5 things, LoM
I shall post these as I go. Who knew it would be so popular?? Usually when I mention Ray everyone runs a mile...now I have 90 ficlets to write!!! You nutters XD
So here's the firsttwo three four. I shall post them all here, then link to '73 when I'm done, to avoid spammage.
For
time_testudinem
Five times Ray fell in love (at least one het) . Hope this is okay!
1. Gene was swearing loudly, marching around the abandoned warehouse and cursing everyone from the superintendent to God in equal measures.
Ray kicked at a piece of timber, obviously a splinter from a crate.
"Should we, y'know," Chris gestured to the rest of the building. "Just in case?"
Ray shrugged and nodded. He supposed it would be beneficial to them to keep out of Gene's way for a bit, and they ought to check the rest of the building just in case there was a clue as to where the gang or the stolen goods had gone.
They walked through the empty space and headed for the back rooms and staircase. Chris headed upstairs and Ray stuck his head into the rooms on the ground floor. There was little to go on, but as he was turning to follow Chris he stopped. There was a small noise, and he tried to work out where it was coming from. In the end he pushed open one of the doors which led to the small back yard.
Chained to a fence post were two small puppies, huddled together and letting out small whines and whimpers. Ray approached them cautiously, but they didn't move, beyond looking up at him with large eyes.
He reached down and held his hand out, and one of them sniffed him, then licked his fingers.
"'Ello," he said softly. "What're you doin' out 'ere then, eh?" He stroked the creature's ears and felt around its collar, but there was no tag. He undid the length of chain and tugged it slightly. Both dogs obediently followed him as he headed back to the warehouse. Once inside he checked again that neither of them had any tags, smiling as the more active one put it's large paws on his leg, stretching up to be petted. He couldn't help but stroke it, rubbing under its chin as it tried to lick him some more.
He heard Chris clattering back down the stairs and led the dogs to meet him.
"Look what I found!" he called.
"Is it a clue?" Chris asked, then saw the puppies. "Where were they?"
"Out back. Reckon they must 'ave left 'em, for some reason. Mebbe it were one of their guard dogs what 'ad 'em."
"What're you going to do with 'em? Take 'em to the pound?"
Ray looked down at the small creature now trying to bite the bottom of his trouser leg.
"Dunno. S'pose," he said, not sounding convinced.
As he led them out into the main warehouse Gene pulled a face. "They ain't comin' in the Cortina."
Chris wasn't surprised when, that afternoon, Ray returned from the dog pound with one of the puppies still in tow. The dog seemed happy to settle under Ray's desk with what looked to Chris suspiciously like a brand new chew-toy.
"Kept 'im, then?" Chris smiled as he walked past the desk.
"Her," Ray corrected.
"What's her name then?"
"Where gonna call it Chris, on account of 'ow it follows me about. But decided on Georgie."
That night Ray carried the puppy up to his flat, trying to stop it licking his face, but only half-heartedly. He got himself some dinner and opened the tin of dog food he had bought, putting some down for the small animal and watching as it tucked in.
"Must be starvin', poor thing, ain't you?" he said affectionately.
When he had eaten he sat on the sofa, the puppy curled up next to him, it's chin resting on his thigh and he stroked it's ears.
2. Ray winced. The painkiller was starting to work, but his arm still sent waves of pain through him every time he moved.
"Sorry, Sir," the nurse smiled apologetically.
"'S alright," Ray grunted. "'N me name's Ray."
She smiled. "Mine's Alice. How are you feeling? Not faint or sick?"
Ray shook his head.
Alice reached out and laid her hand on his forehead, her skin cool against his. "Want to tell me what happened?" she said. "They say it can help, sometimes."
Ray tried to shrug, but decided better of it when his arm flared with pain. "Just doin' me job, undercover, like. An' it all went wrong."
"Well we'll set you right, you'll be back fighting crime sooner 'n you know it."
She leant over him and shifted his pillows slightly, almost brushing his face with her large breasts.
Ray looked up at her, smiling. She ran a gentle hand down his chest, then gave him a wink. "I'll give you a bed bath later, if you're a good boy."
Ray watched her walk away, her uniform clinging perfectly to her slim body. Suddenly being shot didn't seem such a bad thing. He thought he might even forgive Tyler, if he got lucky.
3. Ray kicked the football against the wall, aiming for the one brick which was a different colour. When it rebounded he jogged after it, dribbling it around imaginary opposition and finally kicking for 'goal' once again. The playground was deserted apart from him, the other kids having all headed for home. He glanced around, but there was no sign of movement, and he was content to amuse himself as he waited. He dribbled the ball around again, this time shooting at an angle which meant he had to run after the ball as it rebounded.
He'd just caught up with it when he heard the click of high-heels. He stopped the ball with his foot and turned.
"Ray, what are you still doing here? Don't you have a home to go to?" Miss Ashley asked.
Ray gave a half shrug. "Not really."
She smiled, her teeth white against the red of her lipstick. "Well you can't stay here forever."
It was clear she was on her own way home, so Ray picked up his football and tucked it under his arm. "S'pose not." He fell into step with her. "You live close then, Ma'am?"
She gave him an amused look. "Not too far."
"Can I 'elp you - I mean, carry owt for you?" Ray offered, watching as the sunlight made her blonde hair glow as if touched by angels.
"Won't your parents be wondering where you are?" she admonished.
Ray shook his head. "Me Uncle's on nights, an' 'is bird don't like me - I mean, his missus."
"You live with your uncle?"
Ray nodded. "Me old man walked out, when I was a kid, an' me mum's dead. I'll take your bag, 'f you want?" he let his hand touch hers.
She relinquished the holdall full of books to Ray, and he was surprised by the weight.
"'Bout you, Ma'am? You live with anyone?"
She didn't answer for a moment, then nodded. "My husband."
Ray felt his heart sink a little. Of course he'd seen the ring on her finger, but Warren had said that his auntie wore a ring too, just to put off men who came into her pub.
"You been married long?" he asked.
"No, not long. I moved to teach here when I moved in with him," she answered.
Ray gave a small smile. "Must be nice."
She nodded. "It is. And this is my bus stop. I'll see you tomorrow, Ray."
He smiled and nodded, handing her bag back, then dropping his football to the ground, holding it under one foot.
"See you tomorrow, Ma'am."
4. Ray remembered the exact spot he'd been standing on when he first saw him. He'd been in the middle of telling Malcom a lewd joke about a prostitute and miner, and he'd forgotten the punchline when he'd spotted the stranger, standing awkwardly just inside the door, looking lost.
He'd muttered something to Malcolm and walked across the room, outwardly confident despite his stomach tying itself in knots.
"Can I 'elp you?" It had come out rougher - more aggressive - than he had meant. And the boy had looked even more terrified.
"I...I'm lookin' for DCI Hunt. He told me to report here, like," the boy had said, clearly nervous, pushing his long dark fringe out of his eyes.
"He ain't here. What can I do fer you?" He had asked, a thousand ideas as to what he'd like to do to the boy jostling for space in his head.
"Um, I'm DC Skelton - Chris. Transferring in here. I...s'pose I'll wait."
And that had made him smile.
"DS Carling. Ray. You'll be workin' wi' me, so come 'ere, we'll get you settled."
The smile he received in return had been more beautiful than anything he'd seen in his entire life.
"Thanks, Sir."
"'S Ray. You want a cuppa?"
He never offered to make anyone tea.
"Milk an' two, thanks," Chris had answered, and then had followed him to the kettle anyway, like a lost puppy.
As he handed over the steaming mug he realised that Chris's eyes were different colours. It just made him more attractive, if such a thing were possible.
Gene had arrived back, and Ray had signalled to Chris to stay where he was, then headed into Gene's office.
"New kid's 'ere. I'm showin' him 'round. Could do with an extra body on them burglaries."
Gene waved a hand in agreement, but as soon as Ray had headed back to the main office he stood at the window, watching.
Ray never offered to work with new team members.
5. If anyone 'ad asked, I'd've said I were an arse man, I s'pose. Maybe tits. Both, really. Ain't no good having a crackin' pair of puppies if you've got a bum the size of Greater Manchester, and no point in having a nice tight little arse if your bristols 'ave gone further south than...well, Bristol. Suppose the rest of the package comes second - nice hair, eyes, pretty lips for wrapping around my cock. Decent figure, obviously, not so skinny it's like tryin' to hug a twig, but not so big that if they're sat on yer face it'll be the last thing you ever do.
Like a bird who takes a bit of care of 'erself too - bit of lippy, dresses nice, high heels (cos they just make the arse look better, right?), but not someone who'll spend all your wages on slap and tarting herself up.
Love’s a funny thing. Can’t control it, can’t tell it when to ‘appen. I don’t believe in love at first sight. It ain’t about that. Lust, sure, but not love. Love’s when someone gets so far under your skin you can’t imagine life without ‘em. Something I never thought I’d find.
So how I ended up wakin' up every mornin' next to a six foot copper with a growing beer gut, who belches, farts, gives me stubble rash, makes me buy every round down the pub and still call 'im 'sir' at the end of it all I'll never fuckin' know.
'Cept he does have a nice arse.
And the second set is:
Five times Ray cheated death, for Hanna.
1. Ray ran, glancing over his shoulder as he did so. Charlie was behind him, also running. It had been a game - scaring each other stupid in the old bombsite. All daring each other to climb higher or explore darkened rooms. They'd been told it was dangerous often enough, but none of them had paid any heed. Since school had stopped and they had the days to themselves they had turned the whole city into their playground. This was the first time they had all dared to stay out all night though.
"Come on!" He shouted to Charlie, glancing up the road and seeing that the other two were extending their lead. "Ain't far now!" he called, hoping it would encourage the younger boy.
Then Charlie fell, losing his footing in the pitch dark street and sprawling full-length on the pavement. He gave a frightened, pained cry.
Ray half turned again, still running. The searchlights had picked out one of the bombers above them, and the sound of the engines was so loud now it felt as if surely one would land on them at any moment. He was torn by indecision, but finally stopped and turned back. He ducked as the first explosion rent the air. "Quick!" he shouted, reaching out to Charlie and hauling him to his feet.
Another explosion knocked them both to the ground, and Ray turned to look as debris rained down on them. The corner of the road, where he had been heading for, had completely disappeared, two buildings were falling as if in slow motion, filling the huge crater where the road had been.
Ray's heart hammered in his chest. He grabbed the younger boy and they both ran, clutching each other, back the way they had come.
2. He forced his fingers into the tight webbing, pulling the heavy load square with the last crate, guiding it down and into its space. Then he found a foothold for the toe of his boot and heaved himself up, reaching to free the four thick metal hooks.
As soon as they were clear he held his arm up in signal and watched as the crane block swooped them away, back into the boat's hold. He jumped down and walked back, waiting for the next load to be brought ashore.
Three of the cranes were working in the same way, quickly and efficiently unloading the vessel so she could be refilled and sent back to some foreign land.
Ray hadn't worked at the docks very long, but he had taken to the work easily, and despite some of the others making fun of him still being a 'kid' he enjoyed it.
He caught his breath as he watched the next crate rise out of the hold and swoop toward him.
One of the other workers, Danny, joined him. "Alright?"
Ray grunted. "Aye."
"When you're done 'ere boss wants a word. Think we're to clear part of the warehouse for the one comin' in tomorrow."
"Yeah, 'kay. Ain't got much more 'ere," Ray said, turning and looking at the man. "'Ere, how'd you go with that bird last night then?" he asked, remembering how Danny had been talking about a girl he was trying to date the day before.
"Takin' her out at the weekend, aren't I," Danny grinned widely. Then, as he glanced upward he let out a yelp and shoved Ray hard in the chest.
Ray stumbled backwards, the force of the blow knocking him from his feet.
The crate exploded as it hit the ground, timber and packing flying into the air. Ray pushed himself off the floor, and found himself looking into Danny's anguished face.
"Ray..." Danny gasped, and Ray could see there was blood in his mouth, pink and red saliva dropping in strings from his open mouth. He stood, shaking so hard he didn't think he'd manage it, then began pulling away at the timber, trying to shove the huge piece of machinery off his friend. Then he saw the blood creeping over the tarmac, filling every tiny fissure and crack.
"No," he said, his voice barely audible. "Danny? Danny..."
Strong hands grabbed him, pulling him away, but he couldn't stop staring at the desperate look in Danny's eyes. Then, with a last cough of thick, bright blood, Danny went limp, his eyes rolling back in his head.
Ray put his hand to his chest, still able to feel exactly where Danny's hands had hit him, shoving him to safety.
"It's alright, lad, it's alright," a voice said.
Ray realised he was crying, silent tears of fear and shock and loss.
3. It was as if nothing else in the world existed. Just the narrow alleyway, him, and the car speeding in his direction. He could never outrun it, the walls towered above him and there were no doorways or refuges.
So he stood, frozen on the spot, the engine so loud the sound filled the small space. His focus on the radiator, the shiny chrome, every detail now clear to him.
He did the only thing he could think of, and as he was sure the bumper would hit him he jumped as high as he could.
The impact was massive, first his feet, then knees, arms, shoulder. somehow, miraculously, he managed to wrap his arms over his head.
And immediately he was falling. He stuck his hands out on instinct, grit and pebbles on the cobbles digging into his palms, then nothing, silence as he lay on the cool ground, trying to form coherent thoughts. The main, most shocking one, being that he was fairly sure he was still alive.
A noise finally penetrated his senses and as if stuck in some horrific nightmare he could see a car racing toward him. His first thought was that they had come back to finish the job. Except this car was familiar. The bronze paintwork and gleaming chrome. The tyres screeched as they lay rubber down on the stones.
"Ray!"
Ray didn't move, he just watched the white loafers running toward him.
"Ray?"
The camel coat pooled on the ground mere inches from his face.
He gathered his breath. "Yeah?"
"Jesus fuckin'...Can you move? I saw those fuckers...where are you hurt?"
Ray thought for a moment. He could feel the hot throb of bruising, and he experimentally lifted his head. Flashes of light invaded his vision, but quickly cleared. Then he put his hands flat on the floor, wincing as one wrist gave a twinge of protest. He pushed himself up, rolling until he was sitting, arms on his knees.
"Think...think I'm okay?" he asked, as if somehow Gene might know better.
4.
Ray half fell out of bed, disorientated and off-balance. He was pretty sure that he hadn’t been in bed long – which meant he was far from sober.
He reached the telephone – the reason he’d been dragged from his drunken slumber.
“Carling? You’re needed. Reports of shots fired on Mantague Road. The Guv says he’ll be outside your place in five minutes.”
Ray grunted and hung up, quickly finding his trousers and a shirt, treading into his shoes and leaving his flat within minutes.
True to his word, Gene screeched the Cortina to a stop within moments of Ray leaving the building.
The roared through the empty streets, arriving at the scene to find uniformed officers already there.
It didn’t take long to calm the situation down, and eventually the gunman gave himself up without any bloodshed.
Gene decided the man could wait until morning to be interviewed, and they headed back to Ray’s, both men bleary-eyed and sleepy.
As Gene nosed the Cortina into Ray’s road they were stopped by a fireman and a PC.
“Can’t go down there, mate.” The PC said.
“DCI Hunt,” Gene said, flashing his warrant card. “What’s ‘appenin’?”
“Explosion, sir. They reckon someone left the gas on, lit a cigarette or something. The building’s unsafe and they’re still pulling bodies out.”
“What number?” Ray asked, a cold feeling gripping his insides.
“Twenty eight, sir. The ground floor flat – but it’s taken out the building’s either side, too.”
Gene looked at Ray, eyebrows raised. They both knew that on any normal night Ray would have been asleep in the flat above.
5. Ray ran as fast as he could. His chest was burning, muscles turning to jelly. He knew he was out of shape, but he also knew he wasn’t letting the little fuckwit in front of him get away.
The other man was tiring too, and stumbled, almost falling. Ray closed the gap.
Finally he was within range. He threw himself forward in a rugby tackle his old games master would have been proud of.
They landed in a tangle of arms and legs, kicking and fighting on the uneven towpath, rolling into the weeds as Ray struggled to grab the man’s arms.
He didn’t see the rock the man had grabbed. He just felt the split second of searing pain as it smashed into his temple.
Chris rounded the corner, out of breath and panting. But instead of seeing Ray still pursuing their suspect, there was no one. The towpath was deserted. He jogged a few more steps, then slowed to a walk. He knew he should keep going – Ray would expect him to. But the place was eerily still and quiet. Something didn’t feel right.
He jogged another few steps, unsure of himself, reaching for his radio.
Then he saw it, hard to pick out against the dark, oily-looking water. A shape, glistening, wet, breaking the smooth surface. It moved sluggishly with the tiny flow of the canal.
Chris ran, and when he saw the halo of dark blond hair floating out from the head he didn’t think twice. He plunged into the cold water, reaching out desperately, his hand clamping around Ray’s arm, dragging him closer then wrestling him over in the water, going under himself as he struggled with the dead weight of Ray’s body.
Finally Ray was floating on his back. Chris reached one hand out for the sheer brick side of the canal, grabbing the top and holding them in place. Ray’s head was resting on his shoulder, blood mixed with dirty water running down and colouring Chris’s jacket. Chris’s other hand gripping tightly onto Ray’s shirt.
Chris shifted his hand, trying to find a heartbeat, and when he finally felt the steady rhythm he wanted to shout with joy.
“Ray, wake up. Wake up!” He looked at the bank, knowing there was no way he would be able to pull Ray out of the water. So he shouted for help as loudly as he could, over and over again.
Ray twitched away from the sound. His head ached fiercely, and the noise wasn’t stopping. He was freezing, in pain and didn’t have a clue where he was. But he did finally recognise the shouts.
“Shut up, Div,” he mumbled.
Chris almost sobbed with the relief.
Three:
Forgritsinmisery
Five times Chris got hurt on the job. (Of course Ray takes care of 'im.)
I am assuming you meant...on the job policing, not...'on the job - nudge-nudge-wink-wink' Because if it was the latter, these may disappoint!!
1. They made it look so easy. Fist clenched, arm drawn back and…WHAM. Except when he tried it the bloke hardly flinched and searing pain shot through his hand and wrist. He managed no to swear, and despite his instinct he didn’t clutch his hand, either. Mainly because the bloke looked VERY pissed off.
Then Ray was there, and, true to form, he smacked the bloke with one hard strike, and as the men reeled he used the momentum to crunch the bloke’s head into the wall. The man fell in a heap, clutching at his ruined nose.
“You alright?” Ray asked, his tone worried.
Chris nodded, his hand tucked into his armpit.
“Come ‘ere,” Ray held his own hand out, and Chris reluctantly complied.
Ray held Chris’ palm gently against his own and rubbed a thumb over Chris’ knuckles. “We’ll get you some ice when we’re back at the station,” he offered.
Chris nodded, miserable and embarrassed.
“And we’ll go to the club together, get you workin’ on a punchbag. Don’t want you hurtin’ yourself again.”
Chris smiled a small smile of thanks.
Ray ran a hand down Chris’ back, allowing it to linger on his bum for a just a moment – a reassuring gesture that went unnoticed by the man still on the floor.
2. “Ow!”
Ray looked over from his position by the bookcase.
“Wassup?”
“Papercut!” Chris waved his hand about, as if it would help with the pain.
Ray caught the injured hand and crowded Chris back against the desk, first kissing Chris’s finger, then his lips.
“Better?” he smiled.
“Not quite…” Chris leant into Ray and kissed him harder, enjoying the frisson as he kissed his lover in such a public place. Anyone could walk in and find them, but the thought just turned him on all the more.
3. Ray’s own injuries seemed inconsequential. He could ignore the throb and sting of split lips and a bloodied nose.
He couldn’t ignore the sight of Chris, equally bruised and battered.
He shrugged off Gene’s hand, not needing to hear the apologies or the excuses for a job gone so badly wrong. He just needed to get to Chris.
Gene, to his credit, took the hint. He bundled the rest of the team out of the room, along with the handcuffed prisoners.
Finally they were alone. The table and chairs in the room were all upended, debris and shards of glass crunched underfoot as Ray walked to Chris.
Chris was still cowering in the corner, his arms hugged around his bruised gut, hair falling across his face, strands sticking in the congealing blood from the cut over his eye.
Ray didn’t know what to say. He had tried his best to protect Chris, and his best hadn’t been good enough. He slid his hand onto Chris’s back, gently moving him into a hug. Chris barely responded, not moving his arms, but he did rest his cheek on Ray’s shoulder.
“I’m sorry,” Ray whispered.
Chris didn’t reply.
4. Chris shifted slightly.
“You okay?” Ray immediately moved Chris’s pillow for him slightly.
“Fine.”
“Anything you want? Food? Drink?”
“No – you just got me some water, and I only ‘ad breakfast half and hour ago.”
“Another pillow?”
“No.”
“Blanket?”
“No! I’m fine, honest. If there’s owt I need, I’ll tell you.”
“Want me to change the TV channel? Or put on some music?”
“It’s fine, I’m watchin’ this.”
“Need your painkillers?”
Chris took a deep breath. “I bust me ankle, Ray. I’m not paralysed.”
“I know…I just…”
“’S kind of you…but the reason I di’n’t go to me mum’s was cos she’d flap an’ worry an’ all.”
“And?”
“And you’re doin’ it worse!”
Ray sat in silence, looking at the floor.
“Want me to take you back to yer Mum’s?”
“NO!”
5. “Want a hand with that?”
She smiled, slightly embarrassed. “Thank you.”
Chris hefted the full bin bag away down the corridor.
“Sorry. ‘Ere, let me.” Chris moved the desk and tucked the chair neatly away, smiling widely at the girl.
“Thank you.”
“’S Chris,” Chris responded, and hesitantly held out his hand. After all, the girl did come and clean up CID every week.
She shook the offered hand. “Keira.”
“You can stand on my chair, ‘f you want,” Chris offered, as Keira struggled to reach to dust the tops of some cabinets.
“Thank you…Chris.”
He stood and moved his chair for her. When she had finished she returned the chair, smiling shyly.
“Shit! I mean…oops. Sorry, ‘ere, let me…” Chris grabbed the mop leaning close by and attempted to stop the flow of water from the bucket he’d kicked over.
Keira stood quickly as her skirt began soaking up the dirty water.
Chris looked up from his task and saw the soaked clothing.
“Oh…look, c’me ‘ere, I’ll…” He took her by the arm and led her toward the locker room. “Should get you out of them wet clothes, I bet…”
It was just his luck that Gene and Ray walked around the corner just as she delivered a stinging slap to his cheek.
“Ow!” he yelped, letting go of her arm and cupping his injured face.
“Hey! What’s up, love?” Gene asked, trying to work out what was happening.
“He,” Keira stabbed a finger toward Chris. “’As been tryin’ to chat me up for weeks. An’ now, finally, he’s tryin’ to get me to take me clothes off! ‘Ere, in the police station. Dirty bugger. Me Mam warned me what you lot are like.”
Chris gaped. “I weren’t! I was…I were just tryin’ to be friendly!”
“Too friendly,” the girl shot back.
Ray was biting his lip, trying not to laugh at the comical look of innocence on Chris’ face. He knew for a fact that Chris was telling the truth, but he wasn’t about to help him out in the face of an angry woman with a fast right hand.
Forhambelandjemima
5 times Ray thought Gene was wrong but didn't say so. (I’ve twisted your prompt…you’re getting ‘4 times Ray thought Gene was wrong but didn’t say so and one time Ray thought Gene was wrong and actually did something’ XD)
1. Ray drank his pint in silence.
“Ain’t fuckin’ natural, is it?”
There were noises of agreement from the others.
“Women, fuckin’ beautiful things. All tits an’ arse…why’d any bloke want some hairy fuckin’ fairy? Disgustin’, it is.”
There were more murmurs of agreement.
Ray wished he could leave, but it would seem odd, and everyone would comment.
“See them two today? Scared shitless. Ain’t real men, I s’pose. Still, got ‘em bang to rights. Stretch inside’ll show ‘em what society thinks of that shit. Perverts.” Gene lifted his pint. “Job well done.”
Ray didn’t raise his glass. Luckily no one noticed.
2. Gene had collapsed on the settle, tie undone, glass of Scotch hanging from one hand.
"Ain't surprised," he slurred. "Hours we put in an' shit we do."
Ray nodded silently, his feet resting on a nearby stool. His own scotch was sitting in front of him, on the sticky beer-stained table.
"Seen it coming. Didn't know what to do. 'S me, innit? Can't change tha'."
Ray grunted.
"'Sides, ain't like I'm a catch, is it? Beer gut," Gene paused to slap his stomach. "Fuckin' acne, still livin’ with me mum. No one'd want me."
Ray shifted his gaze onto Gene. The green eyes were unfocussed from the drink, bark blonde hair falling over his face, body relaxed in an easy sprawl, all grace and power accentuated by the uniform.
Six months later, when he watched Gene walk up the aisle with Theresa, forgiven for all his sins and their relationship back on track, he wished he had had the guts to tell Gene how wrong he was when he’d been given the chance. But he knew Gene’s opinion on queers.
3. “We’re wrappin’ it up. Movin’ on. Got them robberies to work on and that body out Trafford Park might still come back as suspicious.”
Ray looked up from his desk. “But…”
“Ain’t no ‘buts’. We’ve got no leads. Anything new comes along, maybe we go back to it. Otherwise, file it.”
Ray wanted to protest. They owed the family of dead girl more than that. She had been brutally murdered, and now the search for her killer would be consigned to a dusty shelf in the archive room. The murderer would be walking free, to strike again.
But he knew there was no point in kicking off about it. He didn’t want to fight with Gene. But he vowed not to forget the case, and to check regularly if anything could be done to further the investigation.
He gathered the files and walked down to the collator’s den. Most of the place was a mess, but one end of one shelf, high on the wall, where most people wouldn’t bother going, was a collection of files. Ray stood on the desk to reach them, slipping the newest addition inbetween them.
Next month, when he reviewed them all again, it would just take him a little longer.
4. Gene’s alcohol consumption was at an all time high. He would have been dancing on the bar, if he’d been sober enough to climb onto it.
“ONE NIL,” he chanted, along with half the squad. “ONE NIL, ONE NIIIIIL.”
He was spilling beer everywhere as he joined in with the jostling, swaying line of fellow supporters on the team.
Finally he detached himself from the group, moving to Ray’s side and throwing and arm around his lover’s shoulders – the only time and place such public displays of affection were allowed, and despite not wanting to celebrate, Ray welcomed it.
“Best fuckin’ day, ever, eh?”
Ray replayed the moment in his mind. Denis Law, backheeling the ball into United’s net. An ex-player, a traitor leaving the reds for City, and then consigning his old team to relegation.
But he didn’t say anything. It was the one thing he disagreed with Gene over, and it wasn’t worth starting an argument about now. Not when Gene was pressed up against him, happy and drunk.
5. Ray put another pint in front of Gene, who still had his head in his hands.
“’Ere, get this down you.”
Gene wrapped his hand around the beer mug, but still shook his head. “‘S…the worst day of my life. The worst day EVER.”
Ray tried to look suitably sombre.
“She…I can’t believe…fuckin’ women!”
Ray kept quiet, but signalled to Nelson that a large scotch was required.
“Fuckin’…bitch,” Gene said, when the original chaser had long since gone. But he didn’t say it with conviction, and Ray knew, deep down, he didn’t mean it.
“Another?”
Gene nodded morosely.
The glass was half empty before Gene spoke again. “S’pose…” then he fell silent.
“What?”
“You never know, d’you? When the last one’ll be. Last June. Our anniversary. Never knew it’d…”
Ray just nodded, sipping his own pint. “Ain’t gonna be the last time ever though, is it? I mean…”
“What?” Gene prompted.
“I mean, there’ll be someone else.”
Gene snorted.
His glass was fully empty before he finally answered. “Will there?”
“Course!” Ray answered. “I mean…’f it’s what you want?”
Gene slumped back against the settle. The pub was almost empty now. “Don’t know if I can be bothered. Findin’ a bird, at my age. Takin’ ‘er out, impresin’ ‘er. Not with the job. I mean…was ‘ard enough the first time. All them broken dates, ‘aving to explain to some hysterical bird it’s nowt to do with them that you keep standin’ ‘em up. Reckon ‘m better off on me own.”
Ray nodded. It was hard. He thought about all those years ago, when Tess had broken off the engagement. He’d been too young and scared to take his chance then. But now, all the years of friendship, teamwork, victories and defeats, he knew Gene Hunt better than Gene’s own wife had.
“I know someone. Already impressed, won’t be bothered by the job, don’t care ‘ow many call outs there is, as long as you come back safe, every time. Someone who reckons bein’ alone ain’t all it’s cracked up to be, cos it don’t stop the feelin’s, don’t stop the worry, don’t stop you lovin’ someone, just cos you reckon they won’t feel the same.”
Gene looked up, eyes unfocussed. “Who?”
Ray met the gaze. “Me.”
Foramproof, 5 times Ray decided to leave.
1. He didn’t have much to pack. He only owned a few clothes, and he didn’t need his school uniform or Sunday best. He silently padded down to the kitchen, his shoes hanging from one hand, his school satchel from the other.
In the kitchen he found a crust of bread and some meat, carefully wrapping them in some paper. He left the house silently, making sure the door didn’t bang behind him.
He trod into his boots and walked up the garden path. He didn’t know how far away Manchester was, he didn’t know how he was going to get there, but he knew he had to try. His mother needed him, that much was clear from her latest letter, and no matter how much the authorities thought it was better that he lived in the country, with strangers, he knew better. No Germans were going to keep him from his mum.
2. He was proud of England. He was happy to fight for his country. He stood to attention, his uniform gleaming, pristine. His arm locked in a smart salute.
The families and well wishers on the dock waved flags, cheering the ship as it left on its new mission. The sea was calm in the sheltered waters, and the deck rose and fell below his feet with an easy, relaxed rhythm.
He knew this was his chance. He could prove himself. He was one of the best, or so they told him. Finally he had something to be proud of.
As they left the dock and headed for open sea the order was called to break from their ranks and get on with the business of running the huge ship.
Ray glanced backwards. The green and white of the coastline was receding fast. He felt a pang of homesickness already, but he knew the adventures which lay ahead would shape the rest of his life.
He turned away, looking instead to where the blue sky met the sea.
3. He didn’t look back. His kitbag was slung over his shoulder, and it contained everything he owned.
He didn’t know where he was going to spend the night or what he was going to do for money. But he was finally back in Manchester. It was so familiar, yet so different. The last time he’d seen the place it had been all ruins and bomb craters.
Now new buildings had sprung up and the city seemed to have a new life about it. He walked out of the dockyard, the solid pavement feeling strange under his feet after so many months at sea.
Finally he turned to stare back at the hulking grey boat which had been his home for so long. His home, his family, his life.
And then he turned back to the grimy streets. There was nothing for him here, yet it still felt more like home than anywhere else on Earth.
4. Ray looked out across the city. The twinkling lights were mesmerising. This was his city. His home. The skyline was changing with each year though, a sign of progress. A sign of changing times.
And inside the building he now stood on top of, things were changing there too. And Tyler was the one responsible.
Well, he wasn’t responsible for this. He wasn’t responsible for Ray forcing the kid to sniff the cocaine. Not directly, anyway. But he was responsible for Ray needing to prove to Gene just what a good police officer he was. Ray had never had to try to do that before. He was the best copper in the department, that got him respect. But not any more. Not now Tyler picked apart everything he did.
Ray lifted the half-empty bottle to his lips and took a long swig.
He wondered what had driven Sam up here, when he first arrived. He had heard the story second-hand from Chris. Annie had found Tyler on the roof, and she had been sure he was going to jump off.
Ray took a step closer to the edge and swayed a little, the combined effect of the alcohol and the cool wind.
Half pay. A DC. And Gene’s disappointment. It all hurt. Too much.
He looked downward and took another step. It brought him to the edge of the roof. There was nowhere else to go now.
“Ray! Ray, don’t!”
The desperation in Chris’s tone was clear. Ray turned and as he did so he swayed.
Chris moved forward urgently, as if he could somehow cross the metres between them and save Ray in the split second he had. But Ray steadied himself.
"'S all changin', Chris," he called out and waved the bottle expansively at the city. "An' I don't belong."
"You do!" Chris was closing the gap, looking terrified.
"You got Tyler now," Ray slurred. "Don' need me no more. Don't need a fuck'n murderer on the squad."
"You're not a murderer." Chris was speaking more softly now that he was only a few feet from Ray. "You couldn't 'ave known his heart would give out."
Ray dropped his head forward, and then moved slightly so he could see straight down the front of the building. "S it, ain't it? Didn't know, didn't think, didn't do it right. " He turned suddenly, making Chris jump again. "'S is 'ow it should be, right? You said Tyler were up here, wanted to end it all, all them months ago. 'S when the Guv still thought I were worth summat as a copper. Well now 's all changed. Tyler's the Guv's boy now, an' I'm the psycho. You stick with them two, Chris, and you'll be the fuckin' best."
Chris threw himself forward, grabbing Ray's wrist and pulling the both back, away from the edge. He stumbled and fell, dragging Ray down beside him, and watched as the Scotch bottle hit the roof with a thunk, then piroetted lazily before tipping over the edge.
It seemed a long time before they heard the smash of glass below.
Chris was shaking, his grip still vice-like on Ray's arm. Ray was lying on his back, staring up at the clouds scudding across the moon.
"Don't leave me," Chris murmured, not letting go.
5. Ray glanced around. The room was empty of anything personal. The tatty furniture was all that was left.
"That everything?" Gene asked, appearing in the doorway.
"Yeah, yeah it is."
Gene nodded, glancing around too. "Time to go then?"
Ray let out a sigh, then nodded.
"Odd, ain't it?" Gene said as they descended the stairs.
"Di'n't ever think I'd leave 'ere," Ray answered. "Not again."
"You don't 'ave to, you know. I don't want you to feel like I'm forcing you to do this."
Ray shook his head. "We're a team. 'Sides, what would be left here for me?"
Gene didn't reply, but he knew it was true.
"Anyway, someone's gotta show them soft Southern pansies 'ow it's done, 'aven't they?"
Gene smiled, reaching in his pocket for his hip flask. He held it up. "To London."
Ray waited for him to take a swig and pass it over. "London," he echoed.
I'm still writing the rest - they'll arrive as I finish them, Some of you are evil and fiendish!
So here's the first
For
time_testudinemFive times Ray fell in love (at least one het) . Hope this is okay!
1. Gene was swearing loudly, marching around the abandoned warehouse and cursing everyone from the superintendent to God in equal measures.
Ray kicked at a piece of timber, obviously a splinter from a crate.
"Should we, y'know," Chris gestured to the rest of the building. "Just in case?"
Ray shrugged and nodded. He supposed it would be beneficial to them to keep out of Gene's way for a bit, and they ought to check the rest of the building just in case there was a clue as to where the gang or the stolen goods had gone.
They walked through the empty space and headed for the back rooms and staircase. Chris headed upstairs and Ray stuck his head into the rooms on the ground floor. There was little to go on, but as he was turning to follow Chris he stopped. There was a small noise, and he tried to work out where it was coming from. In the end he pushed open one of the doors which led to the small back yard.
Chained to a fence post were two small puppies, huddled together and letting out small whines and whimpers. Ray approached them cautiously, but they didn't move, beyond looking up at him with large eyes.
He reached down and held his hand out, and one of them sniffed him, then licked his fingers.
"'Ello," he said softly. "What're you doin' out 'ere then, eh?" He stroked the creature's ears and felt around its collar, but there was no tag. He undid the length of chain and tugged it slightly. Both dogs obediently followed him as he headed back to the warehouse. Once inside he checked again that neither of them had any tags, smiling as the more active one put it's large paws on his leg, stretching up to be petted. He couldn't help but stroke it, rubbing under its chin as it tried to lick him some more.
He heard Chris clattering back down the stairs and led the dogs to meet him.
"Look what I found!" he called.
"Is it a clue?" Chris asked, then saw the puppies. "Where were they?"
"Out back. Reckon they must 'ave left 'em, for some reason. Mebbe it were one of their guard dogs what 'ad 'em."
"What're you going to do with 'em? Take 'em to the pound?"
Ray looked down at the small creature now trying to bite the bottom of his trouser leg.
"Dunno. S'pose," he said, not sounding convinced.
As he led them out into the main warehouse Gene pulled a face. "They ain't comin' in the Cortina."
Chris wasn't surprised when, that afternoon, Ray returned from the dog pound with one of the puppies still in tow. The dog seemed happy to settle under Ray's desk with what looked to Chris suspiciously like a brand new chew-toy.
"Kept 'im, then?" Chris smiled as he walked past the desk.
"Her," Ray corrected.
"What's her name then?"
"Where gonna call it Chris, on account of 'ow it follows me about. But decided on Georgie."
That night Ray carried the puppy up to his flat, trying to stop it licking his face, but only half-heartedly. He got himself some dinner and opened the tin of dog food he had bought, putting some down for the small animal and watching as it tucked in.
"Must be starvin', poor thing, ain't you?" he said affectionately.
When he had eaten he sat on the sofa, the puppy curled up next to him, it's chin resting on his thigh and he stroked it's ears.
2. Ray winced. The painkiller was starting to work, but his arm still sent waves of pain through him every time he moved.
"Sorry, Sir," the nurse smiled apologetically.
"'S alright," Ray grunted. "'N me name's Ray."
She smiled. "Mine's Alice. How are you feeling? Not faint or sick?"
Ray shook his head.
Alice reached out and laid her hand on his forehead, her skin cool against his. "Want to tell me what happened?" she said. "They say it can help, sometimes."
Ray tried to shrug, but decided better of it when his arm flared with pain. "Just doin' me job, undercover, like. An' it all went wrong."
"Well we'll set you right, you'll be back fighting crime sooner 'n you know it."
She leant over him and shifted his pillows slightly, almost brushing his face with her large breasts.
Ray looked up at her, smiling. She ran a gentle hand down his chest, then gave him a wink. "I'll give you a bed bath later, if you're a good boy."
Ray watched her walk away, her uniform clinging perfectly to her slim body. Suddenly being shot didn't seem such a bad thing. He thought he might even forgive Tyler, if he got lucky.
3. Ray kicked the football against the wall, aiming for the one brick which was a different colour. When it rebounded he jogged after it, dribbling it around imaginary opposition and finally kicking for 'goal' once again. The playground was deserted apart from him, the other kids having all headed for home. He glanced around, but there was no sign of movement, and he was content to amuse himself as he waited. He dribbled the ball around again, this time shooting at an angle which meant he had to run after the ball as it rebounded.
He'd just caught up with it when he heard the click of high-heels. He stopped the ball with his foot and turned.
"Ray, what are you still doing here? Don't you have a home to go to?" Miss Ashley asked.
Ray gave a half shrug. "Not really."
She smiled, her teeth white against the red of her lipstick. "Well you can't stay here forever."
It was clear she was on her own way home, so Ray picked up his football and tucked it under his arm. "S'pose not." He fell into step with her. "You live close then, Ma'am?"
She gave him an amused look. "Not too far."
"Can I 'elp you - I mean, carry owt for you?" Ray offered, watching as the sunlight made her blonde hair glow as if touched by angels.
"Won't your parents be wondering where you are?" she admonished.
Ray shook his head. "Me Uncle's on nights, an' 'is bird don't like me - I mean, his missus."
"You live with your uncle?"
Ray nodded. "Me old man walked out, when I was a kid, an' me mum's dead. I'll take your bag, 'f you want?" he let his hand touch hers.
She relinquished the holdall full of books to Ray, and he was surprised by the weight.
"'Bout you, Ma'am? You live with anyone?"
She didn't answer for a moment, then nodded. "My husband."
Ray felt his heart sink a little. Of course he'd seen the ring on her finger, but Warren had said that his auntie wore a ring too, just to put off men who came into her pub.
"You been married long?" he asked.
"No, not long. I moved to teach here when I moved in with him," she answered.
Ray gave a small smile. "Must be nice."
She nodded. "It is. And this is my bus stop. I'll see you tomorrow, Ray."
He smiled and nodded, handing her bag back, then dropping his football to the ground, holding it under one foot.
"See you tomorrow, Ma'am."
4. Ray remembered the exact spot he'd been standing on when he first saw him. He'd been in the middle of telling Malcom a lewd joke about a prostitute and miner, and he'd forgotten the punchline when he'd spotted the stranger, standing awkwardly just inside the door, looking lost.
He'd muttered something to Malcolm and walked across the room, outwardly confident despite his stomach tying itself in knots.
"Can I 'elp you?" It had come out rougher - more aggressive - than he had meant. And the boy had looked even more terrified.
"I...I'm lookin' for DCI Hunt. He told me to report here, like," the boy had said, clearly nervous, pushing his long dark fringe out of his eyes.
"He ain't here. What can I do fer you?" He had asked, a thousand ideas as to what he'd like to do to the boy jostling for space in his head.
"Um, I'm DC Skelton - Chris. Transferring in here. I...s'pose I'll wait."
And that had made him smile.
"DS Carling. Ray. You'll be workin' wi' me, so come 'ere, we'll get you settled."
The smile he received in return had been more beautiful than anything he'd seen in his entire life.
"Thanks, Sir."
"'S Ray. You want a cuppa?"
He never offered to make anyone tea.
"Milk an' two, thanks," Chris had answered, and then had followed him to the kettle anyway, like a lost puppy.
As he handed over the steaming mug he realised that Chris's eyes were different colours. It just made him more attractive, if such a thing were possible.
Gene had arrived back, and Ray had signalled to Chris to stay where he was, then headed into Gene's office.
"New kid's 'ere. I'm showin' him 'round. Could do with an extra body on them burglaries."
Gene waved a hand in agreement, but as soon as Ray had headed back to the main office he stood at the window, watching.
Ray never offered to work with new team members.
5. If anyone 'ad asked, I'd've said I were an arse man, I s'pose. Maybe tits. Both, really. Ain't no good having a crackin' pair of puppies if you've got a bum the size of Greater Manchester, and no point in having a nice tight little arse if your bristols 'ave gone further south than...well, Bristol. Suppose the rest of the package comes second - nice hair, eyes, pretty lips for wrapping around my cock. Decent figure, obviously, not so skinny it's like tryin' to hug a twig, but not so big that if they're sat on yer face it'll be the last thing you ever do.
Like a bird who takes a bit of care of 'erself too - bit of lippy, dresses nice, high heels (cos they just make the arse look better, right?), but not someone who'll spend all your wages on slap and tarting herself up.
Love’s a funny thing. Can’t control it, can’t tell it when to ‘appen. I don’t believe in love at first sight. It ain’t about that. Lust, sure, but not love. Love’s when someone gets so far under your skin you can’t imagine life without ‘em. Something I never thought I’d find.
So how I ended up wakin' up every mornin' next to a six foot copper with a growing beer gut, who belches, farts, gives me stubble rash, makes me buy every round down the pub and still call 'im 'sir' at the end of it all I'll never fuckin' know.
'Cept he does have a nice arse.
And the second set is:
Five times Ray cheated death, for Hanna.
1. Ray ran, glancing over his shoulder as he did so. Charlie was behind him, also running. It had been a game - scaring each other stupid in the old bombsite. All daring each other to climb higher or explore darkened rooms. They'd been told it was dangerous often enough, but none of them had paid any heed. Since school had stopped and they had the days to themselves they had turned the whole city into their playground. This was the first time they had all dared to stay out all night though.
"Come on!" He shouted to Charlie, glancing up the road and seeing that the other two were extending their lead. "Ain't far now!" he called, hoping it would encourage the younger boy.
Then Charlie fell, losing his footing in the pitch dark street and sprawling full-length on the pavement. He gave a frightened, pained cry.
Ray half turned again, still running. The searchlights had picked out one of the bombers above them, and the sound of the engines was so loud now it felt as if surely one would land on them at any moment. He was torn by indecision, but finally stopped and turned back. He ducked as the first explosion rent the air. "Quick!" he shouted, reaching out to Charlie and hauling him to his feet.
Another explosion knocked them both to the ground, and Ray turned to look as debris rained down on them. The corner of the road, where he had been heading for, had completely disappeared, two buildings were falling as if in slow motion, filling the huge crater where the road had been.
Ray's heart hammered in his chest. He grabbed the younger boy and they both ran, clutching each other, back the way they had come.
2. He forced his fingers into the tight webbing, pulling the heavy load square with the last crate, guiding it down and into its space. Then he found a foothold for the toe of his boot and heaved himself up, reaching to free the four thick metal hooks.
As soon as they were clear he held his arm up in signal and watched as the crane block swooped them away, back into the boat's hold. He jumped down and walked back, waiting for the next load to be brought ashore.
Three of the cranes were working in the same way, quickly and efficiently unloading the vessel so she could be refilled and sent back to some foreign land.
Ray hadn't worked at the docks very long, but he had taken to the work easily, and despite some of the others making fun of him still being a 'kid' he enjoyed it.
He caught his breath as he watched the next crate rise out of the hold and swoop toward him.
One of the other workers, Danny, joined him. "Alright?"
Ray grunted. "Aye."
"When you're done 'ere boss wants a word. Think we're to clear part of the warehouse for the one comin' in tomorrow."
"Yeah, 'kay. Ain't got much more 'ere," Ray said, turning and looking at the man. "'Ere, how'd you go with that bird last night then?" he asked, remembering how Danny had been talking about a girl he was trying to date the day before.
"Takin' her out at the weekend, aren't I," Danny grinned widely. Then, as he glanced upward he let out a yelp and shoved Ray hard in the chest.
Ray stumbled backwards, the force of the blow knocking him from his feet.
The crate exploded as it hit the ground, timber and packing flying into the air. Ray pushed himself off the floor, and found himself looking into Danny's anguished face.
"Ray..." Danny gasped, and Ray could see there was blood in his mouth, pink and red saliva dropping in strings from his open mouth. He stood, shaking so hard he didn't think he'd manage it, then began pulling away at the timber, trying to shove the huge piece of machinery off his friend. Then he saw the blood creeping over the tarmac, filling every tiny fissure and crack.
"No," he said, his voice barely audible. "Danny? Danny..."
Strong hands grabbed him, pulling him away, but he couldn't stop staring at the desperate look in Danny's eyes. Then, with a last cough of thick, bright blood, Danny went limp, his eyes rolling back in his head.
Ray put his hand to his chest, still able to feel exactly where Danny's hands had hit him, shoving him to safety.
"It's alright, lad, it's alright," a voice said.
Ray realised he was crying, silent tears of fear and shock and loss.
3. It was as if nothing else in the world existed. Just the narrow alleyway, him, and the car speeding in his direction. He could never outrun it, the walls towered above him and there were no doorways or refuges.
So he stood, frozen on the spot, the engine so loud the sound filled the small space. His focus on the radiator, the shiny chrome, every detail now clear to him.
He did the only thing he could think of, and as he was sure the bumper would hit him he jumped as high as he could.
The impact was massive, first his feet, then knees, arms, shoulder. somehow, miraculously, he managed to wrap his arms over his head.
And immediately he was falling. He stuck his hands out on instinct, grit and pebbles on the cobbles digging into his palms, then nothing, silence as he lay on the cool ground, trying to form coherent thoughts. The main, most shocking one, being that he was fairly sure he was still alive.
A noise finally penetrated his senses and as if stuck in some horrific nightmare he could see a car racing toward him. His first thought was that they had come back to finish the job. Except this car was familiar. The bronze paintwork and gleaming chrome. The tyres screeched as they lay rubber down on the stones.
"Ray!"
Ray didn't move, he just watched the white loafers running toward him.
"Ray?"
The camel coat pooled on the ground mere inches from his face.
He gathered his breath. "Yeah?"
"Jesus fuckin'...Can you move? I saw those fuckers...where are you hurt?"
Ray thought for a moment. He could feel the hot throb of bruising, and he experimentally lifted his head. Flashes of light invaded his vision, but quickly cleared. Then he put his hands flat on the floor, wincing as one wrist gave a twinge of protest. He pushed himself up, rolling until he was sitting, arms on his knees.
"Think...think I'm okay?" he asked, as if somehow Gene might know better.
4.
Ray half fell out of bed, disorientated and off-balance. He was pretty sure that he hadn’t been in bed long – which meant he was far from sober.
He reached the telephone – the reason he’d been dragged from his drunken slumber.
“Carling? You’re needed. Reports of shots fired on Mantague Road. The Guv says he’ll be outside your place in five minutes.”
Ray grunted and hung up, quickly finding his trousers and a shirt, treading into his shoes and leaving his flat within minutes.
True to his word, Gene screeched the Cortina to a stop within moments of Ray leaving the building.
The roared through the empty streets, arriving at the scene to find uniformed officers already there.
It didn’t take long to calm the situation down, and eventually the gunman gave himself up without any bloodshed.
Gene decided the man could wait until morning to be interviewed, and they headed back to Ray’s, both men bleary-eyed and sleepy.
As Gene nosed the Cortina into Ray’s road they were stopped by a fireman and a PC.
“Can’t go down there, mate.” The PC said.
“DCI Hunt,” Gene said, flashing his warrant card. “What’s ‘appenin’?”
“Explosion, sir. They reckon someone left the gas on, lit a cigarette or something. The building’s unsafe and they’re still pulling bodies out.”
“What number?” Ray asked, a cold feeling gripping his insides.
“Twenty eight, sir. The ground floor flat – but it’s taken out the building’s either side, too.”
Gene looked at Ray, eyebrows raised. They both knew that on any normal night Ray would have been asleep in the flat above.
5. Ray ran as fast as he could. His chest was burning, muscles turning to jelly. He knew he was out of shape, but he also knew he wasn’t letting the little fuckwit in front of him get away.
The other man was tiring too, and stumbled, almost falling. Ray closed the gap.
Finally he was within range. He threw himself forward in a rugby tackle his old games master would have been proud of.
They landed in a tangle of arms and legs, kicking and fighting on the uneven towpath, rolling into the weeds as Ray struggled to grab the man’s arms.
He didn’t see the rock the man had grabbed. He just felt the split second of searing pain as it smashed into his temple.
Chris rounded the corner, out of breath and panting. But instead of seeing Ray still pursuing their suspect, there was no one. The towpath was deserted. He jogged a few more steps, then slowed to a walk. He knew he should keep going – Ray would expect him to. But the place was eerily still and quiet. Something didn’t feel right.
He jogged another few steps, unsure of himself, reaching for his radio.
Then he saw it, hard to pick out against the dark, oily-looking water. A shape, glistening, wet, breaking the smooth surface. It moved sluggishly with the tiny flow of the canal.
Chris ran, and when he saw the halo of dark blond hair floating out from the head he didn’t think twice. He plunged into the cold water, reaching out desperately, his hand clamping around Ray’s arm, dragging him closer then wrestling him over in the water, going under himself as he struggled with the dead weight of Ray’s body.
Finally Ray was floating on his back. Chris reached one hand out for the sheer brick side of the canal, grabbing the top and holding them in place. Ray’s head was resting on his shoulder, blood mixed with dirty water running down and colouring Chris’s jacket. Chris’s other hand gripping tightly onto Ray’s shirt.
Chris shifted his hand, trying to find a heartbeat, and when he finally felt the steady rhythm he wanted to shout with joy.
“Ray, wake up. Wake up!” He looked at the bank, knowing there was no way he would be able to pull Ray out of the water. So he shouted for help as loudly as he could, over and over again.
Ray twitched away from the sound. His head ached fiercely, and the noise wasn’t stopping. He was freezing, in pain and didn’t have a clue where he was. But he did finally recognise the shouts.
“Shut up, Div,” he mumbled.
Chris almost sobbed with the relief.
Three:
For
gritsinmisery Five times Chris got hurt on the job. (Of course Ray takes care of 'im.)
I am assuming you meant...on the job policing, not...'on the job - nudge-nudge-wink-wink' Because if it was the latter, these may disappoint!!
1. They made it look so easy. Fist clenched, arm drawn back and…WHAM. Except when he tried it the bloke hardly flinched and searing pain shot through his hand and wrist. He managed no to swear, and despite his instinct he didn’t clutch his hand, either. Mainly because the bloke looked VERY pissed off.
Then Ray was there, and, true to form, he smacked the bloke with one hard strike, and as the men reeled he used the momentum to crunch the bloke’s head into the wall. The man fell in a heap, clutching at his ruined nose.
“You alright?” Ray asked, his tone worried.
Chris nodded, his hand tucked into his armpit.
“Come ‘ere,” Ray held his own hand out, and Chris reluctantly complied.
Ray held Chris’ palm gently against his own and rubbed a thumb over Chris’ knuckles. “We’ll get you some ice when we’re back at the station,” he offered.
Chris nodded, miserable and embarrassed.
“And we’ll go to the club together, get you workin’ on a punchbag. Don’t want you hurtin’ yourself again.”
Chris smiled a small smile of thanks.
Ray ran a hand down Chris’ back, allowing it to linger on his bum for a just a moment – a reassuring gesture that went unnoticed by the man still on the floor.
2. “Ow!”
Ray looked over from his position by the bookcase.
“Wassup?”
“Papercut!” Chris waved his hand about, as if it would help with the pain.
Ray caught the injured hand and crowded Chris back against the desk, first kissing Chris’s finger, then his lips.
“Better?” he smiled.
“Not quite…” Chris leant into Ray and kissed him harder, enjoying the frisson as he kissed his lover in such a public place. Anyone could walk in and find them, but the thought just turned him on all the more.
3. Ray’s own injuries seemed inconsequential. He could ignore the throb and sting of split lips and a bloodied nose.
He couldn’t ignore the sight of Chris, equally bruised and battered.
He shrugged off Gene’s hand, not needing to hear the apologies or the excuses for a job gone so badly wrong. He just needed to get to Chris.
Gene, to his credit, took the hint. He bundled the rest of the team out of the room, along with the handcuffed prisoners.
Finally they were alone. The table and chairs in the room were all upended, debris and shards of glass crunched underfoot as Ray walked to Chris.
Chris was still cowering in the corner, his arms hugged around his bruised gut, hair falling across his face, strands sticking in the congealing blood from the cut over his eye.
Ray didn’t know what to say. He had tried his best to protect Chris, and his best hadn’t been good enough. He slid his hand onto Chris’s back, gently moving him into a hug. Chris barely responded, not moving his arms, but he did rest his cheek on Ray’s shoulder.
“I’m sorry,” Ray whispered.
Chris didn’t reply.
4. Chris shifted slightly.
“You okay?” Ray immediately moved Chris’s pillow for him slightly.
“Fine.”
“Anything you want? Food? Drink?”
“No – you just got me some water, and I only ‘ad breakfast half and hour ago.”
“Another pillow?”
“No.”
“Blanket?”
“No! I’m fine, honest. If there’s owt I need, I’ll tell you.”
“Want me to change the TV channel? Or put on some music?”
“It’s fine, I’m watchin’ this.”
“Need your painkillers?”
Chris took a deep breath. “I bust me ankle, Ray. I’m not paralysed.”
“I know…I just…”
“’S kind of you…but the reason I di’n’t go to me mum’s was cos she’d flap an’ worry an’ all.”
“And?”
“And you’re doin’ it worse!”
Ray sat in silence, looking at the floor.
“Want me to take you back to yer Mum’s?”
“NO!”
5. “Want a hand with that?”
She smiled, slightly embarrassed. “Thank you.”
Chris hefted the full bin bag away down the corridor.
“Sorry. ‘Ere, let me.” Chris moved the desk and tucked the chair neatly away, smiling widely at the girl.
“Thank you.”
“’S Chris,” Chris responded, and hesitantly held out his hand. After all, the girl did come and clean up CID every week.
She shook the offered hand. “Keira.”
“You can stand on my chair, ‘f you want,” Chris offered, as Keira struggled to reach to dust the tops of some cabinets.
“Thank you…Chris.”
He stood and moved his chair for her. When she had finished she returned the chair, smiling shyly.
“Shit! I mean…oops. Sorry, ‘ere, let me…” Chris grabbed the mop leaning close by and attempted to stop the flow of water from the bucket he’d kicked over.
Keira stood quickly as her skirt began soaking up the dirty water.
Chris looked up from his task and saw the soaked clothing.
“Oh…look, c’me ‘ere, I’ll…” He took her by the arm and led her toward the locker room. “Should get you out of them wet clothes, I bet…”
It was just his luck that Gene and Ray walked around the corner just as she delivered a stinging slap to his cheek.
“Ow!” he yelped, letting go of her arm and cupping his injured face.
“Hey! What’s up, love?” Gene asked, trying to work out what was happening.
“He,” Keira stabbed a finger toward Chris. “’As been tryin’ to chat me up for weeks. An’ now, finally, he’s tryin’ to get me to take me clothes off! ‘Ere, in the police station. Dirty bugger. Me Mam warned me what you lot are like.”
Chris gaped. “I weren’t! I was…I were just tryin’ to be friendly!”
“Too friendly,” the girl shot back.
Ray was biting his lip, trying not to laugh at the comical look of innocence on Chris’ face. He knew for a fact that Chris was telling the truth, but he wasn’t about to help him out in the face of an angry woman with a fast right hand.
For
hambelandjemima 5 times Ray thought Gene was wrong but didn't say so. (I’ve twisted your prompt…you’re getting ‘4 times Ray thought Gene was wrong but didn’t say so and one time Ray thought Gene was wrong and actually did something’ XD)
1. Ray drank his pint in silence.
“Ain’t fuckin’ natural, is it?”
There were noises of agreement from the others.
“Women, fuckin’ beautiful things. All tits an’ arse…why’d any bloke want some hairy fuckin’ fairy? Disgustin’, it is.”
There were more murmurs of agreement.
Ray wished he could leave, but it would seem odd, and everyone would comment.
“See them two today? Scared shitless. Ain’t real men, I s’pose. Still, got ‘em bang to rights. Stretch inside’ll show ‘em what society thinks of that shit. Perverts.” Gene lifted his pint. “Job well done.”
Ray didn’t raise his glass. Luckily no one noticed.
2. Gene had collapsed on the settle, tie undone, glass of Scotch hanging from one hand.
"Ain't surprised," he slurred. "Hours we put in an' shit we do."
Ray nodded silently, his feet resting on a nearby stool. His own scotch was sitting in front of him, on the sticky beer-stained table.
"Seen it coming. Didn't know what to do. 'S me, innit? Can't change tha'."
Ray grunted.
"'Sides, ain't like I'm a catch, is it? Beer gut," Gene paused to slap his stomach. "Fuckin' acne, still livin’ with me mum. No one'd want me."
Ray shifted his gaze onto Gene. The green eyes were unfocussed from the drink, bark blonde hair falling over his face, body relaxed in an easy sprawl, all grace and power accentuated by the uniform.
Six months later, when he watched Gene walk up the aisle with Theresa, forgiven for all his sins and their relationship back on track, he wished he had had the guts to tell Gene how wrong he was when he’d been given the chance. But he knew Gene’s opinion on queers.
3. “We’re wrappin’ it up. Movin’ on. Got them robberies to work on and that body out Trafford Park might still come back as suspicious.”
Ray looked up from his desk. “But…”
“Ain’t no ‘buts’. We’ve got no leads. Anything new comes along, maybe we go back to it. Otherwise, file it.”
Ray wanted to protest. They owed the family of dead girl more than that. She had been brutally murdered, and now the search for her killer would be consigned to a dusty shelf in the archive room. The murderer would be walking free, to strike again.
But he knew there was no point in kicking off about it. He didn’t want to fight with Gene. But he vowed not to forget the case, and to check regularly if anything could be done to further the investigation.
He gathered the files and walked down to the collator’s den. Most of the place was a mess, but one end of one shelf, high on the wall, where most people wouldn’t bother going, was a collection of files. Ray stood on the desk to reach them, slipping the newest addition inbetween them.
Next month, when he reviewed them all again, it would just take him a little longer.
4. Gene’s alcohol consumption was at an all time high. He would have been dancing on the bar, if he’d been sober enough to climb onto it.
“ONE NIL,” he chanted, along with half the squad. “ONE NIL, ONE NIIIIIL.”
He was spilling beer everywhere as he joined in with the jostling, swaying line of fellow supporters on the team.
Finally he detached himself from the group, moving to Ray’s side and throwing and arm around his lover’s shoulders – the only time and place such public displays of affection were allowed, and despite not wanting to celebrate, Ray welcomed it.
“Best fuckin’ day, ever, eh?”
Ray replayed the moment in his mind. Denis Law, backheeling the ball into United’s net. An ex-player, a traitor leaving the reds for City, and then consigning his old team to relegation.
But he didn’t say anything. It was the one thing he disagreed with Gene over, and it wasn’t worth starting an argument about now. Not when Gene was pressed up against him, happy and drunk.
5. Ray put another pint in front of Gene, who still had his head in his hands.
“’Ere, get this down you.”
Gene wrapped his hand around the beer mug, but still shook his head. “‘S…the worst day of my life. The worst day EVER.”
Ray tried to look suitably sombre.
“She…I can’t believe…fuckin’ women!”
Ray kept quiet, but signalled to Nelson that a large scotch was required.
“Fuckin’…bitch,” Gene said, when the original chaser had long since gone. But he didn’t say it with conviction, and Ray knew, deep down, he didn’t mean it.
“Another?”
Gene nodded morosely.
The glass was half empty before Gene spoke again. “S’pose…” then he fell silent.
“What?”
“You never know, d’you? When the last one’ll be. Last June. Our anniversary. Never knew it’d…”
Ray just nodded, sipping his own pint. “Ain’t gonna be the last time ever though, is it? I mean…”
“What?” Gene prompted.
“I mean, there’ll be someone else.”
Gene snorted.
His glass was fully empty before he finally answered. “Will there?”
“Course!” Ray answered. “I mean…’f it’s what you want?”
Gene slumped back against the settle. The pub was almost empty now. “Don’t know if I can be bothered. Findin’ a bird, at my age. Takin’ ‘er out, impresin’ ‘er. Not with the job. I mean…was ‘ard enough the first time. All them broken dates, ‘aving to explain to some hysterical bird it’s nowt to do with them that you keep standin’ ‘em up. Reckon ‘m better off on me own.”
Ray nodded. It was hard. He thought about all those years ago, when Tess had broken off the engagement. He’d been too young and scared to take his chance then. But now, all the years of friendship, teamwork, victories and defeats, he knew Gene Hunt better than Gene’s own wife had.
“I know someone. Already impressed, won’t be bothered by the job, don’t care ‘ow many call outs there is, as long as you come back safe, every time. Someone who reckons bein’ alone ain’t all it’s cracked up to be, cos it don’t stop the feelin’s, don’t stop the worry, don’t stop you lovin’ someone, just cos you reckon they won’t feel the same.”
Gene looked up, eyes unfocussed. “Who?”
Ray met the gaze. “Me.”
For
amproof, 5 times Ray decided to leave.1. He didn’t have much to pack. He only owned a few clothes, and he didn’t need his school uniform or Sunday best. He silently padded down to the kitchen, his shoes hanging from one hand, his school satchel from the other.
In the kitchen he found a crust of bread and some meat, carefully wrapping them in some paper. He left the house silently, making sure the door didn’t bang behind him.
He trod into his boots and walked up the garden path. He didn’t know how far away Manchester was, he didn’t know how he was going to get there, but he knew he had to try. His mother needed him, that much was clear from her latest letter, and no matter how much the authorities thought it was better that he lived in the country, with strangers, he knew better. No Germans were going to keep him from his mum.
2. He was proud of England. He was happy to fight for his country. He stood to attention, his uniform gleaming, pristine. His arm locked in a smart salute.
The families and well wishers on the dock waved flags, cheering the ship as it left on its new mission. The sea was calm in the sheltered waters, and the deck rose and fell below his feet with an easy, relaxed rhythm.
He knew this was his chance. He could prove himself. He was one of the best, or so they told him. Finally he had something to be proud of.
As they left the dock and headed for open sea the order was called to break from their ranks and get on with the business of running the huge ship.
Ray glanced backwards. The green and white of the coastline was receding fast. He felt a pang of homesickness already, but he knew the adventures which lay ahead would shape the rest of his life.
He turned away, looking instead to where the blue sky met the sea.
3. He didn’t look back. His kitbag was slung over his shoulder, and it contained everything he owned.
He didn’t know where he was going to spend the night or what he was going to do for money. But he was finally back in Manchester. It was so familiar, yet so different. The last time he’d seen the place it had been all ruins and bomb craters.
Now new buildings had sprung up and the city seemed to have a new life about it. He walked out of the dockyard, the solid pavement feeling strange under his feet after so many months at sea.
Finally he turned to stare back at the hulking grey boat which had been his home for so long. His home, his family, his life.
And then he turned back to the grimy streets. There was nothing for him here, yet it still felt more like home than anywhere else on Earth.
4. Ray looked out across the city. The twinkling lights were mesmerising. This was his city. His home. The skyline was changing with each year though, a sign of progress. A sign of changing times.
And inside the building he now stood on top of, things were changing there too. And Tyler was the one responsible.
Well, he wasn’t responsible for this. He wasn’t responsible for Ray forcing the kid to sniff the cocaine. Not directly, anyway. But he was responsible for Ray needing to prove to Gene just what a good police officer he was. Ray had never had to try to do that before. He was the best copper in the department, that got him respect. But not any more. Not now Tyler picked apart everything he did.
Ray lifted the half-empty bottle to his lips and took a long swig.
He wondered what had driven Sam up here, when he first arrived. He had heard the story second-hand from Chris. Annie had found Tyler on the roof, and she had been sure he was going to jump off.
Ray took a step closer to the edge and swayed a little, the combined effect of the alcohol and the cool wind.
Half pay. A DC. And Gene’s disappointment. It all hurt. Too much.
He looked downward and took another step. It brought him to the edge of the roof. There was nowhere else to go now.
“Ray! Ray, don’t!”
The desperation in Chris’s tone was clear. Ray turned and as he did so he swayed.
Chris moved forward urgently, as if he could somehow cross the metres between them and save Ray in the split second he had. But Ray steadied himself.
"'S all changin', Chris," he called out and waved the bottle expansively at the city. "An' I don't belong."
"You do!" Chris was closing the gap, looking terrified.
"You got Tyler now," Ray slurred. "Don' need me no more. Don't need a fuck'n murderer on the squad."
"You're not a murderer." Chris was speaking more softly now that he was only a few feet from Ray. "You couldn't 'ave known his heart would give out."
Ray dropped his head forward, and then moved slightly so he could see straight down the front of the building. "S it, ain't it? Didn't know, didn't think, didn't do it right. " He turned suddenly, making Chris jump again. "'S is 'ow it should be, right? You said Tyler were up here, wanted to end it all, all them months ago. 'S when the Guv still thought I were worth summat as a copper. Well now 's all changed. Tyler's the Guv's boy now, an' I'm the psycho. You stick with them two, Chris, and you'll be the fuckin' best."
Chris threw himself forward, grabbing Ray's wrist and pulling the both back, away from the edge. He stumbled and fell, dragging Ray down beside him, and watched as the Scotch bottle hit the roof with a thunk, then piroetted lazily before tipping over the edge.
It seemed a long time before they heard the smash of glass below.
Chris was shaking, his grip still vice-like on Ray's arm. Ray was lying on his back, staring up at the clouds scudding across the moon.
"Don't leave me," Chris murmured, not letting go.
5. Ray glanced around. The room was empty of anything personal. The tatty furniture was all that was left.
"That everything?" Gene asked, appearing in the doorway.
"Yeah, yeah it is."
Gene nodded, glancing around too. "Time to go then?"
Ray let out a sigh, then nodded.
"Odd, ain't it?" Gene said as they descended the stairs.
"Di'n't ever think I'd leave 'ere," Ray answered. "Not again."
"You don't 'ave to, you know. I don't want you to feel like I'm forcing you to do this."
Ray shook his head. "We're a team. 'Sides, what would be left here for me?"
Gene didn't reply, but he knew it was true.
"Anyway, someone's gotta show them soft Southern pansies 'ow it's done, 'aven't they?"
Gene smiled, reaching in his pocket for his hip flask. He held it up. "To London."
Ray waited for him to take a swig and pass it over. "London," he echoed.
I'm still writing the rest - they'll arrive as I finish them, Some of you are evil and fiendish!