Fic: Auld Lang Syne (1/1), green cortina, dak
Title: Auld Lang Syne
Author: dak
Word Count: 1806
Rating: green cortina
Warnings: mild swearing, mild angst
Summary: Gene's going to be a father...
A/N: Another Gene-centric vignette for the Steady As She Goes AU. Takes place after All the Lost Souls and before Not Since. The bunnies have been working overtime. I can't stop them. I think I need a Bun-Vac. Please enjoy!
Month Two.
“I’m pregnant.”
Gene choked on his coffee. “What?”
“You know, with child. In the family way. Bun in the oven. Up the duff. On stork watch. In the pudding club. On the scarlet freight...” Margaret nervously twisted her hands around her apron.
Gene thought quietly for a moment. “How?”
“Oh I don’t know. Maybe it was that Saturday evening on the couch after that episode of Doctor Who. Or it could have been from that time in my mother’s garage during her birthday party the other month. Or the several times on the kitchen table--”
“Blimey, woman. Enough! I get it.” Gene raised his arms in defeat. “So it’s mine then?”
Margaret punched him in the arm, spilling the hot coffee all over his lap. “First and only if you keep that up.”
Gene managed to hold his ground and began dabbing at the cooling liquid with a kitchen towel. “Have you told anyone else?”
She looked down at her feet. “Not yet.”
Gene, too, had to look away. “Probably a good idea. Just in case it...doesn’t work out, again.”
“Right,” she nodded.
“Margie,” he reached out and grabbed her hands. “Luv, you know I want this.”
“I know,” she nodded again.
“But I don’t want us to get our hopes up. It...let’s just be patient, alright? If it doesn’t happen, it doesn’t happen and no one else will have to know.”
“I won’t lose it again, Gene. I promise, I...” She started to cry and Gene immediately stood and gathered her in his arms.
“Shh...Look at that. Bloody hormones already all over the place, aren’t they? It wasn’t your fault, you know that. It was never your fault we lost them.” He stroked her hair and kept her close, praying there would be no more karmic retribution for the men he, himself, had failed.
Month Four
It had been a long, hard day at the station. Blag gone wrong. He’d needed to shoot one of the bastards, then fill out all the damn paperwork that went along with a mess like that. He had been tired, sitting over his desk, dragging his hand across the forms. He’d had a slip. A passing thought that had moved too quickly to catch: Go home. Let Tyler deal with it in the morning.
He’d realized what he had thought as soon as the words were gone. He’d escaped to the pub and shared several drinks with his men. Chris had been smiling today. It was good to see him smile. It helped cheer Cartwright up as well.
Point was, he thought as he sat up in bed, he should be deep asleep right now. It was nearly four in the morning and there had been no nightmares to wake him. What was he doing up? He rolled over and saw his wife sitting on the edge of the bed, turned away from him.
Shit. This was it, wasn’t it? The moment they’d been expecting since they heard the news. They should probably go to hospital, make sure Margaret was alright. He could be late for work. He could make up some excuse. Gene reached out and felt the sheets, checking for the telltale signs of blood. The sheets were dry. Maybe it was just starting. Maybe she had just felt the twinge.
“Margaret?” He whispered, “What’s happened?” He sat all the way up and when his wife turned to face him, even in the darkness he could see her smiling. “What is it? What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” she laughed and clutched her slightly bulging stomach. “Everything’s okay Gene. It’s my second trimester and everything’s okay. We’ve never made it this far before. We’ve always...” She started to cry again so Gene wrapped her in his arms.
“Guess you better tell your mother then, eh?”
He felt her laugh into his shoulder and squeezed tighter. For the first time in a long while, Gene allowed himself to smile.
Month Five
“Right you lot. Listen up!” Gene stood at the front of the bullpen by the unused desk, hands stuffed in his pockets, waiting for his team to actually start paying attention. “As you all know, the Lancashire Constabulary Dinner and Dance is approaching. Usually my missus would be the undeniable belle of the ball.”
“DI Robinson always tends to think so,” Ray smirked.
“He that bloke from drugs squad?” Chris asked, dripping mayo onto his sweater vest.
“Oi! Your guv is still talking up here.” He waited for them to find their short attention spans. “Right. Well, unfortunately the lovely Mrs. Hunt will be unable to attend--”
“Finally realized she could do better?”
He thought that was what he heard. He swore he heard the snide remark coming from the empty desk to his right. It was only just Clive coughing that had interrupted him.
“Will be unable to attend,” he continued, “due to an unfortunate medical condition.”
“Blimey, Guv. What’s wrong with her?” Chris looked flabbergasted. Ray punched him in the arm.
“None of our business, you div,” Carling growled.
“Nothing too serious gentlemen but it turns out she’s up the duff.” He tried to say it casually, without any hint of the pride he was feeling, but still several ciggies dropped from lips to the floor.
“She’s pregnant?” Ray asked, dumbfounded.
“You’re goin’ to be a dad?” Chris stared.
“Two normally go in hand in hand.”
There was a second of silence, then the room burst into an eruption of cheers.
“Okay, okay. Settle down, back to work. Lazy bastards.” Gene watched as his team, with smiling faces, slowly returned to their duties, a few still sending Gene a shout or a thumbs up when they saw him glancing their way. When he spun towards the empty desk on his way back to his own office, there was nothing but silence. He knew he stared at it a second too long and hoped no one would notice. As he turned his back on it and opened his office door, he knew it was only in his head, but it comforted him nonetheless.
“You’ll be a good father, Gene. I know you will.”
Month Seven
“No bloody way I’m calling our child ‘Junior’ so you can just cross ‘Gene’ off your list right now, Chief Inspector.”
“Bloody hell. Haven’t even said anything yet and you’re already attacking me.”
“Was it on your list?”
“No.” Gene started to cross a name off the paper in his hand.
“What are you checking off there, then?”
“David.”
“Well I happen to like the name ‘David.’”
“Too late. It’s gone now.”
They sat at the kitchen table for another hour, trying to think of something, anything that they could both agree on. Gene thought negotiating peace treaties with the Soviets would be an easier task. Finally both of their lists were exhausted of possibilities and they sat silently in their kitchen, tapping their pencils on the edge of the table.
“You know,” she started apprehensively, “we could, if you wanted, we could, if it’s a boy, call...call him...”
“You’re either thinking one of two names right now and the answer to both is no,” he said quietly.
“Are you sure? We could--”
Gene stood up from the table and went to the liquor cabinet. “I can’t, Margaret. It’s not right. It’s too soon...” He downed a glass of whisky, even though it was only 11am on a Saturday. “I’ll know it when I see it. How can we even name the kid, we don’t know what it looks like?”
He walked to the kitchen doorway, mentally beating himself as he saw the hurt look on wife’s face. Now wasn’t the time to be upsetting her. She’d only wanted to help, after all. He walked back and kissed her on the forehead. “Maybe as a middle name.”
Month Eight
“Should auld acquaintance be forgot, and never brought to mind? Should auld acquaintance be forgot auld lang syne? For auld lang syne, my dear...”
“Mr. Hunt?”
“For auld lang syne!” The drunk revellers at the Railway Arms didn’t notice Nelson waving around the red phone from his place by the bar. “We’ll take a cup of kindness, yet...”
“Mr. Hunt!”
“For auld lang syne!”
“DCI HUNT, SIR!” The barman screamed and the large, tangled mass of men standing in the center of the pub finally turned to face the bar. Gene was in the middle, being supported by Ray on one side and Chris on the other.
“ ‘Appy New Year, Nelson!”
“Mr. Hunt you have--”
“May the shit-hole of a year that was 1973 finally rest in peace,” he slurred.
“You have a phone call, Mr. Hunt. It’s the hospital.”
“What? They finally find me DI, did they?” Gene was too pissed noticed the hurt look that passed over Ray’s face.
“Your wife’s there. She’s gone into labor.”
There had never been a more sobering thought. “She’s not due for another month yet.” Nelson quirked an eyebrow and held out the phone. Gene magically raced over to the bar without tripping over his own feet. “Gene Hunt...Yes....You’re sure?...No...Yes...I’ll be right there...Which one?...Right.” He slammed down the phone. “Shit. I’m goin’ to be a father.” He turned to his lads. “I’m goin’ to be father!” He shouted. They all cheered. “Shit. I’ve gotta get to hospital.”
“I’ll take you there, Guv.”
“Thanks Sam.” Gene pat him on the shoulder then stumbled out to the Cortina as Ray followed dejectedly behind.
*
They had her in this little box. This little plastic box and Gene hadn’t been allowed to hold her yet. Not even Margaret had been allowed to hold her but at least his wife was sleeping now. She needed her rest and Gene could stay here with their daughter.
Their daughter. His daughter. She wasn’t an ‘it’ anymore. She was a she and she looked so tiny. So weak. So defenseless, lying there in her little box. No one able to hold her yet. No one able to tell her she’d be alright. Yet she was strong. Gene saw that clear as day. She may be small and ailing now, but oh she was a fighter.
“We’ll sort this, you an’ me, sweetheart. We’ll get you out of there in no time, get you home where you belong. With your mum. With you dad. You just hang in there, Gladys.”
He hadn’t meant to say it. Like so many things these days, it had just slipped out. Yet it had felt so natural, so perfect. Things had been off for so many months now but this had just slotted into place, like it was always meant to be there.
“Gladys,” he repeated and it had the same effect on him. “What d’you think of that one, eh Gladys?”
His small daughter wriggled slightly in her sleep.
“Yeah. I think so, too.”
_________
Followed by: Not Since
Author: dak
Word Count: 1806
Rating: green cortina
Warnings: mild swearing, mild angst
Summary: Gene's going to be a father...
A/N: Another Gene-centric vignette for the Steady As She Goes AU. Takes place after All the Lost Souls and before Not Since. The bunnies have been working overtime. I can't stop them. I think I need a Bun-Vac. Please enjoy!
Month Two.
“I’m pregnant.”
Gene choked on his coffee. “What?”
“You know, with child. In the family way. Bun in the oven. Up the duff. On stork watch. In the pudding club. On the scarlet freight...” Margaret nervously twisted her hands around her apron.
Gene thought quietly for a moment. “How?”
“Oh I don’t know. Maybe it was that Saturday evening on the couch after that episode of Doctor Who. Or it could have been from that time in my mother’s garage during her birthday party the other month. Or the several times on the kitchen table--”
“Blimey, woman. Enough! I get it.” Gene raised his arms in defeat. “So it’s mine then?”
Margaret punched him in the arm, spilling the hot coffee all over his lap. “First and only if you keep that up.”
Gene managed to hold his ground and began dabbing at the cooling liquid with a kitchen towel. “Have you told anyone else?”
She looked down at her feet. “Not yet.”
Gene, too, had to look away. “Probably a good idea. Just in case it...doesn’t work out, again.”
“Right,” she nodded.
“Margie,” he reached out and grabbed her hands. “Luv, you know I want this.”
“I know,” she nodded again.
“But I don’t want us to get our hopes up. It...let’s just be patient, alright? If it doesn’t happen, it doesn’t happen and no one else will have to know.”
“I won’t lose it again, Gene. I promise, I...” She started to cry and Gene immediately stood and gathered her in his arms.
“Shh...Look at that. Bloody hormones already all over the place, aren’t they? It wasn’t your fault, you know that. It was never your fault we lost them.” He stroked her hair and kept her close, praying there would be no more karmic retribution for the men he, himself, had failed.
Month Four
It had been a long, hard day at the station. Blag gone wrong. He’d needed to shoot one of the bastards, then fill out all the damn paperwork that went along with a mess like that. He had been tired, sitting over his desk, dragging his hand across the forms. He’d had a slip. A passing thought that had moved too quickly to catch: Go home. Let Tyler deal with it in the morning.
He’d realized what he had thought as soon as the words were gone. He’d escaped to the pub and shared several drinks with his men. Chris had been smiling today. It was good to see him smile. It helped cheer Cartwright up as well.
Point was, he thought as he sat up in bed, he should be deep asleep right now. It was nearly four in the morning and there had been no nightmares to wake him. What was he doing up? He rolled over and saw his wife sitting on the edge of the bed, turned away from him.
Shit. This was it, wasn’t it? The moment they’d been expecting since they heard the news. They should probably go to hospital, make sure Margaret was alright. He could be late for work. He could make up some excuse. Gene reached out and felt the sheets, checking for the telltale signs of blood. The sheets were dry. Maybe it was just starting. Maybe she had just felt the twinge.
“Margaret?” He whispered, “What’s happened?” He sat all the way up and when his wife turned to face him, even in the darkness he could see her smiling. “What is it? What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” she laughed and clutched her slightly bulging stomach. “Everything’s okay Gene. It’s my second trimester and everything’s okay. We’ve never made it this far before. We’ve always...” She started to cry again so Gene wrapped her in his arms.
“Guess you better tell your mother then, eh?”
He felt her laugh into his shoulder and squeezed tighter. For the first time in a long while, Gene allowed himself to smile.
Month Five
“Right you lot. Listen up!” Gene stood at the front of the bullpen by the unused desk, hands stuffed in his pockets, waiting for his team to actually start paying attention. “As you all know, the Lancashire Constabulary Dinner and Dance is approaching. Usually my missus would be the undeniable belle of the ball.”
“DI Robinson always tends to think so,” Ray smirked.
“He that bloke from drugs squad?” Chris asked, dripping mayo onto his sweater vest.
“Oi! Your guv is still talking up here.” He waited for them to find their short attention spans. “Right. Well, unfortunately the lovely Mrs. Hunt will be unable to attend--”
“Finally realized she could do better?”
He thought that was what he heard. He swore he heard the snide remark coming from the empty desk to his right. It was only just Clive coughing that had interrupted him.
“Will be unable to attend,” he continued, “due to an unfortunate medical condition.”
“Blimey, Guv. What’s wrong with her?” Chris looked flabbergasted. Ray punched him in the arm.
“None of our business, you div,” Carling growled.
“Nothing too serious gentlemen but it turns out she’s up the duff.” He tried to say it casually, without any hint of the pride he was feeling, but still several ciggies dropped from lips to the floor.
“She’s pregnant?” Ray asked, dumbfounded.
“You’re goin’ to be a dad?” Chris stared.
“Two normally go in hand in hand.”
There was a second of silence, then the room burst into an eruption of cheers.
“Okay, okay. Settle down, back to work. Lazy bastards.” Gene watched as his team, with smiling faces, slowly returned to their duties, a few still sending Gene a shout or a thumbs up when they saw him glancing their way. When he spun towards the empty desk on his way back to his own office, there was nothing but silence. He knew he stared at it a second too long and hoped no one would notice. As he turned his back on it and opened his office door, he knew it was only in his head, but it comforted him nonetheless.
“You’ll be a good father, Gene. I know you will.”
Month Seven
“No bloody way I’m calling our child ‘Junior’ so you can just cross ‘Gene’ off your list right now, Chief Inspector.”
“Bloody hell. Haven’t even said anything yet and you’re already attacking me.”
“Was it on your list?”
“No.” Gene started to cross a name off the paper in his hand.
“What are you checking off there, then?”
“David.”
“Well I happen to like the name ‘David.’”
“Too late. It’s gone now.”
They sat at the kitchen table for another hour, trying to think of something, anything that they could both agree on. Gene thought negotiating peace treaties with the Soviets would be an easier task. Finally both of their lists were exhausted of possibilities and they sat silently in their kitchen, tapping their pencils on the edge of the table.
“You know,” she started apprehensively, “we could, if you wanted, we could, if it’s a boy, call...call him...”
“You’re either thinking one of two names right now and the answer to both is no,” he said quietly.
“Are you sure? We could--”
Gene stood up from the table and went to the liquor cabinet. “I can’t, Margaret. It’s not right. It’s too soon...” He downed a glass of whisky, even though it was only 11am on a Saturday. “I’ll know it when I see it. How can we even name the kid, we don’t know what it looks like?”
He walked to the kitchen doorway, mentally beating himself as he saw the hurt look on wife’s face. Now wasn’t the time to be upsetting her. She’d only wanted to help, after all. He walked back and kissed her on the forehead. “Maybe as a middle name.”
Month Eight
“Should auld acquaintance be forgot, and never brought to mind? Should auld acquaintance be forgot auld lang syne? For auld lang syne, my dear...”
“Mr. Hunt?”
“For auld lang syne!” The drunk revellers at the Railway Arms didn’t notice Nelson waving around the red phone from his place by the bar. “We’ll take a cup of kindness, yet...”
“Mr. Hunt!”
“For auld lang syne!”
“DCI HUNT, SIR!” The barman screamed and the large, tangled mass of men standing in the center of the pub finally turned to face the bar. Gene was in the middle, being supported by Ray on one side and Chris on the other.
“ ‘Appy New Year, Nelson!”
“Mr. Hunt you have--”
“May the shit-hole of a year that was 1973 finally rest in peace,” he slurred.
“You have a phone call, Mr. Hunt. It’s the hospital.”
“What? They finally find me DI, did they?” Gene was too pissed noticed the hurt look that passed over Ray’s face.
“Your wife’s there. She’s gone into labor.”
There had never been a more sobering thought. “She’s not due for another month yet.” Nelson quirked an eyebrow and held out the phone. Gene magically raced over to the bar without tripping over his own feet. “Gene Hunt...Yes....You’re sure?...No...Yes...I’ll be right there...Which one?...Right.” He slammed down the phone. “Shit. I’m goin’ to be a father.” He turned to his lads. “I’m goin’ to be father!” He shouted. They all cheered. “Shit. I’ve gotta get to hospital.”
“I’ll take you there, Guv.”
“Thanks Sam.” Gene pat him on the shoulder then stumbled out to the Cortina as Ray followed dejectedly behind.
*
They had her in this little box. This little plastic box and Gene hadn’t been allowed to hold her yet. Not even Margaret had been allowed to hold her but at least his wife was sleeping now. She needed her rest and Gene could stay here with their daughter.
Their daughter. His daughter. She wasn’t an ‘it’ anymore. She was a she and she looked so tiny. So weak. So defenseless, lying there in her little box. No one able to hold her yet. No one able to tell her she’d be alright. Yet she was strong. Gene saw that clear as day. She may be small and ailing now, but oh she was a fighter.
“We’ll sort this, you an’ me, sweetheart. We’ll get you out of there in no time, get you home where you belong. With your mum. With you dad. You just hang in there, Gladys.”
He hadn’t meant to say it. Like so many things these days, it had just slipped out. Yet it had felt so natural, so perfect. Things had been off for so many months now but this had just slotted into place, like it was always meant to be there.
“Gladys,” he repeated and it had the same effect on him. “What d’you think of that one, eh Gladys?”
His small daughter wriggled slightly in her sleep.
“Yeah. I think so, too.”
_________
Followed by: Not Since