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Of Wolf and Man; Who let the dogs out, who, who, who?
Topic Started: Mar 12 2016, 06:14 PM (14,177 Views)
Gene Hunt
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*Being a werewolf isn't easy. And neither is being under the thumb of a werewolf hunter. Someone who knows your secret and is only just barely holding back from tracking you down and putting a silver bullet between your eyes for the one reason that you're more valuable to him alive than dead. At the moment, anyway. And it's not like the relationship isn't mutually beneficial in some way. Even though Gene despises taking the money, he has no choice. It's live and live well with all the information he needs or die and end up someone's throw rug.

It's been this way for years, between Warren and Gene. It's routine. And so far Gene's fairly sure Warren's the only one who knows. His colleagues don't. They only know that he's unavailable for evening drinks once a month because of "wife commitments", though none of them have been brave enough to point out that they haven't seen his missus in years. Sam definitely doesn't know. It'd blow his little mind,considering how he's already a little peculiar.

But of course, like he always does, here's Sam bloody Tyler - his best mate, his right hand, his deputy dog - putting all of this at risk. He doesn't know the specific nature of the danger he's putting them both in, how could he. And Warren would never DO anything about it, he knows that Warren needs Gene too much. Having a DCI at your beck and call is nothing to throw away just because of some uppity little twerp rocking the boat. Right?? *
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Sam Tyler
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Gladys
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*Sam turns to look back at Gene, eyebrows raised.*

No hot chocolate for you if you can't even handle soup.

*And with that, he makes his way out in the hallway, towards the telephone. To call to Phyllis is quickly over and done with - luckily, she keeps most of her jibes to herself - but afterwards, Sam doesn't quite know what to do with himself. Going back into the lounge seems... somewhat awkward. And besides, Sam is hungry. He'd been waiting for Gene to wake up, so that they might eat lunch together... But it looks like he'll have to eat on his own now.

So Sam walks over into the kitchen, heading for the stove. Halfway there, he remembers his promise to Gene - tea - and puts the kettle on before pouring himself a plate of soup. Hopefully Gene will at least want to join him in sitting by the table instead of sulking in the lounge...*
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Gene Hunt
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*Once Gene realises that Sam isn't coming back, he feels that pull for company again. Even though Sam's being a right nag at the moment, he finds his presence reassuring somehow. It's nice not to be alone while he feels like shut. Whenever he used to come back after a transformation feeling like he'd been ripped apart and put back together again, his missus had always assumed he'd been out on a bender all night or that he'd been off shagging someone in a bush. And those kinds of assumptions never led to much sympathy. But even though this is just a bug or something, it means a lot that Sam's sticking around.

By the time he's even finished the thought, he finds himself bumbling over to the kitchen counter and sitting down.*

What flavour concoction have you conjured up then?
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Sam Tyler
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Gladys
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*Sam looks up when Gene enters, having just poured the boiling water into a mug. He reaches over and sets it down in front of Gene.*

'ere you go.

It's tomato soup. Easy on the stomach, and filling.

*The full plate is already at the table, so Sam sits down, grimacing slightly as the motion pulls at his side, and his leg protests as it bends.*

Help yourself, if you like.
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Gene Hunt
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*Tea. The nectar of the heavens. Even though the soup does smell delicious, Gene'll try the tea first and then possibly grab a bowl. Depending on his stomach.*

I'll see how I go.

*gratefully, he pulls the tea closer and takes hold of the spoon, swilling it around inside the mug as he waits for it to cool.

And don't think Gene's too out of it to notice you wincing, Sam.*

Leg giving you gip?
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Sam Tyler
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Gladys
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*Sam looks up, then lowers his head again, nodding.*

A bit. It's all that sitting 'round.

*He doesn't like admitting it - he has a suspicion that Gene might use Sam's problems to deflect attention from his own... but Sam won't let that happen.

He swallows down a first spoonful of soup before asking*

When did all this start? The headache an' all that.
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Gene Hunt
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*deflecting isn't working this time - Sam's onto him. And he's starting to ask more questions. What's he trying to figure out now....? *

'Bout the same time you and Porkchop got acquainted properly. Maybe just after.

*raises his mug to his lips, not quite sipping at it yet*

Probably come from being around you so much. S'given me a brain injury.
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Sam Tyler
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Gladys
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*Around the time Sam was attacked...

He puts down his spoon, then digs in his trouser pocket with the other.

A moment later, Sam places the package of cigarettes on the table, between the both of them. His voice is calm when he speaks - he's practically switched into interrogation mode, trying to gently coax a confession out of the suspect. Except that here, he's not trying to trip Gene up... all he wants is to help him. Get to the bottom of this mysterious illness.*

Is that also when you started smoking these?
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Gene Hunt
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*This... Feels almost like Sam's implying something... Like he's slowly turning this into a police questioning. Gene looks down at the cigarette packet with a raised eyebrow. Why the hell--?*

Did you snatch those from my office?!
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Sam Tyler
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Gladys
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They were on your desk, yeah.

*Sam makes no move to pick them up again - if Gene wants them back, he can have them.*

I've never seen you smoke these before - in fact, I've never even seen them around anywhere.

*It's an elaborate design, and the cigarettes themselves look absolutely high quality... can't be cheap. He's sure that if they had been widely used in the 70s, he would have seen that design at some point in his life, even if it was just at one of those strange exhibits Maya had started dragging him to.

Realizing that Gene has grown tense and defensive, Sam picks up his spoon again.*

Look, I'm not trying to put you on the spot 'ere. I'm just trying to help.

*Help you feel better.*
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Gene Hunt
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*How is this helping? If Sam wants to help he could pour Gene a hefty whisky and then tuck him into bed. Just what is Sam trying to say, here? Gene's too tired to even think.*

You an expert in cigarette packaging now?

*He reaches across and takes the packet back, sliding it towards himself and pulling out one cigarette. The fact that Warren gave these to him makes him feel even sicker. But it's either he take the packets Warren gives him, or Warren takes his head. Given that alarming choice, Gene'll take the free fags any day.*

Look, I already told you about Warren. I take the cigarette agreement and you give me grief. I don't take the cigarettes, he cuts my nads off and wears 'em as earrings. I can't bloody win.
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Sam Tyler
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Gladys
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*Sam's gaze sharpens as he watches Gene take out the cigarette. And then...

Sam's eyes widen slightly. Warren. Gene's illness started after Sam's attack... He can only assume that afterwards, the two had a talk. And Sam hasn't seen Gene use these cigarettes before, so they're an entirely new gift of Warren's...*

Dont you think it's odd that you started feeling sick after you started smoking those cigarettes?

*It's more of a hunch than anything, but if Sam has learned anything in the last few weeks, it's that sometimes, just sometimes, he does need to listen to his gut rather than his head. God knows his mind hasn't been much use in coping with what happened to him.*
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Gene Hunt
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*Gene pauses, then looks down at the small white object in his hand. Warren hasn't given him this brand before... and the packet had no wrapper around it. The box was unsealed.

The nausea starts to well up again as the possible implications start to swirl around Gene's head.

Pale again, Gene looks back up at Sam.*

................. Shit.

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Sam Tyler
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Gladys
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*Even before Gene says anything, Sam knows he hit the nail on the head. The realisation gives him no satisfaction; to the contrary, seeing how Gene turns white as a sheet, he leans forward and reaches out, placing his hand over Gene's - the one holding the cigarette.*

Steady on. You'll be okay. We'll sort you out.

... Were there any other unusual... Presents?
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Gene Hunt
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*Gene feels Sam's hand closing over his own, and while he knows he should pull away, he doesn't. The way he feels right now, he'll take any comfort he can get - and Sam's the only one who knows about this. He's the only one Gene can trust.

Gene swallows hard, trying to keep the anger and fear from taking over.*

Bastard always seals the deal with cigars... booze... It's his twisted version of a handshake. He offers you something, if you don't take it you're in the shit.
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Sam Tyler
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Gladys
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*Sam nods - he'd thought as much... And it fits with what happened when Sam first met the man...*

Right. So we can assume that whatever he gave you after the attack was most likely... laced with something.

*He doesn't want to say 'poisoned'. Not when Gene has probably been taking that stuff for the entire three weeks.*

We'll get the cigarettes examined, find what's in there. Soon as we know, we'll have an antidote.

*Sam is telling this Gene as much as himself - seeing Gene the way he is causes his heart to ache in ways he wouldn't have thought possible. Not when the injured party is his cantankerous DCI.*

You have to stop smoking these. Get rid of whatever else he gave you. Keep up the act when he's around, but drop it as soon as you can.
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Gene Hunt
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*Poisoned. That's the word Sam was going to say. Poisoned. He's been poisoned. Ever since he took that first cigar, that first sip of whiskey that Warren'd offered him after Sam's attack, he's been taking something in. In his mind he cycles through all the things it could possibly be - all the chemicals and concoctions that Warren could have slipped him - Arsenic? Cyanide?

.... But then there's the big question...

Brow furrowing in confusion, Gene shakes his head slightly*

What would he wanna bump me off for? Before a full moon, anyway? M'not worth anything unless I've got the fangs and fur to flog...
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Sam Tyler
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Gladys
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*For a moment, Sam is confused - but then he realises that what Gene is saying makes sense. If what he told Sam is true, then Warren would want to... God, and it's not easy to consider his, but he'd want to go for Gene's fur. As a sick sort of trophy, if nothing else.

Sam's brows knit together in a frown, his hand still resting on Gene's. His mind is quickly going through all the possible options, even the ones that seem too fantastic to be true...*

...You're weakened. Maybe that's the purpose? Weaken you before...

*He can't go on. Sam bites his lower lip, taking a breath before starting again.*

When's the next full moon? A week from now?
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Gene Hunt
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*'Weaken him before....'

Before murdering him, presumably. Unless there's some other plan. Maybe Warren really does just want him out of the way, even at a loss. Maybe he's just had enough and is waiting for Gene to drop dead. Maybe the poison isn't temporary. Maybe it's fatal. Maybe, so many maybe's. Warren's too tricky to know for sure what he'd go for...

Still Gene's hand rests on the table under Sam's as he slumps, dropping his head into his free hand.*

Yeah, next week.

Though the rate I'm going I'll be knocking on death's door before that.
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Sam Tyler
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Gladys
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*Sam's throat closes up at the sight of Gene, slumped on the table, head in his hand. Here they are, sitting in his kitchen, discussing... his possible death.

Sam has to swallow past the lump in his throat before he's able to speak.*

Don't say that. We'll find out what's in there and reverse it.

*The cogs in his mind are still whirring away, and even as he speaks, his mind focused on the substance analysis, a different thought comes to mind.*

Would regular poisonous substances still harm you as a... as a wolf?
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Gene Hunt
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*Gene can feel his heart beating hard in his chest - he's suddenly hyper aware of the way his blood feels coursing through his body - the churning of his stomach and every little ache and pain.*

I don't know, do I. S'not like I go drink bleach regularly on a weekend.

*He grits his teeth, trying to keep himself together.*

... I s'pose not... If it was silver it would.. But I don't know about anything else...
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Sam Tyler
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Gladys
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*Silver.

Sam's gaze drifts to the side as he processes this, his eyes having narrowed slightly. Warren's only reason to kill Gene would be to get his coat of fur... but Gene had managed to fight off Edwards fairly easily, from what Sam hazily remembers. So it wouldn't be easy to overpower a werewolf.

Unless it was weakened.

And the only thing that weakens a werewolf...

Sam's grip on Gene's hand tightens a little.*

*grimly* ... that must be it. Silver.
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Gene Hunt
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*Silver... Gene stares at Sam with wide, angry eyes.*

That... That bastard...!

He made me think - -!

*Gene cuts himself off, trying to control the rage in his voice.*

He made me believe I was in the clear! He was playing games with me!!
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Sam Tyler
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Gladys
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*Bloody hell.

Sam swallows, taking in Gene's expression of rage and betrayal. He thought he was safe... That's why he accepted the cigarettes and smoked them without a second thought... And now look at him. Jesus Christ.

This is the extent of this terrible deal...

Sam finally withdraws his hand from Gene's, intertwining his own fingers with each other, staring down at the tabletop.

The question is on the tip of Sam's tongue, but he can't bring himself to ask.

"How could you ever have believed him?"*
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Gene Hunt
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*Sam says nothing. And that silence speaks volumes. Sam's definitely thinking something that he's not saying. And after a moment, Gene realises what that must be.

Sam's thinking he's gullible.

The thought stings more than the silver currently prickling his lungs. He doesn't like to admit it, but Sam's opinion of him really does mean a lot, deep down.

Overwhelmed by the toxic cocktail of emotions, Gene leans back against his chair and closes his eyes with a ragged sigh.*

I'm a sodding idiot.
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Sam Tyler
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Gladys
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*Sam looks up again when he hears that sigh. He hadn't thought it possible, but Gene looks even more defeated now. It feels so... Wrong.

Sam can't hide how badly the sight of Gene in a state like this breaks his heart. For a moment, he just wants to get over there, wrap his arms around Gene, and never let go.

Instead, he leans in again a little. Once more, he extends his hand - but this time, he doesn't just take Gene's. Instead, he leaves his own hand, palm up, on the desk - a clear invitation for Gene.*

*quietly* ...'ey...
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Gene Hunt
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*With the physical state he's in combined with his mental and emotional downturn, Gene almost doesn't want to open his eyes to look at Sam. But he needs to get a grip. He's the DCI here. He can't be a coward.

Slowly he brings his head forward again and opens his eyes, catching sight of Sam's hand resting there, palm up.

The rawness of the situation controlling him like a puppet, Gene watches his own hand move towards Sam's, their fingers brushing. Gene doesn't have the courage to take Sam's hand properly, but he rests his hand next to Sam's anyway, fingers just touching.

Then he looks back up at Sam, waiting for him to continue*
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Sam Tyler
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Gladys
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*The brush of Gene's fingers against his own sends a soft tingling sensation up his arm, almost causing Sam to smile. But the situation is too serious for this.

Gently, Sam moves his hand over, taking Gene's properly - though it feels different from before.

His voice is much softer when he speaks, free of accusation.*

... You had reason to believe he was telling the truth, then.
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Gene Hunt
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*grateful that Sam was able to take that step that he couldn't, Gene's fingers twitch in Sam's.*

I didn't, that's the bloody thing. He's had this in mind from the start.

I just didn't want to believe it was actually gonna happen.
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Sam Tyler
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Gladys
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*Feeling the little twitch, Sam makes sure to keep his hold on Gene's hand - above all else, he needs to let him know that it'll be okay. He'll be okay.

So he speaks with all the conviction he can muster*

We'll fix this. He won't get you.
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Gene Hunt
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*They'll fix it. Warren won't get him.

Gene feels his thoughts shift - that's right. Warren won't get him. Warren won't have the chance. If it's kill or be killed, Gene knows what the only real option is. Confront the bastard and settle it once and for all.

Frown set on his face, Gene mutters darkly.*

He won't have the chance.

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Sam Tyler
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Gladys
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*Sam is relieved to see the change in Gene's demeanour - until he notices the grim look on his face.

Carefully, Sam asks*

... What do you mean?
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Gene Hunt
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*Gene sets his jaw, determined now. He won't just take this lying down. If he can surprise Warren, make the first move, maybe he can prevent this...*

I'll nip this in the bud. Go over there, catch him with 'is trousers down. Make the first move.
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Sam Tyler
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Gladys
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*Uneasiness begins to creep up on Sam.*

How? You're in no state...

*And besides, how could Gene possibly stop Warren now? Arrest him? He probably has enough evidence to bring Warren down, but at what cost - to himself?*
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Gene Hunt
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*Gene has no answer for that. it's true, he's in no state to be getting into a fight with anyone, let alone someone who's already trying to kill him. They could arrest him... But then Gene knows how many contacts Warren has... If he arrests Warren, Gene has no doubt that he'll just send someone else to do the job. And then there's the risk of blowing the whole underground world open. If the public became aware of whatever monsters were hiding inside people, there'd be chaos. Witch hunts, riots... The fabric of society could crumble.

He can't do it.

Accepting this, Gene sighs heavily, shaking his head, at a loss.*

I don't know.
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Sam Tyler
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Gladys
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*Sam can see that he's taken the wind out of Gene's sails... and while he's glad that his DCI won't just toddle off and do something rash, he does regret the fact that he's had to hold him back. Because this is what he's been hoping for... Gene finally going against Warren.

Sam gives Gene's hand a squeeze.*

We'll think of something. You'll recover from this, and then we'll take 'im down.
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Gene Hunt
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*grimly, Gene replies.*

Too right we bloody will.

*Warren won't get away with this. As soon as he's fit enough, Gene's taking him down. Somehow, they'll take him down.

The question is what they do now, in the lead up to the full moon. They suspect Warren might try something once Gene's turned... And in that case, he needs to make sure Warren can't find him once he's a wolf.*

I'll have to switch my changing place up. Find somewhere new. Make sure he doesn't know where I'll be wolfing up.
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Sam Tyler
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Gladys
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*Oh thank god... Gene seems to be coming back to his usual self. Sam withdraws his hand finally, feeling that he's done his job.

However, what Gene says next... it confuses Sam. He frowns.*

Your... changing place?

*He hadn't thought about it, obviously, but Sam had just sort of assumed that Gene changed in his house... in the basement, maybe...*
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Gene Hunt
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*Gene blinks at Sam, confused.*

What.... you don't think I change in here, do you? The neighbours'd think I was practising yodelling while knocking the internal walls down with a sledgehammer!
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Sam Tyler
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Gladys
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........ oh.

*That... yeah, that makes sense. Sam looks down at the desk and nods, suddenly embarrassed over his own naivety.

He mumbles*

Thought you 'ad a basement.
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Gene Hunt
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*Gene shakes his head, gesturing up to the ceiling.*

Got an attic. But I change in there, I'll end up shooting out the chimney like Santa on steroids.
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Sam Tyler
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Gladys
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*Sam looks up again, eyebrows raised. A moment later, he sputters slightly, badly disguising a snort of laughter that just escaped him. Sometimes, Gene's illustrative language is just too much.*

R-right. So you've got... what? A shed somewhere?
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Gene Hunt
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Yeah. Just south of Worsley. There's a knackered old shed right in the middle of the woods. It's isolated, provides some shelter when it rains... S'good enough.

*Then, in anticipation of what he's about to say next, Gene folds his arms across his chest.*

I can't transform where there's people. You understand? The first few minutes can be a bit... 'hairy'. In more ways than one.
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Sam Tyler
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Gladys
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*Sam nods, growing serious once more. Bloody hell... a rickety shed. That is where Gene's been spending every full moon... every time he said he was off on "wife commitments".*

You mean you might end up... attacking someone?

*Sam realises that there probably is quite a bit of noise involved in the transformation, but... he just can't imagine what it's like. What really happens. Even though Gene described it to him... it's impossible to really imagine. To compare it to an experience Sam has had, and thus make it comprehensible.

But if it's even close to as painful as Gene said it is, Sam can see it - the wolf, lashing out in its agony. The mental image makes him bite his lip in an effort to hide his reaction from Gene.*
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Gene Hunt
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*Gene shrugs. It's painful for him to think about, but it's something he has to consider. Something he has to take responsibility in preventing. The last thing he wants is to hurt someone...*

If I keep doing what I'm doing.... Hopefully I'll never find out.
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Sam Tyler
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Gladys
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*Slowly, Sam nods.*

... right.

So - you think Warren might've been following you? That he knows where you change?

*There's only the slightest pause, the slightest hesitation before Sam says the word 'change'.*

Do you have any alternatives in place?
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Gene Hunt
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*Again, Gene has no clue if Warren knows where he changes... But if he's been able to poison him and play him like a fool, it's not inconceivable that Warren's had somebody find out where he changes as well.*

He must've. What's the point in going to all the trouble of half-killing me if he's not planning to ambush and finish the job? Those woods're quiet enough for me to yell my head off, they're quiet enough to shoot a gun.

*he runs his hand through his hair, thinking.*

The shed was the alternative. S'not easy finding somewhere remote here - you're never more than five metres away from a drunk bum or some randy couple shagging in a bush.
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Sam Tyler
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Gladys
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*Christ. Sam needs a few moments to process all this.

So Gene doesn't have a back-up plan....

And Sam doesn't know enough about Manchester in this period of time to be able to be of much help. He rests his chin in his hand, eyes narrowed but unfocused as he tries to think of something. An area where Gene's screaming (and isn't that a terrible thought in itself) won't be heard...

If only he had enough contacts, he might have been able to rent some kind of space... well-isolated...

Somewhat frustrated, Sam runs a hand through his hair, messing it up beyond repair.*

We'll think of something. There's still time. For now, you 'ave to concentrate on recovering, alright?
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Gene Hunt
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*He has no choice. He'll just have to try and recover enough by the time Warren makes his move. Make sure that he finds somewhere safe to turn.*

Yeah. However you 'recover' from this!

Don't suppose they taught you about how to flush out silver poisoning in Hyde!
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Sam Tyler
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Gladys
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*Sam grimaces slightly - he does have some medical knowledge, but something like this... it probably isn't anything like mercury poisoning either...*

Wish they 'ad...

Sleep as much as you can, I suppose... and keep hydrated. *Sam's expression becomes almost comically stern* No alcohol 'til this is over.
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Gene Hunt
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*Gene snorts*

Oh come on. I'm poisoned. You can't deny a dying man his drink!
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Sam Tyler
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*One of Sam's eyes twitches slightly, his face pulling into a frown.*

Don't say that.
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Gene Hunt
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*Gene can't help a tiny cheeky twitch of his lips at Sam's chastising. He may be swimming in toxins, but at least he can make himself feel slightly better by teasing Sam with it. What use is a good poisoning if he can't have some fun with it to counteract the pain?*

Alright, fine. I'll go put my feet up, sleep the silver away.

*one hand pressed against his middle uncomfortably, Gene pushes himself up off the chair.*

You going back to the office, or are you gonna stay and redecorate my cupboards?
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Sam Tyler
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*Sam follows Gene's movements with his eyes, taking in how just how much he's affected by this. Poisoning... Jesus Christ. He'll do everything in his power to make sure Gene recovers from this, even if he doesn't know the first thing about neither Gene's general "condition" nor his current predicament.*

Of course I'll stay. Can't leave a sick child alone at home.

*He's only half joking - he needs to make sure Gene really rests up... and Sam remembers how his mother always used to stay home as well, making sure she was there to hear him call out for her... or even to soothe him if he'd been coughing for a while.*
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Gene Hunt
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*Gene makes his slightly wobbly way towards the door, heading back towards the sofa. He'll kip a while, try and do as Sam suggested. Once he's rid of this awful feeling he can actually start planning how to take Warren down.

And he's not going to argue - if Sam wants to stay, he'll let him. Having a friend there in case of emergencies really does seem like a good idea right now. Especially Sam.*

In case said 'sick child' tries to smoke some more of the silverware?
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Sam Tyler
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*That coaxes a half-smile out of Sam.*

Exactly.

*When he realises that Gene is making his way back to the living room, Sam levers himself up as well.*

Wait - don't you wanna go to bed? Should be more comfortable than the sofa...
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Gene Hunt
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*Gene hesitates. He'd been aiming for the sofa due to convenience, but he supposes Sam's right. If he's going to nap he may as well do it properly.*

Eh, s'pose.

*He turns his direction, heading for the stairs instead.*

What're you gonna do then? While I'm having dreamy fun with Linda Lovelace?
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Sam Tyler
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*Sam can't help a relieved smile - sleeping in a proper bed should do wonders for Gene's health...*

Oh,I'll find something. Might ask Annie to bring what's left of the paperwork round.

*An afternoon of leisurely work, with the knowledge that Gene is sleeping soundly upstairs... The thought appeals to Sam so much that it leaves him slightly shocked for a moment.*

Er... Just shout if you need anything. I'll be there.
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Gene Hunt
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*With a theatrical roll of his eyes, Gene starts to climb the stairs, shifting his weight carefully and holding onto the rail with white knuckles.*

Alright, mum.

*Though he might joke, Gene really is grateful. Usually he's on his own with things like this. It's nice to know someone's there.*
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Sam Tyler
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*Sam huffs a little laugh, but the smile fades as he watches Gene laboriously making his way up the stairs. This is all kinds of wrong... Gene shouldn't be like this - poisoned for... for his skin. Jesus Christ.

On his own now, Sam finishes his plate of soup. He places the rest in the fridge; maybe Gene will want some later in the evening...

His next stop is the telephone. Sam calls the station, explaining to Phyllis that Gene's come down with a vicious flu, and Sam is staying in to look after him. She agrees to send Annie round to drop off the files from Sam's desk.

Once that is done, Sam remains standing in the hallway, feeling slightly lost. He can't hear anything from upstairs... Gene really has gone to sleep. All that remains for Sam to do is to look after him, be on standby in case his... friend needs anything.

When Annie arrives, Sam hurries to open the door before she has a chance to ring the bell, so as not to wake Gene up. They have a short chat, and in the end Sam is left with not just a sizeable stack of files, but also a box filled with cupcakes from the local market. He tries to persuade her to stay for tea, but Annie has to decline - she has to get back to work, after all.

And so Sam is left just the files, tea and cupcakes for company for the rest of the afternoon... and evening. He checks in on Gene regularly, but finds him sound asleep every time. That must be a good thing... his body must be working hard to get rid of the silver. But... it doesn't quite sit right with Sam - not being able to do anything at all to help along. All he can do is make sure he's there if Gene needs him.

It's after 10pm when Sam finally decides he can't stay up much longer. He's still on painkillers, and after taking his evening dose, he's getting tired quickly. One more look into the bedroom confirms that Gene is still asleep. Sam can't help but smile as he sees nothing but Gene's ruffled up hair sticking up from under the duvet. He reminds Sam of a big baby right now.

The memory of holding onto the wolf's - Gene's - fur springs to his mind again - it had been so silky. Strong and soft at the same time.

... remarkably similar to what his hair had felt like, earlier today.

Sam bites his lower lip, feeling heat rise to his cheeks. He can't decide what's more miraculous - that he'd had the courage to do this at all, or that Gene had accepted his ministrations the way he had. Either way, he needs to lie down.

It takes Sam another half hour before he finally makes his way to the guest bedroom. He's left light in the kitchen, along with a note for Gene, telling him about the soup and the cupcakes in the fridge. Sam also left him a couple of sandwiches there, in case he was hungry for a little bit more. At the bottom of the note, he's scrawled "wake me up if you need anything".

As soon as he sits down on the mattress, it hits Sam just how bloody tired he is. It's been such an eventful day that it feels like significantly more time has passed... and despite the painkillers, his leg is throbbing faintly. And yet, it takes Sam a while before he's able to fall asleep - every little creak makes him flinch, thinking that it was Gene who's finally gotten up.

At some point, however, he does fall asleep, lying on his back, his head slightly inclined to the door as though he's still listening for a sound from Gene, even in his sleep.*
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Gene Hunt
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*Gene sleeps right through, not waking up once. He's absolutely exhausted, and even just rolling over makes him ache. God, how long is it going to take for him to get over this? And he can't even consider the possibility of there being permanent damage...

Luckily his tiredness manages to keep these thoughts manifesting as nightmares, and it's only well into the night that Gene finds himself stirring.

Groggily, he blinks into the dark, listening for any sign of Sam moving around. Maybe he went home... Though knowing him he'd have probably left a note or something... He's going to have to check or it's going to drive him nuts.

Grunting, Gene pushes himself up and gets to his feet, walking quietly down the hallway. It's then that he notices - the guest bedroom door is on the jar. Huh...

Stiffly, Gene pushes the door open a little, peering inside. And there he is - on his back, face turned towards the door. Gene doesn't know why he's surprised to see Sam there - he's been staying for a few weeks now... But he'd assumed that maybe once Sam was back at work he'd want to sleep at his flat...

Taking a moment, Gene watches Sam sleep - the rise and fall of his chest, the slight twitch of his fingers, the ruffled fringe that's sticking up in all directions... And those scars, purple-looking in the darkness.

Gene looks down at his own hand, remembering the way Sam had held it as he realised the awful situation earlier - and the way he hadn't pulled away. Why didn't he pull away? It just... Didn't occur to him. It felt strangely normal. It felt... Good.

That thought scares him and excites him all at the same time.

With a slight heat in his cheeks, Gene takes one last look at his precious DI, splayed out across the bed, then retreats back to his room feeling altogether more warmed than before. He's glad Sam stayed.*
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Sam Tyler
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*Sam stays for another day and night - until it looks like Gene has gotten through the worst of it. Without the cigarettes and whatever else Warren laced with the silver, at least his condition is staying stable, if not improving.

So there really isn't any reason for Sam to stay any longer. He doesn't need the cane anymore, or at least not all the time. He's able to cook and look after himself. No need to impose on Gene any longer than he already has.

... then why is he so reluctant to leave? Gene drives him to his flat, the bag with Sam's clothes and toiletries on the back seat. It's a quiet drive, but when they arrive, Gene gets out of the car as well and carries the bag up to Sam's flat, even offers to help Sam stock up on groceries. Selfishly, Sam accepts.

But then Gene is gone, and Sam is sat on his own, telly switched off and staying off for once. His flat feels terribly empty. He feels... lonely. As lonely as he had during the first few days here. It only now hits Sam just how right it had felt to live with Gene - how comfortable it had been, how well they seemed to have worked together. Who would've thought, eh?

Sam sighs, leaning his head back. He should go to bed, but for now he remains sitting in the arm chair. As he closes his eyes, he remembers again, as he has so often during the last few days, the feeling of soft fur under his palms. Of soft hair. Gene's hair. And the few touches - holding Gene's hand.

Gene hadn't pulled away.

Sam doesn't even want to begin to comprehend what all this says about himself and his subconscious. Or his sanity. For once, he wants to just forget about all that and have something good in this crazy world.

A few more days pass, and Gene seems to be improving slowly. However, there still is a problem - the full moon is approaching, and they haven't found an alternative for Gene's changing spot. The shed is still out of the question - neither of them have seen Edwards loitering around the station any more, but Sam doesn't doubt that they're both under surveillance. The thought angers him more than it scares him, strangely enough. It's such a ruddy mess.

The day before the full moon, Sam excuses himself home early. He's dug up maps of Manchester and its surroundings, and he's determined to find a place for Gene, so that's hat he'll spend the evening and night doing. And after that, they can start to bring Warren down. Sam still has a bone to pick with Joni...

A cup of tea next to him, Sam sets to work.*
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Gene Hunt
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*It's hard, leaving Sam at his flat after all this time. Gene hates to admit it, but he's going to miss having him in the house. Since the missus left it's been way too quiet at home. Lonely. And having Sam around... It's felt so right. Inexplicably right. And Gene finds that when the time comes, he doesn't want to leave him there. As the door swings shut, Gene finds himself standing there, not quite sure what to do with himself. There's nobody to look after now. Nobody but himself. And really the last thing Gene wants to think about is what's happened to himself.

As the days pass, Gene continues trying to take it easy - but it's difficult. Being at home alone feels strange now, and he finds himself staying longer in the office. Aside from having the helpful distraction of work, he imagines it's probably harder for Warren and his gang to watch him from outside the huge station.

Eventually it's the day before the full moon and Gene's trying to mentally prepare himself for oncoming event - Sat in his office, staring blankly at the newspaper. Sam's gone home already and the office is quiet. Until his desk phone rings, that is.

And once he picks up, he hears something he absolutely wasn't expecting. A breathless voice - once he recognises as one of his snouts.

"Mr Hunt? Oh thank god... You need to meet me, right now... Warren... You asked me to watch him... I've got some information. You're REALLY gonna want to hear this... Usual place, but you need to be quick - I think he might be onto me...!"

Shit... So they were right... Warren's got a plan - he must be putting it into motion. This could be Gene's only chance to get ahead of Warren and scupper his plan. This could be the best chance he has to save his own skin...!*

I'll be there in ten. If you see him, hide. I'll find you.

*and with that, Gene slams the phone down and shrugs his coat on. His heart beating hard and his stomach still trying not to cramp up, Gene heads straight to his usual meeting place - by the phone box on the edge of town. It's discreet and empty - no chance of anyone seeing or overhearing the conversation. Safe.

He parks up and cautiously enters the open alleyway, calling out in a hushed voice.*

Mitchell! You'd better be here...!
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Sam Tyler
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*Gene is met with silence. Then, a sound - a plastic bottle, blown across the road by a gust of wind. Other than that... nobody seems to be anywhere in the vicinity. The phone box stands abandoned, its door slightly ajar.*
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Gene Hunt
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*Shit... Did he chicken out? Or maybe Warren got to him in the end...

But apart from the logical reasons his informant might be absent, there's something else... Something his gut's trying to tell him. Something unsettling.

The sound of the bottle makes Gene jump slightly, his senses suddenly on high alert. He can hear the wind whistling through the gaps in the buildings, the soft rusty creak of the phone box door as the wind tries to blow it shut... But nothing else.

Uneasy now but unwilling to leave without making sure, Gene heads over to the phone box - maybe Mitch left him a message before he went into hiding...

The sound of Gene's footsteps seem loud, disturbing the odd sense of quiet as he makes his way to the end of the alley. The phone box door takes a good heave to open fully - Gene's still lacking his usual strength, his muscles aching as they try to mend. But with a loud grating creak the door's open. No sign of his snout.

Taking a deep, disappointed breath, Gene slams the door shut again. He can practically feel his chance to stop Warren slipping through his fingertips.*
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Sam Tyler
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*It's that moment of Gene being occupied with the phone box's door that dooms him.

Shadows had been creeping up on him, and when Gene slams the door shut, one of them makes a move, darting forward. A rough bag is shoved over his head quick as lightning - they know the silver has been affecting Hunt, but better safe than sorry--!*
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Gene Hunt
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*he's about to turn around and head back to the car - but just as he steps backwards away from the phone booth, everything goes black. A rough, suffocating fabric wraps over his face, pulls back--!

Startled, a heavy pulse of horror and confusion surging through his heart, Gene gives a shout. He raises his hands to grab at the bag blocking his vision while trying to stumble forwards away from whoever's behind him*
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*It's no use - the man holding onto Gene is strong. He pulls back roughly to unbalance Gene, tightening a rope attached to the bag at the same time - making it that much harder for Gene to pull off the bag.

But they're not done yet. Another man has joined in, and his low, rough laughter will sound familiar to Gene...

"Down, boy...!"

Edwards, taking full advantage of the fact that Gene can't defend himself, pulls back his fist and delivers a vicious gut punch.*
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Gene Hunt
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*The rope tightening around his throat happens suddenly, and Gene can't see to counteract the motion - he scrabbles at the bag with one hand, trying to looen the rope with the other.

Then that voice.

Gene goes cold, his movements grinding to a halt.

He should have known.

They're taking him tonight.

Warren's got him.

He's had it.

The punch hits with force, powering into Gene's already suffering stomach muscles. He spasms, his legs giving way. Racked with pain, he drops to his hands and knees, coughing and gasping for breath - he can't see, he can't breathe, he can't tell up from down....

And Edwards is towering, unseen above him.*
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Sam Tyler
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*Seeing Hunt go down like that is just about the most satisfying Edwards has seen since the day he cut up Tyler's face. He can practically smell Gene's panic, can sense the moment he realises what's happening.

They're all the way out here... no need to rush.

Edwards raises his foot and brings his heel down hard on Gene's side. He wants to see him lying in the dirt, writhing with pain....!*
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Gene Hunt
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*Gene almost hears the crack before he feels the impact. With no way of seeing what attack's coming from where he can't even hope to defend himself. A strangled yelp escapes him as his limbs give way again, his already weakened body unable to deal with the assult from both inside and out. Laying on the ground, Gene clutches at his side, the bag now forgotten. That was a rib. That must have been a rib...

Voice strained and breaths heaving, Gene shouts out into the darkness.*

You.... You bastard.... You....!

*he coughs, his whole torso clenching in pain*

.... Still doing Warren's.... Warren's dirty work...! Pathetic--!
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Sam Tyler
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*Edwards scoffs.

"Look who's talkin'. S'not me rolling on the ground!"

He follows up his words with another sharp kick to Gene's stomach, and another, while his mate readies a long rope. Having some fun is all fine and dandy, but Warren is waiting for them... not that he'd ever think to rush Edwards either.*
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Gene Hunt
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*The next impact almost causes Gene to throw up. The lightning strike of pain blinds him to the next blow - it feels as though his entire body's going numb and tingly, shutting down in an effort to stop the pain. He rolls, coughing and gasping, pain-induced tears pouring unbidden down his face and soaking into the hessian pressed against it.

Arms wrapped desperately around his middle, Gene tries to push his knees underneath him, using his shoulder as leverage against the dirt. He needs to get up... He needs to get away, before--!*
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Sam Tyler
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*Edwards grins maliciously. He allows Gene to push himself up somewhat - but then, he brings his heel down hard on Gene's back, right between his shoulders, forcing him back down to the ground. Obviously the silver has been working its magic - Hunt is weak as a pup.

"I said, down, boy."

He nods to his colleague, who steps forward and roughly forces back Gene's hands, getting ready to tie together his wrists.*
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Gene Hunt
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*Gene's almost there - almost able to push himself up - but then he's flat against the ground again, winded and pinned down like a worm about to be dissected.

And those jokes... The humiliation bubbling up inside him manages to force out a few ragged words.*

I'll... I'll kill you... for this....!

*Dizzy and weak, Gene feels the hands on his wrists and vaguely recognises what must be happening, and it sparks off another alert in his gut. If his arms are immobilised, he's even less likely to get out of this. Disorientated, Gene tries to wriggle out from the hold they've got on him, resisting as much as his ailing strength allows him*
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Sam Tyler
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*This time, both men laugh. Hunt's words, muffled through the cloth, sound absolutely pathetic. The man behind him easily keeps Gene's arms in place as he winds the rope around his wrists, pulling it tight enough for the rough material to chafe against Gene's skin.

Edwards in the meantime presses down that little bit harder on Gene's back.

"Yer all bark, no bite tonight, aren't you."

He leans down, dropping his voice. "That's almost adorable."

With a grin, he reaches into the pocket of his jacket, pulling out the item he'd been most looking forward to using. It will make Hunt's humiliation perfect... for the moment.

Edwards reaches down and grabs Gene's hair through the bag, pulling his head up. Swiftly, he slides the collar around Hunt's neck, and as he pulls it tight, it traps the cloth in its grasp, effectively cutting off most of Hunt's air supply.

Edwards growls into his ear. "Better not move all too much, eh? Wouldn't want the show to be over quite so soon."*
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Gene Hunt
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*Gene winces as Edwards pushes down on his back harder, the ropes biting into his wrists as they tighten and lock his arms into place. His heart is hammering in his chest, beating like a drum against the ground. This is everything he's feared for all those years. Everything he's tried to prevent by bowing to Warren. And it was all for nothing. He's sold hismelf to the devil, only to have the devil back out of the deal at the last minute. How could he believe Warren wasn't going to do this eventually?

But Gene knows why he believed it. It was because he had no choice. He had to believe it to keep going. And now look what his naivety's brought him.

He grunts as Edwards grabs at his hair through the fabric, yanking his head back carelessly and wrapping something around his neck.

Wait... what...?

Through the barrage of other sensations, Gene can feel the rough edge of leather - the cold bite of a buckle...

Jesus Christ... a collar of all things!? If Gene weren't so bitterly determined to hide his fear and humiliation from his assailants, he'd let out a desperate sob.

The shock comes as Edwards pulls on the collar though, fastening it roughly far more tightly than he should. It presses painfully on his windpipe, digging into his skin. The blood pumps hard through his jugular, straining against the impossible pressure - oh god, he can hardly breathe!!

Just having to respond - to show that he's not beaten, Gene coughs out, barely more than a throaty whisper*

P-Piss off... Bastard....

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Sam Tyler
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*Still talking... well, Edwards hadn't really expected anything else. Hunt is a tough nut. However, not even he is able to hide his fear... it's almost enough to make Edwards heady with victory. And knowing what else is in store for the man.... it makes satisfaction thrum through him all over again.

Edwards and his mate grab Gene by one arm each and pull him up without mercy, beginning to drag him over to where they've got the van parked - round the corner, just out of sight where Gene's parked the Cortina.

Edwards gives him a little shake, his voice dripping with smugness, "You go on yapping, you'll choke on yer own stinkin' breath."*
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Gene Hunt
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*One moment he's on the ground, choking and struggling to breathe - the next he's in the air, shoulders burning and stretching, no idea what direction he's facing. The earth seems to be tilting underneath him wildly, his legs unable to get purchase.

Shit, he's moving - they're taking him somewhere. Sam'll never find him if they move him....!

In his right mind, he'd wonder why he specifically thought of Sam at that moment - but there are more pressing matters at hand. Like the way he can barely suck air into his lungs. His broken rib, his bruised torso, the bag and the collar - he can't cope. He's on overload. Any response he wants to choke out, he can't. Edwards is right. It's all he can do to keep breathing enough to keep himself conscious, let alone speak. Fleetingly, he thinks that maybe it'd be better to just let himself pass out. Maybe he'll be skinned before he wakes up - maybe he'll never have to even know it's happening.

But Warren isn't that merciful.*
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*Hunt's lack of response makes Edwards chuckle.

"Good boy," he growls into his ear, giving him another shake. Hunt's stopped fighting altogether... for now. Warren's going to make him fight again - only to break him entirely. And Edwards will get to watch it. The thought makes him grin almost madly.

Between them, they manage to drag Hunt over to the van fairly quickly. The other man opens the back door, and together they throw Hunt inside, entirely without care for how he might land.

"Don't piss on the cushions!" Edwards calls after him, and his and his mates' laughter are heard even after they've thrown the door shut with a resounding bang. A few seconds later, the engine starts up, and the vehicle drives off, leaving behind the empty phone box and the Cortina.*
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*Gene's legs hit the edge of the van and he falls inside, propelled by the two men holding him. Unable to cushion his fall with his arms, Gene collides with the floor hard, his shoulder and temple taking the brunt of it. He groans, rolling onto his back as the door slams shut behind him, his hands stopping him from managing to lie flat.

Even through the hood and the van's walls he can hear the pair laughing.

Good boy

All bark no bite

Keep on yapping


The pointed insults feel like another kick to the gut every time. These bastards know what's going to happen to him. They know, and they're gleefully trasporting him towards his fate. All the pain and the loneliness trying to keep his condition a secret and here these monsters are teasing and tormenting him with it. Defeated for now, the tension leaves Gene's body.

Just concentrate on breathing... Concentrate on getting that oxygen... Recover. It's not over yet. It's not over until that bullet hits his heart. He keeps repeating that mantra to himself as the van roars on, using it to try and distract himself from the tremor running through him. It's adrenaline, Gene tells himself. Adrenaline. Not fear. Never fear.*
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*The drive back into town takes a little while, but it's not like it matters. It'll confuse Hunt all the more - they can hear his body sliding across the cargo area and thumping against the wall with every corner they take with a bit more zest than is strictly necessary.

Finally, though, the van stops outside the back entrance to The Warren. Edwards and his mate clamber out, throwing the van's back door open.

"Heel, boy!"

Without waiting for an answer, Edwards climbs up into the van and drags Gene up by his arm once more. The other man joins in, and together they drag him out of the car. A third bloke is at the entrance now, holding the door open and laughing quietly as they pass him. He knows exactly who's being 'delivered' here... and he can't help but kick at Gene's legs, just to get that extra bit of satisfaction.*
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Gene Hunt
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*The van ride is disorientating and sickening. Gene can't tell when the thing's about to swerve, and he couldn't defend hismelf even if he knew. Hands still bound behind him, he hits one wall and then another, sliding across the flat surface as the geforce throws him about like a rag doll. The hood over his head is suffocating, the pain all-consuming. The collar is a constant reminder of why all this is happening to him in the first place. It rubs and constricts, itches and causes his heart to hurt with angry humiliation. But there's nothing he can do about it.

He barely notices as the van stops, his whole body thrumming with the vibration of the engine even when it cuts out.

The shout of 'Heel, boy!' causes him to flinch though, and as his arms are yanked up and his body dragged from the vehicle, he hears a ragged gasp from his own lips.*

... Stop...!

*The kick to his legs causes him to stumble, pulling hard on the grip the men have on his arms*
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*Gene's protest only earns him more laughter, and Edwards cuffs the back of his head for his troubles.

"Mind yer manners, Fido, or we'll 'ave you sleeping in the shed."

Even though they're inside the building, it's strangely quiet - Warren has had this part of the basement soundproofed completely. Hunt won't be able to tell where he is, and no one will hear his screams and howling.

Another door is thrown open - this time, it's a cold, bare room. Gene can't see it, but there is a single hook let into the wall, about halfway between the floor and the low ceiling.

Edwards pushes him inside, letting Gene tumble to the ground without anything to cushion his fall.*
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*As Edwards pushes him, Gene does his best to keep his head from hitting the floor - and luckily he manages for the most part, his top lip taking a thwack but sparing himself a concussion.

Swallowing painfully past the collar and spitting blood into the hood, Gene forces out a reply. It's not doing him any good, he knows this. But he can't just go down without a fight. he has no idea where he is - how big the room is, what's inside, who's watching.... All he knows is that it's dark, the floor is cold and hard, and it's possible that this is the room he's going to die in.*

Oh r-really... That where Warren... where Warren keeps you, then?
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Gladys
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*Oh, he still has some cheek left in him, from the looks of it. Edwards snorts - Hunt won't get a rise out of him, but if he's so eager to be put in place, he's going to give the man exactly what he's asking for.

He's by Hunt's side with just two strides, crouching down next to him. He grabs the collar and yanks it back and up, snarling into Gene's ear.

"You wanna keep being naughty, that's fine by me. Yap on, mutt, and see what that gets you."*
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Gene Hunt
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*The force of the collar being yanked chokes off Gene's airway for a moment and he can't help a choked cough escaping. Dammit, with the hood on he can't even spit at Edwards. He's well and truly hobbled - a plaything for Edwards to kick around as he pleases.

Lungs audibly straining for air, Gene can do nothing but screw his eyes shut and bite his lip, his breath coming in short and sharp gasps as he waits for Edwards to release him. Any words he tried to get out now would only materialise as a whimper or a cough anyway,*
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Sam Tyler
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Gladys
[ *  *  *  *  *  *  * ]
*Edwards holds Gene like this for a few more seconds, even though he knows that there is no way Hunt will be able to answer.

Finally satisfied with the sound of those short, strained gasps, Edwards lets go, letting Gene thump back down to the ground. He gets up and turns, gesturing for the third man to bring him the last item they've prepared for Hunt - for now.

Returning to Gene's side, Edwards pushes his heel against Gene's shoulder, forcing him to roll onto his back. Then he bends down again, and there's a metallic clink as he fastens one end of the short leash to the iron ring attached to Hunt's collar. And bloody he'll, what a satisfying sight that is. He can't help but grin as he attaches the other end to the ring in the wall.

Secured like this, Gene barely has enough freedom to sit up against the wall; the leash isn't much longer than a metre and a half.*
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Gene Hunt
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*Gene stifles a noise of pain as Edwards lets him go and he hits the ground once more. But he can't hide the hiss as he's pushed onto his back, his hands crushed awkwardly underneath his weight. What the--?

What's that noise... That jangle... ? Then he realises.

Internally, Gene lets out a choked laugh. A lead. They're fastening a lead to the collar. This is twisted... This is...

He feels the tug as the leash is attached to the wall, and he instantly knows what's happened. Immobilised completely, Gene can do nothing but try to push himself in the direction of the wall in an attempt to lessen the pressure on his throat.

Through rough vocal chords, Gene growls.*

This make you feel... Like a big man, eh? Make you feel important? Kickin' a man when he's d-down?

*He spits the blood from his mouth, staining the hessian in front of it.*

Too c-cowardly to... To take me on without all... All these ropes? Eh??

*He pushes with his heel, his back finally making contact with the wall. Now if he can just sit up...*
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Sam Tyler
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Gladys
[ *  *  *  *  *  *  * ]
*Edwards looks down on Gene, taking in the pathetic way he's attempting to push himself up - even though he's a tall bloke, right now he looks small and miserable. And that spitting sound is like music to Edwards' ears.

He grins - not that Hunt can see it. Edwards doesn't take the bait this time either, simply letting out a chuckle. He'll get plenty of opportunities in the next 24 hours to have his way with Hunt...

"That's what happens to naughty mutts like you," he drawls. " 'Ave to show 'em their place."*
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Gene Hunt
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*That's it. Unable to cope with the dog jokes any more, Gene shouts as loudly as he can - though what makes it out is little more than a throaty cough.*

Better a 'naughty mutt' than... than a great rancid stinkin' slice of bacon!

*He pauses, panting for air.*

Don't think Warren doesn't see you too.... Eh, Porky! You think you're safe...!

Just w-wait! One day he'll... he'll look at those poxy trotters of yours and... And see 'is next ashtray!
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Sam Tyler
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Gladys
[ *  *  *  *  *  *  * ]
*Edwards snorts, taking a step closer to Gene.

"I'm useful to 'im. I get things done..."

He reaches down, grabbing the top of Gene's head through the hessian and craning it backwards. Leaning in, he growls, "Unlike you. You let your pet DI mess things up, and now the only thing you'll be useful for..."

He grips Gene that little bit tighter.

"... is being stepped on. Rug."

Edwards follows his words up with a quick punch to the side of Gene's face.

Without waiting for a response, he turns and leaves the room, throwing the door shut behind him. A second later, there's the sound of a lock sliding into place.*
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Gene Hunt
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*Edwards is deluded. Gene knows it. He's thinking from experience. Edwards is an idiot to think he won't end up in the same boat one day. And if Gene can make him see that, maybe there's a chance he'll change his--

His head being yanked back kills that idea stone dead. Stars are beginning to dance in front of Gene's eyes, the pain, fear and the collar all fighting to see which can render him unconscious first.

Then that word. Rug.

Gene shudders.

The punch comes out of the blue, and Gene's head hits the floor again. He moans, coughs and curls in on himself, completely and utterly spent. The ground rocks and rolls underneath him - maybe if he just lets it it'll rock him into a blissful darkness he won't wake up from.

Loud and threatening, the lock like the hammer of a gun, sliding back into place ready to fire. And now all Gene can do is lie there, bound and hooded, waiting for his fate. Alone, cold, in pain and struggling for breath. In his despair, Gene's thoughts turn fleetingly to Sam. Sam'll surely be concerned by his disappearance... won't he? The others won't know what's happened. If he dies tomorrow they'll just assume that he'd up and left. There'll be no recognisable body to be found, every piece of him sold off to the highest bidder. The only one who could possibly know is Sam... But after their conversation maybe he'll assume Gene's just found himself a new place to change....

Broken, Gene relaxes his body and concentrates on breathing- in, out, in out, until someone eventually unlocks the door.*
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Sam Tyler
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Gladys
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*Sam wakes up the next morning, realising he fell asleep over the maps he'd spread out on his bed. Bones cricking and his leg aching, he attempts to get up - then remembers. He'd found a place that might work for Gene to change, a little bit further up North from Bury. There's an old train-yard there, so surely they'll be able to find a shed somewhere at the back, where no one's going to hear... to hear whatever happens to Gene.

Sam shudders at the thought, but at the same time, he feels excitement thrumming through him, over the fact that he managed to find something. He gets up and moves over to the phone, dialling Gene's number.

.... no answer.

Sam frowns, throwing a glance at his wristwatch. Not yet nine... either Gene isn't up yet, or he's already at the station... or he never went back home in the first place. Sam tries again, but again the number rings out.

Right... time to get to the station then.

But Gene isn't there either. Sam gives it another hour - maybe he's out meeting with a snout.... but as noon approaches, there still is no sign of their DCI. Nobody else seems particularly worried about that fact, but Sam can feel unease settling heavy in his guts. He excuses himself and leaves the station, heading for Gene's house. Maybe he's so fast asleep he didn't hear the phone before...

When Sam arrives at the house, something seems off. It takes Sam several precious seconds to realise that it's the Cortina's absence that stands out like a sore thumb.

Shock throbs through him. Gene isn't at home. He isn't at the station. So then--

No, wait, there is another possibility. That shed he had mention. Worsley? That's it. Maybe Gene is already there. Maybe he thought it safer not to tell Sam.

As fast as he can with his leg and side still bothering, Sam makes his way back to the station and quickly signs out one of the unmarked cars. The ride to Worsley is short, but once there, Sam has no idea where to begin looking. Gene never told him exactly where that shed is located... Heart beating a little too fast, Sam begins his search.

The sun is low in the sky by the time Sam finally, finally finds the little hut that matches Gene's description. Trudging through the grass and leaves on the ground, almost stumbling over a root at one point, Sam almost sighs with relief as he spots it, and despite his exhaustion, he speeds up, reaching the clearing.

Then, however, he slows down again, coming to a halt entirely.

The Cortina is nowhere to be seen... but maybe Gene parked it somewhere else. However... the place looks deserted.

Again, Sam feels a throb of horror rock him. He doesn't understand what's going on, but something just feels... off. The hairs at the back of his neck raise, and Sam has to ball his hands into fists to stop them shaking.

Where the hell is Gene...?!*
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Gene Hunt
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[ *  *  *  *  *  *  * ]
*Edwards has been waiting. Warren was right - Tyler's been searching for his DCI - and the fact that Edwards knows exactly where he is gives him a small thrill. Time to put the second part of the plan into action. From the small patch of bushes and trees he's been hiding behind he steps forwards with a wide grin, revealing himself as though Sam's just caught him having a casual stroll.

"Why Mr Tyler - what a coincidence. Looking for something? Lost puppy perhaps?"*
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Sam Tyler
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Gladys
[ *  *  *  *  *  *  * ]
*Sam is just about to move closer to the shed when he sees a figure step out of the woods, and his heart drops.

Edwards.

Sam freezes, eyes going wide. Even the sight of Edwards' ugly grin is enough to remind him of the sharp teeth he saw that night, gleaming mere inches away from his face.

And Edwards' words...


They have him. They have Gene.

Sam swallows hard, forcing himself not to take a step backwards. Right, stay calm... stay calm.*

... where is 'e?
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Gene Hunt
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*Sam's realised. Good.

Edwards raises his shoulders in an exaggerated shrug. Sam isn't going to challenge him - not after their last encounter.

"I don't have any idea what you're talking about, so you can wipe that frown off your face."

Then, with a soft, faux-apologetic gasp,

"Oh... So sorry. Those lines are permanent."*
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Sam Tyler
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Gladys
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*....!

Sam's jaw sets. He's trying so hard to keep his cool, to not let himself be intimidated by this man... but he keeps seeing it. The monster. Raising its massive paw to--

Again, Sam grits out, more forcefully this time*

Where. Is he.
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Gene Hunt
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*running on a high, Edwards takes a casual step towards Sam.

"Oh, fine. I suppose I owe you something after the whole... Face... Thing... "

He makes a swiping motion with his fingers to emphasise, stopping after a moment to look down at them with a wince.

"Yeah, we've got 'im. In fact, I think his damn thick skull's given me bruises."*
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Sam Tyler
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Gladys
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*Sam withstands the urge to take a step back when Edwards moves towards him, but that hand motion - before he's realised what he's doing, Sam's jerked back, his breathing speeding up a little.

And then--

They have him. They have Gene.

Shit. Shit!

Only a couple hours until sunset. And then......

Sam forces himself to take a breath. Keep a clear head. Why is Edwards telling him all this? Has he come just to brag? But how could he have known that Sam would turn up in this place... Edwards had been waiting for him, clearly...*

... what do you want?

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Gene Hunt
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*that little flinch and the step back... It's perfect. He has so much power, over both of them. It's enough to make him heady.

"You, actually. Stephen Warren has requested your presence. In case you hadn't heard, there's a 'special event' happening in just a few hours. He'd very much like you to take a front seat."*
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