This was written during the airing of season three, around episode three or four, and basically was where I wanted the series to go (in a perfect universe). Naturally it didn't, so consider this an alternate take of sorts. It's a bit fluffy, but eh. I'll shut my eyes and pretend the finale ended more happier than it did. Enjoy! :)
(so glad you came)
The circumstances of their first meeting were unusual to say the least. He, an over-the-hill copper way out of his depths, and she, the most gorgeous women he'd ever seen in his life. Sure, he thought she was a prozzie at first, but that doesn't bear thinking about.
Regardless he swept her off her feet, trying to ignore the whiff of champagne and perfume her coat deposited on him, and carried her into his kingdom. For him it was the beginning, for her the end.
(so glad you remembered)
She yelled at him, ranted and raved at inconsequential details, but he never could bring himself to look away. Her mind moved at a thousand miles an hour, connecting clues before he'd finished his first tea (he doubled his sugar after she arrived)
But he was The Guv, and The Guv will catch up. And he did, matching her step for step.
It was a crazy dance, but their's nonetheless. She'd waggle her fingers; he'd pout. She'd roll her eyed; he'd step closer to her. She'd step up to him, and say something scathing. To which he'd yell.
Two steps forward, three steps back. Two steps forward, three steps back. Sometimes ground would be made… to which they'd each clear their throats (metaphorically, of course, they wouldn't want to let the other know they knew), resolving to keep that ground gained, but then continue with their backwards crazy dance anyway.
(to see how we're ending)
He wanted to shag her more times than she'd possibly ever know. He'd find his mind drifting further away from work the more she'd pace around the office, hands in her back pockets, seemingly oblivious to his stares from inside his office. Here, there and everywhere. That's what he wanted.
He'd suggested it, and she'd suggested it. And they'd both denied themselves the pleasure. Such masochists would probably work well together- not that they'd ever stop focusing on other things long enough to realise it.
She left and she returned. That's how life went- on and on and on. And they continued their stupid dance, but slower, one step forward, three steps back. So they drifted, and he just wanted it all to end.
(our last dance together)
'I'll be leaving again soon,' she told him one morning, dropping an envelope onto his desk. He couldn't look up, and as she silently left his office, he stubbed his cigarette out, watching the ashes stain the abandoned letter. They both knew what 'leaving' meant- and that this time she meant it.
(expectant)
He'd let her go, he decided.
He'd yell at her, he decided.
He'd shag her, he decided.
All of these thoughts ran through his head.
And he acted on none of them.
'Bolly.'
She looked up at him, and he flung the unopened letter back onto her desk. An eyebrow was raised, his pulse quickened, but he resolved to keep the pout firmly on his face.
'I don't want it.'
'You didn't-' Surprise- but for what? He hadn't read it the first time, he wouldn't read it now.
'No.'
And he walked out of the office.
(more punctual)
She found him ten minutes later out the back of Luigi's, one hand holding a cigarette up to his mouth, the other shoved deep into his pocket. She approached slowly, and he couldn't help but glance up. Her outline glowed in the pale light of the distance streetlight, obscuring her face in shadow. And then she was standing in front of him, absolutely still.
'Gene…'
'Bolly.'
No more dancing, he decided. Only this time he meant it.
(but prettier than ever)
'Don' want you to go.' He couldn't look at her, but saying it was enough. His breath was fog mixed with smoke, his words hung in the air as both of them. It was childish, she'd already made up her mind, but too much had happened, and now was the only chance he'd have.
'I know.' She placed a warm hand on his arm, smiling sadly. 'I told you once I invented this world; I was wrong. Clearly. But it's not, it's never that easy. I wish it were- I wish I knew what was right and wrong, I wish I knew how to make everything okay. But I don't, and that's not something I can change… Gene, look at me.'
Sighing deeply, he let the cigarette fall from his hand, extinguishing in the cold night air. And then he looked. Tears filled her hazel eyes, shining in the reflected orange light of a dying streetlight.
There wasn't much Gene was sure he knew about Alex Drake. He fancied her- that was one thing. He didn't want her to leave- that was another. She would leave- that was a third. A fourth was he'd never hear from her again. As for a fifth- while he was never completely certain what she was saying, he knew what she wanted, and he knew what he wanted.
Dancing was for cowards, anyway.
So he kissed her.
But she pulled away, and he cursed. Tears were streaming down her cheeks now, and this time it was she who could not look at him. All thoughts ceased, and he automatically took a step backwards as she took two steps back- away from him. Their eyes were locked, and for the first time in what felt like forever, hers were wide with fear, tears spilling over.
'Bolly, Bols, Alex.' Names tumbled out his mouth, trying to figure out which woman stood before him. But she, whoever she was, turned away, still crying. (he was not a coward)
And he stepped forward again, reaching out to wrap his arms over her slouched shoulders, shaking with sobs. He held her tight, as though to absorb her tears, her worries, her pain, but to no avail.
A flash, and for a split second, the world stopped turning.
(I really believe this time it's forever)
He might not have noticed anything changing, except Alex's breath hitched, and she turned around in his arms. Their eyes locked for a split second before she ripped herself from his arms, tearing down the alley to main street. He watched as she stopped just short of the road, narrowly missing being hit by a truck. Christ almighty… He ran towards her, stopping a few feet behind her as she slowly turned around. Her hands were shaking; her eyes darted around frantically before finally coming to rest on Gene's face.
'…Gene?'
'What- what happened?'
'Gene… I-' her brow furrowing in concentration, she scrutinised his features carefully before continuing- 'I died. That's not… Molly.' And she collapsed, fainting in his arms.
He couldn't help but smile, rolling his eyes as he caught her before she hit the pavement. This was it, he could feel it. No more dancing. With a sigh, he hoisted her higher, carrying her tenderly back up to her flat. Luckily the dozy cow had left it unlocked, so he placed her gently on the sofa. Her eyes fluttered open, not unlike that day, so long ago, when he had rescued her from the freezer.
'Hey.' Her voice was faint, and she reached up to gently cup his cheek. 'You're here.' A smile split over her face, and Gene, despite everything, felt himself do the same.
'Course I'm here, Bolls. I was needed, so I was there. That's how it works.'
'Yeah… It does, doesn't it?'
He looked down at her, laying peacefully below him, and knew what he had to do. He took her hand, still cupping his cheek, entwining their fingers, and likewise cupped her face with his other hand. And he leant down to kiss her, and they both knew- this was the both the beginning and
the end.