"Gene: I'm pregnant. I know you probably won't want anything to do with me or the kid, but I'm keeping it. I'll apply for a transfer if you want, but I thought I'd check just to see- see what you want."
Gene Hunt stared out of the large window that took up most of the wall of his small flat, Alex's words still ringing in his ears. He couldn't believe it; hadn't known how to react. Should he have dropped on one knee, begged her to marry him? Somehow the idea of sharing the rest of his days with Bolly didn't seem as repulsive as he had expected. Of course, she could be infuriating, but that was part of her charm, her magnificent, beautiful charm that was only added to by her wit and independence. Even the nickname, at first an insult, had evolved into a term of endearment. He glanced over at her sleeping form on the sofa, and was struck for the millionth time that night how much more beautiful she was without her carefully applied make-up, just a simple grey t-shirt, slightly baggier jeans and trainers, her permed hair carelessly swept up into a messy ponytail.
"Bolls," He muttered, a rare smile gracing his lips. "My Bolls."
"M' not your Bolls." came the muffled protest, . "M' not anyone's Bolls."
"'Course you're not, Bolly." Gene grinned quietly. God, even when she was asleep this woman could argue!
And then there was the question of the baby. Gene hoped he could be a better Dad this time round, although he doubted it. His own voice from 4 years ago floated back to haunt him: "Look, Sophie, some people just aren't cut out to be dads, OK? I'm one of them." and then Sophie's simple, yet heart-breaking reply- "Yeah, I know.". He hadn't seen her since that night. She'd be 17 now, if she'd survived on the streets. Gene hoped she was alright, because, despite both of their mistakes, she was his daughter and he loved her.
"Now, I'm gonna get someone else to screw up, Soph'." he muttered into his glass of wine. "How 'bout that?" He drained the remaining alcohol in one gulp, then poured himself another glass. How was he going to cope? He was rapidly approaching 50, would he be able to put up with changing nappies, night feeds, and teething? He highly doubted it. And yet… one look at Alex, who, fast asleep looked like an angel, he knew that together they could face anything. He turned from the London skyline, the stars glittering, as though they approved of his decision.
"Alex?" He said softly "I've made up my mind."