He sat in his office at his desk which was light only by a lone lamp. Beyond the flimsy walls of his office sat many desks holding rows of forgotten paperwork, dirty ashtrays and a mixture of rubbish. Every desk looking the same, every desk that was, but hers. Her desk stuck out like a new penny; everything neat and in order. He sighed, she had to be perfect even when she wasn't even bloody there he thought.

Gene drew hard and long on his shortening cigarette, felt the smoke fill his lungs with momentary satisfaction before releasing it into the world, creating a cloud of smoke around him. His hand absentmindedly twirled the whisky that sat comfortably in his hand.

It was times like these in this life when he felt a sense of loneliness; everyone but him drinking and laughing at Luigi's while he sat quietly with nothing and nobody but this thoughts. He wished he could leave the prison that was his office, but the thought of going to Luigi's without her made the solitude of his office seem much more appealing. Only once could he remember feeling this alone, he looked up to his notice board which sat in a misty darkness and struggled to make out which of the paper cuttings held the photo of Sam, the photo of his best friend. Once he had located it, he raised his glass without saying a word and drank.

He said he would miss her and he knew that he would. There was no escaping that she was something special to him and whenever she mentioned leaving to where ever it was that she wanted to leave too, he ached. Now, without her that ache had turned into something of a physical pain that refused to budge.

He re-filled his glass of whisky and gulped it down as if trying to numb the pain of her absence. His eyes fell upon the letter that she had written him only a couple of weeks ago and he felt the deepest sadness. There lay on his desk the only thing that remained of her, of his Bolly.

He drew one last breath on his cigarette before stubbing it out in his already overfilling ashtray and picked up the still, unopened letter. His name on the front In her typical girly handwriting. He fiddled with it for a few moment before finally deciding to open the damn thing. He tentatively pulled at the seal, careful not to tear the letter and pulled out the perfectly folded piece of paper.

He sighed and straightened the paper. It read:

Dearest Gene, the lion of Fenchurch East.

The first think I must say to you, is that I am sorry. Sorry for leaving so suddenly if in fact it was sudden, but if not and I did get a chance to say goodbye, then I am sorry for leaving you. Despite what you say I know that you will miss me, although perhaps not as much as I will miss you.

I also wanted to thank you. Although at times you were rude, irritating and irresponsibly - too name a few, I know that without you I would perhaps not have survived my time here. You, although you may not know it, have been the one thing that has kept a smile on my face and made my time here bearable.

I wont try and psychoanalyse you like I did with the others, which I know will come as a relief to you, because I know no matter what I say or tell you, you would never and will never change and I wouldn't want you too. You are something very special Gene Hunt.

When I first arrived here, I couldn't wait to leave. However, as time went on my determination to get home never wavered but my love for this place grew. My love for the team grew, especially for you. Now, on the final days before my departure I am beginning to feel a unforeseen sadness, one that I will struggle to overcome and it has made me realise why Sam decided to stay.

I have no doubt that you will continue on your quest to clear the streets of filth perfectly fine without me and still manage to drink yourself half to death at Luigi's every night. Although, if you ever find yourself feeling lonely just know that I am there with you, just as you are with me.

If you are in fact real and see the year 2008, providing I return at around the same time I left, during May 2008 find 23 Lincoln Road, London and please come to that house. I will be there. The thought of never seeing you again Gene, is very hard for me to comprehend and each time I think about it I struggle to hold back the tears.

Remember me and remember May 2008, even if you will be in your 60's.

Always yours

Bolly.

He sighed and felt a lone tear escape from his hazy eyes. Slowly he let it run across his face and watched it fall onto the letter. He sniffed, placed the letter on the table and picked up another cigarette.

That he had not expected, the fact that he had meant so much to her and never knew. He thought that perhaps the letter would help his sadness, provide some kind of closure, but if anything it had made him miss her even more. If that was at all possible.

He thought of many moments shared within this very room. He closed his eyes and almost felt her near him, her breath lightly brushing his face asking him to 'let her in'. Oh God, how he wish that he had. He remembered working all night with her on exposing Super-Mac and watching her sleep before falling asleep himself. He remember the first time that she walked into Luigi's, wearing that blue tent top and that leather jacket. It was then that he realised how much he wanted her, but could never have her. Opening his eyes, he blinked away the tears and looked at the clock: 01:05.

He stood and stretched. Grabbing his black jacket he threw it on before folding up that piece of paper once more and placing it back into its envelope. He wondered about May 2008 and frowned in confusion, she couldn't possible know where she would be in 20 years time he thought. However, he made a promise there and then, that if there was even a remote chance of seeing his beloved Bolly again he would take it, so 2008 couldn't come soon enough.

Until then, he knew that she was right, like she always was, he would continue doing what he did best and clear the streets of London of all that was deemed in his eyes to be classed as scum, just wait for May 2008.