Episode One, Part One

Disclaimer: the idea I'm using in this story is not my property, as its original idea came from Ashley and Matthew for Kudos. The character Gene Hunt and several others that may appear in this story are not my property.

I have deleted one of my stories because too many people had the same idea of that same story and because I couldn't think of its continuity – I want to cry so much… It's like killing one of your children… but I had to. There wasn't any point on continuing it anyways…

Struggling a lot with writing some stuff… and reading Harry Potter too… I'm not very much of a good reader… so I really get lazy from reading. But I'll get there.

I want feedback, from you people. From the mad fanfic of Stuck by TimeladyoftheHunt and xArtemisx I learnt that by saying you will give virtual… food to the readers they will happily review, so… everyone…

VIRTUAL COOKIES FOR REVIEWS!

One year later…

A screech around the corner as the Porsche 944 turned a corner and hit the brakes just in front of a building. As the sun rays were reflected from the smooth black metal walls of the car, the doors from either side of it opened at the same time to reveal two men. They both glimpsed at the building before rushing inside it with the swollen pride of two lions. They passed by the corridors in a blur until they got to their destination. They stopped. A door in front of them stood with the sign reading: LAWYER ALLAN ROTHFIELD.

The tallest of them two looked at the other man, his face showing nothing but serious intentions. The other man brushed his orange hair with impatience and annoyance to his boss' sudden look at him and got his revolver out from his beige jacket. So did his boss and both of them, in unison, kicked the door open, pointing their guns at a bold man sitting at a desk talking to a young woman with a mousy hair. The man remained calm and didn't resist as the red headed man cuffed his hands. The tall man stood tall showing his superiority with great smugness.

"Mr. Rothfield," the tall man said, holding his gun at him. Rothfield looked at the man impassively. "In the name of law I am taking you into custody for suspicion of murder and massacre."

As the red headed man started to walk Rothfield out of the room followed by the tall man, the mousy haired woman stood up with desperation.

"Who do you think you are to take him just like that?" she demanded. "Do you even have any evidence?"

The tall man stopped and walked back to her. "I am Detective Chief Inspector Gene Hunt, the Manc Lion to you. And if you skirt start to question my authority on this you better watch your knickers next time you see me."

And with that, DCI Gene Hunt walked out of the room leaving the woman alone.

The double doors slammed open as DCI Hunt and DI Fields rushed Rothfield into the corridors of Fenchurch East. Gene pointed at a PC on the corridors.

"You: take this man to the Interview Room," he ordered.

The PC got the man off the officers' hands and walked away from them. Gene Hunt straightened his beige camel coat.

"Right we need to get everything out of that man," his companion told him. "He's a lawyer: he'll know how to talk his way out of this."

"Don't talk to me like I'm in primary school," Gene retorted. "I know how a bloody lawyer is like, the bastards."

"Whatever you do, don't get in the way of my questioning him." Fields stopped walking as they arrived in front of the CID entrance. "He's my fate."

Gene looked at him confusedly. "Finally you're out and admitting you're gay in public, then."

Fields gave him a look, ignoring Hunt's comment. "I don't want you to get in my way. I know how to get results myself."

Gene looked up thoughtfully until finally replying. "Make my day."

He pushed the double doors open and shot himself towards his office. DC's started to come up to him.

"I've got some results from the forensics, Guv," a man with a fuzzy moustache said. "They said that she had been fed before being killed. Here are the papers for the contents of her stomach."

Gene took them without looking at the man.

"Guv," this time a man with mullet hairstyle, "a few phone calls came up this morning while you and boss were away. I think they were some family members from the victims. They didn't sound happy…"

Gene ignored him.

A blonde girl wearing huge earrings in high heels came up to Gene. "The PC from the front desk came to me and gave me this file about the DS, Guv."

"Why would I want to have that, WDC Charles?" Gene asked irritated and absentmindedly.

The girl shook her monstrous fuzzy hair (an I'm-closer-to-god-than-you hairstyle) and replied: "The transfer you asked for, which apparently you needed to give BJ company for."

Gene stopped in front of his desk as they entered his office. "I never said that."

"You told me last week that I had to call up headquarters and ask for the transfer," she repeated bothersome.

Gene let a big breath out. "I thought you'd be too clever to think I meant that, Smart Alec."

"You were really serious about it."

"Oh, give me that." Gene snatched the papers from WDC Cath Meghan Charles and placed them on top of a mess of a desk with the forensic result papers.

Cath shook her head as if thinking her self too smart for all this and walked out of the office with the stride of a conceited horse.

Gene really got annoyed of her: she was still young and was very pretty, but she could be a pain in the arse at times – that is: all the time – as she would always try to outsmart other people, successfully; she was also a bit of a lazy bum, as she would get other people to do stuff for her, successfully too, as she had been raised by a very wealthy family. Most of the time Gene would just sit there with the rest of the team as she talked all the way through about how the sun couldn't possibly come up from the west. But she was crucial to the team, as she was a key police officer and also a genius – and that was why she had also chosen to be a police officer.

What she didn't know was that he knew more about her than she did, like how come when she flirted with men she became suddenly too defensive, which she didn't understand herself. He knew how she died. But then again he would know how everyone else in his CID had died. It was he's job to make them accept their deaths. No other option but to keep doing so and… well, that.

He was dead himself. He understood very well, but couldn't go onwards to the heavenly pub as he wanted to help other people to go on there. But these days… it seemed to have been so hard… He knew how it went: the guy would come out of the blue, he would play dumb to what happened to them and then they would figure out themselves what was really happening, then he would accept their death and let Gene take them down the pub and Gene would always forget about them afterwards. But not Alex Drake.

He pursed his lips and shut his eyes tightly, trying to drive that thought away. But no: everyday, every hour, every minute, every second he would think of her, and nothing else. There hadn't been anything else in that world that mattered, but since she left…

Someone knocked the door. Gene turned to the open door of his office and saw Fields standing there with displeasure.

"What do you want?" snapped Gene.

Fields folded his arms and started to walk around his office. He looked around the room: a mess. Bottles of beer lay around every corner of the room, the paper bin looked as if it hadn't been emptied for ages, the desk was full of unorganised, mixed up piles of papers and it looked as if no one had cleaned the room up for millennia or so. Fields looked at Gene's drawer, where a banana peel hanged on the edge.

"Like my office?" asked Gene, annoyed at Fields for entering the room and stare at it with that stinking stupid look he always gave him.

Fields stopped walking and turned to Gene. "I'm sick of this," he barked.

Gene sniffed, closing one eye and scratching his head. "I beg your pardon."

"You don't mean that," Fields said, rolling his eyes.

"Course I don't."

Fields rolled his eyes once more before snapping at him again. "I just don't get you. I don't get how you're doing this."

"Doing what?"

"I was here, just… a year ago. That's a long time now. Why do you keep going on like this and how are you able to keep with this game still? For a whole year?"

Gene heard a DC outside the office say: "Oh, Lord, boss is giving the sermon to Guv again…"

Suddenly something rang. The same DC – the mullet haired DC – reached inside his jacket for a big white plastic box that had a long antenna sticking out of it and placed it beside his ear.

"Hey, babe?" he retorted at the mobile phone.

"I'll tell you what I mean," Fields said as he got out of the office and grabbed the mobile phone from the DC, who started to complain.

"I was in the year 2009. There isn't this idiotic type of mobile phones in my year." Fields continued as he raised the mobile phone up and pointed at it, as Gene leaned at his office's doorframe. "There's an Apple i-Phone. And a laptop. And a mad sports car. Get me?"

Fields slammed the mobile phone on a DC's desk. He pointed at himself. "I am the DCI in this station. What did you do? Did you bull around overnight so that Craig could pull this stupid joke on me to make me really believe that I have gone back in time?" He waited for Gene to reply, but he just stood there bored. "Well," he continued ignoring Gene's pout, "it's not working. He can get his heavy ass off his office and come here to tell off the joke and apologize immediately. Or if it's better for him, I'll apologize for having the rank of a DCI and for having better control on the job."

Fields waited again for a reply. Finally, Gene inhaled and straightened his back to say: "Who's Craig?"

Fields started laughing sarcastically. He clapped his hands. "You know, I give up. You're just a scumbag."

"I'm a Bobby," Gene snapped back infuriated.

"I'm the Bobby too, and you know what Bobbies do?" Fields stepped towards Gene threateningly. "They get rid of scumbags."

Gene looked like he was going to blow up. The DC's in the CID lowered their heads, knowing what was coming next. Gene closed his eyes and let a deep breath out he didn't know he was holding.

"This is 1984 now, flamer," Gene said. "Got a problem with that?"

The DI narrowed his eyes with danger in them. "Just with your big bum and stupid calendar reminder, scum."

"I've had enough." Gene Hunt grabbed the police officer by his collar and they both engaged into a fight.

DCI Gene Hunt and DI Jeff Fields sat down at Luigi's bar all bruised and bleeding. Luigi looked at them both, not with surprise but with that look people gave you when they knew you had been up to no good.

"A scotch," they both said in unison, and Luigi went to grab them a drink.

Fields started to tend at his bloodied bottom lip and his black eye as Gene stretched his muscles and cracked a few bones. He didn't bother tending his own wounds. He had enough scars already to make him not mind any other ones. Luigi came back with two bottles. Fields cracked it open and drank the contents in one go. Gene hesitated at his first sip with disgust.

"What's this?" he asked indignantly.

Luigi leaned towards Gene. "It's called coke," he said with his Italian accent. "If you're gonna ask for a drink here all you get is coke, because I don't want another of your fights to ruin my restaurant.

"He told you," Fields laughed, imitating Luigi's accent mockingly.

Gene looked over at Fields, who drank his coke vigorously. Luigi rolled his eyes.

"I wasn't talking only to him," Luigi replied. "And I'll be waiting for the £10 you still owe me."

Fields stopped drinking and pushed away his drink. Gene pointed at him.

"He told you," Gene repeated.

"You too, Señor Hunt," Luigi said pointing at him.

"He told you," Fields repeated standing up and walking away from Luigi's Trattoria.

Gosh, how he hated Fields! He was so annoying and… annoying! He was the most self-centred, self-important and any self- horrendous adjective there could ever be. To tell the truth, Gene couldn't really bother to help this particular guy on to the pub. That guy was just so convinced that this was just a bad joke and that it would be over soon by the time he found Craig. Craig would never appear. Not in a few years time, that is.

This guy was the most difficult guy he had ever had to work with, not even Sam could win over this guy's same annoyance he had for Sam. At least Sam was a good-hearted person and he likened to include other people in the team, like Annie, who even though was a bird Gene respected her since Sam got her into the team back in Manchester. Not even Alex was as difficult as he was. Even though she was a tart… Alex…

For the first time in ages, he smiled to himself at the thought of her, but his face became sober as soon as. She was gone forever. He wouldn't forget that night, when he had to let her go on to the pub. He had hoped that maybe when she entered she would go back outside to him… Something had told him that she would go back for him… but she didn't. She stayed in there. It had been a false hope. He knew she wouldn't go back to him, but he had been wishing that… maybe…

He shook his head, pushed aside the thought and the coke, which had been in his hand for a long time now leaving his hand freezed. He stood up and walked to the exit, hesitating for a moment. He closed his eyes just for a moment, and could see Alex, the first and last time they had danced together in her apartment.

There's nothing left for you, Gene. She's gone. Just hide away from everything.

And then he walked away from the memory.

*Just in case (Bobby is a nickname for coppers in the 80's just in case you have come across it and didn't get why I wrote it down there)

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