Title: You Know Me So Well"

Author: Olivia Sutton

Rating: PG-13

First Original Presentation:


Category: TV/Randall and Hopkirk (deceased)

Angst, episode dependent, drama

Disclaimer: Randall and Hopkirk (deceased) is copyright 2000 and 2001 by the BBC. The original version was copyright 1969 by ITC. This fanfic is based on the 2000 version starring Bob Mortimer and Vic Reeves.

Formatting: I can't use special fonts in plain text, so if you would like a copy of the complete story, formatted nicely, in Microsoft Word, just e-mail me, okay? Thanks!

This is my first longer-length Randall and Hopkirk, deceased fanfiction, and I have to thank my beta Jackie Cox from the UK who tirelessly went over my manuscripts for a month, offering suggestions, correcting my Americanisms, and encouraging me to write more. Thanks, Jackie, you've been wonderful--couldn't have done it without you!

This story is based on the episode, "Revenge of the Bog People" of the new Randall and Hopkirk, Deceased, which aired on BBCAmerica, if you haven't seen that episode, this story probably won't make much sense. There's also a couple of references to "Into all Sadness a Little Happiness Must Fall", another of my RnHd fanfics, which is archived here on , please read that one first if you're of age--and if you're not, well, you're not going to miss much, really, they are very very small references.

Summary: How did Jeff Randall react to Freya Cargill's rejection? How did Marty put him back together again? There's some rough dialogue here and mentions of adultish topics, be warned. Comments are always welcomed and highly encouraged!

"...she turned you into a useless, blubbering fool that it took me the best part of a year to put back together..." Marty Hopkirk to Jeff Randall, regarding Freya Cargill, "Revenge of the Bog People", Randall and Hopkirk (deceased)

"You Know Me So Well"

by Olivia Sutton

Setting: Some time in 1990.

Marty Hopkirk hit the accelerator of his Ford Sierra and drove faster, Come on, Come on, he said to himself as he wove through traffic on the busy M1 motorway. Suddenly, Marty slammed on the car's breaks as the traffic slowed ahead of him, he reached for the mobile on the car seat and hit re-dial. The phone rang several times, then Marty heard his own voice, "You have reached the offices of Randall and Hopkirk..."

Marty hit the "End Call" button on his mobile, and pulled into the slowly moving traffic, frantically driving back to London.

--Earlier that week--

"Jeff are you sure you don't want to come with me to Leeds? The case shouldn't take that much time at'all and we could go see your mum in Middlesbrough once I'm done."

"No, that's okay, Marty. Go, have a good time, keep in touch."

"Are you sure you don't want to come with me?"

"Marty!" Jeff looked up at the ceiling, "Marty, look, I'm fine, stop worrying. I want to catch-up the files and start the accounts."

"Well, why don't you come instead? I'm sure you can find sommat to do whilst I'm working on the case and as soon as I get the evidence on Mr. Smith, we could catch the train north, your mum would love to see you, Jeff."

"Marty, I'll be fine on me own here."

"Well, it's only YOUR mother, Jeff. I can't change your mind, you want to stay in London?"

"Yes, I'm going to stay here. You know, we need to leave soon or you'll miss your train."

Marty looked at Jeff, "Well, if you're sure. Look, don't take any cases whilst I'm away, all right? The bank balance is actually in the black for once, so there is no need for you to take any sort of risk, when I can't be here to back you up."

Jeff looked at his partner, "Okay, all right, I won't take any cases alone, Marty."

"Not even simple ones, Jeff, you know that sometimes even simple cases turn out to be dangerous."

"Fine. Not even a simple one. I don't know why you're so worried. I'm capable of taking care of myself, you know," Jeff replied.

Marty looked away, then back at Jeff, "I'm not worried, there's just no point in taking risks, and detective work without back-up is too risky. That's all. Now let's head over to the train station."

Jeff nodded, and the two left the office together so that Jeff could drive Marty to the train station.



Marty arrived in Leeds, checked into his hotel, and laid the groundwork for the case. He called Jeff regularly to report on his progress, and if Marty was honest with himself-- to check on Jeff and to make sure he wasn't in any sort of trouble. Finally, by late Thursday, Marty wrapped up the case, getting plenty of photographs of Mr. Smith, for his wife's divorce proceedings. The next morning, happy with his quick progress, Marty sat on the bed in his hotel room and called Jeff in London. The phone rang, then clicked and Jeff picked up.

"Hello?" said Jeff.

Marty could hear all sorts of static on the line and realised the click had been the office phone forwarding the call to Jeff's brand-new mobile, "Hello Jeff, Where are you? The line is noisy."

"I'm... I'm on my mobile, I'm not in the office," answered Jeff over the line.

"I wrapped up the case, so how are things in London?"

Jeff paused then said, "It's Freya... she has me on a case, her father..." the phone crackled.

"What!" Marty shouted into his phone, as he tried to suss out what Jeff was saying.

"Freya... her father's been accused of a serious robbery at the museum. I'm looking into it."

"What? I thought we agreed, Jeff? No cases whilst I was gone, remember?"

"But it's for Freya. It's her father, and he's missing, Marty. I mean, she's my fiancée, I couldn't say no, now could I?"

Marty gritted his teeth, "No, I suppose not. Be careful, Jeff, I'm not there to give you backup."

"I'm always careful, Marty," answered Jeff.

"Wait... you sure you don't want me to come back, today? I finished the case, last night, I could hire a car, or sommat, rather than waiting for the Monday sleeper?"

"Marty, I can handle it, all right? It's a missing persons, shouldn't be difficult. To be honest, Marty, Freya showed up in the office Tuesday last asking for help, and I never said anything, because I knew you'd react like this. The case is almost wrapped up. Don't worry so much, I'll be fine. Enjoy your week-end, and I'll see you Monday morning, like we planned, all right?"

"Well, if you're sure everything is all right, Jeff," said Marty, skeptically.

"I'm fine, everything's fine here. Bye, Marty."

Marty noticed something slightly odd in Jeff's tone, "Well, if you're sure."

"I'm sure, Marty. Don't worry about me, I'm fine."

"Okay, then. See you later."

"Yah, see you, bye Marty."

"Bye, Jeff."

Marty sat the phone down, and stared at the hotel wall for a few seconds, then he picked up the phone again, "Hello, concierge desk? Yes, this is Marty Hopkirk in 507, I would like to hire a car..." Marty listened a moment, "Yes...I need to return to London sooner than planned..." there was another pause, "That would be fine...thank you," Marty set down the phone, then rose off the bed, and began packing up his belongings from the hotel room. He told himself that he hadn't quite lied to Jeff, he had never promised to actually stay in Leeds for the week-end. He'd surprise Jeff by being a few days early. It was still fairly early in the morning, and the weather was fine, it should be an easy three and a half-hour drive back to London.



Marty ran up the stairs of Cope House to the offices of Randall and Hopkirk, as he reached the landing, he saw the outer door slightly ajar, "Jeff? Jeff!" he shouted as he reached the door and cautiously pushed it open.

Marty entered the outer office, the inner office door was open, through the door he could see a body lying on the floor, behind Jeff's desk. He flew to the body and realised straight away that it was Jeff. He knelt and felt for a pulse, there didn't seem to be one, Marty pushed his fingers deeper into his mate's neck, and finally a faint, slow beat met his searching fingers. "Thank god," he muttered, placing Jeff on his side, and proceeding to check that Jeff was breathing. Confirming that he was, Marty began to look around the office as he reached for the phone and dialed 999 for emergency services. As he dialed the office phone his eyes lit on the half-empty whiskey bottle on the desk and the empty tablet bottle and glass tumbler next to it. "Oh, no," Marty mumbled as he picked up the bottle.

Emergency Services finally picked up, "Police, fire, ambulance, What is your emergency?" said a woman in a nasal voice.

"Yes, I need an ambulance, please, and hurry."

"Address please?" said the voice on the line.

Marty gave the address and calmly answered the questions asked by the emergency services dispatcher. Whilst he answered the questions, he kept one eye on Jeff, and tried to read the tablet bottle with the other. Eventually the dispatcher rang off, and Marty sat the phone down, and focused on reading the bottle label. He soon realised that it contained Jeff's pain prescription for arthritic joints. Having determined it wasn't a sedative, Marty slipped the bottle into his suit-coat pocket and returned to Jeff's side.

"God, Jeff, Why?" said Marty, keeping a close eye on his best mate. "Why?" he said again, holding Jeff's hand, as he knelt next to his body, "Why didn't you talk to me on the phone? Um, Jeff? We've been through so much, couldn't you have talked to me?" Marty said, then he lowered his head, waiting for the ambulance and hoping for his mate's recovery.

Sometime later, Marty heard a noise in the hall and shouted, "In here!"

Two EMTs and a paramedic entered the main office, then hurried into the inner office.

"What happened?" asked the paramedic.

"I don't know. When I came in, he was unconscious next to the desk. I think he'd been drinking," Marty pointed to the whiskey bottle.

The paramedic nodded, "What's his name?"

"Randall, Jeff Randall," Marty supplied.

The paramedic was examining Jeff, looking for any injuries and checking his vital signs as he spoke to Marty, "Do you know anything else about what happened?"

Marty groaned, then took the tablet bottle out of his pocket, "He... he might have taken this, it's a prescription for pain, he was diagnosed with rheumatoid arthritis about six months ago", he handed the bottle to the paramedic, "He doesn't normally take much pain medication, he doesn't want to become dependent, he's only twenty-eight."

"What?" asked the paramedic, taking the stethoscope out of his ears.

"I said, he's twenty-eight years old."

The paramedic nodded, "Do you know if he has any allergies to medication?"

"Well, he's allergic to Codeine," Marty said.

The paramedic made a note on his pad, "Is there anything else in his medical history, sir?"

Marty said, "No. He'll be all right, won't he?"

"We'll do our best, sir," said the paramedic, then he reported in on his radio-mike, "London Central, Unit 45, 28-year old male, possible drug/alcohol overdose, he's unconscious, pulse is weak, breathing is normal, vitals to follow. Be advised, patient is allergic to Codeine. Transporting immediately."

"It could have been an accident, you know," Marty said, "Jeff doesn't normally drink heavily, if he fell..."

"They'll give him tests at the hospital, sir," said one of the EMTs.

"But he'll be all right, won't he? He has to be!" insisted Marty.

"We'll do everything we can. Now, sir, if you'll back out of the way, we need to get him to the ambulance outside."

Marty nodded and backed up behind his own desk, "May I come with you then? Jeff's me best mate as well as business partner..."

"And you don't know what happened?" asked one of the EMTs.

"I've been working on a case in Leeds for the last week. I came back this afternoon, because, well, Jeff didn't sound like himself when I phoned him this morning."

"So, you suspected he was distraught?" asked the paramedic.

"I don't know what I flamin' suspected! Not this!"

The EMTs had Jeff on the stretcher-trolley and began moving towards the outer office.

"You're detectives, correct, sir?" asked one of the EMTs, "Was Mr. Randall working on a dangerous case?"

Marty looked at the paramedic, and the light bulb went on over his head, "That's it!" he snapped his fingers, "He said his fiancée's father went missing. Jeff was investigating the disappearance. Freya! Freya must know something!"

"Who's Freya?" asked the paramedic as they moved the stretcher down the hall towards the lift.

"His fiancée, I just said."

"Can you contact her?"

"Oh, I'll contact her all right," Marty's eyes glittered, his tone hard. "If she's somehow responsible for this, I'll tear her apart!"

"Sir, there's no need for violence," said the EMT, punching the lift button.

"If she hurt Jeff, there's plenty of need for violence," Marty murmured under his breath, "I'll..." but he stopped speaking as they loaded Jeff into the lift, rode downstairs, and took Jeff to the ambulance.

Jeff was quickly loaded into the ambulance, and Marty made to follow him inside the back.

"Sir, I'm sorry..."

"I'm going with him," said Marty, in a tone that brooked no argument.

"Yes, sir, but relatives... and friends, ride up front. Is there any family to notify?"

"His mother's in Middlesbrough. I'll contact her when I know more, there's no point in panicking her."

"As you like, sir," said the EMT as Jeff was loaded into the ambulance, the paramedic joined him, then shut the door from the inside. The other EMT walked 'round to the front, and motioned for Marty to sit in the passenger seat, before getting in the driver's seat and buckling up, "Seatbelt, sir," he said, then started the ambulance and smoothly pulled into traffic. Marty buckled-up and sat tensely in the passenger seat of the ambulance, not even observing the heavy traffic that they were weaving through.