Can I Hide With You?
Author: Jess_Who
Fandom: Ashes To Ashes
Pairings: Gene/Alex
Rating: 12+
Disclaimer: Only a fan, not the owner :'(
Spoilers: Series 2.6
A/N: This was a one-shot, now it will probably be a few chapters because I keep getting distracted. AU - Riley's men come to Alex's flat, a battered Gene finds Alex hiding behind the sofa.
A/N2: Updated and changed in places, because I wasn't happy with it.
....A2A...A2A....
Can I Hide With You? - There's No Jam Behind The Sofa
With a crackle of flames they leave her ever so 80's TV set broken, no not broken, dead.
Alex is about to get up from behind her sofa to douse the flames, but she hears a noise. A foot dragging along the landing outside and the heavy fall of another foot quickly moving to take a burdensome weight.
She tucks herself farther back into the shadows. Her breathing shallow as she tries to be as quiet as a mouse, as small as a mouse is what she wants to be.
Her front door is still open, no doubt with the prints of her intruders shoe on it. She hears it scrap across the ground, one hinge must need repairing and she does not have a tool box. She wants to laugh at how her mind has decided to prioritise things.
She can hear a scrabbling sound and the click before the room is a flood with light.
She pulls her legs up to her chest so tightly she cannot find the space to breath around her own body. Her lungs already ache and she wishes she had found somewhere else to hide, a cupboard maybe. It is like hiding from the Daleks behind your own sofa; pointless when it offers no real protection, and anyway where is the Doctor when you need him?
The distorted walk of dragging and stamping stops.
"Alex?" The voice is a low rumble filled with pain and concern. She would recognise that voice anywhere, but none the less she pokes her head over the arm of the chair with caution. In this world she cannot even trust her own mind not to deceive her. It is him though, Gene Hunt albeit crumbled and bloody.
He turns to her swiftly, gun raised. She pushes back a cushion so he can see her huddle in the corner all meek and unarmed. She feels young and old all at once, first crawling from her hiding place like a child and then like an old lady using the nearest sturdy object to help pull her up; the sturdy object happens to be Gene Hunt. She does not let him take her weight for long because she cannot be certain that he will not topple down on her.
Her hand remains in his, but it is Gene that keeps a hold of it. His fingers are warm and safe against her palm in a way that is strangely intimate all things considered. She wants to be strong enough to let go, at the same time as wanting to look weak enough to be pulled into his arms.
She stares into his eyes for a drawn out second before she feels confident enough to pull away. His face needs ice in a multitude of places and if the noise of his walking is anything to go by somewhere else needs a lot of ice too. Instead of going to get ice his hand tightens around hers, unwilling to let her go.
"Did they hurt you?" He asks with that same edge of concern and pain. She should get some paracetamol too, for both of them.
"No, no. I was down there the whole time." She points to her shadowy corner, "They killed the TV," and how foolish she must look bursting into tears like this over an easily replace piece of technology. Sillier still if she says it talks to her. He does not seem to mind how silly or foolish she looks. He groans as he pulls her into his arms, her head furrowing neatly under his chin as he strokes her shoulder.
"Don't you worry, Bolls, I'll get you a new one, a better one. Tomorrow," he says in a soft rumble stroking his hand down her back. He must be able to feel every shaking sob, so she sets her mind to calming down until the scent of him sooths her shaking into just the rise and fall of continuous breathing and the occasional deep breath which she suspects Gene knows is her smelling him.
Alex wipes her nose with the cuff of her red jumper, whispering nonsense to herself as she pulls away. Her blush creeps into her hair line as in her embarrassment she has been looking anywhere but his face and that is why she notices the black wet patch on his shirt. She squints at the mark her mascara has left on his nice white shirt. It was sneaky like that; mascara, makes you think you have removed it all, but it always clings between the lashes ready to attack unsuspecting shirts.
"Sorry, I'll get a damp cloth," she says pulling away and walking to the kitchen, "and some ice," she added looking at the front door half hanging off the frame.
She sets the damp washing up cloth on the draining board and carries a kitchen chair with her, she ignores Gene's inquisitive frown as she pushes the door as near to closed as it is going to get and pushes the chair under the door jab. "Won't be a minute," she said carrying on back into the kitchen.
Instead of juggling everything she brought through a tray with five glasses on; two of which had a slug of whiskey, another two with water and one empty. She placed the empty one on the chair holding the door closed. "So we hear them straight away," she says in way of answer. Truth be told the smashing glass would give them little forewarning, but she feels better for it all the same.
She helps Gene with his long coat and suit jacket by throwing them over the arm of the sofa and perches on the coffee table. She hands him two paracetamols and the water.
"I'll be fine," Gene says shaking his head, "Just give me the whiskey."
"No," Alex speaks to him firmly, "Take the bloody pain killer and do as you're told for once." She thrusts the glass into his hand and sits waiting until he does as he is told and then swaps the glasses for the one with his beloved whiskey. "See it's not all bad, is it now?" Alex hides a smile at his grunt and starts pulling off his boots.
"What the hell are you doing?" He asks, trying to pull his foot from her lap.
"Just indulge me, I'm looking after you." She pulls his sock off and turns her face away, puts his foot on the table and gets up. Leaning over his legs she picks the bag of obligatory frozen peas off the tray and rests it on his red ankle, then sluggishly steps over his legs, picks up her damp cloth from earlier and a tea towel filled with ice.
She sits down next to him, her legs curling under her as she turns herself bodily to him. Alex takes one of his hands and makes him hold the kitchen towel of ice to his eye, her hand holding his in place until she is sure he isn't going to just let it flop back down into his lap and puts the damp cloth to his shirt.
One hand on his chest stretching the fabric, the other scrubbing gently. Turning the cloth around for a clean area she works the grey area until it is an off white and continues with little circles only stopping when she begins to feel silly and drops it on the tray.
"Hows the eye?" she asks taking the soggy tea towel from him and putting it on the tray as she picks up her whiskey.
"Fine, thanks." He nods to include his ankle and she smiles and shrugs, sinking back into the cushions next to him, her head resting against his shoulder. "I'm gonna get that bastard Riley. Cowards came at me from the back, but it takes a different kind of bastard scum to come after you, Bolls. I'll bloody get him, he'll wish he had never crossed paths with me."
"Gene," Alex says with soft concern, laying a hand on his arm, "Don't do anything stupid, promise me you won't hurt him." She nudges his shoulder and catches his wince before he can hide it.
"Can't promise I won't give him a good hiding, Bolls, but I won't rip the bastard limb for limb if that makes you feel any better." Alex nods absently as she trails her hand up his ribs, prodding with knowledgeable fingers until Gene shouts and pushes her away, "Will you stop fussing?"
"No, I'll see if I have anymore frozen vegetables in the freezer," she said taking the defrosting peas off his ankle and carrying the tray out with her.
"Get me a whiskey while you're up." Gene shouts through to her.
"You can finish mine," she answers as she puts the kettle on and pulls out mugs.
"Already did."
"The cheek," she laughs with mock annoyance, "You'll have to settle for a tea then." While the kettle boils she pops some bread into the toaster, pulls out the butter and raspberry jam.
: :
"Do you want jam on your toast, Molls?" Alex calls up the stairs, jar poised and ready to be opened in her hand.
"Raspberry." She calls as she rushes down with her bag.
"Come on hurry up, you've got to brush your teeth yet." Alex yawns and catches Molly doing the same. "And what time did you go to sleep last night?"
"I could ask you the same question?" Molly puts on a mock adult voice so she sound like a scolding teacher.
Alex rolls her eyes, catches Molly's bubble of laughter and lets it brighten the grey, rainy morning.
: :
She forces herself back into the living room with a bag of open sausages wrapped in a towel and a spoon in her mouth the flavour envokng memories she is so scared of losing.
"Last of the frozen stuff I'm afraid." she says around the spoon of jam. The toast pops up at the same time as the kettle clicks off and she goes back to make tea between buttering two slices of toast and plonking them on a plate.
She comes back with a jar under her arm and her hands fully occupied by cups and a plate, the latter of which she passes to Gene, before setting the rest on the coffee table.
"Eat up." Alex smiles at him, undoing the jar of jam and finally taking the clean spoon from her mouth only to dip it into the raspberry goodness and put it back into her mouth with a content sigh.
She listens to Gene as he bites into his toast with an unsatisfied grunt and she scoops another dollop of raspberry jam onto her awaiting tongue, her taste bud singing with appreciation. It has always been her favourite and Molly's too, there is something about the sharp sweetness that always calms her nerves, which is odd considering all the sugar.
Gene snatches the spoon and jar from her in one smooth motion and starts loading his second slice of toast with the pink jelly and sliding it around so it reaches the corners and drops the spoon with its crumbs back into the jar before handing it back to Alex, missing her horror filled expression.
She sighs, looking into the jar appalled, "You have just sullied my jam, what am I supposed to do with this?"
"Quit moaning. Nothing wrong with a few crumbs, besides your teeth 'll rot if you carry on like that."
Alex sighs again, puts the lid back on and hands Gene the spoon.
It takes her a while to realise she is watching him lick the spoon free of jam and crumbs by which point he notices her eyes have not left his mouth.
She hears him clear throat awkwardly and she quickly meets his gaze. Everything seems to slow as though they have their very own orbit in which nothing else can penetrate, she feels it draw her into to the velvet grey crush of his eyes.
The blood rises to her cheeks, her exposed collar bone a glowing pink and she is hot, the way he stares back at her makes her feel as though she is boiling in her own skin. It is more embarrassing than crying over a dead television set this reaction of hers.
He looks at her unblinking and she has to break contact so this time loop can stop, if she mistakenly kisses him she is not certain he will not out right reject her or want something more and she cannot take either.
All that he means to her is in a little white envelope that if done right he will not read until she is gone. It feels cheap having put it in writing, but it will hurt too much to say it out loud, she will never be able to find the right words anyway and she doesn't think he will understand why she cannot just stay. The truth might just break him and she cannot bare the very thought of it, so she looks down at her lap and yawns.
The excitement of breaking and entering, and being Gene's nurse maid seems to have caught up with Alex as she slides her legs across the sofa until she is lying with her head on Gene's warm thigh. Her eyes close as she chooses to ignore the rigidity in his body.
TBC...