You Can be Mean

Alex awoke, knowing before she even opened her eyes that something was different. Wrong. She was lying on a sofa and that definitely wasn't right. She'd gone to bed, hadn't she?

She remembered getting into bed – falling into bed – and in any case, this didn't feel like her sofa. It was harder, the fabric worn and harsh against her skin. She opened her eyes, blinking in shock as the room came into focus and she recognized the back room of the Railway Arms.

Nelson was sitting in the wicker chair, watching the television intently.

'How can I be here?' Alex asked, sitting up and feeling the panic rise. 'Nelson?'

When the barman didn't respond, Alex rose and walked around him until she was standing in front of him. He gave no acknowledgement that he knew she was there, just continued to watch the screen.

'A dream, then,' Alex murmured, turning her attention to the television screen, raising an eyebrow when she saw it was just static on screen. 'Never anything on, is there?' she remarked dryly, sitting back down on the sofa.

She sat up as she heard Gene speak.

'You know you are really trying my patience, Smallbrook. Where are they?'

'You want to act with a bit more respect, Mr Hunt.'

The screen cleared, resolving itself into an image of Gene Hunt, standing in a dingy office, toe to toe with a giant of a man. Not that the man was especially tall, Alex realized. He was about Gene's height, maybe an inch taller, but in other respects, he was just… enormous. Gene himself was by no means a small man, but standing in front of this thug, he looked almost slight.

'I find it 'ard to respect people 'oo drag me out in the middle of the night for nothin'. Little foible I 'ave.' Gene growled.

''ad a better offer, did you?' the man sneered. 'Nah. You just want to know where them girls are, don't ya, Mr Hunt? Already lost one of 'em.' Smallbrook tutted. 'Careless.'

Gene reached out and grabbed the man's collar, shoving him against a wall and cracking his head against it. The man bent double as Gene released his collar and hit him in the stomach.

He gave a wheezing laugh. 'You shouldn'ta done that, Mr Hunt.'

Gene pitched forward as someone hit him from behind.

Alex started forwards, even as the screen darkened. She whipped around to face Nelson. 'What was that? Is that happening now? Is he all right?'

To her surprise, he caught her eye. 'You should sleep, Alex. You're very tired.' He stood, moving towards her with strangely disjointed movements.

She backed away from him, shaking her head in denial as she felt herself overwhelmed with exhaustion. 'You can't be talking to me. I'm not really here. I can't be here.'

'Sleep, sister. Sleep while Mr Hunt faces some very bad people. He's all alone Alex. But you rest easy. You're safe here.'

'Send me back!' she demanded. But Nelson merely continued to advance, his head falling at an odd angle. 'Please! Send me back!'

As she stepped back further she felt an arm slide around her waist, pulling her back against the wall. No, not the wall. The bulk behind her was warm, breathing. A person.

She opened her eyes, knowing she was too tired to keep them open, and glanced down, seeing a familiar arm around her waist, the fingers of a very familiar hand twisting in the front of her nightshirt. Gene.

A dream, then. Just a dream. But even as sleep settled over her again, Alex's brain registered the scratches and the swollen knuckles of the hand.

\/\/

When she next awoke, it was still dark outside. She checked the bedside clock. It was only just after five in the morning. Groaning, Alex rolled over, stretching. She glanced at the other side of the bed, expecting to see Gene.

But the bed was empty and there was no sign he'd ever been there. She frowned, her sleep-fogged brain making it difficult to think. He'd definitely been here, hadn't he? After she'd woken up from the dream about the Railway Arms she'd found herself in his arms, pulled so close to him that she could feel his heart beating against her back.

She reached out and laid her hand against the pillow, testing it for warmth. Nothing. Well… almost nothing. Just visible against the dark blue of the pillowcase was a smear of something darker. Blood.

And his knuckles had been bruised, if her night time visitation was to be believed. Which meant that in all likelihood her dream about the Railway Arms hadn't been a dream at all. It had been… what? A vision?

She shook her head and rose, showering and dressing quickly before heading over to the station.

\/\/

She walked into CID and shrugged out of her coat, setting it down on her desk before heading into Gene's office. The blinds were drawn and the lights were low. As she opened the door, he was just pulling a clean shirt on, his normally relatively graceful movements stiff, awkward. She caught a glimpse of a livid bruise just above the bandage on his shoulder.

'Nice of you to knock,' he commented, his tone dripping offhand sarcasm as he turned to face her.

'You should have woken me,' she said, ignoring his attempt at baiting her. 'That bandage on your shoulder needs changing.'

'Believe it or not I can 'andle some things without you, Bolly. Changed me own dressin',' he said, puling his suit jacket on. He didn't bother with a tie, leaving the top few buttons of his shirt undone.

She looked up at him, about to retort when she saw how exhausted he looked. 'Have you slept at all, Gene?'

'Was gonna get my 'ead down in 'ere for a couple of hours, but you're here now so we'd better just get on,' he said, rifling through a folder on his desk.

'You should go back to the flat and get some sleep,' she admonished. 'You could have just stayed at the flat when you were there.'

'Who says I was there?' he asked, not looking up from the folder.

She moved closer and put her hand under his chin, tilting it upwards until he was looking at her. 'I saw you,' she said quietly. 'And there was blood on the pillow,' she added, running her thumb over a cut above his right eye.

'Sorry, I'll try not to bleed on your linen in future,' he said, holding her gaze.

'Are you going to tell me what happened?'

He looked away. 'Nothin' to tell, Bolls.'

'Guv, you don't have to do everything yourself. You have a team...'

'That lot? Told yer Bolly, they're not-'

'No, they're not the old team,' she said softly. 'I understand Guv. I do.'

He rubbed his eyes. 'Bloody right there. I could tell Chris and Ray something and they'd go and do it. Not ask me twenty bloody questions before I'd even finished givin' the order.

'They could be like that-'

'No. They can't.'

'And what about me?'

'You, Bolly? You're a pain in the arse.'

'Gene...'

'See this? This is exactly why I didn't wake you last night. I only came back fer a clean shirt. Stopped 'cos it looked like you were 'avin' a bit of a nightmare.' He stopped abruptly, as though feeling he'd said too much. 'Too many bloody questions, Alex.'

'We shouldn't keep things from one another, Guv. If we learned anything over the last year-'

'I just… I really need to be here right now, ok?' he snapped.

She stared at him for a long moment before saying, 'If you want to sleep in your office I'm sure it's no business of mine, Guv,' in the most level tone she could manage.

'Right,' he said, holding her gaze, looking surprised that she hadn't pushed the point. 'So long as we're clear.' He sank into his chair, relief that the conversation was over evident in every line of his body. 'Right,' he said, lighting a cigarette and taking a long drag. 'As no one else 'as your dedication to police work Bolly, 'ows about you go down to the records room and fetch up the Deighton file?'

She nodded and turned, exiting CID without so much as a glance over her shoulder. As she headed down to the records room she thought about Gene's absolute conviction that he needed to be in CID. As long as she'd known him he'd certainly spent more time there than at home, but this was different.

She could see he was torn. When she'd moved closer to him she'd seen desire warring with exhaustion and a desperate need to be exactly where he was. In the midst of his kingdom. His place of last defence. It reminded her of his behaviour over the last year. When Keats had been holed up in the basement there had been times she'd been almost certain Gene had stopped going home completely.

At the sound of a powerful engine starting up she stopped at a window, checking to see Gene hadn't taken the opportunity afforded by her absence to go off alone again. But the car wasn't Gene's Mercedes. It was a smaller, more nondescript vehicle. A man was standing with his back to the building, leaning into the driver's window. He straightened up, the car sped off, and Alex saw it was Liam Clarke.

He looked around and up at the windows. Alex quickly ducked out of sight, returning to the window to watch as he headed into the station, pulling his coat up around his throat.

She wondered at herself, hiding from Liam. But his face had looked… strange. Afraid and angry and sad, all at once. And who was that, dropping him off at this time? If she was right – and she was willing to bet the Merc that she was – Liam was like her. So, who would he know here that wasn't someone from the station?

Alex shook her head ruefully. She was starting to see conspiracy theories at every turn. She turned and headed purposefully for the records room.