Part Six

"Sam? Sam? How are you feeling?"

"Mum?" Sam groaned and leaned into the coolness someone was pressing against his forehead. "I feel better, Mum. Better..."

The woman crouched beside him sighed. "Clearly not, if you think I'm your mum."

Sam's eyes flew opened to take in the sight of Gene Hunt's wife raising an eyebrow at him. "Oh!" He remembered now. "Sorry..." He started to sit up and found that, while the sharp pain in his ribs had faded to a dull ache, it still hurt. Grimacing, he pushed himself up on his elbows... and realized that he was missing his shirt.

"I think you are a bit better," Alice murmured, removing the cool flannel from his forehead. "Ever since we stripped you, your fever went down considerably."

Sam felt his face flush as he quickly looked down at himself. He was wearing nothing but his trousers, and wide swatches of gauze were wrapped tightly around his ribs. He winced at the sight of all the bruises covering his body. Those were going to hurt for a while.

"How do those ribs feel?" Alice asked.

"Better."

"And your nausea?"

"Still there, but not as bad." Actually, he felt-

"Hungry?" Alice asked.

Sam looked at her with a smile. "Yes. I am."

"I'll fix you some porridge." She stood and walked toward the kitchen, leaving Sam alone in the living room.

For a moment, he wondered where Gene was, then he realized that it must be late morning. Gene would be at work, at CID, where Sam should be. Sam groaned and fell back against the pillows. Mistake, he realized, as the sudden impact jarred through his body. He clenched his teeth and held back a cry of pain.

"Stupid, stupid," he muttered to himself.

Sam decided that he was not going to enjoy being away from work. He couldn't. They needed him.

A strange sadness tightened his throat when he wondered if maybe they didn't. Maybe they didn't need an injured murder suspect tagging along. His eyes and nose started to sting, and he swore, forcing himself not to cry. He sniffed and angrily wiped at his eyes.

They were going to solve this—Gene and Ray and Chris and Annie—and they were going to do it with Sam's help.

"I will not be useless," Sam vowed, gingerly sitting up again. A wave of deja vu swept over him. He had tried getting up before. He had used the bathroom as an excuse—and the throwing up and struggling to breathe had prevented him from completing his mission. What was I trying to do? What was it?

"Aha!" Sam exclaimed, then clapped a hand over his mouth with a glance toward the kitchen. He waited, and when Alice didn't return, he carefully pushed himself up to a seating position. His whole body felt stiff, especially his throbbing ribs, and nausea threatened to arise in his stomach. But he made himself sit up.

He had to find out who had followed him at the restaurant the night Robert Boardman was murdered.

"Eh? What is it, Chris?"

Chris swallowed visibly, clearly excited about something. Annoyingly, he seemed too worked up to speak.

"We haven't got all day," Gene snapped.

"Guv, it's about the Boss," Chris finally stated, seeming both proud of himself and worried at the same time.

"I should hope so, Christopher, as we're working on a case in which he is accused of murder," Gene replied. "Go on."

"Well the other night—the night that poor bloke was murdered—I was talkin' to the Boss before we left work-"

Gene resisted the urge to sigh and roll his eyes. He felt his cheek twitch.

"-and I was askin' him if I'd see him at the Railway Arms, as usual, and he said no," Chris continued, oblivious to his Guv's impatience. "And I was wonderin' why. I started to walk away, but then I thought, I'll ask him. I'll see what the Boss is up to. I was all curious like-"

Gene sighed and rolled his eyes. "Chris, what has this got to do with the case?"

Chris blinked, looking chagrined. "Sorry, Guv. I'll hurry it up if you want me to."

"Yes, yes. Speed it up!" Gene commanded, waving his hand at the younger man.

"So I asked the Boss where he was goin', and he said this fancy restaurant a few blocks from the pub-"

"Restaurant." Gene's attention was piqued. He narrowed his eyes on the DC. "Continue."

"He said it had something to do with one of the cases we were workin' on at the time, Guv." Chris shrugged. "And that's it."

"That's it." Gene mulled this over in his mind. Before Sam had passed out the night before, he had said something about the restaurant... "Chris, did you get the name of the restaurant?"

"Yes." Chris smiled proudly and straightened his shoulders. "The Gilded Button. That fancy place where chaps take their birds for their anniversaries and such."

"Good work, Chris." Gene patted the younger man's shoulder. "We'll have to look into this place. You didn't by any chance catch which case Tyler was working on, did yeh?"

"No. Sorry, Guv." Chris shook his head, his smile fading.

"Well find out then!" Gene ordered. "Take a look at all our current cases and see if any of them have a connection with that poofy restaurant."

"What makes you so sure the Boss didn't do it?"

Annie and Chris looked up from the evidence and exchanged a worried glance, then looked at Ray.

"Well?" He waved his cigarette in their direction.

Annie crossed her arms over her chest. "You were with us on his innocence not ten minutes ago."

"Yeh. I was." Ray shook his head. "He's an odd bloke, but he doesn't seem the sort to bludgeon anyone."

"Then why are you doubting him now?" Annie asked sharply.

Ray considered his answer for a moment. Sam Tyler wasn't his favorite person, but he was one of the team. He was the Boss. However...

"The evidence, Cartwright," Ray said, motioning to the objects spread across the desk. "Isn't that what the Boss is always saying? To look at the evidence?" He took a puff of his cigarette, feeling frustrated. "Every shred of evidence we've collected points straight at our DI."

Annie wouldn't look at him, then, touchy bird. Chris stared at him, wide eyed and sad, looking like a puppy who had just been denied scraps from the table. That hurt Ray. Chris was like a little brother to him. He didn't like to see him upset... unless he was playing a joke on the twonk. But this wasn't a joke. It would never be funny.

"Let's face it. The Boss might be guilty." Ray angrily stubbed out his cigarette in the nearest ashtray. He wasn't sure why he was so angry. Was he angry at the Boss for betraying them? Angry at himself for doubting one of the team? Or angry at all of them for not finding anything to prove Tyler's innocence?

"Yeah. He might." Annie fixed him with a cold look. "But he might not. Innocent until proven guilty, eh?"

"The Boss wouldn't do it," Chris said firmly, looking dazed and sounding as if he were trying to convince himself. "He wouldn't."

Ray didn't see why the Boss would. It didn't make sense. But here they were, standing beside this desk piled high with damning evidence...

"Fine." Ray popped a stick of gum in his mouth and started chewing furiously. "We'll go at it from this angle: the Boss is innocent. And we've got to prove it." He had a feeling he was echoing the Guv in this statement. At least, he hoped he was.

Chris frowned, looking a bit confused. "That's what the Guv said."

"Exactly, you div," Ray replied, rolling his eyes. "And what the Guv says, we do."

"That wasn't your tune ten seconds ago," Annie remarked tartly.

"Well that's what I'm sayin' now," Ray retorted. He stood akimbo, glaring down at the evidence. "Now what do we do with this junk?"