(REPOSTED – next chapter on way soon) Here we go again – I'm (to quote the Gene Genie) "as nervous as a virgin in a brothel'!

"I'd say e's been shot."

"Well 'ow ruddy intelligent of you Raymondo – been at them evenin' classes again 'ave you? Course 'e's been bleedin' shot, you tit – there's a bollockin' bullet wound in 'is chest!"

Gene Hunt shot his Duty Sergeant a dirty look; his face ruddy and his eyes blazing. Ray Carling wiped the smirk from his face and had the sense to look suitably abashed.

"Right, you lot, any other smart observations?" The DCI glared around at his officers, daring one of them to speak up and challenge his authority.

"Well-"

"Not now, Christopher!" Hunt snapped, and DC Skelton quickly swallowed the rest of his contribution.

"Come on then, Drake – let's hear the verdict."

Hunt rounded on DI Alex Drake, who didn't quail under his furious glare, but stood, hand on hip, and stared right back at him.

"Drugs," she stated simply.

"'Ere, 'ow can you know that?" Ray stepped forward, frowning.

"This is how most modern-day victims lo-" She stopped, realising that she had been about to refer to the drug-infested tomorrows that wouldn't happen for another twenty-seven years. Coughing, she changed tack,

"Just an educated guess - take a look at his arm, Ray," Alex pointed down at the body. The DS puffed on his cigarette and rolled the lifeless arm back with the tip of his boot.

"DS Carling! Drake asked you to take a shufti at his arm – not give him a good kicking!"

The DCI once more asserted his authority, and Ray shot him a dirty look, before bending down to the corpse, and rolling up its sleeves.

Alex Drake carried on, not in the least bit perturbed: "See the track marks and the raised veins?" She pointed them out to a curious Ray, who raised his eyebrows in surprise and looked up at Hunt.

"She's right, ya know Guv."

"Any idea what we're talkin' 'bout here?" suddenly serious, the DCI bent down to take a closer look.

"An overdose of something – I've no idea what though."

She bent down to the body, frowning as she tugged the creases out of the shirt, peering at the blotchy scarlet patterns, "That's odd."

"What?"

Alex's eyes met Gene's, "For such a violent trauma, there's not much blood." She stood up, straightening her legs, and bit her lip, "But if this is what I think it is, then you've got a problem on your hands."

Back at the station, the team stood over the body on the mortuary slab; surrounded by neatly packaged bags of evidence.

"Just as I thought," Alex Drake commented wryly, "You're in trouble."

"We – Drake – you are part of this team!" Hunt retorted in annoyance. She always did this – acted all secretive, and then expected them to catch on to whatever she was thinking. He was also getting slightly irritated with this manner she had of distancing herself from the team. She was like Tyler, not quite right in the head, he decided.

"Ok, ok – we're in trouble," Alex nodded reluctantly.

"Don't you go forgettin' that," Hunt prodded her shoulder sharply to emphasise his point, "Now then – care to explain?"

"Well, the blood tests are back, and cause of death was an overdose,"

"So what? Another fairy who can't 'andle 'is drugs – what's new?" Ray was irritated, he didn't appreciate being left out in the cold.

"Well 'e was shot – I mean, 'ow can 'e 'ave done that if he'd already popped 'is clogs?" Chris made his contribution.

Ray scowled and Hunt grudgingly nodded, looking thoughtful.

"Right, Chris – and that is precisely the problem." Alex waved her finger in the air, as though outlining the point she had just made. "So, unless he managed to die twice-"

"-Which is unlikely" Chris put in; Ray settled for rolling his eyes and sighing.

"-He must have first overdosed on drugs, then been shot." Alex finished, ignoring Chris's interruption.

"Er, 'ang on a minute," Ray looked confused, "'Ow do you know 'e wasn't shot first?"

Peeling back the white forensic cloth, Alex pointed to the wound. "There wasn't enough blood – the heart must have stopped beating long before that bullet hit him. The body shows no other signs of trauma – no bruising, no cuts, no evidence that he fought back; and given that there are no rope burns or marks, I'd say he wasn't tied up. So unless he stood there and waited to be shot, there's a much better chance that he was unconscious – or already dead – when he was shot."

They all stood in silence for a while, digesting the information and allowing the cogs to start ticking. Finally, Gene Hunt spoke up, giving his surmised opinion on the case in hand.

"So ladies, what we 'ave on our 'ands 'ere is a problem. Some bloke 'as been dosed up to the eyeballs with liquid shit 'n' then shot. Now, unless 'e was Doctor 'Oo – which before you suggest it Christopher, 'e was not – there's no way in 'ell this is suicide. I will repeat that – 'e did not shoot 'imself. The issue is – 'oo did?"

"'Owever, that is not what I'm most worried about." He looked around at them, before leaning down and picking up the smallest plastic bag.

Chris raised an eyebrow, and exchanged a quick look with Ray, "It's a... flower, Guv."

"No." Hunt looked very serious all of a sudden, "It's a callin' card."

"So you reckon it might have something to do with this bloke back in Manchester?" Alex lounged back in her seat, sipping at her glass of red-wine. They had inevitably ended up at Luigi's bar; finishing off a hard day with some equally hard drinking. Chris and Ray were engaged in a drinking game at one end of the bar; the latter grinning triumphantly as his companion nearly toppled off his stool. She and Gene sat in a corner-booth, sharing a bottle of red and the company.

"Like I said – that's 'is trademark – a red flower on every victim – it's gotta be 'im!" Gene was insistent, even through the vast amounts of alcohol he'd already consumed.

"You and you're gut instinct Gene," she sighed, wishing that for once, they could just leave work behind them, and simply enjoy an evening out.

"Look, Drake, you trust me?"

"Not as far as I could – hic – toss you," Alex could feel the warmth of the wine as it rushed through her blood, loosening her tongue.

"Anytime you wanna practice that..." he leaned in and winked scandalously at her.

Rolling her eyes, she reached out a hand to push him away, missed completely, and fell forwards into his lap.

"Feelin' a bit voyeuristic then?" Gene smirked, while Alex dragged herself back up to a sitting position, trying to look nonchalant.

"You wish," she leaned forward, tickling his ear with her whispered comment. Satisfied that she had got her own back, she leaned back in her seat once more. "Fancy a dance?"

"What?" Gene looked at her through bleary eyes.

"A dance," Alex motioned to the speakers above them, "You know – where you move around to music?"

"You are very drunk, Bolly." He shook his head, and reached for the wine.

"Oh come on!" Not taking 'no' for an answer, Alex grabbed his bottle-free hand and gave it a sharp tug. Dropping the wine-bottle, Gene Hunt found himself lurching unsteadily to his feet, the alcohol making his head spin too much to resist.

"Oof!" They collided suddenly, and Alex flung her hands around his neck for support, bending him over towards her. Staggering slightly, he swung an arm around her for balance, unintentionally wrapping one hand around her arse. He wanted to blame it all on the drink, but secretly, Gene had to admit that he wasn't an unwilling participant; part of him had desperately wanted to do this since Drake had first been flung into his path.

"Oh!" Alex squeaked in surprise, and tried to prise his hand off, succeeding only in totally unbalancing herself; her partner soon followed suit. With a yelp of shock, she found herself lolling in a heap on the floor, with Gene Hunt lying across her. Their eyes met in a confused haze of drink and dizziness.

"What are we doing down here?" Alex tipped her head to one side, looking up at him.

"You are very drunk," Gene repeated, trying not to slur his words.

She stared up at him, bringing a hand up to stroke his cheek. Gene almost bit his lip in the effort not to lean into her touch. Her fingers seemed to set a blazing trail across his cheek, burning him with her touch. It took all he had not to respond in kind, cupping her cheek in his rough hand. He knew that he couldn't – shouldn't – she was so far out of his league, that the thought was almost laughable.

"Kiss me."

It was a question, a demand and an uncertainty all wrapped into one.

He looked down at her, his breath caught in his throat. He could drown in those hazel eyes of hers, and wished furiously that he had the courage to do as she asked; all the time knowing that he hadn't.

"What?" He settled for confusion.

"Kiss me," Alex repeated, "I want you to."

"I-" He faltered, not knowing how to answer. Every molecule in his body wanted to take her roughly into his embrace, and snog her face off.

"Don't you want to?" She looked hurt, and it was all he could do not to bend down and take her there and then.

"You're drunk," he repeated again, feeling his self-control wavering.

"Well if you don't..." She let the sentence hang, watching him struggle with his conscience. "Fine," she sat up, shakily, and made to stand up.

Gene had a moment of horror imagining what alternatives she would resort do if he didn't consent to her request. Images of that slimey git, Evan, whirled through his mind, quickly replaced by the terrible, writhing figure of Alex, his Alex, mouth open in rapture, thrashing about under him...

Growling, Gene made his mind up.

The next thing Alex knew, she was flat on her back, Gene Hunt's lips pressed deliciously to hers.

New story – new readers? This one has more of a plot – but don't worry – lots of cliffhangers and GALEX tension on the way!

R & R