Disclaimers: Not my characters but thanks to BBC and Kudos for the use
Rating – Slight language
Summary – Drabble post Episode 7
Its all about Soul
get dark, it's gonna get cold
You gotta get tough, but that ain't enough
It's all about soul
(Lyrics - Billy Joel, Its all about Soul)
Gene stared into the bottom of his glass, the amber coloured liquid swirling but not providing the answer he was looking for. Despair gnawed at him, not just in his gut but he felt it in his heart too. Fuck. He had lost her this time for sure. He had pushed her so far away there would be no reaching her again.
He had been so close to making a connection, so close to letting someone get close to him –someone he wanted to get close. He had wanted to please her so much, show her he wasn't the Neanderthal she thought he was. But somehow, Christ knows how, it had all gone horribly wrong.
He sipped slowly but barely acknowledged the warmth as the alcohol spread through his body and started to numb the pain. He smiled to himself wryly, he had to hand it to her she had balls of steel that one. Reporting him to the Super – he hadn't been expecting that for sure. More like something Sam would have done. He thought about his dead DI for a moment. Sam would no doubt have something to say about the situation he had got himself into. He wished he were here now.
Luigi wiped down the bar in front of him.
"Mister 'Unt –where are your men? Where is your woman eh? Its not good to drink alone tonight".
"Just leave me in peace would ya" Gene softly. He couldn't even be bothered to cross swords with Luigi. 'My woman' he thought. 'Fat chance now'. Gene grabbed the bottle as Luigi made to move it away.
With a shrug Luigi moved away, turning lights off as he went and left his solitary customer in peace.
Was she upstairs now, he wondered? Didn't really matter, no way on God's earth would she speak to him tonight – or possibly ever again. The thought chilled him more than he thought possible. He heard a door close as Luigi left the bar. 'Good man' he thought. He slowly reached for the bottle in which he intended to lose himself.
"You drink too much"
'Christ, now I'm', 'earing things' he thought and turned towards the voice.
She sat down slowly beside him, still wearing the jacket stained with Shaz's blood. Her pale face matched the colour of the jacket and all he wanted to do was touch her and tell her it would be all right. But he couldn't, shouldn't.
Alex found a glass, sat down beside him and poured herself a large one. He watched as she swallowed and tried to read her face but gave up the job as impossible.
She reached out and put her hand on his.
"Don't Gene. No talking, not tonight".
She lifted the drink to her lips again but didn't take her hand away from his. He felt the warmth from her hand seeping into his body faster than any drink could have done. She was right, no talking.
But later, maybe, there would be a chance to make it right.