I know this isn't the end, Gene, I know one day when you're ready you will join us. And I will welcome you with open arms.

Gene Hunt mumbled incoherently, placing the letter in a drawer by the side of his desk. The only words which would have been made out, if there was anyone left to listen, was his trademark "bloody nancy bollocks". How did she even find the time to write such a sappy letter anyway? He was unconvinced it was even from her, the letter was more likely a ploy by Pencil-Neck to convince him to "move on" leaving the fate of the station to his fancy.

"By my hairy ballsack!" Gene grunted, looking up to find no one there to chastise him for his choice of words. Ah, a bottle of scotch. A large measure found its way into a well-used glass, satisfying his need for its numbing power. Ghosts of his former team stood around his office, shaking their heads at him disapprovingly.

"Alcohol is not the answer" Bolly would say. Bollocks; he would reply. You drank more house rubbish than me when you got here, because of that daughter of yours. Gene wondered idly about the fate of the girl, a poor little child with a dead mother and a half assed father.

Taking another large gulp Gene welcomed the forgetting native of both alcohol and this place. In a way he couldn't want anything more than his former friends to fade into the background, so he could stop missing them so damn much. But then his thoughts moved to Sam Tyler, and the hole he left when it was his time to go. The pain of watching him and Annie step into the Railway arms for the last time dulled but never really left him. Gene dreaded to think the size of the Alex shaped hole which would settle inside him.

My bloody car! With everything that had gone he'd forgotten his beloved motor, sitting abandoned and buggered on a runway. Just another bastard thing ruining the life he'd built for himself here.

"Chin up Guv, you're the manc lion" He imagined Ray saying. He couldn't dwell on this, that man outside shouting about his thigh phone or something needed to be dealt with.

But before Gene could even replace the lid on his scotch he watched the doors of CID unfurl… But it couldn't be… He convinced himself that the figures through the glass were figments of his imagination, despite the determined footsteps telling him otherwise. It was only when his office doors burst open that he stood, pouting with raised eyebrows at the merry band of people in front of him.

"We came back, Guv," DC Chris Skelton stated, pointing out the obvious with a slightly lopsided grin.

"It didn't feel right, you know," Newly DC Shaz Granger added, squeezing Chris' hand.

"Yer, there's still plenty more scum who need a good seein' to!" DI Ray Carling explained, shifting feet and punching the air to demonstrate.

"Guv? Gene? Are you alright?" DI Alex Drake asked concernedly, looking up at Gene's blank eyes.

Their boss took a step forward, shielding himself behind his desk as he looked each of them up and down with narrowed lids. "You," he gestured at Chris, "You," then Shaz, "You," Ray, "And you," Alex, "Should not be here."

"But we are, we-" Alex sighed, a small smile finding its way onto her lips.

"No," He snarled, "No one comes out of there once they're in, that's not the way it works. You don't get to pick and choose!" His team looked back at him almost sorrowfully, "I know that for a fact. So what are you? A trick? A trap?"

"I know this seems unlikely.."

"Un-bloody-likely? This. Is. Impossible." Gene stressed, his eyes wide with anger.

"I know how you feel, boss, but we got out before closing. Boss, I mean ma'am realized it was wrong and we just walked out of the door!" Chris explained in his usual stop start manner.

As Gene's steely glare settled on her, Alex wondered what had been going through his mind as she walked away. A simple psychological profile would tell you he'd feel abandoned and alone by their departure, so he was likely to lash out. Denial would also be likely, which was obviously what was going on here. All the while she studied his face; she noticed his features getting softer.

"Bolly.. Drakey, tell me this is you. Tell me this isn't some game set up by Keats to give me hell… Please."

Alex walked around his desk so she was stood square in front of him. She looked into his eyes for permission before placing a hand on his chest. "There, it's beating," she noted the recognition in his eyes as she took his hand and placed it above her left breast, "Well so is mine. This is me, Guv; we're back. We came back for you."

The Guv ignored the whistles and chuckles emanating from Chris and Ray as he scanned her face. Deciding something he dropped his hand, pulling the last of his scotch to his lips and downing it in one. "Well Team, we've got some bastards to catch."

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This is my first attempt at an Ashes fanfic so I'd greatly appreciate some feedback, whether positive or negative. Further chapters are in the works and updates will be dependent on the reception for this. Thanks :)