A/N: This is for XTimeGirlX's Shuffle contest, although I was too lazy to get my iPod so I just used iTunes instead XD But the result was Ballroom Blitz by Sweet, one of my favourite songs ever, so I'm happy! Hope you enjoy it- a slightly Galex-centric song fic. Thanks for reading, please remember to review! XTimeGirlX: hope you like it. Jazzola :)
Are you ready, Steve? Aha.
Andy? Yeah! Mick? OK.
Alright, fellas, let's go!
Although they weren't Steve, Andy and Mick; they were Gene, Alex and Ray. Chris, being the nonce he was, had tripped over that morning in the office and sprained his ankle. Shaz was only too happy to look after him in the evidence room, but in the meantime, a call had come through and the Quattro had been fired up. A bomb had been found in a nightclub, and Gene was driving like a man possessed to get there before it turned into mass genocide and destruction.
Oh it's been getting so hard
Livin' with the things you do to me, aha
My dreams are getting so strange
I'd like to tell you everything I see, mm-hm
He knew what happened when this kind of thing took place. Innocent people slaughtered. Buildings gutted. Even hardened coppers like himself had nightmares about these events happening, especially Gene, after what had happened with Ray back in Manchester. The number of times he'd woken up, fear writhing in his guts, Ray flying back from the exploding car in his mind's eye, almost defied belief. Gene's greatest fear was losing one of his own, but he couldn't share it; what would they think of him? He had to be strong, he had to just protect his officers as best he could.
Especially when one of those officers was Alex Drake.
She was a fine officer, with more talent for policing in her little finger than most of CID had in their whole gormless bodies. But she also had a penchant for getting into difficult situations and seemed to attract nutters like a week-old rat corpse attracts flies. Except she looked much better while she was doing it.
Oh, I see a man at the back
As a matter of fact his eyes are red as the sun
And the girl in the corner let no one ignore her
'Cause she thinks she's the passionate one
Pulling up, Blockbuster blaring out of the doorway of a nearby club as he skewed the car into their pavement space, nothing looked out of the ordinary except for the fact that the nightclub was empy and everyone was standing a little way away, watching it warily. One girl was crying as her friend held her hand reassuringly, sheltering herself in a nearby alcove as though she thought the bomb would go off at any second. Gene pushed the door open and stood up, surveying from behind the bright red door as the owner pointed out the bomb, attached to one of the strobe lights on the ceiling; nobody had noticed it when they'd come in, but when someone had looked up and sparked the alarm the place had emptied faster than a druggie's piggy bank.
His eye caught on something. A human.
Gene's whole body froze, intent, as the person saw him too, grinned a sick smirk and sauntered out into the middle of the nightclub. Held in one hand was a cigarette lighter. The fuse for the bomb dangled innocently from the ceiling.
Gene moved forwards, seeing Alex edging towards the club out of the corner of his eye and silently screaming at her to get back behind the car, not to put herself in any unnecessary danger. Ray, his memories of 1973 creeping back, slid back into the rear seats of the Quattro, closing his eyes, waiting for the explosion.
Alex and Gene caught each other's eye, nodded slightly simultaneously, and moved forwards a couple of steps, towards the nightclub's doors.
The lighter flickered into life in the man's hands.
"Why are you doing this?" Alex called softly, seeing him pause for a split second. He turned slightly towards her, displaying bloodshot eyes to the audience. Gene drew in his breath, recognising the demeanour and body of an addict. The man was totally unpredictable.
He ignored Alex, instead fixing Gene with a glare. Alex glanced over at him, unsure, only seeing Gene standing there; what had drawn the man's eyes to her DCI?
And then the man spoke.
"Do I know yer?"
A Mancunian accent. Gene's eyes narrowed.
"No."
The man scrutinised him, a slow smile beginning to spread over his face as he took in Gene's features.
"No. I knew yer brother. Because we were brethren, both livin' by the same rules, both doin' the same drugs. Does that make us brothers, Gene?"
Oh, yeah, it was like lightning, everybody was frightening
And the music was soothing, and they all started grooving
The nightclub detonated.
A God-almighty boom thundered through the air, bright flames shooting out into a deadly sphere from the wreckage of the club as punters and police alike dived for safety, glass showering down like glittering rain on the streets, coating everything in a thin sheen of carnage. The man inside was nowhere to be seen. Alex was struggling up, dusting herself off; Gene ran over and helped her up, not even noticing that he was bleeding until Ray got out of the Quattro on shaking legs and pointed the slash on Gene's cheek out to him, trying hard not to look at the wreckage in front of them as the fire brigade began quelling the flames and the police began dispersing the crowd, a couple of thrill-seekers having to be manhandled away.
Gene avoided everyone's gaze until he was once again cocooned in his office with a scotch, paperwork done and charred body of the bomber headed for the local mortuary.
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
And the man at the back said
Everyone attack and it turned into a ballroom blitz
And the girl in the corner said
Boy, I wanna warn ya, it'll turn into a ballroom blitz
Ballroom blitz, ballroom blitz, ballroom blitz
Ballroom blitz
Luigi's that night was a slightly hushed affair. Ray certainly was less than his usual ebullient self, sitting morosely at the table with a pint and a pack of cigarettes, almost forgetting to laugh at the DCs' attempts to light their farts and Luigi's desperate bids to make them stop, including personal pleas to Signor Hunt, which resulted in the rowdy officers piping down a little.
Gene and Alex were sat in silence in the corner, both comfortable but both waiting for the other to say something, start some form of conversation. Alex eventually broke the silence, impatient with Gene and herself, lifting her wine halfway to her lips as she began to speak.
"How did that man know your name?"
Gene shrugged, which wasn't the response Alex was hoping for.
"Prob'ly through Stu."
Alex put the wine glass down, resting her chin on the heels of her hands and facing Gene fully, her eyes finding his as he looked up from the depths of his scotch.
"Tell me about him."
It wasn't an instruction, an order to be obeyed; it was a quiet plea from one friend to another, for information that would help her fill in the blanks. Gene sighed, tracing a random pattern along the rim of the tumbler in front of him, speaking as quietly as possible to avoid being overheard.
"'E was my brother. Got 'ooked on drugs. Died 'bout twenty years ago after an overdose up in Manchester. That bastard today prob'ly knew 'im through the same dealer or somethin'. Don't know an' don't want ter know."
Alex watched him silently as he took a slug of the whisky, as though to wash away the bad taste of talking about his brother, his throat convulsing as the liquid burned its way down his throat, his lip curling back slightly as the sting hit home. The flex of his skin antagonised the cut on his cheek, and he winced, putting a hand up to it; it was a harsh, raw red, the clean-cut line of blood standing out daringly against his pale skin.
"I should've warned you to duck, the Quattro would've stopped you getting hurt. Have you put anything on that cut?" she asked, partly because she was concerned, partly to steer the conversation away from possible hurtful subjects. Gene shook his head, draining the last of his scotch, this time anticipating and ignoring the pain. Alex's eyebrows rose.
"Come up to my flat, then. It'll be more private, and I can clean your cheek up without you having to worry about the tough man thing."
Gene gave her a slit-eyed look, but followed her out of the trattoria, nodding goodnight to Ray as he turned and watched his senior officers leaving.
I'm reaching out for something
Touching nothing's all I ever do
Oh, I softly call you over
When you appear there's nothing left of you, aha
Both officers were lost in their own thoughts as Alex gently smoothed antiseptic cream onto the cut, blessing a deity she didn't quite believe in that it was fairly shallow, and eased a plaster on to protect the healing scab: Alex was concentrating on the feel of Gene's warm, pockmarked skin beneath her fingers, wishing he really trusted her enough to talk about his brother in front of her, to open his past up to her; Gene was mentally kicking himself for shutting her out like that, trying to screw up the courage to say something and failing.
The silence was almost excruciating by the time Alex put away the antiseptic cream; it hammered at Gene's ears, worse than an overload of sound, as she sat down next to him on the sofa and picked up her wine.
Something about her made him start talking: talking about everything he had kept encased within himself since his brother's death, all the hatred and the sadness and the anger and the guilt that he felt and had felt since 1963. And Alex simply watched as Gene stripped away his own façade, laying his emotions for his brother bare in front of her, too much suddenly for him to bear.
Now the man in the back
Is ready to crack as he raises his hands to the sky
And the girl in the corner is ev'ryone's mourner
She could kill you with a wink of her eye
Gene stopped almost as suddenly as he had begun, having run out of things to say. Alex hardly knew what she should say to him: try and persuade him that his brother's death had nothing to do with him? He'd been powerless to stop him; what could a young boy do, faced with a drug addict, a mother too scared to help and a father too drunken and violent to care? Gene's past was so riddled with sadness and hurt and the sense of having nowhere to turn that it almost made Alex feel physically sick.
So, instead of words, she simply showed him with actions.
The first touch of her lips against his was hesitant, cautious; it told him clearly that he could back off if he wanted, that he didn't have to do this, it was his choice. Gene could barely remember which way was up any more, but the warmth of her plump mouth on his was the stuff of his dreams, the anchor to protect him against the maelstrom of his memories, and he had no intention of rejecting it.
Alex pulled back a little, watching him coyly, her hand straying dangerously close to his most important organ before drawing back as she gave him a little wink, playtime over. Gene groaned deep in his throat, too quietly for her to hear; was she trying to kill him? He raised his hands in mock surrender, a tiny smile making its way onto his face.
"Yer win, Bolls," he murmured, and she grinned, sliding off him and stroking her little finger along the plaster on his cheek, wishing he didn't have to go. A glance at the clock alarmed her, and although she desperately hoped he would say no to what she was about to say she whispered back to him.
"You win too, Gene. And you'd better be getting home, it's almost midnight."
"I'm not goin' ter turn inter a frog or anythin', Bolls, an' nor is my mum goin' ter give me a hidin' fer bein' out too late."
Alex smiled, relief on her face, motioning to the closed door of the bedroom with a sweep of her elegant arm, her eyes meeting Gene's fully.
"Care to stay with me for the night, then?"
He frowned gently, his gaze searching hers, trying to gage what she meant.
"Not on the first date, Bolls."
She shook her head.
"No, of course not. Just- I'd like it if you just stayed here for tonight. Just to be near me. Please?"
He chuckled gently, his face cast half into shadow in the dim light from the little side lamp, his shirt slightly undone and his gold chain gleaming invitingly in the half-light. Alex wondered if she'd ever seen anyone as handsome as him as she led him through into the little room, sitting down on one side of the bed as he eased his boots off and lay down on the other, joining her on the pillows as she brushed her hair back to see him fully. His eyes as they devoured her. His soul laid bare for her, in nearly every sense of the word.
She leaned over to whisper in his ear.
"Does the Gene Genie like Sweet?"
He gave her a puzzled look, which morphed into half a smile as she leaned over and began the record player next to her bedside table, moved there from the lounge. Ballroom Blitz began playing softly in the background; hardly the kind of music that prompted romance or sleep, but Alex liked it nonetheless, loving it for the sense of being a rocker that she never really got in her old life. Sod sleep, she was never going to drop off easily tonight anyway, with Gene merely a few inches away.
Gene, looking sideways at the printed faces on the record cover, wrapped an arm round Alex and held her close, murmuring into her hair as he felt her smiling against his chest.
"It might grow on me..."
It's it's a ballroom blitz, yeah, it's a ballroom blitz.