Title: Dust to Dust
Fandom: Life on Mars / Ashes to Ashes transition or crossover.
Disclaimer: I don’t own these characters or their universe. BBC/Kudos do. I’m not making any money out of this.
Rating: White Cortina
Characters, Pairings: Gene, Alex, implied Sam/Gene
Word Count: 500
A/N: This fic came out of the conflict I have between my Sam/Gene OTP and the fact that I’m finally got to quite enjoying Ashes to Ashes, where Gene’s loneliness and vulnerability breaks my heart, and in that distant universe I’d almost accept Gene/Alex if that was the only way he could have happiness. I'd just like to clarify that Alex is only seen via Gene's thoughts, and that's a COMMA between her name and Gene's, not a pairing.
Previously posted to Lifein1973; just bringing my journal up to date.
Dust to Dust
She always reminded him of Sam, every single day.
She’d go waltzing out of his office, acting like a link had snapped somewhere in her head, spouting all that bollocks about building up a profile. Challenging – no, ignoring – his authority.
Sam, for all his faults, had always respected Gene’s position.
They’d tried a lot of positions.
She’d even got Carling on side. Ray had seen which way the wind was blowing and he’d taken action. He’d almost lost Chris to Sam’s methods and this posh bint looked like being more of the same, so Ray had listened and learned while she talked and taught.
She was so full of herself, so lost and so confident with her fancy education; she was friends with bloody lawyers and that had to be a crime against policing.
And he still didn’t know where she’d come from. All right, her last station, yes, that was on her transfer forms. But where she was from, that hadn’t yet emerged.
Sam, now, you couldn’t avoid knowing where he came from. Hyde. Not that Gene had ever truly believed it, but that was the story it suited Sam to give, and if it kept Sam happy, well, after a while that was all it took to make Gene happy too.
And it gave them a word to use. So they could avoid using other words. They could say Sam was talking about his fancy Hyde methods. Is that how they do it in Hyde, are they all like you in Hyde, why don’t you go back to bloody Hyde.
Although he’d stopped saying that quite early on. When he’d stopped wanting Sam to go anywhere that didn’t involve Gene being there too.
But her, she never said a word about where she was from. She talked a load of rubbish sometimes about where she was, like in her head she wasn’t really here at all, although she was, right here, right now, right sodding pain in the arse. He’d never understood what it was about him that made all these bloody nutters want to be his DI. What made apparently sane lunatics apply for transfer to the department of the Gene Genie.
He’d asked himself then and now what he’d ever done to deserve it: the fighting, the arguing, the nonsensical babbling; the insubordination, the soulful eyes; the wanting.
Not that he wanted her. Too brittle, too mouthy. Too close, too distant, too crazy. No, he wanted what she was, not who.
He wanted the person out of time, out of place. The person who could switch in a heartbeat from gabbling with fear to barking orders. The person who didn’t know when to question and when to accept, when to teach and when to learn. The person who saw through the job to the man, who touched his loneliness, spoke to his soul, exhumed him from the dust of years. The person who made him think and live and feel, every single day.
She always reminded him of Sam.