A/N : Janus is the Roman god who gave his name to the month of January: rather appropriately, as he is usually portrayed as having two faces, one looking backwards to the past and one forwards to the future.
He is the god of time, of beginnings and endings, of doorways and transitions …

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The Two Faces of Janus

Gene sat in his office with his booted feet up on the desk, his long legs crossed at the ankle, toying absentmindedly with a glass of whiskey. He took a good mouthful and followed it with a long drag on his cigarette, narrowing his eyes as he blew the smoke slowly out and watched it drift up towards the ceiling. It was close to midnight, but he had little or no desire to head home. After all, what was waiting for him there? A cold, empty house that he'd never liked, never felt comfortable in and knew he never would.

He should probably have stayed at Luigi's, the new DI needed his help to adjust to the shock of this strange world he'd suddenly found himself in, but it'd been one hell of a day and he craved some time alone. The brochure for his new car lay untouched on his desk, he couldn't be bothered just at the moment. He was going to miss the Quattro, it was the only thing that had made driving around the grimy streets of London vaguely pleasurable. And that wasn't the only thing he was going to miss.

He closed his eyes, seeing them all again as they took their final leave of him. Raymondo grasping his hand tightly in farewell, trying to convey all his mixed emotions in that one gesture. Chris and Shaz facing whatever was to come together, looking out for each other as they always did. Gene knew they'd all be fine. Ray had probably copped off with a big breasted blonde the minute he walked through the door of the pub.

And then his head was full of her. DI Bolly-Kecks. That posh, gobby pain in the arse with a head full of brains, the common sense of a grain weevil and the body of a goddess. Her face crumpled up in grief when she finally realised she couldn't get back to her daughter. The way she'd clutched at his lapels in desperation, not wanting to be parted from him. And that kiss. Barely more than a peck, and yet he could still feel the imprint of her soft lips on his. Why hadn't he pulled her into his arms and snogged the face off her when he'd had the chance? At least then she'd have had no doubts about how he felt, and there would have been something to cling onto until he could finally join her. And a definite promise for the future ….

Had it really been the right time for her to move on? He still wasn't sure, but maybe that was just his own selfish needs and desires taking precedence. After all, he'd hung on to Ray and Chris for far too long, it seemed. When had he begun to forget, lost his sense of purpose, deviated from his allotted task? He wasn't sure, but it must have been some time after Sam left. He'd missed him more than he ever thought possible. And now he'd lost them all.

The loneliness threatened to overwhelm him, and he poured another generous measure of whiskey and downed it in one, grimacing as it hit the back of his throat. He tried to think back to when he'd first arrived in this world, but he had no clear recollection, it was all just a blur. Presumably he'd inherited this role from some other copper who'd finally got the chance to go to the pub. How would he know when his own time came? Some kind of sign from above? Or just the realisation that he'd finally reached the end of his tether?

He considered the future. A new DI to train up. A brand new team to take over from Ray, Chris and Shaz. And he doubted he'd seen the last of Keats somehow, knew he'd have to stay vigilant. He tried to think of the positives. There would always be criminal scum to arrest, bruise free groin slaps to administer, and streets to keep clear of filth. He'd get a flash new motor and maybe a new bird to distract him, a low maintenance blonde with big tits and no brains. He'd always been popular with the ladies, and he needed the occasional guilt-free shag as much as the next man.

He sighed heavily, suddenly so bone-weary he could hardly keep his eyes open. As he drifted off he realised that none of that mattered to him any more. He wanted to be sat at the bar of The Railway Arms while Nelson pulled him another pint, smirking as Ray tried to light his farts and Shaz rolled her eyes at Chris. He wanted to see Sam and Annie again. And more than anything he wanted to wrap his arms round Alex, kiss her until her knees went weak, and take her upstairs to show her just how much he needed her …

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Born out of a difficult S3 rewatch, and my need to deal with a less than satisfactory ending, for me at least. We all know it's going to get better for Gene in the concluding chapter ...
Hope you enjoyed. A little out of my comfort zone, so I'd really like to hear what you think.