A/N: Ugh, had my last antenatal apt this morning and it wasn't exactly fun, I feel like death warmed up so here's one I prepared earlier :) Some of the events referenced in this chapter occurred in my first non-A2A story, Bigger than Us, focusing on Robin and Kim (and Nailer) which is up on my Fictionpress account – the link is on my profile x
~xXx~
Chapter Ten
1997
Gene rubbed his bruised backside as he climbed out of the car and paced towards the station. Something very fishy was going on. It had been a very strange night. After his strange plunge between the seats he hadn't been able to shake the feeling of someone else being there with him, nor the aroma of Alex. Her shampoo, her perfume, just her general scent; the scent of Bolly as he knew it. He was usually so used to it, now that it had been months since he'd last caught that scent it made it stand out even more.
Now, however, his already tender posterior had suffered from a crude bump on the floor and getting wedged between the seats. He was still feeling bruised and battered from his tumble down the stairs while fighting with Keats and now he had an extra wound to add to his collection. And he didn't even have anyone to rub liniment into his arse. He vaguely remembered a dream about such a thing, but he wasn't quite sure about that.
He strode to CID on a mission. Today he was going to start his campaign to bring in Layton, and no matter what it took he was going to track that shrivelled scrotum down because that was the first step to getting Alex home. What she was doing on the other side of the line, he had no idea but he wasn't going to let her down from his side.
~xXx~
Ever since the ice had been broken the night before things had started to thaw a slight amount between Simon and Robin. Things were still awkward and stilted but they were exchanging a few words rather than avoiding each other or passing by in stony silence. They had dropped the big topics after Robin's accidental bombshell about what lurked beneath the bed but both knew there as more ground to cover in the future. Quite aside from Robin and Kim's situation there was the small matter of genetic connections that they needed to work through. For Robin, seeing Simon and Gene as father and son, however bizarre and unexpected, put a new perspective on why Simon was had found himself swallowed up into the world so quickly and for Simon trying to accept that the man he still loved shared half his genetics with Keats was hard to understand.
Robin was fastening his top button when Simon came from the kitchen into the lounge.
"Morning," he said a little awkwardly. Robin gave him a slightly weak smile, still nervous around him.
"Morning, Simon," he said quietly.
"Do you want to walk down to the station together?"
Simon's offer caught Robin by surprise. Up until that point one had always been desperate to avoid the other. Cautiously Robin smiled and nodded.
"OK," he said, "I'd like that."
Despite the walk to work being somewhat quiet and still hesitant it was definite progress. While both worried that the shaky, thin ice beneath them would crack at any moment it was at least a start. Maybe things could move forward instead of round in circles.
~xXx~
Victoria awoke in her crisp, white sheets and snuggled against them for just a few moments longer. She knew she had to get up but it just felt so much more inviting to stay there, right where she was. It was a world better than going to work. A while eternity better than facing Fenchurch West and Jim Keats. The day before had been her day off and she couldn't believe she'd wasted half of it at the prison with Nailer.
Eventually she knew she couldn't delay the inevitable any longer. She climbed slowly from her bed, her long shapely legs moving in silken pyjamas, and walked from her bedroom to the corridor. She was about to head to the bathroom to take a shower when she heard a noise; a metallic clanking like someone had dropped a spoon. She froze instantly, her heart leaping around in her chest. Had something just fallen or was there someone in her flat? A mumbled swearword seemed to suggest the second option. She closed her eyes and leaned against the wall. Shit, shit, shit; her head screamed again and again but her body didn't know what to do. She was frozen with fear. She knew how to deal with hostage negotiations, bank raids, murderers and thugs but someone on her own property? Her legs went to jelly.
She leaned hard against the wall, breathing heavily. Where the hell was her gun? Oh yeah, she didn't bloody have one. Shit! Quickly she dived back into her bedroom and grasped for the nearest thing she could find, a large decorative vase made of swirling, coloured glass. Whoever was lurking the other side of the kitchen door was going to find themselves intimately acquainted with the thing.
One foot after another. One step at a time. One breath followed by another nervous breath. She made her way slowly to the kitchen door and drew in her breath. This was it. No turning back. Victoria Vs. Giant Mutant Spoon-dropping Monster or whoever was the other side of the door
One…
Two…
Three –
"Yeeeaaarrrggghhhhhh!"
She gave a scream like a cartoon character as she ran through the doorway, vase held high and stopped just short of smashing it over the head of the man sitting at the table.
The man, sitting at the table, drinking coffee.
The man, sitting at the table who'd apparently also made a cup of coffee for her and was busy helping himself to cornflakes.
He looked up and flashed her a charming smile.
"Why do the silk pyjamas not surprise me?" he asked.
"Oh my fucking God," Victoria could barely breathe as she lowered the vase and felt her heart pumping hard, "how the hell… I mean… what are you…" she couldn't get her words out. She tripped over her tongue and tried again and again to express her shock and horror at the fact that Nick Nailer appeared to be sitting quite comfortably at her kitchen table. She wasn't sure what she wanted to ask him first: how he got 'out' or how he got in. Either way, this was going to be the end for her. The end of her life. The end of her career. She had an escaped prisoner sitting at her table, eating breakfast. That was the kind of thing that was going to put a crimp on anyone's day.
~xXx~
Simon and Robin had barely made it through the door when the shadow of Gene's bulk stopped them in their tracks and they froze to find him standing there, waiting for them. He was looking serious, grim and somewhat bruised as well.
"I… take it this is your hint that Fletcher transferred to you the tainted drugs case?" Simon made an educated guess but Gene's expression barely changed.
"Things have moved on a bit from that," he said, "another rodent's gnawed its way through the bars overnight."
Robin frowned, confused. It was too early in the morning for riddles.
"What?"
Gene turned around and began a very fast and pointed walk through the corridor and Robin and Simon had no choice but to follow with hurried footsteps behind.
"You'll love this," he told them, only half sarcastically, "I'm adding it to me file of things that aren't coincidences."
Robin glanced sideways at Simon who shook his head slightly and shrugged. He'd learnt the hard way that it was better just to keep quiet and wait for Gene to explain himself.
~xXx~
Victoria knew she was shaking as she sat opposite the escaped dealer at her kitchen table. He seemed fairly relaxed, as though he had every right to be there. She, on the other hand, couldn't have been more terrified but not for the reasons he'd have expected.
"I can't believe you're sitting there, nonchalantly drinking coffee, which," she narrowed her eyes, "you didn't have my permission to use."
"Well I could try drinking it fretfully but there doesn't seem a lot of fun in that," Nailer smiled charmingly.
"Fretfully?" Victoria rubbed her forehead, "for someone who's spent their life frying their brain you know more words than half of Fenchurch West."
"Everything in moderation." Nailer told her as he slurped his coffee, then looked slightly abashed by the noise he'd just made and tried to cover it up by wiping his mouth in a more delicate manner. "I sample. I treat myself. But I'm not an addict. Unlike," his whole tone changed, "a certain gentleman we spoke about yesterday."
"How did you even get here?" Victoria cried, "You were in prison, I can only presume you escaped somehow overnight since I don't think they let people out early for smarmy behaviour."
Nailer looked a little hurt. Smarmy? He was going for charming. Maybe he was overdoing it a bit. He'd been stuck in prison without female company for over a year – especially not attractive members of the female population like Victoria – he decided to rein in his eye for beauty and concentrate on the more serious matters at hand.
"It doesn't matter how I got here," he said, "you'll turn on the telly later and it will tell you. Right now you need to take me seriously and help me stop Arthur Layton from muddying the waters of Fenchurch with his tainted drugs."
"Stop him ruining your reputation more like," Victoria said.
"Listen," Nailer leaned forward which made her move back a little nervously, "Layton is dangerous. I don't just mean in terms of what he's peddling. He's got a screw loose. A few of them actually. I worked with the man, I got to know a bit about him. Yes, I asked him to put together a bomb to destroy my files and protect my work. Yes, I asked him to do me a couple of little favours before that. But I would never bring him on board as anything more permanent than that and there's a damn good reason why. He's unstable. Too many years on the stuff, and too much guilt."
"Guilt?" Victoria frowned.
"Look, I'm no psychiatrist but I can see when someone's not right in the head," Nailer said quietly, "he went out his way to blame everyone else for the things he'd done in the past. Used to ramble on about guilt and blame. Quick fix and he'd calm right down, but when he was strung out and looking for his next hit his mouth would run away with him. Forget what he put in my computer, he's a bloody time bomb by himself and someone's already set off the trigger. Now we just have to wait for him to explode, and in the meanwhile he's using my business, my name and my line of trade to get back into the scene. The greater presence he gives himself now, the more people he'll hurt in the long run and I'm talking about more than a few tainted pills and powders. He is a sick man, Vicky, a sick man."
Victoria stared at Nailer and felt herself starting to shake again but this time it wasn't through fear. Or maybe it was, but it was fear of something deep down inside of her. Something in the way he looked at her, something in his eyes – it all felt so familiar. It stirred something deep down. It was like the strongest sense of deja vu she'd ever had in her life and she couldn't explain what was happening to her.
Deeply buried memories tried to fight their way up to the surface but didn't get very far. There was a sense of safety that she felt around this man, the man she really should feel threatened by, and a strong feeling of familiarity. She found herself drawn to him, the choice between trusting him or trusting Keats and his station suddenly feeling so much easier and so simple. She swallowed and stared at him, his eyes bearing an honesty she wasn't used to seeing in people that should be the other side of the bars. Eventually she felt herself nodding, almost imperceptibly, telling herself rather than Nailer of her decision.
"Alright," she whispered. She saw Nailer raise an eyebrow, "alright. I'll help you. God knows why…" she got to her feet and swept her fingers desperately through her hair, "…my career will be over, my life will be over –"
"Your life is about to begin," Nailer promised her, "away from that Keas man and his twisted head."
Victoria stared at him and swallowed hard. This was a mistake, this was all a big mistake, right?
Then why didn't she feel that way inside?
~xXx~
"What exactly has happened?"
Simon felt a little threatened by Gene's constant pacing. He hadn't seen him this worked up about a case in a long time, certainly not since Alex's disappearance from the world. Gene had another matter on his mind first though. He turned to Simon and Robin and began,
"Before I fill in the blanks with the pile of steaming horse manure that is Arthur Layton's life story, I need to know something." He stopped pacing and stared at them with a serious and half-murderous glare. "Can you two work together or are you going to spend more time ripping each other's heads off than dipping into the dark underworld of Fenchurch and its drug culture?"
Simon glanced at Robin who was looking a little awkward. His eyes turned for a moment to meet Simon's. both felt uncomfortable, with the situation as well as the question, even though Gene was more than justified in asking them.
"Yes," Simon said quietly, "we can work together fine."
"You'd better," Gene threatened, "because if yer spurned love advances and jealous outbreaks ruin me chances off getting Bols back where she belongs I'll string you both up with yer novelty Red Dwarf shoelaces and leave you for the toasters to deal with." He leaned a little closer. "And for the record, I don't care who shares DNA with who or what bloody genetic hang-ups are cluttering up yer bins, those can wait. I know they're still there. I can feel the bloody white elephant sitting on me head. But until Layton's behind bars and DCI Drake is back in business they don't exist. Right?"
Slowly and awkwardly Simon nodded.
"Fine," he said quietly.
Robin nodded too.
"No problem," he said quietly.
"Good." Gene finally sat down. He reached into his drawer and pulled out a newspaper, relieved that this one hadn't disappeared. He threw it cross the desk to Robin and Simon. "Old friend of ours has gone for a wander," he said.
Simon unfolded the paper and they read the headline together. Two pairs of shocked eyes rose to meet Gene's.
"Nailer's out?" cried Simon.
"When… how did this happen?" Robin asked.
"Last night," Gene told them, "friends in high places, apparently. Bloody show off, most people get a nail file in a cake, he gets his mates to get jobs in the prison service and sneak him out."
Instantly Robin froze. This was all sounding a little too familiar for his liking.
"Please tell me you're joking," he whispered.
"Why?" Gene demanded.
Robin looked down at the front page of the paper and swallowed.
"Two thousand and eleven," He whispered, "Nailer pulled the exact same trick."
Simon looked at him with wide eyes.
"You're kidding?"
"I wish I was," Robin said quietly.
"He was pulled from his cell in the early hours of the morning," Gene explained, "official transfer an' all. Problem was, driver of the prison van happened to be one of his closest business associates and drove him to a land far, far away."
Robin's heart was racing and so was his mind.
"Shit," he sighed, shaking his head. He put his head in his hands and started breathing heavily as though he was about to throw up on the carpet.
"You need medical attention, Batman, or is this a new-fangled two thousand and bollocks technique for dealing with escaped dealers?"
Robin swallowed and tried to calm himself a little. He breathed in very deeply and exhaled slowly, then looked back at Gene who looked as though he was fearing an impromptu yoga session or something.
"It's… a bit more complicated than that," he said, "Nailer's last escape… It affected me personally."
"If you were on the case then you're the best person to tell us how to find him," Simon told him.
"I wasn't on the case, I was in the case," Robin corrected he shook his head. "Actually, I was in a warehouse, tied up." He hung his head, "kidnapped."
Simon frowned.
"By Nailer?"
"By Nailer's men," Robin explained.
It was the first Simon had heard of this.
"When was this?" he demanded.
Robin robbed his forehead. It wasn't exactly his favourite memory.
"April? May? Sometime around there." He shook his head. "It wasn't exactly straightforward though. Nailer didn't want to escape. He'd spent years with these… plans in place, bloody audacious ones too, but he was sick of the lifestyle. Tired of always having to stay one step ahead of the police. When he found himself arrested, especially after being set up in an undercover operation and losing the woman he thought was in love with him, he didn't want to do it any more. He settled into prison life and seemed -" he paused, knowing how strange it sounded, "genuinely happy."
"Back this one up a bit," Gene sighed, "how exactly did they net Nailer in two thousand and bollocks?"
"Some undercover thing," Robin sighed, "they sent in a detective to infiltrate his inner circle. Told her to do whatever she needed to. He fell in love with her, genuinely fell in love with her, but she got in too deep with the drugs. And got addicted. It was a bad batch that did her in," Robin looked at Gene seriously, "and the drugs didn't come from Nailer."
"Are you telling me our friend Mister Layton might have been involved with her poisoned sherbet?" he asked.
Robin nodded.
"The coincidences just keep crawling out of the woodwork, don't they?" he said.
"Hold on," Simon was finding the kidnapped-Robin bit difficult to get past,
"I'm not sure I understand… he was sent to prison, didn't want to break out and then kidnapped you? To prove a point or -?"
"No, no," sighed Robin, "There was a hunt on for one of his men, the one who drove the prison van. I was…" he coughed, "shopping," he failed to mention that he'd just purchased a pregnancy test for Kim at the time, "and saw him outside. I gave chase but he wasn't alone. I got clobbered and woke up in some warehouse place in the middle of a logistics company. Nailer went mad, he'd really had enough."
"Well, Nailer Two Thousand and Bollocks might be tired but Nailer Ninety Seven has bags of energy," said Gene, "this was his request, his decision and his plan. Word from inside has it he wasn't pleased that certain characters were trying to take over his business."
"By certain characters," Simon began, "I assume we're talking about Layton?"
"No, Winnie the Pooh and Thomas the bloody Tank Engine, who do you think?" snapped Gene, "yes, Layton."
"So not only are we on a race against time to get Layton but we're also racing to get there before Nailer?" Robin rubbed his forehead. His brain ached. "Great, more pressure, that's what we needed."
There was a slight commotion outside and Gene peered out of his office to see strangers gathering in CID.
"Great," he mumbled, "perfect timing. New recruits." he scowled, "and ones that look like they're off to film the Top of the Pops Christmas special. Bloody hell, how can anyone wear shoes that high without needing a sodding harness?"
Simon and Robin watched as Gene paced put of his office to deal with the fresh blood before they could continue their discussion and form a plan of action.
"Do you think any of those poor sods are going to get a filing cabinet in the back?" Robin asked.
"Statistically the chances would suggest at least half of them," said Simon.
They could already see Gene threatening one of the poor souls as the words 'boyband reject' and 'quiet little word about yer attire' could be heard through the open door.
"He could be a while," Simon observed.
~xXx~
I don't care what songs you sing
Or how you think of all those pointless things
Sweet nothings what you bring
So fly away on sugar coated wings
I'm sinking deep, I'm going under
That sugar coated iceberg tastes so sweet
Until you tumble, those sugar coated lies
All those tricky things you said
On angel wings they're flying around my head
You were cheap but I was sold
I should forget you but I won't be told
I'm sinking deep, I'm going under
That sugar coated iceberg tastes so sweet
Until you tumble, those sugar coated lies
Sweet and sour, as gold and coal
A sugar iceberg stole my soul
And hid it deep inside my heart
Threw it through me like a poison dart
I'm sinking deep, I'm going under
That sugar coated iceberg tastes so sweet
Until you tumble, those sugar coated lies
My little sweet sugar coated iceberg
You melt beneath my feet
You shook me up, but then I tumbled those
Sugar coated lies
~ Sugar Coasted Iceberg – The Lightning Seeds