realityshifted | (no subject)

Entry tags:

life on mars (d1) gene hunt

(no subject)

[as per his 'deal' with Ainley!Master, Gene has begun his investigation into where his ~~lover~~ ~~arch-nemesis~~ arch-lover acquired his new bling. being that Gene is Gene, he begins his search where he figures he'll find the most information -- Sam's desk. which includes fiddling around with his glasses and possibly downloading porn (by accident, of course!), before rifling through the papers inside his DI's desk. and what's this~? Hyde 2612? the Guv is, of course, none too happy to see 'Hyde' references in Sam's stuff, but he pockets it anyway and keeps going about looking like the snoop he is]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[it's a frightening thing, their egos] What are you, my wife?

I'm your DI and I'm worried. Don't harp on me about keeping things from you when I didn't even remember that number while you're hiding something from me.

And I said I'm not doing anything. I'm not hiding. But I am doing my damn job and that means keeping an eye on the bastards who have all ready killed one of my team and won't hesitate to do it again. I can do that without talking to 'em, without getting involved, but I have eyes, Tyler, and I keep 'em open. 'Devil's in the details' you always said. Well now I'm looking and all you can do is blow hot air out your arse because of it.

'God.' I say 'God's in the details.'

[looks at him carefully, critically]

I don't believe you.

[snorts] Maybe it oughta be the devil, then.

[he really hates it when you do that, Sam]

I didn't ask you to believe me. I'm telling you to trust me.

Maybe it ought to be.

[too bad; he's still doing it]

I do trust you. But I know you, too.

[pointedly] Then you know I know what I'm doing.

I know that you, DCI Hunt, don't always think your plans through. That you do what you think is best, but that you don't always know what is best. That you'd do anything for your team and your city, and that this dedication is sometimes to a fault.

And I know what you do when you're keeping something from me because you think it's for the good of everyone involved. I know how you keep secrets from me and I know why keep secrets from me. Most importantly, I know that nothing good comes from it. I find out eventually, and then where do we stand?

[it's uncanny, sometimes, how right Sam can be when it comes to Gene, and that frightening perception is enough to make the Guv shift uncomfortably, but he refuses to drop the charade, because if he did, it would be tantamount to admitting defeat, and if there's one thing Gene Hunt doesn't do, it's admit defeat. so he huffs, grabs a cig and puffs a bit, and won't meet Sam's gaze directly]

We stand where I say we stand, that's where. I stand by my decision, I stand by what I've said and I damn well stand by my conviction to keep you and the rest of my team safe. If I've got to make some sacrifices, so be it. Don't mean you need to know what they are. All you've gotta do is get me the information I need and keep your bloody nose out of my business.

[sneering, as if it's stupid of Gene to think otherwise] I'm not helping you. Work, fine, but this? You're not getting information from me on this so long as I don't know what it is.

[your sneer does nothing, Sam. Gene's too used to them] I told you what it is. The Masters -- or at least that Frenchie bastard -- are acting weird. I wanna know why. See who's got to 'em and how they did it.

How's he acting off?

Dodgy, like something's bothering him. He hasn't tried throwing his weight around lately, either. [frowns] Almost like he can't, or maybe he's afraid to. I wanna know how someone got that close to him to do it, cause there couldn't have been that big a window to clap something on him.

[frowns] 'Clap something on him'...?

[too late Gene realises the slip, but his demeanor doesn't change and he shrugs] Can you think of anything else that would make the bastard act funny? Threats don't seem to do anything to him. Figure it's gotta be something physical, just not sure what.

[again, watching him carefully] Guv. Don't try'n sell me that.

[a pause, and then he steps away from his desk, past Gene, and stops, talking into the darkness of the night]

To reiterate the facts, Gene Hunt is hiding something from his DI, because he thinks his DI will be pissed at him for it, probably with good reason. Hunt earlier brought up up the good of the team, and mentioned 'sacrifices.' He was found investigating his DI's desk for information on the Master's apparent odd behaviour, rather than making a direct inquiry, which is his normal means of gathering information. Gene Hunt is also aware that something's been put on the Master, but he refuses to disclose what this is, and is trying to give the impression that he just guessed it, not that he saw it.

[turns around and leans over to say, cold and low, in Gene's ear] Am I right, Guv?

[pulls away, circling Gene as he talks] There are very few things that Hunt cares to keep from his DI, because Hunt has a habit of not giving a damn whether or not his DI approves of his actions. We can conclude from this that whatever it is is something that his DI would be so angry about that his reaction would, in some way, shape, or form, end up 'harming' the team, as Hunt percieves it.

[stops in front of Gene, staring him down]

A final fact to note would be that Hunt recently had a row with his DI about whether or not Hunt should pretend at being an ally to the Master - which might involve helping him find out who 'clapped something on him' - and that, in this argument, Hunt's DI threatened to transfer to C Division if Hunt acted on this foolish, worthless plan. Hunt eventually conceded to his DI and they left the matter at that.

[crosses his arms]

Well, Guv. Tell me. What would the Gene Genie do with data like that?

Edited 2008-04-26 00:13 (UTC)

[listens to Sam's argument stoically, not giving away anything even as his DI systematically strips away every lie and hidden truth and breaks down Gene's ruse as effectively as crushing a cigarette beneath his Cuban-heeled foot. there are few times in his life Gene ever resents the fact Sam is the best damn copper he's ever worked with, because those skills are often used to support whatever the Gene Genie is working on, and even those times they've been used to undermine his authority have always been for the greater good, whether or not Gene wants to admit that. this, however, is one time where he wishes Sam wasn't quite so bright, wasn't quite so quick, and wasn't as stubbornly supportive of Gene that he was willing to metaphorically bitchslap his Guv

it was a very long time before Gene finally found the words to reply to his DI's extensive report]

The Gene Genie knows that DI Sam Tyler is a self-righteous, arrogant prick who would do anything to prove a point, no matter the consequences, and he's learned to ignore those moments because if he doesn't, it makes his DI into even more of an insufferable git. I've led this team, protected this city, longer than Tyler's known how to wipe his own arse, if his childish, self-centered attitude is anything to go by.

[grunts] He thinks he knows what's best, just like he thinks his Guv doesn't, and tries to get his way by whinging more than a bird on the rag and about as effectively. If he thinks throwing a hissy fit about leaving is enough to stop Hunt from saving his ass from some piece of shit bastard who's more than willing to kill him again, he's got another thing coming to him. That is what the Gene Genie would do with that information.

[takes a step closer, puffing out his chest] Now, is he going to help his DCI keep tabs on known murdering scum, or is he going to fight him tooth and nail and ruin a perfectly good thing?

[stares at Gene for a very, very long time.

Then, punches him in the face.

(and shakes out his hand like the girl he is)]

Fuck, that feels better. Lying to me, Christ. You shoulda just told me. Git.

[turns around and opens up the drawer, shoving the Hyde number into Gene's hands] Call this number for me. I want to know what they'll say to you. They just tell me that I'm not allowed to call them, that those are 'the rules.' And I'm not going to give you all that information I have if it goes right back to the Master. No one's getting hurt because of your stupidity. I know you're a good cop, but the bastard can read minds, and you aren't very good at mental shields.

You fucking piece of shit! [let it be noted, he says this while holding his nose, which is probably broken] The hell was that for?

[not that he's expecting an answer, but he keeps glaring anyway, trying to fix his nose with a grunt and wet popping nose. that's gonna sting] I'm not gonna give the Master any bloody information, no matter what you think. And I can too keep him out of my head. Just because I don't believe in that poofter nonsense that stupid Doctor tries drilling in don't mean anything.

[still, he takes the number and calls it, waiting on the operator as she connects. it rings and rings and rings some more, before the other side picks up and there's ... silence. long stretches of silence] Is this some sort of joke, Tyler? I know you're pissed at me, but this is ridiculous.

Give me the phone. [snatches the reciever and puts it to his ear]

Hello? It's Sam.

[Sam's eyes widens; he frowns]

But I didn't - [breaks off, as if interrupted; the frown deepens, confusion or fear]

[he slams the phone down and steps away from the desk, looking out of it, as he often does after his one of his 'episodes']

[watches this series of actions, giving Sam a very quizzical look because, uh, hi, no one was on the other end. he's rather pissed when his DI decides to slam the receiver down, as well] What the hell kind of game are you playing at, Tyler?

Nothing. It's not - it's nothing. He said -

[turns on his heels, running away, and shuts his eyes] I don't know what it is... Why should I tell you things? How's that going to keep me from going home?

[turns back, this time staring at Gene oddly] Are you what's keeping me here?

[okay, that goes beyond Sam's usual freakiness and Gene gives him a very, very strange look, a mix between affronted and pissed and -- dare he admit it? -- genuine concern for his DI] You tell me things because you're my DI and that's what you do. Nothing's keeping you from going home other than your annoying habit of finishing everything you bloody well start the same damn day.

[meets his gaze evenly] You're keeping yourself here, Tyler. Because that's why good coppers do. They stick to it.

No, he said - he said I can't tell you. He said I can't call him. He said - if you know, I can't go home. I don't...

You're not making any sense, you loon. Who told you you can't talk to me? [narrows his eyes] You're my DI. You can do whatever the hell I say you can do and that means you tell me whatever the hell I want to know or you want to say. I trump what you want, though. [hmphs and crosses his arms] You wanna go home that bad? I'll drive you. Just ask, you nonce.