Fandom: Life on Mars
Word Count: 840 + words
Notes: Sam/Gene slash. This is set in an adjacent world to Qu'est-ce que c'est? It features dark themes and character death.
“I did it for you,” he said, his steps heavy against the floorboards as he paced. The filing cabinet rattled, unbalanced on the boards and trembling with the vibration.
There was terror in Gene’s stance. Shock in his gaze. He held a hand out towards Sam, his fingers outstretched. “Sam, you’re not right in the head.”
“No one is. No one should be. Gene, you believe me, don’t you? It was for you.”
The bile rose in Gene’s throat. He couldn’t keep it down. He bent over and retched. There was so much blood. The slick of it made his breath catch. He had to close his eyes against the image.
He couldn’t bring himself to face the scene again - red spattering the floor and wall, and her body unmoving. He turned around and attempted to walk away. Fear held him rooted to the spot. Sam followed his movement. With fingers curving against his jaw, he forced Gene to look into his eyes. Gene didn’t understand the expression he saw there. Triumph.
Gene detached Sam’s hand and nodded; a short, sharp jerk. “She were just a girl.”
“Mouthy bitch of a girl, maybe.”
Gene shook his head. The fluorescent light above swung from side to side in mirror action. “You don’t mean that.”
Gene closed his eyes, trying to blot out the world. Pain seared through him. When he spoke again, he was furtive, desperate.
“Tell me you didn’t do this, Sam. Tell me this isn’t what it looks like. I’ll believe you, I’ll believe every word.”
Sam’s response was caustic. “Tell me what it looks like and I’ll see if I can spin you a suitable tale.”
Gene shouted, his upper body thrusting forward. “She’s dead. Do you understand that? You’ve killed her.”
Sam stepped back. The floorboards creaked as he set his feet apart. His eyebrow quirked and he twisted his mouth; cruelty and defense.
“She was going to say something. Ruin your career.”
“And yours too? Is that it? You sliced her open to save your precious place as Inspector?”
Sam screamed and clawed at him. “I don’t care about me anymore. I only care about you.”
Gene could barely whisper. His chest heaved as he stared at Sam, wild gestures and wilder eyes. “Sam…”
“You care about me, don’t you, Gene?” Sam pleaded, grasping hold of Gene’s arm with one hand as he gently brushed his wrist with the other. Gene’s immediate response was one of revulsion. He stared at the blood covering Sam’s skin, fixated. “You understand what I’m talking about? You feel it too.”
“Sam.” Gene’s voice cracked. He rubbed the lower half of his face with his free hand, masking the mouth which had contorted in disgust. He tried to pull away. Sam’s fingers clasped down against his flesh in a vice-like grip.
“Tell me you love me. I need to hear the words.”
“I don’t… I can’t…”
“So you can bend me, twist me, fuck me, is that it? But you can’t say a simple three word sentence?”
Gene used all of his body weight to push at Sam, slamming him into the wall. He stayed firm, his arm against Sam’s shoulders, pinning him in place. Sam tilted his head, licking his lower lip. Gene gazed, transfixed. If the smell of blood hadn’t attacked him, choked him, brought him to full realisation of the situation, he could almost have forgotten.
“She saw us kissing,” Sam said, his voice light and conversational. “Confronted me about it, made all sorts of claims. She was going to go to the Superintendent.”
Gene huffed, forcing his arm down harder. “I could’ve talked her out of it.”
“No. She’s not like you and your little team of bent coppers, Gene. She’d’ve said something. That would’ve been that. No more DCI Hunt. What would you be without your job? You’d be a nothing-man.”
“How can you be so casual about it?”
“Because I did what had to be done.” Sam hitched his shoulders, a shrug half-formed. “I’m not proud of it.”
Fury laced Gene’s words. “Could’ve fooled me.”
Sam brought his eyelids down, peering up at Gene under long lashes. “Maybe a little.”
Gene forced himself to swivel to see her again; lifeless mouth gaping open and glassy eyes. The slit in her throat was a thin red line that hardly looked real. Blood pooled around her head and shoulders. There was more blood; a unique pattern, on the floor and up the wall.
“She put up a fight. I have to hand it to her. She wasn’t one to go lightly.” Sam’s tone was thick with humour.
Gene’s hand slowly closed into a fist. He punched. Once, twice, three times. Sam coughed, doubling over.
“Sam Tyler, I am arresting you for the murder of Annie Cartwright. You're not obliged to say anything unless you wish to do so, anything you may say may be taken in evidence.”
He expected Sam to resist, to attempt escape. Sam slumped against the wall with the ghost of a smile.
“It was worth it.”