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Back to the Future	By : gallygaskins Category: 1 through F > Ashes to Ashes Views: 1342 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
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Chapter List
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Chapter 2 – What do you remember?

Gene Hunt opened the file and studied the contents.

Name: Detective Superintendent Gene Aaron Hunt
Date of Birth: 27^th March 1963
Place of Birth: Stockport, Cheshire
Spouse: Rebecca Jayne Burridge    – born 6^th October 1967
                                                – married 22^nd April 1989
                                                – died 25^th November 1990 (childbirth)
Children: Jason Peter Hunt         – born 25^th November 1990
                                                – died 25^th November 1990 (stillbirth)

Career: Joined – Greater Manchester Police 14^th June 1982 (Police Constable)
            Moved to CID – 4^th February 1985 (Detective Constable)
            Rank    – Detective Sergeant 21^st September 1987
                        – Detective Inspector 8^th March 1993
                        – Detective Chief Inspector 20^th July 1998
– Detective Superintendent 29^th November 2004

Record: 5^th May 2005 – In state of coma after being involved in RTA. Head on collision. Drunk driver charged. See Case XH/GAH/ST/105987/050505/RTA.
29^th January 1999 – Awarded for bravery …

Bringing the bottle to his lips he drank gratefully, the golden liquid splashing down his throat and enlivening his senses. Tyler had a point, these new faddy bottled lagers were better. He turned the bottle in his hands, “Corona! Weren’t that lemonade?” He asked, noticing Sam was nearing the wooden patio table with their dinner.

“They made all sorts of flavours if I remember correctly; mum had a regular delivery from the pop man when he called! Cream soda was my favourite!”

“Cream soda, yeah! Don’t even make it now. This is good though!” Gene lifted the bottle to add effect.

“Yeah, not bad, better with lime but finding anything that resembles food other than a degraded pile of mush in your fridge at the minute is a minor miracle.”

“Come on, Tyler, got out of hospital yesterday. When did you expect me to go to the shops?”

“You’ve had all day!”

“Been sleepin’ most of it, bloody drugs!”

“Well, you’ve got two weeks before you’re back at work. How’s the pasta?”

“Good, very good. Anybody think you’re Mrs Beeton.”

“Doesn’t come close to your curries,” Sam responded, “besides, have to know how to feed yourself haven’t you, so you might as well do it properly!”

Gene nodded, he looked around the garden, he couldn’t imagine this was all his and that he tended to it, “looks like I’ve become Percy bloody Thrower!”

“You do love your garden!”

“Do I?” He looked back at Sam, unconvinced. Sam lifted his eyebrows, nodded and smiled. “If only I could remember!”

“Still nothing coming back to you!”

“Not much, I’m sure I’ll be fine,” he pointed to his picture in the file, “handsome brute weren’t I?”

“You still have scores of ladies after you with knees of jelly, I can tell you!”

“Maybe thin’s won’t be so bad then,” he smiled. He pulled a gilded photo frame from under the file and looked at the happy couple. “She were beautiful, weren’t she?” His fingers absently tracing the lines of her face, over her eyes and across her lips.

“Yes, beautiful. Had I been a little older I would’ve given you a run for your money,” Sam teased, “seriously though, she was one of the best, always had that knack of being able to calm down any situation from just being in the room.”

“Don’t know what she saw in me!”

“No, I could never understand that either.” They laughed, “Gene, you and Becky just had one of those relationships. The kind we all hope for but generally fall short of finding. From the moment the two of you saw one another across that crowded room, you knew you had to be together. I still remember the day you told me you’d met her, do you remember?” Gene shook his head melancholily, “You told me that she was an angel, no other woman had ever made you feel so complete and you were going to marry her and that was only after your first date!” Sam stopped, remembering back to the Christmas party of 1987. “And the day you told me that you were expecting a baby, apart from the day you got married I don’t think I’d ever seen either one of you happier.”

“What ‘appened, Sam?”

“Becky had pre-eclampsia, it was caught early on and the doctors thought they’d got it under control. When she went into labour complications arose, they did everything they could, she lost so much blood,” Sam shut his eyes to the memory. When he opened his eyes again he saw Gene watching him, waiting for him to finish. “She died as soon as your son was born, he was a stillbirth. I’m sorry!”

“Probably just as well I can’t remember,” he said quietly, tracing the picture again. A lone tear escaped and fell onto the picture. It was obvious he had loved her, and very much from the emotions that were building up inside of him. “Looked like a good day?” He pulled himself together.

“Yeah,” Sam agreed, “A very good day, ‘best piss up ever’ as Ray would say!” Gene sniggered. “You know, they’ll never be another Becky but there are plenty more where she came from.”

“Like ‘oo exactly?”

“I think you’ll like our new DI!” Gene’s eyebrows shot skyward. “She’s smart, confident, determined, and a bit wayward sometimes but she normally has a good reason why and, under other circumstances, she’d probably scrub up rather nicely!”

“You go out with her then!”

“I’m seeing someone, besides she’s the kind that likes her men older and more … refined, should I say?”

“Refined, eh? We’ll see, she’s gotta psychoana… babble me first anyway, orders from above. Day I get back she’s ‘avin’ me in ‘er office!”

“I’m sure even you wouldn’t be adverse to that Gene, taking her over the desk.” They smiled.

“’Oo you seein’?”

“Maya Roy.” Gene shook his head, he couldn’t remember her either. “DC Maya Roy. You brought her over from uniform about 4 years ago.”

“Dipping your pen in the office ink, me boy!”

“Not like it’s a crime these days, Gene. Mind you, don’t know if it will last. We’re always arguing.”

“Spendin’ too much time together, that’ll be it!” Gene responded with his wisdom.

“Probably!”

“That why you’re ‘ere, lookin out for me?”

“If I’m honest, yes. You ok?”

“Yeah, could do with a bloody fag though, got any. Oh yeah, you don’t do you?”

“And since when did you?” Sam looked puzzled.

“Don’t I then?”

Sam shook his head, “not since I’ve known you, which is nigh on 12 years!”

“Shit! Smoked ‘bout 40 a day in 1973!”

“Yeah, about that? In 1973 you were 10!”

“Not whilst I were in that coma I weren’t, I were ‘bout the same age as you are now! DCI an all! It were like the bloody Sweeny only ten times better. Sheriff of my domain, running around in a bronze Ford Cortina 2000GXL and generally ‘avin’ a bloody good time to boot!”

“Little wonder you came back?” Sam mocked.

“’Ad to, the bloody garden needs me. Look at it! What ‘appened to me car, Sam?”

“It was written off, the insurance company said that you’d be paid out for it so I guess it’s up to you to go and get yourself something else.”

“Another job to keep me occupied then, good. Don’t really want to be sat around ‘ere thinkin’ of bad thin’s, do I? So this Drake bird, what’s she like?”

“Everything you’re not! She’s got manners for a start; her parents were solicitors and I think her schooling was good, born and bred in London but bit of a posh one. She has a Masters degree in Investigative profiling and has had secondment to the CIA, so she is very capable of getting inside your mind and sorting it out, if she chose to. She has a 10 year old daughter from a previous marriage and has been divorced for several years.”

“I meant, what does she look like?”

Sam rolled his eyes and shook his head, “trust you! She’s fairly tall, good figure, got legs up to her armpits and ample breasts. She’s a brunette, her hair is quite long but every time I’ve seen her it’s always severely clipped up out of the way. Her eyes are chocolate brown and seem affectionate. I think she’s probably a very warm and generous person but she’s just very professional when she’s working, which makes her seem curt and stern.”

“You ever thought of profilin’ people?” Gene smiled.

Sam shook his head, “no, just always on the look out for the perfect Mrs Tyler!”

Their light conversation and witty banter carried on late into the evening, and when it was too cold to sit outside anymore they took it inside, putting on an old Clint Eastwood DVD, Gene seemed to have them all he realised, as he thumbed through the titles neatly stacked in the unit.

When Sam became conscious that Gene was past his best and caught him cat napping on the sofa, Sam said his goodbyes and left him to it taking Gene’s file with him. Gene lay stretched out on the large black comfortable leather sofa, his head supported by a cushion and the sofa’s arm. He nursed a generous measure of malt whisky looking again at the picture of him and his wife on their wedding day. He raised his glass to her, “why can’t I remember you?”

Putting the picture and glass on the coffee table in front of the sofa whilst he turned around and sat up, his mind wandered trying to recollect anything of his life in 2005. His face fell into his hands as tears threatened to run, “why don’t I remember anything at all?”

.oOo.

The two weeks that Gene had been given had gone by so quickly that he couldn’t quite believe that today was going to be his first day back to work in nearly five months. The Chief Super had told him that he was coming back ‘on the strict understanding that if Gene felt out of sorts he was to go home immediately, and he was to sit behind his desk for at least another month’. He was not allowed to go out with his fellow officers until they had had the all clear from the hospital and from DI Drake’s assessment.

Pulling his naked body from under the sheets he padded into his bedroom and showered. The warm water washing over his skin felt so good, if there was one thing he could say for 2005 it was the fact that general cleanliness seemed to be more important than it was 32 years previously. He looked at his reflection in the mirror as he used the electric rechargeable shaver to trim away the light bristle that was evident over his cheeks and chin, deciding that he didn’t look so bad after all, there wasn’t much reason why women wouldn’t find him attractive. He cleaned his teeth and brushed his hair back, the short style not needing much to keep it in check before making his way back into the bedroom and choosing what he was going to wear that day.

He’d grown accustomed to the jeans and t-shirts over the two weeks he had been off work, especially considering he’d spent most of the time in the garden sorting it out once he realised that he had something of a knack for it. He wasn’t quite sure how he would feel putting a suit on for the first time in ages, as he pulled back the doors to his wardrobe and searched among the hanging garments for something he thought he’d feel comfortable in. He picked out a charcoal grey suit with the faintest of pin stripes, teaming it with a grey shirt. He looked through the ties, Jesus, was that a pink one. “Hope to God, I never wore that one!” He said flicking through the assortment and settling on a plain steel blue coloured silk tie. He dressed quickly and went in search of a pair of shoes finding an array in the cupboard under the stairs. He settled on a pair of black brogues and after giving them a quick dusting down, he put them on.

He realised he’d left his wallet and keys on the bedside cabinet and ran back up to get them, deciding that he should put on a belt and maybe some aftershave. Was he getting forgetful in his ‘old’ age or was it just that he ‘wasn’t used to his ‘old’ routine,’ he thought. He looked at the bottles that lined the shelf in the bathroom cabinet, all of differing shapes and smells when he tested them. He settled on a blue one in a square shaped bottle, he didn’t know what it was or much cared but he liked the smell, that was enough.

He checked his watch; if he didn’t get a move on he’d be late. He’d get breakfast at the station; at least he’d be in the building on time if nothing else. Picking up his briefcase, he made sure that the front door was locked behind him before opening the garage and getting into his car, the money he’d had from the insurance company had been enough to get something a little up market and he’d ended up going for a black BMW 525i. He glanced over its sparkling bodywork, there was nothing like the relationship between man and car when you were presented with a beauty such as this. He sat himself in the black leather driver’s seat making sure he was comfortable before starting the engine and making his way to work, the garage door closing upon the remote switch in the car being struck.

Within half an hour he was at work and parking up in one of the spaces, he’d neglected to notice that each space was marked with each member of staff’s title and name. He made his way directly to the canteen and ordered himself some breakfast choosing a seat by the window. He was soon found by Sam, “Jesus, Gene, you always know how to make a bloody entrance don’t you?”

“Why, what’ve I done?”

“You’ve only parked in Drake’s parking space! Best get down there and move your car quick before she finds you!”

“Righty oh! After I’ve ‘ad me breakfast.”

“No, right now, Gene. She’s on the bloody war path!”

“You and I are ‘er superior officers!”

“Well, if you think that’s gonna cut it with her Gene, then by all means stay here, she’ll cut your balls off before you’ve had chance to say Loretta Bobbit!”

“’Oo? Never mind, I’ll go now then!” He retorted sarcastically, “can you come with me an’ tell me where I am supposed to park?”

“You can read can’t you, Superintendent Hunt?” Sam teased as they made it to the lifts and back down to the car park. They could hear her ranting by the time they alighted the lift, Sam rushed out and diverted her attention after telling Gene where he should park. Gene managed to covertly move his car before getting back to the lift and being joined by Tyler once more.

“What did you say to ‘er?”

“Just that I knew you were in the building and I sent out some officers to try and track you down!”

“Thanks Sam, couldn’t ‘ave all that crap from ‘er first day back, could I?”

“Aren’t you meeting with her at 10?”

Gene rested the back of his head against the wall of the lift, “shit! Oh well, have t’ get me excuses ready, won’t I?”

Sam nodded and sniggered, “you’ll need more than that!”

“I thought you said that she were a warm and generous person?”

“Yes, well, none of us have seen that side of her yet, even though Shaz assures us that she does have one!”

“Great!” The door opened up to their floor, “right best show me where me office is then, Sammy boy!”

.oOo.

Gene walked along the corridor nodding to various officers as they said their hello’s to him, he hadn’t a clue who any of them were but they all seemed to respect him. ‘Obviously not too bad at me job, then,’ he chuckled to himself pulling up in front of a door that was marked as the ‘First Aid Room’. He knocked, awaiting any kind of response. “Come in.” Came the brusque remark. He turned the handle opened the door slightly and stepped into the room, letting the door swing to behind him.

He quickly surveyed the room; it wasn’t like any first aid room he’d ever recalled seeing before. To one side of the room were several comfortable looking chairs set up to look like someone’s living room. To the other was an office area where the occupant of the room was sitting reading his file and writing notes. “Sit down over there,” she said, pointing to the armchairs and never looking up. “I’ll be with you in a minute.”

He turned towards the living room and picked a chair, sitting down in it and nearly getting lost within all of the cushions that were piled on top of it. Finally, he managed to sit up straight resting his arms on his knees and circling his thumbs around one another as he patiently waited for DI Drake to start the ball rolling. “It’s Detective Superintendent Gene Hunt, isn’t it?” She asked, still scribbling away.

“Yeah, that’s right?”

“And can you read?”

“Yeah, surprisingly well for a northern flatfoot!” The sarcasm in his voice was raw, what the hell did she want from him for his mistake, blood!

Her head came up from her paperwork, Tyler had been right, the proper situation and she would scrub up very well. He watched her intently as she studied his features, her eyes grazing over every line, every pore, and every scar on his face. Why on earth was she studying him so attentively? “I wasn’t actually referring to the fact that you were parked in my space this morning.”

“Then what the bloody ‘ell else ‘ave I done?” He asked sullenly.

Her brow furrowed, she looked at him quizzically. “You don’t remember me Gene, do you?” She watched him slowly shake his head; there wasn’t even a spark of realisation that he knew who she was.

“Have we met before then?” He tentatively enquired.

She nodded her head, “yes, but you would have known me as Alex Price!”
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