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Chapter Thirty

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All the soul-and-body scars

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'So how old are you today?' asked Dr Crane.

'A day older than I was yesterday' the old man replied. He peered up at the Dr with dull rheumy eyes.

'What is the date today?' asked the doctor.

'Friday 5th of December' Keats replied swiftly.

'What year were you born?' asked Crane.

'You know the answer to that.' Keats replied, 'I've told you many times before, maybe you should perform a memory test on yourself.' he allowed himself a tiny smile as Crane's brow wrinkled in frustration.

'James, you cannot have been born when you say you were.' the Dr said gently.

'Yes it's a conundrum for you isn't it?' Keats lit his fourth cigarette of the day, 'You find it unbelievable that I was born in 1856, yet all the tests you do show me to be absolutely compos mentis. This could be the pinnacle of your career, if you can get the truth out of me before I slide into oblivion, you need to hurry though, these old bones are starting to crumble away inside me, I can feel them dissolving.' he studied his hands, the knobbly arthritic fingers finding it difficult to grip the cigarette, 'Won't be long now I'd imagine, it's sad, I so wanted to take Hunt and his whore with me.'

Crane sighed, he had wondered how long it would be before Keats began his daily rant about Hunt and Ms Drake, the old man was absolutely obsessed with them, along with cheerfully admitting committing god knows how many murders. Crane knew it wasn't physically possible for Keats to have killed so many people, yet the usual psychological tests showed him not only to be telling the truth, they also showed no mental incapacity. He left Keats locked in his tiny cell of a room staring at breakfast television and dropping ash everywhere. The man was deteriorating physically at an alarming rate and death couldn't be far away. He had told Crane that he had spent the greater part of his life looking as if he was aged around 38, and now he was paying the price. Crane rubbed his eyes tiredly. The case of James Keats was keeping him awake at night. He'd never had one like it before. The old man had no history. He was the maddest sane person Crane had ever encountered. It was freaking him out.

oxxo

Andrew's first day back at Fenchurch East, assigned strictly to desk duty until he was fully recovered, wasn't exactly going according to plan. He hadn't expected a fanfare and a fuss, but the bloody place was deserted, they were all out clearing the streets of scum apparently, like a load of demented road sweepers.

As he made his own tea in the kitchenette he realised how much he missed Jane, bloody cow, running off with his father, of all the step mothers he could have hoped for, she was definitely bottom of the list.

Litton had been quite happy to take her on as his new DI because as he so forthrightly said, she would never be a distraction, and anyone who was desperate and tempted to slip her one after sticking a paper bag on her head, wouldn't dare as they knew she was Double Eff's bit of skirt.

Andrew hunted through the cupboard and found a forgotten Mars bar, not quite out of date, and felt a pang, he ripped the wrapper with his teeth and bit off a large mouthful, he guessed he'd have to buy his own from now on. He took his tea and the Mars bar back to his desk, and fired up the computer, chewing on the chocolate and wincing as the sweetness found a tiny chink in one of his fillings, he'd be toothless at this rate, better wean himself off the Mars bars and back onto bananas.

The file called out to him, he didn't know why. He stared at it, knowing it was somehow important, but he shouldn't really open it again should he? Drake had never got back to him about it. But now he knew far more than he had last time he'd opened it. He knew he was dead for start, 'living' in this weird time warp world where his father was contented with his lot and shacked up with a woman young enough to be his daughter. So much had changed; his hand shook slightly as he clicked onto the file and saw the list of names, none of which meant anything to him. He saw the sub-folder. Had it been there before? He couldn't remember seeing it. He opened it and immediately saw his name and the message.

Dear Andrew Fox,

You always thought you were destined for great things and now here you are; not where you expected to be at all I'd imagine. Greatness is not always what you perceive it to be, people are not always all they appear to be, don't get sidetracked but do take notice of plain talking, and make the best of things, it's all you've got,

A friend.

'Yeah all I've got' he muttered, looking around the deserted incident room, 'For God's Sake, you bloody pansy, we're only in Manchester, you can use a frigging phone can't you?.' he recalled Jane's scathing tones as he'd become slightly emotional when his father and Jane had left a few days before. He picked up the phone and dialled the number she had given him, straight through to DI Hepburn, how the hell had she jumped up to DI , he grinned, his father seemed to hold a lot of sway in this world.

'It's me' he said, when he heard her bark her title and name.

'Hello .You ok?' she was trying to hide her concern and almost succeeding.

'Yep, all alone on desk duty and I'm fresh out of Mars Bars.' he said.

'So you want me to run down with some?' she asked.

'If you could.' he laughed. 'I've found a message addressed to me on the computer.'

'What does it say? "Get a life?" ' she replied.

'If only I could.' Andrew said, and read the message out to her.

'Well whoever wrote it obviously doesn't know you very well.' Jane said, 'Destined for great things,' she laughed heartily, 'utter bullshit. I heard a rubbish rumour you are in line for Hunt's job. Don't hold your breath though.'

'Thanks Jane, you always manage to buoy me up.' Andrew said tersely.

'No- I'm joking- you're nerdy enough to go far in the modern Met-but I dunno what it means, why are you asking me? Ask Big Daddy Hunt, he'd probably know, he seems to know everything.' Jane took a slurp of something that Andrew guessed was Coke.

'They're all out chasing scum.' Andrew said.

'Ask Drake then. Isn't she there?' Jane said.

'No, they're moving this week, she's organising that.' Andrew replied. 'I just thought the plain talking thing might mean you.'

'Yep I'm trying to kerb that,' Jane was munching something, ' it was my plain talking that got me killed in the first place remember? As Hunt so carefully explained to me. I had to gob off, "Come then you bastard, shoot" and the bastard did as he was told, still if I hadn't been shot and ended up here I'd never have met your father.'

'Hmm' Andrew mumbled, trying desperately not to think of Jane and his father together.

The doors to the incident room opened and Alex Drake's yuppie friend appeared. 'I have to go.' Andrew told Jane.

'Well take care- son.' Jane stifled a giggle.

Andrew gurgled with indignation but managed to mutter, 'Goodbye wicked step mother.'

Danny Moore flashed a smile at Andrew, 'Alex Drake about?'

'No, she's orchestrating a house move.' Andrew said, 'I've got their old number if you want to try and get hold of her.'

Danny moved behind Andrew and looked slyly at the computer screen before looking away again quickly. 'Thanks, that would help, just a few details about the flat I need to know. You don't fancy a nice flat above a classy wine bar I suppose?'

'Probably couldn't afford it.' Andrew replied, thinking of his grim abode.

'Cheap rent cos it's a bit noisy.' Danny shrugged, 'Take a gander' he chucked Andrew a key and held an imaginary phone near his right ear, 'bell me.'

'Thanks' Andrew nodded.

Danny grinned as he walked out of Fenchurch, Andrew had been reading the message he'd written; sometimes he loved the voluntary work that kept him in this world, the fact that all and sundry dismissed him as a jumped up barrow boy drowning in money added to the fun of being a part time advisor/angel. He liked helping people when they were at their most needy, and he reckoned Andrew was pretty damn needy now. He tried to think of a stunning bird to move into the other flat.

oxxo

Alex stared out of the kitchen window at the tiny garden. Gene had insisted that she'd never get him to prune that rambling rose- or do any other sort of gardening, come to that. Not that the rose looked like it needed pruning as it struggled bravely in the weak winter sunshine. But there was enough space in the garden for Gene and Christopher to kick a ball, enough room to stick up a hammock for Alex to lay in on the odd hot summer Sunday afternoon, and enough room for Ann to have her breakfast on the grandly named postage stamped sized terrace. Their own place at last, a surprisingly spacious if slightly shabby mews house, after so much searching; she bubbled with happy excitement as the removal men huffed and puffed behind her and hinted heavily about the kettle being slow to boil.

Gene appeared around six that evening. Ann had taken Christopher to stay at her sister's house for the night until the bulk of the unpacking was done. He stood in the kitchen clutching a bottle of Muscadet and smiling uncertainly.

Alex handed him a corkscrew, 'Good day?'

He shrugged, 'So-so.'

'Are you going to open that? I could really do with a drink.' she said brightly.

He applied himself to uncorking the wine.

Alex felt sad. There had been a distance between them since her miscarriage, he had treated her like some delicate little flower that would crumple in the gentlest breeze. She had been a bit fragile for a week or two admittedly, but this was becoming ridiculous. She moved towards him and saw him tense up.

'Gene' she put the wine bottle on the table and her arms around his neck.

'Alex' he muttered.

'New start- new bed- all made up and ready to go.' she gazed into his eyes, 'So what do you think?'

'Are you sure you're ready?' he whispered.

'Are you sure you're Gene Hunt?' she replied.

'I don't want to hurt you.' he said.

'Well you're hurting me by not touching me.' she told him. 'I need you.'

'I do feel a bit tired.' he said carefully, 'maybe a lie down would help.'

Alex pouted, she didn't want this washed out, toned down, sensitive version of Gene, she wanted him to scoop her up in his arms roughly, or sling her over his shoulder in a fireman's lift, or her chase upstairs, she wondered if the bull in the china shop had gone forever.

She had showered and prepared herself for him before he had arrived at their new home ,her body was clean, buffed, perfumed and aching for him. She wondered if he even wanted her any more. He didn't seem to. Was he going elsewhere? No, of course he wasn't; he was too moral for that.

She tightened her grip around his neck, 'Do you remember the first time you saw me? Me as an adult? Dressed as a prostitute?'

He nodded.

'What did you think?' she asked.

'What do you mean?' he frowned.

'Honestly, your first thought, the very first thing that came into your mind.' she said.

'Shaggable- but out of my league.' he muttered.

'So…' she planted a couple of fleeting kisses on his bristly jaw line, 'you took me back to the station and carried me inside, what were you thinking then, when I was in your arms?'

'Hell knows, it was a long time ago.' he tried to pull away.

'You should have carried on walking.' she said breathlessly, licking his neck, 'You should have taken me into a cell or an interview room, locked the door and made me do exactly what you wanted me to do.'

His breathing was getting heavier, 'You would have punched the living daylights out me.'

Alex began firmly pushing his jacket off, 'You didn't even try. Sometimes you need to take a chance…act in the moment,' she unzipped the skirt she was wearing and shimmied out of it, grabbing his hands and placing them on the lacy suspender belt, before looking up into his eyes again, 'you're neglecting me, I'm not happy. Look at me.' she stepped away so he could see her long legs in the stockings, suspenders and stiletto heels, she began unbuttoning her silky blouse, 'look at me' she begged.

'I'm looking.' he said, his eyes suddenly darkening almost to violet as he realised she wasn't wearing knickers.

'I want you to fuck me.' she said, 'I need you to fuck me.' she pulled the blouse off angrily and flung it across the kitchen.

It was dark outside but the kitchen blind was only half pulled. Gene grabbed it and pulled it all the way down with one hand, using the other hand to loosen first his tie and then unbuckle his belt, he grabbed her arm and manhandled her backwards towards the kitchen table, pushing the few remaining boxes on it to the floor, they heard the sound of china and glass smashing and Alex gasped but Gene ignored it, grabbing her waist and plonking her onto the table, unzipping himself hastily and forcing her hand into his boxers to pull his cock free. At her touch it became rock hard.

Alex spread her legs and groaned, 'Hurry'

'Always in such a bloody rush' Gene mumbled as his hands went behind her and grabbed at her arse, pulling her forward and onto him. When he heard her delighted gasp and she was fully impaled he moved his hands up to her bra and undid it skilfully, letting her breasts tumble free. It was so good to be inside her again, to feel her soft skin, her wetness and heat, her thighs gripping his thighs and squeezing hard. He shoved her none too gently down onto the hard table as he slid in and out of her, excited by her wanton, blazing hunger. He tried to hold back and be gentle but she writhed and groaned and told him to fuck her harder, her fingers creeping into herself, feeling the moisture and his solid cock moving back and forth, she pulled her fingers free and pushed them into his mouth, and he sucked and bit at them and then brought her back up to him so her breasts were banging against him.

'Change over.' he said after a minute or so, withdrawing abruptly.

'What!' she was outraged he dared to take her pleasure away.

He stood with his arse resting on the table, his trousers pooled around his ankles with the toe of his boots peeping out, still with his shirt and tie on. He gripped his cock and waved it at her, 'Get on this now. Live in the moment'

'Living in the moment' she panted, climbing on, her arms slithering around his neck, her lips seeking his as she moved over him. It was difficult for her to stay on, but he held her strongly and the friction created by the position speeded up her orgasm, it was coming even though she didn't want it to, she felt the heat begin under her hipbones and spread down to her centre, an incredible violent rush of sensation that was almost to much to bear, she broke their frantic kiss and screamed as Gene bit her neck and forced her down harder onto his cock.

She could tell by the way he was breathing he was coming too. 'I love you, I love you, I love you.' she babbled.

'I love you' he uttered so quietly she barely heard him.

She didn't care, he hadn't shouted it from the rooftops but he'd said it. She knew he loved her anyway but to actually hear the words choked her up. She felt him ejaculate into her and her tears moistened his shirt, 'Gene, we're back.'

He was breathless and looked stunned as he pulled her close, 'We never went away.'

'I know, but it felt like we did at times.' she said in a small voice.

They clutched each other in the warm kitchen, resting, holding on tightly.

'I need a bath.' he said after minutes had passed. 'Coming?'

'Yes' she poured two glasses of wine and they went upstairs together.

In the bath she sprawled on top of him, on her back resting on his stomach, watching as his long fingers delved in and out of her intimately and then moved on to tickle her foam covered thighs.

'Do you think it would have been a boy or a girl?' he said out of the blue.

'I don't know.' she whispered.

'Blonde hair or brunette?' he asked.

'Don't know- Gene we can't….' her voice disintegrated.

'Wasn't meant was it?' he sounded anguished.

'No, I don't think it was.' she managed to say, 'I'm too old.'

'You're not.' he protested.

'There could have been complications.' she said.

'For sure.' he agreed. 'With me as a father- poor little sod- I'm not cut out for that stuff.'

'You're doing fine with Christopher.' Alex said.

'That's the biggest exaggeration I've ever heard. It's a big bollocking load of bollocks with extra added bollocks.' Gene said, 'I'm floundering and flailing, haven't a clue. I wouldn't by any stretch of the imagination say I'm doing fine.'

Alex hauled herself up and turned to him, taking a sponge and soaping his chest, 'We'll be alright, all of us, we're a family. I'll be Christopher's step- mum and we won't let him forget Claudia. We'll be alright. Because I say so.' she flicked foam at him and watched as some of it hooked onto his long lashes.

'Well if you say so, Miss Bolly-bloody -no- knickers I guess I've got to believe it then.' he smiled.

'Yes you have.' she stood up and got out of the bath, handing him a towel. 'So are we testing that new bed or not?'

Gene stood up in the bath, grabbed the large towel and flung it around his shoulders, 'Right behind you Inspector.' he said.

oxxo

OMG it's the end! I never ever thought when I decided to add a 'bit more' to this fic it would end up as one of my longest. Thanks so much for all the reviews, favourites, alerts, thank you all for reading and commenting, a virtual big slice of chocolate cake and a stiff drink for everyone + hugs and kisses.

Fanks so much !

xxxxxx