Say It Isn't So
by Clonesgirl
The missus is having nightmares...
The technical stuff:
RATING: PG Green Cortina
PAIRING: Gene/Sam, Sam/Gene with a guest appearance from Superintendent Rathbone
WORD COUNT: 2,030
WARNINGS: Pure crack and the usual slashiness. Oh, and if you happen to be at all fond of the missus
I wouldn't read this if I were you.
SPOILERS: None
ARCHIVE: The Motley Collection
DISCLAIMER: Characters borrowed from BBC and Kudos strictly for fun not profit. No offence intended.
BETA: No beta so if you spot any goofs please let me know.
FEEDBACK: Would be lovely, not to mention encourage me to scribble some more fic.
NOTE: If you wish to link to this story it would be much appreciated if you could let the
author know.
This was written for Dorsetgirl. She knows why.
* * *
Gene Hunt was surprised to see Superintendent Rathbone at his door one sunny Saturday morning.
"Heard Doris was feeling poorly, Gene, and thought I'd pay her a visit. See if I can't cheer her up a bit."
Gene plastered a grin on his face. "This is... ahem... most unexpected, sir."
Rathbone was unusually cordial. "Now none of that, Gene. We're off duty and, after all, she is my cousin you know."
As Rathbone entered the house he noticed Sam Tyler come out of the sitting room.
"Why, Tyler, I see you're here too. Well, well."
"May I get you some tea or coffee, sir?" Sam offered.
"Coffee would be excellent."
Sam headed off to the kitchen while Gene and the Super made themselves comfortable in the sitting room.
"Now tell me, Gene, and no double talk, just what is going on?"
"What can I say, sir. She lies there moanin' day and night and says she's havin' nightmares. Doesn't half keep me awake. I've taken to the spare room to try and get some kip. Been goin' on for three weeks now. Enough to drive a man to drink she is."
"Dear, dear," Rathbone clucked sympathetically. "This won't do at all. Have you considered perhaps she should see a psychiatrist?"
"You think I should have her declared a complete nutter?"
"Heavens no! I didn't mean that. I meant it might help to have her discuss these nightmares with a professional."
"I'll consider it."
"Well while you're considering it I'll go and have a quick word and see if we can't get to the bottom of all this silly nonsense."
As he was leaving the room Sam entered carrying a tray.
"Ah, Tyler. Keep the coffee hot. I'll be back shortly."
With that he strode upstairs.
Sam looked questioningly at Gene.
"You never told me your wife was Rathbone's cousin."
"Yeah, well, it never came up, did it."
"He ever done this before?"
"Never. Then again the missus has never been sick before - well not like this I mean."
"You said this started the night after the Lancashire Policemen's Ball."
"Yeah."
"That was the night I crashed on your couch and you fell asleep on top of me and..."
"Things happened..."
"Do you think she somehow saw?"
"Who knows? But she's been carrying on like the wicked witch o' the west ever since. Here, give us some of that coffee and put some scotch in it."
"Am I your slave now?" Sam muttered, but he got up nonetheless and fetched the scotch, adding some to his own as well.
Shortly thereafter Rathbone came downstairs and joined them for coffee.
"Woman is demented. Says she's having nightmares about you two."
"Us?" Both men choked on their very strong coffee.
"Yes, you! Says she dreams not only that you're lovers but you're mocking her too."
"But, sir, that's impossible," Sam protested.
"Now look here," Gene began. "She may be as mixed up as a vegetarian cannibal but she's still my wife and..." Gene began.
"And we are going to have to do something about it," Rathbone interrupted.
"'We', sir?"
"Yes, we, Gene. Can't have this kind of rumour circulating you know. We'd be the laughing stock of the county."
"Perhaps she just... uh, needs a rest, sir," Sam suggested helpfully. "You know, somewhere where she could get away from it all."
"You know you might have something there, Tyler. Right clever your DI is, Gene."
"Yeah, he's a right clever, little smartarse."
"Now look here, Gene, this situation can't go on indefinitely."
"So what do you suggest, sir?" Gene inquired.
"For a start I suggest that we keep it in the family. My brother-in-law happens to be a psychiatrist and he also owes me one. Let me telephone him and see if I can't get him over for a chat with Doris."
Without waiting for an answer he strode over to the phone and proceeded to dial.
"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Sam whispered.
"Out of my hands, isn't it?" Gene muttered with a sour look in the direction of Rathbone's back.
Rathbone put the phone down. "He'll be over in half an hour and I really must be off."
"Well... uh, thank you for stopping by, sir."
"Glad to be of help, Gene. You know you can always count on me for moral support."
With a nod to Tyler he left and Gene returned to the sitting room.
"Count on him for moral support? That's a good one! Since when has he ever given me any moral support? The only support he knows about are arch supports. Well... suppose I better go check the silly thing hasn't done herself in. Come on."
"Do I have to?"
"Moral support."
The two men repaired upstairs where Doris Hunt lay on a bed tossing and turning, occasionally letting out a small moan.
"Well she's no better," Gene remarked, walking over to the window and looking out through the lace curtains at the street below.
Sam joined him at the window.
"Well we'll see what the psychiatrist has to say."
"And while we're waiting..."
Gene pulled Sam close and kissed him. Sam spared a parting glance at the woman on the bed before giving in and wrapping his arms around the larger man. Their hands were all over each other when there was an ear-piercing screech from the occupant of the bed.
"Aaaaaaah! No, no, no!" she screamed. "You can't be! Say it isn't so."
The two men, thoroughly engrossed in each other, jumped apart.
"Oh, Gene, how could you? How could you?" she implored.
"Now, now, Doris, you're having another one of your nightmares."
"No, I'm not. I'm wide awake and it's true. It's true. You and that Sam Tyler. How could you, Gene?"
"Doris, it's just another one of your nightmares. You've been delirious with them for the last three weeks."
"My Guv has been very worried about you, Mrs Hunt. He only wants to help you."
"Help me into my grave you mean."
Just then the doorbell rang.
"Oh, now who?" she moaned.
"I'll see who it is," Sam offered, escaping the room.
Shortly he came back upstairs with a smart-looking gentleman with a neat goatee.
"Mrs Hunt, this is Dr Martin. He's here to see if he can't help with your nightmares."
"That'll be the day," she muttered.
Martin introduced himself to Gene and the two detectives returned to the sitting room.
"He heard her screaming just as he arrived," Sam remarked.
"Wonderful."
"Well you would have to go and kiss me in front of her."
"I didn't exactly hear you objectin'."
"Touché," Sam muttered.
"Any more coffee?"
"What am I - the housemaid?"
Some twenty minutes later Dr Martin came downstairs and joined them.
"DCI Hunt, your wife is in a most precarious mental state and is close to a complete collapse. She appears to have lost all touch with reality. Indeed she cannot seem to distinguish reality from her own fantasies."
"Sounds serious," Gene replied.
"Indeed it is. She needs complete care, something which she plainly is not getting at home."
"Well I'm doin' me best. So what do you suggest?"
"I have a facility in the country - it's about an hour's drive from here - where she could be given all the care she needs."
"Now hold on. Just how much is all this complete care of yours going to set me back?" Gene inquired.
"Seeing as how I owe old Frank one and seeing as how you're family I'll see that you get a special rate, so don't worry. I'll arrange to have the papers brought over and get her picked up today, if that's all right with you," he added.
"Well she's not getting any better here..." Gene shrugged.
"I'm so glad you agree. I'll just make a quick call and then we'll give Mrs Hunt the good news."
"Hang on. How long is this gonna take?"
"Could take weeks, could take months. There's no telling with these cases, but we have had very good results with a new drug."
However, Mrs Hunt was none too sanguine about going to a mental facility.
"Are you sure about this?"
"Of course, Mrs Hunt," Dr Martin replied. "You'll get the best of care there and we'll have you back in the saddle in no time at all. You'll see," he assured her.
"It's just I don't know what my husband will do without someone to look after him. I mean he's not much of a cook, is he, and I don't want him starving to death and as for washing and ironing, well he wouldn't have a clue."
"Don't you worry about me, Doris. I can make do."
"Oh, well all right, but I'll have to pack a few things."
Sam walked into the room with a large carry bag. "Already done it all for you, Mrs Hunt."
"Well I never."
Dr Martin opened his medical bag. "Gentlemen, if I could have a glass of water?"
Sam fetched one.
"Now you take two of those, Mrs Hunt, and I can guarantee you'll be feeling much better very shortly."
Mrs Hunt dutifully swallowed the two tablets the doctor gave her.
"Now you just lie back and rest now, Mrs Hunt," Dr Martin soothed. "The ambulance will be here soon. And now, gentlemen, Mrs Hunt, if you'll excuse me, I really must be going. I'm missing my game of golf."
"God forbid," Gene muttered. Sam elbowed him.
"I'll see myself out."
Gene thanked him for his trouble and the man was gone. The two men watched from the bedroom window as he drove away.
Shortly thereafter Doris nodded off. The tranquillizers Dr Martin had given her seemed to be already working.
"Oi, we're gonna have the whole house to ourselves," Gene remarked quietly.
Sam smiled. "Come here."
The two men were once more deeply engrossed in each other when the air was split by another ear-piercing screech.
"Aaaaaaaah! It's true, it's true. I dreamt it and now it's true. The two of you. Together."
"For God's sake, Doris. Anyone would think you were being murdered in your bed."
"I saw you! I saw you, Gene Hunt. You and that... that..."
"Doris, you've having another one of your nightmares," Gene assured her.
"I'm not. I'm wide awake and I saw you two, bold as brass, your hands all over each other, groping and kissing. It's disgusting. How could you, Gene Hunt? I never took you for one of them nancy boys."
"It's all in your mind," Sam soothed. "It's just a nightmare. See? It's already gone."
"Oh, no, it isn't. I saw you two. Look at you, DI Tyler. You're shirt's hanging out where he... he..."
Sam quickly tucked in the offending garment. "No, it isn't. Not at all."
"And look at you, Gene Hunt. You're no better."
Gene, too, tucked his shirt back in again and did up the buttons where Sam had undone them.
"I don't know what you're talkin' about, Doris. We're perfectly respectable."
"No, you're not. You're... You're a disgrace, both of you."
"I told you, Doris, you're having another one of your nightmares. It were just a bad dream. See? It's all gone."
"I didn't dream it. Well I did but..."
"See? I told you it were just a bad dream."
"It was more than a dream," she accused. "You two... with your hands all over each other. I saw you, DI Tyler. Your hands all over my husband's arse."
"I did no such thing, Mrs Hunt. I can assure you it's all in your head."
"Now look here, Doris," Gene began. "Sam's no nancy boy and you know I ain't no queer. After all, I haven't been married to you all these years for nothing."
"Well it's sure been nothing lately. A whole lot of nothing."
"Now don't you go accusing, Doris. You'll have us all a laughing stock."
Just then the drugs seem to kick in once more and she dozed off again, moaning about ungrateful men before silence once more reigned throughout the house.
Sam looked at his watch. "Ambulance might be a while yet."
Gene grinned. "Come here."
* * *
