Chapter Text
“Forensics,” he heard the voice on the other end of the phone. “Dr. Cynthia Baxter. How can I help you?”
“Cynthia?” Sam slurred.
“Sam?”
“Cynthia,” he swallowed. “One day you’re going to be in charge of everything. You’re a genius and the police department doesn’t deserve you. Don’t let Gene Hunt wear you down and destroy that.”
“Sam?” Her voice was sharper now. “Are you all right? Have you been drinking?”
“Cynthia,” he slurred again as he finished neatening the tiny desk next to his bed. “You’re husband is a prick. He’s never deserved you and I’m telling you right now the paralegal he gets in 2004 is a whore with sphyllis. When he tells you there’s nothing going on he’s lying. Don’t believe him and definitely don’t fuck him. You won’t find out for another year that he’s made you sick and by that time it’ll have done so much damage to your health that you’ll be forced to take retirement. Cynthia believe me, you’re better off with anyone - including Gene Hunt - then that lying bastard you’ve got now.”
“Sam! You’re drunk.” She announced. “And I’m hanging up now.”
Sam looked at the receiver blankly then as it cut off. She’d hung up on him! Didn’t matter, he thought. At least she knew. He’d told her. That was all that mattered. One day she’d realize the crazy DI she’d met in 1973 had been right. Hopefully she’d realize it before it was too late.
Sam looked at the desk again. All in order. Note explaining everything to Annie. Apologizing for this. One last chance to show her that he really was from the future so he decided to tell her, prophesy almost, everything he could remember that would happen over the next 33 years. Politics, stock tips, sports bets, everything, anything that over time she’d pull out the note and check things off and realize that he’d been right. He hadn’t been insane.
Formal recommendation for Ray to take his position as DI. Someone who could work better with Gene. The DI Gene wanted. A man he wouldn’t have to punch to get his point across. Ray had learned a lot since Sam had been there. With Gene’s guidance he’d become a tolerable DI. Would have preferred to nominate Annie for the post but why waste the paper when they wouldn’t give it to her?
List of gadgets that Chris shouldn’t waste his money on. Sam smiled to himself. Things he should get and hang on to. Chris was going to love Space Invaders, Sam thought. Sam almost hoped he wasn’t married when Atari came out. The poor woman would be essentially single if he was. Tomb Raider, Sam thought. He’ll be one of those dirty old men playing the training exercises on Tomb Raider over and over again just to watch Lara Croft’s arse in those shorts.
Gene, Sam frowned at the pile again. What would he have said to Gene? How could he explain? He couldn’t, Sam decided again. No way that Gene would understand. Probably wouldn’t read the note anyway. Too angry at Sam for what he’d done. If he even cared enough to read it at all.
No, Sam thought to himself. That wasn’t fair. Gene would care. He’d be angry and if Sam left a note he’d read it. Would read it over and over trying to understand. He wasn’t writing Gene a note because he didn’t know how to explain. Didn’t know what to say.
Grabbing the bottle of scotch by the neck he reached for his jacket. Slid into it and out the door. Didn’t bother locking it. Wouldn’t matter, Gene still just kicked it in. Refused to open it like a normal person, even though he had a key.
On the roof Sam looked around Manchester and raised the bottle to his lips. Mess of a city, Sam thought to himself. Fabulous, wonderful, home. You’re going to lose all your character and turn grey and antiseptic, generic, before you even realize it. Then you’ll suck just like everywhere else does. You’ve got a couple good years coming though. Enjoy ‘em while you can, Sam laughed. The ship’s sinking fast.
Stepping to the edge closest to the alley Sam took another drink and then looked at the bottle ruefully. “Chelsea,” he said softly. “You’re not even born yet you realize that? And I’m not religious. So the fact that I’m praying to you right now is just a touch past fucked up.” He laughed then. “However the whole time line of things go,” he started again. “I’m sorry for everything Chelsea. Sorry I was such an ambitious, career driven prick who couldn’t see that the harpy I was living with was fucking me over.”
“There’s,” he started and took another swig. “There’s this stupid American movie. You probably never saw it. Who knows though? You always had out there taste in stuff. Anyway, stupid American movie with that comedian French Stewart called Love Stinks. He tells this guy in it to be careful of French Stewart’s ex girlfriend because if she had her hands in his pants she was only distracting him while she stole his wallet. Thought it was hilarious when I saw it. Too stupid to realize when Maya was doing it to me. Fucking me six ways till Sunday so she could make a grab for my badge.”
“Why am I telling you this?” Sam laughed. “You couldn’t care less and I am screwing this up seriously.” He threw his arms out wildly. “I can’t even apologize to you right Chelsea! I just keep fucking up when it comes to you. If I could do it all over again I’d go strangle myself before you ever set foot in my office that day. That’s what I’ll do then Chelsea. In 32 years I’ll go kidnap myself and shove my stupid arse in a closet. Sit in my own desk and tell you you’re a lousy copper. Tell you that I’m having you brought up on report for having a drink with a criminal. Piss you off enough so that you just walk out. Take that damn job in London. Which while we’re on the subject - were you insane? You know I found the employment papers they’d sent to your flat. The final contract. I saw how much they were going to pay you. Called them to see if there had been a mistake. Claimed it was part of the investigation. I’d have told me to fuck off for that kind of money and I’m a career driven prick who’s never wanted to do anything besides be a copper.”
“Chelsea,” he was serious then. “God, Chelsea I’m sorry. If you know nothing else know that Chelsea. I mean I don’t know where you are. If you’re born or if you’re dead or what but just know that Chelsea. I’m so sorry. I’ll never forgive myself for what happened to you. I’m going to try and change it though. Try to make it right for you.”
He took another drink and smirked then. “Best do my Gene Hunt impression and get on with it then huh?” He dropped the bottle over the side and watched as it shattered on the ground beneath him. “Ugh,” Sam shook his head and wondered idly if that was how he’d looked when, his mind still shied away from the thought. If that was what he’d looked like after his flying leap off the police station.
“I would never waste a good bottle of scotch like that,” a voice announced behind him. “So I guess you need to practice that impression some more.”
Sam spun around and looked at him. “Gene? What are you doing here?”
“Sam,” Cynthia was behind Gene and Sam could see the fear in her eyes. “Sam please step away from that ledge.”
“Huh?” Sam asked. “What are you doing here Gene?”
“Cindyloo called me at home. Said you called her and got mouthy Sam. Told her I’d come over and sort you out. So step away from that ledge so I can beat the hell out of you for being a bastard to our forensics girl.”
“Fuck you Gene,” Sam laughed. “You’re going to beat the hell out of me for doing something you do all the time? That’s real rich.”
“Sam,” Cynthia broke in. “Forget Gene. Just talk to me. Tell me what you know. If my old man’s being a creep you need to tell me all about it. That’s why you called isn’t it? You want to help me.”
“Yeah,” Sam nodded. “Cynthia he’s going to ruin your life. You’ve got so much going for you and he’s just going to stamp all over it. He’s going to just destroy you.”
“How do you know Sam?”
“I can’t explain,” Sam was cut off by the crushing arms around his shoulders, pinning his arms to his side. Gene had snuck around behind him while he was focused on Cynthia and was now dragging him away from the edge.
“Gene what are you doing?”
“Stupid bastard,” Gene announced. “Absolutely stupid, ignorant, bloody, git! I should throw you off myself.”
“What are you going on about?” Sam closed his eyes and leaned his head back against Gene’s chest, hoping he’d loosen his grip before he crushed Sam’s ribs.
“You weren’t even going to explain it to me. Everyone else got a good bye but me. Notes for Annie and Chris. Recommendation for Ray. Called Cynthia. What do I get? Fuck you Gene. Thought I deserved more than that Sammy. So you can’t jump until you explain it to my face and if I don’t think it’s a good enough reason I’m going to toss you off the building myself.”
“What?” Sam shook his head and looked over at Cynthia, wondering if this made sense to her. “I didn’t intend to jump Gene.”
“What?” The arms tightened.
“Not jumping,” Sam repeated.
“So why are you on the roof?”
“My flat’s stuffy. I used to come out here all the time to think. Fresh air helps me relax.”
“So what were you planning that you were leaving notes and saying good byes?”
“I’m going to kill Rajeem Assad.” Sam said bluntly. “You’re right. I can’t prove Rajeem Assad’s guilty of murder. I can’t stop him from doing the things I know he’s going to do by using the law. So I decided to handle this myself. He’s out on bail. I know where he’s at. Let me take care of this Gene.”
“The good bye notes?” Cynthia broke in.
“Assad’s got bodyguards,” Gene broke in. “Sammy here could probably take Assad but he’s not walking out of there alive. Are you Sammy? Gonna be a hero and take as many with you as possible? Aren’t you? Either that or he was planning on running afterwards.”
“Just want Assad,” Sam answered. “He’s all I care about.”
“So you were going to run?” Gene asked. “What about me? No good bye for me?”
“Thought I’d send you a postcard in a few months when I got settled.” Sam lied. He hadn’t actually expected to make it out of Assad’s townhouse alive. If he had then he’d a rough plan cobbled together. Thought he’d try his luck in Mexico. Hadn’t expected to need it though.
“Check his jacket for a gun.” Gene nodded to Cynthia. Sam felt warm hands running up his chest and finding the shoulder holster. Gun being taken, watched her check to see that it was loaded. “Take it and go down to the Cortina.” Gene told her sternly.
“Yes Guv,” she answered.
Once she was gone Sam felt himself being swung around in Gene’s arms. “What?” He stammered before lips were crushing against his own. A tongue being forced into his mouth.
“I should kill you myself you crazy bastard,” Gene announced.
“Gene,” he tried to push away from him. Nothing the man could say now would matter.
“Rajeem Assad shot another drug dealer yesterday afternoon. Ton of witnesses.”
“What?”
“Didn’t even need him to confess. Shot him in broad daylight on a busy street. Cut a deal. He’s going away for life. Same amount of time he’d get for Myra Tiggs. I made sure of it.”
“Gene,” he sighed. “It won’t change anything. He’ll get out.”
“No Sam,” Gene shook his head. “I’ve already talked to the warden. They aren’t going to let him out Sam. And if they do we’ll keep blocking it.”
“Ok,” Sam nodded weakly.
“Let’s get off this roof then Sam.”
“Can I come back to work?”
“No,” Gene answered. “I’ve already arranged both of us a few days off. Rathbone is more than happy to give us some time after two high profile cases. Especially when he found out about your conversations with Kimberly Withers. Suggested that my overworked DI and I might want to take ourselves each a bit of a holiday. Told him we were taking a bachelor’s weekend to Blackpool. Soak up the sun, look at the girls.”
“Kimberly Withers?” Sam asked as Gene pulled him down the steps.
“Kimberly,” Gene answered. “The prozzie you let destroy my Cortina?”
“That’s Kimberly Withers?” Sam asked.
“Yeah why? Last name mean something to you.”
“I have a feeling it might one day Gene,” Sam smiled. He wondered how Litton would feel when news of her affair broke in 25 years. Probably go bragging about how he’d gotten her first. Screwed the same girl that a member of the cabinet was. Sam didn’t put it past Litton at all.
When they reached the street he saw Cynthia leaning against the Cortina warily. “I’m sorry,” Sam said truthfully.
“Don’t be,” she hugged him then. “Always prefer to know the truth. Just promise me something?”
“What?”
“I hate heights. So from now on can we skip the trips onto your roof? I don’t want to have to scrape you up Sam. It’s messy business.”
“When the time comes Cynthia,” he whispered into her shoulder. “You’re not allowed to do it. I don’t want you to see me that way. Stay in Brighton were it’s warm.”
“Huh?”
“Nothing,” Sam smiled shakily then. “I’ve just had too much to drink I think.” She’d understand when the time came. If need be he’d call to remind her.
“So?” Sam looked at Gene. “Blackpool? Bachelor’s weekend?”
“Um? Excuse me?” Cynthia asked. “You are going to take me back to the station first. Right?”
“You don’t want to come along?” Gene laughed.
“Do I look like a bachelor?” She retorted.
“Nicest tits I’ve ever seen on one,” Gene quipped.
“Seen many bachelor’s with tits?”
“Tons,” Gene replied. “Hairy too. Can’t blame a bird for not wanting to marry a man that looks like that.”
Sam laughed then. Things would be all right. They’d keep Rajeem inside for the rest of his life. He’d never get out to harm Chelsea. Maya, he felt his chest tighten at the thought. Best not to think about Maya. In the future Chelsea would be safe. Rajeem would never get to her. She’d be alive and Sam Tyler would be nothing but another prick who didn’t appreciate her that she left behind.
“I need to go in for a minute,” Gene said when they reached the station. “Come with me?”
“Course,” Sam agreed. “I need to check my gun back in at the armory if we’re going out of town.”
“Right,” Gene nodded.
Inside they split up. Cynthia to the forensics lab, Gene to his office and Sam moved toward the armory. “Excuse me?” A man in his early 20’s called out as he saw Sam pass, leaving the armory and going upstairs to CID.
“Can I help you?” Sam asked.
“I’m here to see about my uncle.” The man answered.
“Name?” Sam asked as he stepped around the desk and looked at the log.
“Rajeem Hussein Assad.” The young man said clearly.
“Due for transport later this afternoon,” Sam answered and tried to keep his smile clamped down. “If you’re family we can arrange a supervised visit before then. Give me your name.”
“Rajeem Feisal Assad.” Sam’s head shot up suddenly. Rajeem Feisal. Rajeem Feisal. Assad had gone to ground for a few years in the 1970’s. His gang worked small time deals. Sam had just assumed it was because he was banged up. No, he closed his eyes. No police record. They’d never found out why there was a gap.
He ages well,” DC Hendricks laughed while they were briefing Chelsea. “Should be 60 years old. Barely looks a day over 45.”
“Some of us are just lucky,” she retorted and took a sip of her tea. “You’d be amazed what you can get done looking ten years younger than you really are.”
“You,” Sam suddenly realized. “It’s not your uncle that’s the murdering swine of the family. It’s you!” He reached out and grabbed the man by his suit lapels. “You bastard!” He gave him a shake. “You murdering fucking bastard!”
“Sam!” he heard Gene’s voice above him. “Let him go.”
Instead of letting him go Sam pulled the man further across the desk until they were only a hair’s breathe apart. “One day you will meet Chelsea Wainright you sick fuck,” he hissed. “When you do, steer clear of her. Because if you hurt her,” Sam looked the other man in the eyes. “If you hurt her I will kill you.”
“Sam!” Gene snapped again and Sam released Rajeem abruptly, putting his hands in the air so that Gene could see them.
“Get the hell out of my station,” Sam snarled. “Don’t give me a reason to arrest you.”
“What the hell was that?” Gene asked as he came up behind Sam and watched the man stumble out of the front door and down the steps.
“You ever see anyone and know that later, much later, you were going to wish you’d just handled them when you had the chance?”
“Every day Sam,” Gene sighed and leaned over to ruffle his hair. “Everyday I wonder why I didn’t leave you tied up to the bedpost at home.”
“Thanks Gene,” Sam shook his head. “Good to know you take things seriously.”
“We’ll keep an eye on him Sam,” Gene promised then. “If he does something.”
“When,” Sam corrected.
“When he does something Sam,” Gene stressed. “We’ll get him. Take him apart piece by piece. The two of us.”
“Right,” Sam agreed. “The two of us.”
“You know Sam,” Chelsea smiled as she took a sip of her latte. “One day you’re going to have to let go of some of that control and just trust somebody.”
“You think so? Think I can’t trust anyone?”
“Name one person you trust Sam.”
“I trust you. You could bring my whole department down around my ears and I still trust you.” Sam said honestly.
“That’s not what I meant Sam.” She smiled. “One day you’re going to have to open up and trust someone with all Sam Tyler’s weaknesses. All his vulnerabilities. Trust someone else to hold you up when you can’t do it yourself.”
“Really?” Sam laughed.
“Yeah and man I hope I’m somewhere else when that happens.”
“Why’s that? Don’t want to watch?”
“You better believe it. It’s going to be World War III when you finally give up and learn to trust someone else Sam. Hopefully whoever they are - they’re strong enough to fight you for your own sake.”