Thanks once again for reading and reviewing - it's keeping me going as we gradually approach the end of the story.

It's Gene and Alex's 'date night' I've used a bit of dialogue from the series but otherwise things head in a more satisfying conclusion - adult content warning!

Dance Me to the End of Love

It was all quiet at the station as Gene put the finishing touches to his chosen ensemble for his 'date' with Alex – although for the life of him he still didn't see how he could be going on on a date with a women who he'd been practically living with for the past few months. He frowned into the mirror as he stood in the men's room, desperately trying to figure out how to do up his dicky-bow tie. He flicked it one way and then the other, eventually giving up and leaving the annoying scrap of material dangling around his neck, lending what he hoped would be the necessary air of nonchalance he was aiming for. With a final splash of aftershave and a swig of Dutch courage he was ready.

He walked through the now deserted CID offices and made his way towards the front desk where a scowl should be all that was required to deter any cheeky comments about his attire. But the habit of a lifetime meant that he could not keep himself from pausing at the counter where Viv was quietly scribbling into the day book. Gene stood silently watching until Viv looked up, did a double-take, opened his mouth as if to say something but then thought better of it.

"Guv?" Viv said finally.

Gene sniffed nonchalantly, as if the sight of him dressed in a tux should be nothing out of the ordinary. "Skip." Gene glared and dared Viv to comment.

"Nice suit." Viv said, hastily concealing a wicked grin.

"Yeah. Whatever. Everything okay here?"

"Nothing I can't handle."

Gene nodded and looked around the deserted reception area. It had reached the time of the day when station skippers could breath a sigh of relief – all the of usual daytime troublemakers had been dealt with and the evening activities for London's criminal fraternity had not yet kicked off – a brief respite from the toil and troubles that Fenchurch East was prone to. Gene was just about to walk off when something made him stop and face Viv again. He cleared his throat with a slight air of embarrassment.

"So. You okay then? Not working you too hard?"

"I'm fine Guv. To be honest I'd rather be back here than at home with nothing to do."

"Good man. Just make sure you get off home on time eh? Don't want you having one of them relapses. Drake'll never let me hear the last of it if something happens to you an' all."

Viv's face fell at the sharp reminder that he had survived when others had not.

Gene immediately picked up on the changed mood. "Bollocks. I didn't mean to….that is.."

Viv waved his concerns away. "It's nothing Guv. It's just sometimes…sometimes I forget what happened to… to DC Skelton."

Gene leaned on the counter between them and sighed. "Me too Skip. And then I look outside me office and there's a big empty space where he should be. Survivor's guilt."

"Pardon?"

"Survivor's guilt – that's what 'er indoors calls it. She explained it all to me – in great detail I might add." He waggled his eyebrows in an attempt to lighten the mood. "Just think yerself lucky you didn't have to sit through that."

Viv laughed appreciatively. "You're a lucky man Guv."

"Yeah. In all sorts of ways. Anyway, can't standing around here gossiping like a bunch of old hens, so if there's nothing else?"

Viv opened his mouth to speak but then hesitated. He could see the Guv had a big night planned and he had a feeling that if he told him what he knew then all bets might be off. On the other hand, look at the trouble keeping quiet had got everyone into before.

"Come on Skip, I haven't got all night. I've got a woman simmering gently and I don't want her to go off the boil!"

"It's just….there's been an unconfirmed sighting…of Keats."

Gene felt an unexplained shiver run down his spine. "When?"

"About half an hour ago now. Member of the public came in to report a missing cat and mentioned he'd seen someone hanging around the station."

"And you think it might be Keats?"

"It matched the description so I showed them a picture on the off-chance. They seemed pretty certain it was him. I sent a couple of uniform out to have a scoot around."

"Anything?"

"No sign of him – if it was him."

Gene took a deep breath before considering his next move. Not so very long ago he would have raised the roof and gone chasing after the phantom Keats with all guns blazing but now….now he was wondering exactly what he'd achieve if he did go chasing after an apparition. He stuck his chin out with a sudden determination – he was not going to let Keats have them all running around like headless chickens.

"Guv?"

"You were right to tell me Viv. But I'll be buggered if I'm going running down rabbit holes after that bastard – it's exactly what he wants." Nor was he going to leave Alex alone and vulnerable – but he didn't mention that. "Step up patrols in the area – I want everyone keeping an eye out for him."

"Is that it?"

"That's it. Keats doesn't run this show – I do. You know where I am if anything turns up."

"Yes Guv."

Gene walked towards the front door and then half-turned back. "Your missus picking you up after shift?"

Viv nodded. "She insists."

"Good. We'll sort this out tomorrow."

"Night Guv."

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Alex was quietly pleased that she had everything under control; coq au vin simmering nicely, wine uncorked and the table set. Now all she had to do was make herself look presentable - but she still had plenty time for that. Pouring herself a large glass of wine she wandered around the small lounge, plumping cushions, dimming the lights to a more flattering level and finally closing the curtains to block out the dank and dreary winter's evening. With a sigh she sat down on the sofa, resigning herself to only a brief rest before she got changed into the dress she had picked out for tonight. She hadn't really been sure what to wear for this 'date' with Gene. If they'd been going out to a restaurant the decision would have been much simpler but she wasn't exactly sure of the dress etiquette for dinner 'chez nous'. She though it probably accounted for the unaccountable sense of unease she was feeling.

Who was she trying to kid? She knew exactly what was causing her disquiet – the discovery that the ghost of PC6620 was actually Gene – albeit a much younger version. What exactly this meant for herself and everyone else that she knew here, she had no idea. There was a piece of the puzzle still missing – one that she knew she would have to discover even if it threatened her very existence here. She took another sip of wine and closed her eyes against the heavy weight of the sadness that seemed to sit like a lead weight on her chest.

She put her glass down, curled up and rested her head on one of the soft squishy cushions she had bought to personalise the flat. She tried to empty her mind of everything – of Keats and Chris, of ghostly coppers and dreams of death – instead she focused on Gene. She found herself smiling as she remembered the very first time she saw him – and had then promptly fainted like some Regency romance heroine – a fact that Gene had never let her forget.

The wine, the warmth and the subdued lighting caused her body to relax perhaps more than she had counted on and she found herself drifting away, lulled to sleep with mental promises that she had plenty time before Gene put in an appearance ….

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"Ah Mr 'Unt! I thought I miss you."

"Wish I could miss you," Gene muttered. "Haven't you got some place to be Luigi?"

"Be? Where else would I be but 'ere Signore?" Luigi gazed around the restaurant but quickly took in Gene's formal attire and beamed with delight. "Is a special night yes? You and Signora Drake?"

"Can't get anything past you eh? You should 'ave been a detective."

"Scoff all you like – I know a happy man when I see one…a man in love."

"Give over. It's just handy sleeping here – closer to work."

"Of course." Luigi beamed delightedly and seemed in no hurry to move along to serve other customers.

Gene, who was keen to avoid being seen in this ridiculous get up, glared at Luigi and then decided to hurry proceedings along. "The fizz Luigi?"

Luigi looked blank for a moment and then he slapped his forehead. "Mammi mia, I almost forget." He bustled along the bar, reached into the fridge under the counter, produced a bottle and then hurried back to Gene. "Bollinger champagne – just like you ask."

Gene examined the label, a small pout forming as he read the vintage. "1960?"

Luigi peered over at the bottle. "Is okay yes? I am sure the bella signora will enjoy."

Gene nodded, his thoughts momentarily a million miles away. "Yeah…yeah she will. Thanks Luigi." He flung some notes over the counter and then walked towards the exit.

"Buon divertimento!" Luigi called after him. He then wandered back to his other customers with a contented smile.

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Gene paused outside the door to Alex's flat, key in hand and bottle of champers in the other. For a moment he debated the pros and cons of knocking on the door. Of course he had his own key now, just as Alex had the key to his home, so technically he could just walk right in and announce his arrival. On the other hand, this was supposed to be a date – shouldn't he knock at the door and wait for her to let him in? He felt like a bloody teenager on his first date with all this dithering. With a quiet oath he knocked on the door once and then waited, his heart unaccountably beating a little faster than normal. His listened at the door for any stirrings that might signal she was coming to the door but he couldn't hear anything.

"Bollocks," he said less quietly. He put his key into the lock and peered into the hallway. "Alex?" It all looked normal – she was probably in the bedroom or the bathroom putting on war paint. He sniffed the air and his stomach growled its approval – something certainly smelled delicious and he suddenly became conscious of the fact that he was starving. Hunger led him inexorably towards the kitchen…but then he stopped as he passed the door to the lounge and spotted a familiar figure curled up on the sofa. He crept gingerly towards her, trying not to step on the dodgy floorboard that always creaked, a smile playing around his lips. He put the bottle down on the coffee table and hunkered down in front of her. He watched her face as she slept on, still blissfully unaware of being watched. She was so beautiful. How had he got so lucky? Took some time granted but they had got there in the end. He reached out and gently touched her cheek, her skin soft as silk under his fingers. She still didn't wake and so he did the only thing he wanted to do – he leaned forward and gently kissed her lips, hoping that she wouldn't take fright and slap him. Thankfully, she seemed to enjoy waking up to his kiss as much as he was enjoying kissing her.

"Evening, Sleeping Beauty," he said, when she finally opened her eyes.

"Mmmm." For a moment her eyes were hazy and unfocused, her thoughts still reliving a dream….and a kiss. And then she gasped and tried to sit up. "Oh Christ! You're early! I'm not ready yet!"

"Settle petal." He slid onto the sofa beside her. "No need to panic. Although for the record I'm on time and you're late."

She glanced at the clock and saw that he was right. "Bollocks."

He laughed as she leapt up from the sofa, turning this way and that as she tried to decide what to do first. And then she suddenly stopped still and turned around to face him, a look of shocked surprise on her face. "You're wearing a tux." She greedily ran her eyes over him, taking in the rakishly untied dicky-bow…and the ever-present cowboy boots. "You look…."

"Like an idiot," Gene finished for her, secretly hoping that he didn't.

"You look gorgeous," she said, sitting down next to him. "You did this for me?"

He shrugged. "Other suits are in the cleaners."

"Liar." She fingered the material of his tie, still hanging loosely around his neck.

"Couldn't do the bastard thing up," he admitted wryly.

"Doesn't matter. It looks good. You look good." She let her fingers wander down the lapels of his jacket. "And look at me – I hardly measure up do I? Let me go and get changed and put some make up on."

Gene grabbed her hand as she tried to get up from the sofa. "Stay," he said quietly.

"But…my hair…" She nervously rang her fingers through her thick dark hair.

"You look fine…you look beautiful Alex just as you are." And he meant it too. His eyes roamed over her face, clean with barely a trace of make up, her hair styled naturally without that weird quiff thing she tended to do these days. And she was casually dressed in black leggings and an off the shoulder black and white jumper, her feet bare with shell-pink painted toenails. "Don't get changed. Besides…" he sniffed the air appreciatively, "if I'm not mistaken that smells like dinner's ready. Wouldn't want it burning now would we?"

"Shit! Dinner!" This time she did leap off the sofa and he laughed as she headed off towards the kitchen.

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Alex had to admit that this play-date with Gene was turning out to be the best idea she'd ever had. Dinner had passed without incident and in a blur of laughter and champagne. She still felt slightly weird dressed so casually while Gene was dressed up to the nine's but the wine had helped take the edge off her unease. Now they sat together on the sofa, Gene with his legs stretched out and a cold beer in his hand, and Alex with her legs curled underneath her and drinking a decent red. How she wished that they could stay like this forever – but she knew that something was happening that she had no control over. She had felt this ever since she had woken up from her 'coma in a coma' but the feeling had become more intense since Chris… She gave herself a mental shake. It wasn't fair to Gene to let past events spoil tonight. She resolved there and then to put her doubts and worries to one side and just enjoy the moment…just for one more night.

"Penny for 'em," Gene asked.

She shook her head. "Not even worth that."

Gene looked at her unconvinced. "I thought we were supposed to be honest with each other now – no hiding things?"

"I'm not hiding, I'm just….I was just thinking about Chris…about CID. You haven't noticed how strained it is now?"

He took another swig from his beer and shrugged. "Hardly surprising is it. Besides, it's never exactly been a barrel of laughs in there."

"No it's more than that." A line of poetry came unbidden into her head. "Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold; Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world."

"Cyril Fletcher?"

Alex smiled. "WB Yeats."

"Cheery sod wasn't he?"

"Ostensibly he was writing about the Apocalypse and the Second Coming but linking it to post-war devastation in Europe."

He gave her a pained look. "Blimey, it's like having a date with Leonard Cohen."

She had the grace to blush. "Sorry." She reached out her hand to him. "We'll be alright. We'll all be alright."

He took her hand but his face was serious now. "Will we though Bols?"

She had no answer. Instead she squeezed his hand and changed the topic. "We should dance."

"Eh?"

She got up and made her way to the music centre. "We're on a date aren't we?"

"And?"

"Well, if we're on a date then there should be dancing." She started to look for some suitable music.

Gene stood up. "None of that New Romantic twaddle." He reached into his pocket and produced a tape. "Here, stick that on."

"You brought a tape?" she said in amazement. Gene shrugged but Alex couldn't stop smiling as she looking at the play list that had been scribbled on the tape insert. Can't help falling in love, Lonely Teardrops, I Only Have Eyes for You and Save the Last Dance for Me, were just some of the tracks he had recorded for her. "You made a mix-tape for me?"

"It's just music – no need to get all excited. Anyway, we having this dance or what?"

Alex slid the tape into the tape-deck, pressed the play button and then turned to face Gene, slipping seamlessly into his arms. She smiled as the Beach Boys began to sing, 'I may not always love you, but as long as there are stars above, you'll never need to doubt it, I'll make you so sure about it…

Alex smiled and nestled her head against Gene's shoulder. "You really are the sweetest man."

Gene said nothing but simply held her closer, an unaccustomed lump in his throat.

The song came to an end but they danced on oblivious to the silence, and then another tune started to play, one which Alex recognised immediately. Oh my love, my darling, I've hungered for your touch, a long lonely time…..

"Oh I know this one," she murmured, "it's from Ghost …." Almost as soon as the word was out of her mouth she realised how horribly apt it was. "Doesn't matter." She closed her eyes and tried to concentrate on the music and the feel of Gene's arms around her.

But even as Gene held her, Alex began to feel strangely and unaccountable afraid. It felt as though the world was slipping away from her, as though the ground beneath her feet had given way and she was spiralling away to God knows where. The only thing that remained constant was Gene, holding her close and keeping her safe. But Gene was dead, her inner demon insisted on reminding her, and if Gene was dead then what did that make her?

She pushed the thought away but couldn't help holding onto Gene more firmly, whispering his name under her breath like a talisman.

"Shhhhhhh," he soothed, as they rocked slowly in each others arms, "I'm here, I'll always be here."

She didn't know what that meant but she refused to think about it any more. She opened her eyes and looked into his face. The look she saw there was one of total and utter love, caught unawares as he had been, but he returned her frank gaze. Their lips slowly moved closer, the music forgotten now as they finally kissed. The kiss was sweet and romantic but the passion was only damped down temporarily – all it took was for Gene to pull her closer to his body and the flames suddenly ignited. Tongues tangled and hands pulled at clothing eager to touch soft warm flesh. Alex ran her fingers through Gene's hair, pulling him closer, nipping at his chin and neck and gasping as his fingers pulled up her jumper and touched the skin at her waist. She started to push his dinner jacket from his shoulders when a sudden noise disturbed them.

"What was that?" Alex asked.

Gene held his fingers to his lips and they both listened. But there was nothing to hear. "Probably Luigi," Gene said finally. "Now, where were we?"

Alex smiled and took his hand, "Come to bed Gene."

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It was only now that Alex reaped the benefits of casual dressing as she quickly divested herself of leggings and jumper to reveal simple white lace underwear. For a moment she wished that she'd being wearing slightly more exotic underwear for Gene's pleasure but then, as he always said, 'it's coming off in a minute anyway.' Gene certainly didn't look disappointed as he lay sprawled on the bed fully clothed albeit minus boots.

"So Bolly, are we living your fantasy yet then?"

"Pardon?"

"You once told me that this," he gestured to the tux he was still wearing, "me wearing this was your fantasy."

Alex remembered and a smiled crept over her face as she knelt on the bed and then slowly crept towards him. "Actually the fantasy was me removing your outfit. Slowly."

Gene grinned and raised an eyebrow. "Don't let me stop you."

She didn't need any further encouragement, somehow feeling sexier and more empowered whilst wearing next to nothing, compared with Gene's fully dressed status. She coquettishly fondled the end of his tie and very very slowly, dragged it loose and then dramatically flinging it into the far reaches of the bedroom. Gene's eyes darkened as he watched her, his fingers itching to touch her bare skin, but restraining every impulse so that she could have her fantasy – and he could have his. She straddled him now, pushing back his jacket over his shoulders, her breath on his neck, her breasts tantalizingly within reach.

"Sod it," he cursed. He wasn't made of bloody stone. He reached to touch her lace covered breasts, rubbing his fingers over the already swollen nipples. He was rewarded with a moan and a heated kiss as Alex finally removed his jacket and dropped it to the bedroom floor.

She paused to survey her handiwork so far. He was laid there unresisting, his hair mussed, lips swollen from kissing and still dressed in pristine white shirt and immaculate black trousers. "I could shag you right now."

"Don't let me stop you – it's your fantasy." He moved one of his hands to her hip and then traced the outline of her panties, the borderline between flesh and fantasy.

She licked her lips as her eyes flicked over him. She always thought she had immense willpower but faced with Gene – hers for the taking – her willpower crumbled into dust. Still straddling him, she quickly unbuttoned his shirt and un-tucked it from his trousers. Her hands moved to his belt and then to his zipper. A look of pain/pleasure crossed Gene's face as her hand brushed against his crotch – so she did it again, an involuntary spasm causing his hips to buck and seek further contact. She began to tease further, rubbing her body against his, the delightful friction of his still clothed body sending shivers of pleasure up and down her spine.

"Bit of frottage eh? Always knew you were kinky Bols."

"I don't hear you complaining," she said, rubbing her crotch against his. There was a sharp intake of breath as Gene tried to control his raging body. "Nice?" she said.

"Even nicer with no kit on – ever tried it?"

"Once or twice."

"Well sod this for a game of soldiers." He held onto her hip with one hand and with the other reached behind her back, twanging open her bra with an ease born of practice. He then rolled her over onto her back, pinning her giggling form down with his own body as he removed her knickers. "That's better." He then began to extract his own revenge, grinding his hips against hers, still quite aware of the barrier of clothing still between them. "Nice?"

Alex's response was a deep groan of pleasure as she wriggled against him, desperate for the friction as her pleasure steadily mounted. Christ how she wanted him…needed him. She reached down towards his crotch and slipped her fingers through the fly opening of trousers and underwear, meeting a handful of lovely solid flesh. She expertly moved her hand along the shaft.

"Alex..." Gene warned. If she kept on that way he was likely to go off like a rocket. But it seemed she didn't care, her hand kept moving, stroking and rubbing.

"I don't care. I need you inside me now."

He spread her legs and touched her, surprised at the heat and wetness already present – apparently she was just as ready to pop as he was. He didn't resist as she guided him home, her legs wrapping around his hips as he sank deeper into her. He stifled an unmanly groan and marshalled his forces to resist the call of orgasm for as long as he could. But it was a hopeless battle. Her sighs and curses as he moved, the sight of her sprawled beneath him as his hips worked back and forth and her soft hands reaching up under his shirt all served to undo him.

"Oh god yes…yes…yes," Alex moaned and cursed alternately, as she matched Gene thrust for thrust. She didn't want gentleness now, she wanted power and passion and the overwhelming oblivion of orgasm. She felt the tingling start at her centre and she knew that she was close. "Don't stop…don't stop."

Gene couldn't even reply, so intent was he on giving Alex her pleasure before he ran out of steam. With a final twist of his hips he felt her shudder and clamp beneath him, an open-mouthed silent scream of pleasure on her face as she bucked against him. His own hips shuddered and jerked as he filled her again and again, collapsing into a satisfied heap with his name on her lips.

They lay there for several minutes, hearts beating ten to the dozen, but quite content to luxuriate in the post-coital afterglow.

"Good?" queried Gene eventually.

"Above good." She sleepily racked her brain for higher praise. "Fabulous. The best."

Gene smiled with satisfaction and closed his eyes, knowing that sleep would come almost instantaneously. He tried to make himself comfortable but there was one hitch.

"Alex?"

"Hmmmm?"

"Can I take the rest of me clothes off now?"

She opened a sleepy eye and looked at him. She had almost forgotten that he was still dressed in shirt and dress trousers. It had certainly been a very productive fantasy.

"Of course." She rolled over in bed and made room for him, listening to the rustling as he quickly shed his remaining clothes and climbed into bed, now as naked as she. She smiled with contentment as he wrapped his arms around her and spooned into her back.

Just for tonight, she thought, the rest of the world could go to hell.

. . . . . . . . .to be continued.

Author's Note- The title of this chapter is from a Leonard Cohen song and although not released until 1984 I beg dramatic licence on this occaision.