I don't own Ashes to Ashes
---
It was Sunday the next day, and neither of them was on shift. Alex tended to spend most Sunday mornings curled up in bed with a cup of coffee, waking at the ghastly hour of seven-thirty that she'd become accustomed to and simply burrowing herself beneath the duvet. Today, she slept long past that mark, waking at half twelve to the warmth of Gene's body beside hers, his fingers tracing down her spine as they lay there. She assumed he thought she was asleep, and decided not to demonstrate otherwise, keeping her eyes closed and savouring the gentle sensation of his touch through the thin cotton of her baggy t-shirt. All she did was lay there, arm sliding across his stomach, nestling her face in his chest and keeping her breathing steady as she listened to the soft grate of his breath. It surprised her briefly how his lungs had not yet caved under the mass of nicotine he inhaled, and how quiet his gentle breath was in the lull of the silent flat. A brief smile flitted across her lips as the hand nearest to her now outstretched arm intertwined it's fingers with hers, a sigh of contentment leaving both sets of lips, which neither of them paid any attention to. Still smiling, Alex drifted back to sleep; she wasn't tired, but she was perfectly happy to lay here with Gene for the rest of the day.
---
When Alex awoke next, she was alone. A brief moment of panic and abandonment took hold, causing her to jerk upright and look around in fear. She settled immediately when she heard the quiet gruffness of Gene's voice in the next room; without thinking, she slipped from the bed, not bothering to don her dressing gown and pattering through to the living room in just her long t-shirt and knickers. She let a small smile tease across her lips as she saw him, clothes rumpled with sleep, hair askew, bent over with his head in one hand, the phone to his ear as he spoke in a soft, yet still typically gruff manner.
"No Mam, I ain't seein' 'er..." a pause and then, "because she asked me to yer plum!" Had he been talking to Alex, she was quite certain his voice would have raised in stark intonation at that moment, but as it was, he seemed almost amused. With a grin, Alex tip-toed towards him, sliding herself over the armrest and into the chair beside Gene, offering him a small smile as she curled her legs beneath her body and he glanced at her briefly. His eyes widened slightly as he caught a brief glimpse of the lacy red material between her legs, but he soon tore his gaze away, reciprocating the greeting with a soft nod before turning back to the phone. "Yes Mam, I know-" Alex was certain she caught him blushing as he cast a sideways glance towards her, then away again, "-I know she migh' be savin' 'erself fer marriage."
Alex couldn't help the giggle that left her throat, and didn't even wither when he glanced at her in warning. Instead, she slipped closer, placing her head on his shoulder and grinning as she now eavesdropped on both ends of the conversation, pretending not to notice the sudden tension of his back muscles.
"-don't think I'm too ol' fashioned to know what you young 'uns get up to, Gene!" Alex was pleasantly surprised to hear that same accent she had grown to love in Gene speaking in such a soft, gentle voice, and smiled, one hand on Gene's shoulder as she listened in. "I'm sure she's not still a virgin at thirty but you're not to go forcin' yourself on 'er privacy! It's not proper; an' if she needs yer company 'cause she's worried it don' mean she wants no Mancunian copper fiddlin' about with 'er knickers!"
"Mam!" Gene groaned, burrowing his face deeper into his hands. "I ain't 'fiddlin' with 'er knickers' you daft cow, I'm jus'-"
It was at this moment that Alex pulled the phone away from Gene's hold, pressing it to her ear and sitting herself on the top of the sofa, grinning wickedly as Gene turned to her and motioned to have the phone back, with a small shake of the head she started talking. "Mrs Hunt?" She asked politely, "its Alex- Alex Drake?"
Frustratingly for Gene, he couldn't hear the other end of the conversation, and wasn't brave enough to place his head directly beside Alex's, for fear he'd end up ripping the phone from her hands, dropping it to the cradle and kissing the shit out of her... So he was forced to listen, nervously, to the one-sided conversation, knowing his mothers unpredictability and wondering what on earth she would say to the posh plonk who ripped the phone from her son's hands; He half hoped she'd demand to be put back onto Gene, but for some reason it seemed unlikely, especially once Alex started smiling and replying only too joyously. With a groan, he rested his head on the sofa cushion, wondering what exactly his mother was saying.
"Yes, yes we're very good friends..." a brief silence, but for the slight buzz that said Maddie Hunt was talking. Then, "no, no, he's been nothing but a gentleman; perfectly proper," she smirked at Gene briefly as she listened intently to the other end of the conversation. "Yes, we work together, did he not mention that?"
Gene groaned again, lifting his head and looking at her with pleading eyes, "Bols, please just-"
"I know that's unusual, Mrs Hunt," Alex said calmly. "Yes... yes I'm a DI- one rank beneath, can you believe it?"
"Look, Bolly, just gimme the phone an'-"
"It's very unusual indeed," Alex grinned, voice slightly louder, eyes dancing wickedly. "Oh no, our personal relationship has absolutely no impact on work- of course not."
Matter of opinion, Gene thought, but kept his mouth shut, hand stretched out for the phone.
"Oh he's quite satisfactory, yes, no need to worry- very hospitable man, absolutely-" At this point, Gene threw chivalry to the wind, grabbing Alex around the waist and yanking her down to his lap, snatching the phone back from her and holding her firmly down, hand pressing onto her back, ignoring her shrieks of protest as he spoke.
"Sorry, Mam, some posh plonk jus' stole me phone... she's me DI you lemon- course not... yes, Mam, I know... I'll ring you nex' week, Mam, promise..."
Another silence, longer this time, and though Alex couldn't hear Mrs Hunt's words from her position in Gene's lap, she could guess from his reply quite easily. "Yeah, Mam... you an' all... Take care, yer plum... bye."
The line went dead, and he dropped the phone back into its cradle with some difficulty, trying his best not to dislodge Alex. Looking down at her, he raised an eyebrow, "nice chat with me Mam then, 'ey Bols?"
With a mischievous wiggle of her hips, she nodded, smirking, "she seems a lovely enough woman- far too charming to bear the likes of you for nine months..." Wriggling upwards so that her chest was barely an inch from his, she grinned, leaning closer and murmuring, "Is your father a sailor, Gene?" At the mention of his father, Gene flinched, eyes darting to the floor, grip on Alex's waist tightening to an almost painful degree. Noticing her mistake, Alex sat back, hands on his shoulder.
"I'm sorry," she said instantly. "I didn't know- I didn't think you'd mind... I didn't think- I was-"
"Don' matter, Bolly," he muttered. "Don' matter..." he stood up abruptly, dumping her back on the sofa with little ceremony. " Fancy a brew?"
---
Alex didn't dig for information about Gene's father; she didn't mention it for the rest of the afternoon, and over the next two weeks, it remained forgotten. The McKellen case remained high priority, but with few leads, they found themselves simply trawling through diary entries, hoping in vain that something of merit would suddenly reveal itself to them; it didn't. They spent endless hours holed up in Gene's office, poring over each diary entry with metaphorical magnifying glasses, analyzing every word and trying to find some detail they had missed; it didn't come. They were still bitterly heart wrenching, and it wasn't even becoming necessary for Gene to ask whether she wanted him to stay; a glance at her as the rest of the team moved to leave told him all he needed. In two and a half weeks, Gene had barely spent more than twenty minutes at a time in his own house.
Her flat was slowly becoming 'their' flat; it was unspoken and ignored, but slowly he was adopting parts of the flat as his own. He'd selected his own mug , in the blue of Manchester City, slightly chipped but perfect in size and shape; she, meanwhile, made it perfectly clear that the nice china ones, covered in pretty patterns, were to remain untouched by man, and he made no objections. Her bathroom cupboard was slowly gaining more and more male products; shaving creams, balms, spare razor blades, a plain blue hair comb. His toothbrush stood beside hers in the handle-less mug that was set on her sink, blue next to the delicate pink of her own.
His suits were slowly all being transported to her flat one-by-one, hanging almost domestically beside her jackets and blouses in the wardrobe as though making a silent declaration that yes, this was a permanent move. She'd cleared a drawer of her own rubbish and allowed him to place his more casual clothes –jeans, rugby shirts, tracksuits, - in it.
It was slowly becoming a joint home, and much as it should terrify them, it was a welcome difference to the lives they had left before, a great comfort at the end of the day when they both needed –though Gene would not admit it out loud- the presence of another.
Two weeks later, on the Monday afternoon, Alex walked into the office with a determined look on her face and Gene raised an eyebrow. "Oh dear Lord," he murmured jokingly, "the devil hails blessings on me; what you done you daft plonk?"
"Nothing," Alex said quickly, "McKellen's back."
"'ey?" Gene asked, distractedly picking through a pile of papers. "Bols, no disrespect but, McKellen's pretty much copped it a' this point."
"Not Rosa, Guv," she said, evidently irritated. "Jeremy McKellen. He got yesterday's plane back from Tunisia, arrived home at ten last night... we have to go and speak to him."
Gene frowned, "'ow'd you find tha' out?"
"Shaz has been ringing his house everyday for the last two weeks and getting his answer phone; he answered this morning. I checked with the airport- Jeremy McKellen was on board the last flight from Tunisia and arrived back in this country at seven last night. Neighbours reported that he arrived back at ten o'clock."
"You've talked to 'is neighbours?"
"Yes."
"An' you didn' think to tell me 'bout it?"
Alex flinched, "no... I didn't think it was that important."
"I'm your Superior officer, Drake," he growled. "You don' go pokin' round without tellin' me wha' you're playin' at!"
"I'm a DI, Gene," she snapped back, "I can run a small side investigation without having to alert you to the smallest details and advancements and-"
"You get yourself in trouble Bols, then wha? You forgot Chaz Kale? Forgot that bloody freezer? 'Cause I ain't a bloody psychic Bolly, an' I can' bloody find yer if I don' know where the 'ell you've buggered off to!" He'd pushed away from his desk and stood up, lighting a cigarette and cracking the knuckles on his other hand. Alex wanted to shout, but the sudden protectiveness shocked her into silence. "I ain't a bloody 'ero Bols. Can't just pop up outta nowhere and save yer bloody skin all the time!"
"Gene, I'm not stupid!" She said softly, "I told you as soon as anything worthwhile showed up didn't I?"
Gene clenched his jaw, turning to her and drawing on his cigarette, eyes never leaving hers. There was a moment of complete silence, in which neither of them uttered a word, before he muttered, "I know you ain't stupid, Bols..." he turned his face away, focusing on a darts trophy that rested on his chest of drawers and trying to block out the sudden protective rush that rose in his chest.
He remembered in an instant the fear that had gripped his stomach when he thought she'd died in that freezer; the rage, the worry, the hatred... His hand clenched and bones cracked; he knew it wasn't right to get so enraged- she'd told him, she was here, in his office, telling him what she'd done and not acting on it without his permission... but the fact was, he was worried about her, and it was worse now he was spending nearly every waking moment in her presence- any moment she wasn't with him, he was worried she'd fall and hit her head, or walk in front of a bus and die, and now, to find out that she was hiding this –though apparently small- side investigation, it unnerved him more than it should. Because he knew she wasn't stupid enough to do anything like that again, but it didn't change the fact that the thought of her winding up dead churned his stomach like a bloody cement mixer.
A moment later, she was in front of him, hazel eyes boring into the side of his face until he turned to meet her gaze. "I can look after myself, Gene... are you coming with me, or shall I take Ray?"
Gene stubbed his cigarette out and shook his head. "I'm comin', Bols. Come on."
---
If Amanda McKellen was beautiful, then her husband was exquisite. In perfect contrast to the woman he married, he was darker in skin colour, hair jet black and eyes a dazzling green that spoke power and control. When Jeremy McKellen opened the door, Alex felt her breath catch; when Jeremy McKellen opened the door, Gene wanted to rip his pretty-boy head from his shoulders.
Whilst Amanda's age had begun to take its toll, a result, presumably, of having to raise a terminally ill child alone, leaving crow's feet and wrinkles over her face, Jeremy was the picture of youth; his skin remained unblemished by age, his physique kept perfectly trim, his hair styled in a meticulous yet casual way that would turn heads of women of all ages. His white teeth glimmered to perfection, and his neatly pressed suit sat on his frame with a pristine air of a man who kept himself well and truly looked after.
"Jeremy McKellen?" Gene growled, flashing his police badge. "We're 'ere to ask you a few questions 'bout yer daughter, Rosa."
There was a moment when Alex could have sworn he was going to turn them away, clearly angered by the brashness of Gene's tone, but then he stepped aside, holding the door open for them and looking Alex over appreciatively; it didn't go unnoticed by either of them, and as Alex stepped over the threshold, Gene leant in to whisper in Alex's ear, hand lingering slightly lower on her hip than was strictly necessary. "If 'e pisses you off, Bols, I'm more'n 'appy to wring 'is neck." She smiled, eyes passing over Jeremy slowly before she twisted her head so that her lips were nearly touching Gene's ear, her hand resting tenderly on his arm.
"I'll be sure to let you know, but for now we do need to talk to him..." Her breath on his skin was teasing and he had to close his eyes before responding, lips tenderly brushing the shell of her ear.
"Mmm... you might be right," he murmured, "if he annoys you Bols, bump me 'and... I know 'ow much you love to do that."
With that he pulled away, hand dropping from her waist as he turned to McKellen, eyes hardening as he looked at the younger man. "Right," he growled. "Where's my brew an' biscuit?"
---
"When's the last time you saw yer daughter?" Gene asked, slumping into the cushions of the soft brown sofa without invitation, eyes never leaving Jeremy's.
In reply, Jeremy shrugged, sitting himself in the armchair opposite and crossing one ankle over his knee. "About five years, I imagine... I didn't have much to do with her."
"Sad to 'ear she died then, were yer?" The coldness in Gene's voice caused Alex to blink, glancing at him and seeing, with confusion, the first simmering of rage behind her DCI's eyes. Jeremy, too, appeared unnerved, but spoke calmly enough.
"I can't say I was happy, if that's what you're getting at." His green eyes didn't leave Gene's, and Alex took a moment to glance from one man to the other; each was clearly hiding depths of feeling, but she couldn't tell what, and that frustrated her more than she would admit. Gene's bitterness, his seemingly irrational anger, was unnerving, but Jeremy's cold, apparently apathetic response to his daughters death, turned her stomach.
"Why'd you leave 'er?" Gene said gruffly. Jeremy sighed.
"I couldn't cope with it; do you have children, Detective Chief Inspector?" The silence was answer enough, and he carried on, "no. Well imagine then, that you do; your pride and joy, so to speak, is the small child that was once small enough to hold in one arm. Imagine also, that they're born normal, like any other, and a few years in you have to deal with them developing a hideous disfigurement that will end with them dying slowly and painfully; can you stand by and watch that, knowing every day for the next however many years you'll be fearing them running back down the stairs and telling you they've got another one, another lump? Can you handle that, DCI Hunt?"
"If I was gunna bugger off and leave, I sure as 'ell wouldn' stick abou' in the same town just to get me kicks from the Missus!" Gene's voice was low, dangerous, gravelly and unnerving, and all Alex wanted was to reach over and touch his hand... instead, she looked at Jeremy McKellen and spoke.
"What's your relationship with Rosa's mother, Mr McKellen? Do you still speak to her?"
Shifting slightly in his chair, Jeremy said, "we see each other now and then... she is my wife, after all."
"That don' mean jack shit and yer know it," Gene growled. "Are you still shaggin' 'er?"
Jeremy drew breath, eyes closed as he spoke. "I was... we were still 'together'-" at this he made quotation marks in the air by waggling his fingers in the same way that Alex sometimes did, "- when I left. Saw each other most weeks for years..."
"When did that end?" Alex asked calmly. The man before them stiffened, fingers clawing on the armrest of the chair.
"A few months ago." His answer was blunt and he avoided eye contact with either of them.
Treading carefully, Alex asked, "and why was that?"
She saw his Adams apple rise and fall several times, then he answered, voice quiet and broken, "I wanted us to live together again... be married, like before."
"And what was Amanda's reaction?"
Another pause, a stilted silence in which Jeremy McKellen's heavy breathing seemed to echo and resonate from every surface in the room. Then he answered, voice cold and bitter, "she said if I wanted to live with her, I had to have Rosa, too."
"And you said no?" Alex asked, voice clipped, throat tight as she recognised the utter distaste in the handsome man's face, and suddenly his perfectly crafted featured were distorted into ugliness she couldn't have imagined.
"Of course I bloody said no!" Jeremy growled. "I left them for a reason; I couldn't live looking at her every day when she was six and doing all the kiddy things! How the 'ell was I gunna handle it when she was seventeen and wanted to talk about the future – boyfriends, husbands, jobs- knowing she wouldn't ever get that far because she was turning to fucking stone!" He was shaking with anger, fear, loss, and for the first time Alex considered that maybe the man before her did love his daughter; she couldn't ever respect him – a man who walked out on his wife and terminally ill child didn't deserve anything but apathy as far as she was concerned, but it didn't change the fact he had gone through a pain Alex could never have imagined. Peter had left her without warning or reason, the only explanation that he wasn't 'ready' for a marriage... at least Jeremy had tried, to begin with... or had he? The inner argument dawned on her. How long had he stuck around after Rosa's diagnosis? Weeks? Months? There was no question that it didn't amount to years. Did he deserve any shred of sympathy?
Looking towards Gene, she saw his own opinion etched into the lines of his face as clear as day. Anger lay there like a beast awakening from sleep; his eyes were full of rage, hurt, distress, and suddenly the question about his father rose once again in her mind. The moment he opened his mouth, she knew that however many nights she might have lain in his arms, she still knew barely a scrap of the man before her. "So you fucked off an' left, sent 'er money like a good boy? Didn' bother to just fuck off outta her life and leave 'er to understan' the fact her old man was a useless wanker who didn' want anything to do with 'er? Kept shaggin' her Mam like nout 'ad changed but wouldn' let 'er see you? You're a useless bag of shite, McKellen!" In the time he'd spoken, he'd crossed the distance between himself and Jeremy, bringing his face to within an inch of the other man's, hands roughly grabbing his shirt and yanking him a few inches off his seat. Jeremy's face was set with anger and rage.
"Unhand me or my lawyer will rip holes out of your pockets like you've never known!"
"I ain't scared of little shits like you, McKellen," Gene growled, yanking him off the floor with murder in his eyes. "I've met blokes like you, spineless little tosses with no bollucks an' no guts! So you keep your lying little threats to yourself and tell me why the hell someone would want to murder your little girl!"
"How the hell should I know?" He growled. "I haven't spoken to her properly in eleven fucking years! Last time I saw her was her twelfth birthday and I'd been to see Amanda- she didn't even fucking see me! She could have been a bloody bitch for all I know, pissed about with the wrong people, shagged the wrong bloke; how the fuck should I know? As far as I'm concerned she hasn't been my kid for eleven years; I don't know her any better than the local barmen, so you're asking the wrong person!"
Gene held him by the scruff a little longer, eyes boring angrily into his as the frankness of the man's words sank in, with a hiss, he brought his face back to within an inch of Jeremy's so that he could smell his breath. "You are a worthless sack of shit- did you ever think about the little girl you left be'ind? Ever wonder what she was like? Them blue eyes, that blonde 'air, that smile... ever think about 'ow it 'urt 'er to know 'er Daddy was a spineless coward? Because I promise you, McKellen, that no matter 'ow much a kid pretends otherwise, they 'ole themselves up in their rooms for years and cry for the bastard who walked out on 'em- no matter 'ow much they hate 'em." With that he threw the younger man to the floor and stormed out, heart pounding and foreign tears springing up behind his eyes.
Alex took one last look at Jeremy McKellen, laying in utter shock on the floor, before running after Gene and slamming the front door behind her.
---
It took a few moments for her to notice him; he had slunk into a nearby alleyway, and when she noticed him he was slumped against the wall, chest heaving and eyes closed tight, a cigarette burning in one hand, hip-flask in the other, with the lid off as he brought it repeatedly up to his mouth. Reaching him, she pried it from his hands, replacing the lid and placing it on the emergency stairwell that led up to a block of flats. Gene did nothing but open his eyes, looking at her with a loss and pain she had never noticed before, and never wanted to see again; his usually flirtatious gaze was gone, replaced by a terror so evident that Alex could feel tears building up behind her own eyes.
"Gene..." she whispered, voice cracking and splintering in her throat. He shook his head, standing up straight, looking vulnerable and lonely in the darkness of the alleyway.
"Don', Bols," he said, voice grating and full of pain. "Can' talk 'bout it... just..." he trailed off, eyes leaving hers and looking skywards. The ache in Alex's chest doubled, and she wondered if this was heartbreak; she'd never felt as useless, as hopeless, as she did now, watching the Manc Lion try to hide his pain from the rest of the world when he was falling so evidently to pieces...
Saying nothing, she stepped closer to him, holding out a hand to caress the rough stubble of his cheek... and then, within a moment, his eyes had locked on hers and any resolve he might have had dissipated away from him; his arms were suddenly around her, grasping her firmly against his chest with desperation and need, as though the world were ending and they were the last two people on earth. His hands tightened on her skin, his face buried in her hair, eyes closed as he inhaled her scent, seeking the solitude that she offered, the comfort, the protection, the divine sanctuary he'd come to associate with the feel of her against his body...
Her arms went around him, one hand slipping up to stroke the back of his neck, the small growth of hair that had provided her own reassurance weeks ago acting as an agent in this, her attempt to repay his kindness, his comfort...
And it worked. As her fingers traced across his skin, Gene felt his heated anger being replaced by another sort of warmth, warmth he had only ever felt here, with her... The feel of her in his arms, the smell of her shampoo as it twisted into his sinuses and imprinted itself on his brain... all of it overpowered him, and the sudden wave of emotion that rose in his chest physically weakened him, to the point where he thought his legs might buckle. With a sob that shocked them both, he pulled her even closer, leaning back against the wall and continuing to hold her as though his existence depended on it.
"I migh' never say it again, Bolly," he said softly, face still buried in her hair, "bu' if I ever 'ave kids, promise you'll never let me turn out like 'im?" His voice was cracked, as though trying to force emotion away, and his hands were squeezing so hard Alex thought she might bruise... but she didn't care.
And though she wasn't sure if 'him' was McKellen or Gene's own father, she nodded, arms around Gene's neck as she pulled back to look him in the eye. "I promise, Gene; you could never turn out like him."
---
"I'm goin' for a drive, Bols," he muttered as the rest of the team left for Luigi's that night. "I'll see yer tomorrow..." And without another word, he left; when she looked out the window, she saw him slipping into the Quattro and pulling away at speed.
And as she watched she felt a horrible gaping hole in her chest; tomorrow.
The dawning realisation that she would be spending the night alone made her feel unreasonably abandoned, despite knowing that they were not a couple and that, even if her flat was littered with evidence of his masculinity, they were not living together. With a sigh, she closed the blinds, dimmed the lights, and went home.
---
He wasn't really sure how he'd got here; he'd driven for an hour, stopped off at a club for a drink, and suddenly he had a bare-breasted woman dancing in his lap with a glint in her eye that should have turned him on –and to an extent, it did- but that made him feel useless and dirty. He didn't understand why he was here; it wasn't like it could help him lose all the pent up anger that he'd held locked away in his chest for forty years, because it didn't matter how many women he shagged, or how many times he drank himself into oblivion, the next morning would always bring that same bitterness he couldn't ever hope to escape from.
So the reason he waited until her shift was over, and the reason he bought her a drink and ended up shagging her in the loo was completely unknown to him... but there he was, buried hilt deep in this warm, willing woman -who wasn't even asking to get paid for the privilege- plunging into her with vigour, trying to displace his anger, his life-long torment, his rage and his bitterness, onto this twenty-something stripper who was screaming her encouragement... but the name on his own lips wasn't 'Candy' as she'd so crassly introduced herself, and as he spilled into her, hips pumping until her quaking body fell still against his own, he felt awash with shame as the single, groaned utterance of 'Bolly' resonated through the room. He didn't know if Candy heard, or even if she cared, but after zipping up his trousers and allowing her a perfunctory kiss goodbye, he got into the Quattro and drove back to Luigi's, his mind whirring the whole way, wondering, fantasising, denying, displacing...
And as he sat there, staring up to her window like a love struck Romeo, he realized that whilst he was so consumed with emotion for Alex Drake, no other woman would ever come close.
So he didn't even bother debating the point with himself, and a few minutes later, he was knocking on her door, heart heavy, his previous anger now replaced with an, if possible, even greater ache of remorse.
----
Alex didn't join the others in Luigi's; she probably should have done, in retrospect, but for some reason she didn't feel as though she could face them without the faithful company of Gene at her side, joking, flirting, teasing until she giggled... She told herself it was silly to miss out on her social life because he wasn't there- after all, he would most likely be out having fun, so it was surely only right for her to do the same? But she couldn't. The fact was, Gene was her sole confidant in CID; Shaz and Chris were inseparable in the evenings, which meant that, whilst she maintained good working relationships with both, she never quite felt included when she joined them at their table. Ray, meanwhile, mingled with the other males from CID who she had never bothered nor cared to get to know, and the occasional women that rolled in, and in doing so he made it perfectly clear that, whilst he tolerated her presence at work, he was not keen to continue their relationship to any further level of friendship.
So she sat in her flat, staring at the TV screen but not really taking any note of what she saw, until she finally gave up and headed for bed at the abysmal hour of nine-thirty, laying awake in the semi-darkness.
Time crept by, and as much as she tossed and turned trying to get comfortable, the cold loneliness of her bed was overwhelming, the chilling duvet pressing down on her like a weight. In the dark, the fears that had been kept at bay by Gene's warm and comforting arms around her came to the forefront of her mind once more; images of Molly, skin brutally hacked away, flashed before her eyes. Memories of her parents deaths, of Layton's bullet speeding towards her, all crammed into her mind until she thought her brain might burst with the pain- and at one-thirty, she was practically sobbing with helplessness, the magnitude of her dependency on Gene's warmth and comfort slowly dawning on her, tears falling as she tried to keep at bay the fear that gripped her, imagining Gene's soft touch, the slight gravelly noise of his breath as he slept... It didn't work.
At five past two when the knock came, her heart leapt into her throat and she crawled further underneath the duvet, shaking with fear and terror as the knocking continued, wanting to rush towards the phone in the living room, to ring Gene and beg him to come round... but the phone was too far away, and her legs had lost any of their ability to move...
And then the voice came, and a rush of warmth spread to her toes, suddenly enabling her to leap from the bed, rush through the living room and throw open the door, her legs shaking only slightly in the chilly breeze, a result of leaping out of bed in her shirt at two thirty in the morning when the windows were still open.
At the sight of him, her heart stopped.
He looked miserable and defeated, shoulders sagging with an invisible weight, eyes red, skin pale, clothes rumpled...
---
The moment he saw her, his heart imploded, reaching out for her and pulling her smaller body against him in silent desperation, his hold tight, his own body shaking. "I'm sorry, Bols," he muttered, one hand in her hair. "I didn' wanna be alone." His voice was slightly slurred, a result of the full hipflask of whiskey he had downed for reasons still unknown as he'd climbed the steps to her flat...
With a short nod, she reached up and took his hand, nose wrinkling at the smell of sex and cheap perfume that lingered on his shirt, jealous tears springing unbidden to her eyes; but she didn't ask questions, simply leading him towards the bedroom, hand still clasping his, warm and reassuring in the chill of the night...
When he pulled her to him again, she pushed back from his chest forcefully, tears threatening to spill over as she whispered, "lose the shirt, Gene."
---
Hope you like it!
I may not be able to update for a few days, depending how some personal things pan out, but leave me some reviews/ feedback/ any ideas you've got, and I'll try and get it done in the next week or so. It's going to be focused mostly on Gene's relationship with his father, so the Rosa plot takes a sort of sideline.
Thank you for your continued support of this story, and I hope you continue reading!
Mage of the Heart