TITLE: Somebody That I Used To Know

AUTHOR: bolly69

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters or concept; they belong to the BBC/Ashley/Matthew, etc.

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Hello again! The muse strikes once again with my favourite pair. Wrote it quickly so hope there aren't too many mistakes, this one really wants to be written!

This will eventually be an M rating, please do not read on if you're easily offended by sex and/or strong language.

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Chapter 1

March 2012

"Ma'am, sorry, er there's a gentleman at the front desk asking for you. He says he knows you but won't give us his name, says he has to see you in person. We, er, tried to get rid of him but he is quite er, persistent"

Alex Drake looked up from the laptop she was furiously typing on. She frowned at the interruption but made a conscious effort not to take it out on the young officer trembling in front of her; James Dawson looked and behaved as though he were twelve years old; nervous, stuttering, shuffling. She wondered if he'd ever make it in the force.

"Thank you James. He must be very persistent if Jane on the desk can't get rid of him. Did he say what he wanted?"

"No, Ma'am, sorry Ma'am… he's a bit… intimidating"

Alex smiled and thought over who wouldn't appear intimidating to James. Poor sod. Oh, poor boy she meant; where did these out of character northern words keep coming from? Sod? Must be watching too much Coronation Street; that was about as exciting as her evenings got these days, even when David stayed over, which was rare; his school commitments and PTA meetings kept him busy. She had a sneaking suspicion he didn't have to be as full on with his precious school as he made out, but he was ultimately a dedicated teacher to his core. A year into their 'courtship' as he put it, and there really weren't any hidden depths to the corduroy and tweed exterior. But he was safe and steady. Yes, he was reliable and dependable. And boring as hell. And when he did stay at hers the sex was… what was it? Average? Perfunctory? Disappointing? She didn't want fireworks and the earth to move but… wait, what? Yes she did! She wanted to be taken and ravaged, to whimper and plead for sweet release, to have mind blowing orgasms that shook her to the core, to feel completely sated as she lay wasted in the wreckage of their lovemaking; the only satisfaction she seemed to get now was when she was alone, in the dim half light before dawn, with her mind cast adrift in some far off place with a faceless lover taking her to the brink, her own fingers replicating his masterful touch…

She sighed and pushed up from the desk resigned to an encounter with Mr Persistent. "Okay James, let's see what he wants shall we?"

Smoothing down her navy blue pencil skirt and collecting her matching jacket on the way out of her office, she checked her reflection in her glass door making sure her neatly pulled back hair was still in place, and she strode purposefully out of the bright modern steel and glass open-plan room that she called home. In the four years since the 'incident' she had made slow but substantial progress. She had endured many hours of therapy, reliving the trauma of the day she was shot in the head, and the dystopian world her psyche had created for her, while her real self lay comatose in a hospital bed. Now the faces and names from that world had evaporated leaving only the odd nightmare from which she would awaken agitated and trembling, grabbing out for something or someone that wasn't there, feeling helpless, lost, incomplete…

The paper she had written a year ago about her experiences and belief that it was her injured brain forcing her to do what she does best to stay alive – analyse people and situations – had been received favourably in the world of academia. She had made an impression on some very well positioned people and had been offered a position lecturing psychology, but she had chosen to stay in the police force catching criminal scum and setting wrongs to rights. Criminals, not scum. Scum? There it was happening again, alien words creeping into her head.

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The calm air-conditioned atrium of reception was flooded with sunlight; a testament to 21st century architecture, aesthetically pleasing form and function. Alex approached the desk scanning the usual milling crowd of people for a familiar face, for whoever was asking for her. Nothing. No one she knew was there. Jane on reception spotted her approaching, she looked a little flustered and eager to speak to Alex.

"Ma'am, oh thank goodness you're here. There's a gentleman asking for you, I'm sorry we had to bring you down but he wouldn't take no for an answer and refused to make an appointment"

"It's fine Jane, I'll see him if he is so determined. Where is he?"

"Outside Ma'am, gone for a smoke"

Alex rolled her eyes, but smiled at Jane "I'll find him, what does he look li…"

"Oh, he's just coming through the doors now Ma'am" Jane gestured to the expanse of green glass that was the entrance.

Alex turned and saw him approaching, striding confidently. He was tall with dirty blonde hair, broad shoulders swathed in a black overcoat; an imposing figure indeed. His mere presence drew everyone's gaze as he made his way towards her. Well dressed men watched him walk by in admiration; buttoned up women stared slack jawed, but he didn't give them a second glance; his eyes were fixed on Alex. His striking features looked like he'd lived a thousand lives but his eyes danced with fire, steely blue, piercing eyes, meaningful eyes. Christ those eyes. She shook herself back to reality; her head really was playing up today, when was her next therapy appointment? He walked as though he owned the place, all fuck-with-me-and-you're-dead; all rough and rugged; all man. She shivered, not like her to notice so much about a strange man without it being some form of psychological profiling, but there was something familiar about him…

"Bolls…"

"I'm sorry?"

"Oh, er yeah, DI Drake…" he ran his fingers through his blonde mane, dropping his eyes to shield her, from what exactly?

"DCI Drake actually. I believe you asked for me? Is there something I can help you with…I'm sorry I didn't get your name…"

He dragged those amazing blue eyes back up to crash into hers; her guard was up, all business reflecting back and no softness, no compassion. "DCI? Right. Er, Hunt. Gene Hunt. DCI, er retired now, I suppose…"

Gene…

She caught her breath and he saw her falter for just a second; that name had brought something back to her mind, just a flicker and then it was gone before she even registered what it was. She shook her head, regained her composure. She held out her hand and smiled, "Mr Hunt, what can I do you for? Oh, no I…I mean do for you?" She nervously laughed, what was wrong with her?

He looked a little sad and lost, probably because she had addressed him as Mr and not DCI; she knew it was hard to become a civilian after a lifetime in the force. He shook her hand, not as forcefully as she had expected; his hand was warm and surprisingly gentle; his skin burned against hers, again sending shivers down her spine and feeling all too familiar. What was it about this man? She withdrew her hand swiftly, her head reeling from the effect this stranger was having on her.

He looked at his feet as he shuffled them awkwardly, "Well, er DCI Drake, I er, would like to come out of retirement, and as I know you, er know of you, I wondered if you'd give an old dinosaur like me a second chance?"

She was taken aback; this was not what she expected. "Oh. Right. I see," she was treading water until she found the right words, "Well Mr Hunt, that's not usually my area and I'm not sure if we have any openings for a man of your, umm, experience but I can certainly pass your details on to HR. Can I ask who sent you to ask for me?"

Her mind was racing, who was he, and did he know her, what did he want from her, and how utterly kissable were those lips, and how masterful would those long fingers be… Alex! She mentally scolded herself to be more professional and felt her face flush, betraying her.

He continued as though he hadn't noticed, "Oh, a friend of a friend, Nelson. He knew Sam Tyler"

"Ah the accent, of course, you must be from Manchester too. Did you know Sam?"

"Yeah, decent bloke. Bloody good copper"

"Yes he was, it was so unfortunate what happened to him. Just goes to show we can never be certain of how our minds work and that they can ultimately betray us" She was back in her comfort zone, speaking confidently now.

"In what way?" he narrowed his eyes but not unkindly.

"Well, the way Sam's injured brain concocted a wild-west-esque retro police fantasy, filled with characters too stereotypical to ever be real…"

He cut her off, "You don't think Sam was really there with them? And what about your own brain injury DCI Drake? Did you conjure up a retro fantasy? With characters as you call them? Did they feel real to you Alex?" His use of her name knocked her sideways, those blue eyes bore into her, burned into her soul.

Alex was stunned, lost for words, she felt dizzy, "What?...I…yes, no…I don't remember anymore…" she was flapping again.

He saw the sadness descend in her eyes, the bright spark dulled, misted over. "I'm sorry DCI Drake, I was out of order, I'll leave you now. Sorry…" He turned to go.

"Wait, don't go, please…" Her hand was on his arm, gripping slightly too hard, her glassy hazel orbs silently pleading with him, "…you haven't given me your contact details. For HR…"

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Thanks for reading! ;-)

Will try to update soon, please review if you like it. And it will be an M rating soon, I promise – that part's already written!

Thanks to Ash & Matt for giving us fantastic characters to play with, to whatever ends…

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