A/N: I'm writing this with the snow thick on the ground outside and the memory of going into the BBC tour earlier and seeing the Audi Quattro (the actual Quattro used in filming!) parked about three metres away fresh in my mind. Oh my goodness, I almost fainted... wow moment, took ten million pictures and a video before moving on :D Sooo... I know, I know, I have to update other stuff as well, but I wanted to get this in before the festive season's over and nobody wants a Christmas story. So, enjoy! Jazzola :)
Alex's hand grasped a glass of wine as she lay back on her sofa, eyes staring listlessly up at the swirling ceiling, straying to the glimmer of tinsel wrapped around her discount tree in the corner of the lounge. With no Molly to insist on the biggest tree possible- and the most expensive- she had barely bothered to go out and drag the little thing back, although she was grateful she had. The task of finding decent tinsel in 1981 had distracted her from the fact that this was the first Christmas since- well, since pretty much ever- that she would be spending alone.
Of course, there would be other people in the same boat. Ray would probably be on his tod for the festive season, unless there was some poor bird he'd get his talons into on Christmas Eve in Luigi's. Evan would be lonely as well, but at least he had Alexandra Price to help him.
But the fact remained that the sorrier Alex felt for herself, the worse she felt for her DCI. Gene Hunt.
Gene had made it clear to all who had asked that he would spend Christmas drinking himself into a coma; he'd made a point of taking all the whisky from his office and storing it in the Quattro on the last day in the office, which had taken some time, and had snarled at anyone unwise enough to try and wish him a merry Christmas. Ray and Chris had seemed to take it for granted; no eyebrows raised, no shocked expressions, nothing.
The only thing was, although drinking was normal for Gene, Alex knew that the sort of binge-drinking he was implying was there to repress bad memories. It wasn't for enjoyment, or to have fun; it was to make sure that he didn't think back, didn't have to face the ghosts from his past, of which there were many. She'd seen it before, the haunted look in his eyes as he slugged down drink after drink, barely pausing to breathe, becoming so drunk he was incapable of speech or movement. Eventually he'd simply collapse in the chair in Luigi's. Once or twice she'd been on the brink of rushing him to hospital, convinced he'd poisoned himself, but Ray had always lugged him into the back of the Quattro and taken him home, depositing him on his front step for him to sleep the alcohol off. It wasn't good for him, and Alex had been thinking on it for a while.
Maybe she could make her Christmas a little bit useful after all.
Leaning over and picking the phone up, she dialled Gene's number, half convinced that he would be too drunk to answer already but receiving a surprise when a completely sober voice answered. Evidently the memories hadn't set in yet.
"Hunt."
"Gene?"
"Hello."
His usual fire had gone out. Alex shivered at his deadened voice, the forced politeness that said as clear as day he'd prefer to be left alone.
"I'm coming over."
"Don't remember sayin' I wanted yer around over Christmas."
His voice died a little more on the last word.
"No, but from the sounds of it, you need perking up. I'm coming over or you're coming here, so pick which one you'd prefer. You're not getting out of it."
The line went dead.
Alex sat for a while longer, stroking the phone idly as she put it down on the receiver, pressing her lips together in hard thought until the phone rang again, making her jump so hard the wine spilt all over her purple batwing top.
"Shit!" she cursed, reaching for the phone and holding her sopping top out with the other hand. "Hello?"
"Are yer comin' or what?"
"Yes, OK. I'll come."
"Wait. Yer'll slip. I'll come over if yer really not goin' ter leave me alone until I do."
"OK. Your call. Watch yourself, but don't take the Quattro, the roads are gridlocked with people getting home for the festivities and you won't get here until midnight."
"Fine."
Once again, the line was cut off as he slammed the phone down onto the cradle. Alex put it down as well, going through to her room and stripping off the wine-sodden top, swapping it for her grey dress as she mopped up the dribble of crimson on the sofa, thanking a deity she didn't quite believe in that it had landed on the black.
Ten minutes. Twenty minutes. Thirty minutes, and still no sign of Gene. Alex was beginning to doubt he'd come until the knock on the door heralded an arrival. Alex's hands were there almost before the person had stopped knocking, swinging the door open in anticipation.
"Gene! What's wrong?"
Her eyes drank in the sight of Gene, leaning against her doorframe and cradling his ankle in both hands.
"Fell."
Alex ushered him inside, her hand on his back, guiding him to the sofa and grabbing her first aid pack as he collapsed onto the striped material. Pulling his boot off as gently as she could, she began to wind an ice pack round his rapidly swelling ankle, securing it in place and handing him a couple of paracetamol as he tentatively moved it a little and sucked his breath in sharply.
"Don't try to move it yet. How far did you walk on that?"
Gene muttered something that Alex didn't quite catch.
"Sorry?"
"Most o' the way," he murmured, a little louder. Alex slapped the back of his head gently in mock anger, her eyebrows rising.
"Why didn't you go back and call me?"
His face wore a scathing expression.
"Oh, right, o' course. "Sorry, Miss, I've 'urt me ankle, please excuse me!""
"I would've understood."
"Yer'd 'ave also insisted on comin' ter mine an' 'avin' a look at my life-threatenin' injury. Wi' no car an' no sensible shoes."
Alex sighed, outmanoeuvred.
"Fine. But surely better a little bit of embarrassment rather than having to walk halfway across London on a sprained ankle? I can look after myself, you know."
"Don't feel pain."
"I doubt that."
With the onset of the banter, a little colour had begun to come back into Gene's cheeks. Alex, only realising how cold he was when her hand brushed against his icy skin, motioned to the Crombie coat slung over the floor next to them.
"Not as warm in these temperatures, is it, Gene?"
"What now?"
"Get a better coat."
Gene made a little noise of exasperation, sitting up and yanking his hurt ankle away as Alex began to fuss over it.
"Gerroff, it's fine!" He yanked a hip-flask from his pocket and took a long swig, closing his eyes at the sting of the whisky.
"Beginning your drinking now?"
He gave her a slit-eyed look.
"What's it ter you?"
Alex shrugged at him, turning away to pick up her bottle of wine and put it back in the drawer. Gene watched her shrewdly, pocketing the hip-flask as she turned back, seeing a flash of surprise in her eyes before it was quickly smothered as she pulled up a chair next to him.
"Your ankle needs to be elevated."
Without waiting for him to protest, she dropped a cushion onto the chair and hoisted his leg up, resting his ankle on the seat of the chair and draping an ice pack over it as he shifted uncomfortably, wincing.
"Now stay like that."
Gene gave her a sneering look, but submitted to being propped up and accepted a glass of wine with a nod of thanks.
"Why'd yer want me ter come over in the first place?" he asked as Alex plumped down on a little mound of cushions next to him, holding a fresh glass of wine in her fingers.
"Nobody should have to spend Christmas alone."
"I wasn't alone. I 'ad an 'ole pantry o' whisky waitin' fer me."
Alex rolled her eyes.
"Yes, waiting to give you liver poisoning."
She reached out and put a hand just above where his liver would be, catching him tensing as she did so and suppressing a grin.
"Believe it or not, I don't really want to walk into CID on the first day back to find out that my DCI is in hospital fighting for his life."
Gene shrugged. Alex, pausing for a second, clocked the expression that flitted across his face- was it some kind of remembered fear? Sadness?
"Why're you so against Christmas, then?"
Gene gave her a grumpy look.
"Not. Just don't celebrate it."
"Why?"
Gene's eyes refused stubbornly to meet hers as she watched his face; he was trying desperately not to give anything away.
"Not Christian."
Alex laughed, shaking her head as Gene frowned back at her.
"That's the worst excuse you've ever given me, Gene. Everybody celebrates Christmas, unless they're of another religion. Are you telling me you're of some other religion?"
"The religion of bollocks to God, Bolls."
Alex rolled her eyes, at least grateful to see that a little smile had made its way onto his face at the idle banter.
"Seriously. Did you celebrate it as a kid?"
Gene stiffened. Instinctively, his hand travelled suddenly to the scar on the side of his face, next to his right ear, a movement that did not go unnoticed by Alex. Her frown dissolved into disbelief, her eyes widening, as she put two and two together.
"He didn't... at Christmas?"
Gene nodded slowly. He'd guessed Alex would know about his past, having been an acquaintance of Sam Tyler; they'd clearly talked about him somehow. Alex's obvious shock and disgust were reassuring, but the prospect of talking about it, especially as he was marooned on her sofa, unable to so much as stand up without help, was daunting.
"Tell me," Alex whispered, reaching out to cup his face in her hand, trying to make eye contact. His eyes slid away as he took a deep breath.
"And if I don' want ter?"
"Then you can spend every Christmas until the end of your life feeling bitter and drinking yourself into oblivion, sad and alone," Alex said gently, shifting forwards to press her body slightly against his, not in a sexual way, for encouragement, the warmth from her body the comfort of the cavemen. She shifted onto the sofa next to him, taking it as a good thing that he didn't move away as far as his ankle would permit him.
"What happened?"
Gene drew in another lungful of air, beginning to speak with the monotone of a condemned man, a creature with the knowledge of certain sadness.
"Christmas 1944. I was ten, Stu was abou' eight. We'd been askin' Mam if we were goin' ter celebrate Christmas this year. We 'adn't before, since we 'adn't 'ad the money. Would just be a couple o' pieces o' cheap turkey an' God's bloody blessin's before Dad came 'ome an' whacked us all abou'. Was always worse at Christmas, 'e broke Mam's arm twice. Mam wanted ter try an' do something fer that year, get some presents in or somethin', give us somethin' ter do on the 25th. On'y Dad came 'ome that night an' one o' 'is drinkin' pals 'ad told 'im somethin' 'e didn' like. Never found out wha' it was. 'E was in the worst mood possible, 'specially since it was Christmas. I was upstairs when 'e came in, Stu was down wi' Mam doin' the turkey. I 'eard 'im start yellin', 'ared it downstairs an' found Stu in an 'eadlock an' Mam tryin' ter get Dad off 'im. 'E jerked 'is elbow back an' knocked 'er out, sent 'er flyin' inter the wall."
He paused to quietly clock Alex's look of incredulity.
"I told 'im ter get off. Yelled all sorts at 'im. 'E threw Stu the same way as Mam an' came towards me. Picked up the knife from the stove, the one Mam was doin' the turkey wi'. 'Eld it ter my throat an' tol' me 'e was goin' ter kill me. I tried ter duck away, 'e got my face wi' the end o' the knife. Would've stabbed me if I'd given 'im the chance, an' 'e wasn' so drunk 'e could barely see me. 'E chucked it away eventually an' just laid inter me. Worst kickin' I've ever 'ad. 'E broke two ribs, knocked out a tooth an' gave me concussion. 'Is own son."
Alex's fist clenched on Gene's arm.
"I was more worried fer Mam an' Stu, but they were fine. Woke up a day later ter find Stu wipin' blood off my face an' Mam sittin' next ter the bed wi' the phone in 'er fingers, ready ter ring the 'ospital if I went from bad ter worse."
He chanced a look at Alex, finding her biting her lip as she gazed at him, tears beginning to brim in her eyes. Tears of anger or sadness or sympathy, he didn't know.
"Year after that, 'e did the same thing as two years previously, laid inter us, but not as bad. It was jus' that we tried ter 'ave Christmas that one year. An' 'e didn' want us bein' 'appy. Bastard."
He looked down at the carpet, a tiny flush making its way onto his face. Alex lifted his chin to look into his eyes, seeing the memories burning in them, the face of the man who should have been his protector and instead had turned into his worst nightmare.
"That's... awful. Words can't describe it."
"I'm not tryin' ter ruin anyone else's Christmas. I just keep ter myself, try not ter think too much. Drink."
He looked down at his watch.
"Normally I'd be gettin' beyond comprehensible speech righ' about now."
Alex snorted with laughter as Gene pouted, a look of vulnerability on his face but no longer as uncomfortable as before. She watched him quietly as he checked his hip-flask was still in his pocket, a calculating look on her face.
"Wha's that look fer?" Gene asked, beginning to wonder if he'd said too much. That look would strike fear into a supervillain.
"There's actually this Christmas party tomorrow, down in Luigi's. Most of CID will be there. You could come for once, get into the festive spirit for the first time, have a good time with people who know you and respect you. Your ankle might be a bit tender, but you can sit down. The other thing is, you can't go home if you can't even walk right now. You can stay here, spend Christmas with me."
Gene dropped his gaze.
"OK, Bolly. If yer don' mind."
"Why would I mind? Better than sitting here feeling sorry for myself and writing Christmas cards to Molly that I know I can't send."
He gave her a curious look.
"She- doesn't have mail where she is."
"I'm sorry, Bolls."
"For?"
"That yer spendin' Christmas wi' an old dinosaur like me instead o' yer little girl."
"Don't be silly," Alex chided, hitting him softly in the chest. "The old dinosaur's pretty good company for me."
Gene gave his first real smile that day.
"Cheers, Bolly-Kecks."
Christmas Eve brought with it a thick blanket of snow, covering London's ugly concrete and dark alleys in a carpet of white beauty. Alex, staring out of the window with a beam on her face, opened it to grab a handful of snow from the windowpane and turned around, seeing Gene lying asleep on her sofa and grinning as an evil idea came into her head.
"Gene! THERE'S A FIRE! GENE!"
"WHAT?"
Gene sat bolt upright, staring at Alex just as she threw the snowball square in his face, falling about laughing as Gene wiped the snow off his eyes and spat a little out, giving her a death glare and making to retaliate, standing up and promptly regretting it as his ankle seared with pain and he yelped.
"Knew it was a bad bloody idea stayin' at yers," he groaned, collapsing back onto the sofa and shaking snow from his shirt. Alex laughed again, retrieving a fresh ice pack from her refrigerator and putting it on his ankle.
"Bloody 'ell. Nowhere's safe anymore."
"Sorry. It was childish, but I couldn't resist. You looked far too peaceful."
He pouted.
"Should get a lawsuit against yer. Assault."
"I'm sure the Super would approve of that."
Gene chuckled.
"Breakfast anywhere?"
"There might be, I suppose, or you might have to walk to the shops for something," Alex teased, going through to the kitchen and grabbing a packet of bacon, shoving it under the grill and putting some sausages on to cook. A noise made her look up; Gene was leaning against the doorframe, his bad ankle resting against his good leg and a look of mild pleasure on his face as he accepted a cup of tea from his DI and watched the bacon grilling.
"Looking forward to seeing my domestic goddess act, Gene?" she laughed, setting the timer and sitting down with her own cup of tea, pushing a chair towards the doorway. Gene plopped onto it, leaning forwards to see the food progressing. Alex stared at the shine of his leonine head in the cool light, catching her breath slightly, losing track of time as she delved into the moment; how could a man with such a rough personality suddenly seem so... pure?
Her eyes flicked down to the scar on his cheek, and she shuddered. OK, not so pure. But that wasn't his fault. That was his bastard drunkard father's fault. Anger stirred in her stomach, and she wondered at herself, amazed that she could feel such hatred towards someone she didn't know, and at Christmas; it was totally unlike her.
"Bolly, bacon's done."
"The pinger hasn't gone off."
"It's done."
Alex, huffing slightly, got up and slid the pan out; surprised to see it perfectly cooked, she stared round at Gene.
"How did you know that?"
"I'm a man of many talents, me, Bolly."
Alex shook her head at herself, sliding the bacon onto his plate and adding a couple of sausages and slice of toast.
"That's all I've got. I tend to have muesli as of a morning."
She nodded to her own conservative bowl of berries and bran, seeing Gene frowning at it.
"'Ow yer've survived this long is a mystery ter me, Bolly. Now I know 'ow yer keep so slim."
Alex grinned as he shoved the bacon into his mouth.
"And I know how you maintain that beer belly."
He gave her a slit-eyed look.
"Last person ter insult my weight tha' blatantly got knocked out."
"Who would that have been?"
"DCI Derek Poncy Show-Off Front-Page Cock-Waggler Litton."
Alex shook her head at him, trying to suppress the grin on her lips.
"I'm guessing you didn't like him much."
"Not especially, Bolly."
Alex glanced over at Gene's wrist, reading the time upside down as he looked down at it with her.
"We have two hours before the party starts down at Luigi's. I'll get you some fresh clothes, and I promised Luigi I'd help out downstairs. You can be of some help as well."
She held up a hand to block any protests.
"That, or I throw more snow in your face. Your choice."
As he grumbled and lifted himself carefully off the chair, she allowed herself a smile.
"Senor Hunt! You are hurt!"
"Yes, Luigi. Congratu-bloody-lations. Can I get a scotch?"
Gene limped over to one of the chairs nearest the door and fell into it, pouting as Alex picked up one of the boxes of decorations and handed it to him.
"It'll keep you busy. Decorate the tables, put up some mistletoe around the place, drape some tinsel somewhere."
Gene tilted the box to get a better look at the contents.
"Wha's that?"
Delving in, he picked up a bauble, holding it up the light and scrutinising it, turning it around in his fingers. Alex's eyes widened in astonishment- she would have thought everybody knew what a bauble was!- but remembering his little tale from his childhood, she simply plucked it from his fingers and draped it over one of the light fittings. Luigi looked astonished at Gene's question, opening and shutting his mouth like a goldfish before Alex gently set Gene straight.
"It's a bauble, Gene. Christmas decoration."
Gene pulled a handful more baubles out, beginning to fit them onto the lights, draping some tinsel round and using the leftovers to create festive nests in the middles of the tables, little circles of tinsel with baubles sitting like eggs in the middles. Luigi nodded approvingly, Alex grinning and passing Gene another box, grabbing his elbow to help him over to another table.
The time began to fly, with Luigi flitting around putting up decorations and straightening paper chains and Alex draping tinsel over everything flat, hanging plastic bunches of glittery berries from hooks and sticking banners up throughout the trattoria. Slowly, Luigi's was becoming festive, and the gleaming decorations situated wall-to-wall got even Gene into a festive spirit.
CID arrived to a scene of Alex putting the finishing touches to the bar, Luigi getting the drinks ready and putting "Merry Christmas Everybody" on the stereo and Gene slugging back a whisky, throwing a spare box of baubles to Alex as she beautified the last smidgen of the bar. The place looked like a shrine to all things Christmas, and the festive drinks served by Luigi and proclaimed "on the house" raised a cheer from the assembled detectives.
Nobody but Alex noticed the van drawing up outside and the men quietly making their way up the stairs to her flat.
Amidst the rabble and out-of-tune crooning that had started by ten minutes into the party, Alex found her way to her and Gene's usual table, seeing him nurse the usual scotch and snap at a young DC for straying too close to his hurt ankle, only omitting the part about the hurt ankle. Pulling a chair up next to him, Alex dropped a bottle of wine onto the table and accompanied it with a scotch.
"I'm trying to keep you out of the realms of drunkenness this evening, but you can have one scotch. I'll have a few glasses of wine and leave it."
Gene raised his eyebrows at her.
"I mean it. When I had Molls, I used to limit myself to one glass a week."
"'Ow did yer survive?" Gene replied, only half jokingly, as he took a long gulp of his whisky and leaned back a little, tensing as Ray's feet strayed dangerously close to his injured ankle. Alex laughed.
"I have no idea either, Gene."
A small smile crossed Gene's lips as he let her hand find his under the table, feeling her cool skin on his. Something scratched his palm, falling into the cradle of his fingers, as she took her hand away and stood up, going over to Shaz and Chris, saying something to Shaz at which she laughed and Chris tried (and failed) to figure out.
Taking the object out from under the table, Gene ripped open the top of the envelope containing it and pulled out a little scrap of paper.
Gene,
Go back up to my flat, I'll make your excuses. There's something waiting for you.
Gene looked up, confused, hoping to see Alex and ask her some questions, but she had disappeared among the rabble. He stood up gingerly, using the table to lever himself up, and began to walk towards the door, hoping his limp didn't show up too much.
The stairs weren't as bad as they had been the day before, thanks to Alex's ice packs; he hopped the last couple of steps, thanking his lucky stars that he hadn't encountered an inopportune patch of ice, and jerked the handle open, exhaling in relief as the warmth from the flat washed over his cold body.
"Bolls? Bolly, yer in 'ere?"
"Here, Gene," called a voice from the living room. Gene put a hand out to steady himself on the wall, leaning on his good foot as he made his way through into the room, not ready for what he saw within.
The room was covered in Christmas decorations, tinsel almost blinding him and a huge Christmas tree standing next to the sofa, ten times superior to the straggly little twig she'd had there before. Alex was sitting on the sofa, ready to spring up and help him down to it, laughing out loud as she saw the look on his face and taking his elbow to ease him onto the sofa. She had tinsel wrapped round her neck, and it cast a glow onto her face, beautifying her even more than usual; Gene felt a stirring in his stomach as she grinned at him, ferreting under the tree and picking up another envelope, putting it in his hands.
"When did this 'appen?"
He motioned to the lounge with his free hand. Alex's smile broadened.
"I got in some Christmas decorators while you were downstairs."
Gene turned his attentions back to the envelope, ripping it open and drawing out a card with a blank front save for a single sprig of holly. Opening it, a tiny but real smile creased his face as he saw the words printed within.
For the bad deeds of those before us, we shall not pay, year after year. The innocent are not to be punished.
Gene,
It's an old saying that one of my teachers had at school; it means that you shouldn't have a bad time because of what your bastard father did to you. I hope that you'll understand and banish his memory, at Christmas especially.
I know that Gene Hunt doesn't do sentimental, but I'm always here for you, Gene, even when we've had a crap day and you're in a bad mood and I'm yelling at you. The only reason I do it is because I know the next day it'll be forgotten.
I'm not for one moment saying you can't cope or anything. Everyone needs someone else that they know will be there for them. You're mine. I want to help you, and I want you to let me help you.
So, Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year, Gene Hunt.
Bolly
Gene sat completely still for a minute, digesting the card, before leaning over and hugging Alex as she put her hand on the small of his back, rubbing it gently.
"Bolls... just... thank yer."
Alex smiled into his eyes, tilting her head up as he looked slightly down at her, his eyes travelling from her eyes to her lips and back up again.
It was inevitable.
Alex's lips touched his, a gentle pressure encouraging him on, careful and considerate but some deep emotion welling in the warmth of the kiss, in the slight eagerness that she tried and failed to push down. Gene blinked in surprise before responding, his hand travelling to hers as she smiled under his mouth, her tongue flicking out to trace the shape of his lower lip, being granted further access with a gentle movement from him.
Outside, the snow began to fall again, gently, smoothly, a cheer going up in Luigi's and the white flakes sparkling as they passed the upstairs window, framing the two people finding solace in each other and the love they now indulged.
Alex's smile could have melted every single one of those snowflakes as the kiss ended, her hand clutching Gene's and his eyes shining into hers. She rested her head against his, whispering into his ear as she held him close.
"A very Merry Christmas to you, my Gene."
Gene turned his head slightly to press his lips to her rampant curls, finding her ear, his reply faint, only for her.
"And an 'Appy New Year ter yer as well."
Alex smiled, her whole body glowing with delight as Gene enveloped her in the tender hug she knew was solely for her.
"Oh, it will be now."
Awww! Even I love that last bit :) Soo... what did people think? Please review, and to everyone who has read this, a very, very Merry Christmas and a wonderful New Year to you! Jazzola :D