Hi! Thank you for coming to check out the next chapter of 'Keeping it in the Family?'. I'd just like to say a quick thanks to talkingtothesky, Iaveina, losttimelady and cid girl for reviewing my last chapter! I hope everyone enjoys this offering! Any questions or suggestions you may have, please contact me and I'll see what I can do!

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Sam sat in whimsically silent horror. His face was level, too shocked to show any scrap of emotion. "She's your daughter?" He finally asked, his voice a barely audible whisper.

Gene glanced up to him, his eyes still mentally transfixed to the empty glass of Scotch that was nursed in his hands. "Yes."

Never before had Sam been dealt with such an impossibly straight sentence from his Gov. No ounce of sarcasm was detected, no hidden meanings or jokes. Nothing. And, truthfully, he would have never expected that of Gene. He'd always secretly liked the snappy remarks and wit he'd delivered quicker than a right hand. Even if sometimes they were a little unprofessional.

Most men would be delighted at the news of their first born (if that was indeed what the young girl was to Gene). Most would be ecstatic at the thought of carrying on their bloodline, of raising the next generation of youngsters into good, worldly citizens. Then Sam's memory jumped to 2006 - images of yobs, news of paternity battles and what not clouding his idealistic notions.

The two men sat in near silence for what seemed like hours; although this had paddled about through Gene's mind for some time, he - like his DI - were struggling against the rough seas, not able to swim back to the shore.

Sam swallowed, relishing the last droplet of the whisky. "Did you know?"

Gene's nod was only distant, his eyes focused solely on the tumbler that his finger tips clutched. "She told me...her mam as soon as she found out."

"How could she be certain it was yours?"

"She knew. She told me that she hadn't had a lot of sex in that month. She wanted to stay clear from us coppers for a while before her livelihood was taken away."

Gene griped at the idea of prostitution being a profession, compared to his, a man of authority. Someone who the public respected looked to for advice and protection. Or at least, that was what he hoped the general public did.

Sam was about to open his mouth and suggest a paternity test. Sometimes he even surprised himself with his futuristic ideas; he still wasn't entirely 1973 orientated.

"And you believe her?"

Sam's dry cynicism struck a chord with Gene; he looked to the younger man, seeing a near reflection of himself. That would have been the exact comment he would have slapped Tyler with, had he been in his situation.

"Sam, I hope it never happens to you but I want to tell you something," Gene started. "There is just an instinct that you have when you hear something like that. She's my daughter. I trust my gut."

"Have you ever met before today?" Sam asked, half coyly, half demanding an answer.

"No. I saw 'er when she was just born like. After that, being engaged and all, I kept me distance. I didn't want to get in any trouble with the Missus." he snorted, continuing with his forlorn memories. "She would send me pictures of 'er. Every six months, regular as clockwork. I'd always make sure I was at 'ome the night before so I could get the post before the wife saw it. The envelopes would always have a distinct smell to them. Cigarettes, 'er dodgy, cheap perfume and Vodka. Each time there would be a letter, just of random things. 'Ow she was gettin' on at school, that kind of rubbish."

Although Gene's turn of phrase was harsh, he himself could sense that he didn't mean it; it was his relentless facade that disguised his inner good guy. He wasn't really such an old git; He just acted like it sometimes.

"So, what did she want?" Sam quizzed, going for the direct approach rather than swinging around the subject.

"She wants me to give 'er a job."

"What?" Sam's voice became high. "Here?"

"No at the bloody knickers factory! Use your brain, Tyler!"

"So, are you going to oblige her by giving her a job here?"

Gene nodded, slowly, tipping the remainder of his whisky to the back of his neck. "And guess what?"

Sam looked up, an eyebrow arched at the more positive sounding DCI; his eyes had a strange sparkle to them. Not quite evil but hardly innocent. "What?"

"She's going to be trained by you!"

DI Tyler chortled, shaking his head as his tongue poking the side of his mouth. He laughed a little louder, finally recognising his Chief's serious expression. "You're not joking...are you?"

"Nope."

"Why me?"

Gene had expected the almost whiney inquiry from his Inspector. He thought that it would all be pretty much self explanatory; a bright lad like Sam Tyler hardly needed to be reminded of this, Gene thought. Unless he just wanted his ego plumping up.

"Well, Sammy-Boy, I thought you liked a challenge?"

"I do." he stated rather firmly but still quizzical. "But Gov, what experience does a sixteen year old girl have out on the streets?"

"None. That's why I'm gettin' you to do it."

Sam could barely believe what he was hearing. "But Gene, she's still a girl!" he cried, his face turning redder, "She's got no experience what-so-ever yet you expect her to ride around with me and learn the ropes?"

"Look," Gene demanded, his voice huskily sharp, already not wanting to hear the long list of excuses from his DI. "I don't have a choice, Tyler. Do you really think I want 'er around 'ere for any length of time? We 'ave more important things to do than training young upstarts!"

"But?" Tyler gasped in trivial vexation.

"But, I want her to get a good education. I want 'er to 'ave a better career than 'er Mam did. She's just dropped out of school..."

"Well, that's an excellent start!" Sam exclaimed dryly. "Why not just send her off to PC Plods Policing School as you so fondly call it?"

Gene rubbed a rough hand over his craggy chin. "She's my daughter. I owe her nothing. If she's going to be a pain in the arse I would sooner she did it in ear shot rather than gossiping to everyone about me."

It was obvious that Gene wasn't going to budge. It didn't mean that Sam felt happy about it. It was a lot for him to take in, Gene even having a daughter. Yet the idea of taking someone under his wing was a distant memory to him from a time when he himself was a DCI. Or from a time when he may have been a DCI.

"Ok, but why me?"

Gene sighed in annoyance; did he really have to answer that? "Because, Dorothy, I trust you. I know that you wouldn't try and take advantage of 'er. Ray would constantly take this piss about it. Chris would try and touch 'er up - Ray would do if 'e didn't know she was my kid. Annie is too inexperienced. She could 'elp you out keep 'er in order, 'elp 'er fit in but other than that I want you to do it."

Sam's face told the story of his emotions; he seriously doubted his Governors decision here. "Is this really the only way? What did her Mum say to all this?"

Gene sighed once again at his own confusion. This part was not going to be easy to explain. "'Er mam's disappeared into thin air. That's part of the problem. She wants to stay round mine but the missus would never 'ave it. She doesn't even know the brat exists let alone 'avin' 'er in our 'ouse!"

Sam cringed at the notion of her being a brat. From what he'd heard, she'd had a turbulent life to say the least. Surely she's just alone, scared, in need of someone?

"Is that why she ran out crying, like she did?"

Gene nodded. "Yeah. I told 'er that you'd pop round sometime to see 'er."

"What?!" Sam exclaimed in a very high pitch fashion; Gene's answer had been far swifter than he'd ever expected. "Are you expecting me to go round and meet a person I've only just heard about who you expect me to train to be a copper?"

"Oh stop moaning Gladys! I'll be comin' with ya. It's quite a messed up area that they live in so I want to come with you, ya know, to make sure nothing dodgy 'appens." he sniffed, grabbing the Cortina keys.

In all truthfulness, Gene was a little worried about Sam venturing to that part of the city alone. It was dangerous to say the least, full of muggers and criminals. It was his Inspectors first day back on the beat after a mentally, physically and emotionally draining case. It was important that he looked out for him. Although he would never admit it, of course.

Sam pulled his leather jacket from his desk; Chris was still sat stuffing his face. "Where you goin' boss?"

DI Tyler turned to his superior officer, seeing a faint flash of panic in his eyes. "Uh, well, we're just going to meet up with someone who knows something about a burglary."

Although Sam's lie was done very badly, it seemed to impress a rather naive DC Skelton quite a bit. "Do you need us to come with you?" he questioned, turning to look at Ray and Annie.

"No, we want you tarts to stay 'ere and guard the phones."

Ray approached the scene, his gum chewing suspiciously loud. "Do you think it's safe for you two to go out, you know, on your own like? We all know what 'appened last time, don't we?"

Sam knew that was a dig at both of them, not just himself (just for a change). DS Carling had somehow been offended when Sam and the Gov had been locked away for those couple of days. He seemed to feel left out, almost, as if he should have been the one with Gene.

"Piss off Carling and get back to filing yer nails!" Gene barked, snarling proudly at his response as they made their way to the copper coloured Cortina.

The wind bashed them towards the motor, so much so that Sam groaned; the day had started only too well. Where had it all gone wrong?

He watched Gene, trying to figure out exactly what he was thinking; he knew that if he was having trouble getting his head around all of this, it must be ten times harder for the man himself. Yet the Gov seemed to sail through his motions, relishing the fierce growl of the engine as the car bounded along the road, swerving just barely passed the older members of the city.

Behind that though, Sam could detect an ambience of concern in the Governors eyes; the blues and greens swirling in an uncertain pool of unspoken anxiety, heightened by his own concepts of Fatherhood. He could tell that the Gov had never - for one single second - ever imagined that he'd be forced to take responsibility for the girl. He didn't even say whether he helped pay for any financial needs of either Mother or Daughter.

"We aren't goin' round 'er 'ouse," Gene's voice crashed through the silence "We're goin' to a quiet cafe on the corner."

"Where abouts is it?"

"Barker Street."

Sam chuckled with a splutter. "Oh yeah, like anything there is quiet!"

Gene either couldn't be arsed to reply or ignored his Inspector; he knew himself that he was rather nervy about entering the territory of Barker Street. It was indeed the perfect place to be crawling with Prostitutes and Pimps. Hardly a place where a young girl of sixteen should be wondering about on her own either.

Pulling up on the opposite side of the road to the cafe in question, Sam and Gene peered at the place grimly; it was hardly the Ritz. The windows 'Cafe' paintwork now read 'af' as the window frames appeared bitten and stabbed at. Perhaps the tiny holes denoted where bullets were once sprayed like a hose pipe.

"So this is it?" DI Tyler gasped in mere worry. It was never right to judge a book by its cover. His Mum had taught him that when he was young. Yet, this was hardly the place where you'd expect a future copper to emerge from without a few battle scars.

"Yeah, classy joint, huh?" Gene chortled sarcastically, snorting at the shoddiness of the building.

But what will happen when Sam and Gene meet his DCI Hunt's long lost daughter?

To be continued...

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