The quiet drive back to the dingy and unappealing flat of the Detective Inspector was strangely secluded, despite the dark and usual night time angst on the streets of Manchester. Annie Cartwright and Sam Tyler, however, were at the stage in their relationship where silence did not bother them entirely, in fact, they were glad of it sometimes; they were so comfortable with each other, the idea that neither of them speaking being a bad thing didn't cross their minds.
In fact, it was probably for the best at times; Annie knew for the vast majority of the evening, Sam would let the days events play too actively on his mind. He would sit there, pen and paper in hand, scanning through his notes, jotting any random words down amongst the scribbles to make the job even remotely easier for the next day. She would stand there and watch, doing her best to pull him away from his duties as one of the city's best coppers. Sometimes, they both had problems distancing themselves from work and their own private lives.
Yet, it was something they were both more than confident that they could work on - together.
Pulling up, Annie gazed over at her slouched sweetheart. She stroked her scalp with the tip of her index finger in slight anxiousness, waiting for him to place his eyes on her. Her smile, light and flimsy, she eased a little when his fatigued and drowsy vision locked onto her. He sat up, noticing the distant frown on her rosy lips.
He peeked at her hands, rattling against the plastic steering wheel.
"Uh, do you want to come in?"
He looked over to the shamble of a building, with it's boarded up windows and dodgy brickwork, before returning his attentions to her. Sam had to admit that he would probably think twice before wanting to step in there.
She sighed, almost relieved that she'd been invited in, despite the unromantic proposal and their own misgivings; one of them reluctantly scared, now becoming prone to bouts of unease. The other with stomach pains like a rough sea.
Yet, it was still an offer with the best of intentions at heart.
They made their way up the dozens of stairs, warmly yet tensely arm in arm; Annie protecting Sam from himself, making sure he didn't fall over. Shading Sam from hurting himself all over again, cracking another bone in his body. Sam protected Annie from her own timid and abstract imagination by holding her even closer to himself.
As the door creaked slowly open, DC Cartwright was shocked to find the TV, Radio and lights still on; Sam must have been away from his apartment for fifteen hours at least without switching any of them off.
Then, she remembered that they were all turned off when they left, together, minutes after baby Aislin had been collected. Aislin been carted off to another place to be looked after, information that was 'disclosed' at that moment in time to everyone, except for the family. Annie had noticed Sam snort at that statement but decided not to venture too far into that case; she already had too much on her mind.
She shivered, wrapping her arms around her upper body, pleading herself to push the spooky thoughts away briskly; she didn't want to know why the appliances were not switched off. She felt it was her duty to inspect the flat properly, making sure all of the windows were shut, the door bolted locked and everything that needed to be turned off was so before she could settle with Sam, at least for a little while.
Sam trailed behind her, collapsing onto the bed once he'd finally made his presence felt back in his home. Sprawling out across the length rather than from the head to the foot of the bed, his wailing soon attracted the attention of a naturally beautiful and caring woman. His disturbed stomach and broken ribs were certainly playing him up more than he cared to admit; he didn't want her to worry to much about his condition. It was meant to be him reassuring her.
She leant over, her ample breasts only barely covered by the cotton fabric of her dark grey waistcoat, lighter pinstripes giving her a very professional appearance. Her hand caressed his broken ribs, massaging his chest ever so gently; Sam withered, feeling the warmth of her fingertip's touch him even more, the room quiet in spite of the gradual moans and deep breathing; he enjoyed every minute of her attention and rightfully so.
"Do you want anything getting?"
Her innocent question was enough for Sam to realise that maybe, just maybe, she wanted to stay longer than expected. Longer than just making sure he made it up to his flat in one piece. Longer than making sure he could settle down enough for a good nights sleep.
Perhaps even longer than that?
He sat up minorly, exhaling brashly; his eyes still dopey but able to carefully examine his lover's face. "No, I'd better not, thanks. You can get yourself whatever you want, though. There's a half bottle of red wine, if you're interested?"
She bent down, gently kissing his poorly stomach, her smile thin, un-expectantly hesitant, patting his hand as she trudged over to the small kitchen of her boyfriends.
Sam, shifting his weight with any last amount of effort he could muster, moved over as far as possible to the top of the bed, wanting nothing more than his girlfriend to lay next to him; so close, their bodies barely centimetres apart. So close they could share each others body heat and feel each other's breath tingle against their skin.
Annie, taking Sam's advice, managed to complete her successful search for the wine bottle, plodding atypically back over to the bed, doing exactly as Sam hoped she would; lying next to him, softly resting her head on his now rolled forward shoulder. She took slow yet regular sips of the wine, the subterranean, hearty blackcurrant taste lingering in her mouth cosily.
He beamed down to her, like the suns rays on a carnation. She mimicked his actions, in less of a secure fashion, as if something was stopping her. He wrapped his arm around her body, offering a tender kiss to her blushed cheek. She smirked delicately, snuggling up closer to him; she just wanted to feel close to him, to smell his scent so near to her, even if she drowned in it.
DI Tyler rolled as carefully as he could onto his left side, trying not to disrupt his stomach's now semi-settled form. Rubbing a hand over Annie's divinely natural curves, he felt her move in perfect rhythm with his palms, sinking deeper into her partners bed and spiritual comfort.
"What's up?"
Sam's deliberate and quick question made Annie jerk; she had hoped that he'd not noticed her seemingly anxious body language, her borderline frightened expressions and strained speech.
Unfortunately for her, he had. Very much so.
"N-nothing, why?"
Sam rested his heavy head against a bent hand, resting his main body weight on one elbow. "I dunno, you just haven't seemed yourself, that's all, since we got back to the station earlier."
Although Annie paused, pleading for a split second that the ground would open up and swallow her whole, she knew in her heart of hearts that if she didn't confess to Sam her real worries, her real thoughts, that he would either pry and pry until she told him what was up or that he'd guess. In fact, he'd guess rather accurately. And, to be truthful, that was one of the things Miss. Cartwright adored most about her darling; he was so patient, so calm, always trying to understand the fairer sex better, even though he did a pretty good job of understanding them already.
She exhaled obscurely, her lips pursed. "I don't know...it's just this case, you know, the murder inquiries, it makes me wonder what the world's coming to."
Sam sat up, tittering on the inside at his lady's last comment. 'If only she knew.'
"And now with the Gov goin' missing, it's creeping me out."
She trembled at her own thoughts, rubbing her arm nervously as her imagination ran wild like a cheetah. Sam returned to her side, stroking her face tenderly, caressing from her temple, along the apple of her cheek and down to the pit of her jaw line. Her eyes became drowsier, his considerate nature and her own alcohol intake sending her into a placid trance.
His head impelled closer to hers, his voice light and serene. "Stay the night with me, Annie."
Without making herself look desperate, she considered his words for a moment, blinking to him. As strong as she was, she was learning with him that it was ok to admit that you have weaknesses, that sometimes it's nice to just be shielded. "Ok. I will."
Proud that his private conquest had been complete, Sam laid a soft kiss on Annie's mouth, their lips brushing enduringly yet gradually against one another.
Their breathing became steadier, their eyes flickering shut as they fell asleep in each others arms, neither considering letting go. Not for one minute.
The crawl was becoming harder; he was on bended knees, his back killing him, his stomach arched painfully against his bandages, the dark consuming him. He had no idea where he was. All he knew was, he was confused.
"Gene Hunt is in trouble."
The announcement echoed in his ears; he didn't have room to look around to see where it was coming from. Powerless, yet again. But, he was no longer in the tunnel; the scene had snapped into a different time zone, the white light absorbing his frame.
"W-who are you?"
He stepped forward, the dark holding all secrets. Nothing was clear. He could only make out the other man's vaguely familiar voice in the distance.
"Sam, you don't forget me. You'll never forget me."
"Forget who? I-I don't understand."
"We've met before Sam, many a time. You know we have. I'm the answer. To everything."
He chocked back a stifled answer. "Pretty broad statement, don't you think?"
"Maybe. Possibly not. You've found the killer."
He thumped his head, a blatantly bad attempt at knocking sense into himself, trying to rekindle memories from the past, present and future, trying so hard not to forget...
The voice, he knew. He was certain of that. He just couldn't uncover it, make it clearer, against the reverberation of the white noise, the screeching car tyres, females tortured cries, gun shots.
He knew the voice...He knew the voice...He knew the voice...
Sam awoke, suddenly, bold upright in his bed, his clothes stuck to him; the icy cold sweat clamping the fibres to his frame. He panted, perplexed.
"What the hell does all that mean?" his voice was low, inaudible and shaky; he was tired of all of the insanity surrounding his place in the world.
Rubbing away sleep from his hazel eyes, Sam blinked hard, feeling the skin crease together. He couldn't tell what time of day it was; the thick curtains were drawn too near together to see the full brightness of the sky, a product of his lovers secretive nature from the previous night. He knew it must have been early though; Annie was never late up as she wanted to be at the station bright and early, proving her worth to the rest of the CDI.
His neck clicked, pointing his head over to the clock. It read 5.34am. In Sam's mind, the digital, neon green glow told him that it was too early to get up yet too late to go back to sleep. A very awkward time of the day indeed.
He groaned passively, crumbling back down to the covers and lumpy mattress. He inhaled, his hand trailing over his forehead; where the bloody hell had that crazy dream come from?
Trying to force all of that out of his mind, at least for a while, his eyes fell on a sleeping Annie. Laying beside him in a tight ball, her breathing comforted him, made him feel relaxed in a overwrought world. He smooched her on the temple before stumbling over to his bathroom; he knew a lukewarm shower was just the thing he needed at this moment in time, to make him alert and able to take whatever the world had to throw at him that day.
Removing his sticky clothing, Sam squirmed, more than ready to freshen himself up. He stood in the shower, feeling the warm droplets of water tumble across his pale skin, falling freely from his head, slipping down his back, right down to his toes. He was beginning to feel better already, the soap lathering against his skin, making him feel rejuvenated.
Yet, he still could not get that dream out of his mind; in the pit of his stomach, he knew it was some kind of premonition, like the ones he had before. He scrubbed at his face, the traces of blonde stubble pricking his fingers. He hated getting soap in his eyes but just wanted to stop the images, the flashbacks, the awful scenes he still wasn't accustomed to.
What if it all meant something?
The trouble was, he didn't really know why it had troubled him in the way that it did. Except for the voice that irked him. The voice that he knew that he'd heard before. The voice he did recognise. Yet, there was just something about the words; they related to the previous day. Him and Annie had contemplated - only briefly - the idea that Gene Hunt had gone missing, that he was in some sort of trouble. But he just couldn't see in his mind's eye the Gov in danger.
Something just didn't fit.
Then there was the matter of the statement 'I hold the answer, to everything.'
What did the person mean? Did he know the answer of the female murders? Why Sam forced himself to throw himself back into life of 1973 Manchester? Or, even, where the Detective Chief Inspector was?
All of this was just too confusing before six o'clock in the morning; nothing was able to at least partially register with Sam before seven. He shaved quickly, still distracted with the nightmare he'd encountered. He barely noticed the tiny formation of crimson patches dotted over his cheeks and chin. To be truthful, he didn't really care.
He was just too damn preoccupied with that dream.
Annie awoke to the sound of clattering in the bathroom; running water and metal razors colliding with jittery hands, she massaged her eyes, trying to wake herself up. She'd slept really well, considering her frame of mind before her lengthily slumber. She swung her legs over the side of the bed, graced with a familiar face who came tumbling out of the bathroom. Their eyes united, warming to each other's glances.
They didn't even need to say good morning; they just giggled openly, embracing each other.
"Is it ok if I use your shower?" Annie politely questioned, enjoying the fragrance of pure soap of aftershave that clung affectionately to her lover's body.
"Yeah sure. I'll grab you some clean towels." Sam smiled, their lips clung for only a split second before they went their separate ways, Tyler tossing her a couple of ivory body towels whilst vowing to make her breakfast.
She scoffed demurely, her head bowing a little; she was a little embarrassed that a guy was doting on her. It was so...so unexpected, nothing like how things had been in her previous relationships. The men simply expected women to do that sort of thing, to be the one to do the domestic chores.
Yet Sam wasn't like any other man she'd ever known before.
She smiled bashfully, her hand twisting the door handle as she flipped her hair over her shoulders in a quietly seductive manner; she really did have him wrapped around her little finger.
Sam knew it too. Yet he didn't actually care; he loved making her happy, maybe a smidgen more than she possibly knew. He finally felt at peace in a relationship where he knew the feeling was mutual; they both adored each other's time and respected each other as equals, rather than it being a one sided, male dominated relationship like he felt she was used to in 1970's Britain.
Cracking an egg into a mixing bowl, Sam hummed casually to himself. He was a dab hand in the kitchen and, with his twenty-first century attitude to cooking and food, he wanted to make sure that his and Annie's diet was as healthy as possible so they could catch robbers in Manchester quicker than the rest of CID combined! He was determined to make sure that she was able to prove herself effectively too, with only a small piece of his guidance, of course.
Shortly, Miss. Cartwright made her way from the bathroom, rubbing her inadvertently damp hair with the smaller hand towel also present in the pokey bathroom. She sniffed, her eyes widening at the deliciously sweet smell filling the entire area of Sam's flat.
"Something smells good!" she beamed, wrapping her arms loosely but still with emotion around Sammy's injured abdomen.
He turned, pecking her on the nose as he dished up their breakfast. "They are low fat honey crepes." he enthused, plonking the plates down on the rickety table.
"Low fat?" Annie gasped, Sam not realising that could cause offence.
"Trust me, they're yummy!"
"Yummy?" Annie chortled, digging in against the lashings of syrupy goodness to the moist mass.
"Yeah, yummy. The first word that came into my head." Sam flushed, realising how much like a two year old he'd just sounded.
For the most part, they ate their breakfast in silence, both enjoying their meal but also contemplating the day ahead. To be truthful, Sam didn't want to tell Annie all about the bizarre dream he'd just encountered; he'd promised her no more 'funny stuff' was going to come out of his mouth, since his 'return' to 1973.
But surely he couldn't just ignore this strange, sort of premonition - could he?
"Is it alright if I go and get changed, you know, before we go into the office?" Annie questioned civilly, clearing the plates into the sink as Sam gulped down a couple of pink pills and chilled milk.
"Sure." he nodded, grabbing his leather jacket and passing Annie her brown bag in his usual, gentleman like fashion. Annie glanced around just before they left the apartment, wanting to make sure all of her boyfriend's wacky and - for the most part - broken appliances were switched off. She quivered slightly, watching him lock the door behind him.
The drive back to Annie's was faintly five minutes long, their home's quite nearly in spitting distance of each other. Sam - his stomach recovered enough so he didn't have to double over in agony every thirty seconds - drove back to her house. They talked a little about advancing the case, neither of them going into it in too much detail for the time being; it could wait until they got to the station.
They both looked over at the block of flats in which Annie lived; they were much nicer than Sam's home, but not by far, partly because they were newer; the brickwork was far less shoddy.
"Right, I'll be back in five minutes, tops." Annie claimed, striding over to the concrete steps.
"Because it's you, make it ten!" Sam teased, yelling out of the passenger side of the vehicle as he watched her make her way into the off-yellow bricked building.
Then, the world became black.
To be continued...
Hi everyone, hope you're all doing well! Once again, thank you to everyone who read the last chapter, especially JudasFm, Iaveina, losttimelady, xX-Silver-and-cold-Xx and Emmylou for taking the time to review! Hope you guys all enjoyed this update!
Thank you and please review!