echo_voice

And it should have all been perfect from there. Perhaps it would have been if so many loose ends were not dangling tauntingly in front of Sam’s nose, the rainbow mocking him.

He took Annie back to his flat that night and knew from the moment they walked in that it was a mistake. She didn’t belong there in that grimy little hovel; she was too perfect, too innocent. The walls still stirred up indefinable emotions in Sam and for a moment he could do nothing but stare around the room. Annie touched his arm and he jerked back to reality, a frown touching his lips.

He tried desperately to lose himself in her soft skin and gentle scent that night and in many ways succeeded, her pleasure acting as his purgatory as he moved numb lips over her skin. His mouth paused over her heartbeat just once more, feeling its pulse and trying to take in the fact that she was real, she was flesh and blood, she was human. She sighed and it soon turned to moans when his mouth worked downwards to find the spot between her legs. He felt an odd kind of pleasure at this; she deserved to be worshipped. He needed to give her something in return for the unconditional loyalty she had always shown him. When she tried to return his favour and her lips met his skin, he very gently pushed her back down, murmuring that tonight was about her not him. His mind was oddly detached from the whole situation. Maybe it was natural, he reasoned, given the events of the day, but each soft brush of her fingers spoke of betrayal. The twisting guilt was odd: had he not kept his promise and come back to her?

Broken apologies and nonsensical explanations tumbled out unbidden when he drove into her welcoming heat but she shushed him and claimed a kiss instead, murmuring that everything was fine, that it was all over, that they were together now. But if that was the case, why did it somehow feel unfinished? Forgiveness had been placed too willingly at his feet. He had only had to actively seek it with Gene. And what on earth was he doing, thinking all this rubbish in such a bizarre way when he was in bed with a woman he cared so deeply about?

He did not sleep for a long time, even when Annie’s head was pillowed on his chest and her soft breathing was the only thing he could hear. In the darkness he made a monumental decision to tie up the loose ends once and for all. Then perhaps the guilt would fade and he could finally fully believe that he could live in this world.

He left her early in the morning to slip out unnoticed. The graveyard seemed as good a meeting place as any. A quick, abrupt phone call, a discussion with his conscience, and Sam stood in the dim morning light by the gravestones, waiting silently as he ran his eyes over the names again and again. Not that it mattered now. Nothing in his head was sorted out just yet apart from one thing: he, Sam Tyler or Williams or whatever, was home. And that was a final decision that he would never go back on, and that meant resolving a few issues, removing the cancer.

The slight scuff of gravel made him turn his head, gaze sweeping over the expected figure of Morgan and his perfect suit.

“What happened, Sam?” His voice was so oddly comforting, so soothing and reassuring: the voice of reason. Good thing that Sam gave up on reason a little while ago then. 

“I destroyed the tapes,” he stated flatly.

Morgan nodded. “I thought you might have done. Don’t worry, there’s still a chance.”

“I don’t think you understand me. I’m not going back to Hyde. I am staying here, and Gene is damn well staying with me,” Sam said coldly.

“Hunt’s letting you back in his team? What a fool. We could use that trust, Sam, we c…”

Sam was gripping the front of Morgan’s jacket before he even realised he had moved. “You stay away from Gene. And you stay away from me.”

“I see Hunt is brushing off on you already,” Morgan said calmly, removing Sam’s hands and shaking his head. “What a waste, Sam. You used to be such a good copper. And I thought we understood each other.”

“If you understood me, you should have known I would never have let them die! You take the moral high ground, Morgan, but you don’t have a clue about what it is to be a good police officer! I’ll tell you one thing, it is not about furthering your career and removing everything in you path to get there!”

Morgan looked at him oddly. “But it was, for you. You’ve done it before.”

A long silence stretched out. “Done what before?” Sam whispered, dreading the answer.

“Left someone to die, Sam. Taken his place as DI.”

Sam’s throat constricted and he felt the blood rush from his face. The world lost its bright colours, greying suddenly and spinning with his thoughts. “No, no I wouldn’t…”

“Oh but you did. Of course, the amnesia…” Morgan gazed intently at Sam, his eyes emotionless and cold.

Sam swallowed thickly and it hurt to do so. “You’re lying.”

“Seems to me that you just need to remember who you are. Then you’ll come back to me Sam, and together we will weed out every last seed of corruption.”

Anger won over Sam’s sense of terror and he shook his head violently. “Fighting corruption with corruption? Gene Hunt is twice the copper you’ll ever be, and don’t you forget it. Being a copper is in his blood, whereas I don’t even know if you have any. I will never work with you again.”

It was in that second that Morgan’s gaze became steely and the mad glint in his eye that Sam should have noticed before became overly apparent. “Please don’t make this mistake, Sam. I don’t want to have to bring you down too, but I will if necessity dictates. You don’t want to be my enemy. You and Hunt will be ruined.”

Sam’s jaw clenched, but then a small movement caught his eye. A cigarette end came from nowhere, landing in the space between him and Morgan. “We’re quaking,” the familiar voice growled.

“What in hell’s name are you doing here!” Sam snapped, spinning to confront the coat-clad figure.

“Followed you,” Gene shrugged.

“Why?” The implicit question hung in the air: don’t you trust me? And Gene had every right not to.

But the expressive green eyes locked with his and Gene gave an almost imperceptible shake of his head. “Because I don’t trust him.” Gene sauntered over, hands in his pockets in his classic pose. Something in Sam relaxed and Morgan’s power over him seemed to almost wilt. Just having Gene standing there spoke to Sam of loyalty and protection, and Morgan didn’t have a chance.

“You don’t know what you’re getting into Hunt. I could bring you both down in seconds,” Morgan said softly.

“Yeah? Well you know what I think? I think that’s utter bollocks. That’s twice you’ve failed, now.” Gene grinned mockingly, exchanging a glance with Sam. “You’re lucky that I haven’t kicked seven types of shit out of you, Morgan. There’s still time though, eh?”

Morgan sneered at him. “It’s all about fists with you, Hunt.”

“And it’s all about being a sneaky little prick with you. Now get lost before I lose what little patience I have.” Gene had switched suddenly and was in full menace mode, his shoulders squared and his glare unforgiving. Morgan was no fool and would never challenge that. He shrugged smoothly, easily, flicking a quick look at Sam.

“He will betray you in the end, Gene,” he said softly. “It’s the way he is.” With that, Morgan walked away.

“Tosser,” Gene snarled, his hand making a lewd gesture at the suited back. Then he turned to the unmoving Sam. Sam tried to make his expression devoid of the shock and torment he felt, but could tell by the look Gene gave him that he had failed. “Snap out of it, Gladys. We have a team to get back to.”

“I…I’d like to go home and just -”

“Don’t be a pansy, Sam, or I will get mad,” Gene sniffed.

“But Morgan-”

“But Morgan what? It’s over.” Gene paused, giving him a sharp look. “What are you doing tonight?”

“Well, Annie…”

“Then cancel it. I’m buying you a drink.”

Sam blinked at this unusual offer. It took a moment for him to realise that Gene must have overheard the whole conversation and that this was some kind of subtle gratitude. He sighed deeply and realised that on consideration he really would like to get mind-numbingly drunk. Gene, remarkably perceptive to Sam’s moods, saw the change and clapped him on the shoulder.

“Good man.”

Yes, the team beckoned. Crime stopped for no man and Sam was for once glad that it didn’t, aware that it was the one way he could lose himself today, block out Morgan’s cryptic words and allow himself to think with the aid of a bottle of whiskey later. They headed towards the Cortina and Sam felt himself relax: this was what he knew, this was what he loved, this was nothing more or less than Sam Tyler and Gene Hunt, partners in – or against - crime. They slid into the car seats simultaneously and Sam immediately put his seatbelt on out of habit. An odd calm washed over him until the engine rumbled into life and it was replaced with the usual tightening of his hands on the leather seat. Gene paused to turn conversationally to him, noting the white knuckles with a grin.

“So. Looks like my squirrel instincts were right all along, eh Sammy-boy? What a bastard.”

Sam snorted in spite of himself, the glum mood lifting a bit. “Quite, guv. We should get you to wear the suit more often.”

The punch to his arm was fair enough.

***

For a split second as he walked through the doors of CID, everything was clean and blue and grey and modern, and Sam panicked, blinked, and breathed again only when his eyes took in the smoke-filled haven he knew. Odd, really, how it had once been an alien world, but now no other sight felt more comfortable. Especially not his poky little flat.

Gene’s hand fell heavily on his shoulder for a minute before he strolled into his office. Sam watched him leave before walking over to his own desk, eyes running over the folders strewn across it. Somehow Gene always managed to land him with all the paperwork, signing only the necessities and smirking when Sam moaned about it.

“God is in the detail, eh Tyler?”

And given that it would never get done if Sam didn’t sort through it, he had started to do it without so much protest. Today it had exactly the mind numbing effect he was after, clean white sheet after clean white sheet studied and filed. A presence beside his desk jerked him away from the words and he looked up to see Annie in front of him, slightly nervous and edgy. He smiled a smile he didn’t quite feel and she returned it in relief.

“I missed you this morning. Where’d you go?”

“Oh, you know, stuff to sort out,” Sam replied nonchalantly, moving to take her hand over the desk.

“Not at work, Sam,” she whispered scandalised, but her eyes shone with pleasure.

Sam withdrew, gaze sweeping over her thoughtfully.

“Tyler!”

Gene’s head was poking round the office door as he levelled a glare at his DI.

Sam shook his head and stood up, touching her briefly on the arm. “I have to go. The beast bellows.”

“Sam…”

But he didn’t turn, striding to Gene’s office.

“Guv?”

“We’ve got a call. Armed robbery at a bank. They’ve taken quite a substantial wad from a safe. Apparently they’ve left a little message too. Right up your street, eh Sherlock?”

“Any witnesses?”

“’Course. Bastards wore masks though. C’mon, Gladys, let’s go preserve the crime scene like you love to do so much.” Gene clapped his hands together and stood up, grabbing his trademark coat on the way out.

“Ray, I want you to start pulling witnesses in when we get there,” Gene said as he passed his desk.

“And Chris, get forensics down there,” Sam called.

“Already done it boss!”

Gene snorted. “Got him well trained, haven’t you Tyler? I might need to start beating the Hyde ways out of him soon.”

Sam winced slightly at the mention of Hyde but said nothing.

Gene sent him a sneaky sidelong glance as they descended the stairs outside the station. “So, what was she like?”

Sam tilted his head in confusion. “What?”

“Cartwright, what was she like?”

“Gene, I am not discussing this with you.”

Gene sniffed. “Trust you and your respect for women bullshit.”

“Shall we get on with the job in hand maybe, guv?” Sam asked impatiently.

“Your wish is my command, m’lady.”

Sam rolled his eyes and got into the car, but couldn’t resist sneaking glances at Gene as they raced through Manchester; his guv’s expression was still oddly closed.

“Look,” he said, to break the tension, “I just don’t want to talk about Annie, okay?”

Gene scowled and caught his gaze just briefly. “If it interferes with work, Tyler, I interfere with it,” he growled quietly.

Sam’s eyebrows shot up, but Gene’s attention was back on the road. The rest of the drive was made in silence.

The bank was in turmoil, people everywhere in a panic. Sam ignored the bank workers who tried to grab his attention and strode straight to the safe, ducking under the roping with Gene close behind him.

“C’mon then, genius. Do your thing,” Gene said expectantly.

Sam ignored him, studying the scene carefully as he always did. Anything would do: a used bullet, a footprint, and tiny thread from a snagged sleeve. But there was nothing; the polished floor completely pristine but for a couple of scuff marks from shoes he had already been informed belonged to the worker who was dragged in at gunpoint to open the safe. He moved over to the safe and nudged the door open. A single piece of paper sat in the centre, black cut-out letters bold and clear.

TIN MAN WITH NO HEART.

“What on earth..?” Sam muttered. Taking a pair of tweezers out of his pocket that he now always carried with him following Annie’s clever use of them, he plucked up the paper and turned to Gene. “Here’s your message, Guv.”

Gene studied it, his gaze flicking from paper to Sam and back again. “What the bleeding heck does that mean then, Sherlock?”

“I haven’t got a clue.”

“Jesus. This one must be serious if nothing’s sprung into that mind tank of yours.”

Sam placed the paper into a plastic bag with a shrug. “C’mon then, Gene. I’ve got nothing until forensics get back to me, so it’s your move.”

“Oh goody. I do like it when you let me go first. Makes proceedings much more entertaining.”

“Why don’t I like the sound of that?”

“Because you’re a nancy boy.”

Gene ducked back under the roping and strode over to Ray.

“Raymondo, I want you and Chris to start interviewing the witnesses. See if you can squeeze something useful out, eh?”

“Yes, guv.”

“Me and Tyler will be back before you blink, so if anything goes wrong I’ll beat you black and blue, got it?”

“Won’t let you down, guv.”

“Glad to hear it.” Gene turned to catch sight of Sam, who was still standing by the safe with eyes narrowed in suspicion. “Well come on Gladys. Get your coat.”

“Are you taking me somewhere nice, guv?” he quipped, very carefully ignoring Ray’s expression and ducking under the roping.

“Course, what do you take me for? We’re going on a tour of the city.”

“How romantic.”

“Yeah, well don’t let me hear you say that I never take you places.”

Sam rubbed a hand over his chin. “Gene, we are going to do this by the book, aren’t we?”

Gene clapped him on the shoulder, steering him unswervingly towards the door. “Do you know what I love about the book, Tyler?”

“Surprise me.”

“It’s just so open to interpretation.”

Gene’s idea of ‘going by the book’ turned out to be a matter of pacing the streets of Manchester, digging out every contact he had and asking every snout he had in his pocket who was behind the robbery. And they got nothing, each person clamming up, closed and blank-faced. Gene bribed, blackmailed, threatened and came shockingly close to pleading, but no one was forthcoming until his frustration was at breaking point. Sam couldn’t help it, the smug smirk creeping over his face as he grinned at Gene from the safety of the other side of the car.

“So, how about we have a go with some of my methods now? That’s how it works, right?”

Gene scowled at his DI’s goading and pushed away from the Cortina. “Not just yet, Tyler. Our little date’s not quite over yet. Get in the car.”

Sam shrugged and obeyed, self-righteously calm as they screeched down back alleys to what was supposedly Gene’s last flailing attempt at success. Gene got out with a flurry of camel-coloured coat, opening Sam’s door and dragging his DI out by the arm to join him. Sam almost questioned his guv’s dark expression but decided on the wiser option of silent obedience, but he halted completely when he saw where they were.

“You’ve got to be kidding me. How’s this productive?”

“Shut it Doris. He knows about every robbery that goes on around here, you know that.”

“But why would he cough up when everyone else in Manchester has refused?”

“He did before.”

“I don’t think I need to remind you that circumstances were slightly different then.”

“If there’s one thing he hates, it’s people stamping on his toes, and he doesn’t care who removes them. Now shut your trap and move!”

The door to the warehouse was thrown open and Gene strode inside.

“Malone!”

There was a significant pause before Malone drifted predictably out of the shadows to meet them. “Well, well, I must say interruptions like this are becoming most frequent Mr Hunt. Oh, and you’ve brought your little lapdog with you.”

Gene moved like lightning to grasp Malone by the collar, pulling him upwards until they were nose to nose. Sam rolled his eyes and let him get on with it with a quiet but persistent disapproval, leaning against the wall with his arms folded.

“Given that you’ve been so helpful in the past, Mr Malone, we thought you might want to try again. Who’s behind the armed robbery?” Gene hissed.

Malone very carefully detached Gene’s hands from his collar, smoothing his jacket down and Sam was surprised to see his guv let him. Gene was unusually wary, perhaps painfully aware of how quickly his options were closing, and it made Sam uncomfortable, especially given the play of emotions over Malone’s face. That was fear, anxiety, and distrust, but Sam couldn’t understand why Malone would be so scared.

Malone took his time before answering, a daring move given Gene’s tense posture. “You don’t know what you’re getting into, Hunt,” he stated finally, blowing out a soft breath.

“Try me,” Gene growled, his jaw set with the effort of self-restraint.

Malone turned his back on them, walking over to the table at the back of the room. He rested one hand on it, head bowed. “I’ll give you a name because you’ll hear it sooner or later. It’s all over town.”

“If it is, no one will cough up,” Sam interjected.

Malone snorted, apparently unsurprised. “Won’t they? Goodness, he works quickly. His name’s Jack King.”

“Never heard of him,” Gene snapped.

Malone threw a glance over his shoulder. “You will.”

Sam frowned and pushed away from the wall, walking slowly down the steps away from the door to stand by Gene. “You don’t mind that he’s on your patch?”

Malone barked out a laugh. “I am many things, DI Tyler, but I am not stupid. You don’t challenge King. Besides, he’ll be off again as soon as whatever job this is has been done. It’s the way he works.”

“He bloody won’t, because I’ll have collared him and turfed his sorry arse into one of my cells!”

“Good luck with that, DCI Hunt,” Malone drawled. He patted down his jacket, pulling out a cigar, lighting it and blowing out a cloud of the pungent fumes to the dank ceiling, his dark eyes flicking from Gene to Sam and back again. “And yet maybe if he can be caught…” Then he shook his head and smirked. “No, you haven’t a hope in hell. Take a friendly warning, gents, and steer clear.”

“I don’t need a warning from a scumbag like you!” Gene growled.

Malone shrugged. “Don’t say I didn’t try.”

“There was a message,” Sam interrupted. “Something about a tin man. What does it mean, Malone?”

“You’re the detective. You should be paying me wages at this rate.”

Gene growled but Sam shook his head. “Oh come on. You don’t want this guy here, do you? It’s written all over your face. The more you give us, the sooner he’ll be gone.”

“And I’ll be waiting for you to slip up as soon as he does…” Gene muttered.

Malone ignored Gene, taking another long drag of the cigar. “He likes to think he’s imaginative, a child at heart. He themes his crimes: children’s stories, it’s his trademark.”

“Why?”

Malone shrugged. “You need to ask a doctor that. Now if you don’t mind, gentlemen..?”

Gene strode out of the door cursing, but Sam followed more slowly, troubled by Malone’s easy revelations and the name that dropped so quickly from fearful lips.

Gene was perched on the boot of the Cortina smoking. As Sam sat next to him, he blew out a frustrated breath, slamming his hands down on the bonnet.

“I don’t like it Sam.”

Sam nodded, rubbing his chin. “Whoever he is, he’s got Malone coughing up like we slipped drugs into his morning coffee. Something’s not right. Malone was scared, guv.”

“So Malone’s a pansy, that’s not important. What I want to know is who this King is and what he’s doing on my patch scaring my snouts into bloody silence.”

“And why he’s apparently basing his crimes around the Wizard of Oz.”

Gene snorted and moved round to slide into the Cortina. “Quite, Dorothy.”

“That’s not funny.”

“Thought it was quite witty meself.”

“You would.”