Baby Jane
Disclaimer: I don't own Ashes to Ashes or the characters; they belong to BBC and Kudos.
AN: I originally wrote this as a song fic with lyrics from Rod Stewat's Baby Jane interspersed between the paragraphs of the story. I have removed the lyrics as I didn't realise it was illegal to post fics with lyrics in them. You can listen to the song if you like, dunno whether or not it will help the plot of the story, if you do listen to the song I've identified Alex as the 'Baby Jane' character in the song. Please R&R.
I still have my ear pressed gently to Alex's bedroom door, listening for signs that she has been successful in getting rid of Keats. It feels like an eternity since our dance, and potentially our first kiss was interrupted then she had uttered a few simple words that I had only ever imagined her saying to me.
"Go and wait in the bedroom." She had said gently, breathlessly. I could tell she was nervous, but she had seemed so at ease in my arms moments earlier. I was sure I could calm her nerves. Eventually I open the door and step out of the bedroom.
"Alex?" I call expectantly, waiting for a reply in that bloody posh voice of hers, as I walk around her flat. I realise she's not here anymore and the pain hits me like a thousand daggers going into my chest, I can feel the tears begin to sting my eyes. I grab my coat from the chair I'd abandoned it in earlier and leave through the front door, the door she'd left wide open.
As I drive home in the Quattro, knowing I've had too much to drink but not giving a shit, I can't get Alex Drake out of my mind. I think of the very first time I met 'er, dressed in that tiny red dress, stockings and a fur coat. And that daft perm I secretly loved. I never made any secret of the fact I liked she was dressed as a prostitute, which seemed to amuse her! But the one thing I'll never forget about the first time I met Alex, is how alone she seemed, even though she was surrounded by people.
Despite all my sexist remarks, and the heavily loaded innuendos that screamed "I'm dying to sleep with you Bols!" She seemed to lean on me, confide in me, and be glad she was in my company and not alone in 'er flat. As I started to get to know 'er better my feelings towards 'er changed from "I want to shag you so hard you won't be able to walk straight for a week!" to "I genuinely care about you and I'm scared shitless about losing you." And she convinced me throughout all that Masons, corrupt bullshit that she needed me too.
'Er exact words were "I thought I'd lost you." That was good enough for me. She needed me and I needed 'er. Plain and simple.
Alex told me everything. She used to cry in my arms about how she missed 'er daughter, how she was so far away and she needed to get back to 'er. She would natter on about goin' 'ome and occasionally mumble something about 'er godfather and blackberries and birthday cake, which never made a lot of bloody sense! But she was distraught, so I would hold 'er sobbing figure in me arms, stroking 'er hair, gently "shushing" her and brushing my fingertips gently across her soft skin in soothing patterns. More often than not on such nights, she would cry 'erself to sleep in my arms. On most of these occasions I would manoeuvre our bodies gently so we were lying side by side on the sofa and hold 'er in my arms, falling asleep by 'er side.
It was never awkward when we woke up together; it was simply two friends being there for each other. Alex would smile that beautiful smile and gently play with the chain I wore around my neck where her hand was rested on my chest. I would return 'er smile, rest one hand on the small of 'er back, an' press gentle kisses to her forehead. We would get up, she'd make us coffee then I'd go home to change. I'd come into work an' she'd 'ave the biggest smile on 'er face for the whole day.
Some nights I couldn't bear to fall asleep beside 'er. It hurts how much I love 'er sometimes, an' I didn't want to take advantage. So I would lie 'er on the sofa an' cover 'er with a blanket. Just like that first night at Luigi's when she got pissed, we stumbled upstairs, she passed out on the sofa and I covered 'er with a blanket. Leaving 'er to sleep it off. The days after the nights I'd left 'er on 'er on the sofa alone, she always looked hurt, and it hurt me to think I'd added to 'er pain.
I really thought Alex was different. I loved 'er. I wasn't planning on 'aving a quick shag with 'er and then not wanting anything to do with 'er. When she told me to wait in the bedroom, I thought I'd got 'er! Finally! Then she stamped all over my heart by buggering off. Did she leave with Keats? Sleep with 'im instead of me? If he's laid one finger on 'er I'm gonna snap 'is neck! I hate 'im, for taking her away from me.
I thought that tonight Alex and I would finally get somewhere as a couple. She's been so bloody persistent about this ridiculous accusation Keats has planted in 'er 'ead about Sam Tyler. So when she asked me at dinner, sod it, our date, I told 'er the truth. Sam Tyler was a pain in the arse, but I could never kill 'im. Told 'er about helping 'im to fake 'is death, and she bloody believed me. Finally! We were back on the same page me an' 'er against the world. Unbreakable! An' now that pricks planting even more nonsense in 'er 'ead. Well fuck 'er! I'm done with 'er. For good this time.
I pull up next to me house, pulling the handbrake up, coming to an abrupt stop. The first thing I do is go into the kitchen, pour myself a large whiskey and down it before pouring another. The last three years the two of us 'ave 'ad so many ups and downs, but we've always got through everything together and come out the other side stronger. Now 'ave lost 'er for good.
I flop down on the couch and kick me boots off, taking another sip of whiskey. If she's that easily swayed by Keats after I bared me soul to 'er, something I don' make an 'abit of, maybe she's not worth 'aving on me team. I've still got Ray, Chris and Shaz. They'd never betray me the way that cold 'earted bitch has.
I'm done with 'er. Keats is fucking welcome to 'er.
The longer I sit though, the more I come to my senses. Sure, I'm bloody pissed off at Alex, but she's my DI Bolly Knickers, can I do without her? She's bloody annoying and insane to boot! But, I think part of me will miss 'er and 'er incessant psychobabble ramblings.
It's an enormous betrayal on 'er part, but can I really leave 'er fate in the 'ands of Keats?! God knows what he's got up 'is sleeve for 'er! As pissed of as I am, I just can't leave her to him.
I love 'er, that posh DI of mine.
