RUN.
Chapter I - RUN.

It had been two days, and the desk of Detective Inspector Alex Drake remained vacant. There was an uneasiness in the CID, more so than when Chris' betrayal had been exposed only a short while ago. Shaz had made several trips back and forth from the hospital; she was more quiet than usual and often spoke to Chris in silent whispers. Ray would sit and smoke cigarette after cigarette, staring into space half the time.

But most of all, there was tension amongst the ranks. Tension directed at Gene.

He'd done it now. He was up shit creek without so much of a match, let alone a paddle to get him out. There was a lag to his stride as he pushed open the doors to CID and was welcomed by a nervous hush. He glanced around the room before scowling and making his way through to his office. He'd just gotten back from the Hospital once again; the nurses practically threw him out. Something about slapping a patient to try and coax her from her coma.

"Bolly! Bolly, wake up!"

And he slammed the door behind him and hastily closed the blinds; he let himself exhale sharply and shook his head.

"Christ, Bolls… what've I done…" he said to the empty room and sat down, slamming the Quattro keys down on his desk.

He reached over for a drink and lit another cigarette. He shook his head as he greedily downed the whole glass and drew on the burning white stick of wonder he'd so affectionately treasured over the years. He exhaled a thick cloud of smoke and frowned. They'd never felt so bitter.

'Oh God, now the booze an' fags are against me...'

Without warning, his computer flicked into life. Gene turned his head to look at it, a look of sheer confusion on his face. It flashed, waiting to type something for a few moments before a mass of words appeared on the screen in bright green capitals.

SECURITY WARNING

PATIENT TRYING TO ESCAPE BUILDING

IC WARD

SUFFERS SEVERE HEAD TRAUMA

BULLET WOUND INJURY

ALEXANDRA DRAKE

ALEXDRAKEALEXDRAKEALEXDRAKEALEXDRAKEALEXDRAKEALEXDRAKEALEXDRAKEALEXDRAKEALEXDRAKEALEXDRAKE
ALEXDRAKEALEXDRAKEALEXDRAKEALEXDRAKEALEXDRAKEALEXDRAKEALEXDRAKEALEXDRAKEALEXDRAKEALEXDRAKE
ALEXDRAKEALEXDRAKEALEXDRAKEALEXDRAKEALEXDRAKEALEXDRAKEALEXDRAKEALEXDRAKEALEXDRAKEALEXDRAKE
ALEXDRAKEALEXDRAKEALEXDRAKEALEXDRAKEALEXDRAKEALEXDRAKEALEXDRAKEALEXDRAKEALEXDRAKEALEXDRAKE

Gene read the words, but couldn't see sense in it all. Why the bloody hell was Drake's name here? What was all this about head trauma? He stubbed out his cigarette and tried pressing a few buttons to get the bleeding thing to turn off. But nothing worked. Throwing himself out of his chair, he slammed his fist down on top of the computer's screen, but the words still flashed at him.

"Stoppit you stupid piece a space-shite!" he growled at it.

Behind him, a radio crackled into life and over the loud static, he heard someone whimpering, crying.

"No… no… I can't… I don't want to go back… Molly, Molly! … Molly!?"

Gene turned sharply and stopped dead at the sound of the woman's voice. "… Drake?"

She started screaming, her words became jumbled, a mix with uncontrollable sobbing. Shouts for 'Molly' and confused calls.

"Alex? Alex!" Gene had walked up to the radio, his voice growing louder as he barked into the metal.

"I… Someone… get… get me out of here, please!"

"ALEX! Talk to me!"

The static grew even louder before she suddenly shouted "SOME ONE HELP ME,"

"ALEX!"

"'Guv?" Ray's voice sounded behind him.

Gene whipped round and stared at the DC, the radio had switched off and computer had blinked into nothingness once more. He stood in complete shock for a few moments and didn't say a single thing as Ray looked at him with a frown.

"… are you alright, 'Guv?" he asked after a few moments.

Gene looked down. What the bloody Nora had just happened?! Not wanting to explain himself, he grabbed his cigarette packet and the keys of the Quattro before hastily pushing past him.

"Going out, dunno when I'll back," he said sharply.

"Want me to c-"

"No," he barked, slamming the doors behind him.

Drake's flat – very much like her desk back at the station - was left untouched. Nothing had been moved, not even the last coffee mug that was still stained by her lipstick. Her bed had been left unmade, drawers left open as she'd rushed out the house that morning. Gene didn't know where to start.

The tape had left him bitter and deceived; he'd been betrayed by the one person he thought he could count on. 'You and me, Bolls… You and me…' But after what had happened down at the station, he had to know more, work out just who Alex Drake was. He had to admit, for the year he'd known her, he hadn't been more eager to get inside mad ol' Bolly Knickers' head in all his life. The tape had been dated; surely she'd been keeping a kind of voice diary… so there must be more tapes.

He began to rake around shelves, looking in drawers and boxes to find the rest of them. He spent the good time of half an hour searching Alex's flat until he finally found the stash. They gleamed at him, whispering for him to listen to them. Gene sighed, what was he doing? Listening to the mad prattling of a posh tart... He picked the first one out, labelled not long after Alex had joined the CID and rummaged around for a cassette player. After jamming the tape in and hitting the play button, he braced himself for whatever might be said.

"My name is Alex Drake, I've just been shot and that bullet has sent me back to 1981. I may be one second away from life, or one second away from death. They say that as you die, your life flashes before you, all those memories and mistakes that form us. Well bring it on. My life can flash away as much as it wants because I am not going to die. I'm coming back to you, Molly…"

Gene clicked the cassette off and shook his head, uttering a heavy sigh.

"Bloody 'ell, Bolls. I try to work you out and I might as well run ten miles backwards" he muttered.

Alex had told him she'd been shot and he'd refused to believe her. She'd been playing him for a fool, made him feel a right mug. But why was she telling the same story to him, nearly a year after she'd said it to a tape machine? He just didn't get it. It didn't make sense. Gene pulled out another cigarette and lit it, he felt bad for smoking in Bolly's flat when she wasn't here. The cigarette smoke would cover up that perfume of hers; erase any hint of her presence.

"Bloody women," he muttered, although his heart wasn't in it.

He shook his head and grabbed the box of tapes, making a go for the door. He gave the flat one final look around before flicking out the light and quietly locking the door behind him.

Gene waited a while before going back to the station; he left it until most of CID had gone home by driving round the streets. He didn't have the heart to go see Alex again, not now. Just not now. With the box tucked safely under his arm, he shoved the door open with one hand and walked back in, heading for his office. Throwing his coat and keys down, he quickly set about pulling the tapes from the box. Sitting in his chair and pouring himself a drink, he swallowed hard. It was going to be a long night.

"This world... it's my world... it's all in my head. I've created my world with constructs. It's just... why is Sam known here? Is it possible we share the same world..?"

Gene stopped the tape again. Oh, how the mind boggles. He felt like he was getting nowhere with these tapes and two hours had already passed.

"Talk to me, Bolls..." he said the machine, taking a swig from his drink and started the tape again. "Please just make sense..."

"Gene... where on earth do I start with Gene Hunt? I... I have to trust him... but he's keeping me anchored here. I admire him very much, I am rather fond of him and when I do go home, I will miss him. But if only another time, another place, another world. Not here. What am I doing? I have to get home, I just can't! I can't stay here and abandon Molly. Not even for Gene Hunt..."

"Ahh, Bolls..." he sniffed quietly and stubbed the end of his cigarette in his ash tray.

He drowsily poured himself another drink as his listened to Drake go on; rubbing at his eyes, he was almost lulled by the sound of her voice, as if she were really here in the room with him. He sighed and downed the glass, closing his eyes as he listened to her.

"I have to fight; I have to get home... Gene? Gene, what's going on? Something's not right... I don't know where I am anymore,"

He opened his eyes and found himself still sat at his desk, but around him was doused in darkness. Only the light from his desk gave him a little light to see. Out of the shadows, Alex slowly walked into the light. She was dressed in a white hospital gown, her head bandaged up with starched bandages.

"Bolls?" Gene stood up.

"I wanted to go home!" she began to sob, a strange echo to her voice. "I have to be with Molly. I can't stay here!"

"Bolly what are yer goin' on about? Bolls, they think I shot you!" Gene told her, running around the desk and grabbing her by shoulders.

Tears ran down her face as she reached up with one hand, placing it to his cheek. Her fingers felt like ice. Alex shook her head.

"Help me, Gene..."

"How Bolls? I don't know what to do!"

But it was as if she hadn't heard him, "Help me!"

She suddenly flickered out of existence, gone in the blink of an eye. Gene stared at where her face had just been; he heard the soft bleeping of a heart monitor somewhere in the darkness.

"... Alex?" he looked around. "Alex!?"

"Its game over for you Gene," whispered a man's voice, a slight Irish twang to it.

"Oo's there?" he reached for his gun. "Oo's bloody there?! Alex?!"

A man slowly came out of the shadows, a dark smile pressed at his lips and an air of sinister intentions about him. Fair hair and piercing blue eyes. Gene recognized him instantly, but never knew his name. It was that bloke he'd shot... right before he'd shot...

"You're dead," Gene sneered.

"Put the gun away, Hunt..." Summers scoffed with a cold chuckle. "What makes you think it's going to help you now? Look what happened to Alex..?"

"You shuttit you bloody spook, where's Drake?!" Gene shouted, the heart monitor got louder.

"I think you better worry about yourself, Gene. Get out of town for a few days," he told him before walking back into the shadows.

"Oi, gerr back 'ere!" Gene roared over the bleeps of the heart monitor, deafening him.

"Run, Gene. For God's sake, RUN!" Alex shouted.

Gene bolted awake and looked around. He was back in his office, left in an uneasy silence.

"Fuck's sake..." he muttered, wiping at his face. It was just a sodding dream.

He looked up and frowned, his computer had flicked back into life. And only one word flashed up on the screen. Only one single word in bright green capitals.

RUN.

Now might be the last chance he had. He felt cornered, and he did not – of all things, like being cornered. Not this Gene Genie. Not only was the Plods after him, thinking he'd tried to kill Alex, but the amount of spooky shite that kept happening to him wasn't helping him either. The wards were quiet as he silently slipped through them like a ghost, looking for the right room.

It seemed to take forever to find her; and when he did, he sighed and felt a sudden pang of shame. What had he done?

Alex Drake lay unconscious on the hospital bed, so fragile and small in the hospital gown. The soft bleeps of a heart monitor greeted him coldly as he sat down beside her. He looked over at her with a sullen look on his face, taking in the mass of curls splayed out across the pillows and the bare skin of her face free from any makeup. Her arms lay limp on the bed over the sheets; Gene sniffed gingerly and reached for a hand.

What the fuck had he done?

"Bolls, I've no idea what's goin' on right now. But I really wish you were awake to tell me..." Gene sighed and shook his head.

He put a hand to her face, her skin cool and soft against his rough hand. He inhaled deeply and looked away to listen for any nurses coming his way before his eyes fell back onto a comatose Drake.

"Please wake up soon, Bolls. Come back to me and help me sort all this out..."

Her watched for a moment, waiting for some kind of response. But he got nothing.

"I listened to your tapes, by the way. 'ope you don' mind..." he continued. "For a posh nutter, you don' say some half-bad things 'bout me..."

Another silence.

"I'm quite fond of you too Bolls..." he added with a weak smile. "All more reason why you need to soddin' wake up..."

He stared hard at her limp hand and swallowed. He was shouting at himself on the inside, blaming everything under the sodding sun. Him, Mac and the whole lot of those bent coppers, Jeanette and that stupid bloke he'd shot. He exhaled sharply and looked back at Alex's blank face. He had to go.

"Don't leave me, Alex," he told her.

He gently put her hand back down on the bed and stood up awkwardly. This was it, he had to run. Everyone was against him now and his only hope was out cold in front of him.

"Wake up, Bolly. Wake up..." he sighed. "..So it's just you and me again..." he added quietly before disappearing into the night.