Room 6620, Morning of the Third Day

[lady_bols]

She slept, and dreamt of fields of verdant green shrouded by the grey English sky.  A bell tolled in the distance, and in the mist, she could see ranks of her fellow officers, solemn in their black dress uniforms.  In their midst, six figures carried something heavy on their shoulders.  She can see the line of the casket, but it takes a moment for her to register what it is.  

There's a hole in the ground, clean edges, the mound of earth beside the grave covered with faux turf to hide the truth of it.  She can smell lilies and her favourite, white roses.  Evan has his arm around Mols shoulders, and her face looks so still.  She's been crying, Alex can tell.  But she's put a brave face on.

He's right, she knows.  She's strong, and resourceful.  She's going to be all right.  She is.

(I'm happy, hope you're happy too.)

But it doesn't keep her from missing her daughter.  And it hurts.  Like nothing she's ever experienced.  A part of her knows she should look away, but she can't.  She watches as they lower the casket into the ground, listens as the pipes play, a haunting melody that puts voice to the ache in her heart.  It feels like a final goodbye, and she struggles to stay there as long as she can.

But there's another reality she belongs to now, softly snoring in bed next to her.  She opens her eyes, feeling the tears on her cheeks, and drinks in the sight of him.  His hair is mussed, and when he's asleep, she can see the outlines of that young man's face beneath the surface.  She thinks of Betty, and gently brushes a lock of his hair back from his face, tucking it behind his ear.

Betty knows what it's like to lose a child.  Two of them, even.  God, she hopes this place will afford her the chance to meet the woman again.  Anything is possible, here, isn't it?

Aren't they both proof of that?

Comments

[the_gene_genie]

'You disappoint me again.'

No filthy mind, and not wearing that prozzie's outfit by choice? It's all very disappointing.

Still, he allows himself to be shooed, carrying his mug with him.

'You're supposed t'be a whore in the bedroom, remember?'

[lady_bols]

'Mister Nigel Perkins,' she scoffs, mock-outraged. 'I should hope you'd set the bar higher than that.'

The eyebrow waggle she's throwing him over her shoulder is putting lie to her earlier denial.

She takes the stairs ahead of him this time, and there may be a sway in her hips that wasn't there earlier.

[the_gene_genie]

It's a good job she's ahead of him, because his face blanches slightly at that. Not much. He just wasn't expecting his poor attempt at a joke, when he was on the floor of CID, to come back at him.

'Dunno why,' he says, stepping down behind her, with his eyes fixed firmly on her rear.

'They're the professionals.'

He has no doubt she'll be better, but that doesn't mean he can't take the piss.

[lady_bols]

Well, she doesn't know his middle name, so that's what he got instead.

'By that measure, Luigi must be a world-class chef in your book, hmm?'

The bar seems just as full at seven in the morning as it is at seven at night. Always something going on around here. But their booth is free, and she heads for it without even asking, pausing only to tap a waitrat on the shoulder and ask for two of the aforementioned breakfasts.

'Oh and more tea, please.'

She holds up her mug by way of explanation. The creature nods and disappears back into the kitchens.

[the_gene_genie]

'It was edible. That's all I ask for.'

Not a great connoisseur of anything other than steak, Gene.

He slumps into the booth, and stifles a yawn. 'Before you get mardy at me over that, I should add that I don' know what you're on about.'

[lady_bols]

She gives him a suspicious look.

'Gene, just because someone does something for money, it doesn't necessarily follow that they're good at it or that they enjoy it. So while you may wish you had a whore in the bedroom, what you're getting is far superior, I assure you.'

[the_gene_genie]

He gives her a blank one in return.

'Well, I wasn't stating that I wanted any random prozzie in my bed. Just a bird who acted like one.'

And it was only a glib reply on that dating form anyway, albeit one based in a kind of truth.

'Anyway, you said it yourself. Practice makes perfect.'

So he's pretty sure they would be good at it. Good enough, in his experience.

[lady_bols]

'Can I make a suggestion?'

She's going to make a suggestion.

'Change the subject, I beg you.'

[the_gene_genie]

He eyes her for a moment, then cracks a smile and shrugs.

'OK.'

So she likes doing it, but doesn't like talking about it. Good to know.

'Can' talk about shagging, can' talk about the bloody great mess we're in. What else is on - or off - the menu?'

[lady_bols]

'I didn't say we couldn't talk about sex.'

She won't call it shagging, at least not until they're on firmer footing.

'It's just -- I'm not going to argue with you about my qualifications in that regard, when it's clear your expectations are -- well, it's apples and oranges. And I'm not about to be your maid in the kitchen either, while we're at it.'

[the_gene_genie]

'I wasn't doubting - or even askin' about - your qualifications. Christ, what d'you take me for!'

Wow. No. He wasn't going there. He has better manners than that.

But now he's a tad suspicious too.

'What're you saying about my expectations?'

[lady_bols]

'Well, they're pretty clear, aren't they? The phraseology doesn't leave much to interpretation.' It's clear she's not upset by his frankness. She leans back as their tea is delivered. It's a safe assumption breakfast isn't far behind.

'And I just -- think,' she hesitates, clearly choosing her words with care, 'I have more to offer you than just a -- shag.'

Oh look, that's more attention than he's ever seen her give a mug of tea. You'd think she was measuring the milk by the drop, she's so intent.

[the_gene_genie]

'I think you do too.'

He's genuinely stumped.

'Alex, you do realise I was joking, yeah? I don' expect you to be a whore in the bedroom.'

[lady_bols]

He's just spent five minutes defending a joke?

'Well, then why did you answer that on the the the form?' She stammers a bit, embarrassed and confused. 'For heaven's sake, you just told me...'

She pinches the bridge of her nose, and sighs, trying to find the humour own tendency to overanalyse.

[the_gene_genie]

He maaaaay be stifling a smile, all the way through breakfast turning up and fresh mugs of tea being set down.

'Because, Lady B,' he turns his plate, so the sausages are at the front, 'it was partly the truth. An' I wasn't prepared to elaborate much further on a soddin' dating agency form that we were using for an investigation.'

The in front of you should, it seems, be obvious.

[lady_bols]

'Oh really. Partly the truth. So then my observations stand.'

She tucks in as well, bread and beans first, closing her eyes for a moment to savor the bite.

'You know, that form was terribly reductive anyway. I suspect, and no doubt you'll correct me if I'm wrong, but I suspect, you want a confident lover, one who knows what she wants; someone who enjoys sex. Someone who enjoys you. Not someone who has a limited menu of options and exists solely to keep you happy for the duration of the transaction.'

[the_gene_genie]

He shrugs, and slices into a rasher of bacon.

'Of course. Any bloke wants that, probably.'

Why wouldn't they? He takes a bite, and then points his fork at her.

'But you're misrememberin' what the form said. 'Attitude towards the opposite sex' - at no point did I put that I wanted an actual hooker in my bed. Just a bird that acted like one. So you comparing your own performance to someone I'd pay a tenner to on a Saturday night is unnecessary.'

He still looks rather amused. Also wondering if every off-the-cuff remark he makes is going to be subject to this level of debate. He's enjoying this one, though. It reminds him of the days at the office when things were good.

[lady_bols]

'I'm not comparing my performance to anyone else's. I'm simply stating that your expectations and the reality are -- may be vastly different. And you're absolutely right. You answered the form succinctly. I just think, and again, I may be completely off base, but I think --' It's her turn to do the fork pointing, 'your expectations are far more romantic than you let on.'

She catches his eye and quirks an eyebrow at him. It feels good to flirt with him again. It feels good just to talk to him.

[the_gene_genie]

'Romantic!?'

Good Lord. His eyebrows shoot up, and stay there.

'Never been accused of that before. 'cept by a prozzie once, an' only 'cos I said 'thanks' after.'

He may be joking. Then again, it may be the truth laid out as a joke, in order to deflect - and to subtly let her know that if she thinks he's some kind of angel, she's sorely mistaken.

Plus, y'know. He's quite aware of how skewed most of his encounters over the last thirty years could have been. It's been playing on his mind a bit since last night.

'S'pose the proof'll be in the pudding.'

Something to look forward to then.

[lady_bols]

Her eyes narrow at him, and she takes another bite, chewing thoughtfully. He can be such a conundrum sometimes.

'I suppose it will.'

After another sip of tea, she sets her mug down and offers her hand to him.

'I'm rather looking forward to it.'

Understatement.

[the_gene_genie]

This random hand holding is weird to him. He looks at it a moment, then takes it for just a brief squeeze.

'Yeah, got that impression last night.'

He smirks and starts on the fried bread.

'I've been looking forward to it for three years.'

[lady_bols]

She squeezes back, and then goes back to eating. It's difficult to remember the last time she enjoyed a meal so much.

'Looking forward to it? Or just -- indulging in inappropriate thoughts about your DI?' She's teasing, and maybe trying to cover for her own inappropriate behaviour in the past.

[the_gene_genie]

'True.'

It's a valid distinction.

'I'd given up on it ever actually happening. Well-' and he'd never have made this admission a few days ago, '-that's not right. I never thought it'd happen at the beginning. I just had hope for a while.'

And then he didn't, anymore.

[lady_bols]

'We've got a second chance, now,' she says, her voice quiet. 'To make up for all that lost time. And this time, I promise, I'll do better.'

She feels like she has so much to make up for to him, and then there's the real truth. She hasn't felt like this about anyone, ever. Not even her daughter's father. He was comfortable, nice, when he wasn't so self-absorbed. But he never made her heart race like this man does.

[the_gene_genie]

His cutlery stills, just for a second. He glances up, then down.

'It's not about doin' better.'

This is a good breakfast.

'You had your own stuff goin' on that I didn' know about.'

He wishes she could have told him. But he knows she couldn't, and the one time she tried - well, they both know how that turned out.