The pounding on the door was unrelenting, and Sam knew why. Gene could not leave CID well enough alone for a good night's sleep, and he hated being miserable all by himself, which translated into Sam being dragged out in the crack of night to view a body or a broken window or something. More likely, it had to do with the simple fact that Gene did not sleep through the night any more, and had not done so for nearly two years. Sam knew it was true because Junior kept him closely informed, and Junior was very good – preternaturally good – at 'detecting.' Sam told him it was in his blood, and from what he knew, it most certainly was.
He stumbled forward and to the front of his flat, a newer flat but still small and cheap, and opened the door, a greeting growl ready on his lips. He stalled, looking eye to eye into the dark, endless, soulless depths of his own insanity.
"I told you I'd be back, Sammy."
Gene stared miserably at his tea. It was probably good tea, in fact, he laid odds on it being an excellent cup of tea. DC Cartwright was very talented with the tea and after all this time she knew exactly the way he liked it. She was a mistress of seduction with the tea.
Gene knew he was half asleep with that thought, when Annie was becoming his mistress of tea seduction. He could not stop his half-cocked up brain when it got like this, the free associations rollicking down bizarre subconscious alleyways of repressed emotions – a description provided free of charge courtesy of the not-quite-yet insane Sam Tyler, who assigned himself the role of personal psychotherapist to DCI Gene Hunt. Accent on the 'psycho'.
His son – who was himself, he reminded himself constantly in a bid to anticipate what alarming scrap the monster was getting into next, as the list was apparently endless and far more hassle than he ever gave his parents – was also trying to fix him, hiding his flasks and showing up at work after school to 'visit' which Gene knew full well was Gene Hunt-ese for 'watch closely for signs of going loony.' The boy spent far too much time listening to Tyler, which made Gene suspect that he was doing the same thing, because after all they were the same person…and at that point he gave up thinking, drank the tea, and set about wondering where in the hell the annoying picky arse was. Sam, not his son. The son better damn well be in class, and Gene thought about calling the school just to make sure, because it was a nice balmy spring day and he remembered what HE did on nice balmy spring days when he was ten, which never involved being in class, unless you counted the school of hard knocks. And whatever he was thinking, sure enough the terrible brat was thinking the same thing.
"Cartwright!"
She sprang over to his door. "Sir?"
"Call the school." Gene sighed, rubbing his face. After two years – almost three, in fact – this was routine now, so she did not need coaching or an explanation. She tried not to smile, nodded, and went back to her desk. He watched her for a moment, and realized she had the number to the school office memorized. Not good.
And still, Sam was missing. Gene really hoped his absence did not involve handcuffs again. Maybe he did, a little, remembering one time in his living room, the taste and feel…and then the memory would be back, the cement floor and the burns and that maniac's laugh, and Gene clasped the warm cup with both hands to stop the shakes.
Warp and weave, endlessly, in every direction. It made no sense and he could never explain it, a multi-dimensional tapestry with each thread pulling on the whole and every connection dependant on every other. It was a toy when he first became aware of it, when he killed himself in the most confusing night of his life – more confusing than 1973 ever turned out to be – and set himself free. He tugged and cut and tangled and lived ten lives before he returned almost by accident to 2006. When his eyes focused on his mother and he knew where he was, only then did he understand destruction, and in that awareness he went insane. No human mind is wired to comprehend what he saw or what he did, and the unraveling unraveled him and he screamed for Gene. He did not believe Gene was there or that Gene could save him, and he did not even feel as lost or imbalanced as he knew, in retrospect, he was. He screamed for Gene because when he slammed into 2006 he saw one knot in his own life, one knot in his weave, and he did not understand why that Gordian knot was Gene. As the insanity descended, he tried to strangle his mother while three nurses pulled him off her, but he only understood that he must get Gene, find him and reclaim him and fix him because his own time threads would never straighten out into the weave unless he did. His mother and the doctors and no one understood that he would destroy anyone who tried to stop him…including Gene.
Eventually he adjusted to his wrecked mind and figured out that he was insane. It was an objective conclusion, based on murder and blood and straightjackets and missing weeks and mind-numbing drugs. He was insane and he accepted it because by any standard, the things he did were the actions of a homicidal lunatic.
What 'they' did not see, what they could not know and would never understand was that the madness was tied to his mistakes in the tapestry. Every error he made twisted him tighter and broke him a bit more, but his bloodthirsty ways were not the manifestation of that insanity, but the reverse. Most of time it was not the insane freak of nature Sammy Tyler on a blood thirsty rampage but insane DCI Sam Tyler trying to fix all of his mistakes with cold blooded surgical precision. He would drift down the torn fabric of time along the rips he made due to his own ignorance during those first few lives and try to tie things back together, mend the tears, and repair the damage. Sometimes it was as simple as killing a child who should never have been born, and sometimes it meant destroying entire families across multiple time lines. He knew at a glance who belonged and who did not, so his murders looked random when they were anything but.
Sam knew that only a homicidal lunatic drowning in grief and shame had the strength to do those terrible, necessary things. It was his price to pay for his folly, his selfishness, and his bitter sins against the majestic cosmos of the universe. He had to trust his instincts, and worse, trust his madness.
His only weakness was his Gordian knot, Gene, who brought him joy and grief. His need to fix that tangled desire consumed him after trips across the tapestry. He found Gene over and over and brought him back, a fleeting hope because they were never right and they did not know and Sam continued unraveling himself and fixing time while Gene remained the knot he could not untie, cut, or repair. He killed them, he knew he did even if he did not remember every time, and he killed more of them than he ever brought back. Only with himself and Gene was he cruel and ruthless, mercilessly trying to cut the knot or break it or whatever needed to be done – a puzzle he never solved correctly and replayed endlessly, drenched in the oil-slick of blood and agony. Over and over, when his mistakes grew too much for even his brutal soul to bear, he searched out Gene and each time was disappointed and left adrift, again – this was the heart of his madness, in this twisted and wrong connection, and every time he could not fix it he turned back on himself and kept the cycle going through dozens of time lines, twisting everything further out of whack and driving the madness deeper. The one mystery was how he could do this to those Genes without tearing at all the other knots and cords and connections; it was as if he was meant to do this to Gene, over and over, in different ways, even to the point where he tried to kill hisGene, which he knew full well in retrospect should have sent parts of the tapestry catastrophically asunder. Never, though, never did it happen and the only effect he had in the matter of Gene was to pull the tangle tighter and tighter until he thought his own life would simply snap in his insanity.
But one night, when something somewhere slipped and some error he made corrected itself – or maybe he was correcting it, sometime else, he could never be sure – and for the briefest moment he was simply Sam Tyler again. He could sense that his work was nearly done, and he was so close to normal, so close to resolved, the various and endless timelines shifting like sand back into their natural flow because they were free of Sam Tyler, destroyer of worlds. At that moment he felt a comfortable self-awareness that could never be his among the rips and tears, and Gene was there. Not his original Gene, the one he searched out and nearly destroyed in a fevered pitch of despair-driven insanity – Sam eventually remembered that much – but a man who loved him and was honest with him as no one was willing to be anymore. As no Gene ever was.
This Gene told him the truth of all the Genes, and as this Gene swore his love and desperation, Sam understood the knot was never Gene to begin with: it was Sam's love for Gene, his need for the man that drove him into knots of his own making and sent him down a murderous path of destruction across space and time that he spent six years of his 'real' life and many, many years of lives in the tapestry trying to fix. Technically Sam was forty-five but by experience lived, he was well past 150 years old; he was simply tired, and he kissed this Gene with the passion and heartache of a dozen lifetimes.
The medical staff pulled them apart, but Sam realized he finally found a Gene he could not kill, and why. He knew what he needed to do, if he could do it, if he was not so far gone to not follow through, or simply forget, but he did not trust himself that much anymore. It was a risk, a deadly risk.
It was one last knot to unravel, though, and he had to try. He was so close. Sam let them tie him down and drug him up because he was always able to escape, a fact he never let on before, holding it as a last card to play in an emergency. Now it was necessary to throw caution to the wind, sink into the tapestry of time and risk the last shred of his sanity in one final lunatic break for 'normal,' even if that meant that he, Sam Tyler, would cease to exist. He did not know and he did not care, but he was scared of himself. He knew the depths of his depravity, the endless hollow grave of his insanity which was his tool and his curse, and for all his good intentions he understood better than anyone just how untrustworthy he was when it came to Gene.
There were a thousand versions of himself to choose from, but time lines were all threads of different widths and strengths, and some were more important than others. Some relied on others to even exist. Sam could go back to his own source and start over but even that would rip his repairs asunder, because in the cosmos there was no first or last or next, only connections, and Sam knew exactly the line he needed and the point on that line which was important. He did not understand how he knew these things, it was instinctive, and as the drugs they gave him wound his mind down into what the doctors hoped was a safe, impotent oblivion, Sam concentrated in a different direction. By the time the monitors registered that he was comatose as opposed to catatonic, it was too late and he was free.
"CARTWRIGHT!" Gene kicked the waste basket so hard it went flying into the wall, leaving a dent and trail of wadded up paper. And a paper coffee cup, which he then stomped on. Annie stared at him from behind her desk, impassive, unforgiving, and furious.
"Don't cry to me, Gene! You're the one feedin' him all those ideas!"
"They are not ideas, they are facts you bloody minded, heartless, gutless…"
"Shut it!" Annie slapped the desk. "This is your fault! I've backed you, Gene, when no one else in this operation would, because I know you…"
"YOU don't know ME! You know some alcoholic closeted queer who died in 1979! THAT'S NOT ME!"
Annie stood up. "That's right! It's NOT you! Because the Guv would never let THIS happen! He would not let Sam run out of control!"
"I did not push him into a coma state! He did that on his own! If your medicos had not walked in on a private moment and pulled us apart maybe…"
"Bullshit!" Annie yelled, and they glared at each other. Fit, firm, well armed and in her sixties, Superintendent Cartwright – also a full colonel within the special government branch that kept, monitored, and studied Sam Tyler – was not one to back down from a fight, and Gene knew it. She pointed at him. "You told him classified information that you were specifically instructed not to tell him! Whatever happens will be laid at your feet, Gene, and from there I can't say what they will do with you."
Gene straightened up. "Terminate me? Liquidate? What's the nice new term for it these days? Please enlighten this poor civilian."
"Execute." Annie snapped, leaning forward. Gene crossed his arms and tried not to look surprised by her honesty. "You know too much to be allowed 'out.' And if you can't control Tyler, then you are no use to them. They might fit you up with a diagnosis of insanity, leave you to rot in some state institution…but I doubt it." She stood up and softened her stance. "I really am on your side. I'm on Tyler's side; I knew Sam, and he was a close friend. Watching this happen has been the worst eight years of my life. You aren't the first Gene I've watched die, I've seen all the tapes of Sam killing the others. We suspect he's killed more of you than he brought back, just from things he's said in fits of delirium."
"I'm not dead yet, thank you."
"No, you aren't. But you might give some thought to straightening out your affairs."
Gene snorted in disbelief. "You're bloody joking."
"No. I'm not. There are set guidelines now, on what to do if Sam doesn't wake up within three months time." She looked at her desk, tapping it nervously with her fingers, a twinge of shame to her words.
"And these mysterious guidelines would be?" Gene asked, suspecting the answer with a tight clutch in his gut.
"Erase all traces of Sam Tyler. Including his body, and including you." She looked straight at him with tears in her eyes, but a hard edge in her voice, because they both knew she would be the one responsible for giving the order.
"No sir, not handcuffed to the bed." Ray said, chomping his gum, calling in from Sam's flat, and sounding disappointed. Gene tried not to roll his eyes.
"Anything else?"
"No sir. Door was open, no sign of a struggle. 'Ave to say, Guv, looks like he jus' got out of bed and walked out. His fancy boots are still here."
A chill went down his spine, and the legendary instinct of Gene Hunt kicked into overdrive. He hung up on Ray without another word and marched out of his office, stopping at Annie's desk.
"Go to the school. Get my son. Get back here. Take Percy with you, don't stop, not even for stop signs or little old biddies crossin' the street. Flash yer badge, yer tits, whatever you got to do to get 'im out of that classroom and into the car. Call me when you got 'im, let me know yer on the way. If you see anything – ANYTHING – out of order, call for back up."
Annie nodded all the way through the instructions, then jumped up with her purse already in her hands. She and Percy were running out the door when Gene bellowed.
"CARTWRIGHT!"
She stopped so fast she nearly fell over.
"That includes Sam. You see 'im, run. No questions! Just do it!" He waved off her confusion and she finally turned to leave.
He did not know why he thought what he was thinking, but he was certain nonetheless. It was like a knot was being pulled tighter around his life and he knew that evil bastard was back, and neither he nor his son – himself, to be sure – was safe. He suspected, in fact he knew, that the insane Sam Tyler was back to kill himself this time, and might have already done so, and for that Gene was beyond furious. But his first thought, his only real concern, was for Eugene. The boy knew his story, he knew he was really born in 1931 and he knew that some crazy homicidal lunatic dragged him to 1974 and he understood that in some strange way he and his 'father' were, in fact, the same person. These were particulars the boy knew and that Gene and Sam could, somehow, explain. But Gene did not want to him to ever find out that the homicidal lunatic who destroyed his world and put him up for adoption in 1974 was, in fact, his beloved 'Uncle Sammy,' no, he never wanted the boy to know that. Knowing how he felt about Sam, he worried for the boy anyway, as it was all too close to incest for comfort, and adding a homicidal, insane Sam into the mix could only spell bad news for the child's emotional development…and Christ, Sam was infecting his brain with that psychology mumbo jumbo. Or maybe that was Cartwright. Didn't matter. All that mattered was getting Eugene into protective custody.
He called down to Phyllis and ordered a uniformed escort for Annie and Percy anyway. He was not even going to worry about Sam until he knew Eugene was safe.
He stopped, thinking. He despised his name, 'Eugene', and hated anyone who tried to use it on him. He never thought about it before, but he wondered if the boy hated it as much as he did.
Probably…
Sam sat and stared at himself. He looked well fed, not soft but not as in shape as he was now. Still limber, though, as he squatted down in front of him to stare back. He appeared to be in his mid forties now, his hairline definitely receding and grey spiking through the dark brown. The Sam in front of him reached out and petted his face.
"I'm older than that, even."
Sam frowned, and the other version of him laughed.
"No, I'm not psychic. But I know what I would be thinking in your shoes – our shoes – and that makes you easy to understand."
Sam shook his head.
"Sorry, Sammy Boy – and compared to me, you're a bloody infant." The other version spat the words, and Sam flinched. He sounded like, well, like himself, but at points he flew off the deep end, something revealed more by his eyes than by his words. Sam never knew how spooky his own eyes could be, when they narrowed and glittered in the darkness. He wanted the gag off, to negotiate, to question, to beg…anything. It was a minimalist gag, cutting through his mouth and pressing against his tongue, but it was enough, and without the ability to argue he felt helpless. He did not want to die, and more than that he did not want to wake up as this homicidal beast. He did not want to be the man who killed people, who delighted in torturing and raping Gene and kidnapped Junior out of 1931 for his own greedy ends and was manhandled like a caged animal by that other Gene. That other Gene whose heart this other Sam clearly broke every day. There was nothing but misery and destruction down that path.
"I thought…for so long I thought I had to come back and do this, because I had to make ME, and I'm the only one who can fix anything. Then for a while I just…" He smiled and a chill went down Sam's spine. "…I enjoyed it. Killing myself: it was cosmic justice. Justice! Oh the pain we suffered…" The smiled faded and he ruffled his hair and Sam wondered if he was always this antic and melodramatic. "Never enough, though. Never enough, because pain doesn't affect anything out there. Make or break, that's all, so it didn't work, and then I went after Gene, over and over…finally back to the source, the original. I thought if I killed him, made him pay, it would end, it would cut the knot but no…never that simple, never that neat. So now. Here we are. Incomplete. Imperfect."
He got up and paced, hands behind his back as if he were lost in thought. Sam thought maybe he was, as if he were building up to something, and he was terrified of what that something was. He wondered how long he was unconscious, tried to analyze where they were – some empty, dirty flat – and if it was possible that Gene could figure out what happened. That last was the least likely of all possibilities, as Sam never admitted to Gene that his evil double told him he would be back. As far as Gene knew, they were in the clear, and if anything, might assume that Sam was kidnapped by a local gang or just went sleepwalking.
He stopped thinking as his evil half squatted back down and leaned in close, their lips almost touching, his breath hot and sweet. "I always get it wrong. Don't we? Always make the wrong choice. We're paying for that…I can't hold on to the answer, all the time, but I'm so, so…close…" He leaned in and kissed him through the gag, and Sam felt his own tongue and his own taste sinking into his half-open mouth. He pulled back, appalled, and watched as the other one broke out laughing. "No escape, Sammy Boy. I either get this right, and end it, or get it wrong…" He ran a hand over his cheek like a lover. "I get it wrong, and destroy all of us…" His hand stopped, and he shifted, and something terrible changed in him as he said the words, looking down on Sam. "…but one thing I never can forget is exactly…how…I…taste…" His fingers turned to claws and Sam yelled as fingernails dragged down his neck, drawing blood, and his own lips smothered his cries.
Junior – not Eugene, they both hated that, he tried to remember – sat unhappily on the sofa in Gene's office. Gene leaned against his desk staring at him, trying to figure out what to say, how to explain to the impatient stubborn brat that no, he could not go over to his friend Tony's to play football after school hours were over. His life was on the line. He was staying here, at the office. Period. No arguments. At all. None.
"I want to go!"
"You CAN'T! That's final!"
"Why not?"
"Because I said so!"
"That ain't a reason!"
"YES IT BLOODY WELL IS!"
"Sir?" Cartwright stuck her head into the office and both Genes glared at her. "Um…no word yet on…um…him…" She glanced nervously at the boy, whose eyebrows furrowed in a familiar pattern.
"Who? Uncle Sam?" He turned to face off with Gene. "This about Uncle Sam? Where is Uncle Sam? Is he okay? What's wrong? Where…"
"Shut it! Bloody git, you'll be the death of me. YES, this is about Uncle Sa…DI Tyler. So you just sit there like a good boy and let your father do his job, and stay OUT OF THE WAY!" Gene bellowed as he pushed Cartwright out the door and to her desk, where Ray was waiting. "Nothing?"
"Nowt a word, Guv. No one's called in claiming responsibility, and the snouts on the street don' know nuthin'. Got forensics goin' over his flat, but…" Ray shrugged.
"Check with the neighbors?"
"Chris is still there, interviewin' everyone on the floor. So far, no one heard anything."
Gene's glance went back to his office, where he saw the pest sneaking towards his filing cabinet. "Cartwright…." Gene growled, and after following his gaze, she sped to the office to keep the boy out of the whiskey. It just never ended with that kid, always trying for something or another. Gene began to feel a genuine sympathy for his mother, because if this was the case, no wonder he got smacked so often as a child. Hell his mother kept smacking him around until he was seventeen and moved out. Even then she'd…
"Guv?"
Gene blinked, forcing himself back into the present. His lack of sleep was creeping into his job too much these days, but he had as yet found no remedy. He frowned at Ray as if he had interrupted an important thought, and Ray shifted uncomfortably.
"Send plods out by the empty warehouses and factories."
"Guv, you don' think…"
"I'm thinkin' we need to check everything. You an' me, we're goin' round my flat."
"Your flat?"
"You goin' deaf? Get yer jacket. Chris, you stay here and keep an eye on Annie and the brat. I think it's going to take both of you to keep him here. Have Phyllis bring his dinner up from the canteen. I do NOT want him leaving this room for anything but the loo." Chris nodded so hard it looked like his neck was going to break. Gene went into his office to fetch his own jacket and found Annie frowning at his son. "What in the blazes now?"
"He says he don' have any homework, sir, but I remember his teacher telling him what problems to do in his math book."
"Boy! Do yer 'omework, or get to scrubbin' these windows 'ere." Gene pointed around the office at the deeply grimed windows. Junior pulled a face.
"Ain't gonna." The boy spoke with arms folded, eyes set, and legs locked.
By the time Gene walked out both of them were hoarse and the filing cabinet had three more dents from the boy's kicks and the sofa was broken from Gene's kicks and Annie was waving a pencil like a lethal weapon, but at least Junior was sitting at the desk in front of an open book. Gene shook his head as he walked out of CID, Ray trailing him nervously. Gene was at the point of hoping to find Sam just to keep Junior in line. No one had a handle on that boy like Sam did…and what that said about himself, he did not want to know.
Dreams upon dreams. Nothing made sense and he woke up falling three nights in a row. He spent half his days working on a book he thought was never going to get published, because Gene Hunt was a legend and no one would want to read the ugly truth of a closeted homophobic queer who drank himself to death because he could not solve the murder of the man he loved. Hell, it even depressed him and he was writing it. Of course he was also Gene Hunt, and he tried not to think about that too much.
The other half of the day was spent bedside, whispering promises and sweet nothings into Sam's ear. Everything he said was monitored and recorded and he knew that if he took any risk, made a grab for anything that might go anywhere off the map, they would pull him out and not let him back. If they did that, Gene knew they were both lost, so he was caught between doing nothing productive or doing nothing at all.
"You bloody cunt, wake up. Even the cat misses your bloodthirsty arse," Gene whispered softly.
"Now I know you're lying. Queenie is terrified of him." Annie laughed as she entered the room. "Your endearments make sailors cringe, Gene."
"Start talkin' sweet to him now, he won't know it's me." Gene leaned back from the bed where Sam lay, still and pale.
"You think you're gettin' through?"
"No."
Annie sighed and sat down in one of the comfortable guest chairs. Gene was propped up on a doctor's stool, spun to it's highest level, scooted in right next to the hospital bed.
"Why not?"
"I think you know why." Gene glowered at her.
"You think you sent him off the deep end, with that admission about Alpha Gene?"
He did not reply, just looked at Sam and spun back and forth.
------------
********
His flat was empty of clues, which he expected. Nonetheless he needed to be sure. There was no room to trip up. He checked everything carefully while Ray smoked impatiently on the stoop, but Gene wanted to know that nothing was even touched. It was possible that the Crazy Bastard did not know Gene had the boy and Gene preferred to keep it that way, although chances were slim. If he was smart – and Sam was, unfortunately, one of the smartest men Gene ever met – he checked the orphanage and maybe even set up surveillance on them for days now. Probably. He and Sam spent some time reconstructing Gene's own abduction over two years ago, and decided that the Crazy Bastard had watched them for at least a week before he moved. Of course, if that was the case, then it proved that he was back for Sam, and not either Gene.
He stormed out and drove over to Sam's flat. It was not the same crappy place he used to live in, but it was not much better. Something about Sam always seemed temporary, as if he was waiting for things to change, for everything to end or go away or…hell, Gene tried not to think of the alternatives. He knew Sam felt the same way he did, and he would bet money that the fairy gay boy was waiting for Gene to change. To allow it to happen, to be more to Gene than just a DI. Of course he already was Gene's best friend but that made it worse, the longing and the desire encouraged by innocent invitations to dinner or nights spent late in Gene's office, the boy asleep on the couch, the men talking quietly over whiskey and case files. It all meant more than that and Gene knew it, and Sam knew it, and there it ended, because Sam could not get within a foot of him without Gene's nightmares taking over. He nearly killed Sam once when he tried to break that wall and he swore on his own blood that he spilled that night, ripping his living room apart, that he would never hurt Sam again. He lived to that promise, but it put even more distance between them, and Sam's flat was somehow a testament to that: half empty, waiting.
Every day Gene tried to convince Sam that there was nothing there, even going so far as to date women occasionally. In fact Gene even carried on a half-serious relationship with a fine woman name Janice for four months, pleasant enough and willing enough in bed to make it worth Gene's efforts to pretend. Sam said he did not care and went his own way, straight into the bed of some fireman named Patrick, whom Gene proceeded to fit up for arson. It was a bad week.
So while Gene tried to convince Sam there was no future to wait for and Sam insisted he was waiting for no such thing, they both orbited each other warily and desperately. Or at least, that is how Gene saw it. Sometimes he wondered if Sam saw it the same way, if at all. The few times they talked it was as if Sam was asking Gene give in to Sam's demands, as if he could not think, even with so much proof in front of him, that Gene felt the same way.
But he did. Gene loved him madly, he just knew how dangerous that was. Aside from his own problems stemming from the attack, Gene knew how impossible it was for a queer cop to even survive. He saw more than one drummed out of the force for getting reckless, and seen one to many gay men kicked senseless by boys on the street who were never even charged. Gene could not allow it happen between them. Not before, and certainly not now. He knew the cost was that eventually Sam would fall into someone else's bed for good, and simply stop waiting, stop wanting, stop needing, and when that happened they could both move on and Sam would be free of him. Gene kept trying to give Sam that freedom, begging him to take it in his own way, even though he knew it would destroy him, personally, and even though he knew he never really meant it.
He stood in Sam's flat, staring at his fancy boots – different now, a lower heel and burgundy, not black, but still fancy and fashionable and always, always glued to the prissy fancy-footwork feet of his DI – and looked around at a life half lived. No knick knacks on the shelves, no pictures on the walls, and the dinette table covered with pamphlets called "The New Science of Forensics" and "Modern Interrogation Techniques" and the detritus of that stupid book he insisted he was writing, "The Future of Criminology." An empty place, lacking both Sam and the only life Sam cared about: Gene.
With that thought, Gene knew Sam was not dead. Whatever the Crazy Bastard wanted, it had something to do with him and taking Sam was just the first play in the game. It meant he had to find them, fast. He needed to turn the tables and be the one calling the shots because if he let that lunatic take the lead, blood would be flowing in the gutters by the time he was done. At least Eugene…At least Junior was safe.
Gene stormed out and collected Ray, and then went on a tour of the city. Warehouses, factories, empty buildings…Gene knew he was hunting for a very bent needle in a very dirty haystack, but he had to be doing something. He directed the plods already out making rounds and went to fill in the holes on the map.
It was just a kiss. He stopped there, pulled back confused, and got up. Sam felt the blood dripping down his neck from where he was scratched and he knew, from what 'Beta' Gene told him, that he could expect torture, rape, and death at the hands of the insane version of himself who now sat down across the room from him, one leg bent and the other stretched out, his arms resting on his knee as he stared at him.
That lasted for a few minutes, then he was up again, pacing. He was getting angry. Sam tried to speak through the gag and the other one glared at him.
"Shut it. I don' need your help."
Sam obediently went quiet, and after a few more minutes squirmed a bit, trying to wiggle his fingers. He was roped up, his hands behind his back and his legs tied at the knees and ankles, and he was propped up against the wall. As he jostled, the other one saw him and walked over.
"Stop it! Jus' stop!"
Sam looked up at him quietly. The other one rubbed his hands together, antsy and nervous, then bent over and roughly removed the gag.
"What?"
"What are you waiting for?" Sam stopped, surprised that was the best he could do. It was not a good idea to goad his murderer into action, but on the whole, it really was the only question that seemed to matter. Sam knew full well no rescue was on the way.
"Inspiration? Insight? A vision?" The other smiled, a deeply unsettling grin warping his features. "Maybe not what. Maybe who? You thought of that? No?" He slapped Sam hard across the face. "Then you aren't thinkin'!" He snarled and started pacing again.
"You know…you know killing me won't change anything. If it did…"
"I'M NOT HERE TO KILL YOU!" The other yelled, bouncing across the room to slap him again.
Sam tasted blood and spit. "Fine. Then why the 'ell am I tied up in an empty flat? Let me go."
"No no no no, this is…important!" The other one said loudly, pointing at his temples with both hands. Sam wondered why, if this was how he acted, Gene never locked him up when he first appeared back in 1973 because he really really looked crazy.
"What is?"
He flapped his arms and began pacing again. "I don' know…I forgot something." He chewed on his bottom lip.
Sam blinked and swallowed, trying to stall. "…forgot?"
"Yes! I FORGOT! Okay? OKAY? You are bloody annoying."
"Yeah, I've been told that before." Sam sighed and leaned against the wall.
"By Gene? Yeah, yeah I…remember."
"That what you forgot?"
"Don' be a div. No. MY Gene told me something." The other one rubbed his chin. "Important. Something about Gene. Here. You." He tapped his skull as he walked the room. "And I knew how to fix it but I forgot something.
"Your Gene."
The other one stopped. "I said that?"
Sam nodded. The other one went to the window and slid down the wall, looking out. "The meds. They are trying to trip me, make me…confused. Probably got me on anti-depressants, they always mess me up."
"Usually works the other way."
"…I thought they would send him after me. That's what they usually do. Try to dope me up to slow me down, then send him on. But they haven't…best I can tell, it's too late. He can't find me even if he tried. Maybe…maybe they think if they confuse me enough, I'll just give up and go back."
"Would you?"
The malicious eyes settled on him, and Sam tried not to scoot backwards in fear.
"No. Never going back. That's my plan, this time…that's…my…shit! My plan!" He leapt up. "Oh. Fuck." He looked around. "I was counting on them sending him after me. They didn't."
"So you said." Sam huffed, bouncing a little, trying to get comfortable, then sailed out of control onto his side as the foot connected with his hip.
"You annoy the piss out of me. I'll be glad to be done with you." The other one stood over him as Sam whined in pain, then bent over and put the gag back on him. "But I've got to fix this first. I need to…no, I can't go back. Shit!" The other Sam looked malevolent, frustrated and insane as he paced, then glared at Sam's leather jacket, wadded up in a corner.
"I can't….you can't, don' know what you are doing, just start it all over again…only someone who's walked through with me can go, but will he bring him back? Can I trust him? Damn. I've got to have him, I need him here. He loves me, you…I need him here. I need him…" He prattled on endlessly, and Sam watched him pace. Finally he stopped and looked at Sam, wearing a determined expression. "Gotta do this. He should be at home. Or maybe the office. Yeah, with you missing, Gene's keeping him at the office, I bet. Yeah. Yeah." He bounced nervously and grabbed the jacket, shook it out and put it on. He checked for the warrant card and Sam started thrashing.
"Oh shut it." The other one walked over and backhanded him, hard, stunning him into silence. "See I can't trust myself to follow orders." He laughed at that, then dragged Sam into the bathroom and hog tied him inside the tub. He turned off the light as he walked out, locking the bathroom door behind him.
He walked into the station without a fuss. Phyllis was not even at the front desk; after hours, so the night crew was on, and they just barely knew him, as best he remembered. By his personal time line, it was over fifty years since he set foot in the building, so it was all a crap shoot. He got up to CID without any problems and found himself face to face with Chris Skelton, who looked even younger than he remembered.
"Boss! Everyone's out looking for you! Thought…" Sam whipped him around and took him to the floor, smashing his head against the tile. Not a killing blow, but it knocked him out, and Sam dragged him behind one of the desks. Easily found, but not immediately visible. He stood up to look around but no one else was there, except for the people in Gene's office, of whom he hoped one was the boy.
It was.
He stopped when he saw the woman. Annie. Annie Cartwright, young, before her prime. She was staring at him like a deer in the headlights and they both gazed at each other.
"Sam?"
"Yeah." He put his hands in his pockets, knowing he looked slightly different – older, softer – then the Sam who belonged here.
"Uh…the Guv is out looking for you…" She said nervously, casting an uneasy glance over at the boy.
"I'm right here. I came for the boy. He needs to leave with me."
"The Guv didn' say…"
"Don' worry about the Guv, Annie. I'm just taking the boy." Sam stepped closer to the desk and the boy scooted backwards in the chair, pushing it up against the filing cabinet. Annie frowned and shook her head.
"No sir. The boy stays with here with me." She walked around the other side and stood in between them.
"No, Annie. I'm taking him." Sam approached them carefully. He did not need her to start screaming and bring the whole place down, he just needed her to cooperate. Why was it that no one ever cooperated? It was frustrating and he snorted. "Move, Annie."
"No." She put her arms out to the side, making herself a physical shield for the child, and Sam was left with no choice. He struck out.
Nothing. They got nothing, and it was exactly what Gene expected at this point. It was nearly seven and his team was still on it, the entire department out on the streets hammering down the doors to every empty building or back-alley storage room they could get into. Except for Chris and Annie, who were still at the office with Junior. Annie was probably trying to avoid paperclips aimed at her cleavage, which Gene knew the boy was doing because Gene had fond memories of using that very trick on his grammar teacher Mrs. Coburn when he was young.
Gene stopped at the door of the car, trying to remember if he was fourteen or fifteen when he finally lost his virginity, and wondering if he could lock Junior up for a whole year. Then Gene remembered that the first time he kissed another man – boy at the time, of course – was when he was sixteen, so Gene thought that he would need to lock the kid up for three years, just to be safe. He could slide smutty magazines under the door, or something…
"Guv?"
Gene snapped back to the present as Ray walked up, and glared at him, which was now his automatic defense when caught dozing in his mind. Ray had been over at a phone box, calling into Annie, something Gene stopped them to do every thirty minutes, much to Ray's confusion. Now, though, Ray looked worried.
"Annie's not answerin' yer office phone like you told her. Jus' rings and rings."
Gene threw open the door to the car and had it in gear before Ray was fully seated. "Guv! She might be at the loo!"
"No. She knows when we're callin' in, she'd be by the phone." Gene growled, plowing down the streets.
"Guv, who'd go after her in the middle of CID?"
Gene ground his teeth. "One Crazy Bastard."
Ray gave him a concerned look but did not answer.
The place was empty, dead empty, when they entered, and Gene did not need bodies or evidence to tell him what happened. He steamed for his office, knowing it would be bad news, when Ray called out.
"Guv! It's Chris!"
Gene looked over his shoulder at where Ray was helping Chris to his feet, but the man looked alive and so Gene did not stop. Barreling into his office, he saw Annie sprawled on the floor next to his desk, bleeding from her nose and struggling to get up, but listing. She was a big girl and he could not lift her but he came close to it, helping her to the couch.
"S-s-s-sam…it was Sam…" She gasped as he handed her a box of tissues.
"No, it was NOT Sam."
She looked at him, dazed, and then Ray entered, holding up Chris.
"It was the Boss, Guv! He walked in, and…"
"It was NOT Tyler!" Gene yelled, and everyone froze. Annie gazed at him in confusion, a large bruise forming over the side of her face.
"You lot need to get this straight. It WAS NOT Sam Tyler you saw." He turned to Annie. "Did he really look like Sam, or just kinda sorta like Sam?"
She thought, which looked difficult for her to do as she was obviously still a bit dazed from the attack, then shook her head. "No, not really. Older…softer, like he was out of shape or summat. Gray hair…but he had Sam's jacket on!" She added in a panic.
Gene leaned backwards against the cabinet, terrified that his worst suspicions were just confirmed. "He took the boy."
Annie nodded. "I'm sorry, Guv, I'm sorry, I tried…"
"I know you did, love. That lunatic is unstoppable."
"You know 'oo it is, Guv?" Ray asked, surprised.
Gene nodded, deciding at the very least he could trust his team. To a point. "He's the same bastard who grabbed me."
Even Ray gasped like a girl, because while the sexual ravages perpetrated against him were locked down in his medical files, everything else Gene suffered was legend by now: the beatings, the burns, the lashings on the bottom of his feet, the shoulder muscles ripped off his bones – even the doctors were amazed that he lived at all, and his full recovery was nearly a miracle. That the attacker 'got away' was a black mark against the whole department which Gene had to suffer on their behalf, because the truth was impossible to explain. Gene's mind whirred with how to explain it now.
"I thought it was Sam, too. Hell SAM thought it was Sam, but he's a bloody look-a-like, and that's what he uses to…get close. He probably grabbed Sam last night, and took the jacket. Used it to fool you, get close enough to knock you out." Gene looked back and forth between Chris and Annie.
Annie nearly fell off the couch. "JUNIOR!"
Gene nodded. "He's got my son, and I ain't too proud to tell you, that scares the hell out of me." Gene opened the cabinet, took out his whiskey, and began passing the bottle around.
"We'll get 'im, Guv. He's dead." Ray growled after taking a swig, and Gene looked on him sternly but with genuine affection.
"Indeed we will, Raymundo. The bastard has made one mistake too many. Can't say as I blame him for wanting to off Tyler, been meaning to do it myself for a few years now, but he took my boy, and for that he signed his own death warrant."
"What can we do, Guv?"
"What I want to make clear is that we can't let anyone know about this." Gene stopped there, trying to figure out how to explain why. There was no possible way to gloss over the fact that the Sam "look-a-like" talked like Sam and had Sam's fingerprints and thought he was Sam. He and Sam were able to explain away Sam's fingerprints all over the crime scene where Gene was found, bloody and broken, by simply stating that Sam was careless due to his concern over his Guv and touched all of the evidence in error. All of it. By mistake. As cover ups went, it was very weak, but with the primary witness -- Gene, himself -- claiming that the attacker was someone he did not know or recognize, the case fell apart as planned.
"Sir, does this have something to do with Sam's family?" Annie asked, still dabbing her face with the wet, bloodied towel, and Gene seriously considered kissing her for being so unintentionally brilliant. Slipping her a bit of magic Gene Genie tongue action was not uncalled for here, especially since he had always admired her breasts anyway and…
"Guv?" Ray asked nervously, and Gene shot him 'the look.'
"Exactly, Cartwright, good detectin'. His…er…brother."
"Oh my god, his BROTHER kidnapped you?" Annie sat up, horrified.
"Insanity seems to run the in the family. I do believe we can all vouch for Tyler's own bit of instability in the past. His brother…was locked up for many years and…escaped. It's why we didn't push the investigation into what happened back then; Sam wanted to…try and find 'im on his own." Gene spoke slowly and he knew that anyone with half a brain could tell he was making this shit up on the spot. Nonetheless, he was 'the Guv' and they would accept what he said, whether they believed it or not. Rank was worth something, sometimes. "Not somthin' Tyler likes to admit, you'll note he don' spend much time talkin' about his family."
Everyone nodded in agreement and sat in stunned silence for a moment.
"Guv…the Boss' brother tortured yeh? Burned yeh…like that?" Ray said, sneering in disbelief.
"He did. He is a maniac, a blood thirsty lunatic."
Annie scrunched up her face as much as she could. "But why?"
Gene tried to look like he was considering telling them the truth while he raced for some half-plausible explanation. Not for the first time in the last two years, his exhausted and distracted brain failed him. Time for what the ponce called 'hand waving.'
"That's not what's important, we can sort that out over his bloody carcass. Right now we need to find him. I'm taking a flying leap here and assuming he grabbed Sam and my boy in order to black mail me, or draw me in. We'll hear from him, soon. I want as many people on the street as possible; keep checkin' those warehouses and abandoned buildings. Ray: Get with whoever is at the front desk and keep the pressure on the ground troops. If anyone complains about working late, tell them they are welcome to come here and ask me themselves right before they hand in their resignation."
"Right, Guv." Ray stalked out the door.
"Chris, Annie, we're stayin' here."
They nodded uncertainly.
"If he calls, don't talk to him, get me. Even if he pretends to be Sam, even if you THINK it is Sam, hand me the phone." Gene reached out and help Annie to stand. "Get yerself cleaned up love, and get an aspirin in yeh. Might be a long night."
"Right, Guv. I'll make some tea then?"
"Good girl."
Gene watched Chris smoking and pacing around his desk as Annie walked out of the room. Gene sat down with the bottle, then got up and put the bottle away. It just might be a long night, and he needed to have his wits about him when things started going off. He sat back down and pulled out his pack of cigarettes, thinking that the worst part of this job, sometimes, was the waiting.
"You understand?" He sat in front of the boy, patting his shoulder.
"I think so…is it gonna hurt?"
"Not unless you let them shoot you."
"Don't make him do this," Sam pleaded. The other one had moved venues on him as soon as he had the boy, and they now sat in Gene's living room. Sam assumed the choice of location was to help put the boy at ease, because it was obvious from the first that the other one wanted him to do something. Now that he knew what that something was, Sam was terrified. "Please, can't you do this without him?"
The other one glanced at him, annoyed. "No. The second I wake up they'll shoot me up and I won't get back. No guarantee that Gene will even be there. He has a job, you know." He said that last with some strange quirk of pride in his voice, which Sam did not know how to react to.
"I know he's a reporter."
"Not that. They won't let him do that. He's an author. Writing a book." The pride was more than clear now, and he turned to the boy. "Hear that? You are an author. A great writer." With an expression of lucid sanity, he reached out and rubbed Junior's arm affectionately, but the boy just looked confused.
"I am?"
"Not yet." The other one patted him again and then crossed his legs. "Just remember, I'm always under guard. Don't talk more than you have to, don't make any quick moves. Agree with everything they say, whatever you have to do. As soon as you see Gene, just grab his hand and close your eyes. I'll take care of the rest."
"My dad?"
"No, no, you. Well he'll look like your dad. Sort of. Look it's hard to explain. Do what I say and it'll be over quick." The other one snorted in exasperation. "Just don't get yourself shot by the guards, and everything will be fine."
"I'm beggin', here. Please, let the boy go."
"OH SHUT UP!" The other snapped and the boy scooted backward.
"What if I don't do it?" Junior said defiantly, jutting his chin out even as he kept scooting backwards. The other one reached out and grabbed a handful of his shirt and pulled the child close, breathing into his face.
"Then you see Uncle Sammy over there? Yeah? I break every bone in his right hand." The other one shook him hard and then let go, and Junior fell backwards awkwardly. "And that's just where I'll start. Every 'no' you give me, another bone goes."
"Gene, no, don't agree to anything…" Sam cried out, knowing exactly what Gene – young or old – would do with that kind of ultimatum.
"You 'urt him an' I won't do nothing for you."
The other one lightly smacked the boy's cheek. "Double negative. Try again."
Blinking in surprise, the boy stalled and then spoke again, slowly and carefully. "You hurt him, and I won't do anything to help you."
"Which means if I don't hurt him, you'll do exactly what I say. Good boy." The other one tapped the floor. "Lie down."
"No…no no no…" Sam fought his bonds, but they were tight and skillfully done, and he did nothing but cramp up in the strain.
"Why am I always this difficult?" The other one sighed heavily and got up as the boy laid down next to the couch. He walked over to Sam, replaced the gag, then wrapped a second gag over that one. Then he petted Sam's hair, and ran his hand over his face. "Just for a few moments. Won't be long. And then…he'll be here for you," he said sadly, then turned back to the boy.
They laid on the floor next to each other, the boy glancing over at him, trying not to look nervous or scared. The other one tied their hands together with expert familiarity, and Sam realized that this was probably something he did with all the Genes. The thought soured his stomach, and he stared at the boy helplessly.
"Close your eyes, and follow me," the other one said gently, and in the next moment Sam realized he was alone in the room, the two bodies on the floor empty of everything but life.
Day thirty-four. Bored senseless and feeling inconsequential, Gene sat by the hospital bed, rubbing Sam's arm. After so long in coma he was getting back to 'emaciated' again and it bothered Gene. They had him on a feeding formula that approximated about 3000 calories a day, but Sam tore through it when he was like this. Nothing kept meat on his bones. It had been a couple of years since he went renegade, and Gene forgot how much he hated being on the sidelines, watching Sam die. He could, if set up properly with the right drugs and by tying their hands together, probably follow Sam through to wherever he went, but it was a trick that had to be done quickly, before the 'trail' went cold, and they had shut him out the first week entirely. Now they wanted to try but he refused – he knew he could go, but he was not confidant at this stage that he could follow, and not all sure that he could come back. He told them to fuck themselves and another black mark went on his record.
"Still nothing?" Annie leaned against the doorway.
Gene shook his head and continued petting.
Annie tilted her head so it rested against the door frame and she tried to smile. "He'll come back. He can't stand to be without you for long."
Gene sighed. "Not me, love. Never me. Always him."
"You mean Alpha Gene." Annie walked in and sat down. "Doesn't mean he don' love you."
"I think it does. I'll never measure up, yeah? Always trailing."
"You gettin' sentimental on me?" Annie smiled.
"Jus' practical. An' tired…he ain' coming back from this one, Annie. I know it. Don't ask me how I know." He pointed at her, meaning that he did not want to undergo another barrage of tests. She nodded in acquiescence, then her eyes sprung open.
"Oh my god…" She was looking behind him, and when he turned around, he saw himself. At about ten years old.
"You're…you're 'im!" The boy pointed. "You're me! Dad! He said…I didn'…"
"Dad?" Gene stood up, as did Annie, and the room exploded with armed guards storming into the room, leveling pistols at everyone, including the boy. Gene stepped in front of him without thinking, throwing his arms out. "DON'T SHOOT! Annie!"
Annie's own gun was out but pointed at the floor. "Stand down! Stand down! There's a child in the room!"
Guns were lowered and a high ranking tech stormed in. "Some kind of activity, Colonel! We thought Sam was making a new appearance…"
"He's not! Maintain monitoring conditions!" Annie snapped and the tech flew back out.
There was a pause as everyone took a breath, and the guards glanced at Annie for a lead. She just kept staring at the Genes.
"Who…what are YOU doing here?" Gene turned around.
"Tyler…not Uncle Sam, you know, but the other one…said he needed you, but couldn' get you 'imself. 'Ey, that 'im?" The boy pointed at Sam's prone body.
"Yeah. That's 'im."
"What's wrong with 'im?"
"He's in a coma. Like you are now."
"I am?"
"Yeah." Gene stepped back and folded his arms, and the boy cocked his head in a too-familiar expression.
"You look like dad but you ain't."
"Your father is Gene Hunt?" Annie broke in, incredulous.
"Yeah. Best copper in the city!" The kid stuck out his jaw.
"Yeah, he is. We know he is. So why are you here, Gene?" Gene asked quietly, contemplating the boy and wondering why Sam would do this, take this risk, slice timelines all to hell, knowing what would happen to both of them – all three of them, really – if it failed.
The boy frowned and walked forward, as if remembering something. "Sent me to get you, so hold on…" He reached out to grab Gene's wrist and Annie shouted, raising her gun.
"Stop the boy! Stop him!"
The guards surged forward but only managed to catch Gene as he fell, comatose. There was no trace of the boy.
"GUV!" Chris yelled, stopping Gene cold. He held up the handset to Sam's phone. "It's Junior!"
Gene shoved a desk out of his way getting to the phone.
"Dad?"
Gene leaned over, keeping himself from collapsing by bracing his body with one arm on the desk. Now he knew what it meant to 'faint with relief' because he was just this side of it. "Gene…son…tell me yer not hurt. Tell me…"
"I'm fine, Dad. I'm fine. We're 'ome."
Gene's head snapped up. "Home?"
"Yeah. Home, I'm home. Here. With Uncle Sam and…the other two."
"Christ…" Gene looked around at the nervous faces in the room, and tried to think.
"He's…he's askin' to see you."
"He will, believe me, son, he'll bloody well see me and he'll live to regret it." He waved everyone back and whispered. "Is Uncle Sam hurt?" Gene closed his eyes and waited for the worst.
"No, he's a little…bloody. But not hurt bad. Jus' get here fast, Dad."
"You tell 'im I'm leaving now."
"Will do."
"Son?"
"Yeah?"
Gene coughed and lowered his voice, looking around uncomfortably, and specifically avoided Annie's curious gaze. "I love you, boy, so don' be stupid or I'll wear yer guts for garters. Got that?"
"Yeah. You too, Da…"
The line went dead.
He stood there, pressing down on the phone, thinking. He wanted back up, he wanted to get every gun in the armory and storm his house and kill that murderous son of a bitch and save the men he loved – his son, and Sam. He desperately wanted to kill the Crazy Bastard anyway.
But as he stood there, he felt some kind of pressure on his back, down on his soul, as if a shoe lace was tied too tight. Something was wrong with all of this, and Gene wanted a pair of scissors to just cut all the cords of confusion away and make his life right, if only so he could sleep at night again. Slowly, he turned to look at the core of his team, standing with him at nine o'clock at night, far from the pub, and willing to do anything to help. He heard Sam in his head: 'softly, softly…'
"We play this close. This is my son and your DI's lives on the line, I don't want RCS busting in because it's a hostage situation. Litton will get my boy killed, and I'll have to kill him, then I'll be sent up and you'll be stuck with Tyler in charge and nobody's life'll be worth livin'." Gene predicted confidently, and Ray nodded in agreement while Chris and Annie just stared in horror. The rest of CID was still out pounding the pavement and Gene was content to let them keep at it. This was, essentially, a family affair and he was only going to take with him the people he had to. The less explaining, the better. He would figure something out when the bodies hit the ground.
Sam watched as the other one fussed about the knots in Gene's binds. He had secured the man the instant he showed up, as if he had done it a hundred times before, and now he sat on the couch with the bound Gene at his feet, checking and inspecting and scrutinizing as if Gene were a piece of meat for sale, or a prized poodle on show. Gene looked nonplussed and gazed back at Sam across the room with an amused gleam in his eyes.
"At least let the boy go. He's done his job, Gene is on the way here," Sam tried reasoning once more.
The dark eyes locked on him again. "No. He's a Gene. He stays."
The other Gene glanced up at him. "He's me, love. Me. Don't be a selfish wanker, let him go."
Sam bopped him on the head, smiling. "I need all the Genes I can get."
"Trying for a threesome again…" Gene said, then trailed off uncomfortably, remembering the ten year old boy was in the room. The boy who looked a little too interested in Gene's comment, the gears in his head whirring. Sam coughed.
"Gene, did your dad say he was bringing anyone with him?"
"No. But he's probably bringing the entire squad! With guns!" Junior said pointedly, glaring at the other Sam.
"I bet he is. You know, Sammy Boy, you should just let us go. Save Gene the hassle of storming in here and getting yourself killed." Sam said bravely, trying to put on a front for the boy, who looked very pleased with Sam's prediction.
The other one looked at the boy, then at Sam, and got up.
"Sam, Sam…get back here…I mean it, you twat, get yer arse back here…" Gene bounced a bit, trying to get the other one's attention, but the lunatic kept walking towards Sam.
"You are going to be in the way for a while. Time to say goodnight."
Sam watched and cringed as the fist came down, heard the boy yelling, and everything went dark.
Gene held his breath before opening the door, then walked in. His first stop was the living room, where he found himself trussed like a turkey, sitting against the couch, not gagged, and alone. They looked at each other for a moment, and his mirror image nodded towards the upstairs.
"Knocked Sam out, had the boy help him drag him upstairs. To a bedroom, I think…"
Gene nodded and turned to go up the stairs, but stopped as he saw the Crazy Bastard walking down, Junior's arm clutched in his hand. It took every ounce of will power he had not to step backwards, but he was not going to let his son see that he was scared. He was not scared anyway; no, he was utterly terrified. No use in the boy knowing that, though. When they hit the bottom of the stairs, the Crazy Bastard slung Junior at him like a rag doll and walked passed him wordlessly.
Gene rarely hugged anyone. He was not raised to it and he did not feel it was something men needed to do off the football pitch. Every time he saw Sam giving Junior a firm squeeze around the shoulders he had rolled his eyes. The fact that he occasionally saw Junior returning Sam's hugs and once even saw him hug one of his school chums unnerved him a bit, because it meant that somewhere inside of himself he was the type of man who did hug. Voluntarily. For no reason.
Gene thought these things as he sat on the floor, Junior clutched to his chest and the boy's arms locked around him, rocking him like a baby and pressing his face into the boy's hair just to know he was real, and alive, and safe. He did not give a flying damn what they thought, or how stupid it was to stop and do this now, or what it meant about him as a man. He hugged Junior to him as if he had not seen him in years, because part of him feared he might not ever see him again. Gene always knew he would make a decent father, but surprised and scared himself with the desperate love he felt for this child, and was surprised further to know how strongly the boy cared for him in return. Even after Gene lifted his head and began rubbing the kid's back to calm him down, Junior stayed pressed fiercely against him, his face buried in Gene's shirt. Gene let him finish, because he was proud and the boy just as proud and would not want anyone to know he had been crying. It was their secret, and Gene huddled him protectively within the circle of his arms in the meantime.
He looked at the Crazy Bastard. "The boy goes. He walks out, unharmed." Junior squirmed in rebellion but Gene used his strength and smashed the boy's face back into his chest to shut him up.
"No."
"Nothing is happening until the boy walks out."
"No one leaves."
"He leaves, you crazy son of a bitch, or we all go down together."
The Crazy Bastard bit his thumb and bounced on his heels and looked at each prisoner in turn. The other Gene looked the Crazy Bastard in the eye.
"He's a child. Let him go, Sam."
"I've killed children. Babies!" He hissed, advancing on the other Gene, pointing at him. "No forgiveness for that! No forgiveness for letting them be born in the first place! He's just another! He's…"
"You touch this boy and I will rip your heart out with my bare hands," Gene growled over them.
"OH the great Gene Hunt! Always beating me down! The only way you'd ever touch me, yeah?"
"SAM! That's not what I said!" The other Gene roared.
Gene stood up, dragging the boy with him. "He's leaving. I'm staying. That's the deal."
"Dad! Nomph…" Gene wrapped his hand over the boy's mouth and hauled him to the door. The Crazy Bastard stalked them, but did not try to stop him. As Gene got to the hall, he let go and pushed Junior to the front door. The Crazy Bastard eyed them as if they were insects in a jar, and Gene tried to control his nerves, for the boy's sake.
"Get."
Junior shook his head, looking scared but determined. Too damn stubborn, and Gene knew exactly what he was thinking. "No, son. Nothing you can do here. Look at 'im, he's stark raving mad. He's the same bastard who hurt me, and if he hurts you, I won't be responsible for my actions. You understand? You want your dad to go nutters because you're a stupid stubborn git? Now WALK!" Gene pointed at the door. Junior looked at him uncertainly, then pointed back at him.
"Don't leave me!"
Gene shook his head. "I won't, I won't. But I got to stay and kill this insane fuck and save yer uncle first."
Junior seemed to grasp that and nodded curtly before turning and walking out the door towards Ray standing in the street, waiting for him, as arranged. He would hand him over to Annie down the block and she would get him back to CID headquarters, and with that done, Gene felt a huge weight lifted off his shoulders. There was still Sam to save, but the boy was going to live through this, and even Sam would agree that mattered more than both of their lives. The door closed and Gene turned slowly to face the Crazy Bastard, who was grinning in that gleefully homicidal way that was just so, so Sam.
"Deal!" He clapped his hands and the other Gene rolled his eyes. Gene tried to ignore him and concentrate on walking back into the room from the hallway. His entire body, mind and soul wanted to flat foot it for the door, to run out like a scared, screaming girl. It sounded like a really good idea, in fact, and he closed his eyes, breaking out into a sweat as he forced himself to just stand still.
"GET IN HERE!"
He nodded and with his eyes closed walked forward three steps, which he knew would at least put him in the room.
"Sam, he's terrified. Whatever you're trying to do, love, it won't work this way…" Gene heard his voice from the other side of the room, and realized he was talking about himself.
"I ain't leavin'." Gene opened his eyes and stared into the black, inky pools of the insane Sam Tyler's eyes, the Crazy Bastard he did not want to believe even existed.
"No, you're a brave boy, aren't you? Never even screamed when I had you strung up, beating on you like raw meat. Or fucking you…"
"SAM!" The other Gene bellowed and the Crazy Bastard stuttered. It was not a verbal stutter, it was a physical one, his body clutching at the sound of his name. His eyes focused, and re-focused, and he blinked heavily. Gene took the opportunity.
"What do you want? Why are you here? You could've killed Sam and be done with it. This isn't the script." Gene spoke with his throat constricting and he convinced himself it was not in fear.
"I…I…Gene?" The Crazy Bastard turned to the other Gene, confused, and Gene knew that he had the advantage and should make a grab for him in that second, take him down and break his neck but…he could not move. Not a single muscle would respond to his orders right now, his body frozen to the ground and Gene did not feel this helpless even when he was tied down with chains. He knew it was all in his head but his brain was the one thing that was not responding right anyway. He could not move if his life depended on it, and it did.
"I don't know what you're doin'. I don't know, Sam. Tell me. Tell me what we're doin' here." The other Gene spoke softly, quietly, and it sounded both familiar and strange.
"I'm…I'm fixing everything. For you. For him, me. For…us."
"How?"
The creature sat down on the couch next to where the other Gene was propped up against it, and began running his fingers through the man's hair gently and lovingly while he stared daggers at Gene. Gene shuddered, but still could not move. The Crazy Bastard tipped the other Gene's face up, and keeping his eyes on Gene, kissed him. Then he got up again and grabbed some rope he had piled by the couch.
"Hands out." He smiled in a charming, boyish way as he advanced on Gene, who looked into those terrible, inhuman eyes and remembered everything. He felt himself sliding down the wall as an unwanted, uncontrollable mental shock set in, tying his mind and soul into knots so tight he could not breathe.
Sam woke up to find himself stripped down and tied up. His hands where bound at the wrists and secured to the headboard, and his right foot tied off to the footboard. Then he realized what woke him up: the other one was tying Gene down next to him. The other Gene, though, not his, and stripped down, and looking concerned.
"See? See how good he feels? Okay." The other one patted them affectionately and walked out.
"Sam? You alright?" Gene rolled into him, inspecting his eyes. "He gave you a good hit."
"I'm…I'm fine…what is going on?...oh, god, Gene…" Sam shook his head and went to sit up, then remembered that he was tied down.
"The boy? He's fine, Alpha Gene got him out of the house."
"Gene's here?"
Gene nodded, a grim set to his mouth.
"Oh god, what is he going to do to him?"
"Kill 'im." Gene said, looking at the ceiling, refusing to meet his eyes.
"Shit!" Sam started squirming.
"Stop it, you're only going to hurt yourself." Gene sighed, not moving, not blinking.
"He's going to kill him! We've got to do something!"
"Do what?" Gene turned slowly to look at him, and Sam stared back helplessly. "When he thinks he's right, there's no arguin' with 'im."
Sam tried not to recognize himself in that description, and squirmed again. "Oh God…no, please, no…" He turned to try and roll over, to look at the door, as if he could will it open, will himself free, and stop what was happening. He was crying but it was tears and anger and frustration and he bucked against his bonds. "He can't…what about you?"
"You don' get it, do you?" Gene asked, looking thoughtful and surprised.
"Get what? What is that lunatic doing?"
"He's setting us up on a date." Gene snorted in a snide, cynical laugh and looked back at the ceiling.
Sam's mouth went dry. "What?"
"He's leaving me. He's going to kill the other Gene and leave me in his place. He's giving me to you."
Sam felt the blood drop out of his face. "No…no…he loves you…doesn't he?"
"I think. Hard to say. I love him, crazy nutter that he is…as much as I love you." Gene closed his eyes, and Sam just stared at him, speechless. "He knows it, too. If I'm right – an' I am – he's going to kill Alpha Gene, then commit suicide. Leaving us together, here. It's what he thinks he wants."
"….Why?"
"Because he doesn't believe Alpha Gene loves him…you, that is, enough to do anything about it. He died thinking that Alpha Gene would never touch him and but he knows how I feel. He mostly thinks we're interchangeable, with small modifications, so he figures I'll be left here, with you, and we'll spend a lot of time fucking and picking out curtains together. He thinks I can just pick up the slack on the copper angle. Mind you I got a bad history with authority figures, don' think I'll fit in quite so well." Gene sucked at his teeth and shook his head slightly.
"No, actually, you'll probably do fine." Sam whispered. He stared at the ceiling with a hopeless sense of dread.
"I don' want to. I'm a reporter, a writer. Not some Johnny-on-the-spot fuckin' time card clockin' cop. Fuck." Gene finally bucked against the ropes. "Bastard really can tie a knot. Says he spent several years behind the mast in the early 1800s…fuck all if I don' believe the son of a bitch. Is that a reef knot?"
"I don't know…" Sam peered at the knot work binding their hands together and to the headboard.
"Think you can teeth it?"
"No, can't reach. My right leg is roped to the footboard."
Gene looked down. "Hoped it was only me…"
"He's really going to kill Gene."
"Yep."
"You don't seem that concerned about it."
Gene shrugged. "I've seen him do it before. We got a few on vid."
Sam collapsed. "I can't believe I do that."
"Not really you, is it? Any more than Alpha Gene is really me."
Sam snorted in frustration and started working at the ropes around their hands and wrists. Gene watched for a few moments then coughed.
"Stop."
"I'm getting free. I'm going to stop that crazy bastard."
"You do that. In the meantime, stop squirming 'fore I come on you."
Sam jerked backwards and looked down at Gene's proud new erection. He looked back up, speechless, and Gene pursed his lips in a businesslike manner.
"More than a few times I've tied him down to fuck him. Seems to be a bit of a kink of ours which you are doing a magnificent job of encouraging."
Sam slid down to lie flat on the bed and remained absolutely motionless.
Gene laughed. "Bastard really knows what he's doing. Knew you'd get me hot and bothered. Damn. I think…"
"You two gettin' on?" The door cracked open and the other Sam looked in.
"You killed him yet?" Gene asked before Sam could open his mouth.
"No no no. Just delaying the inevitable, want to make sure you two are all set first." The other Sam smiled, delighted. "Oh you've got a hard on. Kiss?"
"Not until you get over here, you daft sod."
"Not ME! Him. You're supposed to kiss him." The other Sam waved his hand at him, amused and benevolent.
"You hurt Gene, and I'll kill this one." Sam snarled, and the other one blinked. In that moment, his posture changed and his expression hardened to stone and Sam thought he might have made a tactical error.
"Don' you think that, Sammy Boy. Because I'm killing that bastard out there, and that leaves him and without him your life will be meaningless. Trust me. I know."
"I don' want him."
The other one studied him for a moment, then nodded and walked out.
"Yer a fuckin' genius, you are, some thing's are jus' the damn same now as then. Christ, yer stupid mouth." Gene huffed in frustration.
"I was trying to bargain."
"You was givin' him ideas!" Gene snapped and the door opened, and Alpha Gene fell through it. He looked like hell, his hair ruffled and his skin pale and his eyes glossy. His hands were tied together in front and his arms strapped to his side. The other Sam pushed him into a chair.
"Now pay attention." The other Sam walked around and climbed on the bed in between Gene's legs.
"Oh for fuck's sake, Sam, not now," Gene growled, resting his head back on the pillow, obviously knowing his protests were useless. Sam scooted away as best he could, their hands still tied together.
"Uh uh. Now." The other Sam ran his hands over Gene's thighs, up to his erection, and played with his ball sac for a couple of seconds before laying down and taking Gene into his mouth. Sam was mesmerized, watching himself give a blowjob to Gene, and it was every fantasy he ever wanted if it were not for the fact that his Gene, Alpha Gene, was sitting in a chair with his life on the line. The other Sam kept at it, sucking and dribbling saliva as he pulled Gene's cock in and out of his mouth steadily. Gene writhed under him.
"Son of a bitch…you an' your games…" Gene groaned, pushing his hips up.
"No games…I love you…" The other Sam said softly and dipped back down.
Sam started when he felt Gene's fingers lace with his, and he looked up at his face. He was squinting with his eyes closed, huffing through an open, wet mouth, trying to gulp in air. He was gorgeous and Sam found himself leaning in, wanting to do something…to kiss him. He stopped and pulled back, and looked over at the chair where Alpha Gene sat.
He looked astounded, as if he had never seen a porno in his life. His eyes were wide and his mouth set as if he were about to say something, and then he caught Sam's eyes. He looked at Sam in desperation, a wide open, crushing desire that took Sam's breath away. He lay there, trying with his whole soul to reach out to Gene while the other Gene thrashed next to him in pornographic abandonment.
"Okay! Next."
"FUCK!" The Gene on the bed yelled out in frustration as the other one got up, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "What the hell are you doing, you ruthless little fuck? Payback? I'm so bloody close GET ME OFF!" The other Gene bounced on the mattress, spitting fury.
The other one smiled and went around the bed. He did something with the binding and Sam found his hands loosed from the headboard and from the other Gene's hands, although his wrists were still tied together. He started to get up but stopped when he felt the rope around his neck.
"No no no, love, got me a little leash here. No going stag." He pulled and Sam followed as the other one dragged his head down to Gene's crotch. "Practice makes perfect. I got him all warmed up for you…"
"Oh for fuck's sake, Sam, leave him alone. Time line's changed, you know it. Now get yer tight arse back here and sit on my cock 'fore I scream bloody murder."
Something about the other Gene's voice brought a small bit of reason back to him, and the other Sam stopped. Sam froze, not wanting to give him any reason to strangle him. "No, no. Don't make me screw this up…no, I have to do this. I'm distracted…"
"Not as bloody much as I am right now, you perv…"
"Shut up! There's a reason why I got you here…"
"Yeah. You. It's always you. Now get OVER here…"
"NO! No. Him. You're here for him…come on." His eyes went dark and narrow again and his tugged at the rope around Sam's neck. "Finish him."
"I am not giving him a blow job…urk…" Sam coughed as the rope tightened.
"Sam, don't. Please." The other Gene looked up as he begged. "I don't beg, Sam, you know I don't, but I'm begging you now. Don't do this. To us. Yer doin' this to us, it's not about them. I don't want this…"
The other one shook his head, but his eyes had gone soft and watery. "No, no, he's yours now, you have to get used to him. Me. The way you always wanted me, sane and normal. So…just, relax, love. He's me, so he really wants you. Watch. He'll enjoy it…"
Sam felt the rope tug and a hand at the back of his neck as he was positioned over Gene's dick. He closed his eyes. "No! I'm not doin' this!" He pushed back.
The was a drop in the room as everything stopped. Sam looked up at his tormentor, who looked down on him with cold, emotionless eyes. "Look at the chair."
Sam looked over to where Alpha Gene sat, staring at them, silent and furious.
"He's dead. I can kill him quickly and mercifully – he won't even feel it – or I can take him apart piece by piece while you watch. That's YOUR choice. You get to make it. Right now." Sam felt the rope tug a little.
Gene shook his head, glaring at him from the chair. Sam was not sure what it meant, and did not know what to do next. He felt another tug and looked up at the Gene on the bed, whose erection was still in force. He looked just as furious as the Gene sitting in the chair, and Sam felt helpless. On the third tug around his neck he bent forward and took Gene into his mouth, felt Gene's body slide in release under him, heard him groan in frustrated pleasure. Sam pulled up his bound hands to wrap his fingers around the base of the cock while he worked on the shaft, sucking and licking. He blocked out sounds and movements and anything that might distract him, hoping this was the worst stalling tactic he would ever have to use in his career as a police negotiator. Then something changed and Gene was kicking at him and someone was pushing him back, and Sam pulled off to look up at Gene. Alpha Gene, who was crouched on the mattress with his bound hands held out, fingers wrapped under the rope at Sam's neck, his legs shuffling forward to push Sam back and make himself a barrier between Sam and the other Gene. The rope fell away from his neck but Sam did not register that at all as Gene bent down and kissed him. The last time they tried this, Sam nearly died at the end of Gene's fists, but that memory did not stop him from opening his mouth, arching up to try and taste more of him as their tongues moved into each other.
Gene fell back as the rope tightened around his neck, his eyes bulging, trying to follow the other Sam who had quickly noosed him and was pulling him away.
"NO! No, I'm here to do this. To do this." He pulled Alpha Gene out of the room, throwing him into the hallway as that Gene kicked and roared and Sam yelled, trying to scramble off the bed with one foot still tied to it. The other Sam stormed in and furiously secured Sam's hands back to the headboard, then quickly left again. There was absolute quiet in the room when the door closed, except for Sam's heart thundering in his chest. He yelled one last time in frustration.
"Stop it, love. He's not going to kill him yet. Gene threw him a curve ball and he has to riddle it for a while."
"You seem to know him pretty well," Sam snapped.
"I know you."
"That's not me."
"You'd be surprised." Gene sighed, then looked down at himself. "Can't tell you how many times I've left him jus' like this. Some kind of queer perverted justice rules my life in the worst fuckin' way."
"You leave him tied up with a raging hard on?" Sam looked over at him, appalled.
Gene did not answer, and Sam stopped himself from pursuing it. He really, truly did not want to know.
"Why won't he kill him yet?"
"He's convinced that Alpha Gene would never have kissed him, and he just did. Gene threw a wrench into everything, and I can't say I know what Sam will make of it." Gene clucked thoughtfully, and Sam wondered what kind of rabbit hole his brain fell down to become that lunatic. He pressed his forehead into Gene's shoulder, frustrated and, he readily admitted, scared for Gene.
"It hurts." Gene said simply. Sam sighed, figuring they were past the shy stage at this point.
"Fine. Turn into me." Sam laid on his back again, offering his hip for Gene to rut against. Gene shuffled in closer and set his free leg over Sam's bound one, and pushed his hips. His erection was insanely hot and Sam closed his eyes. "This isn't us."
"Never say never," Gene said, brushing his lips along Sam's neck.
"If he kills him, I'll never touch you." Sam gritted his teeth as Gene's thrusts sped up.
"He'll be dead too. He won't care." Gene gasped, too wound up from the aborted blow jobs to last long, and neither one of them wanted to drag this out anyway.
"You wouldn't care? That it's me and not him?" Sam asked sharply, angry about everything, and scared for Gene.
"Oh god, Sam…god…I've never wanted anyone more…" Gene buried his face against Sam's skin as he came, shaking and groaning, wrapping his fingers around Sam's hands.
Gene sat on the floor, bewildered. They were in the hallway outside of the bedroom, both of them on the floor, both of them as stunned as Gene felt. The Crazy Bastard was looking down, chewing his thumb again, silent with both legs splayed out in front of him. They heard noises from the bed room, Sam and the other Gene talking, and then rhythmic noises from the bed springs. Gene ground his teeth.
"You left 'em together." He accused, and the Crazy Bastard looked at him. The lunatic was crying. "Don't cry to me, you fuck. You left 'em together." Gene snarled and looked at the ceiling as he heard himself come in the other room, a stifled groan of pleasure that sent shock waves to his own cock.
"They belong together. Not like us."
"He's MINE. You're giving away what's MINE." Gene continued staring at the ceiling.
"You never touched ME. You never wanted ME. He's not your Sam, any more than I am. He belongs to Gene now."
"I am Gene, you bloody raving lunatic!"
The Crazy Bastard ignored him. "He wants him, always has. I'll never measure up…I never had a chance, with him…but he'll love him, and take care of him, because he takes care of me. It's what he wants. And then I won't ever exist." He folded up his legs and curled into himself quietly.
"That's it, then? Yer goin' to kill me and leave him for Sam?" Gene found himself grinding his teeth.
"Yeah."
"An' you?"
"Suicide. Seems like the best idea I've had in one hundred years."
"No idea what yer on about, but I got to say I agree with your decision. So get on with it, then. Knock yerself out."
"You hate me?" Sam asked, unfurling a little, looking at him questioningly.
"You are joking." Gene rolled his eyes.
"…I'm sorry. I know I hurt you."
"You know you hurt me? Are we getting all dorothy now you plan to get to the torture?"
"You were the one kissing me."
"No, I was kissing Sam. YOU are a deranged lunatic who was talking about suicide. Don' let me stop you."
"You kissed him." He said quietly, and Gene rolled his eyes again. Apparently even insanity could not stop the little bugger from being a moody girl.
"Yes. I believe you were giving 'me' a blow job at the time, and…"
Gene gasped, the Crazy Bastard crawling into his lap faster than he could blink. "No…no…" He squirmed backwards.
"Love me? Love me…"
Gene kept scrambling backwards into the wall, as best he could with his arms bound to his sides and the Crazy Bastard shuffling up against him, shoving his face into Gene's neck, kissing him. Gene gasped and started shaking uncontrollably. He felt like a bug pinned to a board, toyed with and tortured before being killed as he remembered the feeling of this monster on him, touching him, hurting him…
"Gene…" The Crazy Bastard sighed as he pushed into Gene, kissing his neck as if they were actually making love.
The waiting was the worst part, as the saying went, and it was an accurate statement as far as Sam was concerned. Gene was lying next to him, still pressed into him from where he collapsed after he came. Sam realized with severe annoyance that the man had fallen asleep.
"Oi!" Sam shoved his shoulder at him and Gene stirred. "Might not matter to you, but we're in the middle of a life or death hostage situation here."
"Oh, shut it. You got any idea how many times Sam has left me in a bad spot? The drama wears off after the first few dozen times."
"He just leaves you?"
"Obviously not. But he tries to." Gene sighed and rolled away. He worked at his hands, and Sam joined him, trying to get blood back into them. "I'm the longest lived Gene. Most don't last more than a few months. Some reason, he keeps me alive to play with."
"Christ you sound bitter."
"An' you're not?"
"I got hope." Sam snarled.
"…So do I, Sam. So do I." Gene tugged at the bonds around Sam's wrists, trying to loosen them. Sam looked at him critically.
"You said you never wanted anyone more."
"I meant it. But not the way you think. I want you to BE my Sam. I want him to be you."
"He IS me!"
"He's insane, so it's not quite the same, you noticed?" Gene snorted sarcastically. "And he knows it. Sometimes he…wakes up. It's something to do with all this time travel crap, he's tried to explain it but even the physicists on staff don't understand half the shit he comes up with."
"…physicists on staff…" Sam repeated.
"You would not believe the amount of money that has been sunk into your sorry carcass, Sam." Gene said, poking his tongue out the side of his mouth as he focused on the bindings. Sam could not help but smile, despite everything, as the Gene next to him turned into a giant, naked kid playing with string. Gene caught his expression, leaned forward, and kissed him. It was a short, sweet, kiss, and then he returned to the ropes. "That's what I never get with him. Just simple affection."
"I find it…strange for Gene Hunt to say something like that." Sam said, licking his lips, trying to pretend he was not massively turned on by the taste.
Gene stopped and rested his head against his arm. "I ain't him, Sam. Never was, never will be. Never got that chance. I'm a former hack journalist locked up in a top secret government installation because some lunatic time traveling bastard is the man I love, and once he's done with me I'll be dead legally and officially, if not in fact."
Sam had no answer to the overwhelming defeat and despair contained in those words. Then he snapped backwards. Gene responded by spinning over to look at where Sam was staring.
Highlighted by the moonlit shadows streaming through the second story window, Junior waved at them excitedly, perched on the ledge outside.
Sam could not get this wrong, but nothing was going right. His insanity was slipping in and out of his hands with every other word, and he did not know what to do. It was such a simple plan, but now it was complicated, and he was not in control. He was strong, and he killed plenty of Genes before. He knew what to expect, because the expression on the dying man's face was always the same, and he braced himself for it, but it had all gone wrong in the hallway. He kissed Gene until he realized that the man was in shock, shaking, wild eyed and scared. He should have killed him then, and as he sat in the other bedroom with Gene on the guest bed, shivering, staring at him, he knew that something was wrong, terribly wrong, horribly and inescapably wrong.
Sam was sane, and he was simply unable to kill Gene. The bloodlust that drove his purpose was just gone.
Sighing, he leaned his head back and tapped it against the wall, wondering what happened. Was it Alpha Gene kissing Alpha Sam? Was it him kissing Alpha Gene?...no, he kissed him before, he remembered that. Kissed him, raped him, hurt him…that is what he did and it changed nothing. It was the alphas kissing, he knew it, and more importantly, it was the fact that he saw them kissing, saw Gene collapse into his need and desire and….love. He described Sam as 'his' and it was not a protective claim, it was honest possession.
His Gene was right: Alpha Gene had loved him all along. That understanding broke Sam apart but it did not solidify his insanity, but rather the reverse: it brought him back to his senses, it unmoored him from everything he knew. As he reached out and smelled and felt and sensed, he knew the knot was almost gone. Almost.
"Gene." Sam whispered, and the man on the bed started. Sam watched as he collected himself, breathed deeply, tried to control his reactions.
"Gene. I love you. Do you understand?"
"You…yer a lunatic bastard. Kill me already."
Sam looked at his hands. "I can't."
"Bloody 'ell you can't. You done worse." Gene spat.
"I have. Even worse than you can imagine. These hands…" He held up his hands. "Stained with the blood of hundreds, maybe thousands. Even if it was…right…" Sam thought back to the tapestry, his mistakes and the hell he wrought on everyone and himself. "I can't do it now."
Gene stared at him with ruthless animosity. "You ruined me, you fuckin' cunt. I can't sleep, I can't think, I can't…touch. Some days the scars on my feet still hurt. I can't run if me life depends on it. Still can't lift more'an thirty pounds with me left arm. What do you WANT with me?" Gene snarled, kicking at nothing.
"The only thing I ever wanted was you. I just…I never trusted you. I never thought that you could feel the same."
A quick look of astonishment passed over Gene's face, and Sam felt the knot tugging at him, the threads being pulled again.
"That's it, isn't it? He doesn't think…he doesn't know…" Sam sat forward, pointing at him. "You've kissed him before, haven't you! Answer me!" Sam stood up and Gene flinched. "You did! I know you did! What happened?"
Gene bit his lower lip, then snarled. "I nearly killed him. And that is YOUR fault, you useless piece of shite."
"Great. Great!" Sam snarled back and Gene flinched again. "GREAT! Now he thinks it is impossible. And I can't kill you and leave my Gene in your place, I can't do it!" Sam ran his hands over his face, despondent. The other Sam, Alpha Sam, did not believe that Gene could love him, that was the knot, it was what drove him over the edge every time and it was what he needed to fix. He stepped over and sat on the bed, and Gene tried to shuffle backwards but Sam grabbed his bonds. "I have to show him, Gene. I have to, he has to know."
"Don't touch me."
"Please, trust me."
"Let go…" Gene squirmed, his movements panicked and spastic.
Sam let go, but as Gene's whole body began shaking, he knew it was too late.
They got dressed as silently as possible. Junior stood like a proud Gene Hunt, smirking in triumph at releasing Uncle Sammy from his bonds. Twice Sam had to put his hand over his mouth to keep him quiet. He tried to push him back towards the window, to get him back out of the house, but like Gene Hunts throughout the universe, apparently, he was as stubborn as a mule. Sam did manage to get a whispered accounting, which consisted of Junior explaining proudly how he jumped out of Annie's car at an intersection, ran all the way back to the house, and managed to avoid detection by Ray and Chris who were out front, waiting on some word from the Guv. Sam shook his head sternly, figuring Gene the Senior would probably congratulate the outrageous idiot boy but someone needed to make it clear that he was in trouble. He had no effect against the bravado.
The other Gene stood by the door, his ear pressed to it, holding his shoes in his hand. He went to nod that it was safe to go out then went wide eyed and stepped backwards just as the door swung open.
"What…?" The other Sam only had time to register Gene in front of him before they both went down, Gene throwing him into the wall and slamming into a wrestling clutch as they fell to the floor. Sam grabbed Junior and pushed him back against the wall, covering him with his body as the other men fought like banshees, breaking furniture and each other.
Gene finally got the upper hand and sat on the other one's back, pressing his face into the carpet.
"I was just coming to untie you!" The other one yelled and squirmed.
"Of course you were. Shut it." Gene slapped the back of his head with his free hand, and it looked so painful that Sam cringed. The other one howled in pain, and that unnerved Gene somehow. He stared down at his captive in confusion. "That didn' hurt."
"YES it DID! Moron! You hit me! Of course it hurt!"
"It never hurts. You don't feel it."
"I ALWAYS feel it! Sometimes…I just don't care." The other one lowered his head back down and set his forehead against the floor, the tension in his body sliding out of him. Sam stepped back from Junior but held him by his arm.
Looking even more confused, Gene stood up, pulling the other one with him. Then he shook him so hard Sam was surprised his neck did not snap.
"Ow," Junior said next to him, and they nodded at each other in agreement.
"What are you up to? Where is Gene Hunt?"
"Down the h-h-h-all! Stop!" The other one punched at Gene's chest. "He's on the guest bed. He's…not doing very well…"
"I wonder 'oo the fuck's fault that is…" Gene snarled and stomped out, dragging the other one behind him like a naughty dog. Sam wanted the boy to stay put but that was not going to happen, not with Gene Hunt, Junior. Sighing, he followed, praying that his Gene was not badly damaged. He was prepared to drag the boy out quickly if that was the case.
Gene was on the bed, still bound, his eyes closed and breathing heavily. The other Gene untied him while Sam held Junior back from running to his father. "No no, we don't know if he's hurt, stay here…"
"He's not hurt." Gene sounded confused and turned to the other one. "You didn't torture him?"
"No. No, I…couldn't. He went into shock, though, I…it's my fault. I'm sorry." He rubbed his face and backed up into the wall.
"WHAT DID YOU YOU DO? WHAT DID YOU DO TO MY FATHER?" Junior yelled and lunged but Sam grabbed him and hauled him back. The other Sam looked at his hands as they all stared at him.
"I…kissed him."
Junior stalled. "You kissed my dad?" He looked at Sam, perplexed, then back at the other one. "But he's Uncle Sam's boyfriend."
Sam did a double take, as did the other Gene. "NO! I'm not! Gene! What are you…"
"I saw you kiss him that night. When he broke up the livin' room."
"You were out of bed before the fight? I should ground you…"
"I don' think that's the important part of the story, Sam." Gene sat down on the bed, focusing back on Alpha Gene, who was not moving at all.
Sam stopped. "Right. Gene, thank you for sneaking out of bed and saving my life, but I'm going to ground you anyway. You need to understand, I am NOT your father's boyfriend."
The defiant chin jutted out. "You are. That's what boyfriends do. They kiss."
"What? Who told you that?"
Junior looked at his feet and blushed. "Tony."
"WHO is TONY?" Sam stepped up and poked Junior in the chest.
"…no one."
"Tony? Tony Harper? Your football buddy?"
The flush deepened. "Yeah."
Sam shook his head in denial. "Gene…Gene, you better not tell me Tony is your 'boyfriend'." Sam found himself using air quotes around the word.
"No!...not like we, you know, done anythin'…" Junior looked away, then turned defiant again. "Well if Dad can have you I can have Tony!"
"Gene! You're ten…"
"Eleven next month!"
"TEN and you can't…"
"SAM!" The other Gene snapped and Sam turned him. "You can play concerned step father later. We've got problems. He's in shock." Gene pointed at Alpha Gene and then started pulling up the bed sheets to wrap around him. Sam looked at the other one, standing against the wall, who was smiling in a bemused way at the exchange between Sam and Junior.
"Go stand over there." Sam pointed at the other wall, further in the room, and further way from the bed. The other Sam frowned but nodded and moved. Junior started for the bed again. "Gene, stop, stop…go call emergency, get…"
"No! I'm not leaving! Anyway Ray and Chris are still outside and I'm sure Annie's back by now, all we need to do is…"
"Sam, get over here." The other Gene barked out the order and Sam followed it instinctively. Alpha Gene was shaking, but his eyes were still closed.
"Dad? Dad, it's me…" Junior leaned over and grabbed Alpha Gene's arm. "Dad…come on…"
"He can hear you, boy, keep talking…" The other Gene directed Sam as they both sat down on the bed on either side of Gene. "We need an ambulance."
"I can go…"
"YOU stay were you are or I'll rip yer balls off." Gene pointed at the other Sam, who smiled again.
"You'd miss them…"
"Oh shut up." Sam snarled and focused on Junior.
"Keep talking to your father. Come here, get closer." Sam pulled Junior on the bed to sit in between him and Alpha Gene, and then he got up. "I'll go out to Ray, he's got a radio, it'll get an ambulance here more quickly than if we phone in."
Gene smiled at him sadly. "We been here before."
"Yeah." Sam nodded emotionlessly, knowing that things were not as bad this time but that did not make them good. His Gene was mentally destroyed and in physical shock and nothing good was going to come of this. Suddenly an arm whipped out and grabbed him.
"Bastard."
"Dad!" Junior yelled happily but Sam knew something was wrong. He looked back at Alpha Gene, and right down the narrow alley of the man's brewing insanity. He was unhinged and Sam had seen this before.
"Oh…god…Gene get Junior out of here!" Sam yelled, shoving Junior off the bed. Sam grabbed for Alpha Gene but he thrashed, blinded by fury. The other Gene jumped off the bed, picked up Junior and physically carried him out of the room, and when he did, the boy started screaming for his father. Gene went over the last ledge of sanity and lunged for Sam.
"NO! Gene! NO! It's ME!"
The other Sam stood by the wall, horrified, his hands over his mouth. The other Gene and Junior were fighting out in the hallway, and Sam knew it was a losing battle with the kid, but that thought was shoved aside by Gene's fist slamming into his chest. At that point Sam lost the ability to think about anything other than trying to live through the attack. Gene was insensible and enraged, not knowing or caring which Sam he was going at, only that it was Sam, whom he clearly intended to kill. They clutched and as they fell to the floor, Sam's leg twisted wrong and his left knee went out. Crashing down, he felt Gene's elbow landing on his rib cage and then it was a fury of fists and kicks and head butts. Sam was outweighed and Gene was driving on adrenaline, so Sam knew he was on the receiving end of a losing battle but he kept throwing back what he could. Then, unexpectedly, Gene was lifted up off of him.
The other Sam had grabbed him about the shoulders and was pulling him back, and the other Gene appeared and was instantly down on the floor, helping the other Sam drag Alpha Gene back. Sam knew he was in a bad way and several things felt wrong – knee, shoulder, rib cage – but he could barely move. He was reduced to watching as the other two men wrestled with Gene, who was roaring.
"Stop stop STOP, love, I love you please STOP!" The other Sam was yelling in Alpha Gene's ear. His movements slowed down as he laid back, the other Sam's arms wrapped and locked around his torso and holding him in his lap as the other Gene fought to contain his fists. "Please, love, it's all wrong and I'm so FUCKING sorry and I love you, please stop this, I'm sorry…" The other one's eyes were closed as he chanted his words into Alpha Gene's ear. Gene released Alpha Gene's arms and stared at the other Sam in heart broken shock. Sam laid on the floor and then felt hands on him, and shifted painfully to see Junior kneeling next to him, crying in helplessness and rage.
"I know you love me, I know it, I live for it….you don't know how much I love you, you don't know, let me show you give me a chance, please, God, I'm begging you, Gene, I know you love me, I KNOW it…give US a chance it has to work, please, believe in me believe in me believe in us…" The words flowed on and on as the lunatic kept talking Alpha Gene down from his madness and Sam watched Gene's eyes clear to bright green, and focus, and turn to him just as he felt himself pass out.
"Get him out. I've got Sam."
Gene looked up at himself from where he was cradling Sam on the floor. Sam was alive, but finally unconscious, and seriously hurt. By Gene. Gene looked up at Junior, who was staring at him in shock and fury, and for once in his life could not think of anything to say. He shook his head and picked Sam up. As a dead weight, the man was not as light as he looked, but Gene was going to carry him out of that house if he broke his back trying. He took one look at the tear streaked creature on the floor, looking up at him in misery and shame, and he wanted to spit on him. Whatever that animal was, he was not Sam anymore, and Gene would never think of him that way again.
"Gene, just go. I've got him, he can't hurt anyone." The other Gene said, pulling the Crazy Bastard up off the floor with an iron grip.
"Hide. I don't want to explain any of this. Just hide until we're gone." Gene headed for the door, Sam groaning painfully in his arms. Gene turned and looked over his shoulder. "Then do me a favor…strangle that hopeless lunatic like the God damn animal he is."
He walked out as the Crazy Bastard started keening behind him as if in pain.
He was just waiting to go. It was done now, over, and he said what Alpha Gene needed to hear and he stopped the carnage and Alpha Gene did everything but spit on him as he walked out, breaking the last thread and untying the knot and smoothing out the weave. It was all right, it was all fixed, and Sam fell to his knees as relief washed over him, crying in fear and joy and liberation because after nearly 150 years of his life it was all finally over. He felt his Gene, the only Gene who mattered to him, trying to pull him up and drag him somewhere, and Sam was sorry that now when they could find a way to be together, the universe was only going wash them both away. He knew there was no point in fighting back as Gene pulled him along.
It was dark in the closet that Gene stuffed them into, but it was not oblivion. It was just a closet, and Sam bounced nervously in Gene's arms, waiting, just waiting for it to be over. To die, or get erased, or something, but nothing happened. Gene's arms were locked around him like hot steel and when Sam felt that heat, and knew he was still alive and they were still together, the last trace of his insanity shattered. Sam sobbed in Gene's arms as he finally, finally, came back together.
There was one sure way to calm Sam's nerves, aside from fucking. When the ambulance left and the house was quiet he got out of the closet, dragging Sam behind him, and went into the bathroom. He kept one hand familiarly locked on Sam's arm and turned on the water, then stripped Sam down like a rag doll and shoved him in. He took off his shoes and his shirt, knowing Sam could get splashy, but stayed in his jeans and vest. Sam looked confused as Gene slid the curtain closed, and Gene knew why. Usually he joined Sam, washed him down to help soothe those dangerous nerves, but he could not do it. Not now. He sat down on the toilet seat and rubbed his neck.
The curtain was pulled back a bit and Sam peeked out, water dripping down his face. "No?"
"No. Do your business. I'll dry you off."
The curtain fell back and there was listless splashing. "I'm lonely."
"Get used to it."
The curtain pulled back again. "Why?"
"Yer an idiot. You know why. Now finish up." Gene kept his gaze focused on the floor.
"No, no I don't know why."
Gene looked up into the crystal clear brown eyes of Alpha Sam. He sat back. "Sam."
"Yeah?"
"Jus' makin' sure."
"It's me. It's always me."
"No. Not always."
Sam nodded. "Always. I'm just sane now."
Gene shook his head. "Finish up." Sam stared at him thoughtfully, quietly, for far longer than Sam normally would, or even could. Gene shifted uncomfortably. "What?"
"You think…what I said…that means I don't love you?"
Gene narrowed his eyes. More games. "I think you wailing on the floor your everlasting love for another man does, yes, imply that you might not feel nowt for me. So yeah. End of story, Sam. Don't make me come there and drag you out. Finish. Your. Shower."
Sam leaned against the tile. "No. No you don't understand. That was…loosening the final thread. He had to know how Sam feels. He had to see that."
"You are Sam."
"Yeah, and I loved him once. Just like that. Part of me still does. I wasn't lying, I was just letting him know. But that don' mean I don' love you. You saved me, Gene. You trusted me and came back for me and you save me. I love you."
Gene looked up and shook his head. "Don' lie to me, Sam. I'm not in the mood."
"Look at me. I'm not insane. All the knots are gone, all the threads are fixed, nothing is pulling at me anymore. I'm just me."
"I got no bloody idea what yer on about."
Sam huffed in aggravation. "I'm ME. I'm the one who came back insane and went on bloody rampages and killed that doctor with my feeding tube. I'm the one you fucked raw in that stinking cellar in Milan and who killed myself over and over and who has lived twenty lifetimes trying to fix everything and I'll be damned forever because of it. I'm old and I'm tired and I'm madly in love with YOU."
Gene shook his head again. It was too much to believe anymore, impossible to trust. Sam pulled the curtain back all the way and water splashed on Gene from the shower. He reached out and grabbed Gene's tee shirt and pulled him up and into the shower, drenching his clothes. Gene let him because he simply could not bring himself to fight anymore. Maybe this was the point the other Gene's got to, when they let themselves die – giving up on the hope that Sam would ever be whole, or would ever love anyone other than Alpha Gene. Most of them just got to that point in a matter of months, while he held out for years. Good on him, he thought, amused by the competitive streak in this of all things. But now he simply could not muster the will to fight. He felt one of Sam's arms sling over his shoulders and pull him into Sam's naked body, and he waited.
"I love you." Sam whispered into his ear, kissing along his jaw.
"Sam…" Gene closed his eyes. Waiting. Death was welcome at this point, because he had nothing left to live for, and nothing to go home to. "Just get it done."
"What?" Sam pulled back.
"Kill me. I'm done. Do it, stop playing with me, I'm not yer damn toy anymore." Gene put a hand out to the wall, to prop himself up.
"No." Sam found his mouth and kissed him, the familiar tongue unusually gentle and soft and slow. Sam was always hard and fast with sex, needy and desperate, and this was strange enough to stop Gene.
"What are you doing?"
Sam squeezed Gene's shoulders with the arm he had over his back, and his other hand drifted down to start unbuttoning the soaking wet jeans. "Taking care of you. You're mine now, I've got to take care of you. Like you've taken care of me. I won't let you go, Gene." Sam kissed him and Gene's body responded, scared of this because it was not like Sam to be romantic if he did not have something to gain. "I love you. YOU. Not Alpha Gene, that's past for me. The Past. You're my present, my now…just, everything." Sam kissed him again as his hand found his way down into the open jeans, warm and gentle. Gene pressed into him, shuddering, quaking, praying for a miracle as he tipped his head and began kissing back.
Everyone was confused as the ambulance drivers hauled Sam into the vehicle. Ray, Chris and Annie stared at Gene and Junior and then at the ambulance with the very broken apart Sam Tyler in it. Gene, wearing blood and his knuckles busted open, stood wrapping a kerchief around his right hand, the worse of the two, as Sam was loaded up. Junior's tear streaked face was dark and angry as he looked at Gene, the silence between them growing longer and more obvious.
"You want one of your people to ride wit'im, DCI Hunt?" The driver asked, and Gene nodded. He grabbed Junior by the back of his shirt and all but threw him up next to Sam.
"You keep talkin' to 'im. Do what the doctors and nurses tell yah when you get to the hospital. We'll be following…look after your uncle for me, son."
His own ferocious, angry eyes watched him as Gene shut the doors without waiting for a reply he knew was not coming.
The idea that 'Sam's brother' had done that much damage to Sam and then escaped right from under the Guv's nose struck horror into Ray and Annie, while Chris just stared at him in terrified confusion. Ray cussed at himself, apologizing for not 'bustin' down doors' when he should have, but Gene was sincere in his assurances that he was glad Ray did not do that. Annie immediately suggested radioing in an APB for the perpetrator, but in truth Gene did not want this situation to become that official. Instead he had her radio in to have a message relayed to the rest of the CID team that Sam was found and to call off the search. He decided that the less he explained, the better, and left his team to stew in confusion as he led them all to the hospital, abandoning the 'crime scene' without calling out forensics or doing anything to try and catch the lunatic. When Annie cautiously inquired, Gene said he was injured fighting to get 'that bastard' off of Sam, and felt that it was not a complete lie.
At the hospital, the boy sat lonely and quietly in a waiting room chair, and shrugged Annie off when she tried to comfort him. Gene stood on the far side of the room, smoking, waiting for the doctors to give them an update. He grilled Annie on how the boy escaped her (because if he was lying about half of what happened, sure as sin the boy would too) and got the story of Junior jumping out of the car at an intersection and hoofing it back to the house by foot through gardens and alleyways. He intended to ream Ray and Chris for not seeing the boy approach the house, and coach them all on what their stories would be, but later. It could all be dealt with later.
A doctor entered within the hour to inform them that Sam's life was not in danger, although he was beaten up pretty badly. Gene told him that fact was damn obvious and if he did not have anything more than that to say about it, he needed his stethoscope shoved up his arse, along with Gene to thumping him back to uni.
The end story was a severely broken left arm, several broken and cracked ribs, a dislocated shoulder and a seriously wrenched knee, along with presumed organ bruising. Lungs were not punctured, kidneys were not busted, and the heart was strong. Gene sighed in relief and he sent Ray, Annie and Chris home for the night, leaving him with the boy. His boy. His son, no matter how it came about, and who, in all regards, hated his guts right now.
"Gene." He sat down next to him, and put out his cigarette. Junior sat with his arms folded, staring at the wall, looking murderous.
"You did that."
"Yeah. I did."
Junior glanced at him out of the corner of his eye. "Uncle Sam should press charges."
"He might. Not the kind of man to let that sort of thing go, in my experience. He just might." Gene sighed and leaned back, folding his arms to his chest, and realized after the fact that he was mirroring his son's posture.
The boy looked at him. "Really?"
"I 'ope to 'ell not."
Junior snorted and it sounded very familiar.
"I jus' lost it. You understand? That lunatic Tyler, the other one, he hurt me bad when he got me. You remember 'ow hard it was for me to walk when I got you out of the orphanage, yeah?"
"Yeah." Junior nodded unwillingly.
"That's his fault. He did that to me. Took a rope and used it like a whip on the bottom of me feet." Gene sighed, remembering a little of it – mercifully, not much, now. It was almost as if the memories were unraveling, disappearing like a slip knot. He and Sam agreed from the first not to tell the boy how badly injured he was, figuring he was too young to understand that kind of thing, but now it was important for him to know what took Gene over in that moment. He looked and saw Junior staring at him, not overly upset, but clearly disturbed by the news. "He did that and worse. Those burn marks you see on my chest when we go to the pool? My bad shoulder? He did all of that. When I woke up in that bedroom, I just saw him – didn' know you got Sam and the other Gene untied, I only remembered being in the room with that…maniac. I thought it was him and I jus' snapped. Like a rabid dog. Didn't know what I was doing."
"Like when you beat him up the night you kissed him."
Gene stared at him, horrified, but Junior shrugged.
"I know I wasn't supposed to see that. An' Uncle Sam got on my case about it earlier, when you was…'out'. But I know what I saw. Right before you hit him, you was kissin'."
Gene rubbed his jaw, appalled but struggling for damage control. "Can't say that, Gene. Not to another livin' soul, you got it? You'll ruin both of us. Me, I know you wouldn't mind so much right now, but Sam is a good man and you say that to anyone, you'll ruin his career. His life, you understand?"
"Yeah. I do."
"Good."
"You gonna beat him up again, next time?" Junior kicked the floor with foot, snarling.
Gene stared at him, wondering if he should argue that there was not going to be 'next time' but for the first time, Gene realized that there was going to be next time. He and Sam…well, if it was not love, then it was close enough. Yes, there was going to be a 'next time' if he had any say so in the matter. No guarantee there, at this point, but he was damn well going to try.
"Don't think I am."
"…You hurt him bad."
"Yep."
"I hate you."
"Figured that."
"You ever hurt him again, I'll hurt you."
"Fair enough."
"Okay."
They sat side by side and continued staring at the wall for a while. Gene smoked a cigarette and tried not to count the minutes until the hospital would let him in to see Sam, and then felt something pressing against his shoulder. He lifted his arm and allowed his son sink into him, letting in fall asleep there in his embrace, protected and loved and safe.
There were two outcomes, and this was not the one he bet on. He never told Gene what might happen, of what he thought would happen, although Gene was smart enough to know it was a possibility. Sam just never let on that it was less a possibility and more a certainty, but now that it did not happen and the warp and weft were settled and firm all around them, Sam stood staring at himself in shock. He anticipated that he and 'his' Gene would simply disappear, melt into the fabric of time and cease to exist. He did not want to do that to Gene and he did not particularly want to die but he simply expected it to happen.
But it did not happen, and no one was waiting for it to happen but himself. He stared at them and they stared at him, and he could tell them he was not insane anymore but why would they believe that? Should they, after all the blood on his hands? Gene held onto him as he always did, clutching at his arms to hold him down, and for once Sam did not feel restrained, but contained. Loved. Needed. He stepped backwards and relaxed against Gene, sighing. Gene was surprised and faltered, but then moved to wrap both arms around Sam's torso and pull him in and they stood there, pressed together, the Genes arguing over a knocked out Alpha Sam's hospital bed and everyone ignoring him for once as he rested, content, tipping his head back to lay against Gene's shoulder.
He did know, though, that there was no going back. Their world, the one this Gene grew up in and the one he woke up in was gone, turned to dust and scattered in the aftermath. That was good, he thought, for all the grief in that time line he caused. It was good, yes, but now they were homeless. Sam closed his eyes to concentrate on the connections around them and he realized that he was free. Not dead, but free, because he could go anywhere, to any time, without destroying anything unless he tried. He was harmless, able to leave no footsteps or marks, no rips or tears or knots. He could move through the tapestry without disturbing it, because now, somehow, he and Gene were natural parts of it. Maybe forever, maybe for less than a lifetime, and still homeless either way but always where they were supposed to be. Anywhere, anytime…together.
The freaks of nature were gone and his son was with Annie and Chris at the park -- the little bastard was probably trying to peek up her skirt at that very moment, and Gene was determinedly NOT thinking about what clever ruse the cunning brat would use to get Chris to take his shirt off -- and Sam was peacefully asleep despite the amount of pain he was in, thanks to the morphine. Gene leered at the nurses who checked on Sam because he could, feeling pleased. Feeling guilty, if he was honest, but he did not like being that honest.
"They…gone?" Sam croaked, not as asleep as he appeared.
"Gone. For good, they said."
"I remember."
"Good." Gene stood up and put out his cigarette, then moved next to the bed.
"So it's over? We're safe?"
"So they say. The Crazy Bastard is convinced of it, says he'll never be back, and Gene has promised to kill 'im outright if he tries. Good enough for me." Gene petted the sheets uncomfortably, then straightened them, just to keep his hands busy. He saw Sam move and slowly take hold of his wrist, gently and hesitantly.
"And we're…back to normal? We're….okay?"
Gene felt the slight shaking in Sam's hand and hoped it had to do with the meds. Gene kept his arm still, worried about spooking him. "Yeah, Sam. We're good. Aces. In fact once they sign you out, you owe me a round at the pub."
"For you beating the crap out of me?" Sam's eyes squinted in disbelief, but he did not let go.
"Not you. Him."
"Same difference, innit?"
Gene studied Sam carefully, holding himself still, his wrist trapped in Sam's weakened grasp. "No. It ain't. Was once, maybe…but he ain't you. Not to me."
Sam nodded, still displeased, but squeezed his wrist before he let go, resting his hand back on his chest, and Gene's skin felt cold. He followed Sam's hand and laid his hand over it, lightly.
"Never said we were back to normal, Sammy Boy. In fact not a day I've known you, were you normal." Gene leaned over the bed, bringing his face close to Sam's, waiting for the reaction. He saw it, Sam cringing so slightly that it was easily missed by anyone not looking for it. Gene's heart tightened, and he waited, but Sam did not push him back after that, just laid there returning his gaze with a blank and, for once, unreadable expression. Gene bent down further, resting his lips on top of Sam's, waiting for his own terror to pull him back or Sam to protest. But nothing happened, it was just two men face to face, and if Gene was a spiritual man he would say he felt the sands of time coming to rest and his own soul finally finding its place, and it was perfectly natural for him to close the gap into a kiss. Their lips met and their tastes mingled and Sam opened to let him in, to take him in, and where Sam tensed up in worry and hesitation and possibly even fear, Gene relaxed for the first time in over two years. He pushed into Sam's mouth and placed the back of his hand against Sam's cheek, because he wanted to be gentle. No, actually, he desperately wanted to climb onto the bed and rut into him like a damn teenager, and his swelling cock pressed against his trousers into the cold metal frame of the bed. He could hold off, though, because now holding off was not a life sentence and he only had to wait until Sam was healed, until Sam understood that Gene would never hurt him like that again, until…next time.
Even with the passion running back and forth between their tongues, even with all the questions unanswered and the future a hazy blur, Gene felt rested. The sensations of Sam's other hand running through his hair and Sam's fingers resting against his neck were calming and soothing and so very, very right. Gene was content now, and he sighed as he broke the kiss to rest his forehead against Sam's uninjured shoulder.
They walked down the steps of the hospital and out into the world beyond. Sam stood on the grass in a patch of green space and held out his arms, gazing at the sky and the clouds and looking transported by something only he could see.
"Gene?"
"Yeah?" Gene stood, his hands in the pockets of his trench coat, waiting for the other shoe to drop.
Sam kept looking up. "Do you love me, Gene?"
"Yeah. You know I do."
"More than anything?"
"What, we filming for the Hallmark Channel? Yes. More than anything, love." Gene snorted and looked around, hoping no one was watching the daftness that was Sam Tyler off his meds.
"Take my hand." Sam dropped one hand and held it to him, cocking his head over to look at Gene, smiling with childlike joy.
"We goin' 'ome, then?" Gene asked, reaching out.
"No."
Sam wrapped his fingers around Gene's wrist and they were gone.