Hello again! Thanks so much to everyone who read/reviewed 'Hell Of A Paradise', and a special thanks to Holly (Happyeverafter72), my beta reader, for being so amazing.
This chapter's set at about the same time as 'Hell Of A Paradise', only it's set in CID- obviously it's about Gene. I hope you like it- please let me know what you think!
xx Gee

Scotch and Teabags

DCI Gene Hunt sat in his office, picking at the label on the empty scotch bottle in front of him. How could it possibly be empty? He'd never run out of scotch before; mind you, his whisky supply hand't taken such a huge hit since Sam had moved on; and even then, Gene hadn't felt as lost as he did now. At least Sam had wanted to go- at least he'd had Annie; they'd been happy as they walked into The Railway Arms together, and that had been enough to comfort Gene. He'd still had Chris and Ray too, and that had really helped- although he regularly lost his patience with them, they helped him through that year more than he'd ever had the courage to admit; and then Alex had arrived. By that time, he'd long forgotten about his duty all over again; he'd forgotten that he'd have to let go of her too, and he'd been stupid enough to let himself grow close to her. Despite the fact that he'd found her extremely irritating from day one, he missed her on the days that she was too hungover to come in, and Luigi's never felt the same when she wasn't there, although he was always aware of her presence upstairs in her flat.

CID hadn't changed since Alex and the others had left, but it felt different...it felt wrong. Every time he walked past her desk, he felt a pang of guilt- how many times had he insulted her while she was sitting there? How many times had he told himself that, some day soon, he'd take it all back- tell her he didn't mean any of it, and that she was the best thing that had ever happened to him? And now she was gone; he'd never be able to set things straight. He knew she was gone forever- he knew it; but somehow he couldn't let go of the memories. Alex's desk remained completely untouched- just like it had been last time she was there. Of course, CID had been tidied since Keats had knocked all the desks over that last day, but Alex's desk remained exactly as it had been- with all her belongings on it,, '6-6-20' carved into the top, and her chair empty.

Chris, Ray and Shaz's desks were clean- free of any trace of them. He missed all three of them, but they were easier to let go of. Chris and Shaz had been like Sam and Annie; they were together, so they were happy. Ray was the same- he had Chris with him, and he'd soon make friends with other people in The Railway Arms. As long as he was in a pub with a couple of mates, Ray was happy. But Alex was alone- of course, she was good friends with Chris, Shaz and Ray, she seemed to know Sam quite well, and she'd soon befriend Annie, but she didn't have what she wanted. She didn't have her daughter, and she'd wanted to stay here with him. Why hadn't he let her? He should've done, although he knew all too well that it wouldn't have worked.

Gene shut his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose for several minutes before slowly opening them again and focusing on the desk opposite Alex's. If he did that, he could see a shadow in the corner of his eye, and for a split second he could actually convince himself that his beloved Bolly Kecks was sitting there. Of course he knew it couldn't possibly be her- for starters, it was much too quiet; Alex would almost definitely be rambling on about something or other. His new DI wasn't any different from that point of view; not that Gene paid as much attention to him as he had to Alex. What was the point, when all it would do is make him miss him more when he was gone?

Staggering under the effet of the alcohol, Gene got up and stumbled into the kitchen, searching through the cupboards for something drinkable- surely there had to be some alcohol left somewhere? After what felt like hours of swearing at the cupboards for being empty, DCI Hunt came to the conclusion that he was destined to die of thirst- despite the fact that he was already dead and that there was plenty of water and coffee around. Feeling even worse than before, he opened a cupboard he'd already searched at least three times in one last desperate attempt to find something to help him drink himself to oblivion- although once again, he found nothing but garibaldis, pink wafers and teabags. Only this time, there was something that intrigued him about the teabags, which were half hidden behind a biscuit tin. Pushing the tin out of the way, he grabbed the small box and squinted at it, concentrating on it as hard as he could until he recognised the familiar pattern. It wasn't what most of the old team used to call the 'real tea'- the stuff that everyone used to drink. It was herbal tea- nobody in CID would've been caught dead drinking it, except for one person; the one person Gene didn't want to be reminded of, but of whom he couldn't and wouldn't let go. It was what everyone called 'Drake's tea', because that's what it was; nobody else touched it, which was why it felt so precious to him.

Holding the box protectively to his chest, shielded by his arm, Gene stumbled back to his office, collapsing into his chair. He sat there for several minutes, running his hands over it and breathing in the rich scent which reminded him so much of Alex. How many times had he noticed that scent lingering on her breath when their faces were only inches away from eachother during some row or other? It was so familiar, but it felt wrong, incomplete. There was something essential missing, something Gene knew he couldn't live without; but at least now he had a bit of her, however small, and he'd never let it go.

He must've been there for hours, just savouring the memories and imagining that the reason he could smell the tea had nothing to do with the teabags, and everything to do with the fact that Alex was there beside him- despite the fact that he knew she wasn't, and never would be. Eventually, he drifted into unconsiousness, blurred images and memories drifting through his mind as he cradled all he had left of his beloved Bolly.