A/N: Lest we forget what tomorrow is… anyone else marking the 2 year anniversary of the end of A2A? I'll be posting the winning 'deleted' scene in the evening (at 9pm just to be cheesy!) then torturing myself by watching the last episode. Still extreeeeeemely angry that Alex was dead and got bundled off to the pub as soon as she found out. They need to at least have death counsellors in place in that world!
~xXx~
Chapter Twenty Four
Gene groaned and made a rude gesture at the phone as it started to ring.
"I don't think they can see you, Gene," Alex sighed tiredly, all curled up on the couch beside him, her head resting heavily against his chest.
"I can't answer that, I've got too much on me hands already," Gene told her, casually rubbing her thigh.
"You should answer it," Alex told him, "it could be the station. Perhaps there's news on Layton."
Gene hesitated. He listened to the phone as it carried on ringing. Weighing up her words he realised there was a strong possibility that Alex was right. He gave a hefty groan and reluctantly slipped from the couch, letting Alex's head drop with a conspicuous 'oof' noise along the way.
"Sorry," he mumbled.
"You're not," Alex accused.
"We'll conclude this business meeting at the next available opportunity," Gene told her and answered the phone, "What?" He listened for a while, his face growing more confused all the time. "Alright. Alright. I'll be right there. Just, err…." He hesitated, "just try to put down some towels or something. They just had new floors put down in those cells."
Alex looked at him, lightly aghast as he hung up.
"Towels?" she repeated, "put towels where exactly?"
Gene set his jaw firmly, determined not to be shaken by the revelation.
"Some news I wasn't expecting," he said, "You go looking for a rat and you find a vulture instead. Guess who's turned up?" he waited for Alex to guess but she didn't dare. "One of Batman's mutts picked up a trail. Seems someone hadn't been washing 'is feet recently. Found Jimbo thrashing around in a heap behind some bins."
Alex's expression contorted into a mix of fear and confusion.
"What?"
"Sounds like either he's eaten a bar of soap or developed a severe case of rabies. Foaming at the mouth. Spitting like a cat who's had his tail chopped off. They've brought him in but they don't know what to do with 'im. Shoebury wants me down there before they make the final call on the padded ambulance."
"Shit," Alex shuddered, "what's happened to him?"
"Aside from the soap theory, I have no idea," Gene rubbed his forehead, "he started to really lose the plot a few days ago, attacking his own bloody DI in the middle of 'is station. Something's turned 'is temper up a notch… or five"
As he began to pull his coat on Alex got to her feet.
"I think I'll come with you," she said.
"I'd rather you stay away from the Jimbo freak show," Gene told her.
"It's not Jimbo I'm going for," she said. She slipped on her shoes. "I want to see Simon."
"If you want to ask him for clarification on his Red Dwarf spoiler policy it can wait 'til later," Gene told her, "Not allowed in the station, remember?"
"I didn't believe you this morning and I don't believe you now," Alex told him. She gave a withering sigh. "I thought Simon might need someone to talk to."
Gene frowned.
"About me and his mother busting the bedsprings?" he demanded.
"Party, yes," Alex sighed, a little guiltily, "but… I just think he needs someone to talk to. Look what he's going through, Gene – he's found out his mother was unfaithful, the man he's called 'dad' all his life wasn't even his father and the man he's waited fifteen months to reunite with has fallen in love with someone else."
"And stuck a ready meal in her microwave," Gene said tactfully.
"Yes, and that," Alex frowned, "where the hell did that one come from?"
"Just trying to update the bun in her oven thing for the nineties," Gene told her.
"Either way," Alex began with a sigh, "his head must be spinning. And who's he got to talk to? Not you. Certainly not Robin."
She watched as Gene finally nodded.
"Alright, bloody talked me into it," he said, "but you keep away from the cells while Jimbo's drowning in his own rabid saliva."
"I'll stay in CID," Alex promised - the last thing she felt she could stomach was Keats's drool as it was.
"Fine," Gene agreed, "but if he makes one comment about me hairy backside you are under strict instructions to make full use of the filing cabinet."
~xXx~
"How long has he been like this?"
Gene and Simon stood at the open cell door, watching Keats turning in circles on all fours on the ground. There were bursts of laughter that almost rattled their bones and unearthly growls that send a shudder down their spines.
"Uniform picked him up half an hour ago," Simon told him, "he's been in this kind of condition ever since."
"Said anything?" Gene asked.
"Nothing intelligible," Simon shook his head.
Gene took a slight step back as the rabid Keats briefly caught his eye.
"Where'd they find him?" he asked.
"They were scouting round Fenchurch West" said Simon, "he was sheltering behind the dumpsters. They had to don dog-handling gear to get him in the van. They were worried he was going to bite them." He paused. "Actually, it was one of Robin's dogs that sniffed him out in the first place."
"Has the station doctor seen him?" asked Gene.
"Seen him, freaked out, ran away," said Simon.
"Right," Gene folded his arms, "well we can't exactly question him in this state. Call the bloody ambulance and tell them to make sure they coat the thing with rubber."
"Already called them," said Simon, "he'll be taken in for assessment and sectioned if necessary."
"What the bloody hell's he done?" Gene wondered, "downed a few of Layton's goodies?"
"I have no idea," said Simon, "there were no drugs found on him, but that doesn't necessarily rule it out."
"Hey," A clattering of footsteps behind them resulted in Robin arriving breathlessly by their side, "I got here as soon as I could." He looked past them to the manic Keats, "bloody hell, you weren't kidding."
"I hear one of your mutts actually picked up the scent of a man rather than his odour eaters for once," Gene commented.
Robin bristled slightly.
"Apparently so," he mumbled.
Gene frowned.
"You'd think you'd be happy yer unit's got it's first success story," he said, "at least they'll stop calling them the Hopeless Hounds."
"They don't, do they?" Robin cried in alarm.
Gene hesitated.
"No, they don't," he admitted.
Robin closed his eyes for a second and sighed.
"Not in the mood for this," he muttered.
Gene looked at him curiously, then gave a slight smirk.
"Oh, I get it," he said.
"Get what?"
"I think I've figured out which of yer furry fanatics caught the scent," said Gene.
"Don't know what you're talking about," Robin mumbled.
"So it wouldn't be a certain WPC Granger then?" he asked. Robin's silent, dark expression told him he'd hit the nail right on the head. "Bless your little jealous cotton socks."
"Shut up," Robin hissed. He wanted to disappear into a hole. He wanted a team of moles to work together to tunnel under the station at that precise moment and cause the floor to cave in right below him. He knew full well his stupid his jealousy was. Not only was Kim on the other side of the line but as far as Shaz knew she was dead. But he couldn't help it. He felt himself reddening in the face as he folded his arms and turned his back slightly to Gene.
Simon raised an eyebrow.
"You're working with Shaz?" he asked.
"Trying to avoid, more like," Robin muttered.
Simon noted with some smugness the jealousy in Robin's voice. If he wasn't already turning red he'd have been turning green. He was just about to press the matter further when Keats caught a glimpse of Robin in the doorway and exploded in a hateful eruption of bile and fury.
"You," he hissed and spat, his eyes flashing with malevolence, "you turned me this way!"
He scrambled to his feet and gave a wild dash towards the door. To Robin it called to mind the fast zombies from 28 Days Later and he froze on the he spot, unable to move or even to breathe. Gene's reflexes were fast and after grabbing Robin with one hand to pull him backwards he slammed the door with the other. Keats pressed himself up against it, snarling through the small window,
"All your fault! All your fault! You're dead, Robin. You're fucking dead!"
Even though the reinforced glass muffled his words slightly they didn't muffle the fear they induced. Robin swallowed hard, a lump of fear in his throat, and took a step shakily backwards. He watched transfixed by fear as Keats made cutthroat motions at him through the window, his teeth gnashing and his face reddening with anger.
"Holy fuck," Robin breathed. He'd never seen such madness in his life, and he knew people who liked Evan. He was surprised by a hand on his arm from Simon and glanced at him, unable to work out whether Simon was trying to reassure him or needed reassurance himself.
"He has to have taken something," Simon said shakily, "I can't think why else… I mean, we've seen him losing the plot before but he's never…"
"You think he might be on something?" Robin asked quietly.
"They didn't find anything, but –" Simon shrugged nervously.
"He did start using drugs when he was in Layton's body," Robin said quietly, "I suppose he had Layton's addiction as well as his memories."
"Maybe this is a throwback," Simon said quietly.
Keats briefly disappeared from the window then popped back up like an angry dog barking at an intruder.
"Just because I can't get you from in here," he spat at Robin, "doesn't mean I won't find a way. I'll get to you for the other side, Robin."
"You're staying on that side of the door, Jimbo," Gene told him.
"I don't mean the other side of the door," Keats spat furiously. His eyes were fixed on Robin's, "I'll get to you from the other side of the line. Just wait. " There was a manic smile on his face now, "Other side of the line, Robin. You think you're safe there but you're not. I'll find a way, believe me. I'll get a gun to that head."
The three observers backed away as Keats slowly slipped out of view and returned to a heap on the floor, shaking with wild bursts of laughter. Robin could hardly keep upright, his limbs were trembling so much. He played Keats's threats over and over in his head.
"What the hell did he mean?" he whispered.
"He's lost the plot, Batman," said Gene, "he was talking from the bottom of the compost heap. Doesn't mean a thing."
"No, he definitely meant something," Robin whispered.
"I think you need to get as far away from the rabid one as possible," Gene told him, "get back out on the trail of Layton, catch the bugger and ask him what Jimbo's been sticking in his arm."
Robin took a few moments to respond. He felt shaky and scared, but finally pulled himself together.
"Right," he said quietly. He knew he was shaking as he turned and walked away. He hoped Simon and Gene didn't notice. This was quickly getting too much for him. He knew that sooner or later he was going to run into Keats but never had he imagined receiving such a feral response.
Simon watched until Robin was out of sight, then turned to Gene.
"What the fuck was all that about?" he hissed, jabbing a finger towards the cell.
Gene stared at the doorway, unable to look at Simon. He didn't want him to know how deeply Keats's behaviour had shocked him. He knew if anyone saw how disturbed he'd been then they were likely to panic, and that was the last thing he wanted.
"Sounds like he might have been at Layton's stash after all," he said stiffly, "hospital will run some tests and see what he's taken. Maybe it'll knock him out for a bit and give us some peace and quiet."
"What did he mean about getting Robin from the other side?" Simon asked anxiously.
"He doesn't mean anything by anything," said Gene, "look at him. He's turned into a spitting swamp monster. He's got a severe case of the brainless wonders. He's gone in for a lobotomy. Ignore the bugger."
Simon wasn't so sure but then again he'd never seen Keats behaving this way. He certainly didn't seem to be making a lot of sense anyway, that was certain. He tried very hard not to think about it too much, or he would only drive himself crazy. He shook his head a little as though to get rid of all thoughts of Keats before he asked Gene,
"Is Robin really working with Shaz?"
Gene nodded and reached for his flask. He needed something to take the edge off the Keats situation.
"Granger's gone to the dogs," he commented, even though he knew the joke was rubbish.
"And he knows about Shaz and Kim?" Simon asked. He already knew the answer – there had been little doubt about it from Robin's reaction – but he wanted to be sure.
"Whatever gave your that idea?" Gene rolled his eyes.
Simon hesitated.
"So if… if Kim ever came back here," Simon tried and failed to sound casual and nonchalant, "what do you think would happen?"
Gene groaned and took a swig from his flask.
"This isn't a conversation for the custody corridors," he said.
"I just want a simple answer," said Simon, "not a full-blown investigation."
Gene closed his eyes and sighed,.
"Alright, listen," he began quietly, "it's not as simple as that. Stringer 'died'. We had a funeral for her. She's not going to suddenly appear again like nothing ever happened. On top of that, she went home to two thousand and three. She only left here nine months ago. You want to explain to Granger why her dead flame is back with an extra decade of wrinkles in her forehead?" He rubbed his head. Sometimes his world was too damn complicated, "If Stringer comes back one day – and I wouldn't be surprised to see that – then it wouldn't be for years, Shoebury. Like you." he handed Simon the flask because he looked as though he needed it, "you died too. Out there, where you were, it was only months before you came back, but here… you arrived ten years on. Enough time had passed that most people around here never knew you. Those who did bought the undercover line. If you'd have turned up after a few months there would be too many questions."
"So," Simon tried to figure things out, "if Robin never made it back to the real world, he wouldn't see Kim again for… what, ten years or something?"
"Not at this station, anyway," said Gene, "but that's enough for this conversation. I don't like where it's heading."
"I didn't mean anything," Simon lied.
"Give it up, Shoebury," Gene told him, "let it go."
"Gene, I'm not –"
"Stop speculating about how many years you've got to win him back or how to fix Shaz and Kim up on a date across the years," Gene told hi sternly, "that's not your call." He took his flask back and screwed on the lid. "By the way, you're needed in my office. Someone wants to see you."
"Who?" frowned Simon.
"The population of Luxembourg," said Gene, "go and bloody see."
Simon shook his head and turned to leave. It was only half past two and already the day had been one of the most bizarre on record. His thoughts flew around his head – crazed Keats, Robin, Kim, Shaz – a massive jumble of fear and angst that wouldn't have been out of place in his teenage years.
"Maybe there will finally be a normal day in this world," he muttered to himself. But as the angered howls of a crazed Keats faded into the distance with each step he realised it wasn't going to happen any time soon.
~xXx~
#…Think of you with pipe and slippers
Think of her in bed
Laying there just watching telly
Think of me instead
I'll never grow so old and flabby
That could never be
Don't marry her, have me
And your love life shines like cardboard
But your work shoes are glistening
She's a PhD in "I told you so"
You've a knighthood in "I'm not listening"
She'll grab your sweaty bollocks
Then slowly raise her knee
Don't marry her, have me
And the Sunday sun shines down on San Francisco bay
And you realise you can't make it anyway
You have to wash the car
Take the kiddies to the park
Don't marry her, have me
Those lovely Sunday mornings
With breakfast brought in bed
Those blackbirds look like knitting needles
Trying to peck your head
Those birds will peck your soul out
And throw away the key
Don't marry her,have me
And the kitchen's always tidy
And the bathroom's always clean
She's a diploma in "just hiding things"
You've a first in low esteem
When your socks smell of angels
But your life smells of brie
Don't marry her, have me
And the Sunday sun shines down on San Francisco bay
And you realise you can't make it anyway
You have to wash the car
Take the kiddies to the park
Don't marry her, have me
And the Sunday sun shines down on San Francisco bay
And you realise you can't make it anyway
You have to wash the car
Take the kiddies to the park
Don't marry her ,have me…#
~ Don't Marry Her – The Beautiful South