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Characters: Chris (

gotitwrong)
Location: Their flat.
Time: After this.
Summary: :| idk chris is traumatised always and forever
Warnings: ray and chris adventures

He almost enjoyed the walk home. It let him clear his head a little, try to put his thoughts in order, and figure out what he was going to do with Chris - as well as the body. Even though the div had tossed him back a grin and tried to sound like he was okay, he knew it was a bald faced lie.

It didn't help, either, that some paranoid part of his mind was eating away at him, saying he shouldn't have let Chris go off on his own, Chris was his responsibility, and he might get to the flat only to find Chris wasn't there. That maybe, maybe he had started just crying in the car and driven himself up a pole. And of course, it would be the fault of only one man: Ray Carling.

He scowled and hunched his shoulders. He didn't like those sorts of thoughts intruding on him, so when he finally got to their flat and saw the car parked, he couldn't help but grin. Of course Chris was fine. He shouldn't have even entertained the idea...

Ray jogged up the stairs and went to go in, only to find the doors locked. That was one thing Chris didn't usually do - especially when he had the keys. Ray sighed, and unsure if Chris was still in the shower or not, pulled out a pick. It wasn't the first time he had to pick the lock to his own door; though that was usually due to him forgetting the keys when he was still half drunk.

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Ray was silent for a few moments, thinking about that. It didn't really make sense to him - Annie had been right there, or there after, he had gotten into a fight and busted up his nose. Blood was streaming down his face, black blood at that, and she went about her business.

"What I don't get, Chris, is why they can't see it," he said after he had his period of careful thought. "Mean... okay, so Tyler didn't see your paper cut. Tyler probably wouldn't notice that normally, since it ain't somethin' he'd care about."

He finished off his fag and smashed the butt into the ashtray. "But Cartwright, she couldn't ignore the fact it looked like I stuck half me head into a vat of motor oil. 'cept she did. I know she and Tyler off and forgot, but how the hell do you not notice that?"

Chris finished his cigarette and copied Ray's movements. He blew out the remaining smoke with a sigh and shook his head.

"Don't make sense. Even if they forget, how could they miss it? And what makes'em forget anyway? Like...on telly, people hit their heads or something and forget but this ain't it."

"Dunno." Ray rubbed a still dirty with blood hand over his eyes. Thankfully it was dried, otherwise he would have made more of a mess. "I hate thinkin' 'bout this stuff. It don't make any sense and it's confusin' as hell."

He sighed. "Probably shouldn't of brought it up. Don't think either of us is in the mood to be thinkin' about it. Know I sure as hell ain't."

"Guess not." Chris sighed and slumped back, hands falling into his lap. "How come we have to deal with it, huh? I just wanna solve normal murders. People were their necks wrung in and skirts in the canal, you know? 'S bad enough."

"Chris, things haven't been normal for almost two years now." That was right. In a few months, they'd have been able to go to this place for two years. They died a little over a year ago. "And we hafta deal with it 'cause... shit, who else is gonna?"

He could feel his nerves getting riled again and he instinctively went for his cigarettes and zippo. "We can't police the plane. Never could. The guv tried, I guess, and we were the ones what paid for it with our lives." He pulled out two fags and set one on Chris' leg. "But we can look into things, ya know? Find out who did what, so we can avoid 'em. Shit, I've been tryin' to avoid makin' any more enemies for your sake, and if there's sommat goin' around slaughterin' people or whatever, I wanna know who to avoid.

"If we find 'em and the guv wants to go toe to toe and try to take him down, I'll stand by him. Until then, I'm makin' sure we cover our arses."

Ray lit up his cigarette and took a long drag.

"It's fuckin' shitty, I give you that."

After talk like that, Chris was very thankful for the smoke and was quick to take a few poofs, just closing his eyes to think. Not that he could think much or figure out what in that mess to think about. But he had to do something and Ray was right about that.

"Yeah... Yeah, me too." He nodded and sunk down further into the cushions. "Think we could ever do what boss wanted? With the making the Plane some cells and stuff for the bad guys."

"Don't think so, Chris. You know how the boss is 'bout stuff." Ray paused, considering things for a moment. "But I suppose he were right about some things."

He sighed, blowing smoke out in front of him. "Either way, couldn't make 'em stay. They'd just drop from the plane and if they were right determined to kill somebody, they'd find 'em."

Ray had thought about that before. It wasn't something he put a lot of consideration to, but there were times when his mind wandered off into dark alleyways of his psyche, contemplating random things along those lines. He'd never murder someone outright, it were illegal after all, but who hadn't thought about it from time to time?

"It isn't like we could lock 'em up in Strangeways."

"Yeah, suppose you're right." Chris frowned, too. He was thinking more or less the same thing. If they had to protect people and investigate, well, they couldn't arrest them. They couldn't really stop them even with killing them. But it might make them think twice.

It wasn't a nice thought.

"Bloody hell. It's like being stuck between a rock and...and another rock."

Ray grinned and gave Chris a shove on the shoulder. "The sayin's 'between a rock and a hard place', you great div." But the grin didn't last - it was just a momentary thing like so many other brief periods where they broke the somber tone.

"But yeah, it is. I mean, shit, Chris. I can't stand criminals waltzin' around like it's nothin'. I bust my arse pullin' in as many of 'em as I can." He tapped the ash off of his cigarette. "Feel like I'm bein' insulted knowin' there's some going 'round on the plane."

Chris gave Ray a brief smile in return before the tone settled back into the gloom. He sighed and ran a hand through his hair, even as the other kept the cigarette to his lips.

"Yeah, yeah... Maybe... I dunno, there's gotta be something, Ray. There's gotta be something." He exhaled smoke heavily. "Gotta be."

Ray looked at Chris for a moment. He knew Chris wasn't alright, he knew Chris was lying when he said he was more or less okay, and he knew Chris was probably trying to escape some sort of imminent breakdown. And shit if he didn't know what to do about it. Making people feel better was never his forte.

So he crushed his half-finished cigarette into the ashtray and exhaled the last bit of smoke still in his lungs. "Can't stand seein' you a wreck," he said calmly, then placed a hand on Chris' shoulder to try to set him a bit more at ease. Chris always did respond better to things when there was touch involved. A clap on the shoulder, mussing up his hair, that sort of thing. "If there's sommat what can be done, I'll see 'bout it."

Because when it came to enforcing things, why yes, Chris always did come first. "'m not gonna let anythin' happen to you again, alright?"

Sometimes, when he joined CID was a little hazy. Bad memory and all. But something about Ray had always made him feel relaxed. Sure, Ray was the sort who would have bullied him in school. But Ray was different than them. Chris just knew Ray and he knew when Ray meant what he said.

For the first time since he saw those bodies, Chris actually relaxed, body stretching out as he smiled at Ray. "Well, you neither, 'cos we're partners, right? Gotta watch each other's backs. It'll be okay." That part Chris wasn't entirely sure about, not when it came to the Plane. But he knew CID would be all right, somehow. They always were.

Ray grinned just a bit at Chris. It was one of those few legit grins he had, the ones that were just a bit fond and gave the slightest indication that Ray was capable beyond something other than insufferable smugness.

"Right."

He knew he could always trust Chris to have his back. Chris was a div in most areas, but from when he first showed up in CID, nervous, confused, almost a little lost... Ray took a shine to him. Taught him to fight, showed him the ropes of policing, and made him more or less an ace partner.

"Doesn't work too well when I'm tryin' to keep you outta trouble, though. You get stubborn and shove your way into it."

"I don't shove me way in!" Chris protested with a bit of a sulk. True, he was insistent sometimes but why wouldn't he be? He was part of the team just like Ray was and he didn't like thinking about them going off without him. It just didn't sit right.

"Anyway, weren't about trouble. It's about the team."

Ray quickly attempted to head any further sulking off at the pass. "I weren't meanin' 'bout the team, Chris. When it comes to that, yeah, I want you at me side. Wouldn't have anybody else, not anymore." He paused and ran one of his hands through his now shorter hair. "But I mean..."

He reached out to Chris and put his hand on the back of Chris' neck. "You still can't feel that. You were in bloody hospital for a while. I know you were tryin' to defend me an'..." He withdrew his hand and sighed. "I know it were a while ago too. But, dunno, end up thinkin' 'bout it when things on the plane get like they do."

Had Ray ever discussed it with Chris before? Probably not. Or I can't remember it. But Ray wasn't big on honest, slightly emotional discussion. He needed a nice buffer of time between then and now to broach it.

"And it ain't just cause I can take care of meself. What'm I supposed to do if you end up dead 'cause of one of my mistakes? What am I supposed to say to your mum and dad?" He grunted and kicked at the table in front of them. "Eh, forget it. Didn't say nothin'."

(OOC: CONTINUED FROM THE TITLE: OTHERWISE RAY IS GONNA GO WITH THIS.)

It was the touch that actually made Chris pay attention. He knew there was touch there on his neck from the movement of the air and Ray telling him but how else? He really couldn't feel it. Permanent nerve damage, they called it. A nice memory of this place forever.

"No, it's not something you just forget." Chris rubbed at the spot on his neck unconsciously. "Same could happen to you lot, too, and I wouldn't like it none."

Still, he hesitated and couldn't help feeling lost, giving a shrug. "I'm a copper, Ray. It's all I know. I just...try to do what helps everyone."

Ray quickly removed his hand from anywhere remotely like Chris' personal space, then rubbed it on his dirtied trousers. "We're gonna be arguin' in circles, ain't we? I'm gonna say I don't want you gettin' hurt on my account, you're gonna fuss 'bout the same," he said, and flashed Chris a casual half-grin, "and we ain't gonna get anywhere."

He sniffed for a moment, then shifted his feet to stick them up on the table nearby, unintentionally knocking the ashtray almost clear off it. "An' I know all that, Chris." He paused, thinking to himself. He should hit Chris for being a prat, insisting he had to help everybody, so on and so forth, just because it was counter to what he wanted sometimes. "Shit, dunno how I even wanna say things. Not good talkin' 'bout stuff, you know, like this. Easier to get a pint and then just ignore it for a while."

Ray crossed his arms. "You're better at this kinda thing. 's why I have you do all the consolin' if it needs done."

Chris returned the smile and scratched at his head.

"Yeah, it's a pretty pointless thing to argue, huh?" He still couldn't help lingering on it. "'S weird here, though, you know? 'Cos when we..." -Not able to say 'die', Chris simply skipped the word all together- "I mean, it doesn't last. Not complaining and all, just... always figured that was that."

"Aye. Never thought much on it meself, but... never believed in anythin' like an afterlife, ya know? You die, that's it. Nowt after that."

He shifted a bit to lean further back and get mildly comfortable, some subconscious attempt to feel a bit more at ease. He shouldn't have been tense, but the conversation itself stirred him up, and sometimes Chris' mood had a tendency to rub off on him.

"And if there were- I ain't exactly got a good record, if you get my meanin'." Ray tilted his head back. "But... guess we shouldn't get annoyed over it? Mean, like you said. It don't last. Creepy as all hell, but you don't see me complainin' 'bout it."

"Mine's sorta just...there, I guess." Chris couldn't really think about much in his life he'd done bad or good. He just did stuff and sometimes it worked out for people and sometimes it didn't. Not much of anything.

He shoved that depressing thought aside with a shrug. "So I guess what I mean is...I'm not looking for trouble but if it comes, we gotta all be together for it. Better chances, anyway, all of us fighting."

Chris' response caused Ray to sigh just a bit.

"Don't mean I'll be happy 'bout it. And you know what I mean, too, so don't you start poutin' and makin' a fussy 'cause I said I'm not happy." He would defeat you, Chris, be putting a stop to it before you could even think about starting. "Back here, yeah, like I said, I don't care. But up there, it's different. We aren't like the heroes in your comics or nothin'."

But he stopped there. He had driven his point well enough home already, so he thought. He tilted his head over to look at Chris. "Come here."

It was obvious when the argument was over and Chris didn't really have the energy for it anyway. Though, he was instantly curious as to what Ray wanted. Never one to disobey, Chris shifted and moved closer, head tilted.

"Yeah?"

Ray slung his arm around Chris and pulled him just that much closer. This meant one of two things.

1) Ray was account to unleash the headlock apocalypse and there would be no survivors.
2) ?????

He chose option two, and leaned over just a bit to kiss Chris on the head. It wasn't really under the best circumstances - Chris' hair was still damp and stuck to his head and smelled faintly of chemicals and shampoo and what have you - but Ray could survive through it.

"You div."

It was unexpected but not exactly unwelcome. Old memories were resurfaced, everything of the day reminding him of his death and the stupid pains this place had put him through. He managed to forget everyday that he couldn't feel in part of his neck, that he bled black, that he'd died and been attacked by people he never could have imagined.

So he looked up with a big, silly smile, the first one in a while. "Yeah? Well, it's okay. I've got you guys."

Something like that always worked. He had said his piece to a disturbed Chris and then had to do the job of picking the div up and setting him on his feet, so to speak. Friendly teasing or just some little show of fondness always set him right.

Ray kept his arm draped across Chris' shoulders in a somewhat possessive fashion. It let him physically assert to himself he could keep Chris safe as long as, well, he could be right there, and it'd probably make Chris feel okay anyway - who knew what went on in that head of his.

"Yeah, you do." He grinned back. "Hey, how 'bout we rig up the telly to play a game or sommat? Or like. You set it up, play a while. I still got somethin' to get done, and it won't take more than half hour, hour tops. Sound like a plan?"

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I CAN'T REMEMBER IF THEY TALKED ABOUT IT. KISHA IF THEY DID TELL ME SO I CAN CHANGE IT.

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