+ all these editions of you + part three

Annie knows there’s something wrong as soon as she arrives at the hospital to relieve the Guv and finds him arguing loudly with a doctor. “-his belly cut open!” the Guv’s yelling. “His bloody head was fine, or as fine as it ever was! Then explain to me why-” She doesn’t stay to hear the rest of the conversation, and she hurries to Sam’s room, her heart beating so fast she feels it could give out any moment. When she gets there she hesitates before crossing the threshold, afraid of what she’ll find inside. The Guv said something about Sam’s head, and she’s already blaming herself, because maybe she could have prevented whatever mental condition he’s in right now. She should have told sooner about his stories of the ‘future’. She takes a deep breath and steps inside. To her surprise, though, Sam looks all right. Well, as all right as a person in his condition can look. He’s almost as pale as the sheets, and the bruises on his face and neck stand out sharply. He turns to look at her, questioningly, and she smiles, trying not to let her worry show through. “How are you feeling, Sam?” Sam frowns at her, cocking his head sideways. “Do I know you?” he asks, and for a moment it’s as if the whole world comes crashing down on her. She gapes at him, her mouth opening and closing with no sound coming out, and she has to sit down before her legs give out on her. Her hand shaking, she reaches for the chair and she falls down on it, her widened eyes still fixed on Sam. “Sam, it’s me,” she says. “Annie.” He frowns at her, then he sighs and rolls his eyes. “Oh, I get it,” he says. “You must be me bird or something.” He lets his eyes travel over her body, then shrugs. “Not bad, I guess.” “No!” Annie exclaims. “I’m not your girlfriend, Sam. I’m your colleague, at CID. WDC Annie Cartwright,” she says, then more desperately, “don’t you remember me?” He raises his eyebrows at her. “A woman detective? How modern.” “You made me a detective, Sam!” she exclaims. “Did I?” he mutters to himself, then he shakes his head. “What the hell’s goin’ on?” he looks up at her. “Annie, right?” he asks and she nods. “I need you to find a person for me. DCI Frank Morgan, from Hyde.” She frowns, wondering why Sam would want to speak with him. “He was here,” she tells him. “He left yesterday.” His head shoots up at that. “He was here? Why?” “Sam…” Annie sighs, feeling her eyes well up with tears, because he really seems to remember nothing of the past few days, of the past few months. “This is serious, Annie!” Sam exclaims, almost angry. “I need to speak with me DCI as soon as possible.” She nods and wipes her eyes. “I’ll call the Guv,” she says, standing up. “Who?” “The Guv,” she repeats. “DCI Hunt.” “No, not your DCI, love,” he says, shaking his head. “My DCI. Frank Morgan.” She blinks at him. “S-Sure,” she says, numb. “And can somebody please tell me why the hell am I in hospital?” “A man tried to kill you, Sam,” she replies. “Three times.” Sam’s eyebrows raise. “Relentless, wasn’t he?” he snorts. “Where’s he now?” “He’s dead. Ray killed him.” “Ray?” he asks, and his face is completely blank, devoid of all recognition, and Annie wants to cry. She doesn’t, though, and sniffs against the burning in her eyes. “DS Ray Carling.” He shakes his head. “Nope, doesn’t ring a bell.” “It’ll come back to you,” she says, trying to be as reassuring as she can. “With time. You just have to be patient.” But she’s not really sure about it, after all she’s only got a BA in psychology and it’s not like she’s privy to all the wonders of the human mind. And amnesia is so rare and improbable that she can’t even begin to think where to start from. Should they tell him about what’s happened, or should they just let nature run its course and hope that the memories will come back eventually? And it’s not only that, Sam’s gestures, his way of speaking, have changed. If it weren’t for the fact that she’s staring at him with her own eyes, she’d think he was another person. “Annie?” he calls her. “Yes?” “Call DCI Morgan, please,” he repeats. “And tell him to come back, I need to talk to him. Urgently.” She nods and walks to the door. The Guv’s not gonna like this, at all. He already isn’t, judging by the way he was yelling at that poor doctor, earlier. He’s been hostile towards Morgan from the start, and she can’t really blame him. After all, he was set to bring them all down, to destroy their lives, their careers. But Sam’s been on their side all along, hasn’t he? “Annie!” he calls again, and she turns. “Tell him DI Sam Williams wants to speak with him.” * * * “So you’ve seen him?” a voice says behind her and she jumps, startled. When she turns around, the Guv is looking down at her, appearing to be calmly smoking his cigarette, but looking closely she can see the muscles of his jaw twitching, and his left hand clenching in a fist. She nods and the Guv hums thoughtfully. “What did he tell you?” “He doesn’t remember anything,” she says. Actually, that’s wrong, he just doesn’t remember them. “It’s as if he’s gone back to before he met us.” The Guv nods. “And he hasn’t asked you anything?” he says, but he poses the question as if he knows the answer already. “He asked me to find DCI Morgan for him,” she replies. “And he called himself Sam Williams.” The Guv tenses, gritting his teeth, and Annie is almost afraid to voice her thoughts. “Do you think…Do you think he lied to us?” He turns to her. “Lied about what?” “About that thing with DCI Morgan,” she says. “About being… Sam Tyler.” “No,” he replies, so sure that Annie wants to believe him, to have the same faith. But she’s probably the only one who’s come closer to knowing Sam, and she’s seen many things, and she’s heard even more, and there’s no way she can be one hundred percent sure about anything regarding Sam. She loves him, that she does, as a friend, as something more, but she can’t trust him, not entirely. “I wish I could believe that,” she says, softly. “Why? You don’t?” She shakes her head. “Sam is a… peculiar person, Guv.” “To say the least,” he snorts. “What I’m trying to say,” she continues, wringing her hands, “is that-” “That he’s a bloody nutter?” the Guv cuts her off. “I already knew that. Everybody knows that. Sky’s blue, scum is filth and Tyler’s a nutter,” he shrugs. “But a turncoat? No way.” Annie doesn’t mention the time when Ray gave cocaine to their suspect, and Sam ignored her pleas and went to the Super, seemingly indifferent to the damage he could have caused to their careers. She doesn’t know if the Guv knows about it, but she certainly doesn’t want to find out now, when they have more pressing matters. “I mean,” she tries again. “Sam needs help.” For a moment the Guv seems to agree with her, nodding, but then his leg shoots forward, landing a vicious kick into one of the dustbins aligned against the wall. She jumps, startled, and he kicks the bin again, scattering rubbish all over the floor. “Bloody bastard!” he shouts, his face contorted in anger. “Guv!” she exclaims, trying to calm him down, when she sees a nurse resolutely marching towards them. “You’re causing a scene!” The Guv deflates all of a sudden, and he takes a step away from her, fishing out a hip flask from his coat and shaking it to see if it’s still full. He gives a satisfied nod and takes a long sip. “Guv! Annie!” comes Chris’ voice, and when she turns she sees him and Ray coming towards them. “How’s the Boss?” The Guv snorts. “You deal with ‘em Cartwright.” She frowns. “Where are you going, Guv?” He shows her the rolled up magazine sticking out of his coat pocket. “Enjoying this month’s centrefold,” he says with a sneer. She blinks at him and beside her Ray and Chris snicker. “But what about Sam?” she exclaims. “What about him?” the Guv repeats, then starts muttering to himself. “Out Tyler, in Williams. There’s nothing we can do, trust me. Except maybe kill him and see what happens.” She stares at him, horrified. Now even the Guv’s started losing his mind, and judging by the expressions on Ray and Chris’ faces they seem to be thinking along those lines, as well. “What d’you mean, Guv?” Chris asks, confused. “Cartwright will tell you,” the Guv replies. “I’ve got somewhere to be.” He turns and walks away, leaving them to stare at his wide back as he makes his way to the exit. “Annie?” Chris quietly asks her. “I don’t know, Chris,” she replies, and it’s the truth. * * * It’s been two days since Sam woke up, and the situation at work hasn’t changed much, except for Sam’s vacated chair and some shift in the air that Annie isn’t able to describe with words. The Guv especially; he walks around the CID with a deep frown and everyone is very careful to stay out of his way until he goes to barricade himself in his office for hours. He seems to have a glass of Scotch surgically attached to his hand, or at least he always has one whenever Annie sees him. He acts just like he acted in the two days when they believed Sam was dead, actually the stifling atmosphere reminds Annie of those horrible hours, and it angers her, because Sam isn’t dead. He just needs some time to get healthy again, to cope. The Guv doesn’t seem to understand that, though, and even if Annie admires him very much, she’s not so blind as to condone his behaviour. Every time she brings up any word that starts with ‘psych-‘ he snorts and calls Sam a nutter. It’s moments like this she wishes Sam were here, because even if he talks of the future and of impossible things, he always listens to her and accepts her, even is she’s a bird. With Sam she doesn’t have to work hard to prove she can be as good as anybody else, because he always starts from the premise that she just has to be herself. “Just because he needs to relieve all the stress he’s been through-” she starts for what feels like the millionth time. And the Guv cuts her off once again. “Listen to me, Cartwright,” he says sternly, and even over the distance separating them she can smell the stench of Scotch in his breath. “This is not an issue of Tyler being stressed, or a nutter, or whatever. The Sam who’s woken up isn’t Sam – our Sam – any more. End of story.” “Guv, what you’re saying is…” she trails off, trying to judge his possible reaction. He snorts impatiently. “What I’m saying is what, love?” “Impossible,” she concludes, forcing herself not to look down and making an effort to meet the Guv’s eyes boring into hers. He stares at her for a long time, like he’s trying to figure something out, then he nods and purses his lips. “How well did you- do you know Tyler?” he asks finally, and she frowns at the sudden change of subject. “I’m not asking if you were shaggin’ him, love,” he says with a sneer. “I just want to know how well d’you think you knew him.” And the question has changed as well, but Annie figures that’s the gist anyway. “Fairly well,” she replies. After all, she’s been his confidante ever since he’s arrived here, coming to her every time he wants to talk about something, about his fancy future or simple, ordinary things. “Fairly well you say,” the Guv repeats, nodding. “Then I want you to watch him, watch him closely, and you tell me he’s the same bloke.” She opens her mouth to reply, but he cuts her off with a glare. “He’s not, there’s nothing of Sam in that man. He’s Sam Williams, do you remember Sam Williams, or all the things I’ve been tellin’ you lot for the past few days have just entered one ear and shot out the other leaving nothing but empty air between them?” She frowns, the Guv’s told them all about this Sam Williams who was supposed to work undercover in their team, but she still hasn’t fully understood Sam’s involvement with him. All she knows is that Sam and the Guv spent long minutes behind closed doors in the office, talking with the blinds closed and, once finished, they would come out with wild stories about Sam not being dead but drugged, about DI Parkman, about DCI Morgan. “Frankly sir, I can’t understand what you’re implying,” she says. He slams his hand down on the desk. “Bloody hell, Cartwright!” he bursts out. “I thought you were a bright bird!” “I don’t know what to think, Guv!” she exclaims. “Are you saying that Sam is really Sam Williams? That he really is against us?” “I’m saying-” but he stops and shakes his head with a snort. “Yes, Cartwright. That’s what I’m saying.” Her mouth opens and closes a few times, because what can she say to that? She can’t exactly call the Guv a liar, and while she doesn’t want to believe something like that could be true, the recent events seem to point in that direction. “That’s why you’re acting as if he were dead, Guv?” she asks. “You never come to visit him at the hospital.” He snorts. “Would’ve been better if he’d stayed dead,” he mutters. “What?” “Nothing.” He shakes his head, then he nods outside to the squad room glimpsed through his office door, slightly ajar. “Now go and do some work, love. Stop pesterin’ me.” She wants to stay, though, and try to speak with the Guv, to make him understand, but she knows how stubborn he can be, and she knows that when he says a conversation is over, then it’s over, she's not Sam. So she just nods and makes her way to her desk. The Guv closes the door behind her. Twenty minutes later he comes out, and she’s not surprised he’s got another wild story ready for them. “I’m taking Ray as me acting DI until Tyl- Williams comes back from the hospital,” he says, and nobody points out his slip. “Everything we do must be checked, double checked and signed. No funny business if we want to keep workin’ here.” Several people groan in the room. “Shut up, you useless gits!” the Guv bellows and silence falls again. “Forget Tyler. Williams works for Morgan, but he doesn’t know that we know, and it works to our advantage. We just have to hold out until they get bored with us and move on to somebody else. Litton, hopefully,” he concludes. “Understood? I said, understood?” Everybody murmurs their approval, Annie just lowers her head and says nothing. * * * She eyes Sam as he eats, his first supposedly solid meal in more than a week, and by the face he’s pulling it’s not exactly cause for celebrations. He lets his spoon fall and leans back with a sigh. “I’m giving up.” “You need to eat, Sam,” she says. “To build up your strength, to get healthier.” “Then get me some real food,” he replies. “I fancy some eggs and bacon,” he mutters, almost wistfully. “Me mum cooked a mean eggs and bacon.” She frowns at that. “Your mum?” “Yep,” he replies, then he turns to look at her. “Why are you here?” She blinks. “Because you’re my friend, Sam.” “I don’t know you, though.” “You don’t remember me,” she corrects. He looks like he wants to reply to that, but then he just shakes his head. “What's it like to work with Hunt?” “Why are you asking me?” “I’ll be starting in A Division after I’m out of here, won’t I?” he shrugs. “Just curious, ‘s all.” “The Guv is a hard man,” she says, carefully. “But just.” He nods as if he’s expected that answer. “You respect him.” She gives him a long look. “Can I ask you something, Sam?” “Sure.” “Who is Tony Blair?” He shakes his head. “I don’t know. Should I?” he frowns. “Is he the one who put me here? “No,” she replies. “Just somebody you’ve mentioned to me before.” “I told you,” he says with a sighs. “I don’t remember anything about you, or Ray, or whoever this Blair fella is.” “But you remember your mum,” she retorts, and even it’s not intended as one, it comes out almost as a reproach. She clears her throat and looks down. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean…” “No, it’s all right,” he says. “I find it strange, as well.” “It’s not strange,” she replies. “It’s just that sometimes, when the stress becomes too much, the mind needs to stop working for a while, until everything’s right again.” “Like a holiday,” Sam says, grinning. She tries to smile back. “Yes, just like that.” “It’s still strange, though,” he says. “I remember everything about me, about me family. I remember when I was five, I fell and broke me arm,” he raises his eyes to look at her. “I just don’t remember you.” Annie swallows. “It’s late,” she says, suddenly, standing up from her chair. “I have to go.” Sam nods and follows her movements as she puts on her coat and retrieves her bag. He says nothing until she’s at the door, though. “Hunt.” She turns around, “What?” “Hunt,” Sam repeats. “He called me Tyler.” Annie blinks at him, and the Guv was right. The way he speaks, the way he moves, the way he says her name or the Guv’s. They’re different. Sam’s different. It’s as if his memories of them aren’t the only thing missing, it’s as if Sam’s completely forgotten how to be Sam Tyler. It’s as if he really is another person. Sam Williams, her mind helpfully supplies. She hesitates. “He’s-” and what is she supposed to say? ‘It’s you, you just have to remember it.’? ‘He was the first man who made me think that being me is worthy enough’. How can you describe a person in a word? “He’s a person we used to know,” she says, and it’s not really a lie. “You look very much like him.” Sam gives her a long look, narrowing his eyes, and she can easily see that he’s not persuaded at all. He nods in the end, though. “Right.” * * * In the course of the questioning, the Guv has shot up from his chair four times; made a grab for their suspect, Cole Tanner, twice, and slammed his palms down on the table countless times. Annie supposes it could be worse, though. Tanner is still intact, after all. Everybody made a surprised face when the Guv called her to take part in the interrogation, Ray’s especially will keep her amused for a long time. But she knows the reason of his choice. It’s the same reason why the Guv’s hands are firmly planted on the desk, his fists clenching and unclenching. It’s the same reason why in the silence of the room she can clearly hear the whir of the tape recorder. She flips the pages in the folder open in front of her, letting her eyes drift over the typed words there, as she waits for the Guv to make his next move. He remains silent, though, and when she raises her eyes, she sees that he’s staring at her, expectantly. “Ah…” she starts, dropping her eyes to the file to check. “Your alibi for the night of the murder is unclear, Mr. Tanner.” Tanner sneers. “And what’s a nice bird like you doin’ here, love?” “I’m working here, Mr. Tanner,” she replies. “Now, the night of the murder. You said you were home, can somebody confirm that?” “I didn’t know they ‘ad pretty things like you,” Tanner says, leaning forward. “Damn coppers, they ‘ave all the luck.” Beside her, the Guv tenses, but Tanner goes on, this time looking straight at him. “I know what I’d do to a nice pair o’ tits like her, don't you, Mr. Hunt?” The Guv shoots up, sending his chair backwards, and before she can do anything, his hands are gripping Tanner by lapels of his shirt, tugging and lifting him from his seat. She recovers quickly, though, and she lays a hand on the Guv’s arm to prevent him from doing something too drastic. “Nobody’s interested in your sexual fantasies, Mr. Tanner,” she says, straight into his eyes. “But you’re the principal suspect in a murder investigation, and I’m sure in jail they’ll know what to do to you, as well. Meanwhile, me and me tits will be out here enjoying freedom and climbing the career ladder.” Tanner blinks and even the Guv shoots a surprised glance her way, before letting go of their suspect. “Guv?” she says, leaning over and stopping the tape recorder. “Can I have a word?” He nods and precedes her out of Lost and Found. Once outside, he lights himself a cigarette and turns to her, arms crossed over his chest, leaning against the door. “Well?” She shuffles on her feet. “I don’t know, Sir,” she starts, finally. “Except for the fact that he vaguely knew the victim and that his alibi is kind of weak, we have very few elements to make the accusations stick.” “He did it,” the Guv says, and once again she wishes she had his faith about these things. “You saw his face when he looked at the pictures of the dead bird,” he snorts. “Bloody bastard did it and enjoyed it.” She saw his face, and the Guv’s probably right, but if they’re gonna do this the ‘Sam Way’, they need evidence, not feelings. “Forensics found nothing,” the Guv mumbles, shaking his head. “At this point we need a confession.” “Yes, but how?” The Guv shakes his head again, then he pauses halfway through one of his drags, and stands there, cigarette suspended on the way to his mouth, his eyes narrowed and fixed on a spot on the opposite wall. “Guv?” she asks, frowning. “I’ve got an idea,” he says, then calls out, “Ray!” Ray’s head pokes out of the doors leading to CID. He spots them by the door to Lost and Found and makes his way there. “What, Guv?” he asks. “Grab a sheet of paper,” the Guv tells him. “Give me ten minutes and then you come in there with yer ugly mug and show it to me.” Ray gives him a confused look. “What kind of paper?” “Whatever, it doesn’t matter,” he replies with an impatient gesture. “As long as you say it’s from forensics and you wear that smug look you always get when I let you win at darts.” “Uh, sure, Guv,” Ray replies, but he still doesn’t sound convinced. “Ten minutes, Raymondo,” the Guv reminds him, pointing a finger at him, then he turns to her. “After you, Cartwright.” She hesitates, her hand on the doorknob. “Are you sure it’s gonna work, Guv?” “Tell you a secret, love,” he says, leaning forward conspiratorially. “Mostly, scum is stupid. And a guilty conscience makes you see things that aren’t there,” he pauses and nods in the direction of the closed door. “And that scum in there. Very stupid and very guilty.” “Yes, Guv.” “Good then, Flash Knickers,” he grunts, flicking the cigarette to the ground. “Get a bloody move on, we don’t have the whole damn day.” She nods and pushes at the door, blinking at the sudden change of lighting as she makes her way to the chair. She waits for the Guv to sit down as well, then she pushes the buttons on the tape recorder and waits for the Guv to start. After a couple of minutes Tanner starts to fidget, nervously looking from one to the other. “Well?” he asks, after a moment. “Why are you staring at me like that?” The Guv sniffs and leans forward, almost confidentially, his hands joined on the desk, fingers interlaced. “Tell you what, Tanner,” he says, stopping the tape recorder. “I’ll make you a deal. Confess and that’s a lot of years off your sentence.” “Yeah, right,” Tanner snorts. “Why would I want to confess? You’ve got nothing that says I killed that bird.” “That’s where you’re wrong,” he says, with a smirk. “You wouldn’t believe the stuff they can do in forensics, now, boy.” “Yeah?” Tanner snorts, thrusting his chin forward, but Annie can see that his confidence is starting to crack. “Like what?” The Guv shoots a glance her way, and this is her cue. She clears her voice, trying to think of the things Sam’s said, during one of his frequent speeches on how outdated forensics and policing in general are in 1973. Personally she’s not seen a problem, though; after all, twenty years ago they didn’t even have radios. “Prints,” she says. Tanner frowns. “What?” “We can take prints from the skin,” she replies. “It’s a fairly new technique.” “All the rage, now,” the Guv says, wiggling his fingers. “So prints from the skin. And you strangled her. Tsk, tsk, tsk,” he shakes his head in a disapproving gesture. “Really.” “I…I don’t believe you,” Tanner says, but his eyes are darting from her to the Guv. “Confession, Tanner,” the Guv says, pushing pen and paper towards him, but Tanner doesn’t take them. And just then, with perfect timing, Ray comes in wearing a big smirk and carrying what looks like a list of names for the next darts knockout. The Guv scowls deeply at him. “Guv,” he says, handing the list to the Guv. “Forensics sent this.” The Guv takes the list from Ray and Annie leans over slightly as if to take a look. “Well, well,” the Guv looks up at Tanner, then back at the page in his hand. “What?” Tanner exclaims, looking rather worried. “What?” The Guv takes the pen and paper and stands up. Next to him, Annie starts collecting her things to follow his example. “Wait,” Tanner calls when they’re already at the door. “Where are you goin’? What about the deal?” The Guv raises his eyebrows at him. “Too late now, Tanner,” he says and leaves. As soon as they’re outside the Guv crumples the list Ray’s given him and chucks it at him. “The bloody knockout list?!” he exclaims. Annie hides her grin, but Ray doesn’t even bother. “Daft tosser,” the Guv mumbles darkly. “You said whatever, Guv,” Ray replies with a shrug. “Shut yer trap and go do something useful for a change, Carling.” “Yes, Guv.” She hears the Guv mutter some insults under his breath, but then he falls silent. “What about Tanner?” she asks. He shrugs. “Let him stew for a while,” he replies. “He’ll confess.” She nods. “Guilty conscience.” “You learn fast, love.” She smiles, accepting the compliment and she turns to leave. “Cartwright,” he calls her. “Good work. Even though: prints from skin? That’s pulling stuff out of your arse.” She nods, but she knows as he looks sideways at her, that there were a moment or two in Lost and Found when he turned to her and was expecting someone else entirely to stare back at him. * * * “I’ve been promoted to steamed vegetables,” Sam informs her. She takes a look at his lunch, and she never thought she’d be glad of having eaten at the CID canteen. “I’m happy for you,” she says, sitting down by his bed. She watches as Sam pokes at a shapeless, vaguely green piece of something, and she grins at his crinkled nose. He drops the fork with a sigh and turns to look at her. “So, how was work?” “We caught a murderer,” she replies, and hates the pleased blush that she knows is warming her cheeks. “He confessed.” Sam snorts. “And he’s still in one piece?” She sits up, stung. Sam's always criticizing the Guv’s methods, and Annie agrees with him most of the time, but there’s never been the note of spite that’s now present in his voice, whenever he talks about the Guv. Sarcasm, yes. Malice, never. “Yes,” she says, sharply. “I don’t understand why you’re being so… hostile towards the Guv.” He narrows his eyes at her. “He represents everything that’s wrong with the police these days.” “Sam, you…” she trails off. “What?” She shakes her head, weary, this is like starting all over again. “We’ve already had a conversation like this…before,” she says. “There you go, then,” he says, shrugging. “I’ve not changed much, then.” “You used to respect him, though,” she retorts. Sam doesn’t reply to that. “Have you called Morgan?” he asks, after a moment. She looks at him and nods. “Yes,” she says, hoping Sam won’t remember what she looks like when she’s lying. They spend the next hour in silence, Annie looking out the window, Sam staring absently at the coils of steam raising from his hot lunch, until it cools down completely to a shapeless, greyish mass. * * * On the way to Sam’s flat, she stops to buy some cloths and cleaning products in the shop down the street. She knows Sam must have some at his place, but actually having them in her hands, feeling their weight as she goes up the stairs, sort of serves to mentally prepare her. Now that forensics are long gone and that Sam’s still in hospital, his flat will be empty, and even if most of the blood has already been scrubbed away, she knows that the stains take a long time and a lot of work to fade completely. She climbs the stairs slowly, and when she arrives in front of the door, she just stands there, staring at it as if it were a threshold to things unknown, terrible things. Unbelievable things. She takes a deep breath, taking the keys out of her pocket. They’re Sam’s, she took them when they were going through his flat, through the crime scene. The second time in less than a week. She doesn’t know why she did it, she just saw them on the table and picked them up. Inside it’s completely dark, and the air is stuffy, stinking of chemicals and strangely enough, smoke. And there’s an underlying smell she doesn’t want to think about. She supposes it’s probably just her impression, because there’s no way the coppery smell of blood can survive the bleach they used to clean the floors. She flicks on the lights and almost cries out in surprise, but can’t keep from giving a startled gasp when she sees she’s not alone in here. The Guv takes one last drag from his cigarette, then stubs it into the plate serving as an ashtray at the centre of Sam’s table. There’re a lot of burned-out butts in there. “Guv, I-” she blinks. “I didn’t expect anybody to be here.” He stretches his arms over his head, several joints pop in the process and Annie wonders how long he’s been sitting there. He doesn’t get up, though. “Neither did I,” he says after a moment, giving her an inquiring look. She realizes, then, that she’s standing in the middle of the room, the shopping bag clutched to her chest, the door open behind her. She puts the bag down, turning around to close the door, the keys still jingling in her palm. “How did you get in?” she asks. The Guv dips a hand into his coat pocket and comes out with a key ring. There’re a lot of keys, to his house, she guesses, to the car, to his file cabinet in the office. Then she spots two very familiar keys amongst the others. Keys to Sam’s door. “He said he was getting tired of me breaking down his door,” he says, and puts them away. His eyes travel to the bags by her feet. “What’ve you got there?” “Ajax,” she replies, nodding at the floor, where just a few days ago a dark stain had spread. “‘S clean,” he says. “It’s never clean enough,” she retorts, shaking her head. The Guv snorts. “I just want Sam to come back to a clean place.” Where he doesn’t have to look down and think ‘that was me’. “Sam,” the Guv repeats, thoughtfully. “Sam. I don’t think we’re gonna see him for a very long time,” he says. “Thirty years. Give or take.” Annie gives him a long look. “You don’t really believe that, Guv, do you?” He rubs his face and finally gets up. “I don’t know. You tell me, Cartwright,” he says. “Never could figure Tyler out. Never will, I reckon.” He stands up, smoothing down his clothes, and to Annie he’s never looked this tired. “You can stay, Guv,” she says. “If you want.” He shakes his head. “The Missus is waiting.” “Guv!” she calls, when he’s already at the door. “You should come and visit Sam at the hospital, sometime.” He hesitates, his back to her, and then he snorts. “No,” he says. “As far as I’m concerned, Sam died on that floor.” “Guv,” she whispers, and she can feel her eyes welling up with tears. “What has he done that’s so terrible you can’t forgive him?” The Guv whirls sharply on her, his eyes bright with fury and something else she can’t quite decipher. “Why don’t you mind your own business!” he snarls right into her face. “Bloody nosy bird!” he growls, and with that he leaves, slamming the door behind him, making the whole frame shake under the force. Annie stumbles back, stunned into silence by the sudden display of fury. After a moment she blinks away the tears and goes to open the windows to freshen the room. Now that the room is bathed in the late afternoon light, she can see the darker colour of the boards. She remembers the night, when they were going over the crime scene, DI Parkman’s empty, lifeless eyes staring up at them, his and Sam’s blood mixed in a coagulated pool spreading under his body. She remembers the long hours spent waiting to see if Sam would survive the loss of blood, the surgery. And later, waiting by his bed, waiting for him to wake up. She remembers the Guv’s silent presence on the chair drawn up by the bed, feet propped up on the mattress, his eyes never leaving Sam’s face for more than a minute. The first time Annie’s ever seen the Guv so still and silent for such a long time. Her gaze goes to the cigarette butts in the ashtray, and there’s a bottle of Scotch by the sink, the Guv’s usual brand. She recalls what Sam’s neighbour, Mrs. Finley, has said, about the Guv swinging by more than a few times, she recalls the two keys swinging by his key ring, and clinking against all the other keys to all the things in the Guv’s life. Important things. She’s seen the way the Guv walks around now, his movements responding to a presence that isn’t there any more. She’s seen the way he turns to look at his acting DI, the almost confused expression on his face as if he’s surprised to find Ray by his side. And maybe she isn’t alone in struggling so much, trying to cope with Sam’s unrecognizing eyes, but apparently she is the only one that doesn’t believe that Sam, their Sam, is gone. Never to come back. * * * Annie turns the keys in the lock and pushes, stepping aside to let Sam in. He limps slightly, the pain his not yet healed wound is still giving him is evident in his face. “So this is it, then?” he asks, looking around the room. “You didn’t tell me I used to live in a bloody matchbox, love.” She smiles. “Yeah, the-” other Sam “-you have never quite liked it.” He eyes the small bed dubiously, then attempts sitting on it, gingerly, but hasn’t expected it to give away so easily under his weight, because he almost falls over, yelping. His hands go to his injury, his face pale and tight with pain. “Bloody hell,” he grinds out, hissing. “You all right?” she asks, dropping the groceries on the table and reaching his side. “Yeah, yeah,” he says, waving her away. “Was only a twinge.” Her gaze lingers on him for a few moments more, but then she nods, and gets up to go and sort the groceries. “So, what are you planning to cook, Sam?” she asks, smiling. He frowns and looks at her. “Cook?” he repeats. “You bought all that stuff, I thought you were gonna cook.” She laughs softly and shakes her head, “I’m afraid I can barely boil water,” she says. “You’ re a mean cook, though.” He stands up, gingerly. “Oh, I am?” he snorts, as he limps to the stove. He starts banging open and close the cupboards. “Rice?” he suddenly exclaims, rather stunned, then he takes a small jar and frowns at it. “Coriander? What the hell is that?” She stares at him, and for a moment she wonders if she’s really looking at another man altogether. No. Sam is the same Sam, he’s just gone through two near-death experiences in a very short time. This is just the effect of trauma and stress, he’s just forgotten who he is, and now… Now he needs some time and he’ll be back to his old self. But so many things have changed about him, his behaviour only the most obvious one, the way he walks, the way he dresses, the way he keeps his hair. He’s started growing a moustache. His hand-writing has changed, his taste in music. And Annie is left trying to find a familiar gesture of the man she knew – even if just a glimpse – underneath a pattern of movements and words that belongs to a total stranger. She shakes herself, and makes sure she’s got a kind smile before she starts. “I’m sure we can come up with something, between the two of us.” * * * “Now,” she says, before entering. “Remember what the doctors said.” He rolls his eyes and snorts. “No booze.” Annie nods, satisfied that he’s remembered. “That’s right.” “Then why have you brought me ‘ere?” he asks, nodding at the sign of The Railway Arms. “You wanna torture me? You cruel, cruel woman.” She laughs softly and shakes her head. “No, Sam,” she says. “We come here after work, I was hoping it would-” “Jog me memory, yeah,” he nods with a sigh, and for a moment Annie doesn’t think this is such a good idea any more. She’s about to suggest they go away, when Sam turns to her, smirking. “You come ‘ere often, then?” he shakes his head disapprovingly. “A respectable bird like you.” She giggles. “Oh, I believe you don’t know me enough to be able to say that, DI Ty- Williams.” He doesn’t seem to have noticed her slip and nods to the door. “Shall we go in, then?” “All right.” The moment they step inside all the conversations stop and every set of eyes in the pub is fixed on them. She fidgets and smiles unconvincingly in greeting at Chris and Ray. Beside her, Sam stiffens. “Uh, I don’t think this was such a good idea,” he whispers, leaning slightly towards her. “Ah, Sam!” Nelson exclaims, from behind the bar. “And lovely Annie, of course. What can I get you?” And like magic all the tension is broken, everybody going back to their drinks, their conversations, their game of darts. She smiles at Nelson in gratitude and sits down, the coat folded two stools away from her doesn’t go unnoticed and she looks around for the Guv, but he’s nowhere to be found. Sam blinks at Nelson, perplexed. “I don’t know how I can possibly have forgotten you.” Nelson laughs softly. “I’ll take that as a compliment, mon brav, shall I?” he says. “Pint and a chaser?” Annie lays a hand on Sam’s arm, preventing him from saying anything that would break their pact about drinks. “He’s still recovering,” she says. “So make it something with no alcohol in it.” Nelson frowns, thoughtfully. “I don’t if I actually have anything like that, here,” he replies, with a grin. “I trust your endless resources,” she says, confidently. Nelson laughs again and winks at her, before leaving to get their drinks. Sam sits down at her left, and maybe he hasn’t noticed the coat, but she wishes he wouldn’t have. The Guv is intractable enough as it is, he doesn’t need Sam’s presence rubbed into his face. She can’t say that, though, can she? What excuse would she use? ‘Sorry Sam, you shouldn’t sit next to the Guv because he thinks you’re dead.’ “He seems like a nice bloke,” Sam says, following Nelson with his eyes. “Nelson? He is,” she replies, nodding. “What’s with the way he speaks, though?” he frowns. “Can’t figure his accent.” There’s a grunt from two stools down, and they turn to look as the Guv makes his way back from the loo and stumbles to the bar, climbing on his stool. He gives them a scowling glance, then takes his empty glass and taps it on the bar. “There’s a drought, ‘ere, you crazy Jamaican!” he bellows, and Nelson appears in front of him as if by magic, refilling the tumbler with Scotch. “There you go, Mr. Hunt,” he says, the Guv grunts in response. Sam gives a disgusted snort and turns away from him, to look at Annie. “Bloody useless.” She frowns at him. “You shouldn’t talk like that of the Guv.” “Why not?” he says, with a shrug. “He is.” “Sam-” she starts, but Nelson arrives once again with perfect timing to save the situation. “There you go, Sam,” he says, putting a glass in front of him. He leans forward. “Ginger ale,” he whispers conspiratorially. “Don’t let this out, or I’ll lose my rep.” She smiles and nods in reassurance. “Don’t worry, your secret is safe with us.” Sam sips carefully at his drink, and even though he may regret the fact that it isn’t alcoholic enough for his tastes, he seems to be satisfied enough. “Annie,” he says after a moment. “Yes?” “You told me you handled all me stuff, from the hospital, you know,” he says, staring down at his glass, then he turns to look at her. “I was wondering…Did you find a medal? I had a St. Christopher medal, and I can’t find it any more.” “I remember it,” she says, nodding thoughtfully, then she shakes her head. “Can’t say I found it,” she replies. “I’m sorry.” “Me mum gave me that medal,” he says. “Before she died.” Annie frowns, the way he's talked about her, she’s always thought she’d be still alive. Or maybe Sam has forgotten about his crazy convictions about being from the future. Every cloud has a silver lining, after all. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize…” she starts. “Actually, I haven’t seen you wearing your medal for a while, now.” “Are you sure?” he frowns. “Think about it Annie, it’s really-” But he never gets to finish his sentence, from behind the Guv comes and punches him hard, making his head snap back, and he falls from the stool. “You soddin’ bastard!” the Guv screams, his eyes wild, his teeth clenched in fury. “Guv!” she exclaims, getting up and hurrying to Sam’s side to help him up. “Hunt!” Sam growls, using her arm as a support to stand up. And Annie tries to keep him back, to prevent more of this madness, but he easily frees himself and flings himself at the Guv, hitting him in the face, in the stomach. “Sam!” she cries out, and in a moment Chris and Ray are by her side, separating the two of them. Sam stumbles back, wiping the blood away from his mouth and shooting a look full of contempt and disgust at the Guv, who’s now leaning against the bar, Ray supporting him by his arm. “Bloody useless thug,” he snarls, glaring at him. And this time is the Guv who has to restrain Ray from launching himself at Sam. “Get outta me pub, Williams,” the Guv hisses. “And don’t you ever come back.” “Just as well,” Sam snorts and turns to leave. “You coming, love?” he asks her. Annie remains standing there, not knowing what to do, but apparently Sam hasn’t been expecting an answer anyway, because he just storms out of The Railway Arms, leaving her to stare helplessly at his back. “He’s got you properly trained, don’t he Cartwright?” the Guv snorts. “Mark me words, love, you’re gonna get hurt by the likes of ‘im.” She frowns at him. “I think that’s my decision to make, Guv,” she says sharply. “You’re wastin’ your time,” he goes on, and now he’s back on his stool, blood spattered across the side of his mouth, hunched over his drink, and Annie has never seen him so crumpled and broken. “He’s gone, you know. He’s just… gone.” * * * When they reach his block of flats Sam turns around and speaks for the first time since what happened in The Railway Arms. “Here we are,” he says, then bows his head slightly. “Thank you for escorting me home, kind lady.” She smiles. “The streets aren’t safe, at this hour,” she says. “But thankfully you have a officer of the law with you.” “How will I ever repay you?” ‘By being yourself again’, she wants to tell him. “No need, it’s my job.” He nods, but becomes serious. “You’ve really been helping me, Annie,” he says. “A lot.” She ducks her head, smiling shyly. “You’re my friend, Sam,” she says, softly. “Of course I’ll help you.” “You seem to be the only one I’ve got left, then,” he replies, rather harshly. “Not like that lot down at the pub.” She sighs. “I’ve told you, Sam,” she says. “It’s just… difficult for them” “Yeah,” he nods, staring right into her eyes. “Because I remind them so much of this Tyler bloke.” Annie blinks and looks sideways, averting his gaze. “Who is he anyway?” “I- I don’t want to talk about it.” He snorts. “Of course you don’t.” She coughs lightly. “I should go,” she says and turns, but Sam’s fingers closing around her wrist stop her. It’s not that the grip is tight, quite the contrary in fact. And it’s the gentleness of it that actually freezes her steps. “Would you like to come up?” he asks, softly. “I know me flat is not much to look at, but…” “Sam…” she starts, because if The Railway Arms hasn’t been a good idea, this is a monumentally wrong one. “I don’t think…” “Please, Annie.” She takes a deep breath, and despite herself, she nods. She expected Sam to kiss her there in the street, or as soon as they’ve got inside, but he just tells her to make herself at home and goes off to find something for them to drink. She frowns when he turns around, brandishing a bottle of wine. He sighs. “I was hoping you’d forgotten,” he admits, putting the wine away. “I would offer tea, but I don’t have any,” he shows her a jar. “Only coffee, apparently.” “Water is fine,” she says. “There you go,” he says, placing a glass of water in front of her. “Not very fancy, but refreshing.” She smiles and takes a sip. “Oh,” she exclaims in wonder. “This is an excellent vintage!” He rolls his eyes. “Yeah, mock the poor sod who can’t have booze for the rest of his life.” “Now you’re just exaggerating,” she says. “It’s only until you’ve fully recovered.” “Feels like it though.” She nods and looks away, suddenly feeling very uncomfortable. What is she doing? Sam is confused enough as it is, she shouldn’t be here, complicating the matter further. She stands up, causing him to look up at her in surprise. “Where are you going?” he asks. “Home,” she says. “It’s late and I-” she clears her voice. “This isn’t a good idea, Sam.” “Stay,” he says. “We’ll just talk if you want. I just- I don’t want to be alone, right now,” he continues quietly, and his eyes are pleading with her. And Sam’s so expressive, and in some way so open when it comes to communicate something. But at the same time his eyes are closed, guarded, as if hiding an entire world he doesn’t want to show behind them. And she supposes they do, a world of future wonders, a world that’s so much better than the one they’re living in right now, or so he says. And sometimes Sam is so far away from everybody else around him, an abyss separating them, that she can almost believe he’s from a different planet. Now more than ever. She sighs and sits down again, taking a sip of water to give herself some time to think. “What do you want to talk about?” He shrugs. “I don’t know,” he says. “Work?” Annie rolls her eyes. “That part of you hasn’t changed.” “What part?” She grins. “The part where you’re obsessed with your job.” “Is that a bad thing?” “Of course not,” she shakes her head. “But you should learn to let go once in a while.” “Well, that’s the whole point of you being here,” he replies. “Sam.” “All right, all right,” he exclaims, raising his hands in defeat. She smiles, the rim of the glass resting against her lips as she thinks about it. “Work is the usual,” she says. “We catch criminals.” “Are you good at it?” he asks, and at her frown, “hey, amnesia, remember?” “Yes, Sam,” she replies. “We’re very good at it. Even without you.” “What’s that supposed to mean?” “Oh, well,” she says. “You’re always proposing new methods, from Hyde.” “Really?” he asks, and he sounds actually surprised. “What kind of methods?” “Blood pattern analysis, for one. Psychological profiling,” she replies. “Other stuff. You always insist that evidence makes a case, not gut feeling.” “Right,” he seems to think about it. “And what’s Hunt’s take on that? Doesn’t strike me as a bloke that would stand for that.” “Well, he didn’t at first,” she admits. “But he’s willing to compromise, sometimes.” “Sometimes?” he asks, incredulously. She doesn’t like his tone whenever he speaks of the Guv, now. It’s as if all the respect he’s had for him has been overbalanced and overwhelmed by the aversion he has for his methods. “It’s your fault as well as his, Sam,” she says, sharply. “What?” he exclaims. “The man is a thug and the fault is mine?” “Sam!” “What? You saw what he did, didn’t you!” he says, slamming his palm on the table. “He punched me in the face for no other reason that he’s a violent bastard!” “I’m sure he didn’t mean that-” “Oh, now I’m relieved!” “He was drunk, Sam!” she retorts. “Surely you’ve been drunk and done something stupid, as well.” “That’s no excuse, Annie,” he says, in a low voice. “I have it on good authority that he always drinks, even when he’s working! And don’t pretend he’s never been violent when sober.” “Sam, I don’t know what you want me to say, but-” “Admit it,” he says. “Sam-” “Admit that Gene Hunt is a drunken, violent bastard,” he says, angrily. “It’s not like that, Sam, and you know it.” “No. Actually, I don’t,” he retorts, and his eyes aren’t pleading any more, they’re clear and purposeful. She wants to get out of here. She stands up, collecting her coat. “Annie.” She shakes her head, “I can’t Sam, I’m sorry.” “Why?” he asks. “I can understand that you respect him, but he’s not perfect, why can’t you admit it?” He’s right, Annie knows that, the Guv is far from perfect, but his actions have always been in consequence to the world around them. To catch criminals, they need to be shoulder to shoulder with them, to mingle with their lot, so that ordinary people don’t have to, so that they can protect them. “Sometimes you just have to do what it needs to be done,” she says. “No, Annie,” Sam replies, shaking his head. “You don’t. Otherwise what’s the difference between us and the criminals we put away? Just a piece of metal?” And in some way he’s right, but Annie knows the Guv, or at least she’s known him longer than Sam, and there are lines he won’t cross. He demonstrated that when Ray gave cocaine to Billy Kemble, when he arrested Superintendent Woolf. “I don’t want you to…’deny’ him, Annie,” Sam says, gently. “I just want you to admit that he’s not perfect, to acknowledge it. So we can start from there.” She sighs. “Sam…” “Say it.” “Sometimes-” she stops, and tries again. This is one of the most difficult things she’s had to say in her life. “Sometimes DCI Hunt, the Guv, employs excessive force with suspects.” “You mean he beats them.” “Yes,” she replies, shooting him a glare. “He beats them. Happy now?” He smiles widely, and goes to her, opening his arms and enclosing her in an embrace. But when he tries to kiss her, she turns her head sideways. “What is it?” he asks, softly. “Not now,” she replies, kissing him on the cheek and taking a step back. “It’s late, I’m going home.” He gives her a long look, but then he nods. “Fair enough,” he says. “I’ll see you tomorrow?” he asks more than says. “Yes,” she replies. “I’ll come over after work.” He watches from the threshold as she descends the stairs. When she’s finally out where he can’t see her any more, she stops and leans back against the hard bricks of the wall, closing her eyes and trying to catch her breath. This is going too fast, she hasn’t got the time to stop and think clearly. And she’s so angry right now, but she hasn’t quite well figured at whom, yet. At Sam, for making her doubt the Guv, the things she’s always believed in, taken for granted. At herself, for letting Sam do that. But mostly, because she’s making Sam the focus of the blame, when his objections actually have a point. And she still can’t understand his total, seemingly blind aversion to the Guv. She loves Sam, but right now she’s afraid of him. * * * Annie’s desk is right behind Sam’s, and every time she raises her eyes she sees that he is not there. There are several piles of folders and reports scattered on the desk, and even on the chair, but they’ve been left there temporarily by somebody who didn’t have the space and needed some. The desk had been cleared of Sam’s personal things when he packed for the transfer back to Hyde. And then it was DI Parkman’s turn, but he didn’t last long, and Sam hasn’t had the time to put everything back into place. She wonders where the box has gone to, the one Sam put all of his personal property in from the desk and from his locker. Maybe it’s in his flat. She remembers walking in on him as he was filling the box, in the locker room. There wasn't much inside, no photos for starters, and she remembers finding that odd, but of course now she knows why. Sam Tyler has no family, because he’s just a cover behind which Sam Williams has been hiding. But Sam would never betray them , would he? Since day one, he’s been struggling to make them better, he made her a detective. What would be the use in throwing everything away now? “How’s the Boss?” Chris asks, startling her from her thoughts. “What?” she says, blinking and turning to look up at him. “How’s the Boss?” Chris repeats. “If you’re so worried about him,” she replies, rather harshly, “why don’t you go and visit him? He’s at home, now.” Chris looks down at his shoes guiltily, and she instantly regrets having snapped at him. “Um,” he says. “I went to see him when he was still at the hospital. I even brought him a card,” he cheers up slightly at the memory, but his smile falls after a moment. “He had them weird eyes when he looked at me, though,” he says. “I don’t think thinks he likes me much, now.” She shakes her head. “I’m sure that’s not true, Chris,” she says, trying to reassure him, but she’s not that certain herself, and Sam actually seems to dislike quite a lot of people. Except her, of course. “He’s just…confused at the moment,” she frowns as she tries to explain. “It’s like he’s gone back to before he met us. It’s not that he doesn’t like you, he just doesn’t remember that he does.” “Gone back,” Chris nods, thoughtfully. “Like the first day. Blimey, he really was acting quee- weird.” “Yes, something like that, Chris.” “So the Boss has finally gone cuckoo, then,” Ray snorts, parking his bum on her desk. She scowls at him. “Sam's not crazy,” she says. “He’s just recovering from a lot of stress.” “He’s a bloody sissy,” he sneers. “I almost got blown up. Didn’t lost me memories, did I?” But Annie remembers Ray’s face, when she arrived at Sam’s place, just a minute after the ambulance, she had been on her way there, anyway, to relieve the Guv and give both of them some breathing space, God knows they probably were going bonkers, stuffed in Sam’s minuscule flat. There was just so much blood, and DI Parkman’s body, and Sam looked dead. And she knows Ray must have thought that, because he had looked completely gobsmacked when the ambulance men told him to please let him go, that he was still alive. “Maybe he just wanted to forget your ugly mug, Ray,” Chris says, with a grin. “Then why has he forgotten you as well, Einstein?” Ray retorts. “I don’t know,” Chris replies, his eyes shining with good humour. “Maybe you’ve just got a really ugly mug.” Annie giggles a bit at that, but Ray scowls deeply at both of them and leaves. “You think he’s upset?” Chris turns to her, his tone vaguely worried. “No, Ray’s just a bit touchy,” she replies with a smile. Chris laughs, then he gives her a look. “Will you tell the Boss that I say 'hi'?” She nods. “Of course.” He fidgets. “And would you ask him if I can go and visit him, sometime?” he continues. “So that he’ll remember he likes me?” “He’ll be pleased, I’m sure,” she says, and she’s about to add something else, when the doors burst open, and in comes the Guv, sporting a deep frown on his face and a general dishevelled air that speaks of a hangover. “Well!” he bellows to the room at large. “What the hell’s goin’ on here? You think you’re at a soddin’ tea party? Stop dickin’ around and get some work done, you bunch of bloody sissies!” He shoots a glance at Sam’s desk before storming to his office and barricading himself inside. “I wonder,” she murmurs, and Chris turns to look at her questioningly. She shakes her head. “No, it’s nothing. I just wonder what happened between Sam and the Guv to make him act so angry towards him.” Beside her, Chris starts sputtering and almost trips over his own feet from his standing position. “W-What?” he manages to choke out, at last. She frowns at him. “Chris, is there something you want to tell me?” “No!” he exclaims, and when he notices he’s said that too loudly, he lowers his voice. “No.” She narrows her eyes at him. Chris certainly isn’t the most impenetrable person in the world, and he’s hiding something, he knows something. “Chris, the Guv is acting as if Sam wronged him by losing his memories. But it’s not Sam’s fault!” she exclaims. “So if you know anything that could help the situation…” Chris shakes his head, his eyes wide and terrified. “I don’t know nowt,” he says. “And even if I did, I promised I wouldn’t tell.” “Chris!” she hisses. “I can’t!” he says, and he really is afraid. “I wish I could, because it’s- but it’s not me secret to tell!” She can see that he’s really troubled, and in the end she gives up, not wanting him to perjure himself. “It’s all right, Chris,” she says. “Just tell me, could that have to do something with the Guv being angry at Sam?” Chris frowns. “I wouldn’t know. I don’t think so,” he shrugs. “Maybe he’s angry because Sam’s forgotten him.” Annie shakes her head. “The Guv’s the only one he didn’t forget.” He just despises him now. * * * Sam kisses her mouth again, nibbling softly on her lower lip, and his hands go to cup her breasts. She knows she should stop him, stop him and leave, because this isn’t a good idea at all, Sam’s still confused, she’s still confused. Everybody’s confused and she doesn’t know where she stands. But she’s only made of flesh and blood, after all, and her fingers are lost in Sam’s short hair, and she’s tilting her head to give him better access for the kiss. He moans against her mouth and his hands go around her, stroking up and down her back, as he starts to walk her backward towards the bed. “So much for dinner,” she chuckles breathlessly against his lips when they come apart. Their dinner is cooling on the table, waiting for them. Annie has a suspicion they’ll stay hungry for the time being, though, at least as far as food is concerned. “Not worth it, anyway,” he says, smiling down at her. “I’d rather do this.” “Me too,” she replies, and starts unbuttoning Sam’s shirt to push it off his shoulders. He frees his arms from the sleeves, and as she’s still working on getting the shirt completely off, he starts working on her blouse, sneaking his hands inside when he’s created an opening big enough. He caresses her stomach, then travels back, working on the clasp of her bra. When a thumb strokes her nipple she gasps loudly, and starts kissing him more urgently, tugging and pulling at the belt of his trousers. She can feel him hardening even more against her thigh. “I think we should- the bed-” “Yes,” he says, and they fall back on the mattress, the bed protesting loudly. He levers himself up on his elbows, not to crush her, and she takes advantage of the small space between them, to sneak her hand down his stomach, fingers trailing along the smooth, sparsely haired skin, to reach the cotton of his pants. “Annie,” he whispers, above her, and his eyes are wide and burning. She raises her head to capture his lips and sneaks her hand inside, taking hold of him, stroking him, the wiry pubic hair tickling against her fingers. Sam tilts his head backwards and starts moving against her hand, and she closes her fingers tighter, feeling him grow even harder. Above her Sam is coming apart, gasping loudly, his lips muttering obscene words, and then he lowers himself on her, his face plastered against her neck, panting and licking and nibbling. And now her arm is trapped between their sweaty bodies, but she doesn’t stop the up and down motions of her hand, until Sam tenses and curses louder, and hot come fills her hands. Neither of them moves for a long time, her hand still petting him, Sam breathing shakily against her neck. Then he draws himself up and kisses her. “Bloody hell, woman,” he says, almost in wonder. She grins at him. “I’ll take that as a compliment.” He chuckles and lightly kisses her again, then he shifts and grimaces. “Sticky,” he says, disgusted, and Annie laughs out loud at that. “What do you say we try this again, without our clothes on?” “I’d say that’s a good idea,” she grins at him. “Let’s just hope you’ll last longer this time.” He frowns at her. “You doubting me manliness, Miss. Cartwright?” he exclaims, mock-affronted. “Well, you left me behind,” she replies, still grinning. “Oh, I’ll show you, you heartless woman!” he exclaims, diving down and slowly licking his way up from her navel to her sternum. She gasps. “You missed the important bits,” she says, but Sam looks up at her and makes a deviation towards her right breast, his tongue idly circling her nipple, before engulfing it completely. Annie can hardly believe she thought this could be a bad idea. * * * Annie opens the door with the keys the Guv gave her. ‘Don’t need them any more’, he said, and tossed them on her desk. She wonders if he already knows what’s going on between her and Sam. He surely suspects something, anyhow. Inside, Sam’s flat is silent, except for the sound of running water coming from the bathroom. Sam is in the shower, and Annie fidgets. She can’t seem to decide if what they did last night has been a smart move, Sam is still recovering, after all, and not only from the wound in his side. But it’s been- well, not perfect, but very good, indeed. Annie Cartwright has finally be able to get her man. She grins and gives a small giggle. Sam is taking a very long time in the shower, she wonders if he would object much to her joining him. The thought brings images of a naked Sam with water all running down on him to her mind. Her grin widens, but his shower probably isn’t big enough for what she has in mind. No harm in asking, though. She takes off her jacket and throws it on the bed, and is about to start on her blouse, when she sees the pages scattered on the table, next to the tape recorder. She frowns and stoops to examine it, and she shouldn’t because it’s surely something private. In the end she’s glad she does, though. She sits down hard, on one of the chair, staring wide-eyed at the words carefully written on the page, her mind blank. Almost on its own accord, her index finger goes to the tape recorder and presses play. Her own voice, and Sam’ s, come out. “Sometimes DCI Hunt, the Guv, employs excessive force with suspects.” “You mean he beats them.” “Yes . He beats them. Happy now?” She stops the tape, suddenly, but the written words still haunt her, continuing the dialogue. And Sam has- She can’t even bring herself to think about, tears of shame and rage making her vision blurry, a strange, almost startled sound making its way from her chest out of her mouth. “What are you doing here?” Sam asks, and she jumps, not having heard the water closing, him entering the room. She turns to look at him; he’s still wet from the shower, with a small towel wrapped around his hips, but he’s not the man she’s had sex last night, he doesn’t hold any appeal any more. He’s just a despicable, miserable bastard who’s tricked her and who’s betrayed her. “What is this, Sam?” she says, in a low voice. “Tell me this isn’t what I think it is.” Sam gives her a long look, then comes to the table to gather the pages and the recorder, he doesn’t look at her. “You shouldn’t have come here, uninvited.” “I’m starting to think that, as well,” she snorts. “So last night, what was it? Just trying to get dirt on the Guv, and you decided to have a bit on the side while you were at it?” and she wants him to deny that, to scream, to cry that it’s not true, that he genuinely likes her, that he won’t betray them, not now that he’s got a chance with Annie. He only stares at her, though, and his silence is very telling. “You lying bastard!” she cries, slapping him with such force that he stumbles sideways. She darts past him, retrieving her jacket from the bed and hastily putting it on. His hand on her wrist stops her. “I wasn’t the only one, though,” he says, tugging and pulling her towards him. “Let me go!” she exclaims, pushing at his chest, but he grips tighter on her wrist. “Oh, you were all very careful around me,” he snorts, sneering down at her. “And at first I believed it, I believed you.” “What are you talking about?” she frowns. “After all, I could do nothing but trust you,” he continues. “It was obvious I had lost week or two, and I didn’t know where I stood with you lot.” Annie’s still frozen in his embrace, not really sure where this is going. “And then it became clear that I had lost months,” he hisses into her face. “Bloody months!” “Sam, I didn’t want to upset you, I-” “And there you stand, next to me, smiling and being a nice little bird!” he yells. “But you aren’t, aren’t you? You just look at me and see somebody else, don’t you?!” And frankly, Annie is worried now, and even slightly afraid, because Sam is getting more and more angry, and the grip on her wrist is turning painful. “Sam!” she exclaims. “You’re hurting me!” “It’s bloody Tyler, innit?” he exclaims. “You said I just reminded you lot of him, but that’s not that, is it? I was Tyler!” “Sam-” “And I thought it was just a coincidence, that I couldn’t have lost me mind like that. Turns out I was wrong.” “You haven’t lost your mind, Sam,” she says for what feels like the hundredth time, but she’s not that sure she believes it any more. “And yes, maybe I should have told you everything, but I was afraid-” she stops, suddenly noticing what she’s doing. This man has betrayed her, she’s got the proof, this man has taken advantage of her feelings and used them for his purposes. This man deserves no forgiveness. She takes a deep breath, schooling her features into an impassive façade, and tries to take a step back. When he doesn’t let go, though, she shoots a glance at him. “Let me go. Now.” “No,” he says. “Love.” In an abrupt move, she brings her knee up, against his crotch, and with a breathless cry he folds in half, finally letting her go. “Soddin’ hell,” he grits out. “Bloody crazy bird!” The towel has come undone and he’s completely naked and Annie can’t think that she’s trailed her hands over that skin, kissed that mouth, and has been in turn touched and kissed by the man who’s now curled on the ground, cursing profusely at her. “Think you’re so high and mighty,” he says. “But there’s plenty like you to choose from out there on the streets, you know?” he sneers. “I wondered why, in all those months I didn’t even try to hump you, love, but the answer’s clear enough, innit? I really don’t like cheap slappers, makes me feel unappreciated.” She gapes at him, and in a move that startles her more than Sam, she drives a powerful kick into his stomach. His laughter is cut off, as he starts choking for air. “You learned that from Hunt as well, did ya?” he snorts, then he draws himself up on his elbows, and for a moment, staring up at her, he really looks sorry. “I trusted you, Annie. I thought I could convince you that what Hunt is doin’ is wrong. But you were never on my side, were you? And you call me a traitor, but you’ve always been working for your Guv, trying to see what I knew, what I remembered.” “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she says. “And I won’t take any more of this. Sir.” “You see, we agree at least on one thing,” he says. “For me to have forgotten so much, something really nasty must have happened. I wonder what,” he snorts. “And then Hunt is treating me as if I’ve killed his best mate, you say I really, really look like your Tyler, and when I ask you to call me DCI in Hyde, you smile and say yes. Of course I trusted you. I’m a bloody fool, that’s what I am. You never called him, did you?” She doesn’t say anything. “Morgan told me everything, Annie,” he says. “He told me about the accident, the amnesia, everything.” Annie stares at him, and she wonders how a naked man, sitting on the floor, a man who’s just taken not only one, but two kicks from her, a man that should be at his most vulnerable by now, she wonders how can he hold such power over her, how is he able to make her feel like the filth on his shoes; like a cheap slapper, as he said. “Tyler was my undercover identity,” he says, then. “Until it was blown. But you already knew that, of course.” She shakes her head. “No,” she says. “It’s you, I mean, you-” “No!” he yells, and the sudden outburst startles her. “My name is Sam Williams! Williams! Sam bloody Tyler doesn’t exist! He’s just some imaginary bloke me mind came up with when I had no memories of who I was!” “No, Sam, please-” she pleads. “He’s not real!” And they’ve had this conversation before, haven’t they? The only difference is that now she really wishes she could walk out that door and make everything disappear. “He’s not real!” he yells again, but she already running down the stairs, and the voice is faint to her ears. “Are you all right, love?” an old lady asks her, when she’s down the street. Only then she realizes she’s been crying. * * * She knocks quietly on the door, and enters without waiting for a reply. The Guv doesn’t even look up. “What is it, Cartwright?” She doesn’t reply, and just sits down at the desk, her eyes fixed on the folder opened in front of the Guv. “What?” he barks again, this time raising his head to look at her. What he sees must have really worried him, though, because he asks, “Annie?” in a voice that she’s never heard him use before. “Guv, I…” she tries, but swallows when she realizes she’s about to cry again. She mustn’t, she’s spent the whole morning steadying herself for this, she can’t break down when she hasn’t even started yet. She's not a weak little girl, she’s a policewoman, and what she’s done is stupid, and she’ll pay the consequences like an adult. “Sam-” The Guv shoots up abruptly, and she looks up at him, startled. “What did the bastard do?!” he exclaims, and his whole face is contorted in a furious snarl. “So help me, if he’s even dared-” he punches the filing cabinet, making it sway dangerously. “I’ll break both his bloody arms and I’ll bounce the bastard from the walls, if he thinks he can-” “Guv!” she exclaims. “It’s not like that!” He freezes suddenly, and seems to calm down considerably, and normally Annie would be immensely pleased by the fact that he obviously cares about her, about her well-being, but not right now. Right now, she has to tell him- she has to tell him that she’s betrayed him, that she’s going to be the cause of his fall. He sits down, his hands joined on the table, his eyes carefully studying her. “What is it then, love?” he asks after a moment. “You look like somebody died.” “I- I thought he was just-” she shakes her head. “I thought he was still- himself.” The Guv stays silent, then he sighs and drops his head, one of his hands going to scratch the back of his neck in a gesture that suddenly reminds her of Sam, she lowers her eyes. “I compromised myself, Sir,” she says. The Guv snorts. “It had to happen sooner or later,” he says. “You’ve been sniffing around each other for a while, now, love.” “No, Guv, it’s-” “Congratulations,” he growls. “You’re gonna have lots of beautiful, picky babies and spend your holidays in Brighton.” “This is serious, Guv!” she exclaims. “So am I, Cartwright!” he retorts. And now she isn’t hesitant any more, she’s just furious. “He took advantage of my feelings, Sir!” she exclaims. “Of my relationship with him!” “So, he’s a bastard,” he raises his chin at her. “I warned you, didn’t I?” “Yes, you did,” she nods. “But I didn’t-” she stops, and takes a deep breath. “He recorded some of the things I said when we were alone.” “He’s kinky, as well, then,” he sneers. “But we both knew that already, didn’t we?” “No, not- Compromising things, Guv, about you,” she says, looking straight at him, because he deserves that. “About your… questioning techniques with some of the suspects.” The Guv gives her a long look, then he sniffs and nods. “I see,” he says, calmly. “You’re not going to say anything, Guv?” she asks softly. “Nothing to say,” he replies, shrugging. “Hope you had your fun, love, because everything will end soon enough.” “But Guv, we have to do something...” she trails off, and his face is enough of answer. “Maybe I could- I’ve still got the keys to his flat, maybe-” “No,” he says. “You remember Parkman, right? I’m not like that bloody Morgan from Hyde,” he snorts, his voice full of contempt. “I won’t put me officers in danger, or whore them out for my purposes.” “But Guv,” she tries again, almost desperately. “There must be some way!” The Guv levels her with a long stare. “No, there isn’t,” he says, and it sounds definitive. And Annie thinks of the words he said the other night. ‘He’s gone’. The way he said them, and for the first time she’s as sure as him. Because Sam, their Sam, is gone. There’s nothing left of him in the man that’s going to bring them all down, that’s going to betray them. And if on one hand that’s a relief – Sam would never do something like that! – on the other it’s so utterly devastating. Because it means Sam isn’t real, has never been. It means he only existed in their minds. * * * The rest of the week is just a long, agonisingly wait, hanging over their heads like Damocles’ sword. Annie finds herself looking up at the doors every few minutes, expecting Sam to come in, followed by DCI Morgan, accomplished smiles on their face, the papers that will decree their end in his hand. Everybody in CID is acting like her, even Phyllis who’s one of the strongest people she knows seems to be unnaturally subdued. The Guv’s the only one whose behaviour hasn’t changed, but he’s been that way ever since Sam woke up, and she wonders how he’s always known, from the start, and she never did until now. “Here love,” Phyllis says, handing her a cup of tea. “Thanks,” she gives her a somewhat shaky smile. They drink their tea in silence for a while, then Annie puts her down on the table, and looks up. Around them the canteen is empty. “I’ve ruined everything, haven’t I?” she says, softly. “Now, love, don’t be daft,” Phyllis clicks her tongue. “He was an outright bastard, tricking a nice bird like you, who cared for him-” “Well, that’s exactly the problem, isn’t it?” she exclaims. “I shouldn’t be a ‘nice bird’! I should just be WDC Cartwright!” And Annie can’t believe that she has been the one to ruin everything. A million things could have gone wrong; the Guv losing his patience in Lost and Found, Ray being too sloppy during an investigation, Chris tampering with the evidence. And she’s the one, in the end, the weak link, just because she has ‘soft feelings’ for Sam. And maybe they’re right, maybe CID isn’t a place for somebody like her, for a bird. “You should have seen him, Phyllis!” she goes on. “The Guv was just- he’s just given up. And it’s all my fault.” “Annie…” Phyllis reaches a hand across and squeezes her wrist gently. “It’s not your fault.” She pushes the cup away from her, and she abruptly stands up. “I need some air.” It’s well after office hours and the corridor to CID is empty and dimly light. Everybody’s left, and the silence as her steps echo against the walls is almost eerie. She just needs to get out of here, she’s been feeling almost claustrophobic lately, the tension accumulating and dulling every sensation, every colour, making everything grey and insipid. In front of her the double doors leading to the main office space swing forward, and a well- known shape steps forwards. “Annie,” he says, almost in wonder. And his voice is so familiar, it sounds just like it did when they made love. When he used her. She stands frozen on the spot, not knowing what to do, and he takes advantage of that to come closer and hug her. “God, you’re a sight for sore eyes!” Sam says softly, against her hair, then he draws back to look at her face. “Annie,” he repeats, and he seems genuinely happy to see her. She is still tense under his hands, but her initial anger has been replaced by much greater confusion. “DI Williams?” she asks, tentatively. “Sir?” He frowns at her, taken aback. “No,” he says. “It’s me. Sam.” She stares at him in disbelief, feeling all the tension, and the shame, and the anger of the past days coiling in her stomach, and she draws back her hand and instead of slapping him like she did in his flat, she curls her fingers in a fist and punches him right in the face. With a startled gasp he stumbles backwards, almost tripping over his legs, but ultimately keeping himself upright by leaning against the wall. Blood is gushing down from his nose in a red, shining stream. He looks up at her in disbelief and, even though her knuckles are scratched and hurting, she feels something expanding inside her, and finally – finally – relief flows through her. “Annie?” he asks, his voice small and choked. She hopes she’s broken the bloody bastard’s nose. “If you think you can come to me and act as if nothing has happened,” she says. “Think again.” He shakes his head, his eyes wide. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” The nerve he has. “If you come near me again, I’ll rip your bloody bollocks off,” she hisses, and with a last glare she walks past him, heading to the exit. “Annie!” he calls. “What have I- Annie!” “What’s all this bloody-” the Guv stops mid-bellow as his eyes travel behind her to stare at Sam, he scowls. “What are you doin’ here?” he growls. “Gene,” Sam sobs, and Annie’s disgust towards him has just reached new heights. The Guv seems frozen on the spot, a flicker of indecision in his eyes, but it’s just a moment, then his posture straightens, his jaw clenches, and he marches towards Sam, who’s probably still cowering against the wall. “Gene,” he repeats. “It’s me.” Annie starts walking again, long, confident strides, her head held high. And for once, she doesn’t feel the need to stop her Guv’s fury. This particular bastard deserves every punch, every kick the Guv’s going to put into him. * * * The next day, she arrives at work almost expecting to find smears of blood in the corridors and a crime scene. Or at least, a satisfied Gene Hunt, boasting to everybody how he’s made that bastard Williams from Hyde pay. There’s nothing of the sort, though, and as lunch time comes nearer and the Guv still hasn’t arrived, she starts to worry. Surely he won’t have lost against Sam. Or maybe it was just a plan to provoke him into adopting violent behaviour towards a fellow police officer. With an uncomfortable feeling in the pit of her stomach, she goes to find Phyllis. “Have you seen the Guv?” she asks her. “Called in sick,” she replies, with an arched eyebrow that suggests a huge amount of disbelief on her part. Annie frowns. “Ever since I’ve known him, he’s never called in sick,” she says. Not even when he should have, coming to work with still healing wounds. “If you ask me, he didn’t sound sick at all, love,” Phyllis replies. “Quite the contrary. But I’m just a desk sergeant, what do I know?” * * * When she sees Sam next, the day after as it is, he looks quite all right. Except for the split lip and the slightly swollen nose she’s given him, of course. She should have seen him before, what kind of police officer is she? She’s almost on the threshold of The Railway Arms when she finally notices him, and by then it’s too late. “Annie!” he exclaims, his hand closing on her arm. She tries to shrug him off, but he grabs her other upper arm, high near the shoulder, and he squeezes, not tightly, almost gently instead. “Let me go.” “Annie,” he repeats, then with a small smile. “Please, don’t rip off my bollocks.” She glares at him. “Give me one good reason why I shouldn't.” “Well, it would hurt very much for starters,” he says, but the joke falls flat. “Okay, just- Just listen to me for a minute, all right?” She should say no, she knows how well he can fake those pleading eyes he’s now sporting. She’s been on the receiving end of this already too many times. He lied and made a fool out of her, and what he’s asking of her is by all means the last thing she should do. But if he’s here talking to her, in one piece, it means that the Guv believed him. And she trusts her Guv. “I-” he sighs and ducks his head, then he looks up again. “The Guv… Gene’s told me that I should apologize to you and-” She looks away. “Annie, look at me,” he says. She rolls her eyes and turns back to stare at him. “It’s me, Sam,” he says, determined. “And I don’t know what my other… me has done to you, and I don’t know if you’ll ever forgive me, but… I’m sorry.” She shakes her head. “Sam, I…” “Oh, God,” he suddenly gasps. “He hasn’t- I haven’t hurt you, have I?” he asks, and the horror in his eyes seems so genuine that Annie actually wants to believe him. “No, Sam,” she replies, because he has hurt her, very much, but not in the way everybody seems to imply. “But we can’t go on with this… thing,” she says, and at his confused frown she elaborates. “You can’t go off and pretend you’ve lost all of your memories and then wear your Tyler disguise again and make as if everything’s back to normal.” Sam smiles bitterly. “Gene told me about Morgan,” he says. “I’ve found my- Williams’- notes and I’ve destroyed them all.” She frowns. “What?” “You can go and ask the Guv. He was there,” he replies, then takes her face into his hands but he drops them with a resigned sigh when Annie flinches away at touch. “It’s me, Annie,” he says. “I’m Sam, the nutter who hears things from the future.” She stares at him, and the man in front of her is acting so much like Sam, like her Sam, that for the first time she can almost believe him. “Sam?” she asks, still somewhat unsure. “You have your memories back?” He chuckles softly.“Something like that,” he says. “I come from 2006, and right now I’m in a coma. Sort of.” Annie rolls her eyes at the worn excuse, and Sam laughs. “My name is Sam Tyler,” he says, stressing the name. “I came back.” “I don’t-” she blinks away the tears in her eyes. “I still don’t believe that future stuff, Sam. As I don’t believe you had amnesia at this point, but everybody kept calling you Williams, and they said you were- are undercover, and I…” she shakes her head. “But you know me, Annie,” he says, but he sounds as if he wants to be re-assured of that fact, and Annie doesn’t know if she can. “You know that wasn’t me. It could never be me.” “I don’t know what to believe any more!" she exclaims, pushing at his chest. “Sshh… It doesn’t matter now,” he says softly, tentatively reaching for her. She lets him, and he takes her in a loose hug, and even the way he smells has changed. Annie wishes this could be possible, wishes that Sam Williams and Sam Tyler really were two completely different men. But she knows it’s just not possible. Sam draws back, dropping a kiss on her forehead. “Thank you,” he says, softly. She frowns, confused. “For what?” “For bringing me back here,” he replies. “For telling me- For showing me this is i>real.” This argument is really getting old. “Sam, but this is real.” “I know,” he says, and laughs for seemingly no apparent reason. “Then why…” Sam shakes his head. “One day you’ll believe me, Annie,” he says, and he sounds absolutely certain. “Sam…” “Trust me, one day you will. I know it. And then you’ll come to find me.” And she wants to believe him, she wants to go to sleep and find out that it’s all been a bad dream. But this is reality, it doesn’t fade with the first rays of sunrise. “I don’t know if I can trust you, Sam,” she finally admits. “Not any more.” He looks stricken by her words, but he nods. “I- I can understand that,” he says. “And I don’t blame you, Annie, I don’t what I’d do in your place, either.” “Where do we go from here?” she asks, after a long moment. “I don’t know,” he replies. “Wherever you want.” “I-” she starts, but the door of The Railway Arms flies open and the Guv comes stumbling out. Annie blinks at him. “I thought you were sick, Guv,” she says. Beside her, Sam laughs out loud. “Busted,” he smirks, and the Guv shoots him a glare. “What’re you two doin’ still here?” he asks, but he’s looking at Annie. “The booze is inside, you know.” “Oh, you would,” Sam says, reaching his side. “And apparently you’ve indulged.” “Shut yer trap, Tyler!” the Guv grunts, taking him in a headlock and bending him forward. And the scene looks so familiar that Annie has to look away. “What’s going to happen now, Guv?” she asks. “Now we drink!” he proclaims, manhandling Sam towards the entrance of the pub. “I don’t think she meant-” Sam says, but his voice comes muffled from where his face his smashed against the Guv’s side. Abruptly, he’s let go and he stumbles a couple of steps back, readjusting his clothes and his hair, then he grimaces. “Bloody hell, Guv, you could try being gentle for a change, you know?” he snorts. “Or at least be less of a caveman. Healing wound, you know.” The Guv rolls his eyes. “You’re a poncey girl, Gladys, you know that?” “I don’t see how I can be a girl and poncey at the same time,” Sam says. “If there’s someone who can, it’s you,” the Guv retorts. Sam narrows his eyes at him, but then he just snorts and rolls his eyes. “Fine, be that way, see if I-” and then he stops, turning widened eyes on her, as if just then remembering she’s there. He stares at her for a long moment, then he turns to the Guv, an almost apprehensive look on his face. “Annie asked you a question, Guv,” he says. The Guv glances at her, then he turns to stare straight at Sam. He says nothing for a long time. “Depends.” “On what?” Sam asks. “You here for good?” the Guv says. “What do you say?” The Guv shrugs. “Stay,” he sniffs. Sam smiles and ducks his head. “I will, then.” “We’ll work something out,” the Guv concludes, with a firm nod. And Annie supposes they should get all inside, now. But The Guv is leaning against the wall, staring off at nothing in particular, one foot propped up on the first of the steps leading to The Railway Arms, and Sam is standing next to him, his eyes looking down at his feet, still smiling, hands in his pockets. “Guv,” she tries, but Chris crosses the street and reaches her side before she can say anything more. “Hey, Guv,” he says, nodding to him, then he looks at Sam, perplexed. “Hi Chris,” Sam smiles at him and nods. “Uh, hi Boss,” Chris smiles back tentatively, and finally he turns to her. “Annie,” he says, then sneaks a glance at the two men in front of them, before continuing. “Why don’t we go inside?” She frowns slightly, but nods and leads the way. * * * Half an hour later Sam and the Guv enter the pub, the Guv slapping him on the back, Sam laughing at something he’s said. They go to sit at the bar, side by side, in perfect synchronicity. * * *