A Change of Scene

By Sioux

Fandom: Taggart

Pairing: Stuart/Male

Warning : Pre death of Mike Jardine

Rating : PG-15

Summary : Stuart’s night out isn’t what he expected.

Disclaimer : Don’t own ‘em and not making a penny off them!

A Change of Scene

By Sioux

"Fraser!"

Stuart Fraser stopped in the doorway and sighed.

"Sir?"

"Just before you go, pass this on to Sergeant Morrison for me, please," Jardine said smiling, knowing quite well Stuart was wanting to leave for the evening and had already worked for an hour past his finishing time. Stuart took the piece of paper Chief Inspector Jardine was offering.

"Has there been another murder, Sir?"

"Yes, last night. I’m just glad it’s over in Lothian and not on our patch."

Stuart nodded in agreement. The photofit picture showed an average looking man with dark hair. An average looking face hiding a very twisted, sadistic mind.

For a few seconds Stuart looked at the picture wondering at the motivation behind such a man.

"Good night Stuart," Jardine said, recalling Stuart to his surroundings.

"Good night Sir."

"And Stuart…."

"Sir?"

Jardine hesitated before saying, "Have a good evening."

"Yes, Sir," he replied, hearing the unspoken ‘and be careful’, as clearly as if his boss had actually said it.

Stuart just had time to rush home, take a hurried shower, get changed and then head out to meet his friends. Even though he hadn’t wasted time, Stuart was still late. By the time he got to ‘The Printworks’, the rest of the bunch had headed off to the next pub leaving Jamie to greet him and tell him the next venue.

"You’re late!"

"Yeah, sorry. Had to finish up before I left."

Jamie nodded. Not quite understanding why Stuart always put work first but willing to accept it anyway.

He handed Stuart a pint saying, "Drink up, we’re all heading down to ‘The Basement’."

"The Basement?"

"They’ve just opened a new club next door."

"Ow not an all nighter again!"

"Whasa matter wi’ ye? Ye’re getting’ old afore your time."

"Just getting knackered afore my time."

"Oh!"

"No that knackered!" Stuart replied smartly, recognising the signs of disappointed lust in Jamie’s eyes.

Jaime grinned and knocked back the rest of this pint.

"Come on."

Stuart quickly swallowed the rest of his beer and followed Jamie out of the pub. Crossing the street they headed diagonally across George Square walking quickly to catch up with their friends.

The Basement was very full with people waiting for the new club next door to open its doors. It was a mixed crowd of gay and straight.

A couple of pints were already waiting for Stuart and Jamie as they walked in and joined the rest of their group.

"You’re three behind, Stuart," Kevin shouted good naturedly above the noise, "And it’s your round next," he finished.

"Very funny!" Stuart shouted back, not falling for the bait at all.

Kevin grinned, "Anyway, you’re looking good tonight," he added, mildly flirting.

"And he’s taken!" Jamie yelled back, "So go and get your own."

Stuart laughed knowing neither of them were being serious.

A couple of hours passed quickly. The noise and heat in the pub increasing, then the punters started thinning out when the club opened. Through a gap in the crowd Stuart thought he saw a familiar face. The man turned around again, giving him a profile view. None other than DI Ross.

"Shit!" Stuart swore softly.

Kevin looked down at him, "What!" he shouted.

Instead of answering Stuart pulled him around and in front of him, shielding himself from Ross’s view, but at the same time ensuring he could still keep an eye on the other man. Seconds later he had a mouthful of Kevin’s lager flavoured tongue as the other man took full advantage of his proximity. Stuart’s eyes opened wide in surprise to see a close-up of Kevin’s face, who was obviously enjoying himself and Jamie standing just behind laughing at him. He pulled out of the embrace.

"C’mere," Kevin said, reaching for him again.

"Just stand there," Stuart hissed at him, trying to communicate through the beer glazed sheen of sensuality on the other man’s face.

"Wasa matter? I only want a kiss," he slurred homing in again.

"No!"

"Problem?" Jamie asked, seeing Stuart’s serious face.

"My boss, over at the bar"

Jamie casually turned around,

"You didn’t say Jardine was gay."

"He’s not. That’s DI Ross, he’s not gay either."

"So? He can drink where he wants, he seems to be having a good time."

"He’s on leave for a couple of days at the moment."

"Why don’t you want him to see you? Thought you’d come out at work?"

"I have. I just, well…you know."

"No, Stuart. I don’t know. Are you ashamed of me?"

"Don’t be stupid, ‘course I’m not"

"What then? Does he have a go at you because you’re gay?"

Stuart made a face.

"Not exactly. I just don’t want to provide him with any more ammunition for his sad jokes."

"He indulges in a bit of gay bashing, does he?"

"Not really."

Stuart and Jamie looked across the bar at the same moment Robbie Ross looked in their direction. For a long moment neither changed expression then Ross smiled and nodded at them.

"He seems alright. Maybe he’s turned over a new leaf?"

"Yeah, maybe."

"Oh come on, cheer up. You’re off duty now."

Stuart grinned, "Yeah, that’s right," he replied finishing off his pint, "And I believe it’s your round," he said handing his glass to Jamie.

As Stuart returned from his trip to the loo an uncharacteristically sombre Jamie asked,
"Your man at the bar, who’s the bloke next to him?"

Stuart looked across but couldn’t get a clear view of the man.

"Don’t know, why did he make a pass at you?"

His flippant comment was ignored,

"I think he just spiked your boss’s drink."

Having had that happen to him once, and that one time had made him ill for days, Jamie was not a fan of anyone who thought spiking drinks was funny.

"Are you sure?"

"No, that’s why I didn’t say anything. I just saw his hand move quickly near his pint when he turned away."

"We’ll just keep an eye on him. How long would something take to work?"

"Anything from a few minutes to half an hour."

"Might be hard to tell though, he looks like he’s been drinking all day," Stuart said.

He could see, even from this distance, Ross’s face was flushed, he was laughing too loudly and his eyes were rather too bright and shining. Then the older man stumbled against the bar, his companion grabbing his arm before he could fall. Ross found it very funny. Stuart slammed his pint down and strode off towards the two men, Jamie close behind him.

"Robbie, are you alright ?"

Stuart knew Ross liked a drink but had never heard of him being falling down drunk before.

"Stuart!" the man shouted then laughed, "How are you?" he asked as he dropped a heavy arm around the younger man’s shoulders.

"I’m fine. How are you?" he asked again, twisting around to look at Robbie’s face.

"Couldn’t be better. Just out celebrating a little win on the gee gees with my friend here," he clasped his companion around the shoulders and sagged a little between them. "It’s good to see you Stuart," Ross said loudly.

Stuart winced at the gale of stale alcohol fumes which gusted into his face from a range of a few inches.

"It’s good to see you too, S..Robbie."

Just in time Stuart stopped himself from saying ‘Sir’. Ross lurched forward between the two men holding him up.

"Whoa, I ..I think I need some fresh air," Ross announced to everyone in the vicinity.

"I think we both do," his companion replied, "Come on let’s get you outside."

"Hmm outside."

Obediently Ross turned towards the door, his eyes glazing more than ever.

"I think I’m a bit drunk, Stuart," he confided to his colleague.

"Just a bit," Stuart replied solemnly.

The other man wrapped Ross’s arm across his own shoulder and said to Stuart, "I’ll get him outside and see him home."

"And who are you, Sir?"

Fraser couldn’t be sure but he could have sworn he’d seen a cold, calculating look enter the other man’s eyes, then just as swiftly disappear.

"I’m a mate of Robbie’s. And to put it bluntly son, what’s it tae do wi you?"

Stuart whipped out his warrant card,

"Strathclyde police," he replied quietly, becoming deadly serious.

Either the other man was a consummate actor or he really was Ross’s friend, because his face never changed.

"Well, they say you’re getting old when the policemen look like schoolboys. I feel ancient now," he grinned at Fraser. "Relax, officer. I’m John Mclaughlan, me and yer man here have spent most of the day at the races and we’ve both come away with more than we started with."

Ross giggled softly, opening blood shot eyes briefly, "Yeah, races. Nice gee gees."

Fraser looked at Ross, then asked, "Do you want a hand with him, Mr Mclaughlan?"

"Nah, we’ll manage, won’t we Robbie?"

Ross hiccoughed in answer.

"You get back to your pals, enjoy the rest of the night. I’ll get this reprobate into a cab and get him home."

Raising his voice, he said,

"Home, Robbie? You can sleep it off then."

Ross giggled faintly and muttered something. He was becoming slowly but surely unconscious.

"If you’re sure, sir?"

"Aye, and ma name’s John. You get on and enjoy yersel. See you don’t end up in this state though!" he waved an admonishing finger under Fraser’s nose, which annoyed him, even though he didn’t show it. Instead he resurrected a smile, "Goodnight, John."

"’Night Stuart," he nodded gravely at Jamie and headed towards the door with his almost comatose burden.

Jamie and Stuart enjoyed a moment of silent, complete communication.

"Let’s go and look as if we’re queuing for the club and find out which way he goes," Jamie suggested.

As one they turned and walked to the door.

"The nearest taxi rank from here is at the Central Hotel, if he isn’t going in that direction, I’ll follow him."

"We’ll follow him."

"You don’t need to do that, Jamie, you’re not a police officer."

"No, but my boyfriend is and I’d like to keep him in one piece," he replied softly and quickly.

Stuart grinned casting a sideways look at the man walking at his side and said nothing. They exited the pub shoulder to shoulder and looked around for their quarry.

"He can’t have got that far," Stuart said.

"I’ll look up there, you go down the street."

They split up jogging in opposite directions. Fraser had a really bad, nagging feeling about this. Mclaughlan looked familiar to him, but he couldn’t ever remember seeing him with Ross before, then again he didn’t exactly do much socialising with Detective Inspector Ross, their tastes being polar opposites.

At the end of the street he caught sight of the two men, Mclaughlan was virtually carrying Ross now, and at a fair speed, unfortunately he wasn’t heading in the direction of the taxi rank. Keeping the crowds of Friday night revellers between himself and the other men, Stuart discreetly followed. Mclaughlan was going towards the Clyde. Even in the heart of the city there were certainly enough dark and deserted places to host any number of nefarious activities alongside the mighty river.

He increased his pace slightly, but was distracted when Jamie ran up behind him.

"Have you found them?" he panted.

Stuart turned back.

"Shit! I had, they were just ahead."

Together they ran forward but both men had disappeared completely. Wildly they looked around hoping to see Mclaughlan taking a breather from his fast pace, but there was nothing. Even the merry crowds of Friday night drinkers were sparse here.

"Shit, shit,shit!"

"Let’s have a look down there, he might be hoping to flag a cab down near the railway bridge."

Stuart looked at his lover with pity.

"And pigs might fly!"

"If you’ve got another suggestion?"

"No. I haven’t."

He couldn’t really call for back up on a vague feeling of suspicion that a senior officer was off his head on more than just alcohol and that he didn’t like the look of his pal.

"Come on, then."

Quickly they trailed passed the front of Princes Square shopping centre then crossed the road and skirted the side of St Enoch’s centre and the entrance to the underground station. It was too well lit at this point for them to miss anything.

"Some copper I am!"

"Don’t torture yourself Stuart. After all this he’ll probably turn up on Monday morning with a king sized hangover."

"Probably," Stuart agreed, thinking he would be pleased to see Robbie Ross just alive at the moment.

"Do you want to go back?"

"No, not really," Stuart admitted. This had dampened his mood.

"We could go and get something to eat," Jamie suggested, leaning back against a wall, shielded from sight of the road.

"What do you have in mind?" Stuart asked, coming to stand closer, thinking the meal in front of him looked good enough to eat right now. Jamie, unconsciously, standing in the ages old pose of a hustler, his hips thrust forward and thumbs hooked into his waistband.

"There’s that nice little Thai place up the street, a nice, leisurely meal," he punctuated his adjectives with kisses, "a bottle or two of wine," he reached forward to drag Stuart closer, his hands sliding down to stroke and knead his buttocks.

"…a loaf of bread and thou," Stuart finished, breathing into Jamie’s mouth, his lips fastening on the other for a deep, oxygen stealing kiss.

When they surfaced again for air, Stuart ground his hips suggestively against the answering hardness.

"We could skip the meal," he murmured, feathering tiny kisses along Jamie’s jaw and throat.

Jamie’s stomach answered before his mouth could, giving a huge rumble. They both laughed.

"OK. Food first," Stuart agreed, turning away.

Jamie grabbed his hand turning him back, hungrily kissing him,

"Don’t suppose…?" he muttered hopefully.

"No!" Fraser replied firmly.

"Only askin’," Jamie said, knowing his request would be refused.

Being a gay police officer wasn’t going to help Stuart in the promotion race, getting caught having sex with his boyfriend in the street would probably ruin his career. One of these weekends Jamie promised himself, he was going to whisk Stuart off to the Highlands, find an empty stretch of moorland somewhere and fuck him until he couldn’t stand up. One way or another he was determined to have his fantasy, of making love to Stuart in the open air, come true.

"We’d better go then," Jamie said, snatching a quick kiss, "While I can still walk!"

They made their way back onto Argyll street. As they were about to go under the railway bridge Jamie said,

"Wait there I won’t be a minute."

He ducked down the side of the railway bridge into the darkness.

"Jamie! Can’t you wait?"

"No, I gotta pee now. You can come and hold it for me!"

"And book you for urinating in a public place?"

"Maybe not, then."

For a few seconds the relief from his aching bladder over rode all his other senses, but then he became aware of a soft grunting noise. It echoed slightly and seemed to be coming from further down. Perhaps from the dark arches. He was listening so intently he didn’t hear Stuart ghosting up beside him.

"What’s.."

Immediately Jamie put a hand over his mouth.

"Shh," he breathed directly in his ear.

Finishing quickly he zipped himself up and then said, "Listen!"

He listened.

"It’s probably someone having a quickie!"

"Yeah," Jamie agreed, the look of prurient lust on his face unmistakable, even in the near darkness.

"You’re an absolute voyeur!" Stuart whispered.

"Haven’t heard you complaining when you’re watching my video collection."

"That’s different they’re actors," he hissed, aware of a feeling of double standards creeping in.

"Oh come on, live a little," Jamie replied quietly, stealing forward.

Stuart followed, his interest having calmed a little from their previous petting, now reviving thanks to the sounds from the unknown couple. Silently they stole forward, pausing at the entrance to the pitch black alleyway. The sounds stopped after a few moments. They stared, trying to pierce the darkness. Suddenly a dull metallic gleam caught Fraser’s eye.

"Get down!" he shouted throwing himself forward and bearing Jamie to the ground underneath him, using his own body to protect the other man. A flat sound echoed very slightly in the alley, then another. Stuart felt an aching impact in his shoulder as he went down and a sharp pain in his ankle as it twisted. He yelped then shouted, "Stop! Police!"

Another dull thud and stone chips flew from the wall above them, then the sound of running feet receding. Stuart continued to lay across Jamie’s body until the only thing he could clearly hear was their own laboured breathing. Cautiously he lifted his head. When there were no further sounds, he rolled sideways, grunting slightly as his abused ankle complained. His left arm was starting to go numb.

"Are you alright?"

"Twisted my ankle, I think."

"Was that someone shooting at us?"

Stuart nodded, "He had a silencer as well."

That spoke of premeditation.

Carefully Jamie sat up and turned to help Stuart. When he touched his left arm Stuart tried to suppress a groan but wasn’t entirely successful.

"Let’s have a look at that," Jamie said, pulling a lighter out of his pocket.

In the flickering weak light, a dark stain was spreading across Stuart’s left shoulder.

"Jesus Christ Stuart! You’ve been shot!" Jamie exclaimed horrified.

In the small light Stuart could see a darker shape across the other side of the alleyway, almost completely hidden in the shadow of a stone archway.

"There’s something over there!" he said in warning. He was starting to feel light headed from the terrible ache in his arm and shoulder. He didn’t actually believe he’d been shot. Being shot would probably involve far more pain than this ache.

"It’s a body," Jamie said, catching sight of trousers and shoes.

Stuart crawled over to see who it was. Jamie held the lighter up, the scene revealed telling it’s own story. The man was lying face down, his trousers undone and pulled midway down his thighs, his shirt and jacket pulled up to halfway up his back. Gingerly Jamie reached out to a wrist.

"He’s alive," he said thankfully, then on a more urgent note, "Stuart, he’s hardly breathing."

"See if you can turn him over."

Struggling a little against the dead weight, he did so.

"Oh no!" Stuart said, as he recognised the face of this rape victim.

Robbie Ross, dishevelled with one cheek scrapped and smudged with dirt and gravel.

"Jamie, do you have your ‘phone on you?"

"No. You?"

Fraser shook his head.

"You’ll have to go for help, Jamie."

"What about you? We need to stop the bleeding."

Stuart glanced down at his shirt. The blood was soaking through and leaving chill trickles down his ribs. He couldn’t feel his left arm anymore and the pain was becoming quite severe. He could feel a cold sweat standing out on his face.

"There’s no time for that. He needs an ambulance. Find somewhere with a ‘phone, quickly."

Torn between not wanting to leave his injured lover alone and needing to get professional help, Jamie was in a quandary.

"Go on!" Stuart shouted, holding out his right hand for the lighter.

Jamie went.

Stuart leaned against the cold brick at his back, straining his ears in the darkness for Ross’s breathing. The length between each breath seemed to be getting longer and longer. He found he was holding his own breath so that he could hear the shallow respiration’s of his Inspector. Putting the lighter on the ground he grasped Ross’s wrist. His pulse was shallow and slow. Then he couldn’t hear his next breath. Ignoring the pain in his shoulder as best he could, Fraser placed the palm of his hand in the centre of the bigger man’s chest, desperately praying for the ribs to lift and draw in air. Nothing happened. He pushed Ross’s head back, clearing his airway and waited for the sound of an indrawn breath. Nothing.

Awkwardly he leant forward placing his cheek near the other man’s mouth, but there wasn’t even a faint whisper.

Trying to use his left hand to close the other man’s nostrils was agony, using his own precious oxygen to inflate the other man’s lungs sent white hot tendrils of pain lancing through him. As he tried to establish a steady rhythm of breathing for both of them, he knew that however bad he felt he had to keep conscious. If he passed out Ross would die or at best be brain damaged from lack of oxygen. Each second seemed to last a lifetime, his awareness contracted until it consisted solely of forcing another lungful of air into the comatose body below him. He couldn’t remember a time when he hadn’t been breathing for two of them.

"DC Fraser. DC Fraser!"

Steady warm hands held him. At the end of a long black tunnel he could see a uniformed police officer kneeling on the other side of DI Ross’s body. The officer was using a portable breathing tube to continue to breathe for the other man. Flashing blue lights and noise accompanied this vision.

"It’s alright DC Fraser, you can rest now. We’ll take over."

Fraser turned his head slightly to find another uniformed police officer kneeling beside him. He managed to nod once before sliding sideways into comfortable blackness.

Stuart remembered drifting in and out of consciousness several times before he became fully aware of his surroundings. When finally awoke it was to a sensation of being blanketed in cotton wool. Warm, safe but his mind wouldn’t let him rest. A voice was talking in the back ground, at first he couldn’t make out what it was saying. Suddenly he knew who the voice belonged to and he needed to pass on his information. He opened his eyes anxiously trying to focus on Mike Jardine.

"Sir, the man who assaulted DI Ross, it’s the man in the photofit picture!"

"Easy Stuart, easy. It’s alright, we know, we know. We’ve already spoken to Jamie while you were getting put back together."

Jardine smiled down at the young man in the hospital bed, who still looked awfully pale, despite the blood transfusions he was receiving.

"You need to rest now and calm down."

"Did you get him, Sir?"

Jardine shook his head, regretfully.

"Sorry Sir."

"Don’t be. You took a bullet which was about to murder DI Ross, then you kept him alive until help arrived. You can be proud of yourself."

Jardine waited a few seconds before he added, "But don’t get into another situation like that without calling for back-up. It could, just as easily, have been two officers and a civilian dead. I prefer live colleagues, not dead heroes. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Good."

"How is DI Ross?"

"He was in a coma for twenty hours…... "

"Twenty hours?" Stuart interrupted, "What day is it?"

"Sunday morning. You’ve been sedated for a while."

"He’s alright though? I mean, he was….ummm, it looked like he’d been …..erm…"

"He can’t remember any of it. He can’t even remember talking to you in the pub but he'll be given counselling if he wants it."

"He can't remember anything?"

"Nothing. It’s a side effect of Rohypnol, Roofies."

"The date rape drug?" Stuart questioned, trying to get this clear.

Jardine nodded, then continued, "It fits the Edinburgh killer’s MO. He uses a huge dose of roofies, or GHB. Both drugs are a sedative and a muscle relaxant, so the victim doesn’t get, erm…isn’t….," Jardine hesitated unsure of what words to use and embarrassed as hell talking about this to Fraser.

"Physically damaged, Sir?"

"Yes, the victim isn’t physically damaged. If they’re mixed with alcohol though, they can cause respiratory depression, coma and even death. Which is almost what happened to Robbie. If the massive dose of the drugs doesn’t kill his victims, this man shoots them in the back of the head, execution style. He even uses condoms so we don’t have any semen traces for genetic fingerprinting."

"And I let him get away."

"But he’s getting careless. He’s now left two people who can certainly identify him. A police officer who got a partial make on his vehicle licence plate, which was traced to a James Mahon, living in Renfrewshire, who has since disappeared. We will get him."

He patted Fraser’s arm, trying to comfort the young man.

"Hopefully before he kills someone else," Stuart muttered.

"We’ll get him," Jardine repeated.

They were silent for a few minutes, each with their own thoughts.

"But why DI Ross? He’s not gay."

"But he'd been drinking in pubs which have a good proportion of gay clientele. The killer just assumed anyone in there was homosexual. He was off his own patch, he didn’t really know which bars are gay and which are mixed."

"I wonder what he was doing over here in the first place."

A voice from the doorway answered him, "Maybe he fancied a change of scene."

Robbie Ross was standing in the doorway, looking at Fraser, his face sombre, then it lit up with a smile which made his seem years younger. Even though he was dressed in night attire topped off with a tightly belted maroon dressing gown, physically he looked none the worse for his ordeal.

"I’ve come to thank you, for saving my life Stuart. And to invite you and your friend Jamie out to dinner. I hear that you both like Thai food?"

"Yes Sir," Stuart smiled, remembering the aborted meal.

"Have you ever been to that place on Woodside Crescent, ‘The Thai Fountain’?"

"No, it’s a bit expensive for my pocket, Sir."

"Well when you get out of here and you feel up to it, I’ll take you both out."

"You don’t have to do that, Sir," Stuart stammered, blushing rosily.

"It would be my pleasure, Stuart. I happen to like living, my ambition is to continue to do so for as long as possible."

Jardine vacated his place at Stuart’s bedside, saying as he stood, "I’ll be getting off now. I’ll see you later Stuart, Robbie."

Ross waited until Jardine had left the room before seating himself gingerly on the edge of Fraser’s bed. He carefully took Stuart’s uninjured right hand between his own hands and shook it, warmly, fixing his eyes hypnotically on Fraser’s. Then he spoke quietly and very sincerely, looking into Stuart’s eyes all the time, "Thank you Stuart, for helping me in that ambition."

Stuart’s skin colour began to match his hair under that heated gaze. He was mesmerised, staring into those dark brown eyes, so close to his own. He thought, ‘No wonder the women fall at his feet if he does this to this to them.’

© Sioux 2000