Sam Tyler's eyes were overpowered with emotion; an untamed lion bowling a man over like a rag doll in a single, startling pounce.
"Au- Jillian...Mrs. Smith!"
He called her name again, swore to himself that the body rapidly scurrying away from him was that of his Mum's sister-in-law. Yet he could never be certain. Nothing was ever completely definite.
Upon hearing her name being yelled frantically behind her, she pulled the dull grey trench coat up closer to her face, a bid to conceal her identity from the prying eyes of the night, to hide her tear stained, rose cheeks and her emptied yet plump mis-section. Her breathing became vacillating, cautious, scared. She didn't want any trouble.
She just wanted to get away.
She ran, as fast as her chipped stilettos would carry her, making sure she left no clues, no form of identification behind. No nothing.
"Please, Mrs. Smith, it's ok, I'm DI Tyler...I'd really appreciate a few minutes of your time..."
The mention of coppers appeared to make her move faster; Jillian Smith had disappeared far into the darkness by the time the Detective Inspector had managed to get to the street corner, his own breathing wheezy, out of sync with his body.
"Fuck."
Gene Hunt was now stood directly behind his hunched over DI, the pain killers given to him about fifteen minutes ago obviously not working quickly enough for his liking. The DCI frowned at this; his mate looked like he was about to fall over - again.
"C'mon, let's get you 'ome."
Sam didn't even try and argue. In fact, he would have been more satisfied if Gene had picked him up and carried him to the car, instead of making him walk! DCI Hunt wrapped a steady arm around his shoulders, a way of guiding him back to the vehicle as well as preventing any mishaps from occurring. He really did care about the well-being of the younger man, even if he had a strange way of showing it sometimes.
Abruptly, as both men were reaching for the door handles of the Ford Cortina, Gene helping Sam as far as he could back to the motor, a frenzied male voice arose across the dim air. "Police? Wait!"

"Here we go." Gene growled, himself now at the stage where he was ready for nothingness. The white jacket dressed the man who both DCI Hunt and DI Tyler remembered from a short, stressful day ago, despite everything that had taken place.

"Dr Lowe?" Sam mumbled, standing next to his Guv. "Is everything ok?"
Dr Lowe, panting and folded over (he'd manage to out do himself, running much to fast for his flabby, middle aged body to handle) addressed the men. "Please, I need to speak to the two of you, urgently."
The dynamic duo rolled their eyes to each other; they could just sense that this wasn't just going to be a quick exchange and a goodbye. It was going to be a long, drawn out affair, like one of those parties your parents made you attend when you were little, the ones where you'd have to sit aimlessly in the middle of a dingy town hall whilst your relatives walked past, making inane comments about your height and features.
'My gosh, Sammy, you are a big boy now! Look how handsome you are!'
Both men were far too lethargic by now for one of those occasions.
Sam and Gene had been drafted into Dr. Lowe's office on the second floor, directly above the accident and emergency department. It reminded Sam of the medical dramas he thought he used to watch, the ones where everyone would run about like mad men and women whilst diving into closets at two second intervals for a quick shag instead of getting on with the job in hand. Sam sneered at those memories, sneered at the bad name programmes like that gave to such people who worked in them industries. These were the same people that - like the Police - deserved more credit and respect than they ever got. Those were the same people that battled to save lives everyday. Lives like…lives like Sam's.
Gene, his thoughts stomping in his mind, like a miserable grizzly bear, snarled, his arms folded across his chest. "Looks like we won't be getting back to the Railway Arms before closing time now, ay?" The Guv looked over to Sam and cracked a half arsed smile, trying to re-direct his mind away from the pain in his abdomen.

"I wouldn't be able to drink anyway." Sam retorted, exhaling grumpily. He saw Hunt cock an eyebrow, obviously not on his wavelength. Not that he ever was, mind.
Reaching into his leather jacket pocket, DI Tyler pulled out a translucent brown bottle, rattling the miniscule pink tablets harshly against the plastic to attract more attention to his discomfort. "Two weeks." he smiled angrily, dumping the bottle back in his pockets.

Gene sniffed, rubbing a hand against his forehead. "Could be worse though - could've been yer 'ead I smashed in."
Before the DI had time to reply, Dr. Lowe sauntered into his office. Before closing the door, he made sure the 'busy' caption was noticeable on his door; he didn't want anyone interrupting him at this precise moment in time. Locking the only means of escape out of the office, he took a seat next to Gene on his desk whilst Sam occupied the chair in the corner, nursing his sore ribs.
"Thank you, gentleman." Lowe's voice wavered, taking a cigarette packet from his trousers, passing them around.

"Ta very much." Gene beamed, gladly accepting nicotine. Sam declined.

"Argh, yes, wouldn't go too well with a pair of cracked ribs, ay?"
Sam's eyes conical, Gene's broadened. Really, the Detective Inspector was sick and tired of caring for other people or to hears others snide remarks, even if that wasn't their intentions.
Right now, he wanted to be selfish; go back to his not so glamorous flat, fix himself a little bit of comfort food (even a healthy, fit lad like that needs to indulge every once in a while) before collapsing on his bed for the rest of the evening. "What is it that you want, Mr. Lowe?"
Sam's voice was incredibly low, his attitude blunt. He really wished that this conversation could wait until the morning.

"Yes, well, you were the chaps that brought baby Aislin Smith into the hospital, yesterday evening, yes?"

"That's correct." Sam replied mechanically, shifting his body in an attempt to be more comfortable.

"Well, a lady just went into look at her. I'm not sure who she was or anything..."
Scrambling about for his note book and pen, Sam was now about to listen with great intent. "Sorry, can we get a description of the woman?"

Lowe blinked guardedly at Tyler, who had pen to paper awaiting his reply. "Ummm...tallish...blonde, green eyed, looked like she'd been crying a lot. I didn't get too good a glimpse at her - she ran off when I came into the room."

"Tell me, was she wearing a dull grey trench coat?"

Recollecting briefly, Lowe nodded his head. "Yep, I'm ninety-nine percent sure she was."
Gene and Sam glanced at each other cautiously. "Did she say or do anything that you'd regard as...as a little odd?" The Inspectors last question was open to much deliberation from the Doctor.

"Well, I did try speaking to her, ask how she got in like, but she didn't reply."

Gene gulped. "I saw her being led by your receptionist down the accident and emergency corridor whilst I was waiting for mardy bollocks over there." the Guv told, gesturing over to his right hand man. Sam, however, was too engrossed by now to listen to his boss' childish insults.

"What did you say to her?"

"I asked her what she was doing in there, who she was. She never said anything. Just...just left."
Tapping the pen against the coil on the end of the pad, Sam frowned. "Ok. Thanks for your time, Dr. Lowe. Is that everything?"
The Doctor's face slumped. He stood, turning to face the door, looking away from the copper's who's both pairs of eyes stayed affixed to him. This next suggestion was going to be far from easy. "You see, ummm, the thing is..."

"C'mon, spit it out Lowe - we haven't got all evening."
There was no wonder that the hospital workers face became even more fragile, his hands shakier, at the gruff words from the DCI who had spent his cigarette so unbelievably quickly.
Seeing a further look of worry from the Doctor, Gene did his best to reassure him there was nothing at all to fear. "Now, look 'ere Doctor. There's nothin' to be frightened of - we're the police! If you need protecting, anythin' like that, why don't ya just say so?"
Momentary images of the countless times Gene put the boot into a suspect or throws a fist here and there flashed through Tyler's imagination; Oh yeah, good protection all right!
"Well, you see, we've been trying to get in contact with Mr. Smith all day and we know from what you've said that Mrs. Smith is no where to be found." A huge sigh escaped him, like a prisoner in one of Hunt's jails, the last bellows of smoke absconding, the last light from the stick, gone for good. The next part was going to be awkward. "We need to discharge baby Aislin, we haven't really got enough room to keep her here. I was wondering..."

"No, no, no, no!" Gene droned, his hands resolutely fixed over his ears as he shoved the Doctor out of the doorway before standing startled in the corridor; he sure as hell didn't want to hear Lowe's next notions.
Sam - equally as apprehensive - could just about guess what was about to be said but had the decency to hear the doctor out.
"Would you look after her, just for one night? Then, in the morning, I'll send someone round to your home to collect her."

Sam snickered slightly. "With all due respects, Dr. Lowe, I have no idea how to look after a baby, honestly, I don't."

Lowe, however, was going to be more persistent then either police man was going to give him credit for. "Please?" his voice became higher, whinier. Sam rolled his eyes, much like his Guv would have in that situation. "It will literally be for only...what, six, seven hours? Come on, please? I wouldn't ask unless I was desperate."

"Technically, I'm not a childminder. I'm just a copper." Tyler chortled at the use of the word 'just'. If only people realised the battles he had to go through on a daily basis, and they were just with his DCI, let alone with any criminals or murderers!

"I know. I know, I just really need someone who I know I can trust her with. Who better than a Detective Inspector?"
The sweet talk hit a nerve with Sam. The look of uninterrupted pleas and a sympathetic smile accumulated to his reluctant reply. "Ok, ok, fine, I'll do it. But I have nothing for her in my flat - I'll need stuff like nappies, bottles, dummies, whatever."

"That's fine. I'll get one of the nurses to kit you out. And thanks."
Doctor Lowe shook Sam's hand thankfully, leaving him to his own devices for a few seconds whilst he went to collect the baby in the question. Gene Hunt - who'd been doing his best to earwig whilst not being directly apart of the conversation - crashed back into the room, his whole expression dragged down by the mishap of disgust.
"Tell me you didn't do what I think you have?"

Sam's eyebrows tapered, his speech hesitant. "Sorry."
That had been the first time he'd ever apologised to the Governor and meant it. Hunt knew he was being sincere it to, his eyes widening in shock as he leant against the wooden doorpost, connecting with the hazel pair across the room. "So you're gonna be loookin' after the little brat for 'ow long?"

"That 'little brat' will only be with me for a couple of hours until someone comes round and collects her, bright and early."

"Well, good job I'm not stayin' round yours tonight - wouldn't want a baby cryin' in me ear 'ole all night!"

"Pity that." Sam's sarcastic remark was barely louder than a whisper; he didn't fancy having a couple of more broken bones adding to his CV.
Hunt's face creased, obviously in need of some answers (amongst other things - a pint of Bitter to name but a few). "So, why are you looking after 'er?"
Watching Gene's hands fumble across his body, his search for any cigarettes that may have, just might have, fallen from the packet and into a pocket, Sam ruffled his hair. What was he actually meant to say? 'Oh yeah, it was right was Tony Crane said - I really am from the future, she's my cousin. It's my Mum's Brother's Daughter...'
Sam's lips protruded, his shoulders jerked. "I don't really know. But she'll be safe with me." he stated sharply, standing from his chair as a figure emerged.
The Detective Chief Inspector examined the baby as she was passed over to Sam. For some reason, he could never imagine being that...that Fatherly, to anything. Some days he'd wondered, you know, what it might have been like to be a Father, some bodies Daddy. Yet, his wife had never wanted kids and - therefore - he didn't.
"Now then little Aislin, here's your adopted Daddy for the night!"
Dr Lowe's cheerful voice matched his beaming face. In a way, he was reluctant to hand the baby who he'd been caring for over the past couple of days to anyone. But, it was a copper he was handing her over to. Everyone trusts the Police.
Scooping Aislin into his warm arms, Sam's gaze attracted the attention of DCI Hunt; he did not look amused. Mind you, looking un-amused was becoming general practise in Manchester's A Divisions...
"Hello, gorgeous." Sam's voice became higher, baby like, as if he really was Aislin's Dad. Gene watched DI Tyler with great suspicion as he balanced her between his upper limbs, resting a hand tenderly against her soft, fine brown hair, a feeling of cotton candy melting between his fingers of a warm, August day.
Sam, preoccupied, almost mesmerised by the baby once again, he barely acknowledged a nurse come wondering in to pass Mr. Hunt a rather large, even heavy, bag. "What's this for?" he quizzed, his nose rising as if he'd got a whiff of a sewage plant.

Dr. Lowe tried his hardest not to burst out laughing at DCI Hunt's own, rather peculiar expression and bemused tone. "That's everything that DI Tyler requested for the baby." he replied in a mild mannered way, referring his attentions to the other man. "Now then, like I said, someone from another hospital will be coming to pick her up early in the morning to give her to someone who can look after her until the parents come forward. Make sure you've seen their papers before hand, with a written statement by me. We don't want just anyone running off with her, do we?"

"No, we certainly don't." Sam softly chuckled, only hastily glancing up.
As the Coppers were about to leave, Dr. Lowe had a few departing words for the couple. "Thank you once again. Good bye and good luck."

"Yeah, we'll probably need all of the luck in the world the way the Gov drives!" Tyler mumbled lowly under his breath.

But how would Sam's night of playing Daddy go?

Check back for more, soon!

Hey! Thanks to my loyal reviewee's from the last two chapters - I love reading comments, positive or negative. This story is going to be taking a wild U-Turn (hopefully everyone will see it that way!) within the next couple of chapters, so stay tuned for that!
Thanks for reading and, if you can, please review!