The Torments of Memory

Disclaimer: Lucky BBC/Kudos/Monastic –how wonderful to have created A2A. DI Mercer is mine.

Chapter 5

Time passed and the 'Manc Lion' began to wonder if something was missing.

Although the older members of the team still deferred to their DCI, Gene had noticed Mercer establishing his own sphere of influence over the younger officers. The recent compulsory safe driving test had underlined the problem. Gene had passed, just, but the whispered comments and sideways looks had made it a moment of supreme embarrassment.

Was he getting too old? He could admit that he had always struggled with paperwork and other routine tasks, but now there was the additional torture of being confined to the office for days at a time. If Mercer comes out with that line 'meetings come with management' just once more, I'll swing for 'im!

Gene couldn't understand it and began mentally ticking off the elements of his normal existence. He was still Sheriff, had a good motor and a competent team with no one member needing to be nursed as had happened in the past. Life's little luxuries were available whenever he had the inclination, and at work there were always police constables to keep him supplied with cigarettes and the occasional drop of whisky.

The DCI failed to identify which essential item was lacking, except to say that he was lonely. The police force that had sustained him for so long was becoming a strange and unsettling environment. Now I know how Joe felt when he arrived. This long distance policing's not for me. One time we used to stir up the locals, 'persuade' a few suspects, and enjoy smackin' the villains down. Now Mercer and 'is chums do everythin' at arm's length, through their computers. He's just fishing – sittin' on the bank and reelin' them in.

And then the dreams began. Amusing to start with, they quickly began to prey on his mind. It was as if a police spotlight was being turned on him from a great distance.

At first it was just a disembodied voice which Gene identified as belonging to 'some posh bird'. "Guv. DCI Hunt. Where are you?"

A tall, beautiful brunette appeared to him one evening when he dozed off at his desk. "I got your letter, Guv. That made all the difference. You showed me our connection was still strong. When are you coming home? Didn't your mother tell you it was bad manners to keep a lady waiting?"

A sweet, sad smile and then the vision disappeared and Gene was left frustrated, confused and feeling strangely guilty. Bloody 'ell – I must have 'ammered the booze last night.

The following night Gene was at home by the early evening and had severely reduced his alcohol intake as a precaution. He relaxed for a while watching an old cowboy film, and then retired to bed.

Before long the 'dream' appeared again,this time striding through a travellers' encampment. There seemed an urgent appeal in her voice as if she was trying to communicate something important. "Do you remember what we did here? You named a baby! One of my favourite memories and all I have are memories to pass the time."

Some weeks later Gene and Terry were conducting the investigation into a series of thefts from a dealer specialising in antique motors. Mercer and the rest of the team were happy to leave it to 'the old guys'.

Looking through the details of the cars that had disappeared, Gene's attention was captured by a bright red Audi Quattro, and a soft voice in his ear saying, "Have you forgotten your pride and joy, Gene? You drove like a maniac, but secretly I loved every second! I'd give anything for another trip."

"Who are you?" he muttered. "Where are you?" he whispered. Why are you talkin' to me?

Eventually the tone of these apparitions became darker as the mystery woman grew more desperate.

"Stay in the bar long enough and you remember all your lost opportunities. The jukebox here has a strange habit of reflecting my mood:

'Loneliness is a crowded room

Full of open hearts turned to stone

All together, all alone'

"You told me to go and you left me alone. I tried to pass over and forget, but it was never the right time so I waited for you. Your letter gave me hope and I've been showing you a little of what we were to each other."

"Well, now I feel it's all over and I'm back in the deep freeze. Cut off from all the 'light, happiness and peace' I was promised. Even if you can't remember my name, don't you have a nagging feeling that something is wrong?"

"I can't hold on much longer. If you don't come soon I'll ask for a transfer to the other place. What's the difference? I'm in hell already."

"NO!" A cry of revulsion filled the small bedroom as Gene Hunt woke up. Waves of fear, despair and self-disgust began to recede until one thought remained: I'm comin', Lady Bols, an' I'll 'ammer on the door until you let me in.

There was just time for one last trip back to base, and Hunt reached Fenchurch East in that curious period between the night shift ending and the early shift coming into full operation. Any lingering cleaners took one look at his grim expression and left without a word.

Gene dialled the emergency number '6220' and asked to speak to the Assistant Divisional Commander.

"Michael speaking, Gene. How can I help?"

With a slight catch in his voice, DCI Hunt said, "I'm requestin' early retirement – immediate effect. Places to go, people to see."

"Why now, after all this time?"

"I've forgotten a lot, but not who I am. I 'ave to go where I'm needed most."

"Supreme Command would expect me to thank you for your exemplary service record. You'll be missed, Gene."

A rueful laugh. "Not by this lot, Sir. It's no longer my place, or time."

"Do you have any recommendations?"

"Yes, Sir. Terry's ready to be top man: 'e's seen it all. I suggest you make 'im Superintendent, after a full briefin', and then 'e can keep an eye on Mercer. That way the new generation might learn somethin' from the old."

The DCI's last official duty was to listen to his senior officer confirming that Fenchurch East would remain fully operational.

"Thank you, sir. I'm on me way now. It's time to go to the pub."

'light, happiness and peace' – (prayer for the dead – Catholic Mass)

Song Lyric – Roxy Music 'Dance Away'.

A/N – he's made up his mind, but will be he able to take the final step?

Once again I must thank all readers and those who have taken the time to post comments. Virtual chocs all round !

TBC