amomentarylapse

momentarylapse8 @ 2009-08-23T23:28:00

2009-08-23T22:29:06Z

The Hell we create...

2008-11-18T22:08:06Z

Greens, Hipsters, PETA Members
Circle I Limbo

Parents who bring squalling brats to R-rated movies, General asshats, Rednecks
Circle II Whirling in a Dark & Stormy Wind

Militant Vegans
Circle III Mud, Rain, Cold, Hail & Snow

Saddam Hussein
Circle IV Rolling Weights

Republicans, Osama bin Laden
Circle V Stuck in Mud, Mangled

River Styx

The Pope
Circle VI Buried for Eternity

River Phlegyas

George Bush
Circle VII Burning Sands

Creationists
Circle IIX Immersed in Excrement

Scientologists
Circle IX Frozen in Ice

Design your own hell

momentarylapse8 @ 2008-09-08T22:54:00

2008-09-08T21:55:07Z

Title: The Hardest Word
Rating: Green Cortina, (1 naughty word, bad Gene)
Pairing: Gene/Sam
Notes: Not beta'd as I only finished it tonight. I have been accused of excessive procrastination in the past. Give me a deadline and I will meet it. Up close and personal
Length; 2093
Summary: For the prompt: Going out for a meal, post-finale, Sam/Gene Does exactly what it says on the tin

'I'm transferring you back to Hyde, Sam. Had to do this here, I don't want a fight and i know i'dve got one at the station'

He should have known it was a set-up, Gene Hunt being nice to him? Gene Hunt taking him out for dinner to say 'thanks fer saving me life, Sammy-boy'. But he had been so happy to be back, so bloody deliriously happy, he had only seen what he wanted to. Some bloody detective he was.

'Please don't do this Gene'.

Sam's plea came out louder than he intended and several other diners turned to look at the pair. Lowering his voice he leant in across the table, towards the big man, and continued.

'Gene, please, please I beg you, don't transfer me out. Things will be different now, I promise. Things have changed for me. Please give me one more chance and I swear I won't let you down.'

'Never dreamed you ever would, Sammy. But you did. You proved me wrong, and you know I don't like being wrong. Least of all when it's about a colleague and a member of my team'

Leaning in across the table in a mirror of the smaller man's actions, Gene dropped his voice lower,

'Least of all when it's about a friend.'

At this point their discussion was interrupted by the waiter bringing them their starters and both men leaned back in their chairs, out of the way of the newly delivered plates. Sam took the opportunity to survey the room and realised to most people this probably looked like a lovers tiff (well if they weren't both blokes and this wasn't 1973) rather than the devastating, life changing conversation it really was.

He returned his gaze to the table at it was met by the cold, dead eyes of a large prawn stuck out of the middle of his silver bowl of prawn cocktail. Not 10 minutes ago ordering this classic 70s dish had made Sam giggle (which had made Gene frown) but now the thought of having to eat a single bite made his stomach turn. Gene, of course, shared none of Sam's qualms and was busy polishing off his like a man starved for several weeks.

This grated more than a little on Sam's nerves and he wondered how Gene could remain so unaffected by any of the conversation so far. He thought Sam had betrayed him and so was sending the accused as far away as he could manage (right now Hyde seemed to Sam like it was on a different continent and not at all like it was a drive of less than 10 miles.) And yet the man showed no anger, no resentment just a kind of resigned disappointment. This man who so often wore his heart on his sleeve was acting as though he had left it on a different jacket tonight.

As Gene leant over to grab Sam's untouched starter he spoke and seemed to be reading Sam's thoughts.

'Hurts don't it? The first time you realise how little you mean to someone you care about'

'Gene, I...'

Gene raised his hand to silence Sam.

'I'm really not interested in hearing any excuses or reasons right now. Let's just eat and leave. You know I don't like to eat alone, so let's just get this over with as easy as possible, yes?'

Confused, upset but resolutely silent, Sam watched as the dirty plates were taken away and their main courses arrived. Steak and chips. Of course, but then what other option is there at a Berni Inn?

As the waiter walked back towards the kitchen and through the doors Sam's eyes fell to gazing around the room, taking in the appalling decor through a cloud of smoke. The restaurant was dark, and to Sam's eyes, uninviting, yet everyone was dressed in their evening best. If Sam wasn't feeling completely dead inside right now he might have appreciated the humour in the situation. The abundance of polyester and nylon, the plethora of paisley and plaid, and the air thick with hairspray and the lingering smell of brylcreem all combined to create a modern man's version of hell. But yet Sam had chosen to come back, he wanted to be here, in this time and with these people. Well not with all of these people especially. But certainly with the one in front of him now.

Sam watched listlessly as Gene demolished another plate of food. The thick steak cooked to Gene's version of perfection was oozing blood and staining the few chips left on his plate. Sam poked half-heartedly at his, in an attempt to show willing and to try and not look like he was in any way sulking. But it was a pointless exercise and he gave it up fairly quickly.

'Shame you had to have yours turned to leather, good bit o' steak that was.'

Gene had commented when he ordered that no man should have his steak 'well-done' unless he wanted the whole world to know he was a fairy, and he apparently couldn't resist hammering this point home again now.

'Even the wife used to like a bit of moo left in hers when we came here. You really are a sappy girl, Tyler.'

Ice cream followed the insults and Sam didn't buck the trend of the evening, eating not a single mouthful. Yet again Gene seemed not to care about Sam's lack of appetite, and in fact seemed grateful for it, as his 3 course meal became a 5 in one swift movement across the table.

'Got to keep me strength up, Sam. I have plans for the evening.'

'Right, yeah, drinking pints and playing darts, strenuous activities both.'

'Shut up Sam, and pay the nice man as I seem to have come out without my wallet.'

It seemed utterly pointless to point out that he could see it in Gene's pocket, as up 'til now the abuse had been confined to verbal and Sam had no wish to force Gene to step it up to physical. So grudgingly he pulled out his own wallet and threw the cost of the meal and a generous tip by 70s standards on to the table.

He slumped back in his chair and watched as the waiter brought Gene's coat back from the cloakroom for him. As Gene stood up and allowed himself to be helped in to the beige camel-hair Sam mused on how much he loved that coat. He remembered how soft it was, from the occasions he had been close to it, thought about how it smelled of smoke and Brut and Gene. Watching the big man move with such surprising grace his mind fell to the wearer of the coat. He was what Sam had really come back for. He was everything Sam had ever wanted in his life, a strong guiding figure (though not necessarily a moral one), a good friend and someone who refused to let Sam become too caught up in himself. Sam laughed more around Gene then anybody else he had ever spent time with. He knew no-one and nothing in this time for longer than the time he had been in a coma, but they were more real to him than people he had known his whole life when he had been awake. And he was about to lose it all.

Leaving the restaurant Sam watched Gene walk towards his beloved Cortina. They were on the outskirts of town and not too far from Sam's flat, so a lift had not even been mentioned. Sam knew that once that beautiful camel-hair coat and it's surly owner got into the car and drove off it would be the last time he would ever see either one.

He racked his brains for what to say to make them stay. He thought of all the reasons he had given Gene over the past few days for the way he had acted. He had explained so many times how he thought he was doing the right thing, but that being away was harder than staying. He had tried to make excuses about his state of mind and how that had changed. In the end he had just got cross, tired of repeating this was a one off. He had got sick of telling everyone again and again that he had made a decision to stay.

Sam had run out of ideas. He just didn't know what else to do or say, he had tried reasoning, explanations, assurances, anger, excuses and even bribery in an attempt to at least get Chris or Annie back on his side. He didn't think there was anything left to try.

'I'm sorry Gene.'

The older man stopped in his walk to the car, turned back to face his junior and returned to him a lot quicker than he had left. Before he could react Sam was doubled up in pain on the floor, Gene having landed one hell of a punch right in his gut.

'Well that wasn't so hard, was it Sammy?'

Sam wanted to reply that 'yes, actually it was and I think you might have ruptured something'. He chose instead to stay quite as Gene loomed over him, half predatory, half protecting.

'Sam I didn't want excuses or reasons or fairy bloody discussions about your poxy 'state of mind'. I just wanted to know you were sorry. I know it won't happen again, that look in your eyes when you came out of the tunnel told us as much. I just wanted to know you were sorry. See some bloody contrition from you. See you make a proper fucking sincere apology just once, for just one of these little episodes of yours.'

He paused and stared at Sam so long, Sam was sure he was reading the thoughts off the back of his skull. Apparently convinced by what he saw Gene leant down and hauled Sam to his feet by his collar.

'I just wanted you to say sorry and mean it Sam.'

The hand still on Sam's collar moved to his shoulder with the thumb resting on the point between Sam's collar bones. As Sam swallowed Gene felt the movement under his hand and tightened his grip a small amount. The pressure made Sam flinch slightly and he took in a short breath of surprise. To his credit he stood his ground gamely as Gene took one step further forward and put his left hand half round the back of Sam's neck and half on the side of his jaw.

'I just wanted you to be sorry.'

For an eternity they stood like that, gazes locked, breathing rapid and pulses racing. His chest rising and falling like he had been running Gene leant forward and gently rested his forehead against Sam's, finally breaking the intense gaze and closing his eyes. This new contact seemed to bring Sam back to life and conscious thought and he moved his arms to place his hands either side of Gene's waist, under the warmth of his favourite coat.

'I'm sorry I scared you Gene. I'm not going anywhere. I'm not leaving you, not ever again. I am here for as long as you want me. I really am sorry'

With his eyes closed still Gene raised his head and kissed the place on Sam's forehead where his had just been. He dipped his head again but released his grip on Sam' neck and face and took a step back. He looked at the ground between them then back at Sam before he nodded his head once, apparently in agreement with some internal dialogue.

'Get in the car Sam, I'll take you home. Let you work on that apology'

'I just said sorry, what more do you want me to say?'

'Oh yes, you've said plenty Sammy-boy. Now I want you to prove to the Gene Genie just how sorry you really are.'

With a wicked grin he fished his keys from his coat pocket and tossed them in the air, caught them and turned his back on a very confused looking Sam. However his picky pain DI seemed to have earned his badge and not got it out of a cereal box, as by the time Gene reached the car Sam was only a step behind him.

Sam's own grin threatened to split his face in two has he settled into the Cortina's comfortable seats.
He rest his head back and let Gene drive him in to the night.

Fic: Home Is Where The Heart Is by momentarylapse8, White Cortina

2008-08-06T21:08:46Z

Title: Home Is Where The Heart Is
Rating: White Cortina
Word Count/Length: 1299
Pairing: Gene and Sam
Summary: Gene helps Sam find a place to live. Directly post 2.08
Just a silly little thing driven by my house hunting atm and the fact that it is all i ~~have nightmares~~ dream about.

Not beta'd so sorry in advance for any errors

The newspaper hit the desk with a loud crack that made Sam jump and resulted in him spilling half his mug of tea down his shirt front. He looked up to see who was disturbing him and saw Gene stood there. All folded arms and amused smirk. As Sam started to mop up his tea Gene chose to enlighten him as to the reason for the interruption.

    'Rung all the ones I reckon you can afford.'

    This appeared to be all the information he was willing to give at this time. So Sam settled his expression into bemused indifference and silently entered in to a battle of wills over who would speak next.

    'Not gonna look at them then?' Gene remarked. Knowing that now Sam had to either ask what he was on about or actually pick up the paper.

    Unwilling to forgive the fact that his favourite shirt was now ruined, Sam opted to pick up the paper. Rather than risk speaking and letting Gene know he had pissed him off.
    The paper was folded in half and again, and on the quarter page showing were several red ink rings. All circling flats to rent within easy distance of the station.
    Sam looked up and raised a questioning eyebrow at Gene. This was almost...thoughtful. Therefore nothing at all like his DCI.

    'You need a new place, Sammy. Yours is a dump. I've seen whorehouses in better nick and junkies with better furniture. So you have to get somewhere else. Since you've decided to stay an' all...'

    This last part was phrased so very nearly as a question that Sam couldn't help but respond.

    'Yeah. Yes, yes I am staying. Thanks,Guv. I'll take a look at some this weekend.'

    'No time like the present, Sammy. It's as deserted as the space between Chris's ears in here and as dead as Ray's love life out there. Come on, get yer jacket. We'll take a look at some now.

    We? Sam spluttered out the last of the tea he hadn't poured down himself and just stared at Gene.

    'Gladys, get up, now. The Gene Genie has decided to help you and bestow some of his worldly knowledge and considerable good taste on your quest for new lodgings. So get up and be grateful.'

    Leaning down close to Sam's ear he added, in tones only Sam could hear.

    'I'm bored. Don't make me find alternative entertainment, Sam. You tend to get dead precious about me teasing that little plonk of yours...'

    He stood up straight, winked and headed for the door, confident his shadow would follow.


    The journey round the suburbs of Manchester was uneventful, only in that they didn't die. Gene drove like he was being pursued by the hounds of hell and missed bins, parked cars and pedestrians by inches and luck alone.
    At each address on the list Sam staggered out of the car and was thankful to be alive. Until, that was, he walked in to each flat and saw what being alive in each one would mean. Squalor did not even begin to describe most of them. And even Gene had to admit that with each flat he saw he began to like the pit Sam lived in just a little more.
    Eventually they had seen every place within Sam's budget and they had both reached the end of their patience. As much as Sam had appreciated Gene's help initially, he now wished the grumpy old git had never bothered.
    It was hot in the car and that wasn't helping the already frayed nerves.

    'For God's sake, Guv - will you please stop whining about being bored. This was all your bloody idea. I was happy to do this at the weekend. On. My. Own.'

    'Well excuse me for trying to help, Tyler. Shan't bother again. Leave you to rot in that cesspit you call a flat. You can sort yourself out you ungrateful beggar.'

    'It's not that I don't appreciate...'

    Gene held up and hand and cut in over him.

    'Save it Tyler. I know when I'm not wanted.'

    This petulance was accompanied by a pout that no 5 year old could match and Sam couldn't help but smile. He just made sure to do it out of the side window to avoid being hit.
    It was while facing this way he saw a man putting up a sign on the inside of a terraced house window saying 'To Let'. (Gene at this point being momentarily stopped in his 'Rally Manchester' game by a gang of children in the road. Running kids over causing too much paperwork and all...)

    'Stop!' yelled Sam.

    'I'm nowhere near the bloody kids, Tyler. And they should be able to see this beauty coming and be stood in quiet appreciation of her golden magnificence. Not hollering about like hooligans.'

    'It's not the kids, Guv. Look at that sign.'

    Gene looked over, saw the 'To Let' sign and pulled in to a space further up the road. Barking his usual threat to the playing kids he sauntered back down the road to join an overly exuberant Tyler.
    By the time he reached the front door of the vacant property Sam was already talking to the man who put up the sign. It turned out he worked for one of the more reputable agencies and the previous tenants had just moved out the week before.
    The house itself was like so many in Manchester, a perfect red-brick clone of every other in the street. Inside it was a tiny 2 up, 2 down and Sam was in love. It didn't matter that if he rented this place on his own he couldn't afford to eat. It was the house of his childhood (well not the exact one, but close enough not to matter) and he had to have it.
    As it turned out the house was a lot cheaper than Sam had first thought. Gene being useful not for his worldly knowledge or considerable good taste, but his persuasive personality. It took very few barely concealed threats of arrest, harassment and general unpleasantness before the price came down to something Sam was quite capable of affording. (All conducted out of the range of prissy, picky, pain-in-the-arse, doesn't-know-what's-good-for-him ears, of course.)

    So it was a done deal and Sam moved in that weekend. Leaving behind all of the crappy furniture and vomit inducing wallpaper he had landed in this time with was one of the biggest joys Sam had ever known. He had soon finished decorating and furnishing the new house and he had even started on improving his postage stamp garden.
    The one thing Sam had taken extra care over was choosing the right sofa. He spent a long time trying to find one big enough for a full grown man of, say, 6'1" to stretch out on and it dominated his tiny living room. But it was important, as Sam rarely spent a night alone in his little castle.

    After sitting down to a take away dinner of fish and chips, and relaxed by generous amounts of scotch Gene and Sam sprawled on the sofa and were watching Dr Who.

     'I don't know that I ever thanked you for helping me find this place, Gene.'

    'That is because you are an ungrateful little git, Sammy. Pass the bottle'

    'Here. Well thanks, I love it here. Fells like home'

    'Aye'

    Pouring a generous measure for himself, and handing the bottle back, Gene leaned back on the sofa and closed his eyes. For the first time in such a long time he really did feel at home. With the smell of scotch and salt and vinegar and Sam in his nose, he breathed in deep and exhaled slowly.

    'Aye. Feels like home.'

Asking for Trouble

2008-07-16T22:12:11Z

Title: Asking for Trouble
Rating: Green Cortina (I think - 1 use of a swear word)
Word Count/Length: ~1800
Notes: My very first fic, and very first thing I have ever written since college! So apologies in advance for the not-very-goodness. Think this has further to go, but wanted to get this posted just to see what people thought and whether to bother to continue (and lost the way in the middle and wanted it gone)! Any feed-back welcome - positive or not, it's all a useful learning curve.
Summary: Kinda angsty - and doesn't really go anywhere at the moment. Yup, awesome enticement to read on...damn

Part 1

'You bring this on yerself, y'know. If only you could do what you were told once in a while. If only you could follow my lead, my orders. I wouldn't have to keep trying to beat some sense in to you. You bring this on yerself, Sam'

Gene stared at the crumpled heap of his picky pain DI. Sam was curled into a near fetal position, as white as a sheet and sweating slightly at the temples. So just another Gene and Sam argument then. Just another day when the junior officer had pushed his senior too far, just another line crossed and just another set of orders ignored in front of subordinates.

The Guv had meant to throw him against the filing cabinet but had stepped awkwardly into the office while manhandling his struggling DI and had ended up shoving Sam hard against the corner of his desk. The unforgiving wood being driven right into Sam's kidney and, struggling to draw breath, he riled up against Gene's complete lack of remorse. The fighting was something he was getting used to. But that self-righteous tone was something he would never learn to bear.

'I bring it on myself?' Sam half whispered half sneered the question 'Then God help your wife, Gene'.

Despite the pain, or more likely because of the near certainty of more, Sam bolted out of Gene's office before his superior could fully register the comment. As he retreated back to his desk he half expected a heavy hand to land on his shoulder and drag him back to finish him off. But something in the tone and in the words themselves had stilled the legendary, formidable Gene Hunt. Shocked he stood alone in his office and stared at the door.

The one person he really trusted in this life, the one person he had actually 'let in' in so many years...Sam Tyler, the one person who could make him a better man, still thought of him as nothing more than a common thug. No it was worse than that, the man he had come to think of as his one true friend, thought that he was on the same level as the wife-beating scum the pulled in on a daily basis. Gene Hunt had never raised a hand in anger to a woman. Not in his whole life, and he never would. He was not that man. That man was Hunt Snr. Yeah the missus had left, but that was because he has stopped touching her at all, not because he was too rough with her.

Sinking into the chair behind his desk, he continued to stare at the door Sam had just shot through. His thoughts had slowed practically to a stop, so it was muscle memory alone that opened the bottom drawer and removed the bottle and glass concealed within. He poured himself a generous measure and knocked it back in one, still visibly reeling from the verbal lashing just received. Pouring another good measure of scotch Gene closed the bottle and returned it to the drawer. Throwing this down his neck to join the first he stood up, moved around his desk and grabbed his coat from the stand in the corner. Opening the door, coat slung over one arm, he called to Sam.

'Oi Tyler, stop day dreaming and get your coat. We've still got bad guys to catch, even if you did give them one ruddy great head start'.

Startled Sam stood up and retrieved his coat from the back of his chair. He didn't know what he had been expecting, but it wasn't this. This seemingly normal (for a relative value) Gene Hunt threw him completely. An incandescent with rage Gene Hunt would have seemed more appropriate.

Sam hadn't quite meant what he had said. He had been in pain, sore and pissed off - oh yes - but he knew what he said must've hurt. He knew the Guv better than anyone in this room, knew more of his history too. Sam knew Gene would never hurt his wife, or any other woman. He knew Gene was terrified of becoming his father. But in the heat of the moment Sam had really wanted to hurt him, and that was the only way he knew how.

Sam slowly got the rest of his stuff together and moved towards Gene. Whatever happened next, Sam thought, he really had brought it on himself this time.

Part 2

The case itself passed by without any real incident. It had been a low-level blag, and the team were geared up to storm the warehouse and seize the dodgy electrical goods inside, along with any scum they found. Right up until Sam had insisted that Gene get more evidence and had voiced his opinions in front of everyone present. Which sadly had not included Chris and Ray, who had gone to the site as planned and only succeeded in alerting the gang to the police's interest in their activities. Once they had the missing intel Sam had required the actual arrests went smoothly and quietly for once. Having someone 'bang to rights' as Tyler said tended to make them cooperate more than when they knew you were beating them up on the basis of no real evidence.

However the mood in CID was not quite so calm and everyone had noticed a certain tension in the air. Despite seeming his normal, loud, forthright and brash self during the case, now it was over the Guv was clearly not in a good mood.

Gene had had time to brood on what Sam had said to him, and despite initially deciding to brush it off, he found that he couldn't let the callousness of it go. His mind came to rest again and again on the picture of his DI sprawled on the floor looking at him with such disgust and snarling words that Gene could not forget. The longer he turned it over in his head the bigger the pain in his chest became. At first he couldn't understand what he was feeling, then gradually it became apparent he was feeling remorse. A great deep sadness for the passing of something he had held dear but had never acknowledged until now. He was mourning the loss of someone he saw every day.

The distance between DCI and DI grew and everyone else in the team could feel it. The constant strain and the permanent tension where having a negative effect on everyone in CID. Something, or someone would have to give, and soon, before the whole department was ripped apart by the feuding men.

Part 3

"I'm sorry, alright Guv, I'm sorry. I didn't mean what I said during the Astley case. I was angry, frustrated and in pain so I lashed out in the only way I had left. I'm sorry, I know you aren't like that."

Gene gave a dismissive snort and continued to walk away. This was all getting too much for him, he just wanted to put as much distance as possible between himself and his loquacious DI, before he heard anything he couldn't not react too.

Tyler continued to follow Hunt, determined to make himself heard. He had fucked up, he knew it and if only the stubborn old git would stop and talk to him for two minutes he could try and make it right.

"For God's sake Guv just stop and listen to me for a sec. I'm trying to apologise"

It was no good, Gene was having none of it and finally Sam's patience snapped. He had been trying to make it better, this atmosphere, but now - sod it.

"Fine walk away. I'm not the one who should be apologising anyway. I'm not the one who nearly broke my back slamming me into a desk, I'm not the one who thinks with his fists, I'm not the one who cares so little about his team he is prepared to see it torn apart out of sheer pig-headedness."

As he was still facing the Cortina Sam couldn't see the effect his words had on Gene. If he could he might have noticed the little wince as he said Gene didn't care. He cared plenty about his team, all of them, but that wasn't the problem. The problem was caring too damn much about one of them. Caring what that one person thought, about cases, about life and about Gene. Caring when that little prick didn't. Gene cared that Sam had such a low opinion of him. He cared. And it made him feel like he might explode with the shame and hurt of it all. But he wouldn't show it. Not now, not ever. But he did show it, all in one little flicker that Sam missed completely.

"No DI Tyler, I don't care."

The emphasis on the last word dripped with malice and sarcasm and as he turned to face Sam the younger man took a step backwards, away from the piercing green eyes that bore into him with an intensity that scared him.

Gene walked forwards and invaded Sam's personal space in the way that only he could, and knowing he started this delightful little conversation, and not wanting to look like he was running away Sam stood his ground.

"I do not care what you think. I do not give a rat's arse about your opinion of me or the way I handle my team. I do care, however, about you doing your job. So do me a favour and stop all this crap about 'caring' and 'feeling' right now, or get the hell out of my sight. You will do your job, and do it in the way I tell you. Do I make myself clear?"

Every sentence, every word practically, had brought Gene even closer to Sam. The distance between them now was so small that Sam could feel the heat radiating off of Gene's body, and he was so close that he had to look straight up to see him. All he had wanted to do was make this better, make their working relationship work again. But Sam felt the impossibility of it all hit him like a train, and he knew that this had stretched way beyond breaking point now. There was nothing to salvage, so Sam did the only thing he could. The only thing he was really any good at. He turned and walked away.

If Sam had bothered to look back he wouldn't have seen anything to make him stay. It wasn't until Gene was safely in his beloved car that he finally allowed some of what he was feeling to show on his face. What Sam would have seen then was a broken man, a man who had tried his whole life to be better than he was and a man who had failed so easily so many times. Gene was tired and he felt old, and he knew that his one chance of being the man he had promised himself he would be as a bruised but not broken kid, was walking away.

They were both too stubborn to look back.