundling everything together concisely but precisely.
Chris plucked up enough courage to look the other man in the face, their blues eyes connecting.
The young Constable felt his hands shake, taking the parcels back from the other smartly clad gentleman; his slick, well ironed slate coloured suit making Skelton wonder who he was and - perhaps more importantly - just where he'd come from.
"Hi." the other man breathed, flashing his perfectly straight, Hollywood white teeth. "I'm DI Norton. Pleased to meet you."
Offering his hand, Chris' only response was to peer down in suspicion. After a few seconds of waiting, Norton dropped his hand, raising a well plucked, orderly dark brown eyebrow in quick succession.
Norton regain his posture, wiping any specks of dust; his suit was far too perfect for dust to ruin.
Chris, meanwhile, was still crouched on the floor, gazing blankly up at the Inspector. He didn't really know how to react to him; he was so...flawless. The way his eyes sparkled in the dim lights of CID to the way the wisps of blackish hair fell considerately over his forehead made Chris tingle; he was perfect.
Meanwhile, Ray and Annie returned to the office, both eyeing the other man up in confusion, Carling especially.
"Uh, who the bloody 'ell are you?"
"Hi - I'm DI Norton." he beamed, holding out his hand for Ray to avoid shaking. He repeated his actions as he had done with Chris seconds before, merely dropping his hand in premature defeat.
His twinkling, blue diamond eyes made contact with the young, pretty woman in his presence. He smiled broadly to her, watching her twitch a little. "Oh and who is this gorgeous little lady?" he took her reluctant hand in his, smooching the smooth, creamy soft skin in glee.
Annie pulled away fiercely quickly, a repulsed frown forming her lips; she already didn't like him and they'd only just been introduced!
Ray, his gum trudging from top to bottom set of teeth as if it was walking in quick sand, glared freely at this DI, a cigarette dangling between his lips; in his mind, he was a very good judge of character.
And things were certainly not looking good for Norton.
Ray pulled the fag away from his mouth, swirls of smoke exhaling with every deep breath he took. He eyed Norton up and down; 'Looks like a poof to me.' he concluded, not even giving him the benefit of the doubt.
"So, 'Norton', what the heck are you doin' in my office?" the Sergeant's pompous attitude surprise no one, least of all Norton; he'd dealt with these kind of people before.
"Well, Mr - sorry, didn't catch your name?"
"DS Carling."
"Sorry, DS Carling, I'm here to take over while your superior officers are absent. I hope you don't mind too much." Norton replied, almost cattily, flashing his papers to the other man.
Ray scowled, his eyes tapering so much he could barely see the egotistical smirk obscuring Norton's mouth. To an outsider, it may seem that Inspector Norton was simply the better mannered, higher authority version of DS Carling.
But, to Ray, it seemed liked the total opposite; Norton was a wanker.
"Looks like I don't 'ave a choice, do I?"
Norton chuckled, not really understanding the fine art of sarcasm. "Well, it's perhaps for the best. Tell me, where is you DCI's office?"
Chris, still idiotically staring at Norton, pointed heedlessly to the left, directing the new DI to Gene Hunt's office.
Ray gave Chris a disgusted and dejected look; what kind of stupid poof would do that, point somebody so undeserving to the Gene Genie's office? In fact, Carling refused to stand for it.
He scorned at Norton who took large, pride strides over to Hunt's office, smoothing out his shiny, navy blue tie as he pushed the door open, cringing at the creak and the scattered files and papers across the chipped desk..
Ray followed him, slinging his cigarette down to the ground in revolt, not even caring to check if it was stubbed out properly.
"Look 'ere. There's no one who knows this department, this city, better than me, other than the Gov. Unfortunately, 'e's not 'ere at the minute, neither is that nonce, Tyler. I just want to make things perfectly clear that while you're 'ere, I want sixty percent charge of the CID, got it?"
Norton, not use to being spoken to in such a firm, unfriendly manner (or having hurried hands flashing before his face) looked to the ground, rearranging his pencils and pens in a similar fashion to someone who Carling was definitely familiar with. The Inspector glanced up, the Sergeants harsh glare still affixed. "Alright, Carling, but I just want you to know that you are not exempt from any form of punishment. If it needs to be dished out, I'll be the one serving it - cold."
The DI's voice was as calmly forceful as possible yet with an undertone of bitchiness; he wasn't about balling and shouting to get his point across. He believed that being as diplomatic as possible was the key in solving any problem.
Ray, shaking his head in vile dismay, exited the room, making sure that the door slammed shut behind him. He wasn't about to stand for this kind of shit and - judging by the look on Cartwright's face - she wasn't about to either.
He plodded his way over to where Chris was sat, seemingly still in a state of utter memorisation. Annie, perched on the edge of the desk, seemed deflated, almost passionless; Norton had annoyed her in a very seedy, undercover way.
Carling took another cigarette from the packet offering one to the tranced Chris, who - unnaturally - declined. Annie, on the other hand, desperately grabbed on, snatching Ray's lighter from his top shirt pocket; that shocked him - a lot. He couldn't count the times where he'd offered the plonk a fag and she'd declined (well, other than Sam, that is).
Cartwright was even shocked at her actions; she couldn't remember how many times Sam had drilled it into her head about not smoking; all of the health and safety hazards it caused galore.
Yet, she needed something to ease her mind and calm her nerves; her main support system wasn't there when she felt she needed him most of all.
"We need to do somethin' about that bastard in the Gov's office." Carling announced, a fresh cloud of cigarette smoke obscuring the nearby area.
Annie nodded. "Yeah. I know he's 'ere to 'elp but, I dunno, there's somethin' not quite right with 'im."
Ray rolled his eyes over at a dazed Skelton. Clicking his fingers, Chris finally joined the world of Manchester's A Division. "Oh yeah, yeah, we need to do somethin' about 'im."
"But what?" Annie questioned, a hint of desperation present.
Chris, still looking blank and Annie as equally as clueless (well, perhaps not quite that clueless!) both stared at Ray, hoping that he may have a solution to their problems.
"'Ow about we go for a drink after work and think about it then."
Annie pulled a face. "Nah, he'll probably follow us and then what?"
Two out of the three considered their options; they couldn't discuss the plan too openly because the main objective was to still solve and conclude the murder cases as well as the mysterious disappearances of DI Tyler and DCI Hunt.
Then, Annie's face lit up a little. "I know; we go round to one of our 'ouses and discuss it there."
"Who's 'ouse is it gonna be?" Skelton quizzed shocked at the look he received from his mates. "Oh no! Why mine?"
"Coz my place is a tip." Ray declared, rather openly and abrupt.
"And if you both come round to my 'ouse, you'll probably spend most of the night searching for me knickers, knowing what you two perverts are like!"
Although Annie was joking now, would she be doing so for much longer?
To be continued...
Hiya! Thank you once again to JudasFm, Mindless Image, Iaveina and losttimelady who took the time to review chapter 13. I hope that everyone who reads this likes this chapter and would be kind enough to take the time to let me know what you think about it.