Chapter 10: 1996

Simon's plan of drinking and singing the night away didn't exactly take his mind off of things the way he hoped it would. The drinking would have been all very well if a beer pump hadn't exploded and coated him with foamy liquid ten minutes after he arrived night, sending him home in a damp and cold strop. He found that Gene was already asleep, the one remaining slice of pizza and empty bottle of scotch explaining the situation a little more clearly.

But Gene had gone long before Simon woke up the following morning. After passing out from too much pizza and an abundance of scotch the night before he'd woken up earlier than usual and decided to invest in a Latte Land breakfast before work. By the time Simon awoke, still smelling slightly of beer from the pump explosion, he was alone in the flat. He was fairly relieved of that. It wasn't that Gene had outstayed his welcome but with everything that Simon had on his mind he really wished he could spend more time alone to work out what the strange files were really all about. He didn't want to go up to Gene one day and shout "You arrested my mother!" but he didn't know what else to do instead.

After drinking some strong coffee and skipping breakfast he set off for work, hoping that the day would be fairly quiet/. His head wasn't in a good place to deal with anything too complicated. He tried not to make eye contact with anyone. He didn't really want to be sociable. He just wanted to wallow in his own pity that day. Well, Gene had done that for months in a row – surely it was Simon's turn.

As soon as he arrived at his office door he knew that his quiet day had gone straight out of the window. The envelope on his desk was never going to contain anything good. He felt his blood boiling, stormed into the room and snatched it from the desk. His eyes flashed with fury. Who the hell was doing this? Without even stopping to open it or question its contents he marched angrily down to security and demanded,

"Someone's been sneaking around and leaving things in my office – how the hell are they getting past you?"

It took the security officers several minutes to calm him down and assure him that no one had come in who wasn't supposed to be and that they would be extra-vigilant, and soon Simon began to feel quite stupid. He knew he'd been lashing out at the wrong people but the sight of another envelope appearing had made his blood boil.

He found his legs taking him back to his office, his head in a spin. He realised that the envelope still sat in his hand, unopened. Whatever it held inside was never going to be pleasant, he knew that much, but it was time to stop putting it off. Slowly he opened the package and slipped from inside a number of photographs. Mug shots. Right on the top was his mother.

"What the fuck – bastards!" he threw the pictures to the desk and paced up and down, thrusting his fingers through his hair, grasping chunks of it as though to try to ground himself. His anger was rising. What was the point of this? Why would anyone go to these lengths? He shook his head furiously as he marched up and down, trying to cool his temper.

Finally he came to a half and stood beside the desk again. He picked up the photos and slipped them back in the envelope, opened the drawer of his desk, dropped them inside and slammed it. He even locked it – he rarely did so, but he didn't want those pictures lurking where anyone could find them. He felt himself shaking. He couldn't find a way to cool his anger.

Eventually his legs made the decision and started to pace, he wasn't even sure where he was going but he marched right out of his office and down the corridor. He found himself heading downstairs and finally left the building. He just couldn't be there any longer. He needed air. Or caffeine. Preferably both.

~xXx~

Eddie wasn't all that surprised to find the man in the long coat and the specs lurking around as he made his way to work. He bristled at the sight and started shaking his head before he even came close.

"That was the last favour I'm doing for you," he snapped crossly.

The man was unfazed.

"Got a little bonus for you," he smiled holding a small envelope in his direction hat Eddie correctly assumed contained money. Whatever was in it, it would do nothing to assuage his guilt. He knocked he envelope out of his hand and shook his head.

"I'm not interested," he spat, "you know what I want and it's what you promised me. A way home."

"All in good time."

"I don't have time!" cried Eddie.

Keats snickered as he glanced at his watch.

"No," he said, "you haven't. Still, never mind."

"I want to be out of his nightmare by Christmas," Eddie hissed.

"You never get anywhere in life by leaving a job half done."

"One package!" cried Eddie, "that's what you said. Then one package turned into two. If this case is so bloody important then go and put the packages on his desk yourself."

"Edward, I told you before…"

"Rival station, can't tell colleagues, blah blah, I get it," Eddie hissed, "Well that's it, it's over."

Keats opened his mouth to deliver another promise, or a threat, accompanied by a charming smile but footsteps were heading thunderously in their direction and they turned to see Simon flying down the street towards them.

"You leave him the fuck alone!"

Eddie had never heard Simon so angry.

"It's a public path, I can talk to who I want," Keats raised an eyebrow but the smug smile soon left his face as Simon's fist made hard contact with it. He hadn't been expecting such a violent reaction from him, not in the slightest, and had been in no position to protect himself or lessen the blow. He stumbled backwards, clinging to his jaw as Simon turned to Eddie and grabbed him by the shoulders.

"What are you talking to that grotbag for?" he demanded.

Eddie looked shaken.

"S-sir?"

"That's Jim Keats, for god's sake, you only talk to him if you want to spend eternity with your pants on fire!"

Eddie stumbled back out of Simon's slightly manic grasp and struggled to explain himself.

"He… he just asked –"

"That's the first clue," Simon hissed, "he asks you to do something, you know you're getting into something you need to avoid."

He glanced at Keats who had a small trail of blood trickling from the side of his mouth.

"Thanks for that, Simon," he spat, "it had been at least five months since anyone tried to break my jaw. I was starting to think no one cared."

"Piss off, Keats," Simon couldn't even be bothered with him. He turned back to Eddie and looked at him seriously. "I'll give you one piece of advice: if you see him, run."

Eddie stared at Simon. That's what his instincts had told him, but he'd ignored them for a good reason.

"The first time someone actually admits you're a long way from home, you don't run," he said bitterly, "you stand where you are and listen when they say they can help you get back."

"He can't help you get anywhere!" cried Simon, "he's a waffling windbag who had a grand selection of promises and none come to fruition. Today he'll offer you a ticket home, tomorrow it'll be come and work for me. Then it'll be promotion… maybe a department of your own… then lord high chief executioner or something. Whatever he offers you, believe me, you don't want it. It's not worth it."

"I just want to get out this bloody place!" cried Eddie.

"Well he's not going to get you home!"

"So you admit this isn't home?"

Simon froze. He panted a little as his anger began to cool and he realised the slip he'd made. Biting his lip, he looked at Eddie cautiously.

"Whatever he promises…"

"That's not answering my question."

Simon stared on. He knew he'd opened his big mouth too wide and let a hint of truth escape but it was too late to reel it in now. Besides, he was more concerned with Keats and whatever he'd been saying to Eddie.

"He told you to put those envelopes on my desk, didn't he?" he saw Eddie look down. "They're from him, aren't they?"

"He said it was a case –"

"Oh yeah," Simon laughed bitterly, "a case alright. A case referring to the arrest of –" he paused, "of a relative of mine. To wind me up. Turn the knife. Because that's the kind of bastard he is.

"He said –"

"He said? He said? What have I been telling you about the crap that comes out when he flaps his lips?"

Eddie closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He knew everything Simon was saying was true. He'd already thought it all himself. There was no excuse for what he'd done, except that he was a desperate man at the end of his tether.

"I'm lost, Sir," he said quietly, "and I need to find my way back before Christmas. If you know… if you know anything about me… that I don't belong here… how I can get back… please tell me."

Simon felt a terrible pang of guilt and sadness as he looked at Eddie. He couldn't do that. He looked down and took a step backwards.

"Eddie," he said quietly, "just… just trust your instincts about strange men in long coats. Avoid them at all costs."

He turned and began to walk away but Eddie broke into a trot and caught up with him quickly.

"Sir," he said insistently. Simon glanced at him. "Please? Can… can we talk?"

Simon knew it was a bad idea. He knew it went against the law of the land, but the look of desperation on Eddie's face made him relent. If he didn't the man might just go and give Keats a second chance. Finally Simon nodded.

"We'll get a coffee," he said quietly.

As they walked to Latte Land Simon already started to dread the conversation. He didn't know what the hell to say to Eddie. There was very little that he could say. This world was a hard place to live in - and even harder when other came to question it. He hoped his flapping lips wouldn't let him down this time.