A/N: Hi everyone!! Just to let you know I'm still writing 'The Fight for a Family' my 'An Ex in Eighty Two' sequel but I want to have two fics on the go :P so here's my fifth A2A fic ! :O its going to be quite an epic long one lol and I just want to say that I don't own Ashes to Ashes or the majority of the plot, as I have based this story on 'Swiss Family Robinson'. However I own all the new characters and any bit of plot that isn't from 'SFR' (: teehee hope you enjoy it! Roxannaaaax
Chris Skelton was standing at the harbour in Plymouth, shaking his head roughly. He looked up at the huge ship that people were piling onto and instantly felt sick.
"Christopher!" Gene Hunt barked. "We haven't got all bloody day! Now get yer arse up here!"
Gene, Alex and Ray were leaning over the railings of the ship, looking down at Chris.
"I can't, Guv," Chris said weakly, "I…I don't do ships, me. Haven't yer ever seen Titanic, you know, 1953 with Clifton Webb? Or Pinocchio?"
Alex laughed out loud. "Come on, Chris, Pinocchio's just a fairytale and no way is a whale going to be able to swallow a ship this size. And we're not going to hit an iceberg. After all, they have life support for everyone on this ship."
"And we're goin' to a bloody conference in America. The Atlantic Ocean don't 'ave icebergs!" Gene snapped.
"Actually Guv, the Atlantic Ocean is where the 'Titanic' sank," Alex said quietly.
"Bollocks," Gene muttered, "right, Christopher, ON. If yer not on in ten seconds I will personally see to it that you are dropped in the middle of the ocean in a rowing boat for a nice ol' blue whale to eat you up. MUSH!"
Chris scrambled on board and followed Alex, Gene and Ray to their cabins.
"Poof," Ray sniggered, walking ahead with Gene.
"Why'd the conference 'ave ter be in America," Chris muttered to Alex, "why not…France. Don't need a ship to get ter France."
"Well we would 'ave been goin' on a plane," Gene boomed, turning back, "if all the flights ter Washington for the next two weeks hadn't been nicked by a bunch of posh toffs!"
"It's all right, Chris, you're only on the ship for about six days," Alex said cheerfully, "then we'll be at the conference."
"Six days?" Chris squeaked, and promptly threw up on the deck.
The ship had been a full sail for about three days now and the journey so far had been a success. They had four small cabins all next door to each other to sleep in and had enjoyed a number of social gatherings in the restaurants, bars, clubs and entertainment areas of the ship. Chris had finally settled down and had already written a letter to Shaz whilst Ray had managed to get lucky with two different barmaids. Alex and Gene had also commandeered another small table in the corner of one of the bars, just like back in London at Luigi's.
"The sooner this conference is over the better really," Gene sighed on their third night, sitting opposite Alex on their table as Chris and Ray got drinks from the bar. "Don't really want to 'ave ter listen to the CIA rattle on about this dangerous bastard that's come over ter England. We can handle him."
"I've worked in the CIA before," Alex revealed as Gene rolled his eyes, "and they're great. I think it's about time the American and British detectives joined together to catch criminals."
"S'only cos it's Malcolm Miners," Gene muttered darkly, "responsible for the biggest murders the US has ever seen. Nasty bastard, he was. He was huge forty years ago, responsible for killing kiddies, raping women, theft and piracy."
"Piracy?" Alex snorted.
"Don't laugh, Bolls, he was one of the most notorious criminals known when I was growing up. Brought the fear of the 1800s pirates back, I'll tell yer that. Been imprisoned in America for a good few years, but now he's out. How he managed to get to England I'll never know. Stupid bloody Americans, letting him out o' their country."
It was Alex's turn to roll her eyes. "Well I for one am looking forward to a week in America."
"It's not a holiday, Bolls," Gene chuckled, "we've got ter sit in a stuffy conference room for hours each day and listen to a bunch o' Americans rattle on. Whoop-dee-bloody-doo."
"Here yer are, Guv," Ray said brightly as Alex laughed, "beers. Yer sure yer didn't want anything, Ma'am?"
"I'm fine thanks, Ray," Alex smiled, wincing as Chris scraped two chairs along to the table, "oh pick the chairs up, Chris."
"Sorry Ma'am," Chris grinned goofily, "yer know, you'd never guess that we were on a ship, like. It's just like bein' in London. Except if yer go outside, yer see an ocean."
"Oh well done Christopher," Gene said sarcastically, "glad yer worked that one out after three bloody days!"
Chris blushed as Alex and Ray laughed.
"Right," Gene continued, taking a swig of his beer, "just thought I'd let you three know what I expect of yer during the conferences this week. Christopher, let's start with you. You are under no circumstances to talk or offer anything in the discussions. Last thing we need is for the CIA ter think we employ nonces in London's Metropolitan Police Force."
"But yer do," Ray muttered, sniggering to himself. Gene glared at him.
"Right, Raymondo, you next. Don't go around beating up members of the CIA…or anyone for that matter. We need to put across a professional image. And get a haircut when we arrive, yer perm looks like its growing an afro."
"Guv!" Ray barked indignantly as Gene held his hand up to silence him.
"Now, DI Bollyknickers," Gene smirked, winking at Alex as she tutted at him, "keep yer psychiatry bollocks to a minimum, don't want the Americans running off crying to Mummy because some posh tart from England out-witted them. And that's another thing – don't dress like a tart. As much as the boys at CID love seeing those long legs and peachy arse of yours, I don't really want the CIA twats thinking they're goin' ter get lucky."
Alex was about to respond when they heard a cackle of drunken men behind them.
"Well lads, we wouldn't mind seeing her get her tits out, would we?"
Gene stood up furiously, facing the men staring at Alex threateningly. Ray, Chris and Alex all turned round to see four drunken men in their thirties grinning lecherously at Alex. They were all about six foot.
"All right, darlin'?" one of them leered at her. "Fancy coming in my cabin tonight?"
The other three roared with laughter, elbowing each other. Before they knew it, Gene was round the table, standing protectively in front of Alex and glaring menacingly at the men.
"Leave 'er alone," he growled.
"She your bitch?" the second man guffawed. "Wouldn't have thought a geezer like you could pull totty like her!"
Gene grabbed him thunderously as Ray and Chris stood up to help.
"If you want ter still be in possession of your pride and joy down there by the time we get ter the USA," Gene snarled, gripping the man tighter, causing him to whimper as Chris and Ray squared up to the other three men, "I suggest you piss off wi' your scummy little minds and leave the lady alone!"
Gene threw the man backwards to the floor, laughing darkly as he scrambled to his feet and ran out of the bar with his three mates close behind him.
Gene turned to Alex as Ray and Chris sat back down. "You okay, Bolls?" Gene asked sensitively, placing a hand on her shoulder and squeezing lightly before sitting down again.
Alex nodded, a bit overwhelmed. "Yes…I've had worse than four drunken men looking me up and down, don't you worry," she laughed weakly, "but…thank you, Gene. For standing up for me and protecting me."
Gene shot her a rare smile. "Don't mention it, Bolls," he nodded, taking another swig of beer.
Alex got to sleep pretty quickly that night, but her slumber was disturbed by a deafening roar. Pulling her dressing gown around her short black nightshirt and silk knickers, she saw the clock read 5:13am and all she could hear were bangs and screaming. It sounded like an explosion.
Suddenly, Alex's worst fears were confirmed as something shot through her window, shattering the glass and causing the support of her cabin to fall.
"AAAAHH!" Alex screamed in terror. "HELP ME, SOMEBODY, PLEASE!"
"BOLLS! BOLLY! ALEX!"
It was Gene, he was here. As Alex's cabin began to fall apart around her another deafening rumble was heard and the splashes of the ocean were even clearer. It didn't take a genius to work out that the ship was under attack.
Alex leapt towards her door and flung it open, revealing Gene Hunt standing there in trousers and loose shoes. He was shirtless and at any other moment Alex would have fully appropriated this sight.
"Gene!" Alex squeaked.
"Get down, love!" Gene bellowed, throwing Alex to the floor as the room next door was hit with a deafening bang.
"Gene, Gene, what's happening?" Alex wept, looking up at him.
"Cannons," Gene muttered, covering Alex with his body and holding her head, "we're under attack, Alex."
That was the last thing Gene said before something collided into the wall of Alex's cabin, bringing the shelves and door down on top of them with a sickening crash. Alex squeezed Gene's hand as something hit her hard on the head, dissolving her world into darkness.