Hi and welcome to the 15th chapter of 'Keeping it in the Family?'. Sorry that it's taken me so long to write an update but I've had lots of exams and coursework to do (unfortuantely!).
A massive thank you goes out to sparks733 for rating the last chapter. Please guys, whether you like this story or think that improvements need to be made, I'd really appreciate the reviews just so that I know that I'm going in the right direction or not.
Thank you for sticking with it and I hope you enjoy this update!
The stench of a burning sugar factory hit his nostrils without warning like an out of control, speeding motorcycle.
He opened his eyes but could see nothing. He blinked and blinked, hoping that his sight would magically return instantaneously But the darkness of the room absorbed his senses, making him paralysed; he dare not move for fear of what was there yet he had a pretty good idea as to who would be there, waiting to harass him any second.
Shutting his eyes, he urged himself to fall back to sleep, so that this cursing dream would be over sooner. The smell distracted him, made him cough as if his lungs were about to make an appearance.
Suddenly, a flash of bright, white light poured over him, forcing his eyes to open, to see the patronising witch before him. Her taunts began spewing from her poisonous mouth.
"Dear, dear, dear me Sammy, what are we going to do with you?"
His eyes were sore, the instant transition from dark to light being too quick and too unbearable for him to think straight.
"Nothing - piss off."
"That's no way to talk to a nice young lady like me!" she giggled, mocking him once again.
"What the hell do you want?" he questioned lowly, his voice engulfed in disgust for her, the blonde, blue eyed witch.
She paraded her clown before him, the same blasted clown with the crocked smile and clumped together hair. "We just wanted to know if you were ok, that's all."
He snarled openly, now attempted to sit up in bed. He needed to know that he could protect himself in an instant. "Ok, I'm fine. Now go away!"
"I don't think so..." she spoke in her sing song voice, the one he could still hear from the times before in his head, swirling around like a dire stuck record.
"I'm good, great, excellent, is that what you want to hear?" he cried, his voice becoming hysterical, his body shaking, shifting from cold to hot sweats in rapid successions as his head fell into his hands. Maybe if he didn't see her, she would go away? After all, that's what his mother use to say about bullies; 'if you just ignore them, Sammy, they'll go away.'
Alas, he feared he wouldn't be so lucky this time.
The girl frowned but only slightly. Nothing was going to ruin her day, not even a rotten egg like Sam Tyler. "It's just that you didn't look fine earlier, at Casey's house."
His head shot up. "Leave Casey out of this."
She blatantly disregarded his frantic demands. "But why, Sammy? Didn't you want to kiss her like she wanted to kiss you?"
"No!"
"Oh, don't worry, I would never have told Annie about it. In fact, it could have been our little secret."
He pressed his eyelids together, tighter and tighter. "Please, just go away!"
"Sammy and Casey sittin' in a tree K-I-S-S-I-N-G..."
"Go away!"
"First comes love, then comes marriage, then comes Casey with a ba-"
"SHUT UP!"
The light swam through the curtains more effortlessly with each passing minute. Sam Tyler gathered himself together, away from the disturbed dreams of moments ago. Why did the girl in the TV have to torture him so? With her irritating, sweetheart voice and bloody scary clown.
He stared at her in the TV screen for a moment, as if he was finally in control once again. He couldn't believe that somebody who looked that sweet and innocent could be so destructive. He hoped his glares, as wavering as they were, would make her not want to come back. That the narrowing of his eyes and black stare would intimidate her for a change and that she'd never want to mock him again.
Then, a knock at the door jerking his body forward.
"Oi, Tyler, you deaf this morning?"
Sam groaned, dragging himself away from the sticky warmth of his tangled bed to make sure he was dressed at least semi-appropriately for his superior officer. The Inspector trudged over to the door fearing that after such a rough night, the even rougher Gene Hunt was the last person he wanted to see on such a morning.
The DCI stood as still as his body would let him, leather bounded fists clenched at his sides, his face as fierce as a bulldog chewing a wasp.
Sam didn't know exactly what expression his face presented to his Chief Inspector. He didn't know whether it was concern, shock or even annoyance; annoyance that he'd dared come knocking on his door so early in the morning.
"Well aren't you going to be a good little Dorothy and invite me in?"
Rubbing a hand across a sore eye, Sam stepped back momentarily. Despite his sleepiness and pounding head, he did notice Hunt's scarily detailed inspection of his bed.
"What's going on?" he inquired, grabbing the clock from the bedside table. It wasn't even seven.
"Where were you last night, Detective Inspector Tyler?"
Sam gulped, not liking the way the Gov had used his full title. He had a sinking feeling that the Gov already knew where he was the evening before. It seemed as if the Hunt had eyes all over the city of Manchester, as if he knew everyone's business.
He tried to shrug it off and tried to humour him in as harmless a way as possible. "Nowhere."
With a raised eyebrow, Gene could tell his Inspector was stretching the truth; he was acting as if he was one of the bastards they'd dragged into the station, his face twitchy and his feet unable to keep his body stationary. "Where is nowhere, exactly?"
Sam's shoulders shuddered. "Well, here, I guess."
"What do you mean, you 'guess?' Would it 'elp if I drew you a bloody map?"
"What I mean is," Sam swallowed, trying to think of a way to get himself out of the shitty situation. "I was here for the most part."
"And for the other part?"
DI Tyler grumbled openly, wrapping his arms more securely around his chilled body. "Out."
"Christ Almighty, Tyler!" Gene bellowed, his arms slumped at his sides. "Why are you acting like such a retard all of sudden? Where were you last night?!"
Sam felt himself flush, his eyes locking shut. "At Casey's house."
Anticipating a blitz of blows, Sam's eye lids clasped to each other as he lifted his arms over his head in a poor example of self defence. He didn't want to quiver but his plight was not helped by the fact he was semi-naked and his flat was surprisingly freezing. Not to mention the fact that his Chief Inspector was stood over him and was seriously pissed off. Sam could smell him; he could tell that his breathing hitched from moments of anger to moments of insecurity.
And that was what Gene Hunt was underneath all of the bravado; insecure. The arrival of Casey had magnified this insecurity, at least in this mind of his DI. Sure, all of the other members of CID could perhaps tell something was up but could they detect fear in Gene Hunt's mind? No. Although they all liked to make out they were 'in' with the Gov, as if they were his best mate down the Railway Arms when they were buying him drinks and congratulating him on a good days work whilst ignoring every ounce of effort Tyler had put in, none of them knew the real him. They knew bugger all about Hunt's past, about his abysmal marriage and his insufferably solemn family life.
But Sam knew. Sam knew just about all of the significant and painful details of the Govs life. Did he rejoice about it? No. And that's probably why it was him – and only him - that knew most of the gory details. Give Carling half a chance and he would have been gloating about it by noon. He would have been telling the whole station of Gene's misfortunes whilst making out that nobody else should know because he was the Gov's 'chosen one'.
And that's why Sam Tyler stood up straight – because he knew how much the Gov knew was riding on everything. If he thumped him, Sam would tell. That was how he viewed it. Trust was a two way thing and if he knocked his DI unconscious when he was defenceless, that trust would have been too battered and contorted to ever be rebuilt.
In his moments of panic, Sam had failed to notice the heavy breathing distancing from himself. As his eyes opened carefully, one by one, he saw the Gov sat with his head in his hands much like he had done moments ago. God, this wasn't the Gene Hunt Sam Tyler knew at all! This was a man who he didn't know, someone who he certainly wasn't acquainted with.
This was the terrifyingly frightened Gene Hunt at his worst.
Although Sam hadn't been overly alert beforehand, he certainly was now. He was shocked but not surprised. He knew as soon as Casey had stumbled through the doors of CID that Gene would pent up all of the hurt on his part for so long and then let it all out in one gushing waterfall of misery. That was the kind of man Gene Hunt was; someone who concealed their feeling for the fear of being branded a Nancy boy or poof.
The problem was, Sam didn't realise it would be this abrupt or early.
Knowing that he had to tread carefully, Sam made his way cautiously over to where the Gov was sat. Thankfully, he hadn't resulted to crying. The plain thought of Gene crying made Sam nervous as it was just so uncharacteristic of him. Sure, he got mad, sad, annoyed, hurt and betrayed but he would never, ever weep in front of anyone. It just wasn't him.
"Uh, is there anything I get for you, Gene?"
Inhaling, he glanced up at his Inspector, ignoring the thought of making eye contact. "Large whisky would be nice."
Sam didn't know whether to laugh or cry; laugh because he was half expecting his Govs eyes to be red with silent tears and thankfully they weren't. Or, to cry because it was so tragic that someone of Gene's subtle intelligence felt that they had to resort to alcohol as a saviour to all of their problems.
Instead, he offered him a gentle hand on the shoulder and a weak smile. "What's made you this upset, Gov?"
"I'm not bloody upset Tyler, just pissed off."
Sam hastened to remove his hand before it got bitten off. "Why annoyed?"
"I'm annoyed that you were the one that 'ad to go round to 'er 'ouse last night and clear the air because I wasn't man enough to do so, that's why."
"I wouldn't really call it clearing the air..." Sam mumbled under his breath.
"You what?"
"Nothing, Gene, I just think you shouldn't be so harsh on yourself, that's all."
"I shouldn't 'ave been as 'arsh on 'er either, should I?"
Sam's lips pursed as he took a seat on his bed amongst the crumpled, sweaty sheets. "No but everyone makes mistakes. Just because you're a natural leader, it doesn't mean you're a natural Dad. In fact, many men aren't now-a-days."
Gene's eyes glanced up in confusion. "Blimey, I must be lookin' depressed if you're saying sommats nice about me!"
Sam openly smiled as did his superior. "All I'm saying is that you and her have to work on both your professional and father, daughter relationship. It isn't going to all fall into place as if by magic, you know? You have to give these things time and lots of effort."
Gene nodded in agreement. "Yeah, you're right, I know you are. I'm just worried that she's going to say sommats if we 'ave another bad day and that she's going to berate me for it."
"Yet, you're not worried that I might say something?"
For the first time this morning, Gene looked Sam directly in the eye. "You know the answer to that, Sammy. You know that you're about the only bloke in that whole ruddy station that I trust. Ray would just take the piss out of us if I ever told 'im. I can just 'ear 'im telling everyone under the sun before making them keep quite about it. I can just hear him making little digs about it every time we are out working on a case together or in the office with a young girl or whatever."
Gene stopped himself before he got too emotional. He did have every confidence in his DI and, at least at that moment in time, he wasn't afraid to show it. "By the way, what are you doing tonight?"
Sam ran his hands over his face. "Uh, nothing I don't think."
"Well, you're coming out with me and Casey to a restaurant. I want to clear the air with 'er, away from the station like so we can get to know each other a bit better."
"Why do you want me to go?"
"Because, Tyler, you can be the voice of reason if need be. She can be a stubborn little mare when she wants to be."
"I wonder which of her parents she inherited that quality from?" Sam joked, seeing the Govs eyes narrow a little.
Really, he thought that the invitation was Gene's way of apologising for being too much of an arsehole the other day. Yet, he wasn't expecting the apologies of all apologies or even a simple sorry. To Gene, it really was actions that spoke louder than words and he was going to make every effort possible to do that today.
"Besides, Tyler, you look like you could do with a couple of curries down you, the way those ribs are poking through your skin!"
It was true that his DI wasn't exactly carrying any extra pounds but he was hardly too thin either.
Suddenly, before Sam could even begin to defend himself, both men jumped a little at the sound of Phyllis' haggard and whiney voice crackling over the radio. "Calling Alpha Male, do you copy?"
Rolling his eyes, Gene fished the equipment out of his coat pocket. "Yes, copy Phyllis."
"There's been a reported murder on the outskirts of Walton Road. A man was out walking his dog this morning and he found the body amongst piles of rubbish."
As Gene answered Phyllis' call, telling her to send back up to the scene, Sam pulled on a shirt and a clean pair of trousers as he juggled a toothbrush and a bar of soap in his hands. There was urgent work to attend to but he needed to look at least half way alive before his significant other became too worried.
"Come on Gladys, there's no need to make yourself look pretty, there are murdering scumbags to be caught!"
Thank you for reading! Please take the time to review if you've gotten this far : )
Elle.