AN: This was a spur of the moment thing, I didn't know whether or not to publish this but I'm doing so anyway.
I Still Need You Here
Alex stirred but did not open her eyes, a mixture of her lids heavy from sleep and the fact that she couldn't face waking up just yet. Not yet, not now. She slid her hand across to the other side of the bed, the sheets cold as she tangled her fingers around a discarded t-shirt, bringing it closer to her and inhaling the scent. Him, it smells of him. She clutched the tatty, slightly stained grey cotton to and breathed in over and over again until her senses got accustomed and she could hardly smell that smell anymore. He wasn't the type of man to wear pyjamas, just his underwear and that one grey t-shirt. Fuck, it's too soon. There was a tap on the bedroom door and she reluctantly sat up, quickly tucking the t-shirt underneath her pillow for safe keeping. The womans voice on the other side sounded as drained as she felt, fragile and sad and concerned about her.
"Alex, it's almost lunch time, are you coming down to eat?"
She glanced at the clock, sighing heavily before hauling herself off the bed "I'm coming down now Helen"
Shuffling over to the mirror Alex looked at her reflection; her skin was pale and the dark circles under her eyes told the true extent of her lack of sleep. She had fallen into the routine of staying awake until six am when she heard the milkman doing his rounds, then she'd doze for a few hours but it would be restless and not the type of sleep that left you feeling refreshed and ready to start the day. Can't sleep, not here. She couldn't handle it anymore, but she felt that she had to be there for Helen too. It was cruel, it was unfair but she had to try and make an attempt to put on a brave face.
A plate of toast and a mug of tea was on the table by the time Alex made her way downstairs, the kitchen was spotless and she didn't doubt that Helen had been up for some time cleaning that day. Sitting down at the table, Alex took hold of the mug of tea and sipped from it, her stomach already beginning to churn.
"You need to eat, you'll make yourself even more ill"
She closed her eyes, gritting her teeth as the chastising irritated every ounce of her being "I can't…"
"Yes you can, don't try coming out with that crap Alex because I will not stand for it, not in my house"
"I want to go home"
Helen scoffed, her hands on her hips as she stood beside the kitchen table "It's going to be a long time before you go home Alex, how exactly are you planning on going back?"
Her response was immediate and spiteful "I'll take the car"
"You know as well as me that you'll never get into that car again"
The tears were coming now, she couldn't hold them back and before she knew it she was wailing uncontrollably with her head in her hands. Helens arms were wrapped around her in an instant as she too battled to control her emotions. Chest heaving, after a few moments Alex pulled away and rose from the dining chair, taking deep breaths and wiping her sore, red eyes.
"This isn't how it's supposed to be" she whimpered "It's not fair!"
And then she saw it, her rose bouquet in a vase on the kitchen window sill. She sobbed, reaching out a shaky hand to point at the flowers and shouting "Get rid of those; please get them away from me!"
She turned away, hands over her face as she walked briskly down to hallway to the front door, needing air and needing space. But she couldn't escape. Two white ribbons attached from the doors to the bonnet of the Quattro, with a matching bow and confetti still caught underneath the windscreen wipers. Cars littered the street, the rest of the team that had travelled up to Manchester for the big day having been given a place to stay by his cousin, all crammed into a three bed house across the street. Collette was answering the door as another neighbour brought flowers, Helen having asked not to be disrupted at this time.
"Alex!" Collette called "Come over here sweetheart!"
She nodded, having felt a sisterly bond with the fellow brunette as soon as they had met the year previously. Alex almost melted into the womans arms as she was led inside and through to the living room, the kitchen inhabited by David, Collette's husband, as well as Ray, Chris and Shaz. Phoebe, Collette's five year old daughter, looked up from her colouring book as Alex was seated on the sofa.
"Why are you crying?" the little girl asked "Is it because you're sad?"
Alex nodded, trying to force some sort of a smile to ease the child's concerns "Yeah, I'm just sad at the minute, that's all"
"Is it because of Uncle Gene?"
She couldn't smile this time, it was too much. Her chest burned as she fought to keep herself from all out screaming.
"Is it because of the woman?"
Eyes squeezed shut tight; she clenched her jaw and tried not to let her emotions out. Do not cry! Do not scare her!. She repeated the phrase like a prayer, over and over and over again until the words seemed to blend together.
"Ma'am, we're going to head back to London tomorrow for a few days to collect some things, is there anything you'd like for us to get?"
It was Shaz. No matter how much she wanted to shout she just couldn't do that to Shaz. Instead she shook her head, fanning her flushed face with her hands and looking up at the dark haired young woman "No thanks Shaz, I just want to go back home but I can't"
Shaz nodded knowingly "It's too soon Ma'am, Collette's husband said it'll be a few days yet before the…"
Alex raised her hand, cutting Shaz off before she could carry on speaking "Don't say it, I don't want to hear it…I can't hear it, not just yet"
Then there was silence. Shaz walked away and left the saddened DI to herself, little Phoebe following after her. Starring down at the gold band that now accompanied the engagement ring on her finger, bottom lip quivering as what seemed like the millionth wave of tears that morning washed over her. It was supposed to be the happiest day of her life, the morning after her wedding should have been spent laying in a mountain of crumpled bed sheets with her husband, making love all day and carrying on their own little party from the night before. She should be happy and celebrating. She shouldn't be crying. She shouldn't be scared.
The morning of the wedding had been hectic, Helen had been fussing over Alex and had taken on all mother of the bride duties when in reality she was really the mother of the groom. People were supposed to hate their mother in laws, but Alex didn't. It only made the fact that she'd yelled at her earlier that afternoon even worse. Alexs nerves had been all over the show, and the bridal party lost count of the number of times that they'd watched her rush to the bathroom to vomit. She'd been so nervous; the voices of Genes family rattling around inside her head from the day the pair had announced their engagement. I hope you have what it takes to tie him down, maybe this time he'll stick to it. His previous marriage had been a failure but she felt in her heart of hearts that he wanted it to work just as much as she did. She had spent so long in the bathroom that morning trying to compose herself.
The ceremony was lovely, it had been everything she could have wished for and the after party had been the best do she had been to in a long time. They had danced and laughed and partied with their friends. And then everything went wrong. It began to rain outside, a full on thunder storm that had the trees swaying in the wind. Gene Hunt had been a gentleman, offering to get the umbrella from the car so that she didn't get her hair wet. It wasn't a big deal; it was a vain thing that she had pouted about until he had felt inclined to offer to fetch for her. A quick peck on the lips and a customary Hunt half smile and that was the story of the last time he kissed her. The last time that he was her Gene.
The driver of the car that hit him as he crossed the street hadn't been going much more than the legal speed limit, but a combination of taking a sharp corner and the wet roads had the car in question skidding and flipping over in no time. She wondered if Gene had even seen the car before it hit him, or if his death had been like flicking a switch. Alive one second, gone the next. She hoped it was the latter, she'd have hated for him to be scared, to know that he was about to die. She hoped that his last thought had been a happy one.
The police, paramedics and even the guests had tried to stop her from getting to him, but they couldn't stop her. She had dropped to her knees on the wet ground, her wedding dress getting covered in dirt and the blood of the man she'd been married too for less than twelve hours. She had wanted to hold his hand, but they wouldn't let her. He was loaded into the back of the ambulance and taken away. And there she remained for a while, kneeling on the ground in a puddle of her husband's blood.
She lost track of how long it took her to get from the street to the hospital, too many people spoke to her yet said nothing of any value. Nobody knew what to say to her, all they did was say her name and then stop as though they reconsidered what they were going to say or just couldn't find the words they wanted. It was painful to breathe, she wished the ground would open up and swallow her whole but that wasn't very likely. About as likely as being mowed down on your wedding day? She'd stared out of the window as Ray Carling of all people drove her to the hospital, the one night he had promised not to get blind drunk and make a disgrace of himself and try to pull anyone at the party.
Hospital staff had taken her and Ray into a room with a sofa, coffee making facilities and a TV so that they could wait to see Gene again. The nurse had called it 'getting him cleaned up', which really meant they were trying to make his injuries less terrifying for her, trying to make him look more himself than a corpse.
Exhaustion quickly took over, and she'd fallen asleep for forty minutes with her head leant against Rays shoulder. Then the doctor came and woke her up, telling her that she could see Gene now. She had expected to stand behind a pane of glass and look at him from afar like it was in the movies, grief stricken widows identifying bodies. It was different than she expected though, she was left alone in the room with him and she sat herself down in the chair beside what seemed more like a hospital bed then a mortuary slab. His hand was warmer than she thought it would be, not icy cold and instead seemed more like just less than room temperature. His face looked just like he did when he pretended to be asleep, no expression at all.
"Oh Gene…" tears streamed down her cheeks as she held onto his thumb, her own stroking across the back of his hand "This is all too much…I've got nothing"
Now, the morning after, she was practically stranded in Manchester with no husband and her future snatched away from her. She'd never had the chance to tell him one last time how much she loved him, never had the chance to tell him that they could have a family together. She'd never had the chance to tell him so much, share the news of their upcoming happiness. She didn't know if she believed in ghosts, but she hoped that they did exist. As her hand came to rest on her stomach, she hoped that he knew about the life inside of her. Hoped that he knew she still needed him.