the_gene_genie: (Ashes 3x08 - Window Ghost)
DCI Gene Hunt ([personal profile] the_gene_genie) wrote2012-06-19 08:54 pm
Entry tags:

OOM: 3x08; Epilogue



He strides back into CID. It’s night, but it’s as busy as if it were day, full of the others who just...exist. It’s the first clue of what’s coming, because Gene Hunt likes normal working hours, just like any other human being. Night time means drinking or sleeping, not banging away at the paperwork. Unless there’s a tasty case, of course.

He stops at her desk. It’s tidy, and clear. There’s no nameplate, just that red phone, a lamp and an empty in-tray.

And the numbers 6-6-20 scratched into the top. His heart catches in his throat, and he has to take a moment to steady himself. Rationally, he knows he won’t forget about her. He hasn’t forgotten Sam. He hasn’t forgotten Annie, or Phyllis, or the ones who turned up here first. He only forgets what happens at the end...so it’s stupid to be nervous that she’ll disappear from his mind. That any of them will. He looks over to the lad’s desks, to Shaz’s. And back down at the numbers on hers. He doesn’t know what having them there will mean. He doesn’t know if she put them there, or if he did, somehow. And he’d like to know. If she were here, they could talk about it. They’d go to Luigi’s, and get a couple of bottles of wine, and sit opposite each other...he sighs, and takes his hand from the desk. He’d never talk about it. And Luigi’s is gone now too.

His desk is tidy as well. There’s a Mercedes brochure laid out, along with a fresh bottle of Scotch, and a clean glass. Never let it be said he doesn’t know how to take care of himself. He shrugs his coat off, and frowns at the stuff. It should be funny, but it’s not. He's irritable, knackered, half wishing this were over. The office door closes behind him.

At once, something’s different. He freezes, his hand on the way to the bottle. There’s someone watching him from out there, someone…he breathes slow, and feels the chill of the graveyard steal over the back of his neck. No. No. He will not be haunted by that stupid kid...

...he turns. There’s nothing there. Just the office, working away. But he doesn’t need to see to know what was there.

(In here…he’s the law. Gary Cooper in High Noon…)


Stuff this. Stuff all of it. He opens the bottle. He can always drink himself senseless until the memories go away, right? Who’s going to stop him? Just this bit of business to get done first.

He sits with the car brochure, and half a tumbler of whiskey. The doors of CID smash open before he's even got settled.

‘What the hell is this? Where’s my office!?’

The glass stills at his mouth, then comes back down. Well shit, at least it’s a bloke this time. That ought to be easier.

‘Will one of you jokers give me back my iPhone? Now.’

He glares, and tosses the book down. This one looks like a right wanker. He hauls himself up, and stalks to the door.

‘Where’s my office!? Will one of you morons say something!?’

Oh no, he’s not having this. Not in his kingdom. He should probably have sympathy, given everything, but no one ever learned anything by being coddled. Christ, it worked for Sam and Alex, it’ll work for this dickhead too.

He opens his door. CID, as one man, looks to him. He waits a beat, eyes the new bloke up and down, and is reminded of the first words he ever said to Sam. Yeah. They’ll do.


‘A word in your shell-like, pal.’
 
~ ~ ~

It won’t be the same. It’s been thirty years since he started from scratch, and time’s moved on in ways he doesn’t understand. There might come a time when he can’t do this anymore, and someone like Keats will show up and beat him for good.

But not yet. There’s life in him yet. And as he said to her one time, as long as there’s breath left in his body, up to the last second, he’ll be out there fighting to make a difference.





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