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Back to the Future	By : gallygaskins Category: 1 through F > Ashes to Ashes Views: 1342 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I don't own Ashes to Ashes and I don't earn any money from this fanfiction

Chapter List
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Chapter 3 – It’s just my imagination

“Knew I’d find you in here, bit rough, was it?” Sam Tyler asked his friend and colleague as he sat down at the all too familiar table in the spit and sawdust pub that Gene often frequented.

“Not as bad as I expected but then I don’t really know what I were expectin’. Do you know anythin’ about Drake from when she were at the Met?” Gene asked, sipping at the shot of whisky that swirled around a glass in his hand.

“Not much, why?”

“She knows me.”

“Sorry?”

“She … bloody … knows … me!” Gene’s usual dry sarcasm firmly in place.

“From when?”

“Don’t know! She just started off our little session by askin’ me if I remembered ‘er. Said ‘er name was Alex Price when we met the first time an’, considerin’ she’s never been to Manchester before I must ‘ave met ‘er in London. Or maybe when I were trainin’ for someat?”

“Do you want me to find out if you where ever at the Met or at Bramshill at the same time then?”

Gene nodded, “please!” He pushed his hands through his hair before bringing them back over his face and roughly rubbing his chin. “How is it that I just don’t remember anythin’? It’s so bloody frustratin’,” he sighed, “First Becky, then ‘er. Don’t think she likes me much either, so I wouldn’t get that suit of yours out of moth balls anytime soon.” He smiled over to his friend who was sat amusedly watching him. “Seem a bit out of sorts yourself, Sam?”

“Maya and I, we’ve split up. She asked me to move out, wants a transfer too.”

“Oh, Sam, that’s too bad.”

“As I said before, I’m not really that worried, thought it was going to happen just didn’t have a clue when. Need to get the flat on the market as well now so we can have a clean break.”

“Look, you can always stay at mine for a bit, might ‘elp me start rememberin’ a few bits if there’s someone around to give me some guidance.”

“That doesn’t sound like you thought of that on your own.”

“No, it were one of ‘er suggestions,” Gene grinned.

“What?”

“Well, I kind of asked ‘er if she wouldn’t mind ‘elpin’ me out, to remember thin’s.”

“What did she say to that?”

Gene shrugged, turning his face to Sam. “Nothing, she just gave me a good ‘ard slap.”

“Ooh, that’s going to be pretty tomorrow. And I’m not sure I’d say she doesn’t like you, Gene, giving you a slap like that. I’d say she fancies the pants off you!”

.oOo.

“So, tell me a bit more about 1973, then Gene.” Alex Drake annoyingly pulled the lid off her biro and replaced it again for the umpteenth time. If there was anything more irritating, Gene Hunt couldn’t think what it was at that precise moment.

“What do you want t’ know?” He asked, looking at his hands attempting to take the focus off the one nerve that she was getting on.

“Your most vivid memories, let’s start with who was actually there?”

“Me, obviously, but I were DCI of the old Manchester an’ Salford force. Then there were Sam Tyler, he were DI, remember the day ‘e turned up!”

“Oh yes, what happened?”

“’E transferred from Hyde, see. Waltz’s in like ‘e owns the joint, askin’ questions ‘bout what year it is an’ generally being a bit of a dick.” Her eyebrows went up at his words for DCI Tyler, “so, I grab ‘im an’ throw ‘im against a filing cabinet.”

“You threw Sam Tyler against a filing cabinet?” Alex asked disgustedly.

“Yeah,” he said, stunned at her reaction, “I then tell ‘im that ‘e should never walk into my kingdom actin’ like ‘e’s king of the jungle, ‘e asks me ‘oo I am an’ I tell ‘im, Gene Hunt, your DCI and it’s 1973. Almost dinner time, I’m havin’ ‘oops!”

“Really!” She rolled her eyes. “So, who else was in this imaginary world of yours?”

If she’d wanted to hit that bloody nerve then she’d just done it. Gene exploded. “Look, DI Drake, this weren’t imaginary to me, it were bloody real. An’ ‘oo’s to say that this,” he flung his arms around his head wildly, “that all of this is real! ‘Cause at the moment I don’t remember a flamin’ thin’ from this modern world, with its computers an’ mobile phones. I mean I just spent £30 grand on a car an’ I haven’t got a clue what me ‘ouse is worth. Too bloody much, probably!”

“Gene, I’m sorry, it’s just hard to imagine that you’ve obviously spent a number of years running around Manchester whilst you were in a 4 month coma here, in 2005. What’s your earliest memory of ‘old’ Manchester?”

“Do you ‘ave to do that?”

“What?”

“Waggle your bloody fingers ‘bout when you say a particular word. It ain’t ‘alf annoyin’!”

“Sorry!”

“I remember me dad beatin’ me an’ me brother up, an’ ‘im comin’ ‘ome pissed most of the time, ‘avin’ a go at me mam. Went into National Service in order t’ get away from the bastard and joined up in the force at 19. Then there was this bloke I worked with, dobbed ‘im in ‘cause ‘e was taking back ‘anders. ‘E killed ‘imself.”

“What was his name? The man that died?”

“Why?”

“Because, we might be able to find him. How old do you think you were in 1973?”

“’Bout 35-36.”

“So, he’d have died around 1957-1958, then. Ok, anything else?”

“I were married too, Denise were ‘er name, Denise Laycock. We got married 22^nd July 1961, if that ‘elps,” she nodded writing down the information. “Who else, erm, DI Carlin’ were there an’ DS Skelton but they were DS an’ DC respectively then. An’ Annie Cartwright, she were plod till Tyler convinced me to transfer her over to CID, first woman detective in ‘A’ Division.”

“Any big crimes you were involved with that we might be able to find in the records.” She emphasized the word big but left out her waggling fingers. She needed him to respond to her not turn and run for the hills if she annoyed him again.

“A few! You want coherent facts, someat to go on and back up,” he watched her nod again, “ok, Stephen Warren, owned a club called, unsurprisingly, ‘The Warren’. CID were takin’ back ‘anders, me included, but Sam persuaded me to bring Warren down. Got ‘im for murderin’ a girl by the name of Joni Newton. She were arrested for criminal damage.

“Then there were Superintendent ‘Arry Woolfe. ‘E stole money an’ tried to pin the blame on the biggest crook around, Arnold Malone. ‘Ad an account with the Lancashire Building Society, under the name of ‘Arcourt Woolfe. That bloody ‘urt when I found out ‘e’d done that. ‘E’d been like a father figure t’ me, brought me up through the ranks, teachin’ me thin’s no one else wanted t’.”

“Well, that’s given me something to work on, thank you Gene. How are you getting along with remembering things here?”

He shrugged his shoulders and attempted a half smile, “not too good, I’m afraid. Sam’s moved in with me for a bit, whilst ‘e an’ that girlfriend of ‘is sort ‘emselves out. ‘E keeps tellin’ me stuff ‘bout me an’ the wife but I can’t remember her, my beautiful Becky!” Was that sadness she’d just witnessed in his eyes? Perhaps if they kept pushing that button!

“Gene, what did Denise look like?”

“She were a bit plain lookin’ really, blonde too. Not like Becky, she had the most beautiful chocolate brown hair, fell half way down ‘er back. ‘Ad these waves in it, I used to curl ‘em round my fingers when we were just lyin’ in bed together.” He brought his right hand up to his mouth, breathing in a scent and closing his eyes trying to remember something. “It smelt of fruits, berries, like a summer hedgerow, blackberries that were it!” He brought his head up and looked at her, his face beaming.

“I think, Superintendent, that you have just recalled your first memory of your wife. Congratulations!”

He got up from his seat and closed the gap between them, putting his arms around the still seated Alex and enveloping her into one of his bear hugs. “Thanks.”

She struggled to get out of his vice like grip, “you’re hurting me a bit,” she squealed, hoping that her remark would be enough for him to let her go. Thankfully it was.

“Sorry!” He said.

“It’s ok; I think we should leave it at that for today. Meet again tomorrow?” She asked, he nodded, “same time then?”

“Ok an’ thanks again!” He offered her his hand which she quickly shook.

“My pleasure. Till tomorrow then?”

“Yeah, see you.” He responded from the door closing it behind him.

Alex sat back into the chair attempting to compose the erratic heartbeat that she could feel trying to beat its way out through her chest. How could one simple gesture evoke such a response? “You bloody know why, you fool,” she said to herself demurely, thinking back to 1994 when she and the then DI Gene Hunt had met at Bramshill. He’d been charming, wanting to take her to dinner and she’d said yes. She hadn’t thought about it too much at the time and had told him that she was engaged; she reasoned that he was her one last fling before she married and, by god, what a fling he had been. “That’s enough,” she scolded herself, “you’re here to do a job! So just do it and then you can go home.”

She composed herself, got up from the chair and walked over to her desk, she rung Sam’s extension, “DCI Tyler … yes, it’s DI Drake … I think we should talk.”

.oOo.

Gene was like an excited teenager who had just had his first sexual encounter, the memories of him and his wife in his head, the smell of her shampoo vivid in his imagination as if he had just washed her hair. Jesus, that was another one, they’d only been married a couple of weeks and they’d taken a bath together. She’d sat in front of him leaning her back against his chest as he’d gently smoothed her exposed skin with the honeysuckle soap she liked to use. His touches had aroused her so she’d asked him to make love to her, the water only aiding to heighten their stimulated senses.

He slung the door of his office open and walked in with purpose, grabbing his briefcase up and striding back out. He left a message with his secretary that should anyone want him then he’d be back in the following morning. He strode off down the corridor.

Stopping outside Sam’s door he knocked and walked in unaware that Sam was in conference with DI Drake. Their chatting stopped immediately as soon as they were aware of his presence. “Oh, sorry!” He mumbled.

“Don’t worry, sir, I was just leaving,” Alex retorted.

“No, you’re fine, I were just goin’ to say that I’m off now Sam. It’s your turn to cook so don’t be too late.”

“No, I won’t!” Sam smiled. “See you in a bit then, Gene.”

“Yeah!” He started to go back out and then stopped; he turned back his hand still on the door handle. “Oh, DI Drake, got some good news, remembered some more.” His eyes sparkled.

She smiled back to him, “that’s good, great actually. So you’re going to go home and try to remember some more?”

He nodded, “See you tomorrow.” And with that he was gone.

Sam turned his attention back to Alex; at least he now knew they would have no more interruptions from the man that they were talking about. “So, Alex, you were telling me about your time at Bramshill, when you met Gene?”

.oOo.

‘Finally,’ Alex thought, time to herself. Molly was in bed asleep and she was able to have that much needed alone time that she had craved all day. She poured herself a large glass of white wine and made her way up stairs to find refuge in the bathroom. Turning on the taps she left the bath to fill whilst she lit a few lavender aromatherapy candles in order to calm her senses. She set her glass of wine securely on the shelf above the bath and stripped herself, climbing into the soapy water and sinking underneath.

She stretched herself out leaning her neck against the makeshift flannel pillow she had laid on the rolled top and closed her eyes. Tears stung at the corner of her eyes and she began to sob. Her move to Manchester was supposed to have been a new fresh start for both Molly and herself, the last thing she had expected was to find herself toe to toe with the one person she had never thought she’d see in her life again, Gene Hunt.

She brought her knees up to her chest, had it been any other man she’d have slept with she’d have been able to have coped but this was different, he was different. He’d never even responded to the notes she’d sent him, and now she’d probably never be able to find out why. He barely had any memories of he and his wife together let alone the few bittersweet moments that she had spent with him.

Her hands went to her head pulling at the clip that kept her hair out of her face, letting the tresses fall down like a curtain. From the picture that Sam had shown her, Becky was a beauty and Alex didn’t doubt that Gene’s intimate moments with his wife would have been reflected in their later relationship. So had his memory actually been of Becky or of her? Because her hair had been half way down her back and its natural chocolate brown colour when Gene had met her. One thing she knew, his touch had been so tender and loving, especially when he’d caught her hair and twisted the waves around his fingers slowly dropping the curls and tracing them down her back before delicately kissing his way down her spine.

She began washing herself attempting to cleanse and rid herself of the events leading up to her earlier session with Gene, but everything was futile. She picked up the bottle of her favourite shampoo, the one that she’d used for years. Opening the lid the sweet smell of wild berries hit her nostrils as tears arrived once more. She heard his voice in her head, ‘it smelt of fruits, berries, like a summer hedgerow, blackberries that were it!’ How likely was it that his wife had used the same shampoo as her?

.oOo.

Sam lay down in bed and switched off the bedside light, the illumination of the streetlight outside shining through the gaps in the louver blinds and falling over the bedding. His mind was a whirl, he’d been able to find out that Alex and Gene must have met at Bramshill because when Gene had been at the Met she had been in Virginia with the CIA. So when she’d called him and said they needed to have a chat he’d decided that he would ask her about her relationship with his friend.

She’d arrived at his door approximately 5 minutes after she’d phoned and once she’d settled down with a cup of tea she started to mention the sessions and the information that had come out of them. She’d passed him a copy of her notes and he said he’d look into them. He’d let her know the outcome, whatever it was.

And that was when he’d asked her, the first time anyway. And she’d been about to spill her guts, if Gene hadn’t interrupted then she probably would have told him everything but Gene’s sudden appearance had caused her to clam up and put up her guard. She’d told him a few things once he’d asked a second time but there were things she was still keeping to herself, of that he was damn sure.

But what should he do with the information he did have, should he impart it to Gene and possibly cause untold damage to Gene’s present successes as far as remembering things were concerned. A rift would more than certainly take place between Gene and Alex if Sam said anything to him. And then again, what if he said nothing at all, Gene was sure to find out at some time, ask Sam if he knew anything and when he realised he did then what would that do to Gene’s and his friendship.

He sighed, why did things always have to be so complicated where Gene was concerned. Sam loved him like a brother but there always seemed to be pieces to pick up since Becky had died. Gene had turned from loving and devoted husband into a wayward charmer where women were concerned. For months he’d been on a spree of one night stands even threatening Carling’s record, until he’d come back form Bramshill in ‘94 and pledged he would never do it again. Of course he’d had relationships since but nothing that lasted more than a few months, Sam always suspecting that once Gene realised that these women could never match his Becky then they were on a hiding to nothing, cutting them off like a praying mantis eating her mate.

Sam abruptly sat up, mulling over his current thoughts. Jesus, what if Becky wasn’t the only reason why Gene had stopped using women. What if Alex had something to do with it as well? Another sigh ensued. Complicated? He didn’t think he knew the half of it, but he was going to find out and once he did he would present the facts and leave them both too it, bugger the consequences.

.oOo.

Gene loved this, he couldn’t think of anywhere he’d rather be than here, in bed, reflecting on the spoils of their lovemaking as he lent over her back and twirled the ends of her hair lazily around in his fingers. He heard her sigh; as he trailed his fingers down her back and felt goose pimples spring up where he touched. He combed her hair away from her neck and bent down kissing the ever so sensitive area just below her earlobe, filling his lungs with the scent of blackberries as he breathed in deeply against the mass of dark brown velvety locks.

She stirred, “you really know how to give a girl a wake up call.” She said as she sat up in bed her back still to him.

“Where are you goin’?” He asked.

“I’ve got to get to a lecture in half an hour, need to get showered and ready. I don’t think it would be appreciated if I blamed you for my tardiness, DI Hunt!” She got up and moved toward the pile of their strewn clothing and sorted through it, throwing his stuff to him before she disappeared into the en suite bathroom. He heard the rush of water and imagined being in there with her but he felt it would be best to leave her to it, he had to get to a lecture himself but his wasn’t for at least another hour.

She rushed out of the bathroom, her hair still dripping and bounced on the edge of the bed leaning over to kiss him, his eyes connected with hers as she drew away, “I’ll see you later then?” She asked, her face finally coming into view.

Gene awoke unexpectedly, the vision of her face still clear in her head. “That’s not right,” he whispered to himself, “it can’t be, surely?” He looked at the clock, 6.30 am, no point trying to get back to sleep he was meant to be up in half an hour as it was anyway.

He sat back against the headboard thinking about his dream, what if it was true? What if he had slept with Alex? That would explain how he’d know her. He’d ask Sam if he’d had any luck in finding anything out about her over breakfast. He smiled to himself, “Yeah, I will be seein’ you later, Alex.”
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