Thanks for all your kind reviews so far, it really means a lot to me especially how many of you were complimentary about how original this story is. It's been in the works for a long, long time (over six months!) so please don't steal my ideas or my concept! It really isn't nice. I hope you enjoy this chapter and taking time out to R & R would be super :)

Alex Drake awoke, wholly disorientated in the dark. She had been in the new house for a week but when she awoke (as she did most nights,) it took her a good few seconds to remember where she was. She half-expected the garish red sheets still to be on the bed or the vague, permanent smell of Luigi's Italian meatballs to be lingering in the air... all of that had gone now. A week ago she'd taken a leap of faith, packed up her old life and moved to suburbia with her boyfriend. Not that she regretted it for a single second but she knew this meant Molly was further away from her than ever. It had to be the guilt that was awakening her at night- that and the wild, recurring dream she seemed to be having lately...

"Alex." His deep, sleep-laced voice came from beside her. He slung an arm sleepily and possessively around her waist and snuggled close. "I can hear you thinking. Go back to sleep, love."

His voice soothed her; it always had since she'd pitched up in his world. It had first happened after the Edgehampton vault: he'd asked if she was a C or D cup and after one too many sangrias she'd invited him to find out. He hadn't said no this time. He'd felt an idiot when he'd turned her down just a week before and she'd ended up in bed with some Thatcherite wanker whose name she didn't even know. He'd had to make her his. At first they'd tried to kid themselves that it was just sex. Except he was staying over every night, cuddling Alex tight in his arms. Then after the whole episode with Chas Cale, well, that had only sealed the deal. He was never going to let her out of his sight ever again.

He was there for her, always. Even when he didn't understand her, which was a frequent occurrence. Like when the Price's got exploded and she'd sobbed in his arms all night. He hadn't got that: the Price's were horrible people, they'd been especially vile to Alex and yet she she'd cried for them like they were her own family, so he'd held her as she cried herself to sleep, whispering he loved her over and over until she was calm enough for him to take them off to bed. It had become their bed by default, Gene wasn't going anywhere.

They hadn't spent a single night apart after that, even if the flat was ridiculously small for the two of them. They could hardly both fit in the kitchen at once and this annoyed Alex when she was hurrying to get them breakfast in the morning. It was time Gene did something about it...

It was a few days after Mac's death when he realised she really was in this for the long haul, that she wasn't planning on going anywhere. At first, she'd talked about getting home constantly but she hadn't brought it up in months. He'd found her crying on the sofa. Calmly and quietly, he went to her, just holding her until she spoke.

"I'm sorry, I'm being silly."

"No you're not, love."

"I just... the decorators came."

Figured. She was a hormonal time bomb at the best of times, let alone at this time of the month.

"They were a few days late," she continued, explaining. "And I know it's impractical but I was hoping..."

"Oh."

She felt his entire body tense. "Are you mad?" She was worried she'd told him too much, scared him away.

"No." He swallowed hard. After everything that had happened he saw a future with this incredible woman. "Actually... I've been wondering if you want to move in with me."

She smirked. He'd smoothed away her tears and her worries in an instant. "Newsflash, Gene. You already live with me. Remember when you just moved yourself in without asking?"

"No not like this, not in some shitty taverna."

"A taverna's Greek."

"Will you shut up for once? I want us to move in together. Properly. Get a house, like."

She looked thoughtful. "With a garden?"

"If that's what you want."

"And a bird table?"

"Okay."

"That you'll put seed on?" She was teasing him now.

"You know I could always rescind the offer, Bolly knickers." Christ. Rescind. He was even starting to sound like her now. The woman was a walking dictionary.

"I'm kidding, I'm kidding." She cuddled into his side. He loved that she was so affectionate. "I would love to move in with you."

"Okay?"

"Yes, definitely okay."

He held her close to him. After everything that had happened with Mac, well, that was just the catalyst. It was time for him to stop denying and fighting what he truly felt for her.

"You know... I would've been okay with it." His voice was cautious; he didn't want to upset her again.

"With what?"

"If you'd been having our baby." He didn't know what it was about her; she made him want to tell her all his secrets. "Would've been over the bloody moon, really. I want a kid with you, Alex. If and when the time is right. With my ex... I thought I didn't want kids. Turns out I just didn't want kids with her. You're my future."

They spent a solid 12 hours one Saturday traipsing around London, looking at 10 houses Alex had picked out as a 'short list.' Some were downright awful: one had no kitchen cupboard doors, worse still; one had a rat in it. Each settled on one they really liked: Alex's choice was a semi, five minutes from the station, Gene's choice was twenty minutes from work, a mid-terrace where he thought they could get some, "bloody peace and quiet," away from the rest of the team.

They'd sat in the car for an hour, Alex making a list of pros and cons for each. Gene eventually got annoyed and ripped the piece of paper up, irritated because he'd missed the horse racing, talking and arguing.

"Right, Bolly. Rock, paper, scissors."

"Come on, Gene, be sensible."

"I'm serious. We're both too stubborn, we won't resolve this any other way. Rock, paper, scissors. On three..."

"Gene..."

"Be quiet. I want to get back to see 2000 Guineas."

Alex took a deep breath. "One... two... three." Alex had chosen rock, Gene, scissors. "Rock blunts scissors," she said softly.

"Yes it does, Bolly."

She leaned over and kissed him. "You are the sweetest, softest, kindest man..."

"Steady on, I only wanna get back for the race."

"I'm always rock. You know I'm always rock. You lost on purpose."

It was true. He'd do anything to make her happy. "And you, DI Fruitcake, are too smart for your own good."

Gene enlisted the help of Ray, Chris, Terry and Poirot to help them move in with a mix of idle threats and the promise of beer. When every box was finally brought inside and (most importantly to Gene,) the TV had been set up, they sat on the floor of the living room, finally alone and ate a Chinese takeaway. Gene kept looking at Alex, wondering what he'd done to deserve this gorgeous woman. After they'd finished eating, she snuggled up next to him, full, drowsy and content.

"Bolly?"

"Hmmm?" Her eyes were closed, she looked completely relaxed.

"Got something for you. A 'Thanks for moving in with me' type thing." He dug into the back pocket of his jeans. It was a ring with a single amethyst in it, her birthstone. "You don't have to wear it on your ring finger, it'll fit on your right too. I just thought it could be some sort of promise. A 'someday' thing." He was quiet then. She hadn't said anything; maybe it was all too much, too soon. He'd got carried away as usual...

Calmly and silently, she took the ring from him and placed it on her left ring finger before kissing him.

"You know, Gene, if you asked me to marry you I'd say yes."

"Not if, when, Alex. It's just a matter of time..."

They'd talked then, until the early hours. About the possibility of marriage, kids, a future. And that's when Alex's dreams started. Except, they were more than dreams, they appeared so vividly they could almost be memories.

And this time, it was definitely different. Her and Gene in the nineties... suddenly she remembered every touch, every caress and every movement as if it were happening right in front of her eyes. She and Pete had been arguing a lot over their upcoming wedding, she'd been stressed out and they hadn't even slept together for six weeks beforehand. Then she saw Molly's face, clear as day. Molly, with Gene's blue eyes staring back at her. Oh, God. Molly. *Gene's eyes.*

She awoke with a hell-raising scream this time, ice cold realisation flowing through her veins. Molly didn't have a scrap of Drake DNA at all. What she did have was Gene's eyes and Gene's dirty blond hair.

Her scream had awoken Gene and he was soothing her in an instant. He'd seen her have nightmares before but never like this.

"Alex?" She looked so frightened it was even scaring him. "Alex?"

She shrugged off his hands. Normally she'd cling to his touch after a bad dream but currently she felt repulsed with herself. How could she have forgotten this?

Fighting rising nausea, she made up a lame excuse about a night terror about their latest murder case and bolted for the kitchen. She couldn't help it, she was violently sick into the kitchen sink, shaking so hard she could barely stand. Oh, God, what had she done? And more crucially, what was she going to do now?

He gave her a few minutes before following. He was worried, he'd never seen her this terrified or spooked before, but he knew what she needed. He found her trying to catch her breath; his beautiful, proud, strong Bolly seemed to be having a nuclear meltdown over a dream.

"I won't touch you, love, I promise." He kept his voice gentle and cool, nervous she might snap. "I brought you a sweater, in case you were cold and this..." He placed her Dictaphone on the table as if he were conceding a gun. It had driven him crazy when they'd first got together, on complex cases she'd record every thought, brainstorming aloud for sometimes hours on end. It was a form of therapy for her, that's what she needed now.

Quietly, he backed off and took himself off to bed again. He knew she needed to be alone right now.

Shrugging on Gene's jumper, still trembling, she shrunk to the kitchen floor, the tiles cool beneath her hands. Meltdown had started...

She picked up the tape recorder and began to talk.