Hello my dears! Welcome to the second to last chapter of 'Blimey, it's a baby!' Again, this chapter is fairly long but it does help to answer a lot of the questions from earlier on in the story so I hope you stick with it! I'm sure you can't wait for all of your burning questions to be answered:P Thank you once again to losttimelady, Mindless Image and JudasFm for reviewing last time!
Here we go! Enjoy!
"YOU GET IN THERE YOU BITCH! HOW DARE YOU SHOW YOUR FACE IN MY HOME EVER AGAIN, AFTER WHAT YOU'VE DONE?! SLAG!"
Although his face was obscured by the shadow of the room, Mike Smith's voice shone as clear as the August sun. A blonde woman, thrown into the room by her hair, sobbed, clutching something dearly to her chest, trying desperately to defend whatever it was. She fell to the floor in angst, landing on her side, still holding whatever it was wrapped in her arms dearly. She obviously didn't care for herself. Not anymore.
Sam gasped, rushing over to her as the door banged shut, once again. "Are you ok, love?" he questioned in great haste. Then, his jaw dropped, his face long with surprised. "Auntie Jillian?" he mumbled, so inaudible that people just turned and stared at him. No one could comprehend him.
She turned to sit against the wall, cowering away from the DI. In the vague light that was Gene holding a candle, provided by Mike, into the air, Sam knew it was her; her eyes, red and swollen. Strands of her dirty, lacklustre hair clung to her face, the tears washing over her blushed cheeks; she was humiliated by the scene.
Scratching her heels against the floor, she hung to herself, burying her head into the object of all of her trauma. She couldn't believe this was happening to her. Especially not in front of all these strangers.
Well, not in as many words.
Sam, taking one look at the half dead carcass of Morgan, turned to the Gov who appeared as equally as perplexed as the younger man. Sam swallowed, Gene's head directing his Inspector to find out exactly what was going on.
Sam knew he had to be subtle, not revealing too much or too little. He had to tread carefully. The woman was in a right state, seemingly in emotional turmoil. He had to block out any sentiments of coming from the future, believing that she was indeed his Aunty. He had to do his job.
He inched closer to her, slowly but effectively. He got in front of her, several centimetres away from her face; not too close yet not too far for privacy. "Hi, I'm DI Tyler - Sam. What's your name?"
He heard her snivel, her head lifting a little, revealing one of her rounded green eyes in curiosity yet great suspicion. "Sam Tyler. I have a nephew called that." she responded resignedly, shying away from any definite answers of her own.
Sam gazed away quickly, continuing to chew his gum. "Really?"
"Yeah. So they did get the right people?" she spoke lowly, her head lifting once again to take a look at the other man.
"Right people, love?" Gene quizzed, becoming involved.
"Yeah, this whole thing. They got you."
"They?" Sam played dumb, now sitting besides the woman, still keeping his distance but at the same time offering some much needed protection.
"Yeah. Mike Smith and Frank Morgan. Bastards. I can't believe they've done this." she snorted, glancing up at the ceiling in desolation, her arms wrapping themselves tighter around whatever she was clasping.
Sam could see his Gov, out of the corner of his eye, shifting his weight, his lips pursed. "Ok, sweet'eart, can you start from the beginning for us?"
The blonde felt that somehow she could trust DI Tyler. She offered him a hasty, confused look.
"Oh, don't worry, that's my DCI - Gene Hunt. Tell us what's been going on, how this has all come about?"
Choking on her tears, she couldn't take her eyes off Morgan the whole time she spoke. Her speech was quiet, tactful yet honest. From Sam's memory, Aunty Jillian was one of the worst liars to ever walk the planet. His Mum had said that so many times before.
"Well, about a month ago, when I was about to give birth to my baby, the day before I went into hospital we got a phone call from C Division in Hyde. Now, I'd never visited the place, but my husband - Mike - apparently had," she began, the distaste of her husband's name extremely perceptible. "Well, this chap called DCI Morgan told us that he needed our help."
"What kind of help?" Gene pestered, getting a fairly stern look from Sam. Gene wasn't one for listening for too long so probably decided to keep himself amused by asking questions that were obviously to be answered, earlier if he hadn't interrupted.
"He said that it was top secret and that we'd have to go to Hyde to listen to what he had to say," She answered, looking to the ground. "So, the day after I was discharged, we went to Hyde, to talk to this...this man."
She paused, seemingly to recollect herself. Sam rubbed her back gently, trying to spur her on, offer her some much needed support. "What happened next?"
"Then...Morgan told us that he needed our help. Something to do with our family, Ruth and Vic."
Sam sat up, listening more attentively. His stomach dropped; he knew he wouldn't want to hear this. "Oh yeah? Then what?"
"He told us this bizarre story about a copper. About you DI Tyler-"
"Please, call me Sam."
"Ok - Sam - saying that you thought that your parents were our Ruth and Vic."
Sam exhaled briskly, wanting the ground to swallow him up there and then; Gene was giving him the most incomprehensible look he'd ever seen.
"That you were actually called DI Williams. I can't remember all of that bit." she rubbed her head with one hand, closing her eyes tightly shut as if the conversation would magically reappear.
"It's ok, love, just tell us all you can." Gene reassured, running a hand through his locks.
"That bit was awfully convoluted to me. Mike was fascinated with it - found it all strange but so, so interesting. Anyway, he told us that he had come up with a plan to show your department up, to try and put his plan into operation."
"Go on." Sam urged, now fully alert.
"So his team could take over Manchester's A Division, and build it in Hyde's vision. He was going to prove your incompetence by making sure everyone would know about it." she said, her pronunciation of some words slightly off; she was trying her best to imitate Morgan's exact words, although her mind was clearly trying to reject all notions.
"He wanted everyone to take notice. Especially the media. That's why he had all of those women killed."
Sam sat up, clearing his throat. "Where does Mike Smith fit into all of this, then?"
"Mike was controlled by Morgan, plain and simple. He changed when they met. Mike had always been fascinated with crime, with the darker side of life. He'd been complaining about the police for a while. Especially what happened with Vic - his sister's husband. He wanted revenge for that, for his kid sister being left without a husband for income support."
Sam felt himself shiver. He didn't want to hear this. The Mike Smith he'd remembered was always kind and thoughtful towards him; always buying him and Ruth presents, taking care of them whilst Vic was on the road, trying to earn cash for the family. Trying to earn money for them to survive.
And then, he left.
"He hated you guys after that." she chuckled, lightly, regretfully. "He was convinced that you drove Vic out of town, making him leave."
"Mrs. Smith, I know this may be hard for you to answer and I apologise for asking but did Mike Smith kill any of those women?"
Suddenly, Jillian began to cry, making Sam sorry that he'd gone there. His tone, although innocuous, did nothing to comfort her. However, answers were needed for the sake of the deceased young girls families. And for the whole justice system.
"Ye-yes. He was going to do it again. A girl, looked barely older than fifteen in the alleyway outside the house. I came back, to collect some of my baby's clothes and what not. H-he was wearing thick, rubber gloves, black clothing. He was about to take the sledgehammer down on the girl. She was screaming, begging for her life. She was shaking below him. He'd made her sit below him. Probably to give himself power, I don't know. I feel like I've never known him, now."
She paused, taking a handkerchief from her pocket and dried her eyes, the rest of the weeks mascara finally rubbing free in a flood of grey misery.
"Then, he saw me coming. I tried to hide from him at first, you know, so we wouldn't get hurt. But then I feel against a dustbin. The lid fell off, clattering, startling him and the young girl. He yelled at me, telling me that I was stupid, that I was ruining everything. She managed to get away in time. Thankfully."
The blonde could barely hold her distain any longer, she broke down, lifting the baby from within her close clasps, sobbing freely before the men. Gene and Sam spied each other; they knew that this was the truth, as painfully true as it all was.
"Aislin." Sam mumbled, offering to take her. Her mother shook her head; at this moment in time, she couldn't trust anyone with her daughter. Not even her own Father.
"No, no, it's ok, love. I know Aislin. She was left outside of my flat several days ago. I took her to hospital - she was black and blue." Sam remembered grimly.
"Tell me - did Mike harm your daughter?"
Jillian Smith daren't admit the biggest misgiving of all; her inability to protect her baby when she needed her most. "Mike would get angry with Ai so easily. All the time I was pregnant, he couldn't wait for her to be born. Neither of us could. Then...when we met Morgan, it changed," she paused, trying to comprehend all of this. "He got irritated so much easier. At first, he would only give her a tap on the face, to try and get her to shut up. Then, it got a lot worse."
Sam encouraged Jillian to take it easier; she looked like she was about to faint through her anxiety.
"One night he was on the phone to Morgan. Ai started to cry. I'd been having a bad day. I couldn't get her to feed. Th-then Mike snatched her from me, started hitting her. I couldn't stop him. He yelled at me. 'Get the fuck away from me or I kill you!'. I-I knew he wasn't joking. I knew he would do it. That's the same night that she was left outside your flat, as part of the plan..."
Jillian's voice broke, her shoulders crumpling.
"I'm...so sorry...darling." she stammered uncontrollably, holding her baby girl closer.
The room went silent again as DCI Hunt and DI Tyler decided what would be best to do next. Throughout the whole interview, her words were barely louder than a whisper, her quivering evident both in her body language and voice. She was terrified.
Especially when Morgan grunted in the corner; she stopped dead in her tracks. Until Hunt got up and kicked him in the bonce to make sure he was out cold. Then, she returned to her saga.
Gene and Sam were both shocked by the revelations; especially Sam. It had confirmed all of his worst fears about his past. Many things echoed in his head. He couldn't control some of them.
About this time (if it was true that he was three in 1973) he could vaguely remember the disappearance of his Uncle Mike. His Mum sat him down, told him gently that he'd gone. That he was forced to leave town, that he wouldn't understand. Then, his Aunt Jillian went missing. So did Aislin.
"I'm so sorry, Sammy. It's your Aunty Jillian - she died. She was found dead. Alone. I-I can't believe it."
Sam reopened his eyes, trying to shake the forlorn memories from his mind. Every time he closed his eyes, he could still see his Mum crying, so much that her breath was shaky, her eyes so bloodshot.
He couldn't let that happen again. For the sake of baby Aislin; no one knew what happened to her after that fateful night.
Him and his DCI needed to formulate a plan and fast before history could tragically repeat itself.
- - - - - - - - - -
Pulling up to the familiar property, Chris took in a deep breath; the whole future of the station was resting firmly on his, Ray and Litton's shoulders.
They all spied the house with great fear although two of the van's occupants were too proud to admit it.
There was no chance of backing out then and there though; everyone was depending on them, especially Annie who obviously didn't want to be left with the creep Norton for very long.
"So, Constable Skelton and Sergeant Carling - are you both clear of the plan?"
They nodded in agreement, although Chris looked like he was about to loose his breakfast! This was by far the biggest challenge the young man had ever undertaken in his career so far.
"Good, well, lets get on with it!" Litton ordered, stepping confidently from the brown window cleaning van, slamming the door shut with a self important thud.
Chris doubted whether this plan would work; in fact, he more than doubted the plan, he wished they'd never come up with it! However, Annie had assured them it would work in one way or the other. In fact, she guaranteed it.
As he and Ray began collecting ladders and buckets from the van, he kept a close eye on DCI Litton's actions. He was wearing sunglasses for starters - a stupid move considering they were trying to 'fit in' with the common man. In fact, Litton realised this momentarily after knocking on the door. He was sure that he needed to remain cool but without giving the game away too much.
The door opened by a crack, a middle height, balding gentleman stood behind it. "Yeah, what do you want?"
Litton wasn't quite expecting that amount of hostility but soldiered on none the less. "Hello, we are here to clean your windows."
"What happened to my other window cleaner?"
"I'm afraid he's had to go away for some time and he's sent us as his cover." Litton announced, looking over his shoulders as Ray and Chris came trundling down the path.
"Three people are one man's cover?"
Litton gulped; he hadn't expected that last question. Thankfully, Sergeant Ray was keeping his wits about him.
"Yeah, we're 'is apprentices."
Mike tittered aggressively. "If you don't mind me saying so, you look a bit old to be anyone's apprentice."
Ray, his eyes tapering. He tried to keep his cool, realising just how important this was to the entire city.
"Yes, well, he just moved to the area. Fancied trying something a bit different." Litton affirmed, gesticulating for the DC and DS to make their way around the back of the house.
Smith was sceptical, especially with Ray's Manchurian accent. Alas, he had bigger problems than a few window cleaners to contend with. Starting with that bitch of a wife. "Ok. Just make it quick."
Litton nodded, following his officers to the side of the building, hearing the door slam shut.
"Go on, get up the ladder. I'll 'old it for yer." Carling stated, taking a fag from his top pocket.
Chris gulped. "Uh, can't you go up, Ray?"
"No, it's an order you div. Get up there!"
"I uh, can't."
Litton and Carling glimpsed at each other. "And why not?"
"Co-coz...I'm scared of 'eights."
Ray and the DCI shook their heads in exasperation. "Why the bloody 'ell didn't you say so last night?!" Ray queried, now at boiling point.
"Dunno. Just didn't seem like the right time, that's all."
"Don't give me any of that rubbish! Get up there and start cleaning - now!" Litton ordered, pushing Chris' backside, nearly sending him flying into the glass he was meant to be cleaning!
Although he was keeping an eye on what the 'window cleaners' were doing, Mike Smith was in need of a stiff drink. He knew it was only a matter of time before more copper's found him, wanting his head on a silver platter.
He took a huge swig of vodka, sticking his snarling tongue out; he hated the friction down the back of his neck, scorching the tissue in his mouth and throat. Yet, it felt good; it helped him block out all of the days events, like a black cloud obscuring all thought and memory. He needed to forget what his wife had done. Or something sinister may well have happened to her.
Mike's next plan of action hadn't really been made; he didn't know entirely what to do if the copper's had shown their ugly mugs around there. He thought about playing it cool, like he had been doing, and if he needed to fight, he needed to fight; simple as.
There came a knock at the door. Making himself jump, Mike took another gulp of Vodka, teetering over to the door; he felt like puking on whoever was there at that second.
Meanwhile, around the back of the property, Chris was still up the ladder - he was about to enter the unknown; him and Ray had managed to find an open window, giving them the golden opportunity that they'd been awaiting with open arms. It sure beat their back up plan of putting an elbow through the glass!
Chris began to notice just how high up in the air they both were. Glancing over the chimney pot he could see the vast majority of the city below him. Certainly not the best cure for vertigo...
"C'mon Chris ya poof, get in there!" Ray shoved, trying to force Chris into the miniscule top window.
"C-can't you go first, mate?"
"No I bloody well can't! Besides, you're thinner than me - I need you to get in first and unlock that winda', ya understand?"
With one heave, Chris crashed into the room, making Mike turn his head, listening with great intent as he opened the front door. Litton started babbling on about the weather, how the windows took longer than expected to clean; anything to distract Mr. Smith now they were at the most crucial stage of the whole plan.
Then, another crash came from upstairs, Mike spinning right around.
Would the plan fall apart at the final hurdle?
To be completed...