The room returned to darkness; the only form of light, although miniscule and artificial, came from the crack underneath the door frame, shining across Gene Hunt's face as he sat glaring into space, still deep in thought.
Sam Tyler guessed that it was getting pretty late; Morgan wouldn't be wasting electric if he didn't have to. He came across as pedantic and controlling; if he lived to see the days of Global Warming, he'd probably be one of those people that campaigned relentlessly for the cause that many wouldn't live to see succeed anyway. There was nothing wrong with being passionate about saving the planet but that DI got a little fed up of hearing about it constantly in the press, back in 2006.
He let his mind wonder too much; the day had been rather stressful. Sam had never ever intended on telling Gene his 'life story'. He'd dread the day he'd walk into CID to hear Carling jeer at him because the Gov had got a bit too tipsy at the Railway Arms the night before and started spilling his most personal secrets.
Then again, Sam felt that he'd uncovered a new found faith in his Governor; he was genuinely concerned for his welfare. Sam recognised the sympathy and sorrow in his eyes after the gut wrenching confession. It was as if they were kindred in spirits.
Either that or they were forced to be merely because of the complex set of circumstances.
Gene grunted, shifting his weight until he became a little more comfortable against the solid wall. He loosened his tie some more, the oppressive atmosphere in the room starting to really piss him off.
His harsh gaze landed on the fallen body of DCI Morgan; he was either passed out or asleep, Gene couldn't decipher which one. Either way, today had confirmed Hunt's initial impressions of him; Frank Morgan was complete and utter chicken shit.
Gene had known this the moment the other so-called Chief Inspector waltzed in on his kingdom, his head hung high, his nose in the air as if there was a constant bad smell underneath. The way he threw his weight around, the way he called his bunch of morons 'incompetent' and the way he tried to get him thrown in jail.
That was a catastrophe in itself.
The increasingly dimming light didn't help Gene as couldn't tell whether his DI was awake of not; he'd figure that he was still slumped hopelessly against the wall, broken ribs and all, in a distracted, restless state of sleep.
"Sam...oi, Gladys, are you awake?"
The rustling of the leather jacket became known. Sam crawled over to where his Gov sat, partly because he wanted to move (his limbs were becoming rather too stiff) and he wanted to talk to someone - anyone - without one Frank Morgan awaking.
"What's up?"
"Dunno. Just wan'ed someone to talk to."
"Oh." A few slight moments of deliberation made both men uneasy. "What about?"
"Dunno. Anything. Like what we're gonna do with that piece of crap when 'e wakes up?"
"I don't really know what we can do..."
"I'm surprised his bum bandit 'asn't been in 'ere, checkin' on 'im."
"Who? Mike Smith?"
"Yes, Sherlock, Mike Smith. That prick that knocked us both out cold before cooping us up in 'ere."
DCI Hunt raised his voice, trying to keep as much of a hushed over tone as possible; he was beginning to get more and more flustered the more he felt about the back handed treatment him and his Inspector had received.
Sam shuddered a little, disliking his Gov's turn of phrase. "You can't, at this time, confirm Mr. Smith's involvement with this whole affair."
"Oh wake up, Tyler! The guys been avoiding your questions like the plague since day one! Suddenly, we seem to find ourselves in 'is 'ouse and you're still tryin' to plead his case!"
"Gov, that's what we only think. I'll admit, he has been trying to avoid answering some of my questions. But, you have to remember, he's going through trauma at the moment. His wife's gone missing, Police are breathing down the back of his neck, of course he's gonna be suspicious and scared for that matter."
"Who said?"
"Me." Sam whispered firmly, hearing the Governor grunt cynically. "Gene, I'm not saying he's not guilty, in fact, I know he played a part in all of this somehow..."
"Ha!"
"But I don't think it was intentional - say he was set up, you know, as a cover up for Morgan."
DCI Hunt's cogs started turning; somehow that did just make sense. "If you can prove it, Tyler, you're a better man than I am."
Abruptly, a prolonged and worn groan transpired from the opposite corner of the room; Frank Morgan was waking up.
- - - - - - - - - -
Chris Skelton, taking another couple of assorted out of date crisps, tossed them down the back of his neck. He barely gave himself time to crunch them. In fact, in his rush, he nearly choked, neither Annie Cartwright or Ray Carling coming to his aide.
Eventually, the learning Constable made his way over to his door which Annie expected to collapse right onto him; she'd spent enough time in her lovers flat to appreciate the dodgy surroundings. By the looks of this place, it looked to be of an even lower standard to Sam's.
Wiping the odd soggy grains of salt from his finger tips, Chris opened the door, his mouth agape at who was stood their; in fact, it was a good job he'd just swallowed his last mouthful of his snacks or there could have been a rather nasty mess on both men's shoes.
"DI Norton - what are you doin' 'ere?"
Ray and Annie turned around, simultaneously, Carling shooting arrows at the Inspector.
"Oh, I didn't realise we were having an off premises meeting!" Norton sounded cheery, trying his best to get in the door.
However, one person in the room was having absolutely none of it.
"Who the bloody 'ell do you think you are to come in 'ere like this? We're off duty - remember? This is our time and if we want to spend it in each others company, we bloody well can do. We don't need your type comin' in 'ere, makin' things difficult, ok?"
Although eager to find out from such an astute person what his 'type' included, Norton casually shrugged his shoulders; really, he didn't have the time nor inclination to deal with this. "Actually, I just popped round to see how DC Skelton here thought the investigation was going - since he seemed to be the only person doing any amount of work whilst I was around."
Both Annie and Ray turned to each other, both seething. "'Ow the pissing 'ell did you expect us to work when you waltzed in, acting like you'd got something crammed up your arse and staring at 'er tits for most the day?"
It wasn't very often that the Sergeant spoke up on behalf of Annie; in fact, she was rather shocked. He spent most of the day either doing what he was condemning Norton for or rolling his eyes whenever she opened her mouth to speak.
Either that or he would now make constant, snide joke about her and Sam's budding relationship. Often along the lines of who had the bigger balls out of the two of them.
None the less, the young woman was grateful that someone - even if it was Ray Carling - was standing up for her.
"Well, DS Carling, it seems that you never over burden yourself with work." the Inspector decided, still keeping his voice low, almost pleasant yet firm. He turned to Annie, smiling over to her with a twinkle in his eye. "And, DC Cartwright, I'm so sorry if I offended you. I hope that I didn't make you as uncomfortable as your colleague here says."
Annie, standing to his feet and tottering over to the door frame, kept her hands loosely hung together, as they bounced over her stomach lightly. In the corner of her bright, cornflower blue eyes she could see Ray, his hands on his hips, glaring at her; he was subliminally telling her to let rip, tell the perverted bastard exactly what she thought of him. Make him know that she wasn't happy he was in CID, let alone in Chris' flat.
She glanced to her feet, clearing her throat a little; the dust was starting to trouble her. "To be honest, DI Norton, I'm pretty much used to that, in the office. I accept your apology." she nodded, seeing the Inspectors eyes light up.
"Thank you. Anyway, DC Skelton, DC Cartwright, I'll see you two tomorrow." Norton declared, waving goodbye to the two constables as he shot Ray a satisfied, catty look.
The young owner of the flat shut the door, grabbing another handful of crisps. However, the other man in the room was visibly disgusted. Annie felt this gaze upon her; she only glanced up quickly, her vision pointing downwards once again.
"What th- "
"I know, I know. I just don't want to fall out with 'im. At the end of the day, if we have to work with 'im until we get the Gov and DI Tyler back, we 'ave to be civil."
Ray tutted, growling as he took a cigarette from his pocket; that had pissed him off big style. "You should have just told the prick what you thought instead of all this shit about 'accepting your apology'." Carling mimicked snidely, lighting up his fag and taking a quick yet fierce drag on it.
Annie, her shoulders back, her head now upright, faced the Sergeant with great grit and determination. "Look, Ray, I know you're my superior officer and all but I will not be told what to do by you when we are outside the working hours. Now, I'm sorry if my answer upset you, but we have to move on. We have to think of a solution and how to nail Mike Smith before he strikes again, ok?"
The atmosphere dropped. Ray couldn't look Annie in the eye for fear of seeing defeat. Chris nodded, inviting his work mates to sit down and think of a plan, once again.
With no unwelcome interruptions.
- - - - - - - - - -
Sam and Gene glanced at each other wearily; neither man had really planned for the waking up of Hyde's top DCI. Both feeling defensive, stood to their feet, taking small yet assured steps over to the corner where Morgan's body lay, half motionless, half alert.
Hunt, regaining his proud stance, snorted, clearing the phlegm from the back of his neck; he wanted to make sure that the despicable Chief Inspector heard him loud and clearly. "Morning Morgan - 'ow's the 'ead?"
DI Tyler couldn't help but snigger at the last remark of sarcasm. When the Gov's nonchalant yet downright rude comments weren't aimed in his direction, they were quite amusing to his ears. At least they brought a moderate amount of humour to the days proceedings.
Morgan turned onto his back, trying to stand too hastily; he would not let Hunt and Williams have the advantage over him. Stumbling back to the ground, Morgan clutched his head. He could make out a bump the size of a medium egg forming on his forehead. Sam cringed inwardly; the Gov's fists were certainly deadly.
"What happened?" refusing to curse, Morgan exhaled jadedly, his finger tips still tracing the lump on his cranium.
"Your 'ead met my fist." Gene announced, rather proudly. "Let's just say they didn't get along too well."
"You don't say?" Morgan rasped, edging even closer to the corner of the wall; he was determined not to be beaten up - again.
Sam didn't honestly know what to say. He felt that it was almost his turn to speak, to say something either finicky or profound. Yet, words failed him. This situation was failing him.
"As soon as we - or I - get out of here, I'm going to make sure you get locked up, Gene, for assaulting a fellow officer." Morgan pronounced, now standing unsteadily on his feet as he grasped the wall for support.
DCI Hunt sniffed the air, his hands stuck in his pockets. "That's funny, Frank, coz I uh don't think anything of that nature occurred, do you, DI Tyler?"
Gene glanced over at Sam who knew exactly what he was doing with Frank Morgan; toying with him. Trying to unravel him before making him feel so inadequate, so small, that he would be forced to reveal everything to him, all of his scheming and planning. Simple.
Or so he hoped.
"No, I never saw anything along those lines, Gov, not at all."
"So, 'Frank', when do you plan on gettin' outta 'ere then?" Gene snickered, knowing how irritated Morgan would become now that they were on first name terms.
Morgan sneered, still with a sense of dignity about him. "As soon as possible."
He shoved past both members of Manchester's A Division, striding over to the door. He nudged the frame, his sweating palms and forehead telling the story of his frustration. He put his shoulder to it, soon regretting that decision immensely.
Sam and Gene, knowing how to make the situation hundreds of times worse for the DCI began to whistle, like birds at the crack of dawn; extremely clearly yet ear piercingly inhospitable.
Morgan wiped his damp palms across his chest, down the front of his navy suit. His anger was beginning to show. No matter how much he tried to conceal it, like a bout of acne on the night of a ball, it just wasn't working. His eyes became heavier and more vengeful as he tried to keep his distance from the other two.
In spite of that, there were questions on his mind too.
"So, Mr. Will-"
"DI Tyler to you." Sam spoke steadfastly; he hoped that all of this nonsense about Williams wasn't about to be discussed.
"DI Williams, have we told your current DCI all about your past?"
Sam, as much as he tried, couldn't avoid his emotions surfacing on his face. His eyes darted to the ground. He should have known that this situation wouldn't solely play out in their favour.
"Yes, he did." Gene affirmed on his Inspectors behalf; he could see how uncomfortable his officer was beginning to appear; his shoulders slumped, his head hung downwards. "And, being as we are on the subject, can I just say how proud I am of 'im."
Sam's head lifted a little; was Gene Hunt saying something remotely nice about him? Surely this was another one of those vividly cruel dreams he was starting to have yet again.
Gene marched slowly forward. "I am proud that 'e's in Manchester, keeping bastards like you off the street!"
"Oh yeah, how did you come to the conclusion, Gene, that I'm an illegitimate child?"
Gene chuckled acrimoniously. "You know what, 'Frank', I don't care what 'is past was like. I don't care about 'Yde and most importantly, I don't care about you. When we get out of this dump, I'm gonna tell the world exactly what I think of you. 'Ow you had tens of women in this city brutally murdered coz of an old grudge you have with one man. 'Ow you had a child beaten coz of who 'er Daddy is."
"What makes you so sure, Gene, that I arranged all of this, hum?"
Sam even thought that Gene was treading on dodgy ground right now; that was only a theory that he'd been mulling over, for lack of anything else to do. It seemed logical, granted, but the Gov didn't exactly have a way with words.
Gene glanced only very slightly over his shoulder, to inspect his DI's facial expressions. He didn't seem too hopeful right now.
"And, most importantly, Gene, whatever makes you think that you and William's over there are ever getting out of here?"
Gene was livid; he'd taken all that a man could take. His blood was boiling, a kettle with a blown fuse. "If YOU will never let us out of 'ere, Morgan, then I shall make sure that you never do, either. I'll make sure that you are so broken, so bruised, so pissin' dead, that you're legs will be snapped in too many places, that you'll never, ever be able to get out of 'ere, on your own. Or that you'll have no way of stoppin' us gettin' out, got it?"
As Gene gesticulated, spittle flying from his gob like fireworks on a New Year's celebration, Sam was starting to question his Gov's integrity.
In fact, he was beginning to question whether Gene Hunt had ever had any integrity at all.
To be continued...
Hey! Thank you to JudasFm and losttimelady for being kind enough to review the last chapter as well as Cat Yuy for adding this to your alerts list!
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