A/N: Well, aren't you the lucky ones! I have decided, after several hours of thought, to do two epilogues for this story. That's right. Two. You are truly blessed.
This one takes place partially in 1981 and partially in 1987, the latter with a sixteen-year-old Gene and a fourteen-year-old Alex. (I'm good at teenage Gene- I have a 132-page (and growing!) story with him as a teenager, and even I have to admit it's rather good. But no way am I posting it!) So, sit back, relax and enjoy the ride.
PS: Is anyone else getting tickets for This House to see Philip Glenister? I decided I'd quite like to see the show, and then bombshell! So it's my birthday treat :D
He'd phoned to say he was on the ten-forty train from Manchester, his voice much deeper and older than she remembered. Of course, the last time Alex had seen him he'd been about thirteen, collecting her off the train in the North and whisking her away to his house to spend the weekend; Eileen Hunt had been nothing but hospitable, especially as her husband was away at the time, but that was three years ago now and Alex couldn't deny the nerves in her stomach as the clock drew ever closer to ten-forty.
A faint rumble began about thirty seconds before the time of arrival, a glimmer of sleek train somewhere in the distance; someone made an announcement about the arrival, and Alex leapt up, hurriedly checking her hair only for the train's arrival and the subsequent gale to throw it everywhere once again. Evan would be tutting now, she knew, but she was putting him to the back of her mind, looking forward to a day without Evan, just her and the surly Mancunian boy she felt as though she'd known all her life.
He made it his priority to come down to London as soon as he heard the news, turning up on Evan's doorstep only to be bowled over by a sobbing Alex, her cheeks red and swollen, the rosebud lips so used to smiling chapped and bloodied with her constant crying and gnawing. Evan had been at something of a loss, trying to deal with his own emotions and help his goddaughter at the same time, and Gene's arrival was a blessing all round.
"Alex- Bolly, I'm so sorry," he whispered as she clung to him on the front step, rubbing her arms gently, all but picking her up and carrying her back into the house and up the stairs to the bathroom, nodding at Evan on his way up. Evan, sensing a master in the offing, retreated to the lounge to pour himself a large scotch.
"Shh now, shh now," Gene murmured, carefully depositing Alex on the edge of the bathtub whilst he foraged for a flannel, running it under the cold tap and lifting her head to gently clean her face, his other hand rubbing her back as she gasped and wailed, clinging to him like a drowning woman. "It's OK now, it's OK. I'm 'ere."
"It'll never be OK again," Alex shrieked, burying her face in his shirt; Gene instead pressed the flannel to her forehead, letting it cool her burning flesh as she screamed into his clothing, panting and whooping in air, the tears soaking the fabric within seconds.
"I know, I know. I know. Shh."
"You don't know, you've still got both your parents," Alex sobbed, glancing up at him through soaking eyelashes; Gene fought back the urge to remind her about his bastard of a father, instead tracing gentle patterns over her back until she managed to calm a little, only the occasional tear running down her cheek.
"Tell me some swear words. Some really good ones."
Well, that was unexpected. Gene raised his eyebrows, depositing the flannel in the tub with a frown.
"Why?"
"Because I'm really, really angry, but I don't know how to express it. Please, Gene."
The raw desperation in her voice made his chest ache. Gene sighed under his breath, perching on the bathtub beside her, his arm round her trembling shoulders.
"Um… fuck, bugger, shit, wanker, piss, crap, bloody, arse… that enough?"
He kept his voice as low as he could, worried about Evan hearing them; Alex sniffed, lifting her head a little.
"What do they mean?"
"Yer don't need ter know, Bolly. Just… they're rude words, OK? Really rude. Don't ever say 'em in front of Evan, 'cos 'e'll figure out it was me an' stop yer talkin' with me."
"OK. Fuck, shit, wanker, arse… what were the… Gene, why are you laughing?"
For a boy brought up on a diet of Mancunian obscenities, hearing Alex's cut-glass voice murmuring the rudest words he could think of was hilarious; Gene hurriedly clapped his hand over his mouth, wincing as his shoulder twinged with pain, an occasional reminder of the shooting now two long years ago.
"Does your shoulder hurt?" Alex abandoned her swearing for a second, her fingers resting lightly on his arm; Gene shrugged, pulling at his shirt to reveal the scars over his bicep, one long and straight, one small and circular. Alex winced.
"Not so much now. 'Urt fer ages when it first 'appened, but it's just sore sometimes now. Mam says it probably won't ever fully 'eal, but that's alright, better than you being shot."
"I wish I had been now," Alex said miserably, staring at the floor. Gene stiffened beside her, hurriedly pulling the arm of his shirt down, pulling her closer towards him for her to bury her head in his chest once again.
"Don't ever say that, Alex. Yer parents wouldn't 'ave wanted that, would they?"
"But then we'd be all together, wouldn't we? If I'd died as well. I'd still have my mummy and daddy… we'd all still be together…"
"An' you'd be dead an' that would be it," Gene said firmly, sliding off the edge of the bathtub to crouch in front of her. "You wouldn't 'ave yer life ter live, yer future ter see, would yer? I thought yer wanted ter go ter university an' stuff?"
"I do," Alex sniffed, wiping her eyes hard, blinking the tears away to see the sincerity in Gene's blue irises. "I do."
"An' yer will, yer smart. Really smart. Someone'll be proud of yer one day, an' I might be one of 'em, but only if yer stop this nonsense. OK?"
That little speech, said with such conviction it almost trembled, infused her with a burning confidence in herself, one that would remain with her throughout the rest of her life.
The first thing she noticed was that he was much taller, a good five foot nine, skinny and broad-shouldered. His blond hair nearly blinded him as he stepped from the train, one roughened hand sweeping it back onto his head as two bright blue eyes scanned the platform for her, the other holding a battered suitcase covered in masking tape.
Alex flew down the platform towards him, just giving him time to drop his suitcase before she was in his arms, hugging him so hard round the midriff he had to catch his breath.
"Ow… ow, Alex!"
"I'm sorry," Alex gasped, swiping furiously at the single tear that now trailed down her cheek. "I just really needed a hug."
"Yer can tell me about it over a cuppa. There must be a decent café somewhere in the South."
"Cheeky bastard!"
Alex hit him on the chest, her attempt at a glare failing when Gene tipped her a wink, picking his suitcase up again and foraging in his pocket for a small something.
"Oh, erm, I got yer a little present… Uncle Graham gave me some money fer my birthday an'… I'll give it ter yer when we're sittin' down."
"Oh, Gene, you shouldn't have! It's a good thing I got you something too, then," Alex gasped, snatching her handbag up from her side and glaring at a young man skulking by. "Come on, the train fumes are suffocating me."
Gene snorted. "They use 'em as air fresheners in Manchester. If yer insist, Lady Bolls."
"Are you ever going to stop calling me after a brand of champagne?"
"Not if I 'ave anythin' ter do with it. Come on then."
Alex half expected Gene to be like the young child she'd first met when they stepped out onto the London streets, craning round to see everything he could as she led him towards her favourite café, but she was surprised; Gene barely looked at anything other than where he was going, his head slightly bowed, eyes darting round suspiciously, flinching away from anyone who walked too close to them. He had a new coat, she noticed, a thick black affair that hung almost to his knees, giving him an almost sinister quality as he stalked along the busy London streets, glaring round at any unfortunate creature who happened to be in his way.
"Here," she told him, taking his arm to pull him towards the small café she and Evan frequented, smiling at the waitress as she tugged Gene through the door and towards a table. Gene looked round, shrugging beneath the thick coat and dropping his suitcase on the floor beneath the table as the waitress bustled over, displaying a nicotine-stained smile to the two teenagers.
"Alex, sweetie, how nice to see you again! Tell Evan I said hi," she croaked, wielding her pen and pad as she swooped to see who the interloper was. "And this would be…"
"Gene Hunt. Fresh off the train from Manchester." Gene proferred his hand, the corner of his lip quirking up as the waitress eagerly took it, her fingers lingering on his for a second longer than strictly necessary. Alex cleared her throat, glaring daggers at Gene under her fringe as she handed him the menu.
"I'll be having tea, please. Black, no sugar. Gene?"
"Tea, milk, two sugars, ta." Gene didn't even bother looking at the menu, tucking it back into the table stand and foraging in the pocket of his coat. "Don't mind if I 'ave a fag, do yer, love?"
The waitress shook her head, but the splutter that came from the other side of the table was enough to assure Gene that his company was less than impressed.
"You smoke, Gene? Why don't you just shoot yourself in the lungs whilst you're at it? You'd kill yourself a lot quicker if you did that!"
The waitress glared, flouncing away in a flurry of black skirt; Gene rolled his eyes, pulling a cigarette and lighter out from the inside pocket of his coat.
"Relax, Bolly. It's just a ruddy cigarette."
"Filled with poison, Gene. Don't you know what's in those things? Nicotine kills your lungs, tar causes cancer, not to mention the clogged arteries, the stinking breath, the-"
"Fine, fine," Gene interrupted hastily, stowing his things away again. "I won't smoke in front of yer, then. It can't be that bad, Bolls, everyone smokes."
"Yes, and everyone dies too. Please, Gene."
Gene was saved from having to reply by the arrival of the waitress and his tea, hurriedly swirling it round with the teaspoon to occupy his hands; Alex cupped hers in her fingers, watching Gene as she blew some of the steam away from her mug.
Something had changed about Gene, something was very different to the thirteen-year-old she'd last seen waving her off the train in Manchester. More change than his age and his disgusting new habit could account for. There was something almost world-weary to him, and yet something determined, in the way he glared from under his long fringe and tapped the Formica table with the very tips of his fingers; he seemed comfortable and yet distracted at the same time, his eyes glancing round the café and coming back to land on hers, hunched over his mug of tea.
"You alright? Yer not daydreamin' again?"
"No. Are you… has something happened?"
"Should've known a psychiatrist would think there was somethin' wrong," he smirked at her, pointing his teaspoon at her head. Alex rolled her eyes.
"Psychologist."
"Yeah, yeah. 'Scuse me."
He slid off his stool with an almost leonine movement, leaning back as he slid his coat from his broad shoulders, revealing a slightly tight shirt and dark jeans to the world; Alex couldn't help letting her eyes rove over his body, lingering on the waistband of his jeans, just low enough to hint at the delights beneath. Alex! This is Gene. He wouldn't think of you like that.
Would he?
Gene slung the coat over the back of his stool, plumping back down with a loud sigh; Alex took a demure sip of tea, glancing up at him through her eyelashes, unable to keep the smile off her face when he snorted with laughter.
"It's OK, Bolly. I know yer posh. Yer don't need ter tell me."
"And you, Master Hunt, have gone off subject." Alex waved her own teaspoon at him, her eyebrows raised as Gene immediately looked down, studying his mug intently. "Come on, Gene. I've known you for eight years now. I know when there's something wrong."
His eyes flicked up at her, briefly studying her features before focusing on her eyes, swerving away at the sight of the determination in them. Alex reached across the table to him, but he flinched away, bowing his head even further to stare wordlessly at his lap.
"Gene, you're scaring me now. Has your dad said you're not allowed to see me? Or your mum?"
"Dad 'asn't said anythin'. Yer know Mam loves yer."
Gene kept his eyes lowered, but one hand snuck back onto the table, letting her place hers over it and worm her thumb underneath to stroke his palm.
"Dad came 'ome from the pub sayin' 'e felt ill… decided it was Mam's fault, an' mine, 'cos one of us must 'ave poisoned 'is dinner. Started beatin' us." One hand drew his sleeve back to show a bandage round his forearm, bruising showing round the edges; Alex winced, but Gene, his eyes still fixed on his thighs, didn't notice.
"'E was just about ter start on Mam when somethin' 'appened. Grabbed 'is chest, fell ter the floor, screamed fer us ter 'elp 'im… an' then 'e just went still. 'E'd 'ad an 'eart attack. We called an ambulance, but by the time they got there 'e was long dead. They took me instead, 'e'd broken my arm. Lovely little parting gift."
He sniffed, his hand clenching into a fist on the table underneath Alex's fingers, reluctantly glancing up and straight back down again as he saw the sympathy written all over Alex's face.
"Oh, Gene…"
Words won't cut this one, she thought with remarkable wisdom for a fourteen-year-old. Instead, she rounded the table and enveloped him in a hug, ignoring the curious stares of the other patrons and the glares of the waitress, squeezing him until he gave in and patted her gently on the back, pressing his chin to her shoulder for a second before gently pushing her away.
"Alright, Bolly. Yer a bit young fer me yet."
She laughed, shaking her head at him as she reclaimed her seat and drained her mug of tea, new-found tact telling her it was best to move the subject back to their usual banter for now. Catching that they were done, the waitress trotted over, dropping the bill in front of Gene; Alex instantly ferreted in her bag for her purse, Evan having given her five pounds to spend, but Gene forestalled her, pulling some coins out and counting them out into the waitress' hand.
"That cover it?"
"Certainly. Thank you, Mr Hunt."
"Geeeene!" Alex wailed as soon as she'd moved away, smacking his shoulder lightly as he slid off his stool and collected his coat. Gene raised his eyebrows at her, a tiny grin on his lips.
"Now now, Bolly. If I let a bird pay fer me drinks, I'd never 'ear the end of it from Mam. Saving my own arse 'ere, yer know."
"Yes, because I bet it's been in popular demand," she teased, slinging her own coat on as Gene moved towards the door, nodding one last goodbye to the waitress as he stepped outside and held the door open for her. As they fell into line beside each other, heading down the street towards the bus stop, Alex was surprised to see the hints of a blush on Gene's cheeks, colouring his pale skin nicely.
"Well, erm, not without company, let's say that much, Bolly."
"What, you've- done it?"
Gene smirked, perching on a seat at the bus stop and sliding his suitcase underneath it, patting the bench beside him for Alex to sit down on.
"Loads of times. All the girls want a piece o' the Gene Genie."
Alex took her seat, keeping her face turned carefully away from Gene as she slid down beside him, her fingers clenched tightly on her little handbag. The idea of Gene being with another girl, especially being intimate with her, was more uncomfortable than she would ever care to admit; she wanted to brand him as hers somehow, ward the faceless Mancunian girls away from her Gene, but how she would do that she had no idea and so she resigned herself to twisting her handbag strap in both hands, imagining it to be the mystery girlfriend's neck as Gene hummed under his breath behind her, completely relaxed, long legs stretched out lazily in front of him as the afternoon sun lit his thick blond mane up like a halo.
Did she kiss him? Did she run her hands over that broad chest, down the smooth stomach to- to that area… and what about him? Did he kiss back, one hand on her chest as the other played with her body, a musician with his highly-tuned instrument, silver tongue doing unspeakable things to her as she writhed in pleasure, an intruder into Alex's fantasies she wanted nothing more than to strangle…
"How many, Gene?"
The words came out much sharper than she'd intended, almost accusatory. Gene nearly fell off his chair in shock.
"Don't tell me yer a Christian. I get enough o' that from Mam, tellin' me promiscuity is a sin an' I'll burn in 'ell fer it."
"No, I'm not a Christian… though Evan is. I just… do you know what you're doing with them? They're not using you, are they?"
"Using me? Christ, Bolls, the poor cows prostrate themselves at my feet. 'S just a bit o' fun… 'sides, I know most of 'em. I check 'ow old they are, a day under sixteen an' no thanks. Why, you jealous?"
Of course I am. I want you to myself, always have done and always will do, Alex wanted to scream. Instead she said, "Evan warned me about stuff like STDs, that's all. Told me I shouldn't do it until I was eighteen, and then use protection until I was married."
"Yeah, well, Evan isn't a saint, is 'e? Yer told me about the ladyfriends."
"They were just work colleagues, coming to see how he was because he had to stay at home with me…" Alex's voice trailed off unconvincingly; Gene snorted, shaking his head, an errant lock of blond hair swaying into his eyes.
"Yeah right. You know as well as I do that they were shaggin' 'im. Look, Bolly, adults always lie, they promise yer the world an' then they deliver the square root o' Jack Shit. It doesn't make 'im a bad person, 'avin' a few birds around, does it? Just doesn't make 'im perfect either."
"You can trust some adults. Like… like your mum."
"Mam always lies ter me an' Stu, pretendin' everything's OK when it isn't. She didn't tell me they operated on my arm fer a day after Dad broke it. Said she didn't want me ter react badly ter it so soon after Dad's death, but it was really so I wouldn't make a fuss about them sendin' me 'ome so early. I was earnin' the money by that point, Dad got fired fer drunkenness so I 'ad ter run errands an' stuff, she wanted me back doin' that as soon as."
He hurriedly stood up as the bus conveniently arrived, picking something off his shirt silently; Alex watched him wordlessly, a single tear blurring her eye at the insight into Gene's chaotic, painful world. Do you realise, Gene, how cruel life has been to you?
As they got onto the bus, Alex slid her hand into Gene's and squeezed hard, hiding it in the folds of his coat as she pulled him over to a seat, keeping it there for the entire journey.
"It's not so bad. Not 'avin' a dad. I mean, you'd know all about it, but… it's better than I thought it would be."
"I suppose it was easier for me than it would be for most children, because I had Evan and we didn't want for money. I'm not saying you're poor, just…"
"We're poor. I know that. Yer don't need ter sugar-coat it, Bolls, we can barely make ends meet even with one less mouth ter feed an' up until I was ten Mam 'ad me stealin' from the corner shop ter get somethin' ter eat every Saturday."
They were sat in Alex's bedroom, only one dim bedside lamp illuminating the room, Evan's snores echoing from the room down the hallway, cross-legged and toe to toe on the floor. Gene was stretched back lazily, slightly swamped in large navy blue pyjamas Alex suspected might have been cast-offs from someone else; she had opted for her slightly shorter nightgown and prettiest baby pink knickers, the hem of the nightgown just short enough to give him the occasional glimpse of knicker when she moved around. They'd been talking for hours now, sat mirroring each other on the plush carpet with crisps, cocktail sausages and a bottle of Coke within easy reach.
"You're not that poor, Gene, or you wouldn't be able to afford your house. Maybe you should suggest moving somewhere smaller to your mum?"
"Bolly, our 'ouse is only just big enough fer the three of us as it is. Anywhere smaller an' we'd be sleepin' on top of each other. Be impossible fer me ter sneak the ladies back."
Alex's face darkened, the unfortunate cocktail sausage held between her fingers splitting under the sudden pressure; Gene's eyebrows drew together, one finger tapping the carpet as he filed her reaction away with the one from earlier, a detective in training already.
"Look, Bolly, I don't shag that many girls. Just enough ter 'ave some fun, yeah? It's nothin' serious. It's not like I introduce them ter my mam or anythin'. Yer know the phrase wham bam, thank you ma'am? It's like that."
"I know a phrase for that too. Easy. You or them."
Gene flinched.
"Easy? It's not everyone I let see the crown jewels. Yer think I'm some kind of tart?"
"Yes, if you're sleeping with every girl who asks."
"Well, I don't." Gene's petulant voice transported him back to his eight-year-old self for a split second; Alex almost forgot she was annoyed with him, but at the sight of his pout, no less adorable for the aging, the irritation returned in force. She didn't want him sleeping with the girls in Manchester- if she was being utterly honest with herself, as she had decided to be, she wanted him to sleep with her, but not only would she be breaking the law, Gene would flat-out refuse, and probably cut off contact with her into the bargain. She wasn't going to ruin their precious friendship for the sake of a punt at losing her virginity.
"Bet you do," she teased, flicking a crisp at him, hurriedly returning the tone of the conversation to banter; Gene rolled his eyes, picking the crisp up from his thigh and tossing it into his mouth.
"You do, do yer?"
"Yeah. I want five names."
"Christine Baker, Karen Rogers, Lisa Mackenzie, Theresa Lyons, Kathy Gregory… alright? An' fer the record, everyone's slept with Kathy Gregory. They reckon she's one o' them nymph thingys."
"Nymphomaniac. You sure you're not one, Gene? The list sounds pretty impressive…"
She ducked hurriedly as Gene threw a pillow at her, shrieking and clamping her hand over her mouth as he lunged at her and started tickling her feet.
"You'll pay fer that!"
"Gene- Gene, you know I'm- GENE! AH!"
She is eight years old once again, walking after her parents, the red plastic ribbon in her hand warm and sharp against her skin. The balloon bobbing alongside her seems to shine in the strong sunlight, stood proudly by her side as her mother holds onto her hand and her father unlocks the car in front of them, a blue Ford Alex is sure she's seen somewhere before but can't quite place. Maybe Uncle Angus?
She accidentally reaches out with her balloon hand; the balloon slips through her fingers and floats away before she can grab at it again. She is ushered into the car regardless, her mother firmly telling her to leave it as the door closes and the car starts up, sputtering into life beneath her. Alex cranes round to watch it, the car rumbling beneath her, David Bowie crooning softly somewhere, a long, long way away.
And suddenly she's out of the car, swerving round to look at her family for the last time, her mother calling to her as she leans out of the window.
But it's not just them this time.
Gene sitting in the back seat, craning out towards her, his right arm bandaged and his eyes dull and morose. He opens his mouth to whisper, and the wind goes still for a long second as his mouth forms the words that have haunted her life since that dark, dark day in 1981.
"I'm happy, hope you're happy too…"
BANG.
The fireball-
The heat on her face-
The smell of burning flesh on the air.
And this time, nobody is coming towards her, no black knight upon a shining steed to carry her away to the checkerboard office where she is safe. She stands alone, her life burning along with three of the people she loves the most, the red balloon sailing away, as though it cannot bear to be near her, be touched by her black, cursed hands…
"NOOO!"
"NOOO!"
"Alex? Alex, it's OK, I've got yer- Alex? Wake up, Alex, it's just a dream!"
And suddenly there were arms wrapped round her, firm and strong beneath her body, and Gene was there, sixteen-year-old Gene, the shoulder of the pyjama top down by his arm, showing the pale scars from the shooting. His hands were rubbing her back, easing her out of the bed and into his with him, gently soothing her as the tears bit into her eyes and she let them fall, powerless to stop them.
"Gene… G-Gene…"
"I know."
She curled into him, only realising her nightgown had ridden up around her hips when her skin brushed the rough fabric of his pyjamas; she moved to pull it down, stammering an apology through her tears, but Gene got there first, his eyes remaining firmly on her face as his hands gently and chastely pulled her nightgown down over her thighs, keeping her in his lap all the while.
"Hey, it's OK. Drink this."
A cup of lukewarm water was held to her lips, tipped gently into them; she gulped it down, tears dribbling down her cheeks, a soft thumb swiping them away as they reached her chin.
"Gene?"
"Just a nightmare. Just a nightmare."
His voice was so low, so soothing, that for a second Alex could believe him, could rest her head against his chest and breathe in his musky smell, held for a second in a never-never world where her parents were downstairs chatting and Evan was only a phone call away, Gene an anchor for her battered heart as she cuddled into him unashamedly and let her tears soak into his shirt, the flow gently ceasing.
"OK now?" Gene whispered into her hair, squeezing her gently, the bandage on his arm brushing against her side. She nodded gently, lifting her head to look him in the eyes, the dim moonlight filtering through the curtains showing up the silver flecks in his irises.
She couldn't remember trusting anyone more.
"Alex?"
The door squeaked open, Alex leaping off Gene's lap instantly; Evan's sleep-roughened face peered round at her, eyes flicking between her and Gene, narrowing as they rested on the latter, the front of his shirt visibly damp.
"I had a nightmare, Evan… Gene was comforting me. I woke him up."
Evan blinked, stepping inside; Gene stood up too, crossing his arms self-consciously over his chest, the bandage horribly obvious beside the battered pyjamas. Alex moved over to stand next to him, silently allying herself with him, daring Evan to attack the two of them as she stood her friend's sole bodyguard.
Her godfather looked between them, smiled, and ducked out of the room with a quiet "goodnight".
Something firmly told him that Alex was in safe hands.
He was not to know, but Alex would be in those same safe hands for many years to come, the bond between them subtly changing and only strengthening for doing so as the shit in life attacked them together and they stood shoulder to shoulder to fight it, Gene and Bolly, unbreakable.
Stay tuned for Epilogue Two… Remember to review, Save the Fanfics continues its work encouraging readers to keep up the good work (or review, depending on whether you're nice people and review or not).