Sorry, it's been a while but here we go!

Chapter Six:

"And? Did you get to see her knickers or what?"

Sat along the bench outside the morgue, waiting to be called in, Alex sighed inwardly at the question. A young woman had been found, murdered, in Albert Park that very morning - the same park she'd found herself here in 1975 - and lo-and-behold, Ray was more interested on hearing about Chris' dismal love life. Even the Guv's ears were pricked, despite his eyes on the morning's paper.

Soon approaching their big day, Sam and Annie had booked leave for a long weekend having finally finished with their wedding preparations, which left Alex and the three little pigs to solve Manchester's crimes together. Part of her had been oddly looking forward it. Not that she hadn't come to love Annie and Sam, but she'd imagined it'd feel like old times - well, not so much old times, as times to come. Maybe. Who knew anymore? This whole time-travelling thing really gave her a headache. Either way, she'd forgotten what old times had really been like. Without Sam for Chris to follow about like a puppy dog, the Constable was turning back to Ray for terrible advice and without Annie in the office, Ray cared even less about being offensive or even hygienic.

At least Gene could be counted on to be a constant; he never changed for anybody. He was simply the Guv. Although now, he was the Guv who'd kissed her, a little over a week ago to be precise. Though nothing much had happened since; there hadn't been the time. A string of burglaries had kept them very busy - to Alex's chagrin - and now this murder looked to prevent any further developments. It was certainly...frustrating. It had been one hell of a kiss. Still, Alex took solace from the fact that the Guv seemed even more frustrated than she did. Every time she moved or breathed, she could feel his eyes burning into her, wanting to get her alone. Alex fought back a blush; it'd been too long since she'd had that.

"Well, yeah...and a bit more."

Everyone, including Alex, raised a surprised eyebrow at Chris' quiet confession.

"Hey hey! Inside, downstairs, then?" Ray asked excitedly, chomping on his gum, watching Chris go beetroot red. Ray's eyes widened. "Don't tell us you got your end away, Chris?" A grin broke out on the young lad's face. "Jammy bastard."

Alex nodded, mildly impressed. No one had had strong hopes for Chris when he'd related his ideas for a date yesterday afternoon, but apparently the boy had the right moves.

"Well, someone ought to." The Guv muttered to his newspaper. Alex rolled her eyes.

"You seein' her again, then?" Ray asked.

"Not sure." Chris shrugged, nervous again. He looked to the Guv for reassurance. "Do you think she enjoyed herself?"

Gene looked up, exasperatedly at Ray; the Sergeant snorted. How the bloody hell did they know? "Bet it was the best thirty seconds of her life, Christopher."

"That's a relief." Chris smiled.

"Twonk." Ray shook his head, fondly.

Alex smiled softly, as Ray went back to demanding Chris provide a complete account of last night's proceedings. They were complete dipsticks, of course, but she wouldn't change them for the world. Her smile dropped to see Gene's attention off the newspaper and firmly on her. Again.

"What about you, Bolly?" The Guv asked, keeping his voice low. "Ready for my best thirty seconds?"

Alex bit back a grin. "Well, that rather depends on you, doesn't it?"

Gene clucked his tongue, eyes back on the newspaper. "Meanin' I'll be shellin' out on dinner again."

Cheap bastard. "If you thought fish and chips would suffice in getting into my knickers, then..." Alex started to mutter indignantly before catching a self-satisfied smirk on Gene's face. She'd well and truly taken the bait there. She crossed her arms in annoyance. "Oh, piss off."

Gene grinned. Bolly might try to act all ladylike, but at the end of the day, she was just as much of a foul-mouthed copper as he was. Thank God, she was a hell of a lot nicer to look at; his grin widened further, as she became uncomfortable under his scrutiny.

"Stop it." She complained through her teeth, not wanting to spark the boys' interest, as the coroner ushered them in.

"Stop what?"

"Looking at me like that."

"Like what?" Gene asked innocently, again.

You know bloody what. "Like...," Alex raised an unamused eyebrow. "...you're the dog and I'm the bone."

"I think you'll find I'm the one with the bone, Bolly." Gene wiggled his eyebrows suggestively before casting his eye downward. It was only for a moment, but naturally her eyes looked, too, before realising what he was about. And there was that bloody grin again; Alex scowled. Men. So bloody immature.

"So, Doc, what you got for us?" The Guv asked jovially, enviously not missing a beat.

"I'd say woman-"

The Guv snorted. "Well, even DC Skelton can work that one out."

"-in her mid-twenties," The coroner went on, unfazed, "killed by the blow to the back of her head. Sometime late last evening - probably between 10 and midnight."

"Weapon?" Alex inquired, looking over the wound.

"No, from the shape of the blow, I'd guess that she was pushed into something." The coroner ventured. "Whatever it was, it unfortunately had a sharp edge to it and she was pushed hard enough that the trauma to her temporal lobe was catastrophic. Bloody unlucky, I'd say. Although she would have been knocked unconsciousness and died quickly after, which is something I suppose." He shrugged. "Out of all the ways to go, a knock to the head's not the worst."

Gene blinked. Bloody vultures - couldn't manage a bit of tea and sympathy if their lives depended on it. "I'll let you break that happy news to her mam, Bols." He deadpanned.

"Any other marks, fibres - or signs of rape?" Alex went on.

"None that I could find and I wouldn't say she'd been raped, no, but whether that rules out the possibility of the attack being sexually motivated isn't for me to say, that's rather more your department." The coroner nodded smiling, satisfied with his report and waiting for any questions. "Is that all? Only lunch-time's almost over and I've a Cornish pastry getting cold before I start on this morning's bodies."

It was Alex's turn to blink. "Of course, thank you for your time." She frowned, watching the coroner whistle on his way out. Pathologists certainly had a way about them; too little time exercising their social skills on living, breathing people probably. She turned, surprised to see the men casting her a disparaging look. "What's the matter?"

"With us, nothin'. With you, plenty." Gene informed her, shaking his head almost disappointedly. "To think you went out with one of 'em, Bolly."

She almost rolled her eyes to see Chris and Ray's similar expressions. When it came to the men she had dalliances with, they never forgot anything. "For all of five minutes!" She protested.

"Still, Ma'am," Ray agreed, that gum still being churned around, " - you need to find yourself someone more..."

"Normal." Chris finished.

The men nodded. Alex didn't know whether to laugh or cry. They were offering her dating advice - what was the world coming to?

Alex sighed, bemused, and cast the Guv a sidelong glance. "I guess I'll just have to keep looking, then. "

Sitting across from the victim's grieving mother, however, Alex's bemusement quickly evaporated. The victim's name - her purse revealed - was Rebecca Little. She'd been only twenty-one years old. Finding her next of kin had been easy enough; Phyllis had had a 'missing persons' call in for her that morning. Alex's heart went out to the woman across from her, not all that much older than herself, as she sobbed her heart out to hear that someone had murdered her little girl. Looking around the room, she took note of the family photos on the mantelpiece - an old wedding picture and countless snaps of her children. A photo of girl in pigtails blowing out her birthday candles caught her eye.

We'll blow the candles out together, OK? Alex shifted in her seat, the Guv beside her but unaware of her discomfort. Despite the unfamiliar surroundings, this all felt too close to home.

"Becky was such a good girl. Never got into any sort of trouble, why would anyone-!" Barbara Little bit back another sob, casting a furtive glance in Alex's direction and trying to compose herself. "She worked every hour of the day, she and Paul were savin' up for a holiday. We've never been further south than Fallowfield, but they wanted to go to Benidorm, that's in Spain," Barbara muttered absentmindedly, trailing off with her thoughts, "where they got proper sandy beaches..."

"Paul, that her boyfriend, then?" The Guv clarified, trying to get what they could from Mrs Little before leaving her to her grief. "Good lad?"

"Oh, he's been a Godsend." Barbara smiled tearfully. "After Becky's dad passed, I couldn't cover the rent, so he moved straight in - he takes care of everythin'. They've been goin' together almost two years now - Paul's the one who got her the job at Campbell's." Her face crumpled again. "Oh God, he'll be heartbroken."

Alex thought to reach out to her, but noted how Barbara seemed more at ease talking to the Guv. "Could you tell us where Becky might have been last night?" She asked. "Becky was found in a woodland park close to the city centre, but she'd clearly been moved."

"At work. Her usual shift is from seven at night until half eleven, unless they're busy, then sometimes she won't be back 'til long gone one. But I've never worried, 'cause Paul and Becky work the same shifts..." Barbara swallowed, correcting herself. "...worked the same shifts..."

The Guv checked again, knowing where they'd be going next. "This is Campbell's?"

"That's right. It's a members' club or bar, I'm not sure." Barbara said, before a ghost of a smile crossed her face. "Becky used to tell us the funniest stories of what they all got up to - said they were a strange bunch, you know."

Alex raised an interested eyebrow. "The other employees?"

Barbara's gaze flicked back to Alex, suddenly embarrassed. "No, your lot," She swallowed, " - I mean, the members, that is. Didn't surprise me, posh folk are strange, aren't they?" Barbara shrugged, looking to the Guv for support; Gene tilted his head in agreement. "Bet a trip to Benidorm's the norm for 'em..." Alex wisely said nothing.

After collecting what other few details they could, Mrs Little soon became inconsolable again and a neighbour had to be called round to comfort her. Barbara's son having moved down south years ago, Becky was all she had and it wasn't right that she be alone on a day like this.

Her grief had clearly struck a chord with Gene, as well. "Worst bloody part of the job. It's wrong, ain't it?" He sighed, taking a swig from his flask, as they made their way back over to the Cortina. "You shouldn't have to bury your child. It should be the other way round."

Alex sighed. He was right, of course - not that burying your parents was much fun either. Both she and now Molly had had the pain of doing that and both long before they should have. Alex paused before getting in, her thoughts straying back to the mother's behaviour. "She didn't strike you as a little odd?" At the Guv's frown, she clarified, "the mother - she seemed uncomfortable."

The Guv threw her a look. Jesus Bolly, have a heart! "Her daughter has just been murdered or did you forget 'bout that?"

Alex rolled her eyes, as they got in. "Besides the obvious."

Gene shook his head, exasperated. For someone so smart, she could be as ruddy thick as a plank sometimes. "Well, you saw her gettin' her best china out." Alex looked at him blankly. He sighed audibly. "You put her on edge, Bols."

"What did I do?" Alex demanded, sure she'd been nothing but polite.

"What did I do? " The Guv put on the Queen's English, mocking her, unsurprised to see Alex still looking confused. But what did she expect? She swans in, looking like that, talking like that - for some folks, she pissed them off from the get-go and for others - like Mrs Little -, it wrong-footed them, made them nervous, like they thought she was some Countess droppin' by for tea.

Grabbing the radio, the Guv didn't waste a moment to check in with Ray and Chris. The pair had been sent over to Paul's mum's, who'd he been taking care of on his off-days, to inform the boyfriend and ask some key questions. Gene hadn't thought it was such a great idea that the gruesome twosome were breaking the news, seeing as they were about as tactful as a hot poker up the arse, but Bolly thought they could use having some 'responsibility'.

"Oi, Laurel and Hardy," The Guv barked, "you done tellin' the boyfriend yet?"

He ignored the look Bolly was sending him. No doubt, she wanted him to praise them for a job well done. "All done, Guv. Couldn't stop cryin' - poor bastard." Ray's voice crackled through, after a moment. "They worked the same bar, but his mam's been ill, so he swapped his shift. From the sound of it, it wouldn't surprise me if it was one of the punters - he says Becky was about to quit, the regulars could get pretty handsy and he'd often have to step in."

Gene nodded, thoughtfully. Handsy punters, that sounded promising. "Right. Good work, Raymondo." He purposefully ignored the fruitcake grinning next to him. "We'll be back at the station in a bit, just got one more stop. Chris, alright?"

"Yeah Guv, he made us all tea - would've made a good plonk if you ask me."

Signing off that they'd be back later, Gene shot Alex a pointed look. See? But the bloody woman's grin didn't seem to be going anywhere."What?"

"Nothing," Alex assured him, her pleased expression telling a different story. " - only you thought we'd be lost without Sam."

Gene sighed inwardly, hoping his DIs weren't back in competition again. "I never said no such thing." It was Alex's turn to shoot a pointed look; the Guv shrugged dismissively. "I just didn't fancy babysittin' those two twonks on me lonesome." Alex went to argue; he stopped her. "Hey, if it were up to you, they'd be off on their own, doin' God knows what."

"Or they'd be off on their own, rising to the occasion," Alex contradicted - surely, today was a shining example? "It seems like they're doing fine to me. After all, 'Do the thing and you will have the power'."

"I'm goin' to need more fags if you're gettin' all Malcolm X on me." Gene groaned, still yet to drive off.

Less a quote about black power and more the belief - pinched from Emerson - that walking the walk, rather talking the talk was the only way Ray and Chris would become good police officers . Alex opened her mouth to correct him, but decided against it.

Gene snorted, watching Bolly stop and censure herself. "No, go on, I know you want to - it's some posh writer no one's ever read or heard of but you and Magnus Magnusson." Alex scowled, but chose not to rise to the bait. Gene smirked, finally driving off. "You, Bollykecks, are too posh for your own good - that's why poor Mrs Little was on edge. It's like havin' an alien plonked in your front room." He raised a playful eyebrow. "Don't worry your pretty little head about it - summin' tells me you'll be feeling far more at home 'round Mr Campbell's gaff."

God, she hated it when he was right. But right, he was. Alex did feel more at home at Campbell's house. Well, not at home, exactly, but what she saw was far more familiar to her. Whereas Mrs Little's house had been comfortable and warm, settled as one of many on the red-brick terraced street, knick knacks galore and dollies to spare, Mr Campbell's detached house was grander, in a much nicer part of the neighbourhood, but rather sparse. The home of a busy business man, who didn't fill it with family photos, but rather interesting and very middle-class looking pieces of furniture. It was like her parents' house, only even less child-friendly and with too many variations of 70s brown.

Mr Campbell himself - or Jonathan as he insisted Alex call him - was a very genial man, horrified to hear about Rebecca and eager to help however he could. Probably in his mid-50s, he reminded her of her godfather Evan, of who he'd become: handsome, charming and with a horrible taste in art.

Alex frowned as a rather loud piece, lying awkwardly across his living room mantel, caught her eye. A slogan was blazened across it: "Manners Makyth Man..." She frowned in recognition.

"Ah, you spotted my college's motto." Mr Campbell smiled, pleased at her interest.

Alex blinked. Of course. Her college motto. How had she forgotten that? It was strange the things that faded away here. "You read at New College?"

"Very good." Jonathan grinned, impressed. "You're an Oxford girl?"

"New." Alex smiled, before checking the gentleman's confusion. Idiot. Women weren't admitted to New until much later. "I mean, my father went to New, like you - I went to...St Hilda's."

"Drake, you said?" Jonathan wracked his mind, coming to lounge on the sofa opposite. "I don't remember any Drakes, but then again I suppose he'd probably graduated long before me. He's retired, I presume?"

Alex waited for the Guv to interrupt, sick of the idle chit chat, but he didn't. Tapping his foot - with irritation, she could only assume - Gene got up to go look at the titles on Mr Campbell's book shelf, his mood having got progressively worse the more Mr Campbell talked. "Hmm? Oh yes, he was a barrister. My parents both were."

"Your mother, too?" Jonathan questioned, even more impressed, a complimentary smile already in place. "Gosh, you do come from a forward-thinking family - no wonder you've risen so high up in the police. Oxford certainly drums up a marvellous work ethic, doesn't it?"

Alex raised an eyebrow. Another posh twat, then. Her eyes flicked over to Gene, as he seemed intent on scouring for books rather than questioning a potential suspect.

"So, how long had Becky Little been in your employ exactly?"

Jonathan's smile had the good grace to fall, as conversation turned back to Becky. "Oh, a little over a year. Darling girl, very popular with our members. What a terrible tragedy, what a waste." He clucked his tongue. "She was very aspirational - did her mother mention that?"

Alex nodded. "She did say that Becky wanted to travel."

He dismissed the idea with his hand. "Oh, Rebecca wanted more than that - she wanted to make something of her life," Jonathan insisted passionately, "- not wind up in another terraced red brick like every generation before her, struggling to make ends meet, wasting her life away."

"You reckon the whole of Manchester's wastin' their lives away?"

Alex and Mr Campbell looked up to see the Guv's attention back on them. The hands in his pockets seemed casual enough, as did his quiet tone, but she knew enough about the expressions of Gene Hunt to know that he was quietly seething.

Campbell sat up, determined to make his point."Working in a factory, down a mine - these jobs won't be there for our youth." He argued. "They need to look to the future. Dream big. Why shouldn't they all try to get out?"

"Try to get out..." Gene smiled humourlessly, rolling the words on his tongue as if they were new to him. "Try to get out and end up like Becky, you mean? I'll stick with my red brick house, ta." His gaze shot to Alex, before muttering that he'd meet her in the car and making his own way out.

Alex could only blink at his behaviour, but schooled her expression as Campbell frowned, questioningly.

"I'm presuming that you have all the records of who was working with Becky last night?" Alex quickly went on, knowing it best to wrap things up. "With whom she usually works?"

"Rotas and everything else are all at the club. Feel free to send an officer to come take a look. She has...had a locker as well," He smiled apologetically, "no doubt there are some personal items her mother would appreciate."

Alex smiled gratefully. A posh twat, but not completely without a soul, then. "Thank you." And with that, of course, he waved off her thanks and assured her he'd help in any way he could, in that familiar way that posh people do.

On the radio, the Guv sent a few from CID over to the club for intel, but he didn't say a word to her on the drive back to the station and Alex didn't feel up to talking either. She'd have liked to think that her mind was too focused on the case to talk, but obviously, she spent the journey wondering how Gene had switched to being...whatever this was. Alex groaned inwardly, as she heard the engine turn off and the car door slam open and shut. A week ago she would have asked him outright why he'd suddenly turned into a grumpy bastard, but that kiss was throwing her off-balance. Did Gene - or herself, for that matter - think the shouting and yelling, the wind-up and tit-for-tat nature of their relationship would fall away if they started dating? Hell, if she had a clue. She was more irritated that she'd just spent a twenty minute car ride sighing inwardly over a man.

A couple hours later, having learned about the club where Becky worked, the Guv and Drake had finally agreed on a plan. It had been like pulling teeth to get him to agree to it; he thought it was a bit shit. It sounded too much like the same stupid, cockamamie plans that Tyler usually came up with, but Bolly had him at a weak moment - he didn't have a better idea.

But that didn't mean he had to like it. Arms crossed, leaning on a desk, the Guv offered little as Alex updated everyone on tonight's plans. There was no time like the present; the longer they waited, the tougher it'd be to flush out Becky's killer.

"So, the club is for couples." Alex informed the team. "Supposedly all they do is mingle, but it's safe to say that Campbell's is principally a social hangout either for those interested in swinging or even orgies-"

"Me mam does them;" Chris nodded, smiling, " - she made the napkins into swans for Christmas."

"That's oregano, you twonk." Ray muttered, as a few in CID sniggered.

Alex looked over to Gene in exasperation, assuming he'd share in it, but found only a frown there. "So, the Guv and I are going to go in as a married couple. Chris and Ray, you'll be working behind the bar." She supplied, before giving into the urge to correct them. "And, I think you'll find that it's oregami - oregano is a herb."

"Know-it-all." Ray rolled his eyes, before looking over the Ma'am's plans. He scowled. "How come we have to be the bartenders?"

"I didn't realise you and Chris wanted to pose as the couple, Ray." Alex replied innocently, hiding a smile.

Ray went to vehemently deny it, but the Guv was quick to cut him off. "'Cause it's a classy place and Drake's cut from the same overpriced and poncy cloth as the rest of 'em." He smiled humourlessly towards Alex.

"And you, Guv?" Ray asked cheekily, all of CID knowing that the Guv would be sure to stick out like a sore thumb in a crowd like that.

The Guv glared him down. "Just keep your eyes peeled and start talkin' to the other staff, see what they know." Ray nodded obediently; clearly the Manc Lion wasn't in a joking mood today.

Seemingly satisfied, the Guv took himself back into his office and shut the door. Alex sighed inwardly: meeting over, then. God, for a fourteen stone hulk of a man pushing towards middle aged, Gene certainly had the act of a moody teenager down to an art. One minute he was all over her, flirting, joking...and now? Childish, irritable, evasive. Typical bloody Gene Hunt.

"What's an orgy, then?"

Alex sighed again, now audibly, at Chris' innocent question and CID's next round of sniggers. "Chris, why don't you have a look at the clubs' members' list? See if any of them have a previous record, pay particular attention to domestic violence cases." She tried patiently, passing him the file.

"Right you are, boss - I mean, Ma'am." Chris grinned helpfully, before frowning. "Odd though, ain't it - without DI Tyler and Annie 'ere."

Alex bit her tongue, her mood taking a leaf from Gene's book, but knowing she was being irrational. She was just starting to feel like everyone was finding her...lacking at the moment. Worse still, she was missing Sam and Annie, too; she needed somebody to talk to who had half a brain and didn't smoke a pack of twenty a day.

"They'll be back before you know it." Alex smiled, a little tightly, as Chris got to work. She cast an eye over to Ray, who seemed to be sulking. "Don't be too put out, Ray - you know I can't pull a pint to save my life."

"Nah, you're alright," Ray waved off her concern, as he lit up, "- can't imagine nothin' worse than makin' small talk with your lot." Your lot. Your lot. How many times had she heard that today? And how many times had it been an insult? Ray sighed. "Still, 'nother Friday night spent on the beat..."

Alex raised a playful eyebrow, welcoming the distraction. It seemed somebody had previous plans. "Ah, hoping for another lovely evening with Shirley, were you?"

"How did you - ?" Ray spluttered, before scowling. "Bloody Cartwright, can't keep her mouth shut. It's nothin'." He insisted, embarrassed, pulling at his tie.

"So, you're not taking her to Sam and Annie's wedding, then?" Alex asked innocently; as if Annie hadn't given her the full story of Shirley Day from the typing pool giving Ray the eye. "Don't worry, your secret's safe with me." Alex assured him, but still made him squirm. "Mind you - first Chris, now you. Love must be in the air."

Ray grimaced at her love bollocks, but the mention of the Boss' wedding did bring up an earlier thought he'd had. "Speakin' of, you're not bringin' Dr. Death, are you?"

"To the wedding?" Alex frowned, perplexed. "Jesus, you date one man for less than a month-"

That's all he needed to hear. "Good, don't. In fact, don't bring no one."

"'Anyone'." Alex correctly him automatically; Ray blinked non-plussed. "You used a double negative." He blinked again; she rolled her eyes, before sitting up, deciding to take affront. "Anyway, why is it any of your business who I do or don't take as my plus one?"

"The Guv makes any party a right laugh, but if he's a bastard, he'll ruin the whole bloody thing." Ray informed her quietly, giving her a pointed look. He held up a hand, as Alex went to take him for a mug and play dumb. He wasn't Chris; he had eyes. "Don't ask me why or what is that s'posed to mean, 'cause you know what it bleedin' means." Alex shut her mouth begrudgingly. "And don't tell him I said nothin' to you."

"Anything to you." Alex muttered absentmindedly. She had half a mind to tell him to mind his own beeswax, but even she knew that the man who would be a bastard about her plus-one would be the only plus-one she'd consider taking. Well, Gene had the 'bastard' bit down at the moment; she glanced at his office door, still firmly shut. "Alright, fine - I'll come without a date," Alex held out her palm, "if you put a note in the kitty for Annie's hen do."

Ray scowled, as he went for his wallet, but he had to hide a smile. For all her posh trimmings, she was turning into a right tosser. About bloody time.

Another right tosser, in Alex's opinion at least, was Gene Hunt. If she'd been hoping that his mood would improve after a few hours away from the station, she was sorely mistaken. Determined to make an effort, she'd put on a midnight blue Grecian near-backless number she'd bought a few weeks ago when the Guv came to collect her. Why not? Just because they were undercover didn't mean that she couldn't offer Gene a glimpse of what was hopefully to come; besides, Campbell's was a swanky place.

She was about to compliment him on looking very dapper, which he did. He looked - and smelt - great, but then Alex had caught his still grumpy expression. He told her to hurry up and get in the car. He didn't even offer one word on how nice she looked (she wasn't an idiot, she knew she looked good tonight). Tosser.

But two wrongs don't make a right and so Alex chose to ignore it. Maybe she'd be able to snap him out of it. Maybe. If she told him to cheer up at this point, it'd only turn into a horrible argument and they couldn't afford that when they had work to be getting on with.

"So, I thought, after this, we could see to that dinner, or at least a drink." Alex tried, as they made their way down into the club's entrance.

"What?"

"You know, I'm the dog, you're the bone," Alex smiled, before frowning, "- no, I've got that wrong, haven't I -"

"Yeah, maybe." Gene agreed, offering a quick smile, which looked far more like a grimace.

"Well, might be too late tonight," She allowed, letting him take and check in their coats, "but I'm dying to try that new French place that's opened up on River Street." Alex sighed; he wasn't even listening to her. He was distracted. By what? She had no idea, but her goodwill was starting to wear thin. So much for letting sleeping dogs lie. "Are you alright, Guv?" She asked directly.

"Don't call me that in here." Gene rebuked her. She almost rolled his eyes; so he was listening, then. "Remember, I'm - who am I?" He frowned, forgetting.

"Ron Weasley." She managed it with a straight face.

"And you're, what is it again? Herman?"

"No, Hermione. I never will find out if they end up together." Alex muttered to herself, as the club's owner made his way over. "Mr Campbell, how are you?" She smiled in greeting, feeling Gene tense at her side. Thankfully, though to the Guv's chagrin, Campbell had been very obliging, happy for them to do undercover work if it brought Rebecca's killer to justice. He didn't always make an appearance at the club, but he agreed to introduce them to the regulars and have Ray and Chris as barmen for the night.

"Wonderful," Mr Campbell smiled, kissing Alex's cheek in greeting; it made the act more believable, but Alex cringed inwardly, feeling the Guv glaring a hole into the back of her head. Campbell gestured discreetly towards the bar, where Ray had to stop Chris from waving to them in greeting. "Your lads are all set up behind the bar - and, please, in here, it's Jonathan. Ah Eric," He grabbed a passing gentleman, "you must meet my new friends, this is..."

Alex blanched as the Guv introduced them: "Gene Hunt and Bolly. My wife."

The gentleman grinned, shaking the Guv's hand. "Pleasure, sir. Godfrey James - come over, the wife and I are at the bar. We'll introduce you to everyone."

"Gene Hunt and Bolly?" Alex hissed, following their new friend Godfrey. "Have you lost your mind?"

Gene shrugged unremorsefully. "He didn't blink at Bolly though."

"Well, he's posh - ridiculous names are par for the course." Alex admitted begrudgingly, Godfrey proving her point as he called out to his wife.

"Biffy dear, you must come and meet the Hunts!"

Two hours later and they weren't getting anywhere fast. In fact, Alex would say that they weren't getting anywhere at all. No one was suspicious. Asking careful questions about what members had been doing last night showed that everyone had alibis. Typical posh people and their hectic social diaries. Alex assumed that the Guv thought similarly, but she really wouldn't know. After all the introductions were made and pleasantries exchanged, it seemed like he had spent most of the evening at the bar - talking to a young waitress. He'd seemingly left her to get on with it and now, having done the round, she was back, stuck talking to (or more correctly, being talked at) by Biffy James. Whatever had Gene in such a foul mood, there was no doubting it. It was definitely about her - and now Alex was being avoided, or punished for whatever she'd supposedly done.

"And let's get to the important matters, does your husband golf?"

Alex's eyes blinked away from the scene of Gene and the waitress sharing a joke. "Of course, he does."

"Marvellous. Whilst he and Godfrey hit the tees, we can hit the gin and tonics."

Alex laughed politely, but was relieved to see Jonathan Campbell sauntering back over to them.

"And how are we, ladies?"

"Divine, Bolly and I are becoming firm friends." Biffy grinned, clinking their glasses before she noticed hers was empty, again. "Now, where's my dear husband and my next drink?"

"You're already a favourite. The women like you and their husbands like you even more." Jonathan told her, as Biffy stumbled off, the innuendo clear. "You should think about coming again - in a less official capacity."

Not on my life. "Don't you need to be in a couple?"

"I'm sure we could find you someone." The man was far from subtle. "Any luck?"

Alex sighed, tired. It was nearing eleven and she'd wasted her evening and a good dress for nothing. No murderer. No Gene. "There's no...response to my questions. He's not here."

"We're looking for a man, then?"

She blinked, her tiredness had made her forget herself. They hadn't ruled out Campbell as a suspect after all. "I'm looking for a man." Alex told him, hearing herself as a grin broke out onto his face. "I didn't mean it like that." She couldn't help but smile. "But thank you - for being so accommodating."

Campbell leaned forward. "Anytime,...Bolly."

Once upon a time, a man like Jonathan Campbell may have made her heart beat a little quicker. She'd liked much older guys for a while; no doubt, there were some lingering daddy issues that she chose to ignore. But, for a while now, there seemed to be only one man who made her heart do that and hearing Bolly coming out of anyone else's mouth just sounded so wrong.

Deciding it was time to call it quits at Campbell's, Alex bit the bullet and made her way over to the bar, catching the end of Gene's conversation. Honestly, didn't the woman have any punters to be seeing to?

"He's still the same, old and grumpy - but he'd kill for any of us." The girl smiled, not even pretending to be doing any work.

"Jack always was loyal." Gene agreed, hunched over his drink.

"Jack?" Alex asked, interrupting.

At least, he had the good grace to look a little guilty. He stood up straight from the bar. "Um, her uncle - turns out he was an old school mate of mine."

"Can I get you anythin', Madam?" The waitress offered.

"I'll have another glass of champagne - it can go on my husband's tab." Alex smiled sweetly.

"Another scotch, Gene?"

"Ta muchly, love."

Alex kept her tongue, as the young woman made their drinks. She could feel the tension coming off both herself and Gene in waves now and, sensing it too, the waitress wisely busied herself elsewhere.

"Well, I see you're making friends." Alex muttered, not liking how bitter she sounded, but the Guv was no different. She didn't need to look up from her drink to know that he was glaring at Campbell from across the room.

"Could say the same for you. I don't trust him."

"You don't like him - there's a difference."

"Women. A little flattery and you're putty in anybody's hands."

She chose to ignore the usual sexist comment. "We don't have any leads. If he's involved, surely it's better for now to keep him on side in the belief that he's helping us with our inquiries. Pointing the finger will only make him close up." The Guv's lack of reply was the only agreement she was going to get. Looking over the room also, Alex frowned to see a familiar face clearing up tables. "Isn't that Paul Turner?

"Who?"

"Becky's boyfriend. His photo, it was in her purse." She reminded him, knowing she'd seen him somewhere. "What on Earth is he doing here?"

"He works here, remember."

"His girlfriend died yesterday."

Gene scowled at her naivety. "And the rent's due Tuesday. We all have to earn our keep in this world, Bols - but I s'pose you wouldn't know nothin' 'bout that."

"Oh, and here was me thinking that I was playing a character in a John Le Carré novel." Alex retorted, sick of his digs. "What is the matter-"

"Oi, what you find out so far?" The Guv quietly beckoned over Ray and Chris as they tried to look busy behind the bar.

"Well, I know what a Harvey Wallbanger is now." Chris grinned, pleased with himself. "Four parts' orange juice, one and a half parts-"

"I'll show you a wallbanger if you don't bloody shut up," the Guv hissed impatiently, "I meant about the case, you lemon."

"Oh, sorry Guv-"

"Don't call me that!"

"Sorry!" Chris blanched, apologising again. "Not a lot, really. Well-liked girl, worked the same shift as this lot. There's nothin' in her locker apart from a change of clothes, a book. Paul can't imagine anyone here would want to hurt her."

"Can't see any of the customers havin' it in 'em, either." Ray chimed in. "Maybe we're lookin' at a muggin'?"

The Guv shook his head. "Can't be, nothin' was taken, crime scene was spotless - she'd been dumped there."

"So, it's back to the drawing board then." Alex sighed. Yep, two hours and they'd got nowhere.

"Bugger."

At least Gene was in agreement with her for a change.

With Ray and Chris off to the Arms separately - for appearances' sake -, Alex was left having to bear another car journey with Gene in stone-cold silence. By the time he'd swung the Cortina down the fifth street corner, she'd had enough.

"What is your problem?"

Another scowl - they were becoming a bit common now - was sent her way. "My problem is I've just wasted an evenin' on your undercover shite with nothin' to show for it! Now I plan on drinkin' a barrel of beer down the Arms before I nick Jonathan knobhead Campbell tomorrow mornin' 'cause - as I'll say for the hundreth time - that bastard did it!"

"Apart from your obvious dislike for the man, do you have any real evidence that it was him?" She didn't want this conversation to be about Jonathan Campbell, because he was only an excuse. Something else was bothering Gene - and clearly he had no intention of telling her.

Looking back out of the window, it dawned on Alex that it wasn't only the murder investigation which was going nowhere - and that made her bite her cheek to stop herself from crying.

"Can you pull over please?" She asked quietly, after a moment.

Gene frowned. "What? Why?"

"My flat's on the next street."

"Don't be ridiculous Bolly, night we've had - you could do with somethin' stiff inside you." He muttered sourly, but she didn't have it in her to respond, his words suddenly bringing her back to that fateful day which landed her in 1975. Instead, as the car hit a traffic light on the main road, she got out. "Oi, what are you -?" Gene blinked as the passenger door slammed shut. "Bolly!" He called out to her, but it was no use. Muttering a few expletives under his breath, Gene pulled over the Cortina and jumped out after her. "Bolly, get in the car! Drake, that's an order-"

"Piss off!" She called back at him, but she didn't stop.

"Bolly, stop!" Gene caught up to her, grabbing her elbow to turn around. "Alex!"

"What for?!" She wrenched her arm free, the fight going out of her as soon as she stopped walking. She shrugged sadly. "This isn't going anywhere, is it Gene?"

"What are you blitherin' on about, woman? We'll catch the twat who-"

"I'm not talking about the case."

"You're pissed I'm not takin' you out?" Gene frowned, catching on; he grimaced. "Look, it's been a long night -"

Please. "Don't insult my intelligence, Gene. I know men. I know you. If you don't want to...see each other in a romantic capacity, then tell me - because, if being treated like a leper all night is how you do romance, then I'm not interested anyway."

"For Christ's sake Bols, there's a time and a place!" Gene defended. "We were undercover-"

"As husband and wife!" Alex pointed out. "But don't worry Guv, it was very believable - we played 'couple-who've-been-married-so-long- that-they-can't-stand-the-sight-of-each-other' very well indeed. I thought you flirting with the waitress was a very nice touch." She smiled sarcastically.

"It weren't like that. And you're one to talk, you with that Campbell bloke!"

"Oh stop, he's old enough to be my father." Alex retorted, refusing to be drawn down that line of argument. "I don't understand you, Gene. All week you've been pestering me, trying to get me alone-"

"Charmin'-"

"well, you have!" Alex insisted, wanting them to be honest, as his eyes stared down at the pavement. "And I'm not too proud to say that I've enjoyed it, that I knew where it was all heading, but clearly something's changed. You don't feel the way I thought -"

"That's not..." Gene 's head shot up, but for some reason, he stopped himself. "Don't matter."

"No, say it."

Alex folded her arms, ready for whatever bullshit or insult he was about to serve her. Gene clenched his jaw, irritated; the woman had no clue.

"Where is it headin' then, Bollykecks? In your mind?" He demanded, now on the offensive.

"I don't know, an actual date might have been a start - you know, with a menu and some wine."

Gene smiled thinly. If she was going to be sarcastic, then so was he. "Right you are, well I don't do poncy restaurants with only Froggy words for the grub, so it'd be a Berni Inn, then. That alright with you?"

Alex shrugged, wondering where he was taking this. "There's nothing wrong with a Black Forest gateau, I suppose."

"Good. Then what?"

"Why are you-?" Alex sighed, irritated. "I know it's been a long time since you've dated, but you know what it entails."

"So, what?" Gene took a step closer. "Somewhere down the line - marriage, kids?"

Alex baulked. That certainly went on the list of things she'd thought Gene Hunt would never say. As if he was thinking about any of this. "We've kissed, Gene, that's all - forgive me for not having thought that far ahead."

"Well, you're no spring chicken Bols, but if you're just after a bit of rough whilst you wait for someone more your type, I guess I can oblige, so long as we're clear on what we're doin'."

He took another step towards her, looking down at her. The sexual tension was there, as always, but she'd be damned if she acted upon it. She hated it when he did this. When he was so...spiteful. You know it's just struck me how truly cold you are, Drake.

"And you'd know about my type, would you?"

"Manners makyth man..." Gene smirked down at her.

"That's you buggered, then." She smiled, if only to keep the tears at bay, taking a step away from him.

"That waitress," Gene sniffed, " - Lancashire lass, grew up less than half a mile from me. Dad was a coal miner, like mine, and a pissin' waste of space by the sounds of things, like mine."

"Gosh, what a heart-to-heart you two had."

"She looked at all those posh twats, like I looked them. Like they were from another world and we knew they saw us the same way. We know our place. I've got, well, at least twenty years on her, but I had more...common ground with her than anyone else in that poxy place."

Including me. Alex could read between the lines. She smiled tightly, suddenly understanding. "I see. You're a snob."

"What? That's bloody rubbish!"

"Of course you are! An inverted snob, but a snob nonetheless!" Alex laughed humourlessly. "We come from different backgrounds and you can't be bothered with the headache of it. Because dating me might mean, occasionally, being taken out of your comfort zone of the pub and all thingsNorthern and that scares the shit out of you-"

"Scares me? Bollocks." Gene stopped her, sullenly. "Come on Bolly, I'm the son of a Northern miner and you're the daughter of posh city lawyers - our lots don't mix. Can you really imagine your Daddy Dearest bein' best pleased his pride and joy is out with me? Handsome though I am..."

"Well, seeing as Mummy and Daddy Dearest were killed in front of me when I was eight years old, I doubt that either of them has much to say on the matter." Alex threw back at him, briefly enjoying the look on his face. "That you could be so narrow-minded, Gene, after everything...I've imagined it all, have I? This." Alex gestured between them. "We don't have anything in common? No connection?"

For a moment, she thought he looked like he was going to close the distance between them again. The way he looked at her, she was sure it was what he wanted to do, but actions speak louder than words and Alex quickly wiped a tear, as Gene shrugged, his gaze now back on the pavement.

"We wouldn't have worked, Bolly."

"I guess this posh twat thought differently."

At the sound of her alarm, Alex buried her head deeper into the pillow. After the previous evening, the last thing she wanted to do was to face Gene again, but there was no rest for the wicked and there was scum to catch. Still, that didn't mean she wasn't dreading it. Risking a glance at the clock, she blinked at the time. 9:23. Shit. After all the tossing and turning, she must have slept through, exhausted.

Blinking away the sleep, Alex suddenly registered that the ringing was her phone, not her alarm and blindly reached out for it, imagining the Guv ready to start yelling down other line. Just 'cause I've ripped your heart in two, don't be thinkin' your scrawny arse ain't expected here on bloody time! That really would be a punch to the ego.

"I know, I'm late - I'll be five minutes-"

"The Guv's round Campbell's, thought you should know Ma'am." It was Phyllis, straight to the point, as usual.

"What?" Her mind played catch up. "The Guv's gone to Jonathan Campbell's house?"

"His house, his club - to tear it up and find summin' to hang him by, apparently."

The Guv taking out his anger on a potential suspect, well that rang too many bells. Alex could only hope he'd played a little by the book. "But he has a search warrant?"

"'Course he does - the Guv has a search warrant and David Essex is givin' me a good seein' to."

"I'll take that as a no, then." Alex scowled tiredly, sick of all Northerners and all sarcasm this morning. "Why are you telling me all this, anyway? He's a big boy, he can search a club."

"Well, next time I won't bleedin' bother then! Only he's been like a bear with a sore head since he came in and - without the Boss 'ere - you're the only one 'ere who.." There was a pause, as Phyllis thought best how to put it, "- well, you know what he can be like..."

Alex sighed inwardly, suddenly wishing Annie and Sam would make an appearance. "Yeah, alright, thanks Phyllis."

Alex swung by the house to see it being searched by others in CID and so it was almost an hour before she was back at the club. The Guv's ransacking was in full swing. At least five plod plus Ray and Chris, all searching through every file Campbell had in the place, his boxes being stacked up by the bar, paper scattered across the tables.

"What are you doing?" Alex demanded without prelude, watching them near enough feng shui the place.

Guv smiled thinly. "DI Drake, how good of you to join us."

There was that bloody sarcasm, again. She repeated the question. "What are you doing?"

"I'm conductin' a murderin' inquiry - how 'bout you?"

"I've just been to his house; officers are pulling it apart looking for God knows what. You can't do this - you need a search warrant. Where's Campbell?"

"Don't know, don't care. And I see Phyllis' been tellin' tales," He pulled what she presumed was the warrant from his coat, smug as anything, waving it in her direction. "Fresh off the press."

"From a judge whose parking tickets miraculously got lost in the post, right? Apart from your copper's nous, what possible reason do you have for-"

"What the hell do you think you're doing?!"

"Ah, there's your Mr Campbell now!" The Guv seemed almost gleeful as the club owner made an unsurprising appearance.

"How dare you! - I have been nothing but helpful with your investigation and this is the bloody thanks I get!"

The Guv barely looked up from the documents he was sifting through. "I'm looking for a murderer, Campbell - you know any?"

"You could have had at least the decency to inform me before you started looting the place - I've a business to run."

"What, so you could hide evidence?" The Guv scoffed. "I don't think so."

Mr Campbell reddened, incensed at the implication. "You think I killed Rebecca?! I've never heard anything so ludicrous!" He looked to Alex, desperately. "Surely, you can reason with him-"

"Oi! " The Guv barked, inserting himself between the two. Alex had to stop herself from rolling her eyes. "Us - coppers, you - suspect. There'll be no reasonin' 'til I have my answers."

"Guv, we've found these in his office." Ray offered, as he and Chris left the back office.

"Letters?" Alex asked, taking them.

"Love letters."

"Very nice." The Guv smirked. "Keep 'em away from Ray though, you know how much he loves a Mills and Boon." He came to read over Alex's shoulder, his smirk deepening to see what was written there. "Well, would you look at that?"

Chris frowned, intrigued. Alex scowled; she hated people reading over her shoulder. "Love Rebecca..."

Ray wiggled his eyebrows at Campbell. "Not just her boss, then..."

"But she was young Guv, he's..." Chris' frowned deepened; to the young Constable, Jonathan Campbell was ancient.

"-not? I know Christopher," Gene slapped a consoling hand on Chris' shoulder, "but girls don't mind a wrinkly knob so long as it's got a full wallet attached."

"It wasn't like that." Jonathan defended, quietly.

Rebecca had only been twenty-one, which arguably made Campbell a total creep, but Alex's heart went out to him as she finished the letter. Rebecca had clearly been quite taken with him, and he with her by the looks of things.

"You were in love with her." Alex offered.

"With a twenty-year old piece of skirt? That's not love Bols, that's summin' else." The Guv said grimly.

Love or not, this letter didn't make him a murderer, Alex knew that, and Campbell had had enough of the insinuations and abuse he was receiving. She grimaced inwardly as the older man stood up to the Guv. If you prodded a Manc Lion with a stick, you were bound to get bitten.

"Do you have any heart at all?" Campbell seethed. "Rebecca wasn't a piece of skirt, she was a lovely young woman - a woman dead long before her prime and you don't give a shit. You don't give a shit, because you've got a bloody chip on your shoulder. You think I've had it so easy and I was the reason you grew up in the gutter. And now, you're loving it, aren't you? Because you've got the badge that says you're the man, that you've got the power and I don't. How pathetic."

Everyone's eyes widened: calling the Guv pathetic? Did Campbell value his knackers being attached to his body?

But Gene stood still, rigidly still, jaw clenched, as he stared his suspect down. "Surprise, surprise - he likes quotin' Malcolm X too, Bols."

Campbell shook his head, disbelievingly. "I don't stand a chance, do I?"

"No. You killed her."

"No, I didn't!" Campbell insisted, again looking to Alex for support, "Bolly, please-"

That was not enough to make the Guv snap; the next thing Alex knew Campbell was on the floor, hand to his lip, Gene angrily towering over him. "Guv!"

"Don't you ever call her that!" The Guv roared. "I do have the power, Campbell - to throw away the key and I bloody will, don't you worry! 'Cause you can talk with the biggest plum in your gob, son, but you're nothin' but murderin' scum!" He pointed at Alex. "She is not one of your lot - she's one of mine, fightin' the good fight. So don't you think she's on your side!"

Campbell stumbled back up, looking ready to retaliate, but thankfully Ray decided to put an end to it, desperately in need of a fag.

"Alright Guv, he gets it - you're comin' down the station. In cuffs or not, your choice."

Throwing one last desperate look at Alex, Jonathan Campbell sighed in agreement and let the Sergeant escort him out. Alex herself sighed inwardly, casting a glance at red-faced Gene Hunt. She didn't have the energy to be dealing with him and his theatrics, she hadn't even had her morning coffee.

"Come on Chris, bring some of those letters."

"Where are you goin'?" The Guv demanded

Alex tried for professionalism. "To Becky's mum's. We'll need handwriting samples to confirm these are hers."

"Of course, they're bloody hers!"

"Just doing things by the book, Guv."

"Sam would be proud." He muttered darkly.

"I'll see you back at the station." Alex replied, turning to go. "You're not going to...?" She looked over to where Campbell had gone. If he was murderer, then the Guv couldn't go back to the station only to beat the shit out of him - a judge wouldn't accept that.

"Not goin' to what?" He asked daringly, knowing she was doubting him.

"Never mind."

Alex drove she and Chris over to Mrs Little's house in silence - she was getting used to that now - but stood ringing the doorbell, she could feel her annoyance at the Guv and at everything getting the better of her. All of those officers and nobody apart from Phyllis thought to say 'hey, are we sure we should be raiding a man's home and business without much evidence?'. That everybody trusted the Guv's instincts was laudable, but sometimes a little digging around was required before charging in like a bull in a china shop.

Alex sighed; so much for old times - when the hell was Sam coming back?

"Why didn't you stop him, Chris?"

"Nobody can stop the Guv when he puts his mind to summin'." Chris shrugged, used to the Guv's ways, "Anyway, we've got these letters now, we've got motive."

Alex snorted. "That Campbell loved Rebecca? What sort of motive is that? We need evidence."

"I know, but it don't look too good that he didn't fess up to it in the first place, does it?" He had a point.

"Mrs Little," Alex greeted, as the front door opened. "I'm so sorry to disturb you. Do you mind if we come in?"

Rebecca's mother looked less distraught than she had yesterday, but her eyes were rimmed red from crying. "Not at all, not at all. Come in. Have you...have you found out who killed my Becky, then?"

"We've made some break-throughs in the investigation, yes, but it's too early to say much until we charge someone, you understand?" Alex replied kindly, not wanting to give too much away and raise her hopes. "Actually, we were hoping for your help. Do you have any samples of Becky's handwriting around?"

"Samples?"

"Letters perhaps, or notes. Did she keep a diary?"

"Oh, she might have done, yes." Mrs Little sniffed, thinking about it. "Paul will be back in a minute, he popped out for milk - he'd know. Why don't you have a look 'round her room, surely there'd be summin' in there?"

Alex looked up the stairs. "If you're sure..."

"'Course. Becky's not here to complain 'bout it, she used to hate it when I barged in without knockin'." Mrs Little smiled sadly, before she started to crumple again.

Alex watched her fighting back the tears, not wanting to fall apart in front of her. She suddenly wished the Guv was here; he'd know how to comfort her. He was right - she put the poor woman on edge. On impulse, Alex reached out to the other mother's shoulder.

"My daughter was just the same."

Mrs Little's eyes lit up in understanding and she realised a breath. She smiled shakily and Alex smiled back in return; they had some common ground after all.

"Up the stairs, first door on your left, love."

Walking into Becky's room, Alex could see that Campbell had been right: she was aspirational. Her walls were covered with maps of places she'd wanted to visit and her nightstand was littered with travel books. The room felt a million miles away from the rest of the house. Downstairs was 70s Manchester and here was the whole world.

She smiled softly. "Hmm, she really did dream big."

"What we lookin' for, Ma'am?" Chris asked, sifting through Rebecca's record collection.

"Her writing, and any other clues you might find."

Ten minutes later, Alex thought they might have run out of luck until Chris let out a noise of triumph, having found a diary taped under Becky's bed.

"Just call me Colombo." Chris grinned, but a miffed that the Guv wasn't here to see it. He couldn't prize it open. "Locked though."

Looking over the diary with the heart-shaped lock, Alex reached over for a clip on the nightstand and sprung it open. "Ah, call me Colombo."

"How d'you know that?"

"My diary had the same lock." Alex replied; she'd lost the key years ago. Flicking through the pages, it was clear that the handwriting of the letters matched Rebecca's, but Alex was struck by all the doodles and heart on the pages. Becky had been so young with her whole life ahead of her - she hated cases like these. "Twenty years old, she was just a kid really." Alex bit her cheek sadly, needing a moment. "Hey, Chris, why don't you go back to the car, radio in - see if Campbell's our man after all."

"Wilco."

Reading the most recent passages, Becky's adoration of Jonathan Campbell was clear. He was her lover, but a mentor, too. Educating her about what was worth seeing in the world and what opportunities there were and Rebecca soaked it up like a sponge. She spoke of her mother, of her friends, of Jonathan, of the club and of the ridiculousness of the club members, but she also spoke of her boyfriend, Paul Turner. Of how he was beginning to lose his temper. Of how he did not want to escape the city after all and he thought they should get married. Of how Becky didn't want any of that. Of how she suspected Paul knew about her affair with Jonathan -

"Where'd you find that?"

"Well, his alibi checks out. He was spendin' the night with Mrs James, so much for bein' in love. She could be coverin' for him though." Ray offered, accepting the tumbler that the Guv gave him.

Sipping his own, the Guv collapsed into his office chair, displeased but knowing the truth when it smacked him in the face. "But she's not. Those lot don't put their necks on the line for anyone but themselves - if they find you on the wrong side of the law, they pretend like they never liked you in the first place. Campbell didn't do it - more's the pity." Ray snorted in agreement. The Guv scowled, running a frustrated hand through his hair. "Not a finger."

"Guv?"

"I didn't lay a finger on him." The Guv explained, looking to Ray for answers. "Why is that?"

Ray shrugged. "'Cause you couldn't be bothered to hear the Boss moan 'bout it tomorrow?"

"Try again, Ray."

Ray sighed, sitting down himself. "You know why. Same reason you're mullin' over your drink now." And there was the truth, smacking him in the face again. Bolly. Seeing as the Guv was not interested in pulling at that particular thread any further, Ray reached over to read through again the letters that plod had found hidden at the very back of Rebecca's locker which had been missed last night, the letters from Campbell. He flicked it, disgustingly. "Jesus, would you listen to this shite? She didn't have a clue. 'I wish we could get away from this city and be together. I'm sick of waiting for our lives to begin. Like you say, carpe...carpe, what? What does that even mean?"

"Carpe diem." The Guv supplied, sipping his drink again.

"Type of fish, in'it?"

The Guv snorted. "Seize the day. It's Latin."

"Latin? Urgh, the poncy git." Ray tossed the letter aside and polished off his whiskey, going to stand. "Mind you, he might have a point."

"And what's that? Life's too short, so be happy." The Guv said sourly, looking into his drink. "It's easy enough for ol' moneybags to say that."

"Maybe. But I'd say goin' through life lookin' for reasons to be unhappy - well, that's just barmy."

"It was you."

Alex whispered, seeing Paul Turner - Becky's boyfriend - stood at the door, his eyes on the diary.

"What?"

"You killed Becky."

"Nah, it was Mr Campbell." Paul insisted, but she knew a lie when she heard one and young Paul Turner couldn't lie to save his life. "It was - I heard that other policeman, he just went down the stairs, he said you had him down the station-"

"It was you, Paul." Alex tried again, as the boy stood awkwardly in the door.

"Why-? Why would you say that?" He swallowed.

"Because it's here in black and white. Your arguments, how angry you were to find out about her affair, her plan to leave..." She trailed off sadly, "- had you hurt her before?"

"No! And I didn't mean to push her!" Paul defended before realising his admission. Tears started springing from his eyes. He went to the bed and sat beside her, his eyes darting across the diary's pages. Sitting next to a murderer, Alex thought, was not the wisest idea, but he wasn't interested in escaping - he was practically a child. "...Is that all it says? Our problems, not...not how much I loved her."

"It says that, too." Alex offered quietly, her heart breaking for him.

"'Cause I did. I loved her so much."

"What happened?"

Paul sighed unhappily. "Work was over. We were the last ones there, couldn't believe I was still workin' for the bastard, but it's good money and she'd promised to end it...but she hadn't. Becky wanted to leave, with Campbell. But even if he wouldn't, she said she was still goin', that she couldn't stand it up 'ere anymore. All I've ever done is love her, look after her and her mam - more than me own and mine's bloody dyin'!" He cried, head now in his hands. "I lost it. She tried to leave the locker room and I pushed her, once. First time I'd ever touched like that - and her head hit the corner of the wall so fast that I...I thought she was out cold. But there was all that blood and..." His eyes glazed over at the memory of it all.

"You panicked."

He nodded sadly. "Got her in the back of my dad's old van, cleaned the floor, left her in the park...tried to be as gentle as I could..."

"Why didn't you call an ambulance, the police?" Alex asked, desperately. "Asked for help instead of...hiding a murder."

"I couldn't believe it." He sobbed, willing the DI to understand him. "She was gone and I did it, and I couldn't believe I'd done it. That bastard Campbell swan in and wrecked our lives and somehow I'd done it meself! I couldn't face it was my fault - I wanted it to be his. We've been sweethearts since we were fourteen. What am I goin' to do without her? I love her so much." Paul sniffed back the rest of his tears, suddenly exhausted. "Am I under arrest?"

"Yes, I'm afraid so." Alex whispered. None of this was right. None of this was fair.

"God, how's Becky's mum ever goin' to make the rent now?"

"It was the boyfriend, then." Ray confirmed, lighting up a fag. He hadn't been all that surprised when Chris and the Ma'am returned to the station in the afternoon with a crying Paul Turner and grim expressions. If it wasn't Campbell, there weren't too many choices.

"'Fraid so." Alex sighed tiredly, sitting on her desk. "The Guv isn't here?" She asked casually enough.

"Been a long day, ain't it?" Ray shrugged.

"You took the words right out of my mouth." Alex agreed glumly. "You two should head home; this can all wait until morning. Turner's distraught, he needs time before he's interviewed properly."

"So he can get his facts straight?" The sergeant asked wryly.

She shot him a warning look. "So he's clear about what happened and he's prepared to testify to that in court." The poor lad needed a lawyer at least before they questioned him properly. She sighed, frustrated. "God, how come a prick like Campbell gets to walk free? Whilst Paul Turner loses his head for a moment and his whole life is ruined."

"Story of their lives." Chris shrugged, Ray nodding in agreement.

"Well, it's shit." Alex maintained. "This whole investigation has just been...shit." There really wasn't a better word for it. "Why is that?"

"'Cause you're not Annie and Tyler, lookin' on the bright side and seein' a world full of rainbows and pissin' bunny rabbits." Ray snorted.

Alex looked at the pair of them. Was it her? Did she make the difference? She sighed, feeling inadequate again. "I haven't been so awful, have I? I know I'm not Sam, but..."

She trailed off; Ray gestured to Chris to say something, anything vaguely supportive. It was bad enough the Guv was miserable, they didn't need their bird DI following suit.

"Nah," Chris smiled, "- it's been nice - you know, having' the woman's per...- prospects, I mean-"

"The woman's perspective?" Alex raised an eyebrow; Ray shook his head. Twonk.

"Right, that! A girl takin' the lead, it's very...well, its works!" Chris grinned cheerfully.

Alex smiled, bemused but grateful."Thanks Chris...I think."

"No problem, Boss - I mean, Ma'am. Night, then!"

"He's in a rush." Alex commented, watching Chris grin goodbye as he put his jacket on and made a dash for it. She checked her watch; it was past clocking off time.

"On a promise, ain't he? There's a first and last time for everythin'." Ray grumbled, putting out his cigarette and, too, grabbing his jacket. "Come on, Ma'am - there's a pint with my name on it."

She grimaced. The last thing she really felt like doing was getting pissed down the Arms. The Guv was probably there already - Alex couldn't decide if that was a good or bad thing. "I should stay here and..."

"We've got our killer. Anyway, the Boss will be back tomorrow, crossin' the t's and dottin' the i's, tellin' us how we didn't do it through 'official channels', whatever that bloody means."

Alex sighed. A weekend without them had been long enough. "I've got so used to he and Annie being here."

"Annoyin' as hell but it wouldn't be the same without 'em." Ray agreed, good-naturedly, shooting her a look. "Funny that."

Alex blinked, reading between the lines. For a self-proclaimed caveman, Ray Carling could be bloody perceptive when he wanted to be - and now here he was, assuring her that she was valued, that she was one of the team. "You're becoming almost charming, Sergeant."

"Oi, don't you be gettin' any ideas now."

Laughing at their banter as she followed Ray out, agreeing to go for one drink, Alex almost didn't notice Jonathan Campbell checking out his things from reception. She sighed inwardly; after everything, she didn't really want to speak with the man, but seeing the half-smile he shot in her direction, Alex told Ray to go ahead.

"Mr. Campbell, I see you've been let go."

"About bloody time, too." Campbell grumbled, pocketing his keys. "You've got your man then?"

"It's looking that way."

He waited for a moment, probably expecting her to divulge what she knew, but Alex kept her mouth shut. Campbell would have to wait to read it in the papers. He wasn't the killer, but he was still a bit of a lech who should have left Rebecca Little well alone.

"You'll be pleased to know that I won't be pursuing anything further." Campbell offered magnanimously. "That unfortunate business with your Chief Inspector."

"How very gallant of you."

He didn't hear the sarcasm. "Anytime, Bolly-"

"Please." Alex shook her head, not in the mood for his flirtations. "Don't."

"Ah. I see, it's like that, then. I suppose I shan't be seeing you at the club again?"

"I shouldn't think so, no." Alex smiled ruefully. "But I do hope that you'll accept my apology on his behalf, I'm afraid getting an I'm sorry from DCI Hunt is like getting blood out of a stone."

"C'est la vie." Campbell shrugged smiling.

Alex returned it, but he left her feeling cold. Campbell didn't give a rat's arse about the Guv and his apologies or anything really. During this entire investigation, Campbell's attention had been on her and Alex was starting to feel as if that might have less to do with him finding her attractive and a lot more to do with her being one of them. One of the club. Posh.

After all, she hadn't seen any remorse in his part to play in all of this. Who were Becky Little and Paul Turner to a man like Campbell? Nobodies, probably. The only reason Becky had risen in his estimations was because she didn't want the same working-class lifestyle that everyone else had. She bought into what he had.

"You don't feel guilty at all, do you?" Alex murmured, incredulous.

Campbell's face darkened. "I didn't kill Rebecca."

"No, no you didn't. But she lost her life - and all for loving you." Alex shook her head almost in disgust, looking at the measure of the man, echoing his own words. "What a waste."

"Now, now DI Drake - I hope your DCI's boorishness hasn't rubbed off on you." Campbell smiled tightly. He sighed, looking to her better nature. "I am sorry - for what happened to Rebecca. She had her whole life ahead of her and such great plans for it, but alas - we plan, God laughs. All we can do in this world is be good to each other."

"Manners Makyth Man." And he didn't have any.

"Quite." Campbell smirked. "So much so that one might have got blood from that stone, after all."

After having finished that one pint with Ray down the Arms and left him to the attentions of Shirley the typist, Alex finally realised that the Guv had done the unthinkable and said sorry - or words to that effect - to Jonathan Campbell. Gene had crossed a line and he'd acknowledged it, not that Campbell hadn't really deserved a smack in the gob. Accepting that she was disappointed and not relieved that the Guv was nowhere to be found, Alex decided to cut her losses and go home after these whirlwind few days. Sam and Annie would be back tomorrow - thank God! - and everything could get back to normal. As for she and Gene, who even knew anymore? But she hated how they'd left things. Even if he was an idiot.

Still, coming down into Demi's for a quick bite before heading upstairs, Alex smiled to see Gene Hunt, centre stage, back against a booth, bottle of red, cigarillo in hand. Gene looked up, his usual grim pout firmly in place, but Alex could see a little nervousness in his eyes, if only for a moment.

"What are you doing here?" She asked, shaking her head tiredly.

"Keepin' this greaser in business, 'course." Gene sniffed, pointing to the chair opposite. "Care to join?"

Alex hesitated to sit down. After the arguments they had had, she was starting to fill cautious in her old age. If she sat down, they'd flirt some and make amends, but what if it all fell apart a month later because of more stupid insecurities on both sides. Gene was right - they came from different worlds and in ways he didn't even know were possible.

"A little music, Mr Hunt?" Demi grinned to see his patroness back from a hard's day work.

"Ta George, but if that Morris Albert song comes on again, I'll be throwin' that radio at ol' Adonis over there."

"Αμέ, Mr Hunt, I understand. But he's Zeus, you see - look, he's a God." Demi clarified, looking between the pair, noticing something different between the two. "And there's Aphrodite, but she's not a batch on our dear Alexandra, yes..."

"Patch, George - she's not a patch on..." Gene trailed off, casting an eye over the woman in question, "- yeah, you've got a point there, but we would like a batch of whatever Greek wafer is s'posed to be in this bread basket." Alex smiled again, as he quickly skirted over the compliment. Demi went over to change the music and Alex made the decision she knew she would make eventually: she sat down and joined him. Without asking, Gene picked up the bottle of red and poured her a glass, scowling as Terry Jacks' Season In The Sun floated over to them from the bar. "Christ on a bike - honestly, the service 'ere - don't know how you put up with it."

"Well, I'm a sucker for punishment," Alex shrugged, taking a sip, "- you said so yourself."

No idea why you'd wanna transfer up here but I do love a sucker for punishment. I love suckers, in general. Gene smirked at the memory. "Hmm, the day we met. One hell of a day, that." She fought back the blush, as his eyes rested on her face. Smirk still in place, he raised a glass in toast. "To bangin' up another murderin' bastard - and to you, Lady Bols, for workin' it all out with that batty brain of yours."

Alex clinked glasses, but now had a smirk of her own. "Lady Bols...you are feeling contrite."

"No idea what you're talkin' about." Gene replied, innocently. "No, seriously, Bols - contrite, what's that? A bit like 'concise'?"

She snorted. "Concise, you?"

"Takes one to know one."

"Ah," Alex tried, "and what happened to us not having common ground, then?"

"All we are is difference, Bolly."

She was hit by déjà-vu, though she was sure he'd never said it before. "It doesn't have to be a bad thing."

"Startin' to see that." Gene admitted, leaning forward, his eyes having a cheeky glance down her blouse. "In fact, I happen to like a couple of your differences very much. We're the same in any way that really counts. Aren't we?" He hadn't expected that to come out as a question, but now that it had, he was intrigued by the answer

"Here we are!" Demi said cheerfully, placing another basket down. "But, Mr Hunt, they're not wafers, they're pitas - you want to order now?"

Gene looked to Alex; he wasn't going to eat here like a loser with this bloody music, if she wasn't going to stay long. She put him out of his misery. "Well, I am quite hungry, I guess."

"There's a girl."

By dessert, things felt normal, if you could call it that. Conversation flowed and laughs were shared and they went back to flirting with remarkable ease. They hadn't brought up their argument last night directly, but there really wasn't any point. Both of them had said things they regretted and Alex knew that if she dragged up every fight she'd had with the man for closure, then she wouldn't have much free time. Still, when an easy silence fell over them, Alex voiced the one thing on her mind.

"You apologised." She said, tapping her wine glass thoughtfully. "To Campbell."

"I was out of line." Gene shrugged, not wanting to make more out of it, but she wasn't so easily put off.

"Not for the first or last time, why did you do it?"

"Apologise?" She nodded; he sighed inwardly. "Does it matter?"

"It matters to me."

Gene sighed, outwardly, this time, eyes trained on the whiskey he'd ordered. Alex didn't push him to answer, but just when she thought she wasn't to get any answer at all, he came out with it.

"What you think of me..." He murmured, "well, that matters to me."

Alex's eyes softened, waiting for him to look up at her. Then, catching his eye, she grinned wolfishly; Gene rolled his eyes. Smug cow. Laughing, she finished off her wine, but sobered up a little at what she had to admit.

"You were right about him."

Gene frowned. "No, I wasn't. I thought he was murderin' scum."

"Well, you had the scum bit right, at least." Alex insisted. "There was a littleness about him that I didn't see before and you did."

Tit-for-tat. "Yeah well, some of those twats at his club weren't so bad, I s'pose." Gene sighed, scratching his cheek thoughtfully. "Might still take up ol' Godfrey James on that offer of a round of golf."

Alex smiled bemused at the image of it. The intent was sweet, but pigs could fly. "I suppose the moral of the story is: take people as you find them."

Gene raised his glass in agreement, watching her as Demi took away their plates and left them to each other's company. She looked at him questioningly, clearly Gene had one last thing on his mind.

"I'm sorry - 'bout your mam and dad."

Her heart stopped for a moment. The whole reason she was here in the first place. Alex swallowed, going for more calm than she felt. "No need. You weren't there." But he was, wasn't he? She didn't understand it, but he really was. His hand took hers and suddenly she felt loved and safe again. Just like she always did. Just like he always made her feel.

His hand reached out to cover hers on the table; Alex almost gasped at the contact.

"Hey, I'm the Gene Genie. You need me, I'm there."

And then her heart started going again, full of love for the man sat in front of her. Refusing to hesitate any more, Alex leant forward and kissed him. Her hand on his cheek, she hoped he could sense how much she felt.

Pulling back, she smiled to see his eyes still closed, a look of surprise on his face. Welcomed surprise, though it was. Alex raised a cheeky eyebrow, enjoying the upper hand for once. Things were looking up.

"So, then - when am I getting your best thirty seconds, Guv?"

The Bump - Kenny (1974)

TBC...

Hope you enjoyed! PLEASE REVIEW! Seriously, knowing you guys are enjoying reading this and waiting for more, keeps me going, so feedback very much appreciated!