Charity Begins At Home

Disclaimer: We own nothing...

A/N: This was actually meant to be a oneshot...but it's morphed into something more. It'll be in three parts. This is what we think should have happened after episode 7. Reviews and constructive criticism appreciated. Shout out to our beta, Bronze Cortina!

Alex looked at Gene with shocked disgust. Panting she asked him "What have you done?"

Gene fixed her with a steely gaze, his voice hard edged "I'm takin' you 'ome."

Gene moved to lead Alex away, she refused pushing him away and shouting at him. "No! Get off me!"

They held eye contact, contempt and animosity flowing between them.

Part One

Alex trudged along the road in the cold night air and pulled her white leather jacket around her as she neared Luigi's. What she wanted was a drink and a bath. Her feet were killing her and she was absolutely shattered. Hell, she'd buy herself at least two bottles of wine and hide herself away in her flat, drink herself into a stupor and pass out. She really wasn't in the mood to talk to the cheery Italian, or anyone else for that matter.

She could feel Shaz's blood drying on her shirt and skin and felt cold and sick. Reaction had set in and she was trembling. God she needed that drink, her mouth was dry and she felt light headed.

The brave WPC had died, and for whatever reason unknown to Alex, she'd been able to revive the young woman. It scared her; not knowing if this world she was living in was real or imaginary, if the people who populated it were constructs or just normal human beings. Her favourite construct - Alex's own construct as she saw Shaz - had died. She was sure of it. She hadn't been able to find a pulse, Shaz hadn't been breathing and Alex had given up. But the look of fear on Chris' face and his desperate pleading had been enough to spur Alex on to try and save Shaz again. She fought with every ounce of strength to keep her from being taken by that bloody clown. And eventually she had done it. She had been exhausted, upset and extremely shaken but she had been able to breathe life once again into the cold pale body, and Alex felt proud of herself.

Stumbling down the steps to Luigi's, Alex tried to pinpoint exactly how she felt about Gene Hunt at this moment. She couldn't believe he had let Chris beat up Gil Hollis. Gene had watched with cold eyes as the troubled man lay on the ground, crying out in pain. It wasn't right. Even if Shaz had died, it wouldn't have brought her back, or made anyone feel better about her death. It was understandable that Chris had been upset and angry but he had no right to take his pain out on Gil.

Pushing the doors open, Alex noticed how abnormally quiet it was in the bar. Her gaze slid slowly round the room and landed on Gene talking quietly to Luigi. What the hell did he want? She watched as Gene handed Luigi a cheque, he looked very apologetic as Luigi held his hands up at Gene in conciliation. Luigi looked round and smiled at Alex as she leaned shakily on the bar.

"Could I have two bottles of your house red please, Luigi?"

"Certainly Signorina. Signor Hunt has been telling me about what happened to poor Miss Granger."

"Oh, he has, has he? I bet he left out all the good bits."

Alex pointedly ignored Gene as she waited quietly for the Italian to fetch her bottles.

Luigi meekly handed the bottles to Alex and quickly retreated to the far side of the bar. For once he decided he was better off not getting involved in an argument between the arrogant DCI and his fiery DI. This particular fight between the Signorina and Signor Hunt quite obviously went beyond a lovers tiff and his jurisdiction.

Wordlessly Alex took the wine and walked up to her flat - longing to slip into a warm bath and an alcoholic fug in hope of blurring the evening's horrific memories. She was aware of Gene's eyes on her as he tracked her across the room; if he dared follow her she was sure she would slap him. Reaching the top of the stairs she opened her door without a backward glance, feeling blessed relief that she had made it up without an altercation with Gene. The door swung behind her.

Gene eyes followed as Alex stalked across the bar and up the stairs; he silently followed her to the foot of the stairs and watched her. For a moment he considered ignoring the 'fuck off and die' vibes that radiated from her and following her into her flat. He stood a moment longer and then turned and walked back out to the bar.

Going behind the bar he poured himself a double whiskey and downed it in one. God, he was so fucking angry he could feel it radiating from his very core. What the hell did that bastard Hollis think he was playing at, waving that gun about? So his wife had left him, who wouldn't? He wasn't the first and he certainly wouldn't be the last. Gene had been right when he'd said that he'd spent too much time in that bath and not enough in her. Leaning heavily on the bar, he lit himself a cigarette. Bloody Shaz. What was the daft bint thinking of going running off alone? If she hadn't played the hero he'd never have had to let Chris give Hollis a going over and Alex wouldn't have screamed at him like a banshee.

Bloody Women! Always causing more trouble than they're worth.

He poured himself a second double and knocked it back, barely tasting it. Where the hell did she get off behaving like that, like he was in the wrong? He should be the angry one; he'd nearly lost a member of his team, a junior officer no less and in the process had been humiliated repeatedly by his DI in front of his team! He'd been suspended and had that harpy Caroline Price delight in his downfall, been made to look a fool of on National Television and had to put up with his DI parading the Prices' lapdog, 'Evan – too - poncey – for – words – White' in his face.

Well he'd be damned if he was going to grovel and apologise to her after he'd tried so hard; listening to his DI's crackpot psychiatry bollocks, subjecting himself to no end of public embarrassment and putting up with insubordination. And to top it off he'd bared his heart and soul asking her out to dinner.

Pouring his third double, he drank it slower than the previous ones. As he felt the fiery trail glide down his throat, he watched Luigi securing the broken windows. He could still hear the gunshots ringing in his ears as he threw Bolly to the floor and covered her with his body; his only thought had been to keep her safe. Now he revelled in the memory of how good it had felt to be pressed that close to the length of her and shook his head; bollocks was it! He was furious with her sanctimonious attitude and priggish behaviour and he was going to have it out with her one way or another. He nodded his goodnight to Luigi as he threw a couple of notes on the counter and disappeared up the stairs to Alex's front door.

She wasn't getting away with it that easily, flouncing off in a huff and making him feel guilty. He wasn't responsible for Hollis nicking the money and lying; nor was he responsible for Shaz's stabbing or anything else for that matter. He conducted his investigations and commanded his men as he saw appropriate and if DI Bolly Knickers didn't like that then she could bugger off back to what ever toffee-nosed rock she crawled from under. Christ - he shouldn't be the one feeling as if he ought to apologise – she should! He should be the one feeling betrayed, hurt and furious.

Standing in front of her door he banged on it so hard it flew open and he realised it was off the latch. Feeling like a right dickhead he nonchalantly walked into the softly lit flat.

Alex was standing at the sink, her robe tied loosely around her with her shoulder and bra strap on display. She didn't even acknowledge his entrance and continued scrubbing Shaz's blood off her jacket. No words were exchanged. The only visible effect he had on her came as he reached above her head for the wine glasses – she stopped her frantic scrubbing and stood motionless.

Alex felt the heat of his body against her cheek, carrying wafts of the scent that was so uniquely him; almost as if his ghost was pressed against her just as the solid reality of him had been on the restaurant floor. The spell only lasted a moment, broken as he moved away.

Alex stared at her jacket; the bloodstains had now turned a horrible orangey brown colour. It wasn't ruined but it would need many washes before it looked half as decent as it had before Shaz's accident. Her hands moved in slow circles, trying to get the blood off. She was lost in thought. She couldn't shake the image of Shaz and the terrified look on her face as she lay sobbing and uttering the words "I don't like clowns." What on earth was happening? Why had Shaz seen the clown who had been haunting her since her arrival in 1981? Did he appear before people died? How could that be the case if Shaz, like the rest of CID, was merely a construct? It was too much for Alex to comprehend. She dumped her jacket in the sink and turned to look at Gene; he'd opened one of the bottles of wine, pouring two glasses.

The presumptuous bastard.

Did he think they would just sit companionably in her lounge getting steadily pissed and chatting like they always did, as though tonight had never happened? How could he think this after his behaviour tonight? God - he was even more of a thick-headed flatfoot than she had first thought!

She was thoroughly disillusioned after everything they had been through. She thought that maybe she had begun to get through to him, changing his 'fists first, questions later' approach to policing. Obviously she hadn't. There was no point in trying to change him; she didn't think she could fight it anymore and a little part of her didn't think she wanted to change him. The feel of his body on top of hers, his chest panting… the warmth and the weight of him crushing her…

Urgh! She was going to have a shower and she hoped that Gene wouldn't still be there when she got back.

As she swept into her bedroom, she sensed rather than heard Gene get up from the sofa and follow her. She wasn't in the mood for this.

Alex began searching through her underwear drawer for a clean pair of knickers. Eventually finding a simple black pair, she turned to the wardrobe and pulled out one of the many shirts Gene had left in her flat. It was obvious that before she had entered the world of '81 Gene had spent many a night in her flat, probably semi-comatose with alcohol poisoning.

She could see from the corner of her eye that Gene was slouched against the doorframe watching her as she gathered the things up for her shower. Turning round, she pushed him from her bedroom and stormed into the bathroom slamming the door behind her.

As she showered she watched as Shaz's blood mingled with the water and swirled down the drain. Tears came to her eyes then as she thought of the young woman lying unmoving on the ground. Chris by her side telling her that he knew she was the one. Shaz was in critical condition but Alex prayed that she would pull through; her one and only construct, Shaz needed to pull through, she had to!

Gene stood on the other side of the door; he could hear the water running and decided that he'd let her have her shower in peace. Once she was finished, he'd then have it out with her. He was sick and tired of being painted as the bad guy.

He cringed; deep down he knew he had an apology to make to Viv; how the hell would he go about that?

He sat down on her sofa again and pouted in thought. He was getting too old for this kind of shit. The memory of Shaz lying there dead had brought back the memories of losing Sam. Gene had found it unbearable to watch as Alex had pounded the young woman's chest, trying to breathe life into her. It had been too close to home, nearly losing someone on his team once again.

Just as suddenly as the water hand begun, it stopped and Gene paused. Would she even consider talking to him tonight? Well she'd bloody well have to; he wasn't leaving until she did.

He gulped down his glass of wine and then poured another, not even taking time to taste the liquid. He turned around as Alex quietly padded through to the living room, her curls wet and hanging limply around her face. She wore no makeup and noted to himself that she was beautiful even without it. He realised that she was wearing one of his shirts he had left in the flat for emergencies. She had no problem wearing his clothes, having them caress her body all night, a reminder of him and yet despite everything he'd done, sacrificed for her, she kept turning him down. What the hell was she playing at?

Alex noticed the bottle of wine, opened and already half empty and took a deep breath. He had just made himself right at bloody home; his coat and suit jacket lay over the arm of the chair and he'd loosened his tie and had undid the first couple of buttons on his shirt, the gold chain he always wore now visible. Alex took a step forward to remonstrate and tripped over Gene's boots, which he had discarded and left lying in a heap on the floor. She cursed as she tried to maintain her balance

Her tenuous grip on composure snapped and she picked them up throwing them at his head with all the force she could muster.

Her anger clouded her aim and the first boot missed him, sailing wide of the mark and hitting the plant that stood in the corner of the room. The second was a little closer to her target, flying over the top of his head and hitting the picture hanging above him. The glass shattered and showered him in a thousand glittering shards.

To be continued…..