The duo of Gene Hunt and Sam Tyler walked astonishingly calmly back to the raging Cortina, complete with baby in toe. The DCI gave his right hand man a rather peculiar glance, his eye brows cocked as he lent against the car, a pout returning to his lips.
"So, are you actually sure you'll be able to look after that baby?"
Looking down at the bundle in his arms, Sam shrugged lightly, not wanting to wake her up. "I dunno, I'll give it my best shot though." he replied thoughtfully, diving into the vehicle. "After all, it won't be that long really, only a few hours."
Gene screwed up his nose in a look of pure disgust, revving up the motor. "Ok, be it on your 'ead, Mary Poppins!"
"As per-usual."
Sam's careless and soft mutterings provoked a certain sense of awkwardness in Gene; the lad was becoming far too attached to that baby and he was almost worried that a night together would make them even more so. Plus, there was a rather burning statement bruising his conscience.
"'Er Father, he's bent, ya know? You can tell - he 'as shifty lookin' eyes, Sam. I don't trust him. He knows far more than he's lettin' on."
Puckering his lips in quiet deliberation, Sam tisked a little. "I dunno. I think he knows something but he's just frightened, scared for his family. All we have to do is..."
"Gain his trust, let 'im confide in us and then 'e'll help us, blah blah blah, 'eard all that shit before, Tyler! Don't help - makes matters worse coz we hang around, wasting valuable time instead of nailing the bastard. Plus, this time, o' be joyful, we're in full glare of the media."
The Gov's mimicking voice wasn't harsh or irrational; just firm, trying his best to be reasonable, for a change. Sam put it down to him being deprived of alcohol and nicotine and he decided to preserve any last spec of them in his blood steam by not arguing.
'Nah, that's way too logical for Gene.' Sam decided, looking over at his Boss and smiling frivolously to him.
Arriving back at Sam's flat, DI Tyler spied his Gov wearily; neither man had spoke since leaving the hospital car park, Hunt merely on a rampage to break the speed limit as the younger man grasped onto the child tightly in his arms.
Much to the Detective Inspectors surprise, Gene twisted his hefty body, grabbing Aislin's night time belongings that had been dumped carelessly in a huff on the backseat of the Cortina. Sam was a little stunned, his eyes suspicious.
"Oi, Dorothy, I know I'm 'andsome but there's no need to stare!"
The outburst made the DI blink, remembering just where he was. Really, there wasn't a single comment in his head that could be a good come back from that remark. Only a sentence attached to a sarcastic tone which, inevitably, would lead to another pair of cracked ribs. Sam declined that option.
Striding on ahead, Gene's posture was as proud as ever, demanding attention from the dark sky and any waster still awake to notice. He clambered up the concrete steps, stained with last nights blood, vomit tinged with alcohol and countless sweet wrappers. It made the Chief Inspector tisk; it really was about time his DI found a better place to live than this... this dump.
Sam, ambling behind his boss cautiously, manage to salvage a watch on the young child in his arms; despite the dull lighting and almost threatening surroundings, his felt strangely at peace with the bundle lying gently in his arms, his eyes animated with compassion and awe.
His neck still cranked in the same position, his gaze transfixed to Aislin, Sam's motions were mechanical, reliving sub-consciously the same actions that he went through on a daily basis.
Managing to reach the flat first, Gene lent his body restlessly against the cracked door frame, huffing a little as he waited. And waited. Finally, his DI strolled over to the door, blindly attempting to find the correct key. Taking his vision away from the baby girl for only a split second, he pushed the door open, Gene close behind him, slinging the carry cot and baby bag down on Sam's miniscule bed.
It had puzzled DCI Hunt as to why Sam had insisted on holding Aislin all the way back to his make shift home, instead of letting her lay comfortably in the cotton lined crib.
Feeling a pair of unyielding, icy cold pair of eyes burn a hole through him, DI Tyler finally made contact with the other man, breaking effortlessly his own trance.
Gene's raised brow prompted a question from the younger guy. "You ok?"
Hunt considered the question, clearing his throat a little. "Yeah, guess."
Sam's attention wavered from his Chief, like a sandy beach awash with careless waves, soon re-focusing on the baby in his grasp. He was just... completely and utterly fascinated with her. He'd never felt this way. It was a welcomed new experience, one that he wanted to treasure for as long as possible.
Gene, himself strangely occupied with the whole situation, decided to head home. After all, it was too late to go down the pub, he couldn't have a smoke (not for the want of trying) and - most importantly - his missus would be expecting him tonight, especially after the previous evening's events.
"Right, well Sammy Boy, that's me done for the day." Gene announced, digging his hands into his navy trouser pockets, searching for the Cortina keys, which - thankfully for him - he found in a hurry.
Once again back in reality, Sam tenderly placed the youngster in the cot, wrapping the blankets securely around her frail body, anxious not to wake her or harshly touch the bruises littered on her body.
Hunt headed to the door, waiting for some sort of response from his DI. "Ok, bye, and thanks, Gov."
Gene appeared perplexed. "What for?"
"Ya know, helping me bring stuff in and all."
Gene was slightly embarrassed, his palms sweaty and clenched. "Oh. Ok. Glad I could be of 'elp." he shrugged, opening the door as silently as possible.
Following like a lost puppy, Sam had a few departing words, pointing over to the other man. "But, I'm not thankful for the cracked ribs."
The two men chuckled lightly, their faces alight with a surprising amount of glee. "Night, Sam."
"Night, Gene."
As the door closed, it seemed as if another one opened. Now, Sam was expected to play Mummy and Daddy to a newborn who mere presence pestered his sub-conscience, toying with the idea that she might be his cousin.
Peering into the cot, the baby was soundlessly awake, her small mind trying to make sense of the unfamiliar and dim surroundings. Affectionately stroking the child's hand, Sam smiled into her eyes. "Don't worry sweetheart, you won't be stuck here for long."
He made his way over to his tiny and somewhat dingy kitchen, wracking both his brain and his cupboards for anything to eat. He glanced at his watch, noting that it would soon be time to take more of his pain pills.
Tapping his fingers rhythematically against the hard surface, Tyler's tongue beat against the roof of his mouth, his hand sitting comfortably against his hip as he shut another cupboard. Still nothing appealing to him, nothing that he desired. Yet, his stomach was telling him to choose, and fast.
A concoction of hunger, dizziness, fatigue and aching bones forced Sam to just grab a lone Kit Kat from the bottom shelf. Tearing the wrapper limb from limb, he shoved the chocolaty goodness as fast as he could down his neck, the sugar bringing him an instant sense of perkiness, a small grin returning to his lips.
He examined the packaging curiously. Kit Kats were one of his favourite chocolates back in time; the creamy, milky chocolate, carefully wrapping the crispy wafer like a child in a Mother's womb, were always a quick pick-me-up. Although - Sam did have to admit - he did prefer Chunkies!
Tossing a couple of the intimidating pink tablets down the back of his pallet, Sam dashed to the kitchen, gulping down a huge glass of water, a mere attempt to vanish the unholy taste stuck - for what seemed like forever - in his mouth. Wiping away the last few drops of water from his chin, Sam made his way back into his living room, ready to settle down for the evening. Hopefully, a night of relaxing, peaceful dreaming with a warm, soothing atmosphere, as if he was back lying on a pleasantly hot, golden sanded beach, the sun beams gracing him with a tan...
As if!
Beep. Beep. Beep.
"I don't know whether we can call what Sam is experiencing progress, Ruth. Really, truth to be told, we are back to square one with him. It's a mystery why someone who fought for their life for so long would just carelessly toss themselves off a building at a great height like that."
He could see his Mother. He could see Frank Morgan. He could see his Mum's face drop, her eyes glued to the tissue that her hands grasped with great strength, seemingly her only source of comfort in such troubled times. She was at his bedside, again, looking like she'd never slept.
"He must have had his reasons. My lad would never do anything like that, not my Sammy. He loved- he loves life."
"Well, from my point of view, he obviously didn't value our efforts quite enough, did you Sam? Ay?"
The rough hands, shaking him, his body flinging against the rails like a rag doll. The plastic, emotionless, wrinkled face against his own, the arrogant, conceited voice.
'Why aren't you stopping him, Mum? Why are you letting him do this to me?'
"WHAHH! WHAHH!"
Bolt upright in his bed, panting, ice cold sweat with a rapid pulse, the shrill cries of a baby woke him right up from his nightmare. He sat for a moment, his head in his hands, his frame juddering, he couldn't make sense of anything anymore. He'd thought he'd solved his problem, thought that he was alive in 1973, not 2006.
All of it was beginning, again. And, once again, he had no bloody idea how to stop it.
His dimming hazel eyes blinked away sleep, tears and sweat, realising he wasn't the only one who needed caring for. "Aislin." he whispered, pulling away the dulling, green duvet, unravelling his body and fighting away any last shades of tainted dreams.
Bright red, inflated cheeks and strident cries seemed to be baby Smith's only way of communicating. Panicking for a second, Sam realised that he'd never really held a baby until the other day. Now, he was up to his neck in nappies and dummies, trying to decipher just what he was meant to do with the little cutie.
He lifted her from the crib, so carefully like she was a ticking bomb, cupping her tenderly in his arms, his skin against her soft, fluffy pink sleep suit. He beamed to her, trying to bring some form of peace to her wailing soul. She squirmed a little; unfamiliar surroundings, unfamiliar smell of dodgy aftershave, unfamiliar everything.
"There, there, darling, shhh for cousin Sammy now." his soothing voice made her cries quieter, her sobs becoming fewer but still as jittery like a knackered car engine. A half frown kidnapped Sam's lips. He didn't know if she was in pain due to her injuries or if she was just tired of being shoved to pillar to post constantly.
Then, the thought crossed his mind that she missed her Mummy. Not just for the warm breast that fed her. But for a different type of heat; compassion, protection, love...all these things and more.
He lifted her up slightly higher, to get a better look at her beautifully young face, full of innocence despite her more than rocky start in the world. "You have no idea how hard life is." Sam's solemn statement was accompanied by a prolonged, doubted, inward breath, a headshake with his eyes slamming tightly shut. "I...I hope for your sake you're never as confused as I am!"
He snorted at his last comment, grasping her closer to his body. He felt her kind warmth surround him, bringing him some sort of hope. He perched on the end of his bed, ready to bare his soul to her. "You know, I miss my Mum...I sometimes don't know whether I did the right thing, jumping off that building."
Sam paused, blinking; he'd only just realised that what he was saying sounded completely and utterly mad! Yet, thankfully, he realised that she wouldn't have the verbal skills at such a young age to voice her opinions on the matter so continued anyway.
"I just don't know. At the time it was such...such a split decision." he sighed oppressively, gazing up at the dusty, dull white ceiling. "Do I stay with the woman who has loved me through thick and thin through all of my life? The loving lady that played both Mummy and Daddy to me, protected me from the harsh playground who told me my Dad was bent? The same person who sat at my bedside for months on end, willing, pleading for me to wake up, her only child. Or, do I stay with the woman who I love? The woman who...who I'm more or less certain is my soulmate in a time where I've felt more alive, more needed than in my entire life?"
Salty water bubbled against his eyes, his vision hazy yet set against the girl. "Yet, my Mum could never offer me the love I crave most, the love that everyone craves most."
He dwelled on his melancholy musings for a moment, a light smile returning to his darkened features. "Mind you, I guess you won't have to worry about that for a long while, huh?"
Her lips formed into what seemed like a slight grin, the two beaming at each other for quite some time. His tender hand placed lovingly against her rosy, silky cheek.
Then, she struck.
To be continued...
Thank you so much to everyone who reviewed last time! I really appreciate your comments and hope you continue to like thi story. And thank you to Iaveina - if you read this I hope you enjoyed it too!