A/N: An inner monologue during the flat-searching scene in S2 E4. Because I'm trying really, really hard.
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Bastard.
Letting them charge in here like a pack of bloody rhinos. Letting them go through her things, things I know I'm not meant to see. So, what did you plant, Mac? Drugs? Money? Kiddie porn?
Bastard. Smug, arrogant, nipple-twisting, arse-paddling, lying bent bastard.
Maybe you've got some of them convinced, but don't look at me like I don't know you're as bent as a dog's back leg. Look at me like that one more time, Superdupermacintosh, I'll rip your off your fucking arms and beat you into a bloody pulp with them.
Softly, softly, Gene. Careful. Not now. Not yet. Just stand there and look to all the world like…what did Garrett say? A good little Indian.
Well, I'm not an Indian, mate. I'm John Wayne. I'm Clint Bloody Eastwood.
She's scared. She's trying not to be, but I know her. After all these months, I know her. I've seen it before. In the vault. When Shaz almost died. The day that nutter Price topped himself and his wife. She's trying to be brave. Trying not to cry so Mac won't know how scared she is, but I know. I know she's scared and alone. And I can't help her. I can't bloody help her, and all I want to do is…
Shut it, Gene, you girly, sissy, soft woofter. Who bloody cares what you want to do? Not her anyways. She's made herself quite clear how she feels about you. Or doesn't feel, as the case may be.
How many times have you wanted to tell her in the last few weeks? Months, even? How many times has she thrown it back in your face? After she got here. Following her around like some spotty schoolboy. Asking her to dinner. Letting her under your skin. You looked a right twat.
Even the other day. All that about "letting her in." It was just that psychology bollocks. You're the Manc lion. No one gets in.
Not even Jackie Queen. Especially not Jackie Queen. Stupid, up-the-duff cow. The future ex-Mrs. Gene Hunt. You'll have to marry her now. Couldn't keep it in your trousers, could you? What the bloody hell was going through your mind?
Stupid sodding bastard. You've no chance now. If you ever really had one. Did she even care when she found out? Kids. You weren't supposed to have kids, not with Jackie Queen. Someone else.
Shutupshutupshutup. Pull yourself together, you lachrymose bastard. You can't let any of them see. Least of all Mac. You're the Gene Genie. They all look to you, and you're no use to her like this. You go where you're needed. She needs you. Alex. Alex needs you.
Bastards. Drugs. Stolen goods. Bank statements. Very nice, Mac. How long did it take you to make those up, you wankstain of a human being? What happened to you?
Christ, he's arresting her. Shitting hell. Bastards. Don't touch her like that. Don't fucking touch her.
Enjoy it, Supermac. It won't last long, you lying, backhanding gobshite. You can send me to Plymouth. You can send me to sodding Timbuktu. You can take my warrant card and destroy my kingdom brick by brick. But you won't destroy the only thing I ever really loved.
Not as long as I draw breath.
Try me.