I don't own Ashes to Ashes

---

Shaz walked into the office next morning looking thoroughly bedraggled, as though she'd hardly slept, but with a small, determined smile on her lips that told Gene all he needed to know. Without a word, he stood up, opening the door and motioning for Alex to join them in the privacy of Gene's office. When she'd sashayed past him, in another pair of ridiculously tight jeans, and an off-the-shoulder top that seemed to live simply to tease him, displaying her black bra strap plainly for the world to see, he'd closed the door and looked at Shaz expectantly.

"I looked through the diaries, Guv," she started, then nodding to Alex, "and Ma'am... the first ones real sad, doesn't say much other than 'ow horrible them lumps was. Couple of arguments with that Benji, and how she wishes she didn't get the money off her Dad... but to be honest, Guv, it's just... depressing, really. Nothing about her religion or an angel or anything... she's just sad."

Gene nodded, as did Alex, both of them now resting their behinds on Gene's desk, him with arms crossed over his chest, her with her hands at either side, resting on the wooden ledge on either side of her hips. "What about the second one?" Alex asked, throat slightly tight as she wondered if she really wanted to know.

Shaz shrugged, flicking open the pink diary and pulling out a page of notes she had written efficiently, each bullet point matched with a post-it note which was attached to the appropriate page. Gene attempted not to show how impressed he was, but he couldn't help the appreciative eyebrow raise as she spoke. "Not alot to begin with... more of the same really; new lumps, new fights... nothing much until end of September... twenty-fifth..." She efficiently flipped to the appropriate page, holding it out to her superiors to show them.

Gene looked at Alex, whose immediate reaction was to move slightly backwards, away from the offending diary, and, with a shake of his head, Gene murmured, "you read it, Granger. Save us some time..."

Shaz looked taken aback, glancing from one to the other of them before nodding, flushing slightly red as she looked down at the page... she paused, glancing up at Gene and asking nervously, "with the date and everything?"

He nodded, hiding his amusement by pretending to stifle a yawn. "Yer, Granger. Come on, we ain't got all day."

And though his tone was full of playfulness, Shaz nodded nervously, as though being scrutinized, her eyes immediately falling back to the page as she began to speak, voice slightly quavering as she said, "Twenty-fifth of September... He is beautiful..." she paused, and then went on.

"He is perfect. He is warm. Like a summer sunset. He is wonderful... I..." she glanced at them nervously and, at Alex's encouraging nod, she went on. "I feel as though he can save me. As though God is watching over me, looking after me... He is my saviour; only he understands."

Shaz looked up to find Gene's mouth set in a thin line, Alex looking determinedly at the floor. "Then there's more like that until November... doesn't mention Benji, her Mam, her Dad, that Joe... just Him..."

Alex nodded. "Then what?"

Shaz looked at Gene, searching for his approval before flicking to the next marked page and speaking again. "November nineteenth... He shall give his angels charge over thee, to keep thee: And in their hands they shall bear thee up, lest any time though dash thy foot against a stone." She frowned, "I don't understand it, Ma'am, but it's not her words, so I thought it might be important?"

With a nod, Alex murmured, "Luke, Chapter four, verses ten and eleven."

Gene blinked, looking at her in shock. "Bleedin' 'eck, Bols, you a nun?"

Alex rolled her eyes. "No. We had to write an essay on it for religious studies when I was fifteen," with a smug grin, she added, "and I got an A."

With a sigh he muttered, "Why does that not surprise me?"

"Because I, Gene Hunt, am the epitome of perfection," with a quick grin in his direction, she looked back to Shaz. "Does she say anything else in that entry, Shaz?"

Shaz nodded, "only, 'he is my Angel', Ma'am."

Without a word, Gene plucked both diaries from Shaz's grip, jerking his thumb towards the door. "Right, we'll look at this balls later. Bols, we going?"

Alex blinked, then nodded back at him, looking apologetically at Shaz, who shrugged and made to leave. As her hand reached the door handle, Gene said, "and Granger?"

Turning to meet his blue eyes she asked, "Yes, Guv?"

"Good work."

With a clearing of his throat, he turned around and slipped the diaries in his overflowing in-tray. By the time he turned around, Shaz had already left the office, and he'd missed the small smile on her face that told Alex it was rare praise.

---

It was a half-hour drive to the counsellors' offices, even with Gene's reckless driving, and they spent it in the companionable silence they had grown easily accustomed to over the past few days. The night before, they'd shared it again, having both gotten pleasantly tipsy on her sofa, ending up watching the evening news through a hilariously drunken haze, giggling like teenagers at the presenters accent and finally stumbling and swaying towards the bedroom, collapsing on the bed in a laughing heap and falling asleep with Gene lying comfortably over her, arm tucked around her waist with his face buried in her hair. He'd woken up and excused himself to the bathroom before she stirred, relieving himself of the inevitable 'morning glory' before slipping into the living room and picking up the throw from the sofa, then settling back into the bed and tucking the warm blanket around them both in order to stop the chill of the air as it caused goose bumps to spread over his arms. When he woke up later, she'd been slipping out of bed, and he'd watched her go with a deep sensation of loss building in his stomach.

Now, sitting across from her, watching from the corner of his eye as she rolled the window down, he came to find himself, not for the first time, inwardly debating the complex array of emotions that bubbled away in the acidic pit of his stomach every time she walked into the room. He wanted her, of that he was certain; he knew it every time she shook that stupidly attractive arse around the office, every time she looked at him with those deep hazel eyes, every time she licked her lips and got his brain into overdrive at the thought of what they could do to him... oh, he wanted them red ruby lips, he wanted her arse, wanted her eyes, wanted her... But 'want' was the last thing on his mind as she stretched out, holding her hand out of the window and allowing the cool breeze to pass through her fingertips.

The fact was, whilst he'd denied to her and, momentarily, to himself, that he wanted anything more than friendship, waking up with her for the last three mornings had seemed to fill a gaping hole in the life he had led for five very long years, and he could see himself filling that gap with her tender body held to his for the rest of eternity. He hadn't woken up with a woman in his arms for so long that it felt alien, in some ways, when her arms enveloped him, or when her head rested gently on his shoulder, on his chest... In the last three years of his marriage, he'd slept most nights on the sofa and, when he occasionally stumbled into the bedroom, it was to lay a good metre from his unwilling wife, facing the wall away from her and falling asleep to dreams of other women, other beds...

With Alex, it felt different; even without sex, without that physicality he had always been reliant on, there was no need to dream of anyone else, and although several times he had convinced himself that it was a result of not having slaked his lust for her, he didn't think he could ever look at another woman in the same way again. He'd been in lust before; he knew what it was like for a woman to possess his mind and body constantly, but this was different; the raw, passionate, carnal desires all existed, but they burnt at the heart of a fire that was built up of so much more, of things that were practically incomprehensible, but that made his relationship with Alex seem more important than anything else, placing her on a pedestal he could never hope to clamber up to, but sincerely longed for all the same.

He wasn't one for fairytales, but it felt as though she were bloody Rapunzel, locked in a tower, and he was Prince Charming... well, maybe not Prince Charming, but Prince of Witticisms and Flirtation at the very least.

It was like he could never reach her -as though she were trapped away in her own little tower, and, unless she threw down her hair and helped him up - which was about as likely as him leaping onto a dragons back and proclaiming he had never drank alcohol, never smoked, and never engaged in sexual activity, and so, in retrospect, not likely, at all- he would be stranded at the base of her tower; a sad imitation of a man, a man now so lost in love that he was rendered useless, staying at the base of a steep, solid brick wall that he would never be able to overcome, just for the sight of that beautiful face as it peered out of the window...

"It's like Shrek," Alex murmured, and Gene snapped out of his reverie to see her staring dreamily out of the window.

"'ey?" He asked, making no effort to hide his confusion, "who or what the bloody 'ell is Shrek?" she blinked and looked towards him as though shocked to find him there.

"Sorry?" She said, blinking repeatedly and shaking her head. "Did you say something?"

"What the bloody 'ell is Shrek?"

Alex stared, then flushed bright red, turning her face towards the window and cringing. "Did I say that out loud?"

"Yeah, now what the bloody-?"

"It's a... fairytale, Gene... about an ogre."

For a moment Gene frowned, half hopeful to begin with that the fairytale she was thinking about involved him being the main character... when she said ogre, he strongly hoped otherwise. He glanced over at her, seeing the pink tinge to her ears, and felt inexplicable intrigue. Quirking his lip upwards at the corner, trying to sound casual without showing he was actually interested, he asked, "so what 'appen's then?"

Alex flushed, keeping her face turned towards the window as though to hide her features, but out of the corner of his eye Gene could see the slight dimple in her cheeks and the flash of teeth as she smiled. "Shrek's not a very nice ogre to begin with," Alex started, voice almost teasing, as though she were talking to Molly... but even a twelve year old would have told her to stop that voice, which was a fact not lost on Gene. "He's violent and brash, and he doesn't like the fairytale creatures that show up in his swamp, so he goes to see the nasty Lord Farquod, who tells him to go and save the Princess from the fiery keep of the dragon! And so he does, and he takes Donkey with him and-" She emphasised certain words, adding an extra twang of patronisation that made his fingers grip the wheels slightly tighter to stop from snapping at her – because he was, actually, quite interested.

"What? An ogre and a donkey?" Gene frowned. "You're a bloody daft tart!"

"Let me finish, Gene," she said overly calmly, that patronisation still edging through and causing him to shudder in annoyance, "it's a fairytale – anything can happen! As I was saying- he takes Donkey with him, and they save her, and they escape, and she, naturally expects him to kiss her, to sweep her away and marry her... only he doesn't, and so he takes her back to Farquod, and she decides it's for the best that they remain apart as he obviously doesn't want her. But Shrek doesn't know that actually, she's an ogre too, and she's just waiting for him to kiss her so that they can be together, because only loves first kiss will stop the evil witches enchantment and-"

It was at this time that Gene snorted in laughter, jabbing at the radio and rolling his eyes. "Never 'eard of it, Bols. Come on, we're 'ere now. An' don't be telling no nancy bollucks fairy stories, you daft cow."

----

She followed him up the stairs towards the counsellors' office, noting with startling annoyance the way the secretary gave Gene a quick and assessing once over and allowed her gaze to follow him as the two officers seated themselves on the comfortable leather sofa in the reception area. With a stark, shocking wave of jealousy, Alex sat herself down beside Gene, who had seated himself heavily down without care, and slid slightly closer to him than could be considered strictly professional, crossing one leg over the other so that her toe gently brushed his calf, and their knees knocked together briefly. Gene didn't react, except to cast her a quick, questioning sideways glance. Suddenly embarrassed, Alex did her best to look nervous and fearful, but she could tell he wasn't fooled when he began to waggle his eyebrows suggestively and quirk his eyes in the direction of the receptionist. Flushing red, she turned her face away, glancing around for something to distract herself; unfortunately, the reception was not filled with magazines or newspapers, and so she settled for staring out of the large floor-to-ceiling window, into the slightly more modern architecture of eighties London.

Gene grinned, slipping his arm along the back of the sofa and leaning forward to whisper in her ear, breath hot on her skin as he murmured, "don' worry... I don' do blondes, Bolly." His fingers brushed her opposite shoulder as he pulled his hand away, both of their heads jerking around as the polished oak door to their left creaked open, swinging back on its hinges as a tall, bespectacled man stepped out, body swathed in a designer suit that flattered his overly slim physique to give the illusion of muscularity.

"Ah, DCI Hunt, I assume? And DI Drake?" He extended a hand to both of them in turn as they stood up, Alex noting how Gene's fingers began to clench and unclench, the bones cracking slightly as his discomfort and unfamiliarity with the type of witness and with the situation itself set in. "I'm Professor Buss."

Alex gasped. "David Buss?" She exclaimed, voice rising a pitch in excited recognition.

Professor Buss nodded, forehead creased in bewilderment as he murmured, "yes, my dear, now if we could just step inside and-"

"I read your paper on Sexual Selection!" Alex squeaked, eyes bright with excitement that Gene might have been amused at, had he not been busy choking on the mouthful of whiskey he had just thrown down his throat at the mention of 'sexual selection'. "It was so insightful- admittedly I find it hard to believe that men can really make such a crass, uninformed observation but it was so wonderfully presented that I-"

"My dear girl," Professor Buss said, rubbing his nose lightly, "I'm afraid you must be mistaking me for someone else; I have never looked into that particular field of study at all, now if you please step inside my office, we'll discuss the real reason for your visit!" With a withering look, he indicated that Gene and Alex enter ahead of him. Blushing, head down as she realized the enormity of her mistake- the research wasn't released until ninety-five- Alex headed in ahead of the two men. As Professor Buss closed the door, Gene sidled up behind her and whispered in her ear.

"Sexual selection, 'ey Bols?" With a grin he murmured, "wanna share wit' the class?"

Alex smirked, "maybe later."

Gene slid around so that he was beside her, turning his gaze on hers as he whispered, "'ope so, Bols." Eyes glittering he repeated, "I 'ope so."

---

Alex wasn't surprised with what Professor Buss had had to say; yes, Rosa had been anorexic and depressed. Yes, her condition did make her upset- wasn't that normal for a girl in her situation? And no, he hadn't heard anything about any Angels or other religious beings.

"One last question then," Alex said, glancing at the few notes she had scribbled down on her pad. "What was the situation of Rosa's discharge? Was her period of counselling up? Had she run out of money? Had she-"

"My dear lady," Buss sighed, "do you think I made the poor girl pay for everything on top of whatever else she had to deal with? My consultations were free, and the discharge took place in favourable circumstances."

"Which were what, exactly?" Alex implored, tapping her pen thoughtfully on her hand as she scanned her notes yet again.

"She was better, Miss Drake," he said with a shrug. "I can't put it any other way; one week she came in and she had the greatest smile I had ever seen on her face, and two months later she hadn't mentioned killing herself once. She was better, and she asked for discharge; I had no reason to keep her there."

Both Alex and Gene frowned. "Better?" Gene grunted in disbelief. "You're tellin' me the girl 'oo walked in an' told you 'ow she wan'ed to top 'erself for two years toddleed in one day, said she was 'appy and you believed her? I ain't no bloody psychiatrist or nout, but isn' that pretty certainly a load of old dogs bollucks?"

Professor Buss sighed, "DCI Hunt, I do not question how you carry out your job, please, do not question mine."

"When was this discharge, Professor?" Alex asked, interjecting between the two as she could see Gene about to retort.

Turning to her, Buss pulled a file forward and checked something. "November eighteenth."

---

"Posh noncy bollucks," Gene growled as they got back into the Quattro. "Bloody tosser."

Rolling her eyes, Alex looked down at her notes, "she convinced a top-of-the -field Psychologist that she was happy, Gene. It's not an easy task. He's trained to notice things like that; body language, smile falsity, everything..." she shook her head. "She was happy. She must have been. He released her because when she was there she didn't need therapy."

"So what went wrong then?" Gene asked, hands on the wheel. "If she's 'appy, why'd she wind up dead?"

"Maybe she was happy because she knew there was someone to help her... to do it for her..." Alex frowned, eyebrows knitting together... "But then why did she ask Benji for help once she'd met this Angel?"

Gene said nothing.

---

The journey passed in silence, both of them lost in their own private thoughts; when they got back to the station, Alex filed her notes, and set to work on a small scale robbery that had taken place in her absence- the Rosa McKellen case went unmentioned for the rest of the day.

---

At eleven, the rest of the team dwindled away, leaving Gene and Alex sat comfortably in the corner, quietly nursing the second bottle of red of the night. Ten minutes into their solitude, Gene cleared his throat, shifting uncomfortably in his chair and itching the back of his neck. Alex looked at him inquisitively, but did not question him, waiting, for him to say something. Eventually, as Alex poured them both another generous glass, Gene grunted, "so 'm I stayin'?"

Alex, grinning at his bluntness, shrugged. "If you like."

Frustrated, he lowered his voice to a soft growl, "I'll go 'ome if you don' need me 'ere Bols, I just though' I'd-"

"I don't need you here," Alex murmured, eyes fixated on the stillness of her wine as she paused a moment before whispering, "but I'd rather you stayed, anyway."

When she looked up, his eyes fixed hers with a penetrating gaze, and then, suddenly, he nodded, standing up and nodding towards the door that would lead them up to her flat, his hands shoved deep in his pockets. "C'mon then, Bols," he yawned, "I'm knackered as a dead donkey."

Alex laughed, standing up and collecting another bottle from Luigi, who looked at the two of them like a child who had just been allowed to open his Christmas presents a day early. Under Gene's withering glare, he fell back into the shadow, cleaning glasses, though Alex was sure she could see his white teeth glinting in his smile as she glanced back at him.

In the corridor, she bumped her hand subtly –or at least, she thought so- against his. Gene snorted, catching her fingers in his hold before speaking. "You wanna 'old my 'and Bols, you don' need to do all this nancy 'bumpin'-'ands' tosh." His eyes trailed over her appreciatively as they started to ascend the stairs, "jus' grab me politely an' I'll let you 'ave your wicked way wit' me." With a smirk and a sly wink, he held a hand out for her key, hiding his amusement as she tried to work out where best to put the wine.

"Oh, take this," Alex said, pushing the bottle at him, pressing it into his chest insistently as she searched in vain for her keys, digging in her pockets with her free hand; Gene didn't bother to suggest that, maybe, just maybe, she would be more successful with both hands free. The fact was, he didn't want to drop her hand from his. Eventually, she procured it, with difficulty, from her back pocket, slipping it with difficulty into the lock before letting the both of them in, ignoring the snort of amusement that Gene let out as she flushed beet red.

Once inside, the door closed behind the pair of them, he turned to her, leaning back against the wall whilst continuing to hold her hand within his own, refusing to drop it as his eyes glistened with unmistakeable mischief. "Come on then Bols, spill."

"Spill?" Alex blinked, clearly confused.

Teasingly, Gene raised an eyebrow. "Sexual Selection; finally a psychiatry paper I can get to grips with." His eyes danced as she bit back the typical retort of 'psychology'; she knew full well that these days the only reason he called it 'psychiatry' was to annoy her and see her all roused and snappy.

At first he didn't noticed, and then he saw the way her annoyance transformed into a smirk, and was both terrified and elated as she pressed firmly against his shoulders, holding him against the wall as her body pressed close to his... he told himself insistently that it was no different to having her in the crook of his arm whilst they both slept... but when she was sleeping, he couldn't see the glint in her eye, nor did she wear tops that, on pressure from his chest, revealed enormous cleavage and voluptuous tits that made him want to nestle into her for eternity... what would that be like? He thought briefly, before snapping back to reality as she looked at him, smirking devilishly.

"Apparently, Gene," she whispered, hand running down his arm, "you're attracted to me more right now than at any other time... do you know why?"

Shit. He thought immediately. Who the fuck had she been talking to? Bloody hell, who had he been talking to? Nobody knew about his infatuation with her; nobody, not even his Mam, who knew pretty much every sodding little scrap of detail in his sad little old life, as a result of practically wringing it out of him during Sunday afternoon phone calls... He thought he'd been careful about his misplaced affection but apparently-

"Do you know why, Gene?" She murmured, face coming to a halt a few inches from his, eyes not leaving his own blue ones which were dazed with something Alex couldn't place her finger on.

"Jeans," he muttered with a shrug, tearing his gaze away to stare down at her legs. He tried to ignore the way the hand he still held squeezed briefly back at him, fighting down the bounding somersaults as he tried his best to appear nonchalant.

"No," she murmured, "guess again..."

Gene gulped, meeting her eyes again, "you pregnant, Bols? Bigger tit's 'un normal?"

With a small laugh, Alex, somehow, managed to step even closer, her hips pressing to his as she replied, "no... any other guesses?"

"'orny?" He asked, half-hopeful.

Another laugh, and this time, she decided, she'd put him out of his misery. Stepping closer, placing her warm mouth next to his ear, her breath sending heated tingles down his spine and towards his groin as she breathed, he murmured, "apparently, you want to fuck me, Gene, because I'm at my most fertile stage..." Her free hand was drifting lower, eyes glinting with wicked amusement as she saw his face transform from slight amusement, tinged with arousal, to fully-fledged horror and wonderment; she wasn't surprised when his own hand darted out of nowhere to catch hers, pushing her away to arms length with horror.

"'ey?" He growled, "I don' give a flyin' furry fuck if you're bloody fertile, you daft plonk!"

Actually, the talk of menstrual cycles and fertility always made Gene Hunt rather squeamish, and he didn't think he'd ever be less in the mood for sex than if he knew someone he was about to sleep with was fertile...

Alex grinned, slipping away and tugging gently on his hand. "Coming to bed, Gene?"

Yes, he thought, because there was no way in hell he'd get the chance to really sleep with her, so he didn't need to worry that the mention of fertility had driven away his erection like a pack of rabid hounds chasing a cat.

"Yeah Bols," he muttered, "just gunna get the glasses." He indicated the bottle of wine he'd placed on the floor next to the door, dropping her hand before slipping into the kitchen. Alex grinned, and made her way to bed.

---

David Buss is an actual psychologist, who did research into Sexual Selection- the description of him here is not based on fact; if it were, he would be much better looking! Surprisingly so, in fact!

Hope you enjoyed this; reviews loved and welcomed, as always :)

Mage of the Heart