Oscillation

Oscillation

It were times like this, Chris Skelton mused to himself from beneath the safety of his desk, it were times like this that made him really wonder why he had ever wanted to become a copper. It had been difficult enough to even get on the force to begin with. He had always been a clumsy child; there were vivid memories of hearing his nan talking to him mum. "It's just a phase he's going through, he'll grow out of it." But he hadn't. It wasn't that he was stupid, it was just that he was comfortable in his own little world. But sometimes he simply got tired of being lonely. From the time he had first met them, he had always wished he could be as cool as Ray or as fearless as the Guv. The truth was, he was happy they even tolerated his presence, and he was terrified that they would someday tire of him.

What would Ray think of him if he saw him like this, hiding beneath his desk at the first sign of trouble? He had been picking up the stack of file folders he had carelessly knocked on the floor when the nutter with the gun had started shooting in the hallway. It had seemed the most natural thing in the world at the time to just dive beneath the desk and stay put. But now that the shooting had stopped, he wondered how he was going to get out from under there with his dignity intact. When he heard the Guv bellowing at someone nearby, he knew that would be impossible, so he swallowed his pride (yet again) and pulled himself unsteadily out from his hiding place.

The squad room was strangely empty. He could have sworn he had heard Sam and Annie talking to someone just a few minutes ago, but neither of them were anywhere to been seen. Chris looked around carefully to see if he had missed anything important before approaching his DCI, who was at the present glowering down upon a young woman he had never seen before. He was fairly certain that he was going to get yelled at, but he figured he might as well be as prepared as he could before he put his foot in his mouth.

"What happened? Where is everyone?"

"Trust the boss to disappear at a time like this," came Ray's voice from behind him. Chris nearly jumped out of his skin. It was if Ray had appeared out of nowhere.

"A time like what?" was all Chris could think of in reply. But before Ray could answer, the Guv resumed his tirade, this time including Chris (and he had feared) and Ray.

"Some fat load of good you lot are! A shooter comes prancing into my squad room...my squad room! and where are you? You..." (Chris cringed as the Guv poked his finger in his face) "You were hiding, you..." (now it was Ray's turn) "were off only God knows where and Tyler has pranced off with Cartwright as usual, leaving me here alone with this one..."

"Excuse me? 'This one'? I'm standing right here, you know!" The controller had just about had it with this caveman and didn't particularly care who knew about it. "I am perfectly qualified to care for any policing task you might see fit to assign me! What is more, I am apparently the only person here who did not run away when the shooting began!" (She knew that was only a half truth. She had merely hit the floor when Agent Tyler had told her to. And had apparently hit it too hard, judging by the throbbing pain in her head and a missing 5 minutes or so of her memory. But she was not going to back down from this, this cretin, now.) "If there is anything that needs doing while Ag...Inspector Tyler is away, I assure you that I am more than equal to the task!"

"Oh, really?" A dark, sarcastic voice from behind her. She turned to face the voice and was struck numb by the fierce blue eyes burning at her. "Why don't you prove it?" Fire and ice. She had to almost visibly shake herself to break the spell of those eyes, but after a few seconds, she regained her composure.

"All right, pretty boy. Come with me and I'll show you how to do this job properly."

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Under normal mission circumstances, the logistics crews would be notified when an agent arrived on scene. They would have already prepared a cover story, with all of the necessary documentation and any supporting items that might be needed for the duration of the mission. Sometimes all that was needed were a few items of clothing or paperwork. Sometimes, they would have to construct nearly an entire lifetime, especially if an agent was going to being staying for a matter of months or years. A vehicle, a dwelling, financial records, maybe even a family member or two would be rounded up and waiting for the operative's arrival. The agent would arrive, the crew would hand over the necessary items and then they would leave. (The crew in Agent Tyler's case had been presented with a somewhat touchy situation. He had arrived on scene unconscious; while this was not entirely unprecedented, it was highly unusual and there was no clear direction on how they should proceed. They had tried their best to revive him, but when they had not been able to bring him back around after a few tries, they had to decide on a course. Should they simply leave before they were discovered by a random passerby? The crew chief had finally decided that it would be prudent for them to do their job to the best of their ability and then clear out. So they had dressed him as discreetly as they could [The crew chief's assistant had even had the absolute cheek to insist that he put his own jacket on the unconscious man, since it was 'cold and wet and they didn't want him to catch his death out there.'], thrown the paperwork in a nearby vehicle and had transported on to their next assignment. The chief had wondered the rest of his days whatever became of his beloved leather jacket.)

So there had been no one to meet the controller on her arrival in 1973. She hadn't really thought about her appearance or what she would do for food or shelter once she had arrived. She hadn't thought past finding Sam and bringing him back. Now she was going to have to do some fast thinking and even faster talking. She wondered just how gullible these locals might be and what kind of story she could feed them. As she sat in the front passenger seat of a frighteningly rickety vehicle of dubious road worthiness, her mind was more on the predicament in which she found herself than on where they were going. Apparently, the driver of the vehicle was having the same problem. He kept stealing sidelong glances in her direction, then quickly looking away if she seemed to notice.

It wasn't that Chris was intimidated by this woman. No, he was intimidated by all women in general. But this one in particular had very plainly and openly talked back to the Guv and stood up toe to toe to Ray. And she was dressed like something from...

"Woodstock?" he finally asked.

"What?" She stared at him blankly.

"Your clothes. You look like a hippie or something. Did you get to go to Woodstock?" He felt stupid asking, but he had seen footage on the telly, and he finally felt that he had pinned down her look.

"Well, um..." The controller didn't know what to say. She actually had been at the famous festival, had been backstage listening to Jimi Hendrix and Pete Townsend arguing about who would go on first, had been covered in mud and deafened by the sounds. That wasn't why she was there, of course, but still... "Actually yes, I was there. You would have loved it. Chris, you said your name was?" And she smiled at him broadly. He smiled back, both at the fact that he had gotten it right and that she had remembered his name.

"Chris, will you watch where you're going?" Ray snarled from the back seat.

"Oh, why don't you leave him alone? You're just jealous because you can't drive!" She had observed carefully and honed that barb for maximum hurtfulness. Ray folded his arms even tighter across his chest and mumbled something to himself. The controller turned her attention back to Chris. "And where are we headed now, Chris?"

"Well, we got a name from the shooter on a bloke who might be running some guns, so we're supposed to be headed down to find him. But we thought..."

"Yes?"

"Well, we thought we'd head down the pub since it's on the way. If that's alright with you."

That was more than alright with her. She felt like she could eat the covering off of the seats of the vehicle. And she was also sure that she could convince one of these two to pay for her meal. So when the vehicle came to a halt outside of a small establishment, she was the first one out of the vehicle and through the door. "The Railway Arms," she read out loud. "How quaint." She stepped up to the bar confidently and was about to speak when a familiar voice stopped her. "What are you doing here?"

"Nelson?" She was stunned. She hadn't seen Nelson since her first assignment. "What are you doing here?"