Gene Hunt stared down the long corridor, his eyes refusing to focus on anything. It was all just a bright white blur. White walls, white ceiling, white floor all merging together in his eyes. He could hardly see a bloody thing.
Which is why it came as a complete surprise to him when a pair of dark eyes appeared in front of him from out of nowhere.
Genes eyes focussed in on the eyes staring back at him. There was a face to go with them, but he couldn't make it out. A woman? A woman with dark eyes? A woman with dark eyes, soft pink lips and…
Bolly?
This woman couldn't be Bolly. Not his Bollykecks. This woman was tiny and pale, dressed in a shapeless white hospital robe. Even her hair was wrapped up in white. His Bolly was always colourful. Even when she'd caught the lurgy she'd been colourful. Vibrant. This woman was just standing there looking sad. Looking sad with Bolly's face…
"Why, Gene?" said the woman.
Flamin' Nora, she even had Bolly's voice. But she couldn't be her. Not his Bolly. His Bolly would never be so lifeless she blended in with a white wall. His Bolly never blended in anywhere. She was always so bright she lit up the room.
"Why, Gene?" the woman whispered. "Why did you do this to me?"
"Bolly?" Gene questioned, still not believing what his eyes were telling him. The woman started to cry, tears running silently down her face.
"I trusted the Gene Genie, and he let me down," she cried.
"Bolly!" He wanted to say he was sorry, sorry for shooting her, sorry for doubting her, sorry for everything, but his mouth just wouldn't form the words. "Bolly!" He reached out his arm, wanting to pull her close…
Violent red burst across her head and stomach, staining the whiteness of her gown. The blood dripped onto the floor, pooling far further outward than it should have been able to. The redness just kept spreading over the floor until it reached the walls, where it started oozing upwards. Soon everything was red, blood red. It even ate into the lights, making them explode and spit out rose petals.
Gene wanted to run, to fight, to shoot things but he couldn't. He could only stare at his Bolly, standing there, stained red and staring at him.
"You let me down, Gene," she said. "I needed you and you let me down."
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Gene jerked awake, his neck protesting immediately. He loved the Quattro, but the front seat was not built for sleeping in. He rubbed his eyes, hoping to clear the dream from his mind as easily as he removed the sleep from his eyes. He couldn't.
Resting his head against the steering wheel, Gene sighed. He'd shot her. He'd shot his Bolly and put her in a coma. He'd called her bent, called her a liar, threatened her and put her in a coma, all without meaning it.
Now he was on the run from his own people, again, and there was only one person who could make everything alright again.
"Bolly…"
