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Well, here we are again, fellow Ashes fans. It is a sort of festive tradition now, I spose! I wasn't sure whether I'd actually get this posted in time for Christmas – yet another bout of ill-health got in the way - but here's the first instalment at least.
Without further ado …
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The Ghosts of Christmas Past
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Chapter 1
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The doctors have told us that there's no hope, but I'm not giving up on you, Mum. I know you're still in there somewhere. Please come back to us …
Alex had become somewhat inured to the beeping of machines and the low level murmur of hospital staff which sometimes invaded her mind, but Molly's tear-strained voice had caught her completely off-guard. She'd thought the pain couldn't get any worse, but it turned out she'd been wrong. Tears pricked her eyes, and she lifted the glass to her lips with trembling hands, well aware that drinking on an empty stomach wasn't the best idea she'd ever had, but not finding it within herself to care.
She was conscious of the team casting concerned glances her way, but so far they'd given her a wide berth and she couldn't really blame them. Christmas was only a few short days away, it was Friday evening and they just wanted to relax and have a drink or several after a demanding week. Which is exactly what she would have had planned up until a couple of hours ago. Now she just wanted to go to bed and never wake up again.
…
At that precise moment, Gene swept through door, stamping his feet and rubbing his hands together, long coat billowing out behind him as he made a beeline for the bar.
"Bloody brass monkeys out there tonight. Luigi, a swift pint and a whiskey chaser, if yer'd be so kind."
"Before yer get stuck in, we've got a bit of a problem, Guv."
Ray, who was about to order another round, nodded towards Alex slumped over a table in the far corner.
"She's already on 'er fourth double vodka. Pissed as the proverbial rat."
Gene followed his line of vision and huffed out a long breath, his plans for a relaxing evening dissolving before his very eyes.
"Hold the pint, Luigi. And rustle up a strong black coffee, would yer?"
He turned to back to Ray.
"Did you even try to stop 'er?"
"What, and risk a punch in the gob?"
Gene pouted, massaging his jaw at the memory. He had to admit, she did have a mean right hook.
Downing his whiskey in one, he reluctantly abandoned the glass and studied Alex from a safe distance. What the hell had happened to cause this? He'd glanced up earlier to find her looking pale and distracted, but she'd left CID before he had a chance to enquire further. Squaring his shoulders, he headed in her direction, admittedly with some trepidation.
"Lady Bols. You appear ter be drunk in charge of a handbag yet again."
Tipping her head back, she gazed up at him, bleary-eyed.
"Are you in possession of alcohol?"
"Nope."
"Well, go away, then."
She was already slurring her words, which was never a good sign. Ignoring the rebuff, he took a seat next to her, stretching his long legs out in front of him, feigning a nonchalance he definitely didn't feel.
"I'm all ears. Get it off yer chest, woman."
"Just having a quiet drink, Guv. Or at least I was …"
She waggled her fingers around his title, but he didn't rise to the bait.
"Double vodkas? Sounds more like drownin' yer sorrows ter me."
Her shoulders sagged, and she breathed a ragged sigh.
"Ghosts of Christmas Past returned to haunt me, that's all."
She reached for her glass but Gene was quicker, knocking back the remaining contents and hissing in satisfaction as the liquor burned its way down his throat.
"And spirits of Christmas Present?"
Her face was a picture of indignation, but before she could reply Luigi approached, tentatively sliding a steaming cup onto the table in front of her.
"Now its time fer the coffee of Christmas Future."
Gene nodded his thanks and the little man backed away, brows knitted in concern.
"Don't want coffee. Want more vodka."
Her expression was mutinous, but he just shrugged and pushed the cup closer.
"Drink it, Bols. Yer'll thank me in the mornin'."
"Sod the morning. I intend to go to bed and not get up until after New Year."
Despite her belligerence, she reached for the coffee and took a sip, much to his relief.
"No can do, DI Drake. Still scum to catch and yer presence is required, by me."
"It's Christmas, Gene. Even criminals have stockings to open and turkey to digest."
He snorted derisively.
"This is London, not Little 'ouse on the Prairie. Just another day ter them, only with more tinsel."
He squinted at Luigi's misguided attempts to make the place look suitably festive.
"I 'ate tinsel. An' bloody streamers. A bloke shouldn't 'ave to don sunglasses to enjoy a quiet drink."
"Molly used to love helping me put up the decorations…"
The catch in her voice was enough to make him turn his head, just in time to see a solitary tear roll down her cheek. His chest tightened uncomfortably. The sight of an overwrought female would usually send him running in the opposite direction before anyone could say "Fire up the Quattro", but this wasn't just any woman; this was Alex Drake. Instinctively, he reached out and then hesitated, his hand hovering in midair until he settled for a quick squeeze of her shoulder.
"Time we got you 'ome, Lady Bols."
"Don't want to be alone tonight, Gene. Will you stay with me?"
She looked so lost he hadn't the heart to deny her. Plus he knew she'd have forgotten any promise he'd given by the time they made it upstairs to the flat.
"Well, if you insist."
He stood, proffering a hand, but she waved it away.
"I can manage, thank you."
Planting both palms flat on the table, she succeeded in getting to her feet before listing dangerously to starboard. She would have lost her balance if he hadn't caught her in time.
"You were sayin'?"
She clutched at his lapels for support, all the fight going out of her as he wrapped one arm around her waist and steered her towards the exit. Luigi shook his head in despair, mumbling to himself about beautiful signorinas and the dangers of the demon drink.
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Outside, it was bitterly cold. Snow was falling from a leaden sky and the gusty wind drove a flurry of fat flakes into Gene's face where they clung to his lashes and stung his eyes. He blinked them away, shivering inside his greatcoat and cursing under his breath. Alex gasped in surprise and delight, her troubles temporarily forgotten.
"Oh, isn't pretty? We might actually get a white Christmas this year!"
"Sorry ter disappoint you, but apparently there's a hail storm on the way."
The stairs up to the flat were treacherous, and with Alex in such an inebriated condition it was slow going. When her feet went from under her for the third time, he had little choice but to pull her tight against his side where she snuggled contentedly into his neck.
"Always smell so nice, Gene …."
Always? She was in the habit of sniffing him on a regular basis, then?
"Man stink, Bols. Renders me irresistible ter the opposite sex."
"Mmmm. Consider my gusset suitably moistened."
Clenching his jaw, he attempted to manoeuvre her up another step. The contents of her underwear was the last thing he wanted to be reminded of right now.
"Gene?"
"Hmmm?"
"Why have you never tried to kiss me?"
"Don't think this is either the time or the place, do you?"
She stopped dead, almost toppling them both backwards down the stairs.
"Just so you know, I wouldn't mind. In fact I think I'd really, really like it …"
He swore under his breath. It was going to be a long night.
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Finally, much to his relief, they were standing outside her flat.
"Key please, Bols. Preferably before we both freeze to death."
"Um … back pocket of my jeans, I think."
She shifted to face him, entwining her arms around his neck and moulding her body to his.
"Probably safer if you get it, Guv. I might drop it by mistake."
His long neglected libido began to stir despite the temperature, and he raised his eyes heavenwards.
Oh, Lord. If this is a test …
"Left or right?"
"Can't remember. It's definitely one or the other, though."
"Really helpful, Madam Fruitcake."
Gritting his teeth, he slid his fingers inside one pocket and began to explore.
Firm with a peachy ripeness …
No sign of a key. Groaning inwardly, he changed hands and repeated the exercise. Still nothing.
"You sure?"
"Hmmm. Actually, it could be in my jacket. Sorry."
Somehow, he suspected she wasn't remotely apologetic.
"God give me strength, woman!"
With a bit of effort he finally succeeded in getting the door open. He backed her into the hallway before kicking it firmly shut behind him. Much to his relief, the flat was blissfully warm.
"Right, let's get you onto the couch."
After a rather undignified tussle, he managed to free himself from her embrace and settle her back against the cushions.
"Right, stay there while I go and put the kettle on."
She grimaced.
"No more coffee, Guv. Not drunk any more. Let's have some wine instead."
He raised a sardonic eyebrow.
"As sober as a newt, clearly. Water it is, then."
Returning with a glass, he placed it in front of her and took a seat.
"Drink."
She eyed it dubiously, wrinkled her nose and then turned her attention back to him.
"Doesn't look like wine to me."
Her eyes were glazed, her make-up smudged, and still she managed to look stunning. He shook his head sadly.
"What am I goin' ter do with you, woman?"
She gave him a tipsy smile, leaning in close.
"You could always take me to bed and have your wicked way with me."
Her gaze dropped to his mouth and lingered there.
"I want you, Gene."
Laying a hand on his thigh, she squeezed gently. Caught off-guard, he froze for a moment, allowing her fingers to creep further north. Sergeant Rock, spying a rare opportunity and always open to persuasion, immediately leapt to attention.
Stand down, soldier. Nothing to see here.
Cursing inwardly, Gene removed the offending hand and returned it to her lap
"We both know that's just the vodka talkin', don't we? Now, drink yer water."
She shook her head in denial.
"Always wanted you, just working together makes it complicated."
Gene was stunned. Could it be true? In vino veritas and all that. Granted, it wasn't the first time she'd come on to him, but it was only ever under the influence. He didn't know what to think and for now avoidance seemed the best approach, especially as she was unlikely to remember much in the morning.
"Lady Bols, you're tired and emotional, and yer need to get some kip."
She sighed, toying with the glass.
"You know, underneath that tough exterior you're actually quite a nice man, Gene Hunt."
You have no idea, sweetheart.
"Yeah, well, don't go spreading it around."
"I know. Otherwise you'll have to stamp on my pretty little head."
She smirked and then fell serious again.
"It's true, though. Most blokes would've had me on my back with my legs in the air by now, but not you. You're a gentleman."
Lurid visions flashed through his overactive brain, and he pushed them firmly away.
"And you're still not drinkin'."
She huffed, picking up the glass and taking several gulps.
"Bully. Are you this demanding in the bedroom too?"
He opted for evasion again.
"Let's see, shall we? Be a good girl and I might tuck you in and read you a bedtime story."
Getting to his feet, he held out a hand and this time she didn't refuse, swaying on her feet as she leaned into him.
"I'm so tired, Gene."
"I know, Bols. You and me both …"
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Well, at least they're heading in generally the right direction! Lol. Still working on the last chapter, but hopefully it'll be with you before the New Year.
Meanwhile, a very Merry Christmas – and God bless us, one and all!
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