FIC: Dawn Will Break. Part 2
Please see Part One for headers/disclaimers etc. Still Brown Cortina.
Chris was still yawning when they reached the station. Ray made an excuse and disappeared off somewhere before they reached the CID office, so when Gene looked out of his office he just saw a sleepy and yawning Chris sitting at his desk. A few minutes later the door went again and Gene watched as Ray headed straight for the kettle and made himself a coffee. His sergeant looked like shit, he noted – even worse than usual.
It was a slow morning, so Gene dedicated quite a lot of time to watching his officers. He knew that there was potential for damaging shockwaves to reverberate through his team, and he wanted to spot anything before it had a chance to start. His biggest worry was Ray and Sam. He had thought they were finally getting somewhere recently, and he was equally angry with Sam for being a know-it-all and getting Ray hurt and Ray for allowing himself to be goaded into taking a stupid risk.
He watched as Ray yawned again shifting uncomfortably in his chair, and Chris glanced across, a worried look on his face.
He pulled open the door to his office. “Ray, in here,” he called.
Ray stood up, wincing, and headed for the Guv’s office, giving Chris a quick wink as he watched, a worried look on his face.
He closed the door behind him, seeing that Gene had two glasses out on his desk already, a bottle of whiskey poised ready to pour.
“Sit down,” Gene gestured.
Ray did as he was told, glad that Gene was obviously not after him to go out on some case or other.
“You look like shit,” Gene said, handing Ray a glass. “Why don’t you get ‘ome and have some rest, while it’s quiet.”
Ray looked into the amber liquid in his glass, then shook his head. “I’d rather stay here, Guv. I’d…I don’t want to be sat at home doing nowt.” The thought of leaving Chris made Ray feel uncomfortable, even if he knew it was irrational to be affected by his dreams in such a way
Gene shrugged. “You’d tell me, though, if you weren’t up to it?”
Ray nodded, reasonably sure that he wouldn’t.
“What about you and Tyler, after your little…misunderstanding, yesterday? I don’t want problems on my team, Ray.”
“We’re all right. I know…it weren’t entirely the boss’s fault. I should ‘ave trusted my instincts an’ waited for the bomb squad. An’ yesterday…we just had a misunderstanding. It won’t happen again, Guv.”
Gene nodded. “You not been sleeping?” he asked, looking at the dark circles under Ray’s eyes.
Ray shrugged. “A bit.”
“What did the doc say about getting yer stitches out and whatnot?”
“Week or so I’ve got to go back.”
Gene regarded his sergeant. He’d known the man for long enough to realise that something wasn’t right. He thought back to what Sam had said.
“How about…y’know, the explosion. You all right…well, y’know…would keep some people awake at night, that sort of thing.”
Ray looked up sharply, for a moment wondering if Chris had been blabbing his mouth up. Then he saw a look in Gene’s eyes that told him he’d just given himself away. He sighed. “Been havin’ a few…bad dreams, I guess,” he answered. “Nothing I can’t handle,” he added, not mentioning how much it helped to have Chris there at night.
Gene shrugged. “It’s nothing to be ‘shamed of. When my old man got back from the trenches he’d wake ‘alf the street, yellin’ and screamin’,” Gene answered. “Some people reckon it’s better to talk than bottle it all up.”
Ray nodded, understanding Gene’s offer. “’S not…I don’t dream about it. It’s other stuff. Like…I…I see it ‘appening to other people, and I can’t help. Last night…” he tried to work out what he could say that didn’t involve either Chris or Sam. “Last night, it were a factory. An’ we were there – I mean, the team, were there. And there was an explosion. I couldn’t do anything, like I was trapped…and…people were hurt. And then the air raid siren started.”
Gene nodded. Ray was staring into his glass, refusing to meet Gene’s gaze, and Gene guessed that the actual nightmare had been somehow more horrific, but didn’t push. He knew Ray well enough to know that forcing Ray to expose his fears – a chink in his armour – would only serve to make Ray feel more vulnerable.
“Anytime, in the next few days, if you don’t wanna come in for a day, or whatever, you just say the word.”
Ray nodded, grateful that Gene wasn’t going to push him into talking any more. “Thanks Guv.”
“Tell Tyler to come in ‘ere on your way out,” Gene added.
Ray was sitting at his desk, very little of his concentration actually focussed on the file in front of him, when Sam exited the office.
“Chris,” Sam called. “You’re with me. Surveillance, so get your things.”
Ray looked up sharply. “Where you goin’?” he asked, before he could stop himself, and knowing that it had come out more aggressively than he meant it to.
Sam gave him a funny look. “Why do you need to know, Sergeant?”
Ray shrugged, unable to think of a good reason.
Sam relented, seeing no reason why he shouldn’t say. “Tip off that some bloke down on Hart Street’s probably dealing out of his flat. It shouldn’t take too long.”
Ray nodded. It wasn’t as if there was anything he could do about it anyway. But he felt a slight sense of foreboding, remembering vividly the images of Sam holding Chris’s seemingly lifeless body in his dream.
Chris had shrugged into his jacket and was also looking a little unsure. He didn’t want to leave Ray, despite knowing that the Guv wouldn’t let Ray do anything stupid, or send him out on any dangerous jobs. He walked past Ray’s desk, and, reasonably sure that no one was watching, gave Ray a thumbs up and smiled.
Ray sat staring at the double doors long after they had swung closed behind the two men. And Gene stood, watching Ray through the blinds of his office for a long time after Ray had turned back to stare uselessly at the file in front of him. He finally turned away, hoping that a few days of calm and routine would get his squad back on an even keel again.
Chris shifted in his seat for about the twentieth time in five minutes.
“Can’t you sit still?” Sam asked, with no malice in his voice.
Chris froze. He wished he were with Ray. Ray always made stakeouts fun – or at least, as fun as they could be; he always filled the car with chocolate and drinks and magazines. The car Sam had taken was empty and the street was still. When an old lady had crossed the road ten minutes previously Sam had made Chris take a note, which Chris thought was pointless.
Ray used to develop entire ridiculous lives for the people they saw on surveillance, telling Chris stories that usually had Chris in fits of giggles. Sam just made Chris note down the woman’s description, and when Chris had asked if Sam wanted him to try to guess what was in her tartan shopping trolley Sam had fixed him with a stony look.
As the hours dragged on Chris’s only distraction was occasionally noting down the men who came and went from the house they were watching. There seemed to be no particular pattern to the type of men. Some wore workman’s gear, a couple were in shirt and tie, and some more wore casual clothes.
“‘E can’t be very good,” Chris said, yawning, as he finished noting down the latest bloke’s appearance. “He doesn’t turn over his customers very quickly.”
Sam shook his head. “It is a bit odd. Maybe it’s not drugs – that’s usually fast, a quick transaction.”
“‘S more like a knockin’ shop,” Chris observed. “One every ‘alf hour or so. Maybe he’s got a bird in there. Could be a pimp or summit.”
Sam turned to Chris, a strange look in his eye.
“Wha’?” Chris looked around, nervously.
“He doesn’t need a bird in there, does he? I reckon you’re right – except he’s a male prostitute. No wonder the neighbours were suspicious, men coming and going at all times of day and night.”
“Oh.” Chris couldn’t help but let a look of distaste cross his face. “Nothin’ to do with us then, is it? Not like the old days.”
“How are we going to be sure though?” Sam mused. Then he turned to Chris. “How about you…”
“No way!” Chris held out his hands as if to ward off the very idea. “I am not going in there, whatever you say Boss, I won’t.”
Sam laughed at the look of total fear on Chris’s face. “You don’t have to do anything, Chris…just go in and then pretend you’ve bottled out or something.”
Chris shook his head. “I can’t Boss.” The very thought of it made Chris feel funny, as if somehow the man in the flat would guess that he had slept with another man. And how would he ever explain to Ray that he’d…he couldn’t even think about it.
“It’s not catching you know,” Sam grinned, almost enjoying pushing Chris. He knew that most of the squad were homophobic, or at least, couldn’t bring themselves to think about it. “In fact, y’know, one day, two men will even be able to get married. Or two women.”
Chris stared at Sam. He knew that the Boss often came out with rather wild predictions of the future, but this was one of the more absurd.
“It’s true,” Sam said, trying not to laugh at the way Chris’s mouth was hanging open. “And no one…well, almost no one, will even bat an eyelid.”
Chris shook his head. “It’ll never ‘appen. What about the church an’ all? That says it’s wrong. That’s not gonna change.”
Sam smiled. “You’d be surprised.”
Chris wondered why he was arguing with Sam, when he had suddenly felt a little surge inside himself. He tried to imagine walking along the street, hand in hand with Ray. Or going out to a restaurant or something. Then he shook his head. Why should he believe Sam anyway, there was no way that he could possibly know what was going to happen. Chris had a moment of worry when he thought that somehow Sam might have guessed about him and Ray, and was trying to tease him. But he couldn’t know. Could he?
Sam sighed, unwilling to leave the surveillance without knowing for sure that no crime was being committed. In truth, he didn’t feel entirely comfortable with the idea of going into the flat himself, but he knew he couldn’t send Chris – the DC would panic and never get the information they needed. So Sam steeled himself.
“Right, soon as the bloke comes out, I’ll go and knock on the door.”
Chris looked at Sam with a mixture of fear and awe on his face and nodded dumbly.
That night Chris persuaded Ray to leave the Railway Arms a bit earlier than usual, citing hunger and lack of sleep. Ray agreed, still knackered from his sleepless night.
They stopped off to pick up fish and chips – Chris’s choice – and settled down at Ray’s small dining table to eat, a football match on the television.
Chris watched Ray as they ate, unable to shake the conversation he had had with Sam earlier in the day.
“D’you…y’know, ever think…people like us’ll…well, be able to tell people, like, about…us?”
Ray turned to Chris, wrenching his attention away from the match, his face scrunched into his familiar expression of confusion and a very clear implication that he thought Chris was probably being stupid. “Wha’?”
“I mean…will we ever, y’know, be able to tell people we’re…together?”
Ray frowned. “Why? Who’d you wanna tell?”
“Oh, no, no one. I just…today, Sam said that one day…it’d be normal, like, for two men to…and that people wouldn’t…well, like they do now…and that two blokes could even…get married, like.”
“An’ you believed him, you div?” Ray turned his attention back to the tv. “You’ve got a bloody short memory. Remember who it was saying ‘It’s not a bomb, I know this, trust me’” Ray mimicked Sam’s voice. “And now yer trustin’ some new fuckin’ fantasy he’s come up with?”
Chris immediately felt bad, realising that he shouldn’t have brought it up.
“I just thought…it’d be nice, if one day…” he squashed a chip into his ketchup, despondently.
“Yeah, well don’t get yer ‘opes up off something that nonce ‘as said.” Ray stood and walked away from the table, leaving his dinner half eaten. He slumped onto the sofa, lighting a cigarette and staring at the television, determined not to look at Chris because he knew the look on the other man’s face would break his heart.
When Chris finally joined him on the sofa Ray pulled him close, wrapping an arm around him and pulling Chris’s head onto his shoulder. He lit another cigarette and held it out to Chris. Chris took it, hoping that it was a sign of a truce. He’d seen Ray smack enough people down during their work to have just a little bit of fear somewhere inside. He was almost entirely sure that Ray would never hit him, but there was a tiny niggle of doubt that meant that Chris would never push hard enough to find out for sure.
Ray turned his head slightly and rested his lips in Chris’s hair. He could feel the tension in Chris’s muscles and knew that it was all his fault, but he didn’t know what to do about it. The last thing he wanted was to make Chris unhappy. He closed his eyes for a moment, inhaling Chris’s scent and letting himself think, just for a moment, about a life where he could show Chris off as his lover. But he couldn’t do it, couldn’t imagine it.
“You ‘sleep?” Chris asked softly.
Ray shook his head.
Chris moved, dislodging Ray and looked at him, half-smiling, still wary.
Ray shifted so he could reach for a kiss, and as Chris moved too, Ray wrapped his arms around him and dragged him down until Chris was sprawled over his chest. Ray tangled his fingers in Chris’s silky hair and ran the other hand down his back, sliding easily under the waistband of his trousers and inside his soft cotton pants.
Chris could feel his cock hardening in his trousers – which were suddenly far too tight. He had one hand pressed against Ray’s muscular chest, the other he slipped behind Ray’s neck, his fingers twisting into the curls of soft hair. He kissed Ray hard – harder than he’d ever dared to kiss a girlfriend. It excited him and he responded to Ray’s fingers digging into his buttock by thrusting his hips.
Ray moved his hand from Chris’s hair to start a fight with Chris’s shirt buttons – one that he was obviously going to lose.
“Fuck,” he mumbled, between kisses, trying to look down to see what he was doing.
Chris gave in and pushed himself upright, almost kneeing Ray in the bollocks as he struggled to free himself from both Ray and the sofa. “C’mon, bedroom, clothes off,” he demanded, panting. He held out a hand and dragged Ray off the sofa, immediately kissing him as their bodies crashed together.
Ray pushed Chris backwards, still kissing him, but also pulling his own shirt off, ripping at the buttons and throwing his tie aside. By the time they reached the bedroom door Ray was dragging his shirt behind him, his bandaged hand still caught up in the sleeve, his other hand pulling his belt free.
Chris was in a similar state of undress, trousers open and falling around his thighs, shirt half undone.
Ray paused for long enough to free himself from the sleeve that had ensnared him and to toe off his shoes, watching as Chris’s calves hit the bed and he sat down suddenly, taking the opportunity to kick his shoes off too.
Ray shoved Chris backward, not caring that the other man was still fighting with his shirt and trousers and carefully lowered himself onto Chris, trailing kisses from his lips down his neck. Chris groaned as Ray’s tongue, lips and moustache tickled the sensitive skin of his neck, then moved to his chest. Ray sucked one of Chris’s nipples into his mouth, feeling it harden under his tongue, then gently bit down on it, making Chris gasp. Then Ray fell to his knees, trailing his kisses down Chris’s abdomen, then moving sideways to kiss and lick the sensitive skin on Chris’s hip before sliding his tongue down Chris’s inner thigh.
Chris lay back, unable to move. He tried to reach out and touch Ray, but the other man was out of reach, so Chris made do by gripping the bedclothes in tight fists. He could feel Ray moving back up towards his balls and willed the other man to continue. He was unable to keep in a moan of frustration as Ray neatly avoided his bollocks, instead switching to the other thigh. He lifted one leg, draping it over Ray’s shoulder and wrapping it around his back, pulling him closer.
Suddenly the warm silky-soft tongue was at the juncture of his cock and balls, sliding upwards. Chris could feel his cock twitching with anticipation, unable to control himself. Then he was engulfed by the warmth and wetness of Ray, and it felt as if Ray had taken his entire length in his mouth in one go.
Chris could hear himself panting and moaning and he tried to thrust, but there were suddenly strong hands splayed across his hips, holding him still as the silky tongue tortured him so sweetly.
In the back of his mind was a voice telling him that it wasn’t right, another man shouldn’t be doing these things to him, and he shouldn’t be enjoying it. But he knew it wasn’t just any other man, it was Ray, and he surrendered himself to pleasure.
Then suddenly he was over the edge, his body shuddering as wave after wave of sheer ecstasy ran through him. He released the blankets, his arms weak, and lay back, feeling his eyes roll back in his head.
His too-sensitive cock was still twitching as Ray gently sucked and licked away all of Chris’s seed. Chris tried to move, wanting to watch, but he couldn’t. His limbs felt as if they were made of lead. Then he felt the dip of the mattress as Ray moved next to him, and he finally opened his eyes.
Ray smiled down at Chris. The younger man looked totally wanton, his pupils dilated, dark hair stuck to his face with sweat, shirt crumpled beneath him and trousers still around one ankle. He leant over and kissed him, lingering, their tongues gently slipping over each other, Ray’s lips sliding over Chris’s short stubble.
Chris could taste himself in Ray, the salty flavour mixing with the taste of too many cigarettes and scotch. He managed to lift an arm and drop it onto Ray’s hip, pulling him closer.
“Mmmmmm,” he said, hoping that the noise encompassed everything he wanted to say.
Ray grinned, sliding his hand over Chris’s belly, thumb rubbing gently over the hair under his navel.
“C’mon, get you into bed,” Ray finally said, moving away and reaching out to help Chris up.
Chris undressed whilst Ray used the bathroom, then wandered in to do his teeth. He noticed that Ray had taken the large dressing off his neck and hissed through his teeth as he saw for the first time the ugly row of stitches that held together the two sides of a long jagged gash. He tried not to think about what had inflicted the wound, or what would have happened if it had been another few centimetres in the wrong direction. He’d seen what happened when a jugular was severed in the movies and tried to erase from his mind the picture of Ray lying in the street, a fountain of blood erupting from his neck.
Once they were both in bed Chris slid his hand down to Ray’s groin, the feel of another man’s penis in his hand both strange and exciting. He was nervous, unsure of himself. Ray had seemed to know exactly what to do, but Chris didn’t have the first idea of how he should touch Ray. He swallowed at the thought of having a cock in his mouth, the idea seeming so very wrong to him.
Ray gave a soft smile and removed Chris’s hand. “Not tonight,” he murmured.
Chris frowned. “But…I’ve ‘ad all the fun.”
Ray pulled Chris closer. “No you ‘aven’t. Just seein’ you like that was pleasure enough for me. I can wait ‘til I’m feelin’ up to enjoying you properly.”
Chris nodded, sort of glad, as his orgasmic high had left him feeling sated and happy.
He fell asleep, snoring softly.
He slept the entire night through, not even stirring when, in the darkest hours of the night, Ray awoke, bathed in sweat and wild-eyed, his subconscious having supplied him with another horrific vision. This time of Gene and Chris, both of them ripped limb from limb by an explosion right in front of his eyes as Miller had held a gun to his head.
“Why didn’t you do something?” Annie had screamed at him. And he had turned to find there was no one there, no one holding a gun on him, and he knew he could have helped. Then he ran, but wherever he ran to there was no escape, no way out, no way to get away. Every corridor or passage he ran down just brought him back to the same place, the room that was filled with the blood of Gene and Chris, the smell overwhelming, Annie always behind him, screaming at him.
And then he had seen Miller, holding the gun, pointing it straight at Annie. And he had finally been able to do something. He had jumped the man, running at him, screaming, and knocked him to the floor, the gun skittering away. Ray had stood over him and pounded his fists into the man’s face over and over, feeling the bones give under the onslaught and his temper rise, the animal instinct in him too strong to allow him to stop punching, until he heard Annie whimpering behind him.
“Stop, please stop,” she cried, reaching out to him, but somehow held back from touching him. He looked at her, confused by her tears, by the look of anguish on her face. He turned back to the body he stood over, to the mess of blood where there had once been a face. And he recoiled, stumbling backwards as he realised the disfigured and battered face didn’t belong to Miller – it was Chris’s eyes that stared back at him, a cruel parody of the post-coital gaze he had seen earlier in the evening. He looked down at his hands, now covered in Chris’s blood, then turned back to Annie, except she had been joined by Gene and Sam and the rest of the team, all of them staring at him silently, and they were no longer in the tunnels, but now they stood in Ray’s flat. Ray looked back down to see his feet in pools of blood, the carpet stained, the black-looking liquid spreading out, creeping over everything he owned. He looked back at his colleagues, horrified. And Sam smirked at him knowingly.
Ray lay awake for a long time, trying to clear his mind of the horrible thoughts and fears that the nightmare had left him with. He knew he was being completely irrational, but the dreams had been so real and left him with a true sense of foreboding. He had one hand on Chris’s back, feeling the reassuring beat of his heart and steady deep breathing, and eventually he dropped back into an uneasy sleep.
When the alarm went off Ray flung an arm out of the bed, knocking it to the floor, silencing the insistent ringing.
“Few more minutes?” Chris said, muffled by covers.
Ray nodded, pulling Chris closer.
Chris hooked one of his legs over Ray, trying to touch as much of Ray’s body as possible.
Ray let his fingers slide through Chris’s hair, trying to banish the thought of the same hair matted with blood, as it had been in his dream.
CID was quiet. Ray sat staring morosely at yet more witness statements, all of which basically said that no one had seen or heard anything of any use. He knew the work had to be done, and wouldn’t normally have begrudged it.
But Chris was out somewhere with Tyler, and it made Ray feel uneasy. That, combined with Ray’s complete fatigue and catalogue of aches and pains had put him in a foul mood.
Suddenly Gene crashed out of his office, his face like thunder.
“Withers, Fitz, Armitage, with me. Stanley Street. Tyler and Chris are down there – shots fired, so get tooled up.”
Ray leapt out of his seat, waiting for his orders, fear coursing through his veins.
“Guv?” he asked, unable to keep the desperation out of his voice.
Gene shook his head. “Not this time, Raymondo. Stay ‘ere. You’re not up to it.”
And suddenly Ray was alone in the middle of the office. He looked around, at a loss of what to do. He so desperately needed to know that Chris was okay.
Finally he snapped himself out of, heading downstairs as fast as he could.
“Phyllis,” he called. “What’s goin’ on?”
Phyllis shrugged, unconcerned. “DI Tyler went to question someone, but the slags were armed. They’re all right though, arrested ‘em apparently.
Ray stood, nodding, waiting for more details, but when it was evident that Phyllis had said all she was going to, Ray grabbed a radio and headed back to CID, trying to listen in for any information. He just prayed she’d been right about everyone being okay.
It was almost an hour later that voices sounded in the corridor, and Ray only just managed to keep a grip on himself when he heard Chris’s distinctive laughter. He quickly moved some files around on his desk, to make it seem as if he’d done something whilst the Guv had been gone.
Gene crashed through the doors and headed straight for his office, a smile on his face. The others drifted back in, laughing and joking, cheered by the five arrests that had been made.
Sam watched Chris closely as the younger man headed for his desk. Sam knew that Chris had been scared when the shooting started, but Sam had been impressed with how he handled himself.
Now Chris was staring at Ray, an expression akin to fear on his face.
Ray glanced up and immediately saw the trauma of the last few hours reflected in Chris’s eyes.
“Chris, a word,” he said gruffly, getting up and leading the way out of the office. He tried to keep his expression blank, hoping no one would realise just how terrified he’d been for the last few hours, knowing that Chris was in danger with only Tyler to help him.
Sam watched as Chris leapt to obey Ray and frowned. It was as if Ray held some hidden power over Chris, and Sam didn’t like it. Chris had obviously been expecting Ray to do something, and it was clear that Ray was in a foul mood.
Ray led the way to Lost and Found, closing the door firmly behind them and grabbing Chris’s hand.
“You okay?” he said, seriously.
Chris nodded, still looking unhappy.
Ray dragged him into a hug, squeezing him tightly. “You’re safe now. You’ll always be safe with me,” he desperately tried to banish from his mind the images of Chris’s broken body lying at his feet that still haunted him.
“I just got scared,” Chris mumbled into Ray’s chest.
Ray pressed a kiss onto Chris’s temple. “We all get scared sometimes. Comes with the job. You did good today, you came back safe, you got the slags, that’s all that matters.”
Finally he let go of Chris, still able to feel the slight tremors of fear and adrenalin running through the slim body.
“Here,” Ray pulled his hip flask out of his jacket pocket and offered it to Chris. “It’ll calm you down.”
Chris nodded and took a swig, wiping his mouth on his shirtsleeve.
“Go on back then,” Ray smiled. “The Boss is probably wonderin’ where you’ve got to.”
Chris gave a small smile, feeling a lot better. “You comin’?” he asked.
“In a minute,” Ray winked and tipped the flask slightly to indicate that he was going to have a quick drink himself.
When Chris and Ray hadn’t returned after a couple of minutes Sam set off to find them and to discover just what was going on.
As he strode down the corridor he saw the door to Lost and Found open and Chris slipped out. He glanced around and his gaze fell on Sam.
“I were just comin’ to find you, Boss,” he said, looking worried.
Sam could smell the whisky on Chris’s breath and grimaced, guessing it’s source. He could feel the anger building up inside him. He knew it was irrational, but it made him livid to think that Chris, who would do anything for anyone, was being dragged down a path of shoddy work and rule breaking by Ray.
“Go and start your reports,” he said curtly.
Chris disappeared to do as he was bid, and as soon as he was out of sight Sam shoved open the door to Lost and Found.
Ray looked up from where he had slumped into one of the chairs, frowning when he saw Tyler.
“Just what the bloody hell are you playing at?” Sam hissed, trying to keep a lid on his anger.
Ray stood, his instinct overriding all other thoughts. His fists clenched at his sides.
“What?” he asked, pouring as much scorn into the word as he could.
“You. You think it’s a good idea to get Chris pissed? Think that’ll help, do you? After what he’s just gone through? What are you going to do next time we go undercover? Give him a few for Dutch courage? Is that your idea of good policing, Sergeant?” Sam was close to Ray, invading his personal space, one finger jabbing into Ray’s chest. “You want to get him killed? Or just make it so he can’t face the end of the day without getting pissed, like you? Is that the only way you can get any ‘friends’,” Sam let the sarcasm drip from the last word.
“He ‘ad one swig – it made ‘im feel better.” Ray swiped Sam’s hand away. “He was shittin’ himself, not that you’d notice.”
“Oh, but you would – any excuse, isn’t it? Anyone shows any vulnerability and you’re there, right? Like any bully, you only pick on the weak.”
Ray shook his head, not entirely sure where the conversation had come from or was going.
“He needed to talk – to talk sense, not the shit you fill ‘is head with.”
“I am trying to teach him the job – I mean how to do it properly, not your version. The rest of you might be lost causes, but Chris isn’t. He’s got potential, he’ll make a good copper if he stays away from idiots like you.”
“Oh yeah?” Ray sneered. “An’ when does telling ‘im crap about how it’s going t’be normal to be a poof one day fit in? You going an’ fillin’ his head with shit like that, that’ll help him, will it?”
Sam stared, open-mouthed. He would never have thought that Chris would pass on the conversation they’d had, least of all tell Ray – probably the least tolerant person Sam had ever met.
“That’s what this is about? You want to mould him in your own petty, closed-minded, prejudiced view of the world? You want to raise him in your own pathetic image? Well he’s better than that, Sergeant, he’s better than you and the sooner you just leave him alone, the better for all of us.”
“Leave him? An’ have you drag him into gunfights?” Ray’s voice was raised, his muscles pumped. “You think he’s better off like that, d’you? Because Sam fuckin’ Tyler can solve all the world’s problems by talkin’? Well talkin’ don’t stop the blood flowin’. Talkin’ don’t help when some bastard’s shot someone you care for. Mebbe for just a minute you need to take a look at yerself, stop pointing the finger at me, or the rest of them lads an’ think about the others what you’ve ‘helped’. Think about that poor bitch in the canal – you didn’t fuckin’ help her, did you?”
Sam lashed out without even thinking about it, and the second his fist hit Ray’s face he knew that there was no turning back.
The punches were sloppy and the fight soon descended into grappling, the two of them hurling each other around the room. Lost property crashed to the floor around them, the table was overturned. Sam grabbed at a shelf and threw the first thing he found at Ray, satisfied when Ray grunted in pain.
Ray ran at Sam and they crashed backwards, knocking the shelving over and ending up struggling on the floor, metal shelves and random belongings digging into their flesh. Sam grabbed out at a hairdryer and swung it, beating Ray’s face with the hard plastic. As Ray was temporarily blinded Sam hauled himself onto his feet, kicking out, stamping, feeling his foot connect with flesh. Then Ray grabbed his ankle and twisted violently and Sam was on the floor again, Ray’s hand around his neck. He could smell Ray’s breath as the other man panted and blood fell on him, dripping from Ray’s neck, the sticky warmth disgusting as it fell on Sam’s face. He wrenched himself over, throwing Ray aside, and launched himself at the other man, his fist driving into Ray’s stomach.
Someone slammed the door of CID open, setting the entire partition wall rattling.
“Guv, quick, they’re killing each other,” the detective panted.
Gene jumped up from where he was sitting on the edge of Chris’s desk, knocking papers flying and ran. Chris was hard on his heels, along with the rest of the squad. The crash as shelving was knocked over was easily audible and Gene wrenched the door open, almost pulling it off its hinges. He stared at the scene of destruction, the two bodies seeming to be totally joined as the men fought on the floor.
“Jesus CHRIST!” Gene stumbled over the debris, knowing that Chris was on his heels, and grabbed Sam’s arm as he raised his fist for another blow. He dragged his DI upwards, both arms wrapped tightly around the smaller man. “Stop – stop, you bastard!” Gene could feel Sam still fighting and saw Ray begin to lift himself from the floor, his face contorted with rage.
Then Chris was there, throwing himself on top of Ray, pushing the larger man back to the floor. “No, Ray, no,” he held onto Ray’s biceps, knowing that Ray could easily throw him aside if he wanted. “Please, stop, stop.”
Gene turned to their audience, face red with anger.
“You lot, get out.”
No one argued, the situation clearly under control. They all left, muttering amongst themselves, one or two of them glancing back over their shoulders.
Sam struggled, trying to shake Gene off, but with none of the anger there had been at first.
Gene refused to let go, both arms still pinning Sam’s own arms to his sides.
“And one of you better tell me just what the FUCK is going on.” Spit flew from his mouth and he finally threw Sam aside, glaring at him. “You. Talk.”
Sam pressed his cuff to his mouth, mopping the trail of blood that ran down his chin. He glared down at Ray, trying to rein in his temper.
“It…nothing, a misunderstanding,” he answered.
Ray’s gaze flicked up to rest on him, one eye covered in blood.
Gene turned to Ray. “Well? You better have a bloody good explanation for this, Carling, or I’ll have your bollocks for breakfast.”
Ray opened his mouth to speak but just ended up coughing, one arm hugged around his chest, his head bowed.
Chris didn’t even think about the other people in the room as he moved closer to Ray, one hand finding it’s way into Ray’s, the other on Ray’s back.
Gene let a little of the anger give way to a tiny niggle of worry. After all, his Sergeant wasn’t technically supposed to be back at work for almost three weeks, let alone get into a full-scale fight. And it was very unlike Ray not to be shouting the odds, trying to wriggle of trouble in any way that he could.
And then there was Chris, flapping around him like a girl. Gene frowned. This was more than Chris’s usual concern. Something had changed.
“Ray?” Gene shot a look at Sam that told him wordlessly that if he moved an inch his bollocks would be on a plate faster than he could say ‘proper procedure’. Then he knelt down, realising that the usual brown of Ray’s jacket was darker – a huge bloodstain reaching from his neck to halfway down his chest.
Chris looked around at his Guv’nor, worry evident on his face as Ray wheezed for breath. His movement exposed the large gash on Ray’s neck, the stitches ripped out of the original injury and blood running sluggishly from the wound.
“Shit,” Gene said. “Chris, go an’ get some first aid. Tyler, you go to my office and stay there, and God help you if you don’t.”
Sam didn’t want to leave, but he knew that disobeying Gene’s order would be a mistake.
As Sam walked slowly along the corridor he saw Chris hurrying back with the metal first aid box in his arms. Chris refused to eve look at Sam, but Sam could see the tears running down Chris’s cheeks all too clearly. He shook his head. This wasn’t him; he didn’t get into stupid fights, he definitely didn’t start them.
He walked through CID with his head down and slumped into a chair in Gene’s office. He wiped his face, feeling bruises and cuts. Blood smeared across his shirtsleeve and he remembered the feel of it dripping onto him from Ray’s injuries. Sam put his head in his hands, suddenly so completely drained that he felt weak.
Chris almost tripped in his haste to get back to Ray through the piles of objects that were now all over the floor. Gene had one hand on Ray’s shoulder, the other holding a handkerchief to the wound on his neck.
Chris tried to sort out a dressing, but he fumbled as his gaze was drawn back to Ray’s slumped form.
“Come on, Chris,” Gene said impatiently.
Chris nodded, his vision blurred with tears. He wiped his eyes roughly. Ray didn’t need him crying. Ray needed him to help.
“Ray, look up,” Gene ordered.
It took a moment for Ray to register the order, but once he did he tipped his head back, exposing yet more blood and bruises.
“Shit,” Gene breathed as the movement brought further blood flow from Ray’s necks. “What the bloody hell were you thinking,” he scolded. “Stupid bastard. You should know better, getting yourself in this state. You and fuckin’ Tyler. Maybe I should just leave the pair of you to fuckin’ kill each other. Solve my problems, wouldn’t it.”
Ray opened an eye and for the first time he seemed to notice Chris.
“’M okay,” he mumbled through split lips.
“What the fuck was it all about, Ray?” Gene asked, speaking softly now.
“It were nothing. I mean…” Ray took a shuddering breath, biting his lip to fend off the pain. “It’s over.”
Gene shook his head. “No, it’s not. I won’t ‘ave this in my team, Ray. We depend on one another. You should know that.”
Ray let out a small huff of laughter and closed his eyes again.
Gene looked around and gestured to a chair that was overturned. “Chris, grab that.”
Once Chris had set the chair back on its legs Gene took a firm hold of Ray’s arm.
“Come on, get you sat up. Think you need an ambulance?”
Ray shook his head, trying to stand and only managing it with Gene and Chris’s help. Once he was seated on the chair, most of the wounds tended to and the bleeding staunched, Gene looked at Chris. “You. Stay here; don’t leave him, even for a second. I’ll be back.”
Chris nodded, glad that he’d finally get a moment alone with Ray.
Gene strode down the corridor, through CID and into his office, slamming the door behind him. He completely ignored Sam as he slumped behind his desk and hooked the telephone towards him. He ordered Phyllis to call a doctor, slammed a glass onto his desktop, poured a healthy slug of whisky and downed it in one, then, finally, he looked at Sam.
Sam almost withered under the stony gaze.
“So, what was this nothing that’s ‘ad two of my officers beat each other half to death?” he asked.
Sam opened his mouth to answer but Gene cut him off.
“And don’t you dare lie to me, Tyler. Don’t you bloody dare. The truth, now, all of it.”
Sam looked down at his hands, at the bloodstains on his sleeves and tried to piece together exactly what had happened.
“We just…argued.” He answered. “About…stupid things. I don’t know. About him, about me, this place – everything…and…nothing important.”
“Important enough for you two to try and kill each other,” Gene answered, feeling his anger growing again. “He’s just bloody been blown up, in case you missed that. And I’d’ve thought better of you. Normally so high and bloody mighty. I’d crack yer heads together, but it looks like you’ve managed that by yerselves. Stupid bastards, the pair of you.”
Chris didn’t know what to do or say. He just looked down at Ray, never having seen him look so broken. He crouched down and took one of Ray’s hands, feeling the heat of Ray’s swollen knuckles.
“Why’d you do it?” he asked softly. “Why d’you have to hurt yourself, jus’ to prove a point?”
Ray opened his eyes, looking down at Chris. “He…said you’d… be better off wi’out me,” he managed around swollen lips.
Chris shook his head. “So let ‘im think it. We know better, don’t we? He’s a good boss – a good copper, but that don’t mean he knows us.”
Ray shook his head. “Y’ don’ understand. He said…” he trailed off, unable to explain the fear of Sam taking Chris away from him in real life and how that had somehow blended into the image of Sam dragging Chris’s body away from him in his dream.
“I do understand,” Chris insisted. “An’ he’s wrong. I know you think I’m a div ‘n all, but…not when it matters. He doesn’ know what we got. I’d give up all this, all everything,” Chris waved his arm around. “Everything, just to be with you. I would. Doesn’ matter what anyone else says, or whether we can get married or whatever, all I need is you, an’ I’ve got that now. Everythin’ else…that’s just extra.”
Ray stared at Chris, trying to make sense of the speech he’d just given. Then he smiled. “Y’mean that?”
“Now you’re bein’ a div,” Chris scolded. “Course I do. Just…if you can’t get along with the Boss…at least can’t you ignore ‘im? All fightin’s doing is hurtin’ everyone else. All the team’s been walkin’ on eggshells ‘round the two of you, and it’ll end up with somethin’ bad happening. It’s stupid.”
Ray felt as if he were being told off, but conceded that Chris was right. He also realised that the person who was most often caught up in his arguments with Sam was Chris. The thought that some petty fight better suited to a playground might somehow lead Chris into harm’s way was too much for Ray to bear.
“Help me up,” he ordered, holding out a hand to Chris.
Chris looked unsure. “But…”
“Jus’ help,” Ray ordered.
Chris supported Ray carefully, and once Ray was standing Chris put an arm around his waist, holding him up.
Ray slowly made his way out of the room and towards CID. His breathing was shallow, his chest on fire, but he was determined.
Everyone turned to look at them as they entered CID, but Ray ignored them – he had to. Every last bit of his energy was focussed on the door of Gene’s office, his goal.
Gene looked up sharply as his door was opened without anyone knocking.
Ray ignored Gene, just looking at Sam.
Sam held the gaze, a tiny trickle of fear running through him.
“You were wrong,” Ray started, still out of breath. “An’ so was I. You’re a good copper. I shouldn’t ‘ave said otherwise. Just cos we’re different, should mean we work better together, help one another, not fight amongst us.”
Sam nodded slowly; amazed that Ray would ever admit such a thing. “An’ I was stupid ‘cause…I was jealous that you been takin’ Chris away from me…but…you ‘aven’t. Not where it matters.”
Sam frowned, then finally realised what he was seeing. Ray standing, one hand gripped onto Chris’s shirt as if it was the only thing holding him up, both of Chris’s arms around Ray, offering more than just physical support.
“I…I didn’t know,” he stammered. “I…assumed…I thought you…”
“Just cos we ain’t limp-wristed fairies, Boss,” Chris broke in. “It don’t mean we can’t be in love.” His chest felt a little funny as he said the word, like his heart was doing flip-flops.
“No, I know,” Sam quickly said.
“What you said…’bout bein’ accepted an’ getting married an’ stuff,” Ray continued. “I were angry ‘cause…” he shot a look at Chris. “You looked so…hopeful, an’ it hurt me, to think if I couldn’ give you all that, then maybe…maybe you wouldn’t…mebbe you’d realise that it weren’t the life you wanted, being wi’ me.”
Sam frowned. “It’s true, you know…one day…” he broke off under Ray’s gaze.
“How can it be true? It’s only six year since we stopped locking queers up,” Ray reasoned. “An’ most people still don’t agree with that.”
Sam closed his eyes, trying to understand how impossible a dream what he was saying must seem. He did a quick calculation in his head and guessed that Ray would be fast approaching eighty – if he made it that far - by the time that Civil Partnerships began.
“Yeah…yeah, you’re right. I’m probably dreaming,” he conceded. There was no way he could hurry up the future, so it wasn’t worth arguing about.
A cough brought everyone attention back to the figure behind the desk.
“An’ just when were you plannin’ on telling me all this?” Gene asked, his expression hard as marble.
Ray looked at Chris who stared back wide eyes before looking at his superior officer. “It…um, Guv, we…” Chris stumbled over the words, looking back at Ray, his expression desperate.
“Christ, you really are a div sometimes Chris,” Gene laughed. “I’ve known this stupid bugger was soft on you since you set foot in ‘ere,” he gestured to Ray, who looked deeply embarrassed. “Didn’t take long to work out why the grumpiest bastard I ‘ad working for me suddenly wanted to take the new DC under ‘is wing and was goin’ all gooey-eyed ‘cross the office.”
“You said you’d never say owt,” Ray mumbled, the few bits of skin still visible through the bruises flushing red.
“Said I’d never tell anyone how come you got kicked out of the Navy an’ all,” Gene grinned smugly. “But now Chris is part of the family, he can hear that story too, one day, when he’s old enough for the x-rated version.”
The look of horror on Ray’s face told both Sam and Chris that this was definitely a story they needed to hear.
~Fin
Chris was still yawning when they reached the station. Ray made an excuse and disappeared off somewhere before they reached the CID office, so when Gene looked out of his office he just saw a sleepy and yawning Chris sitting at his desk. A few minutes later the door went again and Gene watched as Ray headed straight for the kettle and made himself a coffee. His sergeant looked like shit, he noted – even worse than usual.
It was a slow morning, so Gene dedicated quite a lot of time to watching his officers. He knew that there was potential for damaging shockwaves to reverberate through his team, and he wanted to spot anything before it had a chance to start. His biggest worry was Ray and Sam. He had thought they were finally getting somewhere recently, and he was equally angry with Sam for being a know-it-all and getting Ray hurt and Ray for allowing himself to be goaded into taking a stupid risk.
He watched as Ray yawned again shifting uncomfortably in his chair, and Chris glanced across, a worried look on his face.
He pulled open the door to his office. “Ray, in here,” he called.
Ray stood up, wincing, and headed for the Guv’s office, giving Chris a quick wink as he watched, a worried look on his face.
He closed the door behind him, seeing that Gene had two glasses out on his desk already, a bottle of whiskey poised ready to pour.
“Sit down,” Gene gestured.
Ray did as he was told, glad that Gene was obviously not after him to go out on some case or other.
“You look like shit,” Gene said, handing Ray a glass. “Why don’t you get ‘ome and have some rest, while it’s quiet.”
Ray looked into the amber liquid in his glass, then shook his head. “I’d rather stay here, Guv. I’d…I don’t want to be sat at home doing nowt.” The thought of leaving Chris made Ray feel uncomfortable, even if he knew it was irrational to be affected by his dreams in such a way
Gene shrugged. “You’d tell me, though, if you weren’t up to it?”
Ray nodded, reasonably sure that he wouldn’t.
“What about you and Tyler, after your little…misunderstanding, yesterday? I don’t want problems on my team, Ray.”
“We’re all right. I know…it weren’t entirely the boss’s fault. I should ‘ave trusted my instincts an’ waited for the bomb squad. An’ yesterday…we just had a misunderstanding. It won’t happen again, Guv.”
Gene nodded. “You not been sleeping?” he asked, looking at the dark circles under Ray’s eyes.
Ray shrugged. “A bit.”
“What did the doc say about getting yer stitches out and whatnot?”
“Week or so I’ve got to go back.”
Gene regarded his sergeant. He’d known the man for long enough to realise that something wasn’t right. He thought back to what Sam had said.
“How about…y’know, the explosion. You all right…well, y’know…would keep some people awake at night, that sort of thing.”
Ray looked up sharply, for a moment wondering if Chris had been blabbing his mouth up. Then he saw a look in Gene’s eyes that told him he’d just given himself away. He sighed. “Been havin’ a few…bad dreams, I guess,” he answered. “Nothing I can’t handle,” he added, not mentioning how much it helped to have Chris there at night.
Gene shrugged. “It’s nothing to be ‘shamed of. When my old man got back from the trenches he’d wake ‘alf the street, yellin’ and screamin’,” Gene answered. “Some people reckon it’s better to talk than bottle it all up.”
Ray nodded, understanding Gene’s offer. “’S not…I don’t dream about it. It’s other stuff. Like…I…I see it ‘appening to other people, and I can’t help. Last night…” he tried to work out what he could say that didn’t involve either Chris or Sam. “Last night, it were a factory. An’ we were there – I mean, the team, were there. And there was an explosion. I couldn’t do anything, like I was trapped…and…people were hurt. And then the air raid siren started.”
Gene nodded. Ray was staring into his glass, refusing to meet Gene’s gaze, and Gene guessed that the actual nightmare had been somehow more horrific, but didn’t push. He knew Ray well enough to know that forcing Ray to expose his fears – a chink in his armour – would only serve to make Ray feel more vulnerable.
“Anytime, in the next few days, if you don’t wanna come in for a day, or whatever, you just say the word.”
Ray nodded, grateful that Gene wasn’t going to push him into talking any more. “Thanks Guv.”
“Tell Tyler to come in ‘ere on your way out,” Gene added.
Ray was sitting at his desk, very little of his concentration actually focussed on the file in front of him, when Sam exited the office.
“Chris,” Sam called. “You’re with me. Surveillance, so get your things.”
Ray looked up sharply. “Where you goin’?” he asked, before he could stop himself, and knowing that it had come out more aggressively than he meant it to.
Sam gave him a funny look. “Why do you need to know, Sergeant?”
Ray shrugged, unable to think of a good reason.
Sam relented, seeing no reason why he shouldn’t say. “Tip off that some bloke down on Hart Street’s probably dealing out of his flat. It shouldn’t take too long.”
Ray nodded. It wasn’t as if there was anything he could do about it anyway. But he felt a slight sense of foreboding, remembering vividly the images of Sam holding Chris’s seemingly lifeless body in his dream.
Chris had shrugged into his jacket and was also looking a little unsure. He didn’t want to leave Ray, despite knowing that the Guv wouldn’t let Ray do anything stupid, or send him out on any dangerous jobs. He walked past Ray’s desk, and, reasonably sure that no one was watching, gave Ray a thumbs up and smiled.
Ray sat staring at the double doors long after they had swung closed behind the two men. And Gene stood, watching Ray through the blinds of his office for a long time after Ray had turned back to stare uselessly at the file in front of him. He finally turned away, hoping that a few days of calm and routine would get his squad back on an even keel again.
Chris shifted in his seat for about the twentieth time in five minutes.
“Can’t you sit still?” Sam asked, with no malice in his voice.
Chris froze. He wished he were with Ray. Ray always made stakeouts fun – or at least, as fun as they could be; he always filled the car with chocolate and drinks and magazines. The car Sam had taken was empty and the street was still. When an old lady had crossed the road ten minutes previously Sam had made Chris take a note, which Chris thought was pointless.
Ray used to develop entire ridiculous lives for the people they saw on surveillance, telling Chris stories that usually had Chris in fits of giggles. Sam just made Chris note down the woman’s description, and when Chris had asked if Sam wanted him to try to guess what was in her tartan shopping trolley Sam had fixed him with a stony look.
As the hours dragged on Chris’s only distraction was occasionally noting down the men who came and went from the house they were watching. There seemed to be no particular pattern to the type of men. Some wore workman’s gear, a couple were in shirt and tie, and some more wore casual clothes.
“‘E can’t be very good,” Chris said, yawning, as he finished noting down the latest bloke’s appearance. “He doesn’t turn over his customers very quickly.”
Sam shook his head. “It is a bit odd. Maybe it’s not drugs – that’s usually fast, a quick transaction.”
“‘S more like a knockin’ shop,” Chris observed. “One every ‘alf hour or so. Maybe he’s got a bird in there. Could be a pimp or summit.”
Sam turned to Chris, a strange look in his eye.
“Wha’?” Chris looked around, nervously.
“He doesn’t need a bird in there, does he? I reckon you’re right – except he’s a male prostitute. No wonder the neighbours were suspicious, men coming and going at all times of day and night.”
“Oh.” Chris couldn’t help but let a look of distaste cross his face. “Nothin’ to do with us then, is it? Not like the old days.”
“How are we going to be sure though?” Sam mused. Then he turned to Chris. “How about you…”
“No way!” Chris held out his hands as if to ward off the very idea. “I am not going in there, whatever you say Boss, I won’t.”
Sam laughed at the look of total fear on Chris’s face. “You don’t have to do anything, Chris…just go in and then pretend you’ve bottled out or something.”
Chris shook his head. “I can’t Boss.” The very thought of it made Chris feel funny, as if somehow the man in the flat would guess that he had slept with another man. And how would he ever explain to Ray that he’d…he couldn’t even think about it.
“It’s not catching you know,” Sam grinned, almost enjoying pushing Chris. He knew that most of the squad were homophobic, or at least, couldn’t bring themselves to think about it. “In fact, y’know, one day, two men will even be able to get married. Or two women.”
Chris stared at Sam. He knew that the Boss often came out with rather wild predictions of the future, but this was one of the more absurd.
“It’s true,” Sam said, trying not to laugh at the way Chris’s mouth was hanging open. “And no one…well, almost no one, will even bat an eyelid.”
Chris shook his head. “It’ll never ‘appen. What about the church an’ all? That says it’s wrong. That’s not gonna change.”
Sam smiled. “You’d be surprised.”
Chris wondered why he was arguing with Sam, when he had suddenly felt a little surge inside himself. He tried to imagine walking along the street, hand in hand with Ray. Or going out to a restaurant or something. Then he shook his head. Why should he believe Sam anyway, there was no way that he could possibly know what was going to happen. Chris had a moment of worry when he thought that somehow Sam might have guessed about him and Ray, and was trying to tease him. But he couldn’t know. Could he?
Sam sighed, unwilling to leave the surveillance without knowing for sure that no crime was being committed. In truth, he didn’t feel entirely comfortable with the idea of going into the flat himself, but he knew he couldn’t send Chris – the DC would panic and never get the information they needed. So Sam steeled himself.
“Right, soon as the bloke comes out, I’ll go and knock on the door.”
Chris looked at Sam with a mixture of fear and awe on his face and nodded dumbly.
That night Chris persuaded Ray to leave the Railway Arms a bit earlier than usual, citing hunger and lack of sleep. Ray agreed, still knackered from his sleepless night.
They stopped off to pick up fish and chips – Chris’s choice – and settled down at Ray’s small dining table to eat, a football match on the television.
Chris watched Ray as they ate, unable to shake the conversation he had had with Sam earlier in the day.
“D’you…y’know, ever think…people like us’ll…well, be able to tell people, like, about…us?”
Ray turned to Chris, wrenching his attention away from the match, his face scrunched into his familiar expression of confusion and a very clear implication that he thought Chris was probably being stupid. “Wha’?”
“I mean…will we ever, y’know, be able to tell people we’re…together?”
Ray frowned. “Why? Who’d you wanna tell?”
“Oh, no, no one. I just…today, Sam said that one day…it’d be normal, like, for two men to…and that people wouldn’t…well, like they do now…and that two blokes could even…get married, like.”
“An’ you believed him, you div?” Ray turned his attention back to the tv. “You’ve got a bloody short memory. Remember who it was saying ‘It’s not a bomb, I know this, trust me’” Ray mimicked Sam’s voice. “And now yer trustin’ some new fuckin’ fantasy he’s come up with?”
Chris immediately felt bad, realising that he shouldn’t have brought it up.
“I just thought…it’d be nice, if one day…” he squashed a chip into his ketchup, despondently.
“Yeah, well don’t get yer ‘opes up off something that nonce ‘as said.” Ray stood and walked away from the table, leaving his dinner half eaten. He slumped onto the sofa, lighting a cigarette and staring at the television, determined not to look at Chris because he knew the look on the other man’s face would break his heart.
When Chris finally joined him on the sofa Ray pulled him close, wrapping an arm around him and pulling Chris’s head onto his shoulder. He lit another cigarette and held it out to Chris. Chris took it, hoping that it was a sign of a truce. He’d seen Ray smack enough people down during their work to have just a little bit of fear somewhere inside. He was almost entirely sure that Ray would never hit him, but there was a tiny niggle of doubt that meant that Chris would never push hard enough to find out for sure.
Ray turned his head slightly and rested his lips in Chris’s hair. He could feel the tension in Chris’s muscles and knew that it was all his fault, but he didn’t know what to do about it. The last thing he wanted was to make Chris unhappy. He closed his eyes for a moment, inhaling Chris’s scent and letting himself think, just for a moment, about a life where he could show Chris off as his lover. But he couldn’t do it, couldn’t imagine it.
“You ‘sleep?” Chris asked softly.
Ray shook his head.
Chris moved, dislodging Ray and looked at him, half-smiling, still wary.
Ray shifted so he could reach for a kiss, and as Chris moved too, Ray wrapped his arms around him and dragged him down until Chris was sprawled over his chest. Ray tangled his fingers in Chris’s silky hair and ran the other hand down his back, sliding easily under the waistband of his trousers and inside his soft cotton pants.
Chris could feel his cock hardening in his trousers – which were suddenly far too tight. He had one hand pressed against Ray’s muscular chest, the other he slipped behind Ray’s neck, his fingers twisting into the curls of soft hair. He kissed Ray hard – harder than he’d ever dared to kiss a girlfriend. It excited him and he responded to Ray’s fingers digging into his buttock by thrusting his hips.
Ray moved his hand from Chris’s hair to start a fight with Chris’s shirt buttons – one that he was obviously going to lose.
“Fuck,” he mumbled, between kisses, trying to look down to see what he was doing.
Chris gave in and pushed himself upright, almost kneeing Ray in the bollocks as he struggled to free himself from both Ray and the sofa. “C’mon, bedroom, clothes off,” he demanded, panting. He held out a hand and dragged Ray off the sofa, immediately kissing him as their bodies crashed together.
Ray pushed Chris backwards, still kissing him, but also pulling his own shirt off, ripping at the buttons and throwing his tie aside. By the time they reached the bedroom door Ray was dragging his shirt behind him, his bandaged hand still caught up in the sleeve, his other hand pulling his belt free.
Chris was in a similar state of undress, trousers open and falling around his thighs, shirt half undone.
Ray paused for long enough to free himself from the sleeve that had ensnared him and to toe off his shoes, watching as Chris’s calves hit the bed and he sat down suddenly, taking the opportunity to kick his shoes off too.
Ray shoved Chris backward, not caring that the other man was still fighting with his shirt and trousers and carefully lowered himself onto Chris, trailing kisses from his lips down his neck. Chris groaned as Ray’s tongue, lips and moustache tickled the sensitive skin of his neck, then moved to his chest. Ray sucked one of Chris’s nipples into his mouth, feeling it harden under his tongue, then gently bit down on it, making Chris gasp. Then Ray fell to his knees, trailing his kisses down Chris’s abdomen, then moving sideways to kiss and lick the sensitive skin on Chris’s hip before sliding his tongue down Chris’s inner thigh.
Chris lay back, unable to move. He tried to reach out and touch Ray, but the other man was out of reach, so Chris made do by gripping the bedclothes in tight fists. He could feel Ray moving back up towards his balls and willed the other man to continue. He was unable to keep in a moan of frustration as Ray neatly avoided his bollocks, instead switching to the other thigh. He lifted one leg, draping it over Ray’s shoulder and wrapping it around his back, pulling him closer.
Suddenly the warm silky-soft tongue was at the juncture of his cock and balls, sliding upwards. Chris could feel his cock twitching with anticipation, unable to control himself. Then he was engulfed by the warmth and wetness of Ray, and it felt as if Ray had taken his entire length in his mouth in one go.
Chris could hear himself panting and moaning and he tried to thrust, but there were suddenly strong hands splayed across his hips, holding him still as the silky tongue tortured him so sweetly.
In the back of his mind was a voice telling him that it wasn’t right, another man shouldn’t be doing these things to him, and he shouldn’t be enjoying it. But he knew it wasn’t just any other man, it was Ray, and he surrendered himself to pleasure.
Then suddenly he was over the edge, his body shuddering as wave after wave of sheer ecstasy ran through him. He released the blankets, his arms weak, and lay back, feeling his eyes roll back in his head.
His too-sensitive cock was still twitching as Ray gently sucked and licked away all of Chris’s seed. Chris tried to move, wanting to watch, but he couldn’t. His limbs felt as if they were made of lead. Then he felt the dip of the mattress as Ray moved next to him, and he finally opened his eyes.
Ray smiled down at Chris. The younger man looked totally wanton, his pupils dilated, dark hair stuck to his face with sweat, shirt crumpled beneath him and trousers still around one ankle. He leant over and kissed him, lingering, their tongues gently slipping over each other, Ray’s lips sliding over Chris’s short stubble.
Chris could taste himself in Ray, the salty flavour mixing with the taste of too many cigarettes and scotch. He managed to lift an arm and drop it onto Ray’s hip, pulling him closer.
“Mmmmmm,” he said, hoping that the noise encompassed everything he wanted to say.
Ray grinned, sliding his hand over Chris’s belly, thumb rubbing gently over the hair under his navel.
“C’mon, get you into bed,” Ray finally said, moving away and reaching out to help Chris up.
Chris undressed whilst Ray used the bathroom, then wandered in to do his teeth. He noticed that Ray had taken the large dressing off his neck and hissed through his teeth as he saw for the first time the ugly row of stitches that held together the two sides of a long jagged gash. He tried not to think about what had inflicted the wound, or what would have happened if it had been another few centimetres in the wrong direction. He’d seen what happened when a jugular was severed in the movies and tried to erase from his mind the picture of Ray lying in the street, a fountain of blood erupting from his neck.
Once they were both in bed Chris slid his hand down to Ray’s groin, the feel of another man’s penis in his hand both strange and exciting. He was nervous, unsure of himself. Ray had seemed to know exactly what to do, but Chris didn’t have the first idea of how he should touch Ray. He swallowed at the thought of having a cock in his mouth, the idea seeming so very wrong to him.
Ray gave a soft smile and removed Chris’s hand. “Not tonight,” he murmured.
Chris frowned. “But…I’ve ‘ad all the fun.”
Ray pulled Chris closer. “No you ‘aven’t. Just seein’ you like that was pleasure enough for me. I can wait ‘til I’m feelin’ up to enjoying you properly.”
Chris nodded, sort of glad, as his orgasmic high had left him feeling sated and happy.
He fell asleep, snoring softly.
He slept the entire night through, not even stirring when, in the darkest hours of the night, Ray awoke, bathed in sweat and wild-eyed, his subconscious having supplied him with another horrific vision. This time of Gene and Chris, both of them ripped limb from limb by an explosion right in front of his eyes as Miller had held a gun to his head.
“Why didn’t you do something?” Annie had screamed at him. And he had turned to find there was no one there, no one holding a gun on him, and he knew he could have helped. Then he ran, but wherever he ran to there was no escape, no way out, no way to get away. Every corridor or passage he ran down just brought him back to the same place, the room that was filled with the blood of Gene and Chris, the smell overwhelming, Annie always behind him, screaming at him.
And then he had seen Miller, holding the gun, pointing it straight at Annie. And he had finally been able to do something. He had jumped the man, running at him, screaming, and knocked him to the floor, the gun skittering away. Ray had stood over him and pounded his fists into the man’s face over and over, feeling the bones give under the onslaught and his temper rise, the animal instinct in him too strong to allow him to stop punching, until he heard Annie whimpering behind him.
“Stop, please stop,” she cried, reaching out to him, but somehow held back from touching him. He looked at her, confused by her tears, by the look of anguish on her face. He turned back to the body he stood over, to the mess of blood where there had once been a face. And he recoiled, stumbling backwards as he realised the disfigured and battered face didn’t belong to Miller – it was Chris’s eyes that stared back at him, a cruel parody of the post-coital gaze he had seen earlier in the evening. He looked down at his hands, now covered in Chris’s blood, then turned back to Annie, except she had been joined by Gene and Sam and the rest of the team, all of them staring at him silently, and they were no longer in the tunnels, but now they stood in Ray’s flat. Ray looked back down to see his feet in pools of blood, the carpet stained, the black-looking liquid spreading out, creeping over everything he owned. He looked back at his colleagues, horrified. And Sam smirked at him knowingly.
Ray lay awake for a long time, trying to clear his mind of the horrible thoughts and fears that the nightmare had left him with. He knew he was being completely irrational, but the dreams had been so real and left him with a true sense of foreboding. He had one hand on Chris’s back, feeling the reassuring beat of his heart and steady deep breathing, and eventually he dropped back into an uneasy sleep.
When the alarm went off Ray flung an arm out of the bed, knocking it to the floor, silencing the insistent ringing.
“Few more minutes?” Chris said, muffled by covers.
Ray nodded, pulling Chris closer.
Chris hooked one of his legs over Ray, trying to touch as much of Ray’s body as possible.
Ray let his fingers slide through Chris’s hair, trying to banish the thought of the same hair matted with blood, as it had been in his dream.
CID was quiet. Ray sat staring morosely at yet more witness statements, all of which basically said that no one had seen or heard anything of any use. He knew the work had to be done, and wouldn’t normally have begrudged it.
But Chris was out somewhere with Tyler, and it made Ray feel uneasy. That, combined with Ray’s complete fatigue and catalogue of aches and pains had put him in a foul mood.
Suddenly Gene crashed out of his office, his face like thunder.
“Withers, Fitz, Armitage, with me. Stanley Street. Tyler and Chris are down there – shots fired, so get tooled up.”
Ray leapt out of his seat, waiting for his orders, fear coursing through his veins.
“Guv?” he asked, unable to keep the desperation out of his voice.
Gene shook his head. “Not this time, Raymondo. Stay ‘ere. You’re not up to it.”
And suddenly Ray was alone in the middle of the office. He looked around, at a loss of what to do. He so desperately needed to know that Chris was okay.
Finally he snapped himself out of, heading downstairs as fast as he could.
“Phyllis,” he called. “What’s goin’ on?”
Phyllis shrugged, unconcerned. “DI Tyler went to question someone, but the slags were armed. They’re all right though, arrested ‘em apparently.
Ray stood, nodding, waiting for more details, but when it was evident that Phyllis had said all she was going to, Ray grabbed a radio and headed back to CID, trying to listen in for any information. He just prayed she’d been right about everyone being okay.
It was almost an hour later that voices sounded in the corridor, and Ray only just managed to keep a grip on himself when he heard Chris’s distinctive laughter. He quickly moved some files around on his desk, to make it seem as if he’d done something whilst the Guv had been gone.
Gene crashed through the doors and headed straight for his office, a smile on his face. The others drifted back in, laughing and joking, cheered by the five arrests that had been made.
Sam watched Chris closely as the younger man headed for his desk. Sam knew that Chris had been scared when the shooting started, but Sam had been impressed with how he handled himself.
Now Chris was staring at Ray, an expression akin to fear on his face.
Ray glanced up and immediately saw the trauma of the last few hours reflected in Chris’s eyes.
“Chris, a word,” he said gruffly, getting up and leading the way out of the office. He tried to keep his expression blank, hoping no one would realise just how terrified he’d been for the last few hours, knowing that Chris was in danger with only Tyler to help him.
Sam watched as Chris leapt to obey Ray and frowned. It was as if Ray held some hidden power over Chris, and Sam didn’t like it. Chris had obviously been expecting Ray to do something, and it was clear that Ray was in a foul mood.
Ray led the way to Lost and Found, closing the door firmly behind them and grabbing Chris’s hand.
“You okay?” he said, seriously.
Chris nodded, still looking unhappy.
Ray dragged him into a hug, squeezing him tightly. “You’re safe now. You’ll always be safe with me,” he desperately tried to banish from his mind the images of Chris’s broken body lying at his feet that still haunted him.
“I just got scared,” Chris mumbled into Ray’s chest.
Ray pressed a kiss onto Chris’s temple. “We all get scared sometimes. Comes with the job. You did good today, you came back safe, you got the slags, that’s all that matters.”
Finally he let go of Chris, still able to feel the slight tremors of fear and adrenalin running through the slim body.
“Here,” Ray pulled his hip flask out of his jacket pocket and offered it to Chris. “It’ll calm you down.”
Chris nodded and took a swig, wiping his mouth on his shirtsleeve.
“Go on back then,” Ray smiled. “The Boss is probably wonderin’ where you’ve got to.”
Chris gave a small smile, feeling a lot better. “You comin’?” he asked.
“In a minute,” Ray winked and tipped the flask slightly to indicate that he was going to have a quick drink himself.
When Chris and Ray hadn’t returned after a couple of minutes Sam set off to find them and to discover just what was going on.
As he strode down the corridor he saw the door to Lost and Found open and Chris slipped out. He glanced around and his gaze fell on Sam.
“I were just comin’ to find you, Boss,” he said, looking worried.
Sam could smell the whisky on Chris’s breath and grimaced, guessing it’s source. He could feel the anger building up inside him. He knew it was irrational, but it made him livid to think that Chris, who would do anything for anyone, was being dragged down a path of shoddy work and rule breaking by Ray.
“Go and start your reports,” he said curtly.
Chris disappeared to do as he was bid, and as soon as he was out of sight Sam shoved open the door to Lost and Found.
Ray looked up from where he had slumped into one of the chairs, frowning when he saw Tyler.
“Just what the bloody hell are you playing at?” Sam hissed, trying to keep a lid on his anger.
Ray stood, his instinct overriding all other thoughts. His fists clenched at his sides.
“What?” he asked, pouring as much scorn into the word as he could.
“You. You think it’s a good idea to get Chris pissed? Think that’ll help, do you? After what he’s just gone through? What are you going to do next time we go undercover? Give him a few for Dutch courage? Is that your idea of good policing, Sergeant?” Sam was close to Ray, invading his personal space, one finger jabbing into Ray’s chest. “You want to get him killed? Or just make it so he can’t face the end of the day without getting pissed, like you? Is that the only way you can get any ‘friends’,” Sam let the sarcasm drip from the last word.
“He ‘ad one swig – it made ‘im feel better.” Ray swiped Sam’s hand away. “He was shittin’ himself, not that you’d notice.”
“Oh, but you would – any excuse, isn’t it? Anyone shows any vulnerability and you’re there, right? Like any bully, you only pick on the weak.”
Ray shook his head, not entirely sure where the conversation had come from or was going.
“He needed to talk – to talk sense, not the shit you fill ‘is head with.”
“I am trying to teach him the job – I mean how to do it properly, not your version. The rest of you might be lost causes, but Chris isn’t. He’s got potential, he’ll make a good copper if he stays away from idiots like you.”
“Oh yeah?” Ray sneered. “An’ when does telling ‘im crap about how it’s going t’be normal to be a poof one day fit in? You going an’ fillin’ his head with shit like that, that’ll help him, will it?”
Sam stared, open-mouthed. He would never have thought that Chris would pass on the conversation they’d had, least of all tell Ray – probably the least tolerant person Sam had ever met.
“That’s what this is about? You want to mould him in your own petty, closed-minded, prejudiced view of the world? You want to raise him in your own pathetic image? Well he’s better than that, Sergeant, he’s better than you and the sooner you just leave him alone, the better for all of us.”
“Leave him? An’ have you drag him into gunfights?” Ray’s voice was raised, his muscles pumped. “You think he’s better off like that, d’you? Because Sam fuckin’ Tyler can solve all the world’s problems by talkin’? Well talkin’ don’t stop the blood flowin’. Talkin’ don’t help when some bastard’s shot someone you care for. Mebbe for just a minute you need to take a look at yerself, stop pointing the finger at me, or the rest of them lads an’ think about the others what you’ve ‘helped’. Think about that poor bitch in the canal – you didn’t fuckin’ help her, did you?”
Sam lashed out without even thinking about it, and the second his fist hit Ray’s face he knew that there was no turning back.
The punches were sloppy and the fight soon descended into grappling, the two of them hurling each other around the room. Lost property crashed to the floor around them, the table was overturned. Sam grabbed at a shelf and threw the first thing he found at Ray, satisfied when Ray grunted in pain.
Ray ran at Sam and they crashed backwards, knocking the shelving over and ending up struggling on the floor, metal shelves and random belongings digging into their flesh. Sam grabbed out at a hairdryer and swung it, beating Ray’s face with the hard plastic. As Ray was temporarily blinded Sam hauled himself onto his feet, kicking out, stamping, feeling his foot connect with flesh. Then Ray grabbed his ankle and twisted violently and Sam was on the floor again, Ray’s hand around his neck. He could smell Ray’s breath as the other man panted and blood fell on him, dripping from Ray’s neck, the sticky warmth disgusting as it fell on Sam’s face. He wrenched himself over, throwing Ray aside, and launched himself at the other man, his fist driving into Ray’s stomach.
Someone slammed the door of CID open, setting the entire partition wall rattling.
“Guv, quick, they’re killing each other,” the detective panted.
Gene jumped up from where he was sitting on the edge of Chris’s desk, knocking papers flying and ran. Chris was hard on his heels, along with the rest of the squad. The crash as shelving was knocked over was easily audible and Gene wrenched the door open, almost pulling it off its hinges. He stared at the scene of destruction, the two bodies seeming to be totally joined as the men fought on the floor.
“Jesus CHRIST!” Gene stumbled over the debris, knowing that Chris was on his heels, and grabbed Sam’s arm as he raised his fist for another blow. He dragged his DI upwards, both arms wrapped tightly around the smaller man. “Stop – stop, you bastard!” Gene could feel Sam still fighting and saw Ray begin to lift himself from the floor, his face contorted with rage.
Then Chris was there, throwing himself on top of Ray, pushing the larger man back to the floor. “No, Ray, no,” he held onto Ray’s biceps, knowing that Ray could easily throw him aside if he wanted. “Please, stop, stop.”
Gene turned to their audience, face red with anger.
“You lot, get out.”
No one argued, the situation clearly under control. They all left, muttering amongst themselves, one or two of them glancing back over their shoulders.
Sam struggled, trying to shake Gene off, but with none of the anger there had been at first.
Gene refused to let go, both arms still pinning Sam’s own arms to his sides.
“And one of you better tell me just what the FUCK is going on.” Spit flew from his mouth and he finally threw Sam aside, glaring at him. “You. Talk.”
Sam pressed his cuff to his mouth, mopping the trail of blood that ran down his chin. He glared down at Ray, trying to rein in his temper.
“It…nothing, a misunderstanding,” he answered.
Ray’s gaze flicked up to rest on him, one eye covered in blood.
Gene turned to Ray. “Well? You better have a bloody good explanation for this, Carling, or I’ll have your bollocks for breakfast.”
Ray opened his mouth to speak but just ended up coughing, one arm hugged around his chest, his head bowed.
Chris didn’t even think about the other people in the room as he moved closer to Ray, one hand finding it’s way into Ray’s, the other on Ray’s back.
Gene let a little of the anger give way to a tiny niggle of worry. After all, his Sergeant wasn’t technically supposed to be back at work for almost three weeks, let alone get into a full-scale fight. And it was very unlike Ray not to be shouting the odds, trying to wriggle of trouble in any way that he could.
And then there was Chris, flapping around him like a girl. Gene frowned. This was more than Chris’s usual concern. Something had changed.
“Ray?” Gene shot a look at Sam that told him wordlessly that if he moved an inch his bollocks would be on a plate faster than he could say ‘proper procedure’. Then he knelt down, realising that the usual brown of Ray’s jacket was darker – a huge bloodstain reaching from his neck to halfway down his chest.
Chris looked around at his Guv’nor, worry evident on his face as Ray wheezed for breath. His movement exposed the large gash on Ray’s neck, the stitches ripped out of the original injury and blood running sluggishly from the wound.
“Shit,” Gene said. “Chris, go an’ get some first aid. Tyler, you go to my office and stay there, and God help you if you don’t.”
Sam didn’t want to leave, but he knew that disobeying Gene’s order would be a mistake.
As Sam walked slowly along the corridor he saw Chris hurrying back with the metal first aid box in his arms. Chris refused to eve look at Sam, but Sam could see the tears running down Chris’s cheeks all too clearly. He shook his head. This wasn’t him; he didn’t get into stupid fights, he definitely didn’t start them.
He walked through CID with his head down and slumped into a chair in Gene’s office. He wiped his face, feeling bruises and cuts. Blood smeared across his shirtsleeve and he remembered the feel of it dripping onto him from Ray’s injuries. Sam put his head in his hands, suddenly so completely drained that he felt weak.
Chris almost tripped in his haste to get back to Ray through the piles of objects that were now all over the floor. Gene had one hand on Ray’s shoulder, the other holding a handkerchief to the wound on his neck.
Chris tried to sort out a dressing, but he fumbled as his gaze was drawn back to Ray’s slumped form.
“Come on, Chris,” Gene said impatiently.
Chris nodded, his vision blurred with tears. He wiped his eyes roughly. Ray didn’t need him crying. Ray needed him to help.
“Ray, look up,” Gene ordered.
It took a moment for Ray to register the order, but once he did he tipped his head back, exposing yet more blood and bruises.
“Shit,” Gene breathed as the movement brought further blood flow from Ray’s necks. “What the bloody hell were you thinking,” he scolded. “Stupid bastard. You should know better, getting yourself in this state. You and fuckin’ Tyler. Maybe I should just leave the pair of you to fuckin’ kill each other. Solve my problems, wouldn’t it.”
Ray opened an eye and for the first time he seemed to notice Chris.
“’M okay,” he mumbled through split lips.
“What the fuck was it all about, Ray?” Gene asked, speaking softly now.
“It were nothing. I mean…” Ray took a shuddering breath, biting his lip to fend off the pain. “It’s over.”
Gene shook his head. “No, it’s not. I won’t ‘ave this in my team, Ray. We depend on one another. You should know that.”
Ray let out a small huff of laughter and closed his eyes again.
Gene looked around and gestured to a chair that was overturned. “Chris, grab that.”
Once Chris had set the chair back on its legs Gene took a firm hold of Ray’s arm.
“Come on, get you sat up. Think you need an ambulance?”
Ray shook his head, trying to stand and only managing it with Gene and Chris’s help. Once he was seated on the chair, most of the wounds tended to and the bleeding staunched, Gene looked at Chris. “You. Stay here; don’t leave him, even for a second. I’ll be back.”
Chris nodded, glad that he’d finally get a moment alone with Ray.
Gene strode down the corridor, through CID and into his office, slamming the door behind him. He completely ignored Sam as he slumped behind his desk and hooked the telephone towards him. He ordered Phyllis to call a doctor, slammed a glass onto his desktop, poured a healthy slug of whisky and downed it in one, then, finally, he looked at Sam.
Sam almost withered under the stony gaze.
“So, what was this nothing that’s ‘ad two of my officers beat each other half to death?” he asked.
Sam opened his mouth to answer but Gene cut him off.
“And don’t you dare lie to me, Tyler. Don’t you bloody dare. The truth, now, all of it.”
Sam looked down at his hands, at the bloodstains on his sleeves and tried to piece together exactly what had happened.
“We just…argued.” He answered. “About…stupid things. I don’t know. About him, about me, this place – everything…and…nothing important.”
“Important enough for you two to try and kill each other,” Gene answered, feeling his anger growing again. “He’s just bloody been blown up, in case you missed that. And I’d’ve thought better of you. Normally so high and bloody mighty. I’d crack yer heads together, but it looks like you’ve managed that by yerselves. Stupid bastards, the pair of you.”
Chris didn’t know what to do or say. He just looked down at Ray, never having seen him look so broken. He crouched down and took one of Ray’s hands, feeling the heat of Ray’s swollen knuckles.
“Why’d you do it?” he asked softly. “Why d’you have to hurt yourself, jus’ to prove a point?”
Ray opened his eyes, looking down at Chris. “He…said you’d… be better off wi’out me,” he managed around swollen lips.
Chris shook his head. “So let ‘im think it. We know better, don’t we? He’s a good boss – a good copper, but that don’t mean he knows us.”
Ray shook his head. “Y’ don’ understand. He said…” he trailed off, unable to explain the fear of Sam taking Chris away from him in real life and how that had somehow blended into the image of Sam dragging Chris’s body away from him in his dream.
“I do understand,” Chris insisted. “An’ he’s wrong. I know you think I’m a div ‘n all, but…not when it matters. He doesn’ know what we got. I’d give up all this, all everything,” Chris waved his arm around. “Everything, just to be with you. I would. Doesn’ matter what anyone else says, or whether we can get married or whatever, all I need is you, an’ I’ve got that now. Everythin’ else…that’s just extra.”
Ray stared at Chris, trying to make sense of the speech he’d just given. Then he smiled. “Y’mean that?”
“Now you’re bein’ a div,” Chris scolded. “Course I do. Just…if you can’t get along with the Boss…at least can’t you ignore ‘im? All fightin’s doing is hurtin’ everyone else. All the team’s been walkin’ on eggshells ‘round the two of you, and it’ll end up with somethin’ bad happening. It’s stupid.”
Ray felt as if he were being told off, but conceded that Chris was right. He also realised that the person who was most often caught up in his arguments with Sam was Chris. The thought that some petty fight better suited to a playground might somehow lead Chris into harm’s way was too much for Ray to bear.
“Help me up,” he ordered, holding out a hand to Chris.
Chris looked unsure. “But…”
“Jus’ help,” Ray ordered.
Chris supported Ray carefully, and once Ray was standing Chris put an arm around his waist, holding him up.
Ray slowly made his way out of the room and towards CID. His breathing was shallow, his chest on fire, but he was determined.
Everyone turned to look at them as they entered CID, but Ray ignored them – he had to. Every last bit of his energy was focussed on the door of Gene’s office, his goal.
Gene looked up sharply as his door was opened without anyone knocking.
Ray ignored Gene, just looking at Sam.
Sam held the gaze, a tiny trickle of fear running through him.
“You were wrong,” Ray started, still out of breath. “An’ so was I. You’re a good copper. I shouldn’t ‘ave said otherwise. Just cos we’re different, should mean we work better together, help one another, not fight amongst us.”
Sam nodded slowly; amazed that Ray would ever admit such a thing. “An’ I was stupid ‘cause…I was jealous that you been takin’ Chris away from me…but…you ‘aven’t. Not where it matters.”
Sam frowned, then finally realised what he was seeing. Ray standing, one hand gripped onto Chris’s shirt as if it was the only thing holding him up, both of Chris’s arms around Ray, offering more than just physical support.
“I…I didn’t know,” he stammered. “I…assumed…I thought you…”
“Just cos we ain’t limp-wristed fairies, Boss,” Chris broke in. “It don’t mean we can’t be in love.” His chest felt a little funny as he said the word, like his heart was doing flip-flops.
“No, I know,” Sam quickly said.
“What you said…’bout bein’ accepted an’ getting married an’ stuff,” Ray continued. “I were angry ‘cause…” he shot a look at Chris. “You looked so…hopeful, an’ it hurt me, to think if I couldn’ give you all that, then maybe…maybe you wouldn’t…mebbe you’d realise that it weren’t the life you wanted, being wi’ me.”
Sam frowned. “It’s true, you know…one day…” he broke off under Ray’s gaze.
“How can it be true? It’s only six year since we stopped locking queers up,” Ray reasoned. “An’ most people still don’t agree with that.”
Sam closed his eyes, trying to understand how impossible a dream what he was saying must seem. He did a quick calculation in his head and guessed that Ray would be fast approaching eighty – if he made it that far - by the time that Civil Partnerships began.
“Yeah…yeah, you’re right. I’m probably dreaming,” he conceded. There was no way he could hurry up the future, so it wasn’t worth arguing about.
A cough brought everyone attention back to the figure behind the desk.
“An’ just when were you plannin’ on telling me all this?” Gene asked, his expression hard as marble.
Ray looked at Chris who stared back wide eyes before looking at his superior officer. “It…um, Guv, we…” Chris stumbled over the words, looking back at Ray, his expression desperate.
“Christ, you really are a div sometimes Chris,” Gene laughed. “I’ve known this stupid bugger was soft on you since you set foot in ‘ere,” he gestured to Ray, who looked deeply embarrassed. “Didn’t take long to work out why the grumpiest bastard I ‘ad working for me suddenly wanted to take the new DC under ‘is wing and was goin’ all gooey-eyed ‘cross the office.”
“You said you’d never say owt,” Ray mumbled, the few bits of skin still visible through the bruises flushing red.
“Said I’d never tell anyone how come you got kicked out of the Navy an’ all,” Gene grinned smugly. “But now Chris is part of the family, he can hear that story too, one day, when he’s old enough for the x-rated version.”
The look of horror on Ray’s face told both Sam and Chris that this was definitely a story they needed to hear.
~Fin