Chapter 2: "You ponce around with your fancy tactics and your head full of knowledge and you make me realise that I don't know everything."
Sam caught up with Gene a few yards down the road and called out to him. He didn't stop walking.
"Will you just bloody stop walking for a minute" Sam reached out and caught hold of his arm, pulling him to a halt and turning the older man round so he was facing him. Gene glared at him.
"Get your hands off me, Tyler" he warned.
"not until you tell me what your problem is" Sam held his grip on Gene's left forearm fast. He started at him, hard - trying to somehow read his expression.
"I don't have a bloody problem!" Gene shook his arm hard and when that failed to release it, balled his right hand into a fist and drove it straight into Sam's stomach. That worked. Sam staggered backwards, unprepared for this to turn into another of their spats. "Now will you just piss off and get back to your little girlfriend and leave me alone!" Sam was hunched over trying to get breath back into his lungs as Gene turned and again started walking away from him.
"Is that what this is about?" he asked after taking a deep painful breath. He heard Gene's feet falter in their path slightly. "Is that why you're ignoring me?" he asked again, straightening up in time to see his Gov stop altogether. He saw those broad shoulders turn but was caught completely off guard by his next move. Before he could really register what was happening, Gene had him by the lapels of his jacket shoved hard against the wall and was speaking very quietly.
"Is that what you think is it, Tyler?" he said, rage spilling into every syllable. "That I'm pissed off with you for finally getting it on with Cartwright?" Sam blinked, suddenly very, very aware of just how close Gene's face was to his.
"er…" was all he managed to stutter
"Well you're completely" he shoved Sam's back hard against the wall "utterly" he did it again "wrong". Sam winced as the cold brickwork connected with his spine for the last time. He looked into Gene's eyes then, and saw quite plainly that he was hiding something. "I couldn't give a shit who you're shagging, Tyler, so get over yourself and stop thinking the world revolves around you and you alone" Gene finished, before taking half a step back and releasing the bunched up leather in his hands. Sam steadied himself and suddenly found he had all the answers.
"You're jealous" he said then, wishing he could have chewed his tongue off the minute he'd said it. But he caught the flicker of fear that passed through Gene's face before he was able to hide it. And then he knew.
"You're jealous" he said again, sure from that look that he'd uncovered the truth. "I don't bloody believe it" he muttered before a strong powerful fist connected with his left temple and sent him sprawling to the floor. "Do not presume to know me, Tyler!" Gene sent a kick into Sam's stomach, as Sam instinctively rolled into a ball to protect himself. "I am not bloody jealous of your poxy little relationship with Cartwright and don't ever dare try to tell me how I'm feeling!" Sam looked up at him from the ground and for the second time that day tried to re-inflate his lungs.
"Then what's with all this?" he asked, slowly beginning to crawl to his knees. Gene looked at him. "Why are you so bloody angry with me?!" he stood up slowly and steadied himself against the wall that not so long ago he'd been pinned up against.
"Because" Gene stated, as though that was enough.
"Because?" Sam asked, guarded against further attack now. "That's all you're giving me, because?"
"yes. Now if you don't mind…" he sniffed and put his hands into his pockets as though he was off home.
"you're pathetic" Sam cut him off and Gene glared at him. Sam was trying to prepare himself for another battering and looked the older man straight in the eyes.
"what did you just say?" Gene asked, turning to face him and automatically balling his hands.
"I said, you're pathetic" Sam repeated, bracing himself "You can't even tell me what the hell I've done wrong! Jesus Gov, ever since I bloody arrived in this shit hole you've been on my case but I've proved myself haven't I? I'm a good bloody copper Gov, and I wont have you skulking around the place glaring at me and beating the shit out of me just 'because' you can" Sam was breathing hard now, sure he was about to be reacquainted with the concrete. Gene stood inches away from him, staring him hard in the face.
"You want to know, Tyler, what my problem with you is, do you?" he asked dangerously.
"Yes" Sam replied, equally as venomous.
"You really want to know?" he'd somehow taken another step forward and Sam found himself backed against the wall again.
"yes. I do" He said clearly, feeling the Gov's hot breath against his face.
"My fucking problem with you, Sam - is that you've just strolled on into my town and completely turned my entire world upside down. You've made me doubt things that I've always known as certain. You make my team look at me and see a bad guy, not a good guy. You ponce around with your fancy tactics and your head full of knowledge and you make me realise that I don't know everything. You look at me like I'm shit on your shoe sometimes Tyler - and that fucking pisses me right off. And what really, really annoys me about you, is that I find myself bloody well liking you despite all this. I can't figure you out, you bastard and I hate how you make me feel!" Gene's hands had once again found themselves gripping Sam's lapels on his jacket and he pushed him back against the wall again for good measure before he realised that at some point amongst the diatribe he was spitting at him, Sam had worked his hands up between them so that he was now gripping Gene's wrists as hard as Gene was gripping his jacket. Sam was staring at him hard.
"And how do I make you feel, Gov?" he asked quietly, unsure of the answer he'd receive.
"Like it's 1964 again" the DCI answered, completely confusing Sam even further.
"What?" he replied, hands still tightly holding the wrists of the man pinning him to the wall. Gene sighed, realising somehow that he'd crossed the line that he'd never dared himself to even think about before now. He'd have to explain, and explaining was something that he wasn't that great at. That's why he tended to use his fists a lot, he let them do his talking and he got his point across much easier usually. He took a deep breath and dropped his gaze to the dirty concrete by his feet.