So, first of all, a huuuuge apology for taking so long with this. I shan't bore you with the reasons why but they were good ones I promise!
Secondly, massive thanks to my wonderful beta, Handymelon. And to Cats-Tale for letting me borrow and play with her fantastic character, DCI Tom Fletcher :) (if you don't know Tom, I highly recommend you read the ashes-fic "Hearts&Flowers")
Thirdly, we have momentarily left the action in 2008 so no Gene and Alex in this ep - sorry! But don't worry, they'll be back!
and lastly, big shout to the Luigi's Ladies and the 'Wives. You make my craziness acceptable.
Enjoy! (and review ;p)
In the weeks that followed the accident, Fenchurch East CID was a strange and unhappy place. The Guv's office lay untouched; an empty whisky glass sat on his desk beside the toy Quattro, both slowly gathering dust. Darts remained wedged in the board, resigned to forever show DCI Gene Hunt's final score, and his wastepaper bin crouched in the corner, harbouring evidence of misjudged wagers with the turf accountant.
Outside in the main office, the Detective Inspector's desk remained silent and bare, unoccupied by the mysterious Alex Drake who, for reasons unknown, had never taken up his post.
Today however, there was a low hum of activity in the police station as the team prepared for the memorial service that was to be held later that day. With no remains found to bury, and the ongoing and lengthy inquest into the car crash, it had been impossible to have a proper funeral. Now, the Chief Super had given the whole of CID a half-day's leave to attend a small memorial at the church nearby, with an almighty piss-up planned at Luigi's later on.
Ray Carling sat at his desk, head in his hands, poring over a speech he had been trying to prepare for days. His heart was heavy and his brain ached as he scribbled and scored out line after line. How was he meant to sum up 13 years of working alongside the best copper Manchester had ever seen? Gene Hunt had been his mentor, his inspiration, his friend. Ray's eyes stung as memories of their days taking down the scum of the north flashed through his mind. The days before Tyler had arrived on the scene: before they had all transferred to the Met. This was too hard. He glanced over at Shaz who was trying to help a struggling Chris with his black tie. They had each other at least.
Ray suddenly felt very alone.
Just then, the office door opened and Viv, the desk sergeant, appeared. He too was attending the service and it was strange for the others to see him wearing his hat for once. He nodded to Ray, letting him know the relief officers had arrived.
"Right then Chris, Shaz… time to go," Ray said, manfully trying to stop his voice from cracking.
"'Kay boss," the younger man replied. He looked round at the others who nodded solemnly in response.
Chris, Shaz and Viv squeezed into the back seat of an unmarked Rover SD1, while Ray took the passenger seat. He said nothing as the car moved off, just gazing out of the window and resting his cheek on his hand. Shaz looked at Chris, worried.
"D'y' fink 'es gonna be alright?" she whispered, taking the DC's hand.
Chris swallowed, moved by the comfort this small gesture gave him. "'E still blames 'imself," he said quietly. "Reckons 'e should've gone with the Guv that day. I've tried to tell 'im, though, we'd just be going to a double memorial service if 'e had."
Shaz nodded, squeezing Chris's hand tighter and stealing a glance at the back of Ray's head. The car rumbled on slowly behind two police motorcycles, and followed by the rest of CID in a panda car.
In the musty quiet of the church, Ray shifted uncomfortably in the pew, dreading the moment he would have to stand and give the eulogy. He had replayed that day over and over in his mind: how he'd argued with Chris and Shaz about the new DI and the strange radio conversation he'd had with the Guv, letting him go off alone down to Trinity Buoy Wharf. They'd never even turned up any information on why the police car had been stolen and abandoned there. Ray cursed himself again. I should've gone with 'im.
Suddenly, he felt a tugging on his arm. He turned to see Chris, his eyes swollen and red, urging him up to the pulpit. "The minister's askin' for you now boss…" He had never called Ray that before, but since the team had lost Gene, it was as though the young detective needed an authority figure and had looked to his friend to fulfil that role. It both comforted Ray and made him feel more detached at the same time.
He looked up to see the minister smiling kindly at him, his hand outstretched. "DS Carling? If you'd like to say a few words?"
Ray nodded silently and made his way to the front of the church, hearing only his own soft footfalls on the wooden floor. As he glanced from side to side, the faces of the small congregation swam together in a sea of sadness and anguish. His heart leapt in surprise when a face he recognised appeared near the front - a face he hadn't seen in over 8 years. She looked uncertain, but time and distance and their shared grief wrote a tender expression on Ray's face as their eyes met. Margaret Hunt returned the DS a small but reassuring smile as he turned to face the assembled mourners.
His voice wavered slightly as he began. "'Ow do you sum up a man like Gene Hunt? Words just don't do 'im justice… I mean… well, anyone who knew 'im would know that." He paused, struggling to maintain composure. "I'm not gonna stand 'ere and tell you lot 'ow to remember 'im, he was bigger than all of us… all of this." He gestured with his hand around the church and coughed, catching the eyes of the Superintendent and the Met Commander. "Some might 'ave questioned his methods, but when it came to nailing scu-, I mean, uh, apprehending criminals, he were absolutely dedicated. To 'is job and 'is team." He glanced at Chris. "Many of us 'ere today owe 'im our lives." Ray's voice began to shake, his shoulders soon followed but he carried on, "He were brave, and loyal, and true to 'imself. 'E never compromised, never let you down, always got the job done, no matter wha-" his voice trailed off as his eyes filled with tears. The congregation stared in horror as the DS broke down, heavy sobs racking his body as he stumbled from the pulpit.
Shaz leapt from the pew instantly and took his arm, steadying him and helping him down the steps, looking pleadingly at Chris to help her.
"I need a smoke," Ray muttered and headed for the door. Shaz and Chris exchanged glances, but sat down again, deciding it would be best to leave Ray alone with his thoughts, at least for now. He had his pride after all.
"He's outrageous, 'e screams and 'e bawwwwwwls," bellowed Chris, bowling drunkenly into Luigi and tipping half his pint over the beleaguered bar owner. He flung his arm over Luigi's shoulder and carried on singing, "Jean Genie, let yourself go-o-o-ooo!" He swung round to face Ray, who was standing at the bar with a half empty bottle of whisky in front of him. The sergeant's face was grim, but he mustered up a smile as Chris's excitable mirth gave way to the tide of grief it had been holding back. "Gene Genie…. Let yourself…. Go…" he sobbed, punching Ray solidly on the shoulder before staggering off to the gents.
Ray glanced over at the rest of the team, Lewis and Poirot were half asleep in the corner, the others engaged in a card game and Shaz was flapping around Luigi, trying to make herself useful by helping him clean up the spilled beer.
Suddenly, Ray felt a tap on the back of his shoulder. He spun round, almost losing his balance, to see the Chief Super standing there with a solemn look on his face.
"Uhh… well, how was it?" he ventured.
Ray took a long drag on his cigarette, contemplating giving his superior officer a quick left hook, but realising with surprising sobriety that this would achieve nothing.
"Oh, it were uh… fine, yeah."
The CS cast his eyes around the bar at the drunken rabble. "Look here DS Carling, I realise this is probably not the best time…"
Ray looked back at him warily.
"… But I rather need to have a chat with you, first thing tomorrow if possible. We have a new DCI starting on Monday…"
"Wha'?" Ray started.
"I know this will be hard for you, DS Carling, but the team needs a new leader and, well, there are some other organisational matters to be discussed before we can proceed."
"Uhhh, okay." Ray dropped his cigarette end on the floor and stood on it, not quite knowing what to say next. He picked up the whisky bottle. "Drink?" he offered.
"I don't think so DS Carling."
"Uh, course not, no…"
"So, my office first thing then. Good man." With that, he gave a short smile and then turned and exited the restaurant leaving Ray alone at the bar.
"Oi Luigi!"
"You go now Mr Carling?"
Ray handed the barman two pound notes and sighed, nodding to where Shaz now sat consoling Chris in the corner. "Mek sure them two get a taxi home, okay?"
Three days later, CID stood assembled ready to welcome their new Detective Chief Inspector. Nobody knew much about Tom Fletcher, other than that he had a reputation for being a firm but fair copper, with modern methods and a very private private life.
The office had been cleared and polished to within an inch of its life. Only small reminders of its former DCI lingered – Ray had salvaged Gene's certificates and commendations and put them on the wall in the main office, not far from where the dartboard now lived. No-one else knew, but he had also removed the picture of the Manc Lion from the office door and put it carefully in his own desk drawer.
Just then, everybody's watch alarms signalled midday. The office doors opened and DCI Tom Fletcher strolled in. Casual but cautious, he smiled handsomely round the room before taking off his coat and flinging it over his arm. He nodded and extended a hand to Shaz first, much to the young WPC's flattered surprise. "Tom Fletcher," he twinkled. "Pleased to meet you… and you are?"
"Sharon Granger, but you can call me Shaz…or Shazza," she giggled nervously.
Chris stepped forward, clearing his throat and holding out his hand. He was eager to make a good impression but had suddenly felt defensive at the way his girlfriend was eyeing up the new boss. "DC Chris Skelton, Sir.. er, I mean… Guv?" He glanced sideways at Ray.
"Chris, nice to meet you," Fletcher said, shaking his hand. He made his way around the rest of the room greeting his new team, before he finally turned to Ray.
Fletcher cleared his throat and took Ray's hand. "And you," he beamed," Must be my new Detective Inspector! Congratulations, I believe, are in order, yes?"
"Uh, yeah, s'right," mumbled Ray, his insides churning as he fought with his grief, pride and guilt all at the same time.
Chris and Shaz gaped at one another and then ran forward to Ray, engulfing him in slaps on the back and congratulatory hugs respectively.
"Well done mate, well done!" said Chris, almost choked up.
"Yeah, er, well I found out on Friday – that meeting with the Chief Super."
"Fab!" breathed Shaz.
"Well, we'll never know why that Alex Drake bloke never showed up, but I for one would like to thank 'im!" Ray smiled eventually.
"So, gentlemen … and lady…" announced Tom, clapping his hands together with gusto. "I think this deserves a celebratory tipple, don't you?"
"S'gonna have to wait Guv," said Viv, suddenly popping his head round the door. "Just had a call in from a snout, says he's got information on your drugs case – uh, DCI Hunt's drugs case – some kind of boat party going on down at Trinity Buoy Wharf. Reckons you should get down there straight away."