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Thanks once again for coming back for more - enjoy!
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Stampeding down the stairs, making more noise than a heard of elephants between the two of them, DI Sam Tyler and DCI Gene Hunt bundled themselves in the burnt orange coloured Cortina, the DCI mantling around in his pockets for the keys. Holding them gingerly in his rough hands, he started feeling around in his pockets, as if he was missing something else valuable and essential to his existence.
"Shit!" he cried out, his face turning redder.
"What now?" Sam whined, still holding the small baby close to his chest.
The Guv continued to grope his jacket. "I left me bottle of whisky in your mucky flat!"
DI Tyler rolled his eyes. "C'mon, we've got a baby here who you said just a minute ago was in urgent need of medical attention."
Sam opened the car door as quickly as he could, ducking inside whilst protecting the baby girl's head. However, Gene was still wondering around outside, seemingly lost without a bottle of something on his person.
"Will you get in the bloody car?" Sam called, quickly losing his temper with his Boss.
"Alright, alright." Gene replied, holding his hands up in defence, reluctantly manovering his body inside the vehicle, an unusually soppy expression attached to his lips.
Tearing down the road, Sam clutched the tiny child closer to his frame, grasping onto the handle above his head for what seemed like dear life. "Freakin' hell, Guv, can't you slow down just a little bit?"
"No, Sammy Boy, 'fraid I can't." That one comment alone inspired Gene to put the pedal to the metal even more, the Cortina literally shaking as his driving became more menacing, Sam actually having to shout over the engine for his now timid voice to be heard.
"GUV FOR FUCKS SAKE, WE HAVE A BABY IN OUR CARE!"
Confused as to why his unruly Boss was directing them down near the high street, in the opposite direction of the nearest medical facility, the car paused dramatically, Sam exhaling thankfully, as the car came to an ear piercing, screeching halt. 'Maybe there is a God after all?' he mused pensively to himself, compressing what he was thinking.
A cigarette drooping from the side of a curled lip, Gene reached in his pocket for his worn, semi-leather wallet and his lighter. "'Ere, cop 'old of this for a minute." he demanded, thrusting the couple of money notes against Sam's chest, nearly knocking the poor baby in the head!
"Guv, what the hell are you doing now?"
Nodding sideways to order Sam to glance out of the window, the DI's face crumpled; they were directly outside one of Manchester's many Off Licence's.
"You have to be kidding me?" Tyler sighed, exasperation completely engulfing his last phrase. Watching absent mindly as his Chief stumbled from out of the vehicle into the shop to collect his beloved Malt, Sam groaned loudly, shaking his head until it felt as if it was to fall off.
Noticing the small child, who by this stage had managed to somehow fall asleep in his arms, the twenty-first century boy's face lit up. Stroking her pale cheek lightly, not to wake her, merely as a sign of affection, he'd often wondered what it would be like to have children. To be called someone's 'Daddy'. For a split second, many emotions and disrupted thoughts ran through his mind; how his own Father was hardly there for him as a child (not by choice in most circumstances), Maya's life as a mixed race child, growing up having to accept that her creed could be seen as more than just a sign of oppression and then Annie, sweet Annie; the only person he could possibly envisage having kids with at this moment in time. He knew that, in time, she'd make a great Mother, even if she had her own doubts.
"I wonder who your Mummy is, hum?" Sam rhetorically questioned the youngster, shifting himself as silently as possible in the awkward, thick plastic seats. Somehow, he vaguely recognised the child, reminding himself that, all babies that teeny look the same. Staring at her for a few more moments, his seconds of tranquillity were disrupted when Gene ventured out of the shop, already slinging the Whisky lid into a near by dustbin, closely followed by the dead end of the cigarette. Sam was less than impressed by now, the larger man shifting his weight once again inside his beloved Cortina, sort of reminiscing about some job he sort of thought he had to do.
"So," he spoke up, a surge of revs coming from the motor. "Hospital, yeah?"
His Detective Inspector rolled his eyes. "So you do recall where we are meant to be going?"
Taking another vast gulp of the intoxicating fluid, Hunt literally gasped for air, perhaps realising that he'd drunk it a little too quickly, even by his own usually high standards. "Never forgot Sammy Boy," he spoke, tapping his bonce. "Just had urgent business to attend to."
Sam's face screwed up. "Whoa, sorry, so you going and getting a bottle of piss up is more important than getting a sick baby to hospital?"
Gene smirked, his driving gloved hands attached to the steering wheel. "It's alright, if she gets hungry you'll have plenty of milk to breast feed 'er with!"
The coppers continued their petty argument for another ten minutes, finally arriving at the Manchester Hospital. Protectively grasping the bruised child in his thin yet steady arms, Sam dashed as quickly as his tired legs would carry him into the A&E department, not so closely followed by Gene who was having more than a few problems being steady on his feet!
Glancing cagily at the child from time to time, DI Tyler eventually found a member of the hospitals staff. The place was nearly deserted in the waiting room area, where he'd managed to find the female nurse. She smiled lightly to him, in awe of the beautiful child before her. Despite the numerous markings on the babies frame, she still beamed back and forth from the baby to Sam.
"Go and give your details at the front desk. I'll get someone to come and talk with you." she directed, her eyes unusually warm and peaceful.
Sam watched her walk away. Suddenly, an acute pain shot through his head, a bullet soaring through his temples. He fell with a thud to the ground, the chilled, white and remarkably clean floor tiles providing comfort for his now burning hot body, shifting through sprees of hot and cold sweats. His senses became razor sharp, his vision being more powerful that ever before, the overbearing stench of antiseptic solution flooded his nostrils, leaving a imperious taste in the back of his throat, traces trickling down into his gullet, setting his whole stomach on fire.
Beep. Beep. Beep.
Clasping his abs, his breathing became heavy, uncontrollable. "Go away!" he cried, salty water welling up in his eyes, his foresight fusing with the hospital setting. "I thought all of this was over!"
We managed to get him stable, for now. I don't know how much more I can do for him though, Mrs. Tyler. The voice of Morgan soon became apparent, a new series of shock waves startling his body. We thought he really was a goner then. The next forty eight hours are critical but things don't look too good, I'm afraid to say. It really is all up to your son now, Mrs. Tyler, as to whether he lives or dies.
"MUM?" Sam whimpered, his physique now in a burdened heap on the floor, tears spilling uncontrollably from his hazel eyes, his body shaking. "Don't listen to the bastard!" Tyler found himself banging his head, trying to block out any last thoughts of the world he left behind. The world he was convinced he had left behind.
Abruptly a fresh pair of fists thumped his cranium, swipes of a smooth material colliding with his hair. Then, the hands lifted him up by the right arm, the stumbling implying the owner of the hands had no idea how to react, other than joining in with the violence.
"Get up Tyler, you're causing a scene." Upon hearing his Governor's gruff voice, Sam obeyed him, much like an Alsatian following orders from their owner.
By this time, Sam's eyes were too swollen to comprehend the fuss he'd just caused around himself. "Alright, there's nothing to see 'ere." Gene retorted, wrapping almost a comforting arm around the younger man, as if he was shielding him from the cruel whispers and scrutiny. "Come on, we'll go somewhere a little quieter." he mumbled to Sam, pushing him in the route where he wanted to go. The Detective Inspector did as he was told, Gene meanwhile spinning on his heels and offering an obscenely fierce glance to all of those still surveying the sight they were just subjected to.
"Nothing to see 'ere love, unless you want to make something of it." Hunt let the drink do the talking for him, following his DI to a less crowded corridor, near to where the baby had been taken to a few moments ago.
By the time the DCI had staggered over there, Sam was already sat down, his now aching head resting dexterously on his knees, his eyes shut in hope of preserving any last sense of clarity and serenity he felt whilst on his own in the car with the infant. He felt Hunt's presence stand over him, again protecting him from any glares from hospital staff and patients. One look from the Gene Genie was enough to put them off the idea of questioning!
Eventually, Gene sat closely beside Sam, still clutching the bottle of Whisky he recently acquired. Taking another swig, he offered the half empty bottle to his DI, who after a few seconds of close examination, making sure he knew exactly what it was, accepted the offer gladly, closing his eyes as he savoured the traces of liquid scorching the back of his throat, a burning train running away on the uneven tracks. Tyler took the bottle as almost a sign of sympathy and a peace offering for the previous days misfortunes, even if the Guv hadn't consciously seen it that way. Really, it had just been an overwhelming amount of pressure swallowing what was left of the A-Divisions spirits. They had been pretty diminished in the past couple of days, despite the triumph of when Sam came through with the team, finally feeling as if he was meant to be in Manchester, 1973.
Now, he was beginning to doubt all of it, all over again.
Taking the bottle back from his DI's hands, Gene took another gulp, letting out a huge sigh of relief afterwards. He didn't quite know what to say next but curiosity was almost demanding a response to a question spinning in his head. "What happened back there, Sam?"
Tyler lifted his head quickly. He had to think of a hasty response. "Oh, um, just a bad migraine." he replied, his forehead once again resting against the soft, cord fabric of his burgundy flares.
"Looked pretty bad." Gene let out a loud breath, surveying the surroundings around them. "At least you're in a 'ospital."
Sam sniggered at the last remark. 'Yeah, and all hospitals are doing right now is killing me.' he mused, images of Morgan hovering over his bed, checking his vital signs, his Mum clutching at his hand and to any last shred of hope that her Son would return to her from the doctor's petty words.
An unusual few minutes of silence passed, the bottle of whisky passing between the duo's palms. The two men didn't know really what to say to each other, how to counter the situation they were in. Hunt was confused, a collaboration of drink, fatigue and genuine perplexity beginning to take it's toll. "So, you have no idea where that b-baby came from?" his inquiry was accompanied by a hick, his thick neck adjusting to become level with his Detective Inspector's face.
Sam shook his head with care. "Nope, no idea. I went home, found the basket laying there, took it into the flat and that was that."
"What about Cartwright?" The DCI quizzed, beginning to get bored with the lack of substance in his mouth; by this time, between the two of them, they'd finished off any last drop of the orange liquor, even Sam became a little tipsy, with Gene being a lot tipsy.
"What about Annie?"
Gene pulled his cigarettes from his trouser pockets, dragging it across his thinning lips. He offered Tyler the packet, for which he declined. "Didn't she stay with you?"
"Nope. She got a taxi about half an hour before I left."
Gene paused, the heat of his glare soon getting to Sam. "You mean, you let her go, on 'er own in a taxi, instead of taking her 'ome yourself?"
Tyler eventually looked up, the bloke's eyes locking. "Yep."
"Huh, some 'boyfriend' you are!" Hunt mocked, hauling the cigarette's 'goodness' once again in his mouth.
"Oh yeah, and like you're such a good husband?" Sam struck back, not in the mood for taking any of Gene's nonchalant insults.
Gene never answered, realising that his co-workers words were very true to life, as if he couldn't work it out anyway. Instead, his eyes became transfixed by the ciggie he cradled between his fingers, savouring every last spec of the nicotine.
Realising that maybe his words were a bit too harsh, Sam decided to make conversation once again. "You know, you probably shouldn't be smoking in here." he advised, his sore head now resting against the corridor's wall, the coolness once again soothing his bruising. "Having said that, we shouldn't have been drinking either."
"Oh come on Sammy Boy, what are they gonna do, call the Police?" Gene spluttered hazily, throwing the butt of the cigarette sloppily onto the floor.
Tyler never bothered to respond; he had expected that kind of sarcastic taunt to come from his DCI's lips. Massaging his head, his hands fumbled against his skull, trying to relieve himself of pain. He expected Gene's eyes on again on him, feeling obliged to speak. "Did you have to thump me so hard?" he grimaced, gasping at the feeling of goose egg bumps on his cranium.
Gene snorted. "Well, it looked like fun - I didn't want to miss out."
Before Sam could salvage an answer, a distantly familiar appearing gentleman came whirling towards Hunt and Tyler, his fists clenched and his eyes blazing.
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Next time in 'Blimey, it's a baby!"
Who is the bloke? How does Sam recognise him and what relation does he hold to his entire existence?
Check back for more, soon!