Title: Concealed Truths
Fandom: Ashes to Ashes
Characters/Pairings: Gene/Alex
Rating: 18/M/NC-17 – naughty.
Warnings: Contains scenes of a sexual nature.
Summary: A story of secrets, jealousy and resolution. Post-ep for 3x02. Two-parter. Galex.

Disclaimer: I don't own Ashes to Ashes. If I did, we'd have had a different ending! The franchise and its characters belong to Kudos and BBC and I am not making any money from writing this.

Author's Note: Okay, I was thinking about Ashes to Ashes 3x02 the other night and my muse came up with this idea, which was cemented after a sneaky re-watch of said episode. I did try and tell my muse that I already had 2 fics on the go, but I think it's trying to get as much out of me as possible before I go back to Uni in September and there's no time to write. So you've got this. It will only be short...probably only 2 chapters. The rating is there for a reason: there will be smut later on in this fic, so as the great Gene Hunt once said, "if you don't like it, don't watch" or in this case 'read'.

Thanks to Gene'sGirl13 and Harri83 for their help with this – they've been fantastic as usual; putting up with my inane questions and comments, my frustrations and moans! I'm sure they've got better things to do than listen to me but they still make time to assist me.

Chapter 1

You know, it's weird. You think you have all your emotions tucked neatly into a little corner of your brain where you can manage them. You become confident that you are in control. You know the rules: you can look, but you can't touch, and you really are okay with that. Or so it seems. You're okay until someone else can look AND touch. Then the situation doesn't seem okay anymore. Then the door on that little corner of your brain bursts wide open and the emotions come flooding out.

That's what happened to me earlier tonight. Elaine Dowling just swanned in to our local, walked right up to Gene, batted her eyelashes, put an arm round his neck and kissed him. Right on the lips. I felt sick. I felt nausea rise up like a wave but I had to sit there and pretend that it was all okay. Although I'm sure some of my true feelings snuck onto my face. But none of this lot would see it and recognise it for what it was. None except Shaz maybe, but she's too busy celebrating to notice.

I can't stay in here much longer, watching him boast to Ray, Terry and Bammo about his prowess with women. I order a bottle of red wine from Luigi and say goodnight and well done to Shaz, before sloping off to the sanctuary of my flat.

My eyes scan the same words on the page in front of me for the fourth time. I'm attempting to read but my thoughts are being consumed by thoughts of Gene and that...that harlot from the dating agency. For the past couple of months I've been telling myself that I'm happy with our friendship just the way it is. That I don't need anything else. But it's rapidly becoming apparent that I do need something else, something more. But if I wasn't willing to take that step then I could hardly expect him to be alone for the rest of his life. I could hardly expect for him to never want more than friendship with someone. I shake my head and try to expel the images of their kiss from my brain. I turn back to my book,

'...we moved closer. I could feel the heat of his breath on my mouth. He was going to kiss me and my body was responding. Almost swooning from his nearness, I closed my eyes then his tongue was in my mouth and mine was in his...'

Oh for Christ's sake! Is there no escape? Fate is certainly conspiring against me tonight. I see them again; her kissing him and him letting her, even putting his arm round her to anchor her to him. I slam my book closed and put it forcefully on the table; exchanging it for my wine. It's no use; I think the image of the two of them will be burned onto my brain forever and a day. Hopefully I'll never have to see her again...unless he calls her. Oh God what if he calls her? Starts dating her? Does Gene Hunt actually date? Could I cope if he did actually ask her out?

The loud banging on my front door disrupts my thoughts and almost causes me to drop my wine glass in shock. I place it down on the coffee table next to my discarded book and let out a frustrated sigh; only one person knocks like that,

"Open up! Police!" And it is the one person I don't want to see right now.

"Piss off!" I yell through the door.

"Open this bloody door Bolly, or I swear ter God I will break it down."

"You do and you'll be paying Luigi for the repairs," I shoot back.

"Fine! 'Ave it yer own way!" I move back from the door preparing for it to come flying off its hinges, Gene behind it in a cloud of dust. But, much to my surprise there is no banging or crashing, only the wound of footsteps retreating down the stairs. Ha! I win! He's taken the hint and I can get back to wallowing in self pity. With that thought I headed back to my trashy novel and wine. I got through another two and a half paragraphs when I hear a noise outside my door. I stop, put my book down and listen closely. The creak of a floorboard, the wiggle of a door handle, the jingle of a key in the lock and before I can even react, Gene is stood in front of me, bold as brass.

"What the..? This is breaking and entering, y'know!" He lifts his hand slowly and I notice Luigi's spare key dangling from his right hand.

"S'not breakin' an' enterin' if yer've got a key Bolls," he states with a satisfied smirk on his face.

"A key which you most probably stole!"

"Borrowed"

"Without the owner's knowledge?" Gene sidesteps the question with ease,

"Why d'yer disappear Bolls?" he asks, but I don't want to go down that road right now, so I stick to my original point.

"You can't just waltz in here whenever you want! It's a violation of trust," I argue, standing up to face him.

"Yeh. An' so's snoopin' around in my past ter 'elp that rubber 'eeled, pencil neck." His voice is softer than it had been in the restaurant; more disappointed than annoyed.

"I didn't..." Gene gives me a look,

"Don't lie ter me Bolly. I found the files in yer desk."

"I mean...it's not about Keats...or you even. I knew Sam Tyler; I need to know how he died." I don't feel the need to mention it's so I can work out how to get home from this bullet-induced coma I am experiencing. No, that can of worms is best left un-opened.

"Yer know 'ow 'e died. Put 'is car in the river chasin' some blaggers. There's nothin' else ter tell."

"But why didn't he wait for you? Why do you guys have no contact with Annie anymore? Why is the report redacted?"

"I don't know Bolls! Why is the bloody grass green? Y'know, contrary to popular opinion I don't have all the flamin' answers."

"But you won't even trust me with the ones you do have?" I raise my voice to compete with his. He turns and walks away from me. "Where are you going? I've not finished."

"Well if yer expecting me ter pour out me 'eart ter yer then I'm goin' ter need somethin' considerably stronger than that 'ouse rubbish."

I hear him rummaging about in my kitchen and he returns moments later with a bottle of whiskey and a glass. He shrugs out of his jacket, removes his tie, unfastens his top button, and seats himself on the sofa. I wonder if I should prompt him, but he quickly shows me there's no need. Taking a deep breath, he begins,

"A call came through on the radio, armed blag at a jeweller's on Market Street. I weren't in the office, so Sam rushed out ahead sending Ray ter find me. Ray told 'im ter wait, but 'e didn't listen. Never did, that was one of 'is problems. Little bit like you in that respect." I give him an unimpressed look and after a rather large swig of his drink he continues, "Me an' Ray went after 'em in one car, Chris and Annie in another. 'E radioed ter say the two getaway cars had split up, so I told Chris ter follow the second one, and I stuck wi' Sam. I could see 'is car in the distance. 'E were right behind 'em, but they were weaving all over the place, trying ter lose 'im. I remember radioin' tellin' 'im ter be careful. And d'yer know what 'e said, cheeky sod? He said, 'Don't worry about it Guv, we all know I'm a better driver than you.' Those were the last words 'e ever said ter me Alex. Don't really know what 'appened then, but the next thing, 'is car were in the air doin' a pretty shit impression o' Eddie the Eagle, before landin' in the river. Investigation concluded 'e must've 'it a rock or somethin' that flipped the car, but we dunno fer sure."

"Ray told me once that you never recovered his body," I tell him, hoping I don't sound accusatory.

"By the time me an' Ray got there, the driver's door was open an' Sam were gone. 'E must've opened it before passin' out an' been dragged away by the current. We searched the river several times; wi' divers an' all sorts. Even tried further downstream, but there were nothin'. I didn't want ter give up Bolls, but the Super put 'is foot down. Said Tyler were a good copper but 'e couldn't justify the time or the resources for the search." Somehow, during Gene's speech, my hand had found its way across to his and was now placed gently over it. I give it a light squeeze,

"I'm sorry," I whisper.

"Yer don't need ter be sorry. Weren't your fault. Were mine."

"What? How on earth do you work that out?"

"If I'd 'ave bin in the office that morning instead o' nursin' me 'angover in the canteen, 'e wouldn't 'ave 'ad ter go after 'em on 'is own, and 'e'd still be alive."

"Or you'd both be dead," I point out.

"Not wi' my drivin' skills. Nah, the truth is that if I 'adn't been so selfishly caught up in me marriage problems and been out drinkin' the night before 'e'd still be 'ere and Annie wouldn't 'ate me."

"I'm sure she doesn't hate you, Guv."

"Said I gave up on 'im; that I didn't try 'ard enough wi' the Super. Maybe she's right, maybe I didn't. But me 'ands were tied. I wanted nothin' more than ter find his body Bolls. Fer 'er. She refused ter accept 'e were dead, didn't even come ter 'is memorial, chose ter believe that 'e were off somewhere wi' memory loss. When I didn't agree, she resigned from the force and told me in no uncertain terms that she never wanted ter see me again."

"Oh Guv." There is no doubt in my mind that what Gene is telling me is the truth. The raw emotion in his voice isn't something you could fake.

"I don't know why the report in ter 'is death 'as been messed wi'. Might 'ave somethin' ter do wi' the investigation in ter the actual robbery. They were 'ard as nails those scumbags; 'ad serious underworld connections. But there's some things even the Gene Genie doesn't get told. What I do know Bolls, is that Keats thinks I killed 'im and is determined ter convince everyone around me that I did too. When I found Tyler's jacket in yer desk, I thought 'e'd got ter yer, thought yer believed 'im."

"I'm sorry," I tell him, a tear trickling down my face; how could I ever have doubted this man. "I'll admit, Keats planted seeds of doubt in my mind about your story, but I never thought of you as a murderer. Keats is..."

"A prick?" Gene offers and I can't help but smile,

"He's a lot like the officers from back ho-, from my old station; doing things by the book, etc. After everything that happened with Mac and Operation Rose, maybe I got carried away." My blood begins to boil at the thought of Keats trying to bring Gene down and I am ashamed at the ease at which I let him get into my head.

"Yeh yer did."

"Well if you'd told me all this from the start we wouldn't be in this mess."

"Well if yer weren't such a determined pair o' stockin's we wouldn't be in this mess either," he points out.

"We've both made mistakes Guv, but, if we stick together, we're unbreakable remember. Keats'll be gone soon enough."

"I doubt it Bolls. CID's past isn't exactly skeleton free."

"Well whatever Keats finds, we'll deal with it. Together."

"Plus, 'e wants ter get in ter yer knickers."

"I beg your pardon?" I ask, nearly choking on my wine.

"Keats. Oh come on, don't tell me yer 'adn't noticed."

"No, I hadn't" I say, thinking about it. He's been very nice to me, charming even but he wouldn't...would he? My skin crawls at the thought.

"Lot o' bloody good that degree in psycho-twattery 'as done yer then!" he quips.

"Oh shut up!" I hear Gene chuckle beside me. I'm glad someone is amused by the situation. Suddenly Gene sits forward,

"Right then Bolls," he announces, slamming his tumbler down on the coffee table, "your turn." I'm confused,

"Pardon?"

"I've answered all yer questions, now yer can answer some o' mine." I pale slightly, wondering what he'll ask, and take a large mouthful of wine. "Why d'yer leave tonight?"

"I was tired, had a headache coming on," I lie, hoping he'll believe me and let it drop. Unfortunately for me he doesn't; my lie is as see through as the glass in my hand,

"So yer came up 'ere and instead o' doin' the sensible thing an' goin' ter bed, yer opened another bottle o' wine and started to read in this dim light? Don't buy it. Try again." I sigh, defeated,

"I just didn't want to stay down there tonight, okay?" It's not technically a lie. Just a watered down version of the truth.

"Why?" he presses.

"Guv, please!" I beg. I've had too much wine to have this conversation. I'm liable to say something reckless or stupid.

"Why?" He's getting impatient now; I can tell by his tone of voice. When I don't answer, he continues, "Cos yer see, I've bin tryin' me 'and at this psychiatry bollocks yer always goin' on about an' I've got a theory." I look up at him sceptically, is he really going to try and analyse me? "I think yer were jealous." I splutter my wine; Oh God he knows!

"I...what?"

"Yeh. Yer were jealous that I was seein' some action when yer've not seen any fer a while."I breathe a small sigh of relief that my secret is still intact, before the meaning of his words sink in and I become affronted at the insinuation.

"What do you mean, I haven't had any action for a while? How the hell would you know?"

"It's nowt ter be ashamed o' Bolls. Everyone 'as dry patches. Well, at least I assume they do, I wouldn't know." His words wind me up and something snaps inside me. All that compressed anger, not only about Elaine, but about Jeanette and even Jackie Queen has been released and he gets it both barrels. I jump to my feet and turn on him.

"No, you'd rather get with any little trollop that shows even the slightest interest in you!" He sinks back into the sofa; alarmed at my outburst. His eyes bore into mine and I watch as what could only be described as realisation dawns on his face. Damn his moments of amazing perception. He leans forward,

"Bolly-"

"Don't Gene. Just don't," and I turn on my heel and practically run to my bedroom, slamming the door behind me. I slide to a sitting position and pull my knees up to my chest; what have I done? I could tell by the look in his eyes that he'd worked out the real reason I had left the restaurant earlier. I've really made a complete arse out of myself; the embarrassment is crushing, and I have a horrible feeling that he isn't going to let this go. And I'm right. A knock on the door, the complete opposite of the one earlier.

"Are yer goin' ter come out or am I goin' ter 'ave ter come in there; because either way, we are goin' ter talk about this."