I don't own Ashes to Ashes
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The second Gene Hunt entered the room alone, criminals quaked in their boots; he knew it. And he knew why- he knew the glint he got in his eye when he'd caught the scent of some misdoing, knew the straight set of his mouth that ingrained itself on his features when something wasn't adding up, and he knew that when he met their eyes, his own blazed with fury and injustice.
He also knew that most of the men he'd got in this room were brash, brawling, hardened criminals, with a head full of sawdust and a throat lined with shit; they were liars and manipulators, but a thumping could do wonders to loosen their tongues, and once he choked the bullshit out of them, they usually caved.
Gene wasn't so sure that Benji Bragden would; he could beat the shit into the little bastard, but he looked the type to offer smart witticisms and intellectual quips that would anger Gene into a blaze of fury and, probably, result in another wasted, -though physically satisfying- beating.
Because Benji wouldn't cave just because Gene flashed the coppers badge and kicked him in the crown jewels; he was the sort of kid who'd probably been bullied at school, who'd most likely developed a second skin against physical brutality, who threw up walls of insults and quips to avoid anything the bully wanted... so Gene sat down, even though his fingers were clenching into fists and the urge to smack the kid around the face was nearly overwhelming, and he slid Rosa's half of the photo-strip across the table, right next to Benji's.
"Pretty bird, ain't she?" Gene said, musing, looking at Benji levelly. The younger man nodded, his jaw tight. "Or at least," Gene went on, "she was... Shame she got 'alf 'er skin 'acked off really, ennit?" Benji flinched, wincing in almost physical pain, eyes shutting tight, clenching to try and stop the swell of tears in their depths; he failed. A single tear escaped the shell of his eyelid, but Gene ignored it. "Not so pretty when she was bleeding everywhere though, was she? Not so pretty when you couldn' see her little baby-blues looking at you anymore..."
"Stop it," Benji said softly, eyes spilling over with tears, magnified by the lenses of his glasses before they ran down over the rough, red sores on his cheeks. "I don't want to know..."
"'cause she mighta been pretty before them bones started growin' every which way, righ'? Bloody stunnin'; but they ain't pretty are they, ey Benj?" Gene's voice had lowered to a hiss, cold and menacing. "Them great big lumps; ugly, rough... bloody terrifyin' too, right? Give you the heebie-jeebies, did they? Get too much? 'cause you might've told 'er she was beau'iful but you couldn' 'ave meant it when she was like that, could ya?"
"Stop it," Benji said softly. "She wasn't... she was perfect. I didn't care!"
"She'd 'ave thanked you if they weren' there though, wouldn' she? No more bullyin' at school, no more wakin' up and lookin' in the mirror to find another one someplace new? Chop 'em off an' she'll love you more, righ'? She gettin' bored of you was she? Two years of the spotted geek rubbed off? Need somethin' to 'old over 'er 'ead? Keep her with you? 'cause even a dyin' girls got standards, 'ey?" He could see Benji shaking and leant closer, voice full of threat and anger. "Only it didn' work like that, did it? 'ey Benj? Got carried away, didn't you? All them lumps... and that little knife wouldn't cut through 'em properly, would it? Not sharp enough... so you just 'acked an' 'acked an' acked until you couldn't see 'em anymore... and she died, didn' she, Benj? All that blood... couldn' 'ave survived it could she... she just lay there while you hacked away at her and-"
"SHUT UP!" Benji cried. "Please shut up! It wasn't me! I promise on my life it wasn't me! I couldn't! I wouldn't!"
Gene let a loose growl escape his throat as he leaned closer still, "bully for you Bragden, but I don' think your life's worth promisin' on! You're a murderin' scumbag and deserve to be locked up in a cell for the rest of your itchy, sorry, scrotty little life!"
"IT WASN'T ME!" Benji wept. "I couldn't do it! She wanted me to and I wouldn't! I told her- I told that lady Inspector- I told her, she wanted me to but I couldn't!" His tears were falling fast, and the fact that he was nearly twenty was washed away by his bereavement; sat there, face swamped in salted tears, eyes puffy, skinny back hunched, he looked no older than twelve. His arms were wrapped around himself and he rocked back and forth on his chair, sobbing uncontrollably. "I loved her. I did. I do... I wouldn't kill her!"
"I don't give a sorry dogs-arse if you loved her, any more than I give a damn what colour your Y-fronts were before you crapped yourself! All I care about is the fact that you were the last person to see Rosa McKellen alive, and she's now dead!" Gene had leapt to his feet, leaning over the desk to grasp Benji by the collar of his shirt, yanking him up from the chair and bringing his face down to Benji's; he could smell the boys breath on his face – it was horrific; beer, mixed with morning breath. Gene was suddenly struck with surprise at the state of the messy boy before him. Dropping Benji back into the seat, Gene remained standing, hands leaning on the desk as he spoke gruffly. "You better give me answers Bragden, or I will get you sent down for murder; understood?"
Benji nodded, and Gene sat down.
---
Alex sat at her desk, shaking with rage, hurt and frustration. She could see Ray, Chris and Shaz, huddled together, out of the corner of her eye, throwing curious glances at her as though expecting her to break down. Well, she told herself, she wouldn't. Gene Hunt could be as malicious a bastard as he wanted, but she would not, could not, allow him to get under skin. So if he wanted to bully innocents in this investigation, fine, but she wasn't just going to sit there. Standing up, she walked through CID towards Viv, leaning conspiratorially close over the desk, "can you let me know when the Guv's finished in the interview room?"
Viv frowned, but nodded. "Yes, Ma'am."
"Thanks Viv," she smiled, pulling away and throwing him a wink. "Drinks on me, ok?"
The grin lit up his face, "course Ma'am."
---
"When did you last see 'er?" Gene asked, arms crossed over his chest, jaw set.
Benji was still sobbing, but they were silent except for the occasional hitch of his breath; "Tuesday night."
"What'd you do"?
"Ordered an Indian... from the flat... she didn' like going out much... so I ordered it... got delivered... ate a bit..." He gulped and Gene raised an eyebrow.
"And?"
Benji closed his eyes, "we 'ad a cuddle... like... you know...?"
"We're both men, you trollop, if you shagged 'er you may as well say so."
He flinched away as Gene's harsh tone resonated through the room, but nodded slowly. "Yeah... we... we did... but then she was... she were saying... she started saying how much it hurt..."
"The shag?" Gene asked, rather abruptly. Benji shook his head. "Lumps?"
A beat, then Benji nodded again. "Yeah... they hurt her sometimes... 'cause it just... it just... it was just taking over her like... couldn't move 'er arms alot no more... started to spread like... doctors were saying she had about two years before it all started... started compressin' her heart and... well... killed her, I guess..."
"So?" He heard it as it left his throat and he cringed inwardly at his own lack of sensitivity, but the boy before him was still making him uneasy; there was some untapped depth to Benji Bragden, and he didn't know how to reach it, but it was necessary that he found out, and he knew it; so any sympathy and empathy would only cause him trouble.
Benji had his eyes closed, as though trying to block something out. "She talked about it alot... said they hurt... how she wanted them to go away so she never had to look at it again... told me she couldn't do it herself... so... so she said... she said I should... 'cause I'd do it if I loved her, she said... only I told her before I wouldn't... and she didn't... didn't like it. Said I was being selfish because I was worried what'd happen to me... but it wasn't that... and when I told her she... she yelled." His face was awash with pain as he whispered. "She said I didn't love her, and that she knew... knew people who'd help her... if she asked for it... I yelled at her and-"
"Lashed out?" Gene growled. "Threatened to do it? Tried to scare her into saying no?"
"NO!" Benji said; his red face was soaked with tears, his glasses wonky on his nose from his repeated nudges as he wiped at his eyes. "No! I yelled at her that she was the one being selfish... and I know I shouldn't have, I do! But I thought it'd blow over in a day! And when she walked out, I just figured she'd gone home and that she'd ring me in the morning when she calmed down... 'cause that's what we did. We'd fight, she'd leave, then she'd ring me and we'd be ok... Only... only she didn't ring. An' I didn't either... And I just thought she was angry... so I didn't say anything, didn't think to ask Amanda if she was home, and Amanda didn't ring me... so I thought it'd be ok..."
"So you yelled at her, arguing about chopping bits of her off, and she conveniently turns up the next morning half-'acked?" His voice was grim, but the accusation was evident.
"You don't really think I killed her," Benji said softly, looking away. It was a statement, not a question, and anger bubbled in his stomach.
"Wrong. I think that right now you're a prime suspect, and you're makin' up convenient stories that you think'll get you off and-"
"I didn't kill her," Benji said, meeting Gene's eyes. "If I wanted to kill her do you think I'd tell you I was bloody with her on Tuesday night? Do you think I'd stick around for you to come knocking on my door? Bloody hell, would I really have left the wallet and necklace there if I'd killed her?"
Gene's head snapped up. Benji's face was angry, but it was nothing compared to the dragon of fury rising in Gene's stomach.
"Nobody said anything about a bloody necklace you filthy little git!" And this time he didn't hold back; he stormed around the table, grabbed the scrawny boy by the neck and slammed him against the wall, thumping him repeatedly in the jaw, in the stomach, kicking him between the legs... the nose, recently broken, splintered beneath Gene's fist, blood gushing from Benji's nostrils as he sobbed and choked and spluttered.
"I didn'... I didn't do it... couldn'... wouldn't... wasn't me!" He was crying, the tears washing away some of the blood, but Gene was still slamming him repeatedly against the wall.
"You're gunna tell me 'ow the 'ell you knew about that necklace you little shit, or I'll give you a piece of your own medicine!" He grabbed Benji by the hair, yanking his head back so their eyes were on a level. "You've got ten minutes to think about telling me the truth, and when I get back you better do just that or I'll wring your scrawny, lying neck! Understand?"
---
It turned out that Alex didn't need Viv's help at all; when Gene stormed back into CID, Alex could see the blood on his fists and she leapt to her feet, chasing him into the office without asking his permission, ignoring his obvious chagrin as she slammed in behind him, eyes flaring wide as she prepared to yell.
She didn't try to hide her surprise when he turned to her and shouted her down, "did you tell him about that necklace?" It should have been a simple enough question, but the rage in his voice was enough for it to sound almost like a threat. Alex recoiled at his words, shock evident on her face, and Gene knew the answer before she voiced it.
"No... no! Why would I tell him? What did he say?"
Gene reached into his overcoat, drawing his hipflask out and gulping down a large amount before replying, "he said he wouldn' 'ave left the necklace and wallet there if 'e killed her." He took another large gulp, eyes closed tight as he spoke again. "Bloody bastard!"
"He... he knew?" Alex's voice was laced with disbelief; she couldn't believe that Benji Bragden was capable of murder... she just couldn't. "Maybe we let something slip? Maybe Ray mentioned it in the Quattro or-"
"Drake," Gene interrupted coldly. "'e knew what nobody but us would've known if they hadn't been there; 's far as I'm concerned, he's guilty as sin."
"But we... he... no..."
"He's guilty, Bolly," Gene growled. "Are you coming to get a confession, or you gunna sulk on your arse like a spoilt little rich girl?"
---
When she walked into the interview room and saw the state Gene had left Benji in, she battled with hundreds of emotions all at once; if he was innocent, he'd just received a beating that he in no way deserved, yet if he wasn't, if he really was responsible, then Alex wouldn't be able to stop the small dance at the victory of justice going on in her stomach- if Benji Bragden had killed Rosa McKellen, then even though it went against all the rules and ethics she had long ago set store by, Alex thought that Gene could and should beat the boy into the ground as much as he liked.
"Start talkin'," Gene growled, leaning cross-armed against the wall, a little way behind Alex, who stood uncomfortably in the centre of the room, staring at the bloodied nose, the bruising eyes and the rip on Benji's shirt from where Gene had dragged the young man from his seat.
"Nothing to say," Benji said, looking away. Gene leapt forwards, and Alex threw her arm out to stop him.
"Stop, Gene," Alex said softly. "Beating him won't make him tell us anything." Her hand squeezed his bicep gently, and Gene's stomach flipped slightly before he nodded. Alex risked a small smile in his direction, and then moved to sit down once more. She pressed record on the tape, looking at Benji with a depth of confusion, mixed with loathing and pity that she couldn't quite comprehend.
"Benji, how did you find out about the necklace?" Her voice might have been soft to the untrained ear, but Gene picked up the slightly steely tint and suppressed a smirk; once you pissed Alex Drake off, you were in for one hell of a ride.
"I didn't kill her." Benji hissed.
"So you keep sayin'. Only you seem to know about restricted evidence, so unless you're a Plod and we don't know about it, you're walkin' a very thin line." Gene's voice was level, uncharacteristically so given the interview situation.
"Just because I know about the necklace doesn't mean I killed her!" Benji argued, eyes blazing. "I swear to God I didn't kill her!"
Gene was bristling, but he didn't move as he growled, "Well what a tough pair of bollucks that is, 'cause I don't believe you! You best start talking Bragden, or I'll get you sent down for life! An' it's a rough twen'y odd years in a cell with a bending poofter!" The hint of poison in Gene's voice sent cold shivers down Alex's spine, but it melted away when she heard him walking up to the table, felt him leaning half on the spare chair, and half on hers, his fingers brushing her spine... Her stomach unclenched and she breathed a deep sigh of relief.
"Just tell us how you knew the necklace was there," she implored, ever the voice of reason. Gene trailed another finger briefly up her back in encouragement as he drew his hand away, pulling his chair out and sitting himself tentatively down.
Benji looked scared; his eyes were wide, his mouth was slightly open, his glassed were crooked and broken, and the tears at the end of his eyelashes were magnified by his half-broken lenses. "I saw it... not the killin'... just the stuff like... I dunno what 'appened! I swear! She left mine and I followed her-"
"You said you stayed at home." Gene growled.
"Well I didn', alright?" Benji's voice was full of annoyance, as though Gene were a frustrating fly he wanted to swat away, "I followed her, 'cause she wasn't meant to go out walking on her own in case she got hurt... so I followed, and she... she was meeting someone... some bloke or other; he was wearing a hood, I couldn't see him... she just threw all the stuff in the corner and I checked it later to see what it was... but then she saw me and told me to go, that she didn't need me no more and..." he cracked, his tears falling again though his voice remained strong. "She said he was her new me."
Gene snorted in amusement. "'ow convenient for you."
Alex, too, found it difficult to believe, but persevered, "this man... you said you couldn't see him... do you have any idea who he was?"
Benji shrugged, "Angel, maybe."
"Oh bloody 'ell we picked ourselves a friggin' choirboy!" Gene muttered.
"No," Benji said, "he might have been Angel; she talked about him. He was a friend... her friend... not mine... I never met him, but she said he understood, that he knew how she felt... and when she spoke about him she was happy so I never questioned it because that's all I wanted!"
"You know what, Bols," Gene said, "either we got ourselves a nutter, or he's talking out o' his arse."
"Interview suspended." Alex spoke up, loudly, hitting the stop button quickly without glancing at Gene. "I'll get Viv to take him to the cells." She left the room before Gene could protest.
---
"We were gunna crack 'im, Bols; why'd you stop?"
They were sat in Luigi's, tucked away in the corner or the room away from the rest of the team, Gene digging into a steak and chips pizza while Alex picked half-heartedly at her tagliatelle.
"Because I think it's time we went back to Amanda McKellen and asked her some questions, don't you?"
Gene snorted before taking a long slug of his beer. "In case you forgot Bollykecks, the last time we saw 'er, you made it plain as day you thought 'er daughter topped 'erself- she's 'ardly gonna welcome us with open arms, is she?"
Alex shrugged. "If she wants to help us find whoever killed her daughter then she won't mind too much, will she?"
With a sigh, Gene leant forwards, "look Bols, she just lost 'er only kid... 'ow about we let 'er be a few days, 'ey?"
"No," Alex said, "because if Benji wasn't lying-" Gene interjected with a loud guffaw before quieting under Alex's gaze, "-then maybe Rosa's mother will have heard about this 'Angel' too."
Gene was thoughtful, considering, "he's a different sorta criminal, ain't 'e?"
Alex shrugged, "if that's what he is."
Gene said nothing, stuffing a large piece of pizza in his mouth and chewing thoughtfully, until eventually he swallowed and said, "I still think 'e killed 'er," and his voice was full of certainty, didn't leave room for debate; Alex didn't point out that only the day before he was convinced that Joe Ellison was also a murderer... There was a slight pause before he added, "but alrigh'. We'll go first thing."
Alex smiled; it wasn't happy, but it was grateful, and Gene gulped, looking down at his plate as she whispered, "thank you."
Gene simply nodded, unable to form any coherent words. There was a silence before Alex added, almost too quietly for human ears, "and not just for this."
When he looked up to meet her eyes, he found that she was looking rather more intently at her food than was strictly necessary, eyes glinting in the light of the dimly lit room. His forehead creased into a frown as he answered her. "I didn' do anything, Bols," his voice was softer than she could ever remember it, softer even than last night when he had spoken to her in the midst of her despair.
She turned her eyes on him, glistening hazel fixated on sparkling blue, and Gene's stomach began to clench and unclench repeatedly. "You did, Gene... you did."
There was a moment where his eyes fell to her lips, where he looked intently at the glimmer of light on her lip-gloss, at the slight dimple around her mouth that he wanted to kiss, to further imprint on her face in a full-blown smile... and then he looked up to her eyes again and shook his head almost imperceptibly... "I shouldn' 'ave left like that, Bols..."
Alex shrugged, breaking the eye contact to twirl her fork in her bowl of pasta. "I'm sure you had your reasons, Gene... you usually do." The pain and hurt in her voice acted like a knife twisting in his stomach, and he flinched away from it, voice quiet in his reply.
"I don' wanna 'urt you, Bols..."
"I know, Gene," she whispered. "So don't." She met his eyes then, gaze boring into him as she added softly, "I'm not asking you to be anything more than you are... than you feel you can be... and if-"
Gene interrupted, his voice gentle. "What do you want me to be, Bolly? Honestly?"
Her mouth twitched up at the corner and she gently hooked her index finger around his; his heart pounded faster than ever, but he didn't react, simply meeting her eyes and asking the question once again with his eyes.
"I want you in my life, Gene Hunt... I need you in my life... for as long as I'm in this forsaken little world, I need your friendship... so even if it's all we ever amount to... promise me you're my friend?"
Gene looked at their interlinked fingers, her words sinking in... 'all we ever amount to', she said... what if that was it? What if they were friends and nothing else, and for the rest of his days he wished he'd told her, held her, kissed her...
But he saw the need in her eyes; the loss, the emotional upheaval and the amount of difficulty that question had posed for her, and so, despite the fact his heart screamed that they would not, could not ever be 'just-friends' in his mind, he nodded, his throat tight. "I am, Posh-knickers," he murmured.
There was a moment of silence, their fingers still hooked around each other, before Alex gently squeezed. "Thank you." The silence stretched on, breached only by their gentle breathing. Eventually, Alex spoke up, and, though her voice was timid and scared, as though afraid of rejection, there was a slight edge of playfulness; "can friends have pyjama parties?"
Gene looked up into her eyes, and he saw through that thin curtain of teasing, saw the fear, the ghosts of the previous night swooping down on her consciousness... and he knew what she was asking for, knew it was only friendship she sought from asking him to stay... but the need to be close to her was overwhelming, and he found the words rolling off his tongue almost subconsciously, "Yeah, Bols, they can."
----
Hope you enjoyed!
Mage of the Heart