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Repetitions of the Future	By : gallygaskins Category: 1 through F > Ashes to Ashes Views: 1463 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Ashes to Ashes and I do not earn any money from this fanfiction.

Chapter List
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Chapter 8 – A week in 2007: Part 1

“Isn’t that ‘im o’er there?” DI Ray Carling suggested over the blare of the siren, as DS Chris Skelton pulled the Silver BMW X5 up to the curb. “Aye, thank god, it is!”

Leaving the blue lights on to ward off unwanted attention from any passing traffic wardens, Chris hopped out of the vehicle and sped over to the hunched up figure that sat on the bench. Tapping Gene on the shoulder, Chris stepped back as Gene hurled himself round to look at the person who had broken his reverie. “Jesus, Chris! You could’ve giv’n me a heart attack.”

“Sorry, sir! I didn’t realise you were reading the paper. Erm, we’ve been lookin’ all over the place for ya! Supposed to have had a meeting this mornin’, don’t you remember?”

“If I’d remembered, don’t you think I would’ve been there?” Gene asked, “and what’s with the sir business? Guv’ or boss were fine before!”

“Well, now you’re Detective Chief Superintendent, it’s not really appropriate, sir!” Chris stammered.

“Bollocks!” A confused Gene snapped as he stared at his subordinate, fumbling in his pockets for his warrant card, “detective chief super?” He questioned, finally finding the wallet and opening it. Sure enough, along with his badge, was a new warrant card clearly marked with his new title. Astounded at this first piece of news, he looked back to the officer that stood in front of him. Chris looked a little older than he had in 1981 and was now sporting a dark charcoal suit, a lilac shirt and a black silk tie. His hair was a little shorter with touches of grey but ruffled as if he had gel in it. ‘Always knew he were a poof,’ Gene thought. “So, shall we go then?”

Chris led the way back to the car opening a back door patiently waiting for his boss to take the back seat. Gene surveyed the … was it a car or a land rover … he wasn’t sure but he could get used to it, after all it was a BMW and it evoked luxury with a capital ‘L’; it’s leather seats and plush interior beckoned. ‘Ah, but can it match the power of the mighty Quattro’. To his surprise it did, and that was just pulling away from the curb.

“Alright, sir?” Ray asked, looking at the Gene Genie as if he’d seen a ghost, “been working out or someat?”

“Somethin’ like that Ray, and don’t you bloody start with the sir bullshit, either!”

Ray turned back and looked at Chris, his eyebrows arched up as high as they could get. Chris shrugged his shoulders in answer. Ray, Gene noticed, had swapped his leather jacket and polo neck for a formal suit as well. His was navy with a light blue shirt and a navy tie. His perm had gone in favour of a cropped style. “Where’s your bloody tash gone?” Gene questioned.

Ray looked back at Gene and was about to answer when a call came over the radio. “393 Hotel Tango to Inspector Carling.”

“Inspector Carlin’ here, what’s up?”

“The Super’s just wanting to know when you’re gonna get to the meeting you were meant to be at at 10.00 am!”

“We’re on our way back now!”

“Is DS Skelton with you?”

“Yeah, I’m here!”

“Can you call your wife when you’ve got a mo? Sounded quite urgent”

‘Wife?’ Gene thought, ‘not a poof after all then.’

“Roger that! Out!” Chris called out to something that protruded from the dashboard, “’ome!” The thing started dialling, it was obviously a phone.

Gene was stunned, “who the bloody ‘ell promoted you pair a nancies?”

Ray and Chris looked at each other once more, totally bemused by Gene’s question. “You did,” they replied in unison, turning their attention back to the road in front of them.

“Christ, I must a been on someat good!”

The phone on the dash suddenly answered, “’Ello, darlin’”

“Shaz, everythin’ ok?”

“Yeah, fine. The school ‘phoned about Jon, he’s not been doin’ his coursework. I’ve torn ‘im off a strip and I’ve told him you’ll be doing the same when you get ‘ome.”

“Ok, no probs! I’ll see you when I get ‘ome then.”

“Yeah, love you babe!”

“Love you too!”

‘And then on second thoughts!’ Gene looked out of the window as 2007 London passed him by, so much glass and steel. He couldn’t quite take it all in; it was beautiful, he couldn’t deny that but it must have come with such a price tag attached, ‘especially at £3.00 a shot for whiskey!’ So this was Alex’s world, and Sam’s. He’d have to have a look around it if he had time, sample some of the culture, listen to some of the music, maybe then he’d be able to relate to her better. But for the time being … “How many kids you got then, Chris?”

“Err, just the two, sir … boss!”

“And you Ray, get married did ya?”

“Yeah, four year ago, Guv’. You were me best man!”

“Right,” he said, looking to the two guys in front, “selective amnesia, you get that when you get older!” He decided to look at the paper, ‘bought the damn thing after all’, unfolding it he saw a familiar face peering at him form the bottom half of the page. Layton.

‘Cop still in coma … after being shot by this man,’ the headline read. ‘Police have finally released a name and pictures of the man they believe shot DI Alex Drake on the morning of her daughter’s birthday approximately 4 months ago. She was found when colleagues carried out a GPS search on her mobile phone hoping that the two would still be together. They found her in a comatose state on an old barge moored at Greenwich, a gunshot wound in her head. Her family and friends are still hoping for a full recovery but nothing is certain at present. She was scheduled to have an operation to remove the bullet that is lodged inside her brain but after further investigation it was decided that the procedure would be too intrusive and the surgeons said they couldn’t take the risk. Police are asking for anyone with any information about Arthur Layton to ring their local police station or crime stoppers on 0800 555 111. Please do not approach him, he is considered to be armed and dangerous.’

“Still haven’t caught the bastard then?” Gene said, waving the paper in front of him.

“No, that’s why we’re havin’ this meeting, Guv’.”

“Oh, sorry I’m late then!” Gene went back to his paper looking at the picture of Layton, ‘I’m gonna get you, you bastard. It wasn’t enough to shoot me in the back; you had to shoot my Alex in the ‘ead!’

***********

The meeting had proved fruitless, not to mention boring. However, as DI Drake’s case was so important, everyone of any significance was at the meeting and he had had the pleasure of meeting the uniformed Superintendent Lacey. ‘Funny how shit rises,’ he thought as he took his hand and shook it emphatically. He’d spoken to Ray after the meeting, they’d discussed what their guts were telling them and both believed they were right. Lacey had something to do with the whole sorry mess, they were both sure of that but could they use him to smoke out Layton. Gene reminded Ray of Markham and Ray said he’d get someone onto it.

“So, I know this may sound like a stupid question but … which is my car?”

“The red Audi Quattro, of course!” Ray grinned as they crossed the car park. Seeing that Gene was struggling with the information he had given him Ray pointed at the sleek red Audi TT. Gene hadn’t been expecting what he was now being faced with, ‘I could get to like 2007!’ But how did he open the damn thing? Ray took the keys from out of Gene’s hand and opened the car, showing him that he had to press the button on the key to unlock and lock it. “Take it I don’t have a wife then?”

“No, Guv’. Once bitten … an’ all that!”

“And where do I live exactly?”

“Same place you’ve always lived. Pennington Villas.” Good, at least that was one thing that hadn’t changed. “Just remember, there are a few dead ends and one way streets around your place now though!”

“Right, well, ok.” He sat in the car and looked at his face in the mirror. Everything was basically the same apart from his hair, it was a lot shorter and spiky. He shrugged, he could live with it for a few days. “Ray, could you tell me in which hospital Bol … DI Drake is in?”

“She’s at the University College Hospital in the Critical Care Unit”

“Thanks, and could you do me a favour, she was working on a case before her accident, on DCI Sam Tyler, could you get that file to me. Oh, and hers as well!”

“No probs, Guv’. Do you want me t’ bring ‘em over later, might be better than leaving ‘em in your office.”

“Yes, Ray, see you later.”

“Bye!” Gene watched as Ray walked back into CID before starting the car and driving off. He decided to go and get changed out of the black pinstriped suit he was wearing, considering the stripe was pink, along with the grey shirt and pink tie. At least his shoes were sensible, a very comfortable, expensive pair of black brogues. He quickly searched the car for any sign of a pair of driving gloves, and found none. He sighed, how was he supposed to corner this baby without a pair of leather gloves to hold onto the wheel. After pulling away from the station a voice spoke to him from the dashboard, ‘you are driving at 45 miles per hour in a 30 limit’. ‘Great, a talking car!’ He bashed the dashboard, “shut up!”

He walked into the familiar surroundings of his flat and went to the bedroom, apart from the décor nothing much had changed. He walked over to the wardrobe and opened it up; a huge array of clothing greeted him, why did he need so much. Pulling out a pair of blue jeans, “who the ‘ell put ‘em in there?” And a thin light green v-necked pullover he quickly got changed but not before he realised the underwear he had on, Alex would’ve definitely approved. “So these must be boxer briefs, bit like ‘em trunks I had in 1973 only black! Fit well though!” And there was no vest in sight either.

He freshened up; slapping on a bit of cologne he’d found in his bathroom cabinet and stepped back out into the hall. Underneath his coat rack was an array of boots and shoes. Spying some casual walking type shoes he slipped them on, before grabbing a black long line leather jacket. After putting that on too, he returned to his discarded suit, rifling through the pockets deciding what to take with him. Apart from his warrant card and keys, there was what appeared to be ‘one of ‘em mobile phones’, a wallet with some weird looking twenty’s in it and some plastic cards that looked like credit cards, and a selection of change. He took everything, who’d know what he’d need in 2007. He now felt ready to face Alex.

***********

After showing his warrant card to the nurse on reception he was allowed to see her. The nurse had given him directions to her room but as he stood at the door he was apprehensive, was he going to be able to handle what he saw. He’d been told that she hadn’t had any visitors yet that day but she normally had her daughter and a friend visit about 5 pm, obviously that was another thing that had changed, visitors being allowed to see patients at any time of day or night.

Drawing up his courage he stepped through the door. In the centre of the wall opposite stood the bed that DI Alex Drake was occupying. He walked around it and stood near her head looking down at her uncoloured features, poker straight hair and a dressing attached to her forehead. Machines were keeping her alive; a ventilator plunged up and down breathing for her whilst the heart monitor beeped steadily along to her beat. A drip had been fed into her arm. For what seemed like a few minutes but could’ve been hours, Gene stood looking at her not knowing what to do or say.

Finally he decided to talk to her; he made himself comfortable in the chair next to the bed and took hold of her hand. “Well, Bols, you’ve been leading me a merry dance, I’ve been through ‘ell and ‘igh water for you, you’ve really ‘ad me by the short an’ curleys, for a while now! Not that I minded, I knew you were the one for me since ‘at first day I met you. Mind you, you were in a skimpy red dress and black lacey stockings the day you arrived in 1981. You fainted, remember? You said my name and fainted, hah! I think my reputation really did proceed me that day.” He stroked the back of her hand gently smiling at the memory. “Where’s all the hair gone, then Bols, no more perm, probably not the fashion though now, not like then. I like it straight, suits ya!” He dropped her hand to quickly brush some of it away from her face, “so soft, always was.”

He fell silent again, unsure of whether to carry on or not, not noticing that he now had company. “The doctors tell us that we should keep talking to her, let her know that she’s loved.” Gene’s face turned to the voice, before him stood a young girl, he realised it must be Molly. She was the image of her mum apart from the eyes, Molly’s were blue. Gene got up from his seat silently thanking god that she hadn’t come in seconds earlier when he’d had hold of her mother’s hand, he wasn’t sure how he could’ve explained that. He made his way across the room and stuck out his hand, “Hello, Molly? I presume that I’m addressing the beautiful daughter of Ms Drake?”

She took his hand and shook it once. “Yes, I’m Molly, who are you?” Gene was about to tell her when Evan walked into the room. ‘He hadn’t changed much,’ Gene thought, ‘a bit more grey but that was all really’.

“Gene Hunt, it can’t be, as I live and breathe, I don’t believe it.” Evan extended his hand to Gene, and shook it heartily when Gene responded. “From where have you appeared?”

“Oh, from here and there. I got here as soon as I’d heard the news. How are you, Evan?”

“Oh you know, not bad. Seems like this time I’m really going to lose her. Such a pity, she had such spirit!”

‘I know,’ Gene thought watching Molly go to her mum. “How’s Molly doing?”

Evan looked at him quizzically briefly before turning to his normal solicitor’s expression. “She’s ok, bearing up. Missing her mum madly, of course. And if the worst happens, well, she’ll have to live with her father and his girlfriend.”

“That doesn’t sound so good, couldn’t you look after her. You did such a good job … I mean, her mum seems to have turned out well.”

“Unfortunately, I’m only her godfather. Her father will take precedence, I’m afraid. However, it’s good to see you, I think it will help, even though you only briefly knew her I think she still remembers the kind man that shielded her from her parents death and looked after her until we were all safely back in the police station. The Gene Genie here to help her. I trust you’ll come and see her again?”

‘You try stopping me! But she doesn’t remember me, she told me she didn’t. She was sorry she didn’t.’ “Of course, I’ll go now though, don’t want to intrude on family time.”

“You don’t have to,” he heard Molly cry.

“Molly, I should imagine DCI Hunt is very busy.”

“DCI? Did you work with mum?”

“A few year ago,” it wasn’t a complete lie, “and actually its Chief Superintendent now!”

“Oh, sorry,” Gene waved to Evan signalling it wasn’t a problem. “Look, after our visit tomorrow why don’t you join Molly and I for something to eat, Italian or something.”

“Ok, Evan, that would be good. Meet you both ‘ere ‘bout 5 pm tomorrow then?” Evan nodded. “Right, fine, bye for now, then!” Gene walked from the room and toward the hospital exit.

Molly looked to Evan before continuing her conversation with her mum. “I like him!”

“Who, Molly?” Evan asked.

She turned back to Evan to answer him. “Mr Hunt, I like him!” Evan smiled and nodded his agreement.

************

Settling down in what he assumed to be his favourite leather armchair, Gene poured himself a shot of whisky and sat back with the first file. It was Sam’s. “You were right Alex,” he said when he’d finished scouring the information within; “there could’ve been a book outta this.” He laughed setting the file on the coffee table and picking up hers.

He’d only wanted it to get some background info on her to taunt her with when he eventually got back to 1981, but what he found out made him much more aware of the smart, courageous, beautiful single mother he had most definitely fallen in love with. On the arm of the chair he found a remote control, for what he didn’t know, so he pressed what he assumed to be the on button. The CD player that sat across from him sprang into life, the opening chords to a tune he knew very well suddenly invading his senses. He’d listened to it the night before he’d been shot, the night before he’d been sure he’d get to see Alex again and profess his undying love to. Mind you, that had been on a piece of vinyl with scratches and jumps, the sound of this was far more superior.

She's got a way about her
I don't know what it is
But I know that I can't live without her
She's got a way of pleasin'
I don't know what it is
But there doesn't have to be a reason anyway

She's got a smile that heals me
I don't know why it is
But I have to laugh when she reveals me
She's got a way of talkin'
I don't know why it is
But it lifts me up when we are walkin' anywhere

She comes to me when I'm feelin' down
Inspires me without a sound
She touches me and I get turned around
She's got a way of showin'
How I make her feel
And I find the strength to keep on goin'

She's got a light around her
And ev'rywhere she goes
A million dreams of love surround her ev'rywhere …

He relaxed, sipping his whisky, as Billy Joel’s dulcet tones washed over his soul revealing his worst fears. Even if he did manage to get back to 1981, he realised he was probably going to get his heart broken. Forever.
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Repetitions of the Future