| He knew exactly where they were as the
Cortina jolted to a stop, front
wheels up on the grassy verge. Not a dustbin in sight,
fortunately. "What are we doing?" He said it in
the same
tones he'd been using to say, 'You shouldn't be driving',
for most of
the afternoon, it was pointless and he'd given up, but he
could vent
his unfocused frustration in other pointless ways too. "Talking." Sam watched Hunt climb awkwardly from the car, first from his passive seat as a passenger, then from a more active role, holding open the driver's side door. Yesterday had been the longest day - days� weeks - of his life. One day in 1973, nine weeks in 2006. Last night had involved chasing an armed suspect through three council house estates before wrestling him into an old lady's shrubbery and taking a beating from the owner with her walking stick for his trouble. Today, in stark contrast, had been dull as dishwater and he'd spent the afternoon going around estate agents gathering house particulars with Annie in tow. Not that they were looking to move in together. A meaningful kiss after committing suicide did not a relationship make. Besides, she wasn't the only reason he'd jumped and there was something he needed to be certain of before he committed anything else. By the way Gee was acting he thought maybe his chance would come sooner rather than later. But if he didn't question everything, Hunt would accuse him of going soft and that wouldn't help either of them, so, "Why here?" They were at the railway, the very spot where the great train robbery had taken place yesterday, where his life, his self, his whole world had been turned upside down and dropped on its head; where he'd made a decision that had forever changed him. Of course, technically he'd made that decision anywhere but here; at the hospital, at his Mum's home, at his textile mill converted apartment, in a meeting in a soulless room in police headquarters, on the roof of the same building, a building that in 1973 at least had been his second home. "Has to be here." Gene was already half-way down the bank, and Sam jogged after him, catching up just in time to see his Guv's injured leg give out on him, stopping the otherwise inevitable fall with an arm around his waist. "Whoa! Slow down." For the first time since it had all kicked off yesterday, Gene actually looked at him in the eyes, actually turned and met his concern face on. And he saw what he thought might explain the sudden distance Hunt had put between them. For the first time ever there was a small amount of fear in the constantly unexpected intelligent blue glaze. He didn't want it there - had never wanted to see something like that there - and determined to rid him of it before they got back into the car. He started by spreading his fingers purposely over the smooth, cool material of Gene's suit jacket, then smiling slightly he removed his arm. "Sorry. Didn't mean to come over all, 'Dorothy'." Gene turned away, muttered something that sounded a lot like, "it's okay," before hobbling a little further down the bank and dropping carefully to sit on his arse on the grass, knees bent, feet flat on the steep slope. Sam lowered himself down to sit at Gene's side while a silver hip flask was magiked from somewhere about the Guv's person, the top unscrewed and the liquor offered. Sam took a slug of Scotch and handed it back. At this rate, he thought, he'd be dead before he got a chance to meet himself in the future. It was potentially not a bad thing and at least it would be a good life. He looked at Gene, whose head was turned towards the dark, gaping mouth of the tunnel to their right, let his eyes slip through the thick sandy blond hair with its yellow highlights in the golden evening light. Sam took a deep, deep breath, taking in every detail; the dry grass, the bitter oxide of the tracks, the sounds of birdsong, the warmth on his face and hands. He pulled his knees up and wrapped his arms around his legs, unable to stop himself from smiling, relieved that what he'd told his Mum had turned out to be true - in this time and place he felt more alive than he had in as long as he could remember. Wasted months wishing himself away from the one place it turned out he really belonged. Gene was still staring into the tunnel and made brave by the pure, unadulterated happiness of being here, now, and tempted by the pull of pale green nylon and cotton across the broad, slumped shoulders. Sam slid his open palm across the material, hesitating as his thumb brushed the base of the collar. "Guv?" Gene didn't look at him at first. He looked forward, squared his shoulders, setting them back, and Sam dropped his hand away. He absently screwed the lid back on the hip flask and let it dangle from his fingers. Then he turned his head, tilted it in that gesture of assessment that he had, and asked slowly a single, considered question. "What happened in that tunnel, Sam?" "How do you mean?" He wanted to get clear what Gene thought had happened. He didn't want to spend the rest of this hard-won life sharing a padded cell with Tony Crane. Gene's eyes narrowed, lips pursed, and he looked away again. "It was dark and you were standing there waving your gun about like a pansy. Then there was a light behind you, so bright, I thought it was another train coming in the opposite direction, thought it was going to hit you. I yelled at you - again - but there was no noise, just the light, and I swear� for a moment... you disappeared. And then there you were again, shooting Johns like a riled up Clint Eastwood - the Magnificent One." Sam leaned forward to gaze around Gene into the mouth of the tunnel. It was a long one; he couldn't see the light at the other end. All he could remember about yesterday - the part of yesterday that had happened nine weeks ago - was black and white, light and dark. "You were shot," he murmured softly, not really wanting Gene doubting his own mind either. "Bleeding, in pain; your brain was playing tricks." "That's bollocks, Sam, and you know it." His voice softened. "Tell me the truth." "I would do." He spread his hands, "I would. But I don't honestly know what the truth is." "Then tell me a story." Sam considered that, slowly nodding. "Okay." He thought for a minute or two, a smile touching his lips as an idea struck him, fantastic in its simplicity. "Promise you won't interrupt." But Gene didn't look like he would - Sam wanted to banish this morose version of his larger-than-life Guv'nor as quickly as possible, whatever it took. "There once was a man named Sam." No interruption, no sarcastic comment on his story-telling voice. He sighed inwardly but continued in the same tone. "Sam was a serious man who had worked so hard to get where he was he'd neglected the important things like friends and fun and love. "One day, Sam had an accident. He tripped up and fell down a rabbit hole. He hit his head and when he woke up he was thirty years in the past. He didn't understand where he was or what had happened to him, and he hated it there. He fought against it at every turn and spent every waking minute trying to find a way home. "But what he didn't realise was that in that place he was alive - more than he'd ever been - he was making friends, having fun, he smiled more than he had done, and maybe he was even falling in love. He didn't know it, so he kept fighting it, and one day a not very nice man offered Sam a chance to climb out of the rabbit hole, and to go home. "So Sam took his chance, but too late he discovered he'd been tricked, and despite trying to undo all the damage he'd done, he was sent home before he could save his friends. At first he was glad to be home - he saw his Mum again and he had his things all around him - all those modern conveniences he'd missed every day but suddenly were worth nothing - and soon he was missing his friends and the life he'd unwittingly built for himself. He knew he had to go back, to put right the wrong, to fix things. "So he climbed to the top of the tallest building, took a running jump off the edge and fell, back down the rabbit hole, just in time to save his friends. And even though he knew he could never go back, he was happier than he'd ever been because he was where he belonged with the people he loved." Devoid of Sam's voice the silence settled around them. He'd said enough, said it all, there was nothing else and he had to hope Gene would accept it at face value, hope he wouldn't delve too deep or see too much. For a long time they sat, inches apart, while the sun dipped below the opposite bank. "What about Sam's Mum?" Gene asked eventually, obscurely. Sam smiled. "She understood. He told her. Sam had made a promise and she'd brought him up never to break his promises." More silence, but Sam knew Gene was processing, knew he was trying to make some sense of the story he obviously recognised was closer to truth than to fiction. "Do I need to worry about the nasty man?" Sam shook his head. "Strangely, some bastard torched his car last night. Anything you might have had to worry about was on the back seat." Gene's sudden smile was like an unscheduled sunrise. "Good boy." "Sorry if I scared you." He expected Gene to deny it but he just nodded once and said nothing. He was shaken to his core, Sam realised, just needed a bit of reassurance that he wasn't about to fall down a rabbit hole of Sam's making. Twisting his neck he touched his forehead to Gene's shoulder, letting it rest there, and he thought he felt� but couldn't have sworn to Gene's head turning and a brush of lips against his short hair, but he'd have taken a wild, hopeful guess. His heart soared impossibly higher. "Annie's a very lucky girl." Sam turned his head on the pivot of Gene's shoulder. "What makes you say that?" This time he definitely felt something; a hitch, a shudder perhaps. Gene's head dropped sideways to rest against his own; the single, most tender gesture he had ever made towards him, towards any man he'd bet, and he felt heat rise in his body. "I'm not in love with Annie." There. Clear evidence, a statement freely, willingly given. Gene's head lifted. "You can deny it all you want�." "It's true. I love her, but I love you all, more than I ever actually believed was possible." This silence stretched long after the sun had set and allowed the darkness to edge in around them, long after the temperature dropped and Sam had worried the sleeves of his leather jacket down over his hands. Gene didn't give any sign of feeling the cold. He just sat, his only movement the occasional slug of Scotch from the hipflask followed by an offer of it to Sam, always accepted. It was strange when he finally spoke, as if so much time had passed Sam had forgotten what that voice - that beacon in dangerous times - sounded like. "Are you staying this time?" "I can't go back." "But are you staying?" Sam smiled. "Yes. Forever." A soft huff of breath and a single, brief nod. "There was more than a moment yesterday, Sam, when I thought you'd betrayed me - us - I thought sommat awful was looming and I'm not talking about Johns and his bloody great sawn-off shotgun." A nod. "It was, Guv." He hoped the switch back to formalities, as formal as they got anyway, would tell Gene more than he could put into words. It seemed he was right. The glance in his direction was sharp, but Hunt didn't push for details, just clarified, "I don't have to worry?" "No, Guv." "What about next time?" "There won't be a next time, I promise." "And you don't break your promises." "No. I always keep them." He thought they'd dip back into that silence again, but this time he was wrong. "I feel like there's more to be said, Sam, and I'm not leaving here until it's all done, because I hate conversations like this and we're not taking it into the pub." Now or never. Despite the events of recent events, Sam thought, there were very rarely second chances, especially where Gene Hunt was concerned. He leaned forward and stood up, tapping his hand on one broad shoulder before straightening. "Come on." Gene's face tilted up to frown at him. "Where're we going?" Sam paused. "Come on." He started down the slope, hearing Gene get to his feet, the hiss of pain as the gunshot wound sought to remind him of its presence. Gene wouldn't accept help and the only pain relief he'd taken was the Scotch in his hipflask. Sam made a mental note to get the car keys off him before they headed back. He stopped at the bottom, next to the line. This piece of track was hardly ever used, and it was a relatively safe assumption they wouldn't get mown down by an oncoming train. He waited for Hunt to join him, amazed as always as the nimbleness and speed of the bloke for someone his size, and he had first hand experience of Gene's ability to sneak up on people with the stealth of the Invisible Man. But his leg was hindering him, and it gave Sam a moment or two to reflect on what he was doing. Gene wasn't good looking, not in any classical, traditional or even modern sense of the words, he didn't have a great body, although that wasn't something Sam usually looked for in a partner. He was a bully, a bastard, a benign� he cut that train of thought off in its tracks. There was as much point in analysing this attraction as there was in analysing what had happened to him - the story he'd told Gene. He caught up, and they walked side by side into the tunnel, Gene hesitating as the little remaining daylight stopped touching them. Sam glanced over his shoulder. "You don't trust me?" "Can I?" Walking the couple of steps back, he jabbed a gentle finger against the cool cotton of Gene's shirt, feeling heat beneath. "I committed suicide for you. The least you can do is trust me." Snorting, Gene took up his stride once again, Sam catching the muttered words, 'Why don't I believe you're talking metaphorically, Alice?" Stopping when the darkness became too thick to see through, Sam turned, reached one hand up to curl long fingers around the back of Gene's suddenly tense neck and rising up on the balls of his feet he planted a hard, deliberate kiss on Hunt's mouth. There was a grunt of surprise from the frozen man, and an initial push from a hand slammed flat to Sam's chest, but before he could fall back that same hand was gripping his shoulder and the other was reaching for his arm. Sam pushed, and Gene's back hit the gentle curve of the tunnel's brick wall. The impact opened his mouth and Sam got his tongue inside, swallowing a moan that might have come from either of them. Of all the reactions he'd cycled through in his mind, large hands at his back, cradling his head, strong arms urging him forward and a heavy tongue bathing his own hadn't been amongst them. It was good though, to find out that Gene was as passionate and as driven in this as he was in beating up hooligans. When Sam finally broke for oxygen he was crushed possessively against a hard chest and soft body and Gene's head came to rest against his own. "God, Sam, you don't play fair." "I'm not playing." "We can't�" But the time for caution was long, long passed. "We can. We will. I've given up Sky TV, my iPod, the Internet, an amazing apartment, a decent car and a promotion to be here, Gene." He stepped back, one hand still around Gene's neck, the other pushed into hair he knew he'd never be able to keep his fingers out of. "But I am not giving up sex. And for some reason God only understands, my body - my soul - wants you." "But Annie�?" Sam shook his head. "I came back for you, Gene. Don't push me away when I know you don't want to." A frown, desperate and miserable, touched Hunt's mouth, and a soft sigh like a sob broke from his lips, and the next thing Sam knew he was being kissed with a fervour he knew would eclipse any other kiss he would ever experience, he was being pulled forward against that contradictory body and enveloped in arms he understood would never really release him. When they parted again, Gene was smiling like sunshine in the increasingly murky darkness. "Can we get out of here?" "Sure." There was no need to ever return here. They started back out of the tunnel, and for a brief moment Gene held onto his hand. Then they stepped out into the late evening air. "Pub?" Sam nodded. "Pub." |