1. Respect

She did not drink much, or often, but she was not a lightweight. She came from a family of drinkers and her father could go head to head with Gene Hunt any day. Her mother gave her nips of whiskey when she was young and grouchy and did not want to go to bed, and she was drinking a lager with her dinner by the time she was fourteen. That's just the way it was in a hard working middle class household in Manchester: hold your own, or sink. She held an after-school job by fifteen and then it was on to meeting friends (and blokes) in pubs and then the excesses that was university life in the late 60s. So, she could hold her own.

She held it now at her desk, feet stretched out, nursing the small bottle of blended whiskey that was not exactly cheap but hardly worth sharing. It was not for sharing, anyway, it was hers, and she was going to finish it. Might mean they found her in the morning under her desk, but that would just be another point against her. The guys crashed all the time after drinking, and it was a badge of honor for them, but just watch it happen once to her and she would never live it down.

It was the double standards that drove her to this, tonight. Fall ass over tea kettle? No problem. Smart off to the Guv? No problem. Smart off to Harry Woolf? Yeah, she did that too. She even smacked Ray on the ass her first day in CID when he got smart with her. All in all, she could handle the hits to her pride and she knew she was at the bottom of the ladder. What grated her today was not even anything in CID, specifically, although it sparked a lot of thoughts about it: Frankie Grover just made sergeant. He was over in RCS under Litton and she could pity him that, because Litton was an oily jerk. Hunt was verbally abusive and sexist, but he was at least straightforward about it, and he might be rude but he never took advantage that she ever heard. Every plonk in the building knew better than to get caught alone in the lift with Litton, though. So, yeah, she was not jealous of where Grover was. And, yeah, he was a nice guy.

He was also as intelligent as a salted snail.

Grover just made sergeant and he was stupid, and she had three years on the force on him, and she probably had a better arrest record than he did. He was a man, though, and somewhat charming, and played the boys' game and held up in a scrap, so Grover made sergeant while she sat at her desk drinking.

The office was empty, or she would not be there. Everyone was down at the pub and it took every last reserve of patience she had to kick Sam there too. He knew something was wrong and wanted to talk about it, and honestly she knew he would be sympathetic. He would also want to go charging off to change the world, which maybe was actually changing the way he said it was, but not soon enough for her. Maybe not soon enough for her career. Her thoughts were dark and gloomy when the door to CID crashed open.

Gene Hunt stared at her, surprised, and she stared back. She was well and truly pissed at this point and she knew she was a bitchy drunk, and she really did not want to face off with Hunt right now. Quite honestly, as she thought about it, he was an even bitchier drunk than she was. She giggled.

"Think I'm funny, do ya'?" He asked smoothly, striding over, inspecting her. He took in her posture and the bottle on the desk and came to his own conclusions, and she really did not give a damn.

"No, Guv. Just pissed." She picked up the 2/3 empty bottle and shook it a bit, then took another shot out of it. He raised his eyebrows.

"That's crap to get pissed on, Cartwright."

"Not goin' to waste the good stuff on a pisser, Guv."

"So you got purpose to this, then?" He perched on the edge of the desk, obviously amused to find her in these circumstances.

"Yeah, Guv. I do." She took another shot and looked away, feeling sour.

"If it's to loosen up yer knickers, ain' gonna get you far with pretty boy Hyde down at the pub an' you up 'ere. Should let him buy the drinks anyway, make him think he earned it."

"My knickers are loose enough, Guv, don' need dutch courage for that." She snorted, knowing that it was highly improper to say it but…well, screw it. She was drunk and he deserved what he got, interrupting her.

Gene laughed loud and long, and reached out and slapped her shoulder. "Com'on then. Yer pissed now so might as well move up to something worth drinking." He stood up and walked to his office, and she realized she was supposed to follow him. She stood up unsteadily and used desks as crutches as she made her way, damned and determined not to fall down in front – or behind – him. She got into his office and sat down slowly on the sofa, and he watched her carefully.

"Damn, Cartwright, you don' do it halfway." He pulled out his bottle of single malt from a desk drawer and poured them drinks in the old teacups he kept around for the purpose. He handed her one then went and sat down in his chair.

"Yer a gentleman, Guv!" She smiled at him goofily.

"Don' let that get around." His eyes narrowed, but his anger was mocking and kind, and she laughed.

"Jus' most guys would set up for a grope on the couch." She patted the empty space next to her.

"Could if you want."

"No!" She squealed and laughed. "No, Guv."

He smiled and nodded, somehow pleased by the rejection. "Good. Don' need to get me a reputation." He drank a bit. "So what got your panties all knotted?" He leaned back.

"Mmmm…long story, Guv." She rolled her eyes and drank, thinking that she could not have asked for someone less sympathetic to her plight than, perhaps, Ray.

"Ducked in for kip, Cartwright, so yer keepin' me up. Give me a reason or go 'ome and let a man have some peace an' quiet."

She sat still. Could not fault Gene Hunt for his direct honesty, and with that thought, she let lose in kind. "Sergeant Grover. Jus' got promoted. He's stupid as a cod but he got promoted 'cause he's a guy and he can fight. I got a better record than he does, but…"

"Litton's an idiot, promotes anyone 'oo licks his arse."

"Ugh. Not gonna do that." She shook her head and Gene laughed again.

"You give me hope for the future, Cartwright. So, yer mad 'cause some div got stepped up ahead of you? Fair." He nodded and drank some more.

"Don't be daft, Guv, that ain't fuckin' why I'm drinkin'." She snarled and Gene stared at her, shocked. She glared at him. "Not like I'll ever get stepped up 'ere, either, yeah? Don' matter whose arse I lick, Litton's, yours, Rathbones…that'd jus' get me a bad reputation which I don' need."

"Cartwright, that's one hell of an accusation…"

"Am I a good cop?" She leaned forward.

He stopped but not for more than a moment. "Yeah, you are. Damn good. Smart. You keep listenin' to that ponce Tyler, and you'll make something. Even if you are a bird."

She slapped her knee. "Exactly! 'Even if I am a bird.' You said it, Guv, here's to you." She raised her cup and slammed her drink.

"Hard way to treat a single malt." He said disapprovingly.

She shook her cup at him. He stared at her, hard, then got up and gave her another, smaller shot. She looked at it. "Stingy."

"Bloody 'ell…" Gene tipped the bottle and poured in what had to be a triple. She grinned up at him.

"Most I'll ever get from you." She said it as a complement, but he frowned.

"What you mean by that?"

"Be honest, Guv. You ain't goin' to promote me."

"Chris got senority."

"I like Chris, Guv, you know I do. But he's a kid, and I'm a better cop." She would never have said that if it were not the booze and the late hour and her anger, but it was true, and she saw that Gene knew it too by the look he gave her.

"I can move up, sure. Go back to uniform and make sergeant and eventually I'll even be so goddamn lucky as to get Phyllis' job. Yeah. That's success in the world for ya'. Why I went to university." She was back to snarling, and sipped the alcohol. It was, after all, damn good stuff. Gene did not answer and she looked over at him. "Yer always goin' on about how there'll never be a woman prime minister. So what you say about a woman DCI in CID?"

"Not goin' to lie jus' to make you feel special, Cartwright. It'll never 'appen."

She nodded, and stood up, and set down her drink unfinished. "I respect you, Guv, an' I know you would not lie to me. I love my job. But it's bastards like you that make it not worth my time."

Gene was shocked, and she did not care why as she turned and walked out, feeling very, very sober.

---

Sam stared at him, glaring, furious, angry, and about five different other words that Gene could not think of right then.

"This is NOT my fault, Sam."

"You did SOMETHING."

"I did NOT." Gene slammed the resignation letter down on his desk.

"Annie just gets her drunk on, talks shop for a while, and decides to resign the next day." Sam snapped, tapping his foot.

"I'm telling you, we jus' talked about work. She was wound up over some div getting promoted. Not like I could promote her over Chris anyway…" Gene trailed off, finding and lighting a cigarette.

"Tell me – swear to me – you did not lay a hand on her."

Gene slammed his hand down on his desk as he stood up. "You son of bitch, don' come off all high an' mighty, you've been trying to get in her knickers since you got here!"

"Oh Christ, Gene, what did you do?" Sam looked appalled.

"I DIDN'T DO ANYTHING!" Gene roared and slammed a fist into the filing cabinet. "So back off, Tyler." He rubbed his knuckles and sat down again. "Hell she was pissed, I coulda' got downstairs inside without breaking a sweat. I sat here." He pointed at himself, in his chair.

"Okay, okay. But that don't explain a damn resignation." Sam leaned over and tapped the letter.

"She's your girly-friend, Dorothy. Go shoe shoppin' and ask her yerself what the hell this is about." Gene waved him out, and wondered what it was with everybody snarling at him all of a sudden.

---

"Hey, Sam." Annie stood in her doorway, not surprised at all that Gene sent his lap dog.

"Gene sent me."

She backed up, taken aback by the honest admission. "Oh?"

"Can I come in?"

She let him in. She shared a flat with a plonk named Alice Mayes, who was at work, naturally, so they were by themselves. Once, she was madly in love with Sam and thought he might feel the same about her, but the dating never came off right and it was too weird to kiss someone you spent half the day going over autopsy reports with. They were friends now, but gave each other distance, and generally did not spend too much off duty together.

"You know why I'm here, Annie."

"Yeah."

"What'd Gene do?" Sam asked so sincerely it nearly hurt to look at him, and she laughed. He looked hurt then, and she shook her head.

"Sit down. Tea?"

"Yeah, thanks." Sam sat at the dinette, but as usual was impatient. "Come on, Annie, if it wasn't somethin' Gene did, what's goin' on?"

"Sam, I appreciate everything you've done for me, an' I know you're always there for me. I know that. But I just realized: don't matter. Nothin's going to change. I mean, when I first started, I didn't think to much about promotions and all that. But now…well I don' think I can be Phyllis, or even Geoff. I can't just go so far and stop and be 'appy with it."

"No reason for you to be happy with it, Annie. You're a good police officer and you'll go far. Jus' hang in there…"

"I asked him." She set the tea down and sat across from him.

"Asked 'im what?"

"If he'd ever promote me. If he thought I could ever be DCI. Guess not in so many words, but he knew what I was askin'. An' he was honest, Sam, I'll never forget that. I appreciate it, but he said 'no' and now I know I need to move on."

"…Gene said he'd never promote you?"

"Not in so many words, but yeah. I understand seniority, I do. But my work should count for somethin', shouldn't it? But it don't, an' it never will. I might make sergeant if Rathebone took blow jobs for trade but…even then, that's as far as I'd get." She stared at her tea, glumly. "Not doin' this to make a point, Sam, or as blackmail. I just found out the truth, and you know what they say…"

"The truth shall set you free," Sam said, looking just as glum. She was expecting more a fight from him, and it was disconcerting not to get it. They sat in silence, drinking tea for a few minutes. "Annie, things will change. I can't tell you exactly when, it'll be more gradual than anything. Even…well, even thirty years from now I don' think women DCIs will be all that common. It's historically a male-dominated profession. But…if women like you don't start now, and keep at it, and fight bastards like Gene Hunt every step of the way, then yeah: nothin' will ever change."

"Didn't join the force to fight Gene Hunt every step of the way." She laughed.

"An' I did?"

"You seem to enjoy it more than most."

Sam laughed. "I guess it's a challenge. Maybe that's how you should think of it, Annie. Not 'those bastards' but 'this challenge.'"

"Not a challenge when all the cards are stacked against you. The Guv listens to you, even if you don' think so sometimes, because he respects you. I know he thinks I'm a good cop, but he don't respect me, and never will."

Sam leaned back in his chair, frowning. "He sure as hell will never respect you if you give up."

"This ain't givin' up, Sam, it's getting smart and moving on."

"Go talk to him. I mean when you're not pissed. Go and…"

"Not begging. Nothing to beg for. He don' want to change an' I'm not going to humiliate myself to get what I shouldn't 'ave to ask for." She folded her arms and sat up straight in the chair.

Sam shoved the cup back and stood up, and she realized he was furious. "Fine. I'm not getting' anywhere here. Just throw your life away."

He walked out without saying another word, and Annie stared at his empty chair.

---

"Not."

"You will, or I will personally fry up your balls and serve them to Ray."

"You'd do that, you perverted…"

"I would. Go."

"Not begging. She resigned, that's it. She quit." Gene shook his head and leaned back in his chair. "Can't take the heat, stay out of the kitchen."

"Convenient."

"What?"

"Now you can promote Chris without guilty conscience. You can get another man in there to beat down on and prove your masculinity to. Don' have to worry about bein' upstaged by a bird." Sam's eyes were narrow and vicious and Gene knew this was going to end in a beating. Specifically, him beating on Sam.

"Talking 'bout yerself, Tyler? 'Cause you're the only bird in the room, right now."

"Fine, fine, just tell me the truth…"

"DAMNIT I DID NOT TOUCH HER!" Gene yelled, red faced, and he was glad Sam started this at Sam's flat and not at the office.

"NO! She says you said you'd never promote her." Sam kicked the small chair next to him.

"Did not!"

"That's what she says."

Gene stopped, confused, because he did not remember saying that and he did not believe she would lie. He trusted her; she was a part of his team – almost as pretty as Tyler and a lot smarter than Ray, and a better ass than all of them put together. And she really could type, as opposed to the all-thumbs hands the rest of his men possessed.

He stopped for a moment, thinking about that. 'The rest of his men.' So did that make her one of his men? Not damn likely, but still, a member of the team. And hell, now he knew she held her drink better than Tyler did. That counted for something, at least to Gene. He could not promote her over Chris, he remembered making that clear, and his hands were tied there because there was not a man in CID who would forgive or forget him doing that to Chris. That did not mean he would not try to help her move up if he could, if there was a position she wanted.

He realized Sam was staring at him, quiet for once, and that made him suspicious.

"What?"

"You were thinking about it."

"Using your Hyde mind-meld on me, Tyler? Please, enlighten me, tell me what I was thinkin'. Remember I only use short words."

"Thinkin' about talking to her."

"No, as a matter of damn fact, I wasn't. I was thinkin' that she don' know her ass from a hole in the ground, because I never said anything of the kind to her."

"Which is what you're going to go tell her when you talk to her."

"I ain't going to talk to her."

"Yes, y'are."

"No, I'm not."

"Y'are."

"M'not."

"Are."

"Not."

"Are."

"Not! That's final."

---

Gene looked like he was a shy teenager asking her out on a date as he stood awkwardly on the stoop to her flat. She just stared at him.

"Sam send you?"

"Bloody hell Sam don't tell ME what to do! I come of me own free will, but with that kind of welcome I'll shove off for the pub."

"It's ten in the morning, Guv, pub's not open yet."

"Cartwright, you drive a man to drink at any hour of the day." He glared at her. "So you inviting me in, or what?"

"No."

Gene stared at her as if he could melt ice, and she supposed he probably could, but she stood firm. He opened his mouth and she saw a full bluster coming on as he raised his hand and pointed at her, so she hauled off and slapped his hand down. He stood frozen, his natural instinct to strike back stalled by the prospect of hitting a woman.

"I ain't begging! I got pride! An' if you think you can walk in here and step on me until I grovel you got another thing coming! I'm good at my job and I deserved better from YOU, of all people. You KNOW I'm good at my job! I don't need you to coddle me but I deserve respect for what I do! So…so…BUGGER OFF!" She slammed the door shut.

---

Gene tapped on Sam's desk. Sam looked up from his paperwork, looked behind Gene, and glared.

"So where is she?" Sam whispered. They had not brought up the matter of her resignation with the rest of the team, instead pretending that she called out sick.

Gene just nodded towards his office, and walked off.

Sam got up and stomped in, closing the door behind him. "You did talk to her, right?"

Gene pulled in a breath, because he knew, just knew, that the priss was not going to take this well.

"She's in the car."

"Why? Why did you leave her in the car?"

"She didn't want to come back. We had a minor disagreement." Gene went for a flask as Sam studied him.

"Gene, what did you do?"

Gene frowned as he handed Sam the car keys, who looked at them in confusion. "I got her back to work. Just might need some help getting her…er…into the building."

"Gene…"

"She's in the boot."

Gene watched the jet trail form behind Sam as he ran out. It was fine, though, because he knew Sam would talk sense into her now that Gene got them past the tough part. He rubbed his elbow where she hit him, and he thought her nails left some marks on his right leg, and he had to admit she put up one hell of a decent scrap as he dragged her out of her flat. She did not even fight like a girl but took to wailing on him with proper fists when he picked her up, and not for nothing was he limping. Yes, she was a fighter, and proud, and smart.

Gene could respect that.

---