"My name is Gene Hunt. I was stabbed an' found myself in 1969. Was I mad, in a coma, or back in time?
"I'm parodyin' Sam Tyler, because I knew 'im. Back then. 'E crashed inter my world in 1973 an' eventually settled an' became my best mate. Sam was a good mate, 'elped me a lot, but… well. I can't ever see 'im again now. Sam chose ter go back there, ter kill 'imself. Crazy bastard. Always knew 'e wasn't quite all there. Just… smarts a bit, that's all. An' well. I know 'ow 'e feels now. 'E left Annie. I left Bolly.
"The thing about that… world, is that yer forget. Yer forget where yer come from, the people yer know. Within a couple o' years anyone 'oo said they were from the future would be labelled as a nutter by me. Yer get swallowed up inter that time, that place. Do things yer didn't think yerself capable of. Meet real people, people 'oo really existed, but… they're not them. Or are they? I just don't know.
"I met Sam Tyler. I fell in love with Alex Drake. An' now everyone's fightin' ter save 'er an' I'm stuck 'ere, in an 'ospital bed, alone. Well, my mam's next door, but… really, I'm alone. 'Cos nobody can understand that what I dreamed, it was real, it wasn't my mind, it wasn't a dream. That bastard counsellor with 'is "you'll 'ave ter adjust ter the fact that none o' that 'appened" an' all that bollocks… I bloody 'ate 'im. But I'm not allowed ter leave yet. I want ter go 'ome… wherever that might be. I don't know.
"I'm told I live ten minutes from the 'ospital, in a flat above that o' my friend Anne an' godson Max. They're fillin' me in about bits o' my life I've forgotten. Sorry, I 'ad ter stop recordin' 'cos the counsellor came in, an' if 'e 'eard this 'e'd probably 'ave me sectioned.
"See, I don't want ter forget back there. Whatever it might 'ave been, I lived through the seventies, the early eighties. An' they were… it was special, ter me. Even the shitty bits. Even when it all went wrong, or when I was bein' a total arse… I want ter remember it. Ray an' Chris an' Shaz. The team. The A Team. An' especially Bolly. An' Sam. I need ter remember them. Sam, the bloody ponce, is dead 'ere. Died in 2006. I've said that before, but I'm still tryin' ter fully understand 'im. I don't understand, prob'ly never will, not about Sam an' not about that world, but I don't mind, 'cos I know what's real an' what's not. I might be some idiot be'ind a desk 'ere, but I'm still the Gene Genie, 'cos I was back then, an' I'm 'angin' on ter that. All the memories.
"I've got ter go. They let me see Alex once a day, the doc'll be in in a minute an' if they find my Dictaphone they'll listen ter it. Bastards want ter monitor my state of mind. So know this much, Bolls. I will find a way back ter you. Whether it's you wakin' up 'ere, or- or somethin' else, I will find you. I will find a way back 'ome."
"Didn't sleep again last night, ma'am?"
"I keep hearing his voice. In my head. Telling me to be strong, to hold on. I know it's not real, but…"
Smiling sympathetically, Shaz Granger placed a cup of sweet tea on her DI's desk, rubbing her superior officer's shoulder as she made to head back to her desk.
"We choose what's real an' what's not, ma'am. The Guv's real enough, isn't 'e?"
She has a point there.
Alex Drake sighed heavily, reaching out to clasp her mug with both hands, giving up on the half-written report on her desk. Ever since that cold, lonely morning when she had woken up curled around the duvet, Gene's half of the bed empty, he'd been talking to her, telling her to be strong, that he'd find her one day, he promised.
Back in 2008.
Alex no longer heard the doctors from 2008, no longer heard anything apart from Gene's voice. It seemed her mind had decided to simply blank it all out, for some reason, leaving her isolated, frozen in this blank world. Even Shaz was simply a distraction now, Ray and Chris taking the roles of resident annoyances. Ray was still smarting from those comments she'd thrown his way yesterday, especially the one about his manhood that had had the entire of CID sniggering behind their magazines. It would take Ray a long time to live them down, and she wasn't surprised when a look of venom came her way as Ray made his way to his desk and sat down. No more than I deserve.
It seemed, since Gene had gone, that she'd taken on the role of resident insulter in the office. She was becoming more and more like him, even raising her hand to a suspect once, although Shaz had grabbed her and pulled her out of the room immediately to calm down. Nobody was quite the same anymore, but Alex barely knew herself now.
As Ray's look became more pointed- he was obviously fishing for an apology- Alex sighed, throwing the file into her pending tray and glugging the last of the tea down, heading for the kitchenette. Surely Shaz had some chocolate stashed away somewhere?
If there was ever a time when a girl needed some chocolate, then goodness knows, it's now.
Being a detective, Alex quickly found out a bar of Galaxy and some milk to wash it down with; plumping down in the old chair that had become her escape since Gene's disappearance, Alex began to munch, closing her eyes as the chocolate melted over her tongue, taste buds tingling. It's too long since I treated myself. Must do this more often.
"And how did that make you feel, Gene?"
Gene!
And then she saw him.
They were real, and yet she knew somehow that if she were to touch them, they would blink and vanish, like cloud. One was a young man, thick dark hair, holding a pad and wearing a sympathetic expression.
And one was Gene.
He looked younger, somehow, but incredibly pale and drawn; his stomach was heavily bandaged, a cannula in his right elbow. Definitely a modern cannula, attached to two IV drips. His eyes were fixed on the cannula, his left hand idly toying with it, jerking away every time the young man tried to remove his fingers.
"Gene, you'll give yourself an infection. Leave the cannula alone."
Alex expected Gene to ignore him, perhaps to even rip the cannula out, but he simply removed his fingers, his eyes not moving. The young man tried again, his face creased into concern.
"When you left this world that you dreamed. Were you disappointed? Glad to see the people back here?"
Gene eventually lifted his eyes, glaring at the young man. Alex smiled, a plenthora of memories rushing back to her at the sight of his familiar evils, the slit-eyed look that had London's finest having accidents in their underwear when applied with an interview room and the occasional boot.
"I didn't dream it. It was bloody real. OK? It was real. Yer not goin' ter tell me otherwise."
"You tell him, Gene," Alex whispered, reaching out blindly, her fingers inches from Gene's. "We're real. We're all real. Of course we are. He's talking nonsense. Never believe him, Gene, never believe him."
"But Gene, how could it have been real? Just because it featured real people doesn't mean it was real. Normal dreams feature real people, but you don't think they're real."
"Sam Tyler."
"What about him?"
"I never knew 'im in real life, yer know. Only 'ad a sketchy idea of what 'e looked like, never 'eard 'is voice, nothin'. Didn't know 'e died. Never 'eard anythin' more than 'is name an' never saw more than a brief glimpse on TV. An' then I'm stabbed an' go into a coma."
"Gene," Alex whispered tenderly, moving forwards.
"An' I know 'im. The Sam everyone else knows. The way 'e speaks, the way 'e acts. I've spoken ter 'is mam. I knew Sam. 'Ow could I 'ave done that unless it was real?"
The young man opened and closed his mouth, eyes wide.
"But Gene…"
"It was real," Gene said softly, his hand returning to the cannula. "Yer'll never convince me otherwise."
"That's it," Alex murmured, a beam on her mouth threatening to split her face in two. "You tell 'em, Gene, you show him-"
Her hand touched Gene's, and just for a second she felt rough skin on hers, his warmth, breathed in his scent. A mechanical beep echoed through the kitchenette.
And then he was gone, just as he had left her, vanished without a trace, leaving her frozen in a ridiculous charade in the middle of the kitchenette, arm outstretched, grinning, one finger curled round a phantom hand, caressing thin air as though it could morph back into Gene's palm given enough love.
And that was how Ray found her, heading in for a Garibaldi and a cup of tea.
Alex no longer cared. Gene was safe. That was what mattered.
"I did warn you, Gene."
"Ow!"
"It's all swollen. Let's have a look at your left elbow, see how the vein is there, hmm?"
Gene winced as the long-suffering cannula in his arm was carefully withdrawn, leaving red, angry skin behind, the legacy of his idle fiddling. He supposed it probably was his own fault it had got infected. He was the one who couldn't stop messing around with the little bastard.
"This'll be tight, Gene." The doctor wrapped a rubber strip round his arm, assessing the vein. Gene lost interest, choosing instead to return his thoughts to Alex, to what she was doing, how she was doing.
Certainly he wasn't faring too well without her.
The doctors had commented that Gene had begun to develop habits since awakening from his two-week coma. Not just the cannula-fiddling, although that was probably one of the worse ones. Habits like getting up at three in the morning to record on his Dictaphone, the contents of which were still a mystery to the doctors, since he kept it locked in his cupboard. And like going outside at five in the morning. And not allowing himself enough sleep. And visiting Alex whenever he was allowed. And occasionally when he wasn't. Molly Drake denied letting him in when it was family only, but it was a pretty open secret that she would sneak a wheelchair into his room and take him through to see her mother.
He was constantly distracted, and that made him clumsy and uncommunicative. The counsellor was worried about Gene's adamance that his coma world was real, and suspected his withdrawn mood was simply that he didn't want to let that reality go. The doctors were worried he might try and find a way back there- the consequences of which, it went without saying, didn't bear thinking about. Especially not for little Maxy, or for Anne, who was already struggling with bringing up Max and balancing her own life and being there for Gene. Losing him would leave a hole in that family that could never be filled.
"Sharp scratch."
Gene ignored it. Sharp scratches didn't trouble him any more. In fact, pretty much nothing seemed to really make an impact. He didn't want to admit it, but he really was just pining for Alex, twenty-four seven.
"OK, connect that up and we're away. You going to eat something today, Gene? You can't live on IVs, you'll waste away."
He shook his head. The mere thought of food made him feel sick.
"You're not helping yourself get out of here, you know, Gene. We can't let you go until we're content that you'll be able to look after yourself, at least reasonably, and you're nowhere near that yet."
Good. I can stay with Bolly. All the medical stuff, he could deal with. He was still bloody sore anyway, moving hurt a lot of the time. He wasn't particularly fond of being in the hospital itself, but where else would he be if Bolly was here?
His release date was still indefinite. As far as he was concerned, his release date was whenever Alex's was.
As soon as the doctor was out, Gene picked up his Dictaphone again and started recording, scrubbing wearily at the black bags under his eyes.
"So yeah- where was I? Oh yeah. That bastard Chas Cale…"
A/N: I doubt this is my finest piece, but I have laboured long and hard over this and I hope it brings some enjoyment to the masses at least. (If the masses read my fanfiction, which I doubt.) Please remember to review- it would be much, much appreciated! Jazzola :D