FIC: Guardian
Title: Guardian
Author: nebula99
Fandom: Life on Mars
Rating: FRT
Type: Gen
Summary: “Yes Tyler, they’re wings.”
Prompt: 004 Wings for
wtf27
Author's Note: Many thanks to
thimpressionist for reading this and kicking it into shape.
Guardian
Sam had slipped away when the cigarette smoke and testosterone filling the office had made it almost impossible to breathe. Almost without thinking he found himself climbing up the steps to the roof, sucking in a welcome lungful of warm air as he stepped out onto the concrete.
He closed his eyes for a moment, smiling a little at the feel of the sun on his face. The peace and the solitude he found up here made it the first choice for an escape and he knew he could always be alone in this place.
Sam opened his eyes, ready to stroll over to the edge of the roof and gaze down. It was then that he realised he wasn't alone - someone was there already. Someone was in his favourite contemplation spot.
Someone that looked very much like Gene Hunt.
Sam took a step towards Gene and then stopped abruptly. Gene was standing with his back straight and his legs apart, his fists resting on his hips as he stared straight ahead. And spreading from his shoulders were what looked like an enormous pair of black wings.
Sam felt his mouth drop open as he stared. A light breeze swept across the rooftop and he could see the feathers ruffling as it passed them. The wings, or whatever they were, seemed huge - big enough to envelop Gene completely. As he looked a little closer, Sam could see that they weren't exactly black - rather, they had a certain iridescence to them, gleaming with blues and greens as the light streamed across the feathers.
Stumbling backwards, Sam gulped and blinked and then suddenly the wings were gone and Gene had turned to face him.
“Guv?”
“Gladys.”
Sam squinted at Gene, the hand he had at his brow doing nothing to block the dazzling sunshine. He swallowed and then wiped a palm across his cheeks, feeling his skin cold and clammy under his touch.
“You seem a little disturbed, DI Tyler,” said Gene, shrugging on his coat and pursing his lips. “You look like you’ve just walked in on DC Carling dressed in his mother’s knickers and prancing along to the Andrews Sisters.”
Sam shook his head. “No.”
“Well then – how come you've got a face like a smacked arse?”
He may as well ask him. Sam took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. Then he spoke. “When I came up, just now, it looked like you had – I dunno – wings or something.”
Gene narrowed his eyes, his voice matching exactly Sam’s cadence. “Wings or something?”
Sam gulped. “Yep.”
“What – big dark feathery things sticking out of my shoulder blades?”
Sam managed a nod.
Gene stared hard at him and then his expression softened. “What do you think I am, Tyler? Some kind of angel?”
Of course, it must have been a trick of the light. Or a psychological phenomenon – an optical illusion caused by his brain forming neural impulses into recognisable shapes. It wasn’t as if this was the first time 1973 had made Sam see things that weren’t there.
He turned away, waiting for the taunts to begin. Gene could go to town when he wanted to and suggesting that he might be in some way divine was going to give him enough ammunition for a serious tirade.
Sam waited.
But the mockery never came. Instead, he found himself turning back to face Gene after a period of uncommon silence.
“Yes, Tyler, they’re wings.” Gene’s smile was surprisingly soft and warm and the gentle pat to Sam’s shoulder was so unexpected that he nearly fell over in shock. “Got to stretch the bloody things out now and again or the cramp can be murder. Feels like you’ve got your arms folded into one of them Chinese whatchamacallits.”
“Origami.”
Gene frowned at him. “Dunno what the doctors call it, but it bloody hurts.” He shook out his shoulders and then looked at his watch. “Anyway, I can’t stand around on this roof like a particularly handsome weather vane all day – I’ve got scrotes to nick."
Gene spun abruptly on his heel and began to stride to the steps. When he was halfway there, he turned around and looked at Sam. “You coming, Gladys? I might have some nancy boy sciencey bits for you to get a stiffy over.”
Sam had opened his mouth to speak, but promptly closed it again. Of course Gene had wings and of course it was no big deal. Just because Gene Hunt didn’t look like a typical Guardian Angel didn’t mean that he couldn’t take care of his own.
“I’m coming,” he called, hurrying after Gene.
“Really?” came the reply drifting up the stairs, “I thought it was just the way you walked!”
Author: nebula99
Fandom: Life on Mars
Rating: FRT
Type: Gen
Summary: “Yes Tyler, they’re wings.”
Prompt: 004 Wings for
wtf27Author's Note: Many thanks to
thimpressionist for reading this and kicking it into shape. Guardian
Sam had slipped away when the cigarette smoke and testosterone filling the office had made it almost impossible to breathe. Almost without thinking he found himself climbing up the steps to the roof, sucking in a welcome lungful of warm air as he stepped out onto the concrete.
He closed his eyes for a moment, smiling a little at the feel of the sun on his face. The peace and the solitude he found up here made it the first choice for an escape and he knew he could always be alone in this place.
Sam opened his eyes, ready to stroll over to the edge of the roof and gaze down. It was then that he realised he wasn't alone - someone was there already. Someone was in his favourite contemplation spot.
Someone that looked very much like Gene Hunt.
Sam took a step towards Gene and then stopped abruptly. Gene was standing with his back straight and his legs apart, his fists resting on his hips as he stared straight ahead. And spreading from his shoulders were what looked like an enormous pair of black wings.
Sam felt his mouth drop open as he stared. A light breeze swept across the rooftop and he could see the feathers ruffling as it passed them. The wings, or whatever they were, seemed huge - big enough to envelop Gene completely. As he looked a little closer, Sam could see that they weren't exactly black - rather, they had a certain iridescence to them, gleaming with blues and greens as the light streamed across the feathers.
Stumbling backwards, Sam gulped and blinked and then suddenly the wings were gone and Gene had turned to face him.
“Guv?”
“Gladys.”
Sam squinted at Gene, the hand he had at his brow doing nothing to block the dazzling sunshine. He swallowed and then wiped a palm across his cheeks, feeling his skin cold and clammy under his touch.
“You seem a little disturbed, DI Tyler,” said Gene, shrugging on his coat and pursing his lips. “You look like you’ve just walked in on DC Carling dressed in his mother’s knickers and prancing along to the Andrews Sisters.”
Sam shook his head. “No.”
“Well then – how come you've got a face like a smacked arse?”
He may as well ask him. Sam took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. Then he spoke. “When I came up, just now, it looked like you had – I dunno – wings or something.”
Gene narrowed his eyes, his voice matching exactly Sam’s cadence. “Wings or something?”
Sam gulped. “Yep.”
“What – big dark feathery things sticking out of my shoulder blades?”
Sam managed a nod.
Gene stared hard at him and then his expression softened. “What do you think I am, Tyler? Some kind of angel?”
Of course, it must have been a trick of the light. Or a psychological phenomenon – an optical illusion caused by his brain forming neural impulses into recognisable shapes. It wasn’t as if this was the first time 1973 had made Sam see things that weren’t there.
He turned away, waiting for the taunts to begin. Gene could go to town when he wanted to and suggesting that he might be in some way divine was going to give him enough ammunition for a serious tirade.
Sam waited.
But the mockery never came. Instead, he found himself turning back to face Gene after a period of uncommon silence.
“Yes, Tyler, they’re wings.” Gene’s smile was surprisingly soft and warm and the gentle pat to Sam’s shoulder was so unexpected that he nearly fell over in shock. “Got to stretch the bloody things out now and again or the cramp can be murder. Feels like you’ve got your arms folded into one of them Chinese whatchamacallits.”
“Origami.”
Gene frowned at him. “Dunno what the doctors call it, but it bloody hurts.” He shook out his shoulders and then looked at his watch. “Anyway, I can’t stand around on this roof like a particularly handsome weather vane all day – I’ve got scrotes to nick."
Gene spun abruptly on his heel and began to stride to the steps. When he was halfway there, he turned around and looked at Sam. “You coming, Gladys? I might have some nancy boy sciencey bits for you to get a stiffy over.”
Sam had opened his mouth to speak, but promptly closed it again. Of course Gene had wings and of course it was no big deal. Just because Gene Hunt didn’t look like a typical Guardian Angel didn’t mean that he couldn’t take care of his own.
“I’m coming,” he called, hurrying after Gene.
“Really?” came the reply drifting up the stairs, “I thought it was just the way you walked!”
