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The shouting had finally stopped, so Chris deemed it safe to open the door. He cracked it open an inch, first; Ray could make fun of him as much as he wanted, but Chris was NOT walking into the middle of a Hunt/Tyler shouting match ever again. It looked peaceful though, so Chris took the risk and entered.
DI Tyler was leaning against the file cabinets and glaring at DCI Hunt, who was sitting behind his desk and looking like he was seriously considering picking up his phone and throwing it at DI Tyler. Again.
"Um. I think I have a lead," Chris said and flinched as the glares were transfered to him instead. He held up the file defensively. "One of the names on the list. I found it in the archives." After five hours, seven cups of coffee and one really bad ham sandwich, Chris was praying this would pan out - he was starting to seriously hate the archives.
DI Tyler snapped his fingers for the file. Chris gave DCI Hunt an uncertain look -- Hunt jerked his head impatiently -- before handing it over.
DI Tyler flipped through the file quickly, then stalked over to the desk and slammed it down in front of DCI Hunt. "I was right."
DCI Hunt narrowed his eyes and picked up the file. He read through it, then pointed at a sentence. "-I- was right."
They glared at each other again.
Chris decided it was time for a tactical withdrawal.
* * *
There were times when Chris really liked the archives. Nobody else was ever there, for starters, which made it an excellent place to catch a bit of kip or the latest sports scores. DCI Hunt probably knew about it -- Chris believed in the omniscience of Hunt -- but DI Tyler hopefully didn't.
Chris liked to think of it as multitasking.
* * *
"I'm ready!" DI Tyler exclaimed, arms spread wide. He was staring up at the ceiling hopefully, so Chris stuttered to a halt and hid behind a support beam before Tyler spotted him while he tried to remember if there was something he'd forgotten to do. No, he'd gone to pick up the autopsy report, but it hadn't been done yet. The Pathologist wanted to be extra careful since it was for DI Tyler. Chris was convinced all the forensic sissies had a crush on the man. Nevertheless, right now he was relieved; DI Tyler could make some very pointed (and hurtful) remarks about police officers slacking off.
"I'm ready," DI Tyler repeated. "Anytime now!"
"I'm coming, I'm coming, don't get your knickers in a twist," came DCI Hunt's voice from his office, before DCI Hunt himself showed up in the doorway, giving DI Tyler a strange look.
DI Tyler deflated. "Burgers and a stake-out again?"
"Don't say I don't ever take you places, sweetheart," DCI Hunt confirmed.
"You could think about taking me somewhere nice for once," DI Tyler complained. DCI Hunt stepped closer, crowding Tyler and smirking.
"The burgers are negotiable."
DI Tyler frowned, licking his lips uncertainly before smirking back. There was a heat in his eyes as he looked up at DCI Hunt that Chris was absolutely not thinking about ever and was in fact rather disturbed that he'd even noticed it. "Indian?"
"Don't be a prat." DCI Hunt cuffed him gently, before wrapping his arm around DI Tyler's shoulders. "The burgers are voluntary. See how kind a DCI I am?"
"You're a bloody charmer, all right."
They walked off.
Chris wiped his brow, grateful to be ignored even though his conscience was clean, and went to find the gift for Lynda he'd hidden in his desk. How Tyler and Hunt managed to spend hours in a tiny car and not kill each other was beyond him. Chris sure as hell didn't want to join them. Lynda on the other hand... Chris would gladly spend hours in a tiny car with her. That was a bird who filled out her sweater nicely.
Just as Chris had begun to enlarge on the topic of Lynda and her sweater in his mind, DI Tyler came back. "Autopsy report, Chris!" he demanded, surprising the hell out of Chris, and then he was gone again as Chris stubbed his toe against the desk in his hurry to get up and look efficient and at work. "Ow! On it, Guv."
* * *
It ended, unsurprisingly, with disaster. Things usually did when DI Tyler was involved. It wasn't always his fault, but disaster seemed to follow him around like a shadow.
"It hurts," DI Tyler said, sounding surprised.
"That's because you're an idiot," DCI Hunt explained, pressing his hand hard against Tyler's leg. Blood was seeping out, soaking both Hunt's hand and Tyler's pants. Chris winced at the sight; a little to the left and there would never be any little Tylers running around. Hunt looked up and glared. "Yes?"
"Dispatch says an ambulance is on its way," Chris said.
DI Tyler blinked dazedly again, then looked alarmed, reaching out to grab Hunt's wrist. "You're coming with me. I refuse to die in the back of a 1970s ambulance." Then he fell back, closing his eyes. "Or maybe it's meant to be like this..."
"You're not going to die," Hunt said briskly. "Don't be more of a fucking moron than you already are."
"Would've got you," Tyler informed him.
Hunt snorted. "If you think I can't take down a punk like Darren --"
"Big shiny knife," said Tyler.
"--Big knife or not, I've obviously taught you nothing."
And Chris supposed that explained the wound. He'd been wondering. They fell silent after that and Chris thought Tyler had passed out, but right before they heard the ambulance siren Tyler opened his eyes again.
"It isn't always about the rules," he said, quite clearly.
Hunt started. "What?"
Tyler grinned. "Sometimes I just like pissing you off."
Hunt went blank, his expression completely unreadable. Chris was almost sure he'd have to rescue DI Tyler from yet another murder attempt when Hunt started laughing.
DI Tyler's grin widened.
Then the ambulance was there to take DI Tyler and DCI Hunt away and Chris was left to wonder how the hell he was going to get back to the precinct since Ray had taken his own car to bring Darren in and DI Tyler's had been totaled. He eventually started walking, hunched down beneath the falling snow. This had really just confirmed his opinion of his superiors - they were crazy. Clever, yes, but crazy.
Somewhere in the distance church bells began to chime.