Thank you for your kind reviews! Here's the next chapter, shorter than the others but there's a reason for that. There's also a mistake in the first chapter's author's note: the fic disregards series 3. All though having said that, I don't think I reference series 2 much either. Anyway, enjoy!
There was no grave, no urn on the mantelpiece, no park bench claiming that he had loved this place. Alex almost smiled at the thought. That's what should have happened. He should have grown old, sitting in the same spot day after day, watching the wind through the trees and sneering at the young people jogging past. And she should have sat next to him, growing old with him.
Alex went to an old garage in Fenchurch East, a street away from her flat. There was a small lock-up that she paid a crazy amount of money for every month but she didn't care. In the middle of this lock-up was a something huge. If she lay down next to it, it would be almost as long as her.
When there was no-one around, it was covered by a dirty grey sheet. Alex gripped the material and paused just for a moment. Then she lifted it up and threw it behind her.
It was as though he was there. It was as though Gene Hunt was standing in the room with her, as though he had never died. Alex always felt a strange mixture of emotions whenever she came here. Sadness, obviously, and love but also a surge of adrenaline. She knew it was a psychological association, that seductive shade of red always raised her pulse wherever she saw it. It reminded her of chasing criminals, roaring along quiet roads in hot pursuit of murderers or drug dealers or bank robbers. And it reminded her of him.
She ran her hand all the way along it, from the bonnet, along the roof to the boot. The Quattro. The beautiful, fast, loyal, fierce Quattro. So like her owner.
Finally Alex reached into her pocket and took out the keys to the car. She unlocked the passenger side and sat in that seat. She never sat in the other seat, she never drove it. She just sat in her seat, closed her eyes and remembered.
A noise from the door to the lock-up made her open her eyes. Slowly, she opened the door to the Quattro and got out, squinting through the dim light.
Someone was standing at the entrance. An unmistakable silhouette: at least six feet tall, fourteen stone, broad shoulders, broad chest, short hair combed back. Alex heard the silhouette speak and felt her breath catch in her throat in a way that it hadn't for five months.
"Bolly."