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[oom] 1x08 Gently Does It
On the tenth of October, 1981, my parents were killed by a car bomb in front of my eyes. At ten o'clock tomorrow morning, this is the place that it'll happened. I'm here again for a reason. This time, I've got to stop it.
Think, Alex. Think. It's time to remember.
I remember a red balloon.
I remember a billboard.
This is my day of judgement. I have twenty four hours to save my parents. And go home. That is what will happen.
~
Layton.
Her mind kept coming back to Layton. Even after she'd been round to see his scarred mug, safely behind glass and steel, locked up for the blag he'd committed the very first day she'd come to this world, so many months before.
Layton.
The man who'd pointed a gun at her head and then pulled the trigger. The man who had taken her away from her daughter.
She never thought she was capable of so much hate before him.
~
The first thing to do was to get the investigation going.
On a crime that hadn't been committed yet.
That was the tricky part. She had to get creative, and she had to play it subtle. Luckily, it was a dozy day in CID and the lads were never the brightest bulbs on the best of days.
She knew the Price's didn't own a car, so they had to have borrowed one. She knew the bomb was rigged to the cassette player in the car. And she knew the attack happened within sight of a billboard for Gently Does It soap.
She also knew Layton was involved somehow. Which was odd, given as he was locked up tight in prison right now.
And then Viv walked in with word that a member of the House of Lords was bent on making a station visit.
Because nothing in her life could ever go simply.
~
She dodged out after the Guv's "inspirational" speech, on her way to meet Timothy Price. Her father.
The sight of the child's drawing -- her drawing -- inside the case for his solicitor's wig put another wobble in her orbit.
He wasn't listening to her. He wouldn't get them out of London. He swore he knew how to protect his family.
So she was going to have to do it for them.
~
Chris found her a list of W-reg Ford Escorts, and she immediately recognised a name on the list. Her uncle Angus, Angus Ashton, was a leading gay rights advocate. And he would have lent the Price's his car.
She nicked Ray from the hurricane level clean up effort going on in the squad room, and nicked the Guv's car keys along the way.
They couldn't be allowed to have the car, under any circumstances.
Luckily for her, there happened to be a handy tank at the Gay Rights rally. A pink one, no less. She managed to nick that as well, and in the time it took to make a cup of tea, she'd flattened the Escort.
Oh and also, Ray's nose. But that was his fault for not wearing a seat belt.
~
Layton. She knew Layton was involved. Here he was again, one of the Price's criminal cases, hanging in the air like that speeding bullet.
The thought of talking to him again made her blood run cold, and she actually asked the Guv to come with her while she was questioning him.
He lorded it over her, of course, but he came. Silent the entire ballistic car ride across town.
Layton knew all the details. The car bomb. The time delay activated by the tape cassette.
He saw how frightened she was. Saw the terror in her eyes, even though he was on the far side of the glass and she had Hunt standing at her back. It was just like old times, him holding her mate at gun point. He revelled in it.
Gene didn't understand why she was letting him wind her up, but she didn't have time to stop and explain.
And Layton, bloody Layton could feel her desperation. It fed him, made him stronger, she could see that.
It was useless to even hope for his help.
~
She found Gene smoking at the side of the car, glaring at her. For a brief moment, she wanted to explain why she was being so difficult, wanted to ask for his help, but he seemed a thousand miles away. Lost to her.
But...
"You still owe me dinner."
"Wot?"
"Tonight's my last night. So. That's it then. It's a date. Our Last Supper."
"Can I be Jesus?"
He could deny she was leaving all he wanted. There was nothing he could do to keep her here, not if she had anything to say about it.
~
She was running out of ideas. How was she supposed to save her parents? How the hell was she supposed to stop this juggernaut?
Ray. Ray could help.
Ray and a kilo of cocaine taken from the evidence room.
Lord Scarman was present when she perp-walked Tim and Caroline into booking. To say the Guv was not well pleased was an understatement.
But it was the only way she could see to keep them safe.
And not for the first time, she wished she could confide in him. But the truth was so bizarre... Was it any wonder he thought she'd gone stark raving mad? Was it any wonder that he couldn't trust her?
~
She couldn't explain to Gene. And so, sitting in a cold, desolate interview room in Fenchurch East, across a polished black table that seemed like the River Styx itself, she tried to explain to Caroline,
Alex had barely begun to speak when Caroline revealed she had secrets of her own. She was planning on leaving London, leaving her law practice, and taking a two year sabbatical to be with her daughter.
That was the reason Tim was taking them to the train station.
She wanted to spend time with her daughter.
Molly...
She couldn't contain her tears, and she couldn't stop herself from hugging her mother goodbye. Caroline didn't quite understand, but she was gracious enough.
For once, she seemed willing to try.
~
The one person she could talk to was Shaz.
Shaz was still unconscious, still recovering from her run in with Gil Hollis, and Alex had been by to see her as often as she could get away.
So she sat at Shaz's bedside and unburdened herself. Told her all the things she couldn't tell anyone else.
It was sitting in that hospital room, talking to Shaz, missing Shaz, that she began to realise, she was going to miss all of them when it was done.
Shaz and her bright shining smile, and her quick wit. Chris and his affable self. Ray and that horrible perm.
Gene.
They were all figments of her imagination, weren't they? This world was all in her mind, and thus, so they would be as well. She would never forget them, that much she was sure of.
She was so close to the end, so close she could taste it.
~
She was even going to miss Luigi.
And even though she couldn't tell Gene the things she'd told Shaz, she could tell him that she was going to miss him.
And it was the truth. For one moment, he met her gaze and she could see behind that bravado. He wasn't looking forward to the idea of her leaving either.
In fact, she got the distinct impression that he really did fancy her, that it wasn't all just a load of never ending bollocks coming out of his mouth. He even inquired about the two of them going upstairs to watch one of the old Westerns on VHS.
That question took her by surprise, as he wasn't even the slightest bit drunk yet.
And for just a moment, it sounded like -- a wonderful idea. The two of them tucked up on the couch together. Her head resting on his chest, his arms around her. Listening to the steady beat of his heart. She can very easily see herself leaning up to steal a kiss, lingering and tender in the flickering light of the telly.
But no. Tomorrow was the big day She couldn't afford any distractions.
He took her deferral with an ease that made her suspect he'd never really considered she might say yes. Again, she found herself wanting to apologise. To explain. But she kept her mouth shut.
Later, she'd regret that.
~
She barely slept at all as it was, images of that fateful day unspooling over and over again in her head.
A red balloon drifting untethered through the air.
The grainy black and white photos of Evan and Caroline tangled up in one another.
The wrought iron fence flickering passed her car window.
Her own hand, a child's hand, stretched out to catch the ribbons trailing behind the balloon.
The figure, Evan, standing on the hillside, and then running towards her as she watched her mum and dad disintegrate in a ball of fire.
A grown man's hand closing around her twelve year old self's hand, pulling her close, taking her in his arms and letting her know that it was all going to be okay. It must have been Evan.
~
She came in the next morning, feeling like it was all sewn up.
Which meant, of course, that Lord Scarman was in the middle of CID, holding forth on all the failings of Fenchurch East. Gene Hunt retaliated in their defence with a rousing speech that left the whole of CID cheering.
Un-bloody-breakable.
After which, he informed her that he'd had to let the Price's go. She felt the ground shift beneath her feet.
There was a phone call for her. A madman's voice, singing.
I'm happy, hope you're happy too.
Layton, on release by the Price's legal team earlier that morning. They met Evan at the courthouse and he informed that it had been his car the Price's were driving.
Gene drove, and the sight of the Gently Does It delivery truck blocking their route made Alex's heart drop into the pit of her stomach.
"It's happening! It's happening now!" She got out of the car and tried to get passed the truck doing the forty-seven point turn in the roadway, screaming and pounding her fists against it's broad metal flank.
She finally got around, and saw Layton standing on the rolling green hill. She heard Evan's voice shouting for her father.
She saw her father behind the wheel of the blue Escort, looking at her.
In the slow motion way of dreams, he took his glasses off, genuflected, and she saw the white greasepaint steal over his skin. He was the Pierrot. He was the white clown that had haunted her day and night since she'd arrived here in 1981.
Before she could draw a breath, there was a moment of pure and utter silence. It wasn't so much an explosion, as a glorious blossom of fiery reds and oranges and blacks, peeling back in layers.
It was the blast wave that shook her out of her reverie, knocking the wind from her lungs, dashing her to the pavement like a rag doll, shrapnel raining down around her.
She slowly got to her hands and knees, stood, looking around, wondering where her younger self was. A pillar of flame and smoke rose in the sky and she fell back to the ground, her knees hitting the pavement.
Through the haze of heat, she saw the figure in black approaching child Alex.
It was Gene. He swept the young girl into his arms and carried her away.
Leaving Alex alone in the roadway.
She heard a voice screaming in agony, over and over again.
Her voice.
Molly...
~
She didn't remember how she got back to CID. She just knew she was in Gene's office with Evan White close at hand, watching a VHS tape that her father had made that afternoon. Evan had found it in Tim Price's outbox, addressed to the Met.
She watched, devastated, as her father explained that a maggot had wriggled his way into their perfect life. And that there was only one way they could ever be assured of being together, forever.
She didn't even feel the tears running down her cheeks. She watched as DCI Hunt carried child Alex into CID, just the same way he'd carried her into CID that first day.
Evan never wanted young Alex to know what her father had done.
Gene obliged, destroying the tape, even as Alex heard her voice telling him he'd destroyed evidence.
"Bye little lady. If you ever have any problems, you just call the Gene Genie."
She watched herself wave good bye and take Evan's hand, leaving the squad room.
"How come you were there, taking the little girl's hand?" Gene pressed a glass of Scotch into her numb fingers. "That couldn't have happened. You weren't there. You're not real."
"I'm every where Bolly. I was needed and I was there."
~
I've learnt something here, Molly. Something that I hope you always knew. My mother -- loved me. And that love will keep me going. It will make me survive.
Don't blow those candles out yet, Mols. I'll find my way home. I promise.
I love you. And I will never, ever give up.
~
The team came in chanting 'Shazza! Shazza! Shazza!' and carrying the prodigal plod to her traditional place in the trattoria.
She welcomed the young woman with a soft smile.
"How are you, Shaz?"
"I'm good, thanks to you. My guardian angel."
Alex's heart ached to hear her say it. But it was welcome praise, nonetheless.
Gene called her to take her place among them.
"You look dreadful. Come and join the land of the living."
She went to him, and he smiled, nodded, glad to have his team around him. When he spoke, his voice was gentle. As if he was trying to explain.
"It's all about timing, this life. Still got things to learn. Adventures to have." He raised a glass in toast. "Unbreakable, Bolly. Unbreakable."
She raised her glass as well, and together, they drank. Gene pulled a face.
"Unlike this bloody wine, which is undrinkable. Luigi! Get me a beer!"
Think, Alex. Think. It's time to remember.
I remember a red balloon.
I remember a billboard.
This is my day of judgement. I have twenty four hours to save my parents. And go home. That is what will happen.
~
Layton.
Her mind kept coming back to Layton. Even after she'd been round to see his scarred mug, safely behind glass and steel, locked up for the blag he'd committed the very first day she'd come to this world, so many months before.
Layton.
The man who'd pointed a gun at her head and then pulled the trigger. The man who had taken her away from her daughter.
She never thought she was capable of so much hate before him.
~
The first thing to do was to get the investigation going.
On a crime that hadn't been committed yet.
That was the tricky part. She had to get creative, and she had to play it subtle. Luckily, it was a dozy day in CID and the lads were never the brightest bulbs on the best of days.
She knew the Price's didn't own a car, so they had to have borrowed one. She knew the bomb was rigged to the cassette player in the car. And she knew the attack happened within sight of a billboard for Gently Does It soap.
She also knew Layton was involved somehow. Which was odd, given as he was locked up tight in prison right now.
And then Viv walked in with word that a member of the House of Lords was bent on making a station visit.
Because nothing in her life could ever go simply.
~
She dodged out after the Guv's "inspirational" speech, on her way to meet Timothy Price. Her father.
The sight of the child's drawing -- her drawing -- inside the case for his solicitor's wig put another wobble in her orbit.
He wasn't listening to her. He wouldn't get them out of London. He swore he knew how to protect his family.
So she was going to have to do it for them.
~
Chris found her a list of W-reg Ford Escorts, and she immediately recognised a name on the list. Her uncle Angus, Angus Ashton, was a leading gay rights advocate. And he would have lent the Price's his car.
She nicked Ray from the hurricane level clean up effort going on in the squad room, and nicked the Guv's car keys along the way.
They couldn't be allowed to have the car, under any circumstances.
Luckily for her, there happened to be a handy tank at the Gay Rights rally. A pink one, no less. She managed to nick that as well, and in the time it took to make a cup of tea, she'd flattened the Escort.
Oh and also, Ray's nose. But that was his fault for not wearing a seat belt.
~
Layton. She knew Layton was involved. Here he was again, one of the Price's criminal cases, hanging in the air like that speeding bullet.
The thought of talking to him again made her blood run cold, and she actually asked the Guv to come with her while she was questioning him.
He lorded it over her, of course, but he came. Silent the entire ballistic car ride across town.
Layton knew all the details. The car bomb. The time delay activated by the tape cassette.
He saw how frightened she was. Saw the terror in her eyes, even though he was on the far side of the glass and she had Hunt standing at her back. It was just like old times, him holding her mate at gun point. He revelled in it.
Gene didn't understand why she was letting him wind her up, but she didn't have time to stop and explain.
And Layton, bloody Layton could feel her desperation. It fed him, made him stronger, she could see that.
It was useless to even hope for his help.
~
She found Gene smoking at the side of the car, glaring at her. For a brief moment, she wanted to explain why she was being so difficult, wanted to ask for his help, but he seemed a thousand miles away. Lost to her.
But...
"You still owe me dinner."
"Wot?"
"Tonight's my last night. So. That's it then. It's a date. Our Last Supper."
"Can I be Jesus?"
He could deny she was leaving all he wanted. There was nothing he could do to keep her here, not if she had anything to say about it.
~
She was running out of ideas. How was she supposed to save her parents? How the hell was she supposed to stop this juggernaut?
Ray. Ray could help.
Ray and a kilo of cocaine taken from the evidence room.
Lord Scarman was present when she perp-walked Tim and Caroline into booking. To say the Guv was not well pleased was an understatement.
But it was the only way she could see to keep them safe.
And not for the first time, she wished she could confide in him. But the truth was so bizarre... Was it any wonder he thought she'd gone stark raving mad? Was it any wonder that he couldn't trust her?
~
She couldn't explain to Gene. And so, sitting in a cold, desolate interview room in Fenchurch East, across a polished black table that seemed like the River Styx itself, she tried to explain to Caroline,
Alex had barely begun to speak when Caroline revealed she had secrets of her own. She was planning on leaving London, leaving her law practice, and taking a two year sabbatical to be with her daughter.
That was the reason Tim was taking them to the train station.
She wanted to spend time with her daughter.
Molly...
She couldn't contain her tears, and she couldn't stop herself from hugging her mother goodbye. Caroline didn't quite understand, but she was gracious enough.
For once, she seemed willing to try.
~
The one person she could talk to was Shaz.
Shaz was still unconscious, still recovering from her run in with Gil Hollis, and Alex had been by to see her as often as she could get away.
So she sat at Shaz's bedside and unburdened herself. Told her all the things she couldn't tell anyone else.
It was sitting in that hospital room, talking to Shaz, missing Shaz, that she began to realise, she was going to miss all of them when it was done.
Shaz and her bright shining smile, and her quick wit. Chris and his affable self. Ray and that horrible perm.
Gene.
They were all figments of her imagination, weren't they? This world was all in her mind, and thus, so they would be as well. She would never forget them, that much she was sure of.
She was so close to the end, so close she could taste it.
~
She was even going to miss Luigi.
And even though she couldn't tell Gene the things she'd told Shaz, she could tell him that she was going to miss him.
And it was the truth. For one moment, he met her gaze and she could see behind that bravado. He wasn't looking forward to the idea of her leaving either.
In fact, she got the distinct impression that he really did fancy her, that it wasn't all just a load of never ending bollocks coming out of his mouth. He even inquired about the two of them going upstairs to watch one of the old Westerns on VHS.
That question took her by surprise, as he wasn't even the slightest bit drunk yet.
And for just a moment, it sounded like -- a wonderful idea. The two of them tucked up on the couch together. Her head resting on his chest, his arms around her. Listening to the steady beat of his heart. She can very easily see herself leaning up to steal a kiss, lingering and tender in the flickering light of the telly.
But no. Tomorrow was the big day She couldn't afford any distractions.
He took her deferral with an ease that made her suspect he'd never really considered she might say yes. Again, she found herself wanting to apologise. To explain. But she kept her mouth shut.
Later, she'd regret that.
~
She barely slept at all as it was, images of that fateful day unspooling over and over again in her head.
A red balloon drifting untethered through the air.
The grainy black and white photos of Evan and Caroline tangled up in one another.
The wrought iron fence flickering passed her car window.
Her own hand, a child's hand, stretched out to catch the ribbons trailing behind the balloon.
The figure, Evan, standing on the hillside, and then running towards her as she watched her mum and dad disintegrate in a ball of fire.
A grown man's hand closing around her twelve year old self's hand, pulling her close, taking her in his arms and letting her know that it was all going to be okay. It must have been Evan.
~
She came in the next morning, feeling like it was all sewn up.
Which meant, of course, that Lord Scarman was in the middle of CID, holding forth on all the failings of Fenchurch East. Gene Hunt retaliated in their defence with a rousing speech that left the whole of CID cheering.
Un-bloody-breakable.
After which, he informed her that he'd had to let the Price's go. She felt the ground shift beneath her feet.
There was a phone call for her. A madman's voice, singing.
I'm happy, hope you're happy too.
Layton, on release by the Price's legal team earlier that morning. They met Evan at the courthouse and he informed that it had been his car the Price's were driving.
Gene drove, and the sight of the Gently Does It delivery truck blocking their route made Alex's heart drop into the pit of her stomach.
"It's happening! It's happening now!" She got out of the car and tried to get passed the truck doing the forty-seven point turn in the roadway, screaming and pounding her fists against it's broad metal flank.
She finally got around, and saw Layton standing on the rolling green hill. She heard Evan's voice shouting for her father.
She saw her father behind the wheel of the blue Escort, looking at her.
In the slow motion way of dreams, he took his glasses off, genuflected, and she saw the white greasepaint steal over his skin. He was the Pierrot. He was the white clown that had haunted her day and night since she'd arrived here in 1981.
Before she could draw a breath, there was a moment of pure and utter silence. It wasn't so much an explosion, as a glorious blossom of fiery reds and oranges and blacks, peeling back in layers.
It was the blast wave that shook her out of her reverie, knocking the wind from her lungs, dashing her to the pavement like a rag doll, shrapnel raining down around her.
She slowly got to her hands and knees, stood, looking around, wondering where her younger self was. A pillar of flame and smoke rose in the sky and she fell back to the ground, her knees hitting the pavement.
Through the haze of heat, she saw the figure in black approaching child Alex.
It was Gene. He swept the young girl into his arms and carried her away.
Leaving Alex alone in the roadway.
She heard a voice screaming in agony, over and over again.
Her voice.
Molly...
~
She didn't remember how she got back to CID. She just knew she was in Gene's office with Evan White close at hand, watching a VHS tape that her father had made that afternoon. Evan had found it in Tim Price's outbox, addressed to the Met.
She watched, devastated, as her father explained that a maggot had wriggled his way into their perfect life. And that there was only one way they could ever be assured of being together, forever.
She didn't even feel the tears running down her cheeks. She watched as DCI Hunt carried child Alex into CID, just the same way he'd carried her into CID that first day.
Evan never wanted young Alex to know what her father had done.
Gene obliged, destroying the tape, even as Alex heard her voice telling him he'd destroyed evidence.
"Bye little lady. If you ever have any problems, you just call the Gene Genie."
She watched herself wave good bye and take Evan's hand, leaving the squad room.
"How come you were there, taking the little girl's hand?" Gene pressed a glass of Scotch into her numb fingers. "That couldn't have happened. You weren't there. You're not real."
"I'm every where Bolly. I was needed and I was there."
~
I've learnt something here, Molly. Something that I hope you always knew. My mother -- loved me. And that love will keep me going. It will make me survive.
Don't blow those candles out yet, Mols. I'll find my way home. I promise.
I love you. And I will never, ever give up.
~
The team came in chanting 'Shazza! Shazza! Shazza!' and carrying the prodigal plod to her traditional place in the trattoria.
She welcomed the young woman with a soft smile.
"How are you, Shaz?"
"I'm good, thanks to you. My guardian angel."
Alex's heart ached to hear her say it. But it was welcome praise, nonetheless.
Gene called her to take her place among them.
"You look dreadful. Come and join the land of the living."
She went to him, and he smiled, nodded, glad to have his team around him. When he spoke, his voice was gentle. As if he was trying to explain.
"It's all about timing, this life. Still got things to learn. Adventures to have." He raised a glass in toast. "Unbreakable, Bolly. Unbreakable."
She raised her glass as well, and together, they drank. Gene pulled a face.
"Unlike this bloody wine, which is undrinkable. Luigi! Get me a beer!"