The short drive to the crime scene seemed to last far longer. The burnt orange Cortina, as usual, sped down the road, knocking over bins and nearly people as many complained about the noise of the revving, over heating motor grunting and charging down many back alleyways.

Yet, this time, it felt like a completely different experience.

Sam stared vacantly out of the window, clinging onto the handle - as always - for dear life. But, this time, he was completely oblivious to the sordid world around him. His face expressionless, his eyes blank of any feeling, a sigh of guilt escaped his lips, as if it had been a prisoner for centuries. Clearly, the young DI had a lot on his mind.

It must have been bad for someone like Gene Hunt to notice; a man that was usually so wrapped up in his own little world, playing the Sheriff in an old Western film, to really pay much attention to feelings of troubles. He had a job to do and under no circumstances could anything get in the way.

Since the Detective Inspector's outburst, Gene hadn't known how to react. He knew that Sam was passionate about his job, just like he was but in an entirely different way. Yet, his concerns that a young mother had died in his town seemed to shake him up in a considerably saddening way. He glanced over at him. Nothing. He was still gazing at the passing trees and scenery, unaware of Ray and Chris' meaningless banter in the back of the car, poor Annie caught in the middle of it all.

"She had huge knockers!" Ray grinned chessily, his whole face lighting up after his memories of the previous night in the Railway Arms.

Chris, flashing the same juvenile smirk, joined in the conversation as if he was forced to by some weird conspiracy theory. "Yeah, there always the best kind, the ones with the big tits."

Annie snorted; as much as she liked Ray and Chris (well, sometimes at least) she did find their talking somewhat irritating. That and their fascination with her bum!

Sam, who by this time had rejoined the land of the living dead, felt obliged to vent his spleen, for the sake of his girlfriend and out of respect for all of the women found dead over the previous days. "Why don't you two shut the fuck up and learn some manners!" he barked unusually for him, tired of their voices.

Gene's head snapped up; the typically mild mannered DI was taking his many frustrations out on his enemy within the station. Sure, Gene knew from experience that when his DI had a problem, he would voice them avidly. He couldn't count the number of times they'd argued over 'political correctness' or some other garbage that the younger man has felt deserved some sort of esteem. "Sam, leave it." Hunt spoke, a gruff tone settling over his speech like a rain cloud so that only Tyler could hear it. "We have a job to do - try and keep it in check."

Realising that his Boss was positively correct, Sam kept quiet for the rest of the journey, blanking out any meaningless gossip between the DS and the male DC. Annie kept her head down too, thankful that the trip was nearly coming to an end.

Pulling up randomly on the curb, Hunt nodded at his staff, a sign for them to get out of the vehicle. Sam went rushing ahead, Annie and Gene exchanging worried glances as Ray raised an eyebrow in pure, sickening suspicion.

"What the 'ell's up with 'im?"

Gene rubbed his chin; traces of unshaven stubble could be detected, even through the thick, black, leather gloves that his hands wore with pride, the perfect tag team partner for his fists for beating up nonce's. "I don't know." he mumbled, trying not to emit any emotions denoting his concern about his DI.

Racing over to where the rope had cornered off the crime scene, Sam flashed his badge to anyone that would look. Jogging for a few more seconds, Gene about twenty paces behind him, he approached the hidden figure, a sense of unease washed right over him.

'What do I do if it is her?' he panicked, a million and one thoughts tresspacing on his cornered mind. 'How could I tell Uncle Mike that his wife was found dead? How could I ever tell Aislin that I saw her Mummy lying in a pool of her own blood...dead?'

By this time, DCI Hunt had managed to catch up with the younger, and seemingly fitter, copper. He examined his face cautiously; you could almost see an anxious outbreak of cold sweat excrete from his skin.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Gene muttered, now diverting his attentions to the lifeless body underneath a grey blanket.

Upon his Detective Inspectors nod, he bent down, knees cracking and unsteady, heavy breathing from his Detective Inspector, he lifted the cloth away from the woman's face. Sam let out a sigh, a concoction of relief and thankfulness.

"It's not her." a small smile brought back some light to his shadowy face, his palms settling over his cheek bones. Gene pulled the cover back over her features, concealing her from any unwanted attention; the press were - as usual - being relentless; they wanted answers exactly there and then on any information regarding the murders in the city.

Noticing the prying eyes, Hunt stormed under the rope, flinging his hand up in the air. "KEEP OUT OF THE WAY, YA BLOODY BASTARDS!' he yelled, many wisely choosing to cower away to hide their identities from the police. Sam's eyes, however, were still transfixed to the dead woman before him.

"It's your Auntie Jillian, Sammy - she's been found dead."

His eyes locking shut, his nostrils flaring, Sam rubbed his temples for any means of escape. "Go away!" he cried, coppers at the scene of the crime turned around to spy the gentleman. "She's not dead! I won't let it happen!"

"Hey, hey, what's wrong?" a familiar voice soothed, her voice calm yet anxious. Annie took Sam in her arms, forcing him to hold her.

Sam never answered her; he just kept his arms tightly wrapped around her curvy and inviting body. She brought great strength and comfort to him. And he knew she always would.

Gene fixed his gaze from afar; his Detective Inspector was acting strange...stranger than usual. He suspected that the case was affecting him or that he knew something incriminating about the women being murdered or the Smith family. Compressing his thoughts, he strolled over to the couple who, upon seeing the bigger bloke, un-embraced each other, Annie rubbing Sam's arm as a final warm sign of support.

"She looks in the same state as the others." Gene spoke solemnly, glancing over his shoulder to the covered corpse. "I think we need to start trying to draw some conclusive evidence - my gut instincts not working."

The pain admitted on his face that his main (and seemingly only) tactic was failing miserably, even a deluded and sidetracked Sam noticed; his bosses hands delved thoughtfully in his pockets, Hunts face collapsed; the fact that the city was unsafe for not only his wife but his mother worried him significantly. Action needed to be taken.

And fast.

Nodding and obeying their superior officer, Sam and Annie joined Ray and Chris in the Cortina. Gene took one last look at the woman before joining his team in the drivers seat; this whole case was beginning to disturb him. He could see the pressure embedded on his DI's face too, as if they were a reflection of each other. Just for that moment in time.

Sam closed his eyes, his lack of rest pestering his mind. His brain couldn't begin to function without sleep. Yet, his job came first, before his own selfish needs. They had to; it was apart of the job.

Gene took his eyes for a split second off the sight of the road, his vision settling on Sam's face. "You ok?" he questioned, trying to show concern for the younger man but not in an airy fairy, nancy boy style. He wouldn't want to be giving anyone any ideas.

Sam reopened his eyes, Hunt's now fastened to the road. For once, the Governor was driving in a half sane fashion, taking note of his surroundings and the people on the streets. It was as if he was analysing the women, strolling about their daily business, nipping in and nipping out of the grocery shops, some even venturing to work, guessing in his mind which one would be next. Which one he'd be taking notes on from the mortuary.

"That's it, I've had enough!" Sam announced, everyone in the car turning to face the DI. "We need to find this bastard...and now!"

"Do you not think I've realised that, Tyler?" DCI Hunt retorted, as if it was a personal attack on him and him only.

Sam shook his head. He realised that he was losing his rag too quickly. "I didn't mean it that way." he spoke calmly, his voice lighter. "Yet we can't just sit here and guess who's next. We need to find the killer."

Gene considered his partners words for a few moments, thinking of how to reply. He grunted a little as they pulled up outside the offices of Manchester's finest police station. "I think I may have an idea."

Sam gulped; usually when the Guv had an idea, it would involve vast amounts of alcohol and male bonding.

Pacing back inside to CDI, Sam glanced at Annie as Ray glanced at Chris. Although curious about the 'plan' they also realised that the same line of thought killed the cat. They stood in a circle for a moment, neither man nor woman wanting to speak.

Foolishly, Chris decided to break the silence. "Those poor gals. What are we gonna tell their Mums?"

Before Sam could salvage an answer, his presence was requested in his Boss' office. Reluctantly heading in his direction, he locked the door behind him, as requested by the Detective Chief Inspector.

Keeping his voice low, only just loud enough for the other man present to hear, Hunt's steeling blue eyes meet with Sam's hazel pair. "Do you want to know what I'm thinking?"

Sam felt it would be wise just to nod, to avoid the line 'not really'.

Gene's eyes flickered from scene to scene of the office, noticing Annie once again struggling on with the work, trying to find any sort of lead that may have been missed whilst Ray and Chris stood for a 'well deserved' cigarette break. It sometimes made Gene loose sleep as to how lax them two were. And they weren't the only ones.

Leaning his whole body against his knuckles on the desk, Tyler imitated the actions of his Boss as if they were automatic, awaiting the plan of action.

Meanwhile, outside of the DCI's office, Annie was still shifting her way through endless amounts of paperwork. She was sick and tired of being the only person in the damn department to work but - at the same time - wanted to make a good impression; many of the men didn't take too kindly to women being in a 'mans world' so she felt she had to work extra hard in order to prove herself. That and she hated giving the impression to people that she was only there because of her then budding relationship with DI Tyler.

Opening up yet another file, DC Cartwright wasn't expecting to find anything of relevance to the case.

How wrong could the young woman possibly be?

Gasping, the brunette dropped the files on a heap on the floor, receiving a round of applause from the rowdy station of randy men who watched with distinct fascination as she bent over, her navy skirt around one of her finest assets as her cheeks coloured, dashing out of the room. Her emotions ran briskly through her veins, shocked and disgusted all at once.

However, back in the DCI's office, tempers were flaring and for perfectly good reasons.

"No, and that's it." Sam's firm frown and narrowed eyes told Genes nicer, more gentle side not to push it any further. In his own mind he knew the plan was ridiculous.

Hunt cracked his knuckles, almost preparing himself for the physical fight. Gene and Sam had come to blows many times before but today's heated discussion was more in the lines of mental quarrelling rather than anything else.

The Detective Chief Inspectors brows joined together, his look so stern they formed a mono-brow. "Tyler, I know you didn't want it to come to this. Neither did I." he watched his DI swiftly peep over his shoulder before shaking his head in disapproval. "This maybe our only chance."

"Only chance?" Sam cried, his emotions overflowing like a flooded river. "Only chance?!" He now refaced his superior officer, his nostrils enlarged, his fists clenched, he was about to give his Guv a piece of his mind. A rather large piece at that. "So putting at least two of our female colleagues in danger is your idea of an only chance?"

Realising it had been well over an hour since his last topple, rummaging amongst the thousands of case files (all complied by one 'Hyde gay boy science lover', of course) Gene let out a large, smoky breath. Yep, he could just sense the longevity of this enlightening reasoning from his esteemed partner. So he decided to prepare himself.

Sam's face screwed up tighter now, uncharacteristically with more wrinkles than a Shar Pei puppy, his tapered eyes could barely make out the Guv's hand accurately yet swiftly unscrewing the Whisky bottle, his right hand casually cupping the shot glass.

SMASH!

The sound of a thousand pieces of glass shattering against the cold, tiled and incredibly filthy floor made Gene's mouth hang open in nothing other than shock. Sure, he knew Sam was going to have a fit with his nonchalant and perhaps a little arrogant series of actions. But, he never thought his DI would have the audacity to knock a full tumbler of whisky clean out of his hand.

Hunt couldn't even reply; he'd suddenly contracted a serious case of laryngitis as he gazed haplessly to the remains of the whisky bottle near his feet, barely, just barely, missing his beloved white loafers.

"If you think dressing Annie and another young woman up as whores, parading them up and down the streets of Manchester at the dead of night before trying to catch a cold bloodied killer is the answer to this case then you are very, very sadly mistaken."

The rough and uncensored finger pointing his Detective Inspector had just acted out in front of him gave Gene a hasty anti-biotic to his throat problem. "Leave it out, Gladys." he cackled. He considered his next sentence carefully for a few seconds, deliberating whether or not to voice it. "The only reason you think that it's not a good idea is because its the bitch you've been screwing for the past couple of weeks who maybe getting involved."

Truth to be told, that was exactly it with Sam; the idea of anyone sexually harassing Annie, touching her, feeling her, groping her, killing her made Sam sick to the stomach. It was more than true though; he couldn't imagine anything worse in the world than that happening to her. It would make his whole reason for being back in 1973 worthless. Yet not for one second did he want to imply this to Hunt, the man that at times was seemingly in denial of any 'softly softly' feelings that may occur in a relationship.

"Ok, you're right. Maybe that is the reason. But, just for one second Gene I want you to do something for me; put yourself in my position but with you and your wife. You come home from work one day, had a few too many in the Railway Arms, and get a phone call from this very station telling you your wife's been found brutally murdered. Don't tell me for one second that you would ever, ever want to put her in the position you want to put me and Annie in right now?"

Sam's now soft speech and harsh words left a nasty taste in the DCI's pouting mouth. He shut his eyes, the windows to the soul trying to contain any trace of emotion he may have from the younger man, his fist clamping to his mouth.

Before he could respond, a knock came at the door before Phyllis came strolling in. "DI Tyler, there's a gentleman here to see you. He says it's urgent. It's Mr. Smith."

Giving Gene one last sneer of disapproval, Sam escaped the clutches of the DCI's office, wanting to do something productive like advance the case rather than trying to discuss feelings with a man who was clearly out of touch with many.

But would Mr. Smith be able to give any valuable insight into the case?

To be continued.

Hey! Thank you very much to JudasFm, xX-Silver-and-cold-Xx and losttimelady for reviewing chapter 4 - hope everyone enjoyed this installment!