A/N: Bit of a bumper chapter, this one - I'm not sure it would have worked as well to split it in two (it all seemed to flow well while I was writing), so maybe settle down with a cup of tea or take a leaf out of Alex and Gene's book and go for something stronger...
I've also decided to keep the T rating even though things get rather hot *smirks* (come on, it had to happen sooner or later...)
Chapter 3
"Time for bed, Bollykecks."
She was still on her feet, the few glasses of red not enough to fault her system. Though she was quite capable of making the way on her own his arm looped a few inches above her waist, guiding her steps.
"I'm comin' with yer."
Despite herself, despite the awfulness of the days they had faced, she giggled mischieviously.
"Ooh, I should hope so."
He tutted. "Yer really have got a mind like a sewer. Bloody well like it, though."
She managed an easy smile, being transferred from the cushion of his frame to the welcoming mattress. Far preferable to the dirt and dust of the parched grass, the earth that had scraped against her hands, soaked through the knees of her jeans. It was suddenly cold as his presence departed from her side, and she reached an arm out, grabbing furiously at the air and then finding the edge of his sleeve.
"Don't go. Please."
"Only takin' me coat off. Hellfire, can't get a minute's peace with you, woman."
Her eyes blinked open to watch him; he sounded so near but felt so far away from her, even while he was close enough to touch. His overcoat went, followed by his tie and shirt. The glisten of the gold chain around his neck was a comfort to her – she remembered edging it with her fingertips when they were trapped in that godforsaken vault, believing then that it would be the end for the both of them. At the very edge of life, and every time she stepped too close to the point of oblivion he was always just behind her, waiting and ready to catch her from falling.
He threw his vest with little elegance or care to the floor, and it was her own raw gasp that shocked her, brought all of the horror rushing back to the forefront again. His hair half-covered his eyes as he gazed towards her, taking in her reaction to the bruises and lacerations that ran over his chest. One or two would still bleed if examined for long enough.
"What has he done to you?"
The tears stung viciously at her eyes. She should have sacrificed herself, but she knew Gene never would have stood for it, would have blocked the pathway to her. He would rather die than let danger befall her.
But he was here; he was alive.
"Just a few scrapes, Bols. Takes a damn sight more than that to put an end to the Gene-Genie."
The relief flooded her soul, though the fear at the back of her mind kept telling her that he wasn't invincible, despite everything he insisted upon. They were both damaged, broken in far too similar ways, and perhaps that's why they were thrown together.
"You can kiss it better in the mornin'." He climbed over her, refusing to go carefully even with all of his injuries. "Need some kip first though."
She felt better when he lay beside her, a large hand splaying against her stomach. At the steady sound of his breathing she turned, nestling herself against his chest, her hands lighter than feathers as she tried her best to heal him, restore him to the strong Gene she always needed. He made small sounds that weren't ones of displeasure, his hand reaching to stroke the nape of her neck.
After a few peaceful moments she began to murmur against his skin, a mantra that had filled her head. A desperate plea, knowing she would be utterly lost otherwise, stuck stranded for all eternity.
"Please, Gene. Stay."
The gentle sweep of his fingers ceased, and she knew in that moment she needed the vigour of his grasp upon her, his hand digging into her hip as he pulled her closer. Bugger the aches and the bruises.
"I'm not goin' anywhere, Alex."
The crawling frustration of the last few weeks had come to a chaotic end over a couple of days, speeding almost too fast for her to make any sense of. This case had consumed them, and it was beginning to verge on dangerous as well as pissing everyone off with the time it was taking to resolve. The tally of snatched children had gone up to six, and in the end they had resorted to surveillance. Days and nights spent trawling the streets, sitting in the Quattro until all hours, watching for the slightest warning signs. Any single person crossing the street could be a suspect. Whoever was responsible seemed to be an expert in hiding in shadows and in plain sight equally. They're making us fuckin' cuckoo, Bolly. Bending us to their own weirdy ways. She had hardly slept for going on 72 hours straight and had barely eaten. Maybe he was right and it was utterly hopeless but the ache in her chest wouldn't go away, still a stronger force than the nauseous feeling in her stomach and the wooziness of her head.
Their paths had barely crossed since the confrontation yet Alex harboured a certain suspicion that perhaps it was down to Keats after all. God knows what he was capable of; her illusions couldn't be the only thing that existed. The more hours that ticked by, the more she was convinced that every part of the operation was manoeuvred by him, bringing her nightmare to life in roaring technicolour.
It's fuckin' hopeless was Gene's expert opinion, and she was beginning to give in and believe him, until a figure stepped out of the shadows. Anthony Walden, youngest son of a failing factory owner. Willing to do anything to help his father and desperate to get into the limelight occupied by his older brother. More than a handful of brains, too. Bingo. They apprehended him with not much of a fight, questioning him with the occasional physical intervention. At this point Alex wasn't sure she cared about the latter. Abducting children and using them as pawns for personal gain was the lowest of the low. Walden gave away nothing, took the punches that were offered until she told Gene to stop. She was half-surprised at how quickly the Guv acquiesced. They put Walden in the cells and set about organising a raid on the factory. He couldn't have been working alone, but now they had him it was their priority to get the kids out, alive and safe.
The next night they were ready, guns held firm and emotions kept in check. They'd carry out the bust with absolute precision, on her request, with Chris keeping a watch on Walden in the Quattro while they rounded up the kids and collared the rest of those involved. It was disheartening enough to find the factory deserted when they all but ripped the place apart. The culprits must have known the coppers were coming; had Walden got the word out? When they arrived back at the Quattro one of the back doors was wide open, with Walden nowhere to be seen and Chris standing with a faintly shamed look upon his face.
He had let him go.
"You complete and utter twat, Skelton. 'ave you got the faintest idea of what you've done?"
"It didn't add up, Guv. Walden was telling me things. It wasn't 'im, though 'e's involved on some level, and if we kept 'im locked up things were goin' to get worse. He said so himself."
Chris remained adamant, staying true to his convictions and staring Gene straight out.
"You do realise that if any of those kids end up dead that it's on your 'ead? I bloody well 'ope you can live with that on your conscience, 'cause I'm not sure I could."
An ice-cold shiver ran down the length of Alex's spine.
"You were the one who wanted to go in all guns blazing, Guv." Chris's voice was calm and measured. "You wanted a big score to prove a point. If one of the kids ends up...it won't be my fault."
He was a hair's breadth of crossing the line completely, but he didn't seem to care.
Gene, on the other hand, was fuming.
"Don't talk back to me, you useless piece of shit!"
Alex stepped forward, attempting to intervene. With everything that was going on, the team couldn't fall to pieces as well. It would be exactly the thing Keats was plotting for.
"Come on, now. That's enough."
Gene refused to listen to her, aiming more of his ire towards an impassive Chris. "You don't have an opinion. You don't make decisions. Do you understand me?"
Chris nodded lightly. "I understand you, Guv. But I don't happen to agree with you."
With Alex temporarily frozen, Ray was the one to take over, holding his hands up in the space between his fellow men. "Okay, Chris. Listen, Guv, we can get in touch with uniform. The bastard's still going to be on the run, 'e won't have got very far."
She knew that it was too far gone for reasoning now, as Gene inched closer towards Chris, spitting his words into the younger copper's face. "What d'you mean, you don't agree? I'm the flamin' DCI round 'ere, and you will do as I say!"
Alex suspected that it was the smallest of words that would prove to be Chris's undoing; for once, she hadn't wanted to be right.
"I don't agree with you," he said, carefully and quiet, "Sir."
Nothing in the world – not even her efforts - could have stopped Gene from breaking, going completely ballistic. He threw himself with force against Chris, both of them tumbling onto the ground, Chris's back hitting the dirt with an fierce impact. Shaz cried out, Ray tried to step in whilst Alex held him back. She knew it had to be got out, the eruption of anger and stifled courage.
The pair of them tussled around, and Gene raised his fist above Chris, but stopped short of carrying the contact through. Alex liked to think that he had come sharply to his senses. Instead he pushed the younger away, leaving skidmarks of earth upon his washed-out jeans. Alex beheld the irate look upon on Chris's face as he walked away from the scene, Shaz following him closely. She turned with her heart already sunken in her chest, and felt the walls of the world begin to fall in upon her when she observed Gene's expression; still simmering with fury, but beneath all the bravado she could see that he was utterly crestfallen, racked with raw hurt.
The cracks were beginning to widen, the centre couldn't hold.
Chris had turned out to be in the right. Walden confided in him the day after he did a runner from the scene of the factory raid, and after some gentle persuasion and assurance that he wouldn't be subjected to any further roughing up from Gene led them instead to somewhere much more upmarket. It wasn't his brother – by all accounts, Vinny Walden wasn't the brightest bulb in the box – but an old associate of his father who was pulling the strings in the operation. Alex had been astounded when the back of the trucks stowed in the car park were opened; she hadn't thought trafficking was a thing in 1983. With her heart taking on a more logical bent at last, she realised that she had been naive in dismissing it, especially when so much had been on the line. Thankfully all of the children remained unharmed, and with a huge haul of drugs discovered being the added icing on the cake the culprits were seized, cuffed and given a few kicks for their troubles.
Not long after, the team found themselves back in Luigi's, the atmosphere relatively subdued despite the magnitude of the victory that had just occurred. Chris was noticeably absent and Alex had watched with sympathy as both Shaz and Ray looked to Gene begrudgingly, ignoring his offer of a reconciliatory drink. He was about to give up and slink away to lick his wounds when Chris appeared, looking markedly like a changed man. Alex admired him, and could see that it had taken a lot – and then, not too much at all – for him to stand up to Gene, telling him that he wouldn't play the doormat anymore. Those days have gone, he'd said. Gene eyed him reluctantly, but Alex saw the shadow of him that had remained – that heartbroken leader standing in the midst of night, fearing that he was losing his disciples one by one. She smiled when Gene took the lead, taking Chris by the hand and then into his arms. A drink, a few shrugs and shakes of the head and nothing more was said, at both of their requests.
She came back from the ladies' to find the Guv by the bar, occupying the same old spot, glass in hand. Alex sidled up onto the stool next to him; in the background, Luigi could be heard rejoicing and speaking a fast mixture of Italian and English.
Her eyes remained pinned to Gene, the weight not yet lifted from his shoulders.
She inched her hand across the bar, grasping the wine bottle and refilling her own glass with a generous measure.
"Don't go gettin' pissed, Bols," he said gruffly.
She smiled at his downplayed concern, the Gene from her many dreams and the bona-fide man falling into one again.
"Is that Elton John and Kiki Dee's more obscure B-side?"
An image of Gene in ridiculous flares and star-shaped spectacles came into her head and she had to use the full glass to stifle the inappropriate giggles that threatened to emerge.
He failed to raise so much as a hint of a smirk, nudging his head to the back of the bar where Luigi appeared to be dancing a jig in the kitchen.
"Luigi's uppin' sticks, which means I'm goin' to finally 'ave to pay off this sodding tab," he groaned. "Goin' to clean me of me life's savings, not that there's much to speak of."
She shook her head, leaning both arms against the bar. "I'll pay half."
"Too right you will. You're the feminist. Besides, you drink like a ruddy fish."
Alex smiled, her hand running up into her hair. While Gene was desolate, staring down into the bottom of his nearly-empty glass, Luigi was the polar opposite. From the corner of her eye she could see him, whirling Mrs Luigi around and giving her the occasional kiss to one cheek or the other. Whatever he was on, they sorely needed some of it.
"I'm happy for him," she announced aloud, raising her glass even though Luigi couldn't see her doing so, "Getting to go home."
She could have lamented, let a burning jealousy eat away at her soul. Not only would have it been unfair to Luigi, but more importantly she had come to realise that the journey she had been striving for was one that would go unfulfilled. It stung deeply but she could no longer rage about it, finding that acceptance was the easier road to go down. She was simply too tired of fighting.
"I wonder what will happen to this place?" she continued on, trying to coax Gene into a more upbeat mood, glancing around at all of the sights that had become so familiar.
He looked at her without really seeing the expression on her face. "It'll become a good old-fashioned boozer, with any luck."
Perhaps there was no hope. This was Gene's world, and he seemed content more than anything else to stay stuck in the past. And she would stay there with him. There was no question over that anymore, at least not in her mind.
"Those days are gone," she said, not realising she had echoed Chris's words almost exactly until some seconds after she had spoken them.
Gene glared at her and she felt his stare run right through, cutting right to her heart and all of her dearest memories.
"Maybe they 'ave, outside," he uttered in an uncharacteristically quiet tone. He tapped the side of his glass with a sigh, before the same fingers rose up to occupy the left side of his chest. "But not in 'ere."
Alex tried to swallow away the lump that was forming in her throat. In all of the time she had known him she had never taken Gene to be so sentimental. It had been another of her faults.
She was still blindsided by his simple show of emotion when he stood from his seat, looming over her against the bar.
"The elephant's still in the room, Bolly. Let's not pretend its disappeared, the bloody size of it."
She glanced up at him, his blue eyes like shards of glass slicing at her. She didn't want to do this, not now, but at the same time she had spent long enough dismissing him and couldn't do so any longer.
"Sam Tyler," he clarified, though he couldn't have meant anything else. "You think I killed 'im."
Alex shook her head fiercely. "No, I don't. I know you could have nothing to do with his death. It wouldn't be like you." She leaned closer, getting on to the edge of her stool. "It's not you, Gene."
He spluttered in surprise, straightening his frame to full, imposing height. "Talk about a change of 'eart. Five minutes ago you were snooping around files, all ready to condemn me. Thought it was bloody payback."
She lowered her gaze in shame and self-defence, before looking up at him again, finding him pouting and ready for an explanation for her sore lack of trust and faith in him.
"I admit, I let my head be turned. I was all over the place, I didn't know what to think. Sometimes we listen to the wrong words when they're spoken, and before we know it it's too late to turn back." The ache grew in her throat; she yearned to reach out and cover his hand with her own. "But I realised what was important, and I'm so glad of it."
He stared at her for a long moment, before shaking his head and throwing the last drops of drink down his throat.
"You've been sniffin' glue again, Bolly."
She stifled a smile, at the same time feeling rage for the fact that he would never let his defences drop. Maybe he still didn't trust her, and she couldn't say that she could blame him entirely.
"What makes you think you know me so well, Alex?"
His sharp shift of mood unsettled her, as did the use of her actual name. Her heart thumped wildly against her chest, feeling as though it was close to crawling up into her throat, getting ready to escape.
"I can't explain it." Once again she gave him the honest truth, and she was sure that once again he would think she was talking a load of shit. "All I know is that your team are everything to you. Your life, your soul. You'd die for them, if you had to."
The dreams she'd had recently whirled about her head, making her dizzy and sick and full of love for him. He still looked rather disapproving on the surface but looking deeper she could see that she was having an impact, chipping away at him slowly but surely.
"You take care of your own," she continued, "you'd never let any harm come to them."
He pursed his lips, not disagreeing with her entirely.
" 'aven't done a very good job with you though, 'ave I?"
The lament in his voice caused her heart to contract.
"That was my own fault. You said it yourself, I fell all wrong. Nobody to blame but me."
She smiled towards him but he didn't see it, his eyes fixed firmly downwards. This lack of fight and fire from the legendary Manc Lion unnerved her, especially given his display with Chris last night.
"This is all down to Keats," she assessed, sighing at the state of affairs. "He's making you doubt yourself."
Gene rose up again, balling his hands into fists upon the bar. "Should have known old Pencil Neck would come into it eventually," he sneered, eyes blazing towards her. This wasn't the kind of fire she had asked for, but it was what she had got. "Startin' to think you've got a perennial natural affection for wankers, Bols."
"For God's sake," she laughed, more bitterly than she had intended. "Do you honestly believe that I'm attracted to him?"
If this is what all his sulking was about then it was ridiculous, though she couldn't mistake feeling flattered that he was getting so worked up over it.
" 'alf the time I don't know what to believe," he replied. "I'm just surprised you 'aven't dropped your knickers for 'im yet. Or is the idea of 'is tiny todger puttin' you off?"
Her face hardened, half in pain that he could still dare to think that she was so easily won. She slid down from the stool, her heels clicking loudly against the floor as she fought to keep her emotions in check.
"I think you've said everything, Guv."
She didn't want to leave, deep down, and so she hesitated as the doorway drew nearer. As her steps faltered, she registered the slight touch of Gene's hand upon her back. It still surprised her to find him so close when she turned around.
"Bolly," he muttered, the guilt evident in his eyes, "I was bein' a twat."
"That's not unusual lately."
His shoulders squared, hands planted firmly in his pockets. "Well, it's the first an' last time I'm gunna say so, so it better be enough for you."
She laughed – properly laughed from her stomach, the first time in she couldn't quite remember how long – and nodded as she looked at him. Her fingers hovered in the air, aimed at his lapels, but she refrained from actually following through and touching him.
"I told him where to go," she explained, hoping to assuage his consternation. "Not in your inimitable style, but I think he got the message."
He seemed gentler as he absorbed her words, his gaze dampening to a smoulder. Dare she think, he might actually believe her.
She exhaled steadily, not breaking their eye contact while she spoke. "I don't give a flying fuck what Jim Keats thinks."
Gene's eyebrows raised at the bold statement uttered in her cut-glass tones. "Wanna watch what you're sayin', Bols. Yer in serious danger of givin' me the 'orn if you carry on like that."
Losing her bottle slightly, she brushed her hand briefly down the arm of his jacket, pleased when she felt him still react to her touch.
"I care what you think, Gene," she uttered softly, her fingers leaving him one by one as they got to his wrist.
She saw his throat bob; the air in her own lungs was getting in rapid danger of running thin, and she could breathe nothing but him in, feeling completely surrounded.
"Fancy a nightcap?" she said, the edge of anticipation in her voice. Try as she might, she couldn't keep it out.
He pretended to consider her offer for all of a few seconds, though it seemed like an eternity to Alex. Hadn't she waited long enough?
"Night's still young," he finally uttered in the affirmative. "And it 'elps that I don't 'ave to pay for it."
He'd ended the evening at hers countless times; before Operation Rose (she segmented time into before and after periods, even here) it was common-place for them to dissect a case over a bottle of wine, or alternatively get drunk enough to forget about it. Therefore it was strange for her to feel like she needed to impress, as though it was the first encounter. She had tidied the shelves – with no time to tidy herself up – while she deposited the twelve-year-old malt in his capable hands. Her hands were restless, she turned on the cassette player to occupy her mind while she dusted in a fashion.
"Bolly, stop fussin'. It's not a shit-tip in 'ere, an' I couldn't care less anyway."
Reassured, she smiled coyly as she stilled herself at his commands, moving to the sofa seconds later. Gene had made himself quite at home, long legs propped up on the coffee table and an extra button popped on the open collar of his shirt. Alex made a point not to stare as she set herself down, accepting the glass he had poured for her.
She was grateful for the warmth of the whisky in her throat, washing away the last few weeks. The case had been wearing for them both, in its own way, and she was more than glad for it to be over.
"You alright, Bols?" he asked, as though he had read her mind. It was probably speaking louder than she had realised. "After everythin'."
Clutching her glass, she nodded. "It's been tough. I'm looking forward to sleeping better tonight. To sleeping at all."
They shared a look of understanding and quiet, understated triumph. Another few bastards off the streets.
"We always get there in the end," she said, quirking her lips into a small smile.
"Wasn't good enough. Took too bloody long." His head craned back, hitting the wall lightly as he let out a deep sigh. "I'm off me game. I can feel things slippin' from me hands, and each time it's takin' longer to get a hold back again."
She crossed her legs into a more relaxed position, trying to compensate for the worry that was falling upon her face at his contemplation.
"You can't be right all the time. It's not a weakness." She didn't want to slip into work-mode, not with him and not now, and so took another sip of her drink, getting on firmer ground. "If this is about Chris, then it's alright. You did well with him."
He drew back up in slow motion, meeting her gaze reluctantly, as if he was ashamed to do so.
"It's me, Bols," he replied.
In those simple words, after more than two years of pushing and pulling, so often fighting against the tide with him – even when they were fighting for the same cause most of the time – she felt herself getting closer to the heart of Gene Hunt than she ever had before.
"I've been a copper since I was nineteen. I've tried me hardest, and I like to think I've done an alright job." Talk about selling himself short. "It's all I've ever known."
He bowed his head this time, and Alex winced, knowing that whatever was to come it wasn't going to be good.
"And now, it's like I'm forgettin' it all. Like I'm losin' meself, who I am. I see what's goin' on, I fight with everythin' I've got, but it's not enough. And it fuckin' scares me."
She inhaled deeply, her eyes blinking back tears as she looked at him, feeling such privilege that he was revealing his deepest fears to her, baring his soul before her. For more than two years – for far longer than that, really - she had felt exactly the same fear. Loss of control, loss of purpose.
Reverting back in the next minute, he stared at her firmly. "If you even think about using the psycho-babble on me, I'm lockin' yer in Cell 3 for a week straight."
She smiled genuinely, stretching her legs out towards him.
"You're the Guv," she told him confidently. "You get scum off the streets. You make a difference. So many people look up to you, depend on you."
His expression didn't change, but she knew he was taking in everything she was saying as he sat there, silent.
"Ray, Chris, Shaz – their lives would be so different if they didn't have you, guiding them, looking out for them. Even if they're not who they used to be, they're growing and it's down to you, Gene."
The words were balanced on the tip of her tongue. You've changed my life, too. She looked more intently at him, and hoped he could see it in her eyes instead.
He heaved his frame forwards on the sofa; she felt the movement beneath her, watching him as he edged a finger around the rim of the glass, back and forth.
"I've thought about jackin' it in. More so recently. Them upstairs would be thrilled; get someone in who causes less 'eadaches."
A Fenchurch East without Gene. It seemed incomprehensible.
"Start again from scratch. Though doin' what, God only knows."
Alex tried to ignore the way she felt like she had been punched in the stomach, and focused only on him. "Would you go back to Manchester?"
She expected him to say something along the lines of bloody hell, Bolly, you're sharp as a tack. But he hesitated longer than she gave him credit for.
"Beer's better, petrol's cheaper. Come to think of it, everythin' is." He paused for thought again, retrieving the bottle from the table and taking a direct swig. "No soft Southern nancies. Would actually get a class of arseholes who throw a decent punch."
He'd be in his element, back at home. She had long harboured a hope and secret desire for a case to come up that would take them to Manchester, to encounter him in his natural habitat. She felt that he had been a different person there – the same Gene, but freer, less held back by rules and regulations. She longed to have known that version of him, even feeling slightly jealous of Sam in her less logical moments.
He relaxed back into place, the tips of his boots pointed upwards as he plonked them back down onto the solid surface.
"London 'as its charms, though," he uttered, tilting his head to the side. "Dunno if I could leave them behind."
Alex felt herself flushing, looking away as she leaned forward to place her glass down upon the table. Her blouse had rode up at the back, exposing a small patch of skin above the waistband of her jeans, and she was certain that Gene had honed in upon it from his spot.
She looked over her shoulder, sure enough catching him in the act like a school-boy. The sight of him looking slightly sheepish made her smile effortlessly.
"Let's have a dance," she announced, knowing that the suggestion would go down as well as a lead balloon but figuring she had nothing to lose, not tonight.
He stretched both arms out against the back of the sofa, not so much as claiming his territory as clinging onto it. She was rather breathtaken by his wingspan, but stood her ground as she got to her feet.
"Gene Hunt does not dance," he asserted, the grumpiness of his tone endearing to her.
"No," she said, "and he doesn't hug Christopher Skelton either, does he?"
He pouted at her teasing, choosing to watch her move fluidly around the room instead of petulantly looking away. Alex persisted, feeling at an advantage knowing that she had his undivided attention. Once she had adjusted the volume of the cassette player to a slightly higher level she moved back towards the sofa, holding her arm out towards him.
"Okay," he relented, pulling himself upwards and then letting her lead him into the centre of the room, "let's get it out the way. Just the one, mind."
Alex smiled at him, sparks settling upon her as one arm slipped into place firmly about her waist, the other fitting with her own.
#Looking from a window above
It's like a story of love
Can you hear me?
Came back only yesterday
I'm moving further away
Want you near me#
"You got any Herb Alpert?" Gene enquired.
She let out a hint of a laugh, before looking at up at him apologetically. "No."
He shrugged, grasping onto her hand tighter. "S'pose this'll 'ave to do then."
They swayed along to the music, their movements in synchronisation. It felt surreal, she couldn't deny it, but utterly perfect too. She'd only ever danced with a man at her wedding, and then she hadn't felt connected to the moment, feeling like a fraud. She imagined that Gene would have been even more reluctant than Pete but he quickly found his way into it, the way he was holding her not uncertain in the least. Tender, safe, secure. She craved more of his touch, and moved herself closer in towards him. She wasn't mistaken when she heard his breath hitch lightly.
#Sometimes when I think of her name
When it's only a game
And I need you
Listen to the words that you say
It's getting harder to stay
When I see you#
His body was warm, she felt such comfort in his presence and relief that he was still here. She let her hand slip from where it had rested against his shoulder down to his chest, and was somewhat astounded to feel the fierce pounding of his heart against her fingertips. It was racing even faster than her own. His cobalt eyes blinked down at her, he made no attempt to shrug her away when she pressed her palm firmer.
"It's always been you," she uttered, her own eyes clear as she matched his unflinching gaze. "Whenever I've needed you you've always been there. When I insisted that I didn't, you never left." She smiled to herself, aware of her own stubbornness, knowing it was every inch like his own. "I've wondered, if you knew."
She paused for a moment, reading his eyes. Even if he did, she had left it unsaid for too long.
"If I didn't have you, I'd be lost."
Alex felt as though she might melt with the way he kept looking at her. Ironically, the only thing preventing her from doing so was the loop of his arm around her waist and his hand held at the base of her spine.
"You're a tough old bird," he appraised, "you'd get by."
Her eyes were wide as she moved her hand further up, a touch tentatively, caressing the line of his jaw with the pad of her thumb.
"Stay," she pleaded with him.
"I'm not goin' back to Manchester, you dozy mare. Too much shit to deal with 'ere."
She shook her head faintly, her throat aching with the longing she felt. "No. Stay here. Please."
He inhaled deeply as she moved her hand against his cheek, her fingertips grazing the light stubble. He indulged her, and himself, for a moment or two and then took her hand away, covering it with his own.
"For you, Bols," he breathed out, "Because no one else will 'ave me."
One song faded into the next; the promised singular dance had come to an end, and yet they carried on swaying, the world beyond the flat fading further into the distance.
#So true, funny how it seems
Always in time, but never in line for dreams
Head over heels when toe-to-toe
This is the sound of my soul#
It hadn't taken much for her to rest her head upon his shoulder, and she closed her eyes as the music played around them, unable to remember a time in the recent past - or the future - when she had felt so content. So complete.
#I bought a ticket to the world
But now I've come back again
Why do I find it hard to write the next line
Oh I want the truth to be said#
Her eyes were still closed, so for a moment she thought she was dreaming when she felt Gene's lips brushing against her forehead. A small muffled sound of delight came from the back of her throat, and she lifted her head, opening her eyes and gazing up at him.
"Alex..."
"I know."
Her heart ran wild at the sound of her name leaving his lips, and her eyes remained focused upon them as she leaned into him. Breath holding, lashes fluttering shut as they got closer; she could almost feel him, seconds before she got the chance.
The knock upon the door echoed into the flat, and the first thing she did was look at Gene, her eyes wide with shock and apology. Of all the bloody moments, she cursed inwardly. It was as if they were destined to be pulled apart, forever star-crossed.
Not content with hammering, Keats's voice bellowed through the closed door.
"Alex! I know you said that your mind was made up, but I've come across something that I think you'll find very interesting."
She flinched at the sound of his voice, the way he spoke her name so differently from the tender way Gene had uttered it minutes previously. Gene was looking at her, his stance frozen and aimless once more.
"Alex!" Keats's tone became sharper, angrier. "Come on now, it's not too late."
He began banging upon the door again, the incessant raps drowning out the sound of the stereo.
"Jesus, if 'e doesn't stop I'm gunna put my fist through the bloody thing to shut 'im up."
"Don't," Alex whispered, placing her finger upon Gene's lips to still him in place. "He'll get bored eventually."
Gene appeared less than convinced but he remained held to the spot as Alex continued to run her thumb along his bottom lip. A few minutes passed, they both heard Keats scream in frustration and what sounded like the sole of his shoe slam against the door before he departed.
She waited a minute or so to be absolutely certain of no further interruption, then smiled as she drew closer to Gene once more, almost resuming completely her previous position.
"Now," she rasped, her hand resting against his chest again, "where were we?"
" 'ang on," Gene said, taking her hand and pushing it away lightly.
She panicked, hoping that their chance had not been wrenched away. Perhaps he thought she was leading him on, that she was involved with Keats and bringing him upstairs was all a trap. The only way she could show him that it wasn't would be to kiss him, and now the hope of doing exactly that and proving herself seemed to be fading fast.
His eyes bore holes through her; surely he could see through into her heart and soul, and know that this was what she had desired for such a long time.
"No mind games, Alex. If yer serious about this, it's all or nothin'." His voice was raw, the quality of it affecting her, settling both in the centre of her chest and between her thighs. "Can't take it otherwise."
Her breath held even as she felt the weight lift from her. He needed reassurance, just the same as she had always sought from him.
"No games," she echoed him, inching closer with the breath she exhaled. "This is real. You and me." She smiled with all the memories of the times he had spoken those same words. "Unbreakable."
His mouth quirked as he placed his hands either side of her waist, pulling her nearer.
"I trust you," she uttered, her voice clear and true. "And, more than that, I need you."
Electricity rifled through her when she tipped her head forward, her lips connecting with his. She had to draw breath between each brief and yet utterly addictive touch; she couldn't stop herself going back for more. Though he responded to every kiss, his eyes seeking hers afterwards and surely seeing that she was set aflame for him, she was rather taken aback by his apparent hesitancy. Perhaps she had got him all wrong, and he preferred her setting the pace.
"'scuse me, Bols," he said huskily, one hand running tantalisingly slowly up the curve of her side, "I can't quite believe this is happenin'."
She smiled wickedly, offering up a silent prayer.
"No," she whispered, sipping another kiss from his lips. "But it is, Gene." And another. God, he already tasted incredible, and she'd only had the barest hint. "It really is."
Before he could say anything in return she captured him, tugging on his bottom lip. She wasn't sure if that was what set him off but she didn't care, surrendering completely as he deepened the kiss. His palm was upon her face, his other on her hip. His tongue met hers sensually, and everything in combination was almost too much and still not enough. Alex thought she heard herself moan against his mouth; she was kissing him with fervour and he was kissing her, just the way she had always dreamt of. A million times better than in her dreams, truth be told.
They had to break for air after a couple of minutes, both breathing raggedly.
"Gene," she gasped, not even noticing that he had backed her against a wall. Her head was whirling, and it was full of him.
"I've got yer, Alex."
He kissed her with a tenderness that made her decidedly weak, and she slipped her hands at his shoulders to steady herself even as the wall supported her weight. With her assistance his jacket shrugged to the floor and it was her intention to start on more of those buttons but he got there before she did, his fingers brushing against her as he undid her blouse. He pulled the garment open, exposing her by grasping her by the shoulders, then his mouth was on her neck, breath hot and kisses brandishing her skin.
She murmured her approval as the top of her head met the wall, and Gene worked his way further down, nipping lightly and kissing a path to her cleavage. Despite thinking that her bra would be off in less than seconds it remained in place as his hands cupped her through the silky fabric, thumbing the peaks of her nipples with just the right kind of pressure.
His gaze was searching as he pulled himself back up, full of desire and yet holding much more. She couldn't think of it just yet, otherwise she'd slip away, never to be discovered again for all eternity. Unable to resist she leaned forward again, loving the taste of whisky and faint smoke on his tongue, intoxicated by the taste of him.
"About to break me own rules 'ere." His voice rasped while his hands caressed her stomach, fingers fumbling on the button of her jeans.
"I think we've had enough 'dates' that it's alright," she smiled, flexing her hips to help him on the way.
"Don't you waggle yer bloody fingers at me. I 'ate that."
She shook her head, holding her hands up, and then swiftly pressed them against the wall as she registered his fingers stroking her delicately, amazingly.
"Mmmm, Gene," she murmured, gasping for breath, begging him silently never to stop touching her.
"Christ, Bols, it's wetter than a weekend in Blackpool down there."
Through her escalating euphoria, she stifled a giggle, not wanting to dent his ego and certainly not wanting him to think twice about what he was doing. "How romantic."
His eyes flickered up towards her, increasing the pleasure she felt even further.
"Oh, I can give you romantic." He always did his best when he was being challenged. "You're bloody gorgeous. Have wanted yer since the moment I clapped eyes on you."
The sincerity of his words, how she reciprocated his sentiments, as well as the way he was continuing to caress her, made her feel more alive than she ever had, burning with pure passion for him.
"Lost count of the times I've dreamt about you, Bolly. You're always in my 'ead, can't get you out."
"Tell me," she breathed, running her hands against his neck and over the breadth of his shoulders, urging him on. "Were they good?"
"More than good," he replied, his breath as uneven as hers was. "Gonna start runnin' out of sheets if I 'ave many more."
She smiled coyly as he looked up at her again, his hand stilling and extricating from beneath her waistband, leaving her aching from the loss of his touch.
"I'm crap at this," he sighed, his eyes looking deep into hers. "You deserve better. I'm not good enough for you, that's why I've always kept me distance."
How strange it was that such searing desire should be met with an overwhelming sorrow. Alex placed both of her hands upon his face, hoping that it would be enough to make him understand.
"Don't say things that aren't true," she added softly, glad to see his mouth quirk slightly.
She caressed his cheeks with her thumbs and fingertips, then impulsively let her hands slide down past his throat, undoing the buttons on his shirt as she went, stroking his still covered torso.
"You can see how much I want you," she stated brazenly, taking delight in how the steel of his eyes sparkled. "And you want me too."
"Do I ever," he growled deep in his chest, dipping forward to graze his lips against her neck again.
Alex hummed at the feel of his mouth upon her, hardly knowing how she'd existed for so long without the sensation.
"I've always thought actions speak louder than words."
He tugged at her hips, drawing her closer towards the heat of his body. She wasn't mistaken in feeling the evidence of his want for her pressing against her thigh, and her head started to swim in anticipation.
Gene pulled back, the sight of him licking his lips after ravishing her sending her near incoherent.
"You're one of a kind, Alex Drake."
She was starting to reconsider her previous statement, given that what he'd said had completely melted her.
Their mouths met again, having nothing else to say, knowing they were past the point of any return. Alex held onto him as they shared one long kiss after another, her hands slipping underneath the hem of his vest, yearning to touch bare skin.
"Maybe we should take this to the bedroom," she whispered, looking at him from beneath heavy-lidded lashes, her heart thudding at a rate she thought must be potentially fatal.
"Dunno if I can make it that far," he replied, nodding to direct her attention back to the protrusion tenting the front of his trousers.
She smiled as she glanced back upwards, threading her fingers through his.
"Let me help, then."
He said nothing more, going willingly as she pulled him along towards the door that lay not metres away.
She let go of his hand to flick on the lamp at her bedside, turning to see the soft golden light framing him as he stood off-centre in the room.
"Not sure I 'ad you down as a 'lights on' bird, Bols."
The smile was back on her face as she padded back towards him, kissing him gently while she took fistfuls of his vest in her hands, his shirt having been discarded on the journey.
"I don't want to miss a thing about this," she answered him, brushing her lips over his cheek and hearing him hiss in response to the trailing of her fingernails over his gradually exposed chest.
She'd brought the vest over his head and inhaled deeply, focusing upon his form. She had half expected and steeled herself to discover the red and angry scars that haunted her dreams, but instead found him smooth, unmarked. Her lips pressed to his skin and he groaned as she dotted kisses upon him.
"Jesus, Bolly. If this is the beginnin', God knows 'ow I'm gonna last."
He soon returned the favour, his mouth teasing at her throat and his hands roaming over her, unable to touch all the places he wanted to at once. She sighed into his shoulder, smiling as she felt his fingers scrabbling at her back, the tickling sensation causing goosepimples to rise all over her skin.
"It opens at the front," she enlightened him, and saw his eyebrows raise in half-indignation.
"Could 'ave told me that sooner," he grumbled faintly.
"It felt nice."
She shivered as he nimbly undid the clasp, letting out an appraising breath after he dropped the bra to the floor.
"Perfect," he uttered simply, cupping his palms to her breasts. He pushed her back gently, and Alex let herself fall onto the waiting bed, thinking of little else than Gene's lips mapping her, his hands fluttering between her breasts, stroking her sides and then reaching to tug off her jeans.
He paused before going further, raking his heated gaze over her near-naked form. She squirmed and gasped helplessly as the fingers of one of his hands traced over the lacy panel of her knickers, the other hooking into one side of them, brushing the top of her thigh purposefully. Her lips parted as she gazed up at him, never knowing such craving with her entire soul.
"You'll 'ave to be patient with me, Bols. It's been a while." He looked humble as he found her eyes again. " 'aven't had anyone else since you waltzed in and turned everythin' upside down. Cross me heart."
She didn't let him say the rest, her hand reaching up to trace his jaw.
"Oh, Gene," she sighed, "why didn't we do this sooner?"
He was more serious than she had ever seen him. "Search me." Tingles ran from her head to toes as he dipped to kiss her. "Better late than never, though."
She pulled his head down, deepening the kiss to satisfy them both. The lace of her knickers grazed her legs as he slipped them from her and she had to touch him too, wrenching with his belt and fly, her breath catching as she fondled him through his boxers. Bigger in every department, indeed.
"Fuck!" he swore loudly, looking down at her. "Keep all that goin' and this will be a bitter disappointment."
"I have waited quite enough," she rasped, reaching that bit further and curling her fingers delicately around him, the weight hot and heavy in her hand. "Just a little longer, please."
She was deliriously happy to hear the deep groan emerge from him at her pleading, as well as the way she continued to stroke along him.
Hands kept busy exploring, lips colliding when they weren't pleading with one another to touch that way, just there, though they both knew instinctively what to do. Nothing had ever felt so right and Alex smiled and sang with the ecstasy of it all, knowing she was falling further with every second that passed. She had denied it for as long as she possibly could but now denial was impossible.
She was in love with Gene Hunt.
They had spent so long kissing, touching and teasing that she almost felt as though she would implode before he said the words.
"Alex, luv. Can't 'old on any longer."
She gazed up at him, her mouth dry as she nodded.
"I'm yours, Gene."
It was indescribable. The pleasure, the relief, the longing; the need absolved and increased tenfold. Her arms draped around his shoulders, her legs wound about his waist to draw him in further; she heard him groan and curse and answered him with her own cries and moans, creating a wonderful harmony. Together at last, and by god, they fit together so well. She kissed him, felt the sweat trickle down his back as they gasped in tandem. She loved him more when he uttered her name, near breathless.
"Alex...Jesus Christ, Alex."
Her hands traced his sides, grasped to his hips and shoulder blades in turn. She clung to him as if it was the end of the world echoing before them, and yet she knew it was only the beginning. Her breath caught for the countless time as she felt his fingers stroke her a little further from where they were joined. Oh god, she was close. So close. She felt complete, in an entirely different way to when she'd been at home. He was another home for her, and she felt the power so intensely that it coursed through her veins, almost splitting her apart and making her anew.
"Gene...oh my god, Gene."
Her breathing was unsteady as she reached her end; she fumbled upon the sheets beneath her and felt a jolt of surprise when he took her hand in his, holding on tight.
"Alex," his breath was hot against her ear as he urged her on, "look at me."
She opened her eyes with some effort, astounded as she gazed at him above her, hair flopped over his forehead, appearing so handsome and majestic. Her heart soared so far that it made her dizzy, and she was breathtaken to behold the galaxy of stars that reigned above both of them, shining so beautifully. It was impossible, surely.
After the moment of serene stillness, looking at him as he had asked and feeling everything she had known shift, they resumed their previous movements. His hips moved increasingly erratically and she did what she could to even out the pace, her hands threading through his hair.
"Alex!"
He let out a strangled groan, and she soothed her palms down his back, feeling him trembling.
"It's okay, my love," she murmured, the blissful haze having already taken hold of her, still making her nerves sing. "Gene."
Perhaps that was all that he needed to hear from her. From anyone, but she wanted to believe especially her. She crested the wave of his release with him, smiling and placing kisses upon his shoulder as he collapsed upon her, the warmth flooding through her body making her feel wonderfully drowsy.
"Bolly," he uttered as he rolled onto his back, the fingers that had been clinging onto hers so tight that they had turned white brushing against her neck. "Alex."
She had drifted into a satisfied sleep but she heard him as he said her name. She felt him as he left a tender kiss upon her cheek, closing his own eyes to join her.
The room was still in shadow when she woke up; it had only gone half two but it felt like she had slept for days. She stretched her limbs against the sheets, the delicious ache settled within her bones and other very distinct places in her body. She smiled at the sensation, the way her head was swimming in bliss so immediately as she emerged from sleep. The fact that for the first time in this existence she hadn't woken in her bed alone.
She turned to face him – shifting his hand that had been placed upon her hip in doing so – seeing him delightfully rumpled and wearing the smug expression of a man who was aware exactly just how good he was. Well, not only good, but magnificent. The tingles that had possessed her body sparked to life again at the barest touch upon her arm.
"It wasn't a dream, then," she said, voice laced with sleep and supreme satisfaction.
"Bloody well 'ope not," he mumbled in response, "otherwise don't want to wake up again."
She giggled, breath catching slightly as he took a firm hold of her bum with one hand. She had been too lost in him to bother putting her underwear back on afterwards, and now he looked even more smug, fondling her everywhere. Not that she was complaining about the fact. His touch was exquisite, not entirely what she expected but everything she had ever longed for. She felt like a horny teenager but was glad that she was old enough to appreciate every second.
A growl of appreciation came from his throat as he stroked the curve of her hip slowly, and somehow she managed to be turned on even further.
"I am one lucky bastard," he affirmed, eyes glinting. "You're beautiful, Bols. Can't keep me hands off yer."
"I don't want you to take them off."
Given that he was as gloriously naked as she was at this moment in time, she considered herself to be incredibly lucky as well.
"Mmmm. Might cause a bit of a problem on the day job. S'posed to be apprehendin' arseholes when I'd rather be coppin' a feel of your gorgeous arse instead."
She laughed, running her fingers over the side of his face, taking advantage herself. She couldn't shake the frisson of pleasure that erupted when he groaned at her touch.
" 'Just one night', that's what you said." His gaze penetrated her, reminding of that first offer she had made to him, off the cuff, borne out of so much frustration. "Still stand by that, Bols? Yer usually a woman of your word."
The thought snapped a vice around her heart, and she had to make things clear.
"I don't know why I said that. Trying to be clever, I suppose."
"As bloody usual."
Her lips smiled, though her eyes betrayed her sudden fear.
His hand rested firmly upon her hip-bone, holding her in place to claim her. "Could never just get me leg over with you, Alex. You've affected me too much for that. Goin' bleedin soft thanks to you, woman."
"I hope not for long," she smirked, unable to resist making a smutty comment. The moment passed with his appreciation, she turned serious again. "Me neither. This is something serious, Gene. Something I've never felt before."
A slow smile appeared on his face, lighting him up. "Well I'm glad to be yer first, in something at least."
She imagined years stretching out ahead of them, working the days side-by-side, going home together once they were done. She longed to live in her imagination and knew she could do so until the morning dawned, at least, but even lying in the peaceful dark she found that she couldn't stop herself from breaking the spell.
"What happens now?"
The immortal words slipped from her lips before she could pull them back. She remained staring into his face, hoping that he could provide her with all the answers. One thing uncovered was always only the start. They'd forgotten for a few hours, but everything would still be there tomorrow – the creeping chaos, the mystery waiting to be unravelled. Even with another few bottles of red and more snogs to accompany them, they couldn't be erased.
He searched her eyes the same, lips curling into a trademark pout. "Dunno. You're the psychic one."
She smiled faintly. "That's not..."
"I know, you dozy mare," he interjected, the gruffness of his tone soothing her. To her pleasant surprise he took her hand with his, stroking her fingers as he pulled it to his chest. "We carry on. It's all we can do."
She nodded, knowing that there was no other way. Her palm pressed to him, she was reassured by the steady beating of his heart, closer to her now.
"Makes us stronger, this does. We've got a connection, Alex, and it's set in stone now." He paused, letting the enormity of the night sink in for the both of them. "Anyone wants to come between us, break us down, they've lost before they've begun."
Alex began to blink back happy tears. This felt wonderful, as much as it was alien to her. For most of her life she'd had to fight against so many things that sought to defeat her. As ridiculous as sounded, it was as though it had been a countdown from the moment she was born. Now, with him, she felt invincible.
Her fingers linked with his, their palms kissing.
"We go in, get on with the next case that comes along. Go for a few rides in the Quattro, piss off Keats enough that he sees sense and packs 'is bags. Do what we do best."
She blinked in the slowly lifting darkness, a smirk marking her face. "I don't know. Doing what we do best probably isn't advisable in the office, even with the blinds drawn."
He sniggered, lifting his head from the pillow and looming over her. "You'll be the death of me, Bolly."
A sharpness arrowed her chest, the blood running cold in her veins.
"Don't say that."
His eyes narrowed as she reached to touch him, reassure herself with the warmth of his skin beneath her fingers. It was delaying the inevitable, she knew – at least, she was almost certain – but for now at least she wanted nothing more than to pretend. To hold on.
"Alright," he groused, shifting down the bed while his hands glided over her, "I'll put me gob to better use then, shall I?"
"Gene," she wondered aloud, ceasing when he disappeared from her sight and settled himself between her thighs, nudging her gently open. "Oh, god!"
Threading her hands tight in his hair, she closed her eyes, smiled and settled back for the ride. If this was heaven after all, then it seemed to be doing a very good job in living up to her expectations.
It all felt so real. The mist of the rain in the air and upon her skin, the soil that she clawed at with her fingers, digging away desperately.
She looked up to the sky, saw the farmhouse in the distance, the weather vane pointing north. Keats wasn't there, Gene wasn't there, no gunshots were fired.
A gleam of silver pinned to the shoulder of the eerie-looking scarecrow, dressed in a long black overcoat, and she edged the numbers with her fingertips, carefully removing the traces of dirt. 6620.
"You've found me, Alex. It's been years. I've been here waitin' all of this time."
Her head swivelled at the sound of the strange yet familiar voice, taking in the young policeman in pristine uniform, half his face blown away, disfigured.
"Who are you? Why am I here?"
The half that remained transformed into a smile.
"Don't you recognise me? We've got a connection..."
She dressed quickly, not bothering with a shower and unable to stomach breakfast. Sitting on the edge of the bed softly, Gene was sprawled out, the duvet just about covering his naked form. She touched her hand gently to his forehead, stroking his hair back and edging his skin.
"Mmm, Alex," he muttered, groaning at the softness of her touch. "S'early. Come back to bed."
She did her best to keep her voice even as she spoke, her eyes pinned to him as he looked so at ease, without a worry in the world. "I had a dream. About you."
"Bleedin' 'ell woman, you're insatiable." With eyes half-closed he pulled himself upwards, grasping the sheets in his hands. "At least give me the chance to have a bit of scran first."
She took in a breath, watching him carefully as he started to spring to life. Impulsively, she placed her hand upon his chest, stilling him.
"I was somewhere," she began to explain, knowing it would hardly make sense to him. "We have to go there, today. It's important."
He stared at her. "Yeah?"
She nodded.
"Do you know a place called Farringfield Green?"
A/N: *dun dun dun* (I know, I know...but I promise there will be a better ending than canon. That's why I had to write this fic in the first place!)
Only You written by Vince Clarke. I felt like it was underused in the show and it's such a beautiful song perfect for a little romantic sway. True written by Gary Kemp, and well...need I say anything more (I can never listen to that song again without wanting to burst in a fit of feels-induced tears, but it's the most wonderful torture)
