InsaneJournal

Current mood:	curious
Current music:	The Monkees - Monkees Theme
Entry tags:	life on mars

Gov
Title: Gov
Author: windout
Genre: Gen
Fandoms: Life on Mars
Characters/Pairings: Wee!Sam Tyler, and Bad Ass!Gene Hunt
Ratings: PG for mild violence
Disclaimer: Life on Mars is not mine (but I want a DVD)
A/N: First LoM fic FTW! \o/ For faynia's ficlet-a-thon prompt "Well, if you could accuse someone of being downright evil, it would be him."




Sam Tyler, aged three and a half, had sticky, green slime running down his fingers and lips and chin, but that was all right by him. The mint chocolate chip ran moist and gooey and delicious down his throat and neck.

“Sam! You’ve got more on you than in you, silly boy. Come here, let me wash you up a bit.”

Sam blinked owlishly as his mother began a handkerchief between his fingers and up his arms while he licked contentedly at the rest of the ice cream. The sun beamed very hot that day; the treat melted quicker than he could eat it. Sam frowned as more dripped out the bottom of the cone and splattered on the sidewalk.

“Mummy, I wann—”

“Well, if you could accuse someone of being downright evil, it would be ’im.”

Over his mother’s shoulder, Sam could spy a large man in a golden brown coat bodily holding a man against the wall. His light brown hair fluttered against his forehead as he slammed his elbow into the smaller man’s back.

“Gov, if it hadn’t been for that evidence just come in—”

“What’d I tell ya about goin’ with yer gut?”

“That was risky, Gov.”

“’N thanks ta that risk, we just removed ourselves another criminal from the streets. The citizens can sleep a little better tonight, wouldn’ ya say? You, sir, are under arrest for the murder a Harriet Finch—”

A confident, cocky smirk crossed the man’s face as he cuffed the smaller man’s hands together. The fight melted out of the bad man—What else could he be; coppers only arrested bad men.—in a moment, as he slumped to his knees on the sidewalk before the man called “Gov.”

“Let’s take a little drive, shall we?” Gov escorted the bad man to an orange car parked haphazardly near the sidewalk and shoved him inside. Then he and his partner climbed into the car and drove away.

“Sam? Sammy, talk to me. What do you want? Sam?”

Sam Tyler blinked again, absorbing all that he’d seen in the past five minutes. Gov, with his brown coat and white shoes. The bad man who murdered a woman.

“Mum, I wanna be a pleaseman.”