I wrote this before Series 2 started, but got distracted by what was actually happening on screen. Suffice to say, that although I'm ignoring most what's happened in Series 2 , Chris and Shaz have got engaged, and Gene and Alex are closer than ever in many ways. This story takes place in the late spring of 1983.

The other thing is that this fic doesn't easily lend itself to being broken up into chapters as it's mostly written from a stream of conciousness POV. I've done my best to stop where there's a natural break, as it would be far too long to post in one big chunk.

Let me know what you think. Cheers.

NB: I don't own these characters, that honour belongs to Kudos and the BBC. I'm just playing with them for my own twisted amusement.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Gene Hunt scowled and pushed his fry-up around his plate, unable to bring himself to eat another mouthful. Rubbing a hand across his face, he sighed heavily at the thought of the long day ahead of him. His head throbbed with a savage ache from the night before and his stomach growled, threatening to rapidly re-acquaint him with the few mouthfuls of bacon and fried bread that he had managed to swallow before his revulsion overcame his hunger.

Christ, he loathed weddings. They made him feel uncomfortable and awkward, and even more like the spectre at the feast than he usually was, as he lurked in the background, haunted by the memories of the mess he'd made of his own marriage. This one would be even worse; everyone watching him, noting his every bloody move. Fuck. Why the hell had he agreed to go with her? What had he been thinking?

He couldn't quite believe that things had ended up this way. He'd always imagined, naively it would now seem, that the team would go as they always had done; colleagues, friends, always there for each other, arguing, drinking and laughing their way through this shitty, thankless life together.

But it wasn't to be. Now everything was changing. The wedding that was due to take place this morning, in just under half an hour to be precise, was proof of that. He shook his head in despair; Married. Hitched. Wed. God help us all. Gene patted in his pockets for his lighter and tapped a cigarette from the packet that lay next to his unwanted and rapidly congealing breakfast.

He'd never thought it would happen. He'd been convinced that the job was all that any of them would ever need, but he'd been wrong. It turned out that what was needed was a pair of soft, doe eyes, a mop of dark hair and a sympathetic smile. A few drinks, a candlelit dinner or two, and less than year later, the question had been popped and that had been that; marriage was a done deal and he'd suddenly been surplus to requirements.

He glanced up as Luigi took his plate away, tutting sadly at the amount of food still left on it. "This is not good, Mr Hunt. It is bad for you to always drink so much and eat so little. You will make yourself ill." Luigi stopped realising that Gene's attention was focused entirely on someone else and he wasn't listening to a word he said.

He turned to see what had transfixed the usually self-possessed DCI, and saw her, standing shyly in the doorway, looking like a fairy tale princess, her hair pinned up on top of her head in some deceptively simple style, the perfect fit of her dress clinging to every perfect curve of her perfect body. He looked back at Gene's face and what he saw there was enough to make his heart break. Luigi sighed sadly before fixing a cheerful smile on his face and holding out his arms to her.

"Signorina Drake. You look beautiful……no…… you look more than beautiful….you look stunning…the most gorgeous woman I have ever seen. Come…... you have time for a drink before you both go, yes?"

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Alex put down her blusher brush and stared at her face in the mirror. It was the first time since she'd woken up that she'd been alone in the peace and quiet of her flat and she relished the silence. She'd left the party early the night before, leaving Shaz and the other girls to go on to a nightclub somewhere up in Camden, while she'd taken a taxi back home, crawling into bed exhausted and yet laying awake for hours.

Shaz had collected her early this morning for their appointment at the hairdressers, chattering constantly about this and that, fizzing with excitement. Alex had been glad of the company really, it stopped her thinking about things too much. The hairdresser had pinned her hair up at the back of her head, leaving tendrils of it to fall softly around her face, and then she'd set the small jewelled comb in her hair, attaching the fresh flowers to it with a few hairgrips. She'd had to push them in firmly to get them to stay and Alex had had tears of pain in her eyes when it was finished; at least she thought they were tears of pain. She'd shied away from examining her emotional state too much as the woman had fussed about re-arranging a curl, here and there.

"Oh, sweetheart, don't cry! Here…." She'd passed her a tissue. "That's better……See? You look beautiful. " Shaz had come over to her, her hands feeling for the flowers in her own hair, as she twisted herself round to see them in the mirror.

"Oh, they look lovely! Don't they, Alex?" She'd grinned hugely and looked at her watch, almost bouncing up and down with the excitement of it all. "Only two hours to go!"

They'd shared the taxi home, and as she'd dropped Alex back at her flat, Shaz had squeezed her arm tightly. "I'll see you at the Church then! I can't wait!...... You sure you don't want to come and get ready with me and the girls?"

Hurriedly Alex had assured her that she was fine on her own, before shutting the taxi door and fleeing up the stairs to the safety of her small flat. She'd forced herself to eat something before taking a bath, being careful not to get her hair wet. She'd dried herself slowly, smoothing on her perfumed body cream, forcing herself to concentrate only on the task at hand. Even so, her stomach had twisted into harsh knot of nerves, as she'd sat down to do her make-up.

Why the hell had she asked him to go with her? What had she been thinking? She hated weddings, they made her feel uncomfortable and all too aware of the dismal failure she'd been as a wife. She thought back to her wedding to Peter; Hampstead Registry Office on a cold November day, made even chillier by Evan's icy disapproval of her choice of husband. He couldn't believe that she'd been foolish enough to fall for Peter in the first place, let alone stupid enough to find herself pregnant by him.

Shaking her head at the painful memories, she gazed at herself in the mirror, studying the flawlessly made-up face before her with a calm, eerie detachment. For an unsettling moment, it didn't feel as though it was her own reflection looking back at her. Maybe it wasn't? Maybe she'd been here so long that she was someone else entirely now? She shook her head, smiling at herself wryly. "Come on Alex; snap out of it. You're going to a wedding not a funeral."

She made her way over to the wardrobe, carefully taking her dress from its hanger and stepping into it with slow concentration, taking care not to crease it too much. She did the zip up at the back as far as it would go, but was unable to do up the last couple of inches no matter how hard she twisted and turned. Finally, she gave up and surveyed herself once more in the full-length mirror on the inside of the wardrobe door, still not recognising the remote and elegant woman reflected there. The dress clung to her body, the corseted bodice pushing up her breasts and accentuating her waist.

Inevitably, try as she might to avoid it, her eyes were drawn to the photograph that she kept tucked in the mirror frame. It shouldn't really be there at all; she'd promised that all reminders of that time would be tidied away, but Alex had been unable to get rid of this one particular thing.

Luigi had taken it at Chris and Shaz's engagement party, and it showed the five of them, squashed up against each other, smiling for the camera. Ray was pulling a ridiculous face as usual and Gene had his arm around her, holding her against him tightly. He'd maintained that he'd had to hold her close so that Luigi could get them all into the shot, but he hadn't let go straight away when the picture had been taken. She remembered the feel of his arm wrapped around her waist, his indrawn breath of surprise as she leaned into his embrace, the look of desire in his eyes ……

Enough. She couldn't think like this. She had a wedding to attend, and more urgently than that, they were due at the church in less than half an hour. She gathered up her small handbag and the delicate bouquet of roses from the kitchen table, and pulling the door of the flat closed behind her, she made her way downstairs.

She hesitated in the doorway of the restaurant for a moment, watching as Luigi nagged Gene about something. As she stood there, unsure of whether or not to interrupt them, Gene looked up and caught sight of her, staring as if transfixed, while the smoke from his cigarette trickled lazily from his mouth, wreathing around him in a shifting, blue haze, before drifting slowly up into the air.

Alex blushed under his scrutiny, looking down at her hands with a small, awkward smile, as she smoothed out the skirts of her dress. When she raised her eyes to his again, he was still staring at her, his eyes dark and cloudy, utterly unreadable.

There was a pause, the silence seeming to stretch forever as everything that had happened between them, everything that they'd ever been to one another hung in the balance. Then Luigi was moving forwards to greet her, complementing her outrageously as he offered her a drink and the spell was broken, the moment lost.

She turned her attention to Luigi, laughing at his flattery, accepting the glass of champagne that he'd poured for her, sipping it nervously as she tried not to look over to where Gene was sitting. Her fingers fidgeted with the ribbons that trailed from her bouquet, twisting them round and round as she tried to concentrate on what Luigi was saying. From the corner of her eye, she saw Gene stand up, and stride across the floor with his customary long-limbed grace to stand beside her at the bar. Her hands trembled slightly as she abruptly put the champagne glass down, afraid of spilling it. As she moved to face him, still unable to meet his gaze, the material of her dress pulled slightly and the zip, still not properly secured, slipped open a little further.

"Your dress is open at the back," he growled, his gruffly honeyed voice making her shiver involuntarily.

"I know. I can't quite reach it," she snapped, berating herself for letting him have such an effect on her today of all days, turning away from him once more

"Luigi? Can you do my dress up for me?" There was silence and Alex craned over the bar to see if she could spot him, but the little Italian was nowhere to be seen. "Luigi?" she called, a slight note of desperation edging into her voice. Still nothing. Shit, she thought, furiously. Now I'll have to ask him. She let out a sigh, curling her fingers into her palms as she turned back to Gene "Would you….?" she asked, her tone hesitant.

He shrugged, diffidently, eyes cast down. "Turn round then." Alex did as he ordered, catching her lower lip between her teeth as she felt him gently easing the zip into place.

"There's a hook and eye thingy at the top to stop it coming undone," she told him, faintly, clenching her hands into fists as his fingers brushed against the skin of her back, her heart thudding so loudly she thought that he surely must be able to hear it. Every nerve was on fire, sparks of electricity shooting through her body at his fleeting touch. She felt the whisper of his hot breath on her skin as he leaned forward.

"Better?" he asked softly, the word rumbling up from deep in his chest, his voice catching slightly.

Alex nodded, unable to speak, her hand coming up to rub away the caress of his breath on her neck, as she moved away. She knew that she couldn't look at him, knew that he would be able to see everything she still felt for him written clearly on her face.

He cleared his throat gruffly and dug his hands deep into his pockets, looking at his watch as he did so.

"Right. Come on then. We'd best get you to the church. You don't want to be late, do you Bolly. Not when you're the blushing bride.