FANDOM         The Bill.
AUTHOR         Kath
DISCLAIMER     I lose track of who owns the characters.  It
               was Thames, then Carlton, now Pearson
               maybe.  Not me anyway.  Story is though.
RATING         Nothing explicit.
PAIRING        G/A
SPOILERS       For the whole summer to Christmas 2002.

A/N This was started in the afterglow of THE KISS (#76 in
the TV moments of 200 2, as voted for by Channel4
viewers) so we’re talking way back in July.  If you were
being charitable, you could call it ‘Missing Scenes’.  I got
really hacked off that the PTB spent so much time
establishing Gilmore’s character as a professional and then
had him drooling like some love-sick puppy.  I’ve been
tinkering, off and on, since the summer - that’s why there is
a ‘Montage’ section - I couldn’t be bothered finding slashy
overtones in every episode.  Okay, let me re-phrase that.  I
couldn’t be bothered writing every slashy overtone in each
episode. [big G].  Here’s to The Bill sweeping the awards
at the next Soap Awards.

***
The Bill
“Cold Comfort”
by
Kath.
*Alternating POV’s to start with.*
********************

Oh, God.  What have I done?  What have I done?

Binned every rule I mad e myself follow? - yes.

Had my heart turned when I was least expecting it? - yes.

Put everything I’ve worked for on the line? - yes.

What a mess.  What a godawful mess.

Really.  What was I expecting?  A fanfare?  A parade?  A
happy ending?  Gina Gold would love that.  Or, maybe not.
Not when she found out who the other half was.

***

Why won’t he leave me alone?

It was a mistake, I know that now.  I’m sure it was.  I was
just...curious.  That’s all.  Nothing more.  Just like kissing a
girl really.  One you like the look of in a club.  Get talking,
maybe a bit of fooling around, depends on the club of
course.  But, one snog, it doesn’t mean anything.  So why is
he acting like it does?  I don’t get it.

He’s taller than me.  Kind of strange to kiss someone taller
than me.  Strange, but okay.  He’s a very good kisser.  He
seemed a bit surprised when I did, I was a little surprised m
yself, but it seemed right, at the time.

But that was then.  This is now.  Why can’t he just drop it?

***

What have I become?  You know exactly what you’ve
become.  Every bloody homophobic stereotype you’ve
spent your life avoiding.  Look at yourself.  Mooning after
some ‘beautiful thing’.  You should know better - you do
know better.

Christ; if Boyden knew.  I bet he’d piss his pants laughing,
and then he’d go for it.  
Bastard.

Never ceases to amaze me, how even the most unattractive
man will automatically think that you are going to pounce
on him just because you are gay.  We have standards you
know.

Yeah; standards and rules.  And you’ve broken every one
of yours.

‘Never get hurt again.’ - Well, that was more of a guideline.
Still, two in as many weeks.  That’s a record for you, C
raigy.  Yeah, Boyden would have a bloody field day.

***

I wonder if he’s ever slept with a woman.  Does he know
what it’s like?

I wonder what it’s like to sleep with a man.  No, I don’t.  I
don’t.  Although I suppose a bloke would know exactly
what to do with the old equipment without being given
pointers.

I can’t believe I actually thought that.

This is getting crazy.  I’m quite happy being the way I am.
I’ve never been attracted to men, never.  Well, maybe once,
but that was different.  Just a crush.

Oh shit.

***

When did it all go wrong?  Which came first?

I mean, Sean and I had our ups and downs, more downs
recently I suppose, since...him.

It’s my fault.  Sean was great, we had some good times.
Why did I have to...  It was an accident.  Who wouldn’t be
attracted to a man like him?  I defy anyone, male or female,
to walk into that shower room and n ot admire him.  Those
muscles, that smooth skin... he’s like a Greek god, sculpted
from stone, just waiting for someone to bring him to life...

You’ve got it bad, Gilmore.  Bad, and dangerous to know.

I bet he’s loving this.  Little prick-tease.

That’s not fair, and you know it.  It’s not his fault he’s so
damn gorgeous.  Luck of the draw.  Just try to deal with it.
Yeah, right.  He’s got his superior officer wrapped around
his little finger.  And that’s your problem, not his.

I know the others tease him.  About being the Sarge’s
‘golden boy’.  If only!

What am I going to do?

***

What am I going to do?

I couldn’t take the stares, or the comments, if I went with
him.  Gives a whole new meaning to the phrase ‘sleeping
your way to the top.’  He’s only a Sergeant, but still.

I just wish he’d give me some space.  I told him he was
stalking me this af ternoon.  And I meant it.  I feel like I
can’t turn around without him watching me.  I’ve felt that
before right enough.  But then, that was when I thought he
was finding fault.  Something I’d done, or not done, or not
done well enough.

Shit.  Has this been going on all the time?  Is this why he’s
been so weird?  One minute, he’s all kind and
understanding; fetching a dictionary to help me out, I know
my spelling sucks, I was grateful that he didn’t rub it in.
But, next minute, all formal and correct...and just what he
should be, I suppose.  What am I supposed to think?  I
don’t get him.

Is he my Sergeant?

Is he my friend?

I feel dirty.  Like...I dunno; like getting caught trying to
sneak back a sweetie I’d taken.  And it’s my own fault.
Why did I kiss him?  Why?

Sometimes he’s great, really understanding; other times, a
tonne of bricks would be more fun.

How was I supposed to know that he  fancied me.  I mean,
you don’t expect it, do you?

He’s a Sergeant.  He’s a gay sergeant, but I didn’t know
that.  Not ‘til later.

And yesterday, I kissed him.  I kissed HIM.  I kissed a
superior officer.  A male superior officer.  He could have
me run out of the service.  What have I done?

***

Well, I can’t go on like this, I know that.

The logical, cynical part of me keeps telling me to give it
up.  He’s not interested.  All I’m doing is giving him
ammunition for a sexual harassment case.  He called me his
‘stalker’, and that’s what I’ve become.

But I can’t help myself.  I want more.  I don’t just want to
see him around the station.  I want him in my life, off-duty
and on.

But we don’t always get what we want, do we?

Tomorrow.  One last try.  Tell him how I feel.  I’ll be
giving everything to him.   My career, my heart, myself.

Dear, God, I hope  it’s worth it.  It has to be.

***

Tomorrow I’ll tell him, that’s what I’ll do.  I’ll tell him I
made a mistake.  I should have done that before.  I
shouldn’t have been such a coward, trying to avoid him like
that.  But there can’t be anything between us.  It would be
too...complicated.  I don’t want to hurt him.  But I will if I
have to.  Short, sharp, shock treatment.  I can still work
with him.  As long as he gets over this obsession - with me.
Kind of flattering in a way...

****************************

The alarm clock jerked Luke away from his thoughts.  He
managed to shut it off, despite his unfamiliarity with the
make, but not before Kerry stirred in his arms.

She looked up at him, still sleepy, but with a definitely
contented expression.  “Knew I wasn’t losing my touch.”

“You what?”

“Nothing.”  She burrowed her head deeper into his neck
and gently kissed the ski n.  “Share the shower?” she
murmured.

Luke kissed the top of her head.  “We might get
distracted.”

“Sounds good to me.”

“We’ll be late.”

“Who cares?”  Kerry’s actions were becoming more
insistent.

“Gilmore will have a fit.”

“Sod him.”  Kerry grinned, gripped Luke’s hand and
practically dragged him across the bed.  “Last one out has
to explain why we’re late.”

Ashton bounded over the bed to join her.

***

Gilmore gazed at himself in the mirror.  He was wearing
the most up-to-date items he could find from his casual
clothes.

Who was he kidding?  He whirled away and quickly
changed into more comfortable attire.

*Just be yourself.  You’re a good man.  You’re good at
your job.  You have lots of things going for you.  You’re
going to go to the station.  You’ll be calm, cool and
collected.  Perfectly profession al.  And if you have to
manufacture an opportunity to speak to Luke, privately,
without bloody Kerry or soddin’ ‘ma’am’ lugging in, so be
it.  This has to be sorted.*

Craig nodded at his reflection.  He took a deep breath and
headed for work.

***

“We are going to be late.”

“Not by much.”  Kerry turned the corner, tyres almost
squealing.  “Besides, it was worth it.”  She squeezed
Ashton’s thigh.

“Yeah.”  He looked out of the passenger window.  Was it?

**************************

(A/N; How was I to know they wouldn’t drive to the
station?)

***

Well, that could have gone better.

He wouldn’t let it lie.

I had to do it.  I had to be brutal.  It was the only thing I
could think of.

I can’t have the rest of the relief sniggering, or talking
about me behind my back.  Okay, so they were probably
doing that before, but at least now  they’ll be speculating
‘cos I’m sleeping with a woman.  I mean, with Kerry.  Not
just any woman.  With Kerry.

Kerry Young.  Kerry, with the blonde hair and that quirky
smile.  Kerry with a great rack and the hips to go with it.
Kerry, who’s fun to be with and has a great sense of
humour.

Actually, I don’t know if she’s got a sense of humour or
not.  She must have.  She’s bound to have laughed at one of
Hollis’s jokes by now.  But that’s probably not a great
sense of humour.

***

So much for calm, cool and collected.

What’s the point?

See what you’ve done?  See?  You’ve dug yourself a hole,
my friend.

You can’t win in any way, shape or form.  You’re at his
mercy.

You are his superior officer.  Since he kissed you, the only
times you’ve sought him out have been for personal
reasons.  You fool!  You should have given him space.
You knew he wasn’t ready.   Why d’you have to push him?

The briefing.  Christ, the briefing.  Why couldn’t he get
there on time?  Or at least before the Inspector turned up.
It’s not too much to ask, is it?

***

He didn’t have to go overboard did he?

It was my fault we were late.  He didn’t have to take it out
on her.  So she’s been late before.  So what?

The look on his face was worth it.

What a sad little man.  Pining after someone he can’t have.

We’ve all been there, Sarge.  Get over it.

***

I was going to do it quietly.  A friendly word.  But Gold
wanted more.  The old death and brimstone, stamp it out.  I
can do that, when I have to.  But with these two...

Was I unfair?

No.  No, I wasn’t.  I’ve done the same, many times before.
It’s part of my job.

But he turned it around.  Made it seem like, I don’t know,
victimisation.

Hell, he doesn’t kno w the meaning of the word.

And you let him get away with it - again.

***

I won’t use this you know.  Can I help it if my superior
officer has the hots for me?  No.  That’s his problem.  The
sooner he realises that I like the opposite sex more than my
own the better.  And I think I was fairly explicit this
afternoon.  He can not be in any doubt anymore.  I like
women.

Good.

***

He said he was taking the ‘Mick’.

It’d be better if he was.  Cruel, but better.  A part of me still
clings to the thought that he wasn’t.  Wishful thinking.

***

Pathetic.  That’s what he looked like. Absolutely pathetic.

What a rush.

Just think.  I have a real case here.  I can do anything.

I can be late.  I can screw up.  Hell, I can take a fortnight
holiday in the Maldives and he can’t do a damn’ thing.
Why?  Because - he loves me.  He LOVES me!  I can make
him do  whatever I want, because he thinks he loves me.
Oh, this is brilliant.  This is wonderful.  I can do whatever I
feel like, and he can’t say a bloody thing.  Because all I
have to do is say that he’s harassing me.

Oh, the Met will just love that.  ‘Gay Sergeant’ pursuing
‘innocent’ officer.  I can see the headlines now.  This’ll be
good.  This’ll be ace.  I can’t wait for tomorrow.

***

Pathetic, that’s what I am.

I’ve given him leeway when I shouldn’t.  I’ve let my
personal feelings colour how I deal with him.  He’s a good
officer, but flighty.  And now, every time I correct him (try
to anyway) he’s going to throw this back in my face.

I suppose we can’t go back to before.

What ‘before’?

Before Sean?

Before him?

Before the Met?

Doesn’t work.  Deep breaths, Gilmore.  Deep breaths and
cold showers.  Lots and lots of cold showers.  Y ou sad,
pathetic little man.

Nope, even the pep-talk doesn’t work.

***

“What’s going on?”  Luke craned through the glass to see
the assemblage of the forth estate.

“Press conference.”  Cass Rickman snapped.

“Another one?”  Luke grinned.  “This place is becoming
Hollywood central.  If it’s not the special effects it must be
the handsome hunk and his love interest...”  he put his arm
around Rickman’s waist, but was surprised by the
vehement elbow he got in return.

“Give us all a break...”  Cass hissed, then she hurried
through the doors to reach her assigned position, keeping
the baying hounds from the fox.

Ashton straightened and turned.  Almost running into
Superintendent Chandler.  “Sorry, sir.” he mumbled.

Chandler stared straight through him, adjusting his
uniform, before heading out to face the press.  Ashton
shrugged and retreated into the station.


***MONTAGE***

“I’m engaged.”  Luke could not keep the triumphant grin
from his face.  “I’m going to get married.  To Kerry.  What
d’you think about that?!”
*
“I’m being silly.  It’s not like there’s some one in the flat.”
*
“The ring’s gone.”
*
“Where is he?”  “I’m scared, Craig.”  “I won’t leave
you.”
*
“He’s trouble, Sarge.”
*
“What now?”  “I owe you an apology.”
*
“It’s not true.”
*
“I recognise those drugs.”
*
“He needs me.”
*
“Carl has AIDS.”
*
“He needs me.”
*
“Just thought you should know.”
*
“It’s because of him, isn’t it?”
*
“I’m gettin’ married in the mornin’! Hic!”

******************** *********

Ding Dong indeed.

Mussed bed clothes.  Severe headaches.  Room service,
must have room service...

“Luke?  C’mon, sunshine...”

“In a minute.”

Luke stretched, turned over and came face to face with
Craig Gilmore.  His eyes widened.

“Good morning.”  Craig smiled.

Both froze as they heard the tell-tale scraping of the hotel
room door.

“C’mon, Luke, time to get up...Bloody Hell!”  Gina Gold
rounded the corner of the hotel room and stopped dead in
her tracks, her mouth opening.

“Jesus!”

“Christ!”

“Can’t you knock?”

Gina gave Gilmore a hard expression.  “Am I
interrupting?”

“No.”  Luke hurriedly drew the sheets around himself.

“Yes.”  Craig gathered his dressing-gown, slung it on and
sat down in a chair.

*********************

A/N;  Well, there you go.  You can pi ck your own ending.
Will Luke marry Kerry?  Will Gilmore spill the beans?
Will Luke realise what he’s passing up?  Will Craig get his
act together?

Thanks to Augustus; Appreciate your comments for
‘Summer Lovin’”.  E-mail playing up, so can’t reply.  In
fact I’ll be very surprised if this makes it on to the list.
Very surprised and properly embarrassed.

1/3/2003, Thanks also to Kel who very kindly volunteered
to post for me after another round of frustrated messages.
After all the palaver I hope you find the story worth the
wait.

Regards
Kath